The History

November 1, 2002 - December 31, 2002

As the South did in the Civil War, rebuilding the greatest, biggest, and most popular non-commerical web-site in Baytown was going to be a big challenge.

I've gone through three web-servers in the history of the new TW, and well, it was definitely time for a change. This change though was not a new change, it was an old change, back to the past. I dwell on the past a lot, so I was constantly worried about what people thought of the new site design.

People liked it a whole lot. The only problem was, people hated it a whole lot. It was awesome - but it wasn't The Warzone's authentic look that has been with the site since 2000. Many of the new visitors have never seen the old look, so I put the old look back on.

On November 3, I banished all hopes of regaining my old web-server with my files. Also, Jill was casually waving at me. She broke up with Chris about two weeks ago, and I heard more rumors about her, but I didn't care anymore.

On November 3, it was also a crazy day. I walked into Physics and saw Glynis Haifley, the former "best girl's soccer goalie ever" soccer player that talked to me online a little was crying, but more pissed off than crying. She told me what happened. Her boyfriend was cheating on her. She told me she didn't even care that he was, but he lied to her, which made her cut off all ties.

Because she didn't have a homecoming date, we decided we'd go together, as friends of course. I gradually began liking Liz again. Basically, my entire life was a cycle of love - it went from Jill, to Liz, to Jill, to Liz, and it finally ended at Liz. I broke my cycle of absolute nothingness and total bullshit. More on this later.

That Friday, Nick joined me as we went to Tinseltown to see 8 Mile. Glynis's friend Meghan joined us. It turns out Nick and Meghan took a liking to each other immediately, and began holding hands in the movie theatre.

Due to Nick's bad luck with girls, Meghan broke all ties with him afterwards. She claimed it was her mother's ambitions or whatever that did it. It made me really mad altogether.

At Homecoming, I went with Glynis, Blake, and Meghan. The plan was to meet up my sexual gang at Carabbas. But till then, I had to go to Flying Dutchman with Glynis's friends, all of them on the soccer team. It was there I made pretty good jokes. Then, when I saw Cassie, Jill, Stackey, Tomas, and Dawn were there, I went to say Hi to everyone. I talked to Jill for a while and everything seemed to be ok.

All the while this is going on, It's as if Tommy and Allison continue their fighting. When I got to Carabbas, they already began tensions. It wasn't very good to start off the evening tensed especially at an Italian resturant, which in my opinion was extremely good.

With all those tensions going on, I might as well tell you what else happened this weekend. After I left Glynis, which turned out to be very bad for me - we weren't very non-touchy, which upsetted Tommy in some ways because of reasons I won't mention due to it being privately my life, lol, I basically had to tell her that what happened would probably never happen again and I had to apologize to her greatly because my fucking head was in my asshole and I couldn't see out of it.

On Tuesday, Allison brought to my attention SHOCKING news that I couldn't believe she would even talk about at all. She wanted to talk to Nick again. This made NO SENSE to me at all considering she was the one that basically ended Nick and Tommy's fruitful friendship.

She put Nick's new screen name on her buddy list. By chance, Tommy got on her screen name that night because her ex-boyfriend was pissing her off. He sees Nick's new screen name, not realizing it's him, and begins to ask questions about it. He even asks me. I had to lie for the sake of Nick and Allison. Allison wanted a friendship and basically, I didn't care, I just wanted to make people happy. That was stupid though, cause Tommy was my best friend.

Tommy however found out about this the next day. He began attacking me, but then the attacks got uncalled for and he began attacking Liz. Because that wasn't fair at all, I got so pissed off and started attacking back at Allison. I defended Liz to death even though I shouldn't have, and we ended breaking our ties on our friendship.

As a result to that, Nick and I became closer by choice because we had something to talk about. We began going to movies almost every Friday night unless something else was going on.

The site is back

After fighting and fighting with web hosters, I finally found a stable one. Mondex Hosting took over my bid for the web-site, and that's where we are currently hosted right now. The service is extremely reliable, and I'd recommend them to anyone in my situation.

I got access to the site on November 13, 2003. I had to redirect the name servers of The Warzone to regain them working access. An incredibly stupid move by me - I guaranteed all the files on TW would be up by 9:00 that very same day I began telling people the server would be up. This was a catastrophe: I was working non-stop from 4:00-9:00, and it was almost impossible to get all those files on the server. I had so many. It just wasn't possible.

