The Life and Times of Satalien|
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|Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010|
|I am eating
Hello my wonderful friends! Oh so many years have passed since I have sat here writing this journal, like some dream time has passed and since then what the hell is going on?
It would seem from my trousers that I've been hitchhiking.
Long story short- some jack fuck tried to leave me behind in Colorady, some jack fuck who owes me big time. Tried to light out with what's mine and forget me.
Wellllllllllllllllity boo boo for the motherfucker because this shit is ON now.
And the world has changed so much.
Does anyone even fucking use Livejournal anymore?
|Thursday, June 21st, 2007|
|Clap your hands starting NOW.
You got a light?
I'm never going to be a dentist. It's time to face the sad truth. All the hours I've spent pulling my teeth have officially been wasted. I don't know what the fuck happened, but this shit's over. You want to know the real thing that just pulls your brain out like a fucking molar? Nobody fucking cares. I used to have such a knack at diagnosing gum disease just by making people laugh. And now? I'm inside a fucking vacuum that's on super-charge-go because someone finally tightened that shit-for-brains belt.
All the people I've helped by telling them what their problem was? They don't give a shit. All those jokers who said, "Dentistry's for you, baby," they have disappeared. And there's no more.
So what the hell do I do with all these teeth? I made a necklace, but no one will buy it for a dentist's yearly salary. And so I suck on the fat teat that feeds me until I grow so fucking large, I explode out into a mid-life midwife. If only the tired and the poor and the huddled masses could suck on a doorknob and make me a man.
Good bye to dentistry. Hello polyandry.
|Wednesday, October 12th, 2005|
somebody get these spiders off of me Current Mood: irritated
I don't usually do this shit. I'm mad as hell because I tried to send the american drivel review
my latest masterpiece over this instant messenging system and it got all fucked up! Then the fuckers publish my Instant Message conversation. What the fuck people.
They told me I could have another piece in the magazine if I linked to this blog
. I'm fucking done with live journal, it's pissing my shit off. I hope to have a blog somewhere else soon so watch for me motherpunchfaceshits!
|Friday, August 26th, 2005|
|Everyone hates me like a Nazi disease.
I've begun to think that I must have some sort-of disgusting gash on my face that keeps people away from me. It's either that, or I am a ghost. I am leaning towards ghost but I don't know.
Last week I finally found a new place. I spent a lot of time with that religious bitch until she finally kicked me out because I was eating too much of her food. The best part of being kicked out of there was when she started sobbing after I begged her not to abort me from her home. I guess now she knows what it's like to get knocked up with something you don't want who eats all your fucking resources. SHE SENDS IT OUT INTO THE FUCKING COLD! Say it with me: what a cunt!
I doubt anyone said that with me, but if I were on the fucking TV set, I'd have that as my great Godded catch phrase. Mug to the cameras WHAT A CUNT! AUDIENCE CLAPS...
But then I don't know if cameras can record the image of a ghost or gash faces.
My new place is all right, it's a basement apartment which has an air conditioner that gets the place REALLY fucking cold. i was able to get the shit together I needed to get together to get this place, all sorts of shit has to happen like telephone calls and shit so I was able to (gash ghost and all) get people to recogonize that I needed fucking help and they were often very nice. I don't have any furniture because I left it at my old place where the sink kept leaking so I've been sleeping on the floor and the only thing I can really do is play with my fucking air conditioner and this stupid computer of mine that I managed to steal from that religious lady (WHAT A CUNT!!!)
I've been looking otu the window at the neighbors and they're all these stupid white trash fucks with, like, kids, or something and, like, they've got problems because they're often screaming and/or drunk. They ignore me most of the time and I think they'd be surprised to know that I don't have a single piece of furniture. I don't know how to find any furniture anymore but I know that I'd like, at least, a cot. Here's the thing: I got a phone book (AWESOME!) placed on my doorstop and I looked up cots but there were no stores listed anywhere. I can't afford a bed, I know, so a cot is what I need. I don't know if I should go to a bed store or a fucking Wal-mart or what but I won't go to a Wal-mart because if I wanted to spend time with my neighbors, I'd just stay home which is what I'm doing.
I think I'm pretty lonely and lost sometimes but that's probably not true. I think I'm more like, fired up about softball!!! Whenever I think about being lonely or unsure how in the hell I will sleep one more night on the floor and coughing up all that dust in the morning, I think about how some people in the world must get fired up about SOFTBALL!!! and how when they're feeling like I do, they must just, like, think about SOFTBALL!!! and feel much better, so I was trying to think like that the other day and realized that softball? does not really fire me up at all. It's so fucking primitive, with its stupid shitty sticks and balls and ooh, what's next, running? really? Then you have to fucking cave paint, probably. SOFTBALL!!!
So I dunno what DOES get me fired up but it sure as hell isn't softball. Softball can choke on my cock with an extra turkey leg to boot as far as I'm concerned. Softball is the most ridiculous thing ever created and don't get me started on the word "umpire" if you don't want to be dissolved into acid.
|Sunday, May 29th, 2005|
|Programmed for the Omega Man
Time for a change!
I went to a shopping mall that lives nowhere near where I do. This wasn't just some funny little jaunt of mine, though, I went because I was out of underwear, out of towels, and by God, I was out of nuts. I cracked open the last walnut last week and said to myself "well that's the last walnut" and I started crying and crying and crying.
Well fuck me if the mall wasn't so confusing as to make a mime go "FUCK ME." There's, like, escalators and elevators and this nutshow of punch-faces THRONGING all over the place with their funny little smiles and their funny little asses just jutting out everywhere and making me sucks to their asthmars. I stood in the entrance watching this odd fucking display walking about like ants going to the zombie massacre for a good show. I saw a movie about that once.
So, I want to find some towels first, you know, I had a list and it said, very clearly, "underwear, towels, nuts." I couldn't go home without these things because the sink won't stop running and if I don't keep absorbing it, I'm going to get evicted. My foot is killing me like a nun kills satan and I just have to suck it up and walk inside.
I don't know when it got dark, but it did, and I hadn't found any towels. I had found some sweet motherfucking pretzels and a good many shoes and more dumbass punches than I could possibly count (like the stars, indeed, Kevin Costner!) but I didn't know where the god damned towels were kept. I went through, like, only HALF the stores in this place when they started trying to tell me that the mall was closing. They used one of those talking robots that way they didn't have to deal with me, but I'm not taking this shit. When I heard the robot start saying that it was time for the mall to close, I shouted up at it (wherever the invisible bastard lives) "OH FUCK NO, I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE!"
