Saturday, January 4, 2014                      

People Love Titles

    Hey friendos.  It's the new year.  I had a feeling that might happen.  That's why I stocked up on, "Happy New Year!" balloons, and calendars.  You can never have enough calendars.  I'm gonna market a brand of discount, knock-off calendars, that say this month is, "Genwherry."  Gotta cut costs somehow.  Not looking up what the months are is one way to go.  Anyway, what else is new.  I'm basically just counting the days until the spring semester starts.  I have nothing else to do.  It's a good thing I have all those calendars.  Let's see, how many calendars do I really have.  Computer, phone, T.V.  I think that's it.  I think people should collect calendars from yesteryear.  That's a quality product to hoard, in my opinion.  That, and those three legged tables that hold pizza pies together.  You never know when those might come in handy.  I think the people who designed pizza were brilliant marketers.  When you're a kid, and you eat a slice of pizza, it's bigger than it seems, in relation to your small size.  And that trains you to think of it as more of a meal than it really is.  So when you become an adult, you're already trained into thinking this pizza is gonna be more than it really is.  That is either wonderful social commentary, or nonsense and a sign of my rapidly deteriorating mental health.  You be the judge. 
    So, it snowed a few days ago.  I'm still not exactly sure what snow is.  Rain, I get, and nothing, I get.  But what's snow?  That would be an example of a thing this blog might include if I were 18 months old.  The sad truth is I'm not actually sure what snow is.  It's not just slushy rain, is it?  There's gotta be more to it than that.  That's a good investigative piece for 60 minutes.  "Snow: What Is It?"  And why doesn't, "60 Minutes," call itself, "1 Hour?"  My job here is done.  Yeesh.  "Sixty Minutes," is kind of a lie, too, because there's 18 minutes of commercials.  Those bastards.  There should be a commercial channel.  I bet some braindead idiots would watch it.  And it's 100% profit.  Or maybe, they could even pay you to watch the commercial channel.  I'd sign up for that.  I bet Muhammad wore a t-shirt that said, "100% Prophet."  Duh.  Mu-Ham-Mad.  Jon Hamm.  Mad Men.  Hmm, I think I'm on to something!!  I bet that restaurant that serves sandwiches based on famous people's names are facing a real dilemma when it comes to, "Jon Hamm."  The 'Jon Hammburger' is just way too easy.  Sometimes the easiest solution is the best solution.  That's why so many people try suicide.
    Pshaw.  I literally got a pain in my stomach from making that joke.  Serves me right.  I guess.  Also, I think that deli doesn't make puns, they would just call it, "The Jon Hamm."  I was probably confusing it with Ben & Jerry's.  Let's just pretend I made that joke by saying it would be too easy to base that sandwich around using ham as the main ingredient.  If there was a sandwich called, "The Michael Kornblum," it would just be one piece of lettuce on club bread.  And it would be required that when you're served, the waiter says, "Lettuce Continue."  That kind of waiter/patron interaction is what you're really paying for.  It's the 5/12th anniversary of Independence Day.  I wonder if people in the future will think Independence Day celebrates the day when Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum saved us from the aliens.  You never can tell.  I remember when my Dad took me and my Brother to see Titanic, an old lady said to me, "This really happened, you know."  And I was like, "No shit."  When I'm an old guy, I'm gonna go see movies like, "Mars Attacks!" and say to kids, "This really happened, you know."  Then they'll just be confused.  Old people can get away with saying stupid things, because they have the excuse of being senile.  Don't think I won't use that to my full advantage when I'm an elderly. 
    Anyway.  What else is going on.  Someone should write a really good poem about what it's like to sneeze.  It's not gonna be me, but someone really has to do it.  Anyway, what to do with the rest of my day.  Perhaps read a book, or something.  I don't know, man.  Anyway, enjoy another segment of my award winning segment, "What's Your Name?"     

-1:10 P.M.

Monday, January 6, 2014                      

Initiate Title Sequence.  End Title Sequence.

    Hey buds.  Today is January.  Still.  I got my syllabus for one of my two classes.  That's exciting stuff.  I might drop that class before it starts, though.  That's exiting stuff.  I should stick with it, though.  It's not the most stimulating class I've ever taken, but there's a very light workload.  The most stimulating class I ever took was Jerk Off Sessions 101 my junior year in high school.  Why didn't I sign up for 202???   What an idiot.  So, I hear they're legalizing medical marijuana in New York.  But only for severe cases.  Great thinking, Albany, now people are just going to give themselves cancer so they could smoke legal weed.  When will the madness end.  Also, great thinking, Albany, making yourself the capital, and not New York City.  What were you smoking???  Still, it's a step in the right direction.  Medical marijuana, I mean.  Albany being capital is a step in the wrong direction.  I think I remember reading an article a while ago that some lawmakers in New York City wanted to secede from the state.  It may not have been an article.  It may have just been a dream I had.
    Anyway.  Is it just me, or is the lady in the Starbucks logo kind of hot?  I wouldn't mind bucking her star.  Or starring her buck, if she's into that sort of thing.  This Starbucks cup is five weeks old.  I need to clean my room.  If the song, "American Pie," was written a hundred years later, it would probably be called, "Starbucks."  I could have said, "fifty years later," but I'm counting on them being even more successful in the next fifty years.  Don't let me down!  I started chewing gum recently.  It's less than five calories, and probably burns itself through the chewing and whatnot.  I don't get why people blow bubbles with their gum.  I think they're just show-offs.  What tangible reason is there for blowing a bubble.  Assholes.  Some people can't be reasoned with.  I've been faced with the situation of chewing gum and smoking a cigarette at the same time.  I think each one ruins the other.  But I'm still gonna do both at the same time.  Spitting out my gum or not smoking a cigarette for a certain amount of time dictates a level of self control that I just don't have. 
    It's nighttime.  Ain't that about a bitch.  I had to turn my light on, just to see!  I like the song that goes, "I can see clearly now, the rain is gone."  Who's out there in the rain going, "WHAT'S GOING ON?  I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!"  It's just drops of water.  Maybe it's a metaphor.  Probably not, though.  Then again, in the land of the blind, the people who can normally see, but not in the rain, are king.  I don't like that expression.  If it's the land of the blind, they'd probably want one of their own to be king.  In the land of the blind, those with one eye would probably be looked down upon, and shunned.  Well, if the blind people knew how to look down upon something, at least.  Let's just say they would be thought ill of.  Anyway, what was I talking about?  Answer at the end of the entry.  Will there really be an answer at the end of the entry?  Answer at the end of the entry.
    Anyway.  What's on schedule for the rest of the week?  Sleep, wake, sleep, wake, and so on.  It's a good thing humans need just about eight hours of sleep a night.  If it was more, we wouldn't have time to do anything!  And if it was less, it would be too dark to do things!  That sums that up.  In conclusion, enjoy a brand new segment, "How Did You Get Here?"   

