Kind Of Sucks...

I have no idea why my archives are screwed again. I have no idea why half of the comments got wiped and don't work half the time. I have no idea why my B Stats aren't recording hits in the last 24 hours. I have no idea why everything is slow.

I have no idea.

Sucks.

I'd Love To Beat Her With A Stick...

In bed or in a deserted police station...

I.
Don't.
Know.


Really.

Clear...

I met Crystal through a friend of hers/neighbor of mine that worked with her. They worked at a flower distribution center thingy. I was game, I guess. I wasn't interested in much back then. I knew that relationships took too much effort even though I was unqualified to pass that judgment considering that I had never really willingly thrown myself in the commitment pool much. We started off with email. Then arranged a first date. Then I caught myself watching cooking shows in her boring-ass living room constantly. I watched all off my friends totally ignore her after seeing her drink a bottle of beer from in between her boobs. She talked constantly when she was socially nervous. Her favorite band was Counting Crows. She used to collect Crayola Crayon merchandise. She was an orphan. She didn't have silver dollars for eyes...she only had...me. It only lasted for...seven months? She got in a fight with my girlfriend before her, I got a new job that intimidated her. Ummmmmm.......

There was no particular reason why it didn't work out. It just didn't. There was no bad blood. No huge fights. That's kind of scary too, isn’t it? Shouldn't every great relationship have some major differences? But there wasn't anything. She was nice. I was too. We never talked about marriage or where the relationship was going to take us later. I really don't remember any significant moments with her. I'm not being apathetic. I just don't. We broke up amicably. She tried to come back to me later. I didn't bite. She left disappointed a small number of times. I didn't call back. That was it.

No bad blood.
Nothing wrong.
No horrible stories.
Boring story.

Great relationship, don't you think?

Michael Jackson, Spider Bites, Dangling Children Off Of Balconies, Nose jobs, Chimpanzee Molestation, And Sleeping With Young Boys...

I didn't say anything, did you?

Let's go climb a tree...

Cat Scratch Fever...

After the cigarette, I came back inside my house and saw three cats inside.

Only problem is...I only have...TWO.

Ouch.

Real Quick...

Sorry. Watching the Osbournes-but MTV sucks, doesn't it? It has for almost all of my life...

Gotta question though....

How can they justify blurring out someone's butt crack when SNL was showing a plumbers butt crack in the late seventies-early eighties...

Seemed kind of stupid...

But it's MTV.

My fault, sorry.

What The Hell?...

I'm so confused. I just found out that my old grade school has a website. It was a random thought that crossed my mind and one Google search later?...I'm transported back to a time that I remember well, but seem to have forgotten at the same time. There's a picture of the school posted on the site that makes me think of my first day of kindergarten, almost being blown away by the wind in storm when I was in second grade...being a bad boy in sixth...so many memories that would probably bore you to death...I remember how fortunate I was to go to a good school, and I remember how straight-fucking-insane all of the children were in the city that I grew up in. I swear, there must be something in the water because everybody I knew was hilarious, but would kill you in a second. Too much of an overload, I'll tell ya'.

Here's something else...there was a staff list on the website. Most of the names were unfamiliar, but my second grade teacher still teaches there! Yeah, the one who screamed when I opened up the door during that windstorm. I got off of the bus last. It was a horrible, rainy, and windy day. I'm thin now, but back then I looked like a little balloon. I was about as heavy as a kitten. I made the mistake of trying to peek into my older brother's fifth grade class like I always would. The class would wave. I'd make a funny face and the teacher would playfully throw something at me. I started to move towards the windows of my brother's classroom but almost got knocked off of my feet. The big-ass, stupid, adult umbrella that I had, captured the wind and almost carried me away. One foot wasn't touching the ground. I had to hold on to a pole so I wouldn't fly away. I'm serious. I was holding on with all of my strength and could see the laughing heads of my brother's class through the windows. Some were pointing at me. Some looked like they were laughing so hard that they were crying. No one was helping. Visions of Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins went through my head. Did they think I was kidding? I wasn't. I was seriously in danger of being lifted into the air. Everybody would've been really sad if months later they found a thin, little skeleton stuck in a tree somewhere.

