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Thursday, August 27, 2015

I Am Not An Animal!

    I was inspired by The Elephant Man.  Or was I.  That sums that up.  Anyway, Hello!  I was behind a feeb at the McDonald's line.  His caretaker was like, just give him two burgers.  Two burgers!  McDonalds prides itself on having a wide array of options, there's plenty of different types of burgers.  You're in the wrong here, caretaker.  There was a moment before the caretaker stepped in, with the feeb mumbling for thirty seconds, that I was prepared to jump in and give my order.  Ehh, ghh, ehh.  ...Alright, You Sir, are you ready?  I've heard about Aspergers, but this guy takes the cake!.  I'm legally required to make that reference.  Also, "P" and "B" are the same sound.  Now you know.  What else is going on.  It's a Thursday.  Get a load of that crap.  Anyway, that was a fun lunch.  It's like having a clown in my mouth.  Wait, no, check that.  What else am I up to.  After the feeb left the register, I should have said, I'll Have What He's Having!  Lady with her kid waiting to pick up the order, when they say the number on the receipt.  One Eight Six it says.  Do you know what number that is?  A hundred eighty six.  This kid's well on his way to having his own caretaker when he's grown up, that's my take away from that interaction.  You can rent out the McDonald's Fun Room for $129 for an hour and a half.  That's a hundred twenty nine dollars for... an hour... and... half... an hour.  I did the math, I can pull my own weight here.
    Anyway, great.  I successfully only ate half the food I got to split it into two meals.  I didn't know I had it in me, but whaddya know.  I hate walking by houses with a strong aroma of marijuana.  So close, yet so far.  Of course, I patrol the lawn extra carefully.  You never know what you might find.  Mostly grass.  The boring kind.  The good news is I'm back here at home, safe and sound in... 1985?!  Anyway.  Oh, my medication.  My Dad shared an amusing anecdote with me the other day.  When he was a kid, watching movies, he would always wonder, how come there's no scenes with people using the bathroom.  It's a universal part of the human experience, I get his point.  Also, I fell down the stairs earlier today.  No point in trying to hide it.  I felt my left foot was a little heavy getting out of my chair and leaving the room, but I miscalculated going down the stairs.  I'm okay-- the important part is that it's all over.  And I'm back here at home in... 1955?!  Did they even have stairs in 1955.  I don't think they were invented yet.  I wonder how many calories you burn using the escalator.  Probably a fair amount.  That's how I feel.
    Anyway, whatever.  Would you like drinks with that?  Yes... drinks... plural... of course...   And I run away and hide in the bushes.  Gotta hide somewhere.  Anyway, where was I.  I saw two license plates today that started with, "ENJ."  Enjoy?  Double down on enjoyment?  You got yourselves a deal!  GWN.  Tony Gwynn's involved in this?  I'm on board!  ARB.  Wait, that's my license plate.  Never mind.  Never mind.  Enjoying your own license plate is like kissing your brother.  Anyway, whattado with the rest of my day.  They should have a handicapped register in case the feeb shits his pants.  Why should I suffer for other people's misfortunes?  Doesn't seem fair.  I wanna see a bumper sticker that says, "My Child Is A," and then a picture of the wheelchair guy.  Followed by an, no, two exclamation marks.  I listen to a podcast called The Forty Year Old Boy, and at the end, the host signs off by saying, "You guys can get me at Mike At Mike Schmidt Comedy Dot Com," and I thought, if I could go back in time, my yearbook quote would be, "You Guys Can Get Me At Mike At Mike Schmidt Comedy Dot Com."  I don't know why.  I do not know why.     
Anyway, okay.  The good news is Great.  Gotta make yukk-yukks out of something.  Narrowly beating out the other yearbook quote I wish I thought of, "Get A Load of These Assholes."  A huge missed opportunity.  I coulda had anything, anything.  Instead I submitted a quote with, "AIDS," in it and they left it blank.  I guess they woulda rejected "Assholes," too.  Good guess.  Well, whatever.  Now is the time for healing.  Nine years later.  Gotta heal sometime.  Like Hollywood Hulk Hogan.  Heel sometime, face sometime.  Anyway.  Can I Take Your Order?  Yes, what do you recommend?  Boo.  Boo!  BOO!  I've been hearing good things about the McDouble.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  Class in four days!  It keeps creepin' up.  When Doctors ask me how close I am to graduating, saying Around the beginning of 2017 doesn't sound as close as it does in my head.  Probably on account of it being 2 calendar years away.  And you know doctors, it's all 'calendar year' this and 'calendar year' that.  Anyway, where was I.  Fourth paragraph.  Sounds about right.
    Alright, last paragraph it up time. I saved one of the napkins from McDonalds on my desk.  For strategy.  I don't know why I went there.  Whatever.  Gotta go out strong!  Entries end not with a bang, but with a whimper.  That's bad news.  I really had my heart set on a bang.  What else is going on.  Gotta say something.  Or do I?  See ya later.

-2:07 P.M.  


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Thank You For Visiting Crazysheet!

    That exclamation mark is disingenuous.  Just a heads up.  What's going on in the wide world of sports.  Class in roughly five days.  Could be four, could be six.  Could be seven.  Probably not eight, though.  Possibly nine or ten.  That's about where I'm at at this point in my life.  What's going on.  Went to Endocrinologist today.  HDTV with Long Island news in the waiting room.  How fascinating.  Long Island, jeez.  They devoted 40 minutes to a story of a guy moving Red Lights around.  And the rest was about Lindsay Lohan's family.  That pretty much sums up the Long Island experience.  They think they're so great.  They even have their own weather report.  What, the Queens weather report isn't good enough for you?  Some people, I tell ya.  If meteorologists are lying about being in front of a map, what else are they lying about.  These people can't be trusted.  The good news is I still have endocrine.  I imagine.  If I didn't, I probably would have been alerted.  See me in three months.  What, I thought we had a spark.  You don't wanna see me Saturday night?  We can talk about Game of Thrones all night, which you chose to do for thirty minutes while I waited in the exam room.  You must be a pretty big fan to keep me waiting like an asshole.
    I didn't even have to do a urine test.  What kind of a doctor are you.  I wanna pee in cups every time, all the time.  And when she was taking my blood, the container the blood goes into kept falling out onto the floor.  On the fifth time, we finally got it, as I was on the verge of passing out.  I think I've mentioned before I enjoy the sensation of the needle taking the blood.  It's like acupuncture, that's how I figure.  They took my weight.  Bad, but not too bad.  And I haven't gained weight since I went on the Ritalin.  So, it's all plateau from here!  On the way to there, I was listening to the Classic Rock station, and my Dad asked me what makes rock music rock music.  I said something like, heavier guitar sounds.  I didn't really know.  It was a real brain buster.  And if anyone's qualified to answer, it's the guy who took a three credit college course about the history of British Rock Music.  You know, it's based on the blues, then there was Elvis... rock music.  Anyway, great.  What else is there.  My doctor was like, I'm not so concerned about the weight as long as you're doing better mentally.  So then I took a burrito out of my back pocket and said, well, better get to work then!
It's called being responsible.  In the lobby, they have a huge HD-TV saying where the doctors are in each room.  You can't have it in paper, or embossed, or something>  This isn't on a T.V.!  How am I supposed to read it! I can't be bothered!  Let's go, this place is a dump.  And another thing, don't even get me started on elevators.  There was a kid in my Yoga class who had a broken leg.  He managed to do Yoga fine, but how the Hell did he get to the second floor.  I saw no ramps or elevators.  I guess life has some mysteries that cannot be answered.  Also, he was in a wheelchair.  Forgot to mention that.  Then how did he do Yoga.  I don't know I don't remember the specifics!  Get off my back!  Anyway, where was I.  Elvis has left the building.  No you didn't, if you did, how would I be able to hear you.  Stop lying.  Maybe the emcee says it.  I'm no aficionado.  Elvis has entered the building.  Elvis remains in the building.  Elvis has to use the bathroom.  Elvis was the original Ricky Henderson.  That would explain all those stolen bases.  What an idiot.  What else is going on.  Didn't Elvis die on the toilet.  Or is that just an urban legend.  Or am I confusing him with someone else.  Or who cares.
    Anyway, great.  I know Tupac died on the toilet.  And Kennedy had a secretary named Lincoln who died on the toilet.  Lincoln logs.  Great.  Well, he died doing what he loved.  Anyway, let's move on.  I don't get defensive indifference in baseball.  Try to throw him out going to second!  You got nothing to lose!  Also, of course there's some logical reason I'm an idiot, and it makes sense.  They've been doing this for a hundred years.  But no one ever bothered explaining it to me.  Yeah, the runner scoring won't effect the game, but gettin' him out is one more out you got.  Use your head you numbskulls.  I can't wait till I get a new baseball game and aim down to hit.  I could have been hitting line drives this whole time!  Gotta make up for past digressions.  Anyway, what a waste of a paragraph.  No goin' back now.  Baseball Players Hit The Ball With The Bat.  Boom!  It Goes Into The Outfield.  That's a new character I'm working on.  It's called seven year old who explains mundane things accurately and with a strong sense of often misplaced enthusiasm.  That brings up my character total to... one.  Anyway, where was I.
Here am I.  What else is going on.  Writin' an entry.  That's great and crap.  What else is going on.  Purposely didn't go to the bathroom while waiting in the waiting room.  You mean I saved up all this urine for nothing?  What a jip!  Anyway.  We're in the last paragraph.  That's great.  Today is the average half birthday of my parents.  Tomorrow is my Father's half birthday.  What day was my mother born on?  Answer at the end of the entry.  Oh, what the Hell, I can't keep you in suspense.  It's February 25th.  Can we move on now?  I was gonna say, I think my paternal grandfather died on leap day, and I was just about to load up google to double check.  Then I was like, oh, right.  That's not on there.  I kinda hope not, at least.  See ya later.

