Okay. I'll start things out by saying hi. My name's Andrew, AKA Wareyaiba-kun. My name means fragile/broken sword. Anywho, this'll be meh little rant section. And blah-de-fuckin-blah.
Okay. So I'm sitting here at the computer, working on a story I wanted to post on the Final Fantasy section of fanfiction.net (yes, I'm an author there). Well, I couldn't finish it before I had to leave for school, so I saved it and left. I get back and my dad tells me he had to wipe the harddrive. So I'm staring at him wide-eyed, giving him a 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' look, the moral equivalent of Heero Yuy's death glare. And that damn parental immunity to all threat by their children kicks in right when I do, so he ruffles my hair and heads out. And I'm sitting here in my chair, fuming and wondering how to avoid being arrested for murder.
And then about yesterday, I'm typing the story over again and I suddenly blink. The computer screen has officially gone crazy and I have no idea what to do. So I look around for a magnet, wondering of this was just a damn cruel joke and someone hit my monitor with a magnet. Well, no one was around. So I shut down the computer, reboot it, and when I try to open the file, it says the file has been corrupted. That was about the time I grabbed my bokken and ran outside for some much-needed stress release. Let me just say that both my bokken and the hapless victim that was the tree in my backyard both feel my rage now. As do my hands.
Well, I posted a story I wrote in about an hour this morning, before I went to my classes, and I haven't gotten feedback from anyone. Mind you, it has only been about 4-5 hours since I posted it, but I just figured that it'd be faster than that. Either that, or no one likes my story and decided to not review. Whatever. Screw you biotchez then.
Next topic, Counter-strike. The game ownz, I'm trying to scam my friend into burning me a copy. But this is only because I make a measly feckin $3.50 a week. It takes me more than two months to buy a $30 video game. What does this tell you? But I suppose the game's worth it. Nothing's better than the satisfaction of blowing the shit out of a Terrorist/Counter-Terrorist with a Colt M4A1. And yes, before you people ask, I am clinically insane. And I am proud!
And for the final rant of today, Megatokyo. I realize Fred is pumping all his energy into doing this and his other job, but honestly. For someone who can make $1750 from a single sketching of his, you'd think he'd be able to do more. Us die-hard fans are getting annoyed (or at least I am) by the lack of following the schedule, the constant excuses and apologies. Not that I don't believe Piro, I know what it's like to have artist's block (I get it whenever I try and draw a circle), but we'd just like solid reasons instead of his lame-ass excuses as to why he couldn't update for the day. I mean, no offense to Dom, but who thought up Shirt Guy Dom Days anyway? Probably Piro, who was looking to update the comic but was 'too busy' or 'too sick' or 'too tired' to do it.
You adults confuse the hell outta me. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Okay. So I'm sitting here at the computer, working on a story I wanted to post on the Final Fantasy section of fanfiction.net (yes, I'm an author there). Well, I couldn't finish it before I had to leave for school, so I saved it and left. I get back and my dad tells me he had to wipe the harddrive. So I'm staring at him wide-eyed, giving him a 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' look, the moral equivalent of Heero Yuy's death glare. And that damn parental immunity to all threat by their children kicks in right when I do, so he ruffles my hair and heads out. And I'm sitting here in my chair, fuming and wondering how to avoid being arrested for murder.
And then about yesterday, I'm typing the story over again and I suddenly blink. The computer screen has officially gone crazy and I have no idea what to do. So I look around for a magnet, wondering of this was just a damn cruel joke and someone hit my monitor with a magnet. Well, no one was around. So I shut down the computer, reboot it, and when I try to open the file, it says the file has been corrupted. That was about the time I grabbed my bokken and ran outside for some much-needed stress release. Let me just say that both my bokken and the hapless victim that was the tree in my backyard both feel my rage now. As do my hands.
Well, I posted a story I wrote in about an hour this morning, before I went to my classes, and I haven't gotten feedback from anyone. Mind you, it has only been about 4-5 hours since I posted it, but I just figured that it'd be faster than that. Either that, or no one likes my story and decided to not review. Whatever. Screw you biotchez then.
Next topic, Counter-strike. The game ownz, I'm trying to scam my friend into burning me a copy. But this is only because I make a measly feckin $3.50 a week. It takes me more than two months to buy a $30 video game. What does this tell you? But I suppose the game's worth it. Nothing's better than the satisfaction of blowing the shit out of a Terrorist/Counter-Terrorist with a Colt M4A1. And yes, before you people ask, I am clinically insane. And I am proud!
And for the final rant of today, Megatokyo. I realize Fred is pumping all his energy into doing this and his other job, but honestly. For someone who can make $1750 from a single sketching of his, you'd think he'd be able to do more. Us die-hard fans are getting annoyed (or at least I am) by the lack of following the schedule, the constant excuses and apologies. Not that I don't believe Piro, I know what it's like to have artist's block (I get it whenever I try and draw a circle), but we'd just like solid reasons instead of his lame-ass excuses as to why he couldn't update for the day. I mean, no offense to Dom, but who thought up Shirt Guy Dom Days anyway? Probably Piro, who was looking to update the comic but was 'too busy' or 'too sick' or 'too tired' to do it.
You adults confuse the hell outta me. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Last edited:
Doubt it, there are a lot of better people.