Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Moon Patrol...

this is my primary blog. blog, meaning-not a novel.
i am too lazy to eat.
i need to remind myself to make that file with all of my compounded brain activity.
hey, put on some music, too - you boo radley.
might as well.
while you're wasting time.

(why doesn't my archive work??????)



Our house smells like cat pee. I think I'm gonna go out and buy some firewood to cover it up. Word.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Friday, December 22, 2006

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Boss #3 took me out to lunch today which happened to be right across the parking lot from a place that I worked at for about four years. This old job of mine had windows on pretty much one whole side of the building that the employees often used to look out of when they got bored (which was often).

Anyway, I was out in the parking lot for a bit and wondered if any of the old employees were still there. I wondered if they could see me and thought that maybe I should peek my head in and say hi?

Then I said FUCK ALL THAT and didn't.

The End.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Johnny Blaze, Daniel Ketch And Truman Capote...

Seriously, I noticed it a long time ago and mentioned something but - what's the deal with 30 hits a day looking for Ghost Rider?

Is he really that popular?

The Spirit Of Vengeance. Really?

Monday, December 18, 2006


When the boring job (not the cool one) now won't let me access You Tube due to their firewall?

That's when things get even more boring.

What am I supposed to do? Bring a book?


Monday, December 11, 2006

I Am Hunter S. Thompson Without The Drug Habit And Access To Firearms...

Maybe I'm more like the reclusive J.D. Salinger, but without the talent and the one good book. Am I'm totally not comparing myself to HST. Well, I do have access to arrows. I can't wait for the day that I get arrested for shooting drunk kids in the park with my bow. And no, I don't have a quiver or go to Renaissance Faires (sp?), but I am as pretty as Legolas if not prettier, that sissy-boy.

I'm thinking that I've got to keep up the blogging-things because I'm developing some serious gaps in my chronological documentation for my future sperm-spawn. I mean, I sure as hell am not going to talk to them, so how will they know what I was doing back in the day when we talked on cell phones and had polar ice caps?

Not that they'd be able to gleam anything useful from Fat Free Milk because unless they were looking for bad poetry and fart jokes, then they'd be better off asking one of the many Tijuana whores that I've traded comic books with.

This is why I don't write as much anymore.

Because I am even more distracted than I used to be, more of a drunk, super-sexy, totally Greg Louganis, getting paid for writing on a regular basis for an awesome company and pecking away at things, but not consuming them wholly as I should.

My brain gets so synaptically overloaded, I think that it just goes into Cherynobel-status. Meaning - whatever.

What? Huh? I can't concentrate. Air conditioning and planes and the setting sun and to-do-lists and have to drive to pick up my car


Thursday, December 07, 2006

This Is What My Life Has Become...

I was talking to my cell phone company's customer service gal today and she asked if I wanted to add 300 text messages a month for just five dollars more on my plan. My first reaction was one of holier-than-thou est ness ity ishness. Me? Need a text message plan? You must be joking.

Ummm...she told me that last month I had 90 sent and received text messages on record and have been consistent with that number in the last three months or so and at .15 cents a pop - I'd be actually saving money by adding on five more bucks a month. I'd be saving, what? $4.50 a month?

So, I figured that I could add the five bucks and laugh at myself for even having this conversation. Since when did I join the rest of the herd?

Or, I could maybe not text because I'm lazy and it's easier than actually talking to people and that maybe I should especially not text people clever, ha-ha crap when I've been drinking either?


I added on the five bucks.


Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Molly, Isn't A Cockle A Mussel Too?

Seriously bored out of my mind at job #2. Not #1 because #1 is well, #1 stupid. No, #1 job is not stupid - you're stupid for thinking that job#1 is stupid and not #1.

Yeah, and the city chopped down all of the trees around my house and in my backyard so now the place looks like dog shit and people will be able to see me in the patio area. Dummies.

Otherwise, I can't wait to get home and order the Bud-Light Combo, with a side of Vodka Redbulls and some extra cigarettes, please. And sure, why not super-size it?

Fucking brilliant weekend, this will be.

Friday, November 17, 2006


I should take Crispin Glovers trailer
to his new movie, "What Is It?"
off of my MySpace?

It's kind of hard to explain at work.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

I woke up at 8 a.m. to beat the crowds at the DMV. When I've done this in the past, there's always been a line of about fifty people waiting for it to open anyway. So, I was expecting to wait a bit - but happy to wait the thirty minutes, as opposed to the obligatory two hours without an appointment. (I had actually scheduled an appointment for the day before - but forgot because I'm a douchbag.)

Lo-and-behold, it took me a grand total of five seconds to walk through the door and get help. When I received my number, I stood around, looking to see what number was up next...mine! Hmmmm....Interesting.

Now, no matter if the actual three employees that I came in contact with spoke to me like a judge does to a pedophile awaiting trial.

Forget that all of the previously mentioned employees looked like a constipated manatee, a sloth with a cleft lip and a roach with something in his teeth - forget all of this.

Forget why I was there - forget that I don't really know anything about rules, laws and about how society functions and that no matter what and no matter where I am - I'll always end up owing money to something because, once again - I'm a douchebag.

What's most important. What really matters about all of this - is that...

Something that's a given, the way that something always works - (at least in my world) didn't happen today.

It's kind of like, if you always forgot not to lean against the oven and then one day? Hey, no burning! Or maybe if you realized that now that you're home from a buffet-filled Vegas trip - you never took a dump once? Going out at a bar and no jock fights? Seriously? Having all of your monthly bills lower than you expected? Really?

Yeah, long-winded diatribe, I know.

BUT - listen to me. This kind of crap makes me nervous. The whole, something-cool-and-unexpected-and-actually-convenient-for-me-thing. Not used to it, don't like it, don't trust it. SO. I need to do something to counter-balance what happened to me this morning at the DMV. I need to do - what then?

Ahah! I've got it! I'm going to do something horrible to something nice that I usually encounter. Like, be rude to people that work at businesses that I frequent. I can save all of my dogs poop and then at night lay the piles out strategically all over the park for people to step in. I can overcharge people when I bartend and "short pour" their drinks. I will pinch little children's eyelids when their parents aren't looking.

It's all about balance. Never trust luck or fate. Random acts of pleasantness fortell impending doom. Beware.


Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Ghost Rider Versus Jack Sprat Versus The Haiti Kid...

I can't wait for a horrible tragedy to happen to me -

So, that I can truly appreciate how wonderful life is right now.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

It said, "This product contains less fat than our regular sausage!" Is this kind of like somebody saying your current girlfriend is not as much of a whore as your last?

No, you say.

Yes, I say to you banging into something crotch-first.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

His left hand is my brain...

Oh, I was writing something about me whispering filth into your mother's ears and about poisoning the sugar-plumb'ed dreams of your offspring - but then I stopped.

When one has to question or slow down when writing about nothing - then one has lost the game that could never've been won.

The distant sirens are now becoming louder. In seconds, they'll completely envelop me - I think that I'll catch my rhythm by the time they get here.

Loud. Abrasive. Distracting.


Here it comes.

I'm listening...and not writing.

And this is what we get tonight.

Me, writing about one moment right now - as opposed to all of the other stuff...

Friday, October 13, 2006

Holden, Scout, Kilgore or Klingon...

One could only wish to pull off a brilliant Harper Lee or J.D. Salinger reclusive entrance/exit. Journalism and writing small articles or books of short stories never cuts it, either. That's like passing gas against an enormous waft of expectant King Kong stink.

