Music Albums

July 2020

June 2020

May 2020

April 2020

March 2020

February 2020

January 2020

December 2019

November 2019

October 2019

September 2019

August 2019

July 2019

June 2019

May 2019

April 2019

March 2019

February 2019

January 2019

December 2018

November 2018

October 2018

September 2018

August 2018

July 2018

June 2018

May 2018

April 2018

March 2018

February 2018

January 2018

December 2017

November 2017

October 2017

September 2017

August 2017

July 2017

June 2017

May 2017

April 2017

March 2017

February 2017

January 2017

December 2016

November 2016

October 2016

September 2016

August 2016

July 2016

June 2016

May 2016

April 2016

March 2016

February 2016

January 2016

December 2015

November 2015

October 2015

September 2015

August 2015

July 2015

June 2015

May 2015

April 2015

March 2015

February 2015

January 2015

December 2014

November 2014

October 2014

September 2014

August 2014

July 2014        

June 2014

May 2014

March 2014

February 2014

January 2014

December 2013

November 2013

October 2013

September 2013

July 2013

June 2013

May 2013

April 2013

March 2013

February 2013

January 2013

December 2012

November 2012 

October 2012

September 2012

August 2012 

July 2012

June 2012       

May 2012

April 2012




Monday, February 29, 2016

Still February?  If You Say So...

    Hey, great.  Today's Monday.  Back to the grind.  My Uncle asked me if I ever saw Grindhouse: The Motion Picture.  I said yeah.  Whatta story.  I watched The Oscars last night.  My favorite part was when everybody had fun.  That's how I feel.  That and watching Kevin Hart being interviewed by a lady a foot taller than him.  He handled himself gracefully.  If it was me, I'd just be like, Man, This Is Weird!  Cut to commercial.  I kissed a girl a foot taller than me once.  It lasted five seconds and then she said Get The Hell Out Of My Room And Out Of My Life!  No one needs that.  Me and her both.  I think it's possible because of my long hair she thought I was a girl.  Sure, I'll kiss a girl a foot shorter than me.  Then when she encountered my masculine tongue she realized she'd made a grave mistake.  I think tongues are great.  They make language possible.  That, and it'd be tough to consume dissolving pills without a tongue.  I'd like to see you try.  I hate dissolving pills.  Not swallowing a pill seems so counter-intuitive.  I know it says on the bottle let it dissolve for a minute, but that can't be right.  I'm gonna go with my gut on this one.  That's how I feel.
    That's how I paragraph.  At least dissolving pills are usually the fast-acting ones.  I got things to do and places to go, Jack.  I can't spend time waiting for a pill to work it's magic.  I assume after you take a pill you can't occupy yourself with anything else.  Let your body do one thing at a time.  I'm seeing Endocrinologist Wednesday.  Hopefully my Cholesterol went down.  That would be good news.  Hopefully they don't make me learn what my weight is.  Who knows.  It could be relatively good news.  I could very well be under 170, and then, if I start exercising again, I could be back in business after no more than a year.  I can wait a year to become attractive, that's not so bad.  In a decade, I'll be expected to have kids.  A decade after that, I'm more or less fifty.  Where does the time go.  Right down the drain.  I'd be lucky if my parents, crap, live another ten years.  What bullshit.  I don't want them to die.  As long as they're alive I don't have to be responsible really in most cases.  Let's get that lasting as long as possible. 
    Also, I have to say, I've grown to become pretty fond of my parents.  I like the cut of their jib.  Which is a phrase for some reason one would assume.  I can see someone saying that in Boardwalk Empire.  How far we've come.  Anyway.  Fun, fun stuff.  The good news is I made some very good friends at poker.  I raise pre-flop, a guy goes, He hasn't been in a pot all day, I'm folding.  Hey, Someone's Talking About Me!  My ears perk up.  Looks like I'm Mr. Popular.  Hey, I've been in some pots, like the time I raised with pocket-- Oh, Crap, I See What You Did There!  A sucker is born every... now and then, one would imagine.  Jokes on them.  People talking to me makes me more comfortable.  You wouldn't like me when I'm comfortable.  Some strange deviation of the Hulk.
    Great, just great.  Why does The Hulk turn green.  Green, you know-- the color of brawn?  Who comes up with this stuff!!  Also, I can think of a lot of words to describe The Hulk, and Incredible is pretty far down on the list.  Just one man's opinion.  I figured out good strategy for when I go to sleep.  I was so happy staying in my Aunt and Uncle's guest room, because there's no T.V., no lights or anything.  Just blissful darkness.  So now, I'm gonna turn the entire surge protector for the T.V. off.  Not even the digital clock light.  Don't mean to brag, but I'm getting pretty good at strategy.  Sure, I can't record anything.  But how many episodes of Johnny Carson can I record and then not watch do I really need.  Seeing a few Johnny Carsons, though, was a revelation.  I always knew most comedians look up to him, but now I see that 2/3rds of them are essentially a derivative of him.  I don't mean that as a knock.  I just mean he was obviously supremely influential.  Good for him.  Good for them.  Good for me.  Late night talk show hosts, at least.  That's what I wanted to say, but I figured I'd be raising the stakes by saying All Comedians.  And if the stakes aren't high enough here, you might not bother reading.  I know my audience, and they love when the stakes are raised.
    Yeesh.  I was also amused by how much like Hank Kingsley Ed McMahon was.  That's probably more of a testament to Jeffrey Tambor as an actor than it is both characters actually being the same.  Anyway.  Where am I.  Next story due the beginning of April.  Got a good five weeks or so.  I had forgotten one of the names I planned to use for a character, but then remembered.  #RelevantIssues2016.  I would have called The Revenant The Relevant.  No reason not to.  I didn't like how there were side balconies at the Oscars.  This ain't the Ford Theater.  At least I don't think so.  Maybe it was.  I didn't watch much of the pre-show.  Anyway.  There's a very good chance I'm going to try baked beans for the first time tonight.  If they're anything like Pinto Beans from Chipotle, I'm in for a treat.  If they're like anything else, probably won't care for 'em.  That's how I feel and crap.
    Anyway.  There was a Chipotle off the high way on the way to New Jersey.  Maybe it was already in New Jersey.  So I asked my Dad, Can we move here?  Right off the highway?  #YouGetItRight?  That's great, just great.  This is the last entry of February.  I gotta go back to White On Black for March.  I know, I know, I'm as torn up about it as you.  I'm gettin' bored of Night Times mini-crosswords.  Yeah, I get it.  It's words.  That I have to figure out based on phrases.  Yawn.  And half the time, it's words inspired by recent news.  Tryin' too hard to be clever.  Wow, you sure worked out a mini-crossword on the fly!  I see what you did there!  How impressive!  Not a fan.  Not a fan!  Anyway.  I read an article, probably in the Night Times, about a book some beginner teacher wrote dispelling the myth about how young passionate teachers can reach inner city youths.  Whatta asshole.  He's got a quitters mentality.  I did agree with one thing, though.  He was like, In College, they prepare us to make these meticulous lesson plans, but never classroom management type stuff. When I was deep into the teaching classes, I just thought, These lesson plans are all bullshit.  I can make it up on the fly as I go along.  And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!
    Jeez.  Look, I'm the teacher, you're the student.  Just listen to me.  What are you, stupid?  You're being an asshole.  Just be cool you jerk.  That's how that might have gone, in an ideal world.  And, without question, I woulda had class sit in a, "U," rather than rows and columns.  It makes it easier for you to check out all the high school girls you want to check out.  Not me, as a teacher.  You, as a student.  I can't check out high school girls.  As a teenager, though, you can, and should, and it's your God given right.  The negative thing is, high school classes are so overcrowded, you need to make a Double-U.  Not a, "W."  A two row, "U."  A, "W," would be an interesting way to go.  Why not.  Mix things up, it'll keep the kids on point.  Why the Hell did I go off on this tangent again.  Oh, right.  Night Times: The Newspaper.
    Anyway.  What else and crap.  Alright, time to take attendance.  You people who never participate in class, now's your time to shine.  Jeez.  The class I was observing in Stuyvesant, the last semester I was still majoring in teacher, the teacher had freakin' nicknames for every single student.  And I watched two separate classes.  That's over sixty nicknames that he had memorized.  And, assuming he taught five classes, that's a hundred and fifty freakin' nicknames.  I thought that was great, but a little intimidating.  How the Hell do you keep track individually of a hundred and fifty, or a hundred and eighty kids a semester.  Can't be done by pretty much almost everybody.  I didn't leave my Student Teaching at Stuyvesant on the best of terms.  I just quit going.  If I wanted to pick up in social studies education, that pretty much burns my bridges there.  Hey, I'm responsible, take my word for it.  What?  Stop showing up for no reason?  No, no, that doesn't sound like me.  You must be thinking of someone else who is a 5'2 white guy who used to go here and then was observing classes here as a student in NYU.
Every now and then I try to remember the teacher's name that I was observing.  Can't do it.  He remembered a hundred and fifty nicknames and I can't even remember his real name.  Something Jewish.  I've narrowed it down to that.  It's a good thing I got sick and transferred to Queens College and changed my major.  Made my way off that sinking ship.  Whew.  The good news is, a paragraph and a half to go until March.  Jeez.  Anyway.  Monday, Monday...  Let's see.  Things got real at The Rap Game: The Reunion.  Lil Poopy thinking about changing his name.  What are you, Mad?!  He's got the potential to be a young name referred to by the nickname of "Poop."  That's every kid's dream!  Add an, "S," that works fine too.  How's it goin' Poops.  No, wait, check that.  Stick with just, "Poop."  Whattup Poop.  Love it.  Also, apparently each of these rappers literally has only one song.  They each did a song during the Reunion special, and it's the same song they always did during the show.  C'mon, get with the program.  I know what it's like to be attached to one or two songs, figuring they were The Great and all you needed.  Nope.  Need more songs.
    Important lesson for any artist to learn.  Poops, Niqo, and either Young Lyric or Supa Peach, I think Young Lyric, dropped a new collaboration that is now available on iTunes.  Just lettin' ya know.  #RealIssues2016.  I wonder who Miss Mullato will endorse for president.  We're all waiting to see.  We can assume she liked Obama.  So much in common.  Will we start calling Obama Mr. Mullato after the success of this show?  I can't wait to find out!  Anyway.  Mullato is their word.  Fair enough.  What else and crap.  How many times do I have to watch The Dark Knight until it's not supremely enjoyable.  It's just one of those movies you can watch over and over again and it never disappoints.  Greatness.  My favorite part is when Batman is Sad.  I take what this Teacher says to heart.  She's a successful writer and crap.  She knows what she's talking about.  If Sad Batman is a thing, I'm gonna stick with talking about Sad Batman as long as I have to.
    Anyway, great and crap.  What else and crap.  Tomorrow is Super Tuesday.  I think by spending so much time campaigning in Iowa and New Hampshire, candidates alienate the rest of the U.S.  They basically open up each primary season sending the majority of America the message Your Vote Don't Count In This! I understand winning early states is important for momentum, but at what cost.  #MyOneCentReleventIssues2020.  Great.  What else and crap.  Anyway.  We can all agree that Caucuses are retarded.  It alienates black voters.  I thought that was only for the Caucasians.  Andddd I follow up some insight with some bullshit.  #YouReadIt!2016.  Great.  Guess I'm aiming at 15 paragraphs here.  That would make the most sense.  Oh, this is only 11.  I thought I was at 12 or 13.  We'll see how it goes.
    What else and crap.  I got no insight.  I'm sure there's reasons why I'm wrong about whatever I say.  Otherwise, someone else woulda said it.  #Logic2016.  We may pretty much know for sure the presidential candidates after tomorrow.  Oh no!  Scary.  Most of these people are real crapheads.  What else and crap.  Also, I realize it's not really the candidates fault the way primaries work.  So Lay Off!  Anyway.  I can taste the 15 paragraph entry.  Well within reach.  Good, just great, wonderful and crap.  I found it exceptionally easier controlling my eating habits during my mini-vacation.  I think it's because at home, I feel like, I'm stuck here with these crapballs of my parents, gotta eat just to get regular.  It's logic, you wouldn't understand.  My parents have precious little time to turn around their life of being crapballs.  Doesn't seem fair.
    Anyway, crappy crap and crap.  How come there's no phone app that lets it become a vibrator.  I came up with that idea years ago and still haven't seen it put into practice.  Is the door really open for me to make money off such a thing?  Maybe.  Too bad I don't have the work ethic.  It would be nice to be able to say I've brought sexual pleasure to millions of women.  That kind of thing looks great on a resume.  Anyway.  Maybe I can work that into my upcoming story.  It fits pretty well into one of the possible storylines.  Work ethic, no, but I would never pass up on opportunity to be perceived as clever.  That's how I feel.  Anyway.  What else and crap.  I could come up with a brand new color scheme for next month.  Really capture the public's imagination with some fresh new look.  No way I'm changing the font, though.  Crazysheet is, alwayas has been, and always will be Courier New.  Except for the entire first incarnation.  That was a derivative of Courier New that the program Final Draft came with.  I think it was called Courier New: Final Draft.  Could be wrong.
    Anyway, crap.  I found the Final Draft version, the font was even larger than regular Courier New, which is a pretty large font.  Great for doing homework with.  Gotta cut corners anywhere you can.  That's my philosophy.  What else and crap.  I can't find the wire that lets me charge my electric razor.  There goes that.  Whatta jip.  I didn't mean for that to be italics.  Please accept my apology.  I still have to watch the last half hour of Music & Lyrics.  I'm pot committed at this point.  Hey, that guy's British!  And that's the lady from all those things!  How supremely entertaining.  Kevin Hart's funny, I'm not saying he's not, but it's amazing how far he's gotten mainly by being supremely charming and likable.  #ThumbsUp2016.  Sure, he's really funny too.  I won't argue with that.  I watch his specials and enjoy them.  Look, c'mon.  It's the penultimate paragraph.  Not all gonna be great insight or anything.  I'm throwing crap against a wall at this point.
    Great.  You put Kevin Hart in Music & Lyrics, and it's better.  That's probably a blanket rule, one would imagine.  Either way, crap and carp.  I'd say there's a good 50/50 shot I'll like baked beans.  I'll take those odds for now.  Jeez.  What else and carp.  Had to watch The Oscars lying down, like a Fool.  That's no way to watch T.V.  I got to figure out the logistics of sitting in my computer chair and watching T.V.  I haven't worked out the kinks yet, but once I figure it out, that'll be great.  Also, my chair is height adjustable.  Looks like I've got the advantage now.  Chuckles and a half.  Being amusing at the poker table, who knew.  If he's good at making people laugh, what else is he good at?  Makes people think.  I like how people talk at the poker table.  You know at least half of these degenerates have no friends in real life.  This is the time they have where they're sometimes beholden to socialize with each other, at least to keep up appearances. Big fan!  Big fan.  I'll see ya later.