-1:39 P.M.                  


Monday, August 24, 2015

Crazysheet II: The Shittening

    Great.  Hello.  This website is stupid.  How long must a man be stupid until you tell him he's stupid.  I don't know, like, eight months?  That sounds about right.  Gotta do it, though.  Like all great art, the goal of this crap is to make me feel better about myself.  Then, if you're lucky, if there's anything left over, entertainment for others.  It's the artist's way.  Anyway, new week.  Sunday, Moonday.  Cracked that code.  I don't mean to brag, but I'm really good at cracking codes.  Almost as good as I am at cracking wise.  It's potato chips, right.  Cracked that code.  Anyway, what else is going on.  I want to go to England so I can get fish & chips.  Not really.  But I wouldn't mind.  I ate chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs for lunch.  Because I'm a man.  I know what I like and I take it.  That's why I don't return Library books.  Ya snooze, ya lose.  That's why huh.  I burnt my upper lip biting into a too-hot bagel.  It looks like a cold sore.  Tastes like one, too.  One would imagine.  Oh well, all I can do is pop it with a staple.  The responsible thing to do.  My favorite part of Staples is the chair section.  Look at all those chairs.  You know, that sort of thing.  I'm not proud of it but that's how I feel.  I don't get why people go to Ikea.  Build stuff themselves.  I'd be like, thank you, but no thank you, and fuck you.  I can't do things with my hands, how dare you suggest I have a modicum of work ethic and a can-do attitude.  You're way off!
Anyway, great.  You want me to put pieces of chair into UPS boxes and ship them to Connecticut, that's another story.  I've got the mailing thing down pat.  Connecticut.  It's a silent "C."  I know, but which oneIdiot.  I heard the USPS might start delivering groceries.  I'm all on board with that.  One day I'm gonna be living on my own and I'm not gonna want to leave the house for anything.  Except for work.  Which is hopefully mailing things to Connecticut.  And even then, if you're delivering groceries, why not take this package with you and bring it to Connecticut.  Let's cut out the middle man.  Middle Man is a superhero whose main super power is bureaucracy.  Hey everyone let's forget the first paragraph and a half.  We'd all go home a little bit happier.  Now, let's make the rest a solid 5.5.  What else is going on.  Still more effective than Aquaman.  Anyway.  Why don't kids like crust on their bread.  Peer pressure from other kids?  Most likely.  My classes start a week from today.  That's roughly seven days.  I can hardly contain my excitement.  Ugh, I gotta do this crap now?  That sort of thing.  I went to my therapist today.  Pretty much every time, every four weeks,  Can you believe it's --- already?  (In this case, August.)  Yes, I can believe it, because I trust my calendars.  If you're having trouble with that, maybe you should be in my seat.  At least I always know what season we're in.  I've got that skill down pat.  She's making small talk?  What the Hell is that?   Is that like enjambment?  Dramatic irony?  Antithesis?  I don't know what words mean!  
    Anyway, great, just great.  Is antithesis the super villain your paper's against?  That's the way I feel about things.  Bizarro world introductory paragraph.  Stupid.  I tried sleeping on the floor for twenty minutes last night, just to mix things up.  It wasn't so bad.  It wasn't so bed.  Double stupid.  My room is like The Shining.  Some places got a shine on them, too.  That's this crapshack in a nutshell.  Better than hospital, though.  I can take Quantum of Solace in that.  Quan-Tum!  Quan-Tum!  Triple stupid.  How come no one wants to stay at The Overlook Hotel over the winter.  That's primetime to vacation.  They're losing a lot of customers shutting down.  What, may I ask, happened to the last overlooker?  He died.  And the guy before that?  Died.  And before that?  Dead.  Right, right, right... well, sign me up!  When Jack Nicholson says, "Here's Johnny!"  is he channeling Johnny Carson or Ed McMahon.  Ed McMahon is the guy who says it, but I always got the impression he was Johnny in his head.  Here's Johnny!  AHH THAT DOESN'T COME ON FOR THREE HOURS!  If only Wendy had said, "Well, who do you have on the show tonight?"  Nicholson woulda found the humor in the whole thing and stopped being such a murderous asshole.  A sense of humor is key in defusing tense situations.  Either that, or climbing out windows.  Two important skill sets one should have.
    Anyway, great, just great, great great.  What else is going on.  Gotta do something, am I right.  I'm gettin' kinda tired.  I need a floor nap.  I ended up, indeed, getting a treatment plan this morning.  Mhmm, mhmm, everything seems to be in order here.  I'm afraid I can't sign this.  Why not?  I don't believe in signatures.  Fourple stupid.  I know this isn't very politically correct, but do you think Wendy and his son were sorta asking for it?  Just throwing that out there.  5 Stupid.  At least Nicholson got really good at handball.  Gotta do something.  Anyway, see ya later.

-12:13 P.M.      


Friday, August 21, 2015

Some Title That I Used To Title

    I don't get why they say Virginia Is For Lovers.  That's not what the name implies.  In fact, Virginia is pretty much the only state specifically not for lovers.  That and West Virginia.  If you can call that a state.  And another thing, boy are my arms tired.  What's going on.  Not goin' up on the Ritalin this month, but most likely next month.  I'll just have to bide my time, thinking, hoping, wishing, preparing.  It's my life pursuit, it is.  The good news is Entry.  That's what I'm here for.  When are Virginia and West Virginia gonna move to Maryland to get hitched.  Because they're states.  The name of states.  That's why it's joketacular.  Where am I.  I wanna say New York.  That's probably it.  We drove an alternate route to Doctor today.  What fun.  Ridin' on some highway for five minutes.  This is the life.  Life is a highway, we learned that from our good friends... Cars II?  Something like that.  What else is pertinent information.  Chicken Pot Pie in my near future.  I like chicken, I like pastry.  Whatever weird crap they use for filler.  Potato.  It's all good.  Met game.  I'll watch the shit out of that.
    This entry, like all entries, was inspired by license plates.  Gotta come up with inspiration somewhere.  Outside a McDonalds, mother to son-- "They don't have toys!  Do you want a toy?  We'll go to another McDonalds if you want a toy!"  Spoiler alert.  The child is spoilered.  I should know.  I got all the McDonalds toys I ever wanted.  The grimace, the bag... The whole deal.  They should hire a hamburgler who, at certain intervals throughout the day, steals your McDoubles and runs off into the night.  If it's night.  Otherwise, runs off into the day.  Really add some suspense and excitement into the whole thing.  It's like dinner and a show.  Except the show is some guy touching your food and trying to take it away from you.  I'd sign up for that.  If you can successfully fight him off you get a sublime feeling of fulfillment.  Also, a promotion where if you're purple, you eat for free!  People would go nuts.  Anyway, what else.  Is it fair to say Michael Bloomberg was the Hamburgler of our generation?  I think so.  Large sodas, close enough.
    Alright, great.  Is it Hamburgler or Hamburglar.  No way of knowing.  Is there a Mrs. Hamburgler?  Ladies love a bad boy.  That, and Cool J.  Anyway, what else is going on.  I gotta learn how to drive, I'm 2/3rds to 40.  I feel like I have constant dreams about traffic accidents.  I don't remember dreaming them, but when I'm in a car, it sorta triggers that memory.  And another thing, why do my teeth keep falling out.  Doesn't add up or something.  I like carrots.  I like green corn.  I wanna say peas.  The premise of that joke is false.  I don't like the green corn.  I'll tolerate it, but if you don't think I'm gonna go out of my way not to bite that green corn in a forkful, you're very mistaken.  Yellow peas.  Who needs em.  Clunking up my chicken pot pie.  Can you just make me a Russian Nesting Doll of pastry?  Deli's named Bens.  If you want a restaurant name that won't make me think that there's rat in this hot dog, you've failed.  Rat's not glatt kosher.  Probably not, at least.  I don't know the rules exactly.  I like that horror-urban legend where they bring home a rat from Mexico to give the kid as a dog.  Hey, rats are people too.  What's wrong with a rat.  Turns out the dog is a rat.  Rats need love too. 
    Probably.  Anyway, fourth paragraph time.  Who woulda guessed it.  I went to get alcohol at a new liquor store today, and when I presented my I.D., the cashier's face lit up.  She was so happy to see I was 26 years old.  And she was listening to Chinese-to-English translations on a tape or something.  She's on the up and up, I like her.  Anyway, this entry is being written several hours later than the last few.  On account of doctor.  I feel like it's time to crash.  Oh no, teeth are fallin' out again!  I hate it when that happens.  But then when I wake up and check to see if any of my teeth are loose, it's always a great relief.  When they're not.  That's good news.  What else and crap.  Don't think I'm gonna go out of my way.  Not go out of my way.  Go out of my way.  Not go out of my way.  I can't decide which is grammatically correct.  I'll leave that to you to figure out.  Pretty sure it's without not.  Up to you! 
    Anyway, let's knock this last paragraph out of the park.  I once got lost with my Dad and Brother in the park.  Then a police man found us and we ate ice cream!  It was the best five weeks I ever had.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  See ya later.

