OOC: Stan Lee = God?

I'm really starting to think that the comics I read growing up are starting to come true.

There are people. With super powers. Abilities. Mutations. Whatever you want to call them.

On one hand, I think it's awesome, even if I am a bit miffed that nature didn't choose me for the power party.

On the other, I'm wondering what the fuck nature is smoking...

At least it had some good trips. I'm sure as hell not complaining about Ling's powers.

OOC: Log.

Got a coin.

Heads, I stay with her.

Tails, I leave her.

Either way, I'm gonna try to forget about all the... crime stuff, and ignore it from now on. I know nothing.

Heads or tails.

Probably shouldn't have drunk this much. Only way not to freak out.

Got a coin. Heads or tails.

Gotta flip it.

Heads. Heads heads heads.

OOC: Sadly, the Nathan/Scottie log wasn't saved. Here's the Scottie/Ling/Vince one, however.

Scottie the Student. Scottie the Scholar.

Nope. Doesn't work.

Thankfully I doubt I'll ever be seeing that guy again, or he'll know any of my friends. Can't have anyone knowing I had an intelligent conversation about Dan Brown, and Leonardo DaVinci.

It would ruin my reputation.

Scottie the Tattoo Artist.

Much better.

Or maybe Scottie the Horse, consid

If I were a nicer person, I might stop teasing Sarah about how the only reason her chest is so big is because she's short and just lucky that all the extra weight when to her breasts.

But, I'm not. And why the hell should it bother me that people end up thinking I'm the modern day John Holmes?

Not that it's far from the truth.

OOC: Log here.

Ha. I knew this whole thing would piss Sarah off. If I didn't know she wasn't just bluffing and ranting to let off some steam, I'd start sleeping with one eye open.

Something tells me that actually getting stabbed with a running tattoo machine would hurt.

Especially if it's in the eye.

OOC: Log 1 and Log 2.

...Best week ever. Best. Fucking. Week. Ever.