I am very much against people blasting their music if it has vulgar words or anything that might be deemed offensive to someone (read: rap music).  So I don’t blast offensive music, okay?  However, I was playing a Queens of the Stone Age song from their Lullabies to Paralyze album, the song “Broken Box,” driving along all coolly to its bass and piano and claps and Elvis-like rhythms.  I had the windows wiiiiide open and music wayyyy loud.  I came to a stop sign.  There was a black guy standing at the stop sign watching his dog poop.  At the exact moment I stopped next to him, the song came to these lyrics: “I just didn’t want what you gaaave/Go and find yourself anooother slaaaaave!”  Ah, the semi-irony!  I laughed quite oproariously when I realized it, driving away, and that’s always a good thing
     It actually reminds me of another time when I had a very close call: I was driving through the grocery-store parking lot, windows down, music up, and, again, Queens of the Stone Age was on.  This time it was the song “Turnin On the Screw,” from their newest album Era Vulgaris (the song is actually the one that’s currently on my playlist at the top-right of this page).  Well, just as a black guy was about to walk ever so slowly in front of my car, these lyrics started playing: “…but bigger’s bigger/White boy dressed up like a figure.”  Luckily I turned the music way down before the word “figure” came up.  Didn’t wanna get the stink-eye, you know?                                    

     So I was helping my mom load up a pickup truck that she borrowed from a friend–loaded it with antique chairs and weird little tables and all that crap.  And we could tell it was going to rain soon, so when we finished loading, ’twas time to cover everything with a tarp, you know?  Well, ten minutes later, we were still having trouble tying the tarp down; it was just too loose.  My mom was supposed to drive the truck an hour away, to the auction center in Culpeper, and so the tarp had to be pulled taught or else it would blow away while she was driving, right?  Well, suddenly, all the trees in our neighborhood started blowing around and making noises that sounded like a stadium of cheering people, perhaps cheering us on, “Hurry, the rain’s gonna come!  Tie the tarp down, you can do it!”
     Well, we didn’t do.  I felt a rain drop.  And then I saw a rain drop.  And then I felt two more and saw four more.  It was coming, it was coming, and, ah, there it was!  The rain picked up, but the tarp still wasn’t latched properly to the truck bed–it was still flapping about, you know?  So I, not liking to get wet, lifted up the edge of the tarp and stood under it.  My mom opened the door of the truck and dove in.  She left the door open a bit, though, so that she could reach out and try to continue tying the tarp.
      And so I’m standing there under the edge of the tarp, and the rain becomes more than just rain–it was basically waterfalling, not raining.  And I started crackin’ up.  I was laughing so loud.  I was thinking of all the people in our neighborhood in their townhouses, and of how many of them might have been watching us load the truck, and of how many of them were now laughing at us in part sympathy, part something else. 
     And then the tarp on the other side of the truck came undone, and it completely flew up and exposed all those precious antiques and upholstery to the rain.  So my mom’s like, “Ahh!  Chris!  The tarp!  Get–go pull the tarp over, go!”  And so I got out from under my side of the tarp, ran around, grabbed hold of it’s flapping flappiness, and then I laughed some more.  It was weird that I was laughing, ’cause I really do hate getting wet.   I’m like a cat.  But anyway, I took the corner of the flapping side of the tarp, opened the passenger door, tucked the corner in, and closed the door on it.  I then banged on the window to get my mom’s attention, and I shouted, “Come inside for two seconds!  Two seconds!”
     So I run into the house, and she follows, and I tell her, “Okay, obviously you can’t go to the place ’cause we can’t get the tarp on.  And obviously the furniture is now ruined.  So this is a sign that you need to stop stressing about all this stuff.  It’s just furniture, it’s ruined, let it get soaked, no big deal.  I’m taking a shower.”
     And I was soaked, too.  And not figuratively, either; I was actually soaked.  My hair was plastered down, my glasses covered in water beads, and when I took my shirt off before getting in the shower, I had to peel it off!  Yeah, it may sound sexy to you, but I hate having to peel off clothes.
     We were just listening to the weather on the radio, and there’re millions of tornado warnings all around, and the wind is 50-60 m.p.h.  So it’s no wonder that it sneaked up on us like that, you know?  The storm was traveling 60 miles per hour!
     So in case any of you heard about storms covering the entire area that is northern Virginia, there is no need to fear, my babies–I am safe.   

