Who Created Ultron?...



I've never had any idea what I was doing. I've never had a plan. I've never fully dedicated myself to anything. And if I said that I had it all figured out - I was lying.

I hope that whatever I'm doing works because I don't want to be content eighty years from now. I want everything NOW. I want to be floating out on a lake, on a boat. Drunk, sun-burned and singing. Nobody will ever know that I killed her. They would never think to look on the lake bottom. But, I'll keep the head as a souvenir. And if the power goes out in the freezer? Who knows. There are always stores that sell ice, right?

I don't know what that was all about.

You get tired sometimes, sometimes you're too lazy too erase or fix shit - because what's the point? You like it. You hate it. You like it better later, hate it more later, etc.

I killed two spiders today. That seems a bit excessive, doesn't it? One I felt sorry for and one I didn't. I'll explain to you why if you ask me.

I want to stay inside forever. I'm sick of talking to people. I want to be Eric Stoltz from MASK, John Travolta from The Boy In The Bubble and Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird all wrapped up into one. I'm probably a bit more Howard Hughes, though. Just without the immense wealth. doh. I don't know.

Ojo...

am content as an outside cat is when you feed it.

Stan Lee As Willie Lumpkin...

Green lantern. Green Hornet. Green Arrow. All superheros. All stupid names. And trust me, in the nerdy comic book world - there's a lot of them. Even the names that are supposed to sound cool suck. Call me...Deadpool! Lame. Actually, there was an older comic book character name Magnus:Robot Fighter. Now that's okay. It's kind of funny too. Because I automatically know what this guy does. He fights robots. That's what I'm going to say next time that somebody asks me what I do for a living. I'm going to tell them that -

-I'm a robot fighter.

-Ha. Wait...what?

-I fight robots.

-What'd'ya mean, like you build them or something?

-No. You're not listening. I fight them. I'm the best. I don't even need gloves or nuthin' too. Arrgghhh. Beep!

Green Arrow dresses like Robin Hood. Gay. He shoots arrows. GayGay.

Green Hornet. Stupid name. Why a green hornet? Is he sick? Why not the Ass-Stinging Hornet? Sounds more threatening. Maybe the You-Might-Be-Allergic-To-Me-Hornet. More life-threatening.

Now, Green Lantern seems like a nice guy and all. Especially now that they've brought him back from the dead and, but - Green Lantern? First, if you're a normal person then you don't know this guys origin and why the hell he's called that. He powers up his super duper green power ring with a green-colored lantern. Wow. Neat. But if he's named after the thing that he gets his power from, then isn't that kind of like Batman calling himself The Yellow Utility Belt?

Lame. Nerd lame. No spellcheck lame. No nerdcheck.

Tad Hamilton...

I just called myself an "ass-munch" for not putting more cokes in the fridge.

I must be really pissed off.

Me llamo Legolas...

I have an uncanny knack when it comes to archery. Blame it on the dad who was a Boy Scout/YMCA/Army/secret government agency/all-American Rambo. I received an archery set as a kid, I remember - but I don't remember anything else but trying to shoot my dickwad brother with it.

For Xmas, I asked my girlfriend for some arrows and asked for her to string the bow that I got for free from a friend from work. I love her even more because she hung out with fat, white, camo vest-wearing hunters while the work was being performed.

Tonight, I was hanging out with a couple of YOUNG friends that I know through work. Ten years younger. I told them that I was like Legolas. And I am. I can always hit any target that I want to whenever I call it. I have a bale of hay that the girl bought me too. I got six bullseyes out of six tries. That's how gifted I am. I can do this now if you ask me.

I think I'm good. I know I'm boasting, but...

THIS IS IT? I'm good at archery?

Fucking archery?

Not math. No, I don't have a photographic memory. I am not Stephen Hawking's evil twin. I am not Radiohead. I am not Da Vinci. I am talented - but swiss cheese talented.

I can shoot an arrow wherever I want.

This is my luck.

Way too fucking late too.

I am an Idiot Savant.

Heavy on the idiot.

Amy The Hutt...

The best type of friend is one that can be birthday-shopped for at the supermarket.

Attention:

World...

Learn how to hold your booze.

Seriously.

I will be holding classes all week.

The Light That Burns Twice As Bright Lasts Half As Quick...



Or something like that.

Working two jobs. Both a far cry from the other. After I am done training with one job, I'll do the other full time. Both require me to dress up. Both require me to be nice. Both require me to be professional. Both are not writing. Both are not comic books. One will pay the bills and give me more money.

What happened to me dying my hair blue? I miss the days of walking in with black eyes, cuts on my arms, and fingernail polish on my fingertips. I miss the hangovers and the unrememberances of the nights and girls before. Wait - maybe not that. Wait - maybe I do. Not. Do. Not.

I miss The Fonz and how he used to bang his fist against shit to make it work. That was so tough. I also miss Al's Place and watching The Fonz jump his cycle over sharks. I miss french fries.

I think I'm going to quit everything and leave this place. I feel like I stopped wandering around in a dark forest right when a rusty, old bear trap clamped around my right ankle. And as more time has passed, all I can do is to move in slow, painful circles while watching myself bleed to death...

I am waiting for my radioactive spider. I want to be taught the lessons of POWER and RESPONSIBILITY. But then, Peter Parker always has a shitload of problems too, so...crap on that whole deal.

I want to move and sell all of my stuff.
I want to be the guy with the accent.
I want to buy more useless shit. Just new.
I want a lot.
I want a pony.
So that I can kick it in the head.
And then run away and blame it on somebody else.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe I should go.

Maybe I should stop.

Ketjak...

So, do you think
that Chewbacca needs
to drag his butt
across the grass
after he poos?

Does he shave down there?

Accomplishments...

I can now honestly say that I have had a beer while watching two friends get married on a cruise ship.
Nice.
I have been constantly drunk since Friday morning.
I need to sleep.