Sunday, August 31, 2014                        

Here Comes The Entry!

Hi, it's me!  The guy whose in school.  Jealous much?  Oh, you aren't?  Man, I thought for sure you would be jealous.  The class seems alright, the teacher is pretty cool.  And it's only once a week.  The only downside is it makes Saturday seem like Tuesday.  I guess it's fair, though, because my Tuesdays seem like Saturdays.  Every other day is a Friday.  Except for Sunday.  That's a Sunday.  Mondays are kind of like Mondays, I guess.  It depends on the week, to tell the truth.  We should be able to design our own week.  Anything's possible in this information age we live in.  I like how sometimes when you're watching T.V., they show an ad for the T.V. show that's playing at the time.  Look, we obviously already watch your stupid show.  You can't make us turn on your show anymore than we already have.  You're just being egregious.  And don't say it's so they'll tune in for the show at a later date.  We already know what we're getting-- we're watching it right now.  I'm not gonna see a commercial, and say, "Hmm, I already like this show, based on what I've seen, but this commercial tips it over the edge!  I'm never gonna stop watching!  Never!"  Man, that guy got pretty sarcastically excited.  I'm not sure whether he was being sarcastic or not, I was in quoting him.  He might have been being sarcastic too.  Anyway, we'll be right back. 

Ever read crazysheet.net?  You Have?  Continue doing so!

    That's how that goes.  What else is going on.  Probably things, and stuff.  I saw a squirrel on my walk today, a live one, and we made eye contact for a full four or five seconds.  Yeah, I see you.  I don't want any trouble.  I'll be on my way now.  I hate squirrels.  Always guarding their nuts.  Give me some of those nuts!  Where's trickle-down nutconomics when you need it.  I wonder if squirrels can form unions.  I don't know what I'm talking about anymore.  I got a shave on Friday.  The cost was 12 dollars.  And I said, No!  I will give you fifteen dollars!  Because I'm the greatest guy in the world.  I call it tipping.  Feel free to do it yourself.  Where's Tipper Gore when you need her.  Quick-- someone get me Tipper Gore!  I don't know anymore.  I have to wear black socks now, because I got black sneakers, and apparently you just don't wear white socks with black sneakers.  What a joke.  Black socks are for fifty year old men.  Most of the time, I'll let you in on a secret, I don't wear any socks at all.  How scandalous!  What would people say?  "Sock it to me!"  Why, yes, I'm sure there's a segment of the population that would make that terrible joke.  Show Me Sock It To Me!  X.  Sorry, you have lost the Feud.  Get out before we kick you out.
    Yup.  I went there.  I don't like Family Feud.  Shouldn't we, as a society, foster empathy and compassion for all peoples?  When families feud, nobody wins.  Except for the family that wins.  Then, a big, sincere, congratulations to them.  If I ever have a kid, I'd give him up for adoption, so, in twenty years, when we face his foster parent's family in Family Feud, we'll have a mole on the inside.  It's the perfect plot.  Eh, I don't want to give birth to a kid.  Too much work.  What?  The woman gives birth?  That doesn't sound right.  Anyway.  Man, I can't believe I have to pay myself 5,000 dollars just for that one line ad.  Doesn't seem fair.  Oh well.  Also, considering this website is free and has absolutely no chance for future revenue, doesn't seem right buying ad time for it.  Hey, I guess advertising myself on the website, paying myself, that's revenue!  I changed my mind, it all makes sense.  Hey, what else is going on.  I gotta write a two page story for my next class.  Could be fictional, factual, or anywhere in-between!  I added the anywhere in-between part.  And italicizing it?  All me.
    Okay.  The good news is, no crazies in the McDonalds line.  Just a family with a kid.  Aww, the kid wants an Egg McMuffin.  And they came in right after me, because, they were there before me, but they tried entering the McDonalds through the doors that lead to the playpen.  What suckers.  I'll be making my order, and they'll have to wait thirty seconds for the other register to be open.  That's a pretty good band.  Thirty Seconds To McDonalds.  Because I'm an idiot.  When I made my order, I was like, "Let's face it, you know what I want."  And they were like, "What?"  And I was like, "Let's not do this dance here, now, in front of all these people.  You know what I want."  Then they pulled the fire alarm, and the sprinkler hit me, and I melted.  Oh, I should tell you-- I'm the wicked witch of the West.  Do all witches melt, or just wicked ones?  These are the questions that demand answers.  How come you never hear stories about warlocks-- the male witches?  I think I once had a video game about warlocks.  It's ringing a bell.  I like that song that goes, "You can ring my bells, bells, bells."  What bells?  Do you mean your nipples?  I guess I could try that.  Hello, is anyone there?  There's no answer.  ...Yup.  Good readin.  Not really.  Hey, I'll settle for mediocre.  Mediocre is a step above complete failure.  At least, that's what I've been led to believe.  Anyway, enjoy this comic.

                          

-9:35 A.M.

Friday, August 29, 2014                        

New Title, Huh?  Cool, Cool.

Hello friends and, well, hello friends.  I like that movie where Batman fell down a well.  Really makes you think.  Wait, no it doesn't.  Sometimes when I'm walking down the street, I like to curve my head and stare at people, like the Joker did.  Or at least I'd like to.  Also, The Joker doesn't stare at people.  He's not concerned with what other people look like.  There's a guy with a head on his shoulders.  To tell the truth, I haven't met one person with their head on their shoulders.  Everyone I've met has their head on their neck.  Whose a celebrity target that people make fun of for not having a neck.  You figure it out!  This blog is like the Mad Libs of comedy.  Giraffes have long necks.  No one's trying to argue with that.  There's a neighborhood nearby called Little Neck.  This, also, is an undisputed truth.  One thing I don't like about Mad Libs, is that they never let you write the title.  Also, that they're for eight year olds.  Hey, it says ages eight and up.  I'm Up.  That's how that goes.  Class tomorrow!  What The Wha.  I'm not really sure what goes on in an, "Intro To Narrative," class.  Fingers crossed that it's Mad Libs.  Mad Libs sounds like something Bill O' Reilly would say.  DUHHH.  That's something Steve Doocy would say.  I should clarify-- I have no idea who Steve Doocy is, what he sounds like, what he looks like, what he does, and even if he exists.  I just know the name, probably from the Daily Show.
    Anyway.  I can't believe it's already tomorrow, by yesterday's standards.  That might have been the stupidest thing I ever wrote.  It makes me laugh, though.  "Laugh, and, "Though," should be friends.  They share the same last three letters.  Also, the game Word With Friends, is about setting up words to be friends with other words, is it not?  Again, I only know it by name.  This entry took a turn for the worse.  Probably around the second or third sentence, to be honest.  I only got one iced coffee today, instead of two.  It's part of my new money making scheme.  Saving a dollar every day ends up being over a thousand dollars over three years.  And I could use that money to buy a time machine, go back in time, tell myself not to buy any coffee, and then I'll have over two thousand dollars!  In which case, I will buy two time machines.  And hire drivers so I could drag race them, across time.  Why is it a given they're cars.  You saw the documentary about Marty Mcfly, didn't you?  Also, when you travel into the future, how do you see your future self?  You disappeared in a time machine way back when, remember?  Man.  What else is new.  There was a crazy guy in McDonalds again, but to tell the truth, I'm getting bored of it.  At this point, it's just a given that every other person in line is either crazy or retarded.  Or, in my case, both.  Slam!  Everyone loves it when someone slams themselves.
    That's how that goes, brah.  I'm waiting for the time the register person is retarded.  No, that means you're supposed to pay me 2.16 dollars.  If we can't take advantage of retards, why would God create them in the first place?  And it's okay for me to say retard.  That's our word.  Yikes.  Man, there's half an entry to go.  it should be fun!  Probably won't be, though.  Just going by the sabermetrics.  Our studies have shown that under 30% of the second half of crazysheet.net entries are quality.  You can't reduce crazysheet.net to numbers!  Speaking of which, I'm at bat!  Gotta hit a quadruple!  It's only 7:30 A.M.?  What the Hell.  Usually when I'm half done with entries, it's in the nines.  I guess I started earlier today.  If I was a major league baseball player, I'd change my last name to Baseball.  Then they'd have to put it on my jersey.  Who wouldn't jump at the chance to be, "Mr. Baseball?" Probably Bartolo Colon.  I mean, have you seen this guy?  Or, if I was making this joke ten years ago, "Probably Mo Vaughn."  Or, if I was making this joke a century ago, "Probably Babe Ruth."  I think overweight people have an advantage in baseball.  If a baseball hits them, their fat protects them from getting injured.  That's how I feel. 
    Yes, indeed.  I wonder if anyone has ever caught a baseball in their fat.  There's a first time for everything.  Except for some things... that never happen.  That's how I feel.  One of my first memories of baseball, was, we had a VCR tape about the history of the Mets, and they were showing a montage of different third basemen, because I guess the Mets went through a lot, and they were playing David Bowie's, "Changes," because they had to change the third baseman a lot.  Looking back, I would imagine paying David Bowie royalties would be more than the revenue you make from selling this VHS.  At the time, though, sure, I had no idea who David Bowie was.  I'm still not sure exactly who he is.  That's how that goes.  Hey, it's the fourth paragraph!  How did that happen.  Probably from typing shit, and stuff.  What else is new.  I'm gonna eat lunch today.  Awesomeness.  I can't believe it.  I eat lunch every day.  Yeah, and every day it's awesome!!!  Yeesh.  Class tomorrow!  Who knows how great it will be.  Great, or really fan-fucking-tastic great?  Probably just Great.  Anyway.  What am I gonna do with the rest of my day.  I already told you, eat lunch!  Yeah, but what happens before that?  And after that?  Thinking about lunch.  Thinking about dinner.  Eh, screw you.  I'm really not as obsessed about food as it may seem.  In fact, each day that goes by, I care less and less about it.  Eventually we'll reach the point I don't think about it at all.  That's fun.  Most people don't think about it at all.
    Hey, it's the last paragraph.  Fuck I'm gonna have to start thinking about lunch.  That's how that goes.  Anyway.  There's more to life than food.  Probably.  One would imagine.  I like food, because it's simple.  Mmm, this is good.  The end.  What the Hell.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  Gotta finish this paragraph.  Then, all will be right in the world.  That's how that goes.  Anyway.  That's how that goes.  Anyway.  Gotta close this up.  If you know what I mean.  I mean, I have to fnish this entry.  How could you not have figured that out for yourself?  Anyway, guess I could end it now.  See ya l8r.

-8:09 A.M.                                

Thursday, August 28, 2014                        

He's Titling What We're All Thinking!

Hello!  It is me.  The guy who does things, sometimes.  This entry is gonna be wonderful.  How do I know?  Let's just call it a hunch.  This entry is gonna suck.  I can't lie to these people.  Are your excitement glands ready to start secreting?!!! Jesus Christ, these people don't know what they're in for.  Five minutes of pure, unadulterated boredom.  Also, why is that word a thing.  They should have called Freaky Friday Unadulterated.  Get your party socks on!!!  I guess I could end it now.  Not the entry... my life.  Okay, who's ready for some laughter.  Does anyone remember laughter?  My main memory of Led Zeppelin is listening to Achilles Last Stand while in my summer Chemistry class, doing a lab.  Also, loving, "Ramble On," on account of what I do on the internet all the time.  Man, I've been doing this a long time.  I've been this way ten years to the day.  That's almost correct.  Crazysheet.com debuted in June 2004.  But there were a few years in there that I wasn't doing it.  So, forget it.  Sorry for wasting your time.  So, The Mets.  They keep promising us meaningful games in September, and so far, they've delivered.  Because if the Mets lose enough, they finish in the bottom ten of the major league standings, and have their next year's first draft pick defended.  So, basically, we gotta root for the Mets to lose.  That's why they're meaningful.  Only in New York!  And possibly some other cities.  Where there are crappy baseball teams.  Contrarily, the Mets have a -7 run differential, meaning they've scored 7 less runs than they've given up over the year.  And rooting for them to have a positive run differential is a kinda nice, positive, goal to root for.  So let's go with that.  Considering an actual 81-81 record seems pretty far fetched. 
    I hate how fast food places sometimes have a master line, which goes into each register, and sometimes has individual lines for each register.  Be fucking consistent, please.  I get confused easily!  Won't somebody think of the children?  I find it weird that there are baseball players younger than me.  I guess that's part of growing up.  I don't get why batters don't just hit a homerun every at bat.  What are they, stupid?  I think homeruns should be called, "Quadruples," just to be consistent.  No one knows the word that comes after quadruple.  That's why there are only four bases.  Anyway.  Quadruples are money in Soviet Russia.  Also, in regular Russia.  What else is going on.  Probably stuff, and something.  One would imagine.  My main memory of Led Zeppelin is listening to Led Zeppelin on my walk, an hour ago.  I should clarify, that my short term memory is a lot more powerful than my long term memory.  It's almost as if it's fresh in my mind, for some reason.  The chicken nuggets I eat for lunch, I'm gonna heat up in the oven, not the microwave!  What dreams may come.  If I was a Holocaust survivor, no way would I have an oven in my house.  Too many bad memories.  Is that insensitive?  Probably.  That joke left me with a bad taste in my mouth.  Sorry.  Does anyone remember laughter?  Not after that joke.  How come Robert Plant never put out a comedy album.  If he's such a fan of laughter.
    Okay.  Sorry.  Nobody cares.  I care!  Just... not enough to erase it.  Just not enough to erase it.  Seriously, if I cared just a little bit more, I would erase it.  It's that close!  Eleven million people.  That's a shit load of people.  That's it, I don't like Nazis.  I've made up my mind.  I think it's kind of insensitive that, "Nazi," has turned into a term that basically means, "Unsensitive toward a specific group of people."  They killed people, they didn't just not like them.  Next time you call someone a, "Grammar Nazi," think, have they really killed people over grammar?  This paragraph has been brought to you by, Jews.  The more you know.  Wait, I mean, insensitive.  Damn you, grammar control freaks!  A Jews gotta do what a Jews gotta do.  My mom is pretty solidly an atheist, so sometimes me and my brother ask her, "What's with sending us to Hebrew School?"  Her answer?  I forget.  Something about meeting girls in our future, and having an understanding of the culture.  I wonder if they have web logs in Heaven.  You'd think so, because it's the epitome of euphoria.  I like how Jews don't have a Hell.  Well, looks like I can do whatever I want.  Don't think I won't capitalize on that stipulation.
    Yup.  Man, being Jewish is great.  Anyway.  One would imagine.  I like every religion.  They all great!  That's how I feel.  I used to be a pretty staunch atheist, but, hey, whatever makes you happy.  I like being on the Jew team, though.  Not a bad group of people to align yourself with.  Hey, the Jewish new year is coming up!  Yes!  We did it!  Went through another year without blowing up the world.  And just because I'm Jewish, doesn't mean I don't understand Palestine's point of view.  You both make good points.  I think you should kill people to settle whose right.  That's how I feel.  The only thing I know about Judaism is that on Sukkot, there's only three walls.  Once you understand that, everything else falls into place.  Also, Moses is the shit.  Also, my Jewish name is Avram.  Which, as you all know, translates to Abram.  Which was Abraham's real name, until God gave him the extra syllable as a reward.  So basically, my Jewish self is perpetually waiting for an award from God.  From my birthday till the day I die, there's a little voice in me screaming, "Give me the Bra!"  Wassup Brah.  Fuck you!  Or maybe the syllable that's missing is the, "Ha."  That makes just as much sense.
    Yup.  My second Jewish name is Zelig.  Not quite sure what that means.  Other than it was a Woody Allen movie I never saw.  Anyway.  This entry went flying by.  Man, chicken nuggets for lunch.  What the Hell.  I'm not eight years old.  Chicken nuggets shouldn't excite me so much.  Another memory from Hebrew school, was that there was four of us, who were in the Gifted class in Elementary/Middle school, who always sat together.  And for the second half, I moved up to the middle of the four, sitting together, because I moved up into the 1/2 more popular.  I did it!  Both sides of me are my friends!  Hallelujah.  To move up from weird kid to funny kid is no easy feat.  Well, it was easy for me.  I'm the greatest!  Man.  What else is up. To move down from the funny kid to the weird kid is no easy feat.  I did it!  Hooray!  Anyway.  What else is up.  Damnit, the entry is almost over.  I was having so much fun.  You know what, let's make this six paragraphs.  How hard could it be?  Very hard?  Oh well, I've made my choice!  Anyay.  Burp queef fart.  That's how that goes. 
    Okay.  I hate religion.  I mean, how it separates people.  It's good that it gives people inner peace.  Whatever.  Anyway.  Six paragraphs?  What was I thinking?   Probably nothing, and stuff.  What else is going on.  Probably eh, and eh.  What to do with the rest of my day.  T.V. and stuff, I suppose.  That's how that goes.  how does that go?  That's how that goes.  Get with it, friend.  Eh, let's end it now.  It's good.

-9:40 A.M.                                          

Wednesday, August 27, 2014                        

Nothing Gives You That Right!

