Wednesday, July 28, 2010

If you come up at me "rapping" about how you're a "grandma" and you "want to fuck me" I might ask you to remove your saggy tits from my shoulder

Last night I got a call from j-dog.  I hung out with him at the "Lucky Devil" and nearly got laid.  I met a nerdy girl who just turned 21, and I bought her a shot.  She ordered the most expensive tequila in the bar.  I guess I should have figured.  Her shot almost cost me more that the 3 small pitchers of bud light I was nursing that evening.

It was okay though.  It was her birthday and I am on my quest to date a nerd girl.

While we waited for her shot she told me she was ex-Mormon.  She said she started drinking when she was 14. Then she told me she could drink me under the table.

"Because I'm a shot girl.  I only do shots."

I told her once I got under the table, "I was a trouble making troll."  Then I told her about my affection for alliteration and she was like, "I'm good at math."

Her parents kicked her out of the church because they thought she was a lesbian.

"Well."  I thought.  "You aren't married and 21."  I told her.  "And you have short hair.  That pretty much makes you a lesbian in the Mormon church."

She agreed.  But she did not apologize for her short hair.

She had some funky glasses that hid her face well.  I think that was a good thing as there may have been some cross-eyes, or Mormon inbreeding going on there.

Still she was intelligent and spoke of jokes about 8 year old boys and the pope and so that caught my attention.

But her cock blocking friends were going to have nothing to do with her talking to me.  They all walked up and dragged her off, only for her to come back a few minutes later and sit down with me.  We talked for like another 20 minutes and just when you thought I could have asked for her number her friends drag her off a second time.

In my youth I would have drank a few beers and waited for her to come back around, or walked outside to get her number, but I am way too old for all that now.  Also, it occurred to me that she was only 21.  Other than molestation, I can't think what to do with a 21 year old girl.  So I bid her adieu and walked home.

Other things that happened that night.

J-dog and I talked cell phones.  J-dog is an interesting cat.  He is the only person I feel comfortable calling me "bro."  He saw me texting and had the best line of the night when he told me to "put that slow phone away"  Okay.  Maybe not the best line of the night.  But I now can't wait for August 20th.  I am getting me an Epic 4g.  No matter what.  If I have to sell everything I own.  I will do it!*

*Not that I have any interested buyers on the enV3 I put up for sell on craigslist.*

Other things that have nothing to do with cell phones.

J-dog's brother got arrested for punching his girlfriend.  Somehow I was made to feel sorry for J-dogs brother.  I guess his girl did not want to press charges, but one of the neighbors saw the punch and called the cops.  The guy is on parole, so it could be messed up for him.  J-dog is afraid his brother is going back to jail for a long ass stint.

The brother went to jail for stealing a million dollars from an old woman.  But it wasn't like he wasn't taking care of the old gal while he was milking her.  He used some of the money he stole for her, and apparently she did not want to press charges against him.

J-dog told me about how his parents spent a hundred grand on lawyers as he sipped from a 20 ounce Whataburger cup full of Jagermeister.

His brother's situation sounds a lot like the girl I felt up 20 years ago in a bar.  I reached up and ran my hand real slow like up her skirt till she turned around and was like, "Hey!  What the FUCK!"

I was like, "Took ya a while to say something."

Her friends looked over at me in disbelief.  But then I got confirmation from the girl.

"I had my hand there for a while, right?"  She let me play with her thigh.  This only emboldened me and I went for the panties.

She nodded at me but was like, "You took it too far."

I guess it was the finger in the panties then?

Fair enough.

Another thing.  The grandma rapper was real.  A sweet 41 year old grandma.  She rapped during the DJ show.  She kept telling me her tits were on me.  I kept thinking "Does that mean you have droopy tits? or are you into me?"

Well she wanted to fuck me.  That's the third woman in the past month I turned down.  So I guess me not get laid is all about me being choosy.  But without a car I can't go back to her place and then never call her again.  She might drop me off at home and then she'd know where I lived.  And crazy-rappin' black grandmas is something you don't take lightly.

