I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Let's Get It On...
As I write this, my girlfriend is puking...Welcome home, honey. Don't think that I'm an insensitive bastard - I already pulled her hair back in a ponytail, gave her water, took off her jewelry, and all of that stuff. I just peeked over. She looks pretty miserable, but that's what happens - doesn't it? Oh, you people crack me up. I know that I jump out of cars and crap when I'm drunk, I may write some nonsense on the computer - but, it takes a lot for me to kiss the butt seat. But, then I'm a wuss and only stick to the light beers and the ultra light cigarettes. This suits me just fine, Bubba.
At the bar, my gal and I were talking to a guy that I've served on my bartending shift. I always call him a cab. He put something in my hand as he got into his cab. Gee, thanks man. He gave me some cocaine. Uhhh...I smiled and waved. Looked at it. Yup, coke. Watched the cab leave and poured that stuff into the street. I guess I could have sold it, but I'd never sell that shite to a friend, so what's the point. Should I be touched? I'm so naive when it comes to that stuff. I never think that people that I'm mingling around with are doing drugs. Trust me, I'm no innocent - but, Damn, aren't we all getting a little older? This guy probably had kids too. I bet that he gives his kids shit for drinking too much soda.
Anyway, I poured it out on the street after he left. I feel sorry for all of the ants that OD'd because of me. I feel like a little kid when I find out that people are doing coke, heroin, and...organized religion.
I feel perfectly fine with my small vices. They suck. But they're damn cool right now, and the worse thing that I'll do is listen to this Marvin Gay song as my girlfriend expunges her Captain and diet cokes, Uh oh, shes not in the bathroom anymore....Okay, I just got her out of the bed and back to the toilet. Cough, Cough goes the gal, and I'm writing like a madman. I guess, maybe - I might be a little buzzed right now, because I'm going to tell you that I love you. Yeah, you, you sick bastard. Love my butt, please. And, also...love the two new books that I'm going to start writing that have to be done by Christmas. Yeah, you heard me. I said it. Christmas.
And my birthday's coming up on the 25th, and it's a toss between a potential yacht trip with my friend's landlord, Chuck E. Cheese and then a strip club, camping, or just sitting at home and getting kinda kee-razy. Decisions. Choices. Your momma's got a mouth on the back of her neck, and the bitch chews like this... ( demonstration ).
As I write this, my girlfriend is sleeping...
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Choose Your Own Adventure...
Today's post will be written by you - Whatever you want to see see will be written by you in the commenting section. Bleed your heart out, whine, complain, tell me what you did today. What do you hate. Today is Your Blog Day. This is your day. Friends passed out. I'm a pimp. You're an elephant...
Monday, June 16, 2003
Friday, June 13, 2003
Like A Heart Attack...
She's back tomorrow. My girlfriend has had her fill of European sex, and is arriving tomorrow. I cleaned the house like nobody's biznatch. Everything looks good. I was pretty boring while she was gone, wasn't I? But that a good thing I think. But let me tell you, puppies. I'm about ready to get rip-roarin', stinkin' drunk tonight. Yup. That's right, people. Then tomorrow morning, it's all about the wonders of LAX. I have to remember to not wear any of my scary belts with all of the skulls or metal on them. Not that I don't mind taking off my belt in front of complete strangers or anything - but it's just a bitch to get them back on as your being hustled away dy a fat airport security guys hand. I don't know what I just said. That's okay. God damn full moon. I miss werewolves. Thank you.
Damnation...
where am i again? oh, downstairs, with "Lucky" Rey and Drunken Chris Faux- Hawk.... there's just not enough beer in this town to be able to describe this... blood everywhere, cats digging at our faces, we don't have a chance. Drinking is our and everyones salvation, fuckers, and Strangers beware.... I'm armed to the teeth. Why are there so many reggae bands in our town?? We really don't have that much of an inner city trench town. Oh, well, as long as the over-set girls are jigglin', and the beers are affordable, and the juke plays that sick-ass music all night long, I'm a cappy hamper. there's a strong amount of distrust in the room, noone can be innattentive... the tensions are high, and one of us has resorted to childish vandalism. May any god that's up there have mercy and Barbecue Sauce on our souls.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Gucci Little Piggy...
So, we're about ready to get out of here. We don't know what we're goibng to do. goibng? What is that? Anyway, we're going out. You can come if you have money and I nice rack. Sorry about that. I'm just typing what my friend Chris who looks like Branden Fraser is thinking. He'd like me to go to a strip club tonight, but that's not exavctly my thing and I wouldn't want to waste the money on that type of thing anyway. I mean, what would I be going for? Boobs are nice, but porn is cheaper. Ha.
I know that I'll probably type when I get home. I'll probably tell you about all of the wacky hijinks that ensued. Hmmmm....I'll bring my little Moleskin notebook thing. Let me grab it right now. Okay, I'm good. Wish us luck. Hope that we find a genie in a bottle, or at least Christina Aguilera so that we could punch her in her dirty little crotch. Spellcheck is so last year. Fo'getit.
What Did E.T. Tell Elliott Before He Left?...
Forgetting what I was going to write about. Couldn't of been that important, could it? Who want's to come on over and rub my eyelids for me? Do it. I'll give you a dollar. I'm serious. It's almost my birthday, are we going camping? Do I care? Nope. Send me a package of tiny musicians. I want to let them run around by the computer, and then when I get sick of them - I'll coat them with sugar and unleash a hive of bees on them.
