Thursday, February 26, 2004



Homage To Catalonia...



I never usually end up talking about personal things, I don’t know why – some stuff peeks through every once in a while – it’s not like I avoid it – just whatever makes it on the screen makes it on the screen. Back in the good ol’ days, when the majority of the stuff that I’d write was on paper – I’d pour out my heart – but back then my heart was overflowing…or empty – you take your pick. Now, I’m just lucky to spend time throwing words into the cesspool that is The Internet. I was going to say The Ocean. I don’t know why I said cesspool.

Ummm…yeah, lost my train of thought…Oh yeah. What’s up with me lately? Do you care? No. Will I continue? Yes.

I’ve been working a lot – but reluctantly because I hate everything that I do and would love a new job, so it’s up to me, punks. It’d be nice to have a good job again. You know, a semi-normal job in an office doing fun things like I used to do. If anybody knows of a good, doesn’t have to be exciting job that pays a decent salary in THE O.C. – you all just let me know at Kevynn75@hotmail.com, okay? I’ll give you candy. I try to take days off, sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes things get payed. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I spell PAID wrong. Sometimes I care, Scooby.

Got all of my money back from the bank. They messed up a deposit of mine and ended up owing me about $500. I love banks. No. I. Don’t. I want to punch a bank in the face.

I’ve been playing way too much poker with friends. I win sometimes – which helps. Sometimes I lose – which doesn’t. But all of my friends are nice. Sometimes they’ll invite friends from work. Sometimes, they’re not going to be coming back because they’re weird. Like the guy that I branded “The Poker Nazi”. Did not like “The Poker Nazi”. “The Poker Nazi” will not be coming back because Captain America Kevynn said so.

To add to all of this – I’ve been going on a comic book frenzy. I don’t know how this happened, folks. I somehow got back into this whole nerd game again. I love it, though. But I’m running out of space in my house and in my head. Dollar back issue bin sales in the last two weeks aren’t helping either. I just remembered that I gave one of the guys at the comic books store the URL to this site, which makes me an ultra-super-duper-nerd. Yeah. I didn’t give it to the cool girl that works there. I gave it to a male. He’s probably reading this right now. No offense, guy – towards you as a person. It’s just your gender that makes my actions pitiful, sharing this with a girl still makes me a nerd – buy just not as much of one, y’ dig? Guys are poo. But you’re in my cool book. Discount on next weeks issues, please. Thank you.

I never told you that I was going to go skydiving, did I? Or, maybe I did? Ahhh..who cares. This was a Xmas prez from Joe. This’ll be in April, I think. I’m going to fall out of the sky.

Gonna visit the sis in Austin. Soon. Easter? Something like that. She just wrote me an email that she’s dating a new guy. A mechanic, she said. I’m too old for this stuff.

Going to Vegas soon. Or at least that’s what we’re saying. April? Combining it with the skydiving? Need donations.

Amsterdam in September. Girlfriend’s graduating from college. How will I afford to get there? I’ll make do. Getting back will be the problem. Ha.

I need to get all of the tattoo work done on my back before the guy goes on tour for a month. Need to remind myself to get all of my permanent scarring done as soon as possible.

Need to smoke.

Done.

I actually looked at baby clothes the other day. This is how old I’m getting. No, I’m not pregnant – but my friends are dropping off puppy litters at an alarming rate, so now this is part of my constant perusals when I’m in clothing departments. The older we get, the wider we wander. Tools matter now. Flowerpots. Dishes. Glue. Scotch tape. Lampshades. All of these things make me weep.

Never got my car window fixed. Now I can swim and drive at the same time. I won’t need to shower before work tomorrow. I’m just going to bring shampoo in the car.

They opened up a new Pet Smart close to me. So, now, maybe I won’t have to go so far to get all of the supplies and feed that I need for my girlfriend’s ever-growing stable of refugee wildlife. Is me, expressing pleasure at having a Pet Smart nearby equivalent to a hick being happy that a new Wal-Mart just opened in his vicinity? You know, so that he doesn’t have to drive forty miles into town just to buy some damn ammo?

I really need to get that cartoon script done. Mr. Big Connections at my work has been asking me about it. Mr. Needs To Find Some Time needs to get that shit in his hands. Big studios = happy happenings for me.

I’ve sworn off of sporadic freelance writing for the rest of my life. I’ve chopped the head off of that hideous beast. May it rest in Hell.

Cartoon Pig and me started a play. I’m waiting for him to type up what we have so far. But, he’s kind of busy being a student teacher and dodging spit wads, so I’ll wait…

I also talked to Joe about helping me with one of my scripts. Years ago, he used to help me write it via email, back in the day when we both had fancy jobs and ample amounts of time…Now, he’s divorced and I’m in a relationship. Go figure.

Never got back word from Marvel comics about my writing submissions. They said that it would take a crap load of time. So…now…I think…it’s been a crap load. It was worth a shot. I would’ve killed off everybody in the Marvel Universe anyway, so maybe it was a good thing.

I’ve been taking more pictures now and know how to transfer them all to my computer – but I don’t know how to make them all small and neat. I think I need Photoshop. I had a copy once, but think that I lent it out to a friend. I need it back, friend or else I can’t post pics of me, then I can’t turn people into stone – and what fun is that. Some nice guy wrote me – telling me how to do it – but I’m really stupid and the shit passed right through me like last night’s Taco Bell.

And I think that’s it.

See? Aren’t you sorry you asked? Oh – wait…you didn’t ask for this much info. Oh, well. Live with it. I do. Tell me a story. Search through your parent’s attics and give me comic books. Dress up like Atticus Finch. I’ll be Boo Radley, but I get to be Atticus next time, okay?

Now I can go.

But most importantly – now you can go too.

Bye.




Tuesday, February 24, 2004



That Last Post...

Was really bad. I have been having a lot of those dreams, though.
All my writing lately hasn't even been half-assed...it's been, like...one-sixteenth of an ass.

This post will be better.

Oh, wait...no it won't.






Mi Ojos...

Man, have my dreams been crazy lately or what?
Seriously. They've all been nuts. All of them involve women.
Ummm...maybe I shouldn't say anymore.






Cat...



Jumped on my shoulder while I was pooing.
I tried to lean a little...
and it was an expensive sweater, y' know?
So, I tilted to the right - but he wasnt down with that.
His grip only tightened.
So, then I tried to, kind of, lean towards the left. Towards the shower.
I pulled back the curtain and...
He clawed the hell out of my neck.
I screamed.
On the toilet.
It would've beenn a lot funnier if you would've been there.
But...why would you be in the bathroom with me anyway?
Get out.
Don't stay.
How do I get in these situations, btw?
If my life was a movie - you'd pass it off as poorly written...

Oh...wait.




Monday, February 23, 2004



Be Like Einstein…



Think of Cosmological Constants, but forget to get a haircut.

What’s Einstein like, Yolanda? He’s cool…he’s cool

It’s been raining sporadically in the past week. I’m apologizing to it right now. I’ve been ignoring it. I feel horrible. This may be the only time in my life in which I’ve totally been unaware of my surroundings. I’ve been so wrapped up in bullshit, that I haven’t taken the time to do the things that I used to enjoy and that used to make me an appreciative person. I haven’t once walked around in the rain. I haven’t splashed purposely in a puddle. I haven’t had the windows open. I haven’t once looked up at the sky while it rained. This is all my fault and no one else’s. I’ve forgotten a little of whom I used to be. For this, I beg your humble forgiveness.

But I’m already making atonements for my sins.

I’m typing this on a laptop in the backyard in the rain.

In my underwear.

Thank you. Have a nice day.




Friday, February 20, 2004




Now My Socks Are Wet...

Hey now. We just cleaned the carpets, so I have to take off my shoes. Well, actually...we didn't just clean the carpets - she did. I was at the neighbors playing JENGA. I ended up losing the big match. I now have the title, " Ultimate Loser. " I can live with that. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but JENGA will never hurt me. I wish I was made of wood. Some would say that since that I'm a male - that in a way - I am. I can live with that also. Anything that anybody says about me tonight must be true. That's how I feel right now. Yup. I agree.




Thursday, February 19, 2004



Five Dollar Boom Boom...



I seriously used to hump bedposts and basketball poles when I was young...

Am I ashamed?

Maybe.




Tuesday, February 17, 2004



Sex And The Wussy...

What's worse? Dashing home to record the Sex And The City cast farewell on Oprah after work for my girlfriend, or me being just as excited to watch it as her? I think I know the answer to this one...






Saturday, February 14, 2004



Harvey Pekar Depot...

So far, I picked up the sucky-ass tulips that I ordered, and did a double take. The arrangement seemed way too small. I told the gals at the flower shop that this one wasn't mine. They showed me the receipt. I paid thirty dollars for poo. I said thank you. Started laughing in the car. Gave the girlfriend her present. It was nice. Now I'm gonna go eat. Then I'm gonna start drinking. Then I will chop off her head and hide the body. Stupid Valentines Day.




Friday, February 13, 2004



Mrs. Vlad Tepes = Happy...

Seriously, I think that this may be the earliest I've gone to sleep in a loooooooonnng time...

Rejoice!





Thursday, February 12, 2004



Right About Now...

Tha funk soul brutha'. I know you were thinking that when I said it. Anyway, I can't hear a damn thing right now. My ears have been all plugged up since I've been a little sicky lately and now I gave it to my girlfriend, but she's got it ten times worse than I had it. Round of applause for me, please. Thank you. I'll be here all week. Remember to tip your waitresses...

