I'm getting close to hired, because what you really want to read is a Denny's blog.

I won't do that. Waiter Rant is already funnier and more popular than I will ever be. Since they are so popular I am not going to link to them. So even though I won't turn this blog into the Denny's Rant I can tell you that getting hired at Denny's is a lot more of an ordeal that you might think.

I've dropped off applications, made phone calls and stopped by to set up an interview. I took the bus today to the interview even though Denny's is a bike a ride away. I didn't want to get sweaty for the first of two interviews that I must complete over the next two days. It was 103 outside.

You can take one of two bus routes to get to Denny's. The one I took drops you off short of the restaurant by three blocks, couple that with my 15 minute walk to the bus stop the dollar and twenty five cents I just paid the transit system is fools money.

The bus drops me off near a gas station and I get out and attempt to cut across the parking lot. I stumble and fall into a ditch covered in gravel. I slip no less than 3 times trying to get up. Suddenly my life is like some lame I love Lucy slapstick comedy. The bus driver stops the bus and opens the slide door. She yells out at me, "Are you ok?" A man stares at me strangely after he hears me mutter "my life is full of indignity like this."

The bus driver keeps asking me if I am OK. She doesn't get that she is only making things worse for me, by drawing attention to what loser I am. My shoes are now scuffed and dirty. And now I know I have the bus for an audience. The bus riders stand up to get a good look out of their windows. They saw me hop on the bus for a good 30 seconds, then jump off at the first stop, and now I can't seem to stand up without tumbling into a ditch.

Go the fuck away.

I finally make it to the Denny's. I get seated by the lone server who walks back to get the manager. Before she leaves me she asks if I want a soda or tea. I ask for a water. She returns with the water and a straw and a concerned look on her face. "Here is your water." She says. Then she pulls out a straw and asks if I want or need a straw. "We aren't really supposed to give you a straw, but if you want one you can have it."

I tell her "it is ok and I don't need the straw." She seems relieved. I don't know what kind of pressure the staff is under here about straws but it has me concerned. The manager sits down in the booth across from me. She is in her late 40's or early 50's. She looks just like every waitress in every Denny's or every truck stop you've ever been to. Only she doesn't seem as tired. Actually she looks refreshed. Like she just woke up from a nap.

She asks me If I have any experience and I tell her a little. Which is not a lie. She asks why I would want to be a server. I tell her I am a people person. Which I guess is a lie. That's when she basically ends the interview. "I hate interview questions, don't you?" I agree with her. And then she proceeds to give me every reason in the world to not take this job. She mentions the low pay and difficult work hours.

What really gets me is that I will have to provide my own uniform in the sum of 40 dollars for a black shirt my own tan pants. I get the money back after I quit I am told. I guess this is supposed to give me relief. They aren't stealing my money. Just hijacking it for the entire duration of my employment with Denny's.

The manager asks me one more question. "Can you take productive criticism?" I tell her "if it's productive." I have no idea why I emphasize the last word. The manger was testing me. She tells me a story about another Denny's. This Denny's has a staff with tattoos and lazy people. A staff of Mexicans who won't serve Hispanics. Even when spoken to in Spanish.

As the General Manager of 11 Denny's around the tri-state area she will not tolerate laziness or heavy tattooed people working for her. I inform her that I think tattoos are a fad. That I secretly detest the hipster wanna be's that get them. And I tell her that I am not the least bit lazy. Which I guess is a big lie.

But I did put on my size 11 workplace casual shoes for her. They are a size to large for me. I did not notice it until a week after I bought them. I really could not afford them, but I bought them anyway. I thought I would get a lot of use out of the shoes. I figured they would get me to stop wearing flip flops and sandals with my jeans.

My exGF hated me when I wore the flip flops instead of real shoes. Most of the time I wore flips anyway. And when she asked me why I did it I told her I forgot to wear shoes. Anytime I wore real shoes I told her I wore them just for her.

I don't usually wear my Doc Martens because I don't like them, but I did for the interview. I feel uncomfortable in my new shoes. But these shoes are Doc's so they will last me for years. I can't buy new shoes 'till these are ripped and torn. So instead I just keep wearing my flip flops with jeans. I'm 36. A good 15 years to old for that look. Also I am sure only women are supposed to wear flips and jeans. And I think that look went out at least 3 years ago. I'm so far behind in the times. It's not my fault girls get all the "cute" looks in fashion.

So fuck you all. I will wear my flips and jeans. And you can go screw yourselves. I have a really "intense" egg menu to go memorize.

I'm not an alcoholic, I just crush easily on bartenders

Which is why I wished I hadn't upset one of my favorite bartenders of all time. She works at Groggies in Mesa. I haven't been to Groggies in ages. You should visit the bar and her sometime and make yourself a regular there.

If you do go, don't make the same mistake I just did. Pretending not to remember her after being away for so long. I think I offended Groggies best bartender when I replied to her observation that she knew me by mouthing the words, "no she doesn't" to my friend. Over and over again. Like I was embarrassed to know her or something. Which of course isn't true.

Now the bartender with gold highlights and curls hates me. This makes me nervous. When she liked me she used to put Tabasco sauce in my shots in order to watch me puke on my birthday. I have no idea how she will treat me in the future, but I can say it may be dangerous for me to go back.

That's not the reason I didn't say goodbye to the bartender when I left. I tried looking back at her as I walked out the door. I hoped we could at least make eye contact.

I remember when it first started to get weird between me and the groggies bartender. I think one of my friends let it be known that I "had a thing for her." Which I suppose is true, but we both knew that it wasn't reciprocal. So we never had to broach the subject. Once the subject was "broached" by someone all my "innocent" flirtations were deemed creepy impositions by her.

Not that she didn't flirt too. That little bartender has a sensational smile and she loves to flash it for you. But she saves those flashes to interrupt her normally grumpy personality just at the moment you may decide to "write this chick off, that she is just another stuck up hottie always in a bad mood. Then she'll look at you and her eyes will sparkle and she'll give you that smile. And she's got your attention. I guess I am saying she's like Bill Clinton now. She "locks" into you. And suddenly you feel like a jerk for even thinking anything bad about her at all.

