So Close...

Friggin' Haloscan. Right when I'm looking
through other commenting system sites,
they go back online.This is their second strike.
Third? They're outta here, doody-fresh.

I am so tough. Uhhh...nope.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, it is almost time for the next installment of
The Great Grand Ennui/Fat Free Milk Archive Exchange
and from your feedback I can tell you are almost as excited as I am...

"I have to change the water in my goldfish, Fetish Doll's, bowl today, and I am a little worried. I have a bad habit, that goes back a couple of years, of killing goldfish when I change their water. When I changed the water ten days ago I killed Fetish Doll's mate Steph the Geek, and I had just bought both of them a week earlier. Gold fish aren't cheap! I think they cost about $1.29 each. Heck, you can buy three cans of tuna fish for that price. It must have something to do with the water temperature, I think I make it too cold. Or maybe I make it too warm. Or maybe there is too much chlroine in the water. Or maybe someone sneaks in and strangles them in their sleep.

Vanity update: My weight is going down faster than a priest on an altar boy. I have lost 24 lbs since the first of the year. That's a lot of avoirdupois. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."


I like the new background texture on my homepage it looks like what Linda Blair puked up in the Exorcist.

Red Hot Chili Peppers Doing A Ramones Cover Aint Half Bad...

Anyway, I was just looking through the paper and thought you might want to know that Sav-On's is having a big blowout. EPT pregnancy tests are on sale for $8.99. So now you don't have to wait to see if you're pregnant or not. Aren't you glad you bargain shop? Gee, I was waiting all of this time for a coupon!

Oh, mouthwash is on sale too. Two for three dollars.

Goodbye, poop mouth.

Damn. What Was The Title Of My Post Before?...

Something happened. Everything's gone. Sucks, doesn't it? It wasn't that important anyway.

I said that I didn't want to clean the bathroom.
I want to continue reading Spiderman comics and drinking beer.
I want to be on a beach.
And then when I go to sleep.
Gnomes will come get me a blanket, clean up my mess, and leave me new comics and beer in the morning.

That's all that I said. Was that so bad? It wasn't even a good post.

But I liked it.

Okay, here it goes...

Take two.

Check Yo'self, Foo'...

Me. Boz. Fat Free Milk. The Grand Ennui. I'm gonna post one favorite post from Boz's website for the next seven days. Enjoy, punk....

"I am posting a lot of pics. I wonder if you can tell anything about me from the pics I post? I tried for an hour to find a good pic of Lori Petty to post, but wasn't able to find one that met my, ahem, strict standards. I think I'll see if I can find any nice ones of Tuesday Weld. Did you know she was fired from the cast of the television show The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, because she was thought to be too sexy?

I think I'd like to be a cult figure, not in an evil way like Charles Manson or Jim Jones, but more like where 99.9999999999% of the world has never heard of me, but where the .0000000001% who has heard of me is feverent in their devotion of me. I'd like if they had conventions, not unlike Star Trek conventions, where vendors would sell locks of my hair and toe nail clippings, and there would be symposiums discussing the hidden meanings behind the pic just beneath the main title of my blog. There would also be debates on my two pairs of eyeglasses: The gold metal framed computer specs, or the black metal framed everyday specs, which are cooler, you decide. They would dress like me, no, on second thought they wouldn't dress like me, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. There would be webrings and cliques with titles like, The Middle of the Movie, and Not Just For Breakfast Anymore. Fans would make pilgrimages to my house and camp outside my door, hoping for a glimpse of me, and sometimes I would go outside and talk with them, and other times I would call the cops and have them arrested. Then of course there would be that one fan who went over the edge. Preferably a female fan so taken in by me that she would want to have my baby, but rebuffed she would stalk me. She would follow me around, there would be restraining orders, court dates, confrontations, jail time, and finally one night while I tossed and turned in bed there would be a sound, I would open my eyes and look up, and she would be there, with a knife with a 12 inch blade over her head about to come down ........ On second thought, I don't think I want to be a cult figure. I like it better being unknown to 100% of the world. The end."

The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses over the Hills...

