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Sunday, June 2, 2013

You're Not From Ohio

         Hey.  That's a title for you.  It's just as much for me as it is for you.  Also, for other people.  Also, for no people.  That just about covers everything.  That's good.  Anyway, how you doin'?  I'm doing okay.  The reason I made that the title is because I found a piece of paper from high school where I wrote, "My name is Grover Cleveland and I ain't from Ohio, Gettin' girlies numbers on Cinco De Mayo."  And then I wrote "(weak)" as other people would respond to that rhyme.  I like it, though.  Because it's a president.  Other rhymes I've written were for Jesus (My name is Jesus, turn water into wine, drink it all up, hit the girlies from behind) and Moses (My name is Moses, I'm God's gift to women, fill their face with semen).  All very good.  I'm pretty sure the last two were in the old crazysheet though.  So they have now been made redundant.  Anyway.  I'm an idiot.  I'm writing this very rapidly.  It's because I have a lot on my mind.  Mainly, how can I put that Grover Cleveland line into this without drawing too much attention to it.  The upsetting part, though, is that it's become the main part of a paragraph that really doesn't have much else in it.  Anyway.  I've been doing okay lately.  My cable box won't stop humming.  And it's the same tune all the time.  You'd think with 600 channels there would be some variety.  Right?
    Variety is the spice  of life.  There used to be a porno channel called Spice.  I wonder what ever happened to it.  I might just be thinking of the Spice girls.  I cleaned up my room yesterday.  I used to have cigarette butts, empty packs, and ashes all over my table and the surrounding floor.  Now it's a clean slate.  All I have on my table is my laptop, my ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, a porno, a glass of syringes, my mom's purse, a vial of crack, a book on how to prevent nosebleeds, some spare crack, a porno magazine called, "Cracks," and the Bible.  You know, the true one.  I also have a pamphlet called, "How To Open Doors," because I've locked myself in my room more than a few times.  Ooh, I have to change the month in the date section.  Whoop there it is.  I used to have nosebleeds a lot when I was a kid.  I also used to go to the orthodontist every month.  Coincidence?  You decide.  I wonder if this blog is ever going to blow up.  It'd be nice to have some universal recognition.  That's a good band name.  "Blow Up."  Hmm.  I remember watching "Up" a couple of years ago while drinking an entire bottle of a vodka energy drink.  I think it made it more interesting.  However, I can't remember it at all.  But I can assume it was interesting, because usually, if there's a time you can't remember, it most likely was really interesting.  I can hardly remember anything, though.  All I remember is the Gilded Age, the influenza scare of the 1910's, and then I go blank until what happened earlier today.
    Anyway.  I've been reading teachers and students comments on old papers, stories, and poems that I have accumulated from high school and college.  At first, like ten in a row were really positive, so I got really pleased with myself.  Then like five in a row were negative, and I was like, "What a joke!  These people are morons!"  Which, coincidently, happens to be what my psychiatrist says about me.  But it's fair, because that's also what I say about my psychiatrists.  My psychiatrists are okay.  They're on par with everyone else in understanding my mental health.  No better, no worse.  That's ancient Confucian wisdom.  "Know Better, Know Worse."  Teaches you to live in the moment.  I went swimming yesterday.  Man, was it weird.  During some of the time, I just was walking in the water, and I didn't know what to do with my arms.  And swimming was too hard.  I think it's from smoking cigarettes all the time, that I feel like my arms and hands need to be constantly occupied.  Who knows.  It's probably some form of OCD.  I'm pretty sure I have like ten to twenty forms of OCD concurrently.  It's annoying.  But without OCD, where would I be?  That's my response to, "You down with O.P.P., yeah you know me."  I like how cigarette packs say "Please Don't Litter."  You're not the boss of me.  They might just be advocating safe sex for dogs, though.
    So, this is what the fourth paragraph is like.  The beginning of the fourth paragraph is usually where I hit the wall.  Actually, I hit it several times earlier too, but its the only constant time I always hit the wall.  What else is new.  Have you heard that new song, "Baby Got Back?"  It's about a woman's lover who returned after the war.  Yep.  How come my X-box can't read mixed media files.  I want to see my documents up on the big screen.  What's wrong with that?  "Yo this set of poetry was possibly my favorite poems I have read in the class."  Thanks, Joe.  Another satisfied customer.  Another satisfied custard, or something.  That's poetry, look it up.  I just killed a beetle.  That's what Mark David Chapman said.  He was talking about something different, though.  Sorry.  I guess it's still a touchy subject.  I remember in 1998 or so when George Harrison died, and they kept playing "Here Comes the Sun" on the news.  That's a good song.  And it's appropriate too, because I think he died of vitiligo.
    Anyway.  What else is going on.  I'm almost done here.  That's good news.  These entries are good, because while they're only mediocre at entertaining people, they're pretty therapeutic.  So, thanks for hanging in there with me.  This website is like my girlfriend.  It'll listen to everything I have to say.  That's what girlfriends are for, right?  I guess this website makes girlfriends redundant.  In elementary school, I had a music teacher named Ms. Dunn.  I remember her saying, and I don't know in what context she was saying this, but she was talking about food, and she said, "it goes in the tube," (into our mouth), "and out the tube," (out our butts).  Very profound.  What does it have to do with music?  I don't know.  Music is kind of like the opposite, I think.  It comes out of our ass and goes through our mouth.  Anyway.  Thanks for reading.