I don't know how I did it (maybe I put pebbles in my shoes), but I started to walk to class. I, of course, took the long way around with nothing to duck under. The rain was hard and howling. I tried to make it from pole to pole. My umbrella would flip inside out, I'd face the wind and then it would correct itself. When I opened up the door, it banged open. I don't remember how I shut it. All I remember was the silence. Every head in class turned to look at me. I saw a room full of little mouth "O's". I could hear the dripping of my clothing on the linoleum floor beneath me. Everybody laughed until my teacher screamed, "Oh my god!" and then was promptly arrested for preaching her bullshit religion in my class. No, just kidding. She swooped me up in her fat arms (maybe she wasn't fat, y'know? She could've been normal-sized. Maybe I was just so small that she seemed like a huge ol' fatty. I bet she was quite hefty though. Aren't all grade school teachers?) and put me in some room that I'd never seen before with a washer and dryer and started to take off my clothes!!! She got this weird look in her eye when she started to undo my wet jeans. Just kidding, you perverts! I'll tell church stories some other time. Ha. She took my clothes and put them in the dryer and searched for something for me to wear. I'd kill for a picture of the twenty pound second grader with the Beatles hair, shivering alone in a school laundry room. Actually, you would too, huh? You pervert! NO, SHE CAME BACK WITH AN OVER-SIZED PAINTERS SMOCK! I had to sit in class wearing only a multi-colored, blotchy, painters smock. It looked like something Boy George would wear.

They finally contacted my mother, which scared me even more. My mother was a drunk and Vietnamese-I don't know which is worse. I guess I'm still trying to figure it out, because I guess I'm both right now too. Ha. Yoo reciv petic justuff!, my mom says. See, I've never looked like I was a half-bastard Asian. My fathers strong and stubborn Irish genes kicked the asses of the gook genes that were in my body, so there ain't no slanty eyes on this face. I'm also not devoid in the crotch area either. Thank you, Ireland.

Fuck. Where was I? Oh yeah...drunk, gook mothers. I was terrified that she was coming to school to pick me up. I was surprised too because, she'd never been there before. Was she going to get the class drunk? Two hours later, when she came-I got lucky because they just told me that she was there and I could meet her instead of her coming into my class. She probably would’ve embarrassed me by taking down the address of every classmate of mine and recording the name of their pets. But it might have saved us money on food, so who knows? My little sister was there too. She must have been about...shit; she's four years younger than me. How old is one when they're in second grade? Anyway, she was small and whimpering in the passenger seat when we were driving home. The storm had turned worse. My mother wasn't drunk, but remember...she's Asian. So instead of driving fast and avoiding all of the flying shit all over the place, she drove about ten miles an hour. Everything that was moving through the air was faster than us. I saw a huge tree branch crashing down and fall behind us, blocking the road. My mutha didn't notice. I think she was singing along to The Steve Miller Band. Oh yeah, also? My little sister was probably already taller than my mother by that age.

We made it home and then my mother tried to drink me. End of story.

Sorry about that, ol' chap. I don't know where that came from. I ignored the story about my sixth grade teacher. Not much about him anyway except that he looked like Chuck Norris and would get red-faced furious at me every time that I called him that. I should call him up. I swear! Oh my god! I sound like an adult now; I don't think I have the balls for it. Do I? I want to call him and say, "Hi Chuck!" just like I always used to. I could tell he wanted to bash my fucking head in when I said that. He'll know it's me, won't he? If I did that I wouldn't be able to eat in the school cafeteria now, like I want to. Which leads me to my last part......

