Bamboo Plants...

My name is Kevynn Malone. I am 5' 11' and a half inches tall. I weigh 138 lbs. My hair is dark brown. I have one brown eye and one light brown eye. My hair is short. I have a scar on my eyebrow from Ian punching me in a drunken fight club night. I have a scar on my nose from throwing it through the glass on a front door. I broke my wrist playing football in fifth grade. I have bad knees. I play Bass guitar. I draw one picture every three months. I write everyday. I am horrible at paying bills. Children like me. I have too many friends. I have too many enemies. All of my friends are talented and insane. I barely drive. I hate freeways. I like to read. None of my family lives in California. I have a girlfriend and two cats. My father used to work for a secret branch of the government. My mother is very short and could drink you under the table. She's a fucking scrapper in a fight. My father is shy. I am not. I sing a lot out loud. I used to skateboard a lot. I like comic books again. I want to be a movie star. I want my screenplays publised. I did meet one of the studio heads from MGM yesterday, though. I want to be a Calvin Klein model. I like to buy action figures. Tonight I am going to Jen's house, then I am going to see Tony and Tom play at a bar. Tomorrow I am going to the library. Sunday? I don't know. I am looking forward to Kevynn Malone Day on March 5th. I encourage all to AIM me. We can all hook up that talky-to-talky option on it and drink together. I don't drink anything else but Bud Light. I'm a puss. I don't like to get in trouble anymore. I like to be awake when I drink. I should be getting ready right now, but I'm not. I'm talking to you and singing to Soul To Squeeze by Red hot Chili Peppers.........

I am happy. Mostly. I won't complain. I'm trying. Maybe not hard enough. I need to ignore you more and concentarte on all of the movie and book shit that I attribute 4% of my time to. I taught my girlfriend's niece all about Pez today. I gave her a really cool one today. We ate candy and filled all of mine up. I broke one. But it was a stupid one, so who cares. I need to hook up my photo scanner. I need to get business cards printed. I can dance, but don't. Much. I don't have a Play Station. I have a cool backyard. My neighbors are my friends. I buried my old cat in the backyard. I am friends with an eighty year old man. My youngest friend is four. I am twenty-seven. I believe aliens have visited Earth but don't believe in any of your gods. I don't like to watch wrestling. I like basketball and nothing else. I am unorganized. I think a lot. I wave to planes and helicopters. I don't like to kill ants, but will punch you in the face if you piss me off. I have to remind myself to breathe deep. I am more apt to look up or down than left/right or forward. I don't have a cell phone. I carry around a Moleskin in my back, left pocket. I hate coffee. I smoke. I have Buddy Holly-type glasses, but I need new ones. I paid three hundred glasses for these four years ago. I think I got my moneys worth....My vision isn't horrible. I am nearsighted. I eat a lot of salads. I hate sharks. I like monkeys.

I'll be back soon, nigga...

Important...

I like Pez.

Wow...

That's what I get for being distracted.
My drunken post about tonights drunkeness is now gone.
If I wasn't drinking, I guess my post about me being drunk wouldn't have been erased.
But then I wouldn't of posted.

Because I was drunk and I got distracted...

Will the madness never end? Yes it will, but not till sunday when ...The last installment of The Great Grand Ennui/Fat Free Milk Archive Exchange finally, FINALLY, hits the streets.



"I am at the stage of my cold where every time I fall asleep I wake up, and it's a bitch. It's a bitch is a very sexist term isn't it. I imagine you could substitute, it's a bastard, if your genderosity is easily offended. Genderosity, what a hoot. Either way, it wrecks havoc on my already fragile sleep pattern. Stuffy nose, sniffles, sore throat, sneezing, coughing, these have become the norm for my night. If that isn't bad enough, I like to sleep in boxer shorts, but because of a slight chill that goes hand in glove with my cold, I have taken to wearing an old pair of pajama bottoms that I found stuffed in the back of one of my drawers. That is all well and good, but as I mentioned they are an old pair of pajama bottoms, old in the sense that the elastic in the waistband is a thing of the past, and whenever I get up to go to the bathroom, which is a very frequent occurence due to the cold, the pajama bottoms usually end up around my ankles by the time I make it to the bathroom door, and this is not a good thing, because .... are you still with me? When I was a small child they had the last of the big polio scares and one morning I woke up to, you guessed it, go to the bathroom, and I couldn't walk. I was in extreme agony, dragging myself, bawling, and screaming across the floor. You have to realize that this was about five in the morning. so of course my parents were both sound asleep, sound asleep that is until they heard my anguished cries. I was able to babble out that I couldn't walk, and my mother totally freaked. She had POLIO in her eyes. My dad, being the more practical of the two, decided to give me a cursory physical. He pulled down my pajama bottoms and found that my underpants had slipped down around my knees, and yes in our family my father was at least as important as Dr. Jonas Salk in finding a cure for polio, he deftly pulled my underpants back up, and PRAISE THE LORD, I could walk again.
As a brief footnote to this story, I had the same problem a few weeks later, but neither of my parents bothered getting up to help their youngest child as he literally dragged his crippled body across the floor towards the bathroom. The heartless beasts, where was child welfare when I needed them?
This story goes nowhere, and proves nothing except that it is four o'clock in the morning, and my cold is at the stage where every time I fall asleep, I wake up."

