Post by BRADY JAMES COMELLA. on Aug 9, 2010 16:58:42 GMT -5
BRADY JAMES COMELLA.
take an inch and i'll give you a mile.[/i][/font][/center]
SO BEFORE WE GET STARTED, LET’S COVER THE BASIC NAME.
"To be quite honest, unlike most people who hate their name, I love my name. Maybe it's because my first name was also my great-grandfather's first name and my middle name is my father's first name.
My parents never had a real reason on why they named me what they did. Everytime I asked, the response was always something like, 'Well, it just sounded right.' And I never argued about their answer, so I guess that's why I never got more out of them.
I looked up on Google what my first name meant, and I guess it means either spirited or broad shoulders. James means supplanter and as far as Comella goes, I couldn't find anything. Maybe I didn't look hard enough."
THAT’S PRETTY COOL, I GUESS. SO TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF.
"Well, everybody knows I'm Brady Comella. I'm 19 years young, born on the 5th of March. I hated the month my birthday fell on when I was kid; there was nothing to do. It was usually just so cold nobody wanted to go outside and the roads were usually pretty bad so pretty much nobody made it to the parties. After I turned 8, I started having my birthday parties in June.
I guess I got pretty lucky with my education. I made it through high school without trying any drugs and only drinking occasionally. Now that I made it into the University of Wyoming, I certainly don't drink as much, and when I do drink it's usually only on the breaks we get (such as Spring Break and Winter Break).
I've lived in Mountain View literally my whole life. Born and raised. Not too much to complain about though. Everybody is pretty nice and when they aren't, what can you do? Bitch slap them? But that's not my cup of tea; I was raised to be more...classy.
I'm loving the single life, but looking for a girl. Now that I've gotten used to the college lifestyle I think I would be able to handle a girlfriend and classes. Seeing how I'm 100% straight, I figured it would be easy to find a girl but apparently not. I just can't find a girl who will treat me right. Ironic, huh? How girls always complain of being played and now I'm complaining... No, I am not a female.
I've been called a push over before, however, I'm really just trying to be nice to everyone. Chances are, if you ask me to do something, I will. It doesn't mean I'm whipped, it doesn't make me a push over or stupid. It just makes me nice and caring. But don't get me wrong, I have some things to hide..."
WELL, REGARDLESS, I THINK YOU’RE PRETTY GOOD LOOKING.
"I'd like to think of myself as a decent looking guy, whether that makes me over-confident or conceited, oh well. To state the obvious, I'm not a giant but I'm not an elf either. I stand at 6'3 and my weight is 173 pounds. I'm not a body builder, but I work out twice a week to maintain my frame.
Starting from my hair...well, it's usually cut short, not a buzz cut because that would look hideous on me. If it's not, my hair is sometimes shaggy and since my hair is generally wavy it fits me better than the short cut. I always wished my hair was blonde for some reason, but instead it's brown. Oh well...
My eyes are brown, dark brown. I guess I could photoshop them a different color but I'm not that good with computers and stuff. Quite honestly, I have no clue where my brown eyes came from. Both of my parents have blue eyes...weird, right?
One of my major flaws, would have to be my nose. I hate it. Just look at it. It's straight until the tip and then all of a sudden it like flairs out at the top. You just have to see it up close to understand what I'm saying. Despite my burning hate for my nose, I would never pay money to get it fixed.
One of my other flaws would have to be the scars on my left arm. I was too young to even remember what happened, but from what I heard I was jumping on my bed and fell off. I landed directly on my arm and broke it in three places. The doctors had to surgically repair my arm which left me with permanent scars.
I guess my best feature on my body would be my stomach. I usually work on that the most when I work out which left me with a six pack. That took at least two months of hard working and 200 sit ups a day...
I guess my style would be considered more of 'preppy' because I like to shop at generally nice stores. But if I'm in the mood for sweatpants and an old ratty t-shirt, best believe I'll be wearing them. But those days don't come around often at all.
I’M NOT COMPLAINING. TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOU LIKE-WISE.
"Well I'll start with the likes. Only ten? Hmm. Okay.
