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
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.
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
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
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.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Crazysheet II: The Shittening
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
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 one! Idiot. 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
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.
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.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Poor Title Blues
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
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.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
You Think You're So Title
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 résumé.
Proficient 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
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?
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
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
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'
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.
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.