I decided that it would be possible however to work non-stop till 9:00 tomorrow night. I did. And, at 9:00, TW opened, not fully completed, but it opened nonetheless. Everyone was in love. Here's a quote from my first paragraph of the reopened site:

"No! No way! We're..back!! And, the server is working! You are in shock! I'm in shock! I'm in such shock, I smell a taint piss scent coming from underneath my seat..LADY! Stupid son of a...anyway. Ok, TW is back, with the old design, which we all missed more then Jesus, and the new design - in the trash. We're never going to see it again, unless somehow everyone boycotts this one, but that's not going to happen. "

I guess there's no other better paragraph to open the site again than that one. It was great. The site being back, I was really excited that things were finally back in order.

My life was definitely shaping up as well. All the components to my computer we're almost fixed except my processor. All I was waiting to do was fix my processor. With that being said, the Thanksgiving break came, and guess what? So did a fuckfest.

Galleria II

Basically, I'm going to copy and paste my Galleria II WOMM in the sections that mattered most. Please don't be discouraged and read some of this if you missed it before.

I mean, the usual happened. It wasn't like we did anything out of the ordinary. We took pictures, we did shit, we wanted to take shits, and so forth. Nick bought a memory card from Electronics Boutique. We ate at the Cajun place, and Andrew made us partially agree with him that 8 dollars for cajun food is wasting money.

Nick is OBSESSED with these vomit flavored jelly beans. They were made by Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Many of you hate it, many of you love it, all I have to say is, anybody that makes their own vomit flavored jelly beans can just do themselves in the butt. Really, who wants that shit? Oh, Nick, I forgot.

After the post office, I felt a strange urge in my small intestine that it was time. It was definitely time.

I begged, I pleaded. Finally, Andrew decided it was also time. We went to the the sixth floor to do our "annual" mission to the bathroom.

Ok, well, this is what was going on. Nick and I were taking a shit, in seperate stalls. Sorry, we haven't come out of the armoir yet, Herbie. Anyway, Brian thought it would be funny to throw paper towels at us. They came from the ceiling, from the floor, from Jesus, from Satan. I believed most came from Jesus. I thought it was dumb, but as TW's owner, official chairman, CEO, CIO, president, vice-president, secretary, webmaster, and nurse, I said nothing to be the party pooper. I mean, it was just funny.

Brian also decided to flood the urinal with more paper towels. That would piss off some Houston yuppies. (Yuppies - makes the preps look like someone who lives in the projects of the South Bronx. But hey, nothing wrong with the South Bronx - the Yankees inhabit that area, and so does my spirit. (All of you: Matt, get the fuck out of here))

While Nick and I were pleasantly releasing waste, a gentleman, or should I say, fucking snitch prick bitch from Merril Lynch, decided to tattle on the mess Brian made. I'm blaming this all on Brian, cause since we're not in trouble, he's the cool one. At the same time when the man came in, Nick started to tell a joke, and we were just nonchalantly sitti

ng in our stalls, shitting away like it was us trying to skip class. We walked out, and stupid me, I didn't suggest that we take the stairs back down to the 6th floor, the floor we came on in the first place. A police officer walked by, and that kind of made me think a little. We walked down the main plaza strip of the Galleria, trying to go back to Neiman Marcus, back to the woman Nick asked if he could a makeover to. Her name was Dorthoy, but I'm so sure that's not how you spell it, and I usually spell everything correctly, so you can all shoot me in the balls for this one.

We saw another officer, and this guy STOPPED us! He was like, boys, wait a minute. Then, this big, black fat woman rent-a-cop security from the mall decided it'd be nice to drop in also. The other cop that was on the 7th floor saw the mess and came back down and tried to piss all over us.


TW was running along smoothly as December started to roll around. On November 30, Matt II, the nickname dubbed for my new computer, was finally brought into play, and I was 100 percent functional once again.

In a month, TW reached 15,000 hits. Actually, in half a month. I thought this number was staggering. Seeing hits in the range of 1,000 blew me away. I wouldn't know of anything bigger than what I would soon see in April, May, and the next months after that.

On December 7, a Saturday, Tim Brockman and I go to Frys and Best Buy. I buy a TV Tuner card for my PC. After that, my father shocks me: He buys a $100 reciever and 2 Cerwin Vega Speakers for $115. They rock my room. They still do. They are the greatest electronic devices I have.

From December 6, something incredibly horrible happened to me, OUT OF NO WHERE. At this point, I was going back into my stage of wondering, "WHAT THE HELL IS FUCKING WRONG WITH PEOPLE?"

