S.O.S.

Beer...need beer.
No wonder all of the one-legged, broke cripples I know are clear-headed and sober.
They can't afford to get drunk anymore,
Or they can't make it to the store.

Little Bunny Foo Foo signing out...

And I'm Sorry, But...

Does this strike you as a little bit strange?
Take a really good look at their set up...
Can I log in to My Account for any new apocalyptic news?
The first new 20,000 subscibers get what?

There are certain things that exist on this Earth that make me wish there really was a hell....

Hell is other people.

Deserted Island, Pet, Movie, Book, Partner other than a significant other, Unlimited Food Item, And CD...

Why is everybody always trapped on an island? Why not in an abandoned silver mine? A retirement home. Anaheim? Or a Linkin Park concert?

Anyway, If I was ever trapped on a desert island and could bring a pet, it wouldn't be my dear, old cat, 60 - it would have to be a trained chimpanzee that liked to fish. If I could only watch one movie while I was there? You know, because all of those desert islands generate their own electricity and have TV's that only play one movie...it would be...Empire Strikes Back. Book? The Boy Scout Handbook Of America. Another person? Damn...Elizabeth Hurley without her kid. Unlimited food item? Food? tobacco doesn't count? Beer either? Steak, I guess. Cd?...something long of Beethovens.

All of these could change, though.

Hmmmm....

I Hate Lucy...

If I was Lucy, I would've thrown gay-ass Little Ricky out the window,
called the INS and had them deport my husband,
tossed a molotov cocktail inside Fred and Ethel's apartment,
and then run away with a short-haired lesbian named "Jo".

"Marsupials" Written By Tom Schmitt...

I kept hearing this scratching on the roof at night. It was central to the chimney, this weird clawing sound. I think that a family of possums are up there, scurrying back and forth, playing with their food, running in circles, whatever possums do when no one's watching, which is most of the time. I always thought that possums were rather slow creatures, but these bastards were nonstop, like they're drinking Red Bull. It's very annoying. And, of course, it's like they know I'm sleeping, so that's when they're the loudest. Actually, I hardly ever hear them during the day.
Yesterday, I got the grand idea to flush them out. My plan was to go up there with a broom and kind of knock them around a bit, show them who the boss was. This way, they would associate pain with being on my roof, thus, never coming back. (I didn't even think that if I pushed one down the chimney it'd be in my house, thank God it didn't come to that!) I went to the garage and got the broom and a ladder. I set the ladder up on the side of my house and climbed up, walking slowly over the shingles, thinking this way I wouldn't fall into my living room. My next-door neighbor, Mr. Seaver, was in his backyard raking leaves. I waved and said hello, told him "I was rounding up some possums," he laughed and said "good luck, be careful." I got to the chimney and looked around. I saw lots of bird shit, but no possums. Being at the peak of the roof, I stopped walking so lightly, and checked the other sides of the chimney. Again nothing. I then looked down the chimney, but all I could see was blackness. I grabbed the broom and stuck it down the chimmney, moving it back and forth, trying to dislodge something, when it slipped from my hand and fell down the chimney.
Apparently, in most chimneys, there is a bend in the construction, so that the flue is not totally straight. The broom fell about four feet and got stuck in the bend, I could see it's handle resting against the concrete. My first instinct was to say fuck it, and just go buy another broom. I never used my chimney, so I wasn't worried about the thing catching on fire and burning the house down. I started to walk away, but I couldn't do it. I just felt so stupid for dropping it down there. I came up to get those damn possums away, and then they took my broom? Fuck that. I was going to get it.
I turned around, brushed away some of the bird shit with the back of my hand, and pulled myself up a little bit so that I could get a better angle reaching the broom. I stretched my arm as far as it would go, but still couldn't reach it, so I scooted further on the chimney's lip. Again I couldn't reach it, again I scooted. It was at this moment, when I was half an inch away from the end of the broom, that my neighbor yelled, "Ya'll right up there, Sal?" and at that second, straining as much as I was for the goddamn broom, I got so distracted that I fell in the chimney.
I slid past the broom, and luckily I had my hands outstretched, and they helped break the fall when I hit the bend in the concrete. My dumbass neighbor (who probably yelled on purpose for a good laugh), saw the whole thing and also heard my girly yelp as I went down. He called the fire department and they came out and pulled me up by feet. The whole neighborhood ended up crawling out of the woodwork, pointing and gawking. The circus was in town and I was the main event. It took three firemen to pull me out, and they were kind, asking me if I was all right, but aside for my ego being bruised, I only had a few scratches. They watched me climb across the roof and down the ladder, making sure I didn't slip again and, this time, finish the job. Once I was on solid gorund, the firemen roared off in their truck and one by one, the neighbors disappeared. Embarrassed, I trudged inside, plopped down on the couch, and shook my head, wondering how I got this low.
Thankfully, after that day, I never heard the possums again. Perhaps, because I made such an ass of myself, they felt sorry for me and decided to cut me some slack. Whatever the reason, I was glad they were gone. Overall, although it has become a neighborhood myth, I'm not too scarred by the ordeal. I'm just pissed that I still left the fucking broom in there.

