Often times I find myself quietly contemplating the subtle nuances and intricate complexities of the universe. "Why are we here?", "Is there a God?", "How many throbbing Nubian dongs can Newbie fit in his mouth at once?", "Why do I attract the deepest cesspools of social miscreants like tight-bodied Asian school girls to my bulbous Anglo-American rod?", "Will my sister ever stop dating Republicans?", and "Why is there always so much goddamn lint in my bellybutton?". I know the query about Newbie's cock-gobbling aptitude is probably the most pressing matter at hand but today I will focus my efforts on the last of the great truths.


Just why is there so much lint in my bellybutton? This has long been a topic of much inquiry for me (and the rest of mankind as well). I've attempted several times at scientifically deducing the reason for such a phenomenon. After observing the rate and frequency of the production of the abdominal crop I determined that its blossoming is independent of the following factors: light intensity or wavelength, average kinetic energy (temperature), radiation bombardment, dragons, and magnetic field. It should be noted that the manifestation of the substance is also unaffected by the presence of a shirt (tee or other varieties). The final step in basic science is molecular architecture. Utilizing the power of an Electron Thermal Micrograph (ETM) my research team was able to deduce the exact composition of the entity.

It was that 7 dollars I had lost when I was 9 years old, shrunk to mere fractions of its former monetary glory!!! Amazed at what I had found, I quickly began contemplating all the treasures that could be contained within my gastric nexus. Everything that I had once believed lost to me or even all of humanity could be deep within the recesses of my tummy! And so, for mankind's sake, I know it is my duty find out!

I have assembled the finest exploration crew the universe has or ever will see.

Security: Lt. Worf of the Starship Enterprise

Lt. Worf cut his teeth as chief security officer of the StarFleet's flagship: The U.S.S. Enterprise. Despite being often chastised by his Klingon brethren for his allegiance to the physically inferior Humans, Worf has proven himself worthy time and again of both his position as an officer and the trials and tribulations associated with Klingon weaning.








The Arts: Andrew W.K.

When travelling to a foreign culture, one must be sure that you can appreciate artistic expression just as alien as the new landscape. And who better to advise you on all things artistically existential than the entity known as Andrew W.K. His work ranges all the way from the super-retarded to the super-retarded-but-in-a-completely-different-way and is presented in such an unidentifiable manner that the great philosopher and linguist Noam Chomsky of M.I.T. had this to say, "He's absolutely retarded. I couldn't imagine a more incomprehensible sound to be emitted from a human being...this is even more dumb than that "Blue" song by that awful Eiffel 65 group...fucking fag."




Foreign Relations: United Arab Emirates Ambassador to Canada Hassan Mohammed Obaid Al-Suwaidi

I believe this man needs no introduction as we are all obviously familiar with his exploits. Therefore, I will not give one.








Scientific Exploration: Chinese Girl With Glasses On

I met Chinese Girl With Glasses On in my Advanced Particle Physics course. She had already taken the class as a younger Chinese Girl With Glasses on back in her home town of Ching-Chong-Tofu when she was in but the 4th grade, and was enrolled in the class again for "zha eaji "A" ching-chong" (for those who don't speak Ching-Chongese this means "for the easy "A" and to ruin the curve for the entire class, rice, ninja, kungfu"). Her Intelligence Quotient is the only one I'm aware of that rivals my own and since I am obviously not able to attend the excursion she is the most suitable to take my place.





Religious Advisement: Pat Robertson

Pat Robertson has expressed his unmatched piety to the one and true God countless times. He has been rewarded fully for such devotion in turn. And I cannot think of a man more objective and understanding of those with different values than God himself. I mean this guy makes Jesus Christ look like Hitler having ass-sex with Saddam Hussein under the pornographic film production of the Khmer Rouge. Moveover J.C., there's a new savior in town and his name is Pat Robertson.






