One Spilt Of Champagne And One Coke...

Hung out with this guy and
this guy at the bar tonight.
Came home to plumbing problems.
And that was my Sunday.
Be jealous.

Smelly...

In here. It smells like ass. My girlfriend gets pot from her sister that reminds me of swamp water or socks. So now I've sprayed the whole house with air freshener and it smells like cherry blossom swamp water sock ass.

These Ain't Bullets. Yo...

It's hailing deep in Watts and Compton tonight. People are stuck up to their waists in water at Jay-Z, DMX, 50 Cent - I mean, LAX. I just got back from the hardware store to get stuff for the leaky sink that I didn't fix last night because I was playing hooky from responsibilities, and would rather fall asleep in front of the keyboard. As I was driving to the hardware store, I saw lightning storms in front of me. As I was driving back, there was lightning in front of me too. I felt stuck in the middle. Maybe I'd get hit? Maybe not. Maybe it would be cool, though. I think that I'd survive. I don't know why. I just feel like I'm freaky enough to survive something like that. Shark attack? No. Panda? No. People attack? Done that. But with my luck, yes, I'd survive getting hit by lightning, but I'd need thousands of dollars-worth of more dental work because of my fried fillings. Maybe the heat would melt my Zippo to my thigh, and then I'd have to crawl to the emergency room at the hospital, and then I'd be stuck with more bills.

That'd be my luck.

Southern California may be leaking tonight, but at least my sink isn't anymore...and that's all good.

Bees Are Not Toys...

No, I'm not going to write a post, cartoon script, screenplay or novel. I will not feed the homeless or shelter the hungry. I will not read a comic or a book. I will not give my girlfriend a foot message. I will not watch a movie. I will not watch Viva La Bam. I will not put up those shelves or fix the leaky bathroom faucet. I will not water the cats or feed the plants. I will not change around my links or fix my blog to make it look better. I am going to do nothing but play my Star Wars Video game. I will drink some beers. I am wasting my life. I like that. Thank you.

Randy Macho Man Idiot Savant...

I love it when that Mensa group comes into my work. I can spot one a mile away. Bad taste in clothes, disoriented looking, dorky, etc. I love the guy that was looking at the bathroom sign and then asked me where the bathroom was, but the one that made my day was the Mensa lady who came in wearing a full Star Trek costume. That was one of the best things that I've ever seen. I'm hoping for a Klingon next.

I love you Mensa Star Trek lady.

Finance Charges...

Deserve to die. Finance charges have no rights. We should stick them in convalescent homes. Tag them. Not let them vote. I want to castrate finance charges. I want to lynch finance charges. Fuck you, finance charges. I hate you. Rot in heck.

Oh, and you too, Overdraft fees...

Neverland, Narnia, And Naboo...

Today. I watched too much tv. Was recovering from a weekend of debauchery. I couldn't move. Couldn't help it. Sunday tv is my equivalent to your gulity chocolate pleasure or kiddie porn. Did absolutely nothing at work. I thought that full moons meant that people went crazy and drank a lot. Apparently not. I had, like, ten people the whole night. Absolutely no Werewolves too. Bastards. I read the paper. I left. Am home now. Fini.

California Wildfire In My Pants...

News Update:

After working 60+hours this week, I am getting ready to go out and get drunk like a homo skunk.
And pleez check out my picture at Monique's site.
Oh. Wait. Is the picture blurred now? Haaa ha ha. I asked her kindly to do that, because I'm a punk. I felt uncomfortable having my picture around. I've got an image to uphold, you know. I can't let embarrasing material of me float around on the internet, can I? Paris Hilton has her sex tape. I have my Halloween party picture.

Karanji Seeds...