I was gonna buy a crap load of drugs from some of the people I met to celebrate my vacation.  But circumstances came up and I was unable to consummate the deal  Also, I am down to 100 dollars in my account.  I can't see me buying drugs and eating out, going to the bookstore and buying a new phone anytime soon.  Even if I start donating plasma at 50 dollars a pop.

I let you know if I am healthy enough to donate plasma.  Also, if I have AIDS or some other blood disease when the tests come back.

I'm in Europe enjoying life without you. Sometimes I think of you, but then I rememeber I don't like you, and I assume your off getting drunk and forgetting to feed your cat

Yesterday, I had one of those conversations with one of those customers who thinks he's funny by regurgitating something offensive he's read off a chain letter e-mail to me.


Do you guys participate in the Obama grocery stimulas program?

Me: (pretending to care)

Um,  what's that?

Customer Bigot:

It's where you buy as much groceries as you want, but the guy behind you pays for it.

Me:  (Laughs)

No.  We actually participate in the Republican tax plan.  That's where you buy your groceries and pay taxes on it, so the rich guy standing behind you doesn't have to.

General applause from the peanut gallery for me.

Lesson to you:  Go hard to the hoop, or don't come at all.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

An open letter to Verizon Wireless.

The rumor that BIG RED is EVIL is true

There is a rumor floating around the internet that Verizon is going to go to a tiered internet pricing plan for their smart phones.

I can't tell you how upset I am about this.

Q. Why the hell would anyone buy a smart phone if they can't use the damn thing like a smart phone?

A.  They bought an i-phone.

Sorry about that Apple fanboys.  It's not my i-fault.

Reasons I am quitting THE EVIL BIG RED soon.  

Verizon's vaunted network is slow.
Verizon makes its subscribers pay a premium for access to their network on the idea that they don't drop calls and that they deliver a great online experience.

I guess that's why I pay 30 dollars a month to get internet on an Env3.  The Env isn't even a smart phone, but I still get charged like it is.  My Env3 struggles loading content from Verizon's V-Cast.  I'm forced to sit through the machine "buffering" multiple times during most any video I watch.  the web on Verizon is horrible.  It's like I'm holding an i-phone 4 with my hand in some kind of death grip.

Verizon is about to pull a bait and switch.

 I am a premium subscriber who throws his money away on Verizon by paying for crap like V-Cast, unlimited internet, and Verizon's crappy Navigation service.

Verizon forces you to buy the "all you can eat internet" because the only other plan they offer is 10 bucks for 25 mb.  25 mb is shit.  25 mb is like looking at your homepage twice.

I thought I was the kind of customer that Verizon wanted.  A subscriber who buys all the premium services they offer.  But I am not.  The kind of customer Verizon wants is the customer who pays for things, but does not use them.

Verizon.  Why did you get angry when you offer a service like unlimited internet on 3g and then notice that people actually use it?  Let me give you some advice.  Try to think of a buisnes plan that does not involve hoping customers pay for a service, but then choose not to use it.

You are not LA Fitness.  LA Fitness runs a shady business   that hopes you are fat and plan to stay lazy.  They hope you don't want to work out.  They wan't you to sign up and forget about the services you are paying for.

They are shitty company.

Your plan won't work because you provide a service even fat people want to use.

Why didn't you foresee what it would cost to provide your network to people and then charge them for it?  Was that too hard?  Is the price prohibitive?  Then why offer data plans in the first place?  Why go after manufactures and push them to create monster phones with dual core processors?

It's because people don't talk on your networks anymore?  And people who don't use their voice minutes don't want to pay for your overpriced calling plans.

So you play your version of the bait and switch game and charge 20 bucks for texting, even though your cost to send a text is basically free.

Why not follow Virgin mobile and do things like 25 dollar all you can text with only 300 minutes?   Kids eat that shit up.

Why Verizon is evil.

Verizon has the same business plan that your drug dealer has.

First,  get us hooked on unlimited DATA.

Then you pair the unlimited DATA with one of the Incredible Droid smart phones in your line up.  Then you wait for us to go over the modest limits you will set up so you can stick us with massive overcharges for the extra GB's.