Well I must have been screaming for a while because then the uniformed guys show up. I rolled my eyes to show them that I was too good for this bullshit (like they ever even care about what you feel) and they started like they were going to punch me in the face, you know (oh the irony), when this woman shows up and asks me if I need help. She's, like, young, but not too young, you know, and I was like "what?" and she asks again if I need help because I look lost and she's talking to me like I'm a retard so I think, oh this is going to be JUST THE TICKET. I don't want to embarass her for treating me like I'm stupider than I think so I start acting retarded like she thinks I am and say, like, I need towels, but I did it in this retard language and I tried to act real concerned about how I would get evicted. She clucks her tongue at the uniforms and says "come on, let's see what we can do with you."
Well, as anyone who's ever watched one of those funny-shows on TV probably knows by now, I'm fucking fucked because I have to act fucking retarded all the time I'm around this stupid bitchity fuck. She leads me by, like, the hand, to her fucking giant car (it's, like, huge, I meant to say) and tells me to go ahead and get inside. I tell her in this retard voice that I'm fucking hungry and I'm out of walnuts and then, well, I started crying because I was really that sad when I told her about the walnuts, I was FUCKING OUT OF WALNUTS!
Then I figure since I'm being honest it's time to come clean. I looked at her as she starts the car, "don't worry," she says, "we'll take care of you" and shit like this because I'm crying. I tell her "I'm not retarded, I'm really not retarded." She looks at me like I've said the best thing in the world and says "of course you're not." "NO I'M NOT RETARDED!" I say, trying to get through to her because she clearly is not fucking listening to me. "I know you're not sweetie," she says the condenscenion coming out of her like acid out of a spider. "I'M NOT RETARDED AND I'M OUT OF WALNUTS!" I shout and start crying again.
She’s driving now and I don’t know where the hell she thinks she’s taking me, unless it’s to, like the retard home or something. I am tickled by this and I start laughing. She looks at me and is like “what’s so funny?” and that makes me laugh harder and I start pounding my knee, like really hard and she starts laughing too because, I guess, she finally got how dumb this all was and we’re laughing and laughing and laughing and then the car stops and we’re in this driveway.
We go inside and I see that we’re in this house and I notice that there’s all sorts of crosses and shit on the wall and pictures of Jesus and then a fucking cat (no seriously, A FUCKING CAT) comes walking up to me like I’m it’s fucking savior myself and rubs its shit on my leg. “Here we are,” this girl says and I have this sickening feeling growing in my stomach. Oh fuck me, it’s a fucking missionary. A lonely one at that. I can’t fuck a missionary! If you fuck a missionary, you’re dipping your dick into Jesus’s juice and you transubstantiate yourself into a husband with a bad combover and fucking convictions and, worse, a FUCKING CAT.
Well she tells me to make myself at home, so I figure, let’s get this shit over with and I drop my pants and she starts laughing again and she says “oh looks like you’re right at home, aren’t you?” She offers me some tea, like it’s no big deal, and when I sit on the couch, she makes like to stop me but then thinks it over and thinks it’s all right. I don’t know what the fuck was going on with that. She let me use her computer and sort-of got impressed at how I used the computer so well. “Who taught you how to do this?” she asked me and I told her my father and she nodded like that meant anything at all.
“Let me tell you about another kind of father,” she said…
I’m not proud of myself but I fucking listened to her. She goes on and on about the man Jesus and his holiness and his bullshit that he went through and I’m thinking, like, I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care shut up you fucking cunt just shut the fuck up stop talking Jesus and let me have some god damned towels from your closet like a fucking hotel you stupid bitch what the fuck is wrong with you…
Finally, she was done and I looked at her and asked her if God had any walnuts for me. She clapped her hands and said “OH GOODNESS! YES HE DOES!” Then she started crying and I started crying again because I suddenly had the feeling that there were no fucking walnuts in this house and I miss the taste so much I think I might kill her or bite her or something. She hugged me and didn’t seem to mind the filth that came off of me and said “I’m so proud of you,” like I’d done something or even acknowledged the fucking bullshit she was spouting. She asked if I had anywhere to go and I looked at the clock and saw that by now the fucking water from my sink had probably made my apartment and all my shit uninhabitable… well that got my own water works going again and I told her no.
She told me that I could stay with her for a while if I wanted and I said that that would be all right and would she mind if I used a towel every once in a while and she said no that would be okay. When I asked her if she had any walnuts, she told me she didn’t like walnuts and I fucking punched her.
|Thursday, March 17th, 2005|
|Anywhere but here.
I've got to think. Think real hard. I am stepping up my defensive mode capabilities by half. There is a real, real big chance that I may just be imagining everything but I might be in some form of danger.
I should explain, though I'm not sure if I'm even going to make sense but that's no different than usual. I have an acute fear of being misunderstood. This sometimes leads me to overexplain and by overexplaining, I miss the larger point. Oh shit I'm doing it right now!
My fucking ankle is swollen up like a god damned piece of balogna and my foot, accordingly hurts like a motherfucker (I'm thinking Oedpius 'cause he hurt his god damned eyes BUT he also had swollen feet because his parents pierced his foots to make sure he died). I was washing my dishes last Tuesday and suddenly fell to the right because my right ankle collapsed right under me! I can't even fucking walk on it anymore so I've been crawling about and devising a really fucking sweet pulley mechanism (thank God my hands still work, are you with me ladies????) that allows me to navigate around my apartment. But my dishes, they remain unwashed!
YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS DON'T YOU FUCK HEADS?
Unwashed dishes + water + food on them = FUCKING BUGS. Now if you've seen previous entries in my journal, you will know that the bugs have not been the best thing for me. But the bugs aren't what scare me, no, not at all. I'm not scared of bugs. I mean, they have an unnerving effect on me, but what really scares me is that while I was sleeping in the kitchen last night, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a blue-lines around the edges vision of ALEC FUCKING BALDWIN!
I screamed "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME" but Alec Baldwin just stared down at me and seemed displeased. I told him that I'd read Hamlet, I really would, but that wasn't what he wanted or something maybe he wanted to be Alec Guiness so hard he actually became a Star Wars character by the virtues of a mystical Yoda-fairy or something (you know like a tiny flying Yoda with wings and a skirt, someone should contract John Williams to write a ballet in the style of the Nutcracker with this as the main character) but I don't think any of that is right. I think I was being visited by mystical partially see-through Alec Baldwin because of the things I've done in my life. I haven't been good all the time and I haven't been the best person adn I think Alec Baldwin knows this and he's been reporting it to the Grand Judge Reinhold and he's warning me that if I don't shape up my ways, I am going to be repossesed by Gary Busey or his malevolent son Jake or even, if I've been awful enough, by Nick Nolte whose power with words can diminish most men into soulless crumpled fleshy bits of formless matter.
