How title-ating. Whatta Pun. Anyway,
school entry. I forgot my glasses. Now how am I supposed to see
things. Whatta joke. What else and crap. Here I am.
Writing words. Just like last time. Yeesh. Nothing is going
on. I heard about it in a Dinosaur Jr. song. I don't like Guided By
Voices. Get your own deal! The Pixies don't like me.
Get your own Deal! Let's make a deal. Deal or no deal.
Deal me in. Blackjack! Whatta crap. I had a dream I was
looking at Mudhoney's discography. That's a little scenario to show you
what my life is like. Not sure if it was accurate or not. That would
be pretty impressive if it was. Anyway. Huh the huh. Bizarro
World lunch today? Possibly. Yeesh. What else and crap.
There are fire trucks all over campus. That can't be good. Unless if
it's Career Day. That's probably it. And the fire department is
doubling or tripling down their effort to recruit people. Wanna Ride a
Pole Every Day For Work? Wait, no, that's the strip club's pitch.
Both occupations help the community. You never know when you're gonna need
an emergency stripper.
Whatta idiot. It's possible I used this title before.
Yep. Anyway, crazysheet is fun. Let's get crazying with it.
And, if there's still time left over, then it's time for sheet. Yep.
Yep. Anyway. I guess it's the end of April. How wonderful.
Gotta think of interesting things to write. I keep longingly looking at
the website for Queens College's Dorm. Maybe today they'll have a
special give away! Or, at least, 90% off. I'm not asking for
much. Great. Two more weeks. That's just six individual
classes. Then, a few weeks off. Probably to be stent doing pointless
nonsense and bullshit. Life well spent! Life well stent. I
find drinking soda with alcohol in it is easier to chug than just regular soda.
Probably because the sodie is too cold it hurts my teef. That'll explain
it. Yeesh. Whattado. Finish the paragraph, that's first of
We're watching a movie in class. Prime time to write.
I guess. My parents were talking about what they want on their tombstone
yesterday. That's tons of fun. It reminded me how much I used to be
scared of dying. As a kid, I would often get the sudden feeling, Shit,
one day this is all going to be over!Now that I'm older, I've
realized life isn't so great that you're gonna miss it incalculably when you're
gone. Let's face it, life is a solid 5 or 6. 7 if you're lucky.
I'm sure as I get older the fear will return, but for now, I'm okay. Now
life scares me.Intrusive thoughts in my head?Wha?
That's not supposed to happen!It's a living purgatory, it
is. With splashes of goodness. Yeesh. What else and crap.
Gottaways to go. What isThe Age of Innocence? I'm
guessing 24 and a half. That seems right. Yeesh. I miss Alta
Vista. Where is justice. Next time in in a bar and the waitress
asks, "What can I get you," I'm gonna say, "Justice." Then, "... ... ...
It's a pun! Think about it!" I find puns are good for making first
impressions. And then, later on, puns are the ultimate aphrodisiac. Yep. Here we go with number four. Number one
is piss, number two is shit.You don't even wanna know what number
four is. I guess. I'm accomplishing something here! I'm
writing! I'm a great. Yeesh. Hi! Tomorrow is May.
Mother May I. That's how that go. I gotta take a break from
crazysheet for a while. Get my head on straight. Then come back with
the website, "Sans Heat!" Pund'it. Yeesh. What else is going
on. Crap and shit. Shit and crap. Number four and number five.
This was fun for about twenty minutes. Gotta finish this paragraph in
remaining class time, though. I can possibly do that. One would
imagine. I'm not really sure, to be honest. Huh? Eh.
erg. if I get regular lunch, I can fifth paragraph it up in cafeteria.
Yeesh. whatsforlunch.blogspot.com. whatsblogspot.forlunch.com.
Yep. Great. Wonderful. I got emotional listening to Everclear
last night. I've got no right making fun of Goo Goo Dolls person. In
fact, over the last few months, I've been listening to generally mainstream
music. Music that is assumed to be, by music aficionados, crappy. I
think it's to balance out listening to my own crappy songs. That makes
sense. Or maybe I'm just past the age of caring about whether what I'm
listening to is cool. I had a dream where something happened. Huh?
Oh, right. I had a dream where something happened with the Saves The Day
album, "Through Being Cool." That about sums it up.
Anyway. Obviously Adequate Music. That's how I'd
describe what I've been listening to. As opposed to my music, which is
Generously Mediocre Music. I'm in lunch. Pizza. Oppressingly
Appetizing Meal. Great. The pizza cashier looks like a slightly less
obese Santa. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the influence. Either
way. Either Santa was inspired by this guy, or this guy was inspired by
Santa. I just caught myself with my arm over my food, like you do in jail,
so no one can mess with it. I've been on the outside for three years!
Old Habits Die Hard. And New Habits Unbreakable. I can't stand
myself sometimes. if they ever make a new Lethal Weapon, I guarantee you,
100%, there will be a line in the trailer of Danny Glover saying, "I'm WayToo Old For This Shit!" Except they'd have to cut right at the, "S"
sound. Not funny. Too soon. So, I survived without my
glasses so far. if I get hit by a bus, now you know why. That
doesn't make sense. If I get hit by a bus, you'll never read this.
Like in the Eminem song, "Stan." In the car they found a tape, but it
didn't say who it was to..." Really? You're telling me in the
news report, they'd go, Oh, also, we found a tape in the car. It didn't
say who it was to. Is that really important to the news story?
Would they bother mentioning that crap. See ya later.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Title On Title
We be titling. Welcome to another great entry at
crazysheet? How do I know it will be great? Psychic powers.
That explains that. It's weird that I would primarily use my psychic
powers to predict whether my blog entries will be quality, but as they used say
in formerly French occupied Haiti,
C'est la vie. I
wonder if after
someone, they go, c'est la mort, in a deadpan action hero
voice. If the French revolution was in this modern age, there'd be quite a
lot of selfies taken with Marie Antoinette's severed head. Also, forty
years ago, if you told someone you were taking a selfie, they'd just assume
that's what you call jacking off. Jokes, jokes, jokes. I like
adequate jokes. Anyway, two and a half more week of spring college.
Then come summer college. Then something after that. I forget what.
I can't waste my psychic powers to predict the seasons. Some things are
just better off figuring out in your own time. Practically every day I
have the thought, I should get that guitar/vocal teacher, really take things
to the next level. I'll get on that tomorrow. I've been thinking
that exact thought every day for weeks. That's how that go. I told my
group mate in Yoga I made music, so maybe I will use that for the background of
my presentation. I was listening to some songs on my walk today, and I
think I've got enough songs that fit decently for Yoga-ization. It's prime
time to be exposing people to music.Jesus, we're so close to
the end of the semester, I want this to be over-- I NEED A NEW BEST
FRIEND/SOMEONE WITH AN EAR TO LEND.Everybody goes home happy.
The truth is, in my experience, at the end of spring, people don't want
it to be over. So they'll go home with this music memory of college, and
want to relive the music over and over for the rest of their life until they
request a special coffin that plays The Uppers on a never ending loop for all
eternity. They should bury people with walkie talkies. You
know, just in case. In case they wanna chat with their dead neighbor.
It's weird that we devote so much land to just putting dead guys underneath it.
Why not build a housing development over it. What could go wrong?The Poltergeist producers paid me five hundred dollars to make that riff.Cha-Ching. Anyway, where was I. Almost May! New color
scheme and crap! My Moms be getting herself a new HD-TV. I'd watch
that. HD means High Definition, in case you don't know. TV means
TeleVision. Television is like an oxymoron.Tell a
Vision? You're mixing up sound and sight, you morons. The good
news is who cares. It turns out Paul Blart II: The Blartening is still
playing this upcoming weekend! Finally, a second chance to who cares.
I used to know a girl named Blair. Is that relevant? Also, she was a
witch project. That's when Alicia Silverstone and friend dress you up to
look like a witch in a musical montage. And then eight years later you
die. That's the witch's curse, it is. It's weird, though.
The actress from Don't Say a Word died. Eh, whatever. The
person who does the voice of Luanne on King of the Hill died. NO!
THAT'S TERRIBLE! That's how I feel, at least. How did I get on that rant, and how do I make it up
to you. I'm writing words. That's a pretty good start. I'm
thinking of what words to write, and actually typing them, and you get to read
it and crap. That's a pretty good deal. One would imagine and crap.
Whattado. My music is great. Anyway. I'm surprised Republicans
aren't for getting rid of traffic lights. Hey, if you crash your car,
that's just survival of the fittest. Also, I confuse Republicans with
Charles Darwin. In fifth grade, I did a presentation of Charles Darwin, as
Charles Darwin. I had a prop of like a toy skull, and I remember thinking,
even then, this would be more appropriate if I was being Shakespeare.
To Be or Not To Be Shakespeare. He's the only one who can answer in
the affirmative and not have multiple personality disorder. What if
Shakespeare was like Charlie Kaufman. ... ... ... What if.
Yep. Another entry goin' at a solid C+. That how
that go. What else is how it go. I should try eating in the bizzaro-world
cafeteria tomorrow.So this is how the other half lives.
Nathan's? A hot dog themed restaurant? Now I've seen everything!
The cashier at the pizza station is so jovial, though. He's like a
overweight guy, around 50, and he makes very upbeat and congenial small talk
with everyone that comes by. He's probably my best friend at Queens
College, now that I think about it. Every time I'm there, there's a part
of me that wants to go,"Hi! Remember Me?" Because you
want him to remember you, and you want to assume he does, based on his
consistent ultra-agreeable personality, but he probably doesn't, and you're too
embarrassed to ask. Why isn't there a three credit class in Lunch
Studies. What's your major?I'm majoring in lunch.Perfect. That's great, I guess. Maybe not. Sure killed
time, though, didn't it? Sure did. Anyway. Wha?
It's always sad when someone dies. John Ritter died.
... ... ... Was it Junior?What an idiot I am. I've been
listening to a lot of Dinosaur Jr. lately. It's pretty similar to some of
my music, but 9000 times better. But, yeah, I didn't even realize it while
making my music, but it's just similar in how it's chords and riffs and crap and
whatever. Rock music with chords and riffs? Whatta find!
I've been listening to songs with just bass guitar. Like a rube!
Another entry, almost in the books. Not even my
psychic powers could have predicted how this one went. So many interesting
turns and paths, decent jokes and unfunny jokes, mostly boring life stories,
fake confusion and real confusion. And it all led to this, here, the fifth
paragraph. I like to call it the "Conclusion." Just something I
picked up on my English classes. Don't mean to brag. Crazysheet is great.
My music is great. Now all I need to do is contact the guitar/vocal
teacher tomorrow, and I'll be on an interesting turn and path. See ya
April 28, 2015
I Have a Drinking Solution!
Get it? Well, negate the sentence. Get it now?
Still no? Man, I'm dealing with some A-Grade Idiots. Where
does E get off not being a grade. Probably busy working with Ari to help
Vince's career. Anyway, huh? Only two or three more weeks of spring
classes. The co-habitant of the Richard Move room is Edisa Weeks.
For some reason, I didn't think it was important to tell you before.
Sorry. Anyway. What the what. Created a soundcloud page for
The Uppers. Soundcloud.com/the-uppers. Where do keyboards get off
not having a .com button. Now how will I conveniently write 30 Rock spec
scripts? Anyway, available for your listening pleasure. Also, what's
the deal with anything. I don't know. "The only thing he never
did was heroin," said my future bandmate, talking to his friends about
someone. That's a drug regimen I can get behind! If I ever figure
out a way to have a life, that's probably the way to go. Or, just stick to
alcohol and weed. That's the responsible way to go. Should probably
make a pact with myself to walk the line, in that relative extent. But
only if I get to drive drunk. If I can't drive drunk, then what even is
the point? Where do they get off in American Pie making a pact to have
sex. They realize it's out of their control, right? Does their pact
mean, when midnight is about to strike on the last day, they will rape someone?
I don't even wanna think about it. That movie disgusts me. Eugene
Levy should retire from office immediately.
Yees. Also, bath salts. I feel like going out of
my mind and kill and eat my family. That's a fun Sunday afternoon.
Oh, mushrooms intermittently, assuming I'm at least 95% sane by that time.
Which, let's be honest, it's 50/50 at best that I wind up at least 95% sane.
There's some math for ya. Also, meth. Jeez, what a downer. Not
meth, the realization I may never get sane enough to do mushrooms responsibly.
Meth is an upper. C'mon, you Grade A Idiotics, even you had to know that
one. I'm sick of going on RateMyProfessor and there being comments that the
teacher is hot, and then, on the first day of class, they're a four or five at
best. I think people are rating on a sliding scale, saying they're hot for
teachers. Just like Van Halen did. It doesn't matter anymore.
Probably not, at least. Man, 95% sane. I'd take mushrooms and have
horror flashbacks to when I was 55% sane. No one wants that. Alcohol
and weed. In a perfect world. I guess. Who cares. Not
me. I got better things to think about. Like, how can I slowly work
my way up the sanity scale?
Anyway, in lunch. I should write a book. I could
probably do that. If I really tried.Anyone got an idea
for a book? How about an adaptation of the movie Adaptation called
Back To Normal? What else. Garfield Behind Closed Doors.