So...whatever you've been saying about me - I can't hear you, go nuts - you fargin' bastiches.




Wednesday, February 11, 2004



Just Got Back From Taking...

No, not a poo - but the new cat to the vet to get his balls snipped off. I've never had a guy cat before. I never knew what a pissy, little horny cat can make a house smell like. It's been miserable. So, off he went. And now, maybe he's in a cage? pumped up full of drugs to make him sleep easier. He's a pound lighter and dreaming...of taking a big crap in one of my shoes when he gets back...

I'm sorry, Spider-The-New-Cat.

Oh, wait...no, I'm not.






Ooooooo...I Just Called The Cops...

On some guy across the street, yelling into the night. Hey, he might be cool and all - he may be speaking out the poetry in his mind - but, say your words somewhere else, buddy. I'm crazier than you, and there's only enough room for one of us right now, okay Mr. Weirdo-In-The-Park?







We Have Millions Of Probe Droids Searching The Galaxy ... I Want Proof, Not Leads....

Man. Seriously. I can't concentrate. Too late. Too little time. Getting over a small cold and took the night off because of it. What have I done with my time? It's out there somewhere in space, speeding through galactic, philotic ansibles and landing on Greedo's vid screen.

New links to the left.
I'll get to more later.
Falling asleep...




Monday, February 09, 2004



Electric Youth...



Got out of the bar at three in the morning last night. Tons of people all after eleven. I was also coming down with a cold or something too, but all I needed was some sleep. I got some. Do I feel better? No. Am I going to play poker and drink some beer and laugh and eat bad food and spend money and use AND again? Yes.




Sunday, February 08, 2004



This Weekend...

Has sucked so far.
How?
It just has.
I mean, I still don't have super powers...so...
It sucked.




Wednesday, February 04, 2004

The Best Thing That I Did Today
Was The Worst Thing That I Could've Done...
Because Then - Everything Was Better After That...





I have a new wallet now. Strikes me funny that, in twenty-eight years, I think that this is only the second time that I've bought one myself. There were probably a couple before that, but they were probably fastened together with Velcro, so they don't count. I might've traded a friend one of my G.I. Joes for one of the wallets that I had before. And the one before this, was a Harley Davidson one that I bought in a biker shop in downtown Cincinnati when I was eighteen. It had a long chain on it. I thought it was cool. And it helped prevent people from stealing it while I tried to sleep on the Greyhound bus too.

Dude, yes - I am getting older...nothing makes an old dog sniff the aging air more than perusing wallets in Target because your old one's on its last thread. I cheaped out and bought it at Target. Do you have Target where you live? It's like the west coast equivalent of your Wal-Mart. Except without the guns. And the old people greeting you. We do have Wal-Mart here though. Don't get me wrong. We have a lot here that you do too. Except White Castles...maybe that's a good thing. But...

Buying a new wallet made me feel ancient. Car lots, buying booze, lap dances, work clothes, ordering for your date, having kids call you SIR...none of this makes you feel as dusty as buying a wallet by yourself. I don't know why, but it does. I also bought some plain, white t-shirts, socks, light bulbs, Cokes, and picture frames. That's old too. But I did spend a lot of time agonizing over whether to buy more Star Wars figures - so that doesn't make me a gray ol' man yet, does it?

If I could've stopped any part of the day today, it would've been the part where I woke up, and if I could've sped up a part of the day it would've been the part that I'm at now. Stretch it to the limit. See what happens in the end before you fall asleep and have to return it the next day to avoid late fees.

I think that I just figured out the law of nature, kids. We have to hunt down all of the cats, let the dogs fight it out amongst themselves and let the monkeys be monkeys. Everything else can be bugs and insects. That sounds good to me.

I'm scared of the snail's pace in the world's race. I remember how cute and sad my little sister was, all at once, when she was young. She used to construct little dollhouses for the numerous snails that used to inhabit our front and backyard bushes. My father eventually found out and made her move her sticky cardboard and miniature plastic furniture mansion outside in the front by the doorbell. One day, as I was getting ready for school, she ran up to me crying. I followed her outside and looked towards the direction that she was pointing at with her tiny little fingers. Cardboard snail shelter intact, but myriad shiny snail trails leading from her house, over the walls, and back into the bushes.

Sad for little girls. A relief for fathers. Freedom for fast-moving snails in the night. It must've been some operation for them under the cover of hushed darkness. I bet they ran real fast. She was only slowing them down.

Little sister's all grown up now, trying to build her own house. While I feel like one of her snails. Except the walls are bigger for me and I can't figure out which way to go. Would you look for me if I left a phosphorescent trail for you? Would you try to retrieve me like she did? Would you try to replace me with another or just forget about me and move on to something bigger?

I like my new wallet. It's nicer. Sleeker. Slimmer. Kind of like how I am now in my older age. I liked only filling in the new wallet with the bare essentials and chucking out the pack rat paranoiac feeling that I-cant–throw-this-away-because-I-think-that-I-might-need-it-in-an-emergency. I like feeling that if an emergency came up and if I needed a number or a scrap of paper that I'd survive and that I should just chill and that none of this stuff comes up anyway, and that if I really needed it - then I could get it - and if I couldn't? Then fuck it. My mind keeps on telling me to get jumper cables for my car, but I still haven't gotten those yet, though - have I? So why worry about having a certain business card? Yes. Why?

Oh...everything's fine. This is part of the reason why I turn nonsense letters into nonsense sentences. This is how I've always been. All questions with, maybe, a different answer every second. Every second breeds more questions - all you're trying to do is catch up. You forget most of it by the time that you wake up the next day - and then...shake...stir...repeat process.

Looking at the long list of ingredients to the package of Pringles that I brought home for my girlfriend makes me depressed. Looking at the cigar to my right doesn't. Uh-huh. Yeah. Hypocrite. I spent all of my day working at a job that I hate doing, now that I should be sleeping at three in the morning - I finally feel alive. Love the girlfriend and can't wait to spend time with her - but now that she's asleep in the next room - I feel alive. Feeling like, I think, the person that she fell in love with. The person at work all day doesn't exist. He's just a gossamer image of me now. Tonight's ME can totally kick today's ME's ass.

I'm getting better and better each day…I hope. I need a little fast and a little slow snail pace. I need what I need based on my schedule. I need you to listen to me. I need to listen to myself. I need to be young and old all in the same moment. I need sleep and I need to wake up. I want you to kiss me and I want you to leave me alone. I need more time and I've used all of mine up. I need to keep drinking and I need to sober up. I need to start running harder. I only want to float. I can' t watch. My eyes won't close. I should stop writing...

But I can't shut up...


Monday, February 02, 2004



Shotgun Hemingway...

Goodbye Janet Jackson superbowl picture. My fault for putting it up in the first place. I didn't care when I was watching the stupid half time show, I was too busy drinking free beers at my employee party. I posted it last night, but I was drunk. I think that I have more important things to post anyway. Like stuff about comic books, beer, and nasty, ol' Mynocks sucking out all of my juice. You gotta pick em' all off, one by one. Check thoroughly - you don't want to miss one and then have to pull over again.

It's raining hard and then minutes later - hardly raining. All of the windows are open. I cleaned around the house today. I can feel the chill air blowing as I type this, kind of reminds me of how I used to write back in my single days. All alone in a big, ol' apartment, with no company except for weather...and it's cold in Kalifornia tonight. Not like your cold, but my cold. Orange County cold. Which isn't as tough as yours, but beautiful just the same.








Won 340 Dollars In Poker And 50 dollars On The Super Bowl Janet Jackson Tit Fest This Weekend...

I feel pretty lucky.
And I took tonight off.
No bartending for this guy.
Buy me a drink.





Friday, January 30, 2004



Boring Words...

I finally figured out the whole digital camera thing. Both my girlfriend and I have been lagging on experimenting with swingers parties...oops...I meant, lagging on experimenting with downloading pictures. I don't know if I'll keep another blog with photos, or just post em' here, or never show them. Oh, and I also don't know how to make em' smaller - do I need PhotoShop for that? or can I use something else? I tried with some other programs similar to it, but the results sucked. I could swear that I had Photoshop. I think I lent it out. I never get my crap back, man - I swear. I have no memory card anyway. I need to get one. Sooner or never.

I forgot to tell you that I'm going sky diving too. That's in April, I think.

The bank lost $450.00 of mine. I spent about an hour yesterday with them while they sorted out their fuck up.

I hope that your weekend is good. We're having an employee party on Super Bowl Sunday. I could give a rat's arse about the outcome of the game. I'm just there to drink the free beer and to not work.

This post is boring.

I apologize.

Wait. No, I don't.





Wednesday, January 28, 2004



Just A Minute Ago...

Her - You smell like a baby...
Me - What? Babies poop themselves.
Her - No, you smell like a good baby.
Me - ...That's because I just ate one.




Tuesday, January 27, 2004



Shipping This Week: January 28...





STAR WARS INFINITIES RETURN OF THE JEDI #2 (Of 4) $2.99
BATMAN #623 $2.25
HELLBLAZER #192 (MR) $2.75
SUPERMAN #201 $2.25
POWERS #36 (MR) $2.95
WALKING DEAD #4 (MR) $2.95
WANTED #2 (Of 6) (MR) $2.99
AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #503 $2.25
THE PUNISHER #2 (MR) $2.99
ULTIMATE FANTASTIC FOUR #2 $2.25
ULTIMATE SIX #6 (Of 7) $2.25

This is all of the stuff that I have to get that is coming out at the comic book store tomorrow.
Every dollar I spend on comic books adds a point to my nerd pool.
I have a lot of points.