As I lay there, my ankle bursting forth toxins into my bloodstream, I screamed and started throwing everything I could get my hands on at the Baldwin's form, knowing full well that they would pass right through him and emerge covered in ectoplasm on the other side. Now all my stuff has been slimed and it's all my fault for not being a good person.
So now I live in fear of Gary Busey or his son Jake and in extreme fear of the portents that may indicate that Nick Nolte might visit me in the night and recite a monologue that would reduce me to being composed only of tears. I can't call on anyone for help as the great Treat Williams is nowhere to be found these days and could very well be compromised. I would call on the powers of Walken but there is NO WAY that I am going to go through that hell again. Like Roy "Jaws" Scheider said in Jaws 2, there is no way I'm going to go through that hell again. If a shark can eat a helicopter, then I've got to be wary that hummingbirds may be harbingers of pirahana.
I guess I've avoided it long enough. I've got to do better by some people and I've got to do it now and not at the Oscars like I'd been planning. Before Busey's army of bugs begin to get on my nerves and preferably before the bank defaults on my loans. I'm all aloan. Current Mood: scared
|Thursday, March 10th, 2005|
|Just because there are no more junkies, doesn't mean there won't be any drugs to smuggle.
So in my quest to learn all about society in as little time as possible, I decided to do something I haven't done for years and GO TO A BAR.
I'm sure any of you reading this have been to a bar before, if you haven't, I can't say I recommend it. It's probably the worst invention in the history of all humanity, possibly outranked by those fucking television sets or maybe those phones that you can see through, whatever, the bar is pretty fucking bad. Now if you like bars or if you think that bars aren't as bad as I do, I just want you to know that you're a fucking lunkhead with no chance, I mean ZERO, of contributing anything positive to society. And don't give me that bullshit about scientists who like to go to bars after they break the next quantumn code or the cure for duckwarts or any of that shit. It's bullshit. A real scientist breaks the quantum codes and then goes to sleep! You've gotta be sleepy after that, don't you? And EVEN IF a scientist goes to a bar after breaking into the very fabric of reality, that same scientist will eventually be SAD because NO ONE AT THE BAR EVEN FUCKING CARES! You want to know why? They're in a GOD DAMNED BAR. "Hello, I am in a bar." "yes, what would you like?" "I would like a beer please " "Oh I can get that for you. That will cost some money." "I have money and here it is." "And here is your beer." BIG FUCKING DEAL! God to think of the amount of time people sit and TALK? in a bar? What THE FUCK is wrong with you people?
Here's the thing. Someone out there might think "well what about bowling alleys? That's kinda like a bar." AND IT IS. But there's BOWLING there. DUH!
So get this: I'm sitting in this fucking bar and it's crowded and there's all these people there and I think to myself, what the hell am I doing trying to learn anything about you stupid overstuffed apes like me and I am drinking this fizzy pop and surveying the crowd all by myself. A man is sitting two stools down from me. It's crowded in there but not so crowded that you can't find a barstool, right? There are two empties next to me, is what I'm saying. Anyway, this douchebag is sitting there like me and some dumbass bitch comes and starts to talk to him. Ugh. I roll my eyes. This is so god fucked boring, right? Well, then I get ot thinking that this could be a nice observation thing for me, even though, it's fucking boring to watch the mating dance of the PUNCHFACES.
Well, they're sitting there and they're CHATTING and they're TALKING and they're FLIRTING, for FUCK'S SAKE, they're doing this bullshit where she'll like touch his arm and he's doing this shit like sneakily putting his arm at the back of her chair. And the space betwixt them gets smaller and smaller and oh god, I'm so bored now, right? And they're LAUGHING. Oh god. My eyes couldn't roll any furhter up into my head. You fuck faces think this is living? You think this is fun? I start to realize that with all my problems (telepathic spiders, mystery girls who disapppear, library bans, troll tolls, flying cockroaches, bigfoots, scary republican douches, and unfiinished erotica waiting for me to finish it) I have got it so much better than these dull dicks. I may be coughing up blood, shitting blood, and pissing blood, but at least I've got some sense of pride.
I predicted it would happen and it did, they got up to leave together. I didn't know what their plan was, but this was a journalistic assignment now and I'd be damned if I'm going to putz out now. So I got up too and followed them outside.
This proved to be problematic for two reasons. One: I hadn't settled my tab. I had only ordered a fizzy pop thinking that later I might order a different drink like orange juice or something, but that thought escaped me. Two: the two borings had only stepped outside for some "fresh air" or something and were just standing there talking. UGH! right? So I'm standing there staring at them and they're staring at me and this dude from the bar opened the door and said "hey you didn't settle your tab" and I said "oh yeah" and so now these two start giggling with the drunken stupor of a thousand chickens and I felt my face starting to do this thing it does sometimes when I get mad or sad where my eyes sort-of convulse, I guess really my eyelids or something. I'm not sure. Anyway, I walked back, paid the dumbasses and stepped outside.
Now the two were just standing there kissing. I stared at them until they noticed me and seemed to get uncomfortable. I asked them if they had any change for the bus (figuring it was the best way to get out of this awkward situation) and the guy gave me a whole dollar.
This isn't where it ends. The two of them had started to fascinate me in a way that's beyond my usual anthropological fashion... there was something different going on here. I took the dollar and walked away a little bit but then I hid behind a few bushes and they had gone back to kissing anyway so they didn't see me anymore. After they were done kissing for a bit, the guy said something to the girl and she said something back and they both looked a little sad but they started walking.
I utilized my ninja skills and began following them stealithily down the street. They walked up to some dumbass apartment building (not bad but just dumbass you know, like with street lights in front of it that worked and all that) and went inside. Now I'm fucking mad. What could they be hiding from me? Why would they keep me out? I took a quick survey of the place and realzied i was fucked. There was no way to get in. I could climb the streetlight and get into one of the apartments that faced the street, but who's to say whose apartment I would enter? It wasn't worth the hassle.