When Is Waldo?The Mixed Up Files of Chris
Farley's Love Interest In Tommy Boy.A Modern History of Tampa Bay.
I found out there's another, alternate lunch room right next door, in the same
building. With it's own food kiosks and stations and everything. For
some reason, I feel deeply attached to my lunch room. I was in the new
one, and I was like, Who are these animals, with their Nathan's and whatnot?
Alright. Hey, there's a movie night at Queens College! They're
showing 21 Jump Street. That's Almost the most recent installment
in that franchise! I like knocking into people with my Yoga mat.
Hey, if you didn't want to get hit by stuff, you shouldn't have left the house.
And definitely stay away from blackjack table. Yeesh, indeed. I have a pretty sizable pimple on my
forehead. Relatively certain it's a brain tumor. Oh well, you win
some, you lose some. What about Soma, The Strokes song? Which I
believe is a reference to a drug in a book or movie? So, is that
pertinent? One would assume. You know what happens when you assume,
don't you? More often than not, you're exactly right. How about
that. I can't donate two dollars to Nepal. I got several thousand tied up
to Nigerian principles, but I've got a good feeling about this, it's really
gonna pay off. Principles. Princes. My Dad was
Assistant principal. I guess that makes me Prince Principal. Also my
Dad's name is Cecil Fielder. Anyway, let's start over. I can't
donate two dollars to Nepal. I need that money to buy half an iced
coffee of which I would leave half over. It's Moneyball, you wouldn't
understand. Why doesn't Nepal just get a bunch of guys with high OBP?
Seems pretty straightforward. Sorry. Sorry for all of that. We
wish them the best of luck, as we do all our friends overseas. Here's
hoping Nepal doesn't completely collapse and fall into the sea. That
happened to Andy Kaufman's hometown and I don't think he ever really recovered.
Anyway, yup. Indeed. What crap. Things
going to crap in Baltimore. I'm not really sure what's going on. I
didn't follow the story until just today, so it's all just shitty nonsense to
me. We wish Baltimore the best of luck, as we do all our cities who
decided to marry land. Sorry. Sorry for all of that. And by
all of that, I mean, "Marry Land." That's the real crime of the century.
When you marry land, on your wedding night, just before you come, you go,
"Location, Location, Location!"It's real estate, you wouldn't
understand. Anyawy. What an unfunny jerk. That's how that go.
Anyway. Let's get to the bottom of this Earthquake, yeah? I suspect
some foul play. Location, location, location. I make myself laugh.
Anyway. Gettin close to the end of entry. Another chunk of fun in
the bank. Damn am I an idiot. See ya later.
April 27, 2015
There We Go
Although uploaded to the internet on Monday, 4/27/2015, this entry was
written on Thursday, 4... something... 2000... something?
Hi! School entry. That how that
go. What else is going on. I've really made my triumphant return to
drinking after cutting it down significantly for a week. Because I'm
really good at it. Can't let that skill go to waste. Yeesh.
I'm a hero. I saw someone leave the Richard Move room five minutes ago,
and now some guy came a-knocking at the door, to no avail. So I shared
with him what had been my private information, in the hope that it would help
him with his endeavors. He thanked me kindly, and thus I became a hero.
I may be misunderstanding the word hero. It's when a guy knows that
rooms are empty, right? Cause in that case I am a hero. It's 4/23.
That's the first three digits of my home phone number. If that doesn't
make a hero, I don't know what does. Memba back in the day, not having to
use the area code for local calls? Life was simpler then. Once but
never again. And that's the end of that chapter. One would imagine.
I like how Harry Reid wears sunglasses now. He looks like the
Guy-Who-Will-Retire-At-The-End-Of-His-Term-inator. Not so easy to read
now, is it? Where do I get off. Harry Reid is a hero. One
would imagine he accomplished a thing or two over his illustrious career.
Who knows for sure, though. That's Right, You're Gonna Be Senator!
I'm a moron.
Anyway. Yep. Maybe I'll try a different student
cafeteria today. There's one that's in the style of a diner. It
might just be an actual diner located on campus. Anyway, diner? I
love diners! I'm all about diners! I wonder if they have diner food.
For all I know, the building is a facade with nothing in it. Anyway.
I don't get Rubik's Cube. I don't want a toy that'll make me feel like an
idiot. That's no fun. Anyway, what else and crap. Two minutes
to finish this paragraph before class starts. I could do that.
Probably. I just sneezed. There's no worse feeling than almost
sneezing. You get the urge, the subtle tickle in your nostrils, you start
to think, "Oh boy, here it comes," and... ... nothing. I was about to
get blessed by someone! Now, I'm on my way to Hell! I hate it
when that happens. Anyway. Yeesh. I should just stick with the
pizza. You don't change lunches in midstream.
Lunch started. Anyway.
Yes. I gotta write some more. That's great, just great. It's
weekend time. Anyway. Pokemon seems really cruel to me. Making
animals fight each other for your amusement. Same with Street Fighter.
Maybe Ryu and Bison want to be friends. You're ruining their friendship!
Also, Bulbasour is clearly the worst starting Pokemon. Who chooses the
Plant Pokemon? No one, that's who. Weekend time. I should go
up to the dorm with a boom box playing Iris. That'll make at least one
April 22, 2015
Me Sure Like Titles
here. Hear, hear. Hair, hair. One of those has got to be
right. And I'm gonna narrow it down to the first two. Anyway,
whazzup. I can't wait for the weekend, so I can see Paul Blart again.
And check out all the things I missed the first time around. Anyway,
yesterday was a drag. Yesterday was my big chance to reveal my music
making endeavors to my peers. We're doing a group presentation in Yoga
where we pick our own music to play in the back ground. What music do
you wanna...I HAVE A BAND.Couldn't do it, though.
It's not appropriate Yoga music. I need to teach Yoga for three minutes.
Alright, now put your hands in the air. Start waving them as if you
just don't care. It's good for chakras and Eagle and triangle pose.
I decided I'll just go through the Warrior poses. Those are the Matrix
ones. I guess I could play Matrix music in the background. That
would be pretty sweet. Or just record myself saying, "This is The Matrix,
pick the pill red or green, this is the Matrix, let's get Matrixing."
Because everyone loves a fool. Next month is May. I wonder what
tricks it has in store for us. Probably Memorial Day, and crap. I
don't get why Buddha is so great. He probably sucked at Yoga, being the
chubbster that he was. Maybe he ate someone who was really good at Yoga.
That would solve that problem. I'm pretty sure Buddha is Buddhists
creation myth.And the world came out of one of Buddha's rolls
of fat. The equivalent of The Garden of Eden was on his taint.
It's weird that they would contextualize their own creation story through the
spectrum of Judeo-Christianity. I guess that's real Namaste of them, I
Whatta paragraph that was. A solid three or four out of
something. I like how there's a pose in Yoga called Happy Buddha.
Believe me, the only pose that should be called Happy Buddha is at the end when
you say, "Namaste," and are done with the exercising. He wants this crap
to be over more than anyone. The gym in Queens college is right next to
the dorm, and while I was walking by, someone in the building had Iris by Goo
Goo Dolls blasting. It made me realize, I guess I'm not really
missing out on that much by not dorming. If I was dorming, I'd
probably just listen to Two Princes and Anarchy In The U.K. 24 hours around the
clock. Like I did first semester Sophomore year. That's not fair.
I also listened to Test Your Reflex, Badly Drawn Boy, and Wilco. What a
low point in my life.Sob, I woulda bought her rockets, sob.
Sounds like fun, now that I think about it. Whenever I picture myself
dorming, in a fantasy scenario, it's always me running the show. Because
of my age and experience.Alright, we're gonna party when I say
so, we're gonna play video games when I say so, we're gonna talk about crap when
I say so, because I know best. I've been here once or twice before.
Which is in direct contrast to my real experiences dorming. Where I would
hole myself up in my room and listen to the fan-made Elliott Smith live album of
Yep. And then, someone'll start playing Iris, and I'll
have a mental breakdown. No, no! This is all wrong! Nooo!
Even though Goo Goo Dolls were one of my musical influences, on account of
my band manager making me include it. This is all wrong.
Pretty much my inner monologue at any given moment. Yep. Anyway,
what else and crap. I told you before how I used to listen to music as if
I wrote it, then, more recently, I would listen to it as if I were a radio D.J.
I've made a new evolution. Now I listen to music as if I'm having a party
and I put together the playlist.Everybody is lovin' this
groove! And then a small part of me that is still reasonable in my
head takes pity on the majority of me that's so encompassed by self delusion.
It's tough, though, because I usually listen to music as an album. So,
after imagining that for one song, the next song, I have to decide whether to
imagine that I'm playing the entire album, which isn't very Namaste, or, try to
forget that the previous song was on the playlist, even though I just pretended
that it was. #Whitepeopleproblems. Anyway, what else. Hmph.
Playing Iris in a dorm.Have you spent no time imagining
a party playlist while listening to music privately? Where do I get
off. That person was probably thinking,Sob, I'd give up forever
to touch him/her, sob.It's been done. Also, you can't
give up forever. You can't give up a thing you've never had. We got
seventy, eighty years of crap to do here, tops. I'd give up dreidels to
touch her, that makes sense. I wonder if in Israeli casinos they have
tables for dreidels. I wonder if there are Israeli casinos.
Probably. And they pay you in chocolate coins. I had a piece of
Matzo yesterday. Because I'm good at religion.
Why is this night unlike other nights. Boring, I
heard this last year. Update your shtick, please. Why is this
night unlike other nights. It just is, look at the date. You
don't need to convince me, I'm already there. Anyway, huh.
Mostway through this entry. That's great. What else is there to talk
about. I mailed a check today. All by myself. I'm a hero.
An inspiration. I should adopt, "Inspiration," into my identity.
"Wow, if he can do it, that's real inspiring, and crap!" He is me.
Me is him. She and Him. Matzoey Deschanel. "Look at him
go!" It's a balancing act, though, because this website is
crazysheet. Acting crazy and stupid is part of my character.
That makes me even more of an inspiration. I did it! I'm a hero.
Crazy because of crazy. Stupid because I don't know how to spell shit.
It all comes out in the wash. I looked up what shit means in my Dream
Symbols book.Yeah, pretty much par for the course.
Excrement, I mean. Not shit as slang for, "anything/something."
What else is going on and crap. Jack Paar woulda been an awesome golfer in
celebrity games. Also, I have no idea who Jack Parr is/was. Some sort of
golfer, is all I can gather.
Last paragraph time. Just flew by, didn't it.
Anyway, huh. What else and crap. Whole new group of people soon for
Summer Class. I miss taking summer Chemistry after sophomore year in
Stuyvesant. It sucked going to school in the summer, but it was kind of
great, cause it was only one class, and I wasn't exhausted during it, or before,
or after, so I just remembered being buzzed from the music to and fro. I
specifically remember listening to Weezer's Maladroit album. I think I
talked about that here before. Oh well. And, it turns out, when it's
the only class I'm taking, I can do decently at the sciences. I got in the
high 80's. I also remember listening to Sublime during the labs, but that
might have also been during regular school labs. I also have a distinct
memory of listening to "Achilles Last Stand," and, "The Rain Song," by The Led
Zeppelins during a lab. I don't know why. Probably because it
happened. That would explain it. I also remember overhearing the
sophomores in my junior year Spanish class talking about, "Caress Me Down," by
Sublime. I don't know why. And a friend I had in Drafting, which was
freshman or sophomore year, talking about, "KRS-One," the song, by Sublime.
This is interesting, interesting, interesting, interesting, interesting,
interesting, interesting stuff. I listened to a song once.
Memories that will last forever. I gotta write another paragraph to make
up for this crap.
Yep. What crap. What crap. I can't believe
I actually typed out all that crap. I also remember listening to My
Band by Eminem & D12 in the same Spanish class while sitting next to a cute
Sophomore. Shut up! I can't believe you don't shut up!I remember listening to Heatmiser to Spanish class Freshman year in college.Shut the Fuck up! It's not funny anymore! Please!
Anyway, what else and crap. I'm gonna get Halal food when this is over.
How wonderful. While waiting for the bus yesterday, I saw a van carrying a
food cart driving by, and the food cart was called, "The Potato King." I
guess, if you want a potato, you just stop by that cart. Not sure why that
would ever happen, but, I guess it does. Otherwise they'd be out of
business after the first week. Maybe we misjudged the public's desire
for just baked potatoes. Also, how could I forget. I used
to always imagine, when listening to songs, that they were part of the beginning
or end or montage, or some part, of a movie that I had written or directed.
I probably did that in high school even more than imagining I wrote it.
And that's a lot. Because there's things wrong with me. Yes, music
has served me well throughout the different periods of my life. Who knows
what the future holds. I can't think of any ground I haven't covered what
with imagining things while listening to music, but it's safe to say I'll figure
Okay, last paragraph. Yes, indeed. I guess I
could imagine being a music industry mover and shaker, and I'm 'discovering' a
song. But I only listen to well established outfits, for the most part, so
that doesn't really make much sense. Music critic? There's an idea.Pretending I'm in another band, being exposed to this band? I
am in another band. It's called The Uppers. That's no fun.