Crew Captain: Tucker Carlson

To be the Captain of a ship there's only one thing you need...a behemoth set of nuts! If there's one guy who's got a huge sack of balls, it's me. But if there's two guys out there with two separate bags of gigantic nads, it's me and Tucker Carlson. Seriously, what kind of grown man wears a bowtie? Someone who doesn't give a shit about what you say and is probably a complete douche-bag, that's who! All doucheing aside, I'm really just hoping that something terrible happens on the expedition and Tucker Carlson dies in a most painful and slow way.






Ok gentlemen, your mission is to observe and explore everything you can and report back here with all findings. I don't want to see any hero stuff out there unless it's you Worf, because that would be totally badass! Anyways, we spent all of our grant money buying a replica of the shrinking machine from the feature film "Honey, I shrunk the kids!" so we're just going to use this old toy ship from the SeaQuest TV show. Don't mind the bloodstains on it, we just got it from the Jonathon Brandis estate auction so they're probably just from his suicide or horrible cocaine addiction or something.




Good Luck!

-RaiNny

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-calamity jane.

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Hiya Folks! After a weeklong exile from the blog, thanks to my hectic ass-kicking schedule, my mind is filled with various and sundry ideas. Mostly they consist of insults directed toward my fellow UNM students (who are, by and large, more retarded than the student body at St. Josephs in Philly, but at least they're honest about it) and insults directed toward myself. Let's start with the first group, shall we?

Her name is Ambrosia: Ambrosia is, to put it lightly, a bitch. She's not just any bitch, though; she's the queen bee of all the bitches. Take her behavior in Economics 101, for example:
Professor: Students, the current economic structure in japan, with a highly governmentaly regulated model, is suprisingly effective. This doesn't exactly mesh with modern economic theory. Can anyone tell me why?
Ambrosia (really, isn't that a fucking presumptuous name. 5 bucks says her name used to be Darlene or something like that, but the queen bee bitch thought she should switch it to something more representative of her stunted character): Dear, dear Professor Somethingorother, it's because the japanese love sushi. And everyone knows that eating sushi is inherently bad for the economy because it gives everyone chinese liver fluke. Did I mention how sexy you look today, and how easy I am to get into bed?
Professor: Ambrosia, (in a class of 500, this is the only person whose name he actually KNOWS) while your theory is unique and your willingness to sacrifice your body is admirable, I'd prefer an answer from someone who DOESN'T LOOK SO FUCKING SATISFIED WITH HERSELF! NO ONE SHOULD HAVE SUCH A PERSISTANT SMIRK ON HER FACE! DIE BITCH, DIE AND SUFFER IN THE ENTERNAL HELLFIRE REALM OF WEST ALBUQUERQUE!!!!!!

That's pretty much it for Ambrosia. Economics with her, as I understand it from the person who took this picture in the middle of the hallway and proceeded to kick the subject of said photograph down the main stairwell (she didn't die, of course. Evil cannot die, it can only have its legs broken.), is like crawling naked over a field of medical waste. i.e. IT IS NOT ENJOYABLE.




Now let us move onto insulting myself. This is me at work. It's fairly difficult to get a picture of me OUTSIDE of work, because this is where I live-- in the server room, under my desk. The locals have taken to calling me the Oracle gnome (which is funny, because I know nothing about Oracle, except how to reboot the database and place empty cups of soda on its application server).

I'm fairly certain it's an affectionate diminutive they've given me, because everyone else who tries to live at work is forced out by the daily rat and roach bombings. I've persisted, however, and this has earned me some semblance of respect within these peoples' highly selective culture.

On the rare occasions when I DO venture a journey outside of the facility, I can be found at a couple of the local watering holes having my GODDAMN EARS talked off by drunken louts who've found a convenient depository for all sorts of personal psychological waste, or at the Coronado Mall buying clothing that actually looks decent (all of which couldn't be done without the assistance of two people who enjoy holding me down and covering my face in women's makeup and then forcing the entire UNM campus to look, point, and laugh at me).

However, today I'm wearing a JTHM shirt that i've had since the 6th grade. So I guess that says something about me. Exactly what, I'm unsure, but it probably has something to do with stagnation.

--HK_Newbie

P.S. Rainny, is "the mars volta" any good?

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