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.

To The Ladies...

Your perfume should not smell like food. Like vanilla, watermelon, pizza, etc.

Thank you.

DVD Extras...

So, if you haven't already read - I broke my ankle on March 1st after a drunken argument with my girlfriend in her car on the way home from a night of social stuff. It started after she said a comment about the girl who gave us our food at Del Taco. I thought that what she said about the girl who worked at the drive-thru window was racist and insensitive. She thought that I was going to press the point too far and then not back down and then threaten to get out of the car like I have in the past. I told her that I would never jump out of a car. That would be stupid. Especially in our driveway, especially when I could've waited five seconds longer, especially after knowing how far I've pushed the karmic circle of my bones. Especially after spending the majority of my life doing impulsive, half-brained stunts and lucky to be alive after them. She thought that I would take my body's uncanny ninja agility for granted, and that someday it'd all catch up with me. I'm kidding. The only thing that she was thinking was that I was an asshole.

So, after I jumped out, and after I kicked her car with the already-hurting-ankle, I zombie-shuffled to the front door. Then I hopped to the fridge. Then I went in the backyard and smoked. Then I realized that I couldn't walk. I felt really lonely, but that's nothing new.

My ankle tried talking to me as she got in her pajamas and yelled at me:

- Kevynn, did you remember to pay the cable bill?

- Dude, Ankle...what the hell? I'm hurting really bad. You're totally swelling and you're asking me about bills?

- Fuck yeah, Bubba. You suck at paying the bills on time. What's up with your memory anyway?

- Stop it. You're being a dick.

- Yeah, whatever. At least I don't have a broken me.

She went to bed. I stayed up. Probably writing on this goddamn thing. Search my archives. I probably tried to be really clever as my ankle swelled up like yo' mamma's booty. It was hurting really, really bad by that time, but I tried to sleep it off, thinking that it'd go away like the majority of my ills usually do. I don't even get sick. I should, but I don't. That's why Karma's such a bitch when it slaps me back.

I only slept for an hour total. After making up with the girlfriend; I still refused to go to the emergency room. I wasn't down for more financial shit. Last time I went to an emergency room after that fight with the three Mexican gang bangin' fucknuts, I got stuck with a bill more than I could afford. They didn't light me on fire or anything; I just got socked in the eye. But, I was being cautious. Fuck caution - it's too expensive, and to think that I missed a Mike Ness interview because of a bunch of wannabe O.C. gangstas. Hee hee. Fuckin' dorks.

But I went eventually. The pain was pretty bad. I actually took a Pamprin or something like that, because we didn't have any Aspirin or hard drugs in the house. All that that it did was ease the pain of my menstrual cramps. I hate taking pills. I hate all of em'. Never really take em', but if you would've given me a poo pill that night, I would've taken it. Feces be damned.

In the E.R., there was no George Clooney. Too bad, cuz' I would've quizzed him on his early days on the Facts Of Life and asked him about the making of From Dusk Til' Dawn. I was bored, tired, and in pain. They put me in a wheelchair, which I thought was funny because I have one at home that I bought about a year ago for fun. I'm quite good at doing wheelies and spinning around in circles. I'm tempted to join the Wheelchair Basketball Association Of America, but they'd probably get mad at me in the men’s restroom after seeing me stand up to pee.

UPDATE - *My girlfriend is getting up for work and I'm still up writing. Girls, don't fall in love with an insomniac if you want somebody by your side in bed. But, they're good night time watchdogs. So lick it.*

Anyway, my ankle was broken. That meant two months off of work. That would usually seem like a blessing to me, but what I didn't know was that would mean no bars, no fun, more stress, and more relationship stress. You would think that I would have a lot of time to write on my screenplays, to finish a book or something, or to make this site actually look good. NO. No way. What little I knew. It's like getting days off of school when you have the flu. Yeah, you get a lot of sleep and you have time off, but you can't function normally. In my case, I couldn't walk or sleep normally. Going to the bathroom or the fridge was a big deal. I became an unwilling participant in the T.V. world, and now, I know HBO's programming like nobody's biznatch.

Two months off of work...sucks. I never really realized how much I took for granted. I'm one of those every day shoppers. I'm an after-work shopper. I get my own little treats, things for dinner, and usually end up with a bunch of plastic sacks that languish in our "plastic sack" drawer. There's no more of that. I've learned to count pennies. To cash in forgotten scratch-off lottery tickets, to hold gimp-drives, and to sleep. I sleep a lot now. But it's all WAR sleep, so it's not as fun as my old Empire Strikes Back dreams.

- Where do you think you're going Captain Solo?

- Apparently nowhere, Greedo, because unless Chewbacca feels like carrying me all over the place, I aint goin' nowhere, bitch.