I really am serious about buying that island, you know. What island? C'mon. Shut up. Play along. Just me. Maybe you too. Maybe not. It depends on how cool and useful you are. Do you smell? Joo got skills? Would you bring cool stuff? Squeamish? Attractive? Because no ugly people are allowed on my island, sorry. No, seriously. No ugly people. You have to be beautiful on the inside AND beautiful on the outside also. Sorry, it's just the way my island works because I've got the rest of my life to live on it - you better be the prettiest wallpaper I've ever seen, and the most pleasant background noise. I would prefer that you wouldn't look better than me, though. It's my island. I don't want to be intimidated by you. I want you to just sit there and shut up and do what I say. It'd be cool if you had knives for hands too. And a book dispenser built into your forehead. I want Swiss Family Robinson without the family, and Robinson Crusoe without the religion. You would need to listen to me a lot, because I would be the master and you would have to follow everything that I said with a cultish fervor, fanaticism and fever. You would have to be able to ignore things like that last sentence that I wrote. You would, at least have to know, if not everything about The Empire Strikes Back - a little. And if you didn't - then you'd have to be able to be good at acting interested. Sounds good. It's a deal. Kevynn Island. Malone Beach. Something like that. I need a Paypal button...

Prince Caspian Or Hank Pym...

I'm hallucinating with more frequency now. I always see weird crap out of the corner of my eye, or imagine things that aren't there, but now I think I see ants all of the time. Are there any super fast mutant ants? Or do I have an invisible bird in my house that swoops down and eats them before I'm done turning my head? I'm glad that you can't hear ants. That would really suck if you could hear the pads of their tiny little monster feet or if they made those metallic screeches like in that old, giant ant movie. I think that an ant the size of a dog would be scary as hell, or, I don't know...maybe it'd be cool to have one to guard against burglars. Seriously, though. Haley Joel Osment sees dead people and I see ant ghosts.

Google search: Anteaters for sale.

Unbelievable...

That it's this late...and what have I gained from tonight?
I know that I suck at Trivial Pursuit.
And am the master of Connect Four.
And suck at card games.

This is what I did tonight?
Now it's time for bed?
I feel like the night's just begun.
I feel like this day was too weird.
I feel like Bill Pullman in Aliens...

Game over, man...game over...

The Average Joe...

Crazy. I just caught the last half of that show, and realized that I know one of the dudes. He works right by me. Now I have to scope out the place tomorrow and see if he has a hot chick hanging around him...

Damn reality shows.

Why Am I In Such A Good Mood Right Now?...

Oh please, god - make it stop.

halloween, kevynn says...

it's november first now. this is monique, by the way.

i'm at a kickass halloween party at the honorable kevynn's house. a fuckin' HOTASS skunk is looking over my shoulder. i've had a rad time and had my share of drinks. it rained, which it hasn't done in probably like a year now here in socal.

but it's november first. not only does this mean that i should already have (did i mention that there's a hot chick in a wedding dress with a kitty pillow stuffed in her abdomen laying on a waterbed not ten feet away?) six pages written for my novel, but my first twenty-ninth birthday is now officially a week away.

i just realized that i'm writing like this is my site and it's not.

okay....

people are crashing on the floor behind me. there are sleeping bags and comforters ABOUT. and then someone said, "dude, someone is typing right quick." the response: "someone's got spicy hands."

i love this party.

i better sign off and hit my own site soon. kevynn's gonna be mad in the morning.

p.s. i hate it that it's valuable to my job that i can type like this.

p.p.s. check it out, beeyatch.

Teenage Werewolf...

Yeah, take yr. sweet time everyone.
So far, we have a Skeleton, A pimp dogg, A pregnant bride, and a YO YO YO!

Oh...and we have rain.

Damn...

Where's a gold tooth when you need it?

Who You Callin' Spook, Peckerwood?...

Big day tomorrow.
Big party.
Big crowd?
God, I miss Bob's Big Boy.
No I don't.
You're invited, you know.

I can't tell you what I'm going as because it's supposed to be a surprise.

But I'll give you a big hint, yo...

My Resume...

