I Came Up With The Title Of Fat Free Milk Because I looked In The Fridge...



And now, folks...it's been awhile, but I just may - start to do some productive things. REAL things. I will try not to let my real imaginary world affect my imaginary real world.

Three things to work on.

The second Marvel Comics submission.
The Mad Magazine Freelance thing.
Have to work on the totally simple thing that the library girl was going to give to Cartoon Network.
Dig out the old notebooks and re-type.
And talk to the already twice-over-published loyd about his literary agent so that maybe he can get me a meeting.

Fuck the screenplays. They're like ex-girlfriends to me now. Best left forgotten unless you have to deal with them out of necessity.

Maybe there's a Cafepress.com for fun book in there once I find out the costs, tech specifics, idiot-friendly factor and copyright-so-that-I-can-reprint issues.

Any help? Coo.

Not? Coo too.

Runaway Ralph And April's 30th Birthday...



Once again, the outside cat left me a present in the form of a splayed out, large, dead rat. So, I got some newspapers and shuffled over to the back yard and swung it by its tail over the chainlink fence but it hit the top and bounced back and hit my sandaled right foot. Then I picked it up by its body and hucked it over hand and now it's gone.

I love cats.

I love coming home.

I love rat blood and brains on my big toe.

Kind Of Funny...

Drunk friends call tonight while I write this. I was originally going to write about phobias. I talk to them, tell them to hold on, and drop the phone by the computer speakers. I think that they're now listening to MUSE. After I am done typing this senten - oh wait....they hung up.

This was funny. A little bit.

Rivers Cuomo...

I will only allow myself to play Texas Hold Em' once a month from now on.

I can only afford to suck horribly at things every so often as oppossed to my regular routine.

But even typing this makes me want to play even more.

Yet, poor people shouldn't gamble. Apparently I haven't learned this yet.

I suck at a lot of things.

But, yet, writing about things that I suck at...seems to be my forte.

Would I rather have words in the place place of good luck, winnings and sense of luck-dodging accomplishment?

No.

I am the best WORST poker player ever.

Greatest Hits...

I really don't know anything about my grandparents. I have no sense of family history beyond my mother and father, and even then, it's sketchy. It's sad to think that 30 years from now, when I have children, that they'll ask questions that I won't be able to answer. Yet, the only sick comfort that I have about this is that someday there'll be a great grand ME that'll be writing this same sentence, frustratingly, years and years from now......

I Am The Jedi Master Of Potential Stomach Aches...

So, If I pulled some steak out of the freezer that was left over from The Fourth Of July, then blended some onions, garlic, pepper, beer and A1 Sauce together and am now marinating it to BBQ later - is this how I'm going to go out? Will my actions today be an ulcer later?

Wish my butt luck.

I Fart Just As Much As You Breathe...

I feel old, fat, slow and stupid more often than before, but then my friends and I all crank call each other's offices on a daily basis, so we can't be that old yet.

Or maybe we just never grew up in the first place. I don't know.

The Beginning Of Tommorows Headache Starts Tonight...

But I did promise my neighbors that I wouldn't tape fireworks on top of one of my motorcycle helmets and run up and down their stairs like I did last year.

So that's good.

Today Is My Birthday. All Of You Need To Eat A Piece Of My Flesh...



AN SOISGEUL AIR REIR NAOMH MARC

1. CAIBIDEIL

Teagasg Eoin Baistidh: Criosda air a bhaisteadh leis: Criosda a gairm a dheisciopul, 'sa deanamh moran mhiarailtean.

T OISEACHD soisgeul Iosa Criosda, Mac Dhe.

2 Air reir 's mar tha e sgriobhte san fhaidh Isaias: seall, cuiridh mi m' aingeal roimh do ghnuis, a reiticheas do shlighe romhad.

3 Guth neach ag eigheach san fhasach: Reitichibh slighe an Tighearna, agus dianaibh a rathadain direach.

4 Bha Eoin anns an fhasach a baisteadh, 'sa searmonachadh baisteadh an aithreachais gu mathanas pheacannan.

5 Agus chaidh duthaich Iudea uile mach ga ionnsuidh, agus muinntir Ierusalem gu leir, is bhaisteadh iad leis ann an abhuinn Iordain ag aideachadh am peacannan.

