..I bought another transformer, while I wasnt allowed anymore this year. =x

Anyone got Movie1 Longarm? I got the Scene pack with broken 'Bee and stuff.

But he has issues. With the panels on his arms.. they just flop open and hang around.. Is there a way to get them to stick to the sides of his arms, or so I have to glue the evil pen-joints to be more stiff?

Other then that, he's awesome.

Got him while visiting family and going to their town. Was just 10euros. And since I threw up earlier there.. I think mom felt sorry for me? Still gotta pay her back though, I didnt bring my wallet. =x

No idea why I threw up... Sure I had a flu for 2 weeks.. then got my period, and then got a doubling of my 'happy pills' (antidepresion meds).. and yesterday I had such a bad migrane it made me nausious... I hate throwing up.. wanted to never ever do that again. cursed body...

Needed to push the old entry off my first-page.

Maplestory is very addictive.

That's all.

Why the BLEEP would a guy ever want to be a gynocologist?! They cant bleed from their vagoos so they dont know shit.

Apperently my issues between the legs are caused between the ears. Why on earth would I WANT to be sick?! sick only makes for more yelling from dad.

EDIT:

Going to find a good female gynocologist after both my parents and a lot of family and online friend said the way the guy acted wasn't all that great at all.

Me: If its up to me, that thing can be taken out.
Doc: And you think I'll just do that like that?

normal response should be "how long have you had that thought?" or "have you talked to your family about this yet?"

I'm addicted to maplestory again. =x

It's really fun though and my guildmates are all awesome. (I own the guild harhar)
If you're a european, or think you can figure out a way with proxies and crap to play on the european server, PLEASE DO!

Tell me your email and I'll send you an invite.
[link] is a good place to find info about the game. It's cute and 2d and doesn't take a strong computer to play, just constant internet is required like most MMORPGs
Some of my characters;

FIamed, a blaze wizard.
Enshrine, a cleric.
Unloved, an assassin.
Levaura, a thunder striker.
Çhase and Çash arn't shown, they look fugly right now.. XD need more money to make them look better.

It takes real money to make them look good, this is not a requirement, it just makes it fun for me, you can play without spending a dime of real money.

If you don't want to play and still want to support me by spending a little of your phone credit, drop me a note, I'll tell you how, but like that's anything anyone is willing to do .

Here comes a large amount of text, directly copied from the RotF novel, which I think shouldn't have been dropped from the movie. Sure, it would make people pee their pants. pee their pants from laughing so much!


This is how Sam should of let Lennox know about where to bring Prime ect ect.
~~
~~

The sun was shining on the patio at the back of the Lennox's house. Sarah Lennox juggled her Two-year-old on her lap while Ray Epps's Wife, Monique, attempted the impossible task of keeping track of their five offspring. Their four daughters were chasing one another around the pool, occasionally pausing to hop madly up and down in the spray from a hose-fed plastic fountain. Above the happy hysteria the insistent ring of a cell phone was barely audible.
Still maintianing a firm grib on her terrible two, Sarah looked around in confusion. While she could hear the phone, from a practicable standpoint it might as well have been invisible.
"I think one of your kids has my ..."
Though she was not in the military, Monique Epps had a fine drill sergeant's voice-a requirement for keeping a handle on five rug rats.
"Shareeka! Shaniqua! Sheleeka! Mozambiqua! Where's your brother? Where's Fred?" Spotting her isolated male progeny hard at work hollowing out the Lennoxes' sandbox, she rose and hiked over to him. He gazed up with the guilelessness of a precocious three-year-old, plastic sand shovel in one hand, and lips wrapped around another. "Fred, what'd you do with Mrs. Lennox's phone?"
Formulating a response required Fred to execute a cursory search of his infantile hard drive. This unleased a moment's digging in the sand, where excavation soon exposed the still-yammering communications device. Maintaining his innocence, he picked it up and held it out to his mother. She glared down at him. "You best wipe the sand off that phone or I'm going to reach out and touch your behind."
Fred complied, motivated more by his mother's stern maternal tone then her only marginally comprehensible words. Half satisfied, she took it from his small fingers and walked back to return it to her host. Sarah put it to her ear as she acknowledged the call.
"Hello? Hello, who is this? We don't have a very good connection." She smiled speculatively. "Mary-ann, are you calling while riding your Mercedes through the car wash again?"
It was just as well that the Lennoxes did not subscribe to the caller ID. Had the phone's screen come back with a number combined with it's location, City of the Dead, Egypt, she might have hung up without a word.
Most people would have.
On the other end of the call, his back turned against a light breeze that whipped not-so-light sand around him, Sam squinted as he sought shelter from the blowing desert while cupping his hand over the mouthpiece of the battered pay phone. Nearby, a partially occupied yellow-and-black Camero and a pair of only intermittently occupied compact cars stood watch.
"Hi-Mrs. Lennox? My name's Sam Witwicky. You don't know me but I know your husband, Major Lennox. Met him two years ago when it started-the thing we all know about but can't talk about."
Sarah's voice quickened over the receiver. "'sam'? You're the kid who..."
"Yes-I'm 'who'. And the fate of more or less the entire world depends upon me getting a message to him, but people are gonna be listening for certain key words. I need your help."
Silence reigned at the other end, and for a terrible moment he was afraid she had hung up on him. Then a terse but self-assured feminine voice finally responded. "What can I do?"
He proceeded to tell her.
He was nearly done when a tall, slim figure draped in local dress came running directly toward him. Preliminary panic gave way to amusement and then to admiration as Sam admitted to himself that Seymour Simmons didn't look half as bad in local attire. His arms were full of wind-whipped clothing. While Sam had been setting up the call and talking, the ex-agent had gone shopping.
"Local police must've gotten word. They're searching in the town. We gotta move now."
Nodding understandingly, Sam started to replace the handset in its holder. "I gotta go. You got the coordinates I gave you?"
"Yes. Sam, I ..."
"Thank you."
Slamming the phone down, he nodded at Simmons and together they raced back towards the waiting Camaro. Now tickly coated with dust and sand, all three cars peeled out of the parking area. Moments later, several Egyptian police vehicles pulled in to form a heavily armed circle around the now-deserted and forlorn pay phone.
Close, Sam thought as they accelerated away. Too close.