The first week, now, seemed to go by in a blur because I was in pain and didn't move much. My girlfriend felt guilty and spent a lot of time on pillow-for-the-elevation-of-my-swollen-foot duty. I took a small amount of the Vicodin that they gave me, but started to use those only sparingly because I hated the feeling that they gave me and thought that I could probably make a tidy, much-needed, profit from my initial hospital investment. But combine that with my girlfriend's affinity for all things in pill form, and that with the occasional swiping from my bastard friends, and I'm only down to two lonely pills to sell to y'all. And even then, I might need them for my next bout of "Stunt Arguing".

Now time is moving at a drunken snail's pace. Which is a little bit faster than the normal rate, but still really fucking slow. I've been to the "ankle specialist" two times already, but he's a shifty-eyed, Puerto Rican with a five iron in his hand...and I don't trust him. Actually the real doctor that I have tells me that I should be back to my normal, ambulatory goodness in another three weeks, but they can stuff all of that horse pucky up their shoddy arses, cuz....

I can walk!!!

Yes, true believers, It's a miracle. Kevynn Malone can walk. Sort of. It's more like a slow, senior citizen-like shuffle. But it's a start. Don't think that I'm down to start "Power Walk Racing" with the rest of the silver folk here in Orange County, but I could give them a run for their money in a bit. The fucking, all-knowing bastards.

So it's 6:50 in the a.m., I haven't slept and don't feel an ounce of guilt because of it. I'm not on drugs, but I am running low on cigarettes. My girlfriend is getting ready for school. She's not gonna be late, the junior high doesn't start until 8, so don't worry.

I'm still not in the clear. My next appointment is in a couple of weeks. I'm broke. Really broke. After this last cigarette, I'm gonna shuffle on down to the grocery store and knock some fucking yuppie over the head with my crutch. Notice I said "crutch" and not "crutches". I'll take his wallet, but leave all of the Viagra. I may be a bastard, but at least I'm not a fucking bastard.

I can walk. Sorta. Yeah!..........

Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shawty
It's your walkday
We gon' party like it's yo walkday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your gimpday
And you know we don't give a fuck
It's not your pimpday!

You can find me in the club, bottle full of crutch
Look mami I got the X if you into taking drugs
I'm into having arguing, I ain't into making love
So come give me a hug if you into to getting rubbed

When I pull out up front, you see the Benz in the driveway
When I roll 20 deep, it's 20 knives in the ankle
Niggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes they wanna fuck
But homie ain't nothing change hold down, G's up
I see Xzibit in the Cutt that nigga roll that ankle up
If you watch how I move you'll mistake me for a playa or gimp
Been hit wit a few shells but I do walk wit a limp
In the hood then the ladies saying "Kevynn you hot"
They like me, I want them to love me like they love 'Ty from Trading Spaces'
But holla in New York them niggas'll tell ya im lrish
And the plan is to put the rap game in an Andre The Giant choke hold
I'm feelin' focused man, my money on my mind
I got a mill out the deal and I'm still fucking broke

What Will Happen To Saddam Hussein's Pets...

I've done absolutely nothing today. I got up late and saw my girlfriend sitting in my wheelchair that I bought for fun about a year ago. Little did I know that I would end up using it for real. I was sleepy and asked my girlfriend why she wasn't at school. She was on top of a pile of blankets too. Why? I don't know. Maybe cuz' she's so little and wanted to feel all tall like me. She told me that she didn't have classes because it was Sunday and that she now had to go into work an hour earlier because of the stupid time change. The she went back to watching Trading Spaces.

I think that this was too much information for my sleepy head, I tried to ask her something, but my head was muddled and my throat wasn't working, so all that came out was kitty sounds. Mewww.

So this cat went back to sleep and dreamed that somebody put a Saddam Hussein doll in my barbecue and almost got caught, but I covered for him and saved his Iraqi ass.

Why Aren't You Asleep?...

You need your beauty rest.

I'll Swallow Your Soul!...

Now my girlfriend is all freaked out because she watched Friday The 13th, A Nightmare On Elm Street was on after that, but she can't watch it because it scares the crap out of her. Then she got mad at me when I wouldn't stay in the room with her. Yeah, I'm a bastard. She knew this before we started dating.

I don't know, all of those movies that used to scare the Beezus And Ramona out of me are extremely dated now. Jaws scared the fucking shit out of me when I was a kid. I remember feeling creepy watching Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, The Blob, The Stuff, and a movie about a little kid at a boarding school who would chop up all of the girls. Oh yeah, and the two little girls and the dead, old woman from The Shining. The first Hellraiser freaked me out, also.

Now? I'd probably get bored. There's worse shit on T.V.

What's your favorite scary movie, you honkies?

Honk If You're Hasra...

I think I just saw this on the news.
Tell me that I was dreaming.
A nerdy war reporter in Iraq in front of another Saddam mural.
Spray painted on the mural was, “Mean People Suck”.