-6:14 P.M.

Monday, January 13, 2014                      

Best Titler In The Biz

    Hey jerks.  Today is a Monday in 2014.  For greater specificity, look up.  What's goin' on in the wide world of sports.  A-Rod stuff, and Hall of Fame stuff.  I think they should just create a separate Hall of Fame for cheaters, steroid users, and Tino Martinez.  Give them some props without tainting the pristine records of Ty "The Racist" Cobb and Babe "Woman Beater" Ruth.  Did Babe Ruth beat women?  I know he did something unsavory like that.  Also, Cal Ripkin Jr.  I know he was up to some shit.  I'm looking forward to the 2014 season.  Not a lot of great expectations for the Mets, but who knows.  If every player wildly exceeds expectations, you never know!  I miss playing fantasy baseball.  My baseball fantasy is sharing a hot tub with Mo Vaughn.  I know, I know.  Get in line.  So, I officially registered and pay for two classes for the spring semester at Queens College.  It's gonna be awesome!  Now I just need to figure out a hook for luring my class mates into being friends with me.  Idea 1: writing on a piece of paper, "Will You Be My Friend?" crumpling it up, and throwing it at people.  Idea 2:  During a class discussion, raising my hand, and saying, "I want to hear what Joe has to say."  (Replace Joe with potential friend's name).  Idea 3: When class ends, stand by the door giving everyone who walks by a high five.  Idea 4: Before class, write on the chalkboard, "Mike Is A Good Friend," and put my phone number under it.  Those are my only ideas on how to make friends.
    In the past, I made some acquaintances smoking cigarettes between classes, but now Queens College is a smoke-free campus.  What malarkey.  Anyway.  My uncle is taking me to a casino to play a poker tournament next week.  I'm quite excited about that.  I've never played poker in a casino before.  The only strategy I know is get in good with the dealers, so they'll deal you good cards.  That, and eat a big sandwich at the table, to intimidate people.  That, and put on a Jerry Seinfeld voice, and say, "Why do they call them chips?  They're not chipping anything."  You know, to intimidate people.  Oh, and wear glasses.  Nothing more intimidating than a four-eyes.  If I ever eliminate a player, immediately afterward, I'm gonna look to the player on his left, and say, "You're Next."  People will love my witty and irreverent banter.  Honestly, I gotta think of a catchphrase to say whenever I eliminate an appointment.  In today's modern poker world, it's all about branding.  I'm thinking of, "King Kong Ain't Got Nothin' On Me!"  I used to play cards with someone who's last name was Kong.  He was the only person I played with live who I would comfortably say is better than me.  So, in this case, King Kong does have something on me.
    Maybe just, "See Ya Later!"  That's a pretty good catchphrase.  Or maybe, "I Can't Be Stopped!"  Or maybe, put on an Urkel voice, and say, "Did I Do That?"  I think that's the winner right there.  I may have to pay royalties to the writers of, "Family Matters," but, Heck, it's worth it.  Did you know that family matters?  I learned it from the title of a sitcom.  I think people should have phrases they say when they lose.  My thing would be shrugging my shoulders, and saying, "You Win Some, You Lose Some."  But I have to say that every time I'm eliminated from a tournament.  Or maybe even every time I lose a hand.  That's fun.  Or maybe even every hand.  By the way, I realize that playing poker is all about the cards and getting a read on your opponents.  I'm just being stupid.  Also, I'm talking as if this tournament is the start of a long career of poker tournaments.  That, too, will not happen.  But, this one should be fun.  Hey, I'm getting my eyeglasses fixed later this week.  So I may be able to go to poker as a four-eyes!  We'll see.  I don't understand how glasses makes you a four-eyes.  Does wearing a hat make you a two-head?  Braces make you a two-teeth?  Not really sure what's going on with that.  Now, we all know Harvey Dent was a Two-Face.  But he's the exception that proves the rule.  Not sure if that applies here.
    Anyway.  Also, I'm not really sure how an exception can prove a rule.  Seems kind of fishy to me.  So, yeah, poker, college.  Lots of stuff coming up.  This year is shaping up to be pretty good.  I can't believe that next year is the Back-To-The-Future-Future-Year.  I can't wait for those 3-D Jaws advertisements.  Also, do you need a license to ride a hover board?  If so, Marty McFly is a criminal.  He probably shouldn't be riding around in a Delorean, either.  His license is expired.  Is it just me, or is Back to the Future one of the greatest movies ever made?  I mean, c'mon.  I'm still waiting for Back to the Future IV: Rise of the Machines.  It's gonna be a doozy!  Anyway.  I like this website.  I think it provides a pretty great service to it's readers.  More people should read it.  It's not anything exceptional, but that's part of it's charm.  I remember in the old incarnation of the website, from when I was in high school.  Conan O' Brian gave a speech at my high school graduation, and I put it up on the website, and I got Hella views for it.  That was briefly exciting, knowing that there was a big increase in readers.  Now, I'm back to basics, and it feels great!
    Last paragraph time.  I might go see, "Her," later.  I don't know what to expect.  The reviews are great, and my intuition says it will be good, but the commercials don't really captivate me.  So, we'll see.  Hmm.  I've been reminiscing a lot, and it's good stuff.  Times from high school, college.  I've had some good times, and thinking about them makes me happy.  Hopefully I've got a lot in store for the future.  I decided that, at some point, I'm gonna start keeping a private, written journal, of everything I do.  At least, once my life starts back up again.  I just think it'll be good to cement everything I do.  It'll help me process what I'm doing, and grow as a person.  And keeping a blog is pretty good practice, I think.  So I got that going for me.  I guess.  Anyway, peace out folks.