It's Alive!...

Way too much free time, so...the screenplays rise again. God help me.

*UPDATE*

I, so far, have accomplished absolutely nothing.
I watched something on TV about Picasso.
Ate a salad.
Showered on one leg.
Played a dumb game on the internet.
The stack of notebooks to my right is glowering at me.
The gods up on Mt. Productivity are laughing...

Freaky Sleep Stories...

I rarely do anything weird in my sleep. I never sleep, so it's not a problem. No, really - I don't do anything crazy in my sleep. No sleepwalking. I know a girl who likes to pee in closets in her sleep. That's why she never spends the night. I don't even snore. I do like to fall asleep to Empire Strikes Back, but that's not a sleep habit. Not really.

Okay, but check this out - I was almost asleep last night when my girlfriend started laughing. I looked at her and her eyes were closed. I whispered her name, but she just kept on laughing, it really scared the hell out of me. Friggin' spooky, man. Your girlfriend laughing demonically in the middle of the night?

That sucked. It took me a long time to get back to sleep after that because she still had a smile on her face.

Screaming Jay Hawkins...

So I barely posted at all yesterday because I had to go to the ankle/dude/guy/doctor/man. I arrived at nine in the morning so that I could wait there for an hour and a half. This type of crap happened to me at the dentist last week? If I make an appointment for a certain time, isn't that because that's a time...when they have time? Next week when the dentists office calls to confirm my new appointment, wait til I get a hold of them. Suffer. When the ankle/dude/guy/doctor/man finally saw me, he kicked me in the crotch. Now I have a cast on my penis. I'm not supposed to use it for six weeks. I killed him. No, he said I don't need a cast. That's great. I didn't have the money anyway. I have to go back for new x-rays in three weeks. Then, this splint thing can come off and I can go back to wearing high heels - oops! I meant, shoes again. I may be able to ditch the crutches and use a cane. Big daddy Kane? Michael Caine? Abel? Cain? Mmmmm, candy. I got a new splinty/casty thing, and can unwrap it whenever I want. I slept on my side last night. That was a little slice of heaven there, Bubba.

I am going nuts, though. I need to work. I need to do stuff.

One can only look up so much gothic porn.

Damn Pictures, Prizes, Poems, And Trinkets...

Okay. I was bored. I created an ego-driven contest about me, for me, and involving drinking and internet-scavenger-hunt-type shenenigans, and I had a lot of fun. Neat, neat, neat. And some people discovered new writers and made some new friends. This KM day was the bestest day ever.

I had a hard time dishing out the two Grand Prizes, so now they’re all Grand Prizes…

I need some addresses for:

ATL Superstar
Boz From The Grand Ennui.
Steve from Steve's Mental Spigot.
Kathy from Kazoofus.
Melissa from Coffee For One.
Danee from Diaries Of A Flame Dame.
Amy Choppa from Get To The Choppa!
And Cheeks from My Life As A Shaven Ape.

Email me at Kevynn75@hotmail.com

Did I forget anybody?

And can you send poo in the mail if it's in Tupperware?

Ill Communications...

Well, this sucks...

Winners will be announced pretty soon. I've just been gone all day at the ankle doctors and at my girlfriend's car place, and then we had to run a crapload of errands. I'm finally home, but am on obligatory phone conversation number one. It was daytime when I started talking. it's dark now. This is why I hate talking on the damn phone.

Getting Late...

I don't feel like turning into a dirty servant just yet...
So everybody list what KMD shite you accomplished...

The Grand Prize and the runner-up are waiting for ya' bee-yotch...

Totally Having Fun...

Now Al and Todd are here. Todd brought a digital camera for KMD, but I don't think that we can hook it up to my computer. Retarded, yes. I talked to Boz, Melissa, Steve, Danee, Pamela, Melissa's boss, who else did I forget? ATL Superstar. We were going to smear ash in the shape of a "K" on our foreheads. Beer number what? I don't know...

Have you seen the Ali G show?

Anyway, where's my weiners? I mean, winners?

Yelling...

"How many beers is that for you?" to Ian. I dont think he can hear me...
He took work off tonight. Last night Mr. Henry Rollins was reading at his work...
A gal I used to work for would get about a hundred Xmas cards for free every year.
She would donate to a school for handicapped people, and then would recieve free Xmas cards painted by them. Some had covers from people with no hands, etc.
My boss would always give them to me. So I would sometimes send them to random people. I would sign my name and let them wonder who the hell I was. I would send a card to Henry's publishing company, Black Sparrow Press, City Lights, and The Los Angeles Times...others I forgot...

It was fun...

I need to start doing that again....

Who's drinking?

AIM = bubbahotep 75

Basketball Diaries...

Ian just took one of my Vicodins.

So far my friends have taken more of these things than me.