6 Agus bha Eoin air eideadh le fionnadh chamhal, is crios leathair mu mheadhon; agus dh' ith e locuist is mil fhiadhaich. Agus shearmonaich e ag radh:

7 Tha fear nas cumhachdaiche na mise tighinn as mo dheigh: neach nach airidh mise air cromadh sios is barail a bhrogan fhuasgladh.

8 Bhaist mise sibh le uisge; ach baistidh esan sibh leis an Spiorad Naomh.

9 Is thachair, gun tainig Iosa anns na laithean sin bho Nasareth Ghalile; agus bhaisteadh e le Eoin ann an abhuinn Iordan.

10 'S air ball a direadh as an uisge, chunnaic e neamh fosgailte, 's an Spiorad mar chalman a tearnadh 'sa fantuinn air.

11 Agus thainig guth bho neamh : Is tusa mo Mhac gaolach, is mor mo thlachd dhiot.

12 Agus ghrad-ghreas an Spiorad e dhan fhasach.

13 Agus bha e san fhasach da-fhichead latha, agus da-fhichead oidhche; is bhuaireadh le Satan e; 's bha e comhla ris na h-ainmhidhean, agus bha na h-ainglean a frithealadh dha.

14 'S an deigh do dh' Eoin a bhith air a chuir an greim, thainig Iosa do Ghalile, a searmonachadh soisgeul rioghachd Dhe,

15 'S ag radh: Tha 'n t-am air a choimhlionadh, 's tha rioghachd Dhe aig laimh; deanaibh aithreachas, agus creidibh san t-soisgeul.

16 'Sa gabhail ri taobh muir Ghalile, chunnaic e Simon,agus Anndra a bhrathair, a cur lion sa mhuir (oir b' iasgairean iad.),

17 Agus thuirt Iosa riutha: Thigibh leanaibh mise, agus ni mi iasgairean dhaoine dhibh.

18 Agus ghrad dh' fhag iad na lin, is lean iad e.

19 'Sa gabhail as a sin ceum beag air adhart, chunnaic e Seumas mac Shebede agus Eoin a bhrathair, 's iad a caradh nan lion sa bhata:

20 Agus ghairm e iad san uair. 'Sa fagail an athar Sebede maille ris an luchd thuarasdail sa bhata, lean iad e.

21 Agus chaidh iad a stigh do Chapharnaum; agus air dha a dhol a stigh gun dail air na laithean sabaid dhan t-sinagog, theagaisg e iad.

22 Agus ghabh iad ioghnadh ri theagasg: oir bha e gan teagasg mar neach aig an robh cumhachd, 's chan ann mar na Sgriobhaich.

23 Agus bha san t-sinagag aca duine anns an robh spiorad neoghlan, is dh' eigh e

24 Ag radh: Ciod an comunn eadar sinn agus thusa, Iosa bho Nasareth? An tainig thu gus ar sgrios? Is aithne dhomh co thu, Aon Naomh Dhe.

25 Is mhaoith Iosa air, ag radh: Bi samhach, agus gabh a-mach as an duine.

26 'S an spiorad neoghlan ga reubadh, 's ag eigheach le guth ard, chaidh e mach as.

27 Agus ghabh iad uile ioghnadh, ionnus gun d' fharraid iad 'nam measg fhein, ag radh: De tha so? De an teagasg ur so? oir tha e toirt orduigh le cumhachd do na spioraid neoghlan fhein, agus tha iad umhail dha.

28 'Agus sgaoil iomradh air gun dail feadh duthaich Ghalile uile.

29 'Sa dol a mach air ball as an t-sinagog, thainig iad maille ri Seumas is Eoin gu tigh Shimoin is Anndra.

30 Agus bha mathair-cheile Shimoin 'na laidhe ann am fiabhras; agus dh 'innis iad dha gun dail mu deidhinn.

31 Agus thainig e, 'sa breith air laimh oirre thog e i is ghrad-dh' fhag am fiabhras i, agus fhreasdail i dhaibh.

32 'S nuair thainig am feasgar, 'sa chaidh a ghrian fodha, thug iad ga ionnsuidh iadsan uile a bha easlainteach, agus anns an robh deomhain.

33 'S bha am baile uile air cruinneachadh aig an dorus.

