Lava Soap...

Watching Taxicab Confessions on TV makes me feel dirty.
You dont ever emerge from a viewing with an elevated sense of respect for humanity, either.
Yes, exactly like the mall.
Yes, exactly like going to the fair.
Yes, exactly like going to Toy's R' Us in the bad section of town.
Yes, exactly like reading this site...

Sorry...

Man, Oh man - I just did something that smelled really bad...

It's Just Wrong...

To have to go to a friend's birthday dinner in Seal Beach.
Especially when it's expensive.
Especially when it's far away.
Especially when there's no actual seals at that beach.

I Do Not Like Computers Anymore. Nope...

Yes, I am staying up to watch Angela Jolie on Carson Daly.
Carson Daly is hot, isn't he?

George Jefferson And Wheezy...

When I was much younger than I am today, I used to think that if I concentrated hard enough - my latent telekinetic powers would emerge. I thought that the problem was that I just wasn't concentrating. If I could just focus, then that fucking thing on the desk would move like I wanted it to. I hoped that I wasn't really a madman, that all of the crazy thoughts that I had in my head were normal. But how could they be? I thought of some really sick stuff. I was scared that somebody would be able to read my mind. Sometimes, I'd look around the room and see if anybody was looking at me with a look of abject terror on their face. I lived in fear of somebody finding out all of my deep, dark secrets. I had my head in the clouds more than on planet Crap-Earth. I would catch myself talking out loud based on whatever day dreaming scenario I had cooked up in my tiny, little brain. Sometimes whatever I was thinking showed up on my face. People would ask me what was wrong - I usually wouldn't know what to say because I wasn't even aware what I was thinking was evident. Fantasy worlds know no boundaries. I never wanted certain books to end. I would conduct interviews with myself. I could imagine the cameras, and how I would look on the TV. I humped things a lot when I was younger. Bed posts, basketball poles, anything taller than me. Try to pass off that shit to your older brother after they walk into the room. I used to spend hours playing with my Star Wars figures, and if I was feeling particularly ambitious - I'd try to set em' all up on a big ol' chalkboard that I had. It takes a long time to make all of your limber figures stand up at the same time without falling over. My nerves sucked even back then. It was hard. These sessions usually ended whenever my brother came in, because he'd pretend to accidentally knock them over. What's worse? Him coming into the room when I was humping my bedpost, or when setting up my Star Wars figures? Then, I'd say the figures. Now, I say the Star Wars. Cuz' that's just plain wrong. It's not like dominoes, the games over once they're all knocked over. Young boys can always find something else to hump. Wait; am I talking about my early years, or the nineties? Shhh...shut up, myself. Yeah, you heard me, me.

I'm getting older. Yeah, I know - you're older than me. Blah. Lick it. You have your life, and I have mine. I'm finally hearing the ticks of the clock that I've noticed in the background - but now, they're getting louder. It's hard enough to appreciate something that you just saw a second ago, let alone trying to keep up with the pace of your day. I don't know what that meant, but that's okay. I think I lost track of where this was going, but it wasn't supposed to go anywhere in the first place. It doesn't matter. I gave up a long time ago trying to solve things through verbose definitions, I gave up trying to make marks, I gave up trying to get it all down. I haven't developed a sense of apathy - I just got tired of running in circles. It's all been said before anyway, and better.

Now that I'm older - I'm more apt to save my breath...

Young Kid To Me In The Comic Book Section At The Library Today...

You like comic books?

Yeah. I've read a lot of these, though.

How old are you?

( I concentrated harder on the titles of the comic books in front of me, because I didn't want to see the look of astonishment on his face when i said... )

Twenty-Eight...

...Yeah, I like comic books too. You wanna see what I got already? I just checked it out.

Sure...wow, that's cool. I like Spider-Man. He's probably my favorite.

Really? That's funny cuz' you look like Peter Parker...just taller.

Looks Like Lex Luthor. Writes Like Gandhi. Or Was It The Other Way Around?...

