Old Titleless Gunter Log VII

i'm starting this one off by saying that the next army noncom who happens to wear his stripes on his hat in such a way that the sun glints off of them *will* in fact die a gruesome death, thank you.


nice jeans, bugle boy.
    shut up.  (btw, for the most part they're right: playing the trumpet really *is* like riding a bike.)
    // 07 addition:  look at me, outright lying.


he's much too happy much too often.  i just don't trust him.


jealousy is good.  it keeps the blood flowing.
and for those who haven't guessed, that's where i come in.
    (man, i really *am* conceited, aren't i?)


the difference between defeat and its acknowledgment is what keeps the world going.
    — the jungle (slightly paraphrased)


y'know, boring classes should be taught by babes (or their counterparts i guess, for you gals out there), 'cause then we wouldn't feel so bad about letting our mind wander.  or *something* like that.


and it just dawned on me why people like me so much: i'm an anachronism.  i'm like that museum piece you can't help but come back to just because you haven't seen anything like it for so long.