And then with a twist and a turn she raises her cleavage back up and is off down the bar chatting it up with some tattooed poser. Leaving you to swallow down your beer and take off with your friend for the next bar. Not that the friend hadn't noticed how you gushed over her, so there is no use to playing it off. But you still try and look cool. You finish a small pitcher between the two of you and slowly exit the bar.

You look back two times as you open the door to leave, but the bartender is busy pouring drinks for others. She is too busy to notice you leaving. And when she gets back to your spot in the bar your absence will confirm for her all her mental impressions of you. All those inadequacies you see in yourself you hope that others don't. She sees them.

We forgot to pay the bill at another bar in town in Tempe. I was pretty sure I saw a friend of mine slip the bartender some cash. I guess she didn't need the money because she refused it. She used to work as a stripper, so maybe she is loaded. A fellow bartender and co-worker of the ex-stripper is here tonight. Very hipster cute. For a while I was worried that the co-worker was going to mobbed by the desperate men that frequent this dive bar. They crowd in on her and press their bellies into her back. But she gets a free drink out of it.

Hipster bartender's bill came to 33 dollars which surprised her. She looked up at the ex-stripper barkeeper like "you're going to rape me too?" But she piled out the cash and left it on the table without a fuss. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it. She was just hoping that she could drink for free in the bar that she works in. Not a crazy request.

The Palo Verde was dead tonight, but not as dead as the Re-Work lounge. A total of two other people sat at the bar at 9 P.M. on a Saturday. Bad. Arizona's smoking ban has basically killed this bar. It has no patio or smoking section. Just a jive jukebox and oddly smoke free clean shine to the furniture which I remarked upon. Dive bars should not be this clean.

The barkeep was 21. She was cute and personable. She cheered for us to come in and order a pitcher of beer. So we did. Whenever I meet a person for the first time I always do my best to creep them out. That way they know just where I am coming from.

The bartender asked us how what were up to. I told her we were hunting for fat chicks. Because we want to get laid. I asked if she knew any fat chicks, but she said she didn't. So I asked if she was a fatist, and she said she wasn't. Then I called her parents hippies. And she told me I was right. That her parents were typical Boomers that used to be hippies but now work for the "man."

"They even live in a gated community." She volunteered. Her Dad worked for Honeywell which in my mind made him a bomb maker. She claimed that he worked in fiber optics. I replied that I thought there was quite a lot of fiber optics these days in bombs. Bombs these days being all smart and such. She asked if we would like another beer. There was no chance in hell of that.

Next bar is a Karaoke bar that Foxxxlove does her singing at. I gave the most interesting interpretation of Gloria ever "sung" at that bar. Which to my dissatisfaction contained no hipsters to "get it." Though I must say that the aging Karaoke DJ who sung like Alice in Chains "got it."

We fled that bar to get Tacos from Jack in-the Box. 2 for 99 cents. The drive thru nearly let us leave without our waters. And then it was back to the Palo Verde. This time the bar had filled up with 2 cute hipster girls playing pool. We watched as the two beat the pants off a couple of guys. I think they went about getting those guys pants off the hard way. I am sure they just could have asked. Anyone in the bar would oblige.

The girls got served after 2 am. So did we but we had to "buy" our drink before 2 am. The male bartender nearly refused to give us the second pitcher of beer, but we reminded him that we already paid for it. He kindly poured us another pitcher. I poured out my old beer in a glass and poured myself a fresh cold glass of beer. I did not finish drinking the beer. And I didn't beat myself up about not drinking it either.

8 year old gets molested by girl and then the law fucks him over by charging him with a crime

It's not everyday that you hear that an 8 year old gets charged with a sex crime.


8-Year-Old Charged For Sexual Conduct With Sitter.

But what makes this "crime" crazy is the 14 year old female babysitter is the molester.

"A mother is upset after a 14-year-old babysitter engaged in sexual conduct with her eight-year-old boy, and the eight-year-old was charged with lewd conduct. "

You heard that right, because the victim was a boy HE gets charged with a crime.

"The sexual conduct occurred during a game of “truth or dare” while the boy was being watched by the babysitter.Prosecutors say that, while the babysitter initiated the contact, the young boy was a willing participant."

I'm not certain who to induct into the Hall of Fame so I guess I will induct both of these kids. Here is more good news for both I guess:

"The district attorney’s office confirmed the charges had been made, and that they had been dropped. Other than that, they wouldn’t comment. The Division of Child and Family Services also declined to comment."

I will comment on the picture I included for this post. It turns out there is a running epidemic of people placing their children in microwave and conventional ovens.

I put laundry in 8 hours ago

Random thought from one part of my brain to the other just popped in my head, "You have a load of whites in the washer. You might want to put them in the dryer."

Thanks, other-part-of-my-brain.

"Your welcome."

Your welcome? Really? You're going to take credit for remembering the load of laundry put in 8 hours ago? 8 hours ago? That load of laundry is now quite possibly stank full of mildew. If it's not mildew then we are on the cusp of mildew. The verge of mildew. You don't remember 8 hours ago and now all of a sudden you flash this little thought out of the blue while I am sitting here typing away in my black "wear the shirt and get a free bag of popcorn" Harkins t-shirt and you are going to take the thank you?

Maybe other side of the brain would like to change the subject. Do I remember the girl at the theater today? The girl that gave me the pity stare. Just because I was sitting by myself against the wall waiting for the movie Knocked Up to start. She looked at me funny because I was wearing the Harkins shirt and had my free bag of popcorn.

Why does this shirt need boobies?

Do I remember how she watched as my popcorn fell all over the place? And how she continued to stare as I balanced my dollar Souvenir cups, popcorn and candy, as I sank to my knees awaiting the opening call all by myself? Like I was screaming at her "I love me some movies. I love free popcorn and dollar sodas!!!"

She's going to feel sorry for me? She was having her fat friend night out on the town. Thursday is a good day to hang out with your fat friends. Not Friday. Friday is for getting laid.

Now she is asking herself why I didn't have any fat friends like her to hang out with on Thursday. Or why some cool guy hasn't made me his fat friend to hang with when he needs to get away from the girlfriend. Stop the pity stare, bitch. I will cut you, as soon as I put down my ziplock bag of M&M's. I can't pay theater candy prices.

Now that the movie is over, I can't stop staring at the hot girl with the goofy boyfriend on the way out of the theater. I run a bit to catch up with her badonga bong ass when it slips out of view. I don't know how much that guy pays for you, but whatever it is it's worth it. Badonga-Badonga Ass has chemistry with this guy. She looks likes she wants to be with him. Not at all like the Heigl chick when she made out with my man Seth.