-5:25 P.M.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Poor Title Blues

    Glues.  Huh?  What's going on and crap.  I was inspired by a Robert Johnson CD case.  What's going on and crap!  Oh, second time I said that in three sentences.  Not a good sign at all.  What do I got goin' on.  I've always felt I'm very vulnerable through my ears.  Fall on a Q-tip, that shit's heading right towards my mindbrain.  And then where would I be.  Of course we all know the story of the paper stuck in my ear.  Probably still there.  Your ear takes twenty years to digest paper, I learned somewhere.  I'm gonna try Ravioli for the first time tonight.  And I owe it all to Straight Outta Compton.  They never even said Ravioli.  Hey, great minds think alike!  They never thought it. You don't know that.  The director could have said before every scene, "Okay, and think, 'Ravioli!' Action!"  Empirically, that's probably the most likely scenario of what happened. I would feel really awkward playing my father.  If I was too young, I wouldn't have the respect for him to play it justly.  If I was too old, I'd have too much respect for him to play it justly.  And if I were just the right age, I'd think It doesn't matter what my age is, I'm not an actor.  If the Egyptian Sungod played Violin.  I wanna make that joke where you're playing the world's smallest violin, and I go, "Do you know what I'm doing?  Jerking off the world's smallest penis."  That's a joke!  I joked it! 
    Yeesh.  I wanna get the ravioli in meat sauce.  Ravioli can be cheese or meat filled.  I'd prefer meat filled, but I can't double down on meat in the pasta and the sauce.  I've forced myself into a corner where the only option is cheese ravioli.  These are the real issues.  Doctor's appointment tomorrow.  They play the same Muzak in the waiting area all the time.  And I mean literally the same.  It's a cycle of three songs all day, every day.  I guess if they're trying to depress me, they're doing their job.  Which is good for them, more depression means business'll be booming.  Anyway, what else.  They gotta nice clock in the waiting area.  In this day and age, you really learn to appreciate some wall clocks when you see 'em.  They're a dying breed.  I want a clock that counts by the .5 second.  These 60ths of a minute aren't precise enough.  Anyway, what else.  Hopefully I get a new treatment plan.  Every four months they give me a dossier of how I've been doing and how they're gonna continue my treatment.  It's like Christmas morning!  I would assume, I've never had a Christmas morning.  Had some Christmas afternoons, those are pretty good.  Anyway.  I associate Christmas with New Jersey, on account of celebrating Christmas only in New Jersey with my extended family.  I love me some highway driving.  Lookit, we're goin' through some places!  A joy and a half.  Especially nighttime drivin', oh boy, you get into a zone, it's just nonstop fun.  Until you stop.  Then the fun's over.  Drive past a Roy Rogers.  Great.
What else is going on.  Still here.  That's a good sign.  Didn't fall down a sewer or nothin'.  What else is going on.  When did they stop releasing music on Tuesdays.  At least on iTunes.  What in the world.  My guess?  Some Tuesday.  Jokes and jokes and jokes.  That's not a joke.  You're not a joke!  I mean, you're the joke!  I mean, jokes and jokes and jokes! Knock, knock.  Whose there. Well, I was fear, but I can't respond anymore, you answering the door and all.  You showed your true brave colors, it's off into the ether with me.  I mean, you're the joke!  What else.  There shold be an indie movie where it's all about what goes on outside some guy's house through the peephole.  It can be called No One Wants To See This Shit.  I want peepholes on every door of the house!  Some walls, too!  My Mom's really against the To Kill a Mockingbird prequel.  How dare someone write a novel.  I don't get it.  If you don't wanna read it, don't read it.  If you don't wanna consider it canon, don't.  All the lady did was write some words.  I believe it's called The Mockingbird: Never To Be Killed.  Turns out the original book is a spoiler alert.  I mean, a spoiler.  It's the opposite of a spoiler alert.  There's no alert at all.  Does the Mockingbird die at the end?  I don't know I never read it.  I think I read it in Middle School.  And I know it'll impress moms if you think Atticus Finch is the most interesting character in it.  Saw about it in a film.
    I also started a fourth paragraph, just now.  That's how that goes.  Let's go up on the Ritalin.  That's my We will put man on the moon.  We will put more Ritalin in my system.  Before the Ruskies can get to it.  Anyway, what else.  Still here.  What else is going on and crap.  Gotta long way to go till end of entry.  Gotta be at least nine or ten words.  Anyway.  World's tiniest penis.  I was so proud when I thought of it.  I was talking to my Mom for a couple of hours last night, and I started yawning, and that triggered a memory of, when in college, hanging out with people, I would always try to suppress my yawning, because I wanted the night to go on.  Mike's yawning?  Let's wrap this shit up.  That's how I envisioned it going down.  I remember, when I was seeing a psychiatrist when I was 10 or so, we spent a whole family session talking about how and why yawning is contagious.  So, that's what I got out of that experience.  Maybe it was sneezing.  I feel like it was yawning, though.  Originally, seeing him, it was supposed to just be me, but I wouldn't really say anything to him, so, because he wanted our money, he just turned it into family sessions.  And the good news is now I know all about yawning.
    One more paragraph to go.  Yaw used to be a word.  That's a quotable notable.  What am I doing with my life.  Part time school and crap.  Books listed up on the Queens College Book Store website.  I ain't fallin' for that trap again.  Last semester we never used the books.  What am I, a sucker?  I'll believe it when I see it.  I'll set up the online order, only thing left to hit is "Send," I'll be prepared, sure.  That's just logic.  What if I hit send by accident.  That's no good, I can't be taking that chance.  I feel like probably five or ten times in my online poker career have I hit Call by accident.  That's always a factor, I guess.  I might order Tortellini Alfredo tonight by accident, I don't know.  I can't be trusted with these responsibilities.  Have you been hearing voices?  Yes, and they all want more Ritalin!  I've got the majority vote, technically he has to prescribe it.  It's the Hypocritical Oath.  Why is every entry about how I'm a stupid.  Probably on account of my stupidity, I guess.  Anyway, what else.  Feel like a sixth paragraph again.  Once I get into the groove, boy...  I don't know how to finish that sentence.  That's a good sign I'm prepared to write another nine or ten more words.
    Alright,  What else.  Four days in a row of extra-sized entry.  Whatta great.  I like words.  I got no problem with words.  It's Thursday today.  I got no problem with Thursdays.  I'm a huge fan of Thurgood Marshall, and of all of the Saving Sarah Marshalls.  That's how I feel about things.  Can you get drunk by pouring moonshine into your eye sockets.  Only one way to find out.  Think on it really hard.  Where am I.  Right, right.  I wonder how great Ravioli will be.  Really great, or just great.  I think Chef Boyardee is probably in the top ten of all canned-food based chefs.  I've never had any of that crap.  As a kid, couldn't be bothered.  As an adult... still can't be bothered.  It's him and that football player's mother who makes soup.  They're on an echelon all their own.  Anyway, whatever.  I like hearing birds chirp outside my window.  Look whose Mr. Popular now!  Birds get it.  They get it.  I don't get people who skydive.  I mean, you fuck shit up a little, can't pull open your chute for whatever reason, boom, all over.  Doesn't seem right.  Also, what's the deal with birds. 
Okay, one more paragraph.  My computer stopped making its mechanic buzzing.  Guess it shut down when I started talking about the birds.  I don't get why they call talking about sex the Birds and the Bees.  You mean we should fly away after we have sex?...  You mean our dick'll fall off after we have sex?  Well, if you're doing it right.  Alright.  Alright.  the good news is authentic Italian cuisine is in my near future.  Can't argue with that.  Also, we shouldn't be feeding cats lasagna.  Can we all agree on that?  Anyway, almost done.  That's great.  What else is going on.  I haven't watched the Mets the last couple of games.  Just not in the mood.  Tonight, I'm in the mood!  And they're not playing!  Just my luck.  I can always bird watch.  Have to move the blinds, though.  Don't have it in me.  I remember when I first started smokin', goin out to the front porch around sunset, smokin' a cigarette.  Now I just smoke cigarettes in perpetual sunset.  Onward and upward, I guess.  It wasn't my computer making the buzzing noise.  Some thing outside.  Like water pipes or whatever kinda machinery they got going on.  Now, it's back.  And what a relief.  I almost started hearing myself think.  And then where would I be.  See ya later.

-5:28 P.M.                   