Pretending I'm from the 18th century, and this is my first exposure to the
future? I like that, that's something I can work with. Or, the
opposite, that I'm from the future, and this song is from the distant past.
That could work. Pretending I'm someone who knows the band. There's
an idea. And, obviously, pretending I'm from the future, a la Back II The
Future, and releasing this song into the past. Kind of convoluted, but it
worked for Marty McFly, no reason it couldn't work for me. Anyway, entry
is finally winding down. Great. Took sort of a weird turn two
paragraphs ago, but whatever. What else and crap. See ya later.
April 21, 2015
Down With Mirrors! Up With Nipples!
are, time for another entry. Man, am I burned out. I'm not exactly
sure of what. Listening to music to the extreme? That'll catch up
with ya one day. That's how I feel. Here in school. What fun.
It's too warm outside today! Where does the weather get off. Anyway.
My writing sucks. My music sucks. Where do I get off. Let us
think of fun crap to say. Pool opens in six weeks. Then I'll finally
be able to see if I can walk on water. I probably can't, but it's worth
giving it a try. In Back To The Future, they can hover on water.
That's pretty impressive. Griff is like the new Jesus, is what I'm trying
to say. It woulda been funny if the shop janitor-turned mayor was back
working in the cafe 80's shop in 2015. You Used To Be Mayor! "Yeah,
things didn't really work out." That resembles something funny.
Halal U Jah. I like how in 1989, the epitome of future communication was
just a huge excess of faxing. Basically, faxing technology was already
there. But, in 30 years, one fax will produce faxes in every room of the
house! And the little pizza microwaved turns into a big pizza. Jesus
pulled the exact same shit in the Bible. He should sue them.
Anyway. There's one paragraph. That's worth
something. Probably. Possibly. Why do I pride myself on my
mediocrity. I'm bound to feel shame and inadequacy eventually. And
not just in my (lack of a) sex life! My Wi-fe! Are we sure
Borat was not just trying to see if Wi-Fi was available? Anyway.
What else is going on. This semester is winding down. That's 13
credits in the last year. I'm a hero. An inspiration. And
I'm Gonna Be Mayor! Mayor, I like the sound of that. The only
way I'll be mayor is if that's my permanent nickname in mental hospital.
Or if I get some dirt on the governor. You got any dirt on the
governor? Also, apparently I think mayors are appointed by the
governor. I like the comptroller, also known as what your second grade
self wanted to call, "the controller."I like the secretary of
defense. April 21st, 2015. Defense has been going okay lately.
That's a diary-ist, not a secretary. Close enough. I get to drink
when I get home. Now that I'm done reading John Barleycorn, I can go back
to drinking. That's the rule. I shouldn't have gone to see Paul
Blart.Is this what the universe has to offer? How
supremely disappointing. I should get a supreme Pizza Bagel from Pizza Hut
and put it in a future microwave. Yep. That's how that go. I should write Paul
Blart III: Blart II The Future. I. I thought we were counting
down in Roman Numerals. Let's just call them Roman numbers, no need to
show off your fancy vocabulary. That's how I feel, at least. I used
to think oeuvre meant like style of acting. Turns it out means like your
acting filmography. That's a story about vocabulary. That's
how I feel, at least. I used to think... oops, got caught in a subterfuge.
I like Sudoku And The Thousand Paper Cranes. Don't know why that came up.
Today sucks. I blame music. Where does music get off, thinking it's
so great. I gotta get a life. I don't know how, though. Which
is a pretty big hurdle, it turns out. Dang. Why did Dunking Donuts
combine with Baskin Robbins? "Hey, you wanna combine?"Yeah, sure, why not. They put no thought into it. In that
fictional scenario. I think if Hillary Clinton becomes President, she
should be able to bang the secretary of something. It's only fair.It takes a village to raise a child. And, since we're all raising a
child together, why not enjoy a little hanky-panky? It makes sense if
you don't really think about it. Am I the only one who thought the movie
Signs was going to be about, "Stop," and, "No Right Turn On Red?" I
thought by watching that movie, I would become a licensed driver. Boy was
I wrong. Yeesh. Anyway. Am I the only one who thought The
Sixth Sense was going to be about smell?Wait I counted wrong.
Ha! Ha-ha! Jokin' to the extreme. I like how the fake movie in
Scream is called Stab. I always thought the fake movie in Stab should be
called Knife. It's the natural progression of things. Anyway, lunch time. Great. Class went okay,
all things considered. Actually, I didn't consider anything, let alone all
things. Whatta false based liar. Now I have to write the rest of the
entry. Then, time to get Yoga-fied. Then, bus-ified. Then
alcohol. That's how that go. Whattado. I've ruined both music
and comedy for myself, because it all just reminds me of my own inadequacy.
I guess I could read blogs. I excel at blogging, as long as you consider
it a blog and not comedy. It's pretty funny for a blog. However,
it's pretty blog for comedy. Yeesh. What else. I gotta write
some crap. I'm burnt out, man. Probably because of all the marijuana
celebration yesterday without being able to participate by smoking. Oh
well, today is a new day. I'm pretty sure. That's usually what
happens when yesterday is over. Anyway. Crap. I'm writing
words out of my pen onto paper. That's what I got goin' on. Whattado. I
feel like falling asleep.
Last paragraph time. Great, almost done. Great.
This semester went by pretty quickly. I don't know. I feel like I
hit a plateau in my progress socially, educationally, and mentally. I'm
doin' pretty good, after having considered all there is of things, but I can
pretty much only stay at this level, or go down. There's no getting better
in my immediate future. Even pizza can't solve my problems. Not even
alcohol.Not even diet soda. Not even italics.Itsa Me, Italics, Fuggettabouttit. Nope. Nope. No.
Non. What else and crap. The team name for Queens College sports
teams is The Knights. I guess they're doubling down on the chess theme.
And I'm singling blackjack references. How about that. I'm tired and
crap. The good news is... I don't know. 13 credits almost in the
bank? Who puts college credits in the bank? Not me. Who craps about
bullshit. Yep.That's Right, You're Gonna Be Pizza!
I think I suffer from depression and didn't realize it until four hours ago.
Probably because I tuned my guitar too high. That's just asking for
trouble. That's just asking for treble. I thank you, yup.
Today. Entry. Stay focused. I smell like pizza. probably
because my shirt is orange.
April 20, 2015
You've Got The Write To Remain Title
What's up jerks. Another entry. I realized I love watching T.V.
through a mirror. I was just getting my haircut, and they have a big
screen, which I was watching through a double mirror (the screen is in the
front, then reflects through the back mirror, into the front mirror), and, boy
is that a sight to see. All the uneasiness and tension is filtered out,
through mirror technology. And it was on FOX News! The most uneasy
and tension filled channel there is! So, yeah, I had a ball of a time.
Instead of the 24 hour narrative being, We Hate Obama, it was,
Do We Hate Obama? I don't know. Sure, one still infers they do,
but it made it tolerable. I don't want my news to be tolerable. I
want it to be holler-able. Which is slang, if you're an idiot.Why don't they just make the 2016 election MSNBC vs. Fox News. Cut out
the middle man.And MSNBC draws the most viewers on election
night! A decisive victory for MSNBC! Oh, also a potato with googly
eyes won the presidency. More importantly, though, let's watch T.V.!Where do I get off ragging on things. I've got no right.
Anyway. I want to get a shirt that says, "I hear that, brother."
So whenever anyone in the barbershop says anything, I can just point to the
shirt. Barbershop. There's no shopping. Chopping, maybe.
Anyway. Why don't barbers just set up camp inside an
amusement park fun-house. Seems like they would save money that way.
I'd go to see a Spooky Barbershop. The guy who cuts your hair is
wearing...Which was the very insensitive, not funny at all original
but rejected title to Barbershop, ... a Scream mask.I should
just end all insensitive jokes with, "... a Scream mask." I don't know
why, but it softens the blow a bit, I feel. You can't get these jokes
on T.V. I'm too hot for T.V. Or too cold. Or just plain
inappropriate. Girls Gone Wild! It's too hot for T.V.!
Quick, turn to HBO, maybe they have it on!!! It's not T.V. ...
It's HBO. The most homeless themed of television network anagrams, I find.
David Cross calls it the Hebrew Box Office in an episode of Mr. Show, and that's
always stuck with me. He says it as a character. Not just being
himself. That would be out of order. How did we survive when the
guide was just that rotating view of five channels that went through them all in
six minutes. Or, even worse, from the newspaper. Or, even worse,
guessing.I've got a hunch the news is on. If I'm wrong,
no harm done, but if I'm right... If you're right, what?
Havin' a News Party. The Barber of Seville. That's a thing.
More like The Barber of Dullsville, am I right?
I am? Thank you. It feels good to be
confirmed. That must be why the Catholic boys are all about confirmations.
Or something. I don't know religion too well. All I know is there's
a platypus and a hare, or something. I don't have all the details. I
wanna pay someone twenty dollars to go through all my songs and pick out the ten
or twenty best. So I can put that forth as a representation of my songs.
I need an impartial observer to do it, I can't do it. They all sound like
three to sixes to me. And I can't tell the 3 from the 6. Except for
5's. Those are real. I also wanna pay someone twenty dollars to give
me eighty dollars. So far, no takers. The Mets are in a really good
place. I mean, if they play .500 baseball from this point on, they still
have a pretty good shot at making the playoffs, even just playing exactly .500.
.500 means winning half their games. It's moneyball, you wouldn't
understand. Anyway, .500 way through this crap. I think it's weird
that The Beatles were so popular right away. No one like beetles.
And, before The Beatles wereThe Beatles, people first hearing of
them musta been like,Beetles? Yeugh. Next. For
some reason, every time I think of the name The Beatles, which is very, very
often, I always accidentally think of cockroaches, as per the reference that
they'll outlive humans. I always have a .500 second where I think that's
part of their meaning, and then I remember,Oh, yeah, that's
cockroaches. Or rats. Or scorpions, have you seen those things?
Those gotta have pretty high survivability.
Alright. Alright. The Beatles were from
Liverpool. I wonder if that's why so many musicians are alcoholics.
Probably. I'm from Bayside, and there's four or five musicians who are in
the band Bayside. So, there's that. I'm not really from Bayside.
We just say that because it's easier for the post office to recognize.
It's actually Oakland Gardens. Which is a combination of Oakland and the
Hanging Gardens of Babylonian fame. Don't stalk me. It wouldn't be a
positive thing to do. Every time I walk by a stranger, there's a part of
me in my head going,Yes, it's me, soak it in, soak it in. Well,
see ya! Because I'm insane in the membrane, this, we all know. I
got a haircut. Did I mention that? Erm, hrm, rhm. I like R 'n
B.Rhythm AND Blues? For the price of one? I'd be
insane not to listen to it! And the reason Nixon lost to
Kennedy was because he couldn't dance like Elvis on T.V., or something. I
don't have all the details. They should have called Catcher In The Rye
Catcher In The Rhythm, and it's all about beatboxing. Alright.
I'm all about entrying and crap. I'm burning all my bridges at FOXNews and
MSNBC. Was there ever a real spat of bridge burnings sometime in our
history that inspired that phrase? I musta missed that in my Social
Studies classes. I had a dream about Kimmy Schmidt and Dong. I watch
too much T.V. on the internet.You like that band, T.V. on the
Internet? You like that character, guy who says you like that...?
I used to mix up T.V. On The Radio with Gym Class Heroes. Now I know
the difference, one is the band I like and another is the band I don't listen
Alright, great. Another entry in the books. I got
class tomorrow. With some real party people. What else is goin' on.
Not much. Just coastin' on through the days, through the weeks, through
the months. You know how that go. Stephen Colbert should do ads for
Newport cigarettes, and pronounce it, "Newpore." Because ads for
cigarettes are thing, and puns are the most amazing thing ever. The entry
has got to be over soon, right? That's what I'm betting on. I like
it when they lather up the back of your neck and shave it as part of your
haircut. Is today opposite day, and everyone forgot to tell me?
How Delightful! You ever do that thing as kids, where you look at your
friend's head upside down, and their hair looks like a beard with their eyes,
and they don't have a mouth or a nose?No? ...Me neither.
T.V. News is great. Without it, how would we know what to think?
I don't have time to think for myself. I'm a busy man! Just fit me
into the one of five or six narratives you offer, and we all go home happy.
I can devote my brain power to what really matters -- Catcher In The Rye puns.
Fat Cher In The Pie. You know, stuff like that. Also, a lot of
Beatles songs are just nonsense.Love Me Do. What the
Hell does that mean? "Love? I Do That!" is my best guess. "Love
My Human Waste?" Another possibility. "Love My Work?"
Could be. I don't know no more. I don't know what it is about
Vitamin Water, but I'm seriously falling for their gimmick. It's just
right up my alley. Vitamin Water Zero, with a little personalized flavor,
and it says, "electrolytes," next to a picture of a battery. I'm a sucker,
I don't know. See ya later.
April 19, 2015
Oh, I Get It
title. Wow. Great job. Loser. I've had it up to
here with my antics! Anyway, Yello purple people eaters. Are they
yellow, or are they purple? It's a classic whodunit scenario.
None of that is right. You're not right! Get off my mirror!
