Yesterday...

I saw a baby possum that looked like a beany baby.
Hid eggs.
Realized everybody, when preparing for holidays...is nuts.
Drank.
Had kids sing 50 cnt lyrics to me.
Ate.
Played a lot of video games.
Watched some really embarrassing things Im ashamed to admit on MTV.

And had a fun day considering it was Easter.

Seriously, Folks...



Easter Eggs Smell Like Farts…

Come One, Come All...

Rabbit stew at my house.

Mmmm...

Crap...

All the things that I want to write about might take me to long to do. I have a couple of things to tell, but think that they would be better explained tomorrow due to the late hour and my over exposure to alcohol...I hope that I just made sense, bubba...

All that I can tell you is that it has to do with my three hour trip to IKEA today and about junior high school parties....

Green beans and Empire Strikes Back. That's what I'm all about right now. Yeah, I'm down for some smart Han Solo dialogue and some Jolly Green Giant Lovin'...

Oh yeah, fuck you, Lando Calrissean!

Lobot's cool, though...

Somewhere There's An Island Full Of People Just Like Me...

And here's another thing. When I go to clothing places and shop for jeans, It's kind of funny that the only sizes that I find on sale in the clearance rack in the back section of the store are either XXXL or 32 waist and 32 length, which is my size. 32/32, not the XXL.

Me...

Who starts editing a story for a Marvel Comics submission at 4 in the morning?
Yeah...
I suck. I know...

I Wanna Eat Yo' Brains...

So I guess that my sister made the transformation from a vegetarian to a full-fledged VEGAN now. This is a huge step for her, you know. I'm totally behind her on this. So I'm going to suport her 100%. So that means no more baths in cows blood when I come to visit. That means no more animal sacrifices when I pray to Satan. I'll now be using a soy substitute instead. This means no more Jello baths too. No more Chihuahua tossing. No more eating the worm from the bottom of tequila bottles. No more washing spiders down the plughole. No more meals at my vietnamese mother's house. No more bacon. No more Porky Pig cartoons. No more Moons Over My Hammy's. No more Just In Quesidillas. No more Moons Over My Hammy. No more, I tell ya'. No More!

Sindy is my little sis. She rocks. Next time you see her, slap her with your leather belt for me...

Rock And Roll High School...

You know, the only reason I'd ever want to go back to high school is so that I could go to all of the dances and pass out drunkenly. I'd tell all of the nerds to kiss my shoes and then tell them to please hire me ten years later. I'd make out with the dance teacher. I'd kick the principal in the balls. I'd steal all of the raffle prizes. I would nominate myself for queen of the dance and I would have taken a lot more naked pictures of dumb cheerleaders.

Hmmm...Interesting...

I'm a pretty easy-going guy when it comes to understanding about staying out later than one expects. Time passes quickly. Drinks happen. Friends. Conversation. Whatever.

What I don't get is what I was talking about earlier. About how you would get very mad at me if I did some of the same things that you did.

Like: I understand if you just want to hang out with your friends without me being included - just tell me. Don't assume. You used to get mad at me about this type of crap all of the time. Now I don't do it. Who was the gal gettin' ready before she even let her significant other even know that she was going out. To be honest, I didn't want to go anyway. I hate where angelica works. It sucks. But if I was getting ready to bolt out the door before telling you what the hell I was doing, and assumed that you wouldn't mind not even being told that I'd rather go out by myself with friends? Fuck, you wouldn't let me live it down.

Like: Not calling the whole time you're out?

Like: Having Angelica call me after you were apparently too drunk to drive? You could apparently get to her house, but not ours?

Like: If you are at her house, then why don't I pick you up?

Like: If you're drunk, you know I'd pick you up or get you home somehow. If you wanted to stay at her house, all you have to do is let me know.

Like: What the fuck were you doing this whole time?

Like: If I can learn how to be a considerate partner, then what happened with you? You can't call me once?

So: Did anybody else stay at Angelica's house?

So: Did you not think how you would feel if put in this situation?

I really am and was cool the whole time until after 2 a.m. I puttered around the house doing my own thing. Angelica's call left me flabbergasted and saying, "Okay...whatever."

If I spent the night and had a friend tell you...how would you feel?

It doesn't really instill a boatload of security and trust in me about your trip to Europe, does it?

I am waking up 10 - 10:30 to have lunch with George.
Please don't wake me up because I won't feel like talking about it...