Thank you.







Wondering...

What if Tim Burton directed a remake of To Kill A Mockingbird?
Who would he cast as Boo Radley?
Besides Johnny Depp, I mean...





Monday, January 26, 2004



Super Nein...

Sometimes I don't feel like doing anything,
and then I have days like today in which I don't -
and it makes me wish that I did...




Thursday, January 22, 2004



Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep, And I think that maybe the curtains are closing on me, But I wake up, Yes I wake up, Smiling. Sometimes I feel that the chance is surprising, Surprisingly good to be moving around, So I wake up, Yes I wake up, Smiling. So what? I feel fine, I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life, I'm alright, I feel good, So I'll do, I'll try to stop moving, Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep, And I've got to get going so much that I wanted to do, Yes I wake up, Smiling. And this could be my last chance, This may be my only chance, Yeah this could be my last chance, No more keeping my feet on the ground. Sometimes I feel that the chance is surprising, Surprisingly good to be moving around, And I move, And I wake up, Smiling. So what? I feel fine, I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life, I'm alright, I feel good, So I'll do, well it's time to stop moving. And this could be my last chance, This may be my only chance, Yeah this could be my last chance, No more keeping my feet on the ground. There's nothing to keep me, Nothing to keep me.



I am convinced that someday, a team of historians will spend years going through every single toy, drawing, scrap of writing, piece of junk, etc. to somehow dissect my grand life. They'll categorize everything, hoping, someday, to put it all on display. "Kevynn Malone's Pez Collection", "Nudie Drawings", "Nail Polish"...things like that.

They'll read through those forty notebooks that I have molding away in the garage, they'll unearth every file on my computer. My clothing will be purchased by a young, snotty actor and worn to holo-movie premieres. Gothic teens will scribble away Malone verses on their holo-Pee Chee folders during Economics. My great, granddaughter will be an old woman and refuse to speak to historians, fans, and the press. She'll never leave her mansion and silently curse my existence for the burdens that my brilliance bestowed upon her.

My house will be declared a historical landmark, and through photographs - it will be painstakingly recreated to look like it does today. Maybe they'll even make a movie about me, but they'll get all of the facts wrong. They'll jumble things together and kind of throw in a galactic predicament to heighten the drama. Paper cuts, break ups, and fuck ups aren't enough, I guess. They'll throw in Satan and a gay interior decorator too. Just because.

My image will be on t-shirts sold on the internet, people will dress like I do now, the glasses that I wear will finally come back in style. Poverty will be too. Fans will want to stay true to my works and live like a deaf, Chinese immigrant.

Somebody will write a book on Star Wars - but will write it based on what I thought about it. There will be Essays on Malone's Essays on Chewbacca's homosexuality. What'll happen to my comic book collection? Where will it end up? Why, at Leroy's Boy Home, that's where. Poor, beaten, disadvantaged children will be able to check out my issues only if they've been good and remember to not smear dirt on the pages of my old Amazing Spidermans.

They'll wonder, they'll write, ponder, theorize, oh, yes they will, as to what went on in my head, and how beautiful and adventurous it must've been to live my life - oh, what was it like to live his life? I wish my life was that exciting, they'll say...

Why did he have to die?, kids will cry! Young girls will do secret things to themselves after the lights have gone out and the parents are asleep. My face will lull their aching bodies into peaceful dreams. High school jocks will tell anybody with one of my books about how I was a necrophiliac, homo, and a pussy, and that only dorks read Malone. After practice, they'll read me quietly in their room and get the same feeling in their crotch that the young girls above this sentence did.

Bob Dylan will write a song about me - he'll still be alive. It won't reach the top of the charts, though... just because. People will drink my beer of choice just because I did, and because they're idiots. They'll pretend to like it too, even if it tastes just like water. People will unmotivate themselves on purpose and lie back and fantasize about some of the same things that I do. Simians, solitude, and secret passageways. They'll start losing their hair and starve themselves, they'll take up skateboarding and then break their ankles jumping out of cars when drunk so that they can't skate anymore. They'll also look up my sister Sindy, and read all of the stories that she published, they'll get tidbits about me here and there when reading her stuff and wonder what it must have been like to be the sibling of one so sad and mad all at the same time? What must of it of been like to share the same genes? To have all of that fire burning through your veins? His blood and thoughts were like the best heroin, his limbs were like silly putty. His grammatical syntax was shite.

I heard that he always longed for a dog, but ended up with countless homeless cats, I heard that he always wanted a bow and arrow set like he had when he was a kid, he always wanted a big, ol' box of toothpicks and a ton of wood glue too! That's just what I heard. I don't know why. He could never find enough time to do all of the things that he wanted, I read somewhere. Half of his time was spent daydreaming and being a kid while the other half accomplished smatterings of productivity sporadically. Sometimes he wrote weird sentences too!

I am convinced that someday, they will know me a little.

I am convinced that someday, I will too.




Wednesday, January 21, 2004



Hand Grenades...

You remember that movie, Pay It Forward? Yeah, I barely do either. I remember that Kevin Spacey looked like Mel Gibson in that one movie where he looked like hell, and that kind of reminds me of Vanilla Sky when Tom Cruise also looked like hell.

So, does that mean that I was just given The Looks Like Hell Award by Cheeks? No, actually it was nice of Cheeks to nominate me and he had some really cool things to say about my writing, and I'm touched all the way down to my crotch about it. Serious, doody. He's one of my daily reads and I'm honored. Thank you.

So, this means that I have to and tell you about somebody that I like or think that deserves praise. Zeus is out. Professor X? No. Jenna Jameson? Well, yeah - but she can't count. And by that I mean that she really can't count. That was stupid. I apologize.

Ummm...okay. I like IA's blog. I think he's keen. Read him. He's funny. And when he rags on fat people, everybody gets mad at him. The end.

Cheers.







Monday, January 19, 2004



The Name's ASH...Housewares...Hee-Yah!...

I was a zombie bartender tonight. Zombies make better bartenders than ninjas because ninjas steal all of your cool stuff and slice you up with their swords. Zombies are slow, sure - but you can always trust them for a stiff drink - it'll just come twenty minutes after you ordered it.

I saw a couple break up at the bar too. A guy and a girl in a relationship - NOT zombies. Zombies disintegrating is so 2003. Anyway, that was a first. The guy left, and then the girl started crying, so I started giving her a back rub and peppering the back of her neck with baby kisses. No, I didn't do that. I gave her some tissues. Not cool. Whatever it was all about - I'm on the girl's side. But not if she's insane - then, otherwise - I'm on the guy's side. No. Actually, I'm not, because guys are hairy and smell real bad. Or so I've heard.




Friday, January 16, 2004



Gwen Stacey's Broken Neck...

End of a day.
Beginning of a weekend again.
Yoda senses much poker in your future, hrmmm?
I think that I should go to sleep.
I meant to go earlier, but that never happens.
Maybe I'll pop in that Wild West documentary, sip orange juice, and see what happens.
Maybe I'll just pop in The Empire Strikes Back like I always do, and picture all of the scenes in my head until I drift off.
I used to think about all of the arcade games that I would have in my room if I was rich when I was a little kid.
Or when I was a little older I would picture myself with superpowers.
Or I would imagine that I was famous.
Or I would imagine that I was trapped in a dungeon and had to crawl through a passage way...and found a roomfull of tall, Amazonian, sex-starved naked women who picked me up and took me to their leader...then she commanded them all to............




Wednesday, January 14, 2004



Supplement Facts...

After work I saw the homeless guy that I always talk to. The one with the silver briefcase that yells out loud sometimes in the street. He's a very nice guy the times that he remembers me. I just got a newspaper from the liquor store when he saw me...

Hey, man - how's it hanging? Got some change? Haven't seen you around for a while!

I told him that I'd been around, maybe we'd just been missing each other.

Hey, man - you lost some weight!

I told him, me? No way. I never lose weight. Really?

Yeah, hey - you look like you're thinner. You gotta eat more. Get yo'self a lady!

Ha! I've already gotta lady, though...

Hey, you can get yo'self another!

Sure. Okay. Well, here you go. Take it easy man.

Yeah, okay - you still bartending at that...

Uh huh. Right down the street. Waiting tables too.

Cool, man. Cool.

Okay, bye.

Yeah. You too.

And then as I walked away he yelled...

Yeah, oh yeah, you should take a nap too!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






Monday, January 12, 2004



Okay, New Game...



Say something to the person that commented before you.






Rancor...



I Hate Bartending...but I like the money.
I'm so hungry...but can't find anything to eat.
I'm so tired...but can't go to sleep.
I like cheese...and cheese likes me.




Saturday, January 10, 2004



Don't Splash The Pot...

Ummm...too much poker last night. Texas Hold Em' til the sun came out, and I lost the hundred bucks that I had earlier won off of friends to another friend who showed up at 2 a.m. No fair. The bastard. It's like spending a long time making the perfect ice cream sundae and letting somebody else eat it while you sit and watch. Oh well, Bubbas - I still came up 29 dollars, and Chris owes me 40. Last time we played, Chris managed to break the cover off of my air conditioner, get sick, drop a full roll of toilet paper in the toilet, get punched repeatedly by me, and chip his front tooth. Poor guy. He's like me sometimes - he's got the luck of a street mutt. That was a stupid sentence. Now it's off to eat and drink a lot. And maybe play some poker. Watch. We will. I know it. I'll bet you a million dollars. Poo.