"Do you know what the difference is between you and the Seth Character?" I am going to get asked this a lot. "Nope." I reply.

"You are 11 years older than him."

Fuck me.

Pray I get the Dunkin Donuts Job

I spent a good part of the day looking for a job today. Some of you look for jobs the old fashioned way. You look in the paper, go to an employment agency or you ask a friend about job openings.

Well I am not like that. I live in the Ghetto. Like most of the Circle K's around me.

ME: "Are you guys hiring? I'd like to get an application if I could."

Clerk of the store: "Um..we ain't got applications...just a forms to write your name and number down."

Me: "OK. So could I get that?"

Clerk: "Oh. No, we ain't got any of those either. Here, just take a sheet of paper and write your name down."

I went to a couple of convenience stores and donut shops. At all three stores the same thing happened. Exact same thing at the local Dunkin Donuts. Only there the clerk was cross-eyed.

"Are you sure you want to work here?" Asked the cross-eyes donut seller. He looked me up and down with his good eye. His look seemed to say, you look a little white and shiny to take this job, you ain't gonna stay long. "If so just write your name on this receipt tape and I will pin it on the bosses door."

I regret placing a real phone number down. "Why?" Asked my roommate. "Are you worried he won't give your number to the store manager? I bet if you brought a resume to the store you'd get the job."

The last thing I need to get a job there is a resume. No way they hire anyone with a resume.Resumes are reserved for white collar jobs and bankers. And the only thing this donut guy knows about bankers is that if play Monopoly don't be the banker. Bankers have to count money. And that provides your friends plenty of targets to ridicule your math skillz. Unless you want to cheat at monopoly by hiding those orange colored 500 dollar bills under your side of the board when no one is looking.

My roommate is convinced I am wrong. But I know better. Dirty, cross-eyed, retarded, wipes sweat on clothes, forget to wash? That's what gets you hired, in the Ghetto. Also I don't have anything mean to say about the corporate cunt at a local "pizza" other than you still work at a pizza place. Just because you dress like Stacy from What Not to Wear doesn't give you the right to frown down to the ugly people. You are not fooling anyone with that corporate gear. All that said I still think you are cute. And I like peperoni on my pizza. So don't get pissy and remember me in August "when you start hiring."

I know where you can score some PBR for a buck a can on Wednesdays in Tempe

I hear people are in an uproar over that guy who has drug resistant TB flying around all over the world. News organizations and bloggers are falling over themselves pretending to hear about this kind of thing for the first time. They should have been panicking a long time ago. I've blogged about a case like this back in March when I wrote about a Russian in Phoenix who was placed under quarantine for really bad TB. Much like Andrew Speaker this Russian guy is a bit of a crybaby.

"They're making a criminal out of me," he added. "I've been crying almost every day. . . . I'm all alone. No showers. No sunlight. It's the silence that's pushing down on me. . . . It's the worst you can get, even if you murdered somebody."

You see I am always helping my readers out with important news like exactly how many people who have incurable TB are living near them and exactly how many Pabst Blue Ribbons one needs to consume in order to get a hangover. That number is 8. Plus or minus one.

The Palo Verde is a dive bar that is one part hipster bar with a rocking jukebox (that only takes quarters) and one part homeless beer provider.

$1 cans of PBR on humpday brings in the crowd. Even if the ASU students are gone for the summer. Even when the PBR reps waving around corporate debit cards have all been fired. You can still see the assorted working class mingling with the slumming college kids who think real street cred has something to do with tattoos. It doesn't. Street cred is about choosing a bar because of the dollar specials they have, not using Daddy's credit card at the bar provided ATM machine. $2.50 surcharge for each withdrawal.

If that ain't enough to get you going the jukebox has a single song selection from UFO. Highway Lady. A song about a prostitute. The lyrics from the song include the words " she makes you smile and makes you forget how she feels...how she feels."

In the imortal words of someone I can't remember. "I'll never forget!"

What happened to my Google Page Ranking? A list of Bad Things Google does to the World that does not include lowering my Page Ranking for no reason.

What the hell happened to my Google Page ranking? A few days ago it was 5. Today I noticed that it was only a 4. I wonder why that is.

I don't want to say my ranking was lowered just because I tell my readers that Google spies on them. But what other reason can it be? Have I pissed off Google because I don't use AdSense? Is it because I might use PayPerPost to generate some income? I hope not Google. Otherwise I will have to add that to my list of Google's crimes against humanity.

Are some of my fellow readers not linking to me anymore? I doubt it. Is Google pissed that my blog is now qualified for PAY PER POST? It was right after PPP told me I was approved to place ads on my blog that my rating fell by 1 point. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. Google claims to do no EVIL. I love G-mail. But maybe Google is evil.

IS GOOGLE EVIL?

Here is a list of BAD Things GOOGLE does other than lowering my page ranking for no good reason.

• Google spies on your web surfing through cookies


• Google listens in to your home through your speaker and microphones connections


• Google works with the CIA


• Google is amassing huge data bases on you big enough to predict everything about you and they never delete anything


• Google censors themselves in China


• Google invested money in a Genetics company so they can keep track of you better


• Google's Toolbar is spyware


• Google lowered my page ranking for no damn good reason
• Google is mapping everything

OK so I didn't get through the list without adding that google lowered my page ranking for no damn good reason, but it did!

Please Digg this article so Google will fix my Page Rank. Don't forget to BlogRoll me if I link to you or you like my blog. You know I am awesome.

Happy Memorial Day, I have to stop eating at Wendy's

I ate there again today. At one point I was there with 6 college aged girls. 3 of those girls had just come from the pool and were wearing shorts or covers over their swim suits.

None of the girls managed to sit in my line of sight so I couldn't stare at them while I ate. I had to keep getting up for drink refills if I wanted to get a peak at them. The girls must have thought I had some kind of dehydration problem.

I had already eaten most of my food by the time I noticed the girls. I had been reading the paper and nursing my drink when the girls walked in. Most of the time I am forced to eat by myself because I get to Wendy's around 3 o'clock and by that time all the cute girls eating salads are gone to be replaced by the fat girls complaining that their "grandma's chili is way better."