     The past I’m trying to forget sure is persistent.
     I’ve changed my mind: if she wanted me back and I knew for a fact that she had finally changed, I’d tell her I’m happier just knowing that she’s finally going through some misery, and that, as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist anymore.
     I dunno why her friends are visiting my site after all this time of hating me from the lies Miranda has told them, but they are.  And if any of you wanna relay this message to her, be my guest.  Here it is:
     Remember Cathy, Miranda?  That anorexic teen who we befriended and who really, really looked up to you and loved you to death?  Well, I was talking to her a month or so ago about how you were so completely different now, and she said she knows.  So I asked her how she knows.  And she said, “How could anyone not see that?  Miranda was so much more awesome when she was with you.”
     Her words exactly.
     If it makes you feel any better, though, I now have zero chances to go to a decent school, and it’s thanks to your empty promises.
     Now go on and have a sex-crazy life, you crazy kid you

This was a comment I left on someone’s site who apparently hates all things Bush and all things patriotic, and loves Hillary Clinton:

     I think it’s funny how both Hillary and Obama say whatever they feel
they need to say in order to gain more votes.  Neither of them will get
troops out of Iraq nearly as fast as they claim they will.  They’re
just saying it for popularity.  Especially Clinton, who did nothing for New
York as Senator.  And Obama, all he talks about is “change.”  What the
heck is that??  Okay, good, what are you trying to change exactly?  He
still has yet tosay.
     
McCain, however, he knows it will make him unpopular to say troops
might not get back until ’12, but he doesn’t care about popularity. 
He’s being honest about it, whereas Clinton and Obama are just saying
whatever makes them sound good.
     We invaded Iraq because, since we couldn’t find Osama, we should stop
any dictators who harbor terrorists like Osama.  It was a fight against
terrorism, not against 911 specifically.
     Also, Bush wasn’t the only one who wanted to invade, yet it’s just oh
so easy to  blame him.  The majority of the U.N. voted to take down
Saddam.  But yes, let’s blame Bush just because your beloved Al Gore lost (several times, haha).
     Also, every single 911 conspiracy theory has been completely debunked. 
And besides, even if it weren’t debunked, do you really think such a
powerful and smart government like the USA’s would be stupid enough to
make alllllll these glaring mistakes they supposedly made with 911? 
But, yeah, anyway, it’s all been debunked thoroughly.  I didn’t know
people still believed in that nonsense.
     
Also, whether Bush had invaded Iraq or not, he’d still be hated by the
complaining Democrats.  If he invades Afghanistan and Iraq, he gets
accused of ridiculous things.  If he decided to let 911 go and NOT
invade Afghanistan and Iraq, he’d get accused of letting the terrorists
win.  Democrats are always trying to cause trouble like that.  He did
what he thought was right: defend us from countries that harbor
terrorists.
     Random thing: I saw a bumper sticker today that really made me smile,
yet it also made me mad at stupid people.  It said, “War is not the
answer.”  Yeah, well, thanks to war, the world wasn’t invaded by
Nazis.  Thanks to war, Japan did beat us.  Thanks to war, a mass-murderer and fear-mongerer known as Saddam Hussein is now out of the
picture.  It’s a shame, yes, but war sometimes is the only way. 
Whattaya you gonna do otherwise?  Stop Saddam and Hitler with flowers,
drugs, and hippie songs, a.k.a. “love”?

     So I just pooped for the first time in four days.  It was like giving birth, I’m tellin’ you what–not only because it was huge and painful, but because I felt an immediate bond with it the moment it came out, what with it being in me for so long and all.

No.  Marriage is by definition between a man and a woman.  We shouldn’t change the definition of “marriage” just to suit some people.  It also degrades marriage.  Eventually, in 50 years, people will want to change the defitition of “rape” to something more severe, so that the less severe rapes won’t be illegal.

I just answered this Featured Question, you can answer it too!

EDIT: IF YOU ARE GOING TO ATTACK MY OPINION AND MAKE OUTRAGEOUS CLAIMS LIKE I’M A RACIST OR A JESUS FREAK OR THAT I’M IGNORANT–BASICALLY, IF YOU’RE GOING TO ATTACK ME–YOU’RE COMMENT WILL BE DELETED, AND YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.  AND THEN I’M GONNA SIC SCHWARZENEGGAR ON YOU.  SERIOUSLY, STOP WITH THE DICKINESS.

Edit 2: I got at least 50 comments on this one, and I realized that nobody was listening to a thing I was saying and, instead, held fast to their opinion that was ingrained into their minds by the media.  So I have closed comments.  It’s getting old.  Seriously, the hostility needs to quit.

     Beautiful-girl alert!  Beautiful-girl, people!  Holy cow, beautiful girl.  A little tall, yes, but boy! how pulchritudinous she was!  Here’s how it went down:
     I was at Hollywood Video, there to see if they had Simon Birch in, a movie based on my favorite book, A Prayer for Owen Meany.  Well, they did not have it in, so instead I rented Cloverfield.  I believe this was the last movie my friend saw before he died, actually.  But, so, yes–I’m standing in line, ‘kay?  In front of me is this gooooorgeous redhead.  She didn’t have the pink skin common in redheads, though.  She had the other kind of redhead-skin.  Like…pale, but not pink.  And I hate pink skin.  And her face, agh, and her eyes!  Siigghh….Her hair was straight and shoulder-blade-length, and her nose was poifect!  Oh, and she had a half-black three- or four-year-old with her.
     And what does Chris do when he sees a beautiful girl that he’s about to lose in the next minute?
     He writes and recites a poem to her right there on the spot!
     I pulled from my pocket the little blue pad I keep in there, and a pen, and I wrote this down:

     It was when I read that last stanza to her that she slapped me; I don’t think she liked that it didn’t rhyme.
     Sigh.  I’ll never find a girl. 
     [I look misty-eyed at the fading sun, and then a tear creeps down my cheek.]