-5:30 P.M.


Sunday, February 28, 2016

You Gotta Title

    Hey friends and jerks.  Well, that's it for me.  Whatta entry.  Anyway.  Pokered it up with Uncle yesterday.  I lasted four hours and didn't win one hand.  I made the dealer laugh, though, which I considered a moral victory.  Some guy was complaining about his short stack, but he had a lot of greens, the lowest denomination of chips.  At least you lead the table in greens.  Didn't really mean to be funny.  She cracked up.  I said, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not.  She insisted she wasn't.  She leans over five minutes later, if you see me cracking up later, it's because of you.  When new dealer came in, she goes, You gotta watch this one.  Now I realize, dealers have to be nice to you so you keep coming.  But it made me a lot more comfortable at the table and that's all you can ask for, really.  Well, you can ask to win a hand or two.  Make the money.  If you're asking for things, let's go for broke.  I made some good small talk with the dealer after her, too.  We were on a break, I came back to sit down, and asked Are these seats height adjustable.  He goes, some are, some aren't.  Turns out mine was, and I was like, Guess I have an advantage.  No crackin' up at all.  Oh well, some you hit, some you miss.
    So that was fun.  It's an important lesson, I guess.  Make a few jokes.  It intimidates people.  People are just looking for a reason to be intimidated at the poker table.  Gotta give the people what they want.  Also, free refills of soda at the bar, when I got knocked out.  Smoking, too.  That's a great way to pass three or four hours.  The point is I literally got dozens of hands.  That's a lot of hands.  Almost as much as Vishnu.  Or Shiva.  One of those types of things.  Plus, I even got three or four playable hands.  Pocket Tens twice, raised pre flop, two over cards each time, so I mucked.  Ace King suited once, raised preflop, flop was three to a flush under cards, got a way from that.  Finally got knocked out with 6x the big blind going all in with A7 Suited from the cutoff, small blind calls with AQ.  So that was it for me.  I think I had an AJ too which I raised preflop and folded on the flop.  I guess I'm just a jabroni.  Oh well, there's no shame in being a jabroni.  Probably not.  There sholdn't be, at least.  That's how I feel.
    Great.  Plus I got an idea for my next story.  I don't wanna give anything away yet, but it's possible it will be the best story ever written hands down.  Plus I got to piss on the side of the road.  On our way back, I was holding it in and holding it in, finally couldn't stand it anymore.  Anytime I can piss in public I consider that a moral victory.  Showin' public space whose boss.  Me, I'm boss.  Why else would I pee on things.  I was embraced at first, telling my uncle I have to piss on the road, but then I was like, Hey, we're Men, this is what Men do.  Breakin' the law, breakin' the law!  They played great music at the casino.  Classic Rock, good new wave, good alt. rock from the 90's.  My cup of tea.  I guess I'm their target audience.  Not even people like me.  Just me.  There's no better explanation.  Hey, also, at the bar, a lady got to talking to me, which I thought was great.  Sure, she was at least ten years older than me, so I didn't really know how to respond, but I consider that a moral victory as well.  I guess where she's from they don't see a lot of city slickers like me. 
    I guess.  So, anyway, back to doing nothing.  Alright!  That's my favorite thing to do, after something.  It goes something, anything, then, second place, nothing.  Nothin' wrong with taking home the silver.  It's almost March.  Can you believe it.  It hasn't been March since, well, last March.  I've done the calculations.  And it was interesting talking politics with my uncle and aunt, who are conservative.  It made me think, yeah, I spend too much time caring too much about this.  I'm much happier not caring.  There's no law that says I have to actively care.  Why bother.  As long as we nominate good people to be on the Death Panels this election, I'm fine.  I assume, well, I hope we get to nominate people for Death Panels.  Wouldn't seem fair if they're appointed.  As far as I'm concerned, Family Circus are death panels.  Let's talk about it.  Pretty sure Family Circus is a thing.  That has panels.  That's not funny when it should be.  I'm making a lot of assumptions here. 
    Anyway, great, just great.  Is Family Circus about Robin's origin story.  No reason why it wouldn't be.  You come here often?  How do I respond to that.  Well, I check your calendar, and I make sure to come here every time you do!  That would be one way to go.  I did a lap around the casino after getting knocked out.  Man, do people love slot machines.  I don't get it.  My Mom cleaned up half my room.  Is the room half clean, or half dirty.  Let's get the philosophers working on that. I really have to pee-pee a lot, I can't hold it in!  That's what Men do.  The great thing is, they check your I.D. when you first get into the casino, so at the bar, they don't.  Damn right I'm a man!  Finally, some respect!  That's probably how that might go possibly.  The good news is Huh.  The guy we were playing with, who I had a 15% piece of, almost made the money.  Why, I could have made a third of my buy in back!  How exciting it was watching him.
    Great.  Looking forward to both classes this week.  Something to do!  I can't believe it.  Two and a half hours a week of something to do is exponentially better than 0.0 times of things to do something.  Plus, now that I'm learning how to read, I can really make some killer comments.  Too bad there's another day of this month.  Februarys should be 28 days, as God intended.  Jeez.  28 Days Later should be called A Month later.  No need to show off your day-counting skills.  Let's just be short and succinct.  28 Days Later should be about a woman finding out she's pregnant.  In a just world.  Also, how do pregnancies work.  There's a lot of hearsay and misinformation out there, I just want the facts.  I didn't realize I was supposed to tip the Free-Soda people during the tournament until after the fact.  That's on me.  Shoulda guessed it.  Oh well, live and learn.
    Oh well, paragraph seven.  Oh, it's possible I won the blinds once.  I'd say like a 1/3 chance.  I vaguely remember it but I even more vaguely don't remember it.  Let's settle on 1/3rd.  I remember I definitely was in the blinds several times.  That much I'm pretty sure of.  Oh, I know what I'm thinking of.  Because someone got knocked out, for some reason my big blind was skipped and I only had a small blind?  Is that possible?  I think that happened and that's the one vaguely positive hand I had in the entire tournament.  In A Far, Far Away Galaxy, Twenty Eight Days Ago...  That's a thing.  Not sure why.  I won't be happy until everyone I've met knows my opinion about Zombie movies and T.V. shows and how about in real life they'd so easy to beat.  I will not rest until my work is done.  Anyway, great, just great.  Look at all those zombies crowded around in that trapped space, eventually they might get out!  So take some target practice and shoot them in the head one by one.  You've got the Ammo.  Make yourself useful, you'd be done in a day.  Get yourself a fuckin' Football uniform and helmet and you're essentially immune to zombies. 
    Well, football uniforms are vulnerable, I guess.  Some sort of uniform they can't bite through, that's all you need.  Me, I suggest getting a Jurassic World bubble.  That's the safe and stylish way to go.  Get a custom made 12 feet tall segway.  Let's see 'em deal with that.  Even put in some blades on the bottom, make it a chariot segway.  Lots of strategies that essentially make zombieism a thing of the past.  Eighth paragraph?  Great.  I envy people who don't really give a fig about politics.  Every evening, when I come down stairs, we got MSNBC on.  I dont hate MSNBC.  But I'm a 27 year old.  27 Year Olds shouldn't be watching MSNBC every day.  Old people should.  They got nothing better to do.  I got a life to live, Jack!  I'm speaking, of course, to Jack Palance.  That's where I get my City Slickery from.  He was the anti-City Slicker.  Well, I'm not gonna argue with facts.  You can have that one.
    But I consider it a moral victory because I got to end the paragraph.  Whose laughing now.  Probably not you.  This website is the equivalent of Family Circus.  Man I sure hope Family Circus is a thing.  I'm committed at this point to it being a thing.  I like coming home after a couple of days.  Why do my parents look so happy and refreshed.  Good for them!  Same effect on me, I gotta say.  We're all up in each other's bullshit all the time.  I gotta get a new place to live.  If I won big at Poker, woulda funded dorm time.  Now I just have to chalk it up to being a fun time and a valuable learning experience.  Like a Chump!  I hate having to watch T.V. in my room.  Only sensible option is in bed.  Makes lying down pretty much the only legitimate option from that sensible option.  That's no good.  T.V. is made for sitting down.  Lying down, that's for perverts.
    Tenth paragraph, that's for winners.  I heard Trump is gonna make America win again.  Not quite sure what that means, or how he plans to do it.  I think he just thinks, Hey, if I'm president, I've Won!  America is just an extension of me!  That's one way to look at it.  There's a million ways to interpret it and only maybe 400,000 are good.  Low percentage.  Don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at math.  Like the Asian guy in The Dark Knight.  Good with numbers.  It comes into play several times in the story.  Is The Dark Knight a Sad Batman.  I'd say, sure, relatively.  Especially since Teacher said Batman is Sad.  I'm not gonna argue with Teacher.  I'm here to learn, not to contradict.  Anyway.  Ben Folds came out in favor of Bernie Sanders.  Awesome.  They were playing Brick while I was taking a restroom break from Poker and figured it was a sign that I should fold the next five hands.  Because that's the kind of crap I think about.
Anyway, great.  You can't fold all five hands in regular poker, right?  Only four?  That's why I like the name.  Ben hates his hand so much, he's getting rid of five.  Probably made that joke here before.  I somewhat more than vaguely remember it.  Oh well, live and learn.  I guess this has to be the last paragraph.  I can't remember the last time I did over ten.  Probably at least weeks.  At most, never before.  Tough times call for tough measures.  And we're facing tough times, with Super Tuesday coming up.  Get out to vote!  Or, do whatever you can do.  Not quite sure what.  Talk to a website about it.  Hey, every little bit counts.  Even my conservative Aunt and Uncle praised Bernie Sanders.  He speaks from the heart and isn't beholden to lobbyists or corporations.  Awesome.  I truly feel he'd be a better bet to win the presidency than Hillary.  Man, do conservatives hate Hillary.  They told me supposed stuff about Hillary I had never heard before, and I was like, Hey, if all Conservatives thinks these stories and crap are true, that's a pretty big uphill battle.  Pun intended, or not.  You get to decide.  Choose your own adventure.  They've been talking shit about Hillary for two decades on conservative radio and internet.  Not really sure Why Her.  Oh well.
    Oh well.  Even twelve paragraphs.  Hillary and Trump are similar to me in a way, and I could be wrong, but I just get the sense they each just want to win the election, not be president.  I could be wrong.  That's just my cent.  Not even two cents.  Only worth half as much.  It's all relative, too.  That's what I'm trying to say.  I don't mean it 100%.  Either way, crap and crap.  Now that I think about it, I could see either Hillary or Trump gettin' elected, then thinking, Hey, I can get used to this!  Shows how much I know when talking out my ass.  I just go further into my ass and contradict my first ass-essment.  The more inside of my ass you get, the more insightful, I find.  That's how I feel.  Jeez.  I don't want to ever stop writing here.  I can't handle the feeling of crap, now's a long time of nothin'.  Great.  There's always more T.V. to binge.  But I'd be lying down, like a Dolt.  That's no good either.
    So, what else is new.  Probably crap and shit, one would imagine.  I'm playing online poker more conservatory today, I find, after playing that way at Casino.  I kind of like it.  No big swings.  Nice and calm and peaceful.  Maybe that's because I'm still riding the nice/calm/peaceful high of my short vacation.  Who knows for sure.  Probably no one.  I even don't see why anyone else would even be aware of this situation.  Great.  Damnit, I jinxed it.  After that I got in my head and I'm no longer calm or peaceful.  Not even feelin' nice, to tell the truth.  I blame you.  Thanks a lot.  Jeez, what else.  My have a floorboard or something that needs sandering, or whatever the word is, which is like sandering, which my Mom was showing my Uncle, and it took all my Earthly power to not bring up Bernie Sanders.  Around my parents, they're used to my half-brain puns and bullshit.  Once you get into extended family, though, no reason to muck up their opinion of me with that kind of crap.
    Yeesh.  15 Paragraph Goal?  It's possible!  Anyway.  Weird Al parody of Arcade Fire's Ready To Start called Ready To Fart.  Let's talk about it.  Hey, if you're gonna get to 15 paragraphs, you're gonna have some clunkers.  Weird Al has got to have a whole catalogue of unreleased and half-finished parodies.  Think of all the gold we're missing out on.  Hey, I got a The Rap Game: Reunion Special to watch!  You don't wann watch teenagers lying down.  It sends the wrong message to your television set.  Another way to spend big money had I won it was to get a real good premium guitar.  My first electric guitar was a cheap Stratocaster, then I got a slightly above cheap Gibson.  I liked the Stratocaster more.  I wanna try out a Telecaster at some point, because that sounds like a good guitar.  Telecaster.  Got a nice ring to it.  So my next one'll be back to Stratocaster, or Telecaster, if I like it.
    The good news is last paragraph.  Jeez.  This entry'll be roughly 3000 words.  That's a lot of words.  I don't even think I know 3000 words.  I just repeat the same twenty ones over and over.  Tryin' to make myself sound smart.  Anyway.  Was waiting in my Aunt and Uncle's house for twenty minutes when I got there, because they had a previous engagement.  Played their piano a bit.  Don't mean to brag, but I know a solid three or four things on Piano to play over and over again.  I remember in college, a similar thing, I would draw out whatever small set of what I knew so that I could be playing something good in case someone walked by in the hall or something.  Wouldn't want to deprive them of my musical skillz.  Also, their Piano was tuned.  Not used to playing on a tuned piano.  So that was fun. 
    I guess I got it in me for one more paragraph.  Then we're done for sure.  I don't mean to brag, but this set-up to this short story I worked out, man is it an A+.  100%er.  Can't wait to write it.  But I will.  Let the ideas percolate a bit.  Surprisingly though, no pissing on the street in the story.  Well, there could be.  Never say never.  I could see how it might fit into the story one way or another.  Alright.  Also, yeah, another take away from this trip?  I shuold be embarassed and ashamed how often I need to use the bathroom.  Even in the Poker tournament, I had to use the bathroom like a jackass, but held it in till break period.  That's another reason why I got more comfortable as time went on.  When I got back to the table fully relieved, I was like, man, just playing cards without having to piss, that ain't so stressful.  Live and learn.  The dealer humoring me and the bathroom break.  That went a long way to getting me more comfortable.  And there's no reason to think that comfort won't last into whenever the next time I go to a Casino.  All about progress.  Bernie gets it.  My guess is they have toilets behind each Debate Podium.  That's the way they should do it.  Puts Hillary at a disadvantage, though.  She'd have to go, excuse me for a moment! then duck into her podium.  Everyone else can go whenever they feel.  Make America Gr... oh yea... Eat again!  Don't eat again.  "Ate" again.  Aren't words weird.
I have to keep writing paragraphs.  It's almost unfair.  This'll be the last.  I can almost guarantee it.  One for every year Frank Sinatra was alive at first.  It's Math, you wouldn't understand.  Great.  Also, it's somewhat like you're pissing on the audience.  Some people get off on that.  I'm not here to judge.  Hopefully someone is, though.  We're down to eight.  Politics.  You wouldn't understand it.  Jeez.  Spring in three weeks.  See you in Hell, Winter!  That's how I feel generally and crap.  Yeesh.  How did I manage to pull this crap off.  This has been a bunch of words.  Practice makes perfect, I've been led to believe.  Can't discount the cleaner room didn't play into it.  Clean room, clean mind.  Let's give my Mom some credit, why not.  I'd also like to thank my producers and everyone who encouraged me along the way.  Timmy and Roseanne, this one is for you!  I'll see ya later.