Somebody told me the other day that Van Gogh only cut off part of his ear.

I'd like to be known for writing an earlobe's worth of something lasting.

Something bloody.

And something that doesn't stink...too bad.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Big, Fat Sausage Fingers And Spaghetti Brain...

So, was all excited at the restaurant as I was waiting for my girlfriend. Had Fat Free Milk on my cell phone and was going to leave a comment on it for the very first time! By phone? Holy Jesus Snacks, you mean, like RIGHT THERE? Wow, huh?

So, I typed in this really funny-clever-me-so-witty crap...and then fucked it all up. And then gave up. And will probably never try to again.

That's how it works, folks.

Once and only once for the impatiently pea-brained.

(meaning me)

Sunday, September 03, 2006

A Cicada's Life For Me Every Twenty Four Hours...

Me - "I just had the weirdest dream. I dreamt that I was in an old apartment with some other people and that it was haunted. I saw things move around constantly and there were, like, doors opening all of the time by themselves and it was totally scary and awesome because we knew that what we were seeing was actually happening and it was because it was really haunted, like the things were all totally happening, like all of the time and shit, but then towards the end, Joel told us that he slipped us some drugs and told us that was why we were seeing what we were seeing but that it actually did happen because if I and everybody else saw something happen - no matter if it was because of what he slipped us - then it was true, because in a way, we experienced a reality that, no matter how it was, like..instigated or created - WAS real because it was a lived and...shared experience. So if we did think that the apartment was haunted and saw what we saw, then it was true....isn't that crazy?"

Her - "I dreamt that I met Jake Gyllenhall."

Saturday, September 02, 2006

If All Of Our Browsers Didn't Enable Cookies...

Than The Cookie Monster would drop-kick you in the weakest spot of your body.

He'd be pissed.

Nobody should ever deny a being his addictive sustenance or his monstrous posturing and/or identity. What particular spot of your glorious body would a monster decide to feed upon? If you had one, maybe the only - but most likely one-of-many, vulnerable, atrophied or already weak parts of yourself -which part would your imaginary monster choose to feed upon?

Vampires and necks.
Zombies and your brains.
Chupacabras and livestock.
Primate feces and face.
Fingers and nose.
Great White Shark and topless 70's screaming actress.
Red Lightsaber and poorly-acted Jedi death.
Werewolf and poor peasant.
RAID and cockroach.
Kryptonite and Kal-El.
World and Boy In Bubble.
Zeus and mortal women.
Life's societal, obligatory demands and personal/artistic freedoms.
Confrontation and resolution.
China and everything.
Forgiveness and forgetfulness.
Patience and TIME.

Writing drunk and SLEEP.

Thursday, August 31, 2006


Frustrating not to be able to share my simple joys with complicated people.

Frankenstein's monster ended up confusing flower petals with brittle, little girl necks.

Lenny wanted to share the soft and soothing experience of petting cute bunny rabbits with hard, callused ranch hands.

The satisfaction that you get with filling a house full of new furniture does nothing to quell the vast emptiness of my soul.

Your fast food gives you ths satisfaction equivalent to my frustrated headache.

What noisy gardners give me before waking dreams is your extra hour to get a cup of coffee before work.

Nintendo to your Wii.

My Mad Libs to your Blackberry.

I breathe lung cancer.

You live.

I am too far-sighted and not hungry enough to follow a fucking carrot.

I see six million blind and beautiful shuffling mules.

Not even aware of the shit that they're leaving behind.

I see me forever mulling over the potential beauty of six million animals blinding me with their unstoppable momentum.







I breathe

You live

I am too far-sighted

and not hungry enough


and beautiful



forever mulling over
the potential beauty of
six million animals
blinding me with
their unstoppable momentum

Frustrating not to be able to share my simple joys with complicated people.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Me So Hanso...

Note to self:

Self, Hello!
Hope your day went well!
Remember to check who you're emailing Dharma Initiative logos to next time.
Your boss was a little puzzled this morning when you came in.

There are leftovers in the fridge and please remember to take out the trash. Thanks!



Monday, August 21, 2006

And The Slow Days Do Nothing To Erase The Constant Changes In Your Face...and he asked himselfquietlyand politelyto Stop for a second.whatwhat's wrong?don't bother meI'm busyy' see?No. I don't see.I see what you don't - and more.This is the reason of my being. I am the outerworldy essence that exists within you. The outsides of your insides that we all hope that you may, one day, spread to others in your outside world.I'm not really getting what you're saying, man. You seem like a nice guy and all - but...I'm, kinda like, really doin' a lot of things right now, y' know? Maybe I'll have some time later or sumthin'...No. You won't. I know this, have seen it...lived it. That is why I speak to you now. I see you. Know you. Am you. I am THE OLDER you. The FUTURE YOU.......really? Wow. Cool. Huh., are you, like - rich yet?(sigh).........

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

iF yOU tOOK...


Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Let Us...

rise up
and be thankful,
for if we didn't learn a lot today,
at least we learned a little,
and if we didn't learn a little,
at least we didn't get sick,
and if we got sick,
at least we didn't die;

so, let us all be thankful.


Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Q'Orianka Kilcher And The Vesica Piscis...

Never open the door to strange women wearing strange necklaces and you'll never see Rome fall. Crap, I think I'll pass on the movie today - maybe tomorrow. I am excited that Desolation Jones is coming to Fullerton, though. The fucker better call me when he's here and it better not be when I'm working a double shift, either.

If you're confused - email me for an explanation. And Paypal me 50 cents. I want to buy things out of tiny machines that you have to hunch over to use. Email me for an explanation for this also. Oh, and throw in a nother 50 cents. A bag of popcorn at Ace Hardware costs a quarter, but the bags are small so...

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Best And Only Cool Thing To Happen To Me On MySpace...

Warren Ellis putting me on his top friends. Awesome. But, it's not because he admires mie comeck boook writng prowess...I think it's because my profile picture is of one of the children from God's Army. Remember them? Where are they now? You know they're going to all die of lung cancer before it gets me, eh? Little children with heavy artillery. I see that here. 16 year old kids driving Hummers.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

The Mall On Haunted Hill...

The absolute wondrous horror of what was a rare Orange County mall experience for myself is today, losing its luster - so I might as well try to jot down what I can remember -

In Southern California, there are people. A lot of them. All attached to some type of device that transmits IMPORTANT relayed messages to their brain. Sometimes these PEOPLE fill up their tiny seconds with their IMPORTANT blabby-crap and sometimes forget to do things like say, HELLO, THANK YOU, EXCUSE ME, YOU'RE WELCOME, YES, NO, JUNIOR-DON'T-RUN-OUT-INTO TRAFFIC, etc. They also forget to drive faster, slower, at all and usually with any consideration towards the other millions of other dumb-dumby, spinning people driving out on the streets also. Sometimes their cars mirror the slow, congealing drips of mollasses inside their driver's skulls. Sometimes I point at these people while they go about their very important coffee retrieval and goods-purchasing daily sprees. Sometimes I don't point because there are a lot of bigger dinosaurs in this Pangeaic park of mine and I plan on settling into a nice, bubbly tar pit someday. I don't want anybody to fuck with that. I have plans. Rawrrr.

This is getting too long...

I only went to the mall after dinner to make my girlfriend happy. Her mall is my comic book store, but without the fast food smell, pimply teenagers and fat, sweaty men. Actually, both the mall and comic book stores have these type of people, but at least the mall is more spread out.