Am I mean? Yes.
Do I care? No.
Oh, it's just one of those times where you planned on
coming home straight after work and doing a bunch of productive things,
but you really ended up at home at 3 in the morning.
How does this happen?
Damn, I'm tired.
I don't know.
Fat Free and one friend would
be at the trash and then
turned it would think possessed.
I think And my girlfriend. goes
unnoticed. it, so shut it.
just spending my conscience.
Courtesy of Rob's Amazing Poem Generator.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Ashton Kutcher And Demi Moore...
So, six guys made salsa at my house tonight. Is that gay? No, I didn't hire them or anything. No, they weren't naked and wearing nothing but aprons and chef hats. They were friends. The salsa was my idea. And no, we weren't at my house salsa dancing with each other. It just seemd like a good idea at the time. I made enough to feed a small army of Pancho Villa's, though. So, if you're hankering for some fire-burnin', sniffly-nosed good stuff, just come on over - I've got a half-full bowl of the goodness, some pot that some guy gave me last night even though I don't smoke it, MUSE is playing on the stereo, I have an ample amount of pussy-ass light beers, some fake buttery microwave popcorn, Coca Colas, and a scary movie to watch. You just let me know.
Thank you, Thank you.
I'll be here all night.
Please remember to tip your waitress...
Monday, June 09, 2003
The Obligatory Post-Bartending Shift Entry...
I think that the worst thing that one can do, is drink a lot and act like an idiot. I'm just to tired to tell you all of the stupis-ass things that I saw drunk people do tonight. Please don't talk politics either. Can you please yell at each other about something else? Whatever you think - somebody has said it before. Your opinion is not unique. Your statements are selfish and boring. Talking about politics is like having a theological discussion. Dude, kill me. This is why I don't talk about any of that stuff anymore to people. I've said it all before. It makes me ill, it's like flies buzzing around behind my eyes and static in my ears. Please, don't do it. Also, making out and/or arguing with your significant other isn't allowed either. You can only show me how much you're both in love, if I get to take your wallet and follow you home and hump your dog.
Oh. I don't like your stupid drinks either. I'm glad that you tip me, otherwise I wouldn't be making the shit. Everybody drink beer. I like to twist off caps or open them with the opener thingy. I like this system. Let's keep it. It takes me a whole two seconds. I can deal with this. Now shut up and drink your beer. I'm glad that you young people come to the bar too. Usually you're better to look at. You seem to tip better. But you need to learn how to fucking drink. Oh, and also? If you have no money Indie kid? Go away. What the hell are you doing here? Go read music magazines at home. Jack off to Pete Yorn and Blonde Redhead.
I took a taxi home tonight, isn't that funny? I felt kind of bad. The whole ride only cost about five bucks, so I tipped him six. I loved his middle-eastern music. I really would have loved to have him crank it up, I could roll down the windows, light up a smoke and just sing along. I didn't think about that until just now. That would've been nice. I never met a taxi cab driver that I didn't like. With the exception of those that drive in Tijuana. But that doesn't count because that's the worst place in the world. Don'y bomb Iraq - bomb fucking TJ. The only good thing about that place back in high school was...oh...nothing!
I'm not going to speelcheck this. I think that we can both handle it. I want a bow and aroow set. Right now. I want to stand out in my backyard, drink beers and shoot arrows. That's what I want to do. Make this happen please.
If you really love me, you'd send me to my room right now......
Sunday, June 08, 2003
Not The One With Sandra Bullock In It...
I've been waiting for this movie for a long time.
Zombies!
Poor monkeys...
Saturday, June 07, 2003
I Give Up...
I have the worst sense of direction ever. Freeways scare the shit out of me, and I have no idea where anything is. I know how retarded I am, so shut it. But, I hit an all time low today. Lower than the time when I was coming back from an ex girlfriends house, took one wrong freeway exit, and an hour later wound up at Ontario airport. TODAY, I took a wrong turn while trying to go to AAA ( not AA ) to get my new registration, and I ended up on a freeway. Took the first exit off, and wound up at the parking lot entrances of.........DISNEYLAND. Yeah.
I had the urge to pay for parking and just chill the fuck out, but I had too much to do.
Disneyland.
Thursday, June 05, 2003
What's A Penny Made Out Of?...
Yup. They impounded my car. It's my own fault really. I was going to finally pay my registration right before I threw myself out of a car. Hmmm... on my lunch breal, I'll have to go get new insurance, go to the DMV on Monday, then back to the police department, then to the impound. I'm calculating it to be about 600 bucks. Which I dont have. Well, I have money in the bank, but most of that's already owed to bills. I picked up another shift tomorrow night and one on Saturday night. I'll have to miss girls night out. All of the girls invited one boy out for girl's night out. Me. Oh well. And I work my bartending shift on Sunday night.
I'm telling you, I was really having a good day. There was a bounce to my step. I had a big smile on my face. I was paying bills and everything. Things always hit you when you're guard is down. Oh well, the sooner shit happens, the sooner that you can deal with it. I love you. Now I am going to drink beers and watch The MTV Movie Awards with friends. Fun.
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