-4:29 P.M.                                                       


Thursday, February 25, 2016

Guess Whose Learning How To Read!

    This guy, right here.  Don't mean to brag.  I was totally able to follow both stories I had to read for today.  Made sense and everything.  The point is I'm getting better at life.  I had a great idea for Poker, regarding sunglasses.  3-D Movie Glasses!  Why, I'd be the talk of the table. Plus, I'd be able to see things in 3-D.  Quite the advantage.  Anyway.  Following all The Rap Gamers on twitter.  Not officially.  Just informally, ya know, that type of thing.  Apparently Lil Poopie feels #Blessed.  I don't think he's old enough to use a computer. Oh Sweet Poops.  I ordered a Bernie Sanders shirt.  That can go one of two ways.  1) Hey, you got a shirt from when President Sanders was running!  2) Who the Hell is Bernie Sanders?  Gotta be in it to win it, that's what Lil Poopie always says.  That brings up my contribution to Sanders to $45, minus the real cost it took to produce the shirt.  #Hero.  I also donated $3.45 to the shipping service that ships the shirt.  Hey, when you believe in a cause, gotta put your money where your mouth is.  I was looking up what Wall Street means, and speculation, and bubbles, and stuff like that.  Some of it I understand a little, but it's mostly over my head.  Too much speculation can create bubbles, that's negative one.  Speculation can lose peoples money, that's two.  That's as far as I understand. 
    Anyway, that's how that goes.  I believe Lil Poopie said it best-- Sit at the cool kids table, drinkin' chocolate milk.  I think I get why Jermaine Dupri chose Miss Mullato.  Is she white or black, I don't know!  Gets people talking.  I get to take three medium-long length car rides this weekend.  Alright!  Poker's great, seeing my relatives is great, but drivin' out on the long open road?  #BlessedChocolateMilkCoolKidsTable.  I want a rapper sitting alone in the cafeteria.  Gotta hone your craft.  I can't stand Professor giving other people good comments.  Excuse me, you said my piece was very well written.  What's all this praise for this guy?  Did my workshop mean nothing to you?  No good.  She'd probably say Lil Poopie's raps are "very well written."  What bullcrap.  Lil Poopie should have won!  He's half little and half poop.  That'll get people talking!
    Anyway.  Great.  There's two competing teams of two little women each in Little People: Atlanta who compete with each other on being promoters for clubs.  Each set is like, we're better than the other set.  Better at what?!  All you do is stand around being little for the novelty of it.  There's an absolutely zero skill set involved where you can be better.  I'm the Queen Bee of Atlanta, boo.  NO I AM.  What are you even talking about.  Jeez.  One of them wants to be a voice over artist.  I get it, that way we won't have to look at you.  I get it.  It's clever, that's all I'm saying.  Also, people in Atlanta are really aggressive.  At least the little people.  Jermaine Dupri seemed normal, though.  He's an Atlanta.  I guess it's a little people Atlanta thing.  Did you know Atlanta is in Georgia.  I had no idea.  Not sure what the point of that was.  You get to decide.  It's a choose your own adventure.
    Right, right...  Facebook making new Likes and what not.  No good.  I want a binary decision.  Either I like something or I don't.  Don't muck up that perfect equation!  I also don't like how Facebook only has me at 130 friends.  That doesn't seem right.  I blame technology, gotta be a glitch.  If I win big at poker, like, come in first or second, I could pay to dorm for all of next year.  And if I'm doing that, I would take two classes per semester.  And if I do that, I could graduate by the end of 2017.  That's a best case scenario I guess.  And, if not, I'll keep trudging along at this crap place and live in this craphouse.  I'd need my trusty 3-D glasses to pay off big time.  Statistically, it could happen.  I could also fall down and break my leg.  Then I'd be out of commission for a while.  That's no good.  I could still, at any point in my life, do the surgery where they keep breaking your legs until you grow three inches.  If I ever decide to go through that for half a year, I could potentially be 5'5 at some point in my life.  That's great.  Think of all the honeys I'd be getting.  Imagine it!  And all I would have to do is pay doctors 30 thousand dollars to keep breaking my legs a lot.
    Something to consider.  Where would I come up with 30 thousand dollars, though.  I'd need the money making scheme to end all money making schemes.  I know!  Wall Street Speculation.  Sure I don't understand it now, but hey, whatever works.  Or I could just walk on stilts from now on.  That sounds fun.  We'll put that in the Maybe pile.  I'd go the extra mile and have them break my arms a lot, too.  Gotta be consistent, that's how I feel.  I read that most people who get that surgery regret it afterwards.  They still feel short.  Oh well, gotta be in it to win it.  Great.  I like in movies, when they're playing poker, there's a trope where sometimes there's a beginner playing poker who keeps winning, and they're all like, Wait, I thought you were a beginner!!!  You've been playing for two hours.  Five card draw is essentially flipping a coin.  If someone calls Heads and it's Heads, you don't go, Wow, you're good at this!  Anyway.  I saw Matthew McCgonoahgoay had a straight flush or something in car commercial.  Man is he good.
Yeesh.  Yeah, I don't know how to spell words, and I'm proud!  That's how that goes.  Names aren't words.  Ask Billy Madison re: Baseball words to be written in cursive.  Would you like to try the word buzz?  Nice try, teacher, that's no god either-- not a baseball word!  No one seems to pick up on that.  Anyway.  #LilPoopie.  Lil Poopie must have been born in 2003 or 2004.  I didn't even know they were still making new babies that late.  That's a thing.  Don't know why.  Choose your own adventure.  What else and crap.  I only got five or six hours of sleep last night.  I didn't even know that was a thing.  And I woke up less tired than I do with twelve hours of sleep.  How wonderful.  I used to get three or four hours lf sleep when I was in Stuy.  That was fun and a half.  There's a ten year Stuy reunion this year.  I might go just to realize Wait a minute, oh yeah!  I didn't have any friends.  Then get in my limo and get some Taco Bell.  Alone.  I assume after Prom, every high school get together is a prom.  Once you go prom, you never go back.  That's what I've been led to believe.
    Anyway.  I'm not gonna be able to watch The Rap Game: Reunion live tomorrow night.  Great, just great.  Where did I go wrong in life.  What else.  This'll be a fine paragraph to end it on.  Fine, just fine.  Anyway.  What else and crap.  If banks can be too big to fail, can they be too small to succeed?  Let's talk about it.  #RealIssues2016.  Speaking as a person, I know I'm too small to succeed.  Is that relevant?  #RelevantIssues2016.  Anyway.  Jeez.  I'll see ya later.

-5:49 P.M.


Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Hasta La Vista, Suckers!

    Did my workshop today.  These dolts actually liked it!  I didn't see that coming.  There is a high probabilty, though, that I'm gonna get feedback from the teacher that I don't give other people enough feedback, either online or in class.  It's not my fault I don't know how to read!  It's kind of a sore subject.  If she wanted to be polite, she wouldn't point it at all.  Anyway, crap and crap.  What am I gonna do for my next story.  Probably words and nonsense.  It's a real coming of age story.  Wrong!  It mostly all happened to me, and I've never come of age in my entire life.  What chumps.  Smart Old Lady said, Shades of Holden Caulfield.  I'm gonna take that to mean that she doesn't want me to write anything ever again.  That's how I would have meant it.  Anyway, now what else and crap do I have to think crap about crap.  Really gotta learn how to read.  I'm not even joking at this point.  I can not follow other peoples stories.  I had to make the introductory comment of the other guy we workshopped, and I think she took pity on me for not getting it.  It's about a woman who died... and there's a guy who...I want to say loved her?  To be honest I didn't get it.  Then she reprimanded the other guy making the introductory comment about me.  And I just looked at him trying to convey the message, Yeah, I don't get it either.  I got off easy and so on and whatcrap.
    The point is I never have to write again.  Except for in about two months.  Who knows if that'll even happen, you know, Global Warming, other crap and shit.  I'm gonna have to read a bunch more in my life, though.  Doesn't seem right.  The point is next week is March.  We can all agree on that.  I'm looking forward to browsing the written comments I got.  I hope the Nice Old Lady said something like, This was great!  Allow me to have your baby multiple times.  Too old to have babies.  You blew your shot.  I got to talk about Batman Returns in class.  Check that.  I made us talk about Batman Returns in class.  She goes, anyone watch a movie over the weekend?  And I'm thinkin, my time to shine.  Because I did watch a movie.  Relevant.  Someone brought up Boyhood first, and I thought she had ended the conversation on Boyhood, so I raised my hand and put forth Batman Returns into the debate, but halfway through, I realized, She didn't close the floor on Boyhood, she was looking for more Boyhood comments.  And here I go, sayin', Fuck That Crap, I Saw Batman Returns!  I got somethin' to say!
Great, just great.  I go Batman Returns, and she goes, Is that the one with the sad Batman?  Sad Batman, sad Batman...  I'm drawing a blank.  Turns out she meant Ben Affleck?  Who she thinks of as sad, I guess?  I'm not in class to argue.  I wrote that down for future deliberation.  Sad Batman=Ben Affleck. Sad Batman sounds like a fun Comic Strip.  Batman eating Ramen Noodles alone.  Batman feeding ducks alone.  Batman crying himself to sleep alone.  I'm pro-Sad Batman, when it comes down to it.   I guess Alfred must have left him for another Super Hero.  That no good traitor.  What else and crap.  Poor Batman.  Where did it all go wrong.  I feel bad.  One day you're on top of the world, the next you're breaking The Riddler out of Arkham Asylum just to have someone to talk to.  I'd rather talk to The Joker.  Jokes are qualitatively more fun than riddles.  We can all agree on this.  I can't wait to browse through the written comments to see all the negative comments they were too embarrassed to tell me in person.  Can't wait!  There was one sentence that people found confusing due to bad grammar.  I can't apologize enough for this.  I let you and everyone else down.  Although, part of me thinks, Hey, that confusion really adds to the story!  Because I can't read.  If I can't read, it would stand to reason that I don't understand writing all that much either.
    Well, great.  I'm an idiot savant!  Except for the savant part.  I'm an Idiot Adequate.  There we go.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, the Weird Al parody of American Idiot should have been American Indian.  It's pretty much one of my main contentions in life.  Anyway.  I left my Iced Coffee on the counter of Liquor Store.  I realized my mistake two minutes later at the bus stop, which is right by the Liquor Store, so I went to retrieve my Iced Coffee.  Looked through the window.  Already gone.  Turned around and went back to the bus stop.  #A+story.  II like my level of self delusion during workshops.  Everyone else, I'm thinkin' we're scraping the bottom of the barrel with these nice comments, blowing decent stuff out of proportion into good stuff.  Then, my turn, Listen to all these nice comments!  Looks like I'm The Special!  That's how things go I guess.  I've done the math, and I've been back at the QC for over two years.  That's a long time.  One more of that period of time and I'll be graduated.  And then it's time to write some real A+ stories.  About bus stops and crap.  I'll think of the subject matter later.
Anyway.  Fifth paragraph.  Sad Batman.  Love it.  I guess Batman does have some vulnerability to him.  It's not that crazy.  Anyway.  Whattado with the rest of my life.  There's only so much Blue Baseball I can contemplate playing.  I get paranoid whenever I get an iced coffee that they put in sugar instead of artificial sweetener.  This is too sweet. They must have made a mistake.  What bullshit.  There, that can be a story.  Alright!  I never want to write another story again.  If this was a coming up age story, then I sure as Hell blew my load on it.  That's how that might go.  Also, now that there's a story of what happened in my life, my perception of these events are no longer this crap happened to me and now this crap was in this story I wrote.  What bullcrap.  Writing is the pits.  I'll see ya later.

-4:45 P.M. 


Sunday, February 21, 2016

Have You Heard The Good News About Titles?