At the mall:

Clothing and accessories, when I rarely want them - are very easy for me to find. Not because I'm easy to please, but because my actual size in clothing never, ever actually gets bought by real humans beings because nobody is my size. My sizes are everywhere and always knocked down from a high price to a very, very LOW price. I don't know why they make these sizes. Why make clothes that fit drug-addict or tall Ethiopian builds? Or Ethiopian drug-addict builds?

I get bored easily if I'm in a store that doesn't interest me. I can't sit down and be patient. I whine a lot and walk and walk around the perimeter of the usually-a-women's-clothing-store and pretend not to be a gay guy looking at clothes.

I went to an Apple Store for my first time and was completely horrified and amazed at existence of the whole poopy thing. Welcome to the future, Gramps.

The bathrooms looked better than some L.A. clubs than I've been in. Actually, DUH. Nicer than ANY L.A./Hollywood clubs. (this is the part where friends who don't read this snicker because how often do I go to Hollywood or LA LA?)

2b continued after i read this incredible hulk comic...

Ummm..there were security guards on Segways.

Boring now. The End.

My Little, Itty-Bitty, Sister Wrote This...

identity crisis

So, anyone been through an identity crisis? Not like, "am I cool enough" crisis, or "I'm gonna dye my hair blue and move to San Francisco" crisis, but the "what the fuck am I gonna do with my life" crisis. Cuz, man, let me tell you, I feel OLD. There's nothing wrong with working, granted I have been a tad lazy lately, and I hafta work to be sane, but WORK SUCKS. After being in school and working since freakin 9 years ago, I am tired of all this. The community college wears me down.Don't get me wrong, I gotta learnded what them smart folk know too. But not only does it suck to go to school after a nine hour day or going into a bazillion hour day, you hafta deal with the "oh, you graduated from westwood? So did I! I graduated in 2005, when did you?" A fuckin billion years ago. And people say to me, "oh sindy, you are still so young" and , "you have all the time in the world and at least you are going". SCREW that. I need MONEY man. So , that's my first bloggy type gripe. I am sick of the back and forth, the whining and the procrastination, I am gonna get my shit done. Cuz god knows I can't be slingin the dog poo and vomit and whoring the chihuahua clothes line the rest of my life. amen.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Fields And Streams Of Unconsciousness…

Regardless of how much one whines and complains about the lack of things that make you happy – sometimes absence does make the heart grow fonder. Sometimes one grows fonder of having one less responsibility. Sometimes one is glad to not throw out withered word-petals at a funeral procession that’s already passed you by.

Your grief hangs over my head like Louisiana humidity.

My concern for you swaddles my heart.


I wade through the fields and streams of unconsciousness

Not knowing if I should turn back
or continue to plod forward


My concern for you
replaces my usual unspoken words
with the ones
I say out loud to you

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I Am Robert Downey Jr. On Robert Downey Jr.

Dear Courtney,

I abhor The Market. I HEART fresh produce. I HATE The Beer Garden. I like seeing random pig-fuckers meandering about. I HATE that somebody scratched the holy fuck out of the birthday CD that you gave me. I lubby wubby wub the fact that Huey Lewis And The News is playing on my iTunes right now. I'm sheepish of the fact that sometimes I get so drunk that I buy thirty dollars worth of songs off of The iTunes music store and don't remember it the next morning. I DO like avacadoes(sp?), though - I'll stop by on Thursday then, Yesh?

If I was a character on LOST, I'd be the skinny-getting-fatter, Asian/Irish guy writing about being stuck on an island with a bunch of retards, and wishing that he could rape Kate, Claire and Locke.

P.S. You forgot your sunglasses at my house and I drank them.


Friday, June 23, 2006

If Somebody Tells You That You Seem A Lot Younger Than You Are...

They're really calling you immature.

I am backwards/infantile/H.G. Wells' Time Machine-style -

I am the vanishing dot on old black and white tv screens.

I am an inoperable CANCER, drunk on Vodka/Redbulls.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Go see Joel Beers' new play at Stages Theater in The O.C.

An excerpt from The Don Juan Project
(used with no permission)

No--I’ll grant you, that’s foul: well played lad. But, no, this rank bouquet is far more pungent. Smells like sweat, tears, blood and longing, accented by strangled desperation and stunted ambition laced with a sticky film of broken, useless dreams.

Oh, that! That’s poetry!

Ok, Roger, thank’s for kicking off our monthly drunken poet symposium with that wonderfully concise, reading.
I want to welcome everyone tonight to our monthly poetry clambake where we all have the opportunity to share, through words, the joy and tribulations of what, our dear late founder Kevynn Malone, once described as our lifelong relationship...with alcohol. Though friends hurt you, lovers betray you, leaders lie to you and your pets die, there’s always one relationship we can count on in this world.

Snapping of fingers.

The Don Juan Project

Monday, April 24, 2006

Nick Nolte Vs. Dracula...

Today looks weird. Everything’s all whited-out and pasty-looking.
And it just feels weird. Like how airport lobbys or auto mechanic shops feel. I need to go somewhere after work and hopefully whatever’s following me will lose my scent. But where should I go?

The movies? Fuck the movies. I never go to the movies.
I just went to the mall right before Easter, and it made me remember why I hadn’t been there in like, two years.
I could go for a walk but I walk all the time, so screw it. I walk like Phil Jackson anyway. No. I walk like Tiny Tim but with two gimpy legs. The cute Tiny Tim who blesses Mr. Scrooge. Not the gay, dead one that got married on The Tonight Show.
There are no real comic book stores, no arcades, no toy stores, and beers are too expensive at strip clubs. No fun.
I’m afraid to take my car too far away from home – she’s a very fragile girl and is made of balsa wood and her insides are put together with magic beans.

Seriously, I can’t tell what’s happening, but it’s happening – I might just wake up all of the sudden and have to repeat this day over again, so I guess I might as well enjoy the weirdness for now and not be such a creep creeped out by creepiness. I should go home and read a book. Good, old-fashioned words on paper by one’s self.


Saturday, April 22, 2006

Please Don't Ever Let Me Publish...

Was just at a big, corporate bookstore getting a birthday present for a friend. There was a very bored-looking man sitting behind a table full of books written by himself. He wrote a book on The Angels. Not the kind with wings, but the team that hit a ball with a bat. He checked the time on his cell phone. I felt sorry for him. I kind of wanted to talk to him out of pity, but his fucking book was about baseball - what the hell am I supposed to do? I couldn't even properly feign interest in the subject matter. Nothing for me to ask, nothing for me to roll with, so I bought my book and left the store. I was thinking about how crappy the guy must've felt - I mean, nobody was paying attention to him. When I got home I realized that the friend of mine that I had just spent thirty dollars on, on an Orson Scott Card book was a HUGE Angels fan and probably would've LOVED a signed book by the author. I'll tell my friend this later. He'll ask me whom the author was. I'll tell him I don't remember. I kind of suck. There's a moral in here somewhere. Oh, wait - maybe that was it...

I Would Look A Lot Cooler If John Cassaday Drew Me...

God, fucking somebody stop this phone from ringing...

Thursday, April 20, 2006


I work next door to a plastic surgery center and have not seen one person come in or out of there. Either the plastic surgeon sucks really bad or they kill everybody who sneaks in. Maybe I'll go snooping around their trash and then I can make soap out of human fat like Tyler Durden did in Fight Club.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

I'm Too Lazy To Kill You...