One final thing that I noticed on the website of my elementary school was the menu. I don't know why they have that on the site. Maybe it's kind of smart. Kids must dig it because then they could see when the pizza and the grilled cheese sandwiches are being served and ask for junk from home on the other days. Maybe all of the dirty, hippie parents can check up on the menu too, and see when the school's serving something veggie-friendly. Anyway, guess how much a school lunch was when I was a kid? One dollar. Not that bad. You got the main dish, three sides, a dessert, and a milk. The poor kids had a discounted lunch for thirty-five-fucking cents. Dudes, I'm not old. I'm an eighties kid, but thirty-five-fucking cents is the shit. I mean that in a good way. So guess what the price is now? I'm gonna smoke...I'll let you think about it for a while..................
................
......
Okay, I'm back......
.....
THE PRICE IS STILL THE FUCKING SAME! Can you believe that? Is that the one thing in the world that hasn't risen in price? Wow and double-ass Wow. Poor kids can still get a lunch for thirty-five-fucking cents? Who are they sponsored by, McDonalds?

Hail Mary, y'all. I apologize for my vile verbosity.

Vini Vidi Vietnamese.

Good night...

Underwear Where?...

So if i'm washing both my boxers and her panties in the same load,
I'm pretty much engaged, huh?

Hitler's Dog...

I was reading an article about Traudl Junge, Adolf Hitler's last secretary. Wow. Hitler's private secretary? I thought my job was fucking weird. There's a new documentary that screened at Sundance all about her experiences from 1942-1945 called Blind Spot. Reading through the article, I, of course took my normal approach to all things immensely serious...I started to think about Hitler's dog, Blondie.

Yeah. Hitler had a dog. He had a fucking dog. I can't get that out of my mind. Hello, Ruff! I'm Hitler's dog! I can do whatever I want. Can I eat your fingers off? Yes, thank you. Yum. From what I've read, Hitler was completly infatuated and obsessive about Blondie (Not the band). He spent entire evenings playing with her. Hitler got jealous when others petted her. He got excited if she jumped higher than usual. Hitler sounds like a typical boyfriend, actually. Hitler disliked meat, cold rooms, having flowers around (he hated dead things) and being touched. He always washed his hands after playing with Blondie.

Would it be a blessing or a curse to be the canine friend of Adolph Hitler? Would that be equivalent to being the goldfish of Osama Bin Laden? I'd be scared. Maybe, Blondie, as a dog, was happy. She obviously had a master that loved her. Blondie was a German Shepard, of course. I wish that there was such a thing as a Jewish Shepard and that Blondie was actually of mixed blood. Well, I guess that there actually are Jewish Shepards if you you count those that raise sheep. What other nationality doesn't have their own breed of dog? Vietnamese don't for obvious reasons. I wish that I could've been there the first time that Adolph got pissed on. Does the dog of Adolph Hitler go to heaven? And if Adolph Hitler, of all people can own a pet, why can't Satan? As far as I know, Satan doesn't even own a houseplant.

I don't know.

Home Ec...

Seems kind of pointless now that I'm older. All of the shit that I learned how to make, I don't remember now. I once baked a perfect cake in seventh grade, do you know that? Yeah, try getting me to make one now. I'm actually a good cook, but only since dating my girlfriend. I have to or we won't eat. She's so bad, she even burns water. For the end of the year final, my table that consisted of all of my friends, had to make a specialty dish and dessert for a teacher of our choosing. All of the other tables always tried to pick the cool teachers. We picked the ugliest, meanest and fattest one. She taught English and looked like Ursula The Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid. We made yummy hamburgers followed with Ex-Lax-laced brownies. We also got in trouble in class constantly, hit on the big-breasted girls at the table in front of us, and had to bribe the female teacher with daily hugs everyday so that we never had to go to detention. They passed me out in class one day and I had a dream about trains.

I took Home Ec. in high school also. I only did it for the free food. I made the worst chili in the class because I didn't know that I had to drain out all of the liquid from the vegetables. A freshman girl punched me in the face. I stole crackers. I watched countless hours of The Frugal Gourmet. We had a final in that class too. So my friend Joe and I invited out guitar teacher. We made Cornish game hens and wild rice from scratch. After eating his food, he asked us, " So does this mean that you're finally going to come to class?" I told him, "No, that's why we're giving this too you."

I should've learned how to brew beer. It would've saved me money.

Fucking school. Blah.