    Because if you have, lemme know.  Great.  Well, today is Sunday.  You know how that goes.  It's already the third day of my four day weekend.  What crap.  I'm really hyping myself up about playing some Blue Baseball.  Not enough to commit to turning the thing on or anything.  But I'm gettin' closer.  The Rap Game is over.  In a surprising upset, Miss Mullatto won.  Poor Lil' Poopie.  I wonder at what point in time will the first of the five contestants first think, Hey, So-So Def is a self deprecating pun.  They're bound to figure it out sooner or later.  The question is just who will figure it out first, and when.  Odds favor Miss Mullatto.  She has the most reason to think real hard about the label's name.  Maybe they sent it out with the acceptance letters to the contestants before the show even started.  That would be the way to go, I think.  Anyway, crap and crap.  What else and crap.  Joe McEwing was a team leader.  That just goes to show how being a team leader doesn't translate into big league success.  Go with contact hitter.  It's relevant because huh?  Workshop on Tuesday.  Crap and crap.
    What else and crap.  The good news is Hello.  Lots of crap on T.V. that's just below watchable level.  Bar Rescue?  Hoarders?  Ghost Show?  If you combine them all, you get something relatively entertaining.  On their own, not enough to motivate me to turn around and look at Television.  Whatta jip.  A haunted bar under renovation that hoards things.  There we go, I'd watch that.  Probably not really.  In theory, I'd watch it.  Isn't that good enough.  I'm pretty pleased with how I rarely send a text message or an e-mail or a Facebook to the wrong person.  That would be embarrassing and so far, so good.  Who cares if I have to check who I'm sending something to two dozen times before I do.  It's called being responsible you chumps.  I'm also pleased with how I rarely send a text message or an e-mail or a Facebook to anyone.  Really limits the possibility of doing it wrong.  How about that.  The good news is still Hello.  Great.  Poor Lil Poopie.  I wonder at what point in his life will Lil Poopie finally say Ya'll Got Pooped!  He's gotta say it sooner or later.  The odds are for it eventually.
    Anyway, crap and crap.  Lil Poopie's handlers are in trouble with the law because there's a Lil Poopie music video where he half heartedly smacks some booty.  Oh well.  We wish him the bst of luck as we do all aspiring T.V. contestant rappers.  There is one final rap game where there's a reunion.  Anyway.  The one other guy of the five rappers, who was older teenager, man, they don't show it, but you gotta imagine he was gettin' some from one of the three girl rappers.  That's my take away from that program.  Anyway.  What else and crap.  I still gotta figure out how to run the bases in Blue Baseball.  I pretty much just mash the buttons, eventually resulting in trying to steal, just to get it over with.  You don't lose points.  It's called being time efficient, you dolts.  There should be a video game where you have to rap and at the end of each line there's a drop down bar where you have to pick which word you want to rhyme.  And it's timed, of course.  You gotta learn how to select an appropriate rhyme real quickly.  Let's get scientists working on that.  Are game creators scientists.  It has to do with science.  Digital.  Digital is science.
    This is paragraph.  Anyway, crap and crap.  I'm somewhat proud to say I have never downloaded a game App for my phone.  Kinda feel like I'm missing out on something, though.  What's a good game.  Do they have Sim City 2000?  That was a good game.  Except for when power plants explode.  That throws the entire city into turmoil I guess.  I think enough time has passed where I can get a new phone for free.  How about that.  I hope I can still touch it to make internet decisions.  At least have a mini-mouse I can attach to it.  As long as there's some avenue.  Remember the 1990's.  Mouses were all the rage.  Mice.  We even had mouse pads.  Remember that?  Me too.  Totally pointless.  Works fine on a desk area without a pad.  But we sure had them.  How about that.  How... about... that.  Whattado with the rest of my night.  Dread my workshop.  I liked the part where it ended.  Possible comment I might get. I liked before I started reading it, and after I ended reading it.  You know, that sort of thing.  I can't even motivate myself to read it, so I can write my assessment.  That's how bad it is.  Anyway, what else and bullshit.
    What else and bullcrap.  Let's see.  Casino/Mini-Family Reunion next weekend.  It combines two of my favorite things.  Saturday and Sunday.  Collectively known as the Weekend.  Are the two guys who are the Weeknd named Saturday and Sunday.  Are there two guys in The Weeknd?  Lots of important questions being raised this paragraph.  Also, I don't wanna be the jerk to do this, but has anyone pointed out to them there's a third, "E," in weekend?  This whole time they've been wrong.  How embarrassing.  Anyway, crap and crap.  I couldn't tell you for a million dollars what a The Weeknd song sounds like.  I guess I'm behind the times and so on and whatnot.  And the crazy thing is I'm sure I've heard some songs here or there.  They just didn't register at all.  Anyway.  Probably on account of me not paying close enough attention.  I'll take responsibility for this.  Anyway.  Crap and crap.  I've been spelling Shit wrong for over a decade.  No one's perfect.  I watched the second half of Batman Returns earlier.  No one's perfect.  My favorite part is Alfred.  That's how that might go.   
    Right, right...  What else.  The Dark Knight trilogy is up there in my favorite films list.  Real quality trilogy and whatnot.  The 2000's decade tricked me into liking comic books.  Well, comic book narratives and style.  Comic Books in the form of films.  What crap.  Either way, crap and crap.  Crap.  And crap!  Crap.  What else and crap.  I had to read that book How About Them Kavalier and Clay? for an English class in Stuy, too.  That was an okay book I guess.  I don't really remember.  Oh well.  What else and crap.  The good news is I'm probably getting e-mails for my class from now on.  I fixed it most likely one would imagine possibly.  I haven't gotten e-mails since I most likely fixed it, but turns out, there haven't been any e-mails.  I'm still perfect in getting e-mails since I fixed it.  Alright!  Crap and crap!  Yeesh.  If Stanley Kubrick was alive today, I wonder what movies he'd be making.  Probably Here Comes Spiderman Again!, a new reboot.  Seems like his sorta deal.  When Iw as a kid, I was pretty into film.  Hey, I know who Kubrick is!  I know who Kurasawa is!  Pulitzer, please.  Love that new catchphrase.  It's a keeper.     
    Great.  What else.  I don't wanna play Blue Baseball.  I can't even run the bases.  I'm letting my entire digital Double-A team down.  That's no good.  What else and crap.  I remember in Little League, running the bases was pretty hard then, too.  Everyone's smaller, and I'm the smallest of the small, so the distance between bases was pretty much insurmountable.  Get tired halfway through.  That's how that went.  Of course, I pretty much just ran bases during practice.  I was rarely in a situation to run bases in a real game.  Well, maybe from first to second.  Don't mean to brag, but I walked sometimes.  Anyway, bullcrap.  Yeesh.  I'm gettin' tired halfway through this paragraph.  Whattacrap.  Whattaelse and crap.  I wonder what Superman would be doing if he wasn't dead.  Probably directing AI: Artificial Intelligence II.  II Artificial II Intelligence. When is Poltergeist: The Updated Version gonna come on HBO.  I like watching things I've seen before.  Makes me happy.  Crap and crap.  Alright.  Also, Spielberg-- there's gotta be a better way to build a bridge than out of spies.  Use motor or bricks or something.  Making it out of people is just plain cruel and unusual.
    Crapdom and crap.  I know!  A bar where what they hoard is ghosts.  And it needs to be renovated.  That sort of crap.  Bar Rescue is my brother's favorite show.  I think he'd be okay with me sharing that piece of information here.  Doesn't reflect too poorly on him.  It is pretty funny under the right circumstances.  It's funny because they're renovating bars.  That's a character who doesn't get things.  That sort of crap.  What else.  I can play Blue Crackdown.  That's a game where you jump a lot, really high, and shoot criminals.  But mainly, jumping.  What else.  I can watch Meet The Parents.  Seems like the Adult thing to do.  Boy, can you imagine meeting the parents.  You know that sort of crap.  After this, two more paragraphs to go.  I can handle that.  It's not too bad.  What else.  I'm gettin' me a Bernie Sanders T-Shirt.  That way the Bernie Sanders campaign will know that I like shirts.  That's how that goes.
    Okay.  Okay.  Great.  I need to get me a bottle of Pepsid behind my parents' backs.  They think I'm using it too much.  I need it.  Too much is never enough!  That's the kind of rebel I am.  Plus, I leave my windows open a crack even during the winter.  I don't like to be too warm!  You can't tell me to do otherwise.  You ain't my pappy.  Ya'll got pooped.  Jeez.  Stupid workshop on Tuesday.  I hate it so much.  I've been trying to do some early thinking for what my second story could be about.  So far, I've narrowed it down to not what the first story was about.  Makin' progress!  Alright. I could write a story about five aspiring rappers and call it The Hip-Hop Game.  No reason I can't. I don't like how Jermaine Dupri opens up the show by sayin,  This isn't a game!  This is the rap game!  "The rap game," clearly qualifies as a game.  It's right there, the third word.  Naw mean? 
    Last paragraph and crap.  Jeez.  What else and crap.  I gotta start watching Vinyl.  I like shows about things that I like.  That's how I feel.  I feel like finishing this entry.  Once and for all.  I woke up pretty late today.  I blame clocks.  If it weren't for clocks, oh, boy, I'd...  Crap and crap.  Doesn't get much more crap 'n crap than that.  I could watch Jurassic Park III: The Thirdening again.  For some reason.  Not quite sure why.  Either way, what else.  Nothing, I guess.  See ya later.     

-9:20 P.M.                                     


Friday, February 19, 2016

Whatta Title!

    Jeez.  Zero words into the entry and I'm already disappointed.  Either way, what else is going on.  The good news is Hello.  I'm writing here because every other option I have is somehow worse.  T.V. is Crap.  Podcasts are Eh.  Still not gettin' e-mails for my class.  I'm starting to think something's wrong.  I should be getting e-mails. Something's wrong and I'm going to get to the bottom of it.  As soon as I can, too.  Can't put this off any more.  Well, not right now.  Maybe at the end of the entry.  I don't know what I can do.  My plan so far-- just keep rechecking my e-mail.  So far, no good.  I can't think of another line of attack though.  Just keep checking e-mails hoping the internet figures out it's making a mistake.  Also, hitting up the Junk E-Mail and Spam E-Mail and Clutter E-Mail at least two dozen times each.  Gotta be something, right?  One would imagine.  Anyway.  Next weekend is Casino Trip and Miniature Family Reunion. I assume it will mostly consistent of us telling each other what we have planned for March.  Me?  Probably spend thirty days or so doin' nothin' and crap.  Can't wait.
    Anyway, crap and crap. Pixels: The Movie making it's T.V. Debut this weekend.  I can't wait.  That movie's got some funny in it.  Like the part where there's a main character whose a dwarf and there's no reason plot-wise why he has to be a dwarf.  That's change I can believe in!  Maybe there is some Dwarf hate that I missed.  You know that guy?  I hate that guy.  Probably because he's smaller than us.  Very possible that was a line of dialogue that I missed.  He is sort of a bad character, but he ends up redeeming himself.  If I remember correctly.  I probably do.  My Memory's pretty good.  Anyway.
Remember when I used to be funny?  Yeah, rings a bell.  You know, that sort of thing.  I found one extra Newport last night!  So, the two were enough to get me through the troubled times.  Now I got a whole carton.  What else and crap.  Presidential primaries are tomorrow.  I'm rooting for the good guys.  You know, the one or two of them that are good.  Rootin' for them.  What are they gonna talk about in 2017.  Too early to talk about 2020, right?  One would imagine.  I know what they should talk about in 2016, though.  Giving environmentally minded consumers their nickel back.  Pretty sure that's what the band Nickelback is about.  They saw this issue a mile away.
    One would imagine.  And Korn is about me.  That settles that.  Yeesh, one would imagine.  Does drinking alcohol dehydrate you.  Let's talk about.  It's a hot button issue.  One that could be solved by wikipedia.  Both Democratic Nominees talked about their being a middle ground when it comes to Apple releasing data about the San Bernie-Dito guy.  And wouldn't say what it is.  Well, there's a middle ground to this issue, both of them said.  Well, what is it?  The public demands answers you dolts.  What's the middle ground.  Apple releasing some of its data?  I don't get it.  And I pride myself on being able to get most things.  Except for this, and nickel backs.  And what the band Korn is about.  Besides those things, I mean.  I wanna see a candidate say, I know this is an unpopular position... but I'm pro-terrorist.  You know, as a goof.  See what would happen.  Anyway, crap and crap.  In a town hall, the candidate should just open it up by saying, Look, I'm gonna answer you all with one blanket statement-- I will solve all your problems.  Thank you for joining me tonight.  Then take off.
    Then start a new paragraph.  One good thing I like about all candidates, I watch em on T.V., and just think their lives are more stressful than mine.  Makes me feel good about myself.  And about them.  It's a win-win.  Anyway.  That's neither here nor there.  I guess it's nowhere.  Maybe it's some other place. It's not here, it's not there, but it's some place that isn't there, or here.  Makes sense to me.  Also, candidates always talk about racial issues, or LGBT issues, but no one talks about Little People issues.  We're fed up!  I'm not technically a little people.  Yeah, but they need someone bigger than them to stand up for them!  Someone who an average height person could theoretically make eye contact with! What issues does that entail?  Lower height restrictions at amusement parks.  Probably some other things.  Get back to me on that.  Should Little People be collecting some kind of disability?  I don't know!  Let's talk about it.  And when will we see a Little Person president?  My guess?  Never!
    At least it's a new paragraph.  That's a relief.  You can have Little People kings, or dictators.  No one has to vote for them.  But no one's gonna elect a miniature person to do stuff.  I remember in the 2004 election, for the debates, they made it so that the stage was on a slant, so Bush looked the same height as Kerry.  True fact.  I wouldn't lie to you.  Anyway, who cares.  I barely care.  I do care about this entry, though.  These entries are like my babies.  I care too much, probably, if anything.  Not lookin' forward to workshopping my crap on Tuesday.  I imagine the first person to talk will just go, Whyyyyyyyyyy?  And then a guy goes Seconded, and a girl goes third, until they're all against me and make me leave the room.  That's probably how it'll play out, I would guess.  What else.  My parents birthdays are in a week.  My Mom in six days, my Dad in eight days.  I will give them the greatest gift of all-- Fandango gift card for my Dad, Starbucks gift card for my Mom.  No, I'm not just pawning off my own gifts!  To be honest, I wasn't gonna give them anything at all!
    That's how that might go.  They should meet in the middle day and celebrate both their birthdays.  Except for the fact they don't really like each other.  That's the main deterrent to that romantic idea.  We get a 2/29 this year.  Gotta make it count.  Apparently it's a Monday.  Monday's pretty good.  I've seen worse days of the week.  Like Tuesday.  Let's talk about Tuesday.  Tuesday wishes it was Thursday.  Anyway, crap and crap.  Where are my e-mails.  Even pretty sure Blackboard isn't updating for me.  This is a conspiracy.  That's what this is.  I don't like it one bit.  Maybe I can play some Blue Baseball.  Get my guy some points.  I wanna see Mike Kornblum reach the big league.  Triple A, at least.  He's got heart.  He's either a team-leader or a contact hitter.  You have to pick one from a dozen or two roles when making the character, and I picked one of those.  Probably contact hitter.  Not sure what team-leader actually brings to the table in a video game.  That's why he's so sad when his double A team loses.  Teachin' his peers to take the game seriously.
    Okay, I guess.  What else.  Let's see.  Whattado with the rest of the weekend.  The Rap Game is only one hour.  That leaves a bunch of hours unplanned.  Smoke a bunch of Newports.  Livin' large.  Anyway.  Let's get another paragraph or two into the books.  No reason not to.  Not having anything to say has never stopped me before.  Anyway.  I'm Bane overweight.  I was lookin' in the mirror and that's the best way to describe it.  Great.  This'll be the last paragraph.  I have too much to do.  You know, video baseball, that kind of thing.  See ya later.

-7:00 P.M.                             


Thursday, February 18, 2016

Ya'll Titlin'?