I ordered a pizza.
Got home.
It looked and smelled great.
Like arcades or Chucky Cheese.
but it tasted a

They forgot to put cheese on a fucking pizza!

And then who was too lazy to go back because they were on break and didn't want to wait for another thirty minutes?

And who thought that it was pointless to go back because nobody there spoke english and maybe I might've said something that was translated to "please, don't give any of that horrible cheese."

And who now thinks that's probably why the pizza was only $7.99 with three toppings.

I ended up shredding cheese on it myself. This helped. No, it didn't.

This whole experience was obviously painful enough to warrant writing about it.

My head hurts.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

JLA Boom Tube...

Today I'd been feeling a little bit under the weather so after getting home from work I bought a bag of oranges and a 3 month-old South Korean baby. So far, I've finished two of the oranges and am almost completely done drinking the blood of the baby.

This, combined with my uncanny recuperative powers, should put me in tip-top shape by tomorrow morning.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Fat Free Judas...

Sometimes days just start out totally sucky.
There is no guarantee that the day will get any better.
There is only the guarantee that drinking will make all of this go away by midnight.

Friday, April 07, 2006

My Flag On A Forgotten Moon...

One of these days, Earth will be a dried-out husk.

Human beings, if not totally extinct - will be the galactic equivalent of the Coelacanth.

Regardless, even if The Internet is a dichotomous tool of information and withering brain cells, I hope that someday, somewhere, there'll be a faraway alien offspring steeped with freshly-learned Homo sapien Language/History/Culture/Sociology 101, that will get a big fucking kick out of the myriad nothings that I've pooped out on Fat Free Milk.

You know, after we've all died off and stuff in like, 71 more years or so...

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Keyboard Shortcuts: press Ctrl with: B = Bold, I = Italic, S = Publish, D = Draft

I can never fall asleep when I want to
I sometimes fall asleep by accident and then end up staying up even later than I would've normally
I miss my dead cat more than I miss my early twenties
I spend more time reading about comic books online than reading them in real life
Today, I understand more, which means that I speak in public less
In 2006, so far, I groan 3/4ths of the time when I have to bend and grab something
In 206, I groaned a lot less
I am drinking a Bud Light and a Vodka/Redbull/Pomegranete
I am the best bartender ever
I hate bartending
In the twenty years that my work has existed, they've never made as much money or had as many young, crazy fuckers as they do on my Sunday nights
I make beautiful things happen for everybody else, but all of the beauty that I get ends up drowning inside my own head
I'm glad to be alive and still here
It's 2:05 and I finally feel awake
Taxes are like Herpes but don't involve a pretty face
The Arcade Fire reminds me of me living in my first three apartments - this is a wonderful, fucking horrible thing because who wants to be reminded of how amazing it was to be so energetic, Naive and completely fucked-up?
My girlfriend is asleep right now all wrapped up in blankets on the living room floor, she made me watch a horrible movie, she earlier was organizing a bunch of closet stuff and was transferring a box of pictures to a new and smaller box - this didn't necessarily make me feel any way in particular - this just made me not want to look through or talk about the pictures
Sometimes I sway in front of the keyboard
I very rarely write anything worthy of the imagery that this projects
one should attribute these things to Carl Orff, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Bill Gates, Hitler, Jack Kirby, Jesse and Gary Owens, Chris Ansari, Adam Langlois, David Hamamotto, Lee Adama and Tom from MYSPACE
Last night I saw groups of cars threatening to shoot each other in the park across the street from my house, and tonight I watched rain fall in the same place
Right now
I'm exactly where you are today...

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

I Never Lie.

Well, no - not really...

Sometimes not when writing, anyway.

When visiting my girlfriend's work today, I was getting out of my car when an Amish couple asked me for directions to McDonalds.

I am not kidding.

I was of course, completely polite and cordial, but even as I was giving them the directions my mind was working in overdrive and totally excited but absolutely dumbstruck...

Amish people in Orange County?

And McDonalds?

I just don't get it.

This is my life.

Ha Ha Ha's

followed by many

?'s ?'s and ?'s

Monday, April 03, 2006


Instead of bartending for eleven hours, why can't one be writing for the same amount of time?

Friday, March 31, 2006

We Fought For Lincoln...And The Ford Won...

Funny thing about
the lack of parental love
is that
as time passes
and the more that
you actually
get a hold
of what happened
or didn't
and when
you actually
get the ability to
put yourself outside of the box
and forgive
time has passed
and you've usually
just learned to forget to remember

by the time that you realize that what really mattered back then
when things were huge
when things were earth-shaking
when your parental Pearl Harbor was constantly being bombed
and you were just fleeing the constant fire from the sky

so much time has passed
you've lived the majority
of your life now without this person
how does this make you feel?
trying to place blame is like Brazil 2006 Nazi-hunting
like saying light on Earth from a galactic star
was cooler way before everybody knew about it
like loving a writers work posthumously
and telling others that he was a lot better
when he was alive

Thursday, March 30, 2006

If Comic Books Were Beers - Then I'd Sell My Liver On eBay...

Right now my house smells like the mall.

Earlier today, TARGET sounded exactly like being on a cruise ship.

Also, I see a horrible piece of writing in my future.

See? Here it is. The post, not the picture, you penis.

Doctor Doom And Darth Vader Are Brothers...

Totally un-funny today.
un-everything today.

I guess this would make me a Communist, also.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Man Killed The Dodo And The Dodo Killed Man...

For every ten psychotic thoughts
I have one moment of clarity

For each bone that I break
A muscle will get stronger

When bored and dull
My dreams will become lucid

Mirthless socially
Clever in my own head

I am the earth-quaking stompings
Of a million giants with ADD
And Restless Leg Syndrome

I am a creature not stirring
I am a quiet mouse

I am continous smoldering embers
And the Napalm of Dante's Inferno

I am the sun, the moon and the stars

Eventually killed by Avian Bird Flu

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Bye, little girl...I'll miss you.

how much
is too little
to make
that big of a deal of

when a big thing
that seems so small
in the grand scheme of things
gets taken away from you
are you being
do you straighten up
wipe your misty eyes with your wrist
or do you swim with it

when something withers

does somebody hear the tree fall in your heart

I like to shut off certain aspects
of my emotions because
I am either too old
or have already
worked it around in my head

been there
done that
felt that

everything acknowledged
not forgotten
but no need to be an emotional CUTTER

scars heal
scars remain, though

everything’s just tragic
and always beautifully overlooked

everything is nothing
and sometimes
my little
to me

Rest in peace, "60"

Love, Kevynn

Thursday, March 23, 2006


My dog smells like a baby.

A baby who shit his pants.

Citron This...

There's something wrong about accidentally finding a bottle of vodka in your cupboard.

It's kind of like The Gods on Mount Olympus chucking down ice cream cones to retarded, screaming fat kids.

(Maybe I shouldn't have written that out loud.)

So Much Hair On His Palms, He was Chewbacca's Hand Model...

Jesus, work is boring.

Last time I did anything this repetitive,
I was ten...and then couldn't touch it again for like, a week.

George Romero vs. Barbasol...

How come you never see zombies with facial hair?

or have I not been looking hard enough?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Hello, Mr. Poetry Bastard...

and so what do you do?
you try
you try to make it better
but nothing happens
the gods on Blog Olympus don't get back to you
are all happening at once
now that I'm forgotten

serves you right

for feeling comfortable

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Kill Me Now, Please...

It'd be cheaper, at least. My fucking teeth are always cracking, my goddamn bones are always breaking, my eyes fucking suck, my knees are shot - Somebody just kick me dowm some fucking stairs already.