The girls with covered up swimsuits were a strange mix. They looked a bit older than college aged freshmen. And they had a few extra happy meals padded on to their plentiful asses. But they could still get away with showing a bit of the belly. I think the girls may have just been taking advantage of the holiday to get some sun. I bet these girls work together and just dropped out of college a while back. They probably still think they could go back to school at any time.

I could sense that with all the estrogen in the air the girls were going to be sorry to see me leave. Not that three of four of them would have fucked me anyways. They were just tired of spending all day with other chicks.

The sun was out and bright today. And because of the girls Wendy's smelled like the sun and chlorine. And they munched lazily away at their cheeseburgers. I threw away my trash from the recently replaced garbage container and got on my bike and I pedalled away from the store listening to a crazy lady scream "balls and penis" in my iPod.

Today is Update Day for the Surveillance Society

The Bush administration has issued an administrative directive allowing the president to seize near dictatorial power in case of an emergency.

The UK is planning a program of RFID chips to monitor hospital patients , students, children

Greg Palast is reporting that he was given 500 of the missing e-mails from the Whitehouse that prove that the Republicans use "caging" lists to discourage and deny blacks the right to vote.



Bots with Brains: Future Robotic Overlords?

"In 1981, Kenji Urada hopped a safety fence at a Kawasaki plant to carry out maintenance work on a robot. While working on the machine, the robot reached out and pushed 37-year-old Japanese factory worker into a grinder with its powerful hydraulic arm. "

I just want to make you happy

I am not a scientist, but I like to play one on my blog. That's why I will pass along this good piece of news to all you ladies out there.

Semen makes a women happy! :)

"The finding that women who do not use condoms during sex are less depressed and less likely to attempt suicide than are women who have sex with condoms and women who are not sexually active, leads one researcher to conclude that semen contains powerful-and potentially addictive-mood-altering chemicals."

I've been telling my sex partners this for years. But now science and Psychology Today have backed me. I'm not just saying this because if you look up the yahoo local "group sex with out condoms" you will see a picture of me, I am telling you this because I love you. I care about your happiness. And condoms suck. I know this because your Mom told me.

I discover the Wind hates me, That homeless don't always kill for their lunch and it's not nice to make fun of starving people.

It's hot and I am riding my bike to the library. The wind is blowing against me. Each time I change direction the wind does too. The wind hates me. The wind wants to make sure I must ride into it.

Outside the library 3 park rangers are talking to a fit blonde woman. She must like men in uniforms. Apparently any man in any uniform. Because chatting up park rangers "guarding" the library seems bottom barrel if you ask me. She'd have better luck sitting at home waiting for the UPS guy to deliver her "the package."

It's hot. Even resting in the cool library homeless people look exhausted by the heat. I guess that's why homeless people think they can bring in their kittens inside to the computer center. I can hear the muffled cries of a cat hidden in the knapsack of a homeless man right now. He plunges his fist into the backpack to try and quiet it. I think he has kitty food in his hand, or maybe he is just petting it. Trying to calm it down. I hope he is not strangling the things neck. I don't need to be a witness to crime like that.

No one around me is reacting at all to any of this. They just type away. They all pretend they can't hear the kitten cry. Isn't someone pissed that a homeless guy has brought a kitten into the library? I am pretty sure that the library has a no pets policy in place.

I wonder if the homeless guy ever gets hungry enough to eat the kittens he stuffs in his knapsack. I am not prejudiced against the homeless. It's a fact that many in the homeless community have poor diets and don't get enough to eat. Plus I hear Scientologists cook a good puppy.

Speaking of starving people, I feel like I need to defend Eric Shaeffer. Normally I obsess over female B-level stars. Today I give my female readership a shout out. Today I will obsess over a man. I can't believe some people are making fun of one of my favorite writer/actor/TV stars.

Eric Schaeffer, star of the amazingly funny show "Starved" is getting hammered over at Gawker. If you never caught "Starved" it was one of the funniest sitcoms ever produced for a National audience. Crude. Vile even. But honest. If you don't appreciate his comedy style you may get pissed at him for wanting to have babies with his girlfriend.

Salon says this about him:

"But after 15 years of directing and starring in largely ignored and tepidly received films, Schaeffer has struck a chord in New York City and online, just by being ... Eric Schaeffer, a 45-year-old binge-eating, downward-dogging, recovering drug-addict hypochondriac with an online dating habit, a taste for happy-ending massages and golden showers -- and a hankerin' for a wife who wants to bear him three children starting in about five to six years."

It was this blog entry that is supposed to piss you off:

"It's nothing personal. I LOVE everything about women as they get older. Women over 45 are divine. They've dropped all their shit and really sink into their bodies and beings but.... BUT unfortunately, babies are done.

Therefore, 36 is my cut off. Maybe 37ish but I simply know deep in my soul that I want my own children at least first before I think about adopting and I don't want them for at least 5 years.

I don't get mad when women like black guys, or young guys or buff guys, it's their preference. God bless them. STOP GETTING MAD AT ME AND THE REST OF US 45 YEAR OLD MEN WHOSE CUT OFF IS 36 OKAY?!!! FOR WHATEVER REASON, YOU DECIDED NOT TO HAVE KIDS YET AND THAT'S FINE, BUT WE DON'T HAVE TO HAVE THEM YET, OKAY?! WE LOVE YOU BUT IT'S AN ISSUE!!!"

I've mentioned this kind of thing before. A guy can be called a douche bag if he prefers younger women. Nothing ever gets said when about the prejudice of female preferences for money, hair and height. The female reporters at Salon and Gawker can and do make fun of his baldness and height (like me Eric is a whopping 5 foot 8.)

I mean it is one thing to call a guy a slimebag.

"i also know how much time he spends surfing the web, probably reading each and every blurb about himself as he masturbates at 2 am while eating non-dairy chocolate. and hating himself for it."

It's another to call him a rapist.

Pseudo-raped! By a gay who won't admit it! Ew!

I thought that's what we had Kobie Bryant for. Hey Eric if you happen on to this post, do me a favor, don't jack off to me. I mean unless I am totally hott or something. Maybe you can get to know me first. Let's do lunch.

I hope the guy who reads this likes it. And decides to give me money. Otherwise I might just go to work at Cirkle K.

