Tuesday, July 1, 2014                      

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

    Hey YO!  iT'S ME.  Oops, capslock.  What kind of person would say, "Oops, capslock," instead of just correcting it, and moving on with the entry.  The good kind, in my humble abode.  I mean, opinion.  I mean, what's going on?  I did end up seeing Jersey Boards last night.  No mention of cork boys, though.  Too bad.  I like how Frankie Valli was short.  Short protagonist?  You got my attention.  Oh, and, who wears short shorts?  Short guys, that's who.  Anyway.  Happy July!  I think when Joe Wilson said, "You lie!" to Obama, he was really just trying to say, "July!"  Let's give the sap the benefit of the doubt.  In my book, the alphabet is probably the best song ever.  Probably.  I mean, possibly.  Maybe.  There's a chance.  Who knows.  I mean, there's so many great moments.  "H I J K?"  Brilliant.  "Q R S?"  Where do they come up with this stuff.   "X Y and Z?"  It's full of these little moments that just rock your socks off.  Also, if you're driving drunk, and a cop tells you to say the alphabet backwards, you can hear, "Paul Is Dead."  So, what else is going?  On?  Gonna get an iced coffee when the entry is over.  It's good, because it's coffee, that's iced.  Holy guacamole.  Still in the first paragraph.  A mole has something to do with chemistry.  That's pretty much as far as my knowledge of chemistry goes.  Anyway, seventh grade.  In seventh grade, I had an English teacher who actually said, when writing, "Clichés are sometimes good."  Thanks for the tip, moron.  Anyway, the van.  Sorry, I fell into an Adaptation-themed coma.  Nobody will get that.  In high school, Adaptation was probably my favorite movie.  In seventh grade, Adaptation hadn't been released yet.  In eighth grade, Adaptation hadn't been released yet.  It was released in ninth grade.
    Wha?  Huh?  Wha?  Anyway, I've been doing pretty good lately.  I mean, I made it to the second paragraph.  How much better can things get.  How lucky can one man be.  I wrote a paragraph, and made it to the second one.  Skibbity Bop Bop Bop!  Why did he turn into a jazz man at the end.  None of this makes sense.  "Jazz" is a pretty good word.  I've got no qualms with it.  "Qualms" is another good word.  Even, "Good," is a good word.  I like the word, "Word," too.  "Too," is a homonym.  "Homonym" is a funny word.  "Funny" is a combination of, "Fun," and "NY."  "Homonym" is a combination of, "Homo" and "New York Met."  A word is worth 1/1000th of a picture.  I don't like that catchphrase.  It's a generalization, and, as a rule, I always don't like generalizations.  They're all the same.  Plllbt.  I got my iced coffee after the, "Plllbt."  I figured coming up with, "Plllbt," was grounds enough for rewarding myself.  Think I might go swimming today.  The weather is nice and plump.  On the other hand, who knows.  On the other hand, maybe.  On the other hand, how many hands does this guy have?  I mean, c'mon!  Get 'er done.  Dat Phan, turn off that fan.  Oh man,  The stupidest things can bring me so much joy.  And the smartest things bring me so much anger.  And the middle things, they're okay, I guess.  Who am I to judge.  Probably some guy, who can judge, or something.  Man.  I hate it when things happen.  Why can't I judge go through life without anything happening.  Judge and fudge rhyme.  Also, nudge.  And budge.  Sludge.  I like sludge.  I don't care who knows it.
    Anywaits.  Let's see, do I have any stories to tell.  Doesn't need to be recent.  Just anything.  Nope.  Nothing.  My life has been completely empty.  My life, to this point, has basically just been learning the alphabet and watching Last Comic Standing.  Oh well.  I saw Dunkin Donuts has a new breakfast burrito.  That's interesting.  I walked by a couple of empty gram bags of weed.  Nothin' in 'em.  I live near a high school, which I assume is responsible for all the discarded marijuana containers.  Although school isn't in session anymore.  School isn't in session anymore!  I also live a block away from an elementary school.  Maybe they're the ones getting high.  Kids grow up so fast these days.  Maybe my neighborhood, for whatever reason, is a marijuana destination.  Like, if you're gonna get high, doing it in my neighborhood is the place to do it.  It is a pretty good neighborhood.  Most of it is protected by fire hydrants.  There's a school bus.  Plenty of residential buildings.  Sidewalks galore.  Empty weed bags.  What was I talking about again?  We've got our fair share of birds.  I believe that's my neighborhood's motto.  "Park Ridge-- We've Got Birds!"  So, I've got cable T.V.  You know what that's like, right?  I remember, when I was a kid, we had a neighbor who had a poodle named, "Puff," and I was terrified of that dog.  Dogs are scary.  They can't reason like us humans can.  Okaydohkay.  I remember when I was younger, I had a friend who lived in an apartment, and I wished I lived in an apartment.  It just seemed so glamorous.  To be in the thick of it, so to speak. 
    Anywales.  Another entry done.  Didn't think I'd ever get through this one.  I'm just not in it today.  Well, there's always tomorrow.  See ya later.

-10:34 A.M.     

Wednesday, July 2, 2014                      

It's Me Again, Again

    Hey friends and, well, hey friends.  Another gorgeous summer morning.  And here I am, staring at a black screen, peppered with white courier new text.  Because I need to feel like I'm doing something.  That's one of the few signs that I'm growing up, I think.  That I suddenly feel like, "I need to do something."  Whether it's class, or anything, just do something productive.  And, unfortunately, at this stage in my life, the only relatively productive thing that I can think of doing is writing five paragraphs of white courier new text onto a black screen.  It's either this, or lie in bed.  So, let's get started, shall we?  I like how it's called crazy sheet, and it's white text on a black background.  If you had a paper that was black with white writing, it's opposite.  That's a crazy sheet.  Ha!  Ha-ha!  Ha!  Ha.  Whatever happened to The Beatles.  They haven't put out a new album in years.  I remember, when I was younger, the song Eleanor Rigby scared me.  Like, it triggered fear in my brain.  That, and "I Don't Want To Miss a Thing," by Aerosmith.  Why can't he miss a thing?  What's wrong with this person?  Scary stuff.  I remember, the night before one school year, I wanna say sixth or seventh grade, I couldn't sleep all night, and in the morning, I turned on the radio, and they played that Aerosmith song.  And I got so scared, I couldn't go to school that day.
    Anyway.  I like the, "Flight or Fight," response humans get when threatened.  Fight or flight?  Who can choose!  Wonderful.  "Wonderful" is another scary song.  So is, "Fight or Flight," if it were a song.  Gotta imagine there'd be some scary stuff in there.  It's probably a death metal song, one would think.  One would think.  Anyway.  Think I'm gonna see that Tammy movie today.  My dad is a really big fan of Melissa McCarthy.  It's the only thing I've seen excite him in years.  Oh, he also likes Steve Carell in Anchorman.  Yeah.  What else is going on?  I'm slowly starting to get used to all this totality of free time.  It just feels like my brain is on hiatus or something.  Anyway, hi.  I just came back.  I was on hiatus or something.  What's the deal with jello.  How come no comedian has ever talked about jello before?  Seems like it would be ripe for discussion.  Or, at the very least, mention.  That's my style of joke-- no discussion, just mention.  Remember jello?  Anyway...  I've never had jello.  And I never will.  I have standards, people.  To tell the truth, I don't believe I've ever had any kind of pudding.  Its consistency is just not appetizing to me.  And it never will be.  Ever.  Never.  Forever not to be.  Anywaviers.  At what point do we start calling, "New Wave" music, "Old wave?"  Haven't we reached the point where we can say, "Okay, we were new for a while, now, let's face facts, it's old wave, now?"  I don't know why we're saying it.  They have to say it.  It's not on me.  That reminds me, I need to think of what genre to call my music.  How about... Grindcore.  Musicbase.  Funbars.  Utility Rock.  I kinda like utility rock.  I think I'll use that.
    I can't remember the last time I ended a paragraph without thinking, "Was that paragraph too short?"  It was probably like a week ago.  Anyway.  What to do with the rest of my life.  Damn, that's a long time to plan for.  Let's say, about 500 weeks of fucking around, meeting a girl, having children, dying.  That's a plan I can get behind.  I would be a terrible father.  I don't know how to take anything seriously.  And raising kids is pretty much the one thing you really need to take seriously.  Kids practically raise themselves these days, with the internet and whatnot.  Why, I could just lock my kid in a room with a computer when he's two, and say, "Figure it out!"  That's not a bad plan.  It would certainly take a lot of responsibility off my back.  And onto the back of computer.  Computer doesn't care.  And if it does, there's something wrong with it.  Some sort of emotional malfunction.  Take it back to Comp U.S.A.  Anyway.  I don't need to worry about having kids for a long time.  Thank God.  I'm still worried about having me.  Like, what foods can I eat after midnight, and can I be exposed to sunlight, and so on.  Gremlins can't eat any food after midnight.  Sucks to be them.  I remember my college friend worked for a business that sold cookies to NYU kids in the A.M. hours.  That's a notable, for some reason.  You get to decide why.  Alright, it's not.  Forget I said anything.  I also remember getting Papa Johns delivered to the dormitory.  Oh, what fun.  It's like pizza, only worse!  I believe that's their slogan.
    Oh man.  Thinking about college gives me a sentimental hard-on.  Not a physical hard-on that I feel sentimental about, but a hard on of the brain, of sentimental feelings.  I remember my first, and to date, only job.  It was working in an NYU office.  They were, like something to do with Geriatric Nursing.  As far as I could tell, the only thing this entire office building did was send out fliers about Geriatric nursing.  Maybe that's because I was the intern, who's main responsibility was sending out fliers.  But yeah, I wasn't really sure exactly what they did.  I kinda just assumed it was a bureaucracy thing where they were all getting paid just to do bullshit.  After a year, they fired me, because I was talking too much to the other student interns.  What a bunch of malarkey.  I also spent an inordinate amount of time in internet chat rooms!  And that wasn't bothering anybody.  It was kind of cool having a job.  I remember, during the summer, when I was living at home, I would get high before leaving, listen to music for an hour and a half, or two hours, traveling, and be sober by the time I got to the job.  And no, that's not why they fired me.  They would have said so if it was!  Also, one of the people I worked for once gave me a style magazine, to discard it, and said, "I know what you boys like to do with those," implying that I would masturbate to the pictures.  And I was the one who was fired. Unbelievable.  In 2009, I also, technically, briefly had a job at the NYU phone desk, calling alumni to solicit donations.  I got paid for the three days training, and then, after 15 minutes on the job, I quit.  I was not comfortable at all doing that.
    So, that's my résumé.  If any of you want to give me a job.  You've got the Kornblum Promise-- I will be sober by the time I show up.  And, Want me to masturbate to something?  Give 'er Here!  I think you will find I'm overqualified for 90% of jobs.  Anyway.  This has been fun.  Now is the time to close it up, yet again.  Don't get too upset, I'll be back tomorrow!  And the day after that.  And the day after that.  And then, maybe a break.  But then, the day after that.  You can't get rid of me.  I'm like the common cold.  I have to throw up.  I'll be right back.

-6:40 P.M.                             