Kevynn

Malthusian…

Socially, today was not a good day. Everybody that I passed by or came in contact with disgusted me. From the attitude of the older man who tried to cut in line in front of me at the store, who I, at first, was polite to, and then had to be mean to, to the other dirty, creepy cretins who infiltrated my sunshine for the other portions of the day. People were rude, lazy, and impatient. People were driving too fast, and not giving a shit about anything except for their own "progress". Taco Bell will still be there, folks. You driving faster won't really make a difference. Your cheap tacos will always be around. There are no bombs dropping overhead in America, people. Not right now, at least. You can go with the flow. No need to hurry. I am disgusted at your laziness. I am disappointed at your lack of empathy. I am not surprised at your tunnel vision. You're all very hungry, so that carrot dangling in front of you is all that matters today, I can understand that. Just try not to involve me. If I speak to you, be polite back. I always give you the benefit of the doubt. Please return the favor. I'm trying not to show you my weaknesses or to make your day any more unpleasant by letting my insecurities, worries, and my bad upbringing rub off on you. Please do not let your children outside if they're just a carbon copy of your bad habits. I don't need to see the miniature examples of your inability to raise children. Dealing with one of you is enough, let alone one and a half of you. You didn't really ruin my day; you just made it a lot harder to enjoy. You made my sky a couple shades darker. You made me feel colder than I should have. I exerted more energy than I should have. Now it's lower. I might have to recharge all of the batteries that you tried to deplete today. I used to try to be apathetic. That never worked. It doesn't work at all, it just gets you angrier. I've tried hard getting rid of that, so I'm not going to let you get me back into it. I came to the realization that I wasting too much of myself towards something that I can never change. I think that the happy, gray area that I've created is just fine with me. I've got enough to think about now without you fucking it all up. I'm glad to meet you sometimes. And sometimes I'm glad that I can walk away. I'm glad sometimes that I don't need to say something to you all of the time. I'll still say something to you if I think that you're out of line or if you infringe on my personal space or enjoyment, and watch out -cuz' I'll rip your fucking head off, but I'm glad that your monsters don't hang around my house as much as they used to. It gives me more time to do the things that I want to. That's it, I think. This could go on forever, but maybe that's another good sign of mine. I can let you go, like some black dandelion floating off in the stinky air. You're forgotten, spread your seeds elsewhere. You dummies. You make me remember how happy I am with myself. You make me feel good. You make my parents proud.

Thank you.

You dumb, fucking sheep.

Malocclusion...

You ever get an idea for something to write, but then think that it's too long and you don't really feel like writing it, editing it, etc. Maybe you don't feel like getting started or continuing on something that you know that you should be devoting two hours on instead of two minutes. Maybe you just want to write something quick and witty like everybody else. Quick and witty is good. Not in bed though. If you're ever quick and witty in bed, you better be quick, witty, sorry, and a very fast runner. Maybe you start to write something and then erase it. Maybe you actually get started and then accidentally delete it afterward. Maybe you get that fever going, the pen is scribbling furiously, or the keys are clackin' - but then get interrupted by the phone or a visitor. You may be the mousy writer. A little sentence here, a short story there. Maybe you're the Manatee writer. Slooowww, floating, bloated. What? Sorry. You may be the type that works on a novel for years, it may be your little secret that you do when everybody is away. You may write alone, slowly building up stacks of notebooks, or files on your hard drive. Maybe one day you'll croak, and when they wheel your butt away, all of your work will be forgotten or thrown in the trash with the other things that can't be donated or sold. You might spend more hours staring away into space then actually writing something down. You may daydream more at work then you write at home. You might jot down more ideas on scraps of paper than you actually write down in a cohesive manner. You could be a defeatist, and feel that you were a better writer when younger. You may think that you have nothing to write about. You might be confused as to how to get it down properly. You might not have the time. You could be going blind. You could be waiting for inspiration to strike. You might like kung fu more than writing. Or kung fu movies. Or kung pao chicken more than writing. Maybe you're a specialist writer - nothing to say about anything until it comes to this summers line of shoes by Prada. Maybe you've always wanted to write, but don't think that you have much to say. After that, somebody will ask you how the Cubs are doing this year, fifty minutes later; they're squirming to go to the bathroom.

Or maybe you just take the easy way out and write something like this...

Elmers...

So I'm stuck in that one part in my screenplay where that guy is done from that last town and he woke up and then went and peeked into that thing...

She Is Very Sad Right Now...

My girlfriend got her first white hair today and I feel personally responsible.
But, I mean, she is like...seventy-nine, c'mon! So it can't be all my fault.

Noodles...