-12:55 P.M.   
 

Wednesday, January 15, 2014                      

Stop It!

    Hello.  My name is Mike.  Not really.  It's Michael.  I've been living a lie.   With that out of the way, let's begin the entry!  Anyway.  What's the deal with the woods.  They're still trees, they're not wood yet.  It should be called the trees!  And the alphabet.  What genius thought of this?  I'll stick to hieroglyphics, thank you very much.  My name is Mike.  Thank you, thank you.  Ever notice how when you're watching T.V., there are different characters, and they say different things?  What brilliant thought up this crap?  Ever notice how when you don't shower, you start to stink?  "Take a shower every day," they say!  Who has that kind of time?!  You ever notice how when you don't have a lot of time, you have too many things to do in relation to the amount of time you have to do them?  We've all been there, am I right?
    Can I stop doing that character?  Nothing would please me more.  I'm starting a new diet and exercise regimen.  It should be good.  And, if not, there's always bulimia.  Eh.  Who's the guy who coined the word, "Eh?"  That guy knew the score.  One, that guy.  Zero, everyone else.  Three, Chipper Jones.  Anyway.  People!  Let's get back on track.  My toe is bleeding.  Because I'm hardcore!  I talked to my doctor about possibly going on a pill to help me stop smoking.  At the time, I didn't really want to, because I assumed it wouldn't really help.  But even if it might help, it's probably worth it to try.  That's not funny.  You're not funny.  The whole world's not funny.  I give up.
    What the huh?  Anyway.  I found my capo after a year of not knowing where it is.  Turns out it was under my bed.  So that's good.  Higher tones = increased happiness.  That's just science.  Wouldn't it be weird if the Pope played an instrument.  He's infallible, you know he'd come up with some wild tunes.  But I guess he doesn't want to make other musicians look bad.  He'd put them all to shame.  Because he'd comment on their impulsive, non-Christian lives, and they would thusly feel shame.  But he'd say it in a nice way.  Like, if he were shaming me, he might say, "Hittin' the snacks a little too hard, tubbo?"  And I'd laugh, cause he'd be right.  I'd actually probably be on the verge of tears, and whine, "It's not my fault!  My metabolism is slow!"  And he would say, "Yeah right, like I've never heard that one before."  He's just that kind of guy.  What you see is what you get.
    I wonder if the Pope likes fried chicken.  People should make a bigger deal about the Pope's diet, because he is infallible.  The foods he likes would be, in turn, the absolute right foods to like.  Anyway.  That's it.  Please enjoy my new segment, "What's Your Favorite Name?"

-12:07 P.M.

Sunday, January 19, 2014                      

Hey, I Got The Date Right!