Thursday, July 3, 2014                      

This Entry Is Brought To You By The Internet

    Hello.  It's me.  Don't believe me?  Ask me something only I would know.  Wait a second, I don't have to answer to you.  How do I know you're you?  I should ask you something only you would know.  Hmm.  I know!  How do you know who you are?  You can send me your answers in e-mail.  Anyway.  Another fantastical summer day.  So, I got a lot of hate mail from people who like Papa Johns.  What if that were true.  It would imply this website has a degree of success that clearly isn't there.  Truth be told, I think Papa Johns is a fine franchise.  I personally enjoy shitty pizza.  It's like, I was just watching a Biography about Married... With Children, where they say the show was so successful because it made people appreciate their own mediocre families more.  When you have Papa Johns, you realize, "This is rock bottom, it can only go up from here."  And I'd like to think this website follows in that fine tradition, and has a similar effect.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  I'd like to think I have my finger on the pulse of the nation.  So, with that sort of barometer, I have deduced it's July 4th, our nation's independence day, tomorrow.  I urge you all to celebrate with your loved ones.  Without our Independence, we'd surely be the subjects of the United Kingdom.  And that would be terrible.  On the other hand, we wouldn't have to deal with the west coast, or the middle coast.  That's probably a plus.  Overall, though, we get to light fireworks.  Have you seen those things?  It's like, bright things in the sky!  No, not stars.  Who cares about those wastes of space.  These can make interesting patterns, and have loud noises!  So basically, July Fourth is that once a year time when we get to show the sky who's boss.  Treasure it.   
    I hope The Purge never happens in real life.  That would be terrible.  On the other hand, once you've had Papa Johns, you're liable to purge all over the place.  I like all kinds of pizza.  Pizza places, Pizza Hut, Papa Johns, Dominos, frozen pizza, pizza bites, pizza bagels, hot pockets.  Those Lunchable make-your-own-pizzas I had back in third grade.  Want to know my secret?  I didn't use the cheese.  Keep that in your back pocket.  Anyway, I think I'm gonna eat lunch soon.  I want to make some progress with this entry first, though.  Its not healthy to use food as a reward, though.  Oh well.  Add it to the list of not healthy things that are a regular part of my balanced breakfast.  I like how commercials for sugary cereals say they're a healthy part of a balanced breakfast.  No they're not.  Stop lying.  You lie!  Get off my television!  I guess it's my fault, though, for watching The Cereal Channel.  Nothing else was on!  For the cereal channel, primetime is in the morning.  People like to watch about cereal as they eat their cereal.  That's a proven scientific fact.  If there was a Lunch Channel, I would watch the crap out of that.  I'm sorry, what was I talking about again?  Oh yeah.  Channels that don't exist.  Oh yeah.  Pizza.  Oh yeah.  Lunch.  Oh yeah.  Kool-Aid man.  That's another thing I've never had.  Never had Kool-Aid.  Been tempted to buy those Kool cigarettes, though.  That's something I want coating my lung tissue.
    Anywain.  David Wain.  There was an article written by David Wain in one of the magazines my boss gave to me, way back in the last entry.  And did I masturbate to it?  Probably.  Who can remember that far back.  I remember, back when this was on Xanga, I would write about Stella, saying, "This is like what I do, but worse!  I'm the greatest!"  What a maroon.  Now, I've grown up to ridiculing more easy targets, like Dat Phan.  That's not entirely accurate.  I was ridiculing Dat Phan back in 2004, too.  And, God willing, I'll be ridiculing Dat Phan in 2024.  I would say Dat Phan is like the Papa Johns of comedy, but that's giving him way too much credit.  I hope Dat Phan doesn't read this.  He probably wouldn't be Dat much of a Phan of mine anymore.  Dat Phan is perfectly capable of making that joke.  Where do I get off?  Bayside station.  Yeah.  Dat Phan's a likable guy, though.  He's got a future.  Most of us have a future.  Whether it's a positive or negative one is anyone's guess.  My Dad told me recently, that since Men Swearhouse fired the "You're gonna like the way you look" guy, he refuses to buy from them anymore.  He trusted that guy, bought from them then, but now, without him, no longer!  Scabitty Boot Boot Booh!  Why does that jazz guy keep showing up.  I don't like it.  I don't like it.  Anyway.  What else is happening.
    The fourth paragraph, that's what's happening.  I wish I had eyes in the back of my head.  Maybe I do.  Maybe what I think is the front of my head is really the back.  It's all a matter of perspective.  Still.  Hmm.  I remember in my high school video production class, one of the members from my group kept repeating, "You're gonna like the way you look."  I thought it was the coolest thing.  I wanted to be just like him.  If only I could achieve that modicum of swag.  He was also into parkour.  That was a thing for a while.  I remember, in the video we made, my part was, "Guy who buys taco."  So, that was what could have been my big break.  I believe I was nominated for a day time emmy.  I wasn't cut out for the business, though.  When the class ended, I sent out a press release saying I was going to spend more time with my family.  And then, when my family ended, I sent out a press release saying I was going to spend more time alone.  Anyway.  What to do with the rest of my day.  I'll figure it out.  Anyway, enjoy this precious, precious comic.

-12:48 P.M.

Friday, July 4, 2014                      

Do You Mean With The Water On?

    Hello ghouls and non-ghouls.  They really gotta come up with a word for non-ghouls.  No they don't.  Stop lying.  Anyway, what a great start to the entry.  It's Independence Day!  Let's get in the spirit of the thing.  The spirit of '76.  That's something, I think.  Lets eat meat outside as we declare war on the sky.  And drink beer flavored alcohol.  And do stuff with piñatas.  That's Independence Day, right?  And we hire a clown to make balloon animals?  And eat birthday cake.  I wish the English language had tildes.  We're missing out on so much fun.  Hey, in twelve years, it's the big bicentennial plus a half of a centennial.  That should be amazing.  And, if not, more fireworks.  I wonder if clowns are unionized.  You gotta imagine the Clown Lobby holds some sway in our political system.  Well, you don't have to imagine that.  I'll imagine it for you.  Once, I was playing The Sims, and a clown suddenly appeared while my Sim was sleeping, and it scared the fuck out of me.  That's pretty much why I can't play video games anymore.  Little moments like that just scare the fuck out of my shit.  This entire blog has basically just turned into, "Innocuous Things That Scare Me."  I gotta clean up my room.  There's paper and books and stuff everywhere.  I can't even play Sim City.  Oh, the power just went out?  Not My Problem!  That's more laziness than fear.  Maybe it's fear of responsibility.  But, I mean, if you're playing Roller Coaster Tycoon, you mis-design a roller coaster, people die.  I can't have that type of thing hanging over my head.   
    The weird thing about Roller Coaster Tycoon, is, no matter how many people die on your roller coasters, people will keep coming.  That's like that Mr. Show sketch.  I guess now I owe them royalties from all the money this entry will make.  Crap.  Anywagers.  I like watching T.V. with the closed captions.  It started because my first T.V., in my old room, was my grand father's old T.V., so the closed captions were set.  Then I just got used to them.  It's like I'm gettin' a double dose of dialogue.  Veni, Vidi, Vici.  I came, I saw, I conquered.  You can't come and conquer without seeing.  That's why David Paterson was an ineffective governor.  Never had it in him to conquer Connecticut.  Anyway.  Independence Day.  Oh, what a day.  It's sort of like half-way New Years.  Except not exactly.  I think the reason I like Independence Day is that, in theory, you spend it with your family and friends.  And, in theory, if I had a family or friends, I would enjoy such a thing.  I have a family.  Not huge on celebrating things, though.  I might just get a couple of beers, and that'll be my Independence Day.  I defy anyone to come up with something better to do.  "Def" is the alphabet.  Why does, "Y" have to come in there and clunk everything up.  Today is my independence day from the alphabet.  If I wanna go, "Q, Z, F, D, F again..." no one can stop me anymore!  Anyway.  I wanna see a clown.  I wanna see a clown, and I want to see a clown now.  I guess I could go to the circus.  Not a lot of clowns make house calls without at least two days notice.  If laughter is the best medicine, why aren't all doctors clowns?  I'd certainly feel a lot safer if I knew Ronald McDonald was delivering my baby. 
    Wouldn't you feel a lot better if you went to a psychiatrist, and he was wearing clown makeup?  That wouldn't bring a smile to your face?  The sad truth is, doctors are years behind on clown technology that could be saving lives right now.  Anyway.  I went swimming yesterday.  That was a ton of fun.  Maybe I'll even go swimming tomorrow.  And the day after the day after that.  So, it's raining now.  In the last couple of days, me and my Mom both individually thought about Starburst.  My policy on candy, since I've started keeping track of my weight, is that, chocolate is king, and that fruit candy is a waste, because you could just eat the fruit and it'll taste pretty much the same.  So, that's my stance on candy.  Also, pink starburst?  Never has something so beloved by other people disgusted me so much.  Lemon is tops, orange next, then, what's the third one, cherry?  And pink is just gross.  Yet, other people seem to like 'em.  Good, I'll trade up for some lemon or orange.  Well, now I wouldn't have any starburst.  Waste of candy.  When I was a kid, my favorite candy bar was Charleston Chew.  Second favorite, Three Musketeers.  Then, I guess Hershey Bar.  Man.  Candy talk.  I'm lovin' it.  That reminds me, my favorite McDonalds is the fries.  Then, when I was in college, they had that Angus Steak Burger thing, I liked the one with Swiss cheese.  Chicken nuggets are alright with me.  Although I saw a documentary about how they make the nuggets, and each piece is basically made out of 1000 genetically modified and terrifyingly raised chickens.  In the end, though, I don't care.  They're McNuggets.  What you see is what you get.  I remember as a kid, it was fun to mix different sodas.  It really feels like you're accomplishing something creative.  
    Anyway, how'd I get to that.  Candy talk I liked, once we got to the McDonalds talk, it seemed a little tedious.  That was the rejected band name for Jables and Rage Kage, Tedious D.  M'n'ms were also a staple in my candy diet as a youth.  I remember, for some reason, I didn't like popcorn at the movie theaters.  I liked microwave popcorn alright.  I would get a hot dog, or nachos, at movies.  Or candy, I guess.  And, speaking of hot dogs, oh man, how I've always loved street dogs.  I even made friends with the guy who ran the hot dog stand outside Water St., when I lived there.  He was a really old guy and we talked every day.  One might say he was my best friend at the time.  If you don't count drugs or alcohol as a friend.  This guy was my hot dog hook-up.  When I would get street dogs, in college or before, I would get four or five at a time.  Plain, almost always.  I don't know what's in them, if it's rat, or just a unique ingredient in the water, but I love em.  Hey, today's the Nathan's contest thing.  I don't care who wins, I just hope they all have a good time.  That's how I feel about competitions.  Anyway, time to close this entry up with a comic, and get out of here to enjoy my Independence Day in peace.  See ya!

-1:55 P.M.                     

Independence Day Part II: The Drinkening

    Hello friends and ghouls, and, what?  Hi!  It's Michael.  Remember, your friend till the end?  Got myself a couple of brewskies, figured I'd try my hand at this, "Entry writing" thing I've heard so much about.  So, Independence Day.  Hmm.  That was a mo... never mind.  There's a son... never mind.  It's a holi... wait, no, that's actually relevant!  Independence Day is indeed a holiday that is occurring currently, as we speak!  Some fun facts about Independence Day-- it was established in 1902 when candlestick operator Johnny Applesteed got drunk, missed the bus to his grand daughter's graduation, and proclaimed to the sky, "If I ever see Wes Craven again, I'm gonna give him such an ear waxing!"  This led to the Boxer Rebellion of 1912 where the Queen of England briefly swore she was an imposter, only to give up on the rouse after three days of no one believing her.  Of course, this was a precursor to World War Ten, which is still being fought in Waco, Texas.  And, as we all know, all of this could have been avoided if Frank Sinatra had installed Norton Anti-Virus on his hard drive.  In a slightly alternate universe, this is what every crazysheet entry would look like.  Let's thank the Founding Fathers that they set us on the course that led to the regular, normal crazysheet.  Anyway.  What are  you looking at?  I need some new hobbies.  Or, just learn to appreciate the ones I have.  Sorry, T.V.  I should have never doubted you.  Oh, and you-tube?  It's a wonderful life, after all!  Facebook!  My silly, little, Facebook!  I could do without you.  But come, gather by the fire place!  OHMYGOD, and FIREPLACE.  I LUV YA SO MUCH.  Without you, fire has no place!  Oh and internet poker!!! You're aces!
    Wait, are we just going to concede that those things are my entire life? Yes?  Okay then.  I miss having friends, boo-hoo-hoo.  Get over it, me.  In this digital age, we're all friends, whether we like it or not!  Why doesn't the cast of friends release a CD to benefit Africa called, "We're All Friends?" Because they're 38% less retarded than me.  Also, Man, should I have taken a class this semester.  Why isn't there a Queens College class in Friendship?  Some of us need a little extra help.  Why isn't there a Queens College class in, "Let's Get It Started," by the Black Eyed Peas?  You'd think there would be one, but there's not.  I've checked.  Ugh.  Ugh.  I can't believe I already broke my Independence Day's resolution.  It was 1024 x 768.  Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!  I mean, what?  My mind has not been working well lately.  And by lately, I mean, what, like, four years?  Oh well.  It'll get back on track, sooner or later.  Probably!  I don't even get fireworks tonight.  My room has an obstructed view of the sky, due to ceilings and such.  I remember in summer 09, I took a history class at Queens College, while I was still primarily going to NYU, and we watched The Lives of Others, which is about cold war Germany.  We also watched All Quiet On The Western Front, which I believe was about Kanye West.  Just kidding.  I know it's about Kanye West.  Anyway, to tell the truth, things haven't been so bad lately.  I feel like I'm ever so slowly getting better.  I don't know.  What's up with you?  I just realized I haven't spoken to a friend in a long time.  I talked to my brother a few days ago, that was good.  But besides that... nothin'.
    Anyway, hi, it's me.  It's weird, in my imagination, there's at least a couple of people who are happy to read from me.  Like, it's almost as if I'm doing something positive by writing here.  Not just for me, but, it's like I'm participating in the human experience, or something.  I used to get comments from people that they liked this, and all, but I don't really anymore.  Which is okay, I mean, whatever.  I just had a granola bar.  It was alright.  See, that's the thing,  Logically, looking at, "I just had a granola bar.  It was alright," I'm like, what the fuck is this doing for anyone?  But, I don't know.  Maybe there's someone even more socially inept than I am, and this is their only connection to anything.  I don't know what I'm babbling about.  All in all, it's really just bullshit to get to five paragraphs.  That's what I've been reduced to.  It's horrible.  Absolutely terrifying.  Worst thing in the world.  Might as well end it all right now.  Okay, I might be exaggerating a little bit.  Now I really need to get to five paragraphs, to balance out this crap.  See what you're doing for future me, current me?  Making things harder, that's all.  Making.  Things.  Harder.  I remember, my senior year, I once played a schoolmate in poker, heads-up tournament style, for 200 dollars.  And I was outplaying him left and right, and finally got all the chips in when we were about even, like a 70/30 favorite.  And he sucked out on me, and I lost 200 dollars, just like that.  And I remember thinking, "If I won, he probably wouldn't have even paid me."  But I paid him, of course.  I don't know.  That's not relevant to anything, I don't think.         
    It sure did fill out the paragraph, though.  Oh, happy day! Hey, I just heard a firework work!  Oh, happy day!  I liked that Jersey Boys song, "It's just too good to be true."  Good piece of business, that song is.  That.  Song.  Is.  I mean, what?  The song remains the same, we all know that.  I'm having salmon and rice for dinner.  Because I'm so fancy.  You already know.  Something something.  L.A. to Tokyo.  I don't know, though.  Fancy people wouldn't go out of their way to call themselves fancy.  That's not very fancy.  I'm starting to have doubts.  This is the fourth paragraph?  Good stuff.  Gosh, I really should have taken a class.  This is no good.  I mean, fall semester starts, what, last week of August?  I think I can hold out until then.  And then, back to the two class a week grind.  It's better than being in the hospital.  Well, sort of.  The hospital had fresh air time twice a day.  There's no fresh air time during class.  You can't smoke in either school or hospital.  So that's a wash.  I have more control over my diet outside of hospital.  That's a plus.  I'm not monitored 24/7 outside the hospital.  I guess that's pretty much the main difference.  I mean, what?  Is this paragraph done yet?  No?  What do you mean, no?  I've put in good time and effort to ensure that this entry would be done, and you're telling me it isn't?  Hell yes, I want to talk to the manager!  Hello!  Yes, it's me.  No, they're telling me the entry isn't done yet!   
    Anyway, what?  Remember The Titans?  The mighty, mighty Titans?  I think that's where the Mighty, Mighty Bosstones got their name from.  At least, that's the impression that I get.  Gotta close this entry up.  Happy fourth of July, peeps.  Whenever you feel down, or you feel like no one cares, or that people aren't worth it, remember the fourth of July, and remember that,  We... Got... Fireworks.  Fire in the sky!  It seems no one can control it!  But someone is!  Maybe a whole team of people!  They say, when you kiss someone, sometimes you see fireworks.  I haven't kissed someone in six fucking years.  SIX FUCKING YEARS.  What bullshit.  Anyway, peace out homeslices.