Wednesday, August 19, 2015

You Think You're So Title

    Great.  Whatever.  The good news is Hello.  I'm finally back to reading those rock band memoirs I have.  Turns out, rock musicians have lives!  I never woulda guessed.  They're always doing stuff and meeting people and making music and having families.  I wanna be a real person when I grow up!  Although when I first started reading this, at the end of last year and beginning of this one, I was really in the zone for reading them, because I was working on my own almost adequate music at the time, so it really resonated with me at the time.  Now, I'm reading it as more of an outsider.  Oh well-- still words!  Can't take that away from them.  Why isn't there any good alternative/indie/pop-punk music anymore.  Do kids now really just get pumped up listening to Mumford and Sons.  Generations, am I right?  Don't get it.  I mean, there still is every now and then.  Whatever.  Also, what's the deal with whatever.  Smokin' 100's/king sized.  Feel like I'm gettin' away with something.  This is lasting twenty extra seconds!  Which is hard to notice, when I'm chain smoking, but, hey, whatever works!  Who came up with the term chain smoking, and can we ask him what his inspiration was?  I guess I kinda see it.  Like a chain, we're continuous in smoking.  I always imagined like a chain link fence.  Because this is pertinent information.  All in all, you're just another brick in the wall.  Someone get Andy Dufrane in here, he'll break us out of Pink Floyd!
    Yeesh.  What else is going on.  All in all, you're just another link in the fence.  That's the Encino Man version.  No one wants to read that.  I don't want to read it.  I like playing 18 person sit-n-gos in poker.  When it's down to 9, I made the final table!  All that glitz and glamour, it's a real treat to be a part of it.  The Pokerstars background changes, it's a real thrill.  I wonder who else does stuff and meets people and has families as well.  That's the glitz and glamour I take away from these books.  Does stuff? You mean like read crazysheet?  Meet people?  You mean like me?  Families?  You mean to tell me about on Facebook?  Now I'm starting to understand.  Anyway, what else is going down.  Hiccupping hurts.  I'm not a fan.  And you try to figure out the timing for the upcoming hiccup, and it's never exact.  Anyway.  If they call candy Jawbreakers, shouldn't they call cigarettes Lungfuckers?  Seems like a logical.  Where am I.  I used to use cough drops like candy.  I inherited that from my Mom.  I used to use Pizza Hut as stomach fuckers.  That's all me, baby.  I used to be vehemently opposed to stuffed crust.  I don't like cheese.  You do realize there's cheese all over this pizza.  Yeah, I like cheese on pizza.  The crust is part of pizza.  Some people just can't be reasoned with.  Whatever, just get me an Extra Cheese Lovers.
    Anyway.  I even remember leaving the crust over from pizza.  I never signed up to eat bread.  There's bread in the pi... ugh... jeez, you're an idiot.  Maybe if there was some cheese in the crust.  Anyway.  Pizza is about all I'm qualified to talk about.  Anyway, what else.  Now I want some pizza.  I've been doing it all wrong, now's the time to make it right.  I haven't folded my pizza in a while.  I feel like I went through a good stage in my life foldin' pizza.  I even remember folding it up vertically.  That's a trip.  Also, cutting one 1/8 slice in half.  No one's happy about that.  I mean, when you're a kid, they want you to eat one and a half slices, okay, half a slice is still relatively big to a kid.  But these days?  I'm done with that crap in three bites.  I'd be better off not having it at all.  It just piques your hunger that much more.  One of the biggest laughs I got sinc I returned to Queens College last year, was we were having a pizza party the last day of class, going over what pizzas to get, and the teacher was like, anyone want vegetable pizza?  And I was like, sure!  And no one else wanted it, so I was like, I'm not gonna be responsible for the whole pie, am I?  Which I asked in earnest, but just the thought of it blew people's minds.  They were rollin' on the floor, everyone laughing for minutes, they were out of breath, and the teacher was like, someone... get that kid... a sitcom.  My catch phrase is, I guess, I don't have to eat the whole thing, do I?  That'll catch on, I'm on board.
    Anyway.  Great.  At the very least I can put that on my résum
éProficient at telling jokes about pizza.  Everyone loves a pizza party.  Even if they're not invited.  You see a couple of fresh boxes of pizza in a place, you know, Ahh, some shit is goin' down!  Lemme take a picture.  I like these pizza chains that only have take-out pizza.  Who you foolin'.  No one, no one needs that crap.  If I'm leaving my house, I'm getting real pizza.  I guess some areas of the country just don't have pizza places other than chains.  I guess that explains it.  All in all, you're just another pizza in the chain.  Anyway.  Where am I.  The last few seasons of Larry Sanders Show are back on youtube.  That's fun and stuff.  Do talk show hosts really get that much nookie?  And has anyone other than Limp Bizkit said nookie since 2001?  To me, it just seems weird.  But it's presented as if it were a no brainer, that's what happens.  Who knows.  What else is going on and crap.  I've always wished I was a Nielsen household.  With great power, comes great responsibility.  Just watch Animal Planet all day, just to screw things up.  That'll show them for trusting me. 
    Anyway, great.  Whatever.  What else is going on.  Billy Madison probably in the top ten movies list.  School of Rock!  That's up there.  These are the real issues and crap.  Where am I.  Fifth paragraph.  Great.  I just heard my coffee beep.  Wha.  Huh?  Pizza, right.  Right.  Whattado.  Anyway, see ya later.

-2:36 P.M. 


Tuesday, August 18, 2015

I'll Think of a Title Later

    No I won't.  Anyway, what's up.  How's it going.  Two days of entry in a row.  Whatta deal.  I thought of a stupid joke last night.  What was it.  Probably some pun... involving... movies?  That narrows it down.  Now just gotta go movie by movie trying to think of puns.  It's the only logical thing to do.  I know in the morning, after I woke up, for some reason I was thinking of my top 5 favorite movies.  Because I have no jokes, I will give you this pertinent information.  Dawn of the Dead (original), Barry Lyndon (only one), Kingpin, Back II The Future, and... possibly... The Departed?  I only saw it two or three times, but I was always like, this is great!  Now, let's pun it up.  Ha, I made you read bullshit.  I'm oddly proud of this fact.  Let's see, puns, puns.  I'll get back to it.  In the meantime, let's work in some comedy into this entry.  Wasn't a pun of Cop and a Half.  Wasn't a pun of Weekend at Bernie's.  Wasn't Karate Kid.  Slowly starting to narrow it down.  I think they should re-shoot every episode of Seinfeld, everything exactly the same, except use a robot to play Jerry.  Hell-o New-Man.  Pee-ple Like To Say Sal-sa. It's hard to replicate a robot voice in text.  Hopefully you got there on your own.  Also, full disclosure, there's a very good chance that's what I was thinking of when I thought it was a pun about movies.  
    Be-Cause He's My But-Ler.  Let's move on.  I think they should re-shoot Psycho, everything exactly the same, with Vince Vaughn.  That just makes sense.  Maybe the producers were like, we must be crazy to do this, maybe that'll transfer into the movie!  Cause of the title and crap.  I like The Birds.  Oh no, too many birds!  Terrifying.  Wonder if Edgar Allen Poe got royalties.  Probably not; he was dead.  Still is, as far as I know.  Anyway, where's comedy.  I was led to believe this would be comedy.  The good news is who cares.  I actually got dressed today.  I'ma accomplishment.  Now, comedy.  Whazza whazza.  That's gold, Jerry, gold!  No, Ban-Ya, That's Gold Jer-re.  (Points to Seinfeld Made Out of Gold)  Now, let's get back on track.  Gotta whole lot of entry to go.  Maybe The Dark Knight instead of The Departed.  Maybe whatever.  Where am I.  Right, right.  Both books listed for my creative writing class are about flash fiction.  Which is apparently fiction under 1000 words.  So, I guess we're spending four months on that bullshit.  It's like if twitter was taught in college.  Wonderful.  I guess that's the epitome of creative writing in this modern age.  I'm being prepared for real world creative writing situations.  I'm back on board, this is good stuff. 
    Anyway.  There's about ten movies or T.V. shows that I just continually reference.  I don't know if it's because those selections are particularly suited for comedy, if they're just the limit of references I have in my brain, or what.  Either way, whatever.  Maybe Shawshank Redemption is up there.  Probably in top ten, at least.  Anyway, where am I.  Tuesday.  Right, right.  I still have one piece of floss left.  Gotta make the most of it.  Waste not, want not.  I heard that in a place somewhere.  Not great grammar, but who am I to say.  These cancer sticks'll be the death of me.  Probably literally.  Cigarettes and alcohol cancer each other out though, right?  Seems like they should.  Oh well, whatever.  I'm wearing clothes.  Whatta hero.  I don't get the appeal of bubble baths to kids.  Hey, I'm in water, there's bubbles.  Whoooooo cares.  Not me.  I've been over that since I was 16!  Maybe it's just so, if your parents are bathing you, they don't have to look at your business.  That could be it.  I had to sign my Chinese food receipt with pencil.  I'm addin' a tip on there-- they could erase it and write whatever they want!  Oh, those slippery slopes.  I don't like giving a 2.50 tip.  It called for more than 2 dollars, and less than 3.  What I gotta do math now?  You do it for me, you look like you know some math.  Whatever, whatever.
    Yeesh.  What an idiot.  What else is going on.  Asian people are smart.  That's what I've been led to believe.  That's why, when I got into Stuy, I took pride in the fact I scored higher on the test than any non-Asian classmate.  They're on a whole other level!  Yeesh.  What an idiot?  Yip.  What else.  India is a subcontinent.  Is it a continent or not?  Make up your minds.  That's my topical humor about Asia.  No one cares.  Good, let's move on.  What to do with the rest of the entry.  Write some crap and crap.  Last week was my 2/3rds birthday.  That makes me exactly 2/3rds to 40.  I guess I do know math.  Whoudathunkit.  I'm 26, right.  Yeah, pretty sure.  I don't like getting carded.  How old are you.  How old am I now?  Or last year?  Or next year.  Whaddya want?  Every time I'm carded, and have to say my D.O.B. or whatever verification they ask, I always feel like I'm lying.  Twenty Six.  (I Sure Hope They Believe Me) It's the truth, what am I worried about.
    Well, the good news is only one paragraph left.  Would you like to know how close I am to 40?  Got that figured out already.  No one cares.  Especially because I wear glasses now and don't in my photo.  I feel like I'm getting away with something.  The 5'2 is a pretty good indicator, though, I imagine.  Whattado, whattado.  Probably something.  An inch for every week of the year.  And if you factor in my dick, that adds up to a leap year.  Because my dick is 1/7 inches long.  At least I know math.  Probably.  There's a good 2/3rds chance that math was correct.  My dick is one for seven.  Right, right.  Two walks, though.  That's an average on base percentage. It's all about the moneyballs.  Do marijuana people, in reference to designated drivers, ever call themselves #designatedhitters?  Let's get that on the flashfictionverse.  I assume we use hashtags in flash fiction.  Guess that's something I'll find out in a couple of weeks.  Also, has # always been called a hashtag?  Or did they invent that name for twitter.  I'm guessing it was always called that, we just didn't know.  Well, I didn't know.  You might have known.  You're pretty smart.  I just thought it was tic tac toe.  See, everyone goes for the middle first, but you're better off with one of the corners.  Just a tip from a pro, you can thank me later.
    Alright, one last paragraph.  Jeez.  On @Midnight, they have Hashtag wars.  One episode, they should just pretend that means Tic-Tac-Toe, and play it.  Because people love idiocy.  Wonder how much they had to shell out for that twitter handle.  Five hundred?  A thousand?  More?  These are the real issues.  It was a dark and stormy night #blessed.  Okay.  I was just lookin' at the books required for the writing non-fiction class, some good stuff there that I probably should have read by now.  So fall is shapin' up to be pretty good.  I don't think I've ever had gin and juice.  The closest I've come is whiskey and orange soda.  That's a joke I thought of yesterday.  Which isn't funny.  I've gotten closer.  I've drank gin and something else, and I've drank other things with juice.  I don't know why I thought it was even close to being funny.  I think because I say, "Closest to," then say two completely different things.  But Orange Soda is almost like juice.  It all adds up to being relatively almost a joke.  One of my first drinks was a gin & tonic.  That's a quotable notable.  Doess the song Gin & Juice glorify drunk driving?  Hey, we're just speaking the truth, we're a reflection of our society.  And people drunk drive.  Again, not sure why or how that's supposed to be funny.
    Okay, great, wonderful.  One more paragraph.  Too bad Eazy E didn't live to see more success.  He could have written a song called, "My Agent's a Jerkball."  It woulda topped the charts.  I didn't know who Eazy E was before this movie.  I should look at some of his catalogue.  Well, whatever.  I think the first drink that made me throw up was Tequila.  Probably around my fourth drink overall.  It's like a baby taking his first steps, first time throwing up from alcohol.  Memories that will last a life time.  Might be going up on the Ritalin on Friday.  That'll solve my problems for a week.  Again, like getting carded, I feel awkward asking the doctor for medication even if I need it.  It can't just go, is it working? 
Yes.  More.  More!  Keep 'em coming!  I mean, it can, and it will (weather he prescribes the higher dose or not), but, especially because this drug can be abused, I don't feel 100% comfortable.  Oh well, gotta do it.  What else.  Turns out my class doesn't start until the week after next, on account of being Monday/Wednesday.  Great.  Now I got more crap to crap up to fill this crap with crap.
    Anyway, here's another paragraph.  Gotta crap something.  What other movies are probably in my top ten.  Adaptation.  There's one.  Whatever.  If we're counting all the Back to the Futures as one, maybe Child's Play slips in there for sentimental value.  The original Spidermens.  Whatever, let's get to some yukk-yukks.  What's the deal with bullshit.  Have you heard of this thing?  What else.  Got dressed today.  I ain't fuckin' around.  Pants, shirt, the whole deal.  That's how I roll.  Anyway, let's finish this up.  See ya later.