Roberta was angry because Liam kept on stealing her hairbrush. She knew where it was. It was in the backyard, by the little storage house. Liam always used it to brush the next-door neighbor’s pony’s hair. He was five, but that was no excuse. This was the second brush that she had to replace. The last one Liam couldn’t find. He said the ponies must’ve stoled it. But the horses didn’t steal it cuz’ Roberta found it by the play set a long time after. She tried to tell dad about it, but he usually got mad if you tattle-tailed, so Roberta stopped and just made sure to punch Liam good before dinner, but then Liam told dad that Roberta punched him for no reason and when Roberta was trying to explain, she got in trouble for being a “brat”, and that she was older so why did she always have to be so “violent” and then she had to go to her room and miss supper. Not that she minded because it was the same old, stupid fried rice that made the whole house smell like fish, anyway. The only good parts were the egg and the shrimp. Dad only made it because he made the same things anyway. He always made spaghetti too, which was good if you put a lot of sauce, cheese, and black olives on it. If they had it. But than dad would get mad if he saw that you put too much stuff on it. He’d tell you not to be “greedy”. Roberta thought that she wasn’t greedy. She was just trying to make it taste good and not like the noodles. The noodles were gross-tasting and why didn’t they make more of the other stuff? Why not just have it with the sauce and the cheese and olives, then? The only good time that they had spaghetti was when Liam was carrying his plate with the spaghetti and his milk and saw the Spiderman movie commercial on TV and dropped the plate of spaghetti on the carpet and then dad got mad. That was funny because Liam cried and had to rub the carpet good with a rag while everybody ate. That was the only time that the spaghetti tasted good. Roberta even had seconds.

What Invention Was/Is Of Greater Benefit To Mankind?

Eye glasses?
The printing press?
Condoms?
Birth control?
Toilets?
Or The Simpsons?

True...

When it comes to houseplants - my girlfriend is like "Lenny" from Of Mice And Men.

The Kelly Affair...

As the new President of Iraq, I command you to listen to these songs.

Do it now and I might give you a cookie, nigga.

Billie Holiday Playing Is Not Helping...

So, I was in the process of telling you what was in my fridge, after I got down to the half empty/full jar of Skippy peanut butter - I stopped and started to eat the half empty/half full chicken sandwich from the barbeque last night. This was happening while I was still sitting on a little stool in front of the open fridge door. I put away the sandwich and felt very foolish. Oh, I need help.

So Not Money, Baby...

So, a lot of my friends are in Vegas for the weekend without me because I'm a gimp.
They rented a big ol Caddy' too. I'm doing nothing right now.
I hope that they win a nice and leaky STD while they're out there.

Thank you...

Sleepy......


I am thin. I don’t look like I’m dying or anything, but you’ll live if I sit on you.
I love beer.
I love cigarettes.
I can’t hang with anything else.
I like Jane Goodall.
And the Dalai Lama.
I think Stephen King is one of the best modern writers ever, punk.
I hate funny books.
I generally don’t like comedies, unless it’s not supposed to be funny, but is.
I have one younger sister, one older brother, one older half-brother, one older half-sister, and one younger half-brother. None live in California.
I play bass guitar.
I paint one picture every six months.
I like action figures, skulls, and other scary shite.
I like comic books.
I miss typing on typewriters.
I read two newspapers a day.
I poop at least twice a day.
I can cook, but usually don’t eat it afterwards. I’d make a good personal chef.
I have some really cool friends.
All of my enemies are dead.
I never write on the things that I should be.
Gandhi was a pussy. No, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean that. I have no idea where that came from. Bad.
I am writing in a wheelchair right now. 20 bucks at the Salvation Army, yo.

I am tired......

The News Asks…

Who Will Run Iraq Now That Saddam Hussein Is Missing?...

Well, shit...me, of course.

I am now taking applications for certain seats in the government and the new Iraqi entertainment industry. I'm anxious to see the Iraqi cinematic equivalent of Hollywood do their take on Spiderman, to be honest. Spider Raed? As the new leader of Iraq's government, I will give them full access to America's TV programming too. All of it. Good riddance. Now, I'm sorry...this doesn't mean that I'm gonna unload all of America's crap to Iraq now that their government is in a state of disarray, but we don’t want it, right?

State your name, website, and your new official Iraqi position please…so that I can put it in my official ledger…

Found This On E-Grrl's Site...

Kevynn Malone is a Litter-Eating Pirate Monkey ...with a Battle Rating of 5.1 To see if your Food-Eating Battle Monkey can defeat Kevynn Malone, enter your name:

Black And Decker...

After I was done playing the PS2,
I grabbed my Bud Light
and went outside to smoke a Marlboro,
then I sat down in front of the Hewlett Packard computer
and flipped on HBO.
Harry Potter was on.
Then I typed this on my Blog.

I'm a tool......

"In the world I see -- you're stalking elk through
the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center.
You will wear leather clothes that last you the rest of your
life. You will climb the wrist- thick kudzu vines that wrap
the Sears Tower. You will see tiny figures pounding corn and
laying-strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of the
ruins of a superhighway."

~Tyler Durden~

Not About Your Significant Other...

Nastiest thing in the world?
Roaches.
Close second?
Spiders with thick hair.

The Toof...

I used to think that my dentist was the shit, and now realize that they're a bunch of too-greedy, too-busy assholes.
They treated me really nice in the beginning, but now they just suck.
So, when I go today, if they piss me off in anyway...somebody's gettin' kicked in the teeth.