I have worked at a comic book store. Worked at Pizza Hut. A telemarketers place for two days. A buffet place. A music store. I have been a puppeteer. A music journalist. Blah. Worked at a drycleaners. Copy writer. Technical writer. Ghost writer. Advertising and promotions writer. Done voice work for cartoons. Wrote for cartoons. A waiter. A bartender. Oh, I also used to read stories to small chillun's in an amusement park. I was Smokey The Bear for a week. I was a clown waving a sign for a new condo complex. Actually, that's a lie. I never did that, even though I wrote that I did. I took that from Mike, but he's lifted some stuff that I've said too - so eeesss cooo. I've been in a couple bands that you've probably never heard of. I worked a movie premiere on The Sony Pictures lot. I've washed dishes. Been a whore. Been a dumbass. Been a prince. Been caught stealin'. Professionally lost. Made a career out of everything and nothing. This is my calling - this miasmic mess that is my life. This thing that's just begun. This thing that's been going on too long. Being. A bean. A stalk. New chalk. Dust. Been crazy lately. Been waiting for something. What? I don't know, but I wont try to drive myself ape dooky waiting for whatever's going to eventually happen to happen. Cuz' it'll drive you fucking nuts, my friends. Better to roll with the flow and be cooler than cool. No point anymore in crying over spilled planet ME. Been there. Done that. It's a drag. And if you drag too deep - you end up coughing. And tonight feels too fucking vacantly pleasant to create more " been's ". Tonight - I'm into " being ".

Alien, human, myself, or otherwise....

WTF...

I found this in a comment of Chezpink's...
left on The American Undershirt.
Wait-what? Did that make sense? doh!

Arnold's Inferno...

So, I thought about the fires reaching the town of Crestline, and I thought about an ex-girlfriend's family who had two houses there. Tonight, my neighbor, who was my friend before being my neighbor, but is also the ex-boyfriend of the same girl who is an ex-girlfriend of mine ( long story ), anyway, her parents, and her sister's house burned down in the fires. I asked about the dogs. They were saved - and that was about it. Man, how must that feel? I know that they put a lot of effort into that house too. They were good people. It wasn't their fault that their daughter was Satan. And now they're all staying at a friend's house. They left with nothing but their dogs. Man...I was going to say, better to lose it all in a fire than in an earthquake, but that doesn't really make that much sense now that I think about it, because, at least in an earthquake, you might have a slight chance at recovering something. In a fire, it's all ashes or melted mush, right? But then, I'm thinking that they got the most important things out. The dogs, and their own lives, right?

Tonight, at the bar, I asked my girlfriend -if she had thirty minutes - what would she grab out of our soon-to-be-burned-down house? She said the cats, pictures, money, and clothes. Clothes? Okay. But everything else made sense. I said the readers of Fat Free Milk's moms. Because I would be sad if I lost them, but they're usually kept in a heat-proof safety deposit box anyway, so it wouldn't be a big deal. After that, I said that I would try to save my car if I could. Everything else would be a regret. Nothing more.

Also, the city of Rancho Cucamonga is burning. I grew up there, I think. The big ol' house up the hill that I grew up in might be gone. How do I feel about this?

I don't know.

Maybe the gods are trying to cover up their tracks?

Planet Mustafar...

And read this...from Cartoon Pig Spits Miller Beer.

You're Killin' Me, Larry...

Man, I need to write something, but I don't know what. Maybe I can write on the cartoony thing considering I have somebody to pass it on to who will pass it on to somebody, and then, maybe they'll pass it on to somebody. But stupid SNL is making noise to my right, the cats are just as annoying to my left, and the smoke from the friggin' fires are making my nose and eyes run like Jesse Owens in the negro Nazi Hitler Olympics.

The sink smells too.

No Drug Testing...

Applications for guest posters now being accepted...
Leave a comment or email me...now we have something to look forward to next week.
And it leaves me time to get a good lawyer, you sick bastards...

Will You Still Love Me When I'm Big?...

(Distracted.) What?

Will you still love me when I'm big?

Famous?

No. BIG. I've been eating sweets all week.

Don't be an ass. I love you.

I'd love a Twix.

If I Were To Rate How My Day Is Going So Far...

On a scale of one to ten...I'd say that today blows goats.

Thank you.