Hello jerks and jerkettes.  I saw a dead squirrel on my walk today.  Looks like I win this round.  In my never ending war against squirrels.  They've wronged me one too many times.  Hey, those are my nuts!  Get your own!  Squirrels'll do what they want.  You can't reason with a squirrel.  Believe me, I've tried.  Class starts in three... two... one... wait, no.  I take it back.  Three days.  Three.  Intro II Narrative.  Should be interesting.  I read the reviews of the teacher online, and people complain he doesn't spend enough time going over the readings, and just goes on rants.  Sounds great to me!  Forget readings.  I wanna hear rants.  I just spilled some whiskey on my keyboard and mopped it up with a clean undershirt.  This is the life I chose.  Luckily, so far, it doesn't seem to have made my keyboard drunk.  It's not slurrying it's words or anything.  Wait, there it goes.  Hopefully my keyboard doesn't get addicted to the drink.  I don't have enough money to satisfy two beings' addiction.  Man, my keyboard must be really drunk.  It's saying, "Kweertee You I Pee... asd fghjkl..."  Get it together, God.  Has anyone ever, ever, used the F buttons?  God knows I haven't.  I tell him every night before I go to sleep.  Dear God, watch over my family.  Keep us all healthy and happy.  I never use the F buttons on the computer keyboard.  Well, goodnight!  I should start praying to God before I go to sleep.  It's all benefit.  Can't hurt, and who knows, maybe he'll listen.  The only way it could be negative, I guess, is if God sees it as you're bothering him, so he's like, "This asshole is making me listen to his bullshit every night?  Well, guess what?  Cancer."  Anything's possible.
    Hey.  What else I mean, what else is going on.  I heard Burger King is moving to Canada.  That's some Game of Thrones shit.  I've seen one episode of Game of Thrones.  It was in HD.  I liked that part about it.  When they first introduced HD T.V., you gotta imagine there was at least one person who was like, "Great!  A T.V. that only shows Howdy Doody!"  There should be a movie about two stoners who write a dictionary called, "High Definition."  Why not.  Because it's stupid?  Well, that's a pretty good reason.  I accept it, and retract my proposition.  If I had to retract everything stupid I say, this blog would pretty much disappear.  It's September next month.  I wouldn't lie to you.  I remember when I was young, I used to like wearing a rubber band around my wrist.  Sort of as a fashion statement.  I should start doing that again.  People love fashion statements.  Why wouldn't they.  I guess I could wear an alcohol soaked undershirt around.  You know, because people would like it.  I'm an idiot.  Most of you have figured that out already.  Anyway.  What am I gonna do with the rest of my day.  Probably things, and stuff.  Or, stuff, and things.  I haven't decided yet.  There was an Extreme Weight Loss where the person was a 4'5 woman.  I've never found dwarfs attractive, but it sort of made me realize, Maybe this is the only way I can find a mate.   Which is kind of depressing.  Also, let's say I mate with a 5'4 girl.  Our son, statistically, would be 5'8!  Not too shabby, son.  I bet all the ladies like you, son.  Too tall to toss the ball around with your old man, son?  Goin' off to college, son?  They grow up so fast.  One regret I will have is that I can't teach my children how to ride a bike.  Because I never learned.  Oh well.  In the future, everyone will ride bikes.  Because there won't be any more oil.  So I guess I'll have to figure it out then.
    Eh, there'll be electric cars.  I like how people ride a stationary bike for exercise an hour every day, and then drive their pollutin' cars to and from work.  What jerkballs.  If my son has a Dad who writes a website called Crazysheet every day, I will have not only have failed as a father, but pretty much be the worst person in history.  I mean, I don't know what I'm doing.  In high school, sure.  It's fun.  25 year old?  Eh, I guess in my mind, it's a way to hold on to my youth as I'm growing older.  But, if I'm doing this at 45?  Oh man.  Something went terribly wrong.  But imagine how good it would be, having thirty years under my belt?  I'd be the best blogger in the fuckin' world.  Dear blog, my son is a jerk.  What an asshole.  Meow Mix Meow Mix please deliver.  Yeesh.  I've noticed my hair in the moustache area has been growing more fully.  It's actually getting closer to a real, man moustache, rather than the faux-teenager-trying-to-hard moustache that used to be my limit.  Man, I would be an awesome Dad.  That's the next Fox animated sitcom.  Awesome Dad.  Oh wait, they already have American Dad.  I retract my contention.  Seth Macfarlane must be a billionaire.  Good for him.  I don't get people that say Family Guy is just a rip-off of The Simpsons.  It's really not anything like it, except for the most basic thing that it's about an animated family.                             
    Anyway.  What else is going on.  Maybe I'll make some friends in my new class.  Each class I take, I increase my proficiency at socializing.  It's only a matter of time before I make a friend.  Or, friends.  Also, it's a Saturday late afternoon class!  Hey, it's gettin' into the evening on the Saturday.  Wanna party.  Hmm, I wonder if anyone in my class is lonely!  I'm your man!  Hey, can you believe that rant the teacher went on?  I can't believe he didn't spend enough time going over the readings!  Friendship made!  If I could afford it, I would love to dorm at Queens College.  It's not really necessary, I'm only forty five minutes away by bus & walking, but boy, is it fun.  I don't know why I'm such a fan of dorming.  The main memory I have from dorming is listening to music alone in my room, while high.  And that's three years worth of dorming.  But, hey, that's pretty fun!  I did some socializing, too.  One would imagine.  Nah, it was way more than that.  I smoke cigarettes, now, though.  That might not fly in a dorm room.  Whose gonna stop me? You?  Ha-ha-ha-ha.  Let's be friends.  Anyway.  I'll make new friends, one day.  In the Extreme Weight Loss episode with the dwarf, the part when they show her friends cheering her on, you could tell they're not really her friends.  They're just her acquaintances pressured into pretending to be her friends.  Short people don't have any friends.
    How disappointing.  Hey, I'm no dwarf.  I'm a comfortable four inches taller than being considered a dwarf.  Four inches!  Suck it!  I remember, in high school, thinking, "If I could take two inches off my dick, and add it to my height, I would totally do that."  Not sure what that says about me.  But I sure thought it.  Maybe one day they'll invent the "Dick To Height" machine.  Until then, I'll learn how to deal with what I've got.  I'm gonna eat the second half of the Chinese food I got yesterday for lunch.  What fun.  Hey, this entry is close to being done.  What fun.  Hey, it's me!  The guy who writes the entries.  Didn't see that one coming, did you?  You thought it was someone else.  Well, the jokes on you.  It's me.  Yeah, that's right!  I'm talking, straight-up, me.  Yeesh.   Gotta write one more half a paragraph.  Shouldn't be too difficult.  That's what one would think, anyway.  Anyway.  What wonders will we wonder when we see the next half paragraph.  Gonna be good.  Real good.  Or maybe not.  Probably not.  Who knows.  Or, maybe, it won't exist at all.  Could end the paragraph at any moment, now.  It's long enough.  Whatever.  What else is going on.  Oh, want to finish the entry?  Gotta include at least one more joke, or something.  Hey, what's the deal with fuck.  I don't know.  Have you heard about shit, I don't know.  See ya later, I guess.

-10:37 A.M.          

Tuesday, August 26, 2014                        

I'm a Party Robot, or: You Might Want To Lay Off The Titles For a While

Hell.  O.  Was Bruce Almighty about Bruce Springsteen?  Probably.  Was Evan Almighty about the kid named Evan in my Hebrew School class?  Most likely.  Who knows for sure, though.  Probably Morgan Freeman.  When they sent him the script, he sent it back with the note, "Bruce-- based on Bruce Springsteen?"  And they had to answer him, he's God.  "God-- based on me?"  Gotta double check, just to make sure.  That was Morgan Freeman saying he was God, not me.  I'm not God.  Maybe one of the lesser angels, maybe.  Man, I'm probably just a human.  What a supreme disappointment.  I wanna learn about Eastern religions.  Like, what are they all about?  Other than being based around Easter.  I wanna learn about Shinto.  That's the Japanese dealie.  Japan People seem to have things pretty well figured out.  They sleep in drawers.  You'd probably have to come up with a new and specific lullaby for kids sleeping in drawers.  I'm sure they got it all figured out.  I know, what if we double up, and fit two people per drawer!  Think of the savings!  People sleep in drawers and look at porn on public transportation.  That's pretty much the Western understanding of Japan.  That, and they love weird pop music.  That, and they suck at military strategy.  Hey, let's bomb Pearl Harbor. They'll probably just forfeit Hawaii to us.  Morons.  That, and Akira Kurosawa.  I remember in high school, I read his autobiography, which was called, "Something Like an Autobiography," and I was like, "Man, that's a good title."  Gotta give credit where credit is due.
    So, that's how that goes.  You know what else?  I'm gonna eat breakfast!  Hey!  I just ate breakfast!  What a delight.  In Japan, they're eating dinner around now!  I don't get it!  Someone explain it to me.  If you're a traveler, you could celebrate your birthday for two days every year.  Think of the savings!  I mean, what?  I like the people who first figured out the Earth was round.  I think the Earth is round.  Round in a square way, you mean?  No, just round.  You mean, the round-about way of saying what the Earth is is square?  No, I'm saying the Earth is round.  Square.  It's pronounced "Sq-ware."  Some people will just never learn.  The Burger King near my house has a bunch of movie memorabilia.  Like, not real memorabilia.  Prop memorabilia.  I don't like it.  Stop trying so hard, Burger King!  And some of the tables are fake cars.  Talk about fast food!  Talk about it...!  The Burger Kind is near a Toys 'R Us.  I remember as a kid, going into Toys 'R Us, with my brain basically exploding.  So big, and packed with toys and video games!  "HOL..Y.. SHIT!!!!"  Interestingly, now that's how I feel when I walk into a Burger King.  Also, flashback a few sentences.  It's a Burger King, not Kind.  Glad we got that squared away.  Round.  Sq... Lookit, we switched voices!  What fun.
    Alrighty right.  I'm wasting valuable Simpson watching time right now.  Oh well.  What else is going on.  I guess I'll get Chinese food for lunch.  China is near Japan.  I was talking about Japan earlier.  This connection is quite relevant and interesting.  I'm gonna take a break from entry.  See ya soon.  Annnnd I'm back.  Holy smokes, how am I gonna write a half an entry.  Gotta think of some stories to tell, or something.  In Akira Kurosawa's autobiography, each story of his life is told by four different people.  Meh.  It wouldn't really be an autobiography then, would it.  No, it wouldn't.  Not at all.  They should have called that movie, "Something Like A Rashomon."  Rashomon sounds like an old tyme venereal disease.  I guess.  What else is going on.  My favorite memory of fast food, perhaps, is my Dad getting home from work around 11:00 P.M. and bringing us fast food.  That's good stuff.  I also remember taking the bus to visit my friends' college, and halfway through, stopping off at a McDonalds out in the middle of nowhere.  That was fun.  It's like, "Where am I?"  That's a great feeling.  People love being in weird places.  Whether it's a McDonalds out in the country, or in a drawer somewhere in downtown Tokyo.
    Okay.  I think I've been gaining weight in my ribs.  My upper torso just sticks out too much.  Anyway.  This entry is only gonna be four paragraphs.  I'm making an executive decision.  Man, the great thing about this paragraph, is that when it's done, I won't have to write it anymore.  What joy.  Another good fast food memory was going to Chipotle on my lunch break at my NYU job with a friend.  It's almost like, "Lunch break... I'm a real person!"  What fun.  And, of course, there was getting White Castle on the way home from High School.  And half the time, I would put it straight in the refrigerator, and go to sleep, and then eat it late at night, when I woke up.  Anyway.  Enjoy this comic.

-9:25 A.M.                               

Monday, August 25, 2014                        

I Like Titles That Don't Mean Anything

Hello friends.  It's me.  The guy who writes titles.  Also, sometimes, entries.  Woke up really early today.  That's a lie.  I woke up the same time I always do.  I don't know what would motivate me to open up this entry with a blatant lie, and immediately contradict it.  Motivations can be quite mysterious.  I did see my therapist this morning.  She was like, "Why aren't you talking much?"  And I was like, "Get off my back!"  And she was like, "Make me!"  And I was like, "Never mind, you intimidated me."  And she was like, "Yeah, I thought so."  Then she punched me in the gut and sent me on my way.  The good news is that I don't have to see her for another four weeks.  Also, while waiting to sign in in the hospital, there was a cute girl in front of me.  I'm pretty sure I made quite the impression on her, by standing still, and looking to the left and the right at roughly thirty second intervals.  That guy sure knows how to wait in line.  If you know a better aphrodisiac than proficiently waiting in line, I'd like to hear it.  Then, when my blood was being taken, the radio was playing, "Jessie's Girl," and I thought about making the title, "I Wish That I Had Jessie's Title."  But I had already thought of this title.  This quandary haunted my thoughts for a good thirty to forty five minutes.  Hopefully what happened was the correct solution.  Is it just me, or have you noticed that they put more and more ice into iced coffees?  I mean, c'mon!  I ordered an iced coffee, not an iced ice.  Ice ice baby.  Am I right?  Not really sure what the point of that was.  Killing a few sentences, I guess.
    So, yeah.  I got a carton of cigarettes.  I'm back on the hump, baby!  Camel Blues for me.  I've smoked tens of thousands of cigarettes in my life.  Gotta imagine that's bad for my health.  Imagine it, and then dismiss it.  Okay.  My Fall class starts on Saturday.  That should be great.  Or terrible.  Or, somewhere in-between.  Or greater than great.  Definitely not worse than terrible, though.  That's where I draw the line.  Hmm.  What's a pun involving drawing and/or lines.  Eh, figure it out yourself.  What else is new.  I gotta clean up my room.  I say that every now and then.  Rarely do I follow it up with actually cleaning up my room.  But maybe this time, I will.  I could clean it up half-way.  That's not a bad compromise.  I haven't had to change light bulbs in years.  For some reason, I remember, in high school, having to change the light bulbs every few months.  I guess we're getting longer lasting light bulbs, now.  That's interesting.  Hmm, in high school, I was up all night, instead of the day, so that would require more light bulb usage.  But that wouldn't account for such a huge discrepancy.  That wouldn't account for it!   Stop using italics, jerk.  It increases the probability that, when I really need to use it, it will come after using it haphazardly, so I'd have to add bold to distinguish the necessary italics.  These are the issues every writer goes through, but no one has the guts to talk about.
    Third paragraph.  Great.  On the back of my pack of camels: In 1921, a golfer in a foursome ran out of smokes and said..."  Woah nelly!  Too much information, jeez.  Hahaha, at the end of that thing, it says, "Fore!"  Yeah, we get it.  A foursome.  We get it, jeez.  AskJeez.com.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  Probably stuff, and things.  One would imagine.  There was a guy ahead of me, waiting to get my blood taken, but his appointment was for 10:00, so, even though he was there first, they kept letting people go ahead of him.  And he was getting fucking pissed off.  He was like, "This is bull shit, I'm stopping coming here, taking my medication, you know, stuff like that."  The last part shoulda been outside the quotation.  If you're gonna stop taking your medication because you have to wait twenty minutes to get your blood taken, a big part of you really wants to stop taking it anyway.  That's how I feel.  Now you know how I feel.  Congratulations.  How do you feel?  Write me with how you feel about that story.  Except for saying, "I didn't think it was interesting or funny.  Why?"  Why not?  Because.  Get off my back.
    Yeesh.  Some people just don't appreciate good entry fillings.  I've been having a ton of fun with my rubber ball.  Bouncing it against the wall in my spare time is pretty good exercise, I think.  My friend once told me a story where he saw a kid go up to some teenagers with a rubber ball, and say, "You wanna play asses up?"  Which I guess is a game you play with a rubber ball.  And the teenagers were like, "WHAT THE FUCK?"  You gotta hear him tell it, though.  I'm not great at telling stories.  It really makes you wonder why I have a personal web log.  I also gotta get a shave before my class on Saturday.  Or, learn how to shave myself.  It has been ten or eleven years since I started growing facial hair.  I'm a little behind, I guess.  In Back To The Future, when Marty McFly dies a few weeks before he's supposed to, isn't everyone gonna realize, "Oh, I guess he went back in time for a few weeks, that's why he died early."  The secret's out, I guess.  Who would think there would be a plot hole in a movie about time travel.
    Okay, entry gettin' close to it's end.  How about that.  We had fun, didn't we?  I'm using the Royal We.  I guess royal people have a predisposition to multiple personality disorder.  That makes sense, and has the cadence of a joke.  Good job, us.  That's not really the cadence a real joke.  A crazysheet joke, sure.  I got my own little thing going on here.  I gotta come up with a new way to kill time.  That preferably isn't drinking.  Or anything that requires effort.  Or patience.  Eh, maybe I'll just stick to lying in bed.  I keep my music keyboard propped up against the wall, so whenever I look at it, I briefly think, "When did I get a keytar?"  Because I get confused very easily.  Also, let's go back to the third paragraph for a moment.  The guy ahead of me wasn't waiting to get my blood taken, he was waiting to get his blood taken.  This correction is brought to you by stupidity.  Because only stupidity would leave in the mistake, and qualifying it, instead of just fixing it.  Also, because dat der is funny.  A guy waiting for someone else's blood to be taken?  We think that's hilarious.  Almost as hilarious as the Too Much Ice In Iced Coffee guy.  Anyway, see ya later.

-11:40 A.M.                                 

Wednesday, August 20, 2014                        

There's a Time For Writing Titles... & The Time Is Now!

