Baa...

Sometimes sleep is good.
Sheep are good sometimes too.

The Happiest Place In My Crotch...

The phone is ringing, but I just got a bad feeling, so I'm not going to answer it. After I'm done with this - I'll tell you who it was to prove my psychic empathies. Anyway, I'm going to go to Disneyland or California Adventure to eat, but will be in the parks. Does anybody want anything or want me to punch Mickey Mouse in the asshole again? Since I'm there anyway.

I just checked my phones voicemail. It was my girlfriends work. Nostradamus, I ain't.

Carrie...

I have hit an ultimate low. I managed to lock myself in my car today. Twice. Serious. This type of shit only happens to me. What the hell? It's not my fault. Really. I came home around lunchtime, turned off my car, and couldn't get out. They're automatic. I tried to make it work tons of times and finally had to get out from the passenger side. Then I opened the driver’s side with my key, got back in, and tried it again. Locked myself in again and had to climb back out. I did it again when I went to the grocery store. Now, I can only get out by using the window button and opening it with my hand from the outside door handle. My car's not a jalopy either. It's a decent Camry. I think it's possessed. I think that it's only going to get worse. I think that I need to buy a horse and just take that to work.

Cyclops, Iceman, Angel, Beast, Marvel Girl, Havok, Polaris, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Banshee, Storm, Sunfire, Colossus, Thunderbird, Rogue, Dazzler, Gambit, Jubilee, Cannonball, Thunderbird, Shadowcat, Psylocke...

I wont tell you about what a badass Hugh Jackman is as Wolverine, I'll tell you instead about how fucking cool my mutants friends are, and how lucky I am to have them in Kevynn Malone’s School For Gifted Youngsters. I appreciate their presence. They’re all fucking insane, but in a very special way. I’m a lucky guy, and you’ll never, ever hear me complain about them.

A random day can turn into a party. I called J-of-the-freckles. She was having drinks with M, C, and A. They called me back later to tell me that we were going to watch the Laker game at my house. They don’t like basketball. This doesn’t matter. I’ve slept with three out of four of them, and we’re still friends. That’s amazing in itself, don’t you think? And they don't hate me? I don't hate them for giving me THE CLAP? AND THE HIV? AND THE SARS? I don’t know if that’s really appropriate to say, but this is my writing, and my life, and it’s true, and sometimes when you have, cool-as-hell-friends, and you’ve known them for a million years – shit happens – and the fact that they can still remain your friends and you can even appreciate them more makes it even better. It’s like Hollywood…everybody has slept with their co-stars. I’ve known them forever, so – shaddup. They’re all made of good, unique stuff.

A knocks on the door, like a fucking cop and scares the shit out of me while I’m typing. We have a smoke on the front porch. A has a total of eighteen beers and a hat that says “ Hang Loose!”. C comes. J-of-the-freckles arrives. M arrives. Amy and Tom arrive. Joe arrives. John arrives. Al arrives. We spend more time laughing and being crass, hilarious bastards than anything else.

My sister called to talk about when I was going to visit her in Austin. I was distracted. There was too much stuff going on. I was talking on the phone, and I remember looking around my house as everybody was doing their own thing. C was steaming artichokes in the kitchen; A was eating Taco Bell nearby. Joe was on the computer. John was watching the game; Amy and Tom were talking to Al at his place next door. On and on. People laughing, doing what they want, feeling at complete ease with each other, one friend always calling someone else. Sometimes I can get in trouble in these situations because you never know what the hell is going to happen, or how many people are ever going to show up, but that’s also a beautiful aspect of my life. My friends fucking kick ass and are plentiful, and they're all made of good, unique stuff.

I like the familiar interaction. The cleverness. How they can all feel comfortable and at home at any of our houses. How that, when it comes to humor, all is far game. I like the fact that we spend the majority of our time laughing in unison. I like the fact that my girlfriend is now friends with them all. I like the fact that she has private conversations with them that I’m not included in. I like that they like her and she’s developing special relationships with them. I like when they make plans that I’m not even aware of.

I wish that I had more time to explain all of the funny stuff that I found special tonight, but this is too long already. I wish that I could write you stories about all of my friends. It’s the stuff of notebooks, not of Bloggy-ness. They’re a great source of material for screenplays. Like always, I wish that I could tell you more, but, sometimes, I don’t have the patience. Ask me and I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you should really come over and hang out with us, cuz’ I think that we’re all really pretty fucking funny.