    Hello friends.  This will be an entry.  I promise.  School starts in a week!  I've had some stress dreams recently where I was back in school and couldn't keep up.  But when I wake up, I'm like, "C'mon, it's only two classes.  I can do that!"  I don't know why I'm talking back to my dreams.  They don't listen to me.  They better, though, if they know what's good for them.  I don't know why I'm threatening my dreams.  Everyone knows my dreams don't respond to threats.  I don't know why everyone knows the rules my dreams live by.  People know too much about me.  Like, that I like coffee and cigarettes.  With only that information, you can extrapolate and figure out my credit card number, my social security number, and my zodiac sign.  The clues are there.  I don't know why I'm keeping my zodiac sign a secret.  I don't want people knowing my horoscope every day.  With that, and with extrapolating, they could figure out my Facebook password, my favorite key to whistle in, and the month I was born.
    I got a new smart phone last week.  This is my first smart phone.  It's okay.  I checked out crazysheet on the phone, and it was interesting to see it in a different format.  I guess.  I feel bad for Ringo Starr.  Think of how terrible it would be to be part of possibly the most loved band in the history of music, yet everyone still thinks, "Oh yeah, that guy sucks."  He's the goat.  That's an expression, right?  And that's the proper use of it, right?  Right?  Good.  I know you can get someone's goat.  If someone got my goat, I'd be like, "Hey, give it back!"  That's my goat.  I sold some kid perfectly good magic beans for it.  He offered me a cow, but what was I, born yesterday?  Give me the goat!  I don't get what's so great about those magic beans, anyway.  They grow a stalk for you to climb, that's problem number one.  Climbing.  Then, when you get to the top, there's giants who want to eat you.  I mean, sure, everyone needs a vacation, but can't you just go to Hawaii?  No one's gonna eat you there.  Sure, there's a rumour of a goose that lays golden eggs.  So what.  Who needs 'em?  That's how I feel.
    Anyway.  Poor Ringo.  He's not that bad!  Honestly, if no one ever suggested his mediocrity to me, I never would have noticed.  I still don't notice.  I'm just going by what other people say.  The drums sound okay to me.  Besides, would you really want a John Bonham to be drumming for the Beatles?  It wouldn't sound right.  Still, he's the weak link in terms of song writing.  I get that.  But, c'mon, how many classic Beatles songs have you written?  None?  That's what I thought.  Boy, I hope Paul McCartney doesn't read this.  For that matter, I hope Ringo Starr doesn't read this.  Besides, I'm like the Ringo Starr of being entertaining on the internet.  If even.  Ringo Starr put the beat in Beatles.  I'm the crazy in crazysheet.  So much in common.  For sure.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  Stupid dreams.  I'll show them!
    Fourth paragraph time.  I call it the, "Cuatro."  And I call that, "a rip-off of 'Dodgeball."  When I was in summer camp, I was always picked last for dodgeball.  And kickball.  And chess.  And kidpix.  And reading.  Yeah.  I actually dominated at chess.  There's a fun fact about me.  When I was eight, I was good at board games.  You better believe it.  Anyway, this was a fun entry.  Maybe two or three paragraphs too long.  Or four.  Or five.  In conclusion, enjoy another installment of, "What's Your Name?"

-12:53 P.M.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014                      

Way To Read!

    Hey guys and gals.  It's me, crazysheet.  Can I just go by, "Crazysheet" now?  I think I've earned it.  Anyway.  I played my first poker tournament in a casino on Monday.  I was eliminated after three hours.  It was fun, though.  I got to listen to music in one ear while listening to the action with the other one, like a real jerk off.  Man, did I enjoy it.  The best part of it, though, was we went to the casino food court afterwards and I got a chicken fajita wrap, and it was awesome.  I also got to spend some time with my aunt and uncle, which was fun.  And, now, Queens College starts next week.  It should be pretty awesome.  Assuming I'm not going by the standard fall '06, spring '07, fall '07, spring '08, fall '08, summer '09, fall '09, winter '09, spring '10, fall '10, spring '11, fall '12 set.  I've got a funny feeling this might be the semester that breaks the mold!  Let's bet, double or nothing!  If someone says to you, "Double or nothing," always say, "Double."  Double is unequivocally better than nothing.   Especially when it's a McDouble.  Ooohhh, doctor!
    Four out of five doctors recommend the McDouble.  It's true.  What else is going on.  I was just writing down jokes I could possibly use in a stand-up act, cause I was bored, and I have about 20 now on note cards, and I really wanna go try it out.  I refuse to go alone, though.  So, if you're in the New York area, please let me know if you'd be willing to go to an open mic with me so I could try this stuff out.  It will be a great experience you will remember for days to come.  But, really, if I'm ever going to make a living from comedy, like some of you may have imagined when I was a teenager (and still naturally funny), now's the time to get in on the ground level.  Maybe I should practice doing stand up now.  Hey, how about this weather, huh?  It's so freaking cold.  Nobody ever warned me that it would sometimes be this cold.  I demand satisfaction!  Okay, maybe we'll scratch the whole, "comedy" idea.  I really just wanna do it so I can say to my fifteen year old self, "look, I did it!"  That's about it.
    Anyway.  Basically, I just failed at succeeding at one fantasy I've had since being a teenager (poker), that I naturally want to try (and most likely fail) at another one (comedy).  We already know I've failed at music.  This will just complete the failure trifecta.  And then I can get a chicken fajita wrap.  Win-win-win.  Man, now I really want a chicken fajita wrap. But I can't have one.  Where's the justice?  That's a loser's mentality.  If I want a chicken fajita wrap, I should go out there and get one.  Even if it means selling my body.  You gotta be in it to win it.  I heard that somewhere in a self-help book.  Okay, so once I'm through with comedy, next it's astronaut, and if that fails, cowboy.  Then, teenage mutant ninja turtle.  After that, I'm all out of ideas.  What do guys like me actually end up being?  And don't say living in a hospital for the rest of my life.  Because that would really blow chunks.  Maybe it'll be okay.  In the hospital, the man with half a mind is king.  Except for the schizophrenic who actually thinks he's a king.  That guy's already king.  So, I know I must be losing weight, because the strange fifty year old Indian man I see sometimes while waiting for doctor's appointments is coming on to me again.  When I first met him, it was all, "I like you's," and hugs, but then for a while he was like, "You gained weight."  Now, it's back to asking me if I have a girlfriend and saying I look good.  Reading that, I realize fully what a shame it is for such a large percentage of a 25 year old male's sexual self esteem to be resting in the hands of a 50 year old mentally ill person.  But, hey, you take what you can get.
    I've been playing a lot of online poker for play money, since it's illegal to play for real money.  I've been doing pretty good, but then again, the quality of play is obviously much lower than it would be if we were playing for real money.  But it's a really great time killer.  So I got that going on.  Whodathunkit.  In conclusion, enjoy a new segment, "What's Your Problem?"

