User talk:Homsarroks

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Revision as of 22:21, 7 November 2006 by Homsarroks (Talk | contribs)
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My idol.

Let it be known that Homsar is awesome. That is all. Class dismissed.

P.S.:Strong Bad is awesome too.

General Feedback

I really like this image, but I couldn't find a place to put it on my userpage, so I put it here.

What did you guys think of my page? If you liked anything in particular or would like to see anything changed, please let me know by writing your comments directly below this text. Also, if you visited my page and liked it, put your name at the bottom of my page under "Visitors." I'll get back to you! Thanks. HomsarroksImage:kookysig.gif

Wanna know something utterly, totally, and completely AWESOME?

I'm writing a novel. Yes, you read that correctly. As of October 13th, I have been working on a novel, called Black October. It's about a plague that brings a zombie horde down on Earth. A well explored area if there ever was one, but I'm hoping to put a new slant on things with my book. It's coming out really good so far. For those of you with a few minutes, a small sample of it can be seen below. Enjoy.

When I stepped out of J. Newman’s Pharmacy and Mini-Mart, the only thing on my mind was the problem of getting a cab so I could go home. As a life-long resident of Boston, I should have known better than to venture downtown without a transportation plan firmly in mind, but the parts of my Subaru that weren’t currently strewn over half of Maple Street via a violent but thankfully bloodless collision with a yellow Suzuki were busy getting looked at by the folks down at Frankie’s Garage, so a cab was what it had to be.
The air was pretty nippy for October, maybe forty degrees, and I had left my jacket draped over the back of the couch in my apartment, but the explosive colors in the trees that lined the street made the runny nose and numb ears well worth it. It isn’t as good a show as the folks out in the boonies get every fall, but the yellows and reds that I could see weren’t to be sneezed at, just the same.
After what felt like ten minutes (though it was probably more like three) of wav-ing my arm at passing cabs like an idiot that’s just spotted a celebrity, a cabbie finally decided I was worthy of his service. I climbed in the back seat, glancing at the pine-tree shaped air freshener attached to the rearview mirror and grimacing at the aromas of sweat and stale tobacco that it was failing to mask.
“Where to, mister?” asked the cabbie in a mild Indian accent.
“397 Talbert Ave,” I replied, managing to install myself in the cramped area of the cab’s back seat.
“Very good, sir,” he said, and flipped the meter beneath the dashboard.
The ride through Boston was a pleasant one, with a rather splendid ride past the common, where all the trees were doing their best impression of an open fire. The cabbie had an alright taste in music, even if his driving was a little off (he came within about three inches of putting some old lady’s pug in terminal dreamland), and I was able to unwind to the smooth melodies of Miles Davis and John Coltrane as we passed through the city on our way to my apartment.
After about ten minutes of driving, we came to a stop in front of my building. I paid the cabbie his fare with a five dollar tip (anyone who likes Miles deserves a fiver in my book) and made my way up the granite steps and into the building that I called home.

Tell me what you guys think!--Image:Homsar-in-motion.gifhr.pngΨHomsarΨroksΨImage:kookysig.gifImage:Cheat-shrug-tiny.gif 10:44, 7 November 2006 (UTC)

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