(Sounds like what you guys used to do with voice minutes.)

Additional rant about why vErizon is evil.

Your decision to go with tiered data is pushing us back to 1991.  AOL and the $4.oo a minute internet internet pricing was the thing that kept the masses from getting online.  I hated 1991.  Do you remember anything cool about 1991?  That's because there wasn't anything.

All you can eat data is what brought the internet to the forefront of media world.  Going backwards will only cripple technology and the progress of mobile phones.  I want my quad core 2ghtz 2 gb of ram phone dammit!

You are EVIL. So very Evil.

Quit being EVIL.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

i discover the sinister truth about synaesthetes

if you're like me and you try to write half-way complicated shit on your blog, you will notice that most of the time you come off as some kind of ass.

the best case scenario is i am steve jobs at some lame press conference explaining to a bunch of nose pickers that they can "have their free case" and "please shut the fuck up about how our phone drops calls."

but most of the time a guy like me doesn't even rise to the level of doucheyness that my analogy suggested.

instead i sound a lot more like an idiot that can't put two sentences together and get them to connect in some meaningful (if offensive manner.)

i'm sure that's why this blog has failed to find an audience -except for the isolated packet of traffic that comes from synaesthetes searching for pictures of miley cyrus's crotch.

it bothers me that 33% of my traffic comes from the boston home for self-taught synaesthetes.  sometimes i get so low that i want to stop blogging.  i don't because i feel that by continuing to blog i am serving some kind of useful purpose i.e. giving synaesthetes something to jerk off to other than the slightly ripe smelling remnants of your child's diaper.

like you i'm sickened by the idea of the physical gymnastics involved in the masturbation fantasies of synaesthetes.

though i doubt you worry, it should bother you that there is an industry attempting to turn the entire world into a bunch of masturbating synaesthetes.

i know what you are saying, "it's just a fad.  it will go away." that's because you don't see patterns the way i do.  if it weren't for me you would have probably never heard of the idea that one day we will be masturbating self taught synaesthetes.

if you don't know what "that" means i can only tell you (from my careful journalistic practices) that it will mean soon when you "think" about the color blue you won't see the color blue.  instead it will just "feel" like miley cyrus' little sister lapped danced against  in some sinister kiddie stripper imitation (and the fact that you will enjoy it makes me want to puke all over you.)

and you won't be against that kind of "thing" anymore since all of your senses are melding together and your sense of smell is tied up into your penis which just brings us back to you stealing little girl's underwear.

i'm mad at you boston area residents that visit my site.

it "bothers me" that you steal little girls underwear.  it bothers me that you beat off to it in mental institutions. you are so successful in life.  you are getting exactly what you want, and i am a giant failure of a human being who can't seem to stop the flood of synaesthesia addicts flooding schools and the internet.

worse i can't seem to type words in an order that makes people want to read them.  and by read my words, i mean i can't put forth anything so compelling, that it forces people to tell their friends who could get me book deals, to give me book deals.

in fact i have trouble gaining followers on blogger or twitter.  mostly people tell me to stop writing so much about the epidemic of synaesthetes and it's subtle influence on  kiddie porn.

i guess people just don't want to read the truth, or imagine the types of people who steal child's underthings to masturbate while attempting to teach their brains that yellow = 4.

but i'm not gonna stop covering this huge story just because your imagination is somehow too constrained to confront the truth.  maybe one day i will be rewarded for my heroic journalism, but i doubt it.  the synaesthetes are taking over the world and i'm down to 30 hits a day on this blog.  soon enough there won't be  a damn person reading this blog and i will be typing all this for those that survive the coming holocaust.

a holocaust of child panty sniffing by self taught synaesthetes the likes of which the world has never seen.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Self Help Guide to Overcomming Anxiety: or how i stopped worrying and learned to love the dread

* you should read this before reading this post.  then all the shit i left out will make more sense.*

the gas station by my house sells caffeinated gum and something called red tilt malt liquor.   if you come looking for me, it might be best for you to try the gas station before knocking on my door, as i buy a lot of that shit because that is the shit that keep me going though the dread and anxiety of living in this post-modern nightmare that we call call "now."