Everyone visit The Hard Artist. Tell him that you love him.
And, no...his site has nothing to do with guys that paint
with their penises instead of brushes...

One Word...

The mall is a poor substitute for the movies. By the time that I recovered from my bartending madness, it was too late for me to seriously consider anything that required effort. Yes, going to the movies was too much for me when I woke up. By the time that I got it all together, and the girlfriend was so sweet to make me a sandwich, and by the time that I got distracted by the Woody Allen movie, and I watched it even though that he's a pervert, and fucked over Diane Keaton, no, wait-that was Mia Farrow, right? And he used to take naked pictures of his adopted daughter and then he married her right? Anyway, it was a good movie. I didn't mean to watch the whole thing, but even though he's a freak - it was very clever, and I like how he writes himself into movies, and he's always the romantic interest even though that, sometimes his wife / gal is hot - but I guess that I would do the same thing too. I fogot what I was going to say, but I need to disconnect this computre because it's going to the doctoe tomorrow. I'm not really that priveliged. I can't write on this anywhere else. I wish that i could write again on the notebooks with blue ink. Ny stuff was better than, and it made a lot more sense. But I used to write for a couple of magazines and al i got was hate mail anyway. No, not really. Actually, some people sent me action figures and money. that was nice.

So. I went to the mall instead of the movies. I fucking hate the mall. I haven't been there in awhile. there were a bunch of new restaurants. Wow. Young girls. No comment. I was only there to get a new battery in my punk rock watch and to have them take three links out of my grown-up watch. My wrists are little boy wrists, so the grown-up watch never fit. Mission acconplished. Then I bought a shirt that I shouldnt've bought. No spell check.

End of story.

But Everytime I Pin Down What I Think I Want, It Slips Away - The Ghost Slips Away...

So many things to do today.
Write and call people.
Fix the damn computer thingy.
Pay bills.
Mail in rebates.
Finsh the cartoon script.
Finish something.

But, I don't know...going to the air-conditioned movies,
and enjoying all of the candy and cokes that you hid in your pockets sounds great to me.

" F " all of that other stuff.

Fitter. Happier. More Productive...

Mrs. Computer, I was very disappointed in you today. Why won't you do what I want? All I want to do is play a videogame. Is that so wrong? I don't have to be married to you for 45 years to know your wants, do I? If you're hungry, shouldn't it be simple for me to feed you? Why can't I be your pusher-man? Why won't you tell me what you need? I'll get it for you. I love you. All I want to do is take care of you. Can we make this work? Tonight, when I was installing new RAM and a new video card - I saw a part of you that I've never seen before. You showed me your soul. It was like I could see through you. I'm sorry. We'll talk about it tomorrow after we've had some sleep and can approach this problem with a clear head.

I love you.

(Coughs and mutters under breath)

Bitch.

Just Letting You Know...

Rum is nasty.

WARNING: People Who Have Had Photosensitive Seizures, ( A Seizure Reportedly Induced By Flashing Lights Or Patterns ) , Or other Symptoms From Being Photosensitive, Should Not Play This Game Without First Seeing A Doctor...

Okay, enough of that crud. I was really going to take a week off and focus on the cartoony scripty thingy, but progress has been slow kiddies. I need to clean the dirt out of my ears. I can't help it. This isn't even real writing. This is like kind of like writing, but it doesn't entirely qualify. It's like being a professional dancer at Disneyland. Yeah, you get a paycheck and all, and maybe you throw your heart into it - but it isn't really like you're dancing on Broadway, is it? What the hell did that mean? Broadway? Paid? I don't get paid for this claptrap. Blaargh, maybe I really should stick to taking a week off. I’m all frustrated too, because I got the new Star Wars Galaxies Geek game, and after all of the initial excitement, downloading, and whatnot, I found out the fucking thing won't work on my computer. I need to get a new video card and to increase my RAM. I was up till three trying to figure out a bunch of crap that I really don't know much about - and by the time I was ready to go to bed - I was ready to ram the game up George Lucas' arse.