I like studying American History; I've always been a sucker for any Holocaust things too. I like the color green, like sea green. I like writing in ball point pens, since it's the only type of pen I like the way my writing comes out in. I enjoy riding rollercoasters and I love the way they make me queazy. I like the way my life has turned out so far. I mean, come on, what more could a guy ask for? I have my family, my friends, a job, I'm going to college and I have my own place. I like girls who can show me a good time and keep me on the edge, but I don't want them to be too crazy. I like hearing about the good old days from my grandparents; they have some crazy good stories to tell me. I like the smell of the ocean. I am in love with snowboarding and hiking, both are my favorite outdoor activities. I like getting letters in the mail, other than just bills.
Now for the dislikes...I don't know if I'm able to name ten.
I hate girls who get drunk and sleep around. I think it makes them look sleazy and annoying. I hate the after taste of Tequila. I don't like it when a girl says she likes me over text. I hate getting under paid. I strongy dislike slobbery dogs; it's nasty. Who would want a dog that is going to spit on their owners? Ew. I don't like the smell of paint or gasoline, I almost immediatley get a headache. I don't like the road I live on, it's all bumpy and it's so hard on the car and my ass... Rick Ross's voice annoys me to no extent. I can't handle studying for finals, I can't work under any amount of stress. I hate the thought of death. I can't even think about my family dying, it's horrible..."
YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME SOMETHING… TELL ME.
”I was diagnosed with Torette's when I was four. It's under control and I rarely have outbursts but it's not something I go around advertising to everyone. Not many people know about my disease.
My younger brother died while he was overdosing on acid. He hallucinated so bad that he ran out of the third story window of an apartment complex and died immediately from impact. He was only 15..."
OOH, DO YOUR PARENTS KNOW? SPEAKING OF FAMILY...
"My family is pretty great actually. Like most people nowadays, my parents are divorced and have been since I was 4.
My mom, Eleanor Blavatski, was a decent mom. She could hide her drug use and her sex addiction very well, so well that my father had no clue about it until I was 3. After my 3rd birthday, my mom was shipped off to rehab center where she dropped out 8 days later and convinced herself she was ready to move past her 'old' life. Within 2 days of being home, she relapsed and that's when my dad filed for a divorce. When she wasn't strung out on cocaine, she was a beautiful lady, very intelligent as well. She worked a waitressing job right on the out skirts of town, at a small diner. My mom quit her job three months before she went to rehab and that's when it all really started for the down hill.
My father, James Comella, always had a great head on his shoulders. He never went to college, however he works at a construction company (has been there 24 years) and he loves what he does. Afte divorcing my mom, he gained full custody of me when I was 7 and remarried when I was 11 to a woman named Maria. I consider her my mom, and I began calling her mom the day they got married. They never had any children together, however she brought three children into the family.
Hailey and Mark were never really close to me. Mark was so much younger than I, by 9 years, so the closest we got to making a connection was me pushing him on the swings at the local park. Hailey was two years older than me, and when I met her she was already going through the 'I don't give a fuck' stage. She spent most of her time complaining and in her room, so we never really clicked either.
Rodney, Maria's other child, was like blood to me. I loved him, and he knew that. Rodney was only 3 years younger than me, so we always played together and had the same interests. When Rodney turned 14, he started to experience the 'drug life'... At the age of 15, Rodney tried acid for the first and last time as he threw himself out of a third story window at his friends apartment. That morning was the last time I saw his face in the way it was supposed to be. I miss that boy so, so much...
Anyways... My dog, Charlie, has been mine since I was 9. He's always been a really great dog and even though I know he's closer to death than I'd like to think he is, I still believe he has a good couple of years left on those bones."
JUST ANOTHER MOUNT V FAMILY; TELL ME MORE.
"Ages 0-5: When I was born, my parents were together and "happy". We lived in a one story house, two bedrooms, but it worked for us. On the inside and outside, we were still happy. When I was three, my father found out about the cocaine and the different men and the day after my third birthday, my mom was shipped out to a rehab center. That didn't last too long though. At the age of 5, my parents had a brutal divorce and the custody battle began...