Keep Your Calender Open, And Your Legs Closed. ( Kevynn Malone Day Update )...

Well, here we are.
Everything working?
Can we all be the dorks again and start commenting?
Like I said previously, I officially declare Wednesday, March 5th, "Kevynn Malone Day" in the United States, Canada, and most of the free world. I ripped some of that off of Boz. Ha.

I will have the entire day off on Kevynn Malone Day. Kevynn Malone Day is a holiday about me, for me, and created entirely by me. You also have no choice but to participate. So step to it, you pieces of fuck! I will wake up early and write in between bouts of celebratory drinking. I will try not to invite friends, because that would distract me from your festivities.


So, what does one do in recognition of this national holiday?

I'm glad you asked, Bubba.

· You must drink at least one alcoholic beverage.
· Poop at least once during that day.
· You can’t take off your shoes unless they’re work shoes.
· No sleep until midnight. ( I’m being generous to you here )
· You have to eat a salad. Any salad.
· Buy and/or read one Spiderman comic. I've included a link for the lazy bastards.
· Go to a toy store or at least think about it.
· Take out the trash.
· And make a comment on all these websites if they work:

And most importantly, say hi to me...

First person that accomplishes all of these and shows me proof somehow might get a personalized prize from me. I might have mo’ to add later…

You know the drill by now, so let's just get it over with ...
The Great Grand Ennui/Fat Free Milk Archive Exchange!

"I hate it when someone I think is older than I am turns out to be younger than I am, much younger. Does that make sense? Does life make sense? Do dollars make sense, or cents, or doughnuts?

My niece is thinking about getting a new car. She wants to lease a Chevy Malibu. I think she wanted my advice ... like that would help. Whenever anyone asks me what kind of car I have I tell them I have a red one.

I've spent the last half hour clicking on my website in a weak effort to run up the hit count. Live much? No, thanks I have cable modem.

When I was in college, back in the 70's, after the Air Force, my roommate and I wrote a song about Mr. Hockey, Gordie Howe. I wrote the lyrics and my roommate wrote the music. I don't remember much of the song, but I do remember the chorus, and it went something like this ...

a-one, and a-two,
Gordie-eeeeeeee,
Gordie-eeeeeeee,
Gordie-eeeeeeee Howe,
Gordie, how do you score all those gosh darn goals, Gordie
When you have to be forty-eight, or fifty-nine, or even seventy-six years old?

Gosh darn wasn't my original choice, but my roommate was a christian boy, so I compromised. You have to pick your fights."

Fucktards Everywhere...

Damn, everything is bugging the hell out of me. The fucking time-wasting dentist today. Not enough time to myself. Too much talk. Sometimes I don't like to talk. I want to be left alone. Avctually, I like to be left alone most of the time. All the fucking dumbasses everywhere. On my block, in my city, in California, all politics, and polticians, and in the world. Fucking TV. Fucking idiotic TV. Stupid-ass fucking Haloscan. Click refresh now. It might work one out of four times. YACCS accepting people for what two days? All of the other ones that I checked out, that seem promising in the beginning until you start to read more and either have to pay, It's in it's test stages and liable to pull a Haloscan on you when too many people join, or you have to actually understand all of the shite that they're talking aboot.

Then, tonight - my girlfriend told me
that sometimes I smell like her father. What?
No, we weren't in bed. Ha.

Thank god Kevynn Malone Day ( March 5th ) is coming up...

Wacky Iraqi...

Wow, that Saddam Hussein is fucking hilarious! I was watching the Dan Rather interview with him on CBS, and I've gotta say, I didn't know he had a sense of humor! There was that one part where Saddam gave Dan an exploding cigar, or when Saddam slipped a piece of phony dog poo on the desk when Dan was shuffling papers around? Holy fucktards! Or when Saddam called Dan a "Crazy Ass Nigga!", gave him a blunt and told him to "Smoke This Shit, Yo!" and then pulled a 40 oz. of Old English out of the pocket of his baggy, saggin' pants and took a big ol' swig. Phony dog poo...

Nuts, I tell ya.

Nuts.

I'm Funny...

My girlfriend was just sitting here beside me, and we were disgusting - Ooops! I meant we we're discussing commenting systems and the upcoming Kevynn Malone Day (March 5th). I had a pen in my hand and I made a mark on her foot. She didn't like that and wanted a pen so she could make a mark on me. So I told her that I would get rid of it…and scribbled it out with the pen.

Now she’s gone.

I’m funny.
Not funny queer.
Funny Ha Ha.

One Hour Scrotum...

Sorry. Before I go to bed, I have to tell you that I dread the dentist tomorrow. I might actually be going to sleep before two a.m. I was at the store tonight and finishing up my consumeristic naughtiness, girlfriend was looking at a Vogue magazine and contemplating on whether or not to buy that filth. I kind of know everybody at the store, and was making small talk with the-not-too-bright-but-friendly-bagger-boy.

He said, "See you later, Kevynn!".
I was thinking that my girlfriend and I had to "Take Off".
I was thinking about saying, "Take It Easy" to the bagger boy.

So, I looked at the-not-too-bright-but-friendly-bagger-boy
and accidently said..."Take It Off!".

And then hurried away.

Very, very fast.