Found On "The Office" Website...

Kevin Malone
Thursday, January 19th, 2006

"Kevin Malone, Accountant that is bald, over-weight, often scowls. Plays in a Steve Miller tribute band and is a very subdued man."

There's a guy named Kevin Malone on The Office?

I'm going to sue. He should be an Accountant that is balding, under-weight, often scowls. Plays in a POISON tribute band and is a very subdued man.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Walking After Work...

in the parking garage,
I had a hard time deciding
if it smelled like flowers
or urine.

Is this weird?

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Brokeback Mountain: Starring Lenny And George From Of Mice And Men...

You know, I really wouldn't mind the whole-fuck-it-I'll-just-save-my-money-and-buy-a-small-piece-of-land-in-Colorado-or-Wyoming-and-live-on-a-ranch-thing.

A small place.

Open areas. Ominous clouds on the horizon. A couple of horses wearing sweaters.

A monkey ranch hand family to do all of the chores.

Zombies to help maintain the banana groves.

Pens of small children to feed to the zombies.

You know - nice. Peaceful.

Just a simple ranch filled with clothed horses, monkeys and zombies.


Away from society.

A break from normal life.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

I Need To Run My Remit Report And Get Out Of Here...

A birthday attack is a type of cryptographic attack which exploits the mathematics behind the birthday paradox, making use of a space-time tradeoff. Specifically, if a function yields any of n different outputs with equal probability and n is sufficiently large, then after evaluating the function for about different arguments we expect to have found a pair of different arguments x1 and x2 with f(x1) = f(x2), known as a collision. If the outputs of the function are distributed unevenly, then a collision can be found even faster (Bellare and Kohno, 2004).

Digital signatures can be susceptible to a birthday attack. A message m is typically signed by first computing f(m), where f is a cryptographic hash function, and then using some secret key to sign f(m). Suppose Alice wants to trick Bob into signing a fraudulent contract. Alice prepares a fair contract m and a fraudulent one m'. She then finds a number of positions where m can be changed without changing the meaning, such as inserting commas, empty lines, one versus two spaces after a sentence, replacing synonyms, etc. By combining these changes, she can create a huge number of variations on m which are all fair contracts. In a similar manner, she also creates a huge number of variations on the fraudulent contract m'. She then applies the hash function to all these variations until she finds a version of the fair contract and a version of the fraudulent contract which have the same hash value, f(m) = f(m'). She presents the fair version to Bob for signing. After Bob has signed, Alice takes the signature and attaches it to the fraudulent contract. This signature then "proves" that Bob signed the fraudulent contract.

To avoid this attack, the output length of the hash function used for a signature scheme can be chosen large enough so that the birthday attack becomes computationally infeasible, i.e. about twice as large as needed to prevent an ordinary brute force attack. It has also been recommended that Bob cosmetically modify any contract presented to him before signing. However, this does not solve the problem, because now Alice suspects Bob of attempting to use a birthday attack.

The birthday attack can also be used to speed up the computation of discrete logarithms. Suppose x and y are elements of some group and y is a power of x. We want to find the exponent of x that gives y. A birthday attack computes xr for many randomly chosen integers r and computes yx ? s for many randomly chosen integers s. After a while, a match will be found: xr = yx ? s which means y = xr + s.

If the group has n elements, then the naive method of trying out all exponents takes about n / 2 steps on average; the birthday attack is considerably faster and takes fewer than steps on average.

There are a lot of potential band names up above, me thinks.

Read On A Message Board Re: Zach Braff's Newest Directing Gig...

"Garden State was a cinematic pyrmaid scheme to get our people laid, between him matisyahu and larry david our perception has shifted to ridiculously wealthy, marijuana smoking ultra sensitive emotional sorcerers."

I can't stop reading this.

I don't know why. I think I love it, but am unsure...

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Yo Te Llamo, Madre Cass...

I swear, the alcohol's eating away at my already-atrophied brain. Some mornings there are Word documents that I don't remember writing. Sometimes there are new desktop shortcuts. Sometimes I'll create a new blog that I always end up erasing.

Last week I found four pictures on my desktop of a naked woman that had to of weighed at least 800 pounds...

I'm hoping that I thought that the pictures were funny.

Seriously, because you never know about some people when they're drunk...

Monday, February 27, 2006

I Just Bought The Powers Definitive Hardcover And The DEMO Trade...

Anyway. Just read this on Warren Ellis' Bad Signal mailing list.

(I was reading older ones that I hadn't gotten around to. This might've been a month old)

This was about TV shows that he had recently checked out - and one review said:

LIFE ON MARS: wasn't as bad as I
was expecting. In fact, it was clever,
surreal stuff in places. The short
version is that a 2006 cop hit by
a car finds himself in 1973, and
still a cop. (The title refers to the
Bowie song, playing on his iPod in
2006 and on the eight-track
cassette in his car in 1973.) (I
believe there was a Japanese show
with a similar conceit a year or two
back.) 33 years extra knowledge
of criminology gives our boy a
certain edge, but the "polite" and
procedure-driven police service
training of 2006 is no bloody good
in 1973 Britain, when policing was
a lot different, a lot more ground-
level, more basic, and, yes, more
violent. John Simm, in the lead, is
a good actor, and Philip Glenister
is fine as his charmingly monstrous
boss Gene Hunt. Worth a go.

God, what a great fucking idea. I mean, it's not like fucking GOLD - but how rad is that, anyway?

I'd like to check it out, but my mind would be swarming while watching it and I'd ruin the whole experience for me. Much like I just did with my newly-purchased and soon-to-be-eBayed Ultimate Avengers DVD.

p.s. Does anybody know what the hell I'm typing about half the time? And even if you don't - do you mind?


Oops, sorry. I meant to say "goodbye".

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Malone Shoots Fellow Hunter...

It sucks to be stuck
in a body
and not
be able
to just float around freely
like some kind of
creative Santa Claus

Some writers
are content
to treat the Internet
like sooty chimneys
but I can’t do this anymore

I can’t do the once a year thing
can’t do the whenever I get around to it thing

I am not a good writer
I am tolerable at best
you get the discounted coupon’s amount versus the overall cost

I am last year’s Tsunami
I am Katrina
I am slippery mudslides
I am city-leveling earthquakes
I am Nino
The Pinta
Fresca Soda
The SATAN Maria

I am Red Tides and methane emissions
I am Carbon Monoxide poisoning and Oxygen Bars combined

I am everything that killed the dinosaurs

I am the inevitable Avian Human Flu

My mind is the reverse SETI

I will constantly be searching for intelligent life at home in my brain

I want to NOT be the light that burns twice as bright burning half as long
I want to be the result of constantly splitting atoms


I’m getting there

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

My Life As A Comic...

First time that I told jokes on stage was after high school in 1993. I was with friends at The Comedy Store in Los Angeles – I was only 18 years old at the time and got in with a fake ID that said that my name was Mario Fernando Jimenez and that I was 5 foot 6 inches, had short hair and lived in Anaheim. I had about four beers or so when the MC after the show said that an open mike night was going to start up and that you could sign in at the manager’s booth and –

No. Just kidding. The only stand up I’ve done has been everyday, reluctantly before work.

Ba Dum DUMB.


Seems that lately, not since the 90’s have previously deceased villains and defunct crime-fighting sidekicks been coming back to life in mainstream comic books.