Ages 6-10: During the custody battle, I was to stay with my mother because the courts had no complaints filed against her, and no proof she was doing anything illegal. I'll tell you one thing, I had the nextdoor neighbors home phone memorized for the morning that my "mommy" wouldn't wake up. From the ages of 5-7, while I was still with my biological mother, she had different guys home every three days. Her two day relationships got tiring for even me. They would beat her, steal from us and some went as far as to beat me. I caught on to most of their ways; I can be violent at times but I usually hold in all my anger because I'm so scared of hurting someone. At the age of seven, my father gained full custody of me and shut my mom out completely. It kind of hurt at first, but I got used to it quick. When I was 9, my dad started dating Maria. They dated for two years and then got engaged...finally!
Ages 11-15: When I was 11, Maria and my dad became man and wife and to me, Maria became mom. Nothing really exciting happened in these years. They were pretty normal years actually. Well, I remember getting in a fight with Billy Smith when I was 14. Don't ask what it was about because I don't know. If I had to take a decent guess, I'd say it was probably over who got what at recess.
Ages 16-19: When I was sixteen, I saw my biological mother for the first time since I was 7. She was worse than I had ever seen her in my life. She had lost pretty much all her hair and weight. It was horrible and disturbing. I haven't seen her since. At the age of eighteen, I lost my baby brother, Rodney. That was the time of my life I was at my lowest. For a good six months, I drank like no other. It was my way of escaping the pain...the reality. Once I turned 19, and got accepted into University, I changed my life around after having a dream that Rod was telling me to "quit the bullshit and be a man." It sounded like something Rod would tell me..."
WHAT ARE THE MAGIC WORDS?
”ADMIN EDIT.”
i ain't here to do anything halfway.
[/i]hi, i’m MACI and EVERYONE THINKS I LOOK LIKE THE MACI FROM TEEN MOM. i’ve been roleplaying for 4 YEARS, which is great considering i’m 16[/b]. so you know i’m not cheating you, i have a present.[/center][/size][/blockquote]
His mother had asked him to stay for dinner. What a disaster. But he couldn't say he was surprised. It was always a disaster. It never went well. He wasn't as optimistic as his mother, who had yet to give up hope on the idea of the boy and his stepfather getting along. The worst part? Eli had realized it on his way down the street: he wasn't going anywhere, he wasn't doing anything, he was just killing time before he had to go back home. Because he had been stupid enough to leave his laundry there. Fuck...
At least it was a nice night. Well, nice enough. How did that song he liked go again? 'A beautiful night for being lonely'. That's definately what he was. Lonely. Eli didn't even have Duncan with him tonight. The dog was impressive; of everyone he had ever met, Duncan was the only one who could 1. sleep comfortably curled into a ball half his original size, and 2. sleep at all with people screaming across the house at eachother. Eli cleared his throat in a subtle way, knowing some of the disgusting sounds people could make with their vocal chords (despite being alone, with no people around to disgust). Having taken part in the screaming, he was a bit hoarse; it was a big house to shout across. Let sleeping dogs lie. That was the rule, and Eli took it into consideration when fumbling for his car keys and slamming the back door behind him.
Eli hadn't been able to deal with Dan anymore, which wasn't uncommon. Over the past few months especially, he had burned up more gas than ever before with all the drives he took after the arguments. He didn't know what he would do if he hadn't located small sanctuaries around the town. However, many of these sanctuaries closed when the sun went down. The beach gave him peace, quiet, and a place to think even through the late hours of the night. Grocery store, that had been his excuse. He had ripped the slim piece of paper from the refrigerator and stuffed it into his pocket when he went out the door. That's another thing that had changed within the past few months: the small family never seemed to run out of anything food-wise. It was because Dan got extra irritable this late at night, and the grocery store was the innocent part of this town open all hours of the day and night. The list of food was small and petty, some items impatiently underlined, meaning Dan wanted them. Those that were circled and underlined meant he really wanted them. Eli knew he was going to "accidentally" forget a lot of them.
Mainly because the grocery store wasn't the point. The grocery store was never the point. Whenever he needed to get out of the house, immidiately, he used the grocery store as a cover and took a walk under the stars. Something he never really did, considering he was a runner, and never walked when he could run, and considering that he was an only child and his mother was more than nervous about murderers and kidnappers roaming the streets. Truthfully, living in upper-lower-middle-class Detroit had made Eli the same way, which means it was stupid of him to be trekking around the dimly-lit lakeside in the middle of the night, after all, he could trekk through the well-lighted streets around the Hot 18 Night club and try his luck at looking eighteen, or swing by the residential area to see if anyone was still awake. Hell, he could trekk through the grocery store. But there was something about the night air that calmed the boy.