-5:31 P.M.   

Wednesday, July 9, 2014                      

Hey, How's It Go-- Sorry, I'm Getting Another Title...

    Hello peach-tree dishes.  I got myself a girly mixed drink in Leo of my regular alcohol.  Because I like to mix it up every now and then.  This was the first real bottle of alcohol I've gotten in years, now that my parents know about my drinking.  It was either go for the nostalgia of Southern Comfort, or go with something new that would make my life interesting.  Alcohol doesn't make your life interesting.  It makes it less interesting.  That's a little PSA for the young ones.  On the other hand, let's create an interesting entry with the presence of almighty Alcohol.  Anyway.  I feel like I have nothing to do for the next six weeks.  What a drag.  I tidied up the website, divided it into months, and made it into chronological order.  Like you even noticed.  I slave and I slave, and what do I get for it?  TWO BACKSTAGE PASSES TO SEE THE GIN BLOSSOMS?  Alright!  What the Hell are the Gin Blossoms.  What the Hell did I buy a mixed drink for.  It's slightly too acidic to drink like a regular drink, and isn't alcoholy enough to drink as an alcohol drink.  I think I bought it because it's name is, "Zombie," and my Mom's been watching The Walking Dead all week.  This solitary alcohol session is dedicated to my Moms!  Alcohol is a lot less fun when you're doing it alone, and your parents know about it.  At least when they didn't know, it's like I was retreating into a fun little world that was all my own.  Now they've tainted it.  Way to blow, parents.  How come incest porn is so popular.  I don't care that it's fake.  What's wrong with you people.
    Anyway.  I live in a weird generation, that I was hitting puberty at exactly the same time as free video porn was becoming widely available over the internet.  Man, did I take advantage of that.  Those... were... the... days.  Of course, my first memory of watching porn was sneaking downstairs late at night and watching Cinemax.  I remember getting erections, but I couldn't come yet.  Still fun, though.  Then, the first time I came, was at a sleepover.  Wait, that doesn't sound right!  I mean, hmm, haw, erm...  It was, though.  Everyone else had fell asleep and I jerked it to pictures of Jennifer Lopez on my friend's computer, and I came purple.  Purple!  Guess it was mixed with blood.  I also remember, within the same time period, going over to another friend's house, whose brother had a subscription to Maxim, and we would take turns going into the bathroom and jacking it.  For whatever reason, masturbation for me started off as sort of a social event.  Me and my friends were weirdos.  I think it was just that we all discovered this amazing activity, and we wanted to compound the awesomeness by combining it with our close friends.  Nothin' weird about that!  I'm sure that has absolutely nothing to do with me being the deviant that I am today.  I wish I had a corkscrew penis.  Maybe I do.  Anyway.  The past few months I think the entry writing has taken a dive, while I've been sort of more music-centric, and occupied with class.  Let's see if we can turn that around!  Why, crazysheet may be on the verge of a renaissance!  Probably not, but it's possible!  I had a dream last night that I was taking a college class in comedy taught by Stephen Colbert, but after the first one or two classes, he had me kicked out of the class.  So, I take that as a sign that I will write a good entry or two, and then Stephen Colbert will kick me off the internet.  Stephen Colbert must have it made, rollin' in that pistachio money. 
    Anyway.  I saw a small package of crushed red pepper from Pizza Hut on the ground, and I immediately thought, "Oh man, Pizza Hut!"  Because that is what I saw.  It makes sense when you think about it.  I'm pretty sure Pizza Hut puts sugar in their crust.  Something like that, to make it addictive.  Maybe just salt.  That's an addictive, too.  I really, really like the font the months have.  Doesn't get much better than that.  I can't believe I've been doing this incarnation of crazysheet for over two years already.  Good for me.  I'm the greatest.  What the Hell am I gonna be doing when I'm thirty.  I can't be a grown up and still write crazysheet entries.  But, I can't be a grown up and not write crazysheet entries.  Man, am I a weirdo.  I can comfortably say that crazysheet has made me a better person.  I was pretty anti-social in high school, and doing this sort of made me change all that.  Well, crazysheet.com.  Crazysheet.net?  I could take it or leave it.  I would say it's sort of helped me re-socialize, after the onset of my illness.  But, has it?  Not really.  Thanks for nothing, jerk diary!  Hmm, maybe I should keep a jerk diary.  Anyway.  It's either a diary of jerks you meet, or a diary of jerks you perform (on your member).  I was trying to think of a funny word for penis, member was the first one I thought of, but I was like, "I can think of something funnier than that."  But I couldn't.  Shows how much I know!  I recently discovered my old xanga crazysheet, from 2003.  You know what?  Better than I would have expected.  Some good stuff in there.  A lot of, "Nobody likes me," and, "Mr. Show blah blah blah," but there are some diamonds in that rough.  Well, maybe not diamonds, but there are a few decent pieces of business.  I remember thinking, for most of the xanga crazysheet, "I want this to make girls like me, I am not social, but I will pretend to be if that's what it takes."  I didn't think it that clearly, but that's pretty much what was going on.
    Anyway.  Yawnsville, am I right?  If I'm gonna talk about it, I should at least let you read it.  No way, though.  You can't read that shit.  You wouldn't want to.  I remember the first porn I downloaded, was a video of a, "Latina" giving her, "Boyfriend" a "Blow Job."  Looking back, I remember he was soft for the first few minutes, which I now know isn't very common.  She was definitely a Latina though, and she definitely gave him a blow job.  I remember later in high school, there was a porn site with a girl that looked a lot like a girl I liked in my high school.  Good stuff!  Made it better when I masturbated to the porn, made it better when I masturbated to the girl.  Has this masturbation been too entry heavy?  Sorry, it only comes but once in a blue moon.  I'm thinking about learning how to drive.  That's right, I'm 25 and a half years old, and do not have a Driver's License.  But, maybe I will in a few months!  I'll keep ya updated.  I wouldn't dream of not letting you know.  I know how preciously you hold the details of my transportation.  Ugh, I should have gotten a straight alcohol drink.  What a waste.  What.  A.  Waste.  Wait, my parents are tolerant of me drinking.  I can get it whenever I want!  My life... is... awesome!  Ugh.  "Lady Marmalade" just came up on Pandora.  I used to masturbate to that movie.  Good for me!  There was no nudity in Moulin Rouge.  I distinctly remember having, I think, multiple videos from it downloaded, though.  Good stuff!  Pretty sure they were just of John Leguizamo doing his thing, probably.
    Anyway.  I have no idea what it is, but I'm suddenly passionate about the Mets again.  They're still eight games back, pretty much no chance of competing this year, but suddenly I'm like, "Yeah, let's do it!"  And by let's, I mean Mets.  And by it, I mean play baseball.  It's like, in '86, they captured the time, they were the shit.  We had a video tape on VCR about that year.  In 2000, by the time I was a Met fan, it was fun, it was like, that's what New York was into.  And it could be that way again.  This year?  Probably not, but who knows.  Next year?  Why not.  I just watched Little Big League.  What a terrible movie.  "Hey, I'm a pre-teen, play baseball now."  And then they suddenly get good.  Makes no sense.  Winning my keeper league three years in a row, in fantasy baseball, in high school, is still one of my greatest accomplishments.  Then I traded Jose Reyes for a package including some ace pitcher who got injured, and Rafael Furcal, and I came in second.  We all make mistakes.  Anyway.  Man, I used to love fantasy baseball.  In the keeper league, which was with my friends, my team name was, "Kind of Like Jesus," which is a Simpsons reference.  And, winning three years in a row, I'd say we lived up to the name.  The last time I remember watching baseball with other people, is sophomore year in college, in 2007, watching a play off game, or part of one, anyway, with other people.  GOOD TIMES!
    Anyway.  Six paragraphs?  Why not.  This was a decent entry.  A solid 4-6, I'd say.  Can't ask for anything more.  And if you do, you'd be too expectational.  Which is a word, now.  I drank that whole bottle of Zombie.  Man, I should have gotten a real drink.  What a moron.  I gotta stay sober, though, I have my comedy class with Stephen Colbert tomorrow.  Man.  If only dreams were real.  How awesome would that be.  Pretty awesome?  I agree!  Anyway.  What the Hell else is going on.  I drank a whole fucking bottle of Zombie and I'm barely buzzed.  They'll be receiving a spirited letter from you-know-who!  When did, "Me," become a curse word in need for a euphemism.  What bullshit.  Anyway, see ya later.

-4:40 P.M.  

Sunday, July 20, 2014                      

No Ones Gonna Tell Me What To Read!