* * *

The huge pallet and its irregularly shaped payload was clearly visible from the operations control room as it was being loaded onto the waiting C-17. Standing side by side, a disconsolate Lennox and Epps followed the precedure. There ought to have been an honor guard, Lennox told himself. And a band solemnly playing. And flags glying. Optimus Prime deserved all that and more. Instead, he was being crated and shipped like an Oversized FedEx parcel. It wasn't right. Beside him, Epps was mittering his own opinion under his breath. The words he was using were considerably less polite then those coursing through the thoughts of his friend and superior Officer.
Behind them, Galloway was reviewing an intelligence file when a communications officer appeared and bent to whisper something in his ear. Frowning, he raised his gaze to the far window where Lennox and Epps continued to stare, for some unfarhomable reason, out at the runway.
"I don't care," the advisor informed the officer. "There are no private calls. Not even from wives to husbands-or vice versa."Slapping a button on the nearby phoner box, he put the incoming call on speakerphone.
The voice of "Monique Epps echoed through the operations room.
"Ray? Is Ray on the line?"
Startled to hear his wife's voice, Epps turned and stared at the phone's direction. "Yeah, baby, I'm here. You're on speaker. What is it?" Looking around, he saw that the other operations personnel were studiously and politely doing their best to ignore the conversation taking place in their mids. "We're workin'."
Speakerphone. Monique Epps hesitated, looked at Sarah, who was standing next to her, glanced at the kids racing around the Lennox kitchen, and strove to figure out how best to proceed. A questioning look at her friend generated only a raising of hands and a helpless shrug. They would have to improvice as best they could.
"Don't you dare gimme that 'we're working,' Raymond. This is an emergency. You gotta stop what you're doing and be listenin' to me."Beside her, Sarah Lennox nodded encouragement.
Trapped in the wide-open operations room and shooting the occasional murderous stare in the direction of now-smirking co-workers, Epps had no choice but to reply. A glance in Galloway's direction showed the advisor had turned away and had returned to his work.
"Okay, baby, okay," he murmured soothingly. "Calm down. Remember, I'm on speaker here. What's going on?"
"Well, for one thing I'm not getting any younger, is what's going on." she shot back. "I just took a good long look in the mirror this morning and it hit me all at once that I've popped five kids outta this factory and I'm feeling like a damn truck." A few chuckles sounded around the operations center, only to turn to silence when Epps glared in their direction. Embarassed but helplessm he had no choice but to continue listening to his wife rant.
"Like a big ol' eighting-wheeler," his wife was complaining, "That woulda been easer to drop then five smaller versions, you feel me?"
Epps looked over at Lennox but found no enlightment there. Cupping a palm over the phone's handset, he lowered his voice affectionately. "Uh, I kinda feel you, I think."
"You better believe you feel me," his wife continued, "'cause I got a big-ass booty to prove it. I've been thinhking a lot about this, Raymond, and my mind is made up. "I'm getting it done Face-lift, tummy tuck, super-boobs, the whole chimichanga redo from Doc Samuels."
Epps's lower jaw dropped. "What? When did you-who's 'Doc Samuels'? You been seeing a plastic surgeon without telling me Monique? You know I don't allow plastic in my house."
"Let me remind you it's not your house, it's our house, and you're 'bout to be sleepin' in the dog house, 'cause you are not listening. Samuels, Doc Samuels. He's young, you both met him a couple of years ago at the car show> He had that new custom job, probably paid for with it by a couple of dozen front end lifts."
