Medium Large Phill

Proof of Just How Random Teenagers Can Be.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Thank You All SO Much

The average age of a military man is 19 years old.He is a short haired, tight muscled kid, who, under normal circumstances, is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment either.He’s a recent High School graduate; He was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activitie, drives a ten year old Jalopy and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns form half a world away.He listens to rock and roll or hip hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155m Howitzers.He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professionalHe can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.He is self sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: He washes one and wears the other.He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never his rifle.He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you’re hungry, his food.He’ll even split ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life… or take it, because that’s his job.He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short life time.He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped create them.He has wept in public and private for friends who have fallen in combat, and is not ashamed.He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through is body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to ‘square away’ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far away from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.Just as his Father, Grandfather, and Great-Grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.Beardless or not, he is not a boyHe is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Top Ten Lists, Back With A Vengence

Here we go the eradication of the plague

Top Ten most Polite Ways to Say Your Zipper Is Down.....by Medium Large Phill
(actually David Letterman shhh!!)

10. The cucumber has left the salad.

9. Quasimodo needs to go back in the tower and tend to his bells.

8. You need to bring your tray table to the upright and locked position.

7. Paging Mr. Johnson... Paging Mr. Johnson..

6. Elvis is leaving the building.

5. The Buick is not all the way in the garage.

4. Our next guest is someone who needs no introduction.

3. You've got a security breach at Los Pantalones.

2. Men may be From Mars.....but I can see something that rhymes with Venus.

And the ..1 way to tell someone his zipper is unzipped.....

1. I always knew you were crazy, but now I can see your nuts

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

The Body of Danny Kilgore (part 4)

Find the original post here

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

"Why won't anybody help me?"

"Why are you walking by like that?"

"HELP ME!!"

"Don't you see that I'm hurt? help me please!!"

Danny Kilgore screamed out in agony as the rest of the world walked by oblivious.

"'Get up you fool'" a slithering voice says from behind him.

"What? What do you mean get up?!"

Shut up and listen, unless you want to die for real you had better come with me...

Slowly rising Danny realizes that all his pain is gone.

He feels better than he ever has before.

Monday, June 06, 2005

The Plague Caught Up With Me

Recently I have been avoiding meme's like, well, the plague. However the evilness that is Abandoned Hero has tagged me. so without much further ado (sigh) here it is. My music meme.

Total Volume of Music on my Compy 386 (God Bless You Strongbad)
This Computer, None
My music/gaming computer, over half the hard drive

Last CD I Bought
Actual CD: Dichotomy A - Grits
Digital CD: Never bought a digital CD I have them though

Song Playing Right Now
The Boy's Gone - Jason Mraz

I'm done with this because I can't pick just five songs that mean a lot to me, and i choose to kill the plague here and now

(Two Sized Note: On second thought i choose to pass the baton onto
Rag Doll

Saturday, June 04, 2005

A Few Quotes From One Of My Favorite Movies

The Blues Brothers is one of my favorite all time movies and i decided that you all should see a few reasons why i love it so much.

[the brothers race around the mall parking lot]
Elwood: We'll be all right if we can just get back on the expressway.
Jake: This don't look like no expressway to me, pal.
Elwood: Don't yell at me.
Jake: Well whadda you want me to do, Motorhead?
Elwood: Why da ya gotta be so negative all the time? Why can't ya offer some... constructive criticism?

Mrs. Murphy: Help you two?
Elwood: Do you have any white bread ma'am?
Mrs. Murphy: Yeah.
Elwood: I'll have some toasted white bread please.
Mrs. Murphy: You want butter or jam on that, honey?
Elwood: No ma'am, dry.
Jake: Do you have any fried chicken ma'am?
Mrs. Murphy: Best damned chicken in the state.
Jake: Bring me four fried chickens and a Coke.
Mrs. Murphy: You want chicken wings or chicken legs?
Jake: Four fried chickens and a Coke.
Elwood: And some dry white toast please.
Mrs. Murphy: Ya'all want anything to drink with that?
Elwood: No ma'am.
Jake: A Coke.
Mrs. Murphy: Be right back.

Donald 'Duck' Dunn: We had a band powerful enough to turn goat piss into gasoline.

[to man in restaurant]
Jake: [fakes accent] How much for the little girl? How much for the women?
Man: What?
Jake: Your women. I want to buy your women. The little girl, your daughters... sell them to me. Sell me your children.

You are all welcome

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Now I'm Off To Cry Myself To Sleep On My HUGE Pillow

So I had my final in pre-calculus today, and well I really do believe that I passed like a gremlin passes a porsche. I also have come to the realization that most of my class did about as well as i did. There was weeping, there was nashing of teeth, and oddly there was no lake of eternal fire to be seen. The weeping began when we got the tests. My freind and I weeped as soon as we had a test on our desks, then we saw the first page. Immediately we saw that we had been tricked (or so we thought) the first page was easy! Then I turned to the second page which is when i tired to chew off my tongue for telling myself that the rest of the test would follow suit with the first page. Well after sitting there and wondering whether or not a salmon could beat up a trout I was able to do all the problems that I knew how to. Which is when I took my yearbook out of my nackpack and proceeded to beat myself about the head, neck, and shoulders with it untill my teacher told me that I needed to be quiet so that I wouldn't distract the other people in the classroom. And that is the tory of the fall of the card house of hope.

(Two Sized note: Guess what movie I took the title for this post from and recieve a prize of whatever is in your fridge!)

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

The New Internet Crack

I was so rich. Now I am so poor.
Over 100 credits gambled away.

Why did Blog Explosion create such an addicting way to lose your credits?

Now that I have cried my eyes out I should probably tell you all what I am talking about. At the website that I use to increase the traffic to my blog they have created a new horrfyingly beautiful thing called battle of the blogs. What basically happens is you bet a certain number of credits that your blog is better than somebody elses blogs, hoping that at least five of the nine other people will think the same. The only catch is that you have no idea who you will accept your challenge. Since I have no lcuk at random gambling you can imagine my excitement when I won over 100 credits in one night, so I decided to test my luck, I gambled 100 credits and was defeated 9-0. It sucked I went away and cried myself to sleep. Awaking the next day with my head on a giant tear soaked pillow. I went straght to the computer after drying out my pillow case and attempted to win back my credits. Well that didn't go over to well as now I have but a measily 12 credits.

Oh well since it costs at leat ten credits to battle and its time for another hit of my disgustingly sweet addiction I am off to lose again.



(Two Sized Note: Now that I posted this I just won 4 or5 in a row.)
(Two Sized Note part deux: I have now lost four in a row since posting the first note)