I didn't want to wake up, but I had to. Last night was one of those nights where everybody drinks too much and makes plans for the next day. What we don't realize is that most won't remember, and the ones that do won't find anybody to go to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with because the other person is probably sleeping. Don't exchange phone numbers with a newfound friend because it'll just be cleaned out of the wallet in a month. Realize that you'll be eating fast food before you go to bed. You won't even remember it until you see the empty wrappers in the trash. I laughed a lot last night. Ha Ha Ha. I did. Really.

I didn't want to wake up, but I did. I went to the batting cages. Everybody else flaked out except for Joe. Not Joe Mama. My back is sore. When I hit em? Great. When I don't? My back gets all twisted like spaghetti. I have bad knees, okay? They've been bugging me bad for the last coupla years. You should see me walk up steps when nobody's looking. That's what skateboarding will do to ya' kids, look out. So, one ball I hit, smacked me in the knee. My left knee, thankfully. My right knee's the worst. I didn't want to hit anymore because I was in so much pain. Later, I did the same exact fucking thing. Instead of quitting, we logically went to the fast pitch cages.

We played Laser Tag. Me, Joe, two moms, and 23 kids. I got in a fight with one who was bugging the hell out of me. I took his wallet. I played video games. I ate pizza. I went outside to smoke. I sat on a rock. Little blackbirds were pecking at the lawn in front of me. Maybe forty of them. They got closer. And closer. And closer, until they were about five feet away from me. I sat still. My cigarette was developing a grandma ash of mass proportions. A young girl started to look at me. Was it the close proximity of the birds or my natural, boyish charm? Was I a Bird Whisperer? I played more video games. I saw god. No. I went to the video store. I got nothing. I think that is sad. I went home to take a shower. I didn't. I talked to one of my older brothers. I need to go to Baltimore when his baby is born next month. I'm the Marlon Brando of his kid. Wait, I'm the fat-once-brilliant-actor of his kid?

Joe and I were waiting for Chris so that we could go to dinner. I was smoking in the backyard. No birds. Too cold. No worms? I don't know. I heard a crunch. I could tell it was a car against car crunch. Let's stop this "car on car" crime. I heard glass tinkling. I ran to where I heard the noise originate from. It was coming from where my car was parked. The hit and run, drunken-or-just-plain-stupid driver hit the car parked behind mine. Joe and I talked to the irate owner who told us that he fargin felt like cussing, and the cop. I hoped he didn't see my expired registration. I thanked the god(s). We ate food.

I came home. Watched smatterings of the Grammys. Why aren't they giving out awards to grandmothers? Read. Tried to type. Waited. Watched the end of ALI. Uhhh...fine, I guess. It's no When We Were Kings, though. There is a fat cat asleep by me. She is on her back. She is disgusting. One arm is in the air. One is curled down like she's saying, "Aww Shucks!". I think she ate all of the birds that I hung out with today.

I'm glad I woke up.
Now I need to go to sleep...

Smells Like Teen Spirit...

First concert. I was sixteen, I think. Kyuss, White Zombie, Danzig. Why? I was into Danzig. That's it. Halloween night. Lied to my father. Told him I was staying at Tony's house. Costumes. Freaks. Joel lost a whole eighth of pot and we spent the first half hour looking for it. Why? I don't know. I never liked it. I had an older brother, so I know what I'm talking about. We started a mosh pit. We floated Mike across the crowd, and then lost him. We didn't see him until the last part of the concert. I lost my earring and my mask in the space of the first mosh-minute. There were bonfires. I saw long-haired freak's hair go up in flames. A big guy that was standing and watching right by me nudged me and gave me his pipe. I smoked it. Why? I don't know. I got stoned. I hated getting stoned. I lost track of time. I saw a guy with a bloody eye in the bathroom yell what a great time he was having. There were zombies, witches, vampires, and idiots. It was fun.

My next concert was at the Orange County Fair.

I saw The Everley Brothers.

Even scarier.

The Wheels On The Bus...