I don't know what to do about any of this. My report is unfinished and they seemed so unhappy, masking it all with a stupid veneer of depravity, liquor, and laughter. I was hoping if I could keep up with them, I would get some more info about what was really going on here. Unfortunately this door is closed forever to me now and I sit here, back at home, staring at my fucking notes wondering if they were, really, some sort of demons or maybe even a type of spider I haven't catalogued yet. I'm tired now and I haven't slept in some time. Maybe if I go back to that bar, I'll see one or the other of them again, but what on earth could they possibly tell me that I don't already know? That they're sick, stupid, and disgusting. That they're tired, anxious, and hoping they don't die?
These are the people in the bars and they're so fucking stupid they make me want to destroy the world. But I can't do that until the grant money comes in.
Current Mood: awake
|Tuesday, March 8th, 2005|
|We could have it all or we could smash it all.
Am sick and tired of seeing the same old things.
For instance: Yesterday I was taking a walk and I saw a squirrel climb a tree for about the five gazillionth time. You know, the squirrel thing was pretty awesome for a few years but right now I'm thinking, there's nothing left for a squirrel to do. I got so mad, I ran across the street and started shaking the tree with all my might trying to make a flying squirrel. I've never seen a flying squirrel. Or a squirrel fly.
Well nothing happened because the tree was too big around for me to shake it enough to even perturb the stupid squirrel. I decided to give up and get a sandwich or something.
So I was walking toward the sandwich shop I go to (they know how to keep the fucking MAYONNAISE off of my shit!) when I heard the noise. It was a small noise but I knew what it meant. I turned around and that same squirrel was climbing DOWN the tree! UgH!!! Do you know how many times I've seen squirrels climb down a tree? TOO FUCKING MANY! I ran at the squirrel and it got scared and started climbing UP! I felt the horrible suction that accompanies a negative-feedback loop and, so, not knowing how I could possibly break myself out of the cycle, I charged the tree and jumped, grabbed the lowest branch, and swung myself up into the tree after the fucking squirrel! HA! It didn't see this coming at all! THe mother fucker leapt out of the tree, its paws wiggling in the air in a feeble attempt at flight, and landed on the soft grass with a slight thud sound. I suddenly remembered how fucking scared of falling I am and clung to the tree with my hands, afraid that the branch I was standing on woudl break or, worse, simply disintegrate because some aliens wanted it for analysis.
I don't know how long this went on. I thought maybe I'd better think about a backup plan to get down in case the firemen didn't come to rescue me this time (they told me they were through getting me out of trees last time). I looked down and saw I wasn't too high up. And then I saw that same FUCKING SQUIRREL CLIMBING UP THE TREE TOWARDS ME! I screamed and leapt up to grab another branch and I heard a horrible splintering sound and the branch I was tring to climb up onto cracked and I fell into the tree, scraped my arm up, and fell the rest of the way down to the ground.
I heard another crack and my ankle started hurting a lot and I fell to the ground. As I lay there staring up into the sky, the squirrel came CLIMBING DOWN THE FUCKING TREE! I was tired and cranky now, but mostly I just didn't care so when it came over to me, sniffing around like I was some sort of acorn, I just let it do whatever it wanted. It crawled onto me and ran back and forth on the length of my prone and still body and I started thinking about how I'd never seen a squirrel running on me before and how this was probably a pretty good time after all.
Eventually it got bored and went back up the tree (YOU TRAITOR!) and I got to my feet and limped home. I made a check mark next to the "see a squirrel run on me" box on my "life goals" list and then immediately wrote down "eat a squirrel" at the bottom of the list right below "trick a porcupine." Not a bad day all told!
Although my ankle's looking like I should probably amputate my foot now. Current Mood: accomplished
|Monday, March 7th, 2005|
|fucking SHIT what an obituary
No one ever tells me a god damned thing. I'm sitting here, minding my own business, thought I'd take in a movie on TV (I love the way they edit the motherfuckers on public TV stations) and there's some dumbass shit about some fucking dude who jumps around a lot and there's, like, a couple of skeletons in the movie but they're not alive or anything like you'd expect 'cause they usually are when you're watching something like this thing and there are all sorts of craptacular laughing bits where, like, the main guy is trying to find something but he can't seem to find it and then he goes into a room and a monkey dies and I forgot some of the rest of it because what happened next made me so fucking bummed out that I forgot everything else that happened.
Like I said, I'm just minding my own business and I thought I'd flip to another channel during the commercial breaks 'cause the last fucking thing I need is some dumbass on a couch telling me about how my penis should break through brick walls or some other punchface eating a flying taco 'cause food looks better when it's hopping around and being poured (at least that's what these RIDICULOUS ad execs seem to think! I say put the shit on a plate and just take a goddamned video of it because all this leaping of food is driving my shit up a wall!) and there was like, some fucking news? on a spanish channel (I think it was the news but you never know because those shitfaces sometimes make commercials look like news (and by shitfaces I mean ad execs, not spaniards)) and I see that fucking Johnny Depp died!
That's fucking ridiculous!
I don't know much about Johnny Depp, but I know I always loved his shit whenever I saw it, like that hilarious movie about the scissors or when he played the gay pirate (the skeletons were alive then like they fucking should be) I went NUTSO when I heard he was dead, jumping around and throwing up and shit and I started thinking of all the things I knew about him because I thought I should obituatize him.
But then I realized I'd never even read any of those fucking books he'd written and didn't really even know that much about his life! I wanted to do some research but the library doesn't let me in anymore (not since I managed to sneakily stay there after they closed for three nights in a row and put all the books in one section so that the first letter of the first word of their titles spelled THIS LIBRARY HAS THE WORST SECURITY I'VE EVER ENCOUNTERED I HAVE BEEN SLEEPING HERE UNMOLESTED FOR TWO NIGHTS (that was on the third night and I got caught while working on the next sentence which was going to say something about Golems) i guess I could have done some fucking research on the internet but when I googled Johnny Depp to look for another obituary to steal from, there weren't any and they said he was going to be featured in some dumbass Willy Wonka movie (I hope they got enough footage before he died!) and some of the sites said he was "hot" but I don't like it when dumbass fundamentalist punchfaces tell you someone's in hell right after they're dead (like they do with the gay dead) so I just gave up.