He had taken his walk, contemplated using the one lonely cigarette he had stolen from Dan a ways back, then decided if the night air and the gentle waves crashing against the shoreline wasn't enough to settle his frustration a cigarette wouldn't either, and headed back to his car. It was close to three o'clock now, and even a peaceful little city like Providence had cops. Or so Eli had been told. And at the annoying age of seventeen, Eli was still subject to curfew. And so he started the car and headed away from the lake (making sure he checked the backseat for any kidnappers before leaving.) With his foot firmly holding the brake pedal, the boy suddenly felt a tearing emotion close to depression. A night for being lonely, it seemed that stage had passed. He needed someone to talk to. Someone other than the stars in the sky. Maybe he would swing by the residential streets anyways, see if anyone was a secret insomniac.
The boy had just pulled into the street when the car gave a grand sputter, an exceptionally ugly noise, enough of one to cause Eli to pull over on the side of the road, as he knew what that sound meant. That was Noise #4. And of all the problematic noises, #4 was the worst. Kind of like someone's soul was dying, throwing up, and scratching its especially long nails across a chalkboard simultaneously. The old Skyliner looked brand new: a still-retractable white hood (rare for its age) and a sparkling cherry-red body, the car was practically Grease Lightning. Except for the engine. Much unlike the famous, powerful, street-racing greaser car, Eli's sputtered and coughed at him at the most unintelligible times. Like now, when he simply wanted to find someone else in this world, just one person. Of course, Eli could merely drive cars, fixing them wasn't anywhere near in his range of talents. The car had cost him nothing, as it was a present from Dan's grandchild-loving, richer-than-God parents, despite the fact that Eli was technically not their grandchild. Maybe that's why the car was so great but the engine was so useless: he was only an almost-grandchild to them.
He pulled the keys from the ignition, ceasing the awful sound. Eli let out a sigh and got out of the car, there was nothing he could do other than pop the hood, stare at the mess of machinery and hope someone driving by knew their way around the inside of a car. From what he could tell, the engine wasn't letting out intimidating smoke like it did when the car made Noise #2, the most uncommon and severe of the problems, and nothing was obviously out of place like Noise #5 situations. Noise #'s 1 and 3 had something to do with a shortage of gas and oil, or so he thought. Noise #4 was the tricky one that had given him no clues. The car was so impressive, and when the engine decided it was feeling good, it showed. Now, however, it was embarrassing, he almost didn't want anyone to stop by. But that was a huge lie, he needed human contact, needed it. He refused to go to crawling back to his house and go to bed knowing the last person he would speak to was Dan.
"Awesome," Eli muttered, tolerance level shrinking. Now he needed someone for reasons other than throwing a rope down the pit of despair to drag him out. In his loneliness, the boy was stranded. Leaning against the side of his car, his eyes watched the street closely. For any sign of headlights or footsteps. Anyone who could save him one mental breakdown and an auto repair bill. At least it was a nice night.
At least it was a nice night. Well, nice enough. How did that song he liked go again? 'A beautiful night for being lonely'. That's definately what he was. Lonely. Eli didn't even have Duncan with him tonight. The dog was impressive; of everyone he had ever met, Duncan was the only one who could 1. sleep comfortably curled into a ball half his original size, and 2. sleep at all with people screaming across the house at eachother. Eli cleared his throat in a subtle way, knowing some of the disgusting sounds people could make with their vocal chords (despite being alone, with no people around to disgust). Having taken part in the screaming, he was a bit hoarse; it was a big house to shout across. Let sleeping dogs lie. That was the rule, and Eli took it into consideration when fumbling for his car keys and slamming the back door behind him.