And we're all hot pieces of ass to boot.

Astro Jetson And Scooby-Doo Are Gay Lovers...

I'm glad animals don't talk. I think that they'd be really critical of the human race and put us down a lot. I can just imagine walking down the street and a Labrador telling me that I smell bad. But then they lick themselves in dirty places. But then, humans make fun of dogs for doing that, but you know we would - if we could. Well, some can - but, I'm not that limber. If you were ever at a party and could tell that somebody farted, your talking animal friend would probably be able to tell you.

Animals would get sick of us, and start to form unions. They'd want their own representative in the city council. Some would get sick of humans and try to start their own island community. It would be a secret. Maybe the island wouldn't work, though...nobody would ever pick the dog poop off of the beach. Some animals would form gangs and terrorize the street at night. Orchard members would be extorted. Alpo truck drivers robbed at claw point. It would suck to deliver pizzas. You'd always get a weird pizza order with strange ingredients to be delivered at a strange location. Then the animals wouldn't have any money to pay, and if you threatened to take it back, they'd threaten to kick your ass.

I'd teach animals how to read. I'd take taxis with animals. We'd buy Disneyland annual passes. I'd get them fake ID's. I'd love them, and hug them, and name them George.

And I'd teach monkeys how to type, so that I didn't have to.

Cheers...

Man, Is this how it's gonna be for me every Sunday night? I know that I'm usually up at this time anyway, but if I come home at three in the morning, that means that I'll go to sleep at five a.m. at the earliest. Some of you guys are eating breakfast right when my nightmares are starting to kick in. Friends stopped by the bar, though. That was nice. Bunch of drunks. All of them.

Oh, and by the way. Bartenders are like strippers. They're only there for your money. They pretend to like you and your conversations. The reason why were always looking around is so that we can find something to do to get away from your stories.

Sam Malone, I ain't.

I Found This On Boz's Site, Who Found It On Lucy's...

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Extreme
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Hail To The Thief...

Listening to a burned copy of the new Radiohead album. Good stuff. I think I got drunk last night. Joe came over and we played video games and drank furiously. By the time he left, I was feeling a bit loopy. I think that my long day of work added to the effects of the alcohol. I tried to watch the first dvd from the Back To The Future box set, and apparently fell asleep because I woke up at fo' in the mornin' in my clothes and halfway on the bed. When the alarm woke me up, I felt like a bear had stomped on my tongue and shit in my mouth. I tried to get it together at work, but no amount of caffeine could save this poor child. All of my words were slithering out at a snails pace, and my gimpy leg was worse than usual. After work, I went to the library and paid my obligatory fines. I got a couple of reference materials for my girlfriend's school project, checked out a couple of comic books. David Boring by Daniel Clowes, and Murder Mysteries by Neil Gaiman. I got a Dragonlance book, the new Harry Potter dvd, and that White Oleander/Michelle Pfeiffer movie on vhs. Yes, we have all of that at my library. I'm spoiled, I know. All I got from there was kid Kevynn stuff. I feel no guilt about this. Crime and Punishment can wait, Doestyevsky-however-you-spell-your-name. Then went home and felt like poo. I read some comic book crap, then helped make dinner for my gal's friend's birthday. Then they left to go drink, and I stayed on this damn computer pretty much the whole time in between sessions of laundry. Now the girls are home, eating, smoking bowls, and asking me questions while I try to type this. It was a boring story, but probably is worse because of it. She asked if I wanted to hear about their night and for the third time I just told them no. People never get it. Drunk or not. Don't disturb people when they're trying to write. It’s like fucking with the insane, tripping a man when he's down, poking the wasp’s nest with a stick, tripping a legless man. Please don't talk. If I could find a good cave with high-speed internet access, I'd be there in a second, Bubbalicious.

You ever notice how two girls, drunk, and giggling, can make a house sound like it's being invaded by elephants? I give them twenty minutes and then they're going to pass out. Then I'll fart on their heads. Maybe that'll be my next AudioBlog.

Thank you, and goodnight. Bastards.

Fido...

I wish Blogger had an option right next to edit your blog that said edit your dog.
Then if your poodle took a shit on the rug, Blooger'd take care of it.

Hold Me...

Oh, did I have some bad dreams last night.