I'd Go To The Gunshop First And The Liquor Store Second...

Saw 28 Days Later. Damn, see the movie. Don't listen to anybody else, remember - people never know what they're talking about. Especially when it comes to movies. Especially me, right? It was the best fast-moving zombie-type movie that was directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland that I've ever seen. Alex Garland wrote The Tesseract, The Beach, and nothing else that I knew of. I always checked the library to see if he ever released anything new, but I couldn't. I didn't know that he wrote it until the credits started to roll. Bastard snuck underneath my radar somehow. I would've rather've read the book first, biotch. Yeah, I just said rather've.

This is probably the only movie review I will ever write. There are obvious reasons for this...

Scuttle...

Dude, Buddy Hackett died?...

Yeah, I'm a fan of The Little Mermaid too.

Please Hammer, Don't Hurt Em'...

Oh man, it's gonna be one of those days, isn't it?
If things already start suckin' - and it's not even noon,
go back to sleep or get drunk.

Where Do You Think You're Going, Captain Solo?...

Damn.
Even if I'm dead tired.
I can't leave a gibberish message like that.

So, my camping trip kicked major booty. It was hot as hell, but I knew it was going to be. I now have a very red back in the shape of a wife beater. The t-shirt, not ( fill in the blank with the name of a major star or sports figure who beats their significant other. ) I drank a coke that had a bug in it and then it bit me on my lip while it was inside my mouth. I saw coyotes, kangaroo rats, snakes, birds that looked like Elvis, crazy Germans, and swdish girls riding bikes out in the desert. I cheated and went back into town and ate a salad from Jack In The Box. I drank a lot of water. I drank a lot of Bud Light, which is basically the equivalent of water. I called my girlfriend and Joe, Cheech and Chong, Beavis and Butthead, Shaggy and Scooby, and Dawne and Joe - all in the space of one smoke-filled car ride. I hiked two miles yesterday on some ungodly, horrible, but beautiful trail that led to an abandoned gold mine. I almost gave up twice. I thought that It was a hard trail or that I was out of shape. Joe said that it was both. Joe's body is still there. I was sneaky and tried to get into the mine. I didn't climb over the fence to the main mine - I slid under the fence. Like I said...I'm thin. I finished a book. I won't tell you which one, becasue I waaaas kind of embarrased to be reading it. Not Harry Potter. There was a meteor shower on both nights, and I managed to not see one meteor. I blame GOD. I used an axe. I like chopping wood. My toes get scared, though. I probably listened to forty CD's. I was worried about my cats. I was worried about bills and my mail. I felt weird about not writing. Then I felt like a jackass for even thinking about it. I went rock climbing, but had to take it easy. Bum ankle. Bum Dee Dum Bum. I'm already forgetting all of the things I did. I stared up at the stars a lot. I stared into the fire more. I mercy-killed a big, fat bug that flew in and out of our fire pit. It was about the size of your computer mouse. I was going to say something else. I am very tired. I must go. I will not use spel check. I really and drifting off right noe. I thank you. I'm serious. I just spilled a Sprite. Goodnight.

Stephen. Jack Stephen...

Falling asleep at keyboard...must go sleep.

Me talk to you, tomorrow. Today.

I am Kevynn's lack of sleep.

Henry David Thoreau Was A Pussy...

Yeah, part of my birthday thingy / extravaganza is I'm going away for the weekend. Where am I going? Vegas? Catalina Island? Fantasy Island, boss? Disneyland? Some swanky hotel? Yes, all of those. No. I'm going to Joshua Tree National Park, Bono. Yup. It'll be at least 100 degrees tomorrow and 104 on Saturday. Don't try to rob my house either, you cretins - because I'm gonna have somebody staying here while I'm gone. His name is Bubba. He spends time in and out of prison. He is strong. He has boyfriends. Yeah.

Anyway, it is fun, though. I like it up there. Nobody is around. You can drink yourself to oblivion, talk to coyotes, burn a lot of things and forget a can opener so that you have to use a knife to get to your food. Sweating is good. You don't even have to have sex with somebody that you met in a bar to get that way. I won't be climbing around on the rocks like my usual monkey self, though. I'm a little handicapped now. I'm bringing my cane, just in case. I'm also bringing Justin Timberlake. You never know when he might come in handy.

So, It's getting late and I'm making last minute preparations. Guess what we don't have yet? Hmmm...a tent. Firewood. Ice. Directions. Small stuff. I can't wait to wake up early in the morning. Ummm...it makes me feel all giddy just thinking about it. I'm a morning person. Yup. Hell no, I'm not. I'll wake up if you have a gun pointed to my head. I'm one of those types that never likes to go to sleep, suffers from bad insomnia, but when I'm actually asleep - the last thing that I want to do is wake up. Mi ojos es treiste.

