Sarcasm is just one of my many talents

because it shut down … they arent allowing people to use it anymore

this may sound dumb as hell to yall but sometimes i wish i was more like spongebob.

for instance he LOVES working and working hard at that … he utilizes all of his abilities at work and never complains. dude never even asks for a day off and he doesnt mind his pay getting docked. 

he lives life to the fullest and the simplest of things amuse him

his best friend is obviously gay and i have ALWAYS wanted a gay best friend [even though from my experiences gay men HATE women but thats another story] 

lastly he loves people who hate him… see squidward for reference

but hey im content with being myself

In all my years of watching scooby doo i have only been able to solve ONE mystery. this show is too complex for kids 

and why doesnt velma get some DAMN CONTACTS or at least a string. Cause whenever its about to go down velma loses her glasses that hoe is a problem. Jinkies my ass she woulda been left

then did fred and daphne have something going on cause whenever it was time to “split up” fred always called dibs on her … was he afraid the shag and scoob were gonna put the moves on her ?

and WHY do white people on tv LOVE to split up when scary shit is happening ! thats would be my main motivation to stay together

and you would have to give me a WHOLE lot more than just a fugging scooby snack to get me to face them “monsters” 

and in fact those monsters were ALWAYS human beings so why they didnt just pull their mask off … i woulda been like haha game over now give me your mask 

these are random observations that i have made about the show over the years… 

On May 19, 1983, Downs shot her three children: Stephen Daniel Downs (born 1979, age 3), Cheryl Lynn Downs (born 1976, age 7) and Christie Ann Downs (born 1974, age 8). Downs drove the children in the blood spattered car to the McKenzie-Willamette Hospital. On arrival Cheryl was already dead. Downs herself had been shot in the left forearm. Downs claimed she was carjacked on a rural road near Springfield, Oregon, by a strange man who shot her and her three children. Investigators, however, became suspicious when they noticed her manner was too calm to have experienced such a traumatic event.

Their suspicions heightened when Downs went to see Christie for the first time; Christie’s eyes glazed over with fear and her heart rate jumped. They also discovered that she called a man in Arizona named Robert Knickerbocker immediately upon arriving at the hospital, a man with whom she had been having an affair. Author Ann Rule gave Knickerbocker the pseudonym of Lew Lewiston. The forensic evidence did not match Downs’ story; there was no blood on the driver’s side of the car, nor was there any gunpowder residue on the driver’s panel. Downs did not tell police she owned a .22 caliber handgun, but both Steve Downs (her ex-husband) and Knickerbocker (her boyfriend) said she did own one.

Investigators later discovered she had bought the handgun in Arizona, and found unfired casings that had been worked through the same gun that shot the children, although they were unable to find the actual weapon. Most damaging, witnesses saw Downs’ car being driven very slowly toward the hospital—Downs had claimed that she drove there at high speed after the shooting. Based on this and other evidence, Downs was arrested nine months after the event, on February 28, 1984, and charged with murder, attempted murder and criminal assault.

kanye can say and do ANYTHING because people will just label it art ! that video with all that symbolism is GARBAGE ! if anyone else did that it would be called trash but cause kanye did it its called art. i digress and kanye’s singing on runaway sounds HORRIBLE but nobody cares because its kanye and i love kanye west i just hate that he can basically do anything without any damn judgement or maybe im just a hater lol

im outgrowing alot of shit. Halloween usta be THE SHIT to me and hell i didnt do a damn thing. 

i usta be running through town slanging candy toilet paper and eggs …. 

Debating on going to new orleans to night but with boosie locked up and wayne getting out these people are on edge and ready to get crazy … so i dnt know

they are becoming extinct … wtf man

i spent 4 hours trying to go to about 3 house parties and ALL them bitches got shut down. 

SHEESH

i was extremely annoyed but im going to new orleans tonight so that should be fun 

You change your mind
Like a girl changes clothes
Yeah you, PMS
Like a bitch
I would know

And you over think
Always speak
Cryptically
I should know
That you’re no good for me

Cause you’re hot then you’re cold
You’re yes then you’re no
You’re in then you’re out
You’re up then you’re down
You’re wrong when it’s right
It’s black and it’s white
We fight, we break up
We kiss, we make up

Since I come home, 
well my body’s been a mess
and I miss your ginger hair 
and the way you like to dress

Won’t you come on over
stop making a fool out of me
why don’t you come on over Valerie
Valerie, Valerie, Valerie

By Rachel Pergament The Murders The evening of Sunday, August 20, 1989, was warm in Beverly Hills. The maid had the night off and the white, $4 million, 23-room Mediterranean-style mansion at 722 Elm Drive was quiet. The owners of the home, Jose and Kitty Menendez were in the family room dozing while a James Bond thriller, The Spy Who Loved Me, played on the VCR. The couple’s sons, Lyle, 21, and Erik, 18, had gone out for the evening.