now if you are like most people you just read that i drink malt liquor, chew caffeinated gum, and i talk a lot about anxiety, so then you started diagnosing me with some kind of depression, or drug problem.  a few of you may have worried that i was some kind of hipster.  note: i only write for the 2 people who actually worried for a second that i was a hipster.

don't you fucking worry though, i'm not a hipster.  i'm an old fashioned nerd.  i'm just broke and tired of drinking bud light.   but i'm too poor for sam adams. 

now for those of you who are worried that, "i think a lot about dread" let me try and ease your christian fears a bit.

you might worry that i'm a nihilist without understanding the christian roots of existentialism.  (yes, i just played switcheroo but hold on a bit and i will school yer ass, k?)

first, you are right about me being a nihilist.  but don't get ahead of yourself.  getting ahead of yourself would be like "but you don't fucking believe in anything-how can you believe in nothing?"

like most uneducated people i use my own definition of nihilism.  first a bit of background that you will all agree with me.  humans are the only animals that go around acting like their very existence is some kind of problem that needs to be figured out.

so the main "problem" of being human is figuring out just what exactly it means to be "human."  Agreed?  you better agree asshole, or just cut and fucking run back to mommy and the robed priest that likes to tickle your pickle before mass.

so let's get back to my definition. it goes something like nihilism simply means that all the old fashioned ways of  finding meaning no longer work.  things like belonging to your tribe, your religion, your nation no longer ground you to your being.

in other words, you can be religious, but how many people do you know wear black Nike sneakers and gulp sleeping pills down before suffocating themselves by wrapping a plastic bag over their heads?  i think the answer is 34.  but i didn't Google that. so who knows.

now 12 step helpers want to come in and solve the crisis of modernity by offering you up solutions like getting a higher power.

i wonder if the founder of AA knew anything about kierkegaard.  kierkegaard said all we needed to get over life was to get a "defining commitment."*

*(a defining commitment is just like submission to a higher power i won't go into why here i won't go into all the parallels of how k. and 12 step programs are the same, but let's just say that they both think that your "higher power" could be a door knob.)

a door knob.  you see the only way you can get away from dread is by positing something outside of yourself that you can base your life on.  it could be the god-man (k wants us to be scarily committed to him.)  it could be staying sober.  it could be making money.  but we won't find the solution in the distraction of every day life.

personally i don't like the idea that 12 step followers propose. you know how you get over dread? you get over dread by getting over it.  i'm not going to try a leap into faith into something that i know is absurd just so that i can run away from the contradictions of the human psyche (the whole what's the point thingy) by escaping myself and pointing my life in the direction of something outside my self.

i'm for dealing with the self.  even if that means living in resignation.  even if that means living in dread, anxiety, anomie, and nihilism.

i'd rather be myself.

just like you don't worry about being over 40 and coming off as desperate as hell for attention next to your prettier friend at the bar (yet still found the will to diss 3 douche bags who figured you were an easy score) and you earned mad props from me and my friend when you didn't even try and cock block your friend when it looked liked she was gonna get laid before you.  now that's "living" with purposelessness.

things we learned today:
  1. we never get to resolve the contradiction of being human
  2. that's why humans live in despair
  3. despair can be good because it lets us know we are human
  4. paradoxically knowing that we are human drives us further into despair 
  5. resignation to the impossibility of resolving contradiction is the only "solution" to suicide
What will we learn next?

nietzsche and kierkegaard had similar ideas about the possibility that we could overcome the crisis identified by k.  both were wrong.  i will show that the pessimism of schopenhauer was correct (although his prescription of aesthetic abandonment was wrong- which is the same thing as distraction- a concept loathed by k.) 

i will also show that the crises humanity faces ends with our mutual destruction (by either the typical ways i.e. war, famine etc.) or by replacement with non-human entities -you call them robots- who themselves will say they are simply the synthesis of the contradiction of humanity.  they are totally wrong and are non-human.  a simple task to show they are non-human is to show they do not live in despair.

