Last post.

That's it, it's official. The new home of my thoughts is The Top of the Mountain. So, I'm going to make this a nice ending entry.

The Gallows has existed for three years, five days ago. That's a long time, especially considering I'm only 18.5 years old. I've written here for 1/6th of my life, as of now. And before that, I used to have a stupid ass sub-profile (check my first post: Up... trying to run?.

1/6th of my life is in this blog, and I would consider it the hardest part of my life so far. I have used this place as a refuge; no one can touch me here, just look. Though I've kept a lot in, I've always been able to vent my frustrations without repercussion here. That's really important to me, and something special about the whole blog experience.

My writing has definitely improved too; it's incredible to watch myself grow in text. Not only in quality of writing, but also thought and um... heh, this is ironic. Can't think of the word. I guess the proper term would be communication abilities... eloquence? Ah, you get the picture. Anyway...

I've always had trouble coming up with stuff to write about, and that much is apparent. Not only are there huge gaps between some posts, but some are just plain dumb. And sometimes, I get going and then never really finish. You wouldn't believe some of the stupid, stupid posts I have started, saved as drafts, and then forgotten. I went back a while ago and deleted a lot, which I shouldn't have done... I should've just posted them as-is (as-was... as-were?).

Now, two things dear to my heart: my readers and my profanity; latter first. I swear, a lot. Which is sort of hypocritical, since I believe in keeping a good image and swearing is really counteractive to that. But to me, swearing is not something taboo or obscene, but instead an alternate vocabulary. Normal words can only go so far, which some would say is a testament to my lack of writing skills. Well fuck that. When something needs to be emphasized, or exaggerated, or attention needs to be focused, a swear does that very well. Thus, I consider swearing to be a side-art form of writing: if you can't swear well, then that is a detriment. There is just something about cursing that could never be conveyed by normal words. My favorite example of this is in the movie "The Boondock Saints;" after Rocco accidentally shoots the cat, Murphy shouts "I can't believe that just fuckin happened!" That statement would have completely lost it's hilarity and awesomeness if he just said "I can't believe that just happened!" or to really literary sterilize it: "I am totally astounded at this turn of events." Yes, sometimes I go overboard, but hey, practice makes perfect!

To my readers: I congratulate you, and commend you, and love you, and I am truly grateful to everyone that reads my blog. You have taken time out of your life to read what I say, and it is important to me for you to know this. Thank you.

Special thanks really need to go out to a few people: First and foremost, my mom. I can write because of you, and your constant support throughout, even in the face of my absolute childishness, obscenity, sadness, hilarity, .... the best and the worst. I love you.

My close-knit group of friends, and especially my best friend, Tyler. Directly and indirectly, you have made massive impacts on my writing. Thanks buddy (buddies).

Dan and my brother, for supporting my blog with AIM profile advertising. Thanks bruthas.

Heather; I've really only known you for what, 3/4 of a year as of now? Yet you've made a difference, pushing me to write some more to entertain you (=P) and complimenting me on many things. Sometimes, all it takes is a little moral support. Thank you.

What else? I think that's it. This is a minor end to a minor section in my life. Sort of like, moving up from middle school to high school... a major change at the time, but in the scheme of things, not important whatsoever.

Everyone else, thank you all, but you're not here for two reasons: your thanks don't belong to this specific blog (for various reasons... I keep only part of myself here) or you simply didn't have any major impact in this specific area or my life. Don't take it personally.

Or fuck off.

In all likelihood, emigration.

The people (read: posts) of The Gallows have done some scouting around for new territory, as tensions between the populace and the ruling body (Blogger) have been less than kosher. They just aren't completely happy with available resources, and additional exploration has increased unhappiness, as many of the important people (my favorite posts) have realized the additional features that other countries offer. As such, The Gallows will be dismantled, and the community of posts will be moving to The Top of the Mountain.

Don your oxygen masks.

And hold out your stoggings kids.

A new thing to celebrate!

To start, I pose a question: If you could create an anniversary-like day or a holiday, what would it be? You can't steal it from anywhere.

While some people would say "Electricity Day" or "Chocolate Day" or "Snow Tires Anniversary," I would create "Two Days After Your Birthday Day." Not only is it distinctive, but extremely awesome, especially for those with birthdays that fall on a Wednesday, that day that is neither close to last weekend or close to this weekend. So by having Two Days After Your Birthday Day, you can actually celebrate something, (for Wednesday birthday, you'd celebrate on Friday, yessss) instead of putting off the real holiday (LAME).


For all two of you out there (I stole that from somewhere...) I want to know what holiday you'd make.

Why it's better to be a girl.

There is only one reason:

If you're a girl and you have cold hands and you need to go pee, it doesn't matter. But if you're a guy with cold hands, you need to grab you're wiener. With cold hands. It sucks.

A story.

My friend Mike told me this story, about a girl that one of his friends knows.

The girl was hired to dogsit a Great Dane in NYC for a guy who was on a trip to Europe, and would be gone for a week or so. So she's relaxing, taking care of this guy's dog and everything, and after a few days, she finds it dead. Hysterical, she calls the guy up and says, "I'm sorry, your dog just died, blah blah blah." So he tells her she needs to bring it to the vet, so an autopsy can be done. She was in NY and didn't have a car, so she stuffs this 1oo pound dead dog in a suitcase and hops on the subway.
After dragging it to the building where the vet is, she finds out that the office is on the 5th floor. And there is no elevator. So she has to climb 5 flights of stairs with this huge, dead dog in a suitcase. After two flights, she's exhausted and about ready to cry and give up. But then some guy happens to be walking up the stairs, and offers to carry the huge bag, so she obviously says yes, but hopes to god he doesn't ask what he's carrying.
They get to the next flight of stairs, and he decides to ask what the hell is in the suitcase. Not wanting to tell him the truth, she tells him "big speakers." So he's like, "ok," picks up the suitcase, punches her in the face, and runs away with the suitcase full of dead fucking dog.

If I believed in karma, I wouldn't be so surprised.