The More That I Talk To You...


the more that we'll argue
so I won't
talk
not argue

I wish that we could talk
like the other people do
but that would mean
that we were just like other people

so
if I had a choice of
us
not being able to communicate as well as we should
versus
the communicative bunch of guttural cows
then
I'd rather be the one who stirs the stew
than
be the main ingredient of it

Miyagi Walks...



Girlfriend's talking to me about shopping sales.

I'm pretending to listen.

I think that I was going to talk about Captain America, Hitler, The Red Skull and Kanye West.

The Red Skull hates black people.

Today in almost-gonna-take-a-nap-before-work shift-no.2-world, I was nippy-eyeing a gossamer image of Mike Myers on the television and realized how uncomfortable he must've felt during the Hurricane Katrina telethon. Even though Kanye was wearing his heart in his vocal chords - and even though I loved that he was speaking the truth - it was still fucking funny. Too bad I never came up with the idea of being Kanye West and a friend being Mike Myers for Halloween. All we'd do all night is just stand by the keg at parties and play out that bit. I'd stutter, "George Bush hates black people" as Jocks would try to elbow me out of the way to get to the keg tap.

"George Bush hates black people."

Girl would ask me what I was supposed to be for Halloween.

"George Bush hates black people."

Host of the party would punch me in the face for sleeping with his girlfriend.

"George Bush hates black people."

Cops would show up.

"George Bush hates black people."

Puking afterwards.

"George Bush hates black people."

Why don't I have a keychain thingy that says, "George Bush hates black people?"

Napoleon Dynamite? Feh! Kanye West, baby!

That or Pat Morita.

"Pat Morita hates black people."

On 11/25/05, I Will Be Asleep In A Cryogenic Tube Dreaming About Koi Playing Lazer Tag To The Mos Eisley Cantina Jazz Ditty...






UPDATE: I suck. The end. No, wait - there's more...If the pic doesn't show up above, I'm not gonna change it because I'm unmotivated and technologically inept. So, the red, little cross in the box thing's as fancy as it's gonna get. Question, though...Does buying something on EBAY count? Does prostitution count? Poker? iTunes? Blargh? Feh? Meh? Blah? Oi!

Fight Club...



Fight to stay awake.
Be a cordial host.
Laugh at jokes.
Offer cocktails.
Constantly clean up.
Do not pass gas.
Do not collect $200.
Go directly to jail.

Fight to stay awake.

Be a cordial host.

A Safe Bet...

If you want to get on a bartender's bad side - come to his bar after a major sporting event. Make sure you've had a lot of drinks, yell about statistics for hours and make sure that you tell me repeatedly that you're hungry, even though the bartender isn't serving food.

Okay? Thanks.

GO CHARGERS!!! WHOOOOOO!!!! BELCH! FART! WHOOOOO!!!!!

Found In A Notebook...

Sometimes I'm jealous of the Helen Keller-types.

The deaf might have it easy because at least you know that the only voices that you're going to hear in your head are your own.

Mars...

So dry today
feels like fiery chopsticks up the nose
eyes like wrinkly prunes
it's too bright
my head is the sun
my brain throbs one supernova a second
my mouth is moist like compost

Mars in November

For all of you political junkies...

Kenneth Starr came in to my work today. Wheee! I stole a couple of his french fries before he got his food too. Seriously, if Elvira or even Charo came in - I would've been more excited. Every politician just looks old and white. Oh wait...they all are old and white, huh?

That Means You, India...

Next time I'm on here, I'm going to ask all of my creepy lurkers to tell me who they are. Foreigners, of course, creep me out even more than my usual gang of piggy Americans. Prostitutes intrigue me also.

Just because.

And I Watched Oprah Too...

Farting in the office.

Not a good idea, Kev.

Hi boss!

I took a Cab Van with a bunch of friends to a birthday party on Saturday night. The GPS driving screen thing inside the van was impressive. The Tom and Jerry cartoons playing on the dvd player were also, but you wanna know what really impressed me about the whole ride?

