| Name |
Keith Fuleki |
| My page |
Keith's Page of Random |
| My URL |
http://www.geocities.com/greeneyce/Keiths_Page_of_Random.html |
| Led here by |
Barry |
| Location |
I keep trying to find a site in which I can find a recipie for lemon nut cookies, but somehow I end up here...Odd, isn't it? |
| Comments |
I've signed this before, but what with my extreme boredom, I have a sudden urge to sign again. Therefore, here I am. So how are you, Mil? Do you actually read all of these guestbook signatures? If so, and you are reading this at this very moment in time (even though, at this specific moment in time I have not yet entered my text, so what I should have said is "If you end up reading this at a specific moment in time", but what with the way that I insist upon being bizzare, I refuse to delete the previously stated text and instead proceed with explaining in full detail and, utilizing every possible vocabulary word that has been rammed through my mind over the past several years of schooling, I have gone to the extreme lengths of explaining my actions, despite the fact that I could have taken the much easier route of deleting) but yes um...If you are currently reading this, I'm here to tell you to check out my site, in all of your spare time that you have such massive amounts of. Also, sending me an e-mail would be tremassively entertaining. Oh yeah, and do you know what? You ought to make a page in which you could share with the world all the things that people write to you 'secretly'. I always wonder WHY anyone would like to hide their comments in secret and what they would say in that secretive area of internet, and furthermore what would be accomplished by such foolish self-consciousness...So yes, you should unveil the comments that these certain individuals insist must be kept secret for fear that the King will die and the earth will be hit by international famine and the potatoes will have a blight and there would be world-wide floods and pestilence if anyone (besides the almighty You, of course) ever found out their words of wisdom; I'm sure it would be amusing to see how pointless and humorous those words would be. In the meanwhile, why doesn't your mailing list mail? Really? Well, isn't that majestic. Does this entry box have a limit on charecters that may be entered? Because if it doesn't, I plan on continually tapping my fingers upon the keyboard in order to: 1. Arouse interest in you, wondering why someone would write such a long entry, and thus, I would be assured that you would read this (in case, for instance, you never DO read these...but my thousands of typed charecters ought to catch your eye and thus my assurance of your viewing of my comments is...assured.) 2. Via your interest, with a tad bit of luck from the Leprechaun of Northern Ireland, I may recieve an e-mail from you, which would prove to be ever-so-enjoyable on my part. 3. My incredibly high amounts of boredom at this specific moment in time (which has already been discussed as not being the moment of time that you read this in) slowly dissipate into an oblivion of nothingness, leaving me with a feeling of satisfaction at doing something besides the norm of, say, taking a shower. My that was a long statement. But moving right along. 4. You know what I just realized? If there is a limit on charecters to this, but it's not telling me and won't tell me until I hit the "Submit" button, I will be incredibly pissed at having spent my precious calories on motorizing my fingers in order to create this masterpiece of an essay that somehow fits into a dialogue box. I'm starting to feel like one attempting to shove a rhinocerous into a microwave, but that's okay, I'll continue for as long as I want. Unless, of course, you have any objections. No? Good. Anyway. 5. I am also assured that, since your such a caring individual who takes the time to listen to the pleas of your fans, you will visit my site. Despite it's pointlessness and stupidity. 6. I also get satisfaction from knowing that I communed with an Englishman, which is something I have never done before (what with my lack of living in England and, instead, my living in the U.S.). Yes well. Those are the basics of why I have decided to type this incessant gibberish, but if you'd like a more complete explanation for my actions here and today (even though this day will no longer be this day when you read this, as has previously been explained. Why do you STILL not understand?...What's that?...Ah, I see. You've understood since the beginning. Yes well...uh...carry on...) But yes, if you'd like a more complete explanation of my actions, via detailed bar/circle/photo graphs and other documentary information, please send your requests to: 3456 Gridich Rd., Central England. Ah well, I fear my fingers are beginning to grow numb, and due to the facts that I must urinate and I need a shower and I'm late in calling my gilrfriend, I think that...though it pains you, I'm sure...I feel I must stop. Therefore and in turn, I will leave you to twiddle your thumbs and e-mail me. I will be hearing from you? Grand. Now then I will leave. God bless and farewell. |
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