Epps looked at Lennox, who stared back. Dawning realization was beginning to penetrate the solid bone of the both soldiers' skills sufficiently to reach into the gray matter beneath. A nearby guard remained attentiin, inadequiately equipped to catch on the real gist of the ongoing domestic conversation. Lennox decided to announce his presence.
"Oh, yea, the car show, I remember now, Monique. That docter, he had bought himself one fast ride."
"Glad you both remember," Epps's wife was saying, "çause I truly feel that I'm just coming up on my prime now-my optimal prime. So I told this doc that I was feeling like a big ol' truck that was just falling down and he thinks he can bring the whole kit and kabooty back to life. You hear what I'm saying now?"
The voice of Sarah Lennox broke in. "I keep telling her it's not the end of the world if she doesn't get this woek done, Ray, and she keeps insisting that it is."
"Oh yes, it is!" Monique insisted vehemently.
The watching guard did his best to stifle a smirk. Under ordinaty circumstances Epps would have punched him out, stockade or no stockade. Instead, he just gazed back at Lennox. The real meaning buried in the seemingly insouciant conversation had hit them both hard.
Lennox nodded towards the mic pickup. "Ray-your wife is waiting for a reply."
Epps nodded, bent, and spoke. "Sugar Muffin, I'm sorry for getting angry. You need a tune-up? Who am I to say no?"
"Doc Samuems says it has to happen, like now, baby. After all, the body we're talking about deserves to live again."
"I couldn't agree more, Sugar Plum. Believe me, I understand completely. I mean, what's truly important is truly important, right?" He glanced over at Lennox, who did a quick scan of the operations center. Bored from listening to the marital byplay, the others had returned to their work. No one was paying the two soldiers the least attention except their guard, and he contrinued to operate under a perfectly wrong set of assumptions. Which meant they could proceed.
Epps nodded and adressed the mic afresh. "So, uh, Sugar, what's this operation gonna cost me? Gimme some hard numbers. I need to know where we're going with this."
Having prepared for the conversation by pulling the family atlas from its place in the living room bookshelf, Sarah Lennox already had it open to the relevant section. A Post-it note on the page opposite the critical one was filled with her neat handwriting. Pulling it free, she handed it to her friend. Holding the note in one hand and the phone in the other, Monique resumed talking to her husband.
"Well, right now it'sw looking like around twenty-nine. With all the extras, it comes to exaclty twenty-nine point three-one, maybe east of thirty-five-depending on wheither we go with 'saline' or 'silicone,' but it's definatly in that neighborhood."
Epps nodded as he memorized the numbers. "I got it. Wow. Those are some far-out numbers. As near as I can see, they're way off base. You tell the doc that's half my salery. But I think we can swing it. I promise you I'm gonna do my damndest, and I'm sure Bill Lennox will help out in every way he can. Won't you, uh, Sir?"
Lennox nodded. "You can bet on it, Sargeant. We've been friends too long to let this one slide."
Epps smiled. "Thanks. Sugar, kiss the kids and tell 'em-tell 'em we're all comin' home soon." He broke the connection, paused, and stared.
Turning, Lennox saw what had drawn his attention.
Galloway had risen from his chair to come up right behind them.
"In my long career," the advisor began gravely, "I bet I've heard then thousand wiretapped conversations. And the one thing I've learned?" Both soldiers stiffened. Lennox saw the guard was paying close attention and might be difficult to jump.
"What's that, Sir?" he inquired carefully.
"Gallowey never hesitated. "The wife is always right." Having delivered himself of that immutable truth, he walked past the two of them and out through the nearest doorway. Lennox and Epps watched him go, then exchanged glance. Nothing was said, but their respective heart rates slowed proportionately.