So I have no obituarity things to say about the great Johnny Depp, but I think he was great as himself in that movie about his life with that spaniard co-starring! (about spaniards: The ONLY thing I don't like about spaniards is that their country is attempting to push Portugal into the ocean! Look at a fucking map and see what the shit is going on to Portugal and it's all still unnoticed by the fucking media and it makes me so mad about what's going on that I want to punch a hole in my wall and fuck it) And I think he will probably make a really really good Willy Wonka if they can make his lips move convincingly! Current Mood: sad
|Tuesday, February 1st, 2005|
|smack smack smack smack from the mouths of bunnies
It's February 1st.
My usual lust for life has diminished and I am finding marshmallows everywhere. Seriously, there are so many mashmallows in my little apartment that I am beginning to wonder if the easter bunny is up to his old tricks. I don't know why the easter bunny does half of what he does, but I can imagine that devious little bunny making some strange SMACKING sounds with its mouth and then leaving marshmallows in the strangest places while I sleep.
Speaking of sleep, I have been getting too much lately. It's a little bothersome because I've got so much to work on but I can't seem to climb out of my stasis for more than 4 hours at a time. Ugh. People shouldn't have to sleep.
I just watched this great movie on my TV. It had to do with a guy and a girl and they meet, but the guy is with some other girl and the girl with some other guy. They talk and stuff and eventually they get together despite their significant others. It was pretty touching, I have to say, to see love so effectively realized on screen. Sometimes it's like i know just how that feels.
Then I saw this KICKASS show, like it was a regular show or something b/c it had commercials. It dealt with these folks who got trapped on an island by, I can only assume, telepathic spiders! Talk about getting it right!
The thing about porn is that it doesn't ever deal with the guilt. Woody Allen should make a porno.
I am a little tired of eating grapes but I bought a shitload and grapes are all that i have now at home. I can't eat anything else because I'm too tired to go to the store and I don't want to disappear which can happen if I don't stay right here.
The problem I'm dealing with besides sleeping is that I have no one to talk to. I try to make friends but everytime I do, they want to convert me to JESUS. I have had many dealings iwth Jesus in my day (he used to take me to Taco Bell in the spring months) and, frankly, there's nothing worse than Jesus asking me if I'm going to finish that chalupa, and feeling guilty for not giving him my chalupa, but the fucker never buys enough for himself and it's my god damned chalupa, right? And if he's really the son of god, what the fuck does he want with a chalupa anyway?
So anyway, I wish I had more friends, but I guess who doesn't. I keep thinking that I should get out more and meet more people, but the problem with getting out with the purpose to make friends is that everyone wants to sleep with you and I DON'T WANT A FUCKMATE. I am an embarassment of riches.
|Monday, January 3rd, 2005|
|A lovely dot for Pac-man in the winter.
You've got to hand it to the people out there in the wilderness. They know how to make pancakes, I'd bet, and they probably make the best damn pancakes in the world.
It's fucking cold and snowy and shit and that means that I don't leave my god damned house. Especially not after what happened at the library last month. Boy was that ever a fucking scene.
Well I'm hard at work on something yet again, but this time, I thought, perhaps maybe I could keep it a secret until it is done and then reveal it for all to see! But then I thought that maybe it would be better to tease everyone who reads this, all fucking 2 of you, and so that's what I'm doing. TEASE.
Some of you who have read for a while may remember that in between monster polls and telepathic spiders and shit, there was a girl in my life named Arata. And that at some point she was gone and I don't remember what happened, right? Well I found her number the other day in a pile of clothes that I hadn't worn for months and so I called her up to see what the hell was going on!
When she heard my voice she was all "no way" and stuff and I could tell she was mad at me. Apparently... last year when i got that job at the movie theatre, I told her that I was going to go look for a job and then never came back! That strikes me as not like something I would do so I asked her if she was sure and then she just LAUGHED and said that she was sure and asked me if I'd been taking any of my meds. I told her that ninjas don't take meds and I heard her, like, spit out her coffee and laugh even harder. She told me that she'd missed me and her therapist thought she'd made me up and could I maybe come by her therapists office sometime to prove my existence?
Readers: I am not a fucking idiot. This is a plot. This is a fucking plan to get me cornered and capture me and do something horrible. I have many enemies like you wouldn't believe and they have many ways. For this girl to be so completely abandoned by me and then just chuckle and ask me to come by her therapist's office? BULLSHIT. IN ADDITION: she asked me about my meds and that clearly points to MIND CONTROL. I immediately played it cool. If she suspected I knew what she was up to, there would be repurcussions, horrible horrible repurcussions. I told her that I didn't think that would be appropriate and if she wanted to see me again she could go fuck herself. She sighed and said that she had missed all of this so much. then she started in on the sex talk and, let me tell you, it was all I could do to keep from masturbating. I knew that if I masturbated while hearing her talk about how much she needed me and my penis, it would be all over, because that would allow the mindbots into the frequency that I fucking operate on.
Now I'm in a terrible pickle because after I shouted GO TO HELL (I still had to act natural) and slammed the phone down onto its cradle, I knew that there was a possibliity that I'd stayed on the phone too long and the fucking nefarious shit out there might have access to my mind control wavelenghts or something and that if I ever have an orgasm and spew my seed again, they could potentially worm in (knowing the proper frequencies as they might).
I've had my mind controlled again and again and I don't even know who the hell Arata is working for but one thing is clear. i can never have sex in anyway again. I can never masturbate or fuck or even have a wet dream else the alarms will ring in their secret base and out come the probers and they could potentially make me do something awful like donate money to some bullshit charity or walk around with my pants off on accident instead of on purpose this time.
I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do. To make matters worse, the three sexy bitches downstairs are always in the hall and they're as casual as all get-out! Sometimes they get the mail in little more than their fucking underwear!
Thank god it's so cold. I've been sitting with my window open and my crotch pushed out into the coldness. That ought to help things! Current Mood: horny
|Wednesday, December 1st, 2004|
Well after wandering around wondering what to do with myself, I decided that it was time to take a fucking vacation! I've had enough bullshit with these dickheads who live around me, constantly demanding my attention or approval. This is pretty much the way things go around here in my parts, if you get what I mean sexually speaking.
So I packed a suitcase and walked out my door, pretty much unaware of where the fuck I'd head. I decided I'd start off my vacation in the library 'cause I always see so many people there who look like they're travelling there with their suitcases or carts or whatever and they like to play chess, read magazines and sleep. Now that's a pretty sweet life if you ask me, reading magazines and sleeping!!! Also some books too. I thought maybe I could do some research too.