Don't be a chump. Anyway, I'm feelin' pumped. I'm gonna get a guitar
teacher, and learn guitar, and play guitar, and then after doing that for a
while, cha-ching, record contract! It's just how life works out for
dudes like me. Anyway, nine sentences a long time for sincere self
delusion. Let's get back on track. Gotta do something, though.
That's one of my main mottos. That,Hello Moto from
commercials, and a third thing. Anyway, what the what. Entry time,
now. I realized I have a pretty pleasant world view. I tried being
depressed for a few days on the Jack London tip, but I figured out I'm much
happier being happy. Whoudathunkit. My mind is all lollipops and
orgies. Or, the ultimate, lollipop orgy. It's when lollipops... eh,
forget it. What else and crap. Eight in a row for the Metskies!
Don't call them Metskies, it reeks of Communism. No one's really
sure why. Oh, cause of the Russian/Eastern European style of the word?
Now someone knows why! This guy, right here. I like when Keith
Hernandez calls an RBI a, "Rib Eye Steak." I ordered a Porterhouse, you
idiot! Everyone's a moron but me! You dolts. Eight wins in
a row. You know the odds of that? .5 x .5 x .5 x .5 x .5 x .5 x .5.
Times .5. That's a lot of numbers! I can't even count that high. My
gut says it's eight numbers, but I'm not sure. 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, 1/16, 1/32,
1/64, 1/128, 1/256. The odds! They're astronomical! Run
What was I saying about crap and shit? I liked it when
Moneyball won twenty in a row. And everyone was likeMoneyball's
Great. What happened, man. What happened. Also,
apparently, it turns out moneyball isn't when rich people golf with a rolled up
wad of Benjamins as a golf ball. Or shoot up Benjamins combined with
Lincolns. A.K.A. The Rushmore. If a Lincoln is worth five
dollars, shooting it up must be worth five dollars a pop, too. That's
Moneyball 101. What else and crap. Spring class winding down.
Soon to be into the summer. Awesome! Catch those killer waves!
Where in the world is San Diego! Not a lot of kids these days are named
Waldo. You got to help me, do you know where my baby is?Oh boy... this is gonna be a tough one...Where
In The World Is Waldo. That's the crossover. I'm gonna guess not
Argentina. Call it a hunch. Anyway, yeesh.Knot
Argentina? You mean like, definitely Argentina? That's exactly
what I meant, you Rib Eye Steak, you!I had French Toast for lunch.
Like a Champion! French Toast Crunch. Pshh. French
Toast isn't crunchy! Believe me, I've had it at least 12 or 13 times!
I'm kinda the go-to guy when it comes to French Toast. A French Toast is
when Gerard Depardieu speaks at your wedding. I haven't known the bride
and groom long... because I live in France... That's how that goes!
I gotta keep this level of semi-fake excitement for three
more paragraphs! Lucky me! Thinkin' about gettin' a guitar teacher.
Finally, to be adequate at something! That would be living the dream, man.
With me playing guitar all the time, how am I gonna work in time to write all
my Austin Powers fan fiction? The world will suffer without it!
Suffer! Then, Austin Powers pretended to go down stairs while behind a
thing. It was a visual trick stimulating all the senses. What
the Hell. Anyway, Hi! Can I drop the enthusiasm? But still
feel it? But just stop typing it? Is that at all possible, internet
ether? Mmm, wanna try some internet ether. Yeesh.
It's brick. Wall. Lettin' it all hang out. Always happens 1/2
way in. No stoppin it, no stoppin it at all. Mighty, mighty.
Might as well just end the entry now, right? Great. Fantastic.
See ya later.
April 18, 2015
Whassup Party People
believe I've used that title yet. Which is odd, because I'm all about
greetings to party people. Anyway. Drank beer yesterday.
Trying to go through today without it. Not being drunk sucks. I know
they say alcohol is a depressant, but I find no alcohol is more depressing.
Maybe it's just me. Also, let me be clear.They don'tsay alcohol is a depressant. It's proven scientific fact.
It's not just hearsay. Now, let me be unclear. Wackado Triangulation
Parsippany. Alright. Psh. Feelin' emotions, like a chump.
Yeesh. Apparently, sushi in the fridge stays fresh for 24 hours.
I've been eating it after a week. That explains why I'm peeing blood and
pooping... blood. There's nothing in the body similar to blood that isn't
blood. That's why that joke went nowhere. Pooping bile? I
guess. All my life, I've never used the word poop. It seems too
childish. Now that I'm 26, and I'm getting older, I find the word
delightful. Maybe it's me trying to hold onto my youth, or something.
I'm no psychoanalyst. Nincompoop. Hilarious. I I
remember, after watching the Candyman movies about a year ago, I would always
almost trick myself into saying Candyman five times at the mirror.
Fuck, better not say Candyman,shit, that's one, alright, as long
as I don't say Candyman four more times, shit... I
imagine thinking, "Candyman" is as bad as saying it right out loud. I
don't know for sure, but I can't take that chance that it's not. Then one
long, "Candyyyyymaaaaaaaaaa," trying to kill as much time as I can, so I
get out of the bathroom before the final damage is done.
Delightful. What's with not being able to say things at
mirrors. Mirrors are all about the visual spectrum. What do they
care about audibles. I'm still waiting to get my birthday present from
last year. A quality electric razor. My birthday was over four
months ago. What's the hold up, am I right? Right... right. At
this point, I should also get two dollars with the razor, because of inflation
and interest and whatnot. It's only fair. I remember trying to get
my parents to give me more money monthly in college compared to what they gave
my brother, on the grounds of inflation. I forget if it actually worked or
not. Probably not. Sometimes I go through the alphabet. You
know, for fun.
Anyway. I saw Paul Blart yesterday. I don't know exactly what I was expecting,
but after seeing it, I was like, "Oh, yeah, that's obviously what I should have
been expecting." Because, at that point, I knew 100% what it was. It's common
sense, when it comes down to it. World's Greatest Grandpa. Also,
I've been exposed to listening my songs from the past year sober. Pretty
hit or miss. I'll take hit or miss. That means sometimes it's hit.
Outstanding. The bird whistling outside seems condescending. That's
the best way I can describe the tune it's whistling. Shut up!
That's typical drunk-as-sober talk. And, generally, I'm a huge fan of
whistling, that's how I can tell the condescension.
Yep. Whattado. The main reason I saw Paul Blart
was I saw an ad for it on a bus where the tagline was, "Sleep Tight America."
I wanna sleep tight! Whatta sucker. If anything, I slept less
tight. Oh well, at least I learned my lesson. Don't see movies with,
"Blart" in the title. What else. Entry writin'. That's going
okay. What else and crap. I gotta write two and a half more
paragraphs for some reason. No one's really sure why. I didn't get
an iced coffee today because there were really long lines at both Dunkin Donuts
and McDonalds. I'm not gonna stand in line like a sucker. I got
things to go, places to be. Surgeon General's warning: Smoking By
Pregnant Women May Result In Fetal Injury, Premature Birth, And Low Birth
Weight. Yup, that sounds just like the surgeon general. That
guy. That was long exposition for very little pay off. Yeesh.
What else and crap! Gotta think of crap! How annoying. I
believe Jack London was inspired by A Tale of Two Cities. Jack London,
Jerk Paris. Jiggle Shanghai. I think A Tale of Two Cities should
have been calledTheTale of Two Cities. It's the
definitive work on tales of two cities in all of the English canon, as far as
I'm concerned. Two God people just knocked at my door. I had to put
my pants on, answer the door, and they were all like, "There's a bunch of
problems today, some people think God is behind the problems, do you have an
opinion?" And I was like, "No, I'm not really interested, thanks for
stopping by."Because that's my default answer. But, in
truth, considering my absolute boredom, I shoulda been like, "I don't know!
Why don't you come in and you can tell me all about the church of Mormon."
Which, odds are, is where they're from.
I don't care about Mormonism. Natural selection already
proved it sucks in 2012. Something else, though? Coulda listened to
something. My parents wouldn't have wanted them in the house, though.
That's pretty much one key way to determining if someone is seriously mentally
ill. Willingness to talk to strangers. #1 Mentally Ill Son.
That's a coffee mug I would love. My worst encounter with a homeless was I
was around NYU, eating a cream cheese bagel while walking, and a guy came up to
me asking for change, and he was like, "You can afford a donut, but you can't
give me some change?" And I was like, "How dare you. This
is a bagel." What kind of monster do you think I am?
Yep. A paragraph and a half to go! The end is in sight. Not of
life, of this entry. The end of life is a solid fifty or so years away,
Zod willing.Kneel Before Zod. Dude, what's your
problem? Take a chill pill.I have Klonopin, does that count
as chill pills? Anyway. It's good to not drink. Right?
Probably. Anyway, what else and crap. I watched the Kimmy Schmidt
show the last few days. That's some quality comedy right there.
Last paragraph tizzime. Whatta payoff. Yeesh.
Lunch when this is done. How great. Superman woulda turned out
really differently if only Zod had taken a chill pill. Oh well, live and
learn, as they say. It's Saturday. I just figured that out.
How about that and crap. I just added a bunch of rock 'n roll memoirs to
my cart. I'm gonna read about it! How grand. I like how Bees
are trending on Facebook.Bees: ...blahblahblah...
This could be bee's big break! Anyway, see ya later
April 16, 2015
I haven't drank alcohol in upwards of sixty hours! I'm a hero!
Anyway, what the Hell is this I've been doing for years. Five paragraphs
of bull shit? But Why? Oh, right. Boredom, and wanting
to feel like I've accomplished something without actual real work. That's
great. And creating wonderful memories for me and you! Like the
time... uh... you know... I had chicken pox! I had chicken pox when I was
in 4th grade. Pox Americana. That means peace during America's
empire, or something. Hey, when I'm not drunk, I know things!
I'm a hero. What? Huh? This is a school entry. Why not.
What do people do when they're not intoxicated. I mean, other than
thinking about the next time they'll get intoxicated. Fantasizing about
it, going over it over and over again in your head. A third thing.
Anyway. I did the math, and I can easily be done with school within two
years. Even at the pace I'm going at now. Crapdom! I'll have
to get a job! Like a chump! That's how that goes. Anyway.
What else. Thursday. I figure I'll have a drink tomorrow. Four
days is accomplishment enough. Drinking twice a week is reasonable.
Probably. Now I want weed, too. Forget gateway drugs-- stopping
one drug leads to other drugs. Gotta do something. There's a cute
girl in my group for Yoga class! Turns out life is worth living, after
Huh? Eh? Turns out that's pretty much my inner
monologue at any given moment. "Huh? Wha? Buh? Jah?"
Gotta think something. Yeah. What else. Why isn't there
another Spring Break next week. Why? Where is justice. My iPod
ran out of battery. I have to think on the bus, like a chump! "Wha?
Eh? Guh?" Anyway. We be entrying. Memories, huh? I
posted a profile on a website to put together a band. Probably nothing
will come of it, but I was bored, and it was nice thinking I might have some
sort of future in something for about twenty minutes. "I'm the next big
thing!" Then, "I'm pretty mediocre," then, "Huh? Wuh? Eh?"
I'm slowly devolving into pudding. Alcoholic pudding. That's the
next big thing right there. Alright. My brain sucks. What a
let down. Gotta finish this paragraph before class. You know, for
fun. I was a real asshole as a kid. I'm sick, I can't go to
school. Where's your homework? I don't know, you do it.
Did you clean your room? Fuck No. And that was just
yesterday! Jokezzz. My parents were jerks though, too.
"You want some chocolate milk?" Fuck Off With That Bullshit.
"What board game do you want to play?" How about the one where you shut
the fuck up? Anyway, now I'm in lunch. When getting my pizza,
the guy serving the pizza to me was my height or shorter. Which, led me to
come up with the adage, "The Purpose Of Life Is To Be Short." It's gotta
nice ring to it. At least I'm not a particularly depressed alcoholic.
It just provides me slight amusement. That's all there is to it, really.
That's how I feel. I love spring time with girls. You can just feel
the sex in the air. Or something like that. Let's cut this entry off
early, go outside and breathe some fresh air.
April 14, 2015
I'm As Good a Titler As I Think I Am
better, you could make the case for. Anyway, I'd like to see you title
some crap. You talk big, but where's your titles? Anyway, in
school entry. I got sick from drinking yesterday, for the first time in a
while. Pretty good clue that I should stop drinking. I'll take it
under consideration. If only I had some of that sweet sticky-icky-icky.
If alcohol is, as the Simpsons claim, The cause of and salutation to all of
life's problems, Weed is, Hey relax man chill with that. Now,
I'm not arguing for mandatory pot smoking for every man woman and child.
We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Anyway. The door I'm
writing this in front of says, "Dance Faculty," and you know the first name on
it? Of course you don't, you idiot. It's Richard Move! Heh!
And you know these corny jokes? That's my name! AHHH WHAT DOES IT
MEAN. Just gravy. I don't like gravy. Even the word,
"Gravy," sounds disgusting to me. If you add an, "It," to gravy, though,
it becomes Gravity. I have no qualms with gravity. It's a tough job,
but somebody's gotta do it. Anyway. Limited drinking from now on!