    Hey friends.  Great.  Workshopped some stories today.  It went okay, people are pretty chill.  Don't know what I've got in store for me, though.  My story isn't like other people's stories.  It doesn't have plot or characters or conflict like other stories ay have.  But it's got character.  It's got gumption.  My story is like Rudy.  In that it's a short story.  Boomdebah!  Can I replace my story with that joke.  Too short.  Unless if I make it 1024 size font.  Which I can I guess.  Nobody's stopping me.  Also, for those confused-- it doesn't have characters, but it has character.  Consult an online dictionary if you're still confused.  Anyway.  I'm exceptionally bad at reading other people's stories.  Like, embarrassingly so.  I can't follow the plot or characters or conflict.  That's why my story is free of those shackles.  Totally relatable!  Teacher specifically said we can never use the word relatable, I guess because it doesn't mean anything.  That's not relatable.  I want to use the word relatable!  Anyone can relate!  She's just jealous that she wishes she was more relatable.  I've gotten to the bottom of this.  And, I got to say, empirically, she's pretty relatable.  Great, just great.  That old lady in my class, turned out one of these stories we workshopped was hers.  It was a pretty good story.  Well written and everything.  Couldn't follow the plot.  We talked about it for forty minutes and I'm still not sure exactly what happened.  Because I'm an idiot, that's why!
    Great.  The good news is Entry.  Best part of my day.  Except for when I don't feel like writing it.  Then, not writing an entry is the best part of my day.  It's all day those days.  Relatable.  Jeez.  Also, not wanting to use the word relatable?  Not relatable.  Let's get it together.  Yeesh.  Wide World Of Sports started today.  Baseball.  Reported for Pre-Spring Training or something.  I don't have all the details.  I think I'm still not getting e-mails from class.  I should be.  It just ain't right.  Today is the day in-between Little People and Rap Game.  And there's only one more Rap Game left, or so I've been led to believe.  I'm out of Newports.  This has never happened to me before.  What's smoking cigarettes without alternating between different kinds of cigarettes.  It calls the whole thing into question one would imagine.  I have a couple of old packs of regular Camel.  I can alternate between Camel Blue and Regular Camel.  Like a chump.  Jeez.  What else.  I'm sick of paying an extra nickel for beverages based on the idea that I will recycle them and recoup that nickel. You have completely overestimated my commitment to the environment.  Not really.  My Dad recycles.  I probably would if I had to.  The point is a nickel gained is a nickel earned!  You're ruining everything with this backwards no good system of charging an extra nickel.
And another thing, how come in some states, you get a dime?!  No fair, not fair at all.  Can we make this an issue for the upcoming election.  I think we probably could.  If we really wanted to.  Anyway, what else.  I still have the last ten or fifteen minutes of the Little People Show to watch.  The grand finale!  Will they finally realize they're shorter than average people?  I can't wait to find out!  I'm more smarter than the average person than I am shorter than the average person.  That's pretty good.  They just about cancel each other out one would imagine.  Whattado with my weekend.  The Rap Game only lasts an hour.  I got roughly a lot more hours to fill.  Also, on The Rape Game... Rap Game... well, that typo is kind of relevant to what I was gonna say.  There's a 12 year old called Supa Peach.  I don't like what that's insinuating!  No good!  Also, they guided the younger rappers to write about what they know, which I think is good.  But then he's like rapping about Chocolate Milk.  You're not foolin' anyone.  Nobody drinks chocolate milk.  That ain't your life. I sit at the cool kids table cause I am able ride the school bus like a stable.  Do you kids even go to school?!  I get the impression you're all home schooled.  That's just me.
    Also, let's not gloss over how great that rhyme was.  Pulitzer, Please.  That's a good catchphrase.  I'm stickin' with it!  Anyway, what else.  What's a stable, and can you ride it?  I'll get back to you on that.  Anyway, crap and crap.  I messed up not telling Teacher I hoped everything was alright re: her Family Emergency.  And doubling down on the damage, sending her an URGT email.  My Family Fell Down a Well, and you're telling me your bullshit is urgent?  Really miscalculated that one.  To be fair, I didn't know her family had fell down a well when I e-mailed her.  That's not on me.  Also, one of the kids name is Lil Poopie.  At first I was like, That's a terrible name!  but the more I think about it, I can deal with talkin' to some kid named Poop.  I'm assuming we can call him Poop for short.  If not, forget it.  Name's crap again.  Pun fully intended.  Well, once I figured it out, I made it intended in hindsight.  No reason I can't do that.
I'm pretty impressed by toilets.  The whole system.  I remember around the turn of the century, the A and E channel had a show called Biography, and they ranked the top 50 or 100 most influential people of the millennium.  I remember Charles Darwin was 2nd, and Steve Guttenberg was 1st.  I'd put up the guy who invented toilets right in that category.  No reason not to.  That's how I feel.  What else and crap.  I know even ancient Romans had some sort of sewage system.  But I can't imagine them having toilets of the quality we have today.  Thay weren't that great one would imagine.  How am I supposed to stay Fresh without Newports.  Can't be done.  Alright, I found two Newports I had put inside a Camel Box for convenience if I wanted to switch up smoking on the way to and from class!  Two Newports for the rest of the night.  Well, one.  You can bet your bottom dollar I'm having one right now.  I can deal with that.  One more for the next six hours.  Not too bad.  Gotta plan it out though.  I must go into this situation with a level mind.  There's no room for error.  No room for error!  Yeesh.
    Yeesh.  Great, what else and crap.  I could divide them up more and ration them into half cigarettes.  That's the best idea I've ever had.  And I'm come up with the idea of assuming that Teacher's family emergency was that her family fell down a well.  For some time, that was the best idea I've ever had.  Anyway..  I was just thinking again how smart animals are to cross the street perpendicularly.  I'm never gonna get that out my head.  It's amazing.  Flat out stupendous.  Anyway, crap and crap, crap and crap... Let's see.  What else and crap.  I'm rootin' for Supa Peach.  She did the best at the Focus Group.  Focus Group's know what's up.  I trust 'em.  Maybe that was Miss Mulatto.  All teenage female rappers look the same to me.  I don't know.  I wonder what Lil Poopie is doing right now.  Poopin' it up!  I'm having the second half of the first Newport now.  So much for self control.  The good news is I'm well on my way to a double entry.  Nothin' more satisfying than puttin' my heart and soul out there in a ten paragraph block.  That's a lot of quantity!  That's how I feel.
That's how I feel.  Seventh paragraph, right?  Yep!  Double good news.  Not only is it the seventh paragraph, but apparently I'm pretty decent at counting!  Great!  What else.  It's the seventh paragraph, but there's four more to go to complete ten?  Who thought up that bullshit math?  Probably Steve Guttenberg.  If I haven't been emptying my ashtray regularly like a chump, there's be tons of Newport stubs I can get a puff out of.  Penalized for being responsible.  Terrible.  Oh well.  When life hands you lemons, go out of your house and buy Newports like an Adult.  I can't leave the house.  My belly has grown to a large enough state that it prevents me from wanting to walk.  I mean, it's not hard, just mildly inconviniencying.  Good chance my weight now is the highest it's been.  Could be anywhere from 160-200.  Before this, my highest weight was 195.  I don't wanna check the scale, though.  You can't make me.  Even when I see a doctor, I tell 'em, don't tell me how much I weigh.  Because I'm an insecure idiot!  If you don't acknowledge a problem, it goes away.  Right?  That's how it works.
    It's not that bad.  I look normal overweight, not obese.  I'll settle for that.  Also, I wear shirts all the time when I leave the house.  Leaves a lot to the imagination.  This is the eigth paragraph, though.  No getting around it.  Also, I've mentioned it's the eigth paragraph dozens of times, and I still haven't figured out how to spell eighth.  Except that time.  Got it in my head how to spell it based on the incorectness of previous times.  And for the previous times, this paragraph, I didn't do spell-check, so you can see the kind of thing I'm dealing with day in and day out.  Spelling is hard.  Don't let anyone tell you different.  Also, Supa Peach wears a cape all the time around the house.  That's no good!  You wore a cape once for you music video, fine, that's fun.  Don't walk around the house in it!  Whose telling you to do this.  They're wrong.
    Great, just great.  What else and crap.  Lil Poopie should carry around rolls of toilet paper, and dis people, and then throw em a roll of toilet paper and say you just got pooped.  That's what should happen.  I guess I should be able to relate to anyone with a synonym of shit in their name.  Not allowed to, though.  Teacher said no Relating.  I really wanna do good in this class, so we're putting all relating on hold until semester's over.  Anyway.  I like it when my Dad is working nights and I have to order food for myself.  Makes me feel like a real Hero.  Adult.  Non-Chump.  Takin' care of myself and whatnot.  "So, So Def" sounds like a label I would want to be signed to.  Self Deprecating and a pun.  Two of my main contentions in life or something.  I don't know.  What else and crap.  Jeez.  One more paragraph to go.
    One more paragraph to go.  Let's see.  I've really got to improve at reading.  As an English major, it's one of the main requirements.  What else and crap.  If there's a show about lower-teenage rappers, judging whose the best, there should be a whole show about their parents, judging whose the best.  That's what should happen.  I don't care if it's half this show already.  I want an hour just for that.  Not really. I guess, a little.  Who knows for sure.  I've been noticing it's getting dark later than a month or two ago.  Always seems to happen this time of year.  Let's see Steve Guttenberg try to explain that!  Anyway.  That time of the entry again.  Windin' down.  Whattado with the rest of my day.  Play some poker.  Eat some dinner.  Watch some Town Hall.  Smoke a single Newport cigarette.  You don't know what you've got until its gone.  You know, that sort of thing.  I'll see ya later.

-6:13 P.M.               


Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Smells Like Teen Title

    Hey friends.  What's going on in the Wide World of Sports.  Today's Wednesday.  How about that.  Who came up with the word Wednesday.  Not a fan.  Really dropped the ball.  Also, that's why it's relevant.  Balls, Wide World of Sports...  It's all coming together!  Great, just great.  I almost choked on some orange soda earlier.  Not my best moment.  I guess I got distracted by Home Alone II: Not Really Home Alone But In New York Alone.  I like the part where the exact same things happen as the first movie.  I wonder if they calculated how if they used a slant rhyme in the title, if more people would go out to see it.  My guess?  Probably not.  He even gets a Whole Cheese Pizza All To Himself again.  By now, Macaluy Coulkin has got to have gotten dozens of cheese pizzas all to himself.  I used to get whole cheese pizzas my Sophomore year in college.  It's called being efficient.  Anyway, great, just great.  My Mom was telling me about a This American Life where some guy had similar symptoms that I've had.  That's no good.  I want to be The Special.  Maybe I should team up with him and drive a car cross country and tell Willie Nelson to go back in time fifty years and write a song about it also talk to what's his name who wrote the book, I want to say Macaluy Coulkin.  Let's see you try to out-symptom that!
Not in my dojo.  I gotta write a one page self-assessment of my story.  Probably talk about how I really wanted to experiment with using an unreliable narrator.  That's my subtle way of saying I was an unreliable storyteller.  Just so Teacher knows that I know.  It would be pretty crazy to have paranoid symptoms and then actually get on a widely syndicated radio show.  See, everyone knows me.  Looks like I was The Right.  In your face, everyone!  Good for him.  I'm sick of Diner Delivery adding a lemon to every freakin entree.  This isn't fish.  Don't give me no lemon with steak or lamb chops or anything.  You're way off.  When life gives you lemons, inappropriately serve them with some lamb chops.  Let's See This American Life Man come up with that one!  He's got nothin' on me.  I truly am The Special.  Anyway.  Crap and crap.  Hearin my Mom tell his story, though, really was crap.  I remember when I had extremely similar situations in an extremely similar situation.  I thought I had blocked that out of my mind.  The point is Ira Glass is a douche bag. Exploiting mentally ill people for his own profit.  Where does that jerk get off. 
    Great, just great.  Jack Kerouac.  See, I know things.  And you all doubted me.  Anyway.  Today's new Little People: L.A. and Little People: Atlanta.  The two Little People capitals of the world.  Look at them, they're different than us!  Fascinating.  I like how apparently they just pay female Little People to show up at clubs and bars.  You're no better than Ira Glass, exploiting people and the like!  They should start a radio show exploiting Ira Glass called Through The Looking Glass.  And it's all about his personal private shit.  Oh, how the tables have turned!  Maybe the bars and clubs don't even actually think Little People would draw them to their places.  Maybe they just think, If I pay you money, don't you have to grant me three wishes?  Make sure you keep a four leaf clover nearby, though, just in case things go wrong.  How come in Life's Too Short, Warwick Davis never talks about the Leprechaun franchise.  Maybe it's because he's too proud of it in real life than he doesn't want to make fun.  My guess?  I don't know.  My guess is as good as yours.  Except in this case.  I don't even have a guess.  At this point, any guess is better than my nonexistent guess.  You at least have a chance of being right.
    That's how that might go.  Apparently they tasered and shot this My American Life guy.  Because he was black.  That's one thing I don't have to worry about.  Unless if I get paranoid that I've turned black.  Then I might start worrying about it.  We'll see how that goes.  I hope I turn black.  Then I can live my lifelong dream of calling myself Darkness.  In tribute to the Eddie Murphy Brothers and Mike Cameron.  No one actually called Mike Cameron the darkness except my and my chum.  We didn't mean it offensively, or anything.  He was just really black.  If anything, we liked him more because of it.  Him and Kaz Matsui.  Kaz Matsui was to the Mets the same as Jeb Bush to the Republicans.  Kaz!  That's where they're the same.  Three letter first name followed by an exclamation mark.  Also in that they were supposed to be good and let their entire team down.
We moved Jose Reyes to second base for you?  Wide World of Sports.  Anyway.  I don't think I'll ever confuse lamb chops and pork chops again.  #ProgressInLife. 
    Sure, why not.  If there was a This American Life about me, it would be subtitled, What Went Wrong?  I don't care if they have subtitles or not.  If they want me to agree to do their show, they're gonna have to make accommodations.  Also, Just tell me, plainly.  Am I turning black?  Let's get Ira Glass on the phone.  Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.  I don't know why that's a phrase.  No one should throw stones.  Let's make that a blanket rule for everybody, right?  That's how I feel.  Maybe it's not a phrase.  That's my main symptom.  Delusions of Phrases.  Great, just great.  Home Alone II, again, I must say-- Just call the Police.  You're setting an example for young children everywhere.  Anyway, what else and crap.  Yeesh.  That got me all riled up.  What else and crap.  This guy is delusional.  He has no idea what's going on in the Wide World of Sports yet keeps bringing it up.  He needs help.  Wide World of Sports!  Wonderful.  Ira Glass, do a show about The Wide World of Sports, dedicated to people who are real mature about things to be accommodating.  Wide World of Puns.
That's how that might go.  Yeesh.  We might have a mini Family Get Together during the weekend I will probably be going to Casino with Uncle.  That's great.  I've said it before, I'll say it again.  In the land of no friends, the man with family is king.  Gotta have something.  Also, my aunt makes really great eggs.  That's my take away from the last time I went to Casino with Uncle.  That and, Poker Table's Too Green.  Nothing needs to be that green.  Throwin' me off my game.  Oh well, now I know what to expect.  I can stare at Green six hours a day in preparation.  Not a bad idea.  More like a terrible idea.  One that I will actually consider.  Six hours a day is too much.  Even just ten minutes a day, that should do the trick.  Also, give me more chips.  I don't care if it's in smaller denominations. I just want a big chip stack to play with.  Really makes a man feel good.  Also, don't mean to brag, but I can chip shuffle like a pro.  Don't mean to brag.  Either way, what else and crap.
    Two entries in consecutive days.  And you all doubted me.  What else and crap.  I should eventually just write an entry with the goal predetermined for it to be my second story for the class.  No reason why I shouldn't.  It's supposed to be fiction, sure.  But this is fiction.  It's supposed to be funny.  Fiction.  Alright, what else.  Sure I know what words mean.  What else and bullshit.  Yeesh.  What crap.  Three fourths done with the entry.  That's the kind of crap I can get behind!  What else and crap.  What else.  Closin' in on March.  You know what that means.  White font on black background.  I knew something was turning black!  Just, instead of me, it's the background to my website.  I was so close.  That's how that might go.  Anyway.  It's been a while now since I started the Ritalin.  I think it's been great.  I totally feel like I've gotten rid of Lin.  It's about time.  What else and crap!  During The Grammy's there was a commercial or something about some kid playing piano really fast, hitting notes and crap, and then him playing the same rythm, but everything was the same note.  My take away from that?  Hearin' the same note in an interesting rhythm is still pretty good.  Also? Am I sure my music isn't just the same note over and over and I just can't tell.  Those two things, crap and crap, that sort of crap.
    Yeesh.  Eighth paragraph, though.  That's good.  I guess.  My Mom was thinking about donating to Bernie Sanders, and I was like, Instead of donating, buy me a T-Shirt.  That way I can show my allegiance all around town.  Might even change a few minds.  Hey, if Michael's wearing a shirt, he must have a good cause!  That's why Tenacious D shirt is my first in each rotation.  I need people to know I support Tenacious D.  And most of my shirts where I'm supporting things are in Small.  I can't wear Small anymore.  My belly won't accommodate it.  Anyway, what else and crap.  Hey, I think I can send in my self assessment next Tuesdasy!  On account of class not being a thing this past Tuesday.  Oh, right, I should update you.  Teacher had a Family Emergency.  Everyone else knew because she e-mailed them.  I didn't get the e-mail probably on account of me being an idiot.  But, either way, got nothin' to do before next class!  Alright!  I knew good news was on it's way.  Finally, things are looking up.  Wonderful.
    Okay.  I have to write two more paragraphs for some reason.  Gotta be consistent.  Also, I'm selling myself short calling these blobs paragraphs.  They're the length of two regular paragraphs!  How about that.  At roughly Ten O' Clock, I can do tomorrows Mini-Crossword on the NYTimes.  Alright!  I can knock that out in two minutes.  I'm gettin' pretty decent.  I do mean to brag.  It's a pretty good achievement and I'm proud of it.  What else in Sports.  I wonder what Kaz Matsui is up to.  Probably Kaz-ing it up somewhere.  That's his thing.  Doing his name something up somewhere or something.  That's how that might go.  Yeesh.  What else.  One good choice I've made since I first got ill was starting smoking cigarettes.  So, something's good come of it.  That's something to take solace in.  I guess.  What else.  I can't stand most anti-smoking ads.  So stupid.  I especially hate the one that's like Stay Fresh!  You morons.  When you haven't smoked before, the first cigarettes you smoke are fresh as a mother fucker.  You want some freshness, try it out!  I guarantee you you'll be pleased.
    That's how I feel.  This is the last paragraph.  Great.  Wide World of Sports.  What else.  Family Emergency.  Just admit it, it was the wind.  You didn't wanna go out because of the wind.  That's how I feel.  Whattado with the rest of my night.  I got some DVDs that need watching.  Well, that deserve watching.  Well, that I can handle watching.  What else and crap.  At least I get to watch Little People.  They're qualitatively worse off than me.  What else.  I need a new pillow.  Let's talk about it.  Also, my blanket is messed up.  Got ripped along some seems or something, so that it covers twice as much ground as it used to, but most of that is just the outside of the blanket with no stuffing.  It's a blessing and a curse, it is.  I could watch Meet The Parents.  No reason not to.  It's a fine movie.  I remember in 2008, I was trying to be an Adult, and I got my Dad a gift for his birthday.  The updated version of Bye Bye Birdie.  Because he liked the old version.  I think he just gave it back to me, though.  He wanted none of it.  I could watch that for some reason.  It's got Jason Alexander.  That's a pretty big qualitative quality to qualify it.  Anyway, I'll see ya later.