Hello friends and akwaintensays.  That's a character I'm working on.  I call him, "Guy Who Doesn't Know How To Spell."  For some reason, he works a lot better written in text than being preformed live.  I have no idea why.  Because live, he's just a guy saying things.  Hey, what did I tell you about correcting me!  Stupid Italics Guy.  Italics Guy, by the way, is another guy who works a lot better written down than live.  When I'm performing Italics Guy live, I just say all the words sideways.  People seem to get it.  When I woke up today, my throat kinda hurt, and I told myself I was gonna quit cigarettes.  Then I smoked some cigarettes.  If there's one thing I can tell you about Michael, it's that he ain't no quitter.  And if there's two things about Michael, is that his name slant rhymes with, "Title."  I've been writing self-aware titles for a decade and just figured out my name rhymes with Title.  Talk about your epiphanies!  Oh, no one was talking about their epiphanies?  Well, time to start, now!  My real name now, is, "Crazysheet."  It has slowly and covertly taken over my identity.  I just watched Do The Right Thing.  Thanks for the advice, title.  I was planning on doing the right thing, anyway, but I guess a reminder can't hurt.  Just like Christmas With The Kranks.  But I don't want to spend Christmas With the Kranks!  Got to, though.  The title says so.
    So, yeah.  Nobody needs this.  There's a part in Do The Right Thing where a guy talks about how the right hand is good, and the left hand is evil.  I'm a lefty, and I take umbrage with that.  I'm fairly certain that I'm not evil.  I don't know.  Maybe I am evil.  That would be a pretty crappy epiphany.  By God, I've got it!  I'm Evil!  Hey, we all got problems.  I do waste people's time a lot.  That's a sort of low grade evil, I suppose.  That's how that goes.  What else.  We all go a little mad sometimes.  Doesn't make me evil.  I mean, Psycho wasn't evil.  He just really loved his mother, who turned out to be himself.  Ain't nothin' wrong with that.  The remake of Psycho was kind of evil.  Evil is the exact word I would use to describe the remake of Psycho.  Just joshing.  I never saw it.  What was that movie where the person falls down the stairs.  I'm a fan of that.  I don't know where my fascination with stairs comes from.  I think I've told this before here, but when I was a kid, I used to imagine, when trying to sleep, there was a ghostly woman, who started out in the hallway, and went downstairs, into the kitchen, into the refrigerator.  And it scared the crap out of me.  I was always reluctant to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, even if I needed to.  I'm still reluctant to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  What if I accidentally say, "Candyman" five times?  I mean, all it takes is five mistakes of the tongue, and boom, I'm dead.  And Bloody Mary?  Terrifying.  Maybe being scared of looking in the mirror and saying things is really just a sign that I'm not satisfied with how I appear in the mirror.  I'm not a psychiatrist.  If you say psychiatrist five times while looking in the mirror, Dr. Phil appears and goes to the bathroom on your face.
    Oh.  I see how it is.  Here's a free tip for you-- don't trust a doctor who goes by his first name.  Even if it rhymes with, "Title."  Anyway.  What else is happening.  Probably nothing.  Otherwise I'd have talked about it already.  My throat feels okay, now.  Guess it was nothing.  Remember Deep Throat?  I think he just wanted to see the phrase, "Deep Throat," in newspapers.  That was his real agenda.  Deep throat, man.  Groovy.  Guys with the nice throats get all the ladies.  That's how I feel.  What else is going on. I don't know, I already told you!  Maybe it's because of the bananas in the pajamas.  They go marching down the stairs.  Can't rule anything out at this point.  Well, we could.  But we shouldn't.  So, in high school.  After a year, I graduated from writing movie crap to reading baseball/fantasy baseball magazines in my free time.  And then, after that, I graduated to playing poker.  And then, after that, I devolved into writing song lyrics.  It was nice, in high school, playing poker.  I actually felt like I had a life.  There was also a period where I would read politically/socially conscious books.  Good for me.  The porn version of, "Title," is, "Dyke'll."  I guess.  Stupid.  Anyway.  Class starts in nine days.  Gotta make the rest of this vacation count.  Hey, nine days!  I already made it count!  So stupid.
    OK.  In high school, I had a math teacher who got fired for touching one of the kids in my class.  He basically just like rubbed his shoulders, and the kid felt uncomfortable.  The best part, is, the teacher, when someone got a problem right, he would make us give them a, "Standing O."  O for ovation?  Possibly.  But I vaguely remember actually having to make our arms into an, "O" shape.  Is that just part of my imagination?  I forget.  I think it's real.  In Hebrew School, I had a teacher who got fired, because there were a couple of troublemakers in the class, and their parents pressured the school to fire the teacher, as if it was his fault.  Anyway, see ya later.  Enjoy the comic.

         

-8:47 A.M.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014                        

First Comes The Title, Then Comes The Entry

Hello.  It's me.  Back again to entertain your gloves off.  This entry is gonna be a real winner.  I can feel it.  My stomach hurtskies.  Maybe I'm pregnant.  Probably not, though.  Today is Wednesday.  Commonly known as the day of the week that comes in the middle.  Tomorrow is Thursday.  Commonly known as the day that comes after Wednesday.  The day after is Friday.  Nobody knows for sure when that comes.  Rumor has it, it comes after Thursday.  How could I say, “The day after is…” and then claim nobody knows for sure when it comes?  Through the power of contradiction, that’s how!  Get off my backskies.  There’s a lawnmower going on outside.  Maybe it’s the lawnmower man!  I never saw it.  I assume it’s about a man who is also a lawnmower.  Doesn’t really sound like a horror movie, does it?  In fact, that would be really convenient.  He never needs to buy a lawnmower, he could do it himself.  I wish I was born a lawnmower man.  Instead of being this stupid, no-good, man-man.  Maybe I’m pregnant with a lawnmower man.  There was that time three months ago I had sex with a lawnmower.  So it definitely is possible.  I was just watching Christine yesterday.  I was surprised that it actually was pretty scary.  Not like that Cujo crap.  Hey, we’re in a car, and there’s a dog outside!  Who gives a fuck.  Not me, that’s who.  Who made who.  Who are you.  Harry Houdini.  Okay, that last one wasn’t a song, it was a person.  As far as I know.
    Anyway.  I like the last entry, from yesterday.  It was sort of a throwback to old high school crazysheet, in some ways.  Just blabber.  Good for me.  Time to get back on track, though!  Did you know that there's a lady who's sure that all that glitters is gold?  Yup.  And get this-- she's buying a stairway to Heaven!  Ugh.  Pretty sure Led Zeppelin is gonna sue me after that joke.  What I want to know is, where is the Zeppelin being led to?  Hopefully not New Jersey.  That would be a disaster.  I'm pretty sure comedy could sue me after that joke.  What else be happening.  Class starts in a week and a half.  That should be fun.  Anyway.  I was never into cars.  Maybe it's from taking public transportation in high school and so forth.  I like the LIRR, because half the time, you're riding backwards.  Cause the seats are opposite to the direction you're going in.  It's tons o' fun.  And you pass a church with a huge sign that says, "Is It Nothing To You, All Who Pass By?" or something.  I love being prosthelytized while I'm on my way to school!  Really makes me feel important.  And near the Auburndale stop, there's a building with the sign, "PSCH."  Pshhh!  I love it.  Honestly, if it wasn't for the LIRR, and subways, I probably never would have gotten into music as much as I did.  Because I needed music to kill the transportation time.  I remember, when I first started high school, like, literally the first week, I was still fantasizing about being a screenwriter, and I spent my lunch hours and transportation to and fro school working on a script.  Well, I don't think I ever got to the script stage, but working on a summary.  And I thought, this is what I'm gonna do in high school.  Just keep to myself, and work creatively.  And that's more or less what happened.  Only I gave up on movies pretty quickly.  Thank God.
    And, for all my failure at making friends the first year of high school, by senior year, I actually had a respectable social life.  I have no idea how, but yeah.  I used to carry around a notepad in my back pocket, just to write random lyrics in.  I don't know how I could have such a misinformed idea of how songs are written.  I just thought, you write lyrics, where the last words rhyme, and then combine them with random other lyrics, where the last words rhyme.  And that's a song.  I'm not sure if I really thought that, or was just unable to write full songs, and settled for writing random lyrics.  I forget.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  None of that is going on.  It was going on, about ten years ago.  Ten years.  Wow.  Ten years gone.  Don't sue me, Led Zeppelin!  Wouldn't it be great if Led Zeppelin sued me.  It would bring a lot of publicity to the blog.  Remember SuperGroup, the VH1 show?  John Bonham's son, the guy from Anthrax, and Ted Nugent?  That was a pretty good show.  I forget, though.  That's actually not so bad a lineup.  I mean, John Bonham was good, so his son must be.  And I see the guy from Anthrax as a talking head on VH1 shows all the time, so he must be good.  And I've heard of Ted Nugent, so he must be good.  The verdicts in-- must be good!  I'm pretty sure Ted Nugent is respected as good guitarist, honestly.  I don't really know.  I think he's a conservative though.  What an asshole.  And I also think the guy from Anthrax was supposed to be good.  And I remember liking John Bonham Jr., or whatever his name is.  Jason?  Possibly.
    Anyway.  This entry is fun.  For me, at least.  All entries are fun.  I get to the fourth paragraph, and I'm like, "I accomplished something!"  Good for me.  Anyway.  How the Hell have I written an entry practically every day for like a month.  I have absolutely nothing to say.  What the Hell.  All I think about all day is, What Am I Gonna Eat For Lunch, and, What Am I Gonna Eat For Dinner?  How do I come up with 4.5 paragraphs of bullcrap.  Who knows.  Anyway.  Got a paragraph and a half to go!  I wonder how good it will be.  Very good, or insanely good.  Or crap.  Probably crap.  Anyway, what else.  Gotta shitload of entry to go.  Well, a paragraph and a half.  Do you know what it's like to write a paragraph and a half of crazysheet?  No?  I didn't think so!  Mostly because I'm the only one whose ever written crazysheet.  Not you, me!  You got no idea, brutha.  Or sista.  Or mutha.  Or fatha.  I hate hearing voices outside my window.  I can 90% hear them enough to understand what they're saying, but just not quite.  What a tease.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  Probably something, and stuff.  That's how I feel.  I feel like something and stuff is going on.  What else. I dunno.  Gonna finish watching Christine when this is over, I guess.  I don't like the radio in Christine.  Fine, kill people, I don't care.  Leave the radio out of this!
    Okay.  I can't believe I smoke cigarettes.  When I was a kid, I would always get on my Mom's case for smoking.  Oh well.  She did smoke when she was pregnant with me, and I was five weeks early.  Thanks a lot.  I should have been born in '89, and known a whole different class of people in my gifted class from elementary to middle school.  Instead of these losers.  I turn 26 in four months.  What a joke.  Anyway.  So, universal pre-K starts this fall.  I remember a few things from my nursery school.  One, I was in love with a girl named Elizabeth, who was a year older than me.  Two, I wanted to marry my best friend, Jesse, because we both liked Ren & Stimpy.  Three, reading the Curious George book.  Four, seeing my dad parked outside, through the window, and being excited to see him.  Five, trying to play with a kid named, Leonard, I wanna say.  And not exactly getting along with him.  That's about all I remember.  I probably learned some stuff, too.  One would imagine.  Anyway.  So, what's going on?  What's going on to close the entry.  Gotta be something.  The nursery school I went to was the same place I went to Hebrew school.  That's interesting.  I remember two thigns from Hebrew School.  One, that my teacher fell asleep once, and a classmate went to the principal and said she was dead.  Two, playing Chinese poker in an enclave while class was going on.  Anyway, see ya later.

-10:33 A.M.      

Tuesday, August 19, 2014                        

Check It Out!  It's a Title!

Hello guys and... so on and so forth.  It's the guy whose me.  When they turned the original Star Wars into Episode IV, they should have changed the title to, "So On & So Fourth."  May the fourth be with you.  The only Star Wars I saw were Episode IV and Episode I.  I remember when I saw Episode I, in theaters, there was a kid in the theater who was wearing a football helmet.  Why?  Well, I'll tell you why.  Because he anticipated people would keep throwing popcorn at him... and they did.  However, was it only because he was wearing a helmet?  Possibly.  It's like a weird little knot in the space time continuum, that story.  I like how everyone hates Jar-Jar Binks.  Never, never, have I heard someone say, "I kinda liked him."  Not one defender, in the entire population of man.  I was never a big Star Wars guy, though.  I do like Yoda.  I think after Yoda teaches Luke something interesting, he should declare, "I guess short guys are good for something after all."  Just to make it clear to the audience.  I remember I had a Star Wars video game, but on the second or third level, there's a part where you need to fly a spaceship, and I never figured out how to start it.  The only other thing I know about Star Wars, is that at one time, Luke and his sister kiss.  Hey, people love incest.  Gotta give the people what they want.  At least Luke never kissed Darth Vader.  Not to my knowledge.  At least Han Solo never kissed Chewbacca.  I mean, I'm sure he did, at some point, just not on camera.  It gets lonely in outer space.  And we know C-3PO and R2D2 were banging.  The only question is, who was the top.  It's not really the only question.  That scenario creates lots of questions.
    Anyway.  Hey, italics!  I love that thing.  It gets lonely in outer space.  We learned that from Elton John.  How would he know.  He ain't no astronaut.  What a fraud.  They put too much milk in my iced coffee.  What jerks.  There was a guy who was playing with a wad of money in front of me in McDonalds.  Like, just 20 after 20.  At first I thought he was a drug dealer, or something, but when he was giving his order, he sounded retarded.  Like, clinically retarded.  So I don't know what to make of him.  And he was standing by the machine when I had to swipe my credit card, so I had to be like, "Excuse me," otherwise he would think I was making a grab for his cash.  How dare you make me use my manners.  Where do you get off.  How did a retarded guy get that kind of cash.  Prostitute himself?  Probably.  There's people who would pay good money to sleep with a mentally disabled person.  Makes 'em feel powerful.  And, of course, where would a mentally disabled person go to spend all that cash?  McDonalds.  Of course.  And, the funny thing is, there was another mentally disabled person ahead of him in line.  I guess the only people that go to McDonalds at 7:00 A.M. are mentally disabled people.  And me.  Uh-oh, what does that say about me.  Craptacular!  Mentally disabled people can't write crazysheet.  Mentally disturbed people, sure.  Disabled?  I don't think so.  I'd like to see them try.  Really, I would.  I think it would be hilarious. 
    Anyway.  Hey, italics!  I love ehh.  What else is going on.  I haven't made one joke, this entry, have I?  Oh well.  I guess using commas where they're not applicable is a joke.  Is it?  Only time will tell.  That's how I feel.  I got up after 6:00 again.  When I get up and it's light outside, honestly, I feel like it's waking up late.  And this is coming from a guy who used to go to sleep after school, and wake up at 11:00 P.M.  I miss the night-time.  Part of it is cause of my medicine, I guess.  I don't know.  Stupid assholes gave me too much milk.  Don't they know milk has calories?  And I'm on a diet?  How could they not know that.  What jerks.  Hey, jerks!  Stop being such jerks!  That's how I feel.  I used to get Dunkin Donuts, and now I get McDonalds.  I wonder if Dunkin' Donuts misses me.  Probably.  That's how I feel.  They're all like, "Where's Michael?  I thought he really liked us.  Oh well, gonna commit suicide now!"  Calm the fuck down, Dunkin' Donuts.  You get hundreds of other customers.  I wonder why mentally disabled people gravitate toward McDonalds and not Dunkin Donuts.  I haven't eaten fast food in years.  Since I started dieting.  Oh well.  I used to eat whatever the shit I want.  I miss those times.  I want to try Taco Bell breakfastes.  I saw commercials for it, so it must be good.  That's how I feel about things.  They have a burrito that's potato based.  Potato is healthy!  I'd be doing myself a disservice by not getting it.
    Anyway.  Hey, italics!  I love that thing!  Eh.  What the Hell is going on.  What else.  Hey, there's two paragraphs left.  There's a decent chance that they'll be good.  Isn't that exciting?  The Simpsons, in full, is coming on T.V. soon.  How amazing.  I have the first and second seasons on DVD, so I've seen that every now and then.  But beyond that?  Holy sheet.  There should be an episode where Bart is the father and Homer is the son.  That would be fun.  Doesn't make much sense, but it would be fun.  Anyway, what's going on?  Still writing an entry?  Cool.  That's a bunch of fun.  How is it only 8:00 something.  That's ridiculous.  Gotta finish this entry.  Only a paragraph and a half to go.  Anyway.  I get scared whenever I hear a plane flying.  What if it crashes?  That would be horrible.  And I live relatively near to airports.  Relatively.  I get scared whenever I hear a train.  Trains!  Ahh!  Terrifying.  I miss riding trains every day.  What fun.  And in the Penn Station, they have a musician playing.  Hey, that's a bunch of fun.  I remember, a teacher in high school once told me they saw me on a train and they said I looked really intense and that I didn't want anyone to talk to me.  Hey, how do you look on trains?  Get off my case.  Anyway.  What else is going on?  Pretty close to being done with this entry.  Relatively.  Anyway.  What else is going on?  Nothing?  Shit!  I need something to be going on, so I could type about it. 
    Okay, last paragraph.  This entry has been boring as hell.  Who cares.  I've been writing an entry every day for a month, and not one comment on Facebook.  What jerkballs.  If you're reading this, comment me on Facebook!  Let me know you're out there.  It would boost my self-esteem tenfold. Maybe even elevenfold.  So, do it!  Yeah.  Why is tenfold a word, according to Microsoft Frontpage, and not elevenfold?  What jerkballs.  Anyway.  Hey, it's me.  Get a load of that shit.  Anyway, what else is going on?  Probably something, or something.  Anyway.  Gotta finish this paragraph, and shit.  Meow meow meow.  I like kitten cats.  They say what we're all thinking!  Ugh.  So, what's going on?  I gotta finish this paragraph.  I still don't know why.  Anyway.  What else is fuck.  Fuck.  Man, imagine if someone actually commented on facebook.  I'd be like, I have friends!  How wonderful.  I don't have any friends.  What a joke.  I refuse to believe that no one reads this website.  Gotta be at least one or two.  I mean, really.  Anyway, see ya later.

-8:51. A.M.                             