    Saturday, July 10, 2010

    Sickness unto death: or when the cure is worse than the disease

    drinking in the middle of the day is fun.  you should try it sometime unless your idea of fun is doing crossword puzzles or making afghans for your church group.

    drinking during the day feels sneaky.  the way looking up a girl's skirt when she bends to place her bike on the bus rack makes you feel dirty until she sits down on the curb in her tiny shirt-dress and lights up a smoke and stairs straight out at you and stretches out her tanned legs and allows the breeze to blow up her skirt giving you a peek at her undies.  then you feel less creepy than the girl flashing you in the shirt dress.

    girls and shirt dresses  maybe the second best thing about summer.  the first must be sangria wine.  even if that sangria has been sitting in your refrigerator for 3 days with the cap slightly unscrewed.  the sangria still has enough carbonation to taste fresh and fruity.   i guess boone's knows what they are doing.

    i'm gonna drink a lot of stuff other than beer tonight.  i am thinking TILT malt liquor again.  12% beast of an alcoholic drink.  maybe i will get real loaded before i go to the lucky devil and order a few 45 cent wings.  the lucky devil makes great wings/you'd never guess they make decent cuisine here on account of the cockroaches and general lackadaisicaliness of the  employees (sometimes you order a dozen wings and they don';t get made but the bartender is sweating so much that you decide not to ask him to turn on the fryer) also the disturbing clientele would suggest you will be served food that a trucker would belch at eating.

    but you'd be wrong.  of course you are always wrong about most things.  other than green pant suits are in style again and honda accords make wonderfully dependent automobiles.

    back to me getting drunk

    i'm thinking about getting a few of those caffeinated chewing gum and drinking a few TILTS and when sufficiently buzzed then getting my beer on.    

    what about you guys?  does beer do it anymore?  don't you need to drink the hard stuff, wine, or lace your weed with something to get off to it anymore?

    i wished i had something dangerous like angel dust.  i'd do it! i would.

    i don't think i need friends.  i shun contact.  it's like i already know you are going to bore the fuck out of me.  i know i look ridiculous to you but thats because you only see me one-sided.  like the 17 year old courtesy clerks that tells me that he is smarter than me. i called the dumpy motherfucker half-way smart (trying like i always do to make you feel better) and he looked at me "like what does that make you?"

    that little whiney bitch ain't even heard of Hegel, so "why should i even give a fuck?"  you ask.  well i am getting dumber by the minute and all these fuckers are climbing on my back.  the fucktards are gaining on me.  i'm losing anther race.  i'm gonna have to keep lowering me expectations until i'm running around with crackheads and homeless people bragging that my razor blade still works.  "i'll cut your fucking throat with it too!"

    i'm confused.  i kinda want to hang out, but mostly i want to drink and feel the release of my shit as it slips past my plastic undergarments and having you nearby reminds me that i'm not supposed to wearing plastic undergarments yet.

    it's a miracle you pass yourself off as normal.  course all you "norms" are full of shit.  most of you so fucked up in your own heads, so full of delusional thinking, so looking at the world through your rose colored glasses, that you shun me for the very fact that i let you get a peak at the real world.  i burst through your moronic thinking like water buffalo's turd through my colostomy bag.

    i was gonna keep this shit short so that you new readers would take a chance and read something.  but lets face it.  who gives a fuck?

    what did we learn today?
    1. distraction allows us to forget that we human
    2. it's only "OK" to live in distraction if you have first demonstrated that you are conscious that you are living in  despair
    3. distraction can be necessary when we are having trouble living in resignation 
    4. you have always been in despair
    5. once you know you are in despair, you will always be in despair
    6. despair is a structural component of human life
    7. you can pretend to be happy while in despair
    8. some of you are unaware that you are in despair -but you  are still in despair
    9. despair is not something you choose
    10. you cannot leave despair
    11. are you happy?  do you disagree that you have ever tasted despair?  then you are not fully human.  you have no self.  you may get to die that way.  as unconscious as a shell fish. 