I can handle it. Can you get drunk from alcoholic enemas? Ask
Blink-182, they're the experts. Yeesh. Class. Classes are
good. Check it out, I'm doin' stuff! And since it's only six
hours a week, I still mainly feel practically 0% of the stress and pressure that
normally comes with work. You dolts are working forty or fifty hours a
week, like chumps. Chump up or chimp out, or something along those lines.
What am I doing with my life. Jeez.
Hi, still me. Who woulda thunk it. This is class
entry. It entails me writing in a notebook. Who needs it. Who
needs it. Hey, last class a cute girl talked to me. What are the
odds that happens again? 35%? 40%? These are two examples of
percentages. What else is crap. Richard Move. Yeah, get the
Hell out of here Richard! Stupid ass. No one wants you here!
What else and shit. Registration for Fall classes is tomorrow. I'm
gonna register old school! And, by that, I mean register for classes at
NYU. Sounds illogical, since I won't be able to take them, but that's the
ways of the crazysheet world. Meh. Huh. I'm tired. Just
plain tired. Someone just walked into the Richard Move room. It's a
lady, so I don' think it's Richard. You never can tell, though.Hey, I've gotta message for Richard Move. He's on first.
Yeesh. College, huh? Who needs it.Not me. I
need a haircut and crap. Whatta crap. Still pizza coming up in two
hours. Turns out life is worth living, after all. I had no idea.
Musta forgotten about pizza. Marijuana. It's gone for good from my
life. Next, alcohol. Then, cigarettes. Then, Captain Crunch.
Then, Hostess Cupcakes. Then, Captain Crunch again, after I relapse.
Then enemas. Then mental D.J.ing. Then wearing glasses. God
made your eyes that way! Stop trying to be something you're not!
Glasses are just steroids for vision. Oughtta be illegal, that's how I
feel. Gotta do class now.
In lunch now. Guess what? I made contact with
cute girl from last time, when I spilled Coke Zero on her purse. I
apologized thirty two times and she seemed to get over it. Except thirty
of those thirty two times were to the girl sitting next to her, because I
thought it was her bag. Anyway, so that's coming along nicely.
Anyway, teacher was praising Jack London for writing 1,000 words a day.
I do that. And mine's better. Who doesn't, a voice in the back of my
cranium says.Way to be on point!Just for that,
I'm skipping the clozapine for a week!Talk about throwing a pizza
party for your mind! Wait, what the Hell. Just went crazy for a
few sentences. Let me get back to stenographizing. You gonna be
quiet now... ??? Okay, let's move on. I'm an American Hero, is what
I'm trying to say. I participated like a Madman today.
Talking about Drunkenness? I'm in! Teacher also said something
that struck a chord with me. In contrast to London's bleak view on life,
my teacher basically said her opinion was that the point of life is to find a
job you love and excel at it. What I wanna know is, what about being
mediocre at it? It's student government election time here at the QC.
I had a friend who was president of Binghamton his senior year. Wow.
President of Binghamton. That's the closest to with great power comes
great responsibility I've ever come into contact with. Talking about
alcohol, though-- I am kind of mentally addicted. I like who I am drunk
better than when I'm not drunk. Basically because I'm never not drunk.
It's sort of a no contest. To me, though, drunkenness produces a frame of
mind that lasts even after the alcohol wears off, if you drink often enough.
Still, it's worth it. Possibly. I don't know.
Someone just came in handing erotic pamphlets on the election to everybody at my
table and adjacent tables. Except for me. What's wrong with me?
I don't think I was putting of a Fuck Off vibe, but I guess I was.
Or, they're racist against Jewish kids in glasses. Religiously I count
myself as a Christian, for what ever reason, but culturally, I'm Jewish.
Or maybe it's vice versa. Who know why. because I'm the best. Kneel before Zod! Maybe
Maybe I should become a Zodist. He doesn't seem to have many
followers. I'd probably be his right-hand man just by showing up.
Alright. I've always wanted to be a Number II to a super villain. I
write it in my dream journal all the time. Also, what's a dream journal.
Also, where am I. Oh, I know. April. Don't mess with Taxes.
Getin' a girls purse wet. Shoulda said, "First the purse, then you!"
That would be rude, though. I'm no rudist. Not to my knowledge.
Gotta do something. Might as well be the drink. What if that's what
I'm meant to do on this planet. Just really excell at being a drinker.
I can do that. Probably not. I can't do anything. Oh well.
A guy just walked by me saying some crap about taxes. I just nodded my
head and said, "Yeah, yes, okay," and he eventually went away. I had a
dream I ran into an old friend. That's pretty interesting. I have
more friends in dreams than I do in waking life. That's alright.
Better than alright.
Here we are, last paragraph time. After al, isn't that
how modern man marks his territory? With eight ounces of Coke Zero?
Probably. That's what I've been led to believe, at least. All hail Zod.
To drink or not to drink. Hmm. How about Not to Drink, but
with, Drink on the side? Can we swing that? Anyway, here we
are, pre-Yoga. I need new contact lenses. I've been wearing glasses,
like a chump. Writin' entries, like a chump. Anyway, what the Hell.
There's the ladder to nowhere. Fun Fact-- Ladder To Nowhere was a
rejected song title by both The Led Zeppelins and Hey, See D.C.!
They do bus tours of our nation's capital. Why wouldn't they.
There's a party in an Elliott Smith song where he says, "March down the street
like the Duracell bonny." It's the Energizer bunny, you dolt! Aw,
I'm sure you did that on purpose, for real super fans like to me find out.
Wonderful. It's possible he was in the pocket of Big Duracell.
That's probably it and crap. Anyway, adios amigos.
Google has informed me The Duracell Bunny is a thing. Please disregard
the entirety of the last entry.
Monday, April 13, 2015
I insist! That's how that goes. What's going on jerkballs. It's me, the guy,
you know. Me? Ringing any bells? I like the song, "Ring My Bell." Does that
mean press your nipple? Or touch your clitoris? Probably press your nipple.
Ding Dong, Anyone there? No one? Lemme check next door. In twenty
years, people will be so immersed in smart phone culture, that their doorbell
will vibrate. There goes the door again. Where is the app that makes
phones vibrators. Where. Anyway, hello. How's it going and crap. Back to
school tomorrow. I'm actually reading the book assigned! Like a chump! It's
all about alcoholism, though, which is interesting. I don't consider myself an
alcoholic, but reading the book, maybe I am. That would suck. I'm not
physically dependent on the drink. I would know, because there was a time I
was. Sophomore year into Junior year, I would drink a shit load of whiskey
every day. I couldn't go without it. Now, it's just drinking out of boredom.
But still, it made me realize, "Shit, I drink every day." Oh well, gotta
do somethin'. Better this than that. What's that? I forget. I've always
said, Alcoholism Is The Thinking Man's Disease. I don't know if I've
always said it. I think I've said it once before. So, now it's twice. Twice
is pretty close to always in my book. The good news is I found my blue rubber
ball. It's always in the last place you look, right? Well, not in this case.
After I found it, I decided to look some more for it for fifteen minutes. There
goes that adage. Michael is misunderstanding things! Let's laugh about it!
That's how that goes.
Anyway, heyyo. Back to school tomorrow. There's going to be an assignment
in Yoga where we have to work in groups and teach the class for fifteen minutes
about something. Awesome! Odds are, I'll get one or two hot girls in my
group. And, we have to pick music to play during the Yoga. What a perfect
opportunity to tell hot girls I'm a musician. It's gonna work out splendidly, I
hope! There's already one instrumental that Yoga teacher plays regularly which
is very similar to an instrumental I play. Finally, I made it in the music
business. Play the guitar similar to how another person has played the guitar.What song should we play.Well, that's easy, I have a
band, we can play my songs.Why are you still talking, we should be
having sex by now. I've decided to tell people I have a band. Only if they
ask further questions will I reveal it's only me in the band. Let's just
play Time After Time on repeat, if Yoga teacher does it, she must know what
she's doing. Nah. Anyway, huh? What's going on. It's the morning. How
about that. She plays a cover version of T after T. That's interesting and
crap. What else. Stupid book, making me feel guilty for drinking. Where do
books get off. I also came across my old Crazysheet book. What a
rapscallion I was. Always crackin' jokes. That's how that goes. Now I gotta
crack some more jokes. It's crazysheet. I had a memory I remembered. Oh,
yeah, just re-remembered it. When I used to listen to music, I would always
imagine it was me singing. Throughout high school, that's how I got my
jollies. Just imagining coming up with those lyrics and singin' em. Maybe
that's why I went into music. I've evolved, though-- now when I listen to
music, I imagine being a D.J. playing the song on radio or in a podcast. We all
gotta grow up sometime, I suppose.
That's fun, fun stuff. I suppose. What else is going on and crap.
Anyway, hi! It's Monday. The main thing I know about Mondays is that
characters in newspaper cartoons hate them. I get all my knowledge from
newspaper cartoons. Maybe I should write a memoir about alcohol. Yo, my
name is Michael, and I drink alcohol,
Whazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzsup? End of chapter One.They used to pay writers by the word. That seems kind of stupid. Maybe
they still do. Who am I to judge? That would explain why the inner monologue
of the main character is always written as, "Huh? Wha? Who? Where? Huh?
What's going on, is what I meant to say. What is coming up next? I bet shit
will happen. Shit always happens." in response to every sentence of action.
Maybe I should be the Jack London of the 21st century. Someone's gotta do it,
might as well be me. And, being the epitome of masculinity as I am, I think I
fit the role pretty well. Now, all I have to do is write a book. Meow Mix
Meow Mix Please Deliver. By Michael Kornblum. Shit I have to pay 50% in
royalties to the Meow Mix people. Oh well, gotta do something. What else
is crappening. Lunch is coming up. How grand. Anyway, hi! It's me. I hope I
can de-alcohol my liver. That's how that goes. What else. Taxes are due on
Wednesday, or someting. I've never done it. I'm twenty six, I'm just a kid!
Don't mess with Taxes, is what I'm trying to say.In the speech I wrote
in high school about crap, there was supposed to be a line where I impersonate
Bush and say, "Don't Mess With Texas," but I skipped over it when giving the
speech, and the guy who I gave the written speech in the class to tell me what
word to say if I forget, was like, "Man, you should have said that, it woulda
been great." So I said, "Fuck you very much, give me my speech back.We
weren't friendly really at the time, but I later had a class with him where he
gave me the name, "Kornbleezy." Which I still like. Made me feel cool. Hip.
With it. Actually, that was someone else. He sat next to the guy who gave me
the speech tip. But I figured I might as well combine them into one person, for
Anyway. Whatta entry so far. Whatta... entry. I'm actually enjoying
reading again. There was a few years that I didn't like it. But, now, great.
It's fun. Anyway, what else. I gotta pay more attention to play money poker.
I'm hemorrhaging chips, like a chump. If they ever re-legalize online poker,
that might end up being a pretty good way to support myself. Anyway. That's
why Dickens wrote A Tale Of Two Cities. One city would have been enough,
but he was after that sweet, sweet coin. Yeesh. Anyway. It's been seven years
since I wrote a song about a mirror. I figure, any bad luck I created when
writing that crap, has gotta be running out pretty soon. Also, there was that
time I walked under a thousand ladders. I have this vague memory of the night I
did coke, where I was hanging onto some bar outside the dorm. Like, there was a
bar from scaffolding, or some shit, I'm not really sure what. And I was hanging
off from it. So, that's gotta be bad luck, right? AndI definitely
have a memory of reading the dictionary during the same period of being
outside. You know, just flipping to and fro. I have no idea why I had a
dictionary. Musta been like,Hey, I'm gonna step outside to smoke a
cigarette. I don't smoke cigarettes. Well, here, read this dictionary.
That makes sense, I guess. What else and crap. What else. What else is the
question. What I come up with is the answer. I'm gonna eat me some White
Castle for lunch. Keyfood sells 'em frozen, and I get them whenever I go out to
get a twelve pack of beer. What grandness. Gotta do something. That's how I
Yep. What else and crap. You guys are spoiled. If I knew someone writing
crazysheet four times a week, I would read the shit out of that. Where do you
get off not caring. Anyway, the last year has been pretty productive. Thirteen
credits, eight or nine music albums, a bunch of crazysheet. Who could ask for
more. Well, anyone who discards music and crazysheet, they could ask for more.
Coulda done 20-40 credits without that crap. Where do they get off, right?
Right. Music is worth something, crazysheet is worth something. Music gives me
something to listen to. Crazysheet gives me something to do. I've had a couple
of jobs before. My last job as working for NYU soliciting donations from
alumni. I made the three or four hours of training, seventy dollars in the
bank. I quit after fifteen minuets. I don't even remember talking to one
person, but I definitely knew I woulda felt awkward. And I wouldn't know what
buttons to press. And I remember, that was when I first started smoking. And,
during training, I figured I would quit, so I was like, "Does anyone here smoke
cigarettes? I wanna get rid of it." And everyone was sorta silent because it's
awkward, and one guy offered to take it from me to throw it out. And I gave it
to him, probably. I don't really remember. Meow mix. Yeesh. Crazysheet is
great. You jerks are idiots. Read it! Oh, you are? Cause you are here?
Well, tell your friends to read it. It's been three years, and a year and a
half of decency. Time for this shit to take off. Right? Right.