We have Bucky Barnes, the once kid partner, coming back to haunt Captain America. I’ve noticed this because I’ve grown weak as of late and actually purchased some Captain America comics. I’ve always hated the Star Spangled Bastard. He represents everything that America stands for (e.g., ultimate gayness and lame dialogue and tepid stories that seem like they were written by our current administration.) Alien threats! Terrorism! (A.I.M.) The Red Skull! The Cosmic Cube grants unlimited power to its holder! Arrgghhh! Gee, Cap – don’t let the bad guys get it! Life as we know it could end! Wheeee!!!! Fart. Boring. Now that I look up at the beginning of this sentence, KID PARTNER of Captain America sounds kinda homo-suspicious doesn’t it?

Speaking of suspicious relationships – The once dead second Robin, The Boy Wonder is back now too. Remember? He was also a little boy who an older, sweaty man took as his ward. Yeah, he’s back – and nobody’s happier than Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Manor loyal butler. That means that he can break out the old 8 MM camera again. (He was getting tired of watching all of those old reels of the both of them wrestling together in The Bat-Cave.)

Back from the dead. Now, whom else? Colossus. That big, old, metal-lookin’ Russian bastard from The X-Men. He died and came back too. He likes to draw. This means that he’s gay too.

Oh yeah – Spiderman also! Yeah, of course you don’t know that he died because you actually have a life…no…wait – no, you don’t. Here I was going to make fun of myself for getting all trapped up in soap operatic monthly episodes that sometimes deal with people that fly around and wear spandex – but YOU, yes YOU – watch TV, don’t you?
Yes. You do. And that shit is built for morons, so I take back what I was going to say. Shit, I’d rather help Wonder Woman try to find her invisible jet in the morning after a drunken night at Superman’s house than watch The George Lopez Show. Yeah, so Spidey’s back. He ain’t dead no mo’.

Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern – the guy who was named after an appliance. The guy who was lucky that he didn’t find a crashed alien that gave him the powers of The BROWN WASHBOARD. Yeah, he’s back too. I don’t like him either, yet I almost DID buy a comic of his today only because at the end of the story Batman tried on his Green Power Ring. The whole giving-in-to-peer-pressure that GL was giving BATS had a whole TRYING-REEFER-FOR-THE-FIRST-TIME aura to it. And…AND, check this out – I almost bought a variant cover of the issue. Variant issues are something that the comic book companies do to make you become an Uber-Geek and to further deplete your already-skimpy wallet. They might draw a different picture on the cover and only make a 1:10 ratio of it available. This means that you spent the same amount of money for something that is the exact same in the other, but same issue. Ten bucks or...let’s see? $2.50? Kids could spend the mark-up on booze. Talking about comics has never helped me get laid. Being a writer has. So, what if I were a comic book writer? Comic book writers need girlfriends. Not unless you’re into belly fat and scruffy beards with shards of Big Mac lettuce in them. Thank god that I have one. (A girlfriend – not a Big Mac.)

I heard that The Invisible Woman AKA the girl from The Fantastic Four is supposed to die soon. No big loss. Ay, now here’s the rub – I think that having an invisible wife would be great. Awesome, Fucking spectacular amazingly right-on – BUT…she’s actually supposed to be hot in the comics. If she was ugly, turning invisible while having sex would seem advantageous to both parties then, huh? You wouldn't have to get up to turn off the lights. AND Mister Fantastic does have ELASTIC powers too. Can you imagine that? Your ugly wife is watching Extreme: Home Makeover Edition in the living room and you don’t even have to get up out of your chair to have sex with her? Just stretch the ol' penis into the other room. Too bad you couldn’t erase her vocal cords either, though. I’d take a mute companion over an invisible one any day. But, do her invisibilty powers make it easy for her to cheat, though?

“Honey I called for you all day. For like, six hours and couldn’t find you!”

“Oh. Sorry dear. I was gardening naked while invisible in the backyard and had my iPod cranked up. I guess I didn’t hear you.”

Actually, who would need to cheat – when you could turn invisible? You could follow home sexy movie stars and just masturbate while standing on their bathroom counter.

The Vision died and came back, sort of like in a programmed/resurrected consciousness kind of way. He was an android from The Avengers who had a wife who turned crazy and it turns out that she imagined the whole thing and that they never actually had children anyway because she was Bat-Shit crazy. DUH. He’s a fucking robot. I’d imagine sex too if I was married to A TALKING DILDO.

Donna Troy was dead for like, a year or so and then she came back. Who cares? I’ve never read anything about her. I know that some super heroes were probably sad. And then happy again. Then she named her daughter Helenov, or something like that. (waiting for you to get the stupid joke)

Jean Grey/Marvel Girl/Phoenix comes back all the time.

Blue Beetle came back, but is supposed to be a different guy than Ted Kord. What kind of situation is this? How much of an effect does this have on the regular nerd? Would your reaction be like, a “oh my god – nobody could EVER replace Liberace!” or a “Why does Darren from Bewitched look kind of different – ah, who cares!” type-of-thing?

Firestorm died saving everybody from some big thing. Some other guy inherited his powers. Nobody reads about this guy either, so everything’s the same, so sit down, that-one-guy-in-Georgia-who-owns-his-every-appearance. SIT DOWN, NERD.

Speedball dies in the upcoming Marvel: Civil War and will inevitably be coming back sooner or (hopefully) later. The only people who care about this are the fidgety people who are parking your cars and stealing all of the change in your ashtray for their nights fix of Heroin and Coke.

Oh yeah, and Hawkeye. He’s an Avenger also, who shoots arrows and died. He’s been popping up all sly and Boogeyman-ish lately. So, he’s back. Hopefully, when I eventually land a comic book writing gig – I can have his arms and limbs amputated. And then I’ll write a whole 58 page comic special dealing with him trying to roll away as a Hawk tries to peck out his eyeballs.

Funny. I was going to write about people in my life that I never write about and it turned into this. I was going to give them codenames and everything. But this was funnier and unfortunately longer.

So this is what you get.

Whatever I was going to write about before is DEAD.

DISCO dead.

Those Def Jam Fighting Video Games Would Be Fun To Play...

I feel like a dork listening to Snoop in the office.
I will not nod my head to the music.
It just seems like it would look...wrong. Just wrong for me to do it.

Very THE OFFICE. Very guy listening to NWA in his car at the beginning of Office Space. Very...not the place to appreciate a good song. Maybe with friends and drinking,

Ugh. This place just reeks of THE WAVE:LOVE SONGS FROM THE COAST or whatever the hell that staion's called.

I need me some Kenny G or some of that John Tesh, nigga!

A Lack Of Color, A Little Soul, A Mess Of Blues...

Girlfriend cries out

I stop typing

Honey what's wrong? Look at all these animals around you...

they woke me up

I'm right here honey. Over there. Writing. (puts covers closer to her shoulders)

(she makes sleepy, pouty face)

I'll turn out the light. (then kisses her forehead)

(Her pouty face subsides. Her eyebrows become unforrowed)

Good night, sweetheart.

(mumble, mumble)

Good night, honey.

I start typing.

Girlfriend dreams.

This book is made up, of course, but the story I had Bonnie tell actually happened in real life - in the death house of a penitentiary in Arkansas...


TITLE: ( y'know? I was going to make a list of what I got at the library today - but I stopped due to a combination of my laziness, the existence of efforts for minimal hee-haws, the soup that I'm making on the stove, my lack of focus, my guilt for not paying attention to the girlfriend after she was so understanding after I've spent the last two hours re-writing and re-typing my small play that won't be included in Joel Beers' play that I should've given to him a week ago and now she's fallen asleep, movies to be watched, comics to be read, early hour employment nastiness, thoughts to be thoughten, bringings to be broughten, beers to be forgotten...)