Thursday, January 08, 2004

Wednesday, January 07, 2004



Ancient Astronauts...

Don't worry baby, everything will turn out all right. Just like Dengar in the pic below. All he wanted was a little revenge, and I know that it's not really that productive to spend your life hating a smuggler with an already-heavy bounty on his head, but if trying to chase all of the Han Solo's in the galaxy makes your wounds heal faster - than, so be it. Go get em'. Zuckuss, 4-Lom, IG-88, Boba Fett, Boskk...did I forget anybody else? Bounty hunter scum.

I wish Carl Sagan was still alive. I wish that Jane Goodall and Carl Sagan had a baby - I wish that their baby would end up setting up a colony on Mars. I wish that their UNHOLY offspring would teach all future martians based on the writings of Orson Scott Card, Hank Chinaski and Warren Ellis.

I need to get more boxes and bags for my comic books when I go to the store in between my break tomorrow. Maybe I'll pick some up for my mind too. Preservation = value? Who am I kidding? Boys don't know anything about history. Just ask our nocturnal emissions and masturbatory fantasies. Take out the self-serving-pleasure factor-when-it-comes-to-the-jail break-of-sperm...and you have an Earth with a lot of elbow room. Room to roam, and a kingdom for cats. Meows all over, and a smorgasborg for dogs. It'd be like a comic strip and animated cartoon formula. Itchy. Scratchy. Tom. Spike. Garfield. Odie. Me. You. Spider Man. Venom.

This month should all be about Broca's Brain and about Boca Burgers. Let's all sit around and eat pretend meat and study the fabric of the universe instead of focusing on blogs, Britney, and Bin Ladin. Give me a little Beezus, Bukowski, and Beethoveen. Give me some beer, brain bravado, and beach music.

Let me remember everything that I need to do, and let me forget all of the things that I don't need.

Amen and Top Ramen.





Monday, January 05, 2004



Wit..



I want to learn how to knit.
Is it easy? I hope.
Yes, I'll be your target on this post.
Hey, but, c'mon man - wouldn't that be cool to like, knit yourself beanies and sweaters and stuff?
C'mon, you could make yourself a full body suit if you were bored.
You could make hats for your cats.
Or socks for rats.

Serious.




Saturday, January 03, 2004



Barking Spiders...

The coolest thing about farting is that you don't have to use your hands to do it...





Friday, January 02, 2004



Splish Splash Bastard...

It's raining. My drivers side car window still isn't fixed. It won't go up. Thanks to the ass that made it a point to splash me as he drove by when I was at the stop light. AND I couldn't go to the comic book store either. Charlie Brown kind of day, Indeed.





Tuesday, December 30, 2003



Earthlings...

Howdy.






All My Friends Need Blue Star Ointment...



I'm kind of disappointed with their schedules. The rare times that I stop by their houses, they're either not home or are doing things that can't include me like laundry, dates, and masturbation. Sometimes all of those things combined. I hate it. I'm on strike. Today was my day off. I stopped by one friend's house to borrow that copy of Lost In Translation that she has because she's a SAG hag. She wasn't home. I stopped by two friend's houses, but one was going to go return things from Xmas and then go grab a hamburger. The other was waiting for a girl to come over. Nobody wanted to play poker with me. I mean, c'mon - it's like, free money I'm giving you because I suck at it!Two people I called didn't answer. Now, I know that everybody might potentially hate me. You all just let me know if that's the case. I'll go live on that leper island or that freak show town in Florida or in the Ewok Village on Endor.

Every single time that I want to do something - nobody's around. But guess what happens when I'm working a lot or busy as hell or trying to think about writing.? Hee. Think. Everybody sucks. I'm done with all of you. Yeah, you too. Everybody needs to work according to my schedule. Now. Work it out. You need to be available when I want you to. I'll buy you all Palm Pilots or support you when you quit your jobs. If I'm not in the mood to hang out - you all just need to crawl in your cryogenic tube and chill. I'll call you when I'm ready. Be ready to play poker and to listen to me talk about Fat Free Milk, Paris Hilton, and Comic Books.

Thank you.

Now go away.

I'm thinking about writing.







While My Pen Gently Weeps...

Headphones. Got some for Christmas. Now I need to crawl down underneath the table and plug them in...good. Done. I'm using a lot of periods lately. I must be on my period. Or this is my period period, maybe. Because this is all art now, isn't it? No. It's not. But that's good. Eees Okay, Seenyore.

You know, with these headphones on - I can't hear my girlfriend. She kind of wakes up sometimes in a panic and screams. She's like my retarded cancer patient. Ooohhh, maybe he shouldn't say that because that's cruel to the mentally disabled and maybe he's jinxing himself and now she'll get cancer. Suck it. I know what I'm doing - otherwise, Great-And-Powerful Jeebus would've struck me down with lightning or had a plague of locusts burst forth from my butt a long time ago.

I used to write to music a lot, a long time ago, but that was before shared living with another who studies hard. So I usually write when alone or during snippets of conversation. I can't blare the music like I used to, it disturbs the birds - so these headphones are cool with me. I asked for them. I got them. I will now enjoy fucked-up, loud music. I will now enter that zone again...now all that I need is a blindfold, and I'm set.




Monday, December 29, 2003



Funky Pants...

And it's cold. And My fingers are numb. And Tony and Tom just got done singing a song about pants when I was over at Tony's house after work and I can't get it out of my head. And Tony spilt beer all over his bed. And yes, it was a long night. And I am glad that all of my friends come to the bar because if they didn't - then I wouldn't make any money. And is it wrong to take money from them? No.

And it's time for bed.
And for you to go to work.
And that's all folks.





Monday, December 22, 2003



Stepped In...

Dog poo at work. Came home to a cat poo house.
Cleaned the turtle poo filter in the tank.

Poo.




Thursday, December 18, 2003



Dear Paris Hilton...



I’ve never written to you before – but since Christmas is coming - I better get this letter in soon so that it can get to you in time. I hope I’m not too late, but even if this doesn’t, I know that somehow, somebody will read this and put it into your hands. First, I just wanted to tell you that I think that your new show is great. I don’t even watch TV shows on a regular basis. I didn’t even see that second part of the new Battlestar Galactica thing that I thought was pretty good. It’s hard for me to remember to change my pants. Let alone set up a schedule for TV programs – but I have for you, Paris. Oh god(s), yes, I have. I have watched every single episode of your TV show. I haven’t done that since Saturday morning cartoons used to be sort of okay. I think right about when Batman Beyond and Freakazoid left – that was the final nail in the coffin. I was holding on for a long time, Paris – but the networks ruined it. I wish that your daddy was the king of cartoons instead of the king of hotels – that would make me want to meet you even more.

Paris, don’t listen to everybody else. Block them out. You’re great. Serious. I think you and me should hang out. If you ever came over to where I lived, I’d show you a good time. I don’t like to golf, so you’re safe – but I do like comic books. I don’t talk about them much in public because nobody else likes them anyway, and I learned early on not to talk too much about totally geeky stuff because that won’t get you laid. Talk about books and poetry and pain and paper cuts. That makes you mysterious. The chicks eat it up. Talk about poets and small kitties. I don’t like sewing. I don’t like football. Hey, isn’t it funny, I just grabbed a couple of comic books to read while I smoked in the backyard and I thought that it wouldn’t be enough, but I only got through the first couple of pages of the Robin comic before I started getting distracted, and by that time my cigarette was over. Funny, huh? Hee haw, said the chuckalicious donkey.

Paris, don’t listen to me. Everything that you just read was crap. I think your show is the best show that I’ve ever seen because it strikes me funny and sad on a million different levels, I feel like a tool for watching it – it’s just like The Iraq War Coverage. Tool. Home Depot. That’s what we’ve become. So, now that it’s late – I’ve turned it off, but it’s too late to â€Å“kick up the jamsâ€� because my gal needs her sleep for more finals tomorrow, so I’ll be the cucumber. Refrigerated cool. Hoth cool. Like a Wampa meal. I’m gonna listen to The Capricorns, NIN, Sonic Youth, The Beach Boys, and Atari Teenage Riot at a respectable volume. I’ll keep it down to a dull roar. All praise Aslan.

Paris, listen…you’re super hot in that waify, model way. Just like I am. People like brooms. We’re useful…and kind of cute if you use us enough. Paris, it’s okay if you can’t hold a job and don’t understand the concept of money. I can’t. Nobody can. It’s all relative. I won’t clean my room for you, though. Deal with it. I’ve got other stuff to do. Oh, and please remind me that I have to make sure to collect my seventy bucks for writing for that Aerospace company and collect the fifty bucks for the real estate newsletter that I turned in on Monday. That’ll help later on in the month when I’m trying to come up with rent. I have to get a move on and also do a considerable amount of work on that cartoony scripty thing because that guy’s waiting for it and he said that the end of January would be fine. That gives me about a month to complete seven episodic scripts, running at about 23 minutes long…that’s more then a feature length film. Balance this with working, writing on Fat Free Milk, fighting off rats, friends and comic book reading, and I’m pooped. Oh, and by the way, Paris – can you believe that Marvel Comics is still going through all of their submitted material? Wow, I was, like one of the first people to catch that they were accepting new writer submissions. Six months. They said…that was…like…six months ago, I think…

Oh. And hey, Paris? I’d like to come for a visit. I can party like a rock star and won’t embarrass you. I’d fit in. I wouldn’t hang all over you or anything, and I like to dance. If you want to go make out with somebody else on the dance floor – I’d be cool with that because, I have a girlfriend and all. I’ll just talk to the cocktail lady about Fatfreemilk and about comic books. I can ask her questions about drinks, cuz’ the more that I know – the better I’ll be. Actually, like I could give a rat’s ass. I’m a pretty damn good bartender. You should stop by. Just don’t bring your friend, Nichole/Nicole. She seems okay, a little smarter than you – but unless she’s gonna sing some of her father’s songs - than I don’t care.