So I am sitting here waiting to see if I get approved for this blog writing payment thingy. You figure it's about time I get off my ass and start doing something with my life. Even if doing something would require a great deal more time sitting on my ass in front of the computer.

There maybe some negative things about this biddness opportunity of mine. Like you may have to put up with paid blog entries about things you might not care about. Then again it will require me to post at least three times a week. And I will probably have to start a few more blogs if I am going to make any actual money at it.

I know what you are probably thinking. I could just get a real job and go to work like the rest of you. But then where would all the craziness come from. Hell I'd be just like you. And who wants to read that guy? Sure you do. But nobody else.

If Google is right people only care about:

• The Marxist criticism of the Movie A few Good Men
  The Promiscuous Tyra Banks
• Lindy Slinger
• The metal detector used in Miami CSI
• 15 year old Victoria who wants a baby

And

Pseudo Pneumonia.

I am not even sure I wrote a post about have that crap. Way to go Google.

I don't want to be rich. I just want to be able to buy Wendy's frosties whenever I want. And a paper. To check the scores.

I am supposed to wake my roommate in a few hours. It's only 10 am, but he asked if I could wake him at 2 pm. Normally you wouldn't have to ask a guy who is up at 10 am if he is still going to be awake at 2. You could be probably be safe to assume that he is going to be awake for the day.

But not around here. Sometimes I go to bed at 7pm wake at 2 am and stay up till lunch. Who knows. And my roommate isn't much better. It's like we drift along in some timeless quantum state. The house that time forgot.

So that's why I decided to blog today. Just to keep my mind occupied. Give myself something to do. Don't go expecting something great from me.

I saw this blogger today who claims to make like 400 dollars a week on his blog. Which is $396 more than I've ever made on this site. I think his blog is supposed to be about his work at a video store.

He writes 80 posts in two days so you know that's a hell of a lot more work than I want to get into. But it got me thinking. I may just end up trying it. Plaster all kinds of Google ads while I'm at it.

I always have ideas about new blogs that I must write. Even though I hardly take care of the three I have. Video blogger guy has 6 blogs. Just think. 3 more blogs. Got any ideas? You can always leave me a message on that SnapVine player that I know nothing about. If any of my female readers want to leave me a dirty message that's ok too!

Jared loves porn as much as you do

I don't want to blog much.

Mostly because it is Day 3

of my constipation.

I went to the store to buy a laxative.

I did my Internet research afterwards.

Turns out I bought a "stimulative" laxative.
The worse kind.

You can die from taking them.

So instead I ate some chili.

But the chili has no fiber.

Beans, but no fiber.

So I sit without relief.

Not so easy.

Either is this.

Former fat guy Jared from Subway

used to run Porn

from his college

dorm room.

He charged a buck a day per tape.

we are told he had quite the collection.

Shocking, huh?

That a huge fat man had an extensive porn collection.

After jerking off

all day

Old Jared would

waddle down to the new

subway that was just built

in his dorm room.

And scarf down a couple of subs.

Was he eating them without mayo and cheese, even then?

What does his wife think of all the extra flabby skin he must have.

What does she think of his encyclopedic knowledge of

1980's beta max pornography?

I tell you this.

She doesn't give a shit.

She is way to hott for him.

She only cares about his money.

I hope he knows this.

I hope he just fucks her for her looks.

Meanwhile I took a small dump

during the typing of this post.

My liver still hurts.

I am not sure if the shit was enough.

I may need to shit more.

It was a small dump.

nothing huge.

Or maybe my liver is just shot.

$3.79 down the drain.

I wanna go back to the drugstore and get my money.

Was that wrong? Why reenactments of the movie Swingers will get you called gay and upset the delivery guy!

[The following conversation is not verbatim]

Interior-home-daytime

Inside the home the Suns/Spurs playoff game is on the 27 inch Apex TV. 2 men sit on the couch facing the TV 1 is in a recliner and another man sits in the love seat.

A doorbell rings and Card Shark gets up to answer the door. They are expecting pizza.

Romius T.

Hey, Shark, is he cute? Is he hot? What's he look like?

- Is he brown? Maybe he'd like to come in and join us for a cocktail.

- Is he polite? - Is he a brown man? I like'em brown. Don't let him get away!

The Gang

-Stop it. Romius, Stop what are you doing. Don't do that. That's gross!

There are cackles of laughter. And further protests by everyone else in the room. Everyone is embarrassed and flabbergasted except Romius who can't get over how funny he is.

Romius T.

-Invite him in.

-Don't let him get away!

-If he's polite, have him come in.

If he's polite, let him in.

-Is he clean?

The pizza guy makes his way into the living room. He is carrying 2 large pizza boxes and 2 bottles of soda. He is tall and looks to be under about 20 years old. He has a perplexed look on his face. He looks over at Romius confused and a bit worried.

Romius T. (addresses the delivery guy.)

It's OK. I am doing swingers. You know the movie. I mean your a pizza delivery guy. You gotta know that movie. All pizza delivery guys know this movie. They do right?

Pizza Delivery Guy

-No.

-I don't know that movie.

Paul

He doesn't know that movie. He's too young.

Romius T.

-No way. Everybody knows that movie. That movie was big. It was huge.

Cut to Paul who snorts with laughter. He is dismissive.

Paul

-The movie was not that big. Nobody knows about that movie. You know about it maybe...maybe I do...but not everyone.

Romius T.

Oh, Come on! It's penetrated the cultural Zeitgeist! It's out generational... Are you saying he's not hot?

The X-Man.

-Don't fuckin' do that shit.

-That's not funny! He's gonna think we are gay.

Card Shark

-I don't want my house to be known for that. I don't want the delivery guys to think that about this house.

Romius T.

-You guys are assholes. You're all no fun.

-Go!! Eat, eat, you fuckin' jackals.

A Daily PitchFork Exclusive of a World Daily Net Story of a Rapper Turned Dancing Rapist

Hell has no Jail Bait.

But like me they do love a good Jail Bait story.

Like the "story" of a rap star turned rapist that the paragon of news The World Net Daily tries to pass off as true. According to the WDN the biggest rap star in the world was accused by a minister of performing a dance "which bordering on sexual simulations" on his daughter.

Look, like the rest of you I assume most rap stars are rapists. But I have no idea who this "Akon" guy is. I don't think you can consider yourself a rapstar until dorky white guys who don't bother with your culture know who you are.