I'm here.

Trying to waste time how I want to.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Oscar And Felix Should’ve Worked More...

In the last three days my girlfriend and I have barely seen each other.
Roommates see each other more.
This is how it’s been for the last five years between us.
BUT, I do work two jobs now.
But, anyway – I had a quick question –
When people ask me how long we’ve been going out – should I say, like, two and a half years to be more accurate?

My stupidity is purposeful and extremely well crafted...

I dreamt that my friend’s mother and her mother’s friend had read this website and I freaked out because I had previously written in an entry saying that the mothers friend was tall, fat and ugly or something like that.

And then the mother’s big friend kissed me.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

So, say that you made ten bucks an hour somewhere. Anywhere. What’s that break down to? I’m horrible at math, but what would every ten minutes that slowly ekes by be worth to that working person?

So, say that this working stiff spends an average 8 hours or so-or whatever amount of time, looking at the clock until he gets to go home.

This person’s exhausted. Their job is hard or boring – maybe both. This person now wants to relax. This person likes to go to bars and so then goes to his neighborhood tavern, sports bar, etc. thispersonthisperson

He likes beer. Lets say that the average price of a bottle of beer is 4 bucks. How many beers does this guy drink in the first hour? Let’s also just say that he’s being social on an average level and that this person is not interested in a member of the opposite sex that night. (Drinking would be more expensive and their duration at the bar would increase also)

He has three beers in that first hour and then four more in the second. (Does that sound like a lot to you? They’re Amstel Lights and he’s an alcoholic.)

7 beers total @ $4 a pop = $28

+ $10 in tips (cheap bastard) = $38 to drink for the night.

So the guy made $80 bucks at work – take out $12 for taxes and lets take off three for various SS and all of that crap. $65 bucks for his workday then.

This means that the guy worked 8 hours for $27

Is that like, $3.37 an hour?

It’s basically, a crappy fast food hamburger
A comic book w/tax
A tip
Change you get back from buying a big box of kids breakfast cereal
A small coke at the movie theatres
3/4ths of a pack of cigarettes
A side of bacon
A movie rental
A Library fine
That’s almost the price of a beer! Without the tip. (You cheap bastard)

What does this all mean? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m bored at work and can’t wait to get some drinks afterward.

I don’t like Amstel Light, by the way.

And I drink way more than that and am never by myself and I tip a lot better.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

I Want To Be As Famous As Pat Sajak But With Beautiful Hair Like Nuno From The Band, Extreme...

That is totally not true.

I DID once, have long hair - sadly, yes...almost exactly like his.

This was 68 years ago.


...Oh yeah, an hour ago I was offered to be an extra in a movie right down the street from my house through a friend. They said that they needed a tall, handsome guy to be in the background or to stand around shivering drinking hot chocolate that tastes like tepid donkey diarrhea or something like that. Thank you for pretending that I'm handsome. Thank you for thinking that I'm tall too, Brandon-Mr-Six-Foot-Two.

I said no. He really didn't believe me that I didn't want to do it. I said that I had a writing project that needed to be done (which is true). He asked me if I had a deadline. I didn't lie. I said no. That I just didn't want to do it and that I'd rather write instead.

This, ladies and gentleman, makes me feel like a million dollars. Years and years ago, I would've dreamt for the opportunity to be "discovered" or to just even be around small productions, blargh, blargh, etc...I had pictures taken once. Which still get pulled out every now and then by drunken friends and screeched at HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gone to extra casting calls, etc.

NOW? I just want to sit home write, read comic books and drink light beer.

Acting? Gross. Vomit. Poo.

Writing? Excellent. Virgins await me in heaven. Candy for everyone.

Just kidding. Fuck that. Of course I would still like to act. Hell yeah. I'm a complete idiot on stage, on camera and in front of a microphone. I'm every Easter ham ever ingested. I am Jack's lack of dignity. I am Jack's expired prescription of Ritalin.

But writing is easier - and you're just as much of a helpless whore by doing it.

This just means that I'm lazier.

And, by the way - I just got done emailing a friend back that works for a famous Talent/Lit agency in L.A. and that wants to help me out with submissions, etc.

I like this.

BUT, still - if comic book companies would ever pick up the scripts and synopsis' that I've sent them - than I wouldn't need all of the kind bastards all across the universe to help me turn into a butterfly, now would I?

Gay butterfly.

Now watch Brandon get a speaking role and then become as famous as Kevin Federline and then never speak to me again.

And then I'll be a fat, baby endangering Brittney Spears.


Okay...let's pretend that certain dumb TV programs, movies, music, etc. don't exist.

And once we nominate something, it actually WONT EXIST ANYMORE due to our combined magical powers.

It's that easy. So that the next time that you're bored or stoned off of your mind and watching a sitcom that you've always hated, or forced to see a movie that sucks or exposed to somebody else's crappy music - you can remember and say, hey - I forgot about Fat Free Milk Anti-Media! I'm NOT really watching, listening to this, etc.This is a figment of my imagination!

You can yell at it - I KILLED YOU! YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!

That's all it takes.

People don't count though, bitches...

I get to nominate one first...


Monday, February 13, 2006

Say, Thank You...

I just wrote something ten thousand times
more boring
than this sentence

I erased it
because I don't want you
to feel ten thousand times more unsatisfied

Than now

Saturday, February 11, 2006

I Only Went To Target To Get Toilet Paper...

STATUARY 2 @ 12.99

TOTAL? $126.86


Thursday, February 09, 2006

Here's a copy of the email you sent through the International Campaign for Tibet...

Message: Dear Google,

As a Tibet supporter and someone who wishes to see increased human rights and
democracy for Tibetans and Chinese living in China, I am dismayed to read about
your decision to begin actively censoring the content of on behalf of
the Chinese government.

Your decision to support the repression of Chinese and Tibetans seeking
alternative information and voicing alternative views is a sad day for the
people of China and Tibet and makes Google complicit in the Chinese Communist
Party's shameful distortion of the truth of its own history in Tibet.

I have read your Company Principles, "Ten Things Google Has Found to be True",
and would like you to read "Ten Things You Won't Find to be True on":

1. The consistent non-violent efforts of the Dalai Lama to bring peace to Tibet
through understanding between Chinese and Tibetans.

2. That Tibet was independent before invasion in 1949 and has not always been a
part of China.

3. That hundreds of thousands of Tibetans have died as a result of the Chinese

4. The abuses of human rights, the imprisonment of hundreds of nuns and monks
and the destruction of monasteries in Tibet.

5. The abduction of the 6 year old Gendun Choekyi Nyima, 11th Panchen Lama of
Tibet, by Chinese forces in 1995. He has never been seen since.

6. The UN Investigator on Torture's Beijing statement of 2/12/2005 that there is
a "consistent and systematic pattern of torture" against Tibetans in China.

7. The number of Tibetans who die every year trying to cross the Himalayas to
escape into exile.

8. The damage being done to the Tibetan environment by projects the Tibetans are
forced to accept from Beijing.

9. The destruction of large parts of the holy city of Lhasa to make way for new
Chinese development.

10. The population transfer of Chinese to Tibet, making the Tibetans a minority
in their own land.

The internet is one of the few ways the Tibetan people can seek justice, voice
their opinion and have their view heard by others inside China. Google has
joined the Chinese government in robbing them of that opportunity. I ask you to
reconsider your decision to be a partner in this evil act.