Monday, August 18, 2014                        

You Titles Are All The Same

I.  Found.  A.  Blue.  Rubber.  Ball.  On my walk.  Sorry, I got tired of one word sentences by the end of that.  But, yeah, can you believe it?  Dreams really do come true.  Anyway.  I skipped writing an entry yesterday, because I felt like it was time to move on in my life.  Then, I didn't like where my life was moving onto, so here I am!  I hope I can still manage writing an entry.  I'm out of practice.  One off day messes up the whole rhythm, you know.  You know now.  I just told you.  I hope I don't get Ebola from this ball.  If I remember correctly, I read the primary way Ebola spreads is through blue rubber balls.  Man, I just threw the ball up in the air and didn't catch it.  What a blow to my ego.  My whole view of rubber balls has changed!  If they're gonna make me feel bad about myself, what's the point?  How come they don't make an eggo that's twice the size and call it a super-eggo?  I know they make eggos that are 1/2th the size, and you have to eat four of them at once.  People like miniature versions of things.  Except for humans.  You'd think people walking down the street would see me as a novelty, and be like, "Isn't that fun and interesting?"  Nope.  They just run away in the other direction.  Probably think I'm a leprechaun.  I was looking in the mirror yesterday, and I realized, "Man, I'm short."  Sometimes it's easy to forget, because I just look into my eyes in the mirror, without really seeing the whole picture.  And, compared to myself, I'm right around average height.  Compared to myself.  So it's easy to forget.
    Yep.  They should release a sequel to, "What's New, Pussycat?" called, "What's Up, Diggity Dog?"  Let's get the whole animal kingdom in on this dialogue.  Let's see, what should I talk about next so I could will it to appear on my walk.  Hmm.  Oh, I know.  Unlimited wishes!  Everyone knows that's the right answer.  It would be funny if someone went up to Nelson Mandela and was like, "Okay, first, I want a million dollars."  And he'd have to explain he's not a genie.  I don't know why I picked Nelson Mandela for that joke.  Why would people think he's a genie over other people?  Well, he's sort of exotic.  If you catch my drift.  I bet when he was first starting out, people pronounced his name, "Mand-el-ah."  I still call The Rolling Stones, the, "Rawling Stoones."  Because I'm a grade-A buffoon.  It's weird how people have a tendency to figure out how to pronounce things correctly, even when it's not logically obvious.  Good for us.  Also, when I think of Nelson Mandela, I think of the Rolling Stones.  That just makes sense.  They should have called "Kingpin," "Hunger Strike."  There's a couple of scenes where they're eating, so it makes sense.  Hunger strikes are kind of inappropriately named.  The entire time, there's hunger.  It's a food strike.
    Alright.  I can't believe I missed Summerslam.  Life is too short to be missing Summerslams.  That's how I feel.  Anyway.  I woke up pretty late today.  It was already past 6, and light outside!  I had nightmares about leprechauns.  And Subway coupons.  With the quality of food at Subway, we really should be able to just go into the store, and be like, "Look, just give it to me.  We both know this food isn't worth any real money."  The Subway near me is a combination Subway/Nathan's.  But there's never anyone manning the register at the Nathan's half.  So it's pretty much just a Subway.  Which I find kind of amusing.  Anyway, what am I gonna do today.  Play with my ball, I guess.  Sounds like fun.  I remember when I was younger, thinking, "Okay, whatever health problems come my way in this life, whatever, just as long as nothing happens to my penis or balls."  That's a fair compromise, right?  Everyone knows to ask for unlimited security for penis and balls.  Anyway, so far, so good.  I guess.  Man, my class starts in less than two weeks.  I'm both apprehensive and excited about it.  We'll see how it goes, I guess.  I put italics on, by accident.  Please believe me.  How did people indicate italics before there were computers or type writers.  It's pretty hard to write in italics.  When I'm taking notes, or something, and I need to demonstrate italics, I literally just write the word sideways.  As long as I'm consistent, I'll know what I mean.
    Okay.  What else is going on.  Probably stuff, and stuff.  Hey, when I'm done with this entry, I get to watch T.V.!  Hooray.  What to watch.  So many choices!  I guess.  Still gotta finish this crap, though. I saw a frog in the park on my walk yesterday!  Friggy-frog!  I didn't know they were indigenous to Park Ridge.  So, of course, I peed on it.  Gotta show it whose boss.  Anyway, enjoy this comic.  See ya later. 



-8:40 A.M.                     

Saturday, August 16, 2014                        

I've Been Working On The Title, All The Live Long Day

Hello friends and framily.  It's your guy who writes the things you read sometimes, me.  Just had a couple of Eggos, doesn't get much better than that.  The, "I've Been Working On The Railroad" song was the, "Fancy" of it's day.  People couldn't get enough of this character who works on the railroad and sings about it.  I've been working on the railroad, all the live long day.  Got some help from Chinese people, didn't give them much pay.  Zinger.  If I could go back in time to when they were making the railroad in the west, I would say to a Chinese person, That's right, one day you'll be the conductor!  And they'll be like, mayor!  I like the sound of that!  Or, more accurately, Mayol, I like the sound of that!  I'm an idiot.  This, we already know.  They might like the sound of mayor, doesn't mean they can pronounce it.  Hooray for inaccurate and negative stereotypes.  Anyway, what else is new.  We should still use Chinese people for railroads.  Get them to stand in front of a subway, and get hit, you know, to test the safety.  That's just an idea, we're spit-balling here.  Or get Dat Phan to do some pro bono comedy work in a subway car.  They'll probably tip him on the stipulation that he stop.  I think Dat Phan is Vietnamese.  Oh well, they need work, too.  I mean, have you seen that place?  Dumpsville, U.S.A.  Except for the U.S.A. part.  And possibly the Dumpsville part.  I've never been there.
    Anyway.  I'm an asshole.  Oh well.  Nobody's perfect.  Not even Superman.  What if Superman was an asshole.  Just like, a real jerkbag.  I mean, thanks for saving the world again, and everything, but seriously, you gotta work on your people skills.  Yeah, whatever.  Go fuck yourself.  Says Superman.  I think there should be a superhero called Fisher Man, and he's just really good at catching fish.  The stakes are pretty low, I know, but he's really good.  So, since the last sentence, a lot has changed.  Like, I got my iced coffee.  That's a pretty big change.  Anyway.  What else is going on?  Not a lot, probably.  If there was, I would know about it.  I just had a chicken sandwich.  Hallelujah.  Kinda early for chicken sandwiches, isn't it, Mike?  First of all, How Did You Know My Name?  Second of all, yeah, I guess.  I eat when I'm hungry, now.  It's the new and improved Michael.  Eh, I'll have a salad for dinner.  It all comes out in the wash.  I'm wearing a shirt.  Jealous?  Something something, shirt off my back.  Check it out, Michael's using phrases as puns!  Oh boy, this is gonna blow up the tweetosphere.  I like the video for Check It Out.  They use the bridge that leads to Stuyvesant in it.  I went there!  And I'm sure, on more than one occasion, I listened to, "Check It Out" while on that very bridge!  Jealous?  Something something, don't burn your bridges.
    Jeff Bridges is a guy.  No one's trying to deny that.  I like it when conmen try to sell the Brooklyn Bridge.  Who would buy it?  What can you do with a bridge.  Not much.  You could already use it, even if you don't own it.  I guess that's something that would appreciate with value.  What?  Of course I know words.  Anyway.  That's a good thing to have if you're gambling.  I see your ten dollars, and I raise you the Brooklyn Bridge.  No one would be able to call.  I see your Brooklyn Bridge, and I raise you the Statue of Liberty!  I see your Statue of Liberty, and I raise you my high school retainer!  You gotta call that, right?  Doesn't seem like much of an increase.  Besides, their high school retainer might fix your teeth.  Do you know what kinda bills orthodontistry costs if you're buying retainers brand-new?  Get your head in the game.  You gotta hold on to your retainers.  Retain them.  Heheha.  "Heheha," is the exact appropriate response to that joke.  Gotta pat myself on the back for that one.  Not the joke, the response.  I just heard someone guffawing outside my window.  Probably heard me type that, "Retainer," joke.  I bet there's people who can tell what you're typing, just by the sound of you typing.  Not a lot of people, but there's gotta be someone with that skill.  Imagine the uses you could get out of that guy.  He could be a back-up stenographer in courts.  Makin' sure the primary stenographer is on the ball.  That's about it, though.
    Anyway.  Last paragraph time.  If I was ever defending myself in court, out of nowhere, I'd say, "I'm the stenographer, and I'm really stupid."  They gotta write it!  Whatta burn.  Yeesh.  There is no appropriate response to that joke.  Other than doing my best to ignore it, and move on.  I've already failed at ignoring it, though.  And I'm failing at moving on.  Oh well.  We all got problems.  It just turns out that most of my problems are joke based.  Anyway.  Enjoy this comic, and see ya.



-8:41 A.M.

Friday, August 15, 2014                        

O What a Beautiful Title

Hello guys and yeahyeahyeah.  What's up.  It's me.  Back with another entry sure to rock your socks off.  When do we get to wear socks on our hands.  When's that coming.  Huh?  What's a glove?  Never heard of it.  Thank you for bringing it to my attention, though.  It's always a pleasure to learn new things.  We could always just wear inanimate sock puppets.  But that's just stupid.  You wouldn't want people thinking you're stupid, would ya?  Would ya?  I'll answer for ya, because you seem to be inanimate.  No, wouldn't.  That's how that goes.  I finished my two burritos in my last five meals.  Not too bad.  In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's good.  Man, I can't believe I went so far, just to say that.  How am I gonna get back?  Yeesh.  Macdoonalds opens in eight minutes.  If I leave now, and run at full speed, I might be able to get there before they open!  But, why.  What would be the point of that?  Absolutely pointless.  A couple of months ago, I went to the liquor store and there was five minutes before they opened.  It's pretty embarrassing when the liquor store worker goes to open up the store with you waiting outside.  Man, this guy has got problems.  And I'm reaping the benefits.  Good for them.  So, I have big news.  I switched my primary cigarette brand from Camel Blue to Newport.  I know, I know.  It's scary.  It's the end of an era.  But, it's also the beginning of an era.  It's in-between eras, is what I'm trying to say. 
    Wow, I just checked my horoscope, and it said, "You will change cigarette brands today."  They were spot on!  I'm impressed.  Well, I actually changed yesterday.  So, actually, they're a little bit behind on the times.  Still, pretty good.  I've got a feeling this entry sucks.  Oh well, still got time to change it.  Sometimes we need terrible entries, so we fully appreciate the mediocre ones.  And sometimes we need iced coffee, stat!  Where does the, "Stat" expression come from.  Hospitals?  I'm not buying it.  And what does it mean.  What does anything mean.  I hope my phantom cyst leaves a scar.  I can tell people I got it in a bar fight.  And if there's one class of people that people love, it's people who get into bar fights.  They should have called Roseanne, "Barr Fights."  They should have called becoming a lawyer, "Bar Fights."  They should have called, "Bar Rescue,"  "Bar Fights."  They should call everything, "Bar Fights."  But that would get confusing.  What with the only noun in the books being, "Bar Fights."  It would get mighty confusing.  My left foot is numb.  Now would be a great time to get a toe piercing.  Oh well.  Maybe an Achilles heel piercing.  That's really showing the world you mean business.  If you don't wear socks, at least.  If I had a toe piercing, I'd be like, "It makes everything more pleasurable ;-)"  And the recipient of that comment would be scared and confused at this nonsensical nonsense.  I saw a documentary about a guy who amputated his right foot, just because that's what he wanted to do.  Good for him.  The more phantom limbs, the better, that's what I always say.  It's tough, always saying it, because there's so many times it doesn't apply at all.  I guess that's why I like this story so much.  For once, my phantom limb comment makes a bit of sense.
    Yikes.  What a maaron.  What's a Marc Meron.  If you're playing Jeopardy, and the board says, "This is an insecure podcaster," better believe it's time to buzz in and say, "What's a Marc Meron."  I think Jeopardy is kind of ill-titled.  The contestants are playing a game show.  Being asked trivia questions.  In front of an audience.  At no time are they in any actual jeopardy.  That's like if, "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire," was called, "Maybe You'll Die."  Anyway.  Just got back from iced coffee walk.  I'm thinking about doing a music project in the two weeks I have till my class starts.  It's hard though, because no beer.  I mean, I theoretically could buy beer with my credit card, and bring it in to the house, and just tell my parents to deal with it.  But they'll be upset.  Or, I could theoretically write and record songs without the help of alcohol.  Snort.  Short.  Abort.  I need to lose my inhabitations to write those rockin' solos, man.  I can't solo at all.  Just be happy you're getting some chords with an embarrassingly simple, and often inconsistent, melody.  I don't know why you should be happy with it.  You got no time in your life for D+/C- music.  You barely have time in your life for AC/DC music.  I can't even strum properly.  I have no idea why.  You'd think after ten years of playing the guitar I could strum as good as someone who started three weeks ago.  Is it possible it's because my arms aren't long enough?  Could be, maybe.  I'm not a guitar physicist.
    Anyway.  I should have just ended this entry two and a half paragraphs in.  Well, I could always salvage the second half.  It's happened before, and it will happen again.  Nah, but I mean, I think I still have some music left in me.  I still have some entry left in me.  There was a drunk and/or mentally ill guy ahead of me in the McDonalds line.  He was talking to himself, that was clue number one.  Clue number two was that he kept asking for more cream for his coffee.  And I mean, a lot.  He ended up with, no exaggeration, fifteen-twenty of those small cups of cream.  Maybe he was trying to sober up.  I don't know.  At some point, isn't it McDonalds' responsibility to say, "Okay, you've had enough."  The man can overdose, it's happened before.  And it will happen again.  Anyway.  I should have turned to him, at the end, and been like, "Are you sure that's enough cream?"  In a sincere tone.  Because people love jerks.  That's how I feel about things.  In good news, one of my electric guitar strings was a medium, while the other five were light, and it broke, so I replaced it with a light string.  So now my guitar stringing makes much more sense.  And I tuned up.  I've been led to believe that higher tones=increased happiness.  A guitar physiatrist told me so.  So that's how that goes.  One more paragraph.
    Alright.  What else is new.  Do we really need the, "Ol' McDonald" rhyme?  What does it teach kids?  The noises animals make?  They could figure that out for themselves.  And if they can't, who cares.  We don't understand them.  There's no need to know the phonetic sounds an animal makes.  It's not a parable or anything.  If it was, it's pointless and uninteresting.  There's a guy, with a farm, with animals.  There's no story, there's no conflict.  Maybe an asteroid is about to hit Ol' McDonald's farm.  It's happened before.  It will happen again.  Although, I guess if it's hitting the Earth, it's a meteor.  I think.  I never learned outer space, spent too much time on nursery rhymes.  Eh.  Eh-ny way, See ya later.

-8:22 A.M.                                    

Thursday, August 14, 2014                        

I've Got Nowhere Else To Go

Hello.  Guess what.  Cyst removed!  I gotta give the assist to the doctor, for gettin' the job done.  The point goes to me, for being such a big boy.  I even made friends with the doctor.  What's up, Doc?  Doc-a-lock?  Look whose Doc'in.  Not really.  I can't stand doctors.  I heard they might be lowering the year requirements to get a medical degree.  Great.  That's great news.  Hey, shouldn't we have doctors that are less trained and qualified?  Brilliant!!  The receptionist was kind of cute.  I was like, "Hey yo, what's up!"  I was with my Dad, too.  I was like, "Hey yo, check it out, this is my Dad, so you know being able to cum runs in the family."  I haven't flirted with a girl in, I don't know, four years?  Lucky them, am I right?!?!?!  I'm not sure if, "Hey yo, what's up?" qualifies as flirting.  I've been out of the game so long, ya heard?  Don't hate the game, hate the player.  He's probably cheating, or something. I just had a great idea for a coffee table book.  It's basically just a book of quotations, from all different walks of life and philosophies, but the hook is, they randomized who they attribute the quote to.  "If there's grass on the field, play ball."  -- Gandhi.  The grass quote and the player/game quote are literally the only two quotes I can think of at this time.  I'm a brain dead moron.  Early to bed, somethingsomething something.  There once was a man from Nantucket.  Crave those crazy squares. 
    Oh!  "Bonzai!" - Sylvester Stallone.  I like the Karate Kid.  I think nobody in that movie has a proper understanding of the importance of things.  Wow, he won a karate tournament for teenagers.  Great.  I'm real impressed.  They're acting like he fuckin'... fuckin'... fuckin'... hunger striked the British into freeing the India.  I have a two year olds knowledge of what Gandhi did or did not do.  Well I know what he didn't do.  Eat.  he must have been lactose intolerant, or something.  That's how I feel about things.  If I can't eat cheese, I don't want to eat anything.  That's Gandhi for ya.  Stubborn as a mule.  If Gandhi was doin' his thing 50 years later, he'd be a consultant on CNN now, or something.  So, Gandhi, what do you make of Duck Dynasty?  Hey Gandhi, want a peanut?  "Sure!  I-- oooh, I'm not falling for that one again."  People are always trying to get one over on Gandhi.  My name is Gandhi, I put food behind me, I know that you want me, I'm the life of the party.  Look at him go.  Hey, it's light outside.  I love it when that happens.  Really helps you see where you're going, and stuff.  I just lost some play chips in poker.  That's depressing.  You'd think I'd have enough real things in life to depress me, but the really depressing things I can sort of tune out.  It's stuff like losing play money that really upsets me.  Because I don't have a proper understanding of the importance of things.  Where's my trophy.  They never did a Karate Kid/Rocky match-up.  Seems like they should have, no?
    No?  Oh.  I see how it is.  They had a sign in Chipotle saying, due to shortages in availability, the steak they were using wasn't organically raised or something.  So I was like, "This Is Bullshit!  I'm outta here!" And then I knocked over the trash can and ran giggling out of the door.  Also, they mislabeled my steak burrito.  They labeled it, "C."  "C" for chicken.  What the Hell is wrong with you.  I almost had a heart attack, thinking they messed up my order.  Turns out it was steak, they just mislabeled it.  I guess it was, "C," for, "See?  It's steak."  Gotta think outside the bun, am I right?  I feel lost without my cyst.  We had some good times together.  I nicknamed him, "Cyst-um of a Down."  And he nicknamed me, "Host Body."  And I nicknamed him, "Cyst-er Act."  And he nicknamed me, well, not really sure.  He never did that much talking.  He was a cyst full of pus.  You gotta tame that pus, am I right?  The fellas know what I'm talking about.  "You gotta tame that pus" -- Robert Reich.  Robert Reich might be my favorite person in the world.  I think we can all guess why.  He's a smart cookie, that's why.  Snort.  Short.  Abort.  Well, we're six months in, and it appears your baby will grow up to be short.  "Eh, let's get rid of it."  Wise move!  I hope Robert Reich didn't have two older siblings.  Because I'm a predictable moron.
    Moving onward and upward.  I dunno about moving upward.  I ain't The Jeffersons.  I like taking the elevator.  The next time I'm in an elevator with someone else, and it's moving, I'm gonna be like, "This is livin'" and give them a big smile.  Some people don't like elevators, because they don't like being in a confined space with strangers.  Me, I love confined spaces with strangers.  It really brings out the best of you.  I hope the next time I'm gettin' on an elevator, the doors open, and it's full, and some guy gloomily says, "Room for one more."  Cause then I'll be like, "Oh, I know what's gonna happen.  It's gonna crash and you'll all die.  Well, thanks but no thanks, bud.  You stay in your death trap if you want to, I'm gonna take the stairs.  I encourage anyone who values their life to get out of the elevator and join me." Man, those elevator doors stay open a long time.  I guess the gloomy guy must keep putting his hand in front of the door to hear my diatribe in full.  Anyway.  Half a See-Saw Steak burrito for lunch?  Awesome.  That's how I feel about things.  Today is a Thursday.  Man, I gotta write another paragraph.  That's the pits.  I've been wearing my old retainer from when I was 15 lately.  Sometimes it's fun to go back to childhood activities and relive them.  Wait, it's not a retainer.  It's that plastic mold that you put over your teeth.  Whatever that's called.  Either way, boy does it bring back memories.  I feel like a kid again.  It's the greatest.  Also, shut up and finish the paragraph already.
    Mission Achieved. I'm only halfway through my first iced coffee.  I estimate how quickly writing the entry goes by how far I am in my iced coffees.  That's why I try to write as much as possible before I go get the iced coffee.  It makes sense.  Or does it?  Nope, it doesn't.  Way to call me on my bull crap.  August is practically half over.  That's great.  I judge how quickly August goes by my iced coffee intake.  I'm about thirty cups in, at this point.  Maybe 25, I don't know.  I lost count around August 7th.  Anyway.  Things are going okay, though.  In conclusion, here's some comic relief.