    Hello, hi!  It's your favorite crazysheet.net updater, me!  Can I let you in on a secret?  You're my favorite crazysheet.net reader.  I know how glad this makes you.  A website likes me!  I know, I know.  It's exciting.  Anyway.  Today is the twentieth.  The twentieth of the month will always be prevalent in my mind because it was May 15th, 2005 that I first recorded a file with my music on it.  I don't know about always being prevalent.  Hopefully in five years I'll have something else to think about.  Like fighting for cyborgs' rights, or something.  They're people, just like you or me!  Oh, they're not?  Never mind!  What a disaster.  I wasted two and a half years of my future worried about those soulless hunks of metal? By the way, I'm a producer on the upcoming VH1 show, "Hunks of Metal."  If I could pull one metal performer's name, you better believe I would have.  Oh, I know.  HAL.  HAL wasn't really a hunk of metal.  He was sort of ubiquitous with the ship.  I assume.  I never saw the whole movie.  Coincidently, one of the talking heads on, "Hunks of Metal," is Hal Sparks.  I think it's a sign of the declining times that I know the names of pop culture talking heads more than actual musicians.  But it's a sign of the ascending times that the year increases by one each year.  Hal Sparks is a pretty good name for a robot.
    Anyway, good news!  I fit in my Belle & Sebastian t-shirt again.  Now I can imply that I'm bi-curious without even opening my mouth!  What joy.  The t-shirt even has a design with the profiles of heads slowly turning from male to female.  When I was buying shirts, I really should have been more aware of what I was getting myself into.  Case in point, my Tenacious D, "Cleveland Steamers" shirt.  I mean, at the time, I knew what a Cleveland Steamer was, but I didn't put two and two together and recognize that I was essentially advertising myself as a piece of shit.  Of course, with this website, I advertise myself as a piece of shit all the time.  Hey, if I didn't want to be demeaned, I shouldn't have bought shirts or started a website.  Well, I guess the shirt is more saying it's the piece of shit on my chest.  Except for that it's a jersey design, so it's like I'm playing for the Cleveland Steamers, which means I am a piece of shit.  Let's really get into it.  Or not.  It's entirely up to you.  Anyway.  I keep finding marijuana on the ground.  Someone up there likes me!  Or, wants to cripple me with a devastating mental addiction to a substance that's probably bad for me in the first place.  I can't decide!  In good news, I went a full two days without smoking a cigarette.  Before resuming smoking cigarettes.  Still was a good exercise.
    So, in other exciting news, I have a massive headache!  I don't know if it's really massive.  As far as I can tell, my headache has no physical properties.  Still a good exercise, though.  I mean, what?  Back to school in five weeks.  Should be good, most likely.  Probably not.  Should be something, though.  Five weeks is thirty five days.  That's seventy half days.  Oh, listen to me talk.  Going on and on about half days like a mother Hen.  I'm normally awake for about twelve hours.  A half day awake, a half day asleep, that'll keep you straight, just like Little Bo Peep.  Oh, listen to me manifest nursery rhymes, like mother Goose.  There's a painting of my mother when she was in her twenties in my parents bed room.  And, I gotta say, not bad.  We had an artist in the family, that's where that comes from.  He killed himself.  When I started that sentence, I was like, I'm gonna turn this into a joke! but by the time I ended the sentence, I was like, nooo I'm not.  Funny how things change.  I never even really processed that until just now, too.  Like the Cleveland Steamer thing.  I knew we had a family member who killed themselves, but it wasn't until two sentences ago that I really thought about it.  Man, that's heavy.  I'd go so far as to say it's massive.  On the other hand, we have other artists in the family who are still alive.  Three cheers for escaping suicide! 
    Yeesh.  Well, my headaches gone.  That paragraph sobered me up.  That's incorrect physiology.  I haven't drank in closing in on two weeks.  Three cheers for me!  And by that, I mean I want to watch three episodes of Cheers in a row to think about alcohol, and I want to watch three episodes of Cheers in a row to think about alcohol now.  I've never seen Cheers.  I gather it's about a bar and it's patrons.  And, just picture that three times in a row.  Anyway.  What's the deal with snack foods.  Are we supposed to snack on them, or what.  Otherwise, I'm pretty confused.  Man, poor cyborgs.  Poor, poor cyborgs.  Someone should do something about them, and their rights.  Me?  I don't have the cognitive capacity to lead.  And if I did, I'd probably just blow it anyway.  Stupid!  Yikes.  Well, the good news is that the entry is winding down.  Yet each sentence contributed to the number of total sentences.  Etc, etc.  Dunno what to do now.  Write one more paragraph, I got that.  Then, who knows?  Oh yeah, finish this paragraph, too.  That's first up on the docket.  Hopefully the suicide in my comic weblog didn't hamper the mood too much.  They should do a PSA about avoiding suicide.  Suicide: Don't Do It.  The more you know.  Let's do it with the disco flu-te. 
    Anyway.  Another amazing addition to the internet.  You're welcome!  I need to get my glasses fixed.  One of the pieces of plastic that rests ever so gently against your nose broke off.  Naturally, this was a big to-do.  Long story short, I've been docked twenty days of food, and I have to go get it fixed next week.  I just bent my zipper out of shape.  Can things get any worse?  Probably.  But, if not, alright!  I'm at my lowest!  Talk about your good news.  Or, alternatively, keep it to yourself.  You don't want to sound like a braggart, do you?  Probably not, is what I'd suspect.  It's generally considered to be a negative attribute.  Anyway.  Great, I feel the headache settling in again.  Now it's on the other side of my head.  Funny how things change.  See ya later.

-4:56 P.M.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014                      

This Title Is What's Up!

    Hello jerkballs.  Only a jerkball would call someone else a jerkball.  It's a real jerkball move.  Dunkin' Donuts forgot to put French Vanilla in my iced coffee.  I imagine this is what Hell is like.  America Runs On, Duncan.  Or, in acronyms, A-Rod.  Let him play!  Shortstops aren't supposed to hit that many homers!  What is he, an idiot?  My Dad likes telling me this story, about how when he would play baseball with the neighborhood kids when he was four, he would stop at short stop like it was a base.  What a grand story.  Lasts all but ten seconds.  Is he for real?  I used to play baseball when I was a youngin'.  I remember batting tenth. No joke.  Well, I guess it's a joke, in the sense that it's an embarrassing anecdote.  Also, I remember playing outfield, and on the rare occasion I would get to field a ball, I couldn't make the throw all the way back to the infield.  That's what cut-off men are for.  I needed a cut off man between the second baseman and the outfield.  That way I could bat twelfth.  I remember my coach would basically tell me, "Don't swing at the ball ever, just see if you can get a walk."  Hey, I'm paying good money to be in this league.  The only fun baseball is is swinging at the ball.  Are you really that invested in winning that you'll take the only pleasurable part of baseball away from me?  Thanks a lot, coach.
    Although, it did teach me an important lesson about life.  Never swing at the ball, and just hope the pitcher walks you.  Also, I bat tenth.  I know my role.  I remember though, in high school, when we played whiffle ball in gym, I was actually respectable at it.  Maybe that's because I was playing with a bunch of nerds.  I don't know.  My main memory of little league, though, was getting McDonalds after the practices and games.  I would get a Big Mac with just the meat and the bread.  This was before they invented the double hamburger.  Although, there is a difference, because the Big Mac has a third piece of bread in-between the patties.  Anyway, what else is happening.  The world sucks now.  Too much crap is happening.  Get it together, world!  Don't make me say it twice.  Anyway.  Penneway.  I got new sneakers last week.  They're tight.  Is there anything more fun than rubber balls.  I need to get me one of those blue rubber balls to play around with.  Bounce it off the wall, and stuff.  That's good exercise.  Sometimes I wonder why evolution placed balls and scrotums on the outside.  They're too vulnerable!  Give me ovaries, or something.  I guess it's because God wants us to tea-bag people.  That's the only explanation that really makes any sense.
    So, what else.  It's early in the day.  Zooooooom.  Three more paragraphs?  What the hey.  My Dunkin Donuts iced coffee says, "Happy Together," on it.  I assume they're paying royalties to The Turtles.  I'm not really sure what it is that's happy together in the coffee.  Ice cubes and coffee?  I guess.  Those are inanimate objects, though.  They can't feel joy.  Those are intimate objects.  As far as I know.  Man, am I gonna lie in bed and watch some T.V. when this entry is over.  I would feel joy, except for that I'm an intimate object.  Me and my sheets are so happy together.  Wonderful.  I watched Bad Grandpa yesterday, which I can only assume is a rip-off of my movie, World's Greatest Grandpa.  Also, I once planned on writing a movie called, "World's Greatest Grandpa."  I only got so far as to imaginarily cast Chris Rock in it, with no plot or character details worked out.  Chris Rock would have been in it, though.  So you know it would have been good.  On the other hand, Everybody Hates Chris.  At least, that's what I've heard.  I haven't seen that show in a while.  What else is there.  Still waiting on getting my grade for my summer class that ended three weeks ago.  What a joke.  I assume if you take classes in the philosophy of comedy, on the first day, the teacher would write on the board, "What a joke?" What a joke of a joke.
    Yip.  Also, way to blow at grammar, teacher.  You suck!  I once had a teacher who batted me tenth.  Which didn't even seem appropriate, it was a Social Studies class.  The thing about me taking pitches, though, was, in addition to not being able to hit the ball, because of my small stature, the strike zone was smaller, which basically means, due to the mediocrity of pre-teen pitchers, half the time I was up, if I never swung, I would get a walk.  That's an on base percentage of .500.  Not too shabby!  I wonder how many Wins Above Replacement I was.  Negative three?  Awesome!  And there were only three games in a season?  Oh well.  Anyway.  Dunno what the point of italics there was.  Oh, I had it on by accident, and was too lazy to change it?  And realized making a long explanation of it was a good way to kill space?  And they're combining the two cigarette companies I like the most?  What bologna.  I was just looking through my high school yearbook.   There are literally full pages for last names suck as, "Lee," and, "Kim."  Also, yearbook quotes?  Not impressed.  Not impressed at all.  Of course, my quote was blank, because I guess they decided, "Wouldn't It Suck If Someone You Loved Gave You AIDS?  On Purpose?" wasn't appropriate.  They were probably right in hindsight, but that really disappointed me at the time.  They didn't even give me a chance to re-do it, though, that I didn't like.
    Last paragraph to the rescue!  This was a fun one.  What an entry.  What... an... entry.  So, I heard summer is a third over.  What the Hell.  I guess that's just the way it goes.  I'm glad I stopped doing comics.  Nobody liked those.  I assume.  None of me liked them.  Maybe like a twentieth of me.  Hmm, I wonder what's on T.V. today.  What dreams may come.  Hopefully not What Dreams May Come.  There are like 600 channels though, it doesn't really make much of a difference.  So, now that my two cigarette brands are consolidating, does that mean I have two daddies?  I guess so!  Hopefully they'll be so happy together.  Anyway, see ya later.

-9:46 A.M.                                       

Wednesday, July 23, 2014                      

Get Busy Livin', Or Get Busy Titlin'