The Debbie Gibson that the cab driver was playing and then proceeded to turn up even LOUDER as we got noisier.

Debbie Gibson. Seriously. The driver could've turned around and then vomited blood all over the front of my jacket and I still wouldn't of been as thrownback as I was upon hearing Ms. Gibsons horrifically nostalgiac Electric Youth-y voice.

So, I got drunk. er.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot...

so
you sit here STARING
duh
arghh
what are we all doing
wasting time
and eating preservatives
prolonging the inevitable
ingesting empty calories
getting fat full of nothing

while we waste away

Attention: Self

By the time you read this - you will be drunk.

Thank you.

I Hate Cake.

No, not the band. I like them. I hate cake, the dessert.

I hate when I'm at work and there's some extra cake left from a party or something and everybody else who works there hides pieces in the kitchen for themselves for later. I hate how people treat it like gold. They throw their hands up in the air, they get a fanatical look on their faces and start to run towards it.

What's it like, fucking gold? Shit, I'll make it myself. I've seen kids just practically poop themselves when you mention it. They have to be coerced into finishing their actual meal. Like their hamburger or pizza is so horrible to get through.

I mean...it's cake. Like Betty Crocker cake. You can buy it. You can get one decorated. Cake. CAKE! This isn't The Soviet Union. We don't live in the middle ages. People go to IHOP and practically eat cake for breakfast, so what's the deal? It drives me apeshit to see people going nuts over cake. Especially when they're full. Just eating cake because it exists? It's like having sex with a fat hooker because you have a free coupon. Fat hooker? Cake? CAKE!!!

I'm going to become a baker and just keep on having employees just shoot that shit right outside the building. It'll fly out of an iron chute and skid all across the street. I'll laugh watching all of the traffic accidents. SUV'S will flip over, fire hydrants will be knocked over, there'll be a pile of cars that reaches to the sky because there's FREE CAKE. FREE FUCKING CAKE EVERYONE, LOOK! YEAH, LOOK AT IT - RIGHT OVER THERE, IT'S FREE, I TELL YA' AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!

CAKECAKECAKECAKE!!!!!!

I Look...

like a dork in this outfit.

BACKGROUND BAR PEOPLE have changed places some. Some new. Some the same. Some are still in the same place but have more glasses and bottles around them and are obviously drunker. Maybe the bar has more people in it. Maybe it doesn’t depend on the bar and the time.

But KEN and KESEY are getting very drunk.


KEN- Y’ know, I’m gonna make this into one of my screenplays…no – a play first because…

KESEY – Why?

KEN – If I can do it on – wait – what? Why what?

KESEY – Geez. Wait, why don’t you. Ummm…why?

KEN – Why what? What do you mean? Whymakeitintoafucking-

KESEY – Why write about shit before it’s done? Why don’t you write about something already done instead of preying on your real emotions and circumstances and just tooling around with what you already know as opposed to what you don’t? Why play the waiting game and just work with what you know? Maybe that’s why you haven’t really done anythi-

KEN – Why I haven’t done anything- Dude, I’ve done a lot of shit. I have…

KESEY – Yeah, I know what you’ve done, and it’s cool and all, but you’re getting older. Older. Seriously. You talk and talk about stuff and that’s great and all and you have a million good ideas but why not be fucking Da Vinci or Ben Franklin and just be Harper Lee or Catcher In The Rye?

Ken – What? Catcher In the Rye?

Kesey – What ever his name was.

KEN – Is. His name is…

KESEY - Whatever.

Chris T.

That would be neat to be named Chris and then have a last name that starts with T, huh? I would always just use the initial for my last name. My frends would write to me in letters, "Jesus, Chris T!"

Sorry. I'm bored.

I need to write a list for myself:
Comic book store
Return Land Of The Dead and Dominion
Organize all of that crap that you're going to ship
Get a Money Order
Call the skydiving place
Call your mother. Ummm...okay. Suuuurrrreee.
Don't be this boring ever again.