Time is passing, things are changing. After work I played with my girlfriend's sister's daughter in the park. Does that make sense? If my girlfriend and I were married, which we will be when I'm 87, Rosie would be my neice. She'll start to hate me later on, but she thinks I'm pretty cool now. We point out animals in my books. I pay attention to her. She's the only girl I hug and kiss besides my girlfriend, and I don't have to figure out bills with her, so it's a perfect arrangement. After I got off of work today, my girlfriend asked if I would take Rosie to the " P.A.R.K?". I agreed so that my girlfriend and her sister could talk about family/girl stuff in peace. We went to the park by my house. I had to carry her in my arms all the way there. That was the agreement. If I had it my way, I probably would've let Rosie drive me there. Not my kid. Not my rules. If I had it my way, I'd instruct Rosie to act like she was a midget and ask adult questions to the adults. I'd give her a cel phone and dress her up in a jogging suit. I'd tell her to scream into the phone and ask people, "What the fuck you lookin' at?" when they were staring. I'd tell her to say, " Haven't you ever seen a midget with sloooow speech before?"

The park was empty when we got there. We climbed on everything. We slid down the slides. I made the mistake of teaching her how to play, "Store" in one of the play houses. I would give her wood chips as money and she would give me hamburgers. Consumerism, anyone? I'm glad I didn't call the play house, "McDonalds". Then I would've had to pretend to puke all over the place. Rosie never grew tired of the game, I was sick of putting my hands in all of the woodchips. I kept on thinking about what drunk teenagers do at parks late at night. I tried to tell her that we should go on the slides again. See? Kids aren't bored doing the same thing over and over again. I am. That makes me the kid, I think. Then I thought that if I told her that I was going to play on the slide instead of asking her, I'd get my way. It worked.

The playground started to get filled with small little kids. About eight little things and four mothers that I knew for a fact were younger than me. I live close to a home for troubled, young, pregnant mothers. That explains the kids. One little dude with dreadlocks started to follow me around and wanted to do all of the things that I was doing. Nobody seemed to be watching him. He'd just squeek at me, but I was afraid of lifting him up on things and getting funny looks from the mamas. I had my kid, though. That was my defense. Little dreadlock boy started to follow us everywhere and so I helped lift him on a platform and tried to not make Rosie jealous and make it seem that it was perfectly natural that I was devoting half my time to her and a complete stranger. Little dreadlock boy started to eat the woodchips after sticking his mouth down into the ground. I was afraid of him choking, so I looked around and saw nobody paying attention once again. So, I did the only thing that I could. I stuck my fingers in somebody's baby's mouth and started to pull out the wood chip slivers. I was waiting for the scream from a mother. " What the hell are you doing with my baby?". I was picking fucking wood out of saliva, okay? I shouldv'e thrown some chips in his diapers for fun. That would've really tripped them out later.

Babies were everywhere. When I was helping Rosie climb up a rope ladder. A little thing about the size from my foot to my knee came running up to me as I was climbing. She had a big smile on her face. I had an abject look of terror on mine. I blocked her to stop her from falling about four feet to the ground. I saw some of the mother's start to pay more attention then.

I felt like a father, a little bit. I was standing around watching Rosie with eagle eyes. One of the teenage girls/sitters was shadowing one of the munchkins around. I had a smile on my face and my eyes were darting around, looking for any potential obstacle or danger. Isn't it funny that parents in parks never really look at each other? They can't. One glance away means a busted kid head. I don't know who said what, it was something about one of the slides. I said some thing like, " Yeah, she really likes those." The mom said, "Oh yeah, mine too!" Ummmm....I'm standin' here in my bluejeans, scary black skull t-shirt, wristbands, and scary hair. I don't really fit, okay?

But I guess I do. Because I could be a father now. And I've always dressed however I wanted to at the moment. My uniform is pretty basic. Black shirts when warm. Collared long sleeves when cold. Hair always dumb. Me father now? No. You taking care of mine when I have em'? Oh yeah.

I'll teach my kid how to spellcheck too.


Poop head.

Another Reason Why I'm A Bad Boyfriend...

Watching the last episode of The Bachelorette.
My girlfriend turns to me, teary-eyed, and says, "Are you crying too?"

"Uh, no. I was picking my nose."

Richie Rich And Almost Famous...

