Scorned Acorns continues getting off topic and jogs lazily to the end

Been a bit lazy with my writing lately it would seem, and Scorned Acorns certainly hasn't been spared from the apathetic yawn of accepting things for what they are. So, instead of caring any longer about the intermittence of my postings (which usually consist of a few slipshod pictures courtesy Google Images and an anorexic description that probably reads more like the "shake well before opening" label on my juice box than anything of substance anyway), I feel we could all benefit from digging just a teensy bit deeper into the choleric mind of an SA author.

Without further ado, I give you:

A Picture List of Things Drawing Scorned Acorns' Ire

Although I can't imagine I would find much of anything worth pursuing in this book, it's not the agent of my irascible disposition, but more the title that grabbed me; "Things We Can't Untie". More commonly known as stubborn fucking knots. Nothing makes me more self-conscious of my chubby fingers than their inability to weasel between the unyielding bind of my manly-tightened shoelaces.

Fuck unnecessarily long receipts. The whole "What a waste of paper! Save the planet! Quit smoking!" argument aside, what is the point of half of this thing (that is to say, the Safeway receipt [not pictured above] I have strategically placed beside me). It measures 62cm (24.4in) in length. Two fucking feet! Who gives a mousefart about my 3 AIR MILES. That shits alright by me, don't get me wrong, I just don't need to see how few you are going to let trickle down through the cage of my not being able to afford a vacation.

Metric measuring tapes. Fuck. Again, don't get me wrong, I stand sword in hand beside the metric system, but life doesn't. So when I'm sitting there needing an 18 3/4in length of pvc and I pick up a metric tape, fuck that. The other half isn't doing anything anyway, throw some imperial garble on there.

"Wait, what? You don't like slow cookers?"

Fuck you, of course I like slow cookers, don't ask me stupid shit. I just couldn't care less about the awkward pissing contest they inevitably beget. 

"Had my stew in for six hours today" Cool bro.

"Chopped up some veggies and hashbrowns, threw them in the ole slow, went to bed, woke up to breakfast!" Oh yeah? Good shit man

""Ten hours today! Can you believe that! Ten!" Fuck you stop it.

This picture is fucking great. Prince Harry for president!

God damn Kimbo is awesome. 

So is this.

And Phil Collins too.

Simon isn't. Fuck that game. 

The end. 

Best read listening to Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

Scorned Acorns is talking to itself.

I know right off the bat you are clearly pondering one thing. Is this going to be another 'fuck movies' rant? Well, in a way, yes. Fuck movies, they're bullshit. In movies (typically comedies) they like playing with the ideas of echoes.

no, not the Pink Floyd musical extravaganza, I'm talking about the phenomenon of sound reflecting off of large inanimate objects (typically the morbidly obese) and returning to the source of the sound after traveling the speed of sound over the distance between the two.

Fig. 1:

Now, in movies, clever television shows, and sometimes comic books, the echo is usually utilized when a character (typically the protagonist) screams to the heavens in disgust, and the echo bounces back the same "Fuuuuuuuuuuucckkk" or something of the sort.

I, finding myself to be one of those overly clever tv shows, like to try this from time to time and yell something at a hill, volcano, building, or fat dude: "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!!!"
and I am greeted with an overly simple and annoying: "CCiiousss" sound.
Fuck movies, echoes suck.
Why are they so lazy?
Can it be that this hill has spent so much of its time merely existing that it no longer cares to respond to my excellent choice of lexicon to badger and shake its very foundation?
Sometimes in movies they will even go far enough that the response will be something different or a witty response to the man screaming at the heavens. BULLSHIT. That doesn't happen and will never happen, I hate them. Fuck you movies stop leading me astray. Reminds me of trying to fly after watching peter pan, that shit doesn't work either. I'm stressing about this, i hate you reverb and i hate you echo. Stop bothering to even exist if you aren't going to do it right. It's about time someone told you this, so fucking pick up your game man, its getting old.
That is all.

-Acorned.

Scorned Acorns severe lack of scorn.

People's lack of respect for how fucking awesome fuzzy car dice bugs me.
These dice have more purpose hanging on a rearview than anything these people will contribute to the earth in the whole of their combined existence and contributions to the ozone. These people are the kind of people who keep a clean car, these are the kind of people who don't smoke cigarettes, and these are the kind of people (why does it always come to this?) who drink: Bottled Water.

This version of human being is really a major concern and the thought of it has been floating about in my brain for the past two weeks so much so that i haven't even been able to begin a post here on the acorn.

Naturally, I was confused at first as to why i couldn't get anything out of my brain but i do think i now have figured it all out.

PLASTICS.

Two weeks ago (approximately around the last time i posted) I went to school equipped with (for the first time in my life) a prepared nalgene refillable beverage container filled with water.

I now believe the rumors are true, and anyone drinking from these for lack of better word-plastics- is losing brain cells at an alarming swift rate, not to mention their faith in humanity seems to be at all time highs according to this chart right here:

I rest my case.

Stay angry
-Acorned.

Scorned Acorns and a little Update action.

Alright, there's been some changes round these parts. Deal with it. The sidebar holds the key. Notice the Cloud. Follow the twits. Et cetera.

-Acorned.

Scorned Acorns on Being a Scorned Acorn

http://scornedacorns.blogspot.com/

Some blogs are far too highly overrated. This is an example of a blog written by three young men (aged 4- 22, based on my approximation) who all, without doubt, look exactly like Vince.

I will not buy Shamwow. I will not buy Scorned Acorns.

-Acorned.

Scorned Acorns and the asshole beside me.

Fuck. Sat down to write freely and instead I have encountered this autocratic turd ordering me to scorn this template. What do I even hate about the template? Black text on a white backdrop. What could be better?

Scorned Acorns and its Shitty Template

I fucking hate people who complain about other people, they may as well complain about themselves. Even worse are the types of people who think their complaints are funny and should be voiced to the world via the internet. And let me tell you, starter templates are for jerks. i hate this shit. why cant i have a simple black text on white sheet format. HTML dont get me started. hashtag my ass.