It's not too hot right now, and I'm on beer number three. Money crud is getting so burdensome, that I'm probably going to have to ditch a couple of shifts at work and work for my friend who does contracting. Two to three hundred bucks for a couple of day’s worth of manual labor? Sold. I'd rather shovel a bunch of concrete around in the hot sun with my weak-ass body than have to talk to people anyway. And I might get to eat off of a Roach Coach, smoke a lot of cigarettes, ruin my back to compliment my fucked up knees and still-recovering gimpy broken ankle, and I'll get to whistle at women that walk by.

Sounds good to me, Bubba.

While I Work On A Cartoony Scripty Thingy - Celebrate Customer Appreciation Week...

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pam
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1 of 6
bing
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rosa
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petey
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deev
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shanti
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auntie sarah
spig
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chez
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nev

He Will Bring Balance To The Force...

Ummm...sometimes I get drunk and write things on here that make no sense.
Well, they make no sense more than usual. Huh?
So, sometimes I read them in the morning and have to erase them.
Cuz' sometimes, the writing blows Hardy Boys hard.
What?
Take a nap, boy.
Okay, pop.

The Spice Mines Of Kessel...

Fucking shit balls.
Joe just got Star Wars Galaxies.
I'm jealous. I want that game.
I know that it sounds all super nerdy, but I don't care.
It's cool, so lick it. I just may have to go over to his house.
Than I'll chop off his head and take the game.
That, and his beatles CD's.

Chris Is Queer - I Mean, Here...

I don't really have much to say. I've been itching my right eye. Now it's all red. Combine that with my sick-ass light brown eye on the left and I look like I've been shot in the head. We have to go to Courtney's house at 9:30. My friends start everything late. I think I'll show up later than everybody else. I'm tired. I watched Punch Drunk Love. I liked it. I'm drinking a beer. I like it also. I drink a lot of beer. I feel no guilt. The new Spider-Man cartoon is going to be on MTV tonight. I feel a tingle in my crotch area.

Damn Harpies Keep On Stealing My Food...

Now this is just getting ridiculous.
Time? What the hell?
Why you frontin?
Being all gangsta' and shit,
robbin' me?
I'm gonna bust a cap in yo' ass.
Leave me alone.
Why the hell is it so late?

Give it up, bitch.

Arf! Arf!...

Damn, how does one relax in the heat?
I know it's hotter in other places, so I'm not going to whine.
A beer, a breeze, mellow music,
and some comics in the backyard sound good to me right now.
And I'm not talking about David Cross and Carrot Top.
I meant, COMIC BOOKS.

She Wasn’t That Hot – But Had Nice Titles…

Ashing out my smoke, outside - I spit on the table by accident. That kinda sucks, but these things happen. 60, the outside, sometimes inside cat, jumps on my thigh. Claws. Fucking ouch. Don't hate the player, hate the game. Me OW!, indeed. One of the things that sucks about these summer nights has nothing to do with Danny or Sandy, it has everything to do with how quickly one's beer goes warm. For those of us who are wusses, and can't stomach the likes of Guinness, various stouts, and lagers, etc...it don't make fo' no fast beer drinkin'.

Today will be shuffled off and filed away, never to be seen for years. Uncovered by historians, librarians, heads of estates, or aliens studying what the hell happened years and years from now. The editors will glance it over, and chuck it - thinking that it slows down the narrative pace. I'm cool with that. I understand. No hard feelings - just make sure that you don't let them use my image in a Coors Light or Vacuum cleaner commercial. That's just plain wrong.

Kitty on my back right now. Not a monkey, thank god. I guess I do have some monkeys; they must be invisible, though. And I guess that they're not too heavy, and I guess that they don't smell too bad, because usually I can't tell that they're even there. I can deal with invisible monkeys on my back, little kitties are the coolest - I just wish that they’d remain small. But, then...our parents probably said the same of us when we were small, didn't they? And where would we be if we were still five years old?

Taking dumps in sand boxes, eating kibble, and meowing too loudly, ergh?

Oh, wait...some of us still do that...