    Hello friends and prime ministers.  It is I, me, the hostess with the most-ess.  Today, my parents are bringing home... a new car!  They didn't go with my advice and get a Delorean, though.  What a shame.  They got a Honda Accord.  I believe The Honda Accord is what ended World War II.  Because I believe nonsense.  When I grow up, I'm gonna open a Sushi restaurant, and call it, "Something About This Smells Fishy."  Cue deafening laughter and applause.  Cue it!!  And the people who give you the specials are the ayatollah of Iran and Michael Jackson.  Does Iran still have an ayatollah?  Did Iran ever have an ayatollah?  Man, that's deep.  No it's not.  Stop lying.  I'm trying to make, "No, it's not.  Stop lying," my catch phrase.  It's pretty good, in my opinion.  Nin.  Sl.  I'm the king if Ninsel Town!  Nine Inch Nails, turn off dat fan.  Oh boy.  I'm slowly dissolving into pudding.  Is, "Nine Inch Nails," code for sex??? How scandalous!!!  It's probably just code for carpentry, though.  No it's not.  Stop lying.  Did I do that?  I'm the baby!  There was, once upon a time, a sitcom with dinosaurs.  And the baby dinosaur said, "I'm The Baby!" a lot.  I would not lie to you.  I would share un-fact-checked data with you, though.  That's not lying.  It's just being lazy.  I'm The Lazy!
    I thrive under pressure.  I thrive under Ice, Ice Baby.  A third sentence where the joke comes together, but I forget what it was.  Hey, you get what you pay for.  What a great colloquialism.  You get what you pay for.  You damn well bet I get what I pay for!  I paid for it!  Shut up, second  cousin.  I imagined the person saying that was my second cousin.  I don't know any of my second cousins.  I'm not even totally sure what a second cousin is.  In my imagination, it meant one of my parent's cousins.  Oh, also, the person who painted the portrait of my Mom didn't kill himself.  It was someone else who killed themselves.  Glad I got that squared away.  They do say suicide can run in the family, though.  Which seems counter-intuitive, because people who kill themselves don't have a chance to propagate their genes.  Well, they can always have children, and then kill themselves.  That's the responsible thing to do.  What if I made this entry ten paragraphs.  That would be insane.  Nobody would believe it.  What if I made this entry five paragraphs.  I would most likely prefer that, being the one who has to write it.  Get off my back!  Five paragraphs a day keeps the doctor away.  I don't know why you're trying to keep the doctor away, he just wants to help.  He just... wants... to help.
    I'm seeing my psychiatrist on Friday.  Oh, happy day!  When Jesus walked.  is that how that song goes?  I've never been to church.  I've seen Pet Semetary, where the cat that comes back to life's name was Church.  I somehow feel that gives me the authority to talk about what happens in church.  I also like baseball, which included Ryan Church in it's illustrious tapestry of past and present players.  Wow, Ryan Church once hit 15 homeruns.  I couldn't hit 15 homeruns.  Hats off to him.  So, how about those New York Metropolitans?  The future is so bright, I have to wear shades!  Or, alternatively, only look at the past and present, if I can't afford shades.  We all have to make sacrifices in this economy, and I'm just not sure buying shades to look into the future is a necessary investment.  I like how back-up catcher Anthony Recker comes to the plate with the song, "Wrecking Ball," in the background.  I wonder how he feels about that.  I wonder.  Wondering is a good thing.  Maybe the best of things.  Andy Dufrane comes to the plate with, "It Wasn't Me," in the background.  Sorry.  Tim Robbins went to my high school.  What a jerk.  So did Lucy Liu.  What a jerk.  And Eric Holder.  Who's That?  I don't know.  I went to my high school.  I can confidently say that, in retrospect, I would win the award for most awesome person of the 2006 class.  There's simply no competition.  And, if there is, I'll simply cripple them, so they can't make it to the awards ceremony.  That takes care of that!  The only question is, how to cripple them?  Maybe break their knee caps.
    Yeesh.  I just texted my Mom a smiley face.  Does that count as incest?  It was either that, or an exclamation mark after my message.  I made my choice, and I stand by it.  So, it's the 23rd.  You know what that means, right?  Me neither.  I can't make sense of it!  I dreamt I found a CD of a game I used to play, in it's case with the serial number, so I could install it and play it on my computer.  That's what my wildest dreams have devolved into.  Finding a game from the late 90's to kill time.  My old desktop computer is broken, but I wonder if I can salvage the hard drive, so I could see my old files.  200 Page documents of random song lyrics and musings from high school?  Hell Yes!  That's how I wrote my first songs.  I would just write random song lyrics, whenever the mood struck me, and then piece them together, often without any real thought.  How's the mood striking you now?  What's your name?  I'm the Forty Year Old Virgin.  Good for you.  I'm glad I lost my virginity.  I got pretty lucky.  I could very easily be a twenty five and a half year old virgin, had things gone a little differently.  I'm halfway to Fifty One years old.  What a joke.  Sometimes I think, "I only have ten to fifteen more years of being a single adult, before I'm married and have kids!"  But sometimes I think, "Alright, bring on the marriage and kids, let's just cut to the chase."  Then, I think, "I live at home and have no social outlets.  This wondering is pointless."  But wondering is a good thing.  Maybe the best of things. 
   Anyway.  How'd I get to that.  Too serious.  And I have deep doubts that someone who writes every other day for a website called, "Crazysheet.net" has any business being a husband and/or father.  When I have kids, I'm gonna make them start their own blogs at four years old.  Gotta teach them to be self aware.  What message are you trying to get out to the world?  I like ponies.  Don't tell me, show me!  Also, no son of mine is gonna like ponies!!!  Ah.  We have fun.  WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY?  I LOVE PONIES.  Alright, man, don't have an aneurysm.  All this time, I forgot that I had given her an extra key.  Oh, well.  To be a true player, you have to know how to play.  At least, that's what I've been led to believe.  Man.  Only six and a half more paragraphs to go.  At least, that's what I've been led to believe.  Also, who in their right mind would name their baby Shit?  If you understand that sentence, good for you.  Cause I don't.  Also, hi.  What else is going on.  WHAT else is going on?  I heard they're throwing a party for Johnnie Cochran.  Because he's a lawyer.  I'm not!  I heard they're throwing a party for Vin Diesel.  Because he's an actor.  I'm not.  I heard they're throwing a party for The Situation.  Because he's a television personality.  I'm not.  I heard they're throwing a party for Lil Bow Wow.  Because he probably did something, I would imagine.  I didn't.  I heard they're throwing a party for Maybe It's Maybelline.  Because they have commercials.  I don't.  What else is going on.
    Yikes.  What was I talking about?  Who knows.  The Who knows.  Who are you?  I'm sayin, who are you?  Who, who.  Who, who.  Anyway.  I can't believe The Who actually released a song called, "Who Are You?"  That would be like Led Zeppelin releasing a song called, "What's a Led Zeppelin?"  Very tacky.  Additionally, We're the Slipnuts, slipping on nuts.  Look, I fell down.  I slipped on some nuts.  That's relevant, somehow.  Shake it like a Polaroid picture.  That reference is pretty out of date.  Is this entry over yet?  Oh, it is the sixth paragraph.  Hava Nagila, baby!  Anyway, Hi.  It's me.  Remember, from before?  You have a terrible memory.  Also, deductive reasoning skills.  It's my website, who else is it gonna be?  Yeah.  That's what I thought.  Fuck this.  Why isn't Al Gore running for president in 2016.  That would be awesome.  AL GORE!  AL GORE!  AL GORE!  Why not.  Al-gore-ithm.  You know, 'cause of math?  Ehh.  It was on my birthday that the supreme court ruled that Bush won.  12/12/2000.  What a great birthday present.  I guess I'm part of the generation that just assumes, "The President Is An Idiot."  Cause of that jerk off. Jeez.  I'll see ya later, probably.

-3:17 P.M.                                 

Thursday, July 24, 2014                      

To Title The Impossible Title

    Hello, friends.  It's your homeslice Big Mak Attack.  A.K.A. Herkulez Rokafella, M.D.  A.K.A. Kornbleezy.  I'm thinking about redesigning the website so it's white on black.  Give me your thoughts!  I mean, I know asking you to listen to my music is one thing, who cares about that.  But the design format of a website?  This is the pressing issue of our times.  I'm gonna get pizza for the first time in a few weeks.  Everyone says pizza is unhealthy, and I suppose it is, cause it's all carbohydrates, but calorie-wise, it's pretty low.  Hey, maybe I should become a nutritionist!  Nutritionists are sick people.  Oh, eat this, don't eat that.  WHERE DO YOU GET OFF?  Sicko.  Oh yeah, I'm informing you to make better choices in your diet.  You're disgusting.  I saw an advertisement for new Pepsi flavors, saying it now has, "Real Sugar!"  What the Hell were they putting in Pepsi before this?  Scratch that, I don't want to know.  Wait a second, yes I do.  I still want to know!  Gotta be something.  Oh, honey, honey.  I remember when I was a kid, I was scared to go to Synagogue on Rosh Hashanah because I was terrified they would make me eat apples with honey.  And then on Yom Kippur, I'm not allowed to eat anything.  Make up your mind!  Flip, flop.  You're gonna tell me you voted for eating before you voted against it.
    Hello again, friends.  What kind of cruel joke made them put, "Yum," in the name of Yom Kippur.  Quit taunting me, names of holidays!  I wonder how Julius Caesar would feel about, "July."  You know you've made it when they name a month after you.  Maybe he's pissed that Augustus gets, more or less, the same recognition as him.  "I'm way better than him!  Just call it July II!"  Not a bad idea.  Not a good idea, either.  It's an okay idea.  Let's move on.  I've been drinking whiskey the last couple of days.  In college, pretty much all of 2008, I drank an obscene amount of whiskey.  Then, I stopped. But, even still, six years later, my tolerance of it is considerably higher than of other drinks.  I'm a man!  I drinketh ALCOHOL!  Plus, half the time, they don't even card me!  Man, man, man!  Man, man, man!  What a jerkhole.  I remember I once went to get a bottle of whiskey for a friend, and he wanted one of Jack Daniels or Southern Comfort, and I got him the other one, and he was really upset.  Hey, what are friends for?  If not getting you the wrong kind of whiskey.  I also once wrote a poem called, "Southern Comfort," for a poetry class, but one of the girls was from the south, and she was like, "I was expecting this poem to be about the south!" and everyone agreed with her and the teacher made me change it to, "Jack Daniels."  What jerkholes.
    For me, in whiskey, there's no middle ground between being ever-so-slightly buzzed and throwing up all over myself.  Too bad.  Anyway.  Why isn't my pizza here.  I know I didn't order it yet, so what?  They should know, based on advanced statistics of my previous orders, when and what I want even before I do.  It's called sabermetrics, Villa Rustica, okay?  Get with the times.  Also, we all know your name means, "Rustic Village."  You're not fooling anyone.  What to do with the rest of my day.  Probably stuff.  Hey, there's a commercial for Maybe It's Maybelline on T.V.  My arch nemesis.  Maybe It's Maybelline, not T.V.  Maybe it's T.V., not Maybelline.  Who knows.  What an idiot.  Gotta finish this entry so I can get my pizza.  Maybe it is Maybelline.  C'mon Mike, get it together.  WHO SAID THAT?  And how do they know my name?  I should let people write guest entries for crazysheet.  Does anyone want to write a guest entry?  That would be fun.  For me, at least.  Also, for you.  And, in addition, for other people.  Crazysheet is, for the most part, my only connection with the outside world.  I once heard that humans eyes stay the same size from birth to adulthood.  I can neither confirm nor deny that piece of trivia.  Nor can I explain why it's relevant here.  Mostly because it isn't.  Get with the times.
    I can't believe I'm gonna have pizza later.  It's a wonderful life, after all!  My rabbi used to sing a song about a banana.  In other news, is soccer still going on?  Nope.  Anyway.  I had a banana a few days ago, and I put sweet & low on it.  Sweet & Low.  Oh, honey, honey.  You are my artificial sweetener girl.  And I artificially love you.  What else is going on.  Back to class in about a month.  That should be funzo.  Man, I just crossed the threshold between slightly buzzed and about to throw up on myself.  What an idiot.  That's what I get for drinking before noon.  If you're drinking alone, that takes precedence in terms of being embarrassing over drinking early in the day.  That's how I feel about that subject.  In other news, AL GORE!  AL GORE!  AL GORE!  All-e-gory.  I can't believe my thumb is bleeding just because I nibble at my fingernails and the skin around them.  What horse shiz.  Anyway.  I'm not that drunk.  Just don't drink anymore.  Simple.  Man, what else is going on.  Maybe it is Maybelline.  Oh, I already said that?  Shows how much I know.  Yeesh.  Why the Hell do I tell people I'm drinking, alone, at noon?  What am I, a moron?  Who cares.  Gotta be self aware.  That's a positive quality to have, probably.
    Last paragraff.  Should be good, should be good.  Probably won't be though, probably won't be though.  I like fortune cookies.  I like it when a cookie tells me what's what.  Takes a lot of the pressure off of me.  All in all, though, whatever.  I thrive under pressure.  I thrive under ice, ice baby.  I thrive under my heart will go on.  Moron.  I thrive under being called a moron by myself.  What a great entry.  This'll go down in the record books.  I can't wait till the Guinness Book of World Records has a record for, "Most Blog."  It's got my name all over it!  In conclusion, though, what? 

-12:34 P.M.                         

