Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Q'Orianka Kilcher And The Vesica Piscis...

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

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

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

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

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

Thursday, July 06, 2006

The Mall On Haunted Hill...

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

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

This is getting too long...

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

At the mall:

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

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

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

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

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

Ummm..there were security guards on Segways.

Boring now. The End.

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

identity crisis

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