Christ Centered Gamer

Normally I take it to my refridgerator. I need to get a stress squeeze ball thing, because I'll break my knuckles someday if I keep punching hard surfaces...

I like my hair. And my parents will let me do anything with it if I want. Because it can be changed back, and it'll grow back.

Lazarus wrote:Yeah, me too. I wonder if anyone else sees me in that light, though. 8O

People whose behavior I find ridiculous: Anyone who tries to convince me using emotional arguments, those who assume that I'll enjoy something because they do, those that try to force me into their little box, legalists, "let's all be happy and get along" types, and arrogant sheep.

Well, that's a good list. I'll add to it: "Parents who want their children to be clones of themselves".

I'd consider that to be covered by the "those that try to force me into their little box" category, but yes, that is annoying.

Whoa - 11:02. I should probably go to bed soon.

...actually, if Mom came in here and found me to be un-asleep, she'd kill me.

At least I can always go back to my old, plain, non-interesting hair style... Hopefully my mom won't cut it so doggone short this time (if I do get it cut).

Over in Killarney
Many years ago,
Me Mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And l'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."
Oft in dreams I wander
To that cot again,
I feel her arms a-huggin' me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a -hummin'
To me as in days of yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.

Those Irish sure have a way with words!

We escape along the Great Road
Strider,my friends and I, Frodo
The Black Riders follow, just five of their lot.
If only we'll meet Gandalf on Weathertop.

Through Midgewater Marshes and trecherous bogs
And Neckerbreekers squeeking through the cold, gloomy fog
Off in the distance, our eyes are caught
By leaps of lightening on Weathertop.

Many days on the road have left us thin
But to joke we look like wraiths seems far too grim.
We turn towards Amon Sul now long crumbled with rot
Where the watchtower was burned on old Weathertop

We climb up the hill with hope of finding Gandalf
But tracks in the dust tell us he was off.
Down the Great Road, our hearts are distraught,
Five Black Riders race towards old Weathertop.

"We've a fortnight to go to reach Rivendale,"
Says Strider, "There's nowhere safe between here and there.
So sit your backs to the fire on guard for the plot.
For a battle begins tonight on Weathertop."

Then over the dell, I see a shadow rise.
Three, then five dark figures, wraiths in moonlight
Terror ensnares us, Sam speeds to my side.
I hear The Ring calling...me to hide.

I reach in my pocket and grip it tight.
My mind goes blind to warnings. Ah, but to hide.
I slip the ring on, unleashing my hell
As the pale king's knife stabs me and I'm quelled.

In the morning, I wake whispering, "O', where's the pale king?"
To my companions joy I live and still clutch The Ring.
My body is weak, but our journey unstopped.
As we make our escape from old Weathertop.

Now that's a nice ol' Lord of the Rings dittie!

Count_Krazy wrote:At least I can always go back to my old, plain, non-interesting hair style... Hopefully my mom won't cut it so doggone short this time (if I do get it cut).

Nice song - you have your mom cut your hair? I usually do it myself to avoid(as you say) "getting it cut so doggone short".

I ain't no barber... I'd probably cut off both me ears if I tried to cut it meself.

I do like that song.

Never tried to cut my own hair.

Well, there's two songs. The LotR one, and the lullaby.

Anyway, I don't trust barbers. My dad has had them cut his hair a couple times, and it came out awful.

It's not too difficult to cut your hair by yourself - just need a mirror and a good pair of scissors.

And bandages... And thread for stitches... And a phone to call the ambulance...

Paranoid, CK?

I tend not to be paranoid about dying-it's failure that worries me.

Paranoid? My Dad is paranoid about everything... I dunno why he even lives in the U.S.