    Thursday, July 08, 2010

    i need to get out and do something

    i need to get out and do something, i've been like stuck in this goddamn condo for what seems like months or something.

    i need to "mack" on chicks.  i need to walk straight up to a chick and deliver a classic line about how like my, "my shit is so funny it's like you are terri schivo and my intelligence is a feed tube and im pumping you full of nutrition and you are like possibly dead except for the occasional eye movement which may or may n0t have anything to do with a concious mind in there."


    "how am i doing? prolly not well, huh?  but don't show it or kick me to the curb too quickly because my friends said this line would never work and we BOTH know it ain't gonna work---but FUCK them for knowing that it won't work and telln me it won't work..."

    "it's like who gets to make them know how shit goes down.  why we gotta let the fucking standard shit work only?  why not sit down and drink a beer with a possible schizophrenic?  what could possibly happen?"

    I think i menti0ned rape jokes and how chicks (no matter how fucking progressive a girl is she  just never gets rape jokes and how they are "never funny" and all that so "here i am trying to get you with a rape joke and terri schivo jokes and feeding tube jokes that make you seem possibly like an invalid" which is i think is where i went with the rape jokes and then i think it was around that time that you finally got fed up with all raping, feed tube (could be viewed as my cock in your mouth) jokes and picked your floral covered dress off the bench and went back inside and pointed at me like i'm some kind of creeper--- when all you are is some kind of prissy little bitch that never fucks ugly dudes (which by the way is just exactly the kind of women that gets raped, so now i understand your concern- you see at the time i had no idea you were a prissy little cunt- i thought you were a hipster scene girl, or maybe emo and nerdy and liked computerz and liked to talk about the android third party market and how you'd be upset if you were "on ATT" and could not download a fabtastic app like skype just cuz it wasn't approved by google.

    But fuck me. 

    one fuckn joke about rape and im dead to you.  one little smack talk about regurgitating your intestines with my penis because you were in need of some intellectual redress and you get pissy fucking tears in you eyes like i'm the kind of guy who spens his time downloading videos of puppies getting boiled alive on youtube

    im not like that.  certainly i watch said videos and laugh, but lets face it a lot of kids do that these days.  i just don't waste my time downloading that shit cuz other people do that for me.

    speaking of your panties.  don't wear such a see through skirt if you don't want me talkin' about your underwear.. i was just curious if you knew i could see through your skirt as i saw through it from like 30 feet away with a simple glance. "not even trying" as i told u.  did not want to.  i got japanese porn for that.  i don't need to creeper it with you even if i am "peeking on e"

    "the drug is not sexual"

    i told that to the bouncer.  i told that to the cop.  i told that to your sister after you got up to go get them both.  i think everyone knows that e is not sexual so i was not assaulting you with my eyes

    "what the fuck does that even mean?"

    like i told yer sister, "its obvious she wants me to look at her panties and nipples, cuz she ain't wearing any fucking underwear and she is wearing a very sheer outfit."

    that does not make me rush limbaugh or mel gibson.  i am not a racist.  i am not saying that the only reason obama is president is he is black.

    in reality i wish i was black.  it would make a hell of a lot of things easier on me.  like playing basketball, and picking up on white girls with big asses.  not that i really want to do either of those things.  but you get my point.  black people have it so easy these days with food stamps and welfare and a black president also the fact that if i was black i'd know what i'd want for dinner every day.

    fried chicken & waffles.  orange crush soda. aunt jemima anything.

    KK's Number One Chicken, Waffles, and Cheese Covered Eggswhy yes that is a side of kool aid.

    and knowing what's for dinner solves 56% of life's problems.