Christmas is almost here, Ms. Paris Hilton…what are you wishing for this year? Me? Really? Awww…honey, that’s so nice of you to say…but we wouldn’t last. I have my crazy-ass moments, but I’m getting old. I’ll out-drink and out-fight you one half of the week – but the other half, I need quiet. I need to write The Great American Novel. I need to conjure up a new generation’s-worth of Holdens. This type of crap takes time. This is anti-social stuff. Just ask Salinger. Ask The Dust, said John Fante. I’m totally okay with you going off and doing whatever you want – just remember that…I’m always invited…

For Christmas this year, I want…

A bow and arrow set.

A big barrel of toothpicks and glue. Serious. When I was in first grade, we did a project like this and we were all encouraged to build as big of a tower as we wanted. I loved it, and have wanted to do it again ever since – but toothpicks are too expensive and I don’t understand how we got to have so many, but this was the eighties and everything was different then anyway.

More comic books – but only the good shite. Anything Spiderman is fine with me.

A Cuisinart thing to help me cook.

Porno by Irvine Welsh.

PS2.

A New Laptop so that I can write this drivel from bars.

One of those huge carpeted tower things for my kitties to sleep in, but then terrorists might knock em’ down – so fogetit.

A travel ticket to New Zealand, Amsterdam, Japan, Australia, Alta Loma, Cincinnati, Austin, Narnia, Naboo, Krynn, and Ender’s Battle School…

Thank you, Paris.
I love you.
Be good.






Fat Free Milk, fatfreemilk, fatfreemilk.com, fat-free-milk, and Fatty Arbuckle...

Tonight, I am bigger than Neve Campbell and the daughter of Tommy Hilfiger's teeth combined.

I rule.





Wednesday, December 17, 2003



For you. For Christmas...



I am giving out email presents.
Presents made of nonsense, but better than nothing, right?
This means that I will write a bunch of gibberish to you on, or close to XMAS.
Give me your email address, NOW - before I erase this post later.

Or forget about it when I wake up.







Today...

Is go-to-the-comic-book-store-day...

(for me, at least)

Nerd!





Monday, December 15, 2003



I Hate Money...

Let's go back to bartering chickens and shiny beads.
But then I'd probably hate chickens and shiny beads too then, huh?




Sunday, December 14, 2003



This Is What It Feels Like To Finally Get To A Writing Assignment That's Due On Monday That You Wont Be Able To Spend Time On On Sunday Because You'll Be Serving Drinks To Drunks But Hell What'ya Going To Do You're Starting A Vodka Redbull And That's Okay Because You Need To Get The Crap Done And To Make Yourself Feel Like The Freak That You Are Because When You're At Your Highest Peak Of Insanity The Rest Of The Robots Are In Hibernation But It Doesn't Matter Because There's Anti-Matter And That's As Cool As Magma And It All Boils Down To My Tendency To Put Of Deadlines And My Inabilty To Actually Put My Nose To The Writng Whore Grindstone But It's Better To Have A Nose Than No Nose Micheal Jackson Said And Right About Now Me And Skeletor Feel Like This...



Shake it like a Polaroid picture, sleepy...





Saturday, December 13, 2003



Best Present That You Can Give Me...



Is a whole lot of nothing - so that I can do a lot.




Thursday, December 11, 2003



Bantha Poo Doo...

Time slows when one is waiting to go out to have a drink and the girlfriend is talking to her mother on the phone...




Wednesday, December 10, 2003



Write A Story About This For Me While I Try To Finish Some Other Crap That Is Due Tomorrow................................................................................






Monday, December 08, 2003



It Makes Me Sad To See The Last Post On The Bottom Of This Page Go Away To The Archives...

Because then maybe nobody will read it, you all know what a chore it is to actually get in somebody's archives and start reading things...yeah...so hard. Don't answer that phone, man...don't because you had things to say...oh yeah...I've realized what's been missing in my life lately...FUCK THE GoDDAMN PHONE...okay and now I'm back and my girlfriend got all offended because I was pretty curt with her and told her that she interrupted my writing and my horrible spelling but I only answered the phone because I thought that it might be an emergency or something, which it never is, and that's the reason why I don't answer the phone, and all of my friends know this, and look at what you get now - a piece of crap, but that's okay because there's a lot of crap out there, and sometimes it's okay to do your part and contribute, y' know? So, anyway, I was going to say something like, Oh yeah, I miss READING. Like I used to. Like, all the time. Like, totally, fer sure...I got three new books at the library even though, I have tons to get to at home, but I got them anyway, one is the new Nick Hornby book, which I can't wait to read, and I've liked all that I've read of his, but didn't really like that one about the guy who was into soccer or something like that but High Fidelity and About A Boy kicked my ass and I just realized that they made both of those into movies, and now you're probably thinking about your opinions on both of those movies and I don't really care about your opinions on movies or Hugh Grant or other actors, it's like how when I say that I liked Stephen King's IT, and then you tell me how the TV movie sucked. Well, you suck for giving me your opinion on a TV movie based on a work by Stephen King and I suck for telling that you suck and I suck for leaving out commas and hyphens. I dont know why I stopped. Oh, yeah I do - it's because I'm lazy, that's why. The other book that I was reading before I started writing this was A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. I read most of this before, and liked it, and almost finished it - but for some reason stopped. Maybe I was too busy or too young to really appreciate it, and I've already started to like it better than before. Books and people are like that sometimes. And I picked up The Grapes Of Wrath by Steinbeck - which I've never read. Surprising, because I've liked and read a lot of his shite, but was, once again, too lazy to tackle it...If it was titiled The Grapes Of Khan and was written by the guy who played Mr. Rourke on Fantasy Island, I bet even more people would read the book - especially nerdy, overweight, white guys in their early 40's...Oh, and I was going to say that I wasn't going to write here until I have reread the first 100 pages of Egger's book AND finished the Real Estate group newsletter that I'm getting paid to write. That's due on Thursday. It's going to suck. Hackhackhack says the coughing real estate newsletter writing whore. Christmas is coming, though and everybody spreads their legs a little farther in December...

No Spell Check...






Never Leave The Fireplace Flue Open...



That's all I have to say.
Many thanks to my friend, Ijaz, my two cats, and my girlfriend for their assistance.
Yes, the fucking critter was spared.
Yes, it creeped me out.
Yes we had fun.
Yes, it's late.
Yes, I will have nightmares.



Thursday, December 04, 2003



Spaceman Spiff...



Y' know - it's great that I have the friends that I do. They're all weirdos - but I am too, and that's why it works so well. I have, like, a million and five of the best people in my exclusive little club. That's enough. So, don't apply - you won't get in. We don't want to exhaust the resources that we have. We have spent years diggin up, stockpiling, and hoarding all of precious ha ha's and good times. Go find your own, Bub.

I like that I can call Tony in a second while he's at work and tell him that my washer's broken and maybe can I do laundry - even though, I already got a roll of quarters and knew that he'd say yes. It's nice that I already have a key and could let myself in there any ol' time I felt like it, but if you have the opportunity, one should ask anyway, there's always the possible naked girl doing naked things to my naked friends in their house factor. Most of my friends are single. How did I become the GUY IN A RELATIONSHIP anyway? Last time I checked I was the single guy doing whatever and whomever I wanted? Now I'm buying dish soap and bedsheets? But I love it. The relationship - not buying a bunch of crap.

But, see...maybe I should explain...my friends are great...they're my support system, like an endoskeleton of sorts. I exist on this symbiosis-type thing that we've always had going...and have been for awhile. Everything is sweet, slimy jelly. They understand me as much as they can and vice-versa. It's like having a dog.

What am I saying? Oh yeah, I have a key because Tony AND Chris, both friends - live together. We used to theorize who would be the first two to be roommates when we were in high school. But I guess I ruined that whole deal by getting kicked out nine days after I graduated...so they live together. That meant that when I was done traveling around like the homeless lout that I was, that I had one of the only places we could kick back at. It sure beat wandering around grocery stores, public parks, and sitting for hours at McDonald's sharing one extra large coke arguing over who had to get the refill. So, when I wasn't home they could use their key. This applied to the five other places that I would live in until they finally did move out and get their own places. Having a key to their place was a given, even though I rarely use it. Sometimes when I'm running around, doing errands and stuff, important stuff like going to the toy store or buying comic books - I'll stop by their house, and will have to use my key because they're still asleep. I'll sit down and read a magazine, wake them up, or just write an obscene message on their chalkboard and just leave.

