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, "Clichťs 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.
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
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
So, that's my rťsumť.
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
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.
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.
July 4, 2014
Do You Mean With The
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 piŮatas.
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!
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.
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.
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
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.
July 22, 2014
This Title Is
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
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
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.
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.
July 24, 2014
To Title The
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
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?
Friday, July 25, 2014
Titliní Like There
Ainít No Tomorrow
Hello again! Itís the guy whoís me. Me! Arenít I wonderful. No? Hey, get
off my website! This blog only exists to make me feel wonderful. I donít need
your negativity, asshole! On pace to take a class in four weeks. Goiní
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, Iím qualified to infer such things. And if not,
donít blame me! Iím 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 havenít 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 canít 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 hasÖ get thisÖ it has, RADIO! Weíre
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 900ís. And, if he did, whatís his secret? My
guess? Soaking his body in olive oil every day. Remember that time Jesus
turned water into cigarettes? Itís from one of the forgotten chapters, or
something. This entry is so exciting. Iím having an Ďexcitementí headache. I
may have popcorn later. Just because itís 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 didnít see
anything. I seriously considered, for a split second, knocking on the door,
telling them what I smelled, and asking for some. Itís 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 donít think
thatís funny. I donít think any of this is funny. It sure is words arranged
into sentences arranged into blobs. I think the correct word is, ďParagraphs.Ē
I just call them blobs, though, they donít seem to mind. I canít believe they
actually made a movie called, ďThe Blob,Ē and then, a couple of decades later,
made it again! Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twiceÖ shame onÖ you? No,
that doesnít sound right. Let me think about this for a while, Iíll get back to
Anyway. Fool me twice, even more shame on me. Fool me three times,
stop shaming me! Please! My kids donít respect me anymore! Youíve taken
away my manhood! Leave the man alone, jeez. The point is, you donít 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.
Wonít Get Cooled Again. April Coolís day. Ö The word cool. The word fool. (I
mixed-em-up.) Is there a word thatís below moron? There should be.
Anyway, letís get back on track. If thatís even possible. Has anyone ever
realized that Russian looks just like English thatís upside down? I did,
because I was reading English upside down, and it looked like Russian. That
explains that. Taht Snialpxe taht. Thatís not upside down, though. Just
backward. Itís one stop towards upside down, though. ĎBout as close as we can
get. Russia is just Canada upside down. I assume so. Iím not a master of
Geography, though. But if I was, Iíd be like, ďHey, Look At Me! Iím A Master
Of Geography!Ē 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 heís right, I wasnít thinking. Garbage does no favors
being added to your ice cream. Also, this isnít from when I was two years old
and just didnít know better, this was last year.
I assume thatís Ben & Jerryís next flavor. Oscar the Grouchís Garbage.
Hey, Iíd be a grouch too, if I had to live in a garbage can. Iím sure fifty
comedians have already made that joke. StillÖ 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.
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
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.
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.
Monday, July 28, 2014
An Object In Crazysheet Tends To Stay
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.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Buy One Title, Get One Freb. I
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
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
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.
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.
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
Thursday, July 31, 2014
That's It, July! Get Off My
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 rťsumť.
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.