Then again maybe Akon is trying to pop into my milieu the same way that the guy who pissed all over some girl did. I think he got his own South Park Episode or something. So I can't really blame they guy for stirring up trouble. Also, this is probably the first and last time I will think about World Net Daily, so kudos to them as well.

And finallly a special set of congratulations goes out to 14 year old Danah Alleyne who's slutty performance got me to pay attention enough to know who the world's biggest rap star is. Welcome to the Jail Bait Hall Of Fame girl.

Go visit the PitchFork for tons of pics and links!

Top Story from Lindy Slinger World News Headquarters

I want to apologize to my thirteen readers B.F. L. (before Lindy Slinger) who don't have a fucking clue who Lindy Slinger is or why I am now dedicating my weblog to becoming the World Resource for Lindy Slinger News.™

I've tried hijacking the fame of some B-List celebrities before. Steve Nash's wife, Jessica Hawn, and Lisa Loeb to name a few. But sometimes I restrict myself to hard news like reporting on the existence of 4 legged humans. Seems like yesterday I was considered Google's number 1 source for info on Human Quadrupeds.

Human Quadrupeds draw less traffic to blogs than speculations about Lindy Slinger's breasts.

I got only 600 hits a day for a while for that work. But I've gotten several thousand hits a day for my little musings on Lindy Slinger. And y'all know I want to become famous.

A noted reaction to Lindy around the blogger sphere is to comment about her perceived lack of beauty. Mostly by bloggers with girlfriends half as cute as she. Wait who am I kidding, none of those bloggers have girlfriends.

Lindy Slinger Sighting!

She makes her way to Phoenix and the Valley of the Sun!

Don't take my word for it. Take the word of some other random blogger. He claims that "Last night, I went to the Phoenix Suns game with my good friend Bob."

"After the game we’re in traffic waiting to get on the freeway and I notice this little arm resting in the open window of a Suburban. Then I see this girl lean forward and look out the window at me, smile, then sit back. It was an instant and I said to Bob, “Dude, that’s Brady Quinn in that ride. That’s his chick!”

I can't believe I was so close to getting to meet Lindy in the Flesh! Also I just knew that Lindy would have a "tiny arm."

From Lindy Slinger World News Headquarters in Tempe:

Romius T.

At Last I Welcome Kara Borden into the Jail Bait Hall Of Fame

This whole Jail Bait thing was just my idea for drawing traffic to my website. As much as I hate to admit it I need you. Not that your attention doesn't cause me some cognitive dissonance. OK it doesn't even cause dissonance, I just like using big words you don't understand.

For a reason I can't quite fathom people in Turkey love to search for Polish Porn. I had no idea that Polish Porn was even a real category. But it is. Trust me. My stats don't lie.

None of that has anything to do with Kara Borden. And if you don't know who Kara Borden is then you should. Kara is a 14 year old girl who convinced her 18 year old boyfriend to shoot her parents. After he shot her parents in front of her she ran off with him.

Kara Borden Teen Seductress and Femme Fatale

Now guess if she did any jail time over this. Nope. Because the authorities think Kara is a victim. Check out my good friends over at The Daily Pitchfork for their amazing coverage of Kara. Pitchfork's original reporting brought Kara to my attention. The Crime Library has tons of news from newspapers sources.

I'm not sure why it took so long for Kara to make it in the Hall Of Fame, but sometimes even the greats get treated this way. How long did it take for Scorsese to get an Oscar?

David Ludwig went to jail just because Kara got her way.

I can't answer your obvious question why a teen seductress who entices her boyfriend to kill her parents, and then runs off with him after he murders her parents, in cold blood right in front of her, gets away with, serves no jail time, and then writes about the hardships she has to endure on her Xanga page while her former lover faces the death penalty took so long for to get inducted to the Hall of Fame. I can only guess it's because the story feels made up. But the facts are both sad and true. And this chick is at least twenty times more guilty than my personal hero Scott Peterson.

Beware of the Jail Bait.

Hugs and Cuddles.

Romius T.

P.S. If you are really disgusting you can visit Kara's MySpace page that includes text messages she had with the real victim-her boyfriend.

Lindy Slinger is my HERO

I bought 2 large Pizza Hut pepperoni lover's pizzas to go with watching the NFL draft today. Anytime I get hungry I place two slices in the toaster oven until the cheese melts. I am now sick of pizza. Pizza Hut seems to not know that tomato sauce is a key ingredient to pizza.

MY review of PIZZA HUT.

The pizza is dry and the cheese tastes like styrofoam. All I really want is Indian food or a baloney sandwich.

I got up at 9 am. In the morning. To watch the NFL draft. I have a friend who likes watching the draft. He likes to watch it with me.

Just a quick non-football note about the draft. Notre Dame Quaterback Brady Quinn's girlfriend Lindy Slinger might be hotter than Ashlee Simpson and Christina Aguilera combined. I hear she plays soccer or something which makes me think she's got a lot of stamina. I am not sure why stamina is something that would attract me to her. As I have no more than 3 seconds of stamina myself. Sometimes I get winded from typing to fast.

Ashlee Simpson (above) a well known skank bag

During today's NFL Draft the camera crew from ESPN kept showing close-ups of Lindy. They couldn't get enough of the girl who had hitched her ride to a falling star. Would she walk out? Would she cry? And what about Lindy?

All I know is that Lindy and her boyfriend have been going out for 5 years and rented a cabin in Mexico for Spring Break. So you know she totally does it with him.

Go Redhawks!!!!

My Bathos site has a video of Lindy and Quinn & And I have posted another blog entry about Lindy at The Needs of the Few.

Kirsten Dunst has small boobs

Kirsten Dunst has small boobs

that don't move around
They stay put.

Stuck in the middle of her chest
they are
pissed
off
at the big titted
chests

Because they will always be
small
inconsequential,
mediocre
like me.

I hope kirsten doesn't stumble on this blog
or read the mean things others say about her.
Or get depressed
when she stops to think
about her small tits.

I love big tits
but I like small tits too.

But I am sure
I wouldn't like being stuck
in the middle

like small tits

on a girl
who wants to be pretty.