-7:30 P.M.    

Thursday, January 23, 2014                      

Easy Come, Easy Go

    Hello friends.  It's me again.  Hey friends.  I decided I'm probably gonna try an open mic at UCBeast this Sunday.  I would love it if a friend came along, to relax me.  If you're interested in spending some time with little old me, c'mon, let me know.  However, if you do not want to see me again, I would understand.  Eh, maybe I won't go.  Only because I know I won't be relaxed, and would thusly be terrible.  We'll see.  Anyway.  There might be snow tomorrow.  Pft.  I hate wearing my snow boots.  I'm like a five year old.  Or maybe, five year olds are like me.  Or, maybe five year olds are like 39 year olds.  Kids grow up so fast these days.  Especially Robin Williams in that Francis Ford Copolla movie.  Robin Williams is a guy.  Even though he won Best Actress for Mrs. Doubtfire.  He had them all fooled.  He also won Best Genie for Aladdin.  Lots of good competition in that category, yet he took home the gold.  I feel like Robin Williams is constantly acting as if he's perpetually in the running for the, "Best Robin Williams" award.  Yeah, I went there.  He's okay.  He's no Robin Williams, though.
    What else is going on?  I'm starting to get addicted to online poker again.  It's not even real money, but I can't stop.  Don't judge me.  I can stop anytime I want.  But I can't stop.  Don't judge me.  What are you, the Prince of Persia?  Don't act like your stink don't shit.  Dang.  Prince of Persia.  Hah.  What else is going on?  There's nothing going on in my mind.  Not necessarily a good mental state for a comedy man.  What does it matter.  I'm just am ammeter at everything.  I'm a professional amateur.  It's not funny, it's true.  This is shit.  Whatever. 
    I like cheddar cheese.  Milk is a thing.  What's wrong with plums?  After all, he is your grandfather.  Ignorant boxes of cauliflower.  Too many people have butlers.  I need to study the alphabet more.  No, really,, I do.  Go away, now.  Enjoy another installment of, "What's Your Problem?"

-3:02 P.M.

Saturday, January 25, 2014                      

I Take It Back

    Hey all.  Get ready for an entry!  Today is a Saturday.  Look, you know what day it is.  I'm not providing a service to anyone by saying the day of the week.  School starts on Tuesday.  I narrowed it down to only one class, now.  I should be able to do that.  You'd think so, at least.  In the last entry, spell check is insisting that by, "Francis Ford Copolla," I really mean, "Adam Corolla."  I don't think they know what they're talking about.  If I were writing, "Her," I'd make Joaquin Phoenix be seeing spell check on the side.  Because I'm that kind of fella.  If you add an, "O" to, "Her," you get, "Hero."  That was a Jet Li movie.  If you add an, "In," to, "Hero," you get, "Heroin."  That's a popular drug among some circles.  I hope I never become addicted to heroin.  That would be a blunder of epic proportions.  I also hope I don't have a nightmare tonight.  I've been having crazy nightmares every night for a while.  It really kind of sucks.  Whose dick do I have to suck to get a refreshing night's sleep?  Cause I'll do it.  That's how much my nightmares suck.  Not all problems can be solved by dick sucking, though.  I think Sun Tzu said that.  Before you master your own dick, you must master your enemy's dick.  Machiavelli.  Dick sucker says what?  Unknown prankster.
    I would kill for a decent night's sleep.  Not like a family member, or a friend.  Preferably some guy who deserves it.  That's about it.  Not really.  I don't understand people who make the decisions over who lives and who dies.  You know, like in the death panels.  I'm just not comfortable with that.  I know it's law now, but that's just how I feel.  Why can't everyone just live forever.  I got the idea from an Oasis song.  But that doesn't take anything away from its sincerity.  Living forever would be tough, though.  Why can't we just decide when we want to die.  You wake up one day when you're 230, and you think, "Yeah, this is enough.  See ya!"  That's it.  I had a big lunch.  That's probably why I'm thinking these depressing thoughts.  Boo-yah.  I don't know what that means.  I don't like 2014.  If I wanted to live in a year that had a 4 in it, I would have lived in 1724.  It's still only January, though.  It's still only January, though.  Yip.  I think I need a break from online poker.  But if I don't play online poker, how am I supposed to amass play money chips on Pokerstars?  It's like I'm up shit creek... with a paddle, but my arms are broken and/or paralyzed, so the paddles no good!  I think there should be a movie called, "Shit Creek."  I don't care what it's about, I don't care who's in it, I would see that movie.  Hands down.  I think there should be a movie called, "Without a Paddle."  I'm sure it would be a commercial and critical success.  Where do I get off ragging on movies?  After all movies have done for me? 
    Anyway.  I saw Ride Along yesterday.  That was pretty good.  And I saw Wolf of Wall Street a few weeks ago.  That was also good.  Kevin Hart is short, like me!  That's where the similarities end.  But that doesn't mean he can't be one of my favorite actors, just because he's short.  He's a role model to short people everywhere.  Whether they be living under a bridge, on there way to the eye of Sauron, or ruling a kingdom where Shrek is eventually going to get the best of you.  Also, I don't get ice cubes.  They're not cubes.  Get your facts straight.  In Ride Along, Ice Cube says the line, "Today was a good day," which is a reference to an Ice Cube song, and I instinctively laughed at it, and immediately had the thought, "I hope the other people in the audience realize I knew that reference!"  Because that's just the kind of fella I am.  What's poppa woppin.  In my old rap group, that was the greeting one of my friends used.  I kinda like it.  It's sort of a derivative of what's shacka-lackin, I believe.  The Mad Dawgs are on the prowl!  Why didn't I get serious about rapping.  My whole life could have turned out differently.  Oh yeah, because I lived in a privileged, white, upper middle middle class family, with almost no relation to either an urban lifestyle or hip-hop culture.  Also, I couldn't rhyme or rap for shit.  C'est la vie. 
    Anyway.  At the time, I did almost exclusively listen to rap music, so I had some relation to the hip-hop culture.  That ended once Spiderman came out, and there was a Nickelback song on the soundtrack, and the combination between the two made me like rock music.  I blame Spiderman.  Actually, School of Rock would be more accurate.  That got me listening to Tenacious D, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin, which is really where I started thinking of music more seriously.  Oh, also, in the mid 90's, my family's computer, when it would start up, played a five second clip of, "Start Me Up," by the Rolling Stones.  There, that's it.  Of course, there was also Napster.  My main use of Napster, though, was downloading George Carlin albums.  That, and porn.  Napster didn't have porn.  But one of it's successors did.  It sure did.  Why does everything I talk about always end up about porn.  Just call me Michael Pornblum.  Don't really call me that.  I will have disgraced my father's good name.  Oh, also, I had a dream about a week ago that there was a plane crash.  So, now, if there's a plane crash, don't blame me.  Wait, now that I mentioned it, I seem suspicious, and you will blame me.  Just forget it.  Plane crash?  What plane crash?
    Nobody needs this.  Also, going by what some of my other nightmares have been about, they're such that I'm leaning towards them not being premonitions, but just a tired, depressed, scared psyche coming to the surface.  In conclusion, I probably need Ambien or something.  I'm on such an amount of drugs that adding another one to the mix can really do no harm.  I'm not a doctor, though.  If I was, I would say, "First, do no harm."  "Second, do not talk about fight club."  Third, don't mess around with the cadavers.  They're not there for your personal amusement.  Respect the dead.  One day you'll be dead, and you'll surely want to be respected.  I bet when Rodney Dangerfield died, at his wake, he looked down from Heaven and said, "... I finally got some respect."  And it was like a chapter closed in his soul's journey.  Anyway.  See ya later.