Friday, July 25, 2014                      

Titlin’ Like There Ain’t No Tomorrow

Hello again!  It’s the guy who’s me.  Me!  Aren’t I wonderful.  No?  Hey, get off my website!  This blog only exists to make me feel wonderful.  I don’t need your negativity, asshole!  On pace to take a class in four weeks.  Goin’ up on my main medication, since now I seem to be able to tolerate a higher dose.  Tolerate?  More like holler-ate.  You know, like urban people might say.  I live in a city, I’m qualified to infer such things.  And if not, don’t blame me!  I’m not on a high enough dose yet!  My illness makes me say crazy crazy things.  I kind of would want to take a writing workshop class in the Fall, but the stupid system says I haven’t taken the prerequisite for those classes, yet.  They lie.  Stop lying.  Get off my internet.  I think for the series finale of the Simpsons, we should find out that Snake is an actual snake.  Imagine the talk at the water coolers the next day!!!  The only time a water cooler has actually been part of my routine is when I was in the hospital.  And those feebs can’t hold a good conversation.  Also, did I just make up a new slur for mentally handicapped people?  I sure hope so!  I rode in our new car for the first time.  It has… get this… it has, RADIO!  We’re on the forefront of technology, people.  Radio in a car?  What will they think of next?  Windows?  I sure hope so!  Wheels?  That are round? 
  Iee Iee Iee Iee.  Wah Wah Ooh. I find it hard to believe that Methuselah really lived to his 900’s.  And, if he did, what’s his secret?  My guess?  Soaking his body in olive oil every day.  Remember that time Jesus turned water into cigarettes?  It’s from one of the forgotten chapters, or something.  This entry is so exciting.  I’m having an ‘excitement’ headache.  I may have popcorn later.  Just because it’s Tuesday.  I mean, Friday.  I mean, popcorn.  I walked by a house today which had an extremely pungent marijuana smell, but it must have been coming from inside the house, cause I didn’t see anything.  I seriously considered, for a split second, knocking on the door, telling them what I smelled, and asking for some.  It’s either this, or I go to the cops.  If only I had the testicular fortitude.  Get Out!  The Marijuana Is Coming From Inside The House!  Yeesh.  I  don’t think that’s funny.  I don’t think any of this is funny.  It sure is words arranged into sentences arranged into blobs.  I think the correct word is, “Paragraphs.”  I just call them blobs, though, they don’t seem to mind.  I can’t believe they actually made a movie called, “The Blob,” and then, a couple of decades later, made it again!  Fool me once, shame on me.  Fool me twice… shame on… you?  No, that doesn’t sound right.  Let me think about this for a while, I’ll get back to you.
    Anyway.  Fool me twice, even more shame on me.  Fool me three times, stop shaming me!  Please!  My kids don’t respect me anymore!  You’ve taken away my manhood!  Leave the man alone, jeez.  The point is, you don’t get fooled again.  I like Foolio.  And L.L. Fool J.  And the kid from The People Under The Stairs, I think his name was Cool.  Ahh, mix-em-ups!  I am a genius.  Won’t Get Cooled Again.  April Cool’s day.  … The word cool.  The word fool.  (I mixed-em-up.)  Is there a word that’s below moron?  There should be.  Anyway, let’s get back on track.  If that’s even possible.  Has anyone ever realized that Russian looks just like English that’s upside down?  I did, because I was reading English upside down, and it looked like Russian.  That explains that.  Taht Snialpxe taht.  That’s not upside down, though.  Just backward.  It’s one stop towards upside down, though.  ‘Bout as close as we can get.  Russia is just Canada upside down.  I assume so.  I’m not a master of Geography, though.  But if I was, I’d be like, “Hey, Look At Me!  I’m A Master Of Geography!”  Let everyone revel in your good news.  Fun stuff.  Fun, fun stuff.  I remember I was once eating an ice cream cone, but the top scoop was too much, so I scraped it against a garbage can, and kept eating it.  This disgusted my father, and he’s right, I wasn’t thinking.  Garbage does no favors being added to your ice cream.  Also, this isn’t from when I was two years old and just didn’t know better, this was last year.
  I assume that’s Ben & Jerry’s next flavor.  Oscar the Grouch’s Garbage.  Hey, I’d be a grouch too, if I had to live in a garbage can.  I’m sure fifty comedians have already made that joke.  Still… Anyway.  Time to finish up this crap.  Well, not really.  But time to start fantasizing about it being over.  I really should just start making these things four paragraphs.  Eh, whatever.  I guess I can make this one four paragraphs and see how that goes over with my fans on the twittersphere.  I'm sure I'll get dozens of comments, one way or the other.  Why does 12 get to have it's own thing.  We should call things of 11, "Electrodes."  But, then again, where we're going, we don't need roads.  YES!  WE DID IT!  Ugh.  I owe you a fifth paragraph now.  To make up for all that terrible-ness.  I'm a roads scholar.  I know Bell Blvd., I know Springfield... I know 'em all.  I used to not care about getting my license because I had a terrible sense of direction.  Now I don't care because I'm scared of getting into accidents.  Funny how things change.
    So, this is the last paragraph?  Come here often?  Oh, about once an entry?  Cool, cool.  Blobs rule, paragraphs drool.  That was my other rejected yearbook quote.  Maybe I'll just drink away the calories the popcorn would have taken up.  Because I like to make bad decisions.  It's one of my favorite past times.  In the end, though... see ya later.

-1:00 P.M.       

Saturday, July 26, 2014                      

Show Me, Title the Title

Hello good lookins'.  Yeesh.  I should just quit the entry after that title.  I won crazysheet.  I remember we used to go to this restaurant when I was a kid, First Edition.  And the ground floor was a bar, the upper floor was a family restaurant.  But they had this digital video trivia game for both floors, where they had controllers and everything, and we would play.  I once won, and my prize was a key chain with a bottle opener on it.  So, even at a young age, I was thinking, I better start drinking to put this to use.  And that began my slow descent into alcoholism.  I think, a way to raise money for public education, they should get corporate sponsors.  This grammar lesson is brought to you by Pepsi.  Now, turn to page 58...  Seems like a no brainer to me.  Also, I remember when I was younger, I really wanted to try Mike's Hard Lemonade, not because of the alcohol, I just liked the idea of "hard" lemonade, combined with my name.  With the, "Hard" not even registering as suggesting it's alcoholic beverage.  I remember, when I was in high school, instead of getting 2 Liter bottles of diet soda, my dad would get 12 or 24 packs of cans.  And, at any given moment, I would literally have 50 cans stacked up in my room, maybe like 10 stacks of 5 on top of one another.  It was fun, fun stuff.  Throughout high school, I more or less was living in a fort made out of cans. 
    I can't believe Mr. Miyagi is dead.  He's teaching Jesus karate, now.  Can you imagine if Jesus knew karate during his time on Earth?  He would have been unstoppable.  So stupid.  I got an iced coffee from McDonalds rather than Dunkin Donuts for the first time in months.  They stopped making large iced coffees, so they could sell all sizes at the baseline of only a dollar.  I suppose I could just get two medium coffees, and it would be more for less.  I suppose.  But then I'd be cheating the system.  And the system has enough problems as it is without me mucking it up.  Also, more pollution.  Or something.  Anyway, what's going on?  Entry writing.  Yeah... yeah.  I remember, now.  So, it's the weekend.  You know what that means.  Freaks & Geeks is on in the morning instead of Spin City.  At least, that's what it means to one specific channel that I rarely watch anyway.  One day, I'm gonna ask for an iced coffee, and tell them, "But can you leave out the ice and make it hot?"  What a prank!  Prankster City, I Am!  Prank3d By The Best.  I've never been a fan of pranks.  I was always more a fan of insults.  Clever insults were my preferred way to cause someone pain in a humorous way.  Also, made me feel better about myself.  It's a win/win!
    Yeah, and in addition, what?  So.  Things have been going pretty good, I gotta say.  There's ups and downs, like in anybody's life, I would imagine.  But overall?  Pretty positive about stuff.  I remember they once kicked us out of First Edition because we kept ordering sodas and playing the game, and they wanted to make room for new customers.  What jerkbags.  We were ordering sodas, leave us alone!  They went out of business a few years ago.  Good.  Serves them right.  Also, their waiters didn't serve us right.  I asked for popcorn shrimp, what is this crap?  Also, why does popcorn mean fried?  Popcorn isn't fried.  You lie.  Get off my palate.  I guess it's cause it's small pieces, so you "pop it" like popcorn.  You idiots!  Popcorn doesn't get it's name from us popping it.  It's cause the microwave pops it from kernels!  You idiots!  Also, the seafood restaurant we used to go to was featured in the smash success movie, "The Devil's Advocate."  There's a bar in the restaurant, and they filmed a bar scene there.  I guess that means the captain of that restaurant was the Devil.  Good to know.  Now I can avoid going there in the future.  The only thing I remember about The Devil's Advocate was Al Pacino wanted Keanu Reeves to sleep with his sister.  And he was like, "Nooo way!"  And then the movie ended.  Oh, also that actor who was into kids, I forget his name, he got killed in it.  Good.
    So, that's that story.  Not much of a story.  Just a summary of a movie.  There's a baby crying outside my window.  Get it together, baby!  You're embarrassing yourself.  Anyway.  Sometimes I wake up at like, 1 or 2 A.M., and I'm reminded what it's like to be a night owl.  Then I fall back asleep.  But I've had some genuinely good times just being alone in my room all night, fuckin' around.  It's weird to be wistful for a time of the day.  Whatever.  It's good to be wristful for a time.  That means you got a watch.  Good on ya.  Sometimes I close my eyes while I'm walking down the sidewalk, to see how long I can go without opening my eyes.  Usually can't make it past five seconds before giving up.  What's blind people's secret?  I, of course, do this on the side walk, not while I'm in the street.  Thank you for your concern, though.  I like that feature in our new car that shows the video of what's behind you.  It's like I'm watching a movie!  And, as we all know, I love movies.  And I love what's behind me.  It's a perfect marriage of my two true passions!  If only we could work in using the bathroom into that.  That's my third passion.  Egh.
    So that's what I got going on.  What else is new.  Well, it's the 26th.  For realz.  I should just do you a favor and end the entry here.  No more time should be wasted on reading my shiz.  However, I wouldn't feel complete without a fifth paragraph.  So, we'll all have to sacrifice a little, and endure five to ten more sentences.  What's up.  Hi.  Those don't count.  Too short.  Uhh.  I used to love going to Blockbuster.  Pick out a game and a movie.  So much fun.  Today's generation of kids is missing out.  When you're a kid, and you like movies and video games, Blockbuster is more or less a Mecca of excitement.  Now, our blockbuster is a combination Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins.  And it's only a couple of blocks away from another one, which is the one I normally go to.  Who needs it.  Also, they turned the second floor into some kind of after-school, or preschool, class.  When the blockbuster was there, it didn't even have a second floor.  One floor was all we needed to learn.  And they sold candy and popcorn.  Woah.  And it teaches you about responsibility and decision making.  Alright, choose one movie and one video game.  You had to figure it out yourself.  That's real learning.  Maybe that's why I kept getting D's in school.  I did all my learning at the video store.  Oh well.  See ya later.

-10:15 A.M.               

Sunday, July 27, 2014                      

Is It Tomorrow Already?

Hello squee-gees and misers.  It's your host with the most Colin Jost.  What a nice day.  It was drizzling outside.  I think we should call a drizzle, a "sprinkle."  It was sprinkling outside.  There, that's better.  How come, in Armageddon, they didn't have a meteorologist in their crew?  Seems like they would need an expert.  So, I went with the double medium iced coffee today.  I think I made the right decision.  Only time will tell.  Only William Tell Overture.  I remember in high school, maybe favorite classical (or Baroque, or whatever other specific genre it is) song was Dvorak's New World Sympathy.  It's quite an exciting song.  I also liked Haydn's Surprise Symphony.  I remember my Junior Year in college, I was stoned pretty much 100% of the time, and I remember stalking the hallways of the dorm, whistling Surprise Symphony over and over, really loudly.  Because I was just beginning my descent into madness.  And, to tell the truth, it was quite surprising.  Why wouldn't I want to share that with my schoolmates?  Coincidently, there's a "Hayden" residence hall in NYU.  Maybe I was subconsciously trying to make the dormitory I was in more like Hayden.  I was never in Hayden dormitory.  I also vaguely remember leaving a deck of UNO cards at a friend's door, while I was in a drunk and/or high stupor, and then, a week later, I found the cards back in my desk.  Either I just dreamt that happening, or they found the cards, assumed it was from me somehow, and snuck back into my room to put the UNO cards where they belong.  Of course, that's what I assumed at the time.  And it kind of hurt.  I give you a a wonderful gift, a deck of UNO cards, and you just give it back?  Where do you get off.
    Maybe I gave them half the deck, and the other half remained in my drawer.  Some things we have to go through life never truly understanding.  It begs the question, though, what was I doing with UNO cards, anyway?  This isn't middle school.  Honestly, I was probably using an UNO card to divvy up my weed.  But still.  I'm not sure what I'm divvying up my weed for.  Weed doesn't need divvying up.  At least, I don't remember it needing divvying up.  I should get one of those beer helmets with iced coffee.  Because I like hats that perform a function.  Make yourself useful while you're resting on my head.  By the way, next new thing in fashion?  Hats for your chin.  Made out of human hair.  Your hair.  I call it a, "beardstache."  I can't really grow a full beard or moustache.  Just some scruff.  Although, as time goes on, it's getting closer and closer to fullness.  So maybe when I'm 35 I can have one.  It's good to have something to look forward to.  That guy's only playing with half a deck.  I know!  I lent a dorm-mate my other half, for no specific reason!  Oh, and don't tell them it's from me.  I only get to play 26 card pick up.  If someone flipped 26 cards on the floor, and told you to play 26 card pick up, you'd think, "Oh, that's not so bad.  I can pick up 26 cards.  It might even be kind of fun."  In St. Louis, they play a variant, called 25 "Card"-..inal pick up.  Hah!  Baseball!  Now this, I get.
    Anyway.  This is fun.  I like writing words with my fingers.  Ever since I got sick, I've noticed my hand writing has changed.  Probably more due to the drugs than the sickness.  Print, I can still do pretty good, if not even better.  Script, though, when I sign my name, it's just gobbledygook.  Consistent, but gobbledygook.  Sucky sucky, five dolla?  Go gobble d' gook.  Too boku.  I wonder, if I was around during the Vietnam war, how I would have reacted.  It seems like everybody had a really strong opinion, and I just wonder where I would have stood.  I mean, most likely on the "peace," side, but would I have been a full blown hippie?  Demonstrator?  What?  Maybe I would have bucked the trend and supported it.  Or even participate in it.  Who knows.  I'm lucky that, as a teenager, we never were in any wars.  Wait, what?  You're kidding.  When?  No way.  I like Shock & Awe.  That sounds like something Kiss would name their European tour.  Or something they would do to Abu Ghraib prisoner's testicles.  There should be a website called, "shockandawww.com" with pictures of kitty cats looking surprised.  Because it's obvious.  Obvious things should happen.  I like how pictures of cats is commonly understood to be the zenith of internet content.  That means, theoretically, and probably truthfully, there's an entire population of people going online, and seeing pictures of cats, and going, "Oh My God!  I Can't Believe It!  Honey, You Gotta See This!!!!!"  Why don't you just get a cat, and cut out the middle man.       
    I had a cat named Aslan.  She died, she died.  My mom used to have a cat named Beethoven, who was deaf.  I remember, when we first got Aslan, we were talking about what to name her.  One prominent idea we had, that I suggested, was "Grandma."  And for the first few days, we actually called her, "Lucy," another one of my suggestions.  Aslan seemed to stick, though.  Azzy for short.  She was tough, though.  She was raised on the streets.  My second cousin is a veterinarian, and he found her on the highway.  And then gave her to us.  This has been Cat Talk, with Michael Kornblum.  Stay tuned for a grammar lesson, brought to you by Pepsi.  Couldn't think of a new joke.  Sorry.  I like that Shins song, "New Joke."  I believe they collaborated with The Wallflowers.  Man, I'm still on my first iced coffee!  This is great.  Presumably.  This bathroom break is brought to you by the Outback Steakhouse.  I wonder if AC/DC likes the Outback Steakhouse.  Hi, we're AC/DC.  When we're in the western hemisphere, the only restaurant we trust to make authentic Australian cuisine is the Outback Steakhouse.  Aboriginals probably don't like it.  They don't like anything.  Such sad sacks.  My favorite thing about AC/DC is that they're all really short.  In high school, they were one of my favorite bands, but now, I just love the short thing.  Us short people have to stick together.  Okay, everyone split into twos.  We're going to stand on each other's shoulders.  That's how that goes.
    Alright.  Now.  In fact... it's a gas.  My Mom loves Weird Al.  I was telling her some songs, just the titles (and she needed to know the titles of the original songs, too), and she was cracking up.  She recently told me not to put anything about her in my blog, but I'm assuming finding Weird Al hilarious doesn't really reflect badly on her at all.  I had a dream that my hair was turning grey.  Wonder what that means.  Fear of getting old?  Probably.  I also constantly have dreams of losing teeth.  Wonder what that means.  Fear of losing teeth?  Yep.  Smoking can cause gum disease.  That's what I've heard, at least.  I have a tooth, in real life, that is ever-so-slightly loose.  Probably not a problem, though.  Not yet.  Fear of losing teeth, I guess, is sort of like a fear of growing up, maybe?  Cause you lose teeth when you're a kid, to grow new teeth.  So, I'm scared of getting old, and I'm also scared of growing up.  Thanks a lot, dreams.  Thanks for nothing.  Anyway.  Now that my work for the day is over, in the form of this entry, it's 9 A.M.  Better wake up your friend.  Songstylezzz.  In conclusion, gotta think of something funny.  Always leave 'em laughing!  If you were wearing pants without a back, when you walk away, that's something funny.  Too bad we're not seeing each other physically, and I'm not wearing pants without a back.  That would have been hi-lar-i-ous.  I like wearing shirts.  I don't care who knows it.