One time I came home from a three day camping trip and found a Koosh Ball on my coffee table. This wasn't mine. I was sure of it. One remembers if they own a silly toy made of rubberbands or not. They were there the night before doing ecstasy. Oh. I was only angry because there was a gay-ass toy in my house. That was it. I remember another time that I came back from a trip in San Jose and found four of them kicking back smoking pot on my porch. Okay. No problem, Hippies. I've had about six friends stay at my place too. For free, when they needed to or got in fights with their parents. Cool. I was poor. Still am, but was poorER.

What's the point of this whole diatribe? No point. I'm doing laundry tonight. Drive me home when I call, okay? Cuz' I'll be drunk as a skunk. Hopefully I'll have puked on their couch or broken something...






Weird Smells Aside...

It's nice to be home...





Wednesday, December 03, 2003



Ichabod Crane, Nearly Headless Nick, And Victims Of Vlad...



Usually I'm just filling in space here, I know that a lot of it might not make sense. It's like Blog roadkill, or verbal poopy in a baby's diaper. Sometimes I might write something that'll grab you. Sometimes I think that this is the ultimate time sucker. Yeah, and that's true - why wasn't Tom Cruise's name in the credits for his cameo in Young Guns? And does it make me even lamer than before that I'm working my night around The Paris Hilton show thing again? By the way, she has no butt. Not that I think having a big ass is great. I hate when people say that about me, maybe I shouldn't say that about Paris. I mean, like what?...do you want me to have a fat ass then? Yeah, that'd look great. A thin guy with a really fat ass. But Paris' behind looked like a tent stake shoved into a pair of thousand dollar jeans. Not cool. She should stick to wearing skirts, homie.

Meet me at The Batcave, Robin...






Fat Free Word Association Game In The Comments #1...

Okay, you sick bastards...
Here we go.
Go now.







Plucking Chickens...

So, does it make me super duper gay if I rushed home after work to watch The Simple Life with Paris Hilton and that other girl? Maybe it just makes me a complete tool. Then I watched Celebrity Poker on Bravo which was okay, I guess, and then I watched The Real World Reunion thing on MTV. This means no writing, but as far as horrible TV goes - this was it. I feel guilty. But you can eat your chocolate, and I can eat my brain away...

So there.




Monday, December 01, 2003



I Feel Like One Million Hugo Weavings...All Sneezing At The Same Time...



Next person that doesn't cover up their mouth when they cough will get punched in the face by me. It's hard to wrestle people to the ground over the last 40 dollar DVD player with a 20 dollar mail-in rebate when you're down with the flu. No, I haven't been bargain shopping. I'm just kidding. The last thing that I want to do is to go bargain hunting with the rest of the slow-marching, fat lemmings. You can have all of that stuff. I don't want it. I'll stay at home and watch my Netflix movies instead.

This morning when I was in my post-bartending midday zombie state, I tried to watch Blues Clues so that I could maybe catch a glimpse of Mr. Salt, Mrs. Pepper, and Paprika - but Dora The Explorer was on before. It's got to be the worst cartoon I've ever seen/heard. Yeah, I get it - she's probably great for bilingual kids or hispanic kids trying to pick up English, vice-versa or whatever - but this was some annoying shit. Even more annoying when one is falling back asleep. It was like listening to a high-pitched exorcism. Not cute. It was televised death. It was like a picture of cartoon poo on the screen that shoots out painful lightning bolts to your temples.

So, I didn't make it to Blues Clues and switched it to infomercials instead.






I Could...

Write about everything that I've been doing lately, but I'm too lazy.
So is your left eye.

Goodnight.




Sunday, November 30, 2003

Saturday, November 29, 2003

Tuesday, November 25, 2003




After The Grocery Store...

Interesting that I"ll buy vegetarian chicken nuggets because regular chicken nuggets gross me out.
Interesting that I have no problem whatsoever with the pork rinds that were already in my basket.







A Pig Is An Animal With Food On His Face...



My eyes are burnin' gods holy hell fire and no amount of itching is gonna help them, I think.
Argh. It's like somebody dumps chili powder in them while I'm asleep.
I blame the cats. Yeah, you.




Monday, November 24, 2003



The Postal Service Nothing Better Lyrics...

Will someone please call a surgeon who can crack my ribs
and repair this broken heart that you're deserting for better company?
I can't accept that it's over: I will block the door
like a goalie tending the net in the third quarter
of a tied-game of rivalry

So just say how to make it right
and I swear I'll do my best to comply

Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
than making you my bride and slowly growing old together

I feel I must interject here, you're getting carried away,
feeling sorry for youself with these revisions and gaps in history.
So let me help you remember. I've made charts
and graphs that should finally make it clear.
I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave

So please back away and let me go
I can't my darling I love you so. oh ohhhh

Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
than making you my bride and slowly growing old together
don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future
your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures

I admit that I have made mistakes
and I swear I'll never wrong you again
you've got a lure I can't deny,
but you've had your chance so say goodbye,
say goodbye






I, Robot...



So tired...

Bzzt!......





Saturday, November 22, 2003



28 Days Later...



Me - Honey, if I got turned into a zombie...would you kill me?

Her - Yeah...

Me - You would?

Her - Yeah...

Me - But if you didn't...we could be zombies together...

Her - Oh...okay then...I wouldn't.




Friday, November 21, 2003



Ape Drape, The Great Escape, And The Master Race...



The Cartoon Pig and I went out tonight to make fun of people. We were that bored - but I forgot a notebook, and it was too dark in the bar to see anybody anyway. So we ended up leaving. Ended up at a couple of friend's houses. Got horrible late night food. Put in a movie. Now I am typing this. Work tomorrow. Then after that...maybe we'll go out and make fun of people. Get bored. Maybe I'll forgot my notebook and end up leaving. And after a couple of friend's houses, we'll get horrible late night food. Then we'll put in a movie and I'll type something like this. Then have to work the next day.

fini.




Thursday, November 20, 2003



Hi. I'm An Idiot...



Not because I mentioned sperm in my last post and said a stupid joke which wasn't really much of a joke anyway, but because back in the day - way back in 2002, I learned how to post images on Fat Free Milk through the help of a friend. I thought that it was pretty cool. I posted a couple of lame ass pictures. I wrote some more posts after that, but put off putting in more pics because I was lazy. Then I forgot how to do it. Typical me.

So now. Me. Mr. Dumbass, was just sitting here ready to waste more time, I forget what I was about to do, maybe it was because I read about this on Blogger.com earlier. But, that couldn't have been it because they specifically had a section on how to upload images, but I thought that I wouldn't understand it or that it didn't apply to me. I've had the option to upload images the whole time. Built into this little taskbar thingy right over there. Yeah, over there. I've clicked on it by accident, even a couple of times.

So...uh...yeah.

So. Get ready for a crapload of pictures that I've had saved or that I swiped from your site.

So. I'm dumb.






I Was Sperm Once...

But I was a way cooler sperm than you ever were...





Tuesday, November 18, 2003



When Butterfly Flutters Become Hurricanes...

Getting older. Time is doing it's job, and working a lot of overtime. Saw my old high school principal at the bank. Back then, he was the Lex Luthor to my Superman. Now he looked...really small, and just like any other older guy. What hatred we had for each other, was now reduced to a couple of curious glances. Recognition? I don't know. Really doesn't matter much anymore anyhow. I could give a crap, it's been so long.

Saw an old friend today who came into my work. She was the whole girl next door/Winnie Cooper thing to my Kevin Arnold Wonder Years. She came in with her mother and her new baby. I started telling her about other friends of ours that we knew from high school that have had kids too. I was kind of shocked by just how many names started to spill out of me when we started to talk about who was having what. Geez, it seems like I'm in the minority when it comes to marriage and being a parent. It's strange to see somebody, that for you, represented a whole period of your life. I'm not saying I was all googly-boogly eyes over her when we were talking, it was very nice - but what I meant was that looking now at somebody that you used to see almost all of the time so long ago makes you feel strange. Like a ghost just wisped up to you and tousled your hair. Afterward, you end up trying to fix it back like it was before, but your increasing bald spots make it harder.

Everything is moving too fast. It always has. Back then - I was aware enough to notice it, but somewhere down the line, I stopped recording how fast it was actually traveling. Am I being left behind? Am I putting it off? Or does time exist for everyone else...but just not for me?

Somebody needs a nap.




Monday, November 17, 2003



Crawling King Snake...

Plumbers here. But he's waiting for another plumber. This sucks. Who should I blame? Whose fault is this? Professor Plum did it. In the lavatory. With a lead pipe. Speaking of filth, I saw the Paris Hilton Sex Tape. She had glow in the dark eyes because the thing was shot with some kind of night camera. There were no midgets in the movie. She's an excellent actress. I give her an A-. The musical score sucked. Ummm...that's about it. Think of all of the hits I'll get now because of mentioning plumber so many times. Links will be provided for the Paris Hilton Video for $8.61. Thank you.






One Spilt Of Champagne And One Coke...

Hung out with this guy and
this guy at the bar tonight.
Came home to plumbing problems.
And that was my Sunday.
Be jealous.





Friday, November 14, 2003



Smelly...

In here. It smells like ass. My girlfriend gets pot from her sister that reminds me of swamp water or socks. So now I've sprayed the whole house with air freshener and it smells like cherry blossom swamp water sock ass.




Wednesday, November 12, 2003



These Ain't Bullets. Yo...