I am now working on becoming rich and famous. Rich in what? Famous for what? No, you ass - I just wan't to be rich and famous. Not J-Lo rich and famous. Not F. Scott rich and famous. Not George C. Scott rich and famous. Not Scotland Yard. Not The Yardbirds. Not Charlie Parker. Not Trey Parker. Not Parker Bros. Not The Brothers McMullen. Not a mullet. Not Macauley Culkin. Not Coldplay. Not At Play In The Fields Of The Lord. Not Traci Lords. Not Lord Vader. Not Vapo Rub. Not, " Ay, there's the rub!". Not The Three Men In The Tub. Not Crockett. Not Davey Jones. Not Grace Jones. Not George Burns. Not cigar Burns. Not Smithers. Not Alan Smithee. Not Morrisey. Not The Lizard King. Not John Densmore's tinitus. Not Titus, The Faithful Padlock. Not Paddington Bear. Not Aslan. Not Pennywise. Not He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. Not Admiral Thrawn. Not Elijah Snow. Not The Fourth Man. Not Aimee Mann. Not a man. Not a woman. Not Peter Parker. Not Johnathan Harker. Not Parker Posey. Not a fat head named Rosie. Not Zoloft. Not Phillip Morris. Not Kerouac. Not Palahniuk. Not Orson Scott Card. Not Harry Osborn. Not Warren Ellis. Not a crook. Not tired yet. Not smart, eh? Not enough time in the day. Not too html savvy. Not responsible. Not normal. Not a bad guy to know. Not taking anything for granted. Not a healthy liver. Not a good guy to stick in Vegas. Not into TV. Not taking out the trash. Not done with the screenplays. Not sure what that noise was coming from the turtle tank. Not sure why I think gothic girls are attractive. Not at all gothic myself. Not to touch the earth, not to touch the sun. I had the day off today but I had to cover for a guy whose brother died. I'm not kidding. I am not the god of hellfire. I once met a person who was attacked by a Vampire. I like Werewolves. I hate all Werewolf movies. I like all Spiderman comics. Please send me some. Not Werewolves. I need to go smoke now, can you hold on a sec? Why, thank you. You're the greatest, Bubba....I attract ghosts in almost every house that I live in. I once wrote a drunk email to Sarah B. and don't remember what I said. I recently wrote a letter of complaint to AT&T. I like action figures. I like Gary Oldman. I like the Dalai Lama. I hate China. I like Radiohead. I like Beer and nothing else. I am romantic. I am agoraphobic. I like the beach but hate open water. I like dogs but only have cats. My hair is growing back. I like to poo. I tried to get tickets to see Coldplay at The Hollywood Bowl but they sold out in the first seven minutes. I'd like to tell everybody that got them to suck it. I am listening to Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. I like to sing, and do almost always. I play bass guitar but not as much as I should. Good times never seemed so good. I like Bruce Campbell. I'd like to link to everything that I've talked about. I like eggrolls. I hate mexican food. I hate mexicans and love eggs. Not really. I need to get new car insurance. Larry stopped by tonight. He looks like Snoop Doggy Dog. I once saw Charlie Sheen and Anthony Keidis in the same hour. I have one brown eye and one light brown eye. I am afraid. I've got a bad feeling about this. I want to see Popeye, the movie. I don't miss Shelly Duvall one bit. I think Jennifer Garner is cute but shouldn't work out anymore. I don't watch wrestling. I lke to read. I don't like to read about wrestling. Ernest Hemingway blew his head off with a shotgun. I had a good Valentine's Day. There is still mistletoe hanging above the front door. I am not going to spellcheck this. I like you. I need a digital camera. I need to be adopted please. I live in California. I need to drop off my eight rolls of film tomorrow. I need to pay the cable bill. I need to go to the comic book store. I need to go now.

I need to be rich and famous.

Hop to it, punk.

Jesus Worked Out...

My friend Baxter says that Jesus had a swimmer's body. Then did he play water polo? I don't think that there's a chance in hell that Jesus swam. He obviously didn't like water. Have you seen him? Not lately, I meant in pictures. He looks kind of dirty. Some of that weird soap that I just bought would've done him good. Jesus needed a good razor and a gay hairdresser friend.

See, now look at Buddha. Nice. Clean.

I bet Buddha smelled good.

Who Put The Boop In The Boop-Dee-Boop-Dee-Boop?...

And who put the Jesus in my soap? Okay, get ready...I bought some steaks and green beans for dinner, right? I also needed some more soap to wash my stinky butt with. So I went to the healthy hippie section where I get my Toms Of Maine toothpaste from and picked up "Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps All-One Hemp Vera Baby-Mild Pure-Castille Soap. serious. That's what it's called. Figured it was worth a shot and better than all the usual perfumey crud I usually buy that drives my skin nuts. I opened it up in the shower and started to read the label...