What's Wrong?...

I’m just tired…is one of the biggest, lying statements ever used.
Pay attention next time that somebody busts that out as a response,
and realize that it’s quick and easy, used a lot, and means absolutely nothing, right?
They're just tired. Nothing's wrong, yeah? Bullshit. It means something.
It means that you’re not really telling the truth. Pay attention. I do it all the time……

Pussy...

Was under the car in the driveway. My girlfriend found him. Now he is in the bathroom. Little pussy is meowing loudly once every two seconds. Pussy is cute, but pussy is driving me nuts. Pussy will have to be bathed and picked of fleas tomorrow. Then pussy can roam about the house freely. Does anybody want some cute, furry, young pussy?

Texas Hold Em'...

So, I'm getting ready to bet the farm. Lose it all. Get drunk. Get poor-er.
I only have twenty bucks to lose, though, So, I guess it can't be that bad.
Wire me some money or something, yo. I'll buy you a steak dinner.

Protocol Droid...

Don't you hate listening to music that reminds you of old stuff, and memories best left to be tossed away or forgotten? There are certain data tapes in our robot minds that should've been permanently wiped clean. Ugh. Beep Dee Doop Doop!

Avengers Assemble!...

" This is the plan, guys! we're going to party like crazy on a limited budget. We're going to rip the throats out of this town this weekend. I want all of you to remember nothing. Who's with me? "

- But, Captain America - why would we want to do that? We're a super hero team. None of us even drink - well, except for The Wasp, but she's just a ho anyway.

" Shut it, Ant-Man. You've got the short man complex, obviously. It must be hard variating between penis sizes. Everybody else? Ignore Ant-Man. What about you, Hulk? Any problems with our plans for the weekend? "

- HULK SMASHED!!!

" Very good, Hulk. "

The Fish Of The Day Is Copper River Salmon. That's Broiled, With A Lemon And Butter Sauce, It Comes With Fettuccini Alfredo, And Sautéed Vegetables On The Side...

Man, Ummm...all day, I told myself to think up of something to write and was really serious about it. After work I replaced all of the locks on the back door. Everything was wrong. Nothing fit, so I had to make it fit. There were a lot of wood chips left on the floor.

What are you doing for the weekend? I might be on a yacht. If that doesn't work, I'll be at my gal's sister's house having fun, lighting off little kids fireworks, and thinking about partying on a yacht. If I'm not at her sister’s house, I'll be at my house, thinking about partying on a yacht. I have a perfect place to watch the local fireworks. You can drink beers from my neighbor’s balcony and climb on my roof, too. You can fall off if you want, also. That's free.

What's weird, though - is that I live across from a park and that people start staking out spots in the morning to see the show. So, if you're a friend of mine then you're shit out of luck for a parking spot and you'll be carrying your beers a long-ass way to my house, because on July 4th you got two things going for you when trying to find a spot...JACK and SHIT - and JACK left town. Anyway, it gets kind of freaky when you realize that there are a couple of hundred people across the street, basically staring at your house until the fireworks start. I made sure to shut the blinds last year. Nobody wants to see me hitting on your wife while wearing a lampshade on my head. What I just said was so fucking stupid, it was really, rally stupid. And I just said, " rally ". Oh, and I'm not really smitten with Reese Witherspoon - I think she's cool and all, and I thought that she kicked ass in " Freeway " the movie, but...I really want to do bad things to her. She seems like such a genuinely nice person that I want to ruin her and make her an evil person. Sorry.

So, the people under the stairs - I mean, across from my street on July 4th are cool to look at when you're on my roof. I usually turn around and look at their faces. It's scary. I should charge them to use my bathroom. I should sell cans of crappy beer wrapped in paper sacks. I wish I had a dog that fetched. I'd chuck a stick right in the middle of the crowd and laugh. I could be like William Wallace and soak the grass in oil the night before, and then when everybody's all settled - I'd shoot flaming arrows into the ground. Yes.

Damn, I still have nothing to write about...

Lick my butt, please...