…let’s talk about something completely different!

Jennie (@jennie_z on Twittah) and I have a lot of internet friends who’ve been inconsiderate enough to have the same first name. The nerve of those people! As awesome problem solvers, we’ve determined that the most correct way to refer to our same-named friends is to use an awesome “Silence in the Library” model. If you’re not familiar with “Silence in the Library” from the Doctor Who series, go smack yourself in the mouth and lament your folly. You lamer. When you’ve finished, come back and read this entry.

We name our friends thusly:

First friend we knew OR our bestest evar friend what has the first name: “Proper (Name.)” So if we know two Hanzos, the first OR the bestest friend Hanzo gets to be ‘Proper Hanzo.”

Second friend we knew OR our acquaintance what is overshadowed by the Proper one: “Other (Name.)” So the second OR the acquaintance is “Other Hanzo.”

Third through infinity: These people get a name associated with their actions, jobs, or hobbies. So we might have “Paranoid Hanzo,” “Stripper Hanzo,” and “Anime Hanzo.”

And now you know! if you want to be different, either become our bestest friend (boob pics work, hint hint) or change your name to something else! Stupid same named people!

The rules of Freak Flag Tag are pretty simple.

1. You share a Freak Flag worthy secret; that is, you share something that makes you a freak and you stand proud!
2. You tag two other people to share a freak flag worthy secret.
3. If your two choice sharers are not namby pamby little bitches, they share a secret!
4. The people you tagged get to tag two other people, and the process continues!

Some stipulations:

- You cannot “tag back.” In other words, no fair tagging the person that tagged you.
- If you’re tagged, don’t take all day to share!
- When you respond, make sure to @ reply the person that tagged you!
- Be sure to add to #fff hashtag to the post!
- Be sure to link to the rules when you play! Just send them right to this post.
- If you can’t think of anything, just get naked. Twitter will love you for it.

Plan V – The plan to turn my current area of residence into a more Vegasy ville.
Plan I – A plan to move to my own private island to start over.
Plan M – A plan to migrate to Mars. Somewhat… impractical.
Plan P – A plan to obtain a pilot’s license.
Plan CC – An armed populace is a badass populace.
Plan Feral – Oh, I’m just kidding about that. Right?

Plan 9 – Is not my plan, and is extraterrestrial in origin.
Plan 42 – Solves everything, if I could figure out the question.
Plan 12/12 – 12 certifications 12 months.
Plan 4Y – Finish up a 4 year degree.
Plan 100 – The plan to make 100K in a year.

Plan BE – Is a dormant project plan.

Plan SE – Plan scorched earth. It is not pleasant.

Plan FIP – An ongoing plan meant to remove social limitations from myself.

Plan X – Plan X is classified!
Plan YFR – Plan Yeah Fucking Right… the lotto winning plan.
Plan ZOMFG – Is oh so delicious and somewhat classified.

Basically, it works like this:

1. We are friends or at the very least, e-pals.
2. I give you the number!
3. You hand the number out to creeps!
4. Creeps get a big fat diss, and either:
   1. let you be! or…
   2. get publicly humiliated.
5. We laugh over drinks.

Pretty cool, right? If you want the rejection line number, send an e-mail my way and I’ll give it to you. I don’t want to post it publicly because it’ll lose power.

A transcript:

Hello.

If you are receiving this message, you have been tagged as a potential creeper, stalker, or other undesirable who has expressed an interest in one of my friends.

If you are not a creeper, stalker, or undesirable, stop here. Take your rejection in stride and better luck on your next encounter.

Should you intend to continue pursuit despite the very clear message my friend has sent, however, be advised that I will post your name and phone number to my creeper list for the world to see. Food for thought!

Thank you and have a nice day.

Perhaps next, we can make one for telemarketers!

So. Right. You know that facial hair thing, what where you Twitter people were like “wow that’s kinda hot” and where you were totally making it up? Well uh, okay. I took it serious and I’ve now got a manageable scruffiness. I listen! Sure, you may be laughing at me behind my back, but whatever. I can take it.

But on to the point!

I am like, fashion and appearance retarded. My daily getting read routine goes: shower, find clean whatever to wear (or hell, why lie? Mostly clean,) shave or not, brush teeth, brush or comb hair and then mess it up so I don’t look all slicked back, coffee, drive, shoes when I get there. On the weekends my going out attire consists of “oh look, jeans. Chuck Taylors. a shirt that I did not wear last time. Done!”

Haircuts? Don’t make me laugh. My for real response is usually “eh, whatever looks decent.”

Your job, then, is to help me out! Give me tips. Let me know where I can improve. Heck, if you’re into that sort of thing, think of me as a giant paper doll what you can dress up and play fashion experimenter with.

I look forward to your total lack of feedback.

In that respect, I think I’m pretty fucking awesome.

I’m also the creator of the Fuck It Principle (or FIP) which is meant to encourage people to live their lives on their terms, not on everyone else’s terms. It means that one should try to be true to oneself, regardless of what others may think.