Cruelty free, not animal tested, post-consumer recycled paper, blah blah.

And then I started to read the inside of the wrapper. Notable quotes from the Moral ABC? What the hell? Edison? Booker T. Washington? Mohammed? Confucius? And Bronner? Who the hell is that? And how come most of them were god-ish quotes? That sucked! And of course, the soap sucked. It felt like I was rubbing somebodys heel against my arm. What did I just say?

Screw the Jesus soap. I've been had. I feel dirty now.

*Update* Well, maybe not. I don't know.
You've got to read this article. It's crazy.

Apathetic Nnyvek...

Oh. I get it.
Once, I stop caring about the comments section -
it starts to work again. I see now.
Well, I also don't care about money

...eh?

Nothing happened.

As If It Being Fucking Monday Wasn't Enough...

I bring you this...and I apologize in advance.

p.s. AND I am very close to ditching stupid-ass-never-working Haloscan because my comments never work. What the hell am I paying them for? Oh wait, I get it for free. Well, who cares? They can suck it. All a bunch of bastards, they are.

Transvestite. Schmanzmestite. Comic Book. Nothing Else Of Importance...

I like Planetary and Eddie Izzard.

Not at the same time.

Thank you.

Walt Disney’s Head Part 3...

Time went by quick too. That never used to happen before. I was standing in line at Star Tours. I was at the part where you're waiting to step into the "spaceship". When I was young, the whole minute you used to have to wait until the doors opened was agonizingly slow. I would watch the time tick away on the tv screen. Every second seemed like an eternity. Now, what's a minute to an adult? We know the DMV, okay? We know what it is to wait to speak with a human when calling the bank. One minute to wait at Disneyland? Lick it.

I spent a lot of money, but not that much. That's another thing that's different now. I've spent six bucks on a domestic beer in L.A. What's a $2.75 soda? Dinner was $25.00, not bad for two people. The only thing that I bought was this. My girlfriend didn't buy anything. She just went snack crazy. Did I mention how fat everybody was? Did I mention the myriad assortment of stupid hats that everybody was wearing? Did I mention the lap dance I got from Walt's head? Did I mention that I need to go back soon drunk?

I'm bringing cigars.

Walt Disney’s Head Part 2…

So. Everybody’s fat. Their children too. You can’t pay me enough money to wear mouse ears. I didn’t see Mickey Mouse, so I couldn’t punch him in the asshole in front of a crowd. I had to duck down into the shops in Adventure Island because the store awnings kept hitting me in the face. A young employee girl asked me to put out my cigarette please, this was a non-smoking section, there were smoking sections marked throughout the park. I said okay, thanks. I asked where should I put it out? She said, where do you usually put it out? I looked at her to see if she was trying to be sassy. I said, in an ashtray? And gave her a look. She said maybe I could just throw it on the floor. I said that I didn’t want to litter. I should’ve punched her in the asshole with a fistful of cigarettes.

Mo’ Later…

Walt Disney’s Head Part 1…

So I went to Disneyland and survived. I wasn’t bombed. A plane didn’t crash into the Matterhorn. I was searched when I entered the park, but they felt me up with Mickey Mouse gloves, so it was actually quite pleasurable. First thing that we did was not go into Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln. After that she bought a big pickle while I looked for a bathroom for my big pickle. It was weird. I expected a crap load of people to be there considering it was Valentine’s Day, but the crowds were tolerable. Lines were short.

It was a strange experience, though. I live pretty close. I don’t want you to think that I live in Anaheim because Anaheim generally sucks. I try not to go into the city because I don’t ever really have a need to. I’ve probably only been to Disneyland eight times in my life. The last time I went was probably seven years ago.

Here’s a thing. It seems weird, but this is what I felt when I was walking through and going on the rides and stuff. Everything is a lot smaller than I remember. I guess, I haven’t grown that much since then. I’ve still been the same size. Mr. Kevynn equals the same 5 foot 11, 135 lbs. off messy mess as always. Why would everything seem smaller to me? I don’t know why, but it did.

Mo' later today.......

If I Was A Scar...

I'd want to be Tina Fey's.

John Cusack And Molly Ringwald...