-3:45 P.M.                                                       


Monday, August 17, 2015

No Title Is Good Title

    Great, just great.  Welcome to another week of crap.  It's me, your host, Dr. Crap.  I saw Straight Outta Compton over the weekend.  My takeaway from that is that Paul Giamatti is an asshole.  Also, there's a scene where Cube, I think, calls him and Eazy E out for eating steak and lobster.  And for some reason I processed that as lobster ravioli.  No one said the word ravioli.  But I just couldn't get lobster ravioli out of my head.  Ruined the whole movie.  And then when I got home I ate veal parmesan.  About as close as you can get, as far as I' concerned.  I hate walking home from movie.  Gotta walk up some mad hills.  I didn't sign up for this!  Also, I embarrassed myself a little, I laughed a little bit at the beginning when Eazy E is rapping for the first time.  Ha, that's not a good voice yet!  Then they were like that was dope and I was like, oh, oh.  Oh.  Seemed kinda whiny to me.  That's how I process things.  It was a good movie, though.  Puts things in perspective.  I don't think I've ever had ravioli.  Seems like something I should accomplish before I die.  I think I set a personal record for bathroom breaks at the movie.  Had to be eight or nine times.  I think the ticket checkers must think I'm doing coke or something.  Eight or nine times within two hours.  Makes sense to me.  I like the nod they give when I flash my ticket stub.  Finally, some recognition!  You know you've accomplished something in life when someone nods at you.
    Great.  Great!  Half the time they don't even check the ticket.  I could be passin' off my tickets to other people half way through the movie!  I guess that doesn't happen much.  It should, though.  The audience needs to be vigilant and aware of possibilities like this.  Anyway.  I was standing in the back of the line at the concession stand, then they opened up a new line, and guess who went to the top of the line!  Ya snooze, ya lose.  Finally I accomplished something in my time here on Eart.  H.  Now give me ten minutes to decide between Diet Coke and Coke Zero.  Can I get half and half.  It's truly the best of both worlds.  Anyway, some kind 'o wonderful.  I think I used this title before.  Oh well, too late now.  I didn't get a chance to take my second does of Ritalin yesterday.
 Guess whose taking a double dose of Ritalin today!  This guy, right here.  His name is me.  Finally I accomplished something, or something.  I got some hot dogs from supermarket.  Guess how many calories for one hot dog.  300?  Lower.  250?  Lower.  200?  Lower. 150?  Lower.  100?  Lower.  50? Lower.  25?  Higher.  It's 45.  45 calories a hot dog?  That means I can double up in hot dog bun for 200 calories.  Finally I achieved something or some sort.  The only bad part is I can only assume I have some sort of salmonella or something.  Not sure what that is.  Botulism, that's when your can of soda is dented from the inside, or something.  Always on the look out for that. 
    Yeesh.  Maybe I just have to pee every time I see a black man.  Makes as much sense as anything else.  Didn't happen when I saw Dope, though.  When they say That was dope to Eazy E, I coulda taken out my old ticket stub, and screamed, No, THAT WAS DOPE.  Then leave the theater giggling to myself.  If only I could leave every place I'm in giggling to myself, I'll have accomplished something in life.  I like using handicapped stalls.  This is the life!  Really take the time to enjoy myself, ya know.  I like the creamer half and half.  Is the half and half half half, or half half.  Because I'm an idiot.  Hey, I got a B in my last class.  And you all doubted me.  My Mom was like, if you worked harder, you could be getting A's, you'd be more proud of yourself.  Wrong.  I'm more proud of myself getting B's without having to work hard.  I'm conserving my work effort and still makin' off with relative quality grades.  That's something to be proud of, as far as I'm concerned.  And I'm concerned pretty far. 
Pretty, pretty far.  On the Kevin Pollak Chat Show, he does a game where at the end of each episode, the guest has to do a bad Larry King impression.  Reveal something about themselves, as Larry, and then go to the phone.  I tried to do it in my head and this is what I came up with.  Hello, I confuse myself with Larry David, mostly because of the name.  Truth or Consequences, you're on the air.  A solid 4 or 5, I think.  Blew my load here, though.  The good news is I'm not a comedian.  Yeesh.  Anyway.  I enjoy myself.  I think if they were forced to call cigarettes, "Cancer Sticks," not as many people would start smoking.  Delaware, you're on the air.  Delaware can't be on the air. It's a whole state!  The point is whatever.  Delaware in the world is Carmen San Diego.  Either San Diego, or Delaware.  My two best guesses.  That makes a shit ton of sense.  I love the Nationals losing when the Mets lose.  It's even better than if they both win.  I guess that goes back to me liking getting B's without having to work hard.  I like seeing the Mets stay four and a half games up even when losing.  It's great.  Although, logically, if they both win enough, the Mets are in contention for the wild card spot, if their NL East doesn't hold.  Whose trying to be logical, though.  Also, in one episode, Larry David talks about who they named George Costanza after.  I wanted to believe it was to keep with the theme of "Sin," feld, "Cos,"tanza.  I was heart broken to find out otherwise.  Heartbroken!  Sine and Cosine.  It's math, you wouldn't understand.
    I don't even understand.  I think it has to do with triangles or something.  My Dad used to get home at 11:00 P.M., then devote an hour and a half to helping me with my math homework.  That's dedication.  Whatta hero.  Anyway, this entry is flyin' by.  I wanna do some algebra.  It's fun.  What does it mean.  4x-2y=16.  Let's get into it.  2x-y=8.  I tire of this.  I don't wanna be dealing with negatives.  This is a positive website.  Fine, I'll do it.  Will that make you happy, Dad? 2x=8+y.  X=4+.5y?  Probably.  Y=2X-8.  Y2k=world exploding.  Oh no, computers will think its 1900!  AND THEN WHERE WOULD WE BE.  Halfway through the gilded age, I guess.  Hmm, Y is 2x-8.  That's something to consider.  I guess.  Who knows for sure, though.  Anyway, where was I.  Doing algebra.  Seems about right.  I think we got caught up in using the whole 4 digit year since the decade shifted.  When are we gonna get back to only the last two digits.  These are the real issues.  O-Sixteen, Sixteen.  I'd prefer just sixteen, but even an O is better than this two thousand clunker.  That's just how I feel, you can't argue with a feeling.
    Anyway, one more paragraph.  45 calorie hot dogs.  Three hot dogs calories equals one bun.  It boggles the mind.  I don't think I've ever sat through an entire game of battleship.  Also, when are these ships gonna do battle.  I'm just rattlin' off letter and number combinations.  Great, just great.  That reminds me of the negative part of playing multiplayer video games on one screen.  You can see exactly where the other person is.  Sure, you can try to make a gentleman's agreement that, no looking on the other side of the screen.  But that's impossible to uphold.  In Goldeneye, I wanna use remote mines and proximity mines.  But now my opponent knows exactly where and what I'm up to.  No fun!  Well, a little fun.  A little fun!  Then again, who cares.  Class in a week and a half.  How wonderful.  Cancer sticks.  It does?  Crap!  My lungs are in a world of trouble.  I've been smoking for six years.  Jeez.  That's long enough to actually, shit, cause a problem.  Oh well.  What can I do about it.
Write another paragraph, that's a start.  When are they gonna allow you to start betting on multi-player video games.  Online ones, I mean.  Just decide before you start you wanna wager a fiver on it.  People'll love it.  The one bad thing about gambling, while it should be legal for a plethora of reasons, is that if you get all your best minds gambling for a living, then where would we be.  Where.  Would.  We.  Be.  Probably here.  That's where we started.  I lost my floss kit.  Now what am I supposed to do with my free time.  Not floss?  I don't even wanna consider the possibility!   Yeesh.  What crap.  The good news is who cares.  Sometimes a cigarette is just a cigarette.  Sometimes it's a Camel Crush.  Choose wisely.  Anyway, what else.  I got this going on.  That's pretty sweet.  I can't be bothered to tie my shoes anymore.  I'm not gonna trip, I got this.  Why even put in the effort.  I think I said that a week or two ago.  Oh well, if it's gold, it's gold.  I'm an idiot.  I used to rollerblade.  I musta skinned my knee twenty times.  Stuck with it, though.  I could go down hill, I can go no hill.  Pretty much got it all covered.  I went snowboarding once and couldn't move an inch.  Such is life.
Anyway, one more paragraph.  On account of the last few being the crap.  What else is going on.  I can't have my opponent know who I'm picking up in my Crazy Taxi.  This is competition, can't be lettin' any pertinent information out.  Competition.  Information.  I got fake 70's music on my GTA station.  Check, please.  Wonderful.  I think I can trace my mental illness back to it's first real sign.  We were about 16 or 17, in the Bay Terrace parking lot, and laughing about something, and I just started laughing really loudly and oddly.  To be funny.  And everyone thought it was funny.  But that's probably a sign that something's off in my head.  Oh well, live and learn.  See ya later.