-7:32 A.M.             
   

Wednesday, August 13, 2014                        

No Title-ization Without Representation!

Hello.  Guys and girls.  And those in-between.  It's me, your friend, host, writer of website you visit once a month to see if it's gotten any better.  Spoiler alert-- it hasn't!  Or has it?  That could just be me throwing you off my scent.  Hey, I found a better English class to take over the Fall.  Good for me.  Shakespeare makes me angry.  And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.  I mean, I just become a big sourpuss, ruining everyone's good time.  No one needs that kind of negativity.  But seriously, where do you get off, Shakespeare?  Makin' up words and everything.  You can't do that!  What a freakin' jerkbag.  So, the new class I'm taking is Intro II Narrative.  I assume we'll be looking at all the Hulk movies as a reference point.  You can describe the narrative of a Hulk movie in one sentence.  Hulk gets angry; breaks things.  That's about it.  They seem to have trouble casting the Hulk.  Why not Hulk Hogan?  He's certainly put in enough man hours using that name.  Which I assume is how people method-act, they just take on the character's name, and the rest takes care of itself.  Tim Robbins: "Andy, Andy, Andy... I think I got it."  Job well done.  My go to movie throughout this blog seems to be The Shawshank Redemption.  That reminds me, in my poetry class, the teacher was making a point by saying, "well, you don't think Stephen King is mentally disturbed, just because of what he writes?"  And I said, "He's physically disturbed!"  Boom!  That'll show him to overcome adversity.
    Teacher was also telling us how NYU is ruining the city, what with the gentrification and all that, and it made me feel kind of guilty for going there.  Oh well, now I'm with Queens College.  Michael "Crazysheet" Kornbleezium and Queens College-- now that's a winning combination!  Now if I want to ruin the city, it'll be on my terms. Me and my terms?  Talk about a xhxufaioehhhhh combination!  Hey, I just made up a word!  I'm a Shakespeare!  By the way... Chipotle today!  It's just an adequate burrito.  James... Bond... James... Bond... James... Hey, this should go in the movie!  Wonderful.  For some reason, it feels like a Saturday to me.  It's Wednesday.  That's about as far away from Saturday as you can get.  Anyway.  What else happenin'.  I'm happy about that course change.  Now I'm lookin' forward to gettin' back in the action.  Man, now it feels like a Tuesday.  And, after that sentence, it kinda feels like a cross between Friday and Sunday.  Now it's back to Tuesday.  Anyway.  We still got a lot of entry to go.  Let's get this shit done, ya heard?  I think I'm gonna have to take off my boxers for doctor to remove my cyst.  How embarrassing.  Hopefully he won't mind the swastika that I shaved into my pubic hair.  He probably will.  Doctors are so touchy!  Embarrassing.  Way to pun, Kornbleezium.  Whenever I get a boner, I say, "Sieg Heil!"  Hahaheheha.
    Alrighty right.  So, class starts in two and a half weeks.  And it's only once a week.  Should be cake.  And it counts toward my degree.  Oh, I finally got the grade for my last class.  B+.  I'll take it, sure.  For the final essay, after reading the poem, instead of writing 5-7 pages like a goof, I just wrote, "I get it." And I got a B+.  Pretty fair.  It's like that parable where the teacher asks, "Why?" and the A answer is, "Why Not?" the B answer is, "Because," and I believe the C answer is, "Because I fuckin' said so, that's  why!"  The D answer is, "Get off my back."  If I got that assignment, and I knew the teacher wanted an answer like that, I'd probably say, "I Don't Know."  That's gotta be worth a C, right?  Or maybe, "You Tell Me."  Or, "Does It Really Matter?"  That's a winner, right there.  And the answer is no, it does not.  My class is going to be on Saturdays. They'll sure feel like Wednesdays, right?  Right.  Maybe.  You tell me.  Okay.  Hey, lunch time is only a couple of hours away!  Lunch lunch lunch.  Another one rides the lunch.  Lunch is kind of unfortunately named.  Break-fast makes sense.  Dine-r makes sense.  Where the fuck does lunch come from?  Oh, I know!  Why Not.  A, please!  Anyway.  What else is happening.  Have you heard the news?  You know what I'm talking about.  The thing that's in the news!  Can you believe it!  I can't believe that's really happening.  I never would have guessed it.  But, hey, I mean, come on.  That's just how it goes, am I right?  We'll see what tomorrow brings.
    Fourth paragraph all the time, all the time.  Or maybe only during the fourth paragraph. It's up to you!  New York, New York.  So, that's how that goes.  Gotta finish up this entry.  Five paragraphs?  Fuck, just enjoy four paragraphs and a comic.  I ain't got all day to write this crap.  I need to watch 600 pound people lose weight on T.V.  At the beginning of the show, I chant, "Fat!  Fat!  Fat!"  and by the end of the show I chant, "You did it!  You did it!  You did it!"  T.V. is a lot more fun when you're chanting at it.  I finished my bottle of vodka in four days.  That's not really relevant unless you know how big the bottle was.  I'm not sure how big it was.  It contained vodka, though.  Of this, I'm sure.  And now, there's none left.  Thank God.  I can get back to being sober.  Soberism is so much fun.  You get to do stuff without not really knowing what you're doing.  I like double negatives.  They are great.  I wish I had a good oe ne or two more alcohol left.  Oh well, that's just how it goes.  Mutha fucka.  You don't need alcohol to have fun, though.  All you need is a blue rubber ball.  Which I don't have.  Damnit!  Anyway, enjoy this comic, and please, exit the website in an orderly fashion.  Wait, it's 9:30 and I'm already drinking?  Yeah, I guess so.  Fucker off.



-9:39 A.M.                           

Tuesday, August 12, 2014                        

This Is Not The Greatest Title In The World

Hello friends.  Right off the bat, I want to apologize for making an unfortunately timed Mrs. Doubtfire joke yesterday.  Who cares.  I Do, so back off!  He was great, enough said.  He brought humor and sincerity to every role he played, and there were a lot.  I don't really know if it really was sincerity, I didn't know him.  It sure seemed like sincerity, though.  My generation has a bunch of great comedians and comic actors to look up to, so sometimes it's easy to forget the greats of the previous generation, but he truly was one.  Anyway, moving on.  Hey guys, good news!  I just got booked to do Robin William's eulogy!  I knew this website would pay off sooner or later.  I didn't even want to write an entry today, especially considering I had just made a Mrs. Doubtfire joke.  But, boredom got the best of me, and here I am.  I was thinking about what my favorite Robin Williams movie was.  The first thought I had was Aladdin.  It's just a nice, feel good movie.  You can't not like Aladdin.  What did Aladdin ever do to you?  My favorite role of his, though, was definitely on Happy Days, as the Fonz.  He just tore into that character like a madman.  Ugh.  I was watching American History Ten earlier this morning.  How'd they come up with that.  Hey, let's take an actor everyone likes, and make him a Nazi.  Sure, he redeems himself by the end, but for half the movie, he's doing neo-nazi shit.  Stop it, Edward Norton!  You're on camera!  Ppl all around the world will see this!  And Terminator AIAI is his brother.  Ai-yi-yi.
    In better news, I got pizza today.  I've gotten into the habit of sopping up my pizza with a paper towel, two or three squares per slice.  I figure the grease that gets off has got to be like 30-50 calories per slice.  Plus, it sometimes takes off some of the cheese.  Good, I don't need it.  I should have a Snickers, in memory of R.W.  I'm not me when I'm hungry.  I'm not making fun of him, I'm making fun of commercials.  I'm not even making fun of commercials, I'm just referencing one.  There's no making of fun at all.  In fact, I guarantee that, as rule number one of my website.  There will be no making of fun.  I think I'm gonna have a heart attack from that pizza.  It just isn't agreeing with me, I don't know why.  Robin Williams was great in Lost In Translation.  Ugh.  What an idiot.  He woulda been great in it, though.  Either as Bill Murray, or Scarlett Johansson.  Or as Japanese whiskey.  He was in Jack, directed by F.F.C.  And L.I.T. was D. B. his daughter, or niece, or something.  Jack could be slang for whiskey!  Maybe he was Japanese Whiskey.  What an idiot.  Sorry.  My favorite Robin Williams role was as Frodo, in the Lord of the Rings.  He really brought that character to life.  Sorry.  Sorry.  Let's get this trending-- praising Robin Williams for roles he never played.  Remember Robin Williams in There's Something About Mary?  Ugh. 
    Okay.  Wait, my favorite Robin Williams is when he sang South Park at the Oscars.  That was pretty groovy.  I believe Austin Powers was based on Robin Williams, now that I think about it.  Okay, forget it.  Ow, my stomach!  Everything hurts.  Robin Williams: "They should have more meat in a cone."  Okay, forget it.  Ow, my stomach!  To be honest, I felt really depressed for a couple of hours after I heard the news, but after that, there was like a moment of peace, and, you know, we gotta move on.  Ow, my stomach!  It's like the pizza is fucking my intestines from the inside out!  Yikes.  Still haven't been able to change my Fall class, still haven't received the grade from my Summer class.  And I assume the school will be closed all week, in memoriam.  A man has died.  Now's not the time for talk, now's the time for action!  We should make suicide illegal, with the maximum punishment being the death penalty.  Gotta fight fire with fire, am I right?  I've always said the death penalty is a little unfortunately named.  It's kind of a step above a "penalty."   When I think of a penalty, I think of having to re-do a work assignment, or the other team getting possession of the ball.  The word, "Penalty," sort of trivializes it, does it not?  That's how I feel.  Ow, my stomach!
    Okay.  I'm not really sure how re-doing a work assignment is a penalty.  It just seems like straightforward work.  You didn't get the job done the first time around, now do it right!  Okay.  Ow, my heart!  Heartburn.  So, this entry is almost over.  I hope it's been more cathartic for you than it has been for me.  I'm leaving this entry feeling worse than I did going into it.  That's not entirely uncommon, though, in writing this website.  Robin is What Dreams May Come'n in Heaven, now.  Real Heaven.  Double-Heaven.  That's how I feel about that.  I saw this documentary about Heaven and Hell, and apparently, Adam Sandler is the Devil's, and an angel's, son.  I know, I was as surprised as you are.  What an idiot.  Anyway, enjoy this comic, and peace out. 

                      

H-2:40 P.M

Monday, August 11, 2014                        

Hell Yea I Wanna Write An Entry

Hello jerks and jerkettes.  It's me!  The guy who comes up with ways to introduce himself every day!  Never notable, but always new!  I say, you can always judge a man by his introductions.  But, I also say, quit judging me.  How dare you.  Today is a Monday.  Beginning of the work week.  Get your hard hats on, gentleman!  I assume you all wear hard hats when you work.  I have a 2 year old's view of the average working man.  I remember, when I was a kid, I would crawl under a desk, barricade myself with pillows, and read young adult novels.  Because I just wanted some peace and quiet.  Hey, guys, if you need me, I'll be under the desk.  That's how that goes.  Moving on.  I'm gonna get myself Chinese food for lunch.  Get it hardcore!  I figure, once I'm two or three paragraphs in, the time will be right.  So, what else is up?  I heard it's legal to smoke marijuana now some places.  What will they think of next?  Marijuana legal every place?  Here's hoping!  In forty years, when 90% of the population is on pot, everyone will introduce themselves by saying, "Mellow out, man.  Feelin' okay?"  You heard it here first.  Man, I can't stand those jazz cigarettes.  Turnin' people into zombies.  I'm glad I'm not a zombie.  They really got it rough.  If I went to a doctor, and he said, "Bad news.  Turns out you're a zombie," I'd eat his brains, and then feel real sorry for myself.  Zombies got it rough.
    That's how I feel about that.  They say alcohol was the fall of Rome.  Will marijuana be the fall of America?  Trick question-- America already sucks the big one.  Also-- trick statement-- I'm not sure if they really say that about alcohol and Rome.  I never got my history degree!  The last history class I took was History of Rock Music.  And we learned all about British bands in the 60's and stuff.  Probably the most awesome history class you could take.  Wait, you're saying The Beatles and The Rolling Stones are different people?  I thought they were the same people, wearing different clothes!  Boy, is my face red.  It really makes you think.  For the longest time, I thought my Dad was my Mom, a la Mrs. Doubtfire.  Boy, is my face red.  If I wrote Mrs. Doubtfire, it would be a five second long movie, where someone goes, "Is that a fire?" and Robin Williams goes, "I doubt it."  And then the credits role extremely quickly in the remaining two seconds.  Gotta have the credits.  Otherwise, how would we know who did what?  We wouldn't, that's how.  Anyway.  Alright.  What else is happenin'.  I've been watching Fresh Price O' Bellaire a little bit in the mornings.  The writing isn't so good, but the cast really carries that show.  It's too bad Carlton didn't go on to have a movie career.  I'd watch a movie with him in it in a heartbeat.  Mostly because he's short.  Short people like other short people.  I believe that's one of the laws of physics.
    An object in short enjoys other objects in short.  That's probably why I was standing on a toilet in Burger King.  Wanted to feel taller.  I'm the king of this Burger King bathroom!  I miss being a kid, when I could eat fast food twice a day and still be skinny.  You don't know what you've got till it's gone.  And it just turns out that what I had was eating chicken fries.  Fast Food is kind of an oxymoron, when you think about it.  Try using another definition of fast.  There you go, you got it!  Nice job.  You really figured that one out, huh?  Good on ya.  I'd like to go in the drive-thru for Wendy's, and just say, "Food-- Fast!"  And then drive through.  Let 'em know you mean business.  I used to almost religiously like the Spicy Chicken Sandwich at Wendy's.  My brother started liking it first, and probably as a combination of actually liking it and wanting to be like him, I would get it.  And, man, did I like White Castle.  I remember, I had never had it until like 8th Grade, when I went with a few friends.  And it was so disgusting that I loved it.  Man.  It's almost like how people describe heroin, like, the first time is amazing, and after that, you're just chasing it.  That's how it was for me with White Castle.  Although I did like it plenty enough after the first time.  And it didn't cause me that much bodily harm.
    Okay dohkay.  What a summer it's been.  Plenty of crazysheet entries.  I tell you, each entry it gets harder and harder.  I need to write an entry just to keep me well.  I shouldn't trivialize heroin.  Many of my heroes died from it.  Even so.  If we don't trivialize it, we're giving it power.  Laughter is the best medicine.  "Hey bro, you're addicted to heroin.  Start Laughin'!!!"  That solves that problem.  What else is going on.  Transitions, and stuff.  Awesome.  I'm getting my cyst removed on Wednesday.  Oh, happy day!  When Jesus cured cysts.  But the best part is, the doctor I see to remove the cyst is near a Chipotle.  I'm gonna get Chipotle!!!  Oh, happy day!  Doesn't get much better than that.  I figure I'd get two burritos, to get as much out of it as I can.  The only question is, what to get.  They have chicken, pork, beef, and steak.  I'm thinking beef and pork.  We'll see, though.  And, with my diet, only a half of a burrito is a meal.  So that's four meals.  Still awesome.  But by the time of the fourth meal, even if it's Chipotle, I'm sure I'll be like, "This is getting repetitive."  Doesn't matter.  Gotta make the most of it.  I miss college years, when I could eat a whole burrito for a meal.  You don't know what you've got until you ain't got it no more.  Also, you don't know what you've got till you figure out what you've got.  You should figure it out before you got it though, just to be sure of what you've got while you've got it.
    And the entry is almost over, and I still haven't ordered my Chinese food yet.  Good on me.  Hello!  What else be happening.  My parents are setting up a trust fund for me today.  Awesome!  Or not.  It just makes me think about them dying.  That's sad.  I don't want my parents to die!  That would be terrible!  But, hey, if they die, 'm I gonna get some money?  Turns out, yes.  Wonderful.  I assume it will be a three figure number.  Not bad.  I can get a couple of cartons of cigarettes with that kind of moolah.  Man, it still feels like I just started the entry, but it was an hour and a half ago.  Time flies when you've been doin' somethin'.  Not really sure what.  I love my parents, though.  On the real.  They're not only my guardians, my authorities, and my housemates, but they're also my best friends.  That's one good thing about my illness, that I got a chance to spend more time with them, and make up for being such a dick as a child and teenager.  So that's how that goes.  Anyway, see ya lates.

-12:12 P.M.     

