.

So, I decided that blogger sucks. That's why I'm moving.

http://brianftw.wordpress.com

All the entries are backed up there, so, the only difference you're going to notice is the layout and url. Update links and bookmarks at your convenience =D

Though I may not get around to posting it for a couple of hours, I'm actually typing this around five twenty in the morning. The sun is pretty much up now, and my feet are dangling out my open window as I'm trying to come up with exactly what I want to say. Since around midnight, I've been working on the last two hundred pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows-- which I'm glad to say that I've finally completed.

I've pretty much have the feeling that I thought I would-- A bittersweet type of sensation. Though I'm glad to be finished with the book, and can now safely divulge myself in conversations with others without having to shield my ears from spoilers.. it kind of feels like I've forever said goodbye to a really good friend.

I've been following Harry Potter, after all, for almost a decade.

Deathly Hallows is indisputably fantastic conclusion to the series, in which Harry must call upon all the things he's learned over the past seven novels in an all out, climactic battle, spanning six hundred and five epic pages (Bloomsbury edition). It's got everything you've come to expect from a Harry Potter novel-- Action, adventure, laughter, tears, love, hate, twist, turns, and most importantly, an uplifting ending. Harry Potter may no longer be gracing the shelves, but, I get the feeling that he's going to be living on for a hell of a long time.

It's been a hell of a ride, that's for damn sure. One that I've been more than glad to be a part of for the last ten years. You have to fucking applaud J.K Rowling for crafting together seven amazing stories, spanning a massive cast of characters that you almost refuse to believe exist solely inside one woman's head. In addition to entertaining me for all this time, she's managed to spark an interesting reading into millions of children (and even adults) worldwide. Harry Potter had made reading "cool" to a generation that could easily be amusing themselves with video games, and television, and all the other modern junk of the like.

It may be stretching it-- But, I dare say she's played a part in saving an art-form.

And for the record, if you've decided yourself to be "too cool" for the Potter novels-- You're honestly ignorant. You're ignorant, and you've missed out on something incredibly special. Sure, you can go back and cram the novels now, but you've missed the experience of growing the characters over the years-- Maturing with them. Having to wait two agonizing years from novel to novel, to find out who's going to make it out all right. Kind of sad when you think about it, huh?

So, this may be about as sappy as it gets, but, I don't particularly care. If you're still in the middle of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows-- savor it, because it does really feel like a goodbye. But do finish it soon, as getting the ending spoiled will severely ruin it's effect. It's summer. You have nothing better to do.

Obviously, you can't help but be left wanting more in the end-- But, I like to believe that Rowling left us a little speck of reassurance at the end the story.

'He'll be all right,' murmured Ginny.

'I know he will.'

And I think I know he will too.

So, today was a blast and a half-- I got to spend the day in the fucking emergency room, getting pumped full of drugs, x-rayed, and the like, while my parents planned to get flights up to Canada by tomorrow morning. What's your problem?

Last night, around seven o'clock, I got this sudden sharp fucking pain around my kidney. I called my mother, and confirmed my fear that yeah, I probably had a kidney stone. I spent the entire howling in pain, guzzling water trying to fill up my bladder, puking, and wandering around my apartment, trying to keep from passing out. I'm marking it down as one of the worst fucking nights of my life, and I'll do anything to never have to go through it again. Somewhere in between ten thirty and midnight, the pain stopped as quickly as it came-- and while I felt some action still going on my side, my abdomen had calmed down a bit, and I was able to fall asleep.

I woke up at four in the morning feelin' pretty fine. I was able to piss normally, and my side didn't seem to hurt as much. Woke up again at seven, same deal. When I woke up again at eleven thirty, the pain in my kidney had returned, but I didn't really make a big deal out of it. By the time I had lugged my computer downstairs and tried to sit down, I was in agony again.

Finally figuring this was pretty fucked up, I made my way down to the health clinic to check out what was going on. Of course, nobody accepts my American health insurance (...if you believe that Canadian health care is as easy as Michael Moore says it is, you're fucking retarded.), so, I ended up having to pay a hundred dollars to even get looked at. I was feeling stingey, but, figured it was worth getting it checked out.