One problem: I forgot how to get to the library from my house. So there I was, on the streets with this bag in my hand and NO WAY am I going back to my apartment from here. This isn't the worst spot I've been in and I actually had a bit of money in my pocket so no big deal. I walked down to a pizza joint I have seen other people walking into before. It was pretty hot in there and lots of people were walking around and I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do, so I walked up to the counter and said, trying to be cool (I should never do this) 'HEY, I WANTA PIZZA, EH?' I then played with my mustache which didn't really sell what I was doing at all because I don't have a mustache. The guy behind the counter looked at me and said "What?" 'A PIZZA PIE! A NICEA BIGA PIZZA PIE!' I smiled as big as I knew how. The guy got kinda funnied out it looked like to me and he said "what do you want on it?" Well that threw me for a bit of a loop so I replied 'MOSTACCIOLI!' Now keep in mind, I'm not fucking hungry, I'm just not sure what to do with myself. I don't want anything from anyone really, but this guy gets fucking PISSED. He says "Dude, you know I'm Italian and this is offensive. Get the fuck out of here if you're just playing a joke." Well that really sticks in my craw so I reply, 'I'MA SORRY. I MEANA NO OFFENSE-AH!'
There were some people behind me in line that I didn't realize were there! One of them said, "Buddy, get out of here or order for real." This got a few other people complaining away (fuck you squares) and so I had to beat a hasty retreat or face the MOB yet again.
Fuck, I'm just trying to play along. I don't know what the rules are for this bullshit. Maybe next time they should put a sign up.
So now I actually AM hungry and a pizza sounds pretty delicious to me. So, not even thinking, I head back to my apartment thinking that I can just order a pizza with my phone. I walk inside, sit down on the floor and grab the phone book looking for pizza. I find it, call the first one and order a pepporoni pizza (THEY DIDN'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH MY ACCENT!) and they ask where I live. I tell them and then GET THIS! The FUCKERS say they can't drive a pissy ass car over to where I live. It's out of their range. i asked if their cars were limited in how far they could drive in their part of the city. The idiots told me that, no, that wasn't the case, they just couldn't be driving all over the place all the time. Well, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT. Do you offer delivery or not? They hung up on me after I called the guy on the phone a 'bleeding cuntmop' and so now I think it's time for a real fucking vacation from all these pizza stupids.
I typed this at the library after reading all about whales in some magazine... I hope I can stay here tonight!
|Friday, November 19th, 2004|
I've been trying to think of something to do for the past few days. DOes anyone have any ideas?
Or favorite monsters?
|Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004|
I am so fucking incompetent! Just last week, I thought I'd brush my teeth but I forgot and I haven't done it for three months now. Also, I spend a lot of time reading but more time than that MASTURBATING so I don't think you could call me an intellectual. I often say what I don't mean, lie like a bastard, and I like to pretend I'm fucking tougher than i really am.
I'm not particularly religious, but I wouldn't mind pretending to be so. I don't drink a lot. I don't back down from my opinons on things and I'm really small minded when it comes down to it. I just want to be safe, want to be loved, and want to survive (in that order).
CAN I BE YOUR NEXT PRESIDENT IF THIS IS THE BULLSHIT YOU'RE GOING TO VOTE FOR???
|Monday, October 18th, 2004|
|I am endorsing John Kerry for president.
Bush is a fucking nutjob. Kerry can at least string words together. Even if I disagreed with everything Kerry stood for AND everything Bush stood for, I trust the guy who doesn't say "let me finish" in the middle of his own sentence when no one is interrupting him or trying to stop him from finishing. THAT'S BULLSHIT.
|Tuesday, October 12th, 2004|
|The stars shine so Big and Bright when the Texas Guard is deep in your heart.
I am eating spaghettios with meatballs right now and they are quite the tasty concoction. Bless the Chef Boyardee rip-offs named Franco-American. (what the fuck is that about?)
In case you're wondering, the girl's gone. She cried and cried and cried yesterday while I sat in my room. I peeked into the living room once and tried to talk to her. "Where's my drawing?" I asked. She looked at me like I was nutso and said, sobbing, "What?" "Where's my drawing you took?" I asked again hoping that adding "you took" to the equation would make her cognate things more clearly. She just shook her head and asked if I had anything to eat. I told her I didn't and she looked like she was going to vomit.
"I want some food," she said. "I'm going to the store."
And just like that, no more tears, no more nothing, she got up and walked out. I sat in my room doodling with a pen about things that are weighing on my mind. For instance, if a goblin has many quarters in its pocket, can it use a claw machine and get a prize with special powers? I thought it probably could so I decided to diagram how a goblin's mind works, how its powers affect the mechanistics of a claw machine, how a goblin comes across the quarters in the first place (it beats up a Navy Captain). It was fucking incredible. i could tell I was onto something, a real nobel-prize winning discovery. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I broached the troll-code that has eluded my thinking since I was a kid and wanted to cross the bridge out of town because my dad was talking too much about responsibilities and lying and how not to shit my pants and things like that. I got to the bridge on my bike but didn't have enough quarters to pay the troll that lived under there and I thought that if I could just figure out the troll-code, what makes a troll tick, what makes a troll want to live under bridges, what makes a troll harass goats, and so-forth, in other words, to understand the mind of a troll means you have easy access to all bridges in all parts of the world without fear of being treated like the lowest form of life on the planet: a goat. I figured THAT one out pretty quickly. Trolls harass goats because goats are the lowest form of life on the planet. Trolls are clean by nature and fucking hate it when things get fucked up by lower forms of life and so they like to eat these things. They also hate people because people are fucking stupid, almost as bad as goats and not ever ever ever do they think that maybe, just MAYBE they are like a Dolphin.
I digress, the goblin work was coming along (goblins are similar to trolls in that they are genetically related like Vulcans and Romulans are. I have not figured out why they separated but I know it's something to do with Hiroshima or Nagasaki) and coming along like a fucking saint had blessed my god damned pen, when I hear my door open again and I hear some sacks being placed on my kitchen counter. I flung open my bedroom door and stood there as the girl put groceries away like she fucking lived here. She didn't even flinch when she found the jars of urine I keep stocked in the cabinet above the sink, she just kept moving to the next cabinet and moved my civil war figurines into another cabinet.
I walked out further into the kitchen, my eyes wide like saucers and I wondered what the fuck she thought she was doing, did she think she was moving in? I'm not prone to hallucinations but this was very near like the ones I've had. There's a supermodel-like girl in my kitchen, stocking it with food.
Then she pulled a box of spaghetti out of a bag and we had this interchange which I prize highly for its bizarrity.