-2:57 P.M.                                   


Friday, August 14, 2015

Can You Tap Into Crazysheet Mainframe

    I hope not.  I need that private.  Otherwise any jerkball can update this website.  And then where would we be.  An entry, at least, towards the singularity.  What's singularity.  Another person writing an entry, that sure ain't singular.  I've done the math.  Anyway, two more weeks of vacation.  Then they'll probably stop showing it in theaters and make room for new movies.  I can't wait.  The good news, is two weeks off.  Just like that off-brand calendar I made which I didn't fact check.  Fortnight.  Why do we need a word for two weeks.  "Two weeks," doesn't cover it?  It's the same amount of syllables, you ain't making anything easier for anyone.  The Army Reserve time never made sense to me.  I don't know why.  I just looked it up and it seems pretty straightforward.  I think it's because I used to hear it explained by Pauly Shore, that guy.  Great.  Oh, also, he probably said it wrong for the sake of comedy.  That explains that.  Anyway, what else is going on.  I haven't done jack shit in the past week.  Whatever.  I'm doing this now.  That's worthwhile and crap.  I think I'm addicted to Ritalin.  We keep upping the dosage, and it works, and then it stops working, and we up the dosage again, and it just gets me to the same point I was when I started the previous dosage.  Oh well, gotta do something, am I right?  Life is for the living.  And Ritalin makes me feel alive.  Me being alive means the normalcy I was at two weeks ago. 
Anyway, so that's working out pretty great.  Oh, the glitz and glamour involved in being a drug addict.  Don't get any better than that.  Oh, the Andy Blitz.  And... Seymour...?  Nevermind I'm bailing on that.  Zsa Zsa Gabor.  That's a thing.   NFL Blitz.  That makes more sense.  Why's he talking about Andy Blitz?  Because of rhyme.  Some people say, "There ain't no rhyme or reason..."  There's no reason, but there sure is rhyme.  That's how I feel about things.  I like that phrase.  They're no reason.  Well, there's rhyme.  Yeah, I guess that's pretty good.  Close enough.  I'm satisfied.  What else and crap.  Chevy Chase is a pretty good name for someone in a movie about a road trip.  That's probably why they cast him, this guy's got what it takes.  Ed Helms.  He's at the helm... of the car!  Good to know someone's doing their job.  I don't get Mad Max Fury Road.  There's not much of a road, as I remember.  Just driving in the desert.  Maybe that's why it's furious, doesn't even exist.  That would make me upset.  Anyway, it's August.  Whoudathunkit.  Max is mad, but the road is furious.  Seems like the road, or lack thereof, shoulda been the main character.  More goin' on there and crap.  Why would anyone ever nuke Australia.  What's the point.
    If there's a point, it's lost on me.  Next is Rob Corddry.  Drivin' an accord.  Some other reference.  Rule of threes.  Oh well.  What else is going on.  I'm wasting quality podcast time writing this crap.  Why be funny when you can hear other people.  If there's a point, it's lost on me.  If there's a point, rule of threes.  I like how Bill Clinton used the Triangulation strategy in his presidency.  Not quite sure why he incorporated it into his personal life, but oh well, more power to him.  Anyway.  What else and crap.  Two more weeks of nothing.  I gotta get back in the groove.  Or, up the dose of Ritalin.  Either/or.  Anyway. I watched a shitload of Kevin Pollak podcast.  My favorite episode, though, was Samm Levine interviewing Horatio Sanz.  I used to like Samm Levine because he's short like me.  Now... well... I still like him because he's short like me.  Being my height'll get anyone bumped up a notch.  However, after that, they're too tall, back to where you started.  I remember once watching a porn where there's a guy with a bump on his dick.  I thought that was so glamorous.  I wanna have an STD when I grow up!  I may be going to AC with a friend next month.  Great.  I like to play the poker.  Also, last year when I went to Sands Bethlehem, I had a pretty sweet chicken fajita wrap.  If that's any indication of what I have in store for me in Atlantic City, oh booy.
    Yes, indeed.  At this rate, I should be able to graduate by the end of next year, or spring 2017.  That's relatively comin' up.  Then I need to get a job.  That'll be crap and a half.  If it's anything like my old job, a bunch of mailing out flyers.  When I think of job my main association is immediately mailin' out flyers.  And doin' the mail.  Pretty much that's all I'm qualified to do with an English degree.  And talk to people about Ezra Pound.  Who I can only assume is a poet.  I had a teacher at one point over the last year, I forget who, who basically said, my goal is to teach you enough to be able to talk about the subject intelligently at a cocktail party.  I'm not going to no party.  Have you counted the number of my Facebook friends?  Also, what's the point.  If they know about the subject, no point, they already got you covered on the information.  If they don't, they don't wanna hear about this crap.  I also had a teacher last year who spent most of the class time talking about soccer.  This was during soccer season, so it was kind of relevant, I guess.  I can talk relevantly about Mad Max Fury Road at a party.  Remember the guitar guy on the car?  Good times... good times.  Have you heard the good news about Ezra Pound?  Never gonna come up.
    Anyway, great.  I need to update my comical answering machine message.  I have no idea what it is now currently.  I know in the past I've tried to make it so it's pretend picking up.  Like,  Hello?  Hold on a second.  Because I'm an idiot.  That's not foolin' anybody.  Still have Rob Corddry on my google.  No one wants that.  Leave a message after the beep. Beep beep beep!  What now mother fucker, which one is it?  Beep beep beep. Why am I mad at the people trying to call me.  I remember there was a brief time in my life where I actually had phone calls and texting relatively regularly.  Whattawonderful.  I was a person for eight months.  I was also almost a person for eight months.  Born five weeks early.  That's great, just great.  What else and crap.  I think what Pauly Shore said was either Two weeks and a month, or Two weekends a month.  Wasn't sure which.  Army Reserve would be a great money making scheme.  Except they wouldn't let me in.  They used to not let me be in because of my height.  Now they doubly don't wanna let me in cause of my mental illness.  They can't have guys like me runnin' around, mucking things up.
    Okay, one more paragraph and shit.  What else is happening.  Mets killin' it.  Killin' it!   That's great.  They have great color commentary guys, too.  I'm always aware of balls and strikes.  Except because my T.V. is crap I can't always tell how many outs there are in the inning, in the graphic.  So, maybe they should talk more about how many outs there are.  My only note.  I like how as a kid you're all about getting foul balls.  And, for some adults.  At a certain point, though, hopefully you realize, it's a baseball.  It's not worth anything.  I'd rather get a foul bat.  That's something you wanna remember.  Yeesh.  This paragraph is crap.  I don't think I've been to a ballgame since I've been drinking age.  Maybe once.  Always hot dog age, though.  That's what it's all about.  I gotta make another extra paragraph to make up for this crap extra paragraph.  Where have I gone wrong. Sixth paragraph.  Oh okay I get it.  I used to go to Yankee Stadium, like a chump.  We live in Queens.  But, I liked the Yankees as a kid.  Oh well.  What else and crap.  I remember going to Shea in 98, about a year before I became a Met fan, at someone's birthday party.  I think Hundley hit a grand slam.
    Alright, let's close it strongly.  What else is going on.  I may very well have a hot dog tonight.  It's within the realm of probability.  I don't get why Halal carts advertise hot dogs on their cart but never serve 'em.  I've been burned time after time asking for a hot dog.  You want a cheeseburger?  No, no, not really.  ...Just give me some chicken and lamb with rice.  They suckered me in, those bastards.  My favorite Mets moment, still, is drafting Jose Reyes and David Wright back to back in like the ninth and tenth rounds their first season.  Made off like a bandit.  Sometimes I fantasize about having a baseball game on a console and just playing it nonstop.  Franchise mode.  Just really make it my number one priority in life, you know?  A man's got to have dreams.  For the first year and a half after returning from hospital, I had to see this court appointed guy once a week, and he once bought me a baseball game.  He would always be sayin, look, if there's anything you want, we have a discretionary fund, if we feel it's good for you.  Not sure how video games are good for you, but that was their premise.  I tried playing it once or twice and couldn't get the controls down.  And now my X-Box doesn't work at all.  Thanks for nothing, I guess.  See ya later.