Last paragraph time. Yeesh. Great. Grand. Wonderful. Crazysheet worth
nothin. Snort. Why, in the past year, I've probably gotten or two comments
about how it's reading is worth-while! That's one or two people that care!
More than zero. Jerks! I don't know. I don't know, I don't know. What else
and crap. Whazzit, the sixth paragraph? Now I read the Thesaurus. I've
graduated from the Dictionary. Thesaurus is where it's at. Yep. Yep. Yup.
Anyway, hi! I was writing an entry. I'm fairly sure. Who can remember. Am I
still writing this shit? Huh? Yeesh. What else, and crap. Hi! It's me,
still. Great. Yeesh. Hi. That's what I keep on saying because I have nothing
else to say. i have this weird memory, which may have just been a dream, but I
remember on the bus ride to Binghamton, to see my friends in Binghamton, we were
underground until leaving New York. There's no streets underground, are there?
Still, that's what I remember. I know there's ooze that are the Ghostbusters
enemy in the sewers. That's not exactly relevant. I remember I used to thin o
the word, "Suicide," as, "Sewer-side."Why are all these people
killing themselves to sewers?" Don't make sense.
Last paragraph time. Not like that last paragraph. This is for the for
real last paragraph. What the Hell. No one needs this. Except for me. Gotta
wrte it up and such. And crap. And bullshit. And shit. I should write a
seventh paragraph. Got nothin' better to do. Except for writing the sixth
paragraph. That takes precedence. Huh? Am I still doing this? Fuckin'
drink. I'm no alcoholic. I can stop any time I want to! And
Anyway, hi. Last paragraph. My frontpage got
messed up. There's black square in the middle of the entry. I
can only prey you don't see that crap.Why is there a 4xf inch
black box? That's a reasonable question for you to ask, if you see it.
Yeesh. let's get entrying with it. Maybe I should write even another
paragraph to make up for the black box. Who cares. Hi. Great.
This is me. For sure. And crap. See ya later.
This Is a Crazysheet
How about a little truth in
advertising, am I right? Anyway, Hello. Gotta write an entire entry.
No half assing it. Maybe I should learn to pace myself. Spread out
the introductions till three paragraphs. Hello, well, I meant to say Hi.
Hi is a pretty good homonym or something. What's a homonym? It's a
homophone. 1-800-EAT-COCK. That's what I call a homophone.
Well, it's a homophone number. A homo phone is an old style telephone
where the piece you pick up and talk into is a penis. Now that we've
gotten out of the way what's really on my mind, let's get entryin' with it.
Hello! How come no one eats rooster. I mean, when we eat chicken, is
it just assumed sometimes it's rooster? Probably not-- chickens have
breasts. So why the Hell are roosters gettin' off easy. Also, let's
eat some horse. That's right, I said it. Eat some horse. What
the Hell am I talking about. The good news is, only two and a half more
paragraphs of introductions. I lost my nail clipper, like a chump.
Gotta use my teeth. The old fashioned way. I don't like looking at
myself in the mirror when I have shirts on. I get to read whatever the
shirt says backwards, and I don't need to be exposed to that kind of evil.
All You Need Is Love. evil sí,
been uoy lla. Run the fuck away the mirrors talking crap! I
like to imagine a person being exposed to a mirror for this first time, in olden
days. Just walkin' along, doin' his thing, suddenly
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ME. This paragraph is very blue. The font,
I mean. Just keepin' ya updated. Do you understand the colors
that are coming out of your screen? I saw Rush Hour III was playing on
cable. Did I watch it? Nope. Got better things to do.
Read shirts in the mirror. That takes up a good two hours of my day.
Ay Yi Yi Ru OhH sur. They don't use roman numerals in Rush Hour III's
title. Only I do. Now you know me as the false based liar that I am.
Hello! Greetings again, let's get on with the hello's.
Also, why would I have a shirt that says, "Rush Hour III?" The real
question is, why not? Now I kind of want that shirt. Maybe that's
the shirt I can market for this website. A little inside joke. I'm
all about that copyright infringement, booy. Well, my All You Need Is Love
shirt is copyright infringement. But they'd seem pretty hypocritical suing
me for that, I guess. Anyway, let's get entryin' with it. I miss
eating on a box. I used to have a box in my room, I think from an old
guitar amplifier, and I would set it up in front of my bed and eat dinner off
it. Now I eat with my family, like a chump. Like a chomp.
Sometimes I privately do different characters when eating. This is what
a Chinese person eats like, I think in my head, and chew it a little
differently. This is what a Hispanic person eats like.
Chinese people eat slowly with their front teeth, making very deliberate small
bites. Hispanic people, I don't know. The truth is I've only done
regular and Chinese. It's about time I start branching out, though.I think it started from eating white rice, and I was eating it too quickly.
And I was like, In China, all they do is eat white rice, and they make it
last. So I tried out a few different things, and finally found
something that seemed to ring true. Anyway, hello. What else
is going on. Hmm. Crap, and shit. Rush Hour is almost a
palindrome. Where do they get off. Hopefully somewhere soon, it's
Rush Hour, lots of traffic. Bingobango.
One more paragraph of greetings, then we're almost done.
Wonderful. Calling the time where there's lots of traffic rush hour
seems counterintuitive. Let's take some calls. Caller, you're on.
You got no right calling out Chinese people. Hmm, someone hasn't heard
the golden rule of radio-- introduce yourself. I've spent two paragraphs
on greetings, you'd think they'd get the hint. What else is going on and
crap. Rush hour. Reeks of schadenfruede. That's a word I heard
once and vowed to use it whenever possible. Rosh Hashanah.Do You Understand the Jews that are coming out of my temple?
That's how that goes. Anyway, I guess no more introductions. It was
fun while it lasted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame sounds like they added a
new position to football or something. And that's the bottom line.
And that's my new catchphrase. That's what they call the coach who comes
up with the plays. He's got a hunch it might work! And that's the
bottom line. Anyway, what else. Haven't been drinking today.It's only 10:30, but the way the last few months have gone, that's still an
accomplishment. I aughtta take a walk and get some beer. At
least wait till 12 or something. That' when they can legally sell beer,
might as well wait for that. Because I have to. Anyway, what else.
There's a phone number for, "How Are We Doing?" on the McDonalds Iced Coffee
cup.Hello, I'd like to speak to Mr. McDonald. Ronald
McDonald, is he there? Let's make up a clown to sell hamburgers.
I don't get it. I had a dream sometime over the last week that I was
gettin' Chick-Fil-a. Now, I know people say people in the south are dumb.
But a chicken restaurant not being able to spell filet? That takes the
cake. People in the south aren't dumb. They're just stupider than
you and I.
Anyway, that's how that goes. Why wasn't there a
commercial in the seventies with the Fonz saying, "It's Fil-eeyyyyyyyy Tastic."
Nobody knows. Why are the news calling Matt Harvey the Dark Knight.
Harvey Dent was the White Knight. How about a little truth in advertising,
guys. That's like if they called Noah "Thor" Syndergaard Captain America.
It's good to know that next year's rotation will have two superheroes, though,
at least. I guess David Wright is Captain America. I don't know
anymore. Is this only the fourth paragraph? Yep. What else is
going on. Spend a paragraphs on salutations? I guess so. Eh,
whatever. I aughtta see the Danny Collins movie today. Movies are
great most of the time. What else do I got goin' on. I guess that's
enough for now. See ya later.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Can One Man Write An Entire Entry Before He Runs Out Of Almighty Alcohol?
The stakes. Have. Been.
Raised. What a maroon. I got two 25 oz cans, and I'm about 3/4ths
through 'em. So, with that in mind, let's get entryin' with it! Got
nothin' better to do, you idiots. Baseball just ended. I like
baseball. I like the walks. I think every at bat should end in a
walk. Not too good, not too bad. Everyone's happy. Except for
that the half inning will never end. Hey, count your blessings. If
the game never ends, you can't lose. I think teams shuold be able to,
"Chop the pot," late into the game. Like, in poker tournaments, when
there's two people left, they can choose to average out the winnings so they
each are guaranteed a certain amount. In baseball, say you're tied 5-5
going in to the top of the ninth? Take all the pressure out of it-- settle
for a tie. It's all in my new self help novel-- "Settle! The Path
Towards Happiness Through Mere Satisfactoriaction." In Civilization II,
the settlers create cities. Really, you just create one Indian lookin'
mother fucker, send him a couple of squares down, press a button, boom-- city.
I've always thought we should be creating new cities. Just take some land
in the middle of Connecticut and start puttin' up shit. It ain't like we
got better things to do. Let's get buildin'. Especially cause Global
Warming will put an end to all these cities by the shore. Why wait before
it's too late? Let's get started on that now.Build More
Cities! It's a good cause to get behind. I remember
spending hours and hours creating a city in Sim City 2000, only to have a
spaceship come down and start wreaking havoc.Well... I guess...
that might happen in real life... So I resigned as mayor and set up
town in the computer controlled city across the way. I remember I briefly
played this game called Creatures, where, basically, you control the life of
some fictional creature. Sounds okay based on that, but the problem is,
there's an evil creature that comes and fucks your shit up. That's scary!
That's the creature of my nightmares! And, also, if you have a female
creature, apparently, one in a thousand times, your female creature and the evil
creature will have sex and produce a 1/2 evil baby.That scared
the shit out of me. Traumatizing. Absolutely traumatizing. Still
not as bad as when playing The Sims and a clown shows up when you're sleeping.
Especially because it's when you're sleeping, so the time is going fast, and,
out of nowhere, a clown fuckin' pops out of the ground.WHAT THE
FUCK. I fall out of my chair, heart racing a mile a minute. It's
terrifying on two levels. One, the unexpected graphic and sound file fucks
the shit out of you. Second, What can I get my Sim to do to fix this
problem?! I know! Talk more about sports to the neighbors.
Just keep hittin' that button. That's my main memory of The Sims.Hey, you wanna talk about this? No? You wanna talk about this?
Yes? Oh, now we're back to no? What The Helldo you
want to talk about. Anyway, what else do I have going on. I used to
like SimTower. You can build food courts underground. That combines
my two favorite things. Food Courts and Underground. Anyway, yeesh.
What else do I got goin' on. Registerin' for Fall classes next week.
Probably aimin' for two classes, again. Though, this semester, one of the
two was Yoga. I could handle it, still, though, probably,
satisfactoriaction. What else. So, I guess I'm not open micing
it up today. I'd have to run pretty fast immediately there if I want to
make it in time. I don't have that kind of energy. The good news is
I get to sleep later.
The good news is it's a new paragraph. I remember in
All Star Baseball 1999-2004, you could aim your bat to the left, right, up,
down, etc.Why did they have us aiming down at all.
I'm gonna try to hit a ground ball to the third baseman!No, I'm
gonna hit a ground ball to the pitcher! What the Hell is wrong with
you game developers and such. I mean, sometimes I would try to justify it,Maybe by aiming down, it'll help us hit line drives? I would
never test out my theory though, what am I, an idiot? I remember
constantly stealing second after enticing my friend, as the pitcher, to throw to
first, with me immediately going to steal the base instead of goin' back to
first to avoid getting picked off. I had it down to a science, it worked
like 90% of the time. Musta been Tom Goodwin. That's a joke.
Tom Goodwin was retired by then. Must have been Kaz Matsui. He
wasn't around yet. Rebel Without a Kaz. Bring him back!
Heseems like a good middle infielder. He could do it if you
just gave him a chance! Someone give Kaz Matsui a chance! Bring
him back, God Damnit. I'll start a kickstarter, or something.
Anyway, what else is up. Kickstarter sounds like a really bad
superhero movie. Can One Man Harness His Extraordinary Power To Kick?
Probably not, what else is playing? Can one Man Kick His Extraordinary
Power To Start? Oooh, let's see that.
Yes, indeed. Anyway. What's going on. It's
April. Been that way for a while, at this point. Who knew. I
don't wanna read John Barleycorn. What if it's about me? I can't
take that chance. I can't eat corn flakes. I can't listen to Korn.
So many stuff I can't do. Mostly that I wouldn't want to do in the first
place, but, still. I guess I can always change my name to Mark Twain II:
The Sequel. People would respect me more if I did. Yeesh.
Let's finish this paragraph at least, then close out the entry. I just
finished the beer, so, that worked itself out. I don't wanna finish this
paragraph. I don't want to do anything. I have to, though. If
not me, who? If not who, where? If not where, how? See ya
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Classic Crazysheet, I Would Imagine
That's a lot of pressure. I gotta
write a solidly B- entry? Well, whatever. How's it going and crap.
I'm feelin' good today. Whattado. I had a dream I got a B- on my
Yoga midterm! Alright! High five. Paul Blart is back.
Who saw the first Paul Blart movie, and thought, "I wanna see more of this!"
It's a good title, though. It's probably fine, I don't know.
Besides, this website is the internet equivalent of Paul Blart. Crazy
Shart: Internet Wop. What's poppa-woppin'. Mad Dawgs are on the
prowl. Wop is recognized as a word. I was just a millisecond
away from writing another racial slur, to see if it's a word, but I don't even
wanna type that crap. Maybe they consider it an alternate spelling of the
initials of World Series of Poker. Where they drop the Series, for some reason.