About a week later, after Walking 49 beats everyone in the Battle of the Bands contest to progress to the finals, my best friend, now current ex-best friend, Joseph Dickens, got in a serious car accident on Raccoon Drive near Massey Tompkins. This is the same Joe that TW had so many memories were created inside his Mustang. At least Joe got his wish though...when he ran into the side of the Chevy truck, he totaled it, and boy, does he hate Chevy's.

The front end of the Mustang was crushed in a very bad way. Joe's head bounced on the steering wheel, causing him to have very a pretty large headache and neckache, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a little of time. Jenna and I visited the Mustang at Joe's house. All I could think of was the devestation of the van, but this was different. The Mustang made and broke relationships between everyone. This is what the end of everything.

Final Exams were coming up, and many of us didn't want to do anything. The Year 2003 was fast approaching, and many of us were very excited. It was going to be a big change for many of us. We were almost Seniors.

While I was looking through some WOMM archives, I found a funny section in a column I wrote. The column is called "10 WHOLE MINUTES." For those of you who forgot, the 10 WHOLE MINUTES refers to the time period of the "study time" during Final Exams, right before we actually take the Exam.

With the final exams going, this ten minutes of break is actually the weirdest ten minutes in the world. When you think about it, we've been waiting so long to have almost pure anarchy for ten whole minutes and do nothing. Well, we got it, and I walked around yesterday not knowing what the fuck to do.

I walked around, realizing how big of a waste of time my life is. I seemed to notice that in the Commons, which was full of about 1,500 people, that it was like one huge lunch crowd. The Mexicans took their walls, the Blacks took their trash cans to beat and rap on, the hicks crowded around each other to be gay, the preps talked away from the trash cans, and everyone else was just walking around in small little groups, maybe no larger then 5 or 6.

I also realized how my life has amounted to nothing up to that point. I actually thought during this ten minutes. I've never done that before. I thought about how fucking stupid school was. We're DOING NOTHING for ten whole minutes. Shouldn't that be illegal or something? I'm going to call the national police and get our principals arrested or something. LOL.

Why am I complaining that these ten minutes suck? Well, if it was for every class during the normal school year, hell, that'd be fucking awesome. But, no, this is the day of exams, the day everyone wants out. No one wants these ten minutes. No one wants the review. They want to take the stupid exam and get the hell out of school to see Lord of the Rings and/or go straight to sleep.

The End

The end of the year was coming fast. I can't remember exact details, but I do know that Nick gave me the coolest present ever: The Kramer Poster. I love it, I still love it, so very much. It was also at this time that I was probably coming down from the lowest point of my life.

I found this quote to be interesting, in the last WOMM I wrote before the year ended. I was pretty surprised I wrote this. Actually, when I read it, it even shot me back into place about this year:

First off, before I begin any column, this is to a certain someone. Ex-communication isn't the key. You lose. You're the loser in the situtation. In history, when someone was excommunicated, usually they revolted later and succeeded in what they were going to accomplish. Usually, when that society is created that was excommunicated, the entire society hated the person or organization which excommunicated them. Well right now, mystery person that only I will speak of, (yeah, asking me who this is won't work, this is a direct statement) it comes down to this right here. The lies you have given to the high power himself and the deciet in the life you live have come down to this right moment. Second column of TW. You lose. I win. You lost everything you could have had. You lost any power you might have gained back.


For those of you who didn't know me, "May Peace be with us in this time of War" was the quote I used for all the bad things happening to everybody.

The last sentence of that column was the following: My name is Matt Impelluso, and I am the webmaster of two incredible sites, and the owner of one. You shouldn't have taken advantage of my niceness.

The following column is from the December 31, 2002 edition of my WOMM:

Cardi's SUCKS!!!!

People call poor little Jared Wilson pee-wee, but what happened on December 27 wasn't Pee Wee like at all. It was stupid asshole like. It was the stupidest thing anyone has ever seen in the entire world. Pee-Wee Jared and I were robbed of our virginities, as Jared would say, not like probably has it anyway, since he's a dirty manwhore from the 70's.

So, Walking 49 has a show at Cardi's this club in Houston. Cardi's is pretty nice. I liked the premises. The area, however, surrounding Cardi's, is less pleasant looking then Kelly Osbourne's fucking weight. I mean, you look around you're like, I take shits prettier then this! Or, man, the roach that I stepped on last night looks edible compared to this trash. Ok, it wasn't that bad, or else we'd be living in Channelview. (OH, PUT DOWN, OH GOD!!)

So, even with that all against us, Jared parks sort of in the middle of Cardi's parking lot. Inside, he stores away anything noticeable: A CD Player cover, his radar detector plus little hanger magiggy to hold the radar detector, his cds, and his girlfriend's purse. With all these things hidden, we were ready to rumble.