I don't need to be the happy of a girls with big tits
I want to be small tit happy
like you Kirsten

so I can bend over

by the side of the pool
and pick up the paper
without much cleavage showing

but I won't read the nasty things

they say in the paper

just the good news

because I am a chickenshit coward

like my father before me

just like luke skywalker says

or bukowski did

in a documentary today

go back to sleep kirsten

where you can dream away your small tits

and where you don't have to apologize

for dreaming away

in your dreams it's ok to have insecurities

about small tits

about small boobs

it's ok you bent over

it's ok if I see them

'cuz I won't say anything mean

or write
anything nasty

I'll just write you love poems

and rub lotion on your back

because you freckle easy

and my lips will get cold

from all the wine we drink

swallowing our youth
like bitter
lawn darts

Part III Of the Trip to Find Billy Jack.

Frankly folks this happened so long ago I can barely remember anything that happened. A friend offered this bit of advice. "Just write we met a bunch of old chicks and they wanted to get busy with us. At least then it's over."

I will include an excerpt from a post that explains the Cougar phenomenon:

What is a Cougar and why are they dangerous?

Definition: An older woman trying way too hard to look young. Usually heavy makeup and way too tan, sometimes orange. Generally has leathery, smoking damaged skin, short skirt, and may have obvious breast implants. See any big city bar scene.

Part III. We are Attacked by Four Wild Cougars in Jerome, Arizona.

My friends want to sit at a table far away from the door and pool table. But I object. “I want to sit on the bench.” I tell them the bench is the only seating located next to other people in the bar.

We spot cougars...

The table located next to us has 4 very drunk women seated at it. The band we hoped to see had just stopped playing. I got asked if I liked to dance by the drunkest of the four women, Nurse Betty.

“No.” I replied.

“Darn. We were hoping for some action.”

I took a sip of my beer and rolled my eyes at her.

“What... you mean we aren’t enough action for you?”

I glanced over at her friends and waived my hands toward them. She took my bait and all 4 of the cougars joined us. And in one voice assured us that were that we were "all the action they could need."

I wore a baseball cap. So did Card Shark. Drunk Nurse Betty wanted to look under Shark’s hat, but he told her he was bald. That didn’t bother any of the cougars. They claimed to like bald men. "Pat" put an end to any refusal we could offer by claiming to love combovers. Pat thought combovers were sexy.

Nothing could dissuade these women from looking under are hats. Shark finally freed his tussles from under his cap. The girls took turns running their fingers through his long hair.

Next they turned all that post-menopausal attention towards me. They wanted to see what was under my hat too. I was not dressed for sex play. I had on jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. “I’m balding.” I told them. “You aren’t going to want to see what’s under my hat.”

But when cougars see their prey they get aggressive. They are like 14-year-old boys. All pent up sex energy. But unlike a sexually immature boy, an older woman feels entitled to satisfy her urge. Now that nature had released them from child-bearing, they molested us with abandon. They relished in the child's play of desire.

“We want to see what’s under your hat.” They repeat. I relent. I give them a peek. They see for themselves the receding hairline. Maybe it reminds them of getting old, because they quickly turn their attention away from it.

But they don't want me to feel bad. They start in on me. Telling me how they each like hats on men. They encourage me to keep it on. With my hat and casual clothes I could be mistaken for someone 25 years their junior. I think they like that part of me best of all.

We drive to Clarksdale because Clarksdale has a band. Married Guy sits up front with Card Shark and two of the Cougars. Joe and I make the trip in the back of the pickup bed along with the other two Cougars.

It's cold and windy. And we all anticipate getting frozen on the trip. Joe does something that astounds me. He snuggles up with the only half way cute cougar. Probably in her 40's, she doesn't wear tapered acid washed jeans. She still colors her hair. And she is decently in shape. Her face gives away her age, but at least the giveaway says "Milfy" not "Gilfy."

I am left to fend with the most obnoxiously drunk older woman I have ever seen. She had little or no self-awareness of her drunken state. The following conversation is not verbatim.

Drunken Nurse: "Do you want to snuggle, why don't you want to snuggle with me? Are you gay? Do you like women?"

It is precisely because I like women that I am not turned on by you.

I am annoyed at myself for allowing this turn of events. I know I can give no encouragement to Drunk Betty. I know any encouragement I give to Nurse Betty will become hands tugging away at my limp manhood. I don't want that. I am still hopeful that Milfy will give me a try.

But my my hope for a turn with Milfy dies as I watch Joe snuggle. I underestimated my competition in GI Joe. I assumed he would be lackadaisical. I was not prepared to deal with his assertiveness. I should have been angry about the way things had turned out, but instead I felt only a begrudging respect. The old man had a few tricks up his sleeve still.

I stayed warm in the back of the pickup because I borrowed a jacket from inside the truck. I stay warm with out the any of the human contact that Nurse Betty so desired. She complained the entire drive about how cold she was even after I allowed her some side-to-side touching. I know women are always cold, and it was 30 degrees with 60 mph winds, but I had already offered her my jacket. I was not about to offer my loins.

The Cougars who sat up front in the cabin were hungry. They asked if we carried any food or snacks in the truck. Card Shark kept a wary eye on his third cookie and did not share it. Even when asked directly, he refused.

***
A side note to women everywhere. When you first meet a man. And you ask him for a favor. If he turns you down. Assume he finds you ugly. ***

Clarksdale, Arizona.*
Home of the 10/12 Lounge and the One Class Act Blues Band.

A truly terrific band. Like most blues fans I am white. And like many whites I trace my love of the blues back to Bill Cosby. The appearance of legendary bluesman B.B. King on the Cosby show when I was in the 9th grade changed my musical tastes forever.

The lead guitarist and singer walked around the room as he played. Much like another Arizona bluesman, Carvin Jones. The band was elated to see a group such as ours enter the bar. We shouted along with the band. We cheered and applauded their efforts. It felt like destiny. The band played inspired.

Most Cougars love to dance. And these cougars were no exception to the rule. I danced with all 4 cougars. One cougar gave me the "fuck you eyes." I cannot express to you how disturbing it is to have a women 10 years older than your mother look you up and down like a piece of meat. She was ravenous in her sexual hunger. She did not mind showing me her desire. She showered it upon all three of my companions.

Her eyes said "I will fuck you tonight." Her mood was was confident and secure. She seemed to be saying that, "I know I am not what I used to be. But I am willing. And men enjoy that. Moreover; I am ready to abandon myself to the instinctual."