    Tuesday, July 06, 2010

    I'm not drunk

    drinking 6% wine with a screw top.  i'm also developing a less formal style where i am just "rappin" with you.

    i drank through 2 bottles of fake sangria.  Boone's and vine arbor.  both taste more like wine coolers than real wine.  since real wine sucks I guess this is a good thing.

    despite my "new" less formal writing style (witness no capitalization bitches)  i just wrote a long ass speech that included dialectics, my analysis of Hegel's master/slave dichotomy, heideggerian dread, the real threat of the robotic overthrow, etc.  you know the usual shit you read on this blog, but shoved down your face through a feeding tube terri-schiavo-style.

    which just means that the whole time you want to die, and i just want to collect on your insurance money, and the whole "maybe you are moving, maybe your not -it's just a random stimulus reaction" is creeping me out. 

    that kind of cerebral feeding tube approach to writing led me to the cerebral approach to drinking i took tonight. (beer over wine)

    the buzz with wine is mature, more mellow and relaxed than you get pounding shots of goldshlager.  also wine makes you buzz faster than beer. though lite beer has less calories.  boone's wine has 450 calories a bottle.  which i guess means i will have to give up eating.  not eating is good as i am a fat ass again as i have put on 15 pounds that i lost when i gave up drinking soda a few months past.

    started drinking soda again and like wam bam man the pounds just waddled back onto my side fat.

    in the only good news "style wize" peeps are digging my "kicks."  i get a hell of a lot of unsolicited compliments on my fake chuck taylors.  you can get yours at 10 bucks a pop at walmart just tell'em romius t sent you and i make like a 5 cents for each one i sell.

    that's not true of course, but wouldn't it be funny if hundreds of you peeps bought like mad amounts of fake chucks and wrote to the company and said i sent them and then walmart got all pissy and pussy about me sellin' they shit on my site since i make like 16 rape jokes a day on this site.

    p.s. if you are not watchin the louie tv show over at fx networks you are like missing out on like the funniest show ever and shit.  truly fucking epic shit.  makin fun of homeless people, queers, aids.

    louie tells you that you are less moral than you think just like i do only he usually just talks about himself and never goes after the audience as much as i do because he's all about money.

    just the other day the fucker walks through my line at work and i was like

    "holy shit LOUIE CK"

    LOUIE CK says "o, man thanks."

    I look aver at the band of misfits that clog up my line behind him

    "folks, this guy is a millionaire, you should mug him on his way out."

    he laughs a little but looks behind him a little nervous like because after all he is kind of bitch.

    then i go,

    "i got a bone to pick with u man.  i've been writing the same shit you do for the last 7 years on my blog, and i'm not a millionaire like you."

    CK "well, you know... with all due probably aren't writing as good as shit as i do."

    I throw ck his bitch ass change.

    "I hope somebody rapes you on the way out."  I yell at him.

    He laughs a little again and says, "i kinda thought that one was funny."

    I shoot him back a deadly serious look.

    "you would, you little faggot."

    Thursday, July 01, 2010

    I need a vampire girl friend (revamped)

    You'd think by now I'd be fed up with how things are. How my life sucks, how I hate my job, and how I am all alone in the world.  But for some reason no matter how much shit I throw at myself I never reach the point where I say, "enoughs enough!"  I am a bottomless pit.  Throw all my regrets down the well and you'll never hear them hit the ground.

    Not that I'd ask your advice, but I bet you'd say that if I want a girl friend I need to quit being so needy.  One way to quit being needy is to follow through on my plans more.  Two weeks a go I made a plan to get my haircut.  I finally got my hair cut yesterday.  Sure, it took me a few weeks more than I thought it would, but a hair cut is about all the accomplishment I can handle in a week.

    Given that I have gotten something accomplished this week I think I will overlook the phone call I got from the ex internet g/f.  She asked me if I ever went to the doctor to get a check up.   I told her no.  Then she asked if I had a death wish and I told her, "Nobody wants to live to 60 anyways."

    I should have gone to the doctor, because I am dealing with a cold.   I am having trouble swallowing.  It's really kind of annoying. On top of not swallowing properly, I keep waking up in the middle of the night.  I jerk out of some fitful sleep unable to catch my breath.  I don't know if my throat is closing up again (because I am drinking soda), or if the cold is making my throat shut down, but either way I wake up gasping for air and then settle down for a nice long panic attack.