Sunday, August 10, 2014                        

What a Joke

Hello.  Italics is fun when you don't use it properly.  I'm like a penmanship artist!  Anyway, here I am again, because I have nothing better to do.  And, while there is a large part of me that says, "Leave People Alone, Quit Writing" there is another part of me that doesn't think anything through, and acts impulsively.  And my options of things to do is very limited.  Basically, this website or jacks.  Jacks with myself.  I don't even know the rules!  That must be why I keep losing.  Man, those drunk kids in McDonalds sure had it all figured out.  I want to be just like them.  Only, by myself.  Damnit, I should have gone to McDonalds!  Oh well, live and learn, as they say.  I ate a double hot dog for lunch.  Nobody can stop me!  Look man, I've got it down to a science, alright?  You feel me?  I eat hot dogs.  Wherever, whenever.  Usually for lunch, in my kitchen.  That's the most appropriate place and time.  You feel me?  I like how hamburgers aren't made of ham, and hot dogs aren't made of dogs.  I like foods that really make you think.  Like, what is... anything, man?  I gotta empty out my ashtray.  That's a completely qualitative statement.  I assume.  I don't really know what qualitative means.  Qualitatively, I think I know, but quantitatively, I'm not sure.  It just makes me think of James Quall from Tim & Eric.  I remember one of the last times I really got high, in like 2010, I was watching Tim & Eric, and I was like, This is too much, man!  Turn it off!
    I'm not high now.  It may seem that way.  I'm on my way to getting drunk, though.  So, that's good.  Hey, what else am I supposed to do.  No class, no job, no nothin'.  Let me enjoy my life in peace.  And read my diary.  Do it!  Dear Diary, a girl asked me to feel her boobs.  I said no, because I knew she didn't like-like me, so it wouldn't have been right.  It wouldn't have been right!  If we give into our sexual impulses with people we don't love we're no better than the animals!  Might as well join the WWF, then!  Might as well be a Rob Schneider character in a movie no one ever saw!  Nailed it.  Dear Diary, I accidentally kissed my brother today.  We were both in the backseat of the car, and we turned to face each other suddenly, on our own accord, and our lips touched!  So what?  Brothers can kiss.  Brothers can get married.  It's the 90's, girlfriend!  I mean, it's the teens, girlfriend!  Dear Diary, I fell down the stairs today.  So what?  I was four years old!  Still workin' on my motor skills!  It could happen to anyone!  My first memory, I must have been less than one year old, was crawling in my kitchen.  I can still sort of picture it.  And, while I wasn't thinking in English, my thoughts more or less translate to, "So, I got this shit going on."  Fun stuff.
    Ay dios Mio.  Why does vodka taste like nothing.  It's sort of not fair.  Dear Diary, I ate Halal food and cried all night while listening to Wilco in the common room.  Talk about a party.  Dear Diary, a girl I liked drunkenly told me she would never get with a short guy.  Ouch!  That's gotta hurt.  Dear Diary, I purchased my first cigarette, and smoked it.  I consider this a learning experience.  Don't make a habit of it, Mike!  Oh, I did?  Good luck with that, bud.  Anyway.  These are getting worse and worse.  Better nip it in the bud here.  Hey, this has killed some time.  Awesome.  I don't know why I'm so tense all the time.  Like I said, little responsibilities.  I should just enjoy life.  But I have an addict mentality, I suppose.  Nothings On T.V.!  That Makes Me Angry!!!  Calm down, Mikey Mike.  Why can't I just be happy.  I miss my old guitars, both electric and acoustic.  The older ones sounded better, but they're broken now.  And, while the newer ones might have been more expensive, I preferred the sound and the playability of the older ones.  Oh well.  That's how that goes, I suppose.  Hey that rhymes.  Maybe I should be a rhymist.  Because I once made a rhyme.  I've got the goods.  Anyway.  Man, imagine if I got drunk on Saturday night with friends, then went to McDonalds in the morning.  HOLY SHIT.  What's a friend?  I mean, I know my Mom, my Dad, and my brother.  They're pretty close friends.
    Friends don't let friends write weblog entries drunk.  I guess that just goes to show that I don't have any friends.  I wish I knew how to drive, just so I could drunk drive.  Holy shit, I'm driving a car!  This is irresponsible!  So much fun.  I remember when I visited my friends in Binghamton, we would take the bus to get to the bar, and go home.  I thought that was the shit.  Riding on public transportation, drunk, with a bunch of other drunkards?  Does it get any more awesome than that?  Although walking home to your dorm after drinking at a friend's dorm isn't so bad, itself.  Hey, I just had fun!  Time to go home, now!  Let the world know what's going on.  If I got to do it all over again, college, and everything, I'd make sure that I would Always, Always, introduce myself by saying, "What's Up, Friend?"  No reason.  Just because it's fun.  Yikes.  I guess that's how I feel about things.  I forget, though.  It was a couple of sentences ago.  Fuck, this entry is almost over?  I was having so much fun.  Alright, alright.  Let's get this shit done.  In style.  If there's one thing I know, it's style.  I mean, check me out.  Ya'll already know, you know.  I'm stylish as a fish.  I'm happening as a wappening.  I'm cool as a fool.
    Okay.  It would be nice if a couple of the gram bags I pick up have a little bit of weed in them.  I mean, c'mon.  Stop tempting me if you ain't gonna give me a taste.  Give a brother a taste, I mean, come on.  I obviously can't inspect them when I'm picking them up.  They go straight in the pocket, for further inspection when I get home.  Alright, alright.  Okay, then.  What is going on?  Probably something, I don't know.  I don't have the attention span to keep track of what's going on.  Alright.  This entry is almost done.  Good.  Get outta my face!  I gave you all I'm gonna gave.  Or give.  I don't got time for correct tense, mother fucker!  But I do have time for the half paragraph I gotta write.  Mutha Fucka, gotta write you, you gonna be nice.  I guess it's only a third of a paragraph.  I ain't got time to give you extra!  Gotta devote time to lying in bed and shit.  Man.  Vodka is the greatest, isn't it?  Yes, it is.  I'll answer for you.  Anyway, I'll see ya later, probably.

-2:23 P.M.    

I Can Stop Titling Anytime I Want To

Hello-ooo ladies.  I'm pretty sure that's a reference.  Al Jolson?  I'll check.  And, if I'm wrong, delete it.  Nope, wasn't Al Jolson.  Also, I thought Al Jolson was a black jazz musician.  Turns out he's a Jew comedian.  So easy to get those two confused.  It's probably obvious who I'm thinking of.  Good.  Congratulations for figuring it out.  Pat yerself on the back.  Oh, Val Venis.  It was Val Venis.  I knew it was a black jazz musician.  It could be that no one says, "Hellooo Ladies."  Such a thing may only exist in my mind.  Or maybe was a throwaway line in a movie, somewhere.  Who knows.  Stephen Merchant says 'Hello Ladies' without Ricky Gervais. Stephen Merchant looks for romance without wingman Ricky Gervais in the new HBO comedy “Hello Ladies.” Stephen Merchant tries hard to make friends in “Hello Ladies,” a new HBO series based on his stand-up routine.  Go frick yourself.  Val Venis and Stephen Merchant are both about as far away from a black jazz musician as you can get.  Unless if you consider comedy to be like jazz.  Which you might.  Unless you consider wrestling to be like jazz.  Which you might.  And, of course, we don't see color on this website.  So, I guess it all worked out.  My favorite wrestling moment was during a hardcore match, the fight got outside, and one of the wrestlers threw another wrestler in a river.  And then the next night, they were tracking his progress in floating down the river.  Maybe that second part only happened in my imagination, but either way, that there is funny.
    I like the XFL.  As far as I can tell, the main drawing point of the XFL was that they could put whatever name they want on their jerseys.  Mediocre football players?  Who get to name themselves?!  I'm in!  Also, that it was in competition with the No Fun League.  They took their acronym, and they're using it against them!!!  What cleverness may come.  Then, a couple of years later, Vince McMahon lost his acronym to the World Wildlife Foundation.  That's karma for you!  I wonder whose in charge of the World Wildlife Foundation.  You'd think it would be a lion, they're the king of the jungle.  But you'd want someone intelligent, so maybe it's a dolphin.  Or, it could be an animal that people will identify with, like an ape.  Or maybe it's a wildcard, that represents the diversity of animals, like maybe a frog.  Personally, I would vote for a goat.  You want that kind of stubbornness when fighting for your rights.  Could be a panda.  Yes... We... Panda.  Knocked it out of the park.  I heard there's a lot of full grown pandas living in the sewers, because people always flush their baby pandas down the toilet.  Returned it from out of the park into the infield.  Why didn't Andy Dufrane just flush himself down the toilet.  Same effect, a lot less work.
    Weee.  It's a good thing Andy Dufrane doesn't sing while he works.  Chip Chip Chip, Chip Away, Chip Away All Night!  What's Going On Here?  His cover is blown.  So that's how that goes.  There were some drunk teenagers in McDonalds.  Hey, I love drunk teenagers!  I should have been like, "Hey, looking for a friend?"  And then one of them punches me and another one throws up on me.  Talk about your double whammy.  I know on Sundays you can't sell alcohol until noon, but what's the limit of when you can sell them the night before?  Some questions have no answers.  Not including that one.  Of course there's an answer to that.  I even understood the teenagers' references.  Hey, you look like The Situation!  I should have blurted, "I understand that reference!"  "Let's be friends!"  Also, let's be honest.  The guy looked nothing like The Situation.  Maybe the accuser meant personality-wise, which I wasn't able to deduce fully in the several minutes I was intimate with him in the McDonalds line.  Also, does The Situation have a personality other than Drunk Jerk?  Cause I'm pretty sure that describes 40 million people in America at any given moment.  That number might be a little high.  And there were two girls with them.  Interested in joining the McDonalds-High Club?  This guy knows what I'm talking about!  What guy.
    Okay, moving on.  What would happen to this website if I ever had a real social life.  The entries would be way too long.  Does the Mile High Club have a newsletter?  Do you need to make a donation every year to stay in the club?  Are there any Mile High Club gatherings?  No??  Well, then it's not a real club.  Sorry to burst your bubble.  I'm still waiting for when they send a man and a woman to the moon to have sex.  It's-a coming.  Note to self: Register Astronautporn.com.  You all remember the sex scene in Gravity, right?  The porn version of Gravity is called Depravity.  Bingo.  Oh no, we're trapped in outer-space!  Let's Have Sex.  It just.  Makes.  Sense.  Anyway, another entry in the books.  Enjoy this comic, and I'm outta here.



-7:24 A.M.    

Friday, August 8, 2014                        

Stop Titling Yourself

Hello friends.  Something wondrous happened to me on my walk today.  A girl on a bicycle ran into me!  First time I've touched a woman in years.  Oh, it felt so fine.  Also, I noticed a couple of cop cars on my walk.  Someone must've tipped them off about the excessive marijuana smoking.  I don't know why, but whenever I see a cop, I get paranoid, and feel like I have to cover something up.  I've done nothing wrong!  Now that I think about it, that's how I feel when I see anyone.  I've done nothing wrong!  Get off my back, strangers.  It was kind of my fault she ran into me.  I saw her coming, and froze, because in the past, if I moved to the left, they'd also be moving to the left (their right), and vice versa.  So I figured this time, I'd just freeze.  But in freezing in the middle, I sort of blocked both lanes of the sidewalk, and blam.  It felt so fine.  "I Am So Sorry."  If that's not what I say to every woman I touch, I don't know what is.  Also, I don't know what is.  But I learned an important lesson.  I gotta block more women on bicycles.  What a perv(ert).  Still waiting for the, "Bicycle," subgenre of porn.  It's a-comin'.  Anyway.  Today is Friday.  Really.  I wouldn't lie to you.  Closing in on three straight weeks of entry per day.  Was it worth it?  Well, that's a tough question.  Long answer yes, short answer yes, medium answer no, no answer no.  I hope that answers your question.  It wasn't your question.  It was my question.  Don't take that away from me.
    Yip.  I don't like this generation's version of Ninja Mutant turtles, based on what I've seen in commercials.  They're too in your face.  I like my ninja turtles to be a little bit more reserved, more nuanced.  Sometimes less is more, you know what I mean?  I don't get why they're ninjas.  If you're a talking turtle, you've already exceeded expectations.  Nobody is asking any more of you.  You wanna fight crime?  You're just trying too hard.  Also, should we really be encouraging teenagers to become vigilantes?  Save it till your 18, son.  But dad, I'm 19.  I'll teach you to correct me!!!  My house, my rules.  Okay.  Anyway.  Also, I'm 25.  What do I care about ninja turtles.  Get a real job.  Too bad they're not real actors.  That way, if they were auditioning for a role after the movie, on their resume, they can put, "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle."  I just think that would be nice.  You've got the job.  To prepare for the role, I really got into pizza.  Nice method acting, man.  Nice Method Man, acting.  I haven't played Rock Band in years.  I really liked playing the drums, even though I'm not very good at it.  That's how I feel about things.  I should have tried to be friends with the police.  What's up.  Lookin' for criminals, eh?  I know how that goes.  Anything I can do to help?  Hey, I can help fight crime.  I'm over 18.
    Okay.  After I knocked into the girl on the bike, I should have flexed my muscles, and been like, "Yeah!  What's Up?!"  I don't have any muscles.  It makes it extraordinarily difficult to move my limbs.  My favorite kind of poetry is Limbic Pentameter.  Oh yeah, limbic is a real word.  I get it, I get it.  Get off my back.  I'm gonna have a sandwich for lunch.  No one can stop me!  Hopefully the police don't come, and be like, Is that sandwich legal?  Because I'm not sure if it is.  Could be an illicit sandwich.  I kinda hope it is, naw mean?  No you don't.  You don't naw mean.  Maybe you do, I don't know.  Either way, let's move on.  I haven't really gotten out of the house lately.  I mean, I take two walks a day, but I haven't done anything outside the house.  The last time I did something was when I got my glasses fixed.  What a glorious activity!  It will live on forever from when I talked about it a week ago.  Why, part of me wants to break the glasses, so I could do it all over again!  What fun.  Whenever I walk by a police car, if I don't directly look at the driver, I just imagine it's Hank from Breaking Bad.  And by, "Whenever," I mean that one time earlier this morning.  Poor cop.  He's gonna get killed by drug dealers.  To the victor, goes the spoiler alerts.
    Alright!  Fourth paragraph!  I miss my old phone.  We had some good times.  That time I was playing poker with virtual Scotty Nguyen.  The time I was playing poker with virtual Annie Duke.  Probably some other times, one would imagine.  I haven't played one game on my new phone.  Unless if you count watching pornography as a game.  Which is fair, I suppose.  Anyway.  What else is happening.  Weekend comin' up.  That's always fun.  Why, I could watch T.V., I could take a walk, I could watch more T.V, some more T.V., maybe some T.V. after that.  Mine is truly a bless-ed life.  I wonder what I would do if I was born fifteen years earlier, and couldn't watch On Demand or recorded programs with all this free time I have.  I'd probably be watching some crap I can't even imagine watching now.  Thank Heavens for advances in technology.  Anyway, enjoy a fantastical comic, and then, leave the website.          



-10:20 A.M.                

Thursday, August 7, 2014                        

I Like Titles

Hello.  It's me.  You know... me?  No, not you.  Me!  I'm gonna knock this entry out of the park.  You deserve it.  Let’s see.  What’s going on in the wide world of strops.  I heard Tiger Woods is at it again, have you heard about this?  Apparently Tiger Woods won the Tour De France again.  His mistresses sure liked that! I kid Tiger, I kid Tiger, he’s a friend.  I hear Wheaties wants Tiger to endorse them.  I think that would be a conflict of interest, though, because Tiger already endorses Frosted Flakes!  I kid Frosted Flakes, they’re a sponsor.  Tiger Woods is a jerk.  *Cue Laughter* In all seriousness, if I was doing a monologue for whatever reason, I would just say, “*Random name* is a jerk,” and then wait for applause and/or laughter. I would just use the platform to air my grievances.  Honey Boo Boo is in the news.  I hate her.  President George H.W. Bush is in the news.  What an asshole.  Arby’s did something.  They suck.  It’s not a terrible idea.  My Momma has to go to the dentist today, because her teeth fell apart.  My Museum of Modern Art is eh blah blah eh blah.  By the way, seriously, I like your T-Shirt.  I mean it.  That’s how I feel about things.  How do I feel about things?  That’s how I feel about things.  How come homeless people don’t just go into McDonalds, order something, and then not pay?  They already made you the hamburger, just be like, “Look, you already made it.  Just give it to me.”  No point in letting good food go to waste.  And I’m using the word good loosely. 
      Not a lot of homeless people read crazysheet.  At least, I doubt it.  That’s not a bad idea for a freelance paper.  The Homeless Times.  And just distribute it to the vagrants.  Best benches to sleep on.  Hell, I’d take a gander at that.  You never know when you’re gonna need to sleep on a bench.  Ten uses you can get out of this paper besides reading it.  Make it into a hat, that’s one.  Toilet paper, there’s another.  You can eat it.  I’m not sure why.  But I’m sure some homeless people would be up for that.  They don’t really have it going on up in the brain area.  One of these days, I’m gonna get arrested for picking up an empty gram bag.  Although, if it’s empty, I’m not sure they can arrest me.  Plastic bags aren’t illegal, I don’t think.  If anything, I’m a model citizen, I’m picking up trash.  Where’s my medal.  I hope the medal has chocolate inside.  In the post-apocalyptic future, coins with chocolate inside are worth marginally more than real gold or silver coins.  You can’t do shit with gold or silver, but chocolate will satisfy your appetite.  How come the only food they put into coins is chocolate.  I’d like a coin full of croissant.  It’d have to be a pretty big coin, though.  I wonder if there’s anyone so lazy, that when they have a chocolate coin, they just eat it without unwrapping it.  I could unwrap it.  But… eh… I’m just gonna go for it.  Good for them.
    That’s how I feel about things.  It would be funny if you gave someone a present, wrapped up, and they just say, “It’s wonderful!  It’ll look great on my nightstand!”  Because they think it’s just a decorative box.  It would be funny.  Stop questioning how funny it is.  I guarantee you it would be funny.  Maybe not.  Maybe so.  But probably not.  Anyway.  This entry just flew by.  Except for the part that isn’t written yet.  What else be happening.  Probably stuff, and stuff.  I'm probably going to have a salad for dinner.  They're healthy as fuck.  And fuck is pretty healthy.  That's what I've been led to believe.  Anyway.  Why don't homeless people just pay money to live in a home.  I don't get it.  It doesn't make sense.  If it did, I would understand it, probably.  I understand things that make sense.  At least, most of the time.  But this, I don't get!  What the Fuck am I babbling about.
    Alright, last paragarf time.  Let's make it count.  They should call hide & seek, "Let's Make It Count."  Cause of what happens to the seeker.  Why am I over-explaining things, you get it.  You get it.  Has anyone whose ever started singing, "99 Bottles of Beer On The Wall," actually made it to the end?  If so, they deserve a chocolate medal.  Also, why is everyone taking one swig of each beer.  Just distribute the bottles evenly, it's a lot more convenient, and a lot more sanitary.   Also, how are there bottles on the wall.  Walls are horizontal.  They can't hold things.  You lie.  Get off my thing.  Two bottles of beer on the wall... two... hey, we need to get some more beers.  Damn alcoholics. 100 bottles of beer is a good five dollars once they're recycled.  Give it to the homeless guy sleeping outside, then he can afford a Happy Meal or two.  Also, is the bartender getting in on this drinking action?  Is there even a bartender?  Maybe the patrons are doing this behind the bartender's back, while he's in the washroom.  Also, what kind of bar only has 100 bottles of beer on hand.  Is this during prohibition?  To be fair, they never said they were in a bar.  I'd like to imagine they're in a supermarket.  Fifty Five bottles of beer on the... Excuse me, what are you doing?  Anyway, enjoy this comic.