I will not play with that kind of fire.

But I danced for the first time in several years. I remembered what it was like to have the attention of a woman. I recalled why I missed that attention. A woman makes a man behave and feel differently. I felt more alive though I was dancing with death. I grew in confidence. I thought I could be valuable. If not to the world like any man of substance desires, then to a woman, and if not to these women, then to some women somewhere.

I saw my friends sharing that same feeling. They would not be dismayed by life completely either.

We drove the cougars home. Back to their hotel room in Jerome. They were sorry to see us go. But Married Guy needed to get home. They understood. G.I. Joe needed to feed his dogs. Dogs that love to lick me. Now I would not get laid because of Trixie the Dog.

I could have stayed. They wanted to cuddle. I am not sure I can satisfy 4 hungry cougars. I am not sure there is enough meat to feed such a hungry group.

But I think I would have liked to have stayed.

* The actual name of the city is Clarkdale, but the sound "Clarkdale" in my head disturbed the story for me.

My Mom used to get mad at me whenever I got pnemonia for using all the guest tissues

I know I am supposed to feel guilty that I haven't posted in awhile, but I don't. I am sick. I've got a runny nose, and sore throat. I cough up lemony colored snot. I am breathing underwater. And every time I swallow I get the distinct impression of diet flavored ginger ale.

I can stop drinking diet ginger ale but I can't control anything else.

***

Why do I suddenly feel bad for Don Imus? I have a friend who hates Don and I can't say I like him, but I often listened to him on MSNBC at 4 in the morning when there was nothing else on. A writer from Slate fleshed out why I think some found him compelling...

"As an enemy of pseudo-speaking, of the scripted and the canned, Imus made his career, among other things, by being a racially ambiguous figure. From his speech patterns, which borrow liberally from the great American religion whose deacons include Billy Sunday and Wolfman Jack and Howlin' Wolf, to his love of white blues, he played the cracker who has more in common with the Negro across the tracks than with the Man.

As the media critic Susan Douglas has put it in a particularly astute essay on talk radio, "For many of his listeners, Imus turns the tables on money, power, and entitlement"; his show is a place "where polite people in prestigious and influential jobs have to 'suck up' as Imus puts it, to a man who breaks all the rules of bourgeois, upper-middle-class decorum." Here, of course, is how he slipped into troubled waters.

To understand his comment, that the Rutgers women's basketball team were "nappy-headed hos," you have to see it in its many dimensions. The comment was witless and dehumanizing, an insult not only to these players but to African-Americans, women, women athletes, and any permutation of the above. But it was not said principally to that effect. It was said on the (false) premise that being "politically correct" is still a cornerstone of "bourgeois, upper-middle-class decorum," and is still a dominant mind-set in the culture at large. Imus was exploiting a cynical confusion, a common one on the AM dial. In talk radio, the P.C. bogey is kept on life support, the better to allow the heaping of abuse on the marginal and disenfranchised to pass itself off as speaking truth to power.

just in case you haven't noticed

Posting has become sporadic. It will remain so for the foreseeable future.

Part II. The trip to Prescott. Part III is next.

The trail we took out of Arcosanti reminded me of the Old West. A dirt road. Navigating the bumpy, windy road on bad shocks meant we never took speeds better than 15 mph.

I was dehydrated so the jostling and sliding over the road delivered no undue pressure to my bladder. It took 20 minutes to drive the 3 miles back to the freeway.

Back on the highway we maneuvered the car towards Prescott. The road to Prescott is no longer a desert scenic highway. Instead the area is dotted with Indian food restaurants, condominiums and hotels that get sculpted into the hillsides.

We passed many of those markers of progress on our way to Prescott. Only one of those symbols, a local Walmart, had the decency to be built in a valley low spot. Conspicuously hidden, it suggested to us the cost of urbanization. Walmart understood the resentment that locals would harbor for a corporation who chose to destroy this landscape. Walmart chose to hide.

Prescott is hilly.

You have to walk up and down hills to get anywhere. Though I was out of shape, I enjoyed the strangeness of my environment. The Valley is completely flat. I never think about the side walks in Phoenix. In Prescott I walk up a hill and my attention gets directed to the ground.

The Peace Fair in the center of the town had hippies dancing to a very bad band. Three members of the band played the bongo drums. None of the band members wore shoes. Each had dirty black feet. A hippie girl with no bra danced by herself. Her arms were outstretched and her feet pointed in two different directions.

Card Shark watched the girl dance. He wanted to join her. He thought dancing with her with was his best opportunity to "hit" on her. This offended the Married Guy. Married Guy lived on a commune as child. His parents were former hippies who now voted for Clinton. Married Guy wanted to defend the hippies against Shark's advances, because he knew Shark's opinion of hippies.

The hippies gave away free food. I tried a metal container labeled Tea, but found only hot water inside it. The hippies also made homemade jam and bagels which they stacked down a long buffet table.

Most of the people at the festival gathered around the buffet table. Few of the festival goers were interested in any other stands. Those stands were covered in literature about peace, Darfur, and the War in Iraq.

The only exception to the general lack of interest in booths that contained no food was a "free bicycle repair" stand. Hippies from all over Northern Arizona patched their tubes and tires there. I wondered how so many hippies could pedal to Prescott on bald tires and ungreased axles.

We finally left the fair when I got tired of searching for something decent to eat from the hippies free food buffet. We made out way over to the ice cream shop featured in the Billy Jack movies.

In the movie the children of a local American Indian community and a group kids from a progressive hippy school are denied service at the ice cream shop. In one scene flour is poured over some of the children and the owner refuses to sell them ice cream cones. Eventually Billy Jack steps in to defend the kids. He fights a whole gang full of the local bad guys using his karate techniques.

I was a bit worried that my friends and I wouldn't be sold ice cream or cheeseburgers either. But the staff at the shop was very friendly. They were eager to tell anecdotes of the real "Billy Jack" visits. And they cooked up burgers and fries for us all.

We were surprised that the shop contained no actual memorabilia from the movie and that the owner of the ice cream shop instead chose the decor of a 1950's diner.

We set sight next on Jerome, Arizona. The adventure climaxes there. Part III is meeting 4 cougars. Your patience may be rewarded when I finally recount our story from Jerome. If you have come this far, I hope that Part III does not disappoint.