-9:08 A.M.         

Monday, July 28, 2014                      

An Object In Crazysheet Tends To Stay In Crazysheet

Hello!  Great news!  Someone asked me for my phone number.  It was a fifty year old mentally challenged Indian man!  I guess I'm back on the market!  I mean, I know he says how handsome I am every time I see him, but I didn't think he was that serious.  Honestly, I had never been in that situation before, so I just said, "I don't feel comfortable with that."  I think he got the message, because he stopped talking to me, and only stared at me for 2 minutes.  And I only winked at him three times.  He always wants a hug, too.  Look, if I gave everyone who wants to hug me a hug, I'd have no time for anything else.  People.  Want.  Hugs.  Also, the hospital has an Au Bon Pain in it, and I got a soda, and asked for the receipt, and the clerk person get really defensive and was like, "*Look Scary Mentally Ill Asshole,* The machine hasn't printed it out yet."  Like I was gonna freak out if I didn't get a receipt.  I'm a normal, just like you.  You need not fear me.  And in the waiting room, they have magazine-pamphlets from Jehovah's Witnesses.  Like, half of it is generic advice for mentally ill people, and the other half is, "Have you accepted Jehovah as your personal savior?"  Not sure that's appropriate in a publicly funded hospital.  The only thing I know about Jehovah was that they used to spell it differently, so they could trip up Indiana Jones during his final crusade.
    Leave Indiana Jones alone!  He's got enough problems as it is.  I heard he was named after a dog.  I like getting my blood pressure taken.  It's like a machine is giving my arm a hug.  So, I woke up today, I was feeling good, and I basically thought, "Okay, what should I do today.  Get started on a new music project, or stick with writing crazysheet?"  And, as you can see, I made the wrong decision.  The right decision would have been to watch T.V.  Cut out the middle man and go straight toward the finished entertainment.  I have a Toshiba.  Keep that on the down low.  Tosh I.Ba.  Huh?  Is it just me, or is, Ba, Ba, Black Sheep kind of racist?  Leave Chris Farley and David Spade out of this!  Also, Gary Busey.  Gary Busey confuses me, because if he was really insane, how would they get him to do anything.  And if he's not really insane, stop lying to me.  Anyway.  Time to wrap it up.  Huh?  I mean, shit, three more paragraphs?  Okay, let's knock these out of the park.  I walked by some hospital-goers that were about my age, smoking cigarettes.  I really, really wanted to engage them, because I need friends, but I didn't know them.  Can't just start a conversation with people you don't know.  Unless you're a fifty year old Indian man.  And the person you want to get a know is a shockingly handsome 25 year old boy.  I met him when I was 19.  This is the longest relationship I've ever been in.  It's the only relationship I've ever been in.  Except for that time a Stuart Scott look alike came onto me on the LIRR.  I've actually gotten my fair share of middle aged, Indian man suitors.  I guess they like what I'm putting out there.
    Terrible.  Just terrible.  You take what you can get, though.  Am I right, ladies?  Obviously not.  If I was right, ladies would love me as much as middle aged Indian men.  Ladies would love me as much as Cool J.  What else is going on.  Turns out my therapist really likes Planet of the Apes.  I don't quite know how to process that.  Turns out my stomach really likes pizza.  Yeah!  I've been seeing these commercials for the new Mutant Turtle Teenager Ninjas.  No comment.  "But Mike, what do you think..." I said, no comment.  I'm my own press secretary.  I can't afford to pay someone else, so the responsibility falls on me.  By the way, Teenage Mutant Ninja Press Secretaries?  I would see that movie in a heartbeat.  Just got started on Iced Coffee, Part II.  Love it.  The T.V. in the waiting room of the clozapine clinic always has Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan on it.  That's a nice, calm show to watch once a month.  Nothing too crazy, just good vibes.  And, you know what?  It never asks me for my phone number.  Although, if it did, hopefully it would be so that I could win some prizes.  I'd like a six day, seven night vacation in some South American island.  I love mini-bars.  Even if I can't use them, because they're overpriced.  I just like the idea of having a huge abundance of snack foods and drinks in my vicinity.  Don't need to consume them.  Just knowing they're there is comfort enough.
    Ba-witta-ba-de-bang-de-bang.  Hello.  Remember that Nick show Legends of the Hidden Temple?  If I was on that, I would 100% have a heart attack.  A guy dressed as a tree suddenly grabs you?  See ya later, mortal coil.  That's how that goes.  Today marks an entire week of crazysheet entries in a row.  It comes in bursts.  Diggy-diggy-said-the-boogy-said-up-jump-the-boogy.  I could be getting some of those syllables wrong.  Oh well.  What else happenin'.  I sweat a lot when I sleep.  I often wake up because I'm too wet.  That's just the facts, Jack.  I have dandruff.  Always have.  Get off my back, Jack!  I could always get started on a music project after the entry.  The last few times I've worked on music projects were actually a lot of fun.  I just don't feel like my heart is in it right now, yet.  I need to build up some more life experience to be able to translate into new music.  Because I'm a pompous blowhard.  Maybe I'll watch Legends of the Hidden Temple.  Because I'm a pompous blowhard.  I had a dream last night, this is going to sound weird, that they started making new iCarly's.  I hardly ever even seen that show.  Oh well.  I do like shows where the main character has a blog.  That's why I like my life so much.  It's a nice show.  Nothing too crazy, just good vibes.  It actually is too crazy, with negative vibes.  But we soldier on.
    Last paragraph!  Hah!  Jokes on you!  You had to read this entry, and I'm almost done writing it!  Suck it!  Yeesh.  I'm gonna have lunch like a mother fucker soon.  All in all, though, things are pretty good.  At least, that's how I interpret things.  Hey.  It's me.   I have to go soon.  You know, to eat lunch.  And cause five paragraphs will be completed.  So, what's up.  I hate crossing the street when you don't have to cross the street.  Ya'll been there, am I right?  And if I'm wrong, don't tell me.  I'd rather just live a lie thinking I'm right.  Shake it like a Polaroid picture.  That reference is out of date.  Shake it like a digital camera.  Doesn't have the same ring to it.  Unless if it's attached to your phone.  Then it probably does have a ring to it.  Anyway, I'll see ya later.

-12:06 P.M. 

Tuesday, July 29, 2014                      

Buy One Title, Get One Freb.  I mean, Free.

Hello.  It is I!  You know, the guy who got sat on my an old lady when I was seeing The Indian In the Cupboard.  What a classic story.  I'm pretty sure I never told it here.  Oh well, it's like I always say, "If you're going to do a callback, try to make sure nobody knows what you're referencing."  Also, if you get a callback, best of luck!  Who knows, you just might get the part!  Best wishes.  I started my new dose of clozapine last night, and no joke, I felt a lot better.  I only went from 375 mg a day to 400, so you wouldn't think it would make much of difference.  So far, though, pretty good.  Pretty, pretty good.  Ugly, ugly bad.  The cigarette smoking kids I walked past in the hospital from last entry, one of the girls was singing, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..." Yes!  Assuming it was tongue in cheek, which is how it sounded, that's the kind of girl I've been looking for.  And yes, you'll get slapped if you look at all.  I don't know her.  I do like songs from musicals, though.  That's pretty much what's goin' on in that story.  I got the double iced coffee again today.  Like a king, I am!  If you were a king, and the main outlet of your tyrannical rule was consuming two iced coffees at a time, let's face it, you could be doing a lot worse.  Anyway.  Another beautiful day in the neighborhood.  Maybe I can be the next Mr. Rogers.  "Hi kids. ... ... do you like violence?  Do you want to see me stick nine inch nails through each one of my eyelids?"  Never mind.
    I had a third of a 1 liter bottle of whiskey left, and I poured it down the drain.  Three cheers for being a responsible adult, from yesterday on!  Iced coffee is all the beverage I need.  And orange soda.  And, I guess water is pretty useful sometimes.  Maybe beer, every now and then.  Maybe whiskey every morning, just to get me started.  No, I'm done.  I'm done!  I know, several times in the past, I've made similar actions regarding disposing of pot, but I always fell of that wagon.  But, at the very least, it's a step in the right direction.  Step in the right direction?  What are we playing, Water Polo!  Ha!  Good one, me!  If that's the type of humor I can provide myself while sober, who needs alcohol?  Who kneads alcohol?  What is this, bread?!  LOL.  Even worse, what if you kneed alcohol, you know, with your knee?!  ROFL OMG.  Somebody get this guy a microphone!  Jeez.  Is that over, yet?  Over/under, baby.  SHUT UP YOU IDIOT.  Why does any of me think this is entertaining.  I guess, most of me just thinks this is a good way to kill time.  And, let's be honest.  It's an adequate way to kill time.
    Yeah, boy.  I like the new Weezer song.  Because that's the kind of guy I am.  A guy who likes songs.  Good ones.  Maybe I should work on a new music project today.  That's a step above an adequate waste of time.  Especially if you tune your guitar to standard F tuning.  Boom!  Music pun.  That would only be half a step.  Oh well.  I guess I have to quit music now.  See ya later.  Music is hard.  Don't let anyone tell you differently.  Unless they're Mozart, or something.  Or Mos Def.  I believe he's related to Mozart.  And, probably Def Leppard.  Hey, maybe I should be a Leopard.  No, never mind.  That doesn't make sense.  All my dreams of being a leopard have gone up in smoke.  But my dreams of finishing this entry seem attainable.  Awesome.  It's a good thing I spilled out that whiskey.  I would have been knee deep in it right about now, and by 10:30, I'd be depressed as shitfuck.  I like writing entries in the morning, because, it's like, by the time I'm done, it's lunch time!  Lunch, lunch, lunch!  Did I ever tell you the story of my double, sometimes triple, chicken burgers, while eating hot lunch in elementary school?  Of course I did.  It was a highlight of my life that I'll never forget.  My Mom was the president of the PTA for a couple of years when I was in elementary school.  You gotta assume that's why teachers let my antics slide.  Relatively.  Hey, good for me.  Although, it did mean I had to stay after school for a few hours sometimes, while my Mom was taking care of business.
    Alright.  Al dente.  Al detention.  Damnit, gotta stay in school for a few hours.  I remember the first Broadway show I ever saw was Big, a musical based on the smash success movie Big, Starring a young Tom Hanks.  I believe we had a cassette of it's songs in the car to and 'fro elementary school.  We also had the audio version of the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark franchise, and Fiddler On The Roof.  It's too bad we didn't have a cassette of Les Miserables.  Cause of puns.  Cosette.  We did sing a Les Miserables medley in chorus in middle school.  I remember, I had like four solos, but I was absent one day, and she gave away three of my solos, and never gave them back.  This was right when I went through puberty, so I had a pretty deep voice.  But when I finally sang in front of an audience, I remember people laughing.  Oh well.  You win some, you lose some.  And that's what made me want to be a rock musician.  I'll show them.  I should have just taken art as a middle school elective.  I would be so much more well balanced.
    So yeah.  I haven't had beef jerky in a long time.  What's wrong with me.  I like miniature forks.  Aww, you think you can hold a lot of food.  Isn't that cute?  But they're good, because you eat slower.  Mini-forks know what's up.  There was a mini-fork in the road, and I took the one less traveled.  You shouldn't be taking any forks in the road.  Not clean.  This was a fun entry.  Probably.  I wasn't really paying attention.  I'm sorry, but I had two iced coffees.  I would think that would take precedence in my mind over writing a silly crazysheet entry.  So, it's August in three days.  Awesome.  I can't wait.  Well, I can.  I have the ability to wait.  I put it into practice all the time.  Like, when months are only days away.  I just get so excited, but still, I have to wait.  That's how months work, if you're stupid.  See ya.