The clinic doctor went through the basics and asked me a bunch of questions about what I went through the other night. He gave me a blank stare, and told me that I needed to get my ass up to the emergency room as fast as I fucking could-- He said that, in best case scenario, I had a huge fucking kidney stone.. but, I was also showing symptoms of appendicitis.. which, would mean I would need to get my fucking appendix out as quickly as fucking possible (..of course, without insurance, that was going to be god damn impossible).

The pain in my side getting more and more persistent, I decided to do what the dude said, and went to go get checked out at the ER.

I checked in, got talked to about payment (...which was essentially just them saying: HAHAHA YOU OWE US SO MUCH MONEY, BITCH!), got a very basic check out, and was told to just hang tight in the waiting room. I spent about an hour in there, pacing around (because, remember, I can't sit down), and I had to make two trips to the bathroom to vomit my guts out.

They finally saw me, and said that they were going to give me something for the pain. And oh, the things they gave me. They hooked me up on an IV first, and then pumped my ass up with morphine.

Now, if you've never had morphine before-- it's pretty much one of the most amazing things you'll ever experience. It's takes a minute or two to get into your bloodstream, but once it does it's like... Sure, my side hurts like hell, but I doesn't even care!! It's wonderful. Of course, it was soon followed by the most bizarre administration of medication I've possibly ever experienced. The doctor was like: "Now, would you like to administer this yourself, or would you rather I did it?"

...and I'm like, 'Why the fuck would I want to do that? You do it.'

'...Okay.' She says. Next thing I know, I'm on my side, she's slapping on a pair of gloves and shoving gelly-like tablets up my ass with her finger, while I scream: 'WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!' It didn't matter much after, though-- Because those drugs kicked in QUICKLY, and I was on the fast track to happy land.

 About (at least what felt like) forty minutes later, I'm still bewilderingly amused by the insulin dropping from the IV. They brought in a wheel chair, and asked if it would be okay for them to use that for them to bring me to the x-ray. And of course, when I say:

'Datsa no problemo! I's can do dat.'

'...Yeah, we're just going to wheel you down in your bed.'

'Okie-dokey.'

So, I get my x-ray, and get wheeled back up into my room. A half hour or so later, they come back in and tell me that yeah, I've got a kidney stone. They give me some weird looks when I take this as good news-- But hey, it's ten times better than appendicitis. The sucker is a 5mm, which is the exact mark to pass it on my own. If it was any bigger, I would have had to gone in for surgery.

The doctor prescribed me some pain killers, because, if you haven't heard, passing a kidney stone HURTS -- But, I can't afford any of them... So, looks like I'm just going to roughing it. The drugs they gave me are starting wear off right now, and my side is starting to hurt again, which means I'm going to finish this up a little faster than expected.

It's going to be a long fucking night.

So, Freddy just filled me in on those murders in Cheshire. That's some really fucked up stuff, I almost don't believe that it happened so close to home.

For those not around my area, the story goes that two guys broke into this house, and took the family-- a husband, wife, and two daughters hostage. They allegedly knocked out the husband, and took the wife to the bank, and made her withdraw fifteen thousand dollars (I think). When they brought her back home, they killed her. They then proceeded to tie the girls down to the bed, and raped one them. Then they set the house on fire.

The husband survived. I honestly can't tell you how horrible I feel for this man. Seriously, you sit there, you worry about your parents not letting you go out, or not having the money to get some stupid thing, or some girl not liking you, or other stupid problems that fucking emo kids come up with now a days-- and you realize that this man has lost everything. Fucking everything. His family, his home, his life. Never saw it coming, and never assumed it could happen to him. Really puts shit into perspective, doesn't it? Everybody quit your bitching for a minute, be thankful for everything that you have, and give someone you love a hug. Seriously.

It also makes me fucking sick that people like those two men actually exist. I don't think I can fathom having a heart so black that one could even dream of doing that to another human being. It doesn't take much to realize that these two are bottom of the barrel, god damn fucking garbage-- and a waste of fucking breath. I'm not a supporter of the death penalty-- But, I sincerely hope that they're promptly kicked as hard as possible in the fucking nuts.

