Monday, March 30, 2009

I am back

My vacation is over and I am back at work. That sucks for me. Not that you care that I have to go back to my soul killing job.

Not when all you care about is the entertainment value I provide when my life sucks and spirit is dampened.

Well suck it.

I've been giving you guys a break from reading my blog and I can't say that you are any better off for it. I won't say that I am either which doesn't make much sense, but when you think about it almost nothing makes sense anymore. So why should this?

I want to start blogging more regularly, but the only thing I have to blog about is that time I was playing around in your ass and I got a little shit dicked on my finger. That ruined our weekend because you vomited all day after sucking me off and I shat green for a week from catching whatever virus your last boyfriend left you with.

Maybe you wish I had stopped blogging years ago, but since I don't have anything else going for me in my life I am going to keep blogging.

I want to leave you with this video I took of a homeless guy that lives outside the Gold Spike Casino in downtown Las Vegas.

For some reason The Gold Spike has always attracted drug addicts and homeless people. For a long time the Casino had no plan how to do with its terrible image. It just sat there dying a slow death as the rest of Las Vegas benefited from its decision to go classy and "high end" focusing on families and ignoring the roots of Vegas which is prostitution and gambling and dirty shit people who have nothing to lose but their money.

Well, the Gold Spike has decided to capitalize on its authenticity and produced the worlds first "gangsta" casino. Complete with hot blackjack dealers dressed in wearing wife beaters and rap music in the background.

It's the best idea Vegas has come up with in years...

Friday, March 27, 2009

Dear SKY meet Willie Ames

If you don't know who Skyferreira is that's ok. It just means you aren't as cool as I am for knowing about her.

I do have some advice for you though SKY:

I'd like you to meet my Willie Ames. He was cool once too. Only face it he had much nicer "guns." (Check out the pic in the link girls he is like so hunky!)

I guess what upsets me about sky is that she promotes herself as a chick not into sex with older guys, but check out the article on her myspace page where the journalists writes about wanting to put his head between her legs.

I mean if you are grossed out about that kinda stuff why promote it on your website?

Oh. Because all you care about is promoting yourself. And you admit that on the page as well. I guess I don't get today's new fangled artists with their, "sell out before we get famous" attitude.

I'm just glad some new 16 year old is out there ready to glam it up. All the pro kiddie models on 12 chan were getting boring.

I am not sure which is more disturbing. My interest in following a German teen transvestite pop star or my new obsession with 16 year old
Skyferreira. You decide.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

It's ok. Everything is Ok.

I lost my phone adapter. That means I can't listen to my phone with headphones.

I know you don't care, and you are wondering why I wrote that. I haven't written on this blog in a while and when I finally take the time to write a post --all I talk about is losing my 3.5 mm to 2.5 mm ear phone adapter.

It probably isn't even lost. I am sure it is the truck somewhere.

The reason I wrote about the lost adapter is I think of it as some kind of metaphor for the Existential angst I feel in general. The separation from reality that my ego posits as truth, but is in reality simply a symptom of brain chemistry reacting to my personal circumstances and socio-historical setting.

I waited to write and that's all I have.

I don't want to talk to you about the perfect weather we are having.

The sun has set. The wind is blowing. The tree planted next to my apartment building sways dangerously against the side our building, the sky has few clouds. The sky is gray, but cheerful.

It felt good to stand outside, so I opened the door and just stared at nature. Not like you do. I don't care about nature. I can't think of anything to do with it. I thought about going for a walk. But I was lonely without my phone adapter.

I misplaced my mp3 player too. But I just found it. Right where I thought it would be.

I plopped 2 lbs of fresh pink ground beef in the frying pan. The beef tasted good. Fresh. So much better than the 5 lb bag of frozen beef patties I bought at Walmart.

The girl who made the beef displayed her packages with pride. She winked at me behind her white smock and apron. The cashier flirted at me when I came back in a few minutes later to purchase a can of beans.

"You can't make beef combo burritos without beans." I tell the cashier.

She wants to know if I make beans at home, then she nods likes she understands me, like we have something in common. I thinks she tells me a story about her father making beans at home, but only when she is not around. She is hurt by her father.

"He only wants to make the good food when I am not around." She tells me as she pushes buttons on her cash register.