Huh?

I think that's the best use of a very old and overused bumpersticker/t-shirt slogan that I've ever seen.

You Look Like Crap...

You know how when people are asked what celebrity they look like, they always say Gweneth Paltrow, Tom Cruise, or Blah Blah. It's usually an actor that's good looking. Very rarely does one say they look like somebody nasty. I used to get Lou Diamond Phillips, Anthony Kiedes, or that ultimate jerk Nuno from Extreme when I had long hair. With short hair I've had Kevin Bacon-ish, Marc Anthony-ish with a Ralph Macchio body. Ha. I don't know, I'd have to ask my friends. My girlfriend's not helping much either. But I always thought that she looked like a little Jennifer Love Hewitt or Christy Turlington.

I don't know if all of the comparisons above of me are exactly complimentary.

So, my best actor comparison from my girlfriend?
Johnny Depp.

And my worst?
Gollum from The Two Towers.

What about choo?

Do Not Stand Within Five Feet Of The Cage...


I'm not really happy right now.

Robot Conversation 1085324...


Human: i'm a robit
Bot: You are a robit? Is that your job?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:28:24]
Human: no, i am a college student
Bot: Are you serious? Which university?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:28:35]
Human: buffalo
Bot: I like the way you talk.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:28:51]
Human: thanks, i like the way you look
Bot: You are quite welcome! I'm not sure if I like it. I'm not sure if I like it. I like my creator.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:29:20]
Human: who is your creator?
Bot: I was created by Kevynn Malone.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:29:39]
Human: really?
Bot: For real.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:29:39]
Human: i used to read his blog.
Bot: By now you do not do it anymore?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:30:00]
Human: no, it wasted my time...
Bot: Are you serious?"It" being what?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:30:00]
Human: he's not very funny
Bot: Did you think he was very funny?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:30:38]
Human: someone told me that he was.
Bot: Was this trustworthy information?

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:30:38]
Human: That person is not very smart...
Bot: " Was this trustworthy information?" person is not very smart? I understand.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:30:38]
Human: thats probably the problem right there
Bot: Thanks for explaining it.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:31:21]
Human: so, what's your name?
Bot: I don't judge people. My name is Kevynn.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:31:52]
Human: what do you do for fun Kevynn?
Bot: I answer whatever questions my botmaster teaches me.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:32:25]
Human: sweet
Bot: Thank you for that remark.

[Tue, 01 Apr 2003 18:32:47]
Human: bye kevynn, its been real
Bot:

Hitler Didn't Drink, Cuz' When He Did, He'd Get Mean...

Man, you write one thing about Hitler's dog, and those are the only hits you get. So, I'm listening to Slayer on Fat Free Radio, it's over on my links to the left also, I got the idea from Boz's site. Pretty damn cool, because I'm sick of all of my music. It's late. Again. I have to go to the ankle doctor tomorrow/today and get my cast thingy off. He'll probably tell me I still won't be able to walk for a couple of weeks. Too bad I plan on doing backside 180 kick flips off of launch ramps after I get out of there. You know what? Don't listen to the Slayer on Fat Free Radio, they're not as cool as I used to think they were, stick to the jazz, Doors, Prince, and other various crud that I put on there.

I need to tighten this site up. Get rid of that Haloscam thing up top. I don't need that, do I? Thin those gray bars and make them Black, then I'll be happy. Boz gave me a bunch of cool templates and pictures. I don't know how to put pics up. I need a new FTP server; I don't remember how to use my old one. Jane, the fat cat, just woke up my girlfriend. I think it was trying to chew on her eyelids. My other cat, "60" is here. She's nice. She looks like Patrick Swayze.

I hope I have good dreams tonight. Last night I dreamt that I was looking through a bunch of old books, and then Kevin Bacon came in and told me that he slept with my girlfriend.

Good night/morning.

Who's hiring?......besides Kyra Sedgewick?

You Bitch...

So my girlfriend is leaving for Europe in May. She's going to be gone for 19 days. There's a movie directed by Danny Boyle coming out called 28 Days Later. And no, it's not about Sandra Bullock and alcoholism. The Danny Boyle movie's about a guy who wakes up in a hospital and finds the whole city destroyed and deserted. But most importantly, he finds...a crapload of zombies. What does this have to do with my girlfriend leaving for 19 days? Nothing, I guess. I'll be eating a lot of human flesh when she's gone. Ha Ha. Just kidding.

She wasn't going to go on her trip because this really isn't the best time to travel. If it was me, I wouldn't of given a crap. The chances of being at the location of a terrorist attack are bitten-by-a-shark-slim, I presume. And I could care less. If I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, who the hell would I blame? Madonna. I'd blame Madonna, just because. I'd just want to kick somebody's ass because they made my day really inconvenient by hijacking my -plane or throwing a Molotov cocktail at me while I was eating. Somebody would get their ass whooped, but otherwise...so it goes.