Eli hadn't been able to deal with Dan anymore, which wasn't uncommon. Over the past few months especially, he had burned up more gas than ever before with all the drives he took after the arguments. He didn't know what he would do if he hadn't located small sanctuaries around the town. However, many of these sanctuaries closed when the sun went down. The beach gave him peace, quiet, and a place to think even through the late hours of the night. Grocery store, that had been his excuse. He had ripped the slim piece of paper from the refrigerator and stuffed it into his pocket when he went out the door. That's another thing that had changed within the past few months: the small family never seemed to run out of anything food-wise. It was because Dan got extra irritable this late at night, and the grocery store was the innocent part of this town open all hours of the day and night. The list of food was small and petty, some items impatiently underlined, meaning Dan wanted them. Those that were circled and underlined meant he really wanted them. Eli knew he was going to "accidentally" forget a lot of them.
Mainly because the grocery store wasn't the point. The grocery store was never the point. Whenever he needed to get out of the house, immidiately, he used the grocery store as a cover and took a walk under the stars. Something he never really did, considering he was a runner, and never walked when he could run, and considering that he was an only child and his mother was more than nervous about murderers and kidnappers roaming the streets. Truthfully, living in upper-lower-middle-class Detroit had made Eli the same way, which means it was stupid of him to be trekking around the dimly-lit lakeside in the middle of the night, after all, he could trekk through the well-lighted streets around the Hot 18 Night club and try his luck at looking eighteen, or swing by the residential area to see if anyone was still awake. Hell, he could trekk through the grocery store. But there was something about the night air that calmed the boy.
He had taken his walk, contemplated using the one lonely cigarette he had stolen from Dan a ways back, then decided if the night air and the gentle waves crashing against the shoreline wasn't enough to settle his frustration a cigarette wouldn't either, and headed back to his car. It was close to three o'clock now, and even a peaceful little city like Providence had cops. Or so Eli had been told. And at the annoying age of seventeen, Eli was still subject to curfew. And so he started the car and headed away from the lake (making sure he checked the backseat for any kidnappers before leaving.) With his foot firmly holding the brake pedal, the boy suddenly felt a tearing emotion close to depression. A night for being lonely, it seemed that stage had passed. He needed someone to talk to. Someone other than the stars in the sky. Maybe he would swing by the residential streets anyways, see if anyone was a secret insomniac.
The boy had just pulled into the street when the car gave a grand sputter, an exceptionally ugly noise, enough of one to cause Eli to pull over on the side of the road, as he knew what that sound meant. That was Noise #4. And of all the problematic noises, #4 was the worst. Kind of like someone's soul was dying, throwing up, and scratching its especially long nails across a chalkboard simultaneously. The old Skyliner looked brand new: a still-retractable white hood (rare for its age) and a sparkling cherry-red body, the car was practically Grease Lightning. Except for the engine. Much unlike the famous, powerful, street-racing greaser car, Eli's sputtered and coughed at him at the most unintelligible times. Like now, when he simply wanted to find someone else in this world, just one person. Of course, Eli could merely drive cars, fixing them wasn't anywhere near in his range of talents. The car had cost him nothing, as it was a present from Dan's grandchild-loving, richer-than-God parents, despite the fact that Eli was technically not their grandchild. Maybe that's why the car was so great but the engine was so useless: he was only an almost-grandchild to them.
He pulled the keys from the ignition, ceasing the awful sound. Eli let out a sigh and got out of the car, there was nothing he could do other than pop the hood, stare at the mess of machinery and hope someone driving by knew their way around the inside of a car. From what he could tell, the engine wasn't letting out intimidating smoke like it did when the car made Noise #2, the most uncommon and severe of the problems, and nothing was obviously out of place like Noise #5 situations. Noise #'s 1 and 3 had something to do with a shortage of gas and oil, or so he thought. Noise #4 was the tricky one that had given him no clues. The car was so impressive, and when the engine decided it was feeling good, it showed. Now, however, it was embarrassing, he almost didn't want anyone to stop by. But that was a huge lie, he needed human contact, needed it. He refused to go to crawling back to his house and go to bed knowing the last person he would speak to was Dan.
"Awesome," Eli muttered, tolerance level shrinking. Now he needed someone for reasons other than throwing a rope down the pit of despair to drag him out. In his loneliness, the boy was stranded. Leaning against the side of his car, his eyes watched the street closely. For any sign of headlights or footsteps. Anyone who could save him one mental breakdown and an auto repair bill. At least it was a nice night.
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