It's hailing deep in Watts and Compton tonight. People are stuck up to their waists in water at Jay-Z, DMX, 50 Cent - I mean, LAX. I just got back from the hardware store to get stuff for the leaky sink that I didn't fix last night because I was playing hooky from responsibilities, and would rather fall asleep in front of the keyboard. As I was driving to the hardware store, I saw lightning storms in front of me. As I was driving back, there was lightning in front of me too. I felt stuck in the middle. Maybe I'd get hit? Maybe not. Maybe it would be cool, though. I think that I'd survive. I don't know why. I just feel like I'm freaky enough to survive something like that. Shark attack? No. Panda? No. People attack? Done that. But with my luck, yes, I'd survive getting hit by lightning, but I'd need thousands of dollars-worth of more dental work because of my fried fillings. Maybe the heat would melt my Zippo to my thigh, and then I'd have to crawl to the emergency room at the hospital, and then I'd be stuck with more bills.

That'd be my luck.

Southern California may be leaking tonight, but at least my sink isn't anymore...and that's all good.




Tuesday, November 11, 2003



Bees Are Not Toys...

No, I'm not going to write a post, cartoon script, screenplay or novel. I will not feed the homeless or shelter the hungry. I will not read a comic or a book. I will not give my girlfriend a foot message. I will not watch a movie. I will not watch Viva La Bam. I will not put up those shelves or fix the leaky bathroom faucet. I will not water the cats or feed the plants. I will not change around my links or fix my blog to make it look better. I am going to do nothing but play my Star Wars Video game. I will drink some beers. I am wasting my life. I like that. Thank you.







Randy Macho Man Idiot Savant...

I love it when that Mensa group comes into my work. I can spot one a mile away. Bad taste in clothes, disoriented looking, dorky, etc. I love the guy that was looking at the bathroom sign and then asked me where the bathroom was, but the one that made my day was the Mensa lady who came in wearing a full Star Trek costume. That was one of the best things that I've ever seen. I'm hoping for a Klingon next.

I love you Mensa Star Trek lady.




Monday, November 10, 2003



Finance Charges...

Deserve to die. Finance charges have no rights. We should stick them in convalescent homes. Tag them. Not let them vote. I want to castrate finance charges. I want to lynch finance charges. Fuck you, finance charges. I hate you. Rot in heck.

Oh, and you too, Overdraft fees...






Neverland, Narnia, And Naboo...

Today. I watched too much tv. Was recovering from a weekend of debauchery. I couldn't move. Couldn't help it. Sunday tv is my equivalent to your gulity chocolate pleasure or kiddie porn. Did absolutely nothing at work. I thought that full moons meant that people went crazy and drank a lot. Apparently not. I had, like, ten people the whole night. Absolutely no Werewolves too. Bastards. I read the paper. I left. Am home now. Fini.




Friday, November 07, 2003



California Wildfire In My Pants...

News Update:

After working 60+hours this week, I am getting ready to go out and get drunk like a homo skunk.
And pleez check out my picture at Monique's site.
Oh. Wait. Is the picture blurred now? Haaa ha ha. I asked her kindly to do that, because I'm a punk. I felt uncomfortable having my picture around. I've got an image to uphold, you know. I can't let embarrasing material of me float around on the internet, can I? Paris Hilton has her sex tape. I have my Halloween party picture.







Thursday, November 06, 2003



Karanji Seeds...

I really am serious about buying that island, you know. What island? C'mon. Shut up. Play along. Just me. Maybe you too. Maybe not. It depends on how cool and useful you are. Do you smell? Joo got skills? Would you bring cool stuff? Squeamish? Attractive? Because no ugly people are allowed on my island, sorry. No, seriously. No ugly people. You have to be beautiful on the inside AND beautiful on the outside also. Sorry, it's just the way my island works because I've got the rest of my life to live on it - you better be the prettiest wallpaper I've ever seen, and the most pleasant background noise. I would prefer that you wouldn't look better than me, though. It's my island. I don't want to be intimidated by you. I want you to just sit there and shut up and do what I say. It'd be cool if you had knives for hands too. And a book dispenser built into your forehead. I want Swiss Family Robinson without the family, and Robinson Crusoe without the religion. You would need to listen to me a lot, because I would be the master and you would have to follow everything that I said with a cultish fervor, fanaticism and fever. You would have to be able to ignore things like that last sentence that I wrote. You would, at least have to know, if not everything about The Empire Strikes Back - a little. And if you didn't - then you'd have to be able to be good at acting interested. Sounds good. It's a deal. Kevynn Island. Malone Beach. Something like that. I need a Paypal button...




Tuesday, November 04, 2003



Prince Caspian Or Hank Pym...

I'm hallucinating with more frequency now. I always see weird crap out of the corner of my eye, or imagine things that aren't there, but now I think I see ants all of the time. Are there any super fast mutant ants? Or do I have an invisible bird in my house that swoops down and eats them before I'm done turning my head? I'm glad that you can't hear ants. That would really suck if you could hear the pads of their tiny little monster feet or if they made those metallic screeches like in that old, giant ant movie. I think that an ant the size of a dog would be scary as hell, or, I don't know...maybe it'd be cool to have one to guard against burglars. Seriously, though. Haley Joel Osment sees dead people and I see ant ghosts.

Google search: Anteaters for sale.






Unbelievable...

That it's this late...and what have I gained from tonight?
I know that I suck at Trivial Pursuit.
And am the master of Connect Four.
And suck at card games.

This is what I did tonight?
Now it's time for bed?
I feel like the night's just begun.
I feel like this day was too weird.
I feel like Bill Pullman in Aliens...

Game over, man...game over...







Monday, November 03, 2003



The Average Joe...

Crazy. I just caught the last half of that show, and realized that I know one of the dudes. He works right by me. Now I have to scope out the place tomorrow and see if he has a hot chick hanging around him...

Damn reality shows.






Why Am I In Such A Good Mood Right Now?...

Oh please, god - make it stop.




Saturday, November 01, 2003



halloween, kevynn says...

it's november first now. this is monique, by the way.

i'm at a kickass halloween party at the honorable kevynn's house. a fuckin' HOTASS skunk is looking over my shoulder. i've had a rad time and had my share of drinks. it rained, which it hasn't done in probably like a year now here in socal.

but it's november first. not only does this mean that i should already have (did i mention that there's a hot chick in a wedding dress with a kitty pillow stuffed in her abdomen laying on a waterbed not ten feet away?) six pages written for my novel, but my first twenty-ninth birthday is now officially a week away.

i just realized that i'm writing like this is my site and it's not.

okay....

people are crashing on the floor behind me. there are sleeping bags and comforters ABOUT. and then someone said, "dude, someone is typing right quick." the response: "someone's got spicy hands."

i love this party.

i better sign off and hit my own site soon. kevynn's gonna be mad in the morning.

p.s. i hate it that it's valuable to my job that i can type like this.

p.p.s. check it out, beeyatch.

Friday, October 31, 2003



Teenage Werewolf...

Yeah, take yr. sweet time everyone.
So far, we have a Skeleton, A pimp dogg, A pregnant bride, and a YO YO YO!

Oh...and we have rain.







Damn...

Where's a gold tooth when you need it?






Who You Callin' Spook, Peckerwood?...

Big day tomorrow.
Big party.
Big crowd?
God, I miss Bob's Big Boy.
No I don't.
You're invited, you know.

I can't tell you what I'm going as because it's supposed to be a surprise.

But I'll give you a big hint, yo...




Wednesday, October 29, 2003



My Resume...

I have worked at a comic book store. Worked at Pizza Hut. A telemarketers place for two days. A buffet place. A music store. I have been a puppeteer. A music journalist. Blah. Worked at a drycleaners. Copy writer. Technical writer. Ghost writer. Advertising and promotions writer. Done voice work for cartoons. Wrote for cartoons. A waiter. A bartender. Oh, I also used to read stories to small chillun's in an amusement park. I was Smokey The Bear for a week. I was a clown waving a sign for a new condo complex. Actually, that's a lie. I never did that, even though I wrote that I did. I took that from Mike, but he's lifted some stuff that I've said too - so eeesss cooo. I've been in a couple bands that you've probably never heard of. I worked a movie premiere on The Sony Pictures lot. I've washed dishes. Been a whore. Been a dumbass. Been a prince. Been caught stealin'. Professionally lost. Made a career out of everything and nothing. This is my calling - this miasmic mess that is my life. This thing that's just begun. This thing that's been going on too long. Being. A bean. A stalk. New chalk. Dust. Been crazy lately. Been waiting for something. What? I don't know, but I wont try to drive myself ape dooky waiting for whatever's going to eventually happen to happen. Cuz' it'll drive you fucking nuts, my friends. Better to roll with the flow and be cooler than cool. No point anymore in crying over spilled planet ME. Been there. Done that. It's a drag. And if you drag too deep - you end up coughing. And tonight feels too fucking vacantly pleasant to create more " been's ". Tonight - I'm into " being ".

Alien, human, myself, or otherwise....




Tuesday, October 28, 2003

Monday, October 27, 2003



Arnold's Inferno...

So, I thought about the fires reaching the town of Crestline, and I thought about an ex-girlfriend's family who had two houses there. Tonight, my neighbor, who was my friend before being my neighbor, but is also the ex-boyfriend of the same girl who is an ex-girlfriend of mine ( long story ), anyway, her parents, and her sister's house burned down in the fires. I asked about the dogs. They were saved - and that was about it. Man, how must that feel? I know that they put a lot of effort into that house too. They were good people. It wasn't their fault that their daughter was Satan. And now they're all staying at a friend's house. They left with nothing but their dogs. Man...I was going to say, better to lose it all in a fire than in an earthquake, but that doesn't really make that much sense now that I think about it, because, at least in an earthquake, you might have a slight chance at recovering something. In a fire, it's all ashes or melted mush, right? But then, I'm thinking that they got the most important things out. The dogs, and their own lives, right?