-8:55 A.M.      

Wednesday, August 6, 2014                        

I See Your Date, And I Raise You One Title

Hi friends.  It's the guy whose me.  Back with another fantastic entry.  One would assume.  I haven't written it yet.  Oh, I have big news!!!  There's another thing my Dad once saw in a bathroom stall that I had forgotten about.  It was, "Eat Shit, A Thousand Flies Can't Be Wrong."  Hooray!  Alright, let's get this started.  Got my iced coffee already.  This entry is going to be rough.  I'm already hitting a wall and I'm three sentences in.  Michael, you don't have to write an entry.  WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING MY REAL NAME?  Oh, and of course I have to write an entry.  It's my duty.  And a thousand flies can't be wrong.  There was a guy bouncing a blue rubber ball in the McDonalds line.  I was so jealous.  This is a guy who's got it figured out.   Then I took out my iPod and he was like, "That's a small phone!"  Oh, what hilarious situations I get myself into.  They didn't give me a bag to put my two iced coffees in!  This is going in the Yelp review.  Also, what's Yelp?  Yelp sounds like a rural slang for, "Yes."  My slang for, "Yes," is, "Yip."  I'm really trying to get it to catch on.  Cum Yipper.  Anyway.  I'm getting the cyst on my thigh removed next week.  Honestly, the thing that excites me the most about it is losing weight.  Because I'm a moronic.  Maybe removing the cyst will increase my metabolism.  I have no reason to think that it would, but who knows.  We gotta prepare ourselves for the best.  That way, if the worst occurs, we can be like, "Oh well, at least I spent that previous time being positive!"
    So, that's how that goes.  I have crab cakes for lunch.  I like eating crab cakes, because I like thinking, "I'm eating Spongebob's friend."  Spongebob is in the same category as Harry Potter for me, in that I was just getting too old for it as it appeared.  I'm pretty sure the subliminal message of Spongebob is to get kids to eat sponge cake.  We all know that Nickelodeon is in the pocket of Big Sponge Cake.  This, we all know.  Who knows.  What else is going on.  Probably something, and stuff.  I find sponge cake to be one of the more erotic foods, don't you think? *uncross legs, Sharon Shone style*  Wait, it turns out I have a penis.  Never mind.  Hah.  Penis.  Happiness.  I mean, what?  Walked by some kids smoking pot on my walk through the park yesterday.  What jerkbags.  I immediately started smoking a cigarette, on the off chance that they might want to make a trade.  They didn't.  Iced coffee has more calories than I thought.  What jerkbags.  This entry is taking longer than I thought.  What jerkcups.  Today is August.  Can you believe it?  If not, you're wrong.  It definitely is August.  I double and triple checked.  I was listening to some of my old songs earlier.  Not as bad as I thought.  Not as good as I thought, before I started thinking they were bad.  Somewhere in the middle.
    Hey, it's a new paragraph!  How Stella Got Her Paragraph Back.  Gotta make this one good.  Otherwise, what's the point of all this?  There is no point of all this.  Except for making me feel good about myself.  I like people who say, it's always 4:20 somewhere.  No it isn't.  Only once an hour.  Get your facts straight. 4/20 is Hitler's birthday.  Don't ask me how I know that.  4/20 is Earth day.  You can ask me how I know that.  It's because I care about the Earth.  Oh, Earth Day is 4/22 you say?  Well, Fuck You.  It's always 4/22 somewhere.  Can't argue with that logic.  I have a mark of lighter skin on my arm from when I burned myself mishandling an oven a couple of years ago.  Oh well.  OMG BURN.  Yeah.  That's what it was.  I have a scar on my left hand from when I was like eight, I was taking apart this video game thing which was a wheel, and you would drive it.  And for some reason I was taking it apart with a scissor, and I ended up cutting my hand.  And, of course, I have another scar on my left hand from when I cut myself on a Dorito my junior year in NYU.  Oh well.  Live más.  I like the tagline for Pringles, Once You Pop, You Just Can't Stop.  From my experience, I've found that once I've popped, that is the stop.  I'm not even sure what that means.  I thought I knew, but it turns out I have no idea.
    Yeesh.  I remember I once got a can of Pringles by accident.  I thought I was buying three tennis balls.  Yeesh.  Yeesh.  Yeesh.  One yeesh for each tennis ball.  You got that right.  I like how Syracuse was named the best party school.  What's their Syr-excuse for that.  Hahahahaha.  Sorry.  Man, it's cold.  Way to blow, air conditioner.  Literally.  Hahaha.  Hehehe.  Horchhorchhorch.  Horch?  Yeah, you read right.  Horch.  Anyway, see ya later.     

-9:53 A.M.

Finally!

Hi!  Gonna write another entry.  Or not.  I'm gonna try, see how it goes, and I reserve the right to quit at any moment.  Any moment!  What's the deal with neighbors.  I hear them talking... all the time!  Get over yourself!  Quit trying to involve yourself in my life!  Also, teenagers-- how th Hellb did you afford that house?  You're yearly income can't be that much!  And why move into a family neighborhood?  Just to annoy me?  When I was in seventh grade, my math teacher, Mr. Monaco, told my mother that I was genuinely funny.  Like, not just funny for a middle schooler.  And look where that got me.  Now I use bold-- bold!  My seventh grade science teacher, Mr. Griffin, said I was great, for starting a class website.  You hear that?  Great.  My chorus teacher nominated me to be a Hometown Hero.  Surely, ever faculty member was going, "What kind of all star is this kid?"  And guess what?  I did it all for the nookie.  My eighth grade Social Studies teacher told us her uncle was Robert Moses.  What a liar.  You lie.  Get out of here with that bullshit.  In sixth grade, one of my classmates started a fake imaginary land, where participants could name their own country and connect to each other and shit.  And, you know me, I was furious.  I immediately made my own fantasy land.  And recruited the losers who didn't make it into the primary fantasy land.  And you know what?  Me challenging my classmate's authority made him respect me.  And we became best of buds.  
    And then, in seventh grade science, we were divided into groups to do this bridge project, where we would build a bridge we designed ourselves, and compete with other groups to see which bridge is the most durable.  And each group needed a CEO, a CFO, a designer, a builder, and a fifth guy.  And I used jedi mind meld to convince them to elect me CEO over this other guy.  Because, all the other jobs were filled, except for president and builder, and I was like, self deprecatingly, You don't really want me using my hands, do you?  BOOM.  PRESIDENT ELECT KORNBLUM.  And all that paragraph and a half on half a shot of rum.  What progress!  Or digression.  Whether you're using the correct definition of digression or not.  You probably are.  Look, I promised you Middle School stories a few weeks ago, and it's high time I delivered.  FUCK, no more alcohol.  I saw that coming a half a mile away.  But, I decided to start this entry anyway.  Because it's something.  I'm not really sure what.  Who cares about that.  I remember I was really excited for my Bar Mitzfah, because there's some prayer you have to read/sing, and I was really proud of my voice at the time, and I was like, the girls are gonna love this!  And guess what?  Nothin'.  Nothing!  It turns out Hebrew isn't the aphrodisiac I thought it would be.  See ya later.    

-1:17 P.M.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014                      

This Title Is The Shit

Hi!  Today is a two's day.  You know what that means, right?!  Good, good for you.  Keep it to yourself.  So, let's get this entry started!  Did you ever notice that when you try to write a sentence without thinking there's no way of knowing whether it will end up making sense?  Me too.  You just gotta go for it!  I keep having nightmares where I'm playing online poker and losing.  Terrifying.  What else happening.  I haven't drank in like two weeks.  Or one week.  Either way, it's been a step above several days.  A week, I guess, is still several days.  It's about the most you could mean by several.  HD-TV is weird.  When I was getting my eyeglasses fixed, there was an HD-TV playing in the shop, and when I saw it, I was like, Is this the future?  Everything looked so crisp.  Then, I had to use the bathroom.  I hate using the bathroom in public places.  Except for the park.  A couple of walks ago, I had to piss in the park, on an off beaten path, so I did.  Peeing on leaves is fun.  It makes a fun noise, and you really get the feeling, now I own this spot.  I find it odd that humans invented bathrooms, when peeing outside is so much fun.  That's how I feel about things.  My Dad likes telling me a story about how he was using the bathroom in his school, and someone had written on the stall, "Flush hard, it's a long way to the cafeteria."  OMG BURN.  I don't get it, though.  I, generally, love cafeteria food. By the way, cafeteria is Italian for, "Ground Café."
    Okay.  Starbucks is Italian for, "Eat Shit And Die."  Moving on.  I like how they say before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.  You'd think that would take a long time, your whole life.  So I guess it probably starts two or three days before you die.  It must.  So, you get a pretty good advance warning of when you're gonna die.  Your life starts flashing before your eyes, and you think, "Shit, I guess I'm gonna die in a few hours.  Oh well, might as well enjoy the show."  I've never eaten shit before.  I don't want to be watching my life before I die and be reminded of the time I ate shit.  Oh yeah, I remember that.  Eh, let's keep going.  I guess you only see the highlights of your life.  I'd see my first masturbation, my last masturbation, and then, for a split second, I'd think, Is that it?  And then nothing.  That's why The Strokes called their album, Is This It.  Because masturbation is it.  I guess I'll also see the time I was listening to The Strokes.  I remember hearing Last Night on internet radio, in like 2002, before I really got into music, and really liking it.  So I guess I'd see that before I die.  Or hear it.  I wonder if blind people hear their lives before they die.  It'd only be fair.  I'm gonna take a Walk & Iced Coffee break soon.  And by soon, I mean now.  And by now, I mean I just did.  Hello's all around.  Harry Potter & The Deathly Hellos.  I never got into Harry Potter.  I was right on the edge of being age appropriate and too old for the books.  I assume it's about my Dad, though.  His name is Harold.  I also assume 1984 is about my brother being conceived.  What other books are there.  Those are the only two books I know. 
    Hello.  I really hope I can change my Fall Class from Brit Lit Survey I to a Creative Writing class.  It would be a lot easier.  I really hate Shakespeare and his lackeys.  I'm assuming Brit Lit Survey II is all Harry Potter books.  Because I'm a moron.  Halfway done with the entry.  But, not really time-wise, because the second half always takes longer to write.  So, what's on the docket for today.  Same shit as yesterday.  Hoorah.  I really should take a break from crazysheet for a few days.  The entries have become pretty repetitive.  Some people like redundant things, though.  They're a great comfort to those with tumultuous lives.  I've never heard of someone named Waldo outside of the Waldo from Where's Waldo fame.  When are they going to turn Where's Waldo into a movie franchise.  That'll be great.  Who will play Waldo, though?  Probably someone Asian.  It'll be easier to cast people who look like him.  Slam!  Saying all Asian people look alike is just like saying all black people look alike 50 years ago.  Yet, people don't seem to care.  People not caring about insensitivity??  I'll take advantage of that!!  Jackie Chan looks just like Kal Penn.  Let's face facts.  I assume Harold & Kumar is about my Dad.  And some guy named Kumar.  Bill Maher the Science Gar.  What's going on?
    Alright.  What's going on?  Let's finish this entry.  I can't wait for my nails to regenerate.  I can't wait for this entry to be over. Hey, there's a spiderweb.  Good for him.  The spider, I mean.  I find spiders to be one of the more industrious animals.  Them and beavers.  Gettin' shit done.  Them and Chinese people.  Eh.  Sorry.  Not really.  But, in theory, I am sorry.  Why do Chinese people love cleaning clothes so much.  Where do they get off.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  I remember the last time I peed outside, was when we did mushrooms in the park at night in 2008.  That was a blast.  If I did mushrooms in my current mental state, I would probably go completely insane.  Irrevocably insane.  Like, that would be it.  Hmm, maybe I should try it.  You know, just to see what happens.  Nah.  Anyway, enjoy this comic, and see ya later.



-8:22 A.M.                                

Monday, August 4, 2014                      

I'll Title You

Hello, hello.  Hi, hi.  What's going on.  Don't answer that.  Mainly because you can't.  Well, I suppose you can.  I just won't hear you.  What else is going on.  Oh, I haven't said even one thing that's going on yet?  Well, whatever.  Today is Monday.  Beginning of the work week.  I'm hard at work watching Married... With Children.  Oh, those guys!  I used to think it was called Married To Children, and it was about statutory rape.  Although, I guess if you're married, it's okay.  That's how they did things in the olden times.  I remember when I first saw an episode of Married... With Children, I was kind of disappointed to find out that that's what Leela really looks like.  It just didn't make sense to me.  I've grown accustomed to it, though.  Life is full of little lessons.  So, I got that going on.  How come when you get anchovie pizza, they give you like three little anchovies per slice?  And what's the deal with crossing the road?  Why is crossing the road the pinnacle of jokedom?  What's so hilarious about crossing the road?  I don't get it.  I guess in olden times, you were bound to get run over by a horse & carriage, so if you were crossing the road, you had a damn good reason to.  Also, it's 2014.  Why do we still measure things in horsepower?  It's time to move forward, people.  It's too bad I didn't drink coffee when I was a kid.  That would have been a good source of milk.  Which would have been a good source of making me an inch or two taller.  Oh, well.  I remember when I was like 14, I decided I would take human growth hormone to get taller, but my bones had already fused, so it was too late.  Why did my bones have to fuse at 14?   Damn you, early puberty!  Probably watching too much FuseTV.  I think they have music videos, or something.
    When I was 14, that was that year or two the Al Gore channel was on.  Current.  Now it's Past.  It was actually a pretty good idea, user generated content.  But it was all boring stories like starving kids in Africa, or something.  That's depressing.  Nobody's gonna watch that.  So, I got that going on.  No I don't.  So, what's in the schedule for today.  Lunch at around 11:30.  Dinner at around 5:30.  That's about it, I guess.  But what will I eat?  Who cares.  I care.  But you don't.  Probably.  If you did, you'd be a weirdo.  I like wearing really good shirts, that people look at your shirt.  My eyes are up here, fella.  There should be a shirt that says, "My Eyes Are Up There."  Because people love stupid things.  Or someone should get a tattoo on their forehead that says, "My Eyes Are Down There."  Because people love stupid things.  Or hate them.  I forget.  What else is going on.  Probably not a lot.  Otherwise, I'd be aware of it.  I guess I'll take a T.V. break.  See ya soon.  Eh, I'm back.  T.V. isn't that great.  I don't know why it gets such great press.  I mean, it's no, "What am I going to eat for lunch?"  You're reading greatness.  What am I going to watch for lunch.  I had Eggos for breakfast.  There, I said it.  Are you happy now?  I should get Eggos to sponsor crazysheet.  I should get T.V. to sponsor crazysheet.  Talk about synergy!  Yeesh.  What the Hell, I haven't said anything in like a paragraph.  No news is good news.  At least, that's what I've been led to believe.
    Okay, let's make this paragraph good.  I'm kinda looking forward to my Fall class.  I didn't realize it at the time, but during my Spring and Summer class, I really was gettin' shit done, moving forward with my life.  Now, I'm just stagnating again.  I think it was due to riding the bus.  More bus rides=progress in life.  That's just math, that's all that is.  I forgot if I told it on here, I don't think I did, but on the way home from Queens College, there was a homeless guy bothering a girl at the bus stop.  Saying how pretty she was, and what he wanted to do to her.  And I sort of thought, as a man, I needed to interfere, so I kinda got in-between them, to encourage him to stop.  Then he started talking shit to me, and got up in my face, and I just wasn't engaging him at all, cause I didn't really know what to do, I just stood there.  And eventually he went away.  So, the point is, I'm a hero.  And a Man.  And, a hero.  I guess I saved the day.  Also, he wasn't wearing a shirt.  That's important.  Cause I kept looking at his torso, and he was like, "My eyes are up here."  And I was like, "Yeah, but your nipples are down there."  Cause I'm a hero.  Then, there was the time that I made a friend while waiting for the bus, because I had given him cigarettes a couple of times.  And he asked me if I smoked weed, sort of as an invitation, but I said no, because at the time, I figured it was bad for me.  If that happened today, I'd be like, "In-doob-Italy!"  Because I'm a hero.
    Yep.  I remember in 8th grade chorus, someone had written on the board that "*Name Redacted* is a herb!" And then me and my friend erased a line so it said, "*Name Redacted* is a hero!"  Which amused us to an unreasonable degree.  Also, in the same class, my Chorus teacher nominated me and a few other people for something called the Hometown Hero award.  And we went to a ceremony and I was awarded with a plaque.  I'm not really sure what I did to deserve it, but now, in my resume, I can put Hometown Hero.  Everyone must know.  That I'm a hometown hero.  And I'm not really sure why.  And I remember we used to play MASH in Chorus when we had a sub.  That's a fun game.  We should have been playing PHASH, more accurately.  Because I ended up living in my Parent's House.  If you had told me, at age 12, that I'd be living with my parents when I was 25, I'd be like, "Hmm, that sucks."  I don't know what I would have been like when I was 12.  That was before I started keeping blogs, so I could record to history a semblance of what my inner monologue is like!  I'd probably be like, "Whatever, I'm gonna go tie my shoelace to something."  Or play Crazy Taxi.  Okay, what else.  I guess that's it.  Enjoy this comic, and don't let the door hit you on the way out.  Or, let it hit you, if you're into that sort of thing.