"Do you want something to eat?" she said.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I yelled.
"Do you want something to eat?"
"Who the fuck do you think you are you stupid bitch?"
"Do you want something to eat?"
"Fuck this!" I said and grabbed the spaghetti box out of her hand (this was the last straw) rummaged around, found a pot and began practicing the fine art of spaghetti cooking. This made me think of Arata. I didn't know where Arata was. It was like one day she was just gone, just disappeared from my life and I didn't even notice. We met at my spaghetti cooking class YEARS ago it seems and we had such a nice relationship but what the fuck? Where the fuck did she go? Was she a hallucination brought on by the telepathic spiders? Was she just a ruse they used to lure me into a false sense of complacency? I didn't REMEMBER anything. The last thing I remembered was my short-lived job at the movie theater and how the butter had gotten on me that day and it burned so bad because some jackass had left it in the warmer all night long and it burned my skin so fucking bad no matter how much water or ice I put on it. That was the day I left forever because no job is worth the humiliation of crying when you get butter on you.
The girl whose name I'd forgotten sat down on my bookcase and said plainly, "You've got a nice place here."
I knew she was making fun of me but I didn't want her to know that I knew so I said "thank you" and continued making spaghetti.
I turned to say something else when I noticed two things. One was that I was still naked. How fucking rude of me to not put anything on, no pants, no shower curtain, no velvety robe, no nothing. I was ashamed of myself then I thought about putting my hand in the boiling water in front of me but figured that it was probably not the right time to do it. later. I'd do it later. The second thing I noticed was that the drawing I was missing was sticking out from under the fallen bookcase. I hadn't looked at it from this side. Now I couldn't help it. I was such a stupid fucking asshole, blaming others for my own shittiness. I was such a stupid big baby who deserved nothing in this life, no manners, no food, no spaghetti, no anything. It was no wonder the bitch didn't think anything of my being naked as I was NOTHING to anyone, nothing nothing nothing nothing, just a sad sack of puss that had managed to look like a man. The girl was wondering around, staring at things and wasn't looking my way so I stuck my hand in the water and held it there until I wanted to scream. Then I pulled it out and put the spaghetti in, cursing it under my breath for not having nerve endings.
She stayed the night but we didn't talk anymore. I fed the spaghetti to her in a bowl and she ate it and I left her alone the rest of the night in my living room to go in my room and hide under the bed in case she came inside. I fell asleep under there and had worried dreams the whole night about spiders telling the goblins that I was onto them. There was a soft knock at my door in the middle of the night, but I ignored it and bit into my burnt hand. When I woke up, she was gone, but the food was still there.
So now I am eating spaghettios with meatballs that this girl whose name I can't even remember bought for me for some reason. And every meatball I bite into reminds me of the skin I bit into last night.
I don't think Goblins carry quarters all that often. Current Mood: listless
|Monday, October 11th, 2004|
So this is getting a bit weird, ladies, gentlemen and satalites. To recap: I've got these three ladies living in the apartment directly below mine and one of them freed me from the crushingness of a bookcase and then made off with an erotic drawing I'd done as research for my erotic story.
The bookcase is still on the floor and I've been using it as a table which, to be honest, is better than as a bookcase because now the book spines aren't complaining to me that I'm not reading them. The only problem is that I'm sure that when I lift it up eventually when I've tripped over it too many times (I'm up to 32 toe-stubbings, 12 shin bangings, and 5 full-on full-tilt trippings that send me tumbling face first onto the floor) that all my books are going to be gone like some dumbass magic trick and replaced with giant spiders... abracadabra, you're minus a bunch of books!
So I was eating a bowl of cajun rice on my bookcase and staring at the blank fucking wall where I had once put a TV but then threw it over into the corner when my reception went out during a showing of Star Trek II: the Wrath of Kahn when that same dainty knock comes to my door. I could tell it was the LADY whose name I've already forgotten, but I know she's got my god damned drawing. Well this was a little inconvenient because I've got a boner the size of the rock of gibraltar right now and I don't want to stand up and, oh yeah, I'm not really wearing anything and don't really know where I put my clothes last. But the knock came again (for fuck's sake go away you stupid bitch) and I realized that I was being rude so I grabbed a shower curtain that I'd been using for a couch and threw it over myself in a robe-like fashion and walked up to the door, my penis waggling in front of me in the most embarrassing and ridiculously stupid display of why men are guarenteed to be stupider than women (on account of the fact that they just LOOK dumb with a large erection waggling in front of them).
I cracked the door open with a grimace. I wanted to shout "what the fuck do you want?" when I saw that she was crying. I didn't know what the HELL that was about so I just stood there staring at her dumbly waiting for her to tell me why the hell she was knocking on my door. We stood, staring at one another for a little bit and I contemplated getting the FUCK out of this apartment building because I have had so much god damned traffic here that really interferes with my work and causes bookcases to fall on me.
FINALLY the dumb fuck opened her mouth and said "I did something terrible."Oh for fuck's sake!
"Okay," I said. "I don't doubt it."
She looked at me like a dog who's just been smacked by a newspaper and then just started sobbing. I kept her outside and my head peeking out the tiniest crack. Finally I couldn't help it anymore (WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?) and said to her, "What? What did you do?"
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"No," I said. "No you can't." She'd already stolen something of mine and I didn't want her making off with any of my work which was at this time evenly distributed across the apartment as if it was a liquid that couldn't help but distribute its mass evenly.
"Fine," she said, and then RIGHT THERE IN THE FUCKING HALL she sat down and pouted, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. I stared in disbelief at this display. WHO THE FUCK WAS THIS GIRL? She knocks on my door, expects me to just invite her in and then SITS ON THE FUCKING FLOOR and starts CRYING LOUDLY in front of my apartment.
"Grow up you big baby," I said to her and slammed the door shut. Then I started punching the air around me in case it held any of the air she'd breathed out. I didn't want to catch her stupidness (which is, I suppose, a disguise of the word COOTIES) and start crying myself. Do I care what the fuck she did? I KNOW what the awful thing she did was. She STOLE MY DRAWING and now she's stiting out there, fucking recalcitrant and SCARED and I'm supposed to open the fucking door and comfort the shit out of her? WHAT THE FUCK?