World of Poker. That's an MMA where you walk around as a dwarf and play
different types of card games with elves. MPG. PCP. One of
those things, probably. What else is going on and crap. Maybe I
should do a comedy open mic on Thursday. It's a good week to do it, cause
I don't have class. And I think I still have the notebook somewhere where
I wrote ten to fifteen jokes in preparation for doing it a few months ago.
I can B- that shit hardcore. And then get pizza with an amateur and tell
him the ways of the world. See, ya gotta tell jokes for them to laugh.
They ain't gonna laugh unless you tell jokes. Take it from me, I've done
this once or twice before.Oh, I bet once or twice is a
colloquialism for all the time.Yeah, that's it, I guess. Plus, at the end of my set, I can advertise
theuppers.bandcamp.com!! It's a win-win proposition.Did you
like my comedy? No? Well, here's some music. Gotta be good at
something, am I right?I'll open my set saying, "Remember
me? I'm the guy who made the Dracula seeing the light of day joke on that
different open mic a year ago." That would be vaguely funny, now that
I think about it. Not really. I already got my chuckles out of the
way by typing it. The Mad Dawg who said, "What's Poppa-Woppin," throughout
high school, even though we barely talked to one another, whenever we did, he
would tell me that he could get me a spot for stand up comedy in the city.
Cause he was in the rap game, or something. Or, at least, he thought he
was, and made me think he was. Never followed through on his offer,
though, which is for the best. I woulda been pretty ill prepared. If
he actually is in the rap game, I take partial credit for that. I take
partial credit for anything I could get my hands on. Like, when I got out
of the hospital the first time, I was in the "Partial Program," where we took
support group classes from 9-1. And I made friends with the guy who made
us watch Hellboy. Although, to be fair, there was also the time we also
were driving to a hookah bar, while high on weed, and listening to The Airborne
Toxic Event in his car, with the bass all turned up, and it was the first time I
heard them, and that was a pretty good experience. Okay. Great.
Yeesh. This isn't classic at all. Where do I get
off. I get the Mets' Jennry Mejia and the Mets' Jeurys Familia mixed up.
They're both relievers (although I think one used to be a starter). Does
that make me racist? Or a Bad Met Fan? Probably both. Great,
thanks for making me feel bad about myself. Where do you get off. We
gotta give them nick names. One can be J-Dawg, and other can either be M-Dawg
or F-Dawg. I think of everything through the spectrum of the Mad Dawgs,
apparently. That was my one shot at the big time, and I just have trouble
letting it go. Which one gets the J, though? I didn't think that
through. Coin toss? That's a way to settle the score. I'm not gonna
do that open mic. I probably should, though. Anyway, what else.
You know what? I saw the first half hour of Paul Blart a few weeks ago,
and it's perfectly fine. Got some chuckles out if it. "Perfectly
Fine," is the comedy equivalent of referring to music as, "Capturing A Mood."
I honestly meant both positively, though. Words speak louder than words,
though, I guess. We be entryin'. What else. Gotta finish
the entry and crap. 100% of what I already wrote to go. What bull
crap. So, what else do I got going on. Also, the third Mad Dawg,
when I became friends with him on Facebook freshman year of college, was trying
to be like a Christian rapper, or something, if I remember correctly. So,
all the Mad Dawgs have dabbled in the music even far beyond we broke up.
That's a quotable notable.What if I try to re-unite the trio.
Nerdgasm. We're the Mad Dawgs, and we're here to say/We used to be in
Middle School, the Mad Dawg Way! Record contract, please.
Reading the Dean Wareham book made it clear it's impossible to make money in the
music industry. That's good to know. Also, it's the fourth paragraph. How about that.
President's of the United States'll make you, Lump, Lump. Yeah, I
guess. I remember there was a good month in 2010 that I liked the POTUS
The Band. It preceded the month I liked Mudhoney and followed the month I
liked The Pixies. The Pixies probably holds up, I just haven't really
devoted much time to them after that, though. Anyway, huh? Gotta
make the rest of the entry count. Hey, that gives me an idea. Can I
use, "What Did the Caregiver Say To the Boy With Explosive Fingers?" joke.
Don't count on it. It'll all work itself out, one would imagine. If
I were ten years old, that joke would get an applause break. At twenty
six, not so much. Gotta adult-it-up a bit. Don't Fuckin' Count
On It, You Shit Head! There, perfect. We Be entryin'. W. E. B.
Dubois. Relatively certain he was the inspiration for Spiderman. I'm
pretty sure. Anyway. I'm pretty glad I don't have cancer. I
mean, lots of people get cancer. Even at my age. And I don't have
it. I'll chalk that up in the, "Win" column. I remember, after I
first had sex, which coincided with my most extreme bout of paranoia, I was
paranoid I had AIDS. I remember thinking, "How can this get any worse?
Me having AIDS? SHIT MAYBE I DO." I did feel a little weak.
Anyway, I don't have AIDS. Or, at least, I've been in
remission for a while. Of course, there was my rejected yearbook quote,
"Wouldn't it suck if someone you loved gave you AIDS? On purpose?" I
think now, I woulda gone with, "Wouldn't it be funny if you were buried alive?
Well, not to you, but to your enemies." That's a winner right there.
Possible joke for Thursday! I can't really set up that joke, though.
It's hard to work it in. Anyway, huh? Almost done. Alright!
Who am I kidding. I'll see the new Paul Blart opening weekend. And
I'm gonna love it. I remember, I had a friend in college who loved
Everybody Loves Raymond. It was the only show he would watch, and he would
watch it all time. It's relevant because I associate ELR with King of
Queens, for whatever reason. Both sitcoms with amiable casts that I don't
watch. He also loved Rent, and actually became an usher at the Rent show.
Talk about living the dream. Good for him. Oh shit, I just
watched Rent. Do I have AIDS now? Theatrical Transmitted
Disease, it happens all the time. And at Chipotle, he would get a burrito
bowl.Get a fuckin' tortilla, you idiot! That's how I
feel. This is the guy who was gonna manage my band. And, for two or
three weeks, he actually did. Made up flyers to find a drummer, and he
helped put them up. It was fun. Anyway, what else. Where's
Miranda Cosgrove when you need her. She woulda gotten me a real drummer.
I remember being paranoid the drummer we got was mobbed up. Because his
last name was Italian. Somethin' just didn't seem right. Maybe I
shouldn't have introduced myself by saying, Hey, I'm Mike, What's Poppa-Woppin. Alright, last paragraph tizzime. He was a
socialist, though. Hardcore. I don't need to be dealin' with that.
I'm probably on a list just being friends with him.Show CIA
List! That's how I feel about things. He did get me to take a class in
Socialism, though, in NYU, which I took because he swore that everyone got an A
in that class. So, sure, I'll take a free four credits, no doubt.
Never even had to show up. We had to write a final paper, though, which I
did actually spend an hour on. I just took my friend's paper from when he
took the class, and edited out 50% of it. Because it was supposed to be
twenty pages or so, and my friend had written 100. So, I figured the least
I could do was take out half the paragraphs. That's what I call addition
by subtraction. Or subtraction by addition. One of those is a real
thing. I forget. Anyway, gettin' close to wrapping this up.
Yep. After this, finishing Halal food for lunch. What dreams may
come. What else is going on. Gotta finish the entry in some style.
Some pizazz. Some tofurkey. What next? Watching more
Intervention on Netflix? Probably. Anyway, huh? Socialism for
suckers. Capitalism is where it's at. That's how I feel about
things. Like Animal Farm. Only animals do socialism, that's the
point of that book. Probably. I never read it. All I know is
that there's a character called Babe The Pig In The City. And he sorta
runs the show, or something. Anyway, see ya later.
April 6, 2015
That's Right, I Know What Day It Is
Does that get you hot and bothered?
It should. Here I am, back with another infantilizing entry. Me an
infant for writing it, you an infant for not getting it. It's
totally, like, about, like The Tale of Two Cities, and Krippendorf's Tribe, What
About Bob.Oh now I get it. I feel ya, I feel ya.
Those are titles to other things. I get it. Today is Monday. I
think they should have called "What About Bob?" "What About Bob?"
from Richard Dreyfuss's perspective. It's a joke, it's a joke, I'm great,
wrote a joke. There's not one title I can think of that uses italics.
Why not. Or quotations. "Return" of the Jedi. That's all I
got. That's all I got. I don't like Weird Al's parody of American
Pie, "The Saga Begins." It glorifies the dark side. Ship up, or
ship out! No free rides. I've told you the story of when I saw
Episode I, right? There was a kid wearing a football helmet, and people
kept throwing popcorn at him. And there was another guy, probably mentally
retarded, who kept repeating something loudly, but I forget what it was.
Too bad. Maybe he wore the helmet because it's like Darth Vader. I
never thought about that. Probably just that he was mentally retarded,
too. Are characters in movies ever allowed to yell, "Fire!" Seems
like it would be a violation of the law. You're On Fire Tonight, Evan.Alright everyone go down the isles in an orderly fashion. I once got written up during a fire drill
in NYU, where when they were searching the rooms, they found my water pipe on the
common room table. I had to see a guidance counselor. I'm the
victim, here! I had to run down ten flights of stairs, and there wasn't
even a fire! I'll set 'em all on fire, that'll show them... What about the Fantastic Foursome, that one guy is made out of fire.
One of the Fantastic Four's super hero's name isMr. Fantastic?
That sounds made up. It's a joke. It was made up. You
were made up! Get off my website!Anyway, excited for Mets
baseball. I wonder, if they wanted to, can a manager arrange his outfield
defense, so that you have players behind the fence? Seems like it should
be an option. Me, I would get all eight of you non-catchers standing right
in front of the batters box with your hands up. Maybe one more person at
first. Seven of you should be able to make sure the ball doesn't get past.
It's pretty much a rip off of my hockey idea that everyone should be play
goalie. The best offense is a good defense. I guess you also need a
pitcher. Still, six people in front of the plate oughtta do the trick.
I always thought there should be specialty players who are really good at
hitting foul balls. Get one to lead off the game, works in a 40 pitch at
bat, pretty soon they're gonna need to bring in some relief. It's
moneyball, you wouldn't understand. Whose on first? I'm a
relief pitcher. That's a relief. Still working the kinks out
of that joke. Come back next week. Anyway, huh. Whatta entry so far.
What About Bob? Great. My therapist asked me what I'm gonna do
with my week off. You do realize, my usual week, is just a week off
minus five hours? And you call yourself a therapist. She also
asked to listen to my music, so I told her the website, and she was like,
Yeah, I can't wait to check it out! She never will. When you get
to my point in the music business, you realize there's one simple truth-- No One
Wants To Hear Your Music. They'll put on an act, sure. But when push
comes to shove, can't even motivate themselves to listen to one crappy two
minute song. Oh well. She proposed listening to a song while I was
there, but I nixed that in the bud. Which is a combination of a word and a
phrase that mean similar things. I don't wanna hear my music with someone
else. That's pretty much the last thing I want to do in the world.
Hey, I have a Simple Truth about music! I'm a rock star! That's
how that goes. What else is going on. I distracted myself.
Great. There's one clearly retarded girl who is in the waiting room
whenever I see my therapist. Probably has a mental illness on top of the
retardation, otherwise she wouldn't be there. That's sad. Also,
today, there was a young Asian lady, probably around eighteen or nineteen, with
her mother, checking in for the first time. Was clearly a case of Tiger
Mom Causes Daughter To Snap. She was talking about how much pressure she
was under, and said something like, "But you're okay with me not being extremely
successful, right?" Which probably is what the mother is saying now that
she found her daughter has mental illness. And the mother was like, "You
just do the best you can do, that's all I want, do the best you can, and I'll be
happy." Then they started talking in Chinese for ten minutes, after which
I was finally like "How rude can you get? I'm trying to listen, here."
It was nice to see someone there who wasn't completely
debilitated, though. She's got a good head on her shoulders, it seems.
Anyway, let's get entryin' with it. Sometimes you gotta just power through
crap. They were doing some work in the road on the way to hospital.
That's a notable quotable. Maybe I'll get Halal food for dinner. The
cart on Springfield isn't as good as some other carts, but it's not terrible.
Also, in the past, I've gotten it from them without white sauce, for health
reasons. But I'm back on the white sauce wagon! Which is what this cart
calls itself. So, that'll make it taste better. What's in the White
sauce? I dunno, white. Oh okay thanks for explaining.
Could be come. Gotta be at least one or two vendors who play that little
joke on people. Now I don't want to get it. I guess I could just get
Chinese food, with rat turds in it. Fine cuisine. Soylent
Green is people! I'd eat people. If it was cooked properly.
Yolo, am I right?? Gotta finish this crap. A paragraph and change to
go. Yeesh. Whattado, whattado. I'd like to see a ball game
with my Dad and Brother at some point. The last time we went was around
2006, and we had great seats, but it got rained out. And, since then, my
Dad is like, "Those were the best seats we ever coulda had, I don't wanna go
again." Except when he says it, you can follow that logic. I'm
probably missing a theorem or proof or something.
Anyway, what the what. Knocked it out of the park.
Hope you have your left fielder behind the fence. That's right, I go
opposite field on you. What about Cecil Fielder, is he involved in this?