-5:13 P.M.                   
         

Wednesday, January 29, 2014                      

Teach A Man To Title...

    Hey jerkwads.  I took my first college class yesterday in a long time.  It actually went pretty well, even though I was a bit wired.  The teacher's good, the class is interesting, and the workload is light.  What else can you ask for?  Also, I did my second comedy open mic ever on Sunday, and that went pretty well too.  Compared to the first time, I was a lot less nervous (although I was still pretty nervous), and I got a fair amount of laughs.  Even better, the people who were laughing were the people I recognized as better comedians, and I've always heard comedians praise the type of comedian who makes comedians laugh, and I was excited to be one of them (even if it was just a one time thing).  So, yeah, it's mostly good news lately. Also, during the Queens College class, I kept doing, "What's Your Name?" comics in my notebook!  Man, is that a laugh and a half.  Or, completely pointless and not funny at all.  Nobody knows.  What else am I supposed to write about.  Walking around the city on Sunday (particularly the NYU area), and going to Queens College, makes me realize how much younger college kids seem to me.  Because I am older.  And they stay the same age.  Alright, alright.  I don't like it, though.  I need peers!  "Margaret's boyfriend is a pizza delivery boy, but she thinks he's delivering more than just pizzas."  Oh, Maury.  My life would be empty without you.  Or, empty with you.  Either way, my life is MT.  I was watching a Jerry Springer a week or two ago, and the contestant called Jerry, "Maury!"  #Awkward!  #Hashtag! 
    Oh yeah.  Every comedian at the openmic was more of a storyteller comedian.  I was one of the only ones doing 1 liners.  It would have inspired me to try to start writing jokes about my life, but I, unfortunately, don't have a life.  And even if I did, there would be nothing funny about it.  And even if there was, it's my life!  It's now or never.  I ain't gonna be forever.  Man, now I want pizza.  #Pizza.  I like people who use hashtags outside of Twitter.  They took a good idea, and they're running with it!  Good for people.  In two weeks, I've built up my 1000 play chips on Pokerstars to over 55,000.  I'm number one!  My main strategy, in 9 people sit 'n gos, is just to survive to the top 3 (where there's a payout), and let luck take care of the rest.  Pretty straightforward stuff.  I can't wait till online poker for real money is available again.  No joking, that might end up being my career.  It's the only thing I'm good at.  That, and listening to music.  If you could get paid for listening to music well, I'd be making mad Benjamins, yo.  Man, now I don't want pizza anymore.  #ChangedMyMind! 
    Anyway.  It was weird being in class, and having to hold my urine in.  I'm used to going to the bathroom willy-nilly.  Then, when I was finally able to relieve myself, it took a while and I was in pain.  #Thumbsdown.  I like Maury because nobody really knows how old he is.  I like Bill Cunningham because, whenever there's a woman on stage, he calls her, "Mama."  "I want to hear what Mama has to say!"  Love it.  I have a scab on my face from where I cut myself shaving.  Cutting yourself shaving is really embarrassing, because you're basically telling other people, "I am a boy, not a man, I don't know how to shave myself properly!"  I might go see American Hustle today.  Why not.  Once you start getting out of your house, you realize, "This is pretty great!" and want to keep getting out of your house.  I've been taking at least two walks a day for a couple of weeks, as part of my new diet/exercise regimen, and that itself is pretty great.  Speeds up the metabolism, and gets you out of the house.  Wonderful.  I mean, I love my parents, but it's good to get a break.  Especially, because of my illness, I always feel the pressure to be normal in front of my parents.  Getting breaks and being able to just live life is great.
    Anyway.  I've been listening to a lot of Nick Drake lately.  Of all musicians, he's probably the closest I am to when I play guitar.  Which is weird, because I've been playing guitar for ten years, and only started listening to him in the past year.  I mean, I'm not as good as him, but that's more or less the style I play in day-to-day.  So that's how that goes.  When I'm done with this entry, I'm gonna have a grilled chicken cutlet sandwich.  Nobody can stop me!  Nick Drake is pretty depressing, though.  I gotta watch how much I listen to him, because I don't want to listen too much, and then contemplate suicide.  That's a hassle I just don't need.  I want to live a long, happy, and fulfilling life.  Nobody can stop me!  Except for Nick Drake, if I listen to him too much.  Gotta keep my eye on that.  I've been chewing a lot of gum lately.  It's pretty good stuff.  Cinnamint, peppermint.  You can't go wrong when it comes to chewing gum.  If you're chewing gum, you're already a winner.  As far as I'm concerened.  Anyway.  Yeah, I'll probably go see American Hustle later.  And by later, I mean soon.  And by soon, I mean at 1:05 P.M.  Which is pretty soon, all things considered.
    Final paragraph time.  No more wasting everyone's time with, "What's Your Name?" or "What's Your Favorite Color?"  Hah.  Just saying those names made me laugh.  Anyway.  What do I have coming up in the future.  Class Tuesday/Thursday.  That's about it.  Not bad, though.  Better than nothing.  I guess.  It's February in a few days!  Alright, alright.  In class on Tuesday, the teacher told us to write three defining moments in American history or literature before 1865, and one person said, "The cold war."  Hah!  I'm smarter than that guy!  Eat it!  There's one woman in like her 70's in my class.  Whodathunkit.  I'm running low on Camel Blues.  Newports, though, are a-plenty.  I can't complain.  Anyway, see you later. 

