Name: Alex
Age: Old enough
Gender: Female
Appearance: Brown/black hair almost shoulder length, PALE skin, blue eyes, medium hight.
Family: 1 mother, 1 father, 1 twin sister (darranshanfan).
Hobbies: Writing, reading, drawing, playing video games.
Likes: YAOI, yuri, anime, manga, cartoons, movies, comics, games, books.
Dislikes: homophobes, preps, 'dumb' blondes (not to be confused for normal blondes), flamers, my own really stupid moments, my sister, when she annoys me, stereotypical people, pointless wars.

Philosophy: Everyone is entitled to their beliefs, no mater how stupid they seem.

Favorite Anime/manga: Bleach, Digimon, Dragon Ball Z, Evangelion, Full Metal Alchemist, Gundam Wing/AC, Inuyasha, MAR, Naruto, Shaman King, Trigun, Yu-Gi-Oh,
Favorite Cartoons: Avatar, Kim Possible, Justice League, Jackie Chan Adventures, Static Shock, Teen Titans, TMNT, X-Men: Evolution, Xiaolin Showdown
Favorite Movies: Cats, Harry Potter, Labyrinth, Lord of the Rings, Princess Bride, Princess Diaries, Sky High, Twilight.
Favorite TV-Shows: Angel, BtVS, Criminal Minds, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI:NY, Numbers, Smallville, SG:Atlantis, StarGate:SG.
Favorite Games: Fable, Final Fantasy VII, FF8, FFX, Halo, Legend of Zelda, Kingdom Hearts (1&2), Sonic the Hedgehog.
Favorite Writers: David Eddings, Mercedes Lackey, Eoin Colfer, Wendy and Richard Pini.

Quotes:

Pink is innocence tainted by blood.
Knowledge is power. Power Corrupts. Be Evil. Study Hard.
World Domination: The only reason I get up in the morning.
Insanity is simply rational thinking for the deranged.
Pain is part of the growing experience... So go slam your head into a wall and mature a little.
I put the 'fun' in dysfunctional.
God made us sisters, Prozac made us friends.
Few woman admit their age... fewer men act theirs.
Your mouth is open. Sound is coming out. That's never good.I'm not lost... someone just moved my street.
Pinky, when we take over the world, remind me to politically snub you.
If you have something to say, please raise your hand and place it over your mouth.
When in danger, or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.
I was just wondering why you stabbed him. Not that I object.
Violence is not the answer, it is the question, and the answer is yes.
I knew my kids would fight over a lot of things,but in all my years of parenting I never thought my girls would be fighting over animal skulls.
I will not eat Oysters. I want my food dead. Not sick -not wounded- dead.
There are very few problems that cannot be solved by orders ending with, 'Or die'.
I'm sorry, but it wouldn't work! You're a man; I'm a woman. We're just too different.
I am known as Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser III. Don't hesitate to call.
American components, Russian components, all made in Taiwan!
What is this? Is this for a male or female? It's pink!
"Speak now or forever hold your peace - ELEPHANT!" -my sister, describing a barbie movie.
POCA-BARBIE-ZAN! - the name my sister and i made up for the Barbie movie (we didn't know it title), (lit:Pocahontus-Barbie-Tarzan)\
Dumb Duckling! - me
Jesus Duck - my mom
"I am on a never-ending quest to save my boyfriend!" - Xander, Drawn Together
"Carl, you're a genius!"
"A genius with access to unstable chemicals!" - Carl and Van Helsing, VAN HELSING
"Your mother was a fraggin ardvark!" - A Goblin, LABYRINTH
"The penguins are psychotic." - Alex, MADAGASCAR

Any priest or shaman must be presumed guilty until proven innocent.
Thou shalt remember the Eleventh Commandment and keep it Wholly.
Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot at tax collectors – and miss.
Yield to temptation; it may not pass your way again.
Sin lies only in hurting other people unnecessarily. All other “sins” are invented nonsense. (Hurting yourself is not sinful – just stupid.)
A committee is a life form with six or more legs and no brain.

If you know (a) video game character(s) or video game weapon(s) that need(s) to exist, copy and paste this into your profile.
If you have ever been so obsessed with something that now everyone is scared of you because of its effects copy this into your profile.
If you've ever burst out laughing in a quiet room, copy this into your profile.
If, for no warning, you have laughed during a movie part that wasn't funny, put this in your profile.
Put this in your profile if you know someone who is fighting, has survived, or died of cancer.
If you know someone who should be run over by a bus, copy this to your profile.
If you have embarrassing memories that make you want to smack yourself/ someone else, copy this into your profile.
Nerds are cool. Nerds are smart. Nerds will one day rule the universe. If you are a nerd and proud of it, copy and paste this into your profile.
If you've ever copied and pasted something onto your profile, copy and paste this onto your profile. The irony...
If you've ever asked a really stupid, obvious question, copy and paste this one your profile.
If several inanimate objects hate you copy and paste this into your profile.
If you have ever missed your mouth when trying to take a sip of water, copy and paste this into your profile.
93 percent of American teens would have a severe emotional breakdown if someone called them a freak. If you're a part of the 7 percent who would ask the person, "What was your first clue?", copy this into your profile.