I won't tell her that I think she is fat and maybe Daddy does her a favor by not giving in to her fleshy appetites. That she herself if pink like ground beef and she could taste good on a BBQ grill.

Instead I will pretend that I don't need to resort to cannibalistic fantasies 'to get me off' because my dick is so dry and bored.

Today I was pretending. I was pretending like you all must do. Otherwise I pity you. Wasting so much effort being cheerful. Wasting so much energy. I pretended so well that I did not even think those thoughts as the moment occurred. I am just now thinking them. And only as a shock tactic. You know I don't mean those things. I won't ever cook your bodies over open flame.

Someone could notice.

I am relaxed. Like I am at the beach. Someone keeps calling me from work. I am not going to work today. I am on vacation. So I can relax. I can take a walk. I would too. If I felt better. If my body didn't feel so old and bumpy.

I took a brown shit today. First time in two weeks. I think that means I am as healthy as I get. But it still makes me wonder, "When do the 'feel good' days come?"

I guess you only get them if you work out and eat right and go to the doctor and do all the things you have to do that don't include watching depressing child molestation stories on NetFlix.

But I don't want to be engaged in the world. I almost said I hated "being engaged in the world," but then I erased those words, because I don't have that kind of passion today. Today I am just peaceful. No. Not peaceful. I am panicked, but the calm kind of panicked. Like right before you go under for the third time. The ocean spray hitting you in the face. Swallowing quarts of seawater. The tide pressing you out. The feeling of hope forcing you up. Buoyant like.

All before the lungs give up. Over capacity they burst, and your eyeballs open in mock surprise like the used rectums of anal porn models. Alluring and disgusting all at once.

But at least you stop splashing. You stop making those disgusting sounds of survival. And for a second... you CAN breathe underwater. I like to think that's how you die.

Your last thoughts are, "I am immortal."

Thursday, March 19, 2009


Well Folks

I am on vacation from my job. Starting now. I am off to Vegas this Friday.

EXPECT a CRAP load of TWITTER updates. I have no idea if I can picture update, but we shall see.

Also I will live blog when I can.... Hopefully some of the video and pics comes out. My phone has no flash....

Should be fun...!

Sunday, March 08, 2009

I am useless

I am in a bad mood, and I don't want to wake up.

My feet are crammed onto the TV dinner tray that I use as a computer desk. My farts smell like McDonald's double cheeseburgers. But not real double cheeseburgers. The new recession McDoubles. The McDouble has two "all beef" patties, but only one slice of cheese.

I wished I didn't smell the farts.

Sleep is stuck in my eyes. I need to shower. I have to go to work in 30 minutes.

I am trying to avoid people, but they keep trying to contact me.

No one will leave me alone. I want to watch the recession all by myself. Like it was just TV. I want to watch the decline of America, because I think "leveling down" is a good idea.

I want to sit back on the internet and view programs on a computer monitor that I could have watched on TV last night.

Only nothing in my Hulu Queue is worth watching.

The news is bad.

"And thinking it is bad just makes it worse." I overheard some republican on talk radio say that.

I don't care about being bitter. I am too busy laughing at you as the American dream turns into Detroit. soon we will all live in Detroit .

Nobody wants to do anything about it. We will just wait for the government to fix the problem. Even though none of us believe in the government anymore.

We don't believe in anything else which is why we will let the leaders keep this capitalist system around. We just hope in a few years we get our jobs back. Maybe in a few years we will be able to afford a new iPhone. By then the iPhone will have 64 gigs. And we will load it up with stolen music.

In a few years (if the stimulus works) the only poor people will be newsmen and artists.

I say fuck the newspapers. They got everything wrong.

And I say a big "fuck you" to all the recording artists.

You are supposed to be poor. That's where suffering comes from. From want. From need.

If you really want to suffer for your art then no more of this dressing in 300 dollar homeless chic t-shirts.

Now you will just be poor. Mustard stains on your t-shirt. Using your change to by corn dogs and Super Big Gulps and forgetting that your change was for the laundry. Wearing dirty clothes to all your interviews. Getting kicked off food stamps because you can't find a job. Food stamps are for people with a job.

Go home and cry now. Go home and write that rock opera on your iMac.  3,000 dollars well spent.