     Here’s a video I made a few days ago about how to rock out on the guitar.  Watch the whole thing; I show some major talent.  It’s only two minutes.  (The vid’s a little choppy.)

     Tonight’s my big date.  Yyyep!  Big ol’ date for li’l ol’ me.  Jealous?  Yeah, well, sorry, tutz.  Here, let me explain:
     I was out grocery shopping the other day, shopping for groceries at the grocery store, and while my crap was being rung up by the foreign guy at one of the registers, a girl walked by along the front of the store.  She looked quite familiar, quite beautiful.  She walked over to this machine called the Red Box.  You rent movies from it, apparently.  The girl put money into the machine and then was looking at the menu to see what movie she was going to rent.  I wanted to keep looking at her pretty face, though, right?  But I didn’t want the foreign cash-register guy to think I was being rude or something, so I turned back to him and asked him–get this, it was so smart!–I asked him what that machine was, that I’d never seen it there before.  This allowed me to look back at the machine (at the girl, really) while he was trying to explain it to me.  Puh-retty clever, huh?
     So after I got all my crap checked out, I went up to the movie-renting machine where the girl was (she still hadn’t made up her mind about what movie she wanted).  And guess who it was, guess who the girl at the machine was.
     Ellen bloody Page!  The Juno girl!
     Understand that I’m in love with her, okay?  So, yes, this was a huuuge deal for me.  First thing I did was this sort of awkward bowing down before her (knee-jerk reaction); then I asked for her autograph; then I asked for a date.
      She said no. 
      But some other girl nearby overheard our conversation and came up to me and said she’d go on a date with me.  Not exactly what I wanted, yeah, I know, but a date’s a date when you’re desperate.  And besides, Ellen Page ran outa there faster than somebody running away really fast from someone they don’t like.
     So I got a date with that girl who butted in Ellen’s and my convo, okay?  But!
     About ten minutes ago, I got a call from none other than Ellen Page.  Dunno how she got my number, so don’t ask me.  Actually, I’m on the phone with her right now as I type this.  She’s apologized to me for being rude and running away and and all that, and she’s said she’d like to make it up to me by going on that date with me that I asked her for.
     So when I get off the phone with her in a few minutes, I’m gonna call up that other girl and say, “Sorry, found someone better and more famous!”  
     Oh, Ellen Page (still on the phone with her) says hi.
     Here’s a picture of my date on the red carpet.  I dunno why they let her bring her pet horse with her.

     I really hate when people claim they’re moral people or “overall a good person” when they have no idea what morality is in the first place.  That’s like saying, “I’m a xenophobe” when you have no idea what xenophobia is. 
     I got a comment from <a href=”http://www.xanga.com/britney12692″>this little girl</a>, a comment in which she says, “I’m fifteen, and I’m bi, and you very much need to get your morals straight.”  And I actually laughed out loud, people, I literally el-oh-el’d at that.  For one thing, she has no idea what my morals are (it’s not like I was talking about morals), and for another, she’s 15!  “I lust over the same gender all the time and you have bad morals!”  Like, does she not realize what she just said, how ignorant it was, how stupid she made herself sound?
     She obviously has no idea about what is right and wrong, right?  So I wrote back to her: “You know who taught morals, right?  Jesus did.  You know who taught against same-gender sex, right?  Jesus did.”  I hate stupid people!
     Listen up, people: if you do the opposite of what Jesus taught, you are immoral in that certain area!
     I mean, if this little 15-year-old Britney girl is an atheist, then fine, I understand that she doesn’t need to live by any moral code.  But what she said to me implies that she DOES believe in morals, and THAT implies that she believes in God.  But then she says she’s bisexual, and so THAT implies that she doesn’t give a crap about God or His morals.
     Now, I’m not claiming I’m better than other people or that I don’t sin or that I’m perfect.  But at least I’m not lying to myself and to others.  When I do something wrong, I admit it was wrong and I’m regretful of it.  This little Britney girl, she does something wrong and then is in denial that it’s wrong ’cause she doesn’t like to think that what she’s doing is in fact wrong.
     ‘Nother thing I told her is that if she thinks homosexuality or bisexuality is okay, then she needs to get new friends who don’t pressure her into thinking that stuff, or she needs to stop watching TV and movies.  The fact is, the people who think homo-/bisexuality is okay have been brainwashed by the media.  If nobody told them in the first place that homo-/bisexuality was okay, we’d automatically and instinctually think it was wrong.  But because we’re told so often that it’s right, we think it’s right.  That’s called brainwashing.