-7:19 P.M.              


Tuesday, February 16, 2016

There Goes That

    Went to class today.  There was no class.  I stayed there for an hour and a half, and I e-mailed the professor I DEMAND ANSWERS!  So far, no answer.  Sure spent a lot of time asking myself, though, Are you confident today is Tuesday.  Are you sure class is on Tuesday?  Is this the right room?  Since I was already there, I literally checked every classroom in the building to see if we had changed rooms.  Well, not every room.  Probably a solid 80%, though.  I thought if I said every room you'd have more respect for me.  There goes that.  I even had the feeling, I just gotta go into one of these random classes to learn something.  Don't matter what it is.  I pay good money for a college education and I demand answers!  Sure is embarrassing, though, probably.  I didn't see one other person from my class show up.  That means everyone else is on the same page except me.  And, if they had class somewhere else, this might count as an Absent.  How dare you.  I was present.  Maybe they were planning my surprise birthday party.  Can't count that out.  It would be really surprising, too.  My birthday is in December. I'd never see it coming.  I even sent an e-mail to the professor halfway through what the class would have been, and I titled it with the name of the class and URGT.  YMy take away from that?  I need to do some research to see the acceptable abbreviation of, "Urgent."  I think I was pretty close with URGT.  Maybe throw an N in there.  But if you throw in an N, basically all you're missing is an E.  Might as well type the whole thing out at that point.
    This is so urgent I can't give you time to read out an entire word!  That's how I feel.  Anyway.  I know last week we had Tuesday off because it was a Friday schedule.  I double checked the syllabus that it was last week and not this week.  Double Checked!  That's one more than regular.  Anyway.  One Absence decreased my final grade by a half a letter grade.  That can't happen.  It wouldn't be just!  I stuck around long enough to see the people go into the next class that was in the room I shoulda been in.  I spent a good amount of time looking at the students accumulate, not recognizing anyone, and thinking, Well, maybe they're in the class.  They have similar characteristics.  This one wears glasses.  I can picture a glasses wearer in my class.  Possible its her.  Also, yeah, I knocked on the door at least a dozen times.  Can't get me on that technicality.  And no one left the room when the time session ended.  There was no class that period in that room.  Shoulda been.  Let's get to the bottom of it!  First, top though.  Then middle.  Then Let's get to the bottom of it!
    Great.  I had to walk fro and back in the wind for this?  Also, "Fro?"  Is that a thing?  Seems similar to something that can be a thing.  It was raining a little bit, and winding up a storm.  So I made the cold calculation to not deploy my umbrella.  Woulda protected against the semi-moderate amount of rain, sure.  But wind woulda turned it inside out.  Nothin' worse than an inside out umbrella.  You look like a fool.  Pedestrians come up to you, You know, it's supposed to be the other way.  Yeah, I know!  Get off my case!  At least I said Dear Professor in the e-mail.  She probably would want me to start closing them with "Thanks, Michael Kornblum."  I've been going with "Thanks, Mike."  Then seven emojis which tell a story.  Anyway, what else and crap. I'm pretty interested to see where I went wrong today.  Did they cancel class?  How was I supposed to hear about it.  Did they move to a different room?  I was there fifteen minutes early, no one there, but around five minutes before class, I used the rest room.  Came back a minute or two before class, still no one there, and that's how it remained.  Did she gather up everyone who showed up exactly at the same time to move to a different room without leaving a flyer saying so?  Probably not.  That can't be it.
    Maybe there is no class and it is and always was a figment of my imagination.  Boy, I hope that's not it.  I got a syllabus and everything.  I could be Tyler Durdening this whole thing, making an imaginary class behind my own back.  Hope not.  What are other people doing there.  They must know imaginary classes don't count towards your degree.  The good news is ESPN ranked The Mets the second best team in the majors going into this season.  I had thought out a riff on the bus about the song, "Take Me Out To The Ball Game."  Pretty much crap.  Let's go through with it?  Alright, quickly--- 1) Song orders people around.  2)You should care if you get back.  3)Why are you jumping to the conclusion they'll lose?  That's how I feel.  Jeez.  I don't like the Spam section of E-mail.  Who are you to tell me what's important.  I can make up my own mind you dolt.  Anyway.  Was today a secret Daylight Savings Deal.  Anything's possible at this point.  It's gotta end up with me being an idiot, though, right?  No one else showed up.  Must be my fault.
    Anyway, great.  I was gonna shave before this semester started.  Two weeks in and I still haven't.  It's because I'm irresponsible, stupid!   That's how that might go.  My best pair of socks have a huge hole in them.  Great, just great.  Most of the time I don't even wear socks, but with these socks, it's been a real treat and a pleasure to wear them.  Now, no more.  Today just keeps getting worse and worse.  First rule of Fight Club--- Show up at the right place and time to Fight Club.  If no one's there, you probably messed up somewhere.  Second rule of Fight Club-- Have Fun!  That's how that might go.  My day feels empty on account of no class.  Thanks a Lot, whoever's responsible.  I wanna say me.  What if the teacher just says, We Decided To Go To The Beach!  Then I'll be pissed for not telling me.  I like the beach.  Theoretically.  The only time I went to the beach I also went on a boat and I jumped off the boat and I floated away and the boat had to turn around and come get me.  Wouldn't want that to happen again.  You'd think after that experience, I would know not to jump off a boat deep into the ocean.  But it's so much fun! 
    Great, just great.  I demand answers.  This should be an episode of Beyond Belief: Fact Or Fiction: The T.V. Show.  Was Michael's class really not there?  Or... wait, wait a second.  I'll come up with something.  What caused the mystery of Michael's class not being there?  Was it something supernatural?  Or are we... Wait, here we go.  I got this.  Or... Or... Damn this is harder than it looks.  Alright, here we go.  Or are you just absent minded?  Close enough.  Jeez.  Stupid socks.  We had a good thing going.  They had to ruin it.  Anyway.  I got an e-mail from Queens College, and as far as they're concerned, it's my Senior Year.  Alright!  And at the pace I'm going, senior year should only take a dozen or so years to complete.  Alright!  Anyway.  Maybe the number one team in that ESPN article is a notification that class was cancelled.  I stopped reading after The Mets!  What a chump.  Teacher's gonna be pissed at me for the URGENT notification.  Dear Mike, please only use that in an emergency.  Don't be an idiot.  Go fuck yourself.  You know, that sort of thing.
Anyway, great.  I should just make this entire post my second story for the class.  No reason not to.  Except for several reasons.  What else.  The good news is What Else Do I Got Goin' On.  Let's see.  I literally went around the building, looking into classrooms, on the off chance I'd find my class.  #Hero.  Anyway, what else.  If they don't win it's a shame.  What about if they do win?  Don't be so negative.  What else and crap.  I missed having a class.  It's the only time in my week where I'm around other people and/or doing something productive and/or occupied with something other than my own bullshit.  And to think I might be penalized on top of it?  Whatta bullshit.  I WALKED IN THE WIND.  Good luck finding other students who'll do that.  ALso, is it unsanitary to, after you wash your hands, wet your hands once more and mess with ones hair?  I did the preliminarily of washing my hands regular.  I just don't want bathroom peers to think poorly of me, that's all.
Anyway, two more paragraph.  Let's see.  Was Michael's Class really not there?  Or... WAS MICHAEL NOT THERE.  Nope, that's not it.  I was there.  Pretty sure, at least.  And if Teacher calls into doubt whether I was really there, I can point her towards this entry.  No one would go through all this bullshit just to fool Teacher.  Probably not, at least.  Let's see.  What else.  I've got the beers to prove it.  How could I have gotten beers if I didn't go to class and pick them up in the gas station on the way home.  #Logic.  And how do I prove I got beers?  Invite Teacher over to my house.  Then turn off all the lights and don't answer the door.  Ah, the tables have turned!!!  Let's see how you like it.  When do tables turn.  And what does that imply.  Let's get to the bottom of that expression.  I'm imagining a Poltergeist scenario where tables turn without a seeable force.  That's great, just great.  Also, "Seeable," actually being a word?  That's a Win.  Alright.  What else.  Empty Dime Bag on my walk.  I don't know why this is a thing that happens.  Just throw it out in your house.  It's not that hard to conceal if you want to.  Me, I just put the ones I find in packs of cigarette ready to be thrown out.
    Me, I just write ten paragraphs, that's all I do!  Alright!  Let's see, crap and crap, crap and crap...  This is only the ninth paragraph.  Crap and Crap!  Jeez.  I can handle that, just two more paragraphs to go.  I guess the point is never use the bathroom.  You never know what you might miss out on.  I hate it when the bathroom smells and then someone else comes in after you and you have to be like It's Not My Fault!!!  You know, that sort of thing.  Also, on my walk home, I saw a piece of dog shit that looked like a sausage.  #MadeYaReadIt.  That's how that goes.  Yeesh.  It's a good thing I wasn't wearing these socks when I wore my Dad's Boots.  He'd have a fit.  The good news is What Else.  Still got that bag of ground pellets.  Don't wanna use it up to quickly.  Who knows when it'll be that I have the opportunity to get Ground Pellets again.  There's a decent chance that Never.  I may NEVER get Ground Pellets again.  Jeez.  When I put it that way, really makes me appreciate them.
    Alright, last paragraph.  Let's do it hardcore.  Or softcore.  Mediumcore, as a last resort.  Let's see.  What happened to today's class.  Can't wait to find out.  Gotta be something.  Let's see, paragraph, paragraph...  Got nothin'.  What do I got ondeck for tonight.  Dinner.  Watch some quality Television.  What show am I up to.  Right, Summer Heights High.  Sure I've seen it before.  I'll see it again.  It's well within my rights as a T.V. Viewer.  Also, for the most part, live T.V. doesn't work for me.  On-Demand works.  So, that's what I gotta watch and crap.  I like the part where fun happens.  Yeah.  I was watching the debate on my muckymuck T.V. and it looked like both Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders were wearing gloves.  Cause the colors were weird.  I was all like, They're wearing gloves!  That's an interesting story.  Not sure why.  It illustrates how much my T.V. is broken.  Also, apparently, it turns out I was watching Sesame Street.  I was way off.  #OscarTheGrouch2016.  Yeesh.  Guess entry is winding up.  One more rant or riff or bullshit.  Gotta close it strong.  Real strong.  Let's see.  Was Michael's class really not there?  Or was he just... bad at reading e-mails.  That counts as a thing.  No reason why it wouldn't.  See ya later.

-5:48 P.M.                      