Kevynn Malone

I have no idea what a meme is, but I saw Sarah Brown doing one - so I thought that I might do one also because I'm a follower/lemming/automaton/poo-head...

Four jobs I’ve had:

Puppeteer at an amusement park for toddlers
Pizza maker (like, three times - I think)
Content writer for an internet animation team

Four Movies I can watch over and over:

True Romance
Empire Strikes Back
Fight Club

Four Places I’ve Lived:

Alta Loma, Ca.
Placentia, Ca.
Fullerton, Ca.
My Own Sick Head, Ca.

Four TV shows I love:

The Twilight Zone
The Real World
History Channel
Discover Channel

Four places I’ve vacationed / Who’s Almost 30 But Has Never Left The Continental United States Except For The million trips to Mexico...

Austin, Texas
Santa Fe, New Mexico
Park City, Utah
Fullerton, California

Four of my favorite dishes:

Bud Light
Processed Meat

Four sites I visit daily:

Fat Free Milk
Golden Fiddle
Things Overheard In New York

Six places I would rather be right now:

Downtown Sante Fe, New Mexico
Echo Station, Hoth
Market City In Austin, Texas
The Tower Of High Sorcery At Palanthus, Krynn
Brooklyn, New York
Wayne Manor, Gotham City

Four bloggers I’m tagging/slightly alienating:

Wil Wheaton
Warren Ellis
Kevynn Malone
Maddox Jollie Pitt

Wednesday, February 08, 2006


I’m glad that you’re feeling better now and that the nice man fixed you. You’d been gone for a long time and I was starting to get worried. At first I was lonely, but then, as time passed – I realized how much more I was reading and then didn’t really miss you as much. I realized that you were a leech and like a technological equivalent of a fat bag of weed on a coffee table.

You are a tool of convenience, MY COMPUTER. Nothing more. Effective immediately, I will not talk to you, I will not play with you or shoot the shit with you. I will USE YOU for email, writing assignments, eBay, iTunes, Fat Free Milk and for porn. That’s it.

Thank you.

Kevynn Malone

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Four Year Old Niece Says To me...

Her - Say, "Ow, my hip!"

Me - Ow. My hip.

Her - You're not hip. You're old.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Like Fallujah Mortar Fire...

I have a farting problem.

I honestly think that there's something’s wrong with me.

I’m scared.

What if my ass pops?

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Percent Daily Values Are Based On A 2,000 Calorie Diet...

I hate feeling nostalgic.
I remember when I was younger, and I didn’t hate nostalgia so much.
Man...those were the days.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Teddy Roosevelt said:

"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

And my worthy cause will be to get very drunk tonight.

Thank you, Teddy. *clink*

Monday, January 30, 2006

Reverse Medusa Meets The Man With The Achilles Brain...

Girl cut me off this morning. My car almost slammed into hers. I started cursing at her and ended up at the same light as her. She was going to make a right at the light and I was going to go straight.

Her window starts to go down. I start to get excited because I think that for some reason, she’s going to say something to me. Yell at me. Why? I don’t know – but I’m about to whip up a verbal shit-storm when –

I see her and…she’s really pretty.


And she says, “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Chapman Street?”

And do you know what I did? What I said to this distracted, horrible bitch of a driver that only seconds before had put my well-being and maybe my whole life in jeopardy?

You got that right. I totally changed in an instant.

Before I knew what was happening, a big smile crept up on my face, my voice changed and I became very, very helpful. I even apologized because I couldn’t give her better directions.

Yeah. (sigh)

Now...there’s nothing wrong with me. This is wrong with all of us. You, me and everybody, dogs and cats included too.

Pretty people get away with EVERYTHING.

And we let them.
We run faster to help them.
We pretend we’re interested in what they’re saying.
We marry them.
We have kids with them.
We watch movies with them in it.
We let them cut through us with fiery swords.
We let them walk all over us.
We let them into our lives and we love it.

We let them.

Yes, we do.

And I must not be that pretty then...because people give me shit all of the time.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

In Da Office. Word Up, Sucka.

I am doing so much nothing today that it's messing up my shit.

Monday, January 23, 2006

The Slow Assassination Of Kevynn Malone...

I swear to Zeus that the girlfriend and the various domesticated animals in the house have conspired to not ever let me have a proper sleep. I'm an insomniac, Restless Leg-syndrome Nerd, and all together Mr. Nightmare-sweaty-scream-in-your-sleep anyway, many times can a guy be woken up when he's savoring that last two hours before he has to get up?

Throw a pillow by my head?
Fucking cats using my head as a Twister mat?
Dog burrowing in the sheets Like Cheney does for Oil?
Landlady measuring windows outside?
Girlfriend deciding to ask me questions? Now?


Was, actually.

It's hard enough to get anything that mimics human speech patterns when I'm awake.
When I'm asleep? You get what it sounds like when live baby piglets get thrown in campfires...

Go away and let me be Jabba The Hutt.


Thursday, January 19, 2006

The Sky Looks ILM Fake...

he checks his pockets for scraps of paper
he swears he had things to do
but there were no papers

so now what
he thought
what am I missing

will these things
hit me in the head when I'm at home
will I have to get back up

are they that important

no no no

out of sight
out of mind
or out of mind
out of sight


no no no

Monday, January 16, 2006


Men over 40 that wear colognes that smell like fish, ass, grass and the cigarette smoke of dive bars?

STOP IT. Thank you.

Also, I earlier had put my half-eaten submarine sandwich in the office fridge. Later on, I went back to grab a Coke and noticed that the whole fridge now smelled like my sandwich. I wondered if anybody had taken something of theirs out of the fridge and then were grossed out by the now over-powering smell of my Sub.

I felt like I had just silently farted in a crowded elevator.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

At Least They Have Jillian Barberie...

You wake up this morning from having horrible nightmares to Kevin Federline being interviewed on The Fox Channel. You try to go back to the nightmares. The day can only get better.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006


It's kind of funny.

I've been bored at work and reading, reading, reading various crap on the internet.

I think to myself, "I should write something, but then I'll have to go back to Blogger, type in my password, wait, and then blah, blah, blah, It takes too much time."

So I go to Blogger anyways and...Oh shit - DON'T have to type in my password because last time I was on it, I checked the little box that asked if it wanted it to remember me. Which, apparently, I guess it did.

And so there I was with a blank space in front of me, no delays, everything that I complained about in my head didn't exist I typed...this.


Hmmm...It's kind of like somebody giving you a free pass to Disneyland, but then when you ride the Tea Cups - you shit your pants.

Monday, January 09, 2006

The White Mountains...

The phones are acting weird today. Calls disconnect. I can hear a click when I get on the phone – kind of like somebody else is getting on the line right after me. There is also a faint hum in the background that I never noticed before. The computer’s are sluggish and I can see the silhouettes of shuffling feet from beneath the door, but every time I yank it open, there’s nobody there.

When you drive home tonight – watch out, try to keep your eye in the sky, avoid being tailed, lock your doors and turn out the lights when you get home.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

My Car Smells Like Cat Pee Too...

It’d be convenient if I had a computer attached to my head. Then I could write about stuff while it was happening instead of sporadically firing away when time allowed.

But considering how much I fall down when I’m drinking – I guess my Head-Computer would be broken a lot.

I also never carry eggs or light bulbs in my pockets for this reason also.