I should set up a beer/prescription drug exchange...

Ian, Drunken ASSistant of Kevynn Malone Day Speaks...

salutations pussa-a-a-a-ys! i actually 'em getttin' to done be allowed to write on this internet thingy.totally sweet!I think were on beer 3 or 4 now and kevynn still hasn't given me any vicatins.what a cheapskate. I even bought the beer and everything.one good thing about k-day is that you get to eat free food made by his hippie girlfriend! yeah granola!another great thing about k-day and being thewhat is it? the drunken ASSassin? is that i got to poo, drink and read hellboy at the sametime in k. malones bathroom. I know it's not spiderman but it's better.stop hatin on opera baby that ish is f'in hilariuos.god save the V.

Speaking Of Pooping...

I think you need to see this...

Beer No. 2.

I am humbled by your participation in the Kevynn Malone Day festivities.

I have pooed twice.

Twice.

Happy Boozy Booze...

Ian, my drunken ASSistant will be here soon...
I'm checking out the comments that have been left by some of you from the Kevynn Malone Day list.
I hope nobody is confused. It's kind of funny, I feel like I'm in the Amazing Race or something and that I'm a couple hours behind the fastest and noisiest car that's in first place. Fuck did that make sense?

I should've said that I feel like Rascoe P. Coltrane chasing the Duke Boys...

That would've been better.

Happpy Kevynn Malone Day!

For those of you who don't know, I created my own holiday. It was an excuse to drink and to give away a prize. And now that I'm a non-ambulatory, gimpy guss, this day is even more special than before. Take a look at the previous post and see how one can participate in the festivities.

I have already pooed.
Read a Spidey comic.
And here is my first beer, Bubba...

AIM name - Bubba Ho Tep 75
Email - Kevynn75@hotmail.com

Kevynn Malone Day Is Tomorrow...flex those typing fingers and massage that liver...

For those of you who do not know. I have officially decreed tomorrow, Kevynn Malone Day. It is a holiday for me, created about me. It's about drinking and bugging me on the computer. it's about AIMing everybody and writing on this piece of shite website. There will probably be way too many posts by me tomorrow. And it's about a contest too, yo. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be home all day. Ian has volunteered his services on Kevynn Malone Day. He will be the Secretary Of Drunkeness. I will do nothing but write and drink. Especially with this fucking broken ankle now. Do you like prizes? The first person that completes all of these chores gets a grand prize from me. The second gets a just-as-cool prize, but not-as-cool as the first.


· 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:

I love you...

Britney Spears Naked...

Sorry, I only did that for the million Google hits I'll get.
Have you ever seen or met a celebrity? Who was it and what did they look like/say to you?
Did they smell?

I once walked right past Anthony Keides when in Hollywood. He is very short. He was coming out of a liquor store when I was coming in. My father met Colonel Sanders and Emperor Hirohito. Not in the same day. I saw Charlie Sheen twenty minutes after seeing Anthony. He was coming out of The Viper Room. I've met all of the members from Bad Religion. They're way too nice to be punk stars. I met Chuck Henry. Not Buck, but Chuck...

Hmmm...who else.

I wish I'd meet an ankle doctor...and a millionaire...

Kevynn Malone Day. March 5th!!!

Quick Question...

What do you freaks think about this AudioBlogger thang?
I'm tempted to try it. Well, I'm tempted to try your mom too, but that doesn't mean I go with all my urges.

Kevynn Malone Day. March 5th!

If It Ain't Broke, Don't Jump Out Of The Car Then...


Six weeks off of work? How the hell can I do that? Please tell me that somebody put there is a millionaire so I can pay my bills/rent/porn fees. You would have to be a computer geek too. I don't know how to hook up that Paypal crud.

What the hell am I going to do in my freetime? I can't walk. My girlfriend's at work now, I'm all alone. Yesterday a bunch of friends came over and brought beer, cheese, and chips. Then my Hymen broke and they all left. Google search: Hymen. Besides the finacial woes, I think I will be nibbling crackers and drinking water while finishing screnplays then. Then by the time I'm all healed, I can give one to that lady from MGM. Then I'll kick her in the crotch and run away on my newly healed ankle. I'm gonna smoke...I'll be back in thirty six minutes....

I like Boz. Boz likes Me. Post Exchange.

"Wtf, all the comments from January 29th have disappeared.
Don't worry boz, they'll be back.
You really think so?
Trust me.
Your name isn't Pop is it?
Why?
Because my pop told me to never trust anyone named Pop.
No, this is the voice of your conscience.
You mean ...
Yep, Frank Sinatra.
Could you sing a couple bars of Moon River?
That was Andy Williams you putz.
Sorry, I've gotten the two of you mixed up since the time I fell off the truck.
Welp, Dino and Sammy are calling, I'm outta here.
Hey, is it true what they say about Juliet Prowse and Jill St. John?
--POOF--"

Lucas...

Broken glasses.
Broken ankle.

Fuck.