Although she was 47 and a little overweight, Kitty was still attractive. She had blond hair and green eyes. At 44, Jose could pass for someone much younger. He still had a full head of thick black hair and was in good physical shape from playing tennis.

Around 10:00 p.m., a teenage girl was outside her home, located down the street from the Menendez mansion, waiting for her boyfriend. The girl noticed a small car drive up and stop in front of the Menendez home. There were two men inside the car. The men exited from the car. One man went to the trunk and the other walked toward the house. The girl lost interest and looked away.

The Menendez mansion was set back from the street, shaded by dense foliage and protected by an elaborate security system. The house had previously been rented to a succession of business and entertainment people, including the artist formerly known as Prince and Elton John. A high iron fence surrounded the mansion and there were iron gates barring the entrance to the semicircular driveway in front of the home. On this evening, the gates located in front of the driveway were open and the security system was off.

The men entered the home through the french doors in the study. They walked down the hallway toward the family room, located in the back of the house. The men entered the family room, which was illuminated only by the light coming from the television screen. Jose was dozing on the tan leather couch, sitting at the end nearest the door leading to the hallway. Jose’s legs were stretched out in front of him; his feet were on the coffee table along with two dishes that contained the remains of a berry and ice cream snack. Kitty was lying under a blanket, her body stretched out across the couch, her head in Jose’s lap.

One of the men pointed his twelve-gauge Mossberg shotgun at the couple and squeezed the trigger. Two shots were fired at Jose; one shattered the glass and splintered the wood of the french doors behind the couch where Jose was sitting. One pellet struck Jose in the left elbow; another struck him in the right arm, followed by another. The shots immobilized Jose. One of the killers walked behind Jose and placed the shotgun against the back of his head and fired. The shot blew off the back of Jose’s head. Jose’s lifeless body came to rest on the couch, slumped slightly to the right. His hands rested on his stomach and his feet on the floor.

After the first shots were fired at Jose, Kitty became alert. She woke up to find herself spattered by Jose’s blood and body tissue. Kitty stood and began to turn away from her attackers, taking a step or two before being shot in the right leg near her calf and in her right arm. Kitty fell between the couch and the coffee table. She struggled to stand again and tried to regain her balance, but she slipped as she stepped into her own blood. She stood long enough for her blood to flow vertically down her leg. She tried desperately to walk away, but another shot was fired, which brought her down. Now that she was on the floor, her killers fired indiscriminately, riddling her body with shotgun pellets. Kitty was hit in the left thigh from a range that was so close that the paper wadding that contained the pellets caused her leg to break. She was shot in the right arm, then the left breast, which perforated her left lung. A quart of her blood flowed into her chest cavity. Kitty was not dead. She continued to breathe and tried to crawl away from where she was felled, but could not.

The killers were out of ammunition. They paused, unsure of what to do next. They probably wondered if Kitty would be able to identify them and tell the police who they were and what had happened. They decided they could not take a chance on this happening and ran to the car to get more ammunition. They reloaded their shotguns with birdshot, instead of the ball-bearing sized pellets that they had used before.

One of the killers ran back inside the house and into the family room where Kitty lay dying. The killer leaned over the coffee table and placed the shotgun against Kitty’s left cheek and fired. Kitty’s body was shot ten times. Her head had been struck four times. Her skull was shattered.

The killer was not finished. He shot both Jose and Kitty near the left knee. The final act the killers performed was to carefully gather the shell casings from the spreading pools of blood that now covered the couch, floor and rug under the coffee table.

This was the scenario that the police and medical examiner pieced together about the murders of Jose and Kitty Menendez. Years later, the killers would provide an entirely different account of the murders.

i wish them MF would change their passwords… because im tired of being tagged in pictures of naked women and fugging sneakers. and getting messages about how i “gotta see this cool video” 

blow me

people will talk THE MOST SHIT about women who say they like marilyn monroe and i have NEVER understood why … most WOMEN like marilyn monroe because she wasnt afraid to push it to the limit… and because she was pretty. and because she had some of the greatest quotes i have ever heard in my life. Im not saying she’s my idol but i do admire how she was and how she is STILL relevant and she has been dead for about 50yrs

sure she might have been promiscious but HELL WHO AINT …

are you a kennedy or descent …? fuck you care for then …. : )