Did they ever do a movie with each other? Just wondering. Maybe I'm forgetting.

Where's John been anyway? What has he done for me lately?

And Molly? I saw her in Not Another Teen Movie...she still looks the same.

Is that good or bad?

I still do too, maybe I should ask myself the same question...

Take on me...

Two Worst Things In The World...

The Disney Corporation and Religous fanaticism.

I'm going to Disneyland tomorrow.
I hope my girlfriend and I don't get blown to smithereens in a terrorist plot.
I would like to see Mickey on fire, though.

So, if you never hear from me again, you know where I went.

I'm Going To Hell...

Coming back from the comic book store. I walked out and heard a crunch. I looked around and saw a big red truck pulling out of its parking space and it crunched a purple truck as it was coming out. I started to walk towards the red truck and then it took off. I thought I may have imagined the sound, but why would I think that? So then I went in my car and to the video store. I rented The Good Girl, Igby Goes Down, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Should I have tried to chase down the red truck? Asked anybody in the comic book store if they had a purple truck? Should I have actually checked it out to see if it really got hit? I didn't do anything. So, was I an irresponsible citizen? Did the rain distort my vision? Will karma kick my butt? Am I going to hell?

Or am I just going to hell because I rented My Big Fat Greek Wedding?

Reverse King Midas Effect...

First pet, I think? Was a dog back in Texas when I was a wee lad, and my father was working for U.S. Customs Border Patrol. His name was Jesus, but we just called him Chewy for short. The dog. Not my father. he was tiny and black. The dog. Not my father. I don't know where we got him from. But he escaped. Either that or my mother ate him. The dog. Not my father.

We also had some pet ducks...I remember chasing them around the backyard. One day, I saw my mother running after them. My older brother and father were laughing. Funny thing was that my mother had a meat cleaver in her hand and was trying to grab one of them. I remember seeing the ducks trying to fly. They can't really go that high. Finally, my mother got a hold of one of their necks. My father told me not to look. I did. She walked towards my father with the ducks heads in her hands. The bodies were flapping behind her. I'm not kidding.

My Grandmother, Bubba...I'm not kidding here either - died when I was fairly young. But I remember Bubba staying with us when we moved back to So Cal after she had a particularly nasty fall at her house in Texas. She brought her two dogs with her. Bonnie and Laddie. Nice Collie dogs. My sis, Sindy, wasn't allowed outside because she was a wee bitch and would get knocked the fuck out by the dogs whenever she stepped outside. Eventually we had to give the dogs away. Bubba cried. I was sad. My mother was still around and was probably mad that she didn't get to eat them.

After the divorce and when my father was single, pets were out of the question. All of us kids would've been too, if he could've gotten away with it. No dogs. No cats. Even though we lived in a neighborhood around horses, ponies, more ducks, peacocks, skunks, possums, crows, and coyotes. We eventually got a couple parakeets, which my older brother let, fly away. We had a big Oscar fish that ate all of the others. We had Neon Tetras that got sucked up in the water filter. We had an Angelfish that stuck it's fucking nose up to the heat lamp and got stuck up to it, burned, and then died...My mother wasn't responsible for the death or consumption of any of these. She was too far away. Thank god. I'm not too keen on eating things that taste like aquarium water.

All attempts to get a dog were shot down by dear ol' dad in my teenage years. I did have a lizard that we captured in the backyard and put in a tank, but then we went on vacation and I came back to watch all of the ants crawl out of his eyes. His name was Snake. I named my lizard, Snake. I call my penis a lizard now, though. So I guess it all makes sense in some weird way...I think.

When I moved out on my eighteenth birthday...Oh wait, did I say moved? Sorry, I meant to say when I got booted the hell out of my father's house, I could own all of the pets that I wanted...but who wants to hear about my young, dating history? I had a lot of roaches in the first couple of houses. They weren't like pets, though. They were like very, very, bad dogs. Just really tiny and a lot scarier. You never have to feed them, though. That's cool. They can be nibbling on your skin flakes while you're eating cornflakes in the morning.