-11:43 A.M.                       

Thursday, January 30, 2014                      

Get Over Myself

    Hillo.  It's me, Mike.  Remember, from before?  Cause I don't.  I took class #2 earlier today.  That's 100% more classes I've gotten through compared to the last time I took a college class.  So far, so good.  I've been taking notes pretty manically.  Like, the teacher said an aside about a book he likes?  Goin' in the notes!  Teacher makes a joke about how he was raised?  Goin' in the notes!  Student says the Cold War took place before 1865?  Goin' in the notes!  One day, I'm going to have a completely empty existence, and these little throwaways are going to be like Mana from Heaven.  Or, my eyes will see the page completely out of focus, with every sentence reduced to nothing more than a scribble, and toss it aside.  Either way, I win!  I don't know how I win in the second scenario.  I'm not even completely sold on how I win in the first scenario.  But, let it be said, they are both scenarios.  Nothing can take that away from me.  I had pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner today.  And I still have a slice leftover for a midnight snack!  For me, a midnight snack would be ingested at about 7:00 or 8:00.  I go to sleep early.  "Midnight Snack" is the name of the book of essays Lena Dunham in Girls is going to write.  Or, has written.  The storyline of her writing a book and being published is a little bit murky.  I really have no idea what to make of that show.  Which is pretty reflective of my interpretation of real-life 'girls,' so I guess it's appropriate.     
    That was a long paragraph!  Good for me.  Good for you.  Good for everyone.  I also ate a couple of carrots today.  You know, just for fun.  That's a good snack.  It's got the crunch everyone's dying for, and the nutrition a doctor can only dream of!  My eating habits are really coming together nicely.  Lots of protein (save for today's pizza vacation), consistently eating a good breakfast, and not starving myself.  I'm so glad I don't have a curvy penis.  Those seem like they're just more trouble than they're worth.  One man's opinion, anyway.  How do people with dick's curved up urinate?  Does the urine actually go up before it goes down?  It's like a fountain.  "What goes up, must come down."  Surely Newton was talking about urine.  Was that Newton?  Was that Newtown?  That was where there was a school shooting or something.  Who can remember.  In this, the digital age.  Why remember anything when google is just a click away.  Whatever happened to AskJeeves.com.  I guess Americans just weren't comfortable with a digital butler.  Ask Jeeves.  "I don't know, I just don't trust this character."  I don't blame you.  What's in it for Jeeves, that's what I want to know.  He must have been up to some shit, I can tell you that.
    Anyway.  Five day vacation!  Isn't life great.  I don't like going home from Queens College, because I can't smoke on campus, and I can't smoke at the bus stop, because it's by a gas station.  I mean, I guess I could smoke at the bus stop, but do I really want to risk causing a massive explosion and killing dozens of people?  As far as the risk/reward going for smoking a cigarette near a gas station, the risk seems to greatly outweigh the reward.  Again, just one man's opinion.  Take it with a grain of salt.  That's an expression.  Think about it, if you want to.  I'm not here to force anyone to do anything they don't really want to do.  Anyway.  I was wearing my NYU sweatshirt today, because it's lighter than my regular sweatshirt, and the weather called for it, but I didn't really count on how many *perceived* awkward looks I would get around the Queens College campus.  The entire time I was there, I felt like saying to anyone who would listen, "No, I don't feel like I'm an 'NYU man," superior to you!  It's just more comfortable!"  Unfortunately, no one really seemed to care.
    I like people who think carefully about what they wear and then think other people care about what they wear.  Get over yourself!  As far as I'm concerned, you're just either a man or woman, with glasses or without glasses.  Oh, check out the guy with glasses.  Check out the girl without glasses.  That's basically it.  This was a good entry.  I can tell because I don't hate myself 3/4'ths into it.  What else is going on.  I saw American Hustle yesterday.  I know it's a comedy, and I guess it was funny at some points, but it really just depressed me.  I get depressed easily, though.  That's a fact.  It was a good movie, though.  Not every movie can make you feel good about yourself.  Some movies can artistically recreate the seedy underbelly to ourselves and our society, and show you that.  Good for them.  Hey it's almost time for my midnight snack.
    So it goes, Crazysheet is almost done for the night.  In conclusion, enjoy a segment of a new series, "What's Your Favorite Game?"  Peace Out, Folks!