34 Agus leighis e moran, a bha air an leireadh le iomadh gne ghalar, agus thilg e mach moran dheomhan, 's cha do leig e leo labhairt, a chionn 's gum b' aithne dhaibh e.

35 'S ag eirigh ro-mhoch, 'sa dol a mach, chaidh e gu aite fas; is rinn e urnaigh an sin.

36 Agus lean Simon e, agus iadsan a bha comhla ris.

37 'S nuair a fhuair iad e, thuirt iad ris: Tha iad uile gad shireadh.

38 Is thuirt e riutha: rachamaid dha na bailtean sa choimhearsnachd, gus an searmonaich mi an sin cuideachd: 's gur ann air son so a thainig mi.

39 'S bha e teagasg 'nan sinagogan, 's feadh Ghalile uile, 'sa tilgeadh a-mach dheomhan.

40 Agus thainig lobhar ga ionnsuidh, a guidhe air; 'sa tuiteam air a ghluinean,thuirt e ris: Ma 's aill leat, is urrainn dhut mo ghlanadh.

41 'Sa gabhail truais ris, shin Iosa a lamh, 'sa beantuinn dha, thuirt e ris : Is aill leam: bi glan.

42 'S nuair thuirt e so, ghrad-dh' fhag an luibhre e, agus bha e air a ghlanadh.

43 'S thug e sparradh cruaidh dha, agus leig e air falbh e gun dail;

44 'S thuirt e ris: Fiach nach innis thu do neach sam bith : ach falbh, fiach thu fhein don ard-shagart, agus tairg air son do ghlanaidh na nithean a dh' orduich Maois, mar theisteanas dhaibh.

45 Ach air dhasan a dhol a mach, thoisich e ri innse, 's ri sgaoileadh an sgeoil; air chor 's nach b' urrainn dha a nis a dhol a stigh don bhaile gu follaiseach, ach dh' fhuirich e a mach ann an aiteachan fas, agus chrunnaich iad as gach aite ga ionnsuidh.

And The Meek Shall Inherit Meek Genes...

Like Ender Wiggin, I am too tired to play like I used to, but will still win, even though I groan loudly whenever I move.

That was one of the worst sentences that I've ever typed, I think.

And because this is already so bad, it makes me want to stop. But I don't think that I will for now. I am waking up, even though it's past midnight, even though the gosssamer goading of things that I should be doing cling to my head and make me flail around my hands like some kind of epileptic/tourettic voodoo doctor.

If I could cast spells on people, I would first, uncast the many spells that have been cast upon me. I would first start with the physical ones and then move on down the list. It would be an honor for me to roll bones made of your fingertips. To spit on them and then to mingle them with the fresh blood of a sacrificed chicken.

Because I'm cheap and lazy - I'd probably just throw some KFC in the dirt and then spit on that. That made absoultely no sense. I think.

My father met Col. Sanders once. Emperor Hirohito of Japan. George Lucas. Eartha Kitt. And a descendant of Adolph Coors.

The first two are true. The rest are lies.

Typing tonight is my Battle School. Like Ender Wiggin, I am too tired to play like I used to, but will still win, even though I groan loudly whenever I move. Use this piece of writing as proof.

Like Lightning - Except Only Slower - And More Like A Buzz, Instead Of A JOLT...

Sorry. I was talking about my mother's vagina.

No. I was talking about the state of my my mind.

But, yet, when one says a comment like the one that I previously stated - there's no amount of anything that can amount to something even close to the thing that I was going to tell you that really wasn't about anything anyway.

"Through the use of MasterCard fraud-fighting tools that proactively monitor for fraud, MasterCard was able to identify the processor that was breached," the company said in its statement.

Ghosts pop up every so often.

Especially when you go out.

Ray Parker Jr. knows what's up.

Y' know, I Feel Sorry For People Who Don't Drink. Cuz' When They Wake Up In The Morning - That's The Best That They're Going To Feel All Day.





Happy Birthday, you awesome, dead bastard.

Sagan's Brain...

If I could - I'd sell slivers of it in the bottom of special tequila bottles.

To be so smart, and then to die - must be frustrating.

But then, maybe, only stupid people are the only ones frustrated by death.

The Only Thing A Commander Ever Truly Controls Is His Own Army...

Days like the fastest molasses and dreams congeal into uneaten messes.