Now, go get on those hugs I was talking about.

Yes friends, this time is coming for the most epic of competitions to take place is upon us. On August 14th, 2007 -- The world's finest shall be competing to see who wields the strongest arm in the universe (...or at least in Writing Class Number 23). The victor? Life long bragging rights, and the biggest verbal cock in existence. The loser? Shame, belittlement, a lifetime of misery, and a lonely, lonely death.

That's right, it's the 'Battle North of Seattle' -- The greatest arm wrestling competition known to man.

First Contender-- Zach Roe. Defender of Freedom. Shia LaBeouf fanboy. Usually keeper of mucho facial hair.

Second Contender -- Niklas Sweedish Guy. Neutral Bastard. Maker of Meat Loaf. Cosumer of meat balls.




Oh dear God.

Myspace is starting to get on my nerves a little bit-- Maybe I'm just cranky because I barely get comments anymore, but I think it's more because of all the spam that I'm getting now. Seriously, every time that I log on, I get more or less three fucking friend requests from PornSpaces, shitty bands, and "rappers". Worse than these combined are the fucking random chicks (see: dudes with pictures of chicks.) who send me messages like: "HI. YOU SOUND COOL. WANNA TALK??" -- I get at least one of these a month now, and it's like, NO, LEAVE ME ALONE. I'M NOT COOL. STOP BOTHERING ME. How the fuck do these people keep finding me, anyway? If anyone wants to comment the blog, hey, they're more than welcome-- and I'll read anyone who reads me, and link you on the sidebar if you're cool. But, honestly, don't just message me on Myspace. I have enough friends, and I don't want to know you. Ugh. (Then again, adding random people would solve my comment gripes.)

The other thing is-- You're not going to get free ringtones, there is no Myspace tracker (there's one, but you can only track people who are also using it), and no, no one is going to realize that they like you if you repost this bulletin in .332423 seconds. Seriously. Die.

The "Proud to be White" and "I'd Do This For My Girl" bulletins need to die too-- But, I've murdered both of those before, and I'm not getting into it again. 

So, I'm going to assume that you're all knee deep in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by now. I picked it up at nine o'clock this morning, and have been enjoying it profusely. I won't spoil anything for anybody, but I'm about a hundred and thirty pages in ('The Wedding' -- as I believe the British edition's page count is different than all of yours.), and plenty of people are already dead. I'm telling you now, if you don't have it yet-- Cover your ears from anything Potter related, and get yourself a copy as soon as fucking possible. As I said, it's excellent so far, and is proving up to be an excellent finale of an excellent series.

So, my landlord stops by earlier this morning while I'm working on my shit, and lets me know that he's going to take these two people up to show them my room. And I'm like: "HI. WANT TO GIVE ME A CHANCE TO CLEAN IT FIRST?" -- and he says: "Yeah, I was meaning to talk to you about that, I went in yesterday, it was pretty messy."

...YOU WENT IN YESTERDAY!? What the fuck!? I'm pretty sure your only supposed to enter my place if it's an emergency, or with 24 hours notice. This situation was neither. WHAT THE HELL? So now I have to be paranoid about random people coming into my apartment at random times during the day? I swear to Christ, that's breaking some Tenant's Rights law... and if it isn't, it's just plain fucking rude. I'm seriously pissed off about it.

But oh well. I'm out of here in a month, anyway.

I really don't have much of anything to say right now, just looking for an excuse to keep my fingers moving. That, and I'm already tired of looking at my other entry.

I'm looking for shit to throw onto the sidebar, because I'm kind of bored. I know that no one else cares-- but, I look at this thing more than any of you, so, I want make sure that I am amused by it. I don't want a whole bunch of ugly, clumsy widgets though, so, we'll see what happens.

Fuck what I sad earlier. I'm probably going to pick up Harry Potter tomorrow. Who needs to eat, right?

Gettin' tired, going to go hit the sack.