-9:36 A.M.                      

Sunday, August 3, 2014                      

Good Title To You

Hello, jerks.  I shouldn't alienate my readers by calling them jerks.  What's wrong with me.  Hello, neutrals.  Hey, I don't wanna go over board with compliments, either.  Neutrals is just right.  So, today is the first Sunday in a while.  Six days and counting, by my count.  I've been watching me some Extreme Weight Loss.  Every episode, I get a little bit more invested in their stories.  It started off as just a neutral way to kill time, but at this point, I'm really rooting for them.  Also, they're losing like a pound a day!  If I can lose ten pounds by the end of the year, I'd be ecstatic.  Maybe not ecstatic.  Mildly pleased.  But then again, I'm not logging six hours in the gym a day.  I guess I could do about an hour a day in the McDonalds playpen, if they'll let me.  Trying not to drown in a pit of balls?  That's gotta burn some calories.  Getting stuck in a miniature slide?  Why, the stress alone would trigger some calorie loss, I'd imagine.  Also, chewing burns calories.  So, I could just eat quarter pounder after quarter pounder.  That's a surefire weight loss regimen.  It's a good thing they don't use quarters in England.  Otherwise, if they say something costs a quarter pounder, they'd be all confused.  The conceit of that joke is stupid.  McDonalds doesn't charge you a, "quarter pounder" to get a quarter pounder.  But you gotta imagine they'd be okay with the trade, it comes out about even.
    Yikes.  It turns out brown rice isn't so bad, if you put some seasoning on it.  That's good news.  Good news for me.  I might even like the taste better than white rice.  White rice tastes like nothing.  Unless you put some seasoning on it.  Then, I might even like the taste better than brown rice.  I haven't gotten fried rice in a while, for health reasons.  Where's my parade?  I love italicizing inside italicizing by making it regular.  Part of me is like, this doesn't look right, but the other part of me is like, this looks just right.  It really engages all parts of your brain.  So, I got that going on.  It was raining again, today.  That's okay with me.  Except for when my shoes become untied.  I can't get down in the rain to tie them.  I need to wait till I get inside.  And my health is at risk the entire time.  Why, I could trip and die at any moment.  Maybe not die.  I could trip and get wet, though.  That's uncomfortable.  Also, the weed washes away the empty marijuana bags.  I mean, the rain.  I got weed on the brain.  There's been like twenty articles about weed in the New York Times the past two weeks.  I'm not even exaggerating.  And that's all on the front page.  Of the website.  I don't get further than that.  My Dad thinks he's a genius for finding a way to bypass their ten article limit, by typing the link into google and getting to it through there.  I mean, fine, it's mildly clever.  But most people can figure that out.  You're not exactly an Einstein.
    I feel bad for Einstein's descendents.  So much pressure.  They're probably constantly trying to think of something new.  Steam powered umbrellas!  And then they get excited.  No, that wouldn't work.  And then they feel dejected.  Oh, well.  Keep at it!  So, today's the third.  How 'bout that.  What else is going on.  I only have four weeks until my next class starts.  Gotta make em count.  And there's only a few episodes of Extreme Weight Loss left to watch!  Whatamigonnado.  I know!  Pizza!  Ah, that's your response to everything.  Anyway.  I could buy a new X-Box game, theoretically.  If my X-Box worked.  Why isn't there a porn site called exbox?  Copyright infringement, probably.  Why isn't there a porn site called e=mcfucked?  Copyright infringement, probably.  Anyway.  I'm gonna take an Extreme Weight Loss Break.  Be back soon.  Hey, I'm back.  Man, I hate the second half of entries.  Gotta do it, though.  It's persevering under pressure that makes us who we are.  So much pressure.  I mean, twenty five sentences?  How am I supposed to... I mean, what the... Do you expect me to... Anyway.  I need to shave.  Maybe not my beard area, but at least my moustache area.  So much responsibility.  I mean, shaving once every two weeks?  How am I supposed to... I mean... Anyway.  That was a close shave.  Bingo!  Bingo is my new tag-line.  It is also my old tag-line.  I am now retiring Bingo, for good.  I know, I know.  We'll all miss it.  But sometimes we need to make decisions to move forward, no matter how appealing holding onto the past is.
    Bango.  Banjo.  ... Bingo.  Oops.  That's how that goes.  This is like the twelfth entry in a row, or something.  I'm the greatest!  I really should learn how to make a shiv now, in case I ever go to prison.  I mean, once I'm in prison, it's too late.  I need to prepare myself now.  I wonder if you can just sharpen your finger nails, in prison, to use as a shiv.  Probably.  I wonder if they ever serve Jamaican Beef Patties in prison.  They did in middle school.  If so, man, I gotta get myself to a prison cafeteria.  Hopefully the prisoner lunchman doesn't put crushed up glass in my food, for revenge.  He probably won't.  I haven't done that much in my life to warrant someone attempting to take revenge on me.  I guess there was that time I drank my roommate's vodka.  And that time I drank my other roommate's vodka.  Besides that, though, I can't think of anything.  Waking my Mom up by whistling too loud?  Oh, there was the time we were playing two hand touch football in Middle School and I accidentally knocked the guy I was covering down on the ground.  That's about it, though.  Anyway.  I got a few new shirts in the last couple of weeks.  I like 'em.  That's interesting.  What joy.  In conclusion, enjoy a comic, and then, the timestamp.    



-9:36 A.M.            
                     

Saturday, August 2, 2014                      

My Title & Me

Hello, weekenders.  It's your guy who does things, me.  It's raining outside!!!  Get a load of this!  Or, ignore it.  It's not that notable.  Today is Saturday.  Every now and then, I think about starting a podcast, but after that half second thought, I remember that I'm not very quick witted, have no stories to tell, and don't get along well with others.  Well, I get along okay with others, it's not like I'm stand offish.  I just can't really bounce off other people in a conversation that well.  Anyway.  One thing that I'm really proud of myself for, is that I'm a really flexible person.  Like, if they don't have Splenda to put in my iced coffee, and offer Equal, I'm capable of accepting that.  If the play area doesn't open till lunch, I'm able to put my feelings aside and abide by their schedule.  If the person behind me in line remarks they're going to get the Bacon, Egg, and Cheese bagel, I'm able to make the decision that I don't need to get that myself, just because it sounds good.  If there's a pencil sharpener outside on the ground, I can listen to that little voice of reason in my head that tells me I shouldn't pick it up, no matter how much I want to. 
    Hello.  Anyway.  Well on our way into August, now.  The second?  No one can debate it's August.  The first, yeah, it's barely August.  But now?  Time to concede it's August.  I've been burning through my non-menthol Newports that my Dad once got me as a mistake.  They're not so bad.  Except in terms of harming my health.  Then, yes, they're pretty bad.  I recently realized my iPod has a feature where you can listen to things at 2x the speed, which I like using on podcasts.  I mean, I've heard of comedians being quick, but this is ridiculous!  But it increases the laughs per minute, so why not.  I remember, now, that when I was in high school, I would use that feature sometimes just when listening to music.  I can't remember why.  Probably because I was stupid.  I like writing these entries in the morning, like I have been.  It gets my day started on a positive note.  Now, when I watch T.V. all day, I'm like, I earned this.  Paid my debt to society, in the form of writing five paragraphs of bullshit.  I can't believe it's still raining.  Yeah, I get it.  Rain.  You can stop, now.  The weather rarely listens to me, though.  I'm no groundhog.  It's a good thing that that groundhog isn't a schemer.  If I was him, I would be like, Hmm, did I see me shadow, or not... I'd tell you, but what's in it for me?  And then you gotta give him a couple thousand dollars for the answer.  Which, lets face it, is a bargain.  The best I ever had.  They should re-title Bar Rescue Bar Gain.  Because they gain quality, and hopefully customers.
    They should re-title Intervention Let's Have a Meeting.  They should re-title My Title & Me to something better.  I might get Chinese food for lunch and dinner.  It's been a while.  I don't like getting the lunch special, because they give an insane amount of rice.  I can just throw out half of it, but what am I, a jerk?  Possibly.  What else is going on.  I just looked up my required reading for my fall class.  Yeesh.  I hate books.  Why am I an English major?  Hey, English!  I speak that!  Piece of cake.  Why did I have a piece of cake for breakfast.  It was banana cake.  It's good for you.  They should have separate majors for reading English and writing English.  That's how I feel about that.  And speaking English.  I'd major in that in a heart beat.  I'd be a real all star.  I know all these words!  What a boost to the ol' self esteem.  Anyway.  I hate writing these entries in the morning.  Ha!  Contradictions!  I get it!  Good for you.  And me.  Good for all of us.  Iran-Contra-Dictions.  That sure is a thing.  I love Reagan's defense for Iran-Contra.  I don't remember.  Are you fucking kidding me?  Let's name stuff after him.  When I was born, Reagan was still president for a few weeks.  Outta sight.  I don't remember too much from that time, either, to be honest.  But, on the other hand, I was a baby. 
    Hi.  I must have downloaded some malware, or something, because I keep getting all these ad pop-ups.  And it really annoys me when I get ads on crazysheet.net.  I ain't getting any of that money!  What baloney.  Hey, does anyone want to advertise on crazysheet.net?  I promise low, low prices.  E-mail me at Michael@Theinternet.com.  I'm sure to get back to you.  No update on my neighbor.  I guess no news is good news.  Except in this case.  No news is no news.  Although, now would be a good time to vandalize her house.  If, for some reason, I was inclined to do such a thing.  Not really, anymore, now that I've incriminated myself.  Oh well.  I remember, when I was a kid, there were a few times I planned on running away from home.  Once, my plan was to go into the park by my house (which, at the time, was more like a forest to me), and see what happens.  Another plan was to take twenty dollars and go to Bell Blvd.  And see what happens.   In my youthful innocence, I didn't really think either plan through.  I remember, when I was really young, I used to imagine dinosaurs living in the park by my house.  I don't think I actually thought there were dinosaurs, I just liked to pretend there might be.  Also, when I was like seven, my Dad took me and my brother to the park, and we got lost for an hour.  We eventually found our way, and got ice cream from an ice cream truck.  I didn't think it at the time, but I know realize it's not a good sign if your legal guardian gets lost two blocks away from your house.
    So, yeah.  Another entry.  Was it fun?  Not really.  But did it exist?  Undoubtedly.  Except for the fifth paragraph.  Still workin' on that one.  Still raining.  What horse manure.  Anyway.  What's the deal with 8:46 A.M.  I mean, is it always going to be 8:46 A.M.?  Or just for a minute.  Make up your mind, people.  ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Oh, now it's 8:47.  That answers that.  Yeesh.  The Canterbury Tales got nothin' on me!  See ya later.

-8:47 A.M.                                   

Friday, August 1, 2014                      

I Wonder If This Title Is Good Enough

Hello, hi!  Turn that frown 90 degrees.  Now you have a weird curve on your face.  How'd you manage to do that?  Today is the first day of August.  Or, in Heatmiser lingo, NeilGust.  Since it's starting a new month, the crazysheet screen is all blank.  It's like I'm starting from scratch!  Hallelujah!  Or, in Jeff Buckley lingo, Hallelujah!  What else is going on.  I'm not positive that anything I've said already is actually going on.  Oh well, let's continue anyway.  I like riboflavin.  I'm not 100% sure why.  I like the McRib, its got plenty o' flavin.  Maybe that's why I like it.  That explains that.  I had a dream I was suddenly really good at music.  I've had this dream once or twice before.  Oddly, when I wake up, instead of being disappointed, I'm relieved, because I'm like, "Glad I don't have that responsibility of being good at something."  Cause then you'd have to share your gift with the world, and who wants that.  The world can suck it, as far as I'm concerned.  I wonder if my skill at writing titles will increase as I get older, and get more experience under my belt.  I can't even imagine the titles I'll be writing when I'm forty.  It's good to have something to look forward to.  So, what else is going on.  Today is the first day of Aww, Gus-t Van Sant.  Today is the first day of Santa.  If he works five months a year, he'd have to get started around now.  Do young Christian children really believe in Santa?  What rubes.  Then again, I did believe in Chanukah Harry.  What happens if your house doesn't have a chimney.  Does Santa break in through the window?  Seems like he would have to. 
    Quit talking crap about Santa.  What did he ever do to you?  Nothing, that's the problem.  I guess I'm just jealous.  I like the idea of the tooth fairy.  Why is this creature so obsessed with baby teeth?  Seems like a weirdo to me.  And what does the Tooth Fairy do with all those teeth?  Maybe put them under her pillow so the meta-Tooth Fairy can give her some change.  And the teeth just keep slowly making their way up the ladder.  I guess it ends with God.  When you die, you're reunited with all your baby teeth.  So I guess that's something to look forward to.  What, my parents are in Hell?  But I get my baby teeth back???  Alright!  I like banana cake.  It's no better for you than chocolate cake, or whatever, but it seems like it would be healthier, and that makes it taste better.  I like putting sweet 'n low on bananas.  Not really.  I tried it once about a week or two ago and decided I was an idiot for doing so.  I think Sweet 'N Low is kind of selling itself short.  Sweet 'N None is more like it.  Don't be ashamed to put your best foot forward, artificial sweeteners!  I'm not a huge fan of putting my best foot forward.  Then I raise expectations for my second best foot, and it's tough for it to live up to the hype.  Hype is the wrong word.  I'm sorry.  You'll get over it, in time, I guess.  I'm a big fan of wearing 3-D movie glasses in non-movie situations.  Like that guy from Biff's gang.  Hardly anybody's doing it.  The keys are inside the trunk!  What a predicament.  I mean, first you're transported thirty years back in time, and then you get locked in the trunk of a car?  Can things get any worse?  I think the last line of Back to the Future I, instead of being, "Where we're going, we don't need roads!"  should have been Marty McFly replying, "Of course we need roads.  Don't lie.  Stop lying."  Roll credits. 
    Alright.  In relation to the lack of getting things done on the infrastructure bill in the senate, the Daily Show should use the graphic, "Where we're going, we don't need roads."  Burn!!  I only know about 1/10th of what's going on in that story, though, so it may not be appropriate.  Either way... burn!!  It's almost Walk & Iced Coffee time.  That's when the day really gets started.  I've never seen Jaws.  Why does a shark have a name.  Do they actually go, in the movie, "Hey look, it's Jaws!"  What's going on, Jaws?  I think it's actually a subversive jab at "Jews."  That's how language works, if you're retarded.  Maybe it's a subversive jab at jabs.  At this point, we have to consider everything.  All the weed bags I see on my walks have actually subconsciously trained me to look down, at the ground, while I walk.  So now I look really moody to other pedestrians, but there's a good reason for that.  Lookin' for some free weed.  When I was picking out my new glasses two months ago, one pair I strongly considered more or less looked like 3-D movie glasses.  Common sense prevailed, but sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision.  Late at night, when the world goes to sleep, I lay in bed thinking, "Should I have gotten novelty glasses?"  So that's how that goes.  What else is going on how they go.  I burn through three or four 2 liter bottles of diet soda a day.  It's probably not that healthy.  But what am I supposed to do.  There's literally no solution to this problem.
    Okay.  I like to add Sweet 'N Low to my diet soda.  Not really. That would be weird!  Now I kind of want to try it.  Cause I'm a stupid.  Ugh.  I just got back from my walk, and there was an FDNY ambulance outside, and my neighbor's door was open.  She's an elderly, so I don't know.  The ambulance is gone now, hopefully she's okay.  Well, we send her our best wishes.  C'mon, folks, send her your best wishes.  When I was in my smaller room, my parents always told me not to listen to loud music, because we shared a wall.  Also, I couldn't bounce a rubber ball against the wall.  You know, for fun.  In brighter news, I found another gram bag.  In darker news, I put it in my pocket, and now can't find it.  It probably had nothing in it, but this introduces a new problem, of maybe my parents finding it.  Whatever.  Someone's life is at stake.  What do you expect me to do about it?  I had just talked to her yesterday, too, with my Dad, because we got a piece of her mail.  Hopefully it wasn't the shock of getting her mail late that did it.  It's reasonable to assume that it wasn't that.  One never knows.  I always thought it was weird that her house was the exact mirror image double of ours.  Like, if we were in her unit, everything would have been opposite!  Crazy.  That's what I take away from this story.  No, it's sad.  I mean, I hardly knew her, but I would often see her returning from my walks and we'll smile and say hello to each other.  Know her?  I hardly knew her!  I am a supreme idiot.  Also, I didn't know her in the Biblical sense.  Not to my knowledge.
    It's reasonable to assume she thought of me sexually, though.  Oh well, I guess that'll never happen. Anyway.  What the hell happened to that gram bag.  Hmm.  There's a tear in my pants right above the left back pocket, maybe I put it into the tear, and then it fell through my pants.  At this point, I'm willing to entertain any notion.  Anyway.  8:00 A.M.  What to do with the rest of my day.  Follow a similar template to what I've been doing for the past month?  Sounds like a plan to me.  Anyway.  If it turns out she isn't okay, maybe I'll get new neighbors.  Fingers crossed for Elisha Cuthbert.  Maybe I'll bring her over a loaf of banana cake.  Anyway, see ya.

-8:03 A.M.