Ben 10 Quotes:

Ben: regarding Dr. Animo Does this guy come with subtitles?
Echo Echo: Got him, got him, got him...Don't got him
Kevin: Save some for me, those creeps caused me a major payday...also they're evil and we're against that.
Ben: No juice for you!
Albedo: BRING ME CHILI FRIES!!

Final Fantasy VII:
Cloud:
It's not my problem
...Something.
A floating city... pretty unsettling scenery.
People tell me that my personality is divided. I don't think so, but maybe it is.
Since we're fighting for the life of the Planet, it goes against my beliefs carrying too much Materia.
I'm... Cloud. The master of my own illusionary world.
I'll make a big enough ruckus for everyone.
All right, everyone, let's mosey.
Aerith Gainsborough:
Don't fight here! You'll ruin the flowers!
Mine is special. It's good for absolutely nothing!
I think they believe I have what it takes to be in SOLDIER!
This guy are sick.
He always said that just once, he'd like to dress up like a girl.
Oh you're so cute, Miss Cloud.

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done. The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip."So next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm.
Upon his return to his office after mass, he found the following note on the door:
1. Sip the Vodka, don't gulp.
2. There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3. There are 12 disciples, not 10.
4. Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5. Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.
6. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J. C.
7. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior and the Spook.
8. David slew Goliath; he did not kick the shit out of him.
9. When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.
10. We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T."
11. When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it for it is my body." He did not say, "Eat me"
12. The Virgin Mary is not called "Mary with the Cherry,"
13. The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, yeah God.
14. Next Sunday there will be a taffy pulling contest at St.Peter's, not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's.

(\_/)(")_(")
This is Bunny. Copy and paste Bunny into your profile to help him gain world domination!

()()
(0.0)Copy the bunny onto your profile to help him achieve world domination. Come join the dark side. (We have cookies)

The wild monkey,
the wild monkey,
he ate the souls of
all the other monkeys!

- my sister

"I saw this, and had to post it. I wish I could say I wrote it, but alas I did not...

tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood.

This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.

This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.

This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth?

And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.

So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a tee shirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express.

Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.

So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)"

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.

Her name was Auroura
She was only five
This is what happened
When she was alive

Her dad was a drunk
Her mom was an addict
Her parents kept her
Locked in an attic

Her only friend
was a little toy bear
It was old and worn out
And had patches of hair

She always talked to it
When no one's around
She lays there and hugs it
Not a peep of sound

Until her parents
unlock the door
Some more and more pain
She'll have to endore

A bruise on her leg
A scar on her face
Why would she be
In such a horrible place?

But she grabs her bear
And softly crys
She loves her parents
But they want her to die

She sits in the corner
Quiet but thinking,
" God, why? Why is
My life always sinking? "

Such a bad life
For a sad little kid
She'd get beaten and beaten
For anything she did

Then one night
Her mom came home high
The poor child was hit and slapped
As hours went by

Then her mom suddenly
Grabbed for a blade
It was sharp and pointy
One that she made

She thrusted the blade
Right in her chest,
" You deserve to die
You worthless pest! "

The mom walked out
Leaving the slowly dying
She grabbed her bear
And again started crying

Police showed up
At the small little house
They quickly barged in
Everything was as quiet as a mouse

One officer slowly
Opened a door
To find the sad little
Lying on the floor

It must have been bad
To go through so much harm
But at least she died
With her best friend in her arms

If you child abuse then repost this on your profile. If you don't then you have no soul!!

Beaten:My name is Tiffany.
I am three,
My eyes are swollen.
I cannot see,
I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better
I wish I weren’t ugly,
Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.
I can’t do a wrong
I can’t speak at all
Or else I'm locked up
All day long.
When I'm awake I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren’t home
When my mommy does come home
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll just get
One whipping tonight.
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie’s bar.
I hear him curse
My name is called
I press myself
Against the wall
I try to hide
From his evil eyes
I’m so afraid now
I’m starting to cry
He finds me weeping
Calls me ugly words,
He says its my fault
He suffers at work.
He slaps and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And run to the door
He’s already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall
I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken,
"I’m sorry!", I scream
But its now much to late
His face has been twisted
Into a unimaginable shape
The hurt and the pain
Again and again
O please God, have mercy!
O please let it end!
And he finally stops
And heads for the door
While I lay there motionless
Brawled on the floor
My name is Tiffany
I am three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me
And you can help
Sickens me top the soul,
And if you read this
and don’t pass it on
I pray for your forgiveness
Because you would have to be
One heartless person
To not be effected
By this Poem
And because you are effected,
Do something about it!
So all I ask you to do
Is pass this on!
IF YOU ARE AGAINST CHILD ABUSE

P.S. disclaimer: Credit for the icon goes to Amarin Rose.