Here Comes The
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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, ďThe
day after isÖĒ and then claim nobody knows for sure when it comes? Through the
power of contradiction, thatís how! Get off my backskies. Thereís a lawnmower
going on outside. Maybe itís the lawnmower man! I never saw it. I assume itís
about a man who is also a lawnmower. Doesnít 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 Iím 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,
weíre in a car, and thereís a dog outside! Who gives a fuck. Not me,
thatís who. Who made who. Who are you. Harry Houdini. Okay, that last one
wasnít 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
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
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
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
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.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Are All The Same
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
No Title-ization Without
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.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
This Is Not The Greatest Title In The
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
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.
Monday, August 11, 2014
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,
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.
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.
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.
'Hello Ladies' without Ricky Gervais. Stephen
for romance without wingman Ricky Gervais in the new HBO comedy ďHello Ladies.Ē Stephen
hard to make friends in ďHello Ladies,Ē a new HBO series based on his stand-up
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.
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
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
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
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. Letís see. Whatís 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, heís 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, theyíre 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, ď*Random name* is a jerk,Ē 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. Arbyís did something. They suck. Itís 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. Thatís how I feel about things. How do I feel
about things? Thatís how I feel about things. How come homeless people
donít just go into McDonalds, order something, and then not pay? They already
made you the hamburger, just be like, ďLook, you already made it. Just give it
to me.Ē No point in letting good food go to waste. And Iím using the word
Not a lot of homeless people read crazysheet. At least, I doubt it.
Thatís not a bad idea for a freelance paper. The Homeless Times. And
just distribute it to the vagrants. Best benches to sleep on. Hell, Iíd
take a gander at that. You never know when youíre gonna need to sleep on a
bench. Ten uses you can get out of this paper besides reading it. Make
it into a hat, thatís one. Toilet paper, thereís another. You can eat it. Iím
not sure why. But Iím sure some homeless people would be up for that. They
donít really have it going on up in the brain area. One of these days,
Iím gonna get arrested for picking up an empty gram bag. Although, if itís
empty, Iím not sure they can arrest me. Plastic bags arenít illegal, I donít
think. If anything, Iím a model citizen, Iím picking up trash. Whereís 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 canít do shit with gold or silver, but chocolate will satisfy
your appetite. How come the only food they put into coins is chocolate. Iíd
like a coin full of croissant. Itíd have to be a pretty big coin, though. I
wonder if thereís anyone so lazy, that when they have a chocolate coin, they
just eat it without unwrapping it. I could unwrap it. ButÖ ehÖ Iím just
gonna go for it. Good for them.
Thatís how I feel about things. It would be funny if you gave someone a
present, wrapped up, and they just say, ďItís wonderful! Itíll look great on
my nightstand!Ē Because they think itís 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 isnít 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.
August 6, 2014
I See Your Date, And I Raise You One
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
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 mŠs.
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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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.