10:05 A.M.                                  

Wednesday, July 30, 2014                      

The Title That Titled The Entry

Hi, friends till the ends!  I'm starting this entry mega-early.  Because it's too early to get my iced coffee(s), but I need to do something.  Maybe my brain will work differently during this time of day.  Anything's possible.  Except for some things, that aren't possible.  My Mom recently told me to never engage homeless people.  Don't tell me how to live my life!  Engaging homeless people is one of the few pleasures I have.  I think it comes from being hospitalized, because people in mental hospitals are more or less the same people who are homeless.  So I have a kinship with them.  Plus, I want to share my cigarettes with people.  It's like I'm giving back to society.  Hopefully the police don't choke me to death for sharing cigarettes.  You can't be too careful these days.  The thing I take away from that story is that the Purge has essentially started.  Way to go, police.  Now no one is safe.  Except for the police.  They're pretty well armed.  The thing I take away from the story is that Sex Tape has essentially started.  Wondollarful.  That's what homeless people say when you give them four quarters.  I like homeless people.  "Where is you're home?"  "I don't have one."  "Ha, that's right!"  Hey, at least they don't pay rent, or have a mortgage.  In many respects, they're a step ahead of us.
    I think we should teach homeless people to fish.  That's what I take away from an adage I may not fully understand.  How come no homeless people live under water.  What the Hell am I talking about.  Probably something, I guess.  What else is going on in the wide world of sports.  That may be my favorite transition.  I'm not sure why.  Every entry, at least once, do I think of saying it.  But usually I refrain, because I've used it before.  Now, it's 5:50 A.M., I can say whatever I want!  Not sure why the time influences what I can and cannot say.  Not sure of anything these days.  I think McDonalds opens at 6:00.  Might as well get another paragraph or two under my belt, first.  How come they never did a promotional tie-in for the McRib where Bart Simpson says, "Don't Have a Cow!"  Because it's stupid, probably.  Not sure of anything these says.  Man, people really take the McRib seriously.  It's a fast food sandwich.  They offer plenty of other choices.  Get over yourself.  Well, if you take the McRib so seriously, you're probably not taking yourself that seriously.  So, more accurately, get over the McRib.  Okay.  I don't get helicopters.  Okay, are we doing helicopters or planes.  Pick one.  Which is more efficient.  Let's pick one, and stick to it.  I think that's the next Sy-Fy movie.  Heliplane Vs. Blimprocket.  I've always been impressed by the size of my legs.  It's good to have something to be proud of.
    Hello.  It's me.  From before.  I had a dream I was on a podcast, but was really, really underperforming.  I guess that's my generation's naked in school dream.  I would have loved to be naked in school.  It's well documented that my naked body is an aphrodisiac.  Speaking of afro, I was telling my mom I walked by some teenagers smoking pot in the park on my walk, and she was like, "Isn't there a song that goes, '...because I got high?"  And I was like, "Yes!  How did you know that?"  And she couldn't explain how she knew that.  That's one of life's little mysteries, I suppose.  I was wikipedia-ing that reference, and first I checked Afrojack, and I saw he didn't do that song, and I was like, "Oh no, I'm a racist!"  But then it turns out it was Afroman.  So, I'm not a racist.  I'm just not an expert on rap music.  That's a relief.  My mom is old.  I don't think it's fair to have children when you're 40 or older.  Not fair to either of you.  I guess my Mom just wanted to bang around in her 30's.  There, that's something she wouldn't have wanted me to put on the website.  Okay, alright, nobody tell her.  My dad is two days younger than my Mom.  I guess he was banging around too.  Okay, nobody tell him either.  I hope it doesn't turn out my parents are twins.  That would be supremely disappointing.  I can't believe I've been around for closing in on 26 years.  What do I have to show for it.  I have no job, I'm more dependent on my parents than ever, I have no inkling of a social life or relationships with females, and a fourth thing. 
    That's sad.  Way to be sad.  Nice one, sad sack!  At least there were only three things.  That's something to be happy about.  I wikipedia-ed the song, like I said before, and it turns out Randi Rhodes did a parody of it.  That could be where my Mom got it from.  What else.  I like how Iron Man is a synonym for female.  How wondollarful.  I remember, in sixth grade, my entire class got in trouble for wreaking havoc at a Burger King.  We had went on some sort of class trip, then went to Burger King, and people were throwing food, standing up on toilets in the bath room, going into the play area which was meant for younger kids.  The food fight was the main thing that got us in trouble, but, lo and behold, the thing most classmates tattled on was the guy standing on the toilets.  And who bore the brunt of that, nobody but yours truly.  Hey, I wasn't throwing food.  I'm not an animal.  I just want to see what's going on over in the next stall.  (And there was nobody in it).  Also, what about the people who went into the play area?  Alright, that might have been me as well.  But, hey, look at the height requirement.  I'm allowed!  My favorite part of that Burger King, though, was they had like a chute on the ceiling which would transfer the food from the kitchen to the drive in area.  Many an after-school meal were spent watching the food go by on the ceiling. Fascinating.
    Yep.  And that's the end of that chapter.  I'm not sure why class trips include a visit to Burger King.  That ain't healthy!  Suffice to say, that was our last class trip to Burger King.  Because we were banned.  You know something went wrong in your life if you're banned from Burger King.  Well, we weren't banned individually, just as a group.  I also remember, when I was fourteen, I almost got into a fight with a group of ten year olds outside an Applebees.  I walked by one, and he suddenly starts cursing me out, and his gang starts threatening me.  I should have laid down the law, so to speak, but, man, those 10 year olds were scary.  They rattled me something awful.  Also, in Hebrew School, a guy once stood on me because I got a trivia question wrong, where the winners would have gotten a pizza party.  That's pretty much how my life has been.  See ya later.

8:21 A.M.                  

Thursday, July 31, 2014                      

That's It, July!  Get Off My Calendar!

Hi it's me.  Your fun loving host.  It's 5:55 A.M.  Which is what the time is always in movies, because they don't want you to think it's a real time, and get confused.  If the service, "Moviefone," doesn't include the number 555 in their promotions somewhere, they're doing something wrong.  Or right.  I've lost the ability to tell the difference.  So, I heard I'm running out of nails to bite.  You know what that's like, right.  Just gotta suck it up and wait a week or two for my nails to regenerate.  Biting your nails is a good way to lose weight.  That, and urinating to the greatest extent possible.  I remember, as a kid, I always assumed urination is getting rid of your beverage intake, and defecation is getting rid of your food intake.  Turns out the truth is a little more complicated than that.  It's mixed, I think.  That's why I didn't go to my middle school mixer.  Figured it would just be piss and shit.  I think I've been to one dance in my lifetime.  It was in fifth grade, a dance in the middle school, to get us excited for sixth grade (sixth grade was the first grade of middle school).  I remember standing on the sidelines, not dancing at all, and they played Eminem's, "My Name Is."  And even at the time, even though I wasn't dancing anyway, I remember thinking, "This isn't a song you can dance to."  Maybe it is.  I don't know.  Of course, then they elected me as mixer king, and dumped pigs blood on me.  Which really seemed to irk me, to tell the truth.
    Carrie would be an entirely different movie if, after she gets pigs blood dumped on her, she just goes, "Not cool, guys.  Not cool."  And then the credits roll.  This girl really need to learn to control her temper.  She's not gonna make any friends in college by killing everyone.  And getting a job?  No one's gonna want to work with her.  Well, Carrie, you have an impressive résumé.  I have to admit, though, I'm a little concerned about you killing everyone.  Pretty reasonable.  What else is going on.  Carrie's mother was a jerk.  There, I said it.  Anyway.  The last few days, getting up at like 4:30, remind me of the last time I was dorming in NYU, fall of '09.  I remember constantly waking up really early, and since I didn't want to wake up my roommate, I would go out on walks in the crisp morning air.  And be bored out of my mind.  And fantasizing about eating donuts and croissants.  Or, alternatively, actually binging on donuts and croissants.  Because there was shit else to keep me occupied.  Homework?  Yeah, I'll get to that later.  Give me some Duane Reade cookies!  The internet has informed me that Duane Reade has been incorporated into Walgreens.  If there's one thing I learned from reading books in high school, it's that corporate consolidation is a bad thing.  I forget why.  If I read it, though, it must be true.  Who cares.  Less options for the consumers, maybe.  That's probably one reason.
    Not my problem.  Not currently, at least.  I'm thinking about getting some hot dogs from the supermarket.  It's been a while, my pretties.  I was talking to the hot dogs.  The future hot dogs.  So, I finished July by writing ten entries in a row.  And they're all solidly in the D+ range.  Alright!  Plus!  If I had just gotten a D, I would say I'm nonplussed.  Alright, that joke got a D+!  What?  F?  Screw you!  I like Muzak versions of real songs.  I know this song!  Finally, they got rid of the lyrics.  It's about time someone stood up to Big Lyric.  That's how I feel.  I know I've said it before, but there's an obscene amount of empty gram bags of weed in my neighborhood.  Over 50% of my walks do I uncover at least one.  Okay, maybe not over 50%.  But definitely under 50%.  Did McDonalds start selling weed?  What the Hell is going on here.  In other news, hot diggity dog.  My Dad likes telling me this story of when he was a kid, his Mom took him to a Deli, and they ordered three hot dogs, and the waiter gave two to her and one to him, and they had to switch it.  Imagine, a child eating two hot dogs while the mother only consumes one!  What would people say?  He would hate me telling that story.  You don't know him like I do.  Mostly because you don't know him, and I do.  He is my Pa-Pa.  I'd have to explain to him, this is a bulk business, and if I can kill a few sentences with a boring story, then that's what I have to do.
    See, Dad, I do have responsibilities!  Do you know the kind of pressure it is to write five paragraphs of nothing ten times a month?  I didn't think so.  Do you know the kind of pressure it is to eat hot dogs.  Hopefully I will, in the near future.  God, I gotta finish this crap?  It's only a D+!  That's where the responsibility part kicks in.  Knowing it's relatively stupid and extremely pointless, yet soldiering on.  Or maybe vice versa.  Either way, this is my destiny.  My Dad likes the movie, Mr. Destiny.  Okay, no more Dad talk.  I swear.  My Dad's taking me to get my eyeglasses fixed tomorrow.  My Dad is the coolest.  What else is going on.  My Dad is the coolest.  I like how they say Latin is a dead language.  Try telling that to, "Vice Versa."  It's still goin' strong.  So, what?  What's going on.  This was fun.  Not really.  I'm just trying to be positive.  Anyway, close it up with a comic, I guess.  See ya later.

      

-8:06 A.M.