-4:19 P.M.              


Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Let Me Get Back To You

    Or not.  It's entirely up to you.  I had a dream last night with Jack Black.  Stephen Colbert was teaching a comedy class and I was doing poorly, but Jack Black was in the class, and he was killin' it.  It was possibly the greatest dream ever.  Except for my ineptitude and lack of talent, which it seems can't even escape my dreamworldreality.  Oh well, you win some, you lose some.  Did my group presentation today.  Lost some.  But, it's over now.  Winsome!  What did you like about this poet you did.  Well, you assigned it, you tell me.  I did like the poet, though.  Kinda irreverent and sarcastic, while at the same time being in earnest and genuine.  Personal, yet universal.  You know, like all those Ernest movies.  Except the Polish version that's also in poetry and also very different.  Also, where am I.  Here.  Right, right.  I can't decide whether I like riding the bus regular, or facing sideways.  Because I'm stupid.  What else is going on in the wide world of sports.  Back to drinking Johnnie Walker Red.  Hey, if it's got Elliott Smith's endorsement, who am I to argue.  That's why I also drink Vodka (Baby Britain).  And Whiskey over beer (King's Krossing).  Hah!  Krossing!  That song was about Kris Kross, right?  I sure hope so.  I wonder if Kris Kross was subtle endorsement of the Devil.  Cross upside down, that's bad juju.  I knew those kids were up to know good.  Especially when I was three and had no idea who they were when they were still something.  One of them called himself Mac Daddy.  I called myself the Mak Daddy Kid in one of my songs.  MAK being my initials, I think he owes me royalties, from the past.  Or future.  Or, stop bein' stupid.  Probably from the Stop Bein' Stupid.  Can I end this paragraph yet?
    I'm probably the only person in the world who would recollect fondly, proudly, that I called myself The Mak Daddy Kid in a song.  Stupid, great, whatever.  Whose to say.  Gotta say somethin'.  My vitamin water unfroze.  Turns out, I sucked all the juice part out of it, so now it's half a container of water, somehow.  I don't know how the chemistry of flavored water works exactly, but that was my experience.  Flavored Water Works.  If Flavor Flav ran a utility.  I hate trying to describe my music, Sorta Indie Rock, a little bit Punk-Rock.  It's neither of those.  It's utility rock.  But, utility rock not being a thing, that's an equally undesirable explanation.  From now on, I'm just gonna say Mediocre.  What kind of music is it? Mediocre.  That sums it up nicely.  Capitalizing mediocre made it look like Obamacare for a second.  Because of what words end with.  My optic nerves are pretty less than adequate, too, I guess.  What kind of music is it?  Obamacare.  That settles that bullshit.  I also call myself Smallie Biggs.  The inversion of Biggie Smalls.  Because I'm all about bullshit.  Can I end this paragraph yet?
    Probably.  I just did.  That's some empirical evidence that I can, and did.  Jack Black makin' funny comments in comedy class.  My inner monologue was like, This guy's going places!  I did end up wearing my Tenacious D Rocks t-shirt.  Because I like consistency in my day.  Halfway through presentation I got paranoid my fly was open, but couldn't check, because that would make it worse.  Luckily, I checked when it was over, and no harm done.  I just sort of aired out my t-shirt, so it would go over the fly part of the pants.  That's some quick thinking, boy.  No it isn't.  No you isn't.  I like the Kevin Pollack podcast.  How can I respect and disrespect someone, both to a high degree, at the same time?!  I mean, he's a nice guy, as far as I know, he's always fine, likable in movies.  And in podcast.  But for some reason I think I'm not supposed to respect him.  I don't know where I got that from.  Maybe from poker.  I don't get how Matt Damon hasn't won the World Series of poker.  That's how I feel about things.  Because stupid is as stupid does.  I don't get how Matt Damon and Matt Dillon co-exist.  Your names are too similar, guys.  You're gonna have to fight to the death to figure this one out.  I'm ending this paragraph, I don't care what you think.
    How delightful.  Also, Kevin Pollack is legitimizing the use of racial slurs.  Thumbs down.  Thumbs down.  Callin' someone Kevin.  Where do they get off.  A classic switch-a-roo-them-up!  Jeez.  Can I end my life now?  We'll see.  So, how about that American Pharaoh.  You talkin' about Obama?  Ok.  Okay.  If I ever got fit, I could be a jockey.  Why, though.  No good reason.  Jack Black makin' crack-em-ups.  I wonder what I'll dream tonight.  Hopefully the sequel.  I'm looking forward to School of Rock II where they're all living under a bridge.  That'll be fun.  I know I crack-wise on the latest Batman having his main obstacle being that he fell down a well.  But, I've been doing some thinking.  Falling down a well is pretty intense.  It's a worthy foe for Batman, as far as I'm concerned.  Also, now he knows he needs a Bat Jetpack.  Live and learn, as they say.  Mets killing it!  Killing it.  Trade Harvey and Matz for Mike Trout.  Let's fantasy baseball this shit up.  Yeesh.  At least they're living under the bridge together.  And Jack Black is stuck down a neighboring well.  Yeesh.  In previous generations, was falling down a well really that big of a concern?  I mean, it's got to have happened often enough that people were worried.  You see that hole in the ground?  Don't walk into it and fall down.  Seems commonsense enough to me.  Also, if it's deep enough, they died when they hit the bottom, what's done is done.  Let's all move on with our lives. 
    I have a feeling that the conflict of Man vs. Well was conceived for mid century sitcoms like Lassie.  It couldn't have been real.  I have a feeling this entry should end soon.  Or, four paragraphs ago.  Dare to be stupid.  Mets fuckin' it up again.  Oh well, win some, lose some.  As a Met fan, it's my tendency to just wait for the other foot to drop.  Also, I group presentationed it up today!  I'm a hero, in other words.  At least they're making it exciting.  Assuming they still win, it's a win/win situation.  You got my attention now.  Whatevers.  This is making me sick.  I thought you were supposed to win every game now!  What's happening!  Also, if your closer blows three games in a row, you get a new closer.  One more strike.  C'mon.  Let's get 2 games above Nationalitiesers.  Do it for Mr. Met!  I love that guything!  No qualms with him! IT'S OVER.  HAHA I TAKE IT BACK.  MR. MET IS AN EMBARRASSMENT AND A FOOL.  Yeesh.  Anyway.  Great.  See ya later.

-10:27 P.M.    


Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Check Please

    One line movie review of The Karate Kid:  "It's Sensei-tional!"  That's pretty much all I have to say.  Oh, five paragraphs to go?  Alright, let's do it.  I gotta presentation it up tomorrow.  We have about 1/5th of crap prepared compared to the crap the people crapped today.  What do I care.  Not much.  I asked a question and the teacher contradicted me, which made someone else in the class laugh.  These jackasses are just chomping at the bit to see me fail.  And, good for them, tomorrow, they will.  I do it all for the people.  I guess.  This is the first period of time that I've worn my new glasses consistently for peers.  Not as sextulating as I had hoped.  Also, figure out what sextulating means.  Gotta be something.  I got a Vitamin Water Zero at gas station, and when I opened it up at bus stop, I realized it was entirely frozen.  So, for the first sip, great, it's like a zero calorie freeze-em-up pop.  Then, couldn't drink a drop, all frozen.  If I saw Karate Kid in theaters today, at my age, for the first time, the ending woulda pissed me off.  Miyagi is a great teacher, wonderful, I can get behind that.  Then, at the end, he turns all ancient-Chinese-secret on us and heals Daniel's leg magically.  Just perpetuating negative stereotypes that Chinese people are all sorcerers and warlocks. 
    Anyway, great.  One decent sentence per paragraph, I'll go with those odds.  Also, Karate might be Japanese.  And Miyagi might be Thai.  One thing's for sure, though.  Daniel is New Jerseyian.  No escaping that.  I like how at the beginning, they're showing all the ways where the La Russo's moved in was a crappy place.  But, I remember, as a seven year old, thinking, that place is pretty cool.  All sorts of characters.  A pool.  I guess I just have an apartment complex.  Puns... that... are... unclear.  My favorite.  My lasting impression of Karate Kid, though, is there's a scene where he's on a date with Elisabeth Shue, and they're playing air-hockey, and Daniel scores a point, and he's just elated.  So happy with himself scorin' at air-hockey.  Gotta get impressioned on someway.  At what point does a Karate Kid become a Karate Man.  That's what I wanna know.  Karate Bar Mitzvah?  Probably.  Anyway.  Lookin forward to my three week vacation in-between semesters.  Probably do a lot of crap.  Anyway.  I gave someone a beggar a nickel yesterday.  Don't go spending it all in one place!  Is it insensitive to call them a beggar?  I can't say homeless, I don't know if they have a home.  They definitely asked for some money, though.  That's pretty much all I do know, for sure.  Also, I might have gotten their hopes up, I said, I have a quarter.  Then pulled out a nickel.  Before I could say, Wait, I think I also have a quarter in addition to this, they were plenty happy with the nickel and went on their way before I could stop them.  So, good news folks.  I have a quarter.  Still. 
    Great.  I remember when I was still hiding my drinking from my parents, paying for those mini bottles of scotch with pennies and nickels.  Because I was an alcoholic.  Now, I pay with paper money and credit cards.  Because I'm a responsible adult.  I'm aghast when I see people smoking at the gas station.  Puttin' us all in danger.  But I can't say put it out, because throwing it to the ground is precisely the kind of thing that'll start a fire!  Can't be having that.  I love holding the door for people, though.  I'm a hero moment every day. Lettin' ladies get on the bus before me.  Poundin' the bus driver because he recognizes great character when he sees it.  I never pounded a bus driver.  The bus driver I see probably every other day, though, we go, "How's it going," and so on.  How's it going.  Well, I'm getting on the bus.  That's pretty much all the update I can give you in our limited time together.  Wonderful.  What else is going on.  Probably crap and shit.  I find it fascinating that, when I check reviews for current movies, they still have Roger Ebert giving reviews.  I understand that the Chicago Sun Times or whoever he worked for wants to capitalize on his notoriety, even after death, and continue to use rogerebert.com for other critics because it'll get views.  But it seems not only in pretty bad taste, but kind of tone deaf and dumb.  And that's my two cents.  Wait, I have a dime!  Too late.
    Oh well.  We all got problems.  Talk about a ghost writer!  Or don't.  Probably don't, it'll scare me.  What else is important.  Ah, yes, Miyagi was from Okinawa.  And Karate from Japan.  I'm surprised we won World War II.  They could have used Karate on us, talk about droppin' the ball.  Also, wars are fought by Street Fighting, right?  I guess.  It's a good thing Godzilla never learned Karate.  We'd all be doomed.  The last few sentences, well, what can I say.  Sorry, that'll cover it.  Gotta get up to get down.  That's probably relevant because I was thinking of using it as a possible title.  You don't know the hours upon hours I think about what title to use.  And by that, I mean I watch The Hours when trying to think of a title.  This is taking for hours, another one line review.  Where has my mind gone.  Probably crap and shit.  I hate seeing kids hanging out in my neighborhood.  When I was a kid, there was no one else here my age to be friends with.  Now, bunch of kids.  Those spoiled social bastards.  There were a couple of kids my brother's age, but three years is a pretty big difference when you're a youth.  Mets killin' it again. 
    Oh well.  We all got problems.  Then when I was in high school, we got a new neighbor family who one of which was my age and in Stuy.  We carpooled.  It was disgusting-- she smelled like Indian breakfast.  You think Indian food smells bad?  Try Indian breakfast.  Not in my America.  The truth is she was a pretty nice person who I failed at becoming friends with.  Which I take full responsibility for, I was shy and shit!  Anyway, what else and crap.  If I made friends in high school, I wouldn't have had time to listen to all the music that I did.  And then where would we be?  I don't know.  Probably somewhere else, though.  Butterflies cause hurricanes, or something.  I'm basically eating out my vitamin water bottle.  Trying to get what I can out of it.  What fun.  Also, I've grown up to like Indian food.  Tastes good.  Indian food, you mean like Soda Bread?  That's a joke that I'm pretty much the only person in the world will find amusing.  And I don't even find it amusing.  That's this website in a crapshell.  Pistachio ice cream.  What are you, nuts?!  I apologize for that crap too.  I can't help myself.  See ya later.

-9:56 P.M.                 


Monday, August 3, 2015


    That's how I roll.  Disabled guy in wheelchair.  And so on and so forth.  Welcome to the new month.  It's gonna be August, I believe.  What's going on.  I changed the format.  That's exciting.  Now it's Fun.  I made that joke months ago.  I know you're trying to forget.  Bingobango.  If I was interviewing Nate Ruess, my first and only question would be, "Why the period?"  People want to know.  Do fans of Fun. call themselves Fun-damentalists?  I would.  Because it's easy, why not.  What else is going on in the wide world of sports.  Mets killin' it.  Also, how has no one made a There's no Crying in Baseball reference in response to Wilmer Flores.  I mean, people, somewhere, surely made that connection.  Haven't seen it yet, though.  So, as far as I'm concerned, I'm a comedic visionary.  Maybe they just didn't want to make him feel bad.  He'll start cryin' again, and then look at what you've done.  That was great, though, game winning homerun.  Within two days you turn a player Met fans just passively accepted was part of the lineup into a fan favorite.  Love it.  Wheeler trying to cash in on the sentiment train by asking not to be traded.  Too little, too late, I'm afraid.  Back to the disabled list with you! 
    Anyway, huh?  I saw a guy making a terrifying stance toward his infant son/daughter while walking home.  After two seconds, I realized he was teaching his kid Yoga.  So I said, Carry On, and then, after I stopped narrating what Nate Ruess songs I was thinking of, I gave my endorsement to this family.  There's a license plate near my house that starts with GUE.  I'm always like, Guess, I guess it's guess.  Nate Ruess.  So close.  That's a way to start the day.  Good chance after tonight, Mets will have first place all to themselves.  I never understood the Intercontinental Title in Wrestling.  Pretty sure it's only North America competing.  And, why.  Just why.  I am the champion of multiple continents!  Seems kind of egregious, I don't know.  When will wrestling meet its meta-stage where the main wrestler's hook is Wrestling is fake!  Just let me be champion, Vince McMahon!  And the crowd gets all riled up.  It's gotta happen eventually.  That's how I feel.  Maybe intercontinental means only one continent.  Either way, who cares.  You're the champion of one continent, sure.  But I'm The Champion Of The World!  And the crowd gets all riled up.  And it's always the Val Venises and Shaggy 2 Dopes of the world who compete for the intercontinental title.  You'd think the guy who lost to the world titler previously would be a ringer and take control of the intercontinental belt.  You'd think that, wouldn't you.     
I sure would.  I got nothing better to think about.  Anyway, what the what.  Gotta think about something.  I don't get the very common move of throwing the wrestler into the ropes and then he bounces back and you hit him.  Someone throws me into some wrestling ropes, I get tangled up and start sobbing, I'm stuck here, guys!  And then the ropes pin me and become the new Intercontinental champion of the world.  Is that an oxymoron?  Seems like it.  Also, cage matches.  I don't think were supposed to leave the ring anyway, a logical participant might say.  That's how that goes.  Anyway, what else.  I like Wheeler.  I like Flores.  The only person I don't like is Mr. Met.  What a crapcase of a mascot that is.  Are we supposed to think of him as a person with an oversized baseball head, or a baseball with human characteristics.  The truth lies somewhere in between and thus makes it hard for us to relate to him on any level.  Ichiro Suzuki coming up.  I learned what Ichiro means somewhere in current English class.  I forget why or what.  I will consult internet and give you the answer in the next sentence.  First son.  That's right.  Too bad Ichiro's agent isn't Sinbad.  That would be a laugh and a half. 
    Ha-h.  Laugh and a half.  Making that joke, though, revokes about 3/4ths of a laugh.  It's negative comedy.  Anyway.  Where was I.  I remember as a kid, thinking about the name Sinbad, I thought, Yeah, that's pretty obvious.  I was not aware of Sinbad And The Legend Of Seven Or Eight Seas yet.  How many seas can there be.  How many Sinbads can there be.  Just the one.  Well, and the one in Jingle All the Way.  Gotta imagine Sinbad has learned to disassociate that debacle from his consciousness and identity.  If that was on cable, I'd watch it right now.  I am no one to talk.  Also, the Mets finally have a positive Runs scored/Runs allowed ratio.  That's something that's worth nothing.  Sad about that kid who died by being hit by the bat.  But, it does beg the question, if Batman had a super hero son, would his name be Bat Boy?  It also begs the question of why am I insensitive.  What am I supposed to do about it.  I'm in no position to help his family deal with this tremendous loss.  I'm only in the position to make superhero puns.
    Speaking of super hero puns, Jared's about to find out what a real five dollar footlong is like in prison.  High five!  Jeez.  Time to start closin' it up.  What fun.  I had fun, at least.  Also, who cares.  See ya later.

9:29 P.M.