Saturday, February 13, 2016

More Free Food Please

    Well, last week, it was a free double cheeseburger.  Today, got a free slice of 'Za with meatballs.  Also, a, I saying 'Za ironically?  No.  That's not what irony is.  Am I saying it sarcastically?  Nope, not quite what sarcasm is, either.  How am I saying it?  Oh, I know!  Sarcastically.  There, that settles that.  Also, this meat isn't coming in balls.  It's strips of balls.  Who you foolin'.  The good news is Hello.  Got to read a few short stories from classmates.  They're okay.  They don't have an unreliable narrator, and a story without plot, characters, and/or conflict.  I'm leading the league in those categories.  Anyway.  Sometimes when I get the food delivery really quickly, I get suspicious.  No way you coulda done it in that time.  Probably someone who overheard our phone call and wants to poison us.  That's the most logical explanation.  Or, they anticipated us calling them, and what our order would be, and started cookin' in advance.  That's the second most logical explanation.  Or maybe they moved their kitchen to right outside our house.  Third most logical explanation.  Maybe it's Day-Old food.  Fourth most logical explanation.
    I can't think of a fifth most logical explanation.  I guess it must be one of the first four.  That's how that might go.  So, Antonio Scalia died.  I think it's possible that Clarence Thomas died eight years ago and no one noticed, too.  Really shakin' things up!  That could be the next case they take.  Is Clarence Thomas dead.  Probably a 4-4 tie with Clarence Thomas abstaining.  Would count to 7 total votes in lieu of recent events.  You would account to 7 total votes!  Get off my website!  Anyway, what else and crap.  Other peoples' stories.  What, you think just because you use adjectives, you're better than me?  I don't need adjectives!  Leave somethin' to the imagination!  That's how I feel. Clarence Thomas had pubes on a can of soda, or something.  That's the extent of my political knowledge.  I have less pubes than I used to.  Since I started the dozens of medications I've been through.  #Relevant.  Well, probably the same number of pubes.  But half as long.  #MadeYaReadIt.  I could go on testosterone, but then I'd be suspended by Major League Baseball.  I can't have that.  The Game is my livelihood! 
    Remember that time I talked about my pubic hair.  It came up, not my fault.  I blame Clarence Thomas.  I like Deep Throat.  He made newscasters say the phrase, "Deep Throat," thousands of times.  Probably was his motive for the whole thing.  I might have done that bit previously here.  The point is great, what else.  If I was Deep Throat, I would have made my code name "Ya'll Ready For This?"  With good reason, too-- I'm an imbecile.  Oh well.  Scalia's judging people in Heaven, now.  Anyway.  Have to workshop other peoples' stories.  I did last class, too, but there it was 5% of the grade.  So I didn't.  Now it's a big chunk.  Why me.  Look, it's a story, what do you want me to say.  That's how that might go and crap.  I give it three and a half pubes.  Hopefully out of four or five.  Not out of all the pubes I have.  I have decidedly more than three and a half pubes.  Don't mean to brag.  Anyway, where was I.  Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  I would give my lover an assortment of flowers made out of pubes, but, no lover.  Also, I've told you, my pubes aren't enough for multiple flower arrangements. 
    Great, just great.  Why me.  When I first got pubes, I didn't really get them on my Balzac.  Just the upper area.  How things change, am I right.  Anyway.  I was looking at the light bulbs in my room last night.  Moths have got the right idea.  Light bulbs are fascinating.  Are you allowed to stare directly at a light bulb.  Seems like you should be.  Hell, I'll look directly at the sun.  Nobody's gonna tell me what to do.  During Solar Eclipses, sun's gotta be thinking, finally, some attention!  And another thing, what's the deal with... uh.  Something else.  There we go.  Hey, this is the fourth paragraph already.  Alright!  I think Teacher is angry at me.  I sent her an e-mail, and in her response, she scolded me for not titling the e-mail possible.  My first reading of her reply, I was like, Damn, she's really pissed.  Then I read it again in her voice that I remember from class, and was like, Nah, she's just trying to be helpful.  But most likely she was trying to be helpful and was pissed.  Probably read my story.  Why did I have to read this, You're an idiot, and my life is worse because of this must have all been going through her head.
Anyway, what else.  Only one more episode of The Rap Game.  The truth is, they're all winners.  They can capitalize on this opportunity, just being into the show, to modest careers.  Good for them.  I like how Jermaine Dupri's record label is called So So Def.  Now, I get that it's supposed to be like, SO MUCH SO MUCH DEF.  But it can also be read as "So, So" Def.  Like, a mediocre quality of def.  Love it!  Anyway, just got a follow up e-mail from The Prof.  Turns out she wasn't critiquing my titling of the e-mail, but rather, the introduction.  I went with the standard," Hi," and she wanted a Dear Professor.  So I fucked that up again when replying to her original critique.  Whatta embarrassment.  But she didn't seem pissed off in this e-mail.  Jeez.  She used an exclamation mark in making her point.  Who knows what to make of that.  Not me.
    Okay, one last paragraph.  You know how that goes.  Anyway.  Obama's in office for practically a full more year.  It would be ridiculous to put off naming a new judge.  That's how I feel.  And it matters how I feel.  Remember, I'm the guy that's slowly turning into Mothman.  I feel bad for Moths, in that equation.  Their main power is being attracted to light?  That's no power.  That's a disability.  They can't help themselves.  Anyway, where was I.  Anyway.  I've only given one Valentine's Day card or anything to anybody.  In third grade.  And then, she left our class next year.  Scared her off.  That'll Learn Me.  I've been having a lot of acid-reflux or something lately.  Taking a Pepsid helps.  But I can't take that every day.  It's probably bad for you one would imagine.  Gotta see some doctor about it or something.  Anyway, I'll catch ya later.

7:13 P.M.                


Thursday, February 11, 2016

See You In Hell, Short Story!

    Well, I wrote my story.  Was it good?  No.  Was it funny?  No.  Was it six pages?  You bet.  That's a lot of pages.  But you know what I realize?  It had to be 1200-2500 words, and the equivalent length of a five paragraph entry would get me there.  I can do that in my sleep.  Not literally, of course.  When I'm sleeping, I'm pretty much of no use to anyone.  That's great.  Anyway, was it good?  No.  Was it funny?  No.  I can be not good or funny in my sleep.  In fact, I usually am.  My dreams border the line of nightmare and just uncomfortable.  At least they're always six pages long.  That's how I feel.  Yeesh.  What's going on in the Wide World of Crap.  I accidentally wore my Dad's boots today for a minute.  I thought they were my snow boots, which I never wear.  So I got a call from my Dad, pissed, a minute after I left the house.  I come back, and he's talking about getting rid of the shoes.  Now, granted, I do have a bit of fungus on two toes.  Had it since forever.  It makes the nails of those toes kind of weird.  But it's not contagious probably!  And I was wearing socks!  Don't be such an OCD.  Anyway, crap and crap.  The good news is my Dad's shoe size isn't that much more than mine.  I did feel, yeah, these shoes are pretty loose, but I could have dealt with it.  Also, for context, my Dad's 5'7 and I'm 5'2.  So almost being able to fill his shoes... pretty impressive.  That's how I feel!
    Anyway, what else and bullshit.  I hope one day I can fill my father's shoes.  Yeah, but if you do, he's gettin' rid of them.  He don't want none of your foot fungus.  I've let my family down again.  Letting my family down is a kind of overarching theme of my life.  Oh well, live and learn.  Not much really happened in the story.  There's no character development, very little plot, not really sure what the conflict was.  But was it six pages?  You bet.  If a room full of monkeys were typing at a type writer, they'd never get to six pages.  They don't know how to refill the typewriter with paper.  I'm skeptical they even luck out and hit keys enough to fill up a page.  A lot of reasons why it's stupid.  Anyway.  We're gonna spend fuckin' forty minutes talking about my story next week.  That's no good.  Why did I have to read this? probably the main comment.  Are you stupid or something? coming in a close second.  And, to round out the top three comments, My life is worse because of this.  Alright.  New episode of The Rap Game tomorrow night!  I hope at the end of the last episode, they have a clip of bloopers with the title The Wrap Game.  Cause it's over.  Wrapping it up.  Jeez, you don't understand anything, do you.  I have a memory of exclaiming I Run The Dope Game! either in real life somewhere as a child, or possibly in crazysheet.com.  Always stuck with me.  That's what I take away from that show.  I know there's the time I yelled I Got Jungle Fever! in an urban McDonalds and almost got stabbed to death.  Good thing we hid out in the Blockbuster across the street.  Good thing.
    Right, right.  The slogan for Blockbuster should be, Oh, I get it, cause movies can be blockbusters.  I'm on board.  And they have to subtitle every Blockbusters store with it.  Because who cares and what else and bullshit.  I should have subtitled my story, Sorry.  Woulda been appropriate I think.  What else.  What to do with the rest of my day.  I wanna say stuff.  Although there's the possibility it might be things.  Can't discount the chance it could be crap.  I can't wait to find out!  Great.  What else.  I shoulda spent one more day with the story.  It coulda benefited from a legitimate editing.  Oh well, live and learn.  See, the narrator knows that it's mediocre, that's why.  All part of the story.  I think all narrators should be unreliable.  It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure whether to buy into the narrator or not.  What fun.  Watched a few DVDs over the last couple of days.  Let me tell you, you haven't seen movies if you haven't watched them in blue.  I wonder what watching Avatar would be like.  There's only so much blue a T.V. can handle.  Would the T.V. set explode?  My guess?  Probably.
    I'm writing a freakin' short story every other day.  Pulitzer, please.  I'd like to think I'm the king of unreliable narrators.  Except I don't really narrate.  And, cut me some slack, I'm not that unreliable.  You can count on me.  That word should be narrarate.  Extra syllable you're missing out on.  What dolts.  It's like Adaptation: The Movie.  They could have called it Adaption.  Went with the extra syllable.  They know what's up.  Turns out adaption isn't a word.  Adoption is.  Talk about an unreliable narrator.  That's the most unreliable narrator you could be-- making up words.  Can't even count on you to speak the English properly.  Right, right.  What else.   Also, let's be honest.  Every other day?  Gotta be averaging an entry every three or four days.  Whatta shame.  Most likely going to Casino with Uncle in two weeks and change.  I'm droppin' the sunglasses idea.  Gotta do my best with what I got.  My teacher told us about how she's friends with a professional poker player, and there's a muscle in our face that, without fail, everyone, twitches when they're bluffing. Spoiler alert.  Now, if I figure that out, I can be a professional Pokerrator.  Pulitzer, please.
Anyway, great.  I've been thinking a lot over the last couple of days making a photoshop of Michael Caine with the words, Some Men Just Want To Watch The World Bern.  Because I'm an imbecile.  Out of context you might not get it.  If I posted it right after The New Hampshire, it woulda made sense.  I don't have the work ethic, though.  Also, don't have the Photoshop.  Also, not that funny.  Lots of things working against it.  Dumped it into a fifth paragraph of Crazysheet, though.  Fits just fine here.  Anyway.  Class is pretty interesting.  Teacher is smart and good at teaching.  And easy on the eyes.  Her, the 70 year old woman... it's a good class, that's all I'll say.  Actually, I'll say something else.  A real thing.  The other kids in this class are actually smart and on point and get it.  Half of them make better comments than me.  Nice to be part of a class like that.  I hate them so much.  You think you're better than me?!
    That's how that might go.  I would be in the elite of people making comments if only I would do the readings for class.  In other classes, I could fake it, browsing through it quickly just before class and picking up the rest based on reading specific passages based on other people's comments.  I gotta bring my A game from now on.  I've got to win this class or else people will lose respect for me.  Oh well.  Onward and upward.  What else and crap.  What's a good movie to watch in Blue.  Big Fish.  Water's blue.  The Brothers Bloom.  Blue's in there somewhere.  Blue Velvet.  Which is a thing I'm guessing.  Not quite sure.  Still watching Little People realty shows.  They go, Me, I like tall guys.  Six feet and up, please!  And then they say, talking about themselves, size shouldn't matter.  I mean, You... but.. you said... c'mon... I HATE YOU.  I don't hate you.  People can have their own opinions and preferences.  I just think it's bullshit.  Don't hate the player, hate the game.  Can't I hate both?  No reason why I can't hate both.
    Whose the player in this scenario.  I don't know.  Short guys should just walk around with a sign around their neck that says Sorry.  Anyway, what else and crap.  I've had it up to here!  What else.  Why are all Little People shows either about families or women.  There's no Little People show about some Little Bros.  Wonder what that would be like.  All people on T.V. are little compared to the home viewer.  Unless you have a really big T.V.  Let's talk about it.  Is this the eigth paragraph yet.  Seventh or eighth.  Lemme go check.  BRB.  Aww crap, only the seventh.  What did I do to deserve this.  This was the eighth, I'm feelin fine, confident about where I am.  Seventh?  I got so far to go.  What did I do to deserve this.  Write a bad story?  That must be it.  I forced people to read bullshit.  I'm responsible for so much pain.  Oh well, live and learn.  Deep Blue Sea.  Could always buy that from Amazon.  Probably gonna see Zoolander this weekend.  I was just the right age for the first one.  Eleven, I think.  So, I'm pot committed to the franchise, is what I'm saying.
    Finally, the eighth paragraph.  About time.  What else and bullshit.  What was the goal of writing your story.  Fulfilled a requirement!  Hope I get to bust that out next week.  To get you suckers to read it!  That's plan B if the question is asked.  Question probably won't be asked, though.  Story of my life.  Preparing answers for questions that won't be asked.  Don't hate the game, hate the player.  Sure, why not.  What's a Zoo Lander.  Let's talk about it.  Anyway.  Two and a half more paragraphs to go.  Then I can devote the rest of my day to other kinds of crap.  What else.  Let's just make it an eight paragraph entry.  And with a few more sentences, we'll be done.  I don't think I've ever smoked a cigar.  I've smoked blunts.  But not just a regular cigar with tobacco.  Something to look forward to.  I got some neat boxes that cigars came in back int he day, from my maternal grandfather.  He smoked and dealt with antiques and crap, so I guess those two things combined and led to me having some neat little boxes.  When I used to smoke marijuana, I would keep the paraphernalia in one of those boxes.  Did I mention how neat they were?  Anyway, see ya later.

-5:30 P.M.         


