I Give Up...

I have the worst sense of direction ever. Freeways scare the shit out of me, and I have no idea where anything is. I know how retarded I am, so shut it. But, I hit an all time low today. Lower than the time when I was coming back from an ex girlfriends house, took one wrong freeway exit, and an hour later wound up at Ontario airport. TODAY, I took a wrong turn while trying to go to AAA ( not AA ) to get my new registration, and I ended up on a freeway. Took the first exit off, and wound up at the parking lot entrances of.........DISNEYLAND. Yeah.

I had the urge to pay for parking and just chill the fuck out, but I had too much to do.

Disneyland.

Bwahh Haaaaa...

Is Sharon Osbourne hot?

I think she is.

No, I'm sorry. P. Diddy is hotter.

What's A Penny Made Out Of?...

Yup. They impounded my car. It's my own fault really. I was going to finally pay my registration right before I threw myself out of a car. Hmmm... on my lunch breal, I'll have to go get new insurance, go to the DMV on Monday, then back to the police department, then to the impound. I'm calculating it to be about 600 bucks. Which I dont have. Well, I have money in the bank, but most of that's already owed to bills. I picked up another shift tomorrow night and one on Saturday night. I'll have to miss girls night out. All of the girls invited one boy out for girl's night out. Me. Oh well. And I work my bartending shift on Sunday night.

I'm telling you, I was really having a good day. There was a bounce to my step. I had a big smile on my face. I was paying bills and everything. Things always hit you when you're guard is down. Oh well, the sooner shit happens, the sooner that you can deal with it. I love you. Now I am going to drink beers and watch The MTV Movie Awards with friends. Fun.

Please send your donations to Lick My Butt, Sunny Southern California. The United States. Earth.

And I Was Having Such A Good Day...

So, do you think that my car was stolen or towed because of my registration?

I'm waiting to find out after walking home from work.

FUCK!

Humps and pumps and four-eyed chumps...

xoxo
Choppalicious

Marshall Mathers…

I think that I just commited a major sin. I just chucked a bunch of leftover M&M’s down the sink. It’s not as bad as when I stuffed that dying crawdad down the garbage disposal and then turned it on. It was a mercy killing. I liberated him from work the week before. Which is worse? The M&M's weren't dying, but they were getting old.

A Wolf At The Door…

Recently, Amy Choppa and I were talking about favorite books of childhood...

Super Fudge.
Sheila The Great.
Beezus And Romona.
The Chronicles Of Narnia.
Henry And Ribsy.
The White Mountains.
Have you ever heard of anything called The Great Brain?
Encyclopedia Brown.
A Cricket In Times Square.
The Great Mouse Caper.
Where The Red Fern Grows.
The Bridge To Taribithia.
Dragons Blood.
The Trolley Car Family.
Swiss Family Robinson.
Runaway Ralph And The Mouse And The Motorcycle.
Otherwise Known As Sheila The Great.
Are You There God, It's Me Margaret?
Hustler.

Anyway, one of my favorite books of all time was The Brothers Lionheart, by Astrid Lindgren. She was the gal who wrote all of the Pippi Longstocking books. All of those were good, but this one was completely different. It was about two brothers, and one of them died, and it was about fantasy worlds in different dimensions and all of that. It's out of print. I tried to order it for years. One of the libraries in the neighboring cities had a copy when I was in high school, but I never could bear the guilt of denying the one kid out of the thousand that might pick it up, the chance to read it. I must've read that book at least six times in between the ages of seven and ten.

I just found a copy of it online. And now I'm going to read it. Hell yeah. But I'm scared. You know how it is. Stuff sometimes doesn't fare well versus the nostalgic power in your head. But, oh well...It doesn't matter. I'm going to transport myself back in time. To reading books in the big, ol' house where I grew up in. To this big, ol' house that I'm currently growing up in. Just now, I have a beer nearby instead of glass of Kool-Aid.

Rabbit In Your Headlights...

I love fucking salads. Not to have intercourse with, I mean that I love eating salads.
I've got pepperoni, pickles, and parmesan cheese in it, yo.
I will eat this beautiful salad as I watch The Big Lebowski.
Jealous? Yes. This is my post about salad.

Thank you.

2 + 2 = 5 . . .

Sometimes I leave my home, take money out of the bank, and then go to the bar.
Sometimes, I leave the bar, deposit money in the bank...and then go home.

We Suck Young Blood...

I think my fucking head is going to blow up. It's simmering low, but getting warmer. Psssshhhhhhh...you hear that? Tiny, little Don Ho bubbles comin' to get me. I have to call April and tell her that I can't go see Finding Pixar Fish with Colin, the four-year-old boy wonder. He came over on Thursday with his dad/my friend, Jamal - who isn't black but looks exactly like Jason Lee. Jason Lee who isn't Chinese. Thank god, or else I'd have to boycott his existence for using slave labor to make my Star Wars toys and for practically wiping out the Tibetan culture. Four-year-old Colin came over with Jamal, and we shot the shit. I gave Colin a Wolverine Pez. That's how nerdy I am. I just have shit like that laying around. Good for kids. Bad for twenty-seven-year olds. My girlfriend left London. Where is she now? I just checked, she's in Paris. Paris sounds like a planet's name. It is like a planet, isn't it? I wouldn't know. I've traveled all over the U.S., but never been outside of the country. Well, Mexico. But that doesn't count. Mexico never counts. Mexico is hell on Earth. Chiclets are heaven. Mexico is hell on Earth.

I'm tired of working. I need to call my lil' sis back. I'm going to Austin. In July or something. Texas sucks. But at least it has Austin. And my sister's pets. She has two cats named He-Man and She-Ra. Two dogs named Miles Davis and Marvin Gaye. Yup. Joe's probably watching Adaptation right now, the bastard. People are having parties tonight. I don't feel like going. I'm lonely in this big ol' house all by myself. I feel like a mouse. Eeep.

I have too much food in the fridge. I hate to waste food. Is that why I'm thin? I'd just rather not have to deal with the guilt, so I just forego the whole experience? No, today I picked up some extra leftovers from the restaurant in hopes of seeing the schizophrenic, homeless guy, so that I could give him something else other than the usual cigarettes that I give him. I wandered around with food in my hands. Guess what? Yup. Wherethefuckishe? Damnit. I wish I could give him something useful, but what's really useful? A phone card? Then he'd talk to God, and I don't want anybody doing that shit. Leave him alone if he exists. I bet God's homeless too. God was probably rich once, but now he's wandering around and yelling at potted plants and star clusters.

I've got some clothes to give God, if I ever see him; I've got all of the food. I've got smokes, movies, and comic books. And internet access. Shit, I've got my own website. Maybe he'd want to say a few things. I know he's a better writer than me. But you don't have to be a God to be that.

I wonder if he ever says, "Me Damnit!".

I wonder...if this boat will ever stop floating...

God, I mean...Good bye...