Tonight, at the bar, I asked my girlfriend -if she had thirty minutes - what would she grab out of our soon-to-be-burned-down house? She said the cats, pictures, money, and clothes. Clothes? Okay. But everything else made sense. I said the readers of Fat Free Milk's moms. Because I would be sad if I lost them, but they're usually kept in a heat-proof safety deposit box anyway, so it wouldn't be a big deal. After that, I said that I would try to save my car if I could. Everything else would be a regret. Nothing more.

Also, the city of Rancho Cucamonga is burning. I grew up there, I think. The big ol' house up the hill that I grew up in might be gone. How do I feel about this?

I don't know.

Maybe the gods are trying to cover up their tracks?




Sunday, October 26, 2003



Planet Mustafar...

And read this...from Cartoon Pig Spits Miller Beer.






You're Killin' Me, Larry...

Man, I need to write something, but I don't know what. Maybe I can write on the cartoony thing considering I have somebody to pass it on to who will pass it on to somebody, and then, maybe they'll pass it on to somebody. But stupid SNL is making noise to my right, the cats are just as annoying to my left, and the smoke from the friggin' fires are making my nose and eyes run like Jesse Owens in the negro Nazi Hitler Olympics.

The sink smells too.




Friday, October 24, 2003



No Drug Testing...

Applications for guest posters now being accepted...
Leave a comment or email me...now we have something to look forward to next week.
And it leaves me time to get a good lawyer, you sick bastards...




Thursday, October 23, 2003



Will You Still Love Me When I'm Big?...

(Distracted.) What?

Will you still love me when I'm big?

Famous?

No. BIG. I've been eating sweets all week.

Don't be an ass. I love you.

I'd love a Twix.








If I Were To Rate How My Day Is Going So Far...

On a scale of one to ten...I'd say that today blows goats.

Thank you.





Wednesday, October 22, 2003



Hey Hey Hey...

Dwayne is crying on Raj's shoulder.
Even Shirley's sad too.
Dee isn't because she's a scheming, little bitch.




Tuesday, October 21, 2003



Where's The Secret Formula?...

Orson Scott Card. Jessica Simpson. Adam Langlois. Selina Kyle. George Little. Alfred Pennyworth. Warren Ellis. Charles Bukowski. Gladys Horn. Ash. Vox. Man Or Astroman. Wrist Action. Hannah The Cat. Fight Club. Sindy. Kerouac. Dean Martin. Gummy Worms. Hermione. Kit Fisto. Charlie Kaufman. The Dalai Lama. D.L.M. Shawdy. Wesley Crusher. Bruce Lee. The Trolley Car Family. Hunter S. Thompson. Elijah Snow. Victor Von Doom. The Kelly Affair. Elizabeth Hurley. Mallory Knox. Irvine Welsh. Stephen King. Rob Mullen. Large Mouth Bass. Precipitation. Egon Spangler. Willy Wonka. David Hammamoto. Shane Brooks. Theseus. Carl Sagan. Joe. Buddha. Gombe National Preserve. Clarence Whorley. Demi Moore. Beezus. Hokey Pokey Elmo. Las Vegas. Beer. Boz. Benjamin Grimm. Sonny Chiba. Bruce Campbell. Calvin And Hobbes. Socrates. Flintstones Vitamins. Marvin Gaye. Daffy Duck. Sundried Tomato Deviled Eggs. Werewolves. Blank Paper. Tomorrow. Sleep.






Enter The Dragon...

You would think -
by now...
I would've picked up some HTML, eh?





Monday, October 20, 2003



Five seconds Of Amusement...( NO. This Has Nothing To Do With My Sex Life. )

Kevynn Malone

is a Human-Sized Dragon that can Fly, is Radioactive, carries a Samurai Sword, and has a Massively Swollen Skull.

Strength: 3 Agility: 11 Intelligence: 13



To see if your Giant Battle Monster can
defeat Kevynn Malone, enter your name and choose an attack:

fights Kevynn Malone using







Crab A Locker Fishwife Pornographic Priestess Boy You Been A Naughty Girl You Let Your Knickers Down....

Off to Home Depot to buy a new back door,
because I accidentally kicked a hole through mine on Saturday night.
Ummm...yeah. Goblin.




Saturday, October 18, 2003



Space...

Thank you for giving me a bit of your time today. I realize that it's precious. I just wanted to blab on for a bit before bed. This is my little moment tucked away especially for myself before the dreams and nightmares start and before the birds outside get up. Before things to do and before Saturday sits on my head or either caresses me like a mother does a baby. Twenty-four hours ago I was asleep. Three hours later I would be driving through the fog on a dark street, following a line of red brake lights. They were going to their jobs and I was going to my new part time job. Aerospace parts for NASA, Boeing, The Air Force. Blargh. Yeah. They need a writer. Hmmm. I was puffing way at a rare early morning cigarette. I usually don't smoke during the day. The window was down. I was cold but it was pleasant in a punishingly vibrant way. Howard Stern was on, and so was my mind. Where the hell was I? Was I going to get lost again? What if I get in an accident? What am I doing? Why do I want another job? Why don't I have one, good one? 6-9:30 pm. Lost in an office. Working. Not comfortable being in the position of not-yet-comfortable. Learning new stuff on the computer or having to relearn stuff that I've done only once on the computer. I drive home tired. Get to rest with my girlfriend a half hour before I have to get up to iron a different shirt for the other job. I stood next to a senator as he was talking to Arnold Schwarzenegger. I didn't even know until afterwards. I would've loved to say something - but, like I could've.

I run around like crazy, and have small slices of conversations with people. A tiny amount that I actually like and care about and the others that I talk to on fake robot mode. The people that we've al been forced to serve or interact with that scare me. They scare me because I realize that we spend a major portion of our lives being not ourselves. That we craft answers based on or according to another's conversations, questions or responses. That even if our mind is elsewhere - thinking of the important stray thoughts - that we're nodding heads, and pretending to laughs because, either - we might not want to be rude or hurt the other person's feelings, or that we're in an environment in which our welfare depends on the illusions of communication even though the other person knows nothing really about you and that you wouldn't really be able to talk to them about any of the things that you find important.

After all of this, I go back home. In my car with the broken window I think about one of the girls that works at the comic book store and how when I walked in yesterday - she looked like she was either sick or crying. She was sad. A friend with health problems. Other friends were experiencing bad luck also. I talked to her about. It was a nice, meaningful, and pleasant moment. Both came out of it...not with their heads higher, but maybe just a little bit better. Don't know. But right about when she rang up one of the comics and then we talked about it and how she bought it too and about how one couldn't go wrong with a little Alan Moore writing about Cthulhu stuff. I thought that wouldn't it be cool to be friends with her? I mean, I'm not attracted to her or anything. Don't get me wrong. I have a girlfriend that I love and who's asleep on the couch behind me thinking happy bunny thoughts, college nightmares, and about taking road trips with me. But the comic book girl would be really cool to have around. She's not even a scary comic book girl. She doesn't weigh three hundred pounds and have a pink mohawk. Just a bunch of tattoos and a high tolerance for really nerdy, heavy-breathing, bad-hygiene, balding bastards. It was nice to think that there are sometimes, still interesting people around. I think that you just have to search for them a little bit more than we used to. Back in the day, I know, they used to fall from the sky. A long time ago.

I have to go back at 4:30. Two new young guys are waiting for me to train them. First thing I said was that I didn’t know that they were new employees, that I thought that they were a bunch of Mormons. This is what happens when you meet me folks. All of that type of shit just comes vomiting out of my mouth. But I don't care, I'm not rude - just really bad sitcom-ish. All of the things and all of the wasted time. All of the things that I could've been doing. Walking back and forth to pass the time. Not invigorated. Not excited. Being polite. Blah Blah. Not real stuff. No discussions about nature, space, dolphins, books. No random thought conversations. Just a bunch of waiting-for-the-clock type of drivel.

Time to go to the store, and then home. Have a nice time with the Israeli student that works at the corner store from my work. Drive home. Remembering this morning’s fog. Will the world allow me to continue on? To shoot questions at crumbling skeet from passing ships? The day was filled, even when hectic, even when frenzied - with ?'s and !'s. With love and hate. With helplessness and ferocity. I had a good shower. I played with a kitty. I talked to friends about what I missed out on in my day. What they did. What I did. What I did that they didn't do. The money and the hours accumulated are always an afterthought with me. It's never an issue or a necessity until I need it or it's needed of me. I read. I watched a movie sluggishly. A movie that nobody liked eventually started to get some focus when I realized that this was a thoughtful movie. No wonder nobody got it. I still didn't know what I was getting. It just made me think. Every once in a while, we find these by accident. Sometimes, they're no masterpieces - but define a masterpiece, Jackson Pollack? What makes sense to you, Mr. Hawking? What's funny, Mr. Izzard? I don't know. I just know what I feel. Sometimes, that don't even cut the cheese, Hoss.

And now, about in an hour, twenty-four hours ago. My alarm would start to go off. And I'd be thinking about the day ahead of me...and how I wished that I could just get more sleep, stay home, and try to write things like this...

I hope this makes sense tomorrow.