Thursday, February 4, 2016

Everybody Title Now

    Just a suggestion.  Not an order.  Title whenever you feel like it, I'm not here to boss you around.  Either way, Hi!  Made some progress with my story.  Every story I end up writing tends to be just closely based on something that happened to me.  This will be no different!  Except, since I've already gone through the good stories that really occurred, I'm just gonna combine a bunch of Nothings into One Great Big Mediocre Story.  It's good because it's Fiction.  Didn't really happen all at once.  Pulitzer Prize, please.  You're not gonna believe this.  The old lady who writes a comedy blog and does music, we had an assignment where we had to write a paragraph about something we're good at, explaining it to other people.  What'd she write about?  Puns.  Are you freaking kidding me.  I've finally found my soul mate.  And it's a seventy year old lady.  Well, at least I found her.  Cross "Looking For Soul Mate" off my life list.  That's good news.  The less I have to do in life the better.  Either way, what else and crap.  Gotta write a good story.  It's important to me For Some Reason.  Probably because I fancy myself a writer.  That explains it.
    Now, how do I get this old lady to know I'm interested in her.  What can I do to win her affection.  Come up with some killer puns to tell her.  Gotta get crackin' on that.  Either way, crap.  What else and crap.  She has a different definition of pun than I do, though.  She believes in slant puns.  One of her examples was "Colon," and "Cologne."  Like, this smells like colon.  Not a true pun.  Slant pun.  Not attractive anymore, see ya later.  And to think I was gonna share my life with you.  That's how that goes.  Talked to someone in my class who was in my creative writing class last semester.  She also got an A+.  Really brought me down.  I thought I was The Special.  Guess I'm no beter than anyone else.  The good news is What Else And Crap.  Teacher is pretty good, though.  She humors me while listening to my bullshiteque comments.  The thing where it seems like, Hmm, she seems to be on board with this, maybe I'm The Special.  Then she calls on someone else who says the right thing and moves on.  And to think I was gonna share my life with... Great, just great.  Last night for food delivery, they sent us an extra Double Cheeseburger.  I'm not fallin for that one.  The Ol' Poisoned Double Cheeseburger bit.  How dumb do you think I am.
    And there'd be no record of the Double Cheeseburger ever being ordered.  It's the perfect crime.  Why do we have the phrase The Perfect Crime for a clever thing.  What kind of sociopaths are we as a people.  Let's go to the phones.  What else and crap.  What if I just tell stories from my life from The Crypt Keeper's point of view.  I get a D-.  That's what.  She says No Sci-Fi or Fantasy.  One can assume she don't want no horror either.  Which is too bad, because I briefly considered writing a story with implied supernatural events, but at the end turn out to be pretty pedestrian.  But for most of it, you think it's supernatural.  That's a no-go.  Either way, what else and crap.  Why am I writing here instead of my story.  You know, to get in the zone, and crap.  Writing's all about writing other things when you should be writing the primary thing.  I think Shakespeare said that.  Who knows for sure.  E.L. Doctorow used to teach at Stuy or something.  Or went to Stuy.  Who knows for sure.  I know Angela's Ashes taught at Stuy.  I have that on good authority.  Either way, what else and crap.  I could write the story about my failed attempt at Student Teaching.  That's ripe for parody!  Why do people keep saying that.  And by people, I mean me.  I'm people.
    Jeez.  The main thing I remember from English Classes at Stuy were the end of two books.  The end of Grapes of Wrath, where someone's gettin' fed by some tits.  The end of Invisible Man, where someone falls down a sewer.  The two things that inspired me to becoming the writer I am today.  Suckin' titties.  Fallin' down sewers.  That's what it's all about.  Man, if I can work in some suckin' titties and falling down wells or sewers into this story, I'd be acing that crap.  Jeez.  My favorite way to write recently is with unreliable narrators.  It's fun.  Who knows what's going on!  Even the narrator don't quite get it!  That sums that up.  And it teaches us an important lesson.  Nobody knows what's going on.  Anyway.  The one idea I had that wouldn't have been based on my life was World's Greatest Grandpa.  Not sure what would have happened there.  A grandpa at his deathbed tellin' his grandson stuff.  Essentially like Big Fish but in the style of I Wrote It.  That's as far as I got.  Then I remembered, Hey, there's stuff I've done that can be mistakenly interpreted to have literary meaning!  That's why Unreliable Narrator is so important.  Let's us know it's all bullshit in the end essentially.  Anyway, crap and crap.  What else and crap.
    What a crap.  It's important because This Is Kinda Like What Happened To Me.  Add it to my records.  For when I get dementia.  But that raises several questions.  Is my goal to just make it as truthful as possible?  Stylistically good?  Do I try to balance out the fact with fiction, This Is Beyond Belief The T.V. Show, and essentially make that what it's about?  Lots of choices.  I'll probably just go down the road of Write Until I'm Done And Then Settle For What It Turned Out To Be.  I like those terms.  I Like those terms.  Also, it turns out I'm the young version of the Crypt Keeper.  No reason not to throw that in there.  That's the crappy thing about writing a definitive version of true events.  I'm twenty seven.  If I even remember it a decade from now, two decades from now, it'll be different.  The story then, I guess, is Me At 27 telling some stories combined into one, of me at 18 or 19.  Let's talk about it.  Gotta talk about something for five to ten pages.  I'm gettin in tha zone right now.  The zone to start it in a few days.  It takes time to get into tha zone.  There's a poker player named Burton1239 at my table.  Hopefully he's a Big Fish.  Zingozangobongo.
    Crap, that's just what he wants me to think.  He's in my head!  What else and crap.  I think there's a new The Rap Game tonight.  Maybe tomorrow.  I like that show.  The first episode, I was like, Fuck these kids, I could rap better than them if I wanted to.  Then the second episode, I was like, Poor kids.  Bein' forced around by their mammies and pappies to try to be something they can't even comprehend..  The third episode, I was got emotionally connected, like, yeah, I'm rooting for these guys individually!  All of 'em!  And by the fourth episode I was like, These guys are great!  Look at 'em go!  The point is it's a shining example of reality T.V. What else and crap.  Free Double Cheeseburger.  What kind of sucker do you think I am.  Also, in line with Triscuits being a Hearty Cracker, let me just say... Ritz have a True Buttery Taste.  Also, this talk is all in preparation for my spin-off website, CrackersNStuff.biz.  That's what people want to read about.  Cheez-Its?  Been there, done that.  Not unlike menopause.  Also, as much as I want to dismiss this old lady in my class, she's pretty smart and on-point.  Maybe one day I'll work up the nerve to talk to her.  No reason not to.
    Right, right.  What else and crap.  During class, we had the door open, and they kept playing the riff from Bad To The Bone: The Song in a neighboring classroom.  No progression of the song, just a recorded version of the riff, then five seconds later, all over again.  Part of me was like, I wanna see how long this lasts, and part of me was like, I can be a hero by shutting the door.  I let it go on long enough for me to be impressed and then shut the door.  I got to do both.  How about that.  I hope in the Democratic debate tonight, someone says, Look, I'm just gonna say what we're all thinking-- Thank God Martin O' Malley isn't here.  What An Asshole.  Thunderous applause.  Anyway.  Crap and crap.  Is there anyway we can get Lincoln Chaffee back in the mix.  Let's get crackin' on that.  What else and crap.  Anyway.  The day is the square of the month and the year is the square of the day.  That's the kind of stuff my Dad would point out to me.  I can't wait for our Big Fish moment where he goes, You know, wasted my life thinking about bullshit math.  Whatta waste.  Whatta waste. ... ... AVENGE ME!  That's how that might go.  It's a Math Pun.  That's all it is.  It takes something that means something, the date, and sees how it might work in an equation, and makes it a pun.  It's a Math Pun.  Whatta breakthrough.  Jeez.
    Wonderful.  Crap and crap.  I'm friends with the guy who does the lawns and crap for my housing complexneighborhoodthing.  Probably best friends.  We say Hi to each other when I pass by.  It's great.  What else is great.  He leaves me the empty Dime Bags of weed to pick up at my leisure.  Talk about a hero.  I like taking seats at bus stops where people are standing.  A sucker is born every minute.  I once read someone's born every second?  Every three seconds?  That seems like an accurate proportion.  One true all-out bona-fide sucker for every twenty to sixty people.  Anyway.  Babies use pacifiers.  Most people are suckers when they're infants.  Something you gotta learn to grow out of I suppose.  Suckin' at your momma's titties.  Fallin' down a well.  You know, regular activities for babies.  If a baby fell down a well, I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems but fallin' down a well ain't one.  Don't know what brought that on.  Hopefully that's how my story goes.  Not knowin' what brought it on and crap.  That's how you know it's good. 
    Penultimate paragraph.  That's how that goes.  One guy's thing in the class was telling people how to play guitar, and he mentioned he teaches guitar.  I want a guitar teacher.  This guy's like twenty years old, though.  I don't want a guitar teacher younger than me.  He ain't got the life experience to teach me anything useful.  Also, we have a peer-to-peer relationship right now.  Can't go muckin' that up.  Maybe I should, though.  Gotta do something.  Anyway.  Gotta finish this entry, that's first.  Then, think about playing some Video baseball, that's a second.  Then, deciding it's not worth the effort, that's third.  Anyway.  My thing was tellin' people how to play poker. Like, a beginner.  Basically just said know the odds down pat and only play premium hands.  Mine was shorter than other peoples.  Anyway.  Crap and crap.  I need to take batting practice.  Accumulate some points.  I'm gonna need a lot of points if I ever want to get out of Double-A.  At the end of the simulated games except for your at-bats and fielding plays, it shows you depressed, hanging out in the dugout.  Well, when you lose you're depressed.  I haven't won a game yet, though, so I don't know.  One would imagine you're happy when you win.  Maybe my Guy is just depressed his Super-Simulator isn't any better.  That would make anyone depressed.
    Alright!  Last paragraph!  The good news is I don't have to write anything for a few days.  Let it percolate and then knock it out of the park.  Sometimes I get paranoid about my testicles.  Check em every now and then to make sure they're still there, in the right place and everything.  Never can be too sure.  Gotta remain vigilant.  That's how I feel.  I haven't smoked a Ground Pellet in a while.  Surprisingly, don't even miss it one bit.  I guess.  What else.  Jeez.  A whole entry full of nothin'.  How about that.  I don't like teachers that say you have to use Times New Roman.  I wanna use Courier New you fools.  It's the best of the fonts.  Don't tell me about line spacing.  I'll write the right amount.  Just let me space it how I want.  Yeesh.  I need to buy some black paper so I can print out white on black.  It's an underused color scheme.  It's great, though.  I don't get it.  Also, stop telling me to put the page number on the top right corner.  You're an adult, you should know how to count.  Some people, am I right.  I am?  Wha?  I'm right about something!  You know, that kind of crap.  Jeez.  See ya later.

-5:23 P.M.                  


Tuesday, February 2, 2016

You Mean I Have To Do Something?

    Hey friends.  Just took my first Fiction Workshop class.  Like a chump, I volunteered to workshop my first story early on compared to other people.  I have to send it in by the Thursday after next.  What kind of crap is that.  Plus, I thought it was gonna be like two pages.  Five to ten pages.  Next week.  Gotta think of a good idea.  Maybe something about Triscuits.  They're a hearty cracker.  Maybe not.  I'm not sure yet!  I wrote a Homeless People story last semester.  My only other story I've thought about writing is The New Monkees.  About a new version of The Monkees.  I can't write about that, though.  It would have had zombies in it.  She specifically said no zombies.  Sure, there's a version that has aliens instead of zombies.  She also said no aliens.  No aliens, no zombies.  What else is there, I mean, c'mon.  The only other conflict I can think of for The New Monkees is if they have shifty agents/managers who are up to no good in some respect.  We'll put that in the maybe pile.  Shit, I gotta make piles now?  The bad news keeps pouring in.  The good news is That Idea Is Crap.  It's good news because I can put off making that pile I'm dreading doing for a while.  There's an old lady in my class, probably sixty or sixty five, and when we were going around the room talking about herself, she mentioned she does music, she has a blog meant to be funny... so basically, judging by my characteristics, I'm a sixty five year old woman essentially.  Good to know.
    Good to know.  Either way, what else and crap.  I can always go back to the Homeless People well.  That's a subject ripe for parody!  Not really.  What else and crap.  On my way home, trying to think of an idea for a story, I literally just kept thinking of Tales From The Crypt episodes.  What If I... oh, saw that in Tales from the Crypt.  How About... oh, also Tales From the Crypt.  What If... damn, foiled again.  What about a It's a Wonderful Life story for the Crypt Keeper.  That's something to keep in mind.  I'd say I'm considering doing Larry Sanders Fan-Fiction, but she specifically said no Fan Fiction.  Also, not really considering it.  Pretty much no need to say it.  C'mon, I'm creative.  I can think of something to really knock it out of the park.  Theoretically, I can do it.  I know!  What about if The Crypt Keeper. crap, damn.  Also, let's not forget that I share the exact same creative life as a sixty five year old woman.  Maybe that should guide me in what to write about.  Menopause?  Yeah, Done That.  Now It's Time To Get Dementia!  You know, that sort of thing.  Jeez.  I can borrow an idea from Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction.  Nobody's ever seen that before.
    What else and bullshit.  Teacher didn't hand out printed copies of Syllabus.  Strike One.  Always give 'em a syllabus.  That's rule one of teaching.  What's the deal with grandchildren.  That's how I feel.  Writing this crap was supposed to get my creative juices flowing.  Get an idea incepted and stuff.  Whoever incepted Inception.  That movie is confusing as crap.  Life begins at inception.  One would imagine.  If life begins at conception, shouldn't it really begin with the lawfully married couple deciding to have a baby?  They formed the concept of it.  Conceived it.  Conception.  And another thing, why do I keep forgetting people's names.  I kept accidentally writing the year in the date as "15."  There goes my dementia again.  A few years ago I wrote several installments of a short story on Facebook about these college kids that was really stupid and silly.  I could go that route.  But she said stuff like she wants to see human characters and how they relate and crap.  That was just nonsense.  Not realistic at all and crap.  Just stupid bullshit.  We'll put that in the Actually Possibly Maybe pile.
Jeez.  What else and crap.  The point is Gotta Do Something.  And unlike Gotta Doin' Somethings when I don't haev a class, now I gotta do something specific.  Write some crap short story.  I said something like to her like, she said something like you guys aren't looking forward to this? and I was like, it helps to have some guidelines, and I accidentally offended her I think.  I meant, if she just told me what to write a story about, that makes it easier.  Looks like I put my foot in it once again.  Dementia!  Jeez.  I can do a Life's Too Short fan fiction.  Warwick meets, I don't know, what's an appropriate reference for this joke.  I'll figure it out.  Get back to me on this.  I'll come up with something, don't you worry.  They want Warwick to audition to be the Crypt Keeper.  I guess.  That sort of bullshit.  Jeez.  Warwick Davis has got a good voice to be the Crypt Keeper.  A little high pitched and stuff.  He's got my vote.  I could combine The New Monkees with a college dorm type setting.  And basically use the same characters as my previous story, but make them have a band called The New Monkees.  I don't know why.  For some reason, one would imagine.
    Anyway, almost done with this crap.  Then I got the whole rest of the day where I don't have to do anything.  That's pretty good. Not doing stuff is surpassed only by doing stuff in things I like to do or not do.  And another thing, you ever notice how everyone forgets Mothers' Day once they're out of the house?  What's the deal with this!  Saw one of my old teachers outside of class today.  He was waving, and I thought he was waving to someone else, and he made eye contact with me lie, Nope, I'm waving at you! and I was like great.  It's a story I would remember for years to come.  I can write about that I guess.  We'll put that in the Bullshit pile.  Anyway.  Almost done with this crap.  It's a good thing I dropped that second class.  This one is a lotta work.  Is there a website where you can hire someone to just do all your school work for you.  Seems like it should be a thing.  That's how I feel.  Anyway.  Jeez.  What else and crap.  I can't even go to McDonalds to write if I wanna behave like a cliche pretentious writer jerk and write in public.  I'd have to do to Dunkin Donuts-- Like A Chump.  Oh well, such is life.  I'll see you later.

-4:30 P.M.