Various roommates had pets, but that doesn't count, because they weren't mine. What was my first pet? MY pet? Besides your mom? I was living at the Amerige House. No, that's not a boy's home or a mental institution - It's just what me and my various roommates called a house that I lived in for two or three years from...19-21. That's when I met Hannah, my roomie April got her. I had a Beta fish that I felt sorry for when I saw it in a Dixie cup at stupid Pet City. His name was Jabba The Fish. I used to keep his bowl by the floor heater when it got cold. A drunk girl kicked him into it. Goodbye Jabba. Hello fish smell for months. Another roommate had a turtle named Melvin? He got wedged under his little floaty thing in the tank. He died. I buried him in the backyard and we had a funeral. I played a song for him on the guitar and tipped my 40 0z. of Coors onto his grave. My turtle homie. Then after the Amerige House, I moved into The dumb ass Streams Apartments and April lived in the same complex. She'd bring over Hannah for visits and then when April broke up with her boyfriend, I had to keep her. The cat. Not April. When April wanted her back, she couldn't have her. My mom either. Hannah the cat was mine.

My older half brother, Chris, and I, were coming back from The Museum Of Tolerance in L.A. Traffic happened to stop on the freeway. My brother started to yell at Chris to Pick it up! Pick it up! Nobody was dancing or doing military drills in the car, so I was confused. Chris got out and came back with what I thought was a little piece of gray clothing. It was a bloody, pregnant cat named now...60. See, I'm clever, eh? Not really.

Anne couldn't keep her cat Salvador when she had to move to Long Beach. So, I had to in this house.. Salvador was big and dumb, but lovey dovey cool for a shit head. I woke up one morning to a jogger at my doorstep. Do you have a black and white cat? I croaked yes and spent my remaining morning hours digging through tree roots in the backyard that I have now. Poor guy. I had to install an electric fence around his grave just in case my mother ever decides to visit me.

Hannah was too crazy to keep inside. So I let her roam around the backyard and the neighborhood. Sometimes I wouldn't see her for a bit, but all I'd have to do is call her name and she'd eventually come back to me and kick back. One day it came to about a week and I started to get worried. She's gone now. Maybe a coyote got her from the park across the street. Maybe it was one of the Raccoons that we have living up in the palm tree. Or the Possum family? I hope somebody adopted her, but I doubt it. You couldn't keep that sweet, little bitch inside for more than a day. Maybe my mom has a cat whistle.

Now I still have 60. Who is dumb. Great, but dumb. Sweet, though. I have Jane, my girlfriend's fat ass cat. She sucks and is the stupidest thing that I've ever seen. She's on a diet. We have a turtle. He's boring. We have plants. I have my friends. They're just about as animalistic as anything can get. I don't have to groom or feed them, they fend for themselves. So it's all Kool And The Gang.

I have my girlfriend. She requires lots of attention..

I do miss Hannah, though.


That's it.


*sniff sniff *


Pigfuckers.

Pet Sounds...

Ruff!
Meow!
Moo!
Hissssssss!
Snarf!

Just Kidding....

My Drunk Post...


Does anyone else fall asleep to Empire Strikes Back?
I'll be dreaming about Amazing Spiderman issue fifty that's going to be coming out soon.
Trying to keep warm?
Dreading work?
Thinking about death?
About life?
About money?
And your sweet ass?
I want to dangle babies over balconies in my dreams.
I want to forget about your face.
I want to forget about your feces.
I don't ever want to face your feces.
I don't ever want to eat Reeses Feces.
If I ever met E.T., I'd expect him to be rich and to buy me a drink.
If I ever met Elliot, I'd ask him where Gertie was.
If I ever met Tom Green, I'd probably skate with him and never ask him anything after that.
If I ever met you, I'd be scared.
If you ever met me, You'd be scared.
If you ever met me, you'd know that I never get enough sleep.
If the world was a light bulb, I'd be the thin, wire filament glowing and fading in the center of it all.
If time was any faster, I'd be pissed.
If time was any slower, I'd be pissed.
I am aware that Gene Hackman played Lex Luthor.
I am aware that Billy Dean Williams was in both Batman and Empire Strikes Back.
I am aware that The guy who played Jek Porkins in Star Wars was in Batman also.
I am wary of the new Daredevil movie.
I am horny for Jennifer Garner.
Jennifer Garner is not horny for me.
I am in fear of Valentines Day.
I am scared of fat cupids.
I am scared and sacred.


Goodnight/day, punks.

Sorry.