I began screaming out loud because I am SO SICK OF THESE FUCKING VISITORS and I AM SO SICK of feeling like I have to DO anything with them or for them. THEY ARE COMING TO ME! I must have been screaming for a long time when the BITCH opened the door herself (fuck my non-locking mentality) and said "YOU GROW UP!" which, I think, was a come-back she'd been thinking up this whole time. Then she sat down in my living room and began crying again. I noticed that the shower curtain was on the floor and I was naked but she didn't care. I stared at her and wished she was dead, wished she would leave, wished that telepathic spiders would devour her eyes and then crawl inside of her to destroy her.
But she's still there right now. Still crying as I type this! I don't know what the fuck I am supposed to do with this shit! The only thing I can think is to read her my erotica and hope it'll put her to sleep. Current Mood: indescribable
|Wednesday, August 18th, 2004|
|The confusion of typing in the negative
Gah! I'm covered in something and I'm only halfway sure it's sweat. I just found out that there are several LADIES who live below me! Now, you may be wondering what the fuck the big deal is, and I was wondering that myself for a time, but the BIG DEAL is that I am QUITE loud at times and thought that the apartment below mine was vacant! I found out when I was going up the stairs to my apartment when I saw a LADY standing with a box in her hands. It was quite definately the move-in type of box and not the moving-out box. She looked like she might be a pin-up in some magazine. Peering around her and into her apartment, I could tell that her friends were just as beautiful!
Normally I am not susceptible to these glamour girl looks. I think they are idiots and vain and self-centered and stupid for looking like this (no one looks GOOD if they don't want to!) and these girls, well, I think I was at a weak moment because I was having some sort-of coughing problem lately wherein I would cough a lot of gunk up at random times and so I was feeling somewhat down on myself like I was some piece of fucking shit to be coughing up all this shit and it must be from deep within, right? Shit, I don't know, I just know that I'm going up stairs and there's this fucking chick and she's standing at the landing one floor below me and just FUCKING STANDING there with this box in her hands and chatting with these two other girls and shit. Well as I approached the one standing there opened her mouth like she's about to say "hi" and then just looks away for a second and then looks back to see if I'm still there.
Well I WAS still there because the cunt opened her mouth to say something and then closed it so I'd stopped to do the customary bullshit thing about Hi Hi You live here now, huh? Yes I do and you live here too? Yes I do. In fact I live right above you so if you hear some shit it's just me. Yes I thought that might be you just by looking at you. Oh and are these your roommates? These are my roommates let me introduce you to them and yes, we realize that we are some sort of masculine fantasy out of some porno thing but don't get excited because the idea of having sex with your stained and obviously unwashed body is quite sickening to us besides we have all had sex with one another previously at some point and guess what, we didn't like it and it strained our friendship so much that we are barely even friends NOW. Oh I had no idea. Yes you did and now you're thinking that maybe what we need is some sort-of lynchpin to be the axis to the wheel of sexuality surrounding us and that ho ho hey hey that lynchpin just might be you, well, buddy, we've done THAT as well and a.) you're not as attractive as our former lynchpin b.) we didn't really like that (though it was a lot better as we had something else to focus on besides our own sexual insecurities with each other when it was over (namely washing up)) and c.) we're all turned off by dudes who cry after they've ejaculated and judging by the looks of things, that's you all over.
So when she saw me standing there still and looking at her and around her at her roommates she said "Hey," to me. It was a sort-of polite audible version of that smile you give a casual aquaintance that you don't really want to talk to but I didn't pick that up until later because I said "oh hey, how's it going" in return and in RETROSPECT I can see that her eyes went a little dumb and maybe rolled a bit and the points of her mouth went down into a frown but at the time I didn't see ANY OF THIS. "Not bad," she said, "moving in you know" Right yeah I know what a dumb thing to say.
I went back to my room, I know that much, and then just started jumping up and down REALLY HARD. Jumping and jumping over and over again like a fucking nut. I wanted to make even more noise so I began climbing up onto my one bookcase so I could jump from the top and make a really fucking loud THUMP. Then the fucking thing tipped over and fell onto me, spilling heavy book after heavy book (DAMN YOU TOLSTOY) onto my head and areas. I began to scream and yell like a god damned wildcat pounding the floor with my hand out of a.) a need for someone to come pull this fucking bookcase off of me and b.) excruciating pain. Well the next thing I know there's a fucking knock knock at my door and judging by how dainty and polite it was, I could tell it was one of the LADIES. I shouted "OW! COME IN HURRY!" and so the door opened (thank God I didn't fucking lock it right?) and in came the girl at the stairs.
At this point the memory is a little fuzzy.
I remember her staring at my place like stepping onto the Starship Enterprise or something and then she began to back out and say she was sorry but I was screaming "HELP ME I'M TRAPPED UNDER A BOOKCASE" or "HELP ME QUICKLY BEFORE I FUCKING DIE" or "YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME BECAUSE I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT THIS" or maybe even "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME" I was so fucking _something_. I'm not sure what the feeling was but I know I wanted to crawl further under the bookcase. And here she is just staring STARING AND STARING at the things all over my wall. I'd been doing all this designing and researching for my erotic story and drawing pictures of various scenes and hanging them up and she's just looking at them...
Finally this nutjob comes over and lifts the bookcase just enough that I can scramble out from under it and then lets it down with a THUD. Well she didn't make the THUD, it came down with it a thud. Whatever. Fuck you. I'm lying there on the floor in GREAT FUCKING pain. She's staring at my drawings and finally this wonder of human evolution says "are you, like, an artist?"
Listen: I am not mad that the first words out of her mouth were not "are you, like, okay" I AM however upset that my DRAWINGS were so impactful to this model of modern standards of beauty that the first thing she thought was not about my well being but about them. Even AFTER she'd freed me from my bookshelf, she was still staring at these various scenes of groteseque penetrations and reverberations.
"No, not by trade" I said.
THEN she says "Are you okay?" and I said "yeah I'll be fine" and she says "I'm Annie" and I told her my name and she tells me that she's got to go and I say fine and GUESS WHAT? FIVE HOURS LATER I NOTICED THAT ONE OF MY DRAWINGS WAS MISSING! I do not keep a tidy place by any stretch of the imagination, but I have an inventory of everything there and ONE OF MY DRAWINGS WAS MISSING. The LADY has pilfered a drawing of mine and it was the one I liked to masturbate to the most! What the fuck is that????
My head still hurts and I just went for a jog around my apartment so I'm tired and hot but I'm so mad I don't know what else to do. I invite you into my home and you steal a drawing of the Tablick Cavity????? I haven't been this mad since I ate all that bread!
|Monday, July 26th, 2004|