-7:48 P.M.         

\Friday, January 31, 2014                      

I Don't Play No Games.  Except For Backgammon.  And Some Other Ones.

    Hello.  It's me.  I have a sore on the inside of my mouth.  Lucky me!  Smoking cigarettes activate it's pain.  So maybe I have mouth cancer.  Fingers crossed!  I've been using the bathroom like a pro lately.  That's all I have to say about that.  Today's a pretty good day.  Date-wise, at least.  Tomorrow is February.  I can't believe it's been a year since last February.  So much has happened.  Like, the months, and stuff.  I'm not complaining.  No stuff is good stuff.  I was thinking about doing another comedy open mic tonight, but after careful consideration, I came to realize, "Wait a second, I'm not funny!"  So, that's that.  It's okay.  There's worse things in the world to be than not being funny.  I mean, I'm funny compared to the average Pete, but I'm not professionally funny.  And I'm not even quick-witted, not anymore.  So, whatever.  At least I'm good at something.  I'm good at not being content with who I am.  That's a good skill to have.  One would imagine.  I like how John Lennon said to, "Imagine."  Get off my case, man!  I've had enough of your "rules!" I'll imagine when I'm good and ready.  I think it's possible John Lennon was just trying to say, "I'm a genie," but didn't know how to spell.  That's how I feel.  Most genies know how to spell.  That's how I feel.
    I have to write the rest of this entry?  Who made that rule?  I already admitted I wasn't funny.  Where else can I go from there?  The thing about me being funny, is if you read crazysheet thinking, "This'll be good!" then it is good, but if you read it thinking, "This is gonna suck!" then it will suck.  Some people can find pleasure in the little things in life, some people are too jaded.  That's about it.  That's not really fair to the jaded people.  Maybe they're correct in being humorless jackasses.  That's their prerogative.  Anyway.  I should go to the open mic.  At the last one, I was makin' friendly with another guy there, and shared a slice of pizza afterwards.  It was weird being social.  Weird, but good.  You know what, yeah!  I should go.  I'm glad I had this little exchange with myself.  Aw, but should I?  I don't know!  Fuck it.  I still don't know, but I'm not gonna debate myself for the rest of this entry.  I'm gonna do it!  It's usually better to do things than not to do things.  Usually.  Who knows if this is one of those situations.  Besides, there's a decent chance I won't even get the chance to do my time, because there's a limited number of people who can go up.  Alright, so I gotta leave around 5:00.  That gives me 50 minutes to finish this entry.  You now what, maybe I shouldn't go, and just enjoy an evening in!  Fuck me.  Who cares?!  Certainly not you, and in all actuality, not even me.  I do care, though.  I want to make the right decision.  The truth is, either way, I'm gonna lie in bed tonight and think, "I made the wrong decision."  And then cry myself to sleep.  Beh.
    Third paragraph alakazam!  I really should just stay in.  There's another open mic on Sunday, if I want to go then.  Bleh.  Do you live in New York?  Why not invite me to hang out sometime?  Fuckers.  I need friends, that's all that is.  I had a dream a few days ago that one of you died.  I won't say which one.  That's not a threat, though.  It's true.  I was sad in the dream, though.  Obviously.  I don't want anyone to die.  Not for a while, at least.  You should die when you're really old.  It's best for everybody.  I showed up early for my class on Thursday, so I was waiting outside the room while the class before it was ending.  The door was open, and I felt kind of guilty, because I heard the professor saying everything, and I was getting learning for free.  We gotta take advantage of situations though.  I'm not conning anyone, I was just there early.  If they want to give me something of value for free that's their prerogative.  I like the word prerogative.
    ANYWAY.  Woah, look at all those caps.  Life is weird.  In some ways, I've been feeling better lately, but in some ways, I've been feeling worse.  Life is like a wave; you gotta ride it.  My dad likes to say, "Life is like a rollercoaster; there are highs, and lows."  I think he's wrong, though.  Because on a roller coaster, the downs are the fun part.  Shows how much he knows.  I remember I used to get particularly scared on roller coasters, because I'm short, and I wasn't confident that the roller coaster bar was designed to keep me inside properly.  So far, though, I've survived every roaster coller that I've ridden.  I need to get an HD T.V.  Those are great.  Anyway, enjoy another episode of my critically acclaimed series, "What's Your Favorite Color?"                                                

-4:47 P.M.