-[old-fashioned angst, like an old-fashioned schoolteacher]-=-=-=-=-=- ( ) ___ ___ * ,__ ,__ ___ / ( ) \ ' ( (__ (__ ( ) issue #001 \__) \_/( ( \ ,__) ,__) \_/(. oct 25, 1996. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-[for the feisty woman in you!@#]- [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] [-- jake has a new haircut and gets called a fag by larissa --] [-- by murmur --] jake is a nice guy. he doesn't do too much. but today he is at the barber shop. jake is getting a nice new haircut. jake leaves the barber shop, looking very chipper indeed. he is very happy with his new haircut. he is chewing on a piece of bit-o-honey and he is looking forward to going home and listening to the latest pet shop boys single. jake is three blocks from home when he larissa comes walking up to him. "hi, larissa! what's up?" "i'm feeling pissy. did you get a haircut or something?" "i sure did! what do you think?" "you're a fag." jake started crying and ran the rest of the way home. [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] [-- mario goes to the market and is stopped and kicked by larrisa --] [-- by murmur --] mario has discovered that he is almost out of milk and he should go to the store. mario leaves his house with fourteen dollars to get some milk and maybe some cookies and toilet paper too. mario goes three blocks. the store is only another two blocks, but here comes larissa. larissa looks mean today. "mario, what are you doing?" "i'm almost out of milk, larissa." "being a wise guy, eh? i'll learn ya!" larissa starts kicking mario, who starts crying and runs away. [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] [-- fingernail clippers --] [-- by swiss pope --] fingernail clipping is one of the things that i simply hate doing. i usually just let my fingernails grow out, but then i run into problems when i try to put my contact lenses in. like today. after many long, tedious minutes of deciding whether or not my lens was turned inside-out, i finally decided to apply some crazy opti-one solution on the sucker and stick it in. oops! was *that* a mistake. my nail poked right into my eyeball and vitreous humour squirted out all over the mirror. by some unfortunately circumstance, this asian guy came into my room, munching on a piece of barbequed chicken. he said, "hey phil!@# isn't that _semen_ on the mirror? what have you been doing, jerking your load all over the mirror? god you people are sick. by the way, nice carpet." "yeah, i picked it up at menards." he was right, it was a nice carpet. i was a bit worried about getting vitreous humour all over it. "what? your filthy masturbation habit? har, har." "no, my carpet." i got to thinking, maybe menards offers free servicing if you get a stain on it within the first week of purchases. nah, they would never honor a vitreous humour cleanup request. from what i've heard, vitreous humour is worse on carpet than grape juice. "be sure not to get _semen_ on it!" came barbeque guy's reply. meanwhile, the vitreous humor oozed down my neck, slowing covering my necktie. it formed a thin, transparent sheath covering the faces of the three stooges that proudly adorned the tie. this looked kind of cool, actually, because it was like the three stooges were in a plastic bubble from 2001: space odyssey or craig shergold's living room. it's a pity that there was very little time for me to admire the really need gouraud shading effects that vitreous humour can have on ordinary household items, because it's not that something you see everyday. but then i was more concerned with maybe sopping it up with a wash towel and putting a bit of it back into my eye. bang! bang! bang! 'what the hell', i thought, 'is going on? i don't have time for visitors-- if i don't get my eyeball back into tip top shape, i'll be late for work.' door opened. a short, dark-haired lass wielding a machete stomped inside. she wore a plaid skirt, sturdy boots, and a necklace made of coaxial cable. "larissa! what are you doing here?" i said, startled. "i don't know. perhaps i just wanted to say hello, perhaps i just wanted to chop your head off!@#" "oh please no. i have enough problems. look at this carpet. it's a mess." "shut your trap-jaw, i don't have time to listen to you whine about how you cut your eyeball open or how menards has lousy customer service. i've heard it all before. i'm here to collect." larissa sharpened her machete on the large stone block i keep underneath my computer, to prevent the cpu from getting too hot. "uhh, what?" i asked. i think my palms began to sweat, but i couldn't really tell if it was really sweat or more vitreous humour. it's amazing how viscous that shit is. she scouted around the room a bit until she came upon a pile of discarded dr pepper boxes and free calendars. pushing away what seemed to be debris with the steel toe of her boot, she revealed something that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. i squinted my good eye, attempting to focus on the shimmering object. alas, i could not focus on it. suddenly, a morbid angel song came on the light rock station. "bow to me faithfully, bow to me splendidly," sang the evil guy in morbid angel. larissa grinned evilly. "this was a request." my stomach began to ache, i felt myself keeling over, tumbling in a spiral towards the shiny silvery mystery item that lay before larissa's uniquely-feminine black combat boot. it came within two feet of my working eye-- the image crisp enough for me to recognize just what in the hell it was that the doom bitch wanted! "my fingernail clippers. you've had these for six weeks and i doubt if you've even used them once. look at my fingernails! i've been using this machete, that i borrowed from my anthropologist friend roy, to cut my nails. look at them. they're cut in a squarelike shape. do you know _why_ they are cut in a squarelike shape? because machetes aren't meant to be used as fingernail clippers, that's why!" she picked up the clippers from the floor, giggled, then smeared the tiny puddle of spilled vitreous humour all around and deep into the plush new carpet from menards. just before she stormed outside, she uttered in a harsh, breathy voice, "by the way, your haircut makes you look really gay." the only reason why i got offended at that last comment was because i began to think, 'if i go out right now and buy a glass eye everyone will think i'm gay, so i'd better wait until my hair grows out.' [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] [-- andrew is a big guy and larissa is mean but can not hurt him --] [-- by murmur --] andrew is walking to the park right now to play on the slides. he is a pretty big guy and the park is only a couple of blocks away from his house. he is only a block away now but larissa is here and is telling him he can't go to the park. she is much too small to be anything more than a pesky gnat, however. "i won't let you slide, andrew." "why not, larissa?" "i am a bitch." andrew is vaguely puzzled but he basically walks by her and heads on to the park anyway. larissa starts kicking and punching andrew but she is small and weak and he does not notice. andrew enjoys his time on the slides. [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] [-- how to play hot larissa --] [-- by murmur --] necessary supplies: music, dj, more than three persons, one larissa. how to play: dj turns music on. participants pass larissa back and forth amongst themeselves. the dj will randomly stop the music and whoever is stuck holding larissa when the music stops will be shocked with a jolt of pure evil juice (tm) and will be out of the match. play continues until all but one person have been eliminated, and that final person is at liberty to do whatever the fuck he or she wants with larissa. other rules: 18 and life to goOOoOooOO! [---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----] $$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$ $$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$bx. $$$$bx. $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$ $$$$ ^^4$$$$ ^^4$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$ $$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$ $$$$ $$$$ e x p e r i m e n t i n h a t e e x p e r i m e n t i n h a t e n u m b e r 0 0 1 : o c t o b e r 2 5 , 1 9 9 6 please send contributions and feedback to edecker@students.uiuc.edu.