    Panic attack subdued I finally fall asleep around 9am.  Then I wake up around noon and lie in bed panting like 14 year old Labrador Retriever.  I stare into the fan until my eyes bleed.  I shift back and forth on the bed uncomfortably looking for a position that keeps me from sweating, but I am also looking for a position that does not force me to inhale the full gale force of the wind machine.

    It's a tough balance to  seek.  But my tossing and turning fails and mostly I just end up with a dry throat, coughing,  and blowing my nose into tissues which seems to only further dry my sinuses out.

    Another thing is I seem to be peeing a lot.  Just tiny amounts though.  I am forced to get out of bed every 20 minutes or so.  I assume my prostate is fucked.  I can't believe that 39 years of age can be reached and the body can really fall apart like this.

    I know what some of you are thinking, "Maybe this is all in your head."  Maybe.  But if so, I am so far down the delusion of hypochondria that I can no longer tell what is real.

    Rather than got to a doctor I am self medicating.  I have not masturbated in 5 days.  I am hopeful that not spending my energy masturbating will enable me to power through this cold, or at least the closing of my throat.  But if I die in the middle of the night know that my last moments were panicked moments  full of sheer terror.  My biggest fear is suffocating to death.

    If I am going to die tonight I hope I shit out my prostate before I suffocate- that way I can die in my sleep.  My insides having evacuated themselves during sleep my unconscious brain would never turn on to let me know I was dead.  I could then join the undead instead of  date them.

    Hold on a sec.  Got to go pee.

    I sit on the toilet when I pee.  Otherwise, I am afraid that the pathetic dribble of my stream will fall onto the carpeted floor of my bathroom.  Who has carpeted bathrooms?  I do.  That is how fucked my life is.  How uncontrollably wrong every aspect of my life is.  It's another thing keeping me from getting a girl friend.  Have you ever dated a man with carpeted bathrooms? I doubt it, but if you did I know you never respected him.

    I have a pool of blood sitting on top of my toe nail.  I wish you were a vampire.  That way you could wake up every morning and I could sustain you with a nice little before breakfast moment of bloody toe sucking.  You could suck on my toes and would overlook how deformed I am becoming.  I have let the toe nail thing go to long and I think I will need some kind of plastic surgery to right myself.

    I can't be seen in public by a woman anymore.  I think that's why I don't go on dates anymore.  Imagine me trying to explain that I have had an infected ingrown toe nail for almost 1 and 1/2 years.  Imagine explaining to your non-vampire girl friend that you have health insurance, but that you are too confused by the promotional literature to pick out a doctor.

    Non-vampire girl friend would not understand how worried I am about my 300 dollar deductible.  I am sure that a non-vampire girl friend would be unable to reconcile my concern when faced by counter factual  evidence like my internet searches for cell phones and upgradable memory sticks for my desk top computer.

    She would also question my use of ecstasy tonight which will cost me 25 dollars.  I am sure a vampire girl friend would not.  Vampires live in a sort of vague hedonism from what I have learned.  Also, since they self heal a vampire girl friend would never find the wisdom in saving money for health reasons.

    "I can't die."  My vampire girl friend would tell me.  Then she would go on about how I can't live forever without being turned and that since I was in "such bad shape" she'd never consider the idea of "being tied down to such a blob for eternity."  Then she'd say that I might as well forget about all that stuff because I will be dead in the blink of lifetime for her.

    I would massage her back and she'd suck on my toe and then later that night we'd get some dinner at Denny's and she'd lament how they never get the liver "raw enough" and nibble hungrily on some of the dead meat of my toe all the way back to my apartment where we'd watch something sappy on TV, because vampire girls love the same tv shows they loved before they got turned.  And at some point my new vampire girl friend would want me to talk about her decision to cut off her hair and bleach it blond.

    "I know it's nothing like what most normal vampires do."  She'd say.  "But I love it!"  She'd exclaim.

    Her hair does look nice.

    "It's all about change and how you adapt to it."  I'd offer up eagerly.

    And we'd probably fumble around a bit in the dark and then my penis would get soft too soon for her and she'd ask to suck on my toe again and I'd be like, "Yeah, whatever."