We never didn't appreciate the moment - but never gave the moments their due - knowing that there would be many more to come. The longing for past innocence creates future guilt. Not longing for longing feelings creates apathy. Apathy creates nothing. Nothing equals waste. Waste equals things that can't be used by you - but always by certain innovative and imaginative others.

And so you read this.

And I'm curious what can be done with these things...
when I'm not around anymore to see the results.

They Go For The Eyes First...

Yesterday, I was stopped at a stop sign and was fascinated by a crow pecking at a dead rat carcass. The rat's body would rise up from the asphalt every time that the crow plucked at it, and then it would thump back down to the ground. I kept on watching until a car behind me honked it's horn. I then ran around and did a bunch of useless errand-type crap, went home and felt like the dead rat I had seen earlier.

I wanted to be the crow.

It's My Little Sister's Birthday...

It is not Flag Day.

Rip Van Shithead...

I have spent the last two nights sleeping on the couch.

Tonight?

Better find out soon, boyo.

Your clock and relationship's tickin like an Al Qeada Dirty Bomb.

I Am Using The Largest Type Because My Eyesight Has Failed Me...

I feel like I've been blinded by Evil Ash from Armys Of Darkness.
Jason Voorhees has sliced my throat.
Freddy Krueger has stabbed my gut.

Micheal Myers is chasing me down dark hallways.
Frank The Bunny won't get out of my head.
Tyler Durden keeps knocking out my teeth.

And those stupid ferrets from Beastmaster keep on shitting in my boots.

Postage Will Be Paid By Addressee...

When I read this, I will be sitting bored in an insurance office.
I will wonder why I didn't write anything better, but then, I will yawn and remember how tired I was the night before, and what a long day it had been. I will congratulate myself on writing anything at all. I will take a drink of my Coke, read this again...and then it will all make a lot more sense. I hope.

House Of M...

It's cool that you want to talk to me about comic books at the grocery store. I usually don't get a chance to talk about nerdy things that I like with that many people, but...please just dont speak SO LOUDLY. Telling me HOW COOL THE CURRENT BATMAN STORYLINES ARE RIGHT NOW is not socially kosher there, bubba. Even if I'm just standing there by the flowers and holding windshield wiper fluid, paper towels and a six-pack of Bud Light.

It's just uncomfortable being outed like that.

Y'know...with the Bud Light and all...

The Battle Of The Bulge...

We need to eat first and then we'll drink more AND THEN WERE GOING TO PLAY KICKBALL.

A Memorial Day, indeed.

Before...

getting home from bartending for almost twelve hours. I limped through the supermarket and bought Gatorade, cigarettes and a Tombstone pizza. I then saw two Coyotes in front of my house. I made hissing noises at them. They both smiled at me. Not moving. So I threw an old Wu Tang Clan casette tape at them and then they ran off.

From Hell...

The keys feel like hard Play-Doh.
Am I finding it hard to concentrate because of the Abshtine/abshthinse/abracadabra stuff of my friends that I drank tonight? Now, trust me - i'm more of the boobt boring type. Only Bud/boring light and maybe the occasional mixed drink combined with the usual madness, but I don't even like taking Aspirin. I've had my fair share of madness back in the exploratory years - but liquor-ish crud never makes the night for me.

But, tonight my friend had some Absithne/abdkdwejkrd. I had alot. Stuff that we can get in America is weaK. i tHINK THAT i WAS BUZZED AND ALL THAT IT MADE ME WAS DRUNKER. TRY TO EXPLAIN THAT TO MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY FRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND. i FELT LIKE THE ONLY GUY IN THE ROOM WEARING PANTIES. i NEED TO TURN THESE CAPLOCKS OFF.

If you don't listen to Atari Teenage Riot or to Alex Empire - then die of your own non-noisy poo.

I will take bets that I'll feel like Atari Teenage Riot tommorrow, though.

I'm finding it hard to concentrate. I want to laugh, write and rip your head off.

So, apparently this crap doesn't work because this is how I normally am.

Absithne be damned.

Rasputin...

Was hard to get rid off.

but the thousands of nerdy, ding-dong comic books
that I'm trying to sort out in alphabetical order
and that are cluttering every square inch
of my living room -

are even harder to kill tonight.