Mostly, though, I am a silly dreamer who likes quick and dirty amusement. This idea for a “holiday” was simply one of those quick and dirty amusements… a holiday to cater to something fun, interesting, and (at least as long as it remains an internet joke) pretty much non-commercial.

So, Sinsmas. The mass of sin. Some believe it to be all about sex (it can be,) while others find that Sinsmas is best celebrated by drinking one’s self into a stupor. Others set up camp at a buffet and eat until their 32 inch pants explode. While the activities of Sinsmas vary, there ARE a few rules to the holiday that ought to be observed.

Ready? Let’s go over the rules.

1. Don’t do things you’ll regret. There are enough in the way of depressing holidays to ruin mine.
2. DO push the envelope. What’s the point if you do the same old stuff?
3. Don’t break the Wiccan Rede. That is to say, do whatever you like as long as you’re not harming anyone else.*
4. The holiday allows for “Vegas Rules.” Sinsmas comes with a get out of sin free card. I have verified this will all major deities that exist.
5. If your sin of choice is angst and whining, kindly celebrate something else, like the release of the next Twilight movie.

The specifics:

Where possible, the holiday should be celebrated in a city or place renowned for personal freedom and sin. Vegas is my celebratory city of choice.

The holiday will be celebrated on the last Saturday in August. This date is significant because prices are cheaper and I like greed. Amy K. suggested 6/9 as a date and I dug it, but I like affordability. You’ll have to involve the numbers 6 and 9 in some other fashion, alas.

There are no specific activities that should be planned, but you can try to outdo your peers should you wish. Pride is a sin, but so is laziness! This establishes the principle of contradictory-complimentary sinnage.

Assuming your fellow celebrants are game, you may institute a “no tell/no foul rule” which locks discussion of Sinsmas activity until next Sinsmas, and only allows discussion amongst your fellow Sinsmassers.

That’s all I have. Enjoy.

* – Against their will. If they like it, well… carry on.

So… what did I do? Simple enough. I used my ballot as one might use a gas station wall. With my finger (I’d love to pretend it was my middle finger, but alas) I filled in Nathan Explosion, Charles Ofdenson, myself, J, Nottingham (for Sheriff), and commented on the race itself by filling in “these guys are all dildos.”

Immature? Yeah, maybe. But it was amusing and pretty much sums up my contempt for the entire process. You know what the best part is, though? No matter who the rest of my local contacts voted for, they accomplished exactly as much as I did.

Fuck all.

At least I didn’t have to swallow my pride and my principles to click the pretty touchscreen. I call that a win.

“My brand new Mac only supports these 5 video cards. Isn’t Apple great? They restrict what I can use so I don’t have to think! Oh, and they wisely made my 2.5 year old Mac obsolete so I knew it was time to upgrade.”

–

“PCs come with tons of software I don’t need…. M$ is trying to shove this mail thing down my throat. What if I want to use an alternative program, you fascists!”

“Macs come with tons of software I don’t need… but what if I want to use it someday? Apple is just looking out for me! Why would I want to use an alternative program, you fascist?”

–

“Why can’t my PC make french fries?! Windows sucks!”

“Having a proprietary output for my external video is a FEATURE.”

–

“What? Microsoft can’t mount .DMG files natively? LOL, Microsoft is lame!”

“Macs can’t write to NTFS; I blame Microsoft. Or George Bush. George Bush’s Microsoft machine!”

–

“The programs available to do this task on a PC don’t match my preferred methods. Microsoft sucks!”

“The programs available to do this task on a Mac don’t match my preferred methods. I blame myself for sucking.”

–

“UAC is the devil! Stupid program popping up to protect me against being dumb. I hate you, M$!”

“Requiring the admin password to do anything major is orgasmic! Thank you, Apple, for protecting me against being dumb!”

–

And so on. I’m half-joking… but only half.

A is for asshole, your state of existence.

B is for bitch, cause that’s all that you do.

C is for caring, which you seem to be lacking

D is for dinner; I always pay for yours too.

E is for elephant, like the one in this room

F is for fuck you, you dumb fucking prick.
Boys alt:F is for fuck you, you slutty damn whore.

G is for girlfriend ’cause you no longer have one
Boys alt: G is for girlfriend, ’cause you no longer are one

H is for happy, something that I never was.

I is for I, as in I am the dumper

J is for joy cause I’m done with dumb you.

K is for kisses, you know yours were quite boring.

L is for loser, what I now know that you are

M is for meddle, because you were always suspicious

O is for orgasm, which I totally faked.

P is for penis, yours was quite small and unsatisfying
Boys Alt: P is for poontang with the width of a hallway

Q is for quickess, because quick is how you’re getting dumped.

R is for reason, of which I have ten thousand

S is for sex, which was quick, weak and fail.

T is for toothbrush; I used yours for the toilet

U is for uninteresting, your sum total self.

V is for VD that I possibly gave you

W is for whine; something you incessantly do.

X is for EX, which you’ve guessed is our status

Y is for why?! See, you NEVER listen to my complaints!!

Z is for zebra, you dumb clueless asshole, because

I’m finished, I’m done… your continued presence… it pains.