When I'm away, I'm going to make friends with all of the coyotes. All of the Mexicans too. Coyotes first. I'm not going to shave. I've never been able to grow a beard. I've always wanted to, but it just wont happen, folks. I can only grow a mustache. It's kind of embarrassing after a couple of days without shaving. I look like a cross between Genghis Khan and Cheech Marin.

Wish me luck, bastards......

If Your Beers Are Too Warm, It's Time To Get Air Conditioning...Or To Drink Them Faster...

Wow. Apparently, I was added to the links section of a radio show hosts web page. I vaguely remember seeing some hits late last night, but I was too drunk to really know what was happening.

Whomever you are I'd like to thank you for adding 400 and counting hits to my itty, bitty site today.
Next time I see you, I'll make sure to get somebody to rub your crotches for you. Serious. Thank you, Catherine Martin for referring me. I like the description. You don't happen to be the same cheerleader that went to my high school that was a junior when I was a senior that went by that name? You were really hot, and we got together a number of times, but you talked like a baby, and had the smarts of a buffalo? A retarded buffalo? You talked in some kind of lispy, baby language with your best friend Donna? And she was pretty too, but had a messed up lip because your dog bit her in the face when the both of you were young? And both of your families sued each other, yet you were both still friends? Can I say both again, please? Somebody killed the dog afterwards. You both probably saved the shotgun shell and talked him to death, huh? No, wait...That was Catherine Marshall. Sorry. I'm glad that you weren't her, Catherine. Even if you were, I'd still thank you. You're in my cool book.

Yo Te Llamo. And, ummm...Remember The Alamo.

You all make me tingle in a bad way.

Go Shawdy, It's My Berfday...

maybe he’ll feel a sharp needle ping in his crotch
right at the accurate moment of conception or ejaculation
of twenty-eight years ago

maybe she’ll feel a piano string snap of guilt
From within her uterus

it was the age of creation
it was hot
it was raining red worms that night outside the hospital
lightning flashed
burning a patch of them against still stained asphalt
the smell was awful inside
brine
vinegar
and brimstone wafting from her straddled legs

the power went out
an elderly dying lady let out a final shriek
before plummeting into a blacker than black world

we saw death that night

the night of my birth

Demi Moore Thinks That Men Who Don't Use Spell check Are Sexy...

It's always nice to get called in to work when you have the day off, but it's all over, so - no worries. Afterwards, when I was walking out towards the parking lot, I saw the homeless guy that I always see around who carries the silver briefcase. Murder was the briefcase that they gave me, Snoop says...anyway...Demi Moore on Letterman? Hold on. Wow.

So, I say hi. To the homeless man - not Demi Moore, I ask if he's hungry. I was carrying home some food. He tells me that he's got a toothache, and he finds it hard to eat. He sometimes screams out in public or talks to himself, but I always make it a point to talk to him, and he always snaps out of it, is really polite, and quick to go back to talking or screaming right after we exchange pleasantries. Tonight, I gave him some money again and then he told me that I looked like a movie star, that I looked like Bruce Lee's son or something. Ha, that was great. I've never gotten that before. I was about to bust out with the obligatory Harry Potter comparison that I get because of the spectacles. Spectacles - the Greek god of seeing. Testicles - the Greek god of fertility. Demimooreiclies - my god, how hot is she?

Uh, yeah - so, my homeless friend said that I loked like Bruce Lee's son. I was afraid to ask if I looked like him now, or when he was alive. The he said that I looked like a Hollywood actor or something, that he wished me the best, and that I'll be a super rich star. Super Rich Star. I like that. I told him to wish me good luck, and he did. And then I went home in my dusty car that I haven't washed professionally in almost a year.

Am I a Super Rich Star? Only if you make me feel like one. Homeless or not.

Thank you, briefcase man...

Some Things...

Don't be a dummy. Remember to remember to pay for your drinks. I don't wanna have to chase after you, because then I'll charge you double. I'm still bummed about missing that party. Luis said that it was the best party he's ever been to. My birthday is coming up. I am more concerned with making my car payment on the 30th and making rent by the 5th, than anything else. Last year, my gal threw me a surprise party. I was asleep in the car right before. After they yelled SURPRISE!, I called them a bunch of pig fuckers, gave them the bird, and then proceeded to karate chop everybody in the wind pipe. I think my town is being invaded by english blokes. They're everywhere. I think that this year, I haven't finished reading more books than have. On my birthday, I want to go to Chuck E. Cheese, and then a strip club. Or maybe, Ill strip at Chuck E. Cheese. It's time to go. Goodbye.