Probably not. I coulda said Prince Fielder, but I went with King Fielder.
I stand by my choice. Anyway, yeesh. I like how Mr. P says, "I titty
the fool!" Eh. Eah. Egh? Erg. LL Cool J, ladies
love Cool James. PCGEO-MAK. People can't get enough of Michael Adam
Kornblum. Personal computer geography. What the Hell is going on.
I changed my mind! I wanna erase this paragraph! I wonder if Dorothy
was really in Wichita when she thought she was in Oz. That would explain
the witches. It couldn't be more than fifty miles away. People used
to like the middle of the country. Wizard of Oz in Kansas, Oklahoma the
musical. Those are the two references I have to back up my point.
Wha. Huh? Eh. What else is in the middle. Missouri?
The movie Misery, with fan-favorite Kathy Bates. Anyway. I like the
show All My Children.How many children do you
have?! That you can't even count. Sorry, I'm desperate for
things to say. Anyway. I don't think I gave a link on this blog to
my newest music album. Enjoy, and, see ya later.
April 2, 2015
Greyson's Magic Title Tonic
I remember when titles used to mean
something. Kids these days, what with their Pepsi, and hover boards, and
shoes. Huh? Where do you get off ragging on shoes, old man?
Please don't hurt me. That would have been a perfect yearbook quote.
It sums up what I'm about in three simple words. Plus, a fourth one.
So, in total, four words. I just had Lunch To The Future. I'm really
digging this Dean Wareham book. I don't want it to ever end! Because
then it's back to my life, a.k.a. Shitcinatti, USA. Whew.
Anyway, physical locations are great. Great for identifying where you or
something else is. Also, words are funny. Atlanta? Ha,
I get it. Staten Island? Oh no you didn't. Alaska?
If you insist! Where in the world is Carmen San Diego. I
think I know, I think I know. I talked to girl in class! She sat
next to me and confided her inner most deepest feelings with me. The
teacher had asked,If you can go back in time and change one thing,
what would it be? And, since no one else raised their hand, I butted
in with, "I guess the standard answer is Kill Hitler." And that got the
ball rolling. Then someone said 9/11, and qualified it by saying it was
the worst thing to happen on American soil since Pearl Harbor. And the
girl leaned in towards me, and cattily said what about The Triangle
Shirtwaist fire? And I said, I think that happened before Pearl Harbor.
Then she returned to her notes. Oh, this will they/won't they romance has
only just begun! She's pretty cute, though, and she is smarter than that
makes her seem. Hell, even that makes her seem smart, that she even had
that reference. I didn't even really know that reference, I just
intuitively knew it was before Pearl Harbor. Then, ten minutes before
class ended, I passed her a note that said, "I'm Turning Japanese I Think I'm
Turning Japanese I Really Think So." Ya know, just to see what would
happen. That song wouldn'ta stood in the early forties.Whose
side are you on?
I'm on our side, Sir. Shitledo, Ohio. And the
guy on the other side of me, I lent a pen! Looks like Mr. Cool is running
the show, now. That's me. I'm Mr. Cool. Sorry Lawrence.
And now that I have Pokerstars on my phone, I don't even need to write shit
between crapsvilles. Cattily said. Can I be any more
insensitive? That's like how later in the class, a girl described an
African American woman character as, "Sassy." Where do we get off!
Anyway, huh. Why am I doing this. I can be reading an interesting
book. Gotta make it spread out, though. There's only so much quality
non fiction books about bands I like in the world. When I came home today,
everything looked green. Something was wrong with my color register.
Which I assume is a thing. Lookin' at lo mein, That's not supposed to
be green! It's out of my system now, though. How blunderful.
Anyway, two weeks off, starting....two days ago. Except for
today's class, that's the most accurate way I could finish that sentence.
Anyway, now I gotta finish this entry. Where does things get off.
Galaxie 500 is pretty good music. Certainly captures a mood. You
know who I really like, though? The Moody Blues. Can't get enough of
that father-son-son trio. I'd like to see a father-stepfather-son trio.
Who will the son choose? Classic Willthey/Wonthey. That
doesn't make sense by any stretch of the imagination. Still, two sentences
worth of fudge. The book does sort of make me feel ill prepared to enjoy
the band, because there's a bunch of references to mostly punk/punk-adjacent
bands from the seventies and eighties that were influences, and 80's and 90's
bands that were their contemporaries, that, I might have heard of half of them,
and only have listened to like 5% of them. Oh well, guess there's no way
to solve that problem. It's impossible. Just gotta keep living my
life, I guess. Oh, well.
Great Expectations, it's the new paragraph! Holla at
your boy. Mad Dawgs are on the prowl. I spilled some pop on my bed
last night, so I slept in the other direction. Two notable things about
that-- I called Soda, "Pop," like a chump, and getting to sleep opposite.
It's like a whole new world. Back to crazysheet. What else is
happening. I was gonna try a street dog, but the two Halal carts on
Kissena, even though they advertise street dogs on their cart, did not have
them. I anticipated this might happen. That's why I didn't burst
into tears and roll up into a little ball on the sidewalk, crying out for my
mommy. I took it like a man, and shed a single tear, then went on my way.
You know, like the garbage made the fake Indian do. That's how I roll, and such.
What else is crappening. Everything green. Pshh. Who you
foolin'. What else is happening. Kickin' ass at some poker.
Because I'm great at things. Like notes to girls in class. Do You
Want Me To Turn Japanese?, ()Yes, ()No. Damn, that ass. Huh?
I mean, what's going on. Also, she has the same name as the girl whose arm
I felt. If that's not destiny, I don't know what is. Do you want
to run away? () Yes. Anyway, let's get entryin' with it.
Yeah! What else is going on. Glorious. I
think describing a band as, "Capturing a mood," is pretty condescending.
Guess I'm an asshole. I always had a suspicion, ever since I first noticed
the hole in my butt. Because that's how words work if you're stupid.
Hey, it's me. The words are blue! How crazy! I never wouldda
guessed it. Alright, we'll wrap this shit up a little early. Still finish
this paragraph, though. I owe that to ya, after all. Yeah, what
else. See ya later.
April 1, 2015
Hey What's Poppa Woppin'
Everyone loves new slang.
Especially Zack Braff. He made a movie about it, or something. I
don't know the details. I think it was called, Hey, I'm From New
Jersey, Hey. There's a decent 30-40% chance New Jersey has nothing to
do with it. I've only seen like five minutes of it. Why isn't there
a sport team called The New Jerseys. Their jerseys would sell like hot
cakes. And, from what I understand, hot cakes sell relatively quickly.
Almost as much as puns on sportswear. It's all available at Astronaut
Mike's Sportinggreats Store. Do they sell jerseys at sporting
goods stores? They do now, I'll tell ya that. Anyway, how do ya do.
Let's get entryin' with it. I hate how italicizing italics makes it regular.
It's supposed to look doubly italics, not no italics at all! You Idiot!
I'm fairly certain I argued the exact opposite about double italics in a
previous entry. A man is entitled to change his mind! You Idiot!
That's how that goes. Hey, check it out, blue font. Never woulda
guessed in a million trillion years. Remember Trillian? It was like
an instant message program that combined all other instant message programs into
one easy to use instant message program. Instant Message Pogrom.
Run away! Whatta idiot. If I was a Jew, wait, I am, I
mean, Being a Jew, I wouldn't eat pomegranates. Why risk it?
I don't know what I am. I'm a guy who makes pomegranate puns. That's
how that goes.
Second paragraph of the month! Wowsers. What else
is great. I have a week off next week. It's about time. I've
been going to three class sessions a week, like a chump. Pretty much every
day I write an entry at Queens College, I have about twenty to forty minutes on
the bus ride home of paranoia that I forgot my entry papers somewhere in the
college, and someone will find them. And my mind goes through what that
would entail. Maybe they'll like it, and want to get to know me.
But mostly, No! It can't happen! Never! No! Which
is pretty much the spectrum I view peer socialization in general. Anyway,
I kinda hope it turns out a bunch of news stories from the past year were April
Fools jokes. Police shot a guy just cause he was black.
That's terrible! April Fools. Oh, that makes sense, things
can't suck that much. People be getting Ebola all the time.
No! In this modern age? April Fools. Thank God.
And so on and so forth. It's like a joke starter kit. I gave you the
set-up, you get to figure out the development yourself. I can't be
bothered to write jokes in crazysheet. It's all about the exposition.
You Idiot. What fun. May be using the wrong word there, but you know
what, that word fits anyway, you idiot. It's Wednesday today.
Okay. It could just be my middle school friend and
co-Mad Dawg who coined the greeting, "What's Poppa Woppin" was just looking for
a way to insult and degrade Italians. I wouldn't put it past him. I
forget his Rap Name. Big Poppa Woppa? No, that can't be it. I,
of course, was Yung MAK. Because I was eleven years old, that's pretty
young for a rapper. Only Kris Kross has a claim to younger rapdom than I
do. It seems, checking Wikipedia, the Kris Krossers Rap Names were each
other Kris Krossed. Mac Daddy and Daddy Mac. I would think that
would get confusing, but who am I to judge. My roommate Sophomore year's
alarm clock was Jumper by Third Eye Blind. I can't help but wonder how my
life woulda turned out differently if it was Jump by Kris Kross. That song
is actually pretty good, I never heard it in entirety before. And, if they
actually wrote the lyrics themselves, that's actually pretty, pretty great.
Even with their blasphemous name. Kris Kross implies an upside down
cross! They're Devil Worshippers! Let's get that out there,
people need to know. Yung Mak reminds you of a, stump, stump.
Cause of the shortness and crap. His name might have actually been Big
Poppa Woppa. It may have been. I forget the other guy's name
completely, though. To tell the truth, I don't think we were taking it as
seriously and we should have been. He might have been half Italian, now
that I think about it. I still don't think he was using the term
purposely, though. He just ended up identifying with it through osmosis.
Osmosis Jones! That was the other guy's name. Ehhhhhhh. I
remember I once went to Chelsea Piers to roller blade with him, and the only
thing we could do was the ramp people use to speed up. We were unqualified
to do anything else there. We also went snowboarding once. We got on
our snowboards at ground level, and tried to walk three feet. That's as
far as we got. Now, I see a pattern of attempting a lot of things half-assedly,
and not following through at all. Anyway, that's great, I guess.I remember
listening to the Barenaked Ladies on the car ride to Chelsea Piers.Holy shit it's the biggest band in the world, In The Car
With Us! I think I also had The Beastie Boys' Hello Nasty on CD then,
too. I really liked that in high school, either way. Good songs to
get pumped up on the way to school. Or on the way home from school.
Or any time you feel like you need some pumpin' up. Anyway, I need some
pumpin' up. You know, to finish the entry. Whattado with the rest of
my day. Read the Dean Wareham autobiography. I don't really know his
music too well, but more than I did Big Star. Somehow I got turned onto
his band Luna in 2008, I think just browsing through iTunes, I hit it. And
that was good. I was always under the impression it was just some little
band that's great that no one knows, but apparently he's pretty big in indie
rock. We didn't land on indie rock, indie rock landed on us!
Pretty sure I've made that joke before. And, if not me, two hundred
hack comedians. And, if not two hundred hack comedians, then, I guess it
was me, right now. Awesome! What else is going on. Crap, crap,
shit, crap. I wrote 22 entries in 31 days last month. That's too
much entry. Oh well, gotta do something. One would imagine.
Anyway, hiya. Entryin' it up to the greatest extent possible, that's how I
roll. You know how people sometimes say they have their head on backwards?
How do they know they don't have their body on backwards? Something to
think about, I guess. I think I know why lefty people are predisposed to
being evil. Whenever I see someone playing guitar, I reverse it in my mind
to their perspective, in half a second, to see if they're playing right handed
or left handed. Now, a right handed person wouldn't do that.
Therefore, I'm evil, or something. I didn't think it all the way
through. Alright. I guess the ultimate goal is to become
ambidextrous. It's not that hard, just takes a bit of practice. The
ultimate goal is finishing this entry. What else. I'm sick of this
color scheme, boy. Not sick enough to change it. Just sick enough to
complain about it. Hey, what's up. Still me, here. Losin'
money in poker like it's going out of style. Doesn't really make sense.
Why would me doing something excessively make it go out of style? I'm hip,
I'mtrends, it'll be more in style when I'm through with
it. Also, hello. Also, get ready for good bye. It's almost
that time again. It's still too early in the morning to have to do
anything. That's how I feel. I hope no one plays an April Joke on
me. I'm bound to break down in tears and wail the rest of the day away.
If it's a really effective joke, at least. It probably will be. I
mean, Huh? Wha? Let's get finishin' with it. Stupid Dean
Wareham, making me read about him. Where does he get off. Gotta
read the book to find out. I hope there's a chapter called, "Where I
Get Off." I'd read that, for sure. I don't wanna know where he gets
off. That's breaking the fourth wall. That's an expression I heard once,
who let the dogs out. That's how I feel. You'd think they'd be
called Baha Dogs, that being their hit. Maybe they were warning the world
about the coming age of the Mad Dawgs. That's probably what was goin' on
there. Mad Dawgs are on the prowl. Yeesh. See ya later. -9:35 A.M.