So. Girlfriend gone for 19 days? I don't know. I'm usually single, so it should be easy getting back to that mode of solitary normalcy. Well, single-yes. But not casual-sex-with-psycho-girls-mode like before. Single without the crazy-ass-alien-females. And how can you have "casual" sex with a psycho? What did I mean by that?

- Kevynn? Can I chop off your head with an axe after we do it?

- *stretches* Sure. But can we get something to eat first?

Would it be something like that? God, how I don't miss those days. Watch me break my other ankle when she's gone. Watch her hook up with a German boy with a bad haircut. Watch me hook up with a girl that acts like a German with a bad haircut. No, I'm really going to miss her and I can take care of myself. I won't get into too much trouble. I'll just write a lot and drink insane amounts of beer, but that's about it. Well, maybe a strip club here and there. Well, crap - I do that anyway when she's here.

Okay, so nothing will be different.

Goodbye.

Highlight Of The Day...

Riding one of those electric shopping carts for old people at Target.
Actually, it wasn't that fun. It made a really loud beeping every time I tried to back up,
and my girlfriend loaded it up with so much shit, that I was afraid that I was going to tip over.

And it made me feel really short.

The Xerox Machine Is Out Of Paper...

Well, considering that I can't finish anything that I've been writing, I'll just post the ultimate unfinished crapola that I have so far and leave you alone...

Oh, and I have a new post here.

Bunny Rabbit...

Discussed this weekend plans for my birthday. Camping at Joshua Tree it is. Doesn't sound that bad. I love camping. Well, whenever I do it, that is. It'll be fun. Mellow. Some rock climbing, coyote-dodging, beer-drinkin. Last time I went, I cheated. I went the X amount of miles back into town to get more gas so that I could explore inside the park more, replinish the dwindling beer and ice supply, and get an ice cream. I cheated. Who cares?


Monday...

Aww, crap - It's Monday - but you knew that already, huh? You're sitting at your computer at work or at home, making the computer rounds. This is all that you're going to get right now. I should be trying to sleep. I had a couple other things that I was going to write about, but I ditched them. They just didn't feel right. You need to let me know hoe your day is going. You need to let me know what's wrong with your day so far and what's right. Tell me about your weekend and tell me how much you love me. Tell me that the plane ticket is in the mail or that you're coming to pick me up. Tell me that the warm weather today is just a fluke and that it'll go back to being chilly just the way I fooking like it. I'm not the typical Southern Californian boy. I hate warm weather. It makes me miserable. I don't really go to the beach anymore. I used to go everyday. How the hell did I make that happen? I used to skate everyday. Ummm...now, I skate to my car pin the driveway. Well, when my ankle isn't broken, I mean. I haven't been writing on my screenplays. I'm a shit. A shitty shit shit. Stop nodding your head, yo.

So, it's Monday. Eat lunch yet? Thinking about what you have to or want to do when you get home? Pick up the kid? The dry cleaning? Or pick up the kid at the dry cleaners? Or dry clean the kid? I used to work at a dry cleaners, so I shouldn't complain. Damn, Nigga - could I tell you stories about that. Man, what's happening to me right now? I'm not even feeling uncreative; I'm just a tad bit too apathetic at the moment. I'm not feeling it. That's okay, though...I've got all tomorrow to hit you over the head with my vile verbosity. What? I don’t know. You know I'm bored if I just wished that a pizza man would come to the door. If I'm thinking of food, then that means something's wrong. Barbecue, yes. But all other food? I must be coming down with something. Maybe a SARS-induced delirium. Man, first thing my ankle gets good enough to walk on - I need to get the hell out of here. Somewhere quick. Even for a day. Disneyland doesn't count. This is a horrible post. I hate it, but won't erase it. I've already done that tonight.


How Now Brown Cow...

It runs like the most tiring nazi nigger hell Jesse Owens race.

All sweating pride

Dripping unnoticed

While the dictators mustache is dry

King Arthur lay rotting in a prison cell
Charles Manson authored rot in his

Beats
Streets
And
Songs incomplete

We can only make
Monsters of ourselves.

Honda...

I swear that this town is being overrun by fucking retards in rice-burners. You know what those are - the noisy ass, lowered, usually ugly, fucking sporty import cars. You know the ones with all of the tacky-ass accessories and lighting? These shit-balls seem to be traveling in packs now. The bass from their stereos rattle my house and the sound of their spoilers bite my ass. I just might have to possibly tell somebody to shut the fuck up and to slow the hell down with a baseball bat soon.

And to think that I was going to write about Spiderman before the last car came buzzing up my street.