I left my jacket inside as well because I thought, well how cold can a bar get? Oh let me tell you, I was freezing my ass off in Cardi's. Not like I would later as you would find out, but I was freezing.

So, its BJ, the lead guitarist, Justin Glover, the drummer, Jared, Frankie, and me sitting in a row at Cardi's watching this HORRIBLE band preform. God, they sucked. Anyway, all of a sudden, everyone leaves. Frankie and I are wondering where the hell everyone went. So, we go outside.

Everyone is crowded around BJ's and Jared's truck, so I go over there. I was going to get my jacket as well because it was cold. Not even noticing Jared's window being fucking shattered, I go to the other side where my jacket was and tried opening the door. I didn't even know why people were all over the place.


I couldn't believe it. I looked around at the glass and just...laughed. I couldn't believe it was happening. I felt so sorry for Jared.

And I was cold.

So I looked for my jacket. Well, I looked some more. And, well, I looked.

It wasn't till about five seconds later I realized, THE ROBBERS STOLE MY FUCKING LETTER JACKET WITH MY LAST NAME SEWED ON THE BACK OF IT!!!!!

I was so pissed! Jared started laughing his mother fucking ass off. He couldn't believe it either. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT FUCKING MIND WOULD STEAL A GOD DAMN LETTER JACKET???


"WHAT????" - Group of people
"Why would someone steal something with your last name?" - Someone

So, I go all around Cardi's yelling about how my letter jacket is stolen. I'm going crazy. Then, Brandon Watkins, a boy from Lee, calls the cops because they're taking their sweet time and makes this huge ass scene about how his parents are going to murder him if the cops don't come quick. It was so damn hilarious.

Finally, a cop comes, and he's a chink. Ok, here we are, in the middle of fucking Southwest Houston, in the shittest looking shittest area in the world, and our cop is a CHINESE PERSON, WHO'S SECOND LANGUAGE IS ENGLISH!!!! WHAT THE @#% @#$% !@#$% @$$@# @#@$@# @#@#@#@#@# !@$#@%@%@$#@%@%^@#^#^%$^$@%@??????

I don't have a jacket. I'm freezing my ass off. The cop gets all of our information, looks at Jared's truck, but nothing. Can't tell anything. Jared gets this case number shit. The guy who reported the robbery helped Jared out with some garbage bags he could put over the window. We had an hour ride back to Baytown. Jared and I didn't have jackets. Christine had this huge fur like, I don't know what it was, I mean it looked sexy on her, but still.

We go inside, round up the people telling them we're going to attempt driving home, and we do.

Jared gets Frankie's hoodie, and once again, I am blessed with an Abercrombie shirt, straight from the back seat of Jared's truck.

So, the ride home consists of this: The first twenty-five minutes, I call my mom, yelling and screaming bad words and all this about how my jacket is gone, and how my ID badge was inside my jacket. They stole my god damn aweosme HP lanyard ID Badge. Fuck them. FUCK EM!!!

Jared and Christine enjoyed the show of me calling my mom. They were laughing the entire time. Jared couldn't comprehend how they could steal a letterman jacket. Also, Jared realized that they pulled his radar detector so hard out of the cigarette lighter, that they broke it! These robbers weren't TOO smart. Also, Jared was bitching about how he was surrounded by a BMW and Lincoln Navigator. But, they all had alarm systems.

When I get back to my house, you guessed it, freezing, Jared's cell-phone rings. Its Christine's mom, saying someone found her purse!!!

Christine picks up the phone and starts talking to the guy, then hands it over to Jared. Jared talks to him and they left the purse in the driveway, with the drivers license. Jared then asks about my jacket. After a minute of silence, THEY FOUND MY DAMN JACKET!!!

Christine's purse was missing her TI-89, her check book, cash, gift certificates, etc. Jared altogether lost his CD Player, his Radar Detector, and his new Sum 41 cd, which he is REALLY PISSED OFF about. LOL.

The next day, Jared brings over my jacket. Its in perfect condition.


Well, this story is over. I have my jacket, but no ID Badge. Walking 49 scheduled another show at Cardi's, but its unknown whether Jared and I are going to that one. Oh, something so damn stupid. While this is all going on, and we tell Frankie we're gonna leave, he asks, "Dude, who's going to take pictures?"

At that point, Jared and I were about to team up and kick some Philipene ass.

[Frankie throws ketchup at the ceiling, and some gets on my hand]
"[LOLOLOL]" - Frankie

May 2002 rest in peace as the fucking worst year, EVER.