-4:04 P.M.


Monday, June 3, 2013

Apples For Everyone!

         Hello.  Today is Monday.  Unless you're reading this later.  If so, then today is still possibly Monday, but don't hold me to that.  I'm drinking an iced coffee and smoking a cigarette, which is my favorite breakfast.  I saw a McDonalds truck that said, "Break (then has a picture of a McDonalds breakfast) Fast."  So, of course, I got out of my car and started sprinting away.  Well, that's it.  This was a nice entry.  Anyway.  Life is weird.  I started watching Adaptation, but then stopped.  That's a good movie.  So good I decided to stop watching it halfway through.  This website sucks.  The premise of this website is basically, "I'm killing time, which in turn helps you kill time."  There needs to be something deeper, man.  Hey man.  I got my legs at the alligator store.  Keep that on the down low.  These legs are great for sprinting away.  Good.  I need to empty out my ashtray.  Well, I don't need to.  No one's forcing me.  But it's the right thing to do, I think.  I gotta think of a way to write another 4 and a half paragraphs.  Or I could just delete this and go back to listening to Pandora radio.  I had a dream last night I was playing some sort of combination of Risk and Poker.  Mainly what I did was get one section of Australia and slow played the rest of the way.  I have an idea.  I'm gonna write the rest of the entry on paper, and then type it up.  Here we go.
    Here's a party trick-- cut off your hands, then hand them to someone, and say, "let me give you a hand with that."  Then slap them across the face for thinking you're stupid.  Another thing you can do is drown yourself and keep saying, "I'm drowning in my sorrows" to anyone who will listen.  I think that average looking people who think they're more attractive then they really are should be called a "high five."  I think if you're having sex with a golfer it should be called "foreplay."  There should be a documentary about coke addicts called "Whose Line Is It Anyway?"  These things sure add up to create a paragraph.  I remember when I was about 14, I tape recorded myself singing "The Real Slim Shady."  And I taped it over real family mementos, like our vacation to Florida.  Touching family memories are one thing, but when are you going to get a chance to see a 14 year old terribly rap?  That opportunity comes once in a life time.  Well, I guess now you could find it on youtube pretty easily.  But I don't trust those people.  How do we know they're teenagers, and not just pretending to be younger than they are?  Why would you pretend to be a teenager, though?  I guess to go to bodegas, and see if they'll sell you cigarettes, and if they don't sell you cigarettes, you can say, "good job."  And carry on with your life.  Right?
    Okay, back to computer writing.  We'll alternate or something.  Alternate means go back and forth.  I'm a smart guy.  You know what?  I do like the premise of this website.  It sort of guarantees, "this is never going to be serious."  Which I think is a good model to employ.  And, even if it gets serious, you are encouraged not to take it seriously.  Maybe that's a character flaw, if I take that into my regular life.  I don't know.  The thing is, I spend about 80% of my real life interactions dealing with serious stuff, like my mental health, or my financial situation, or my educational/vocational situation, that it's good to have a break from that stuff.  Whatever.  I can still salvage this paragraph if I write a solid three or four sentences of goodness.  This most likely will not happen.  Heh, I previously misspelled "Slim Shady" as "Slip Shady."  I think Slip Shady is pretty nonsense.  Anyway.  Man, I'm only half way done.  How is that fair?  It's not fair to me, it certainly isn't fair to you, and it's not fair to the honorable men and women who serve this great nation.  In what capacity?  I don't know.  People who write rhymes for teenagers to poorly mimic, perhaps.  That's a great service.
    I'm gonna try to write the rest of this entry on the computer.  It shouldn't be so hard.  That's what the something said about something.  Viagra.  NEXT.  Man.  What's the deal with shoes?  I mean, we already put them on.  Are you serious about the laces?  What's next?  Masking tape?  There's scientists working on that now, I bet.  And I would bet, except for that I'm slow playing from Australia.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  I was talking to one of my therapists earlier today, and she was saying how this is the best she's ever seen me, and I sarcastically said, "well, I'm only as good as my team," and you could tell she was really flattered.  I guess I didn't really say it sarcastically.  I'm used to just saying bullshit when I'm with my therapist to get positive responses. 
    Well, okay.  We're almost done here.  Hey yo.  I literally have hundreds and hundreds of cigarettes.  I started that sentence without knowing how I would end it.  But I did it in a succinct and truthful matter.  Which is all anyone could ask for, these days.  Yeah, yeah.  Well, you can ask for more, if you want.  Just leave me out of it.  Anyway.  This has been such a joy to write.  I want to thank my producers, my family, my magicians, my psychiatrists, my secret santa, my ex-girlfriend, the band Garbage, and my alternate personality.  Oh, also my composers, my editors, my realtor, my retaliator, my bank, my favorite numbers, and a book of riddles.                           

-2:33 P.M.


Thursday, June 13, 2013

This Entry Is Nothing Special

         Hi.  How am I going to live up to the promise of the title?  By sitting down, smoking a cigarette, and shitting out a mediocre entry.  It's easier said than done.  I mean, it's as easy said as it is done.  I always get those two confused.  So, today is Thursday.  Often cited as one of the top five greatest days of the week, Thursday got it's big claim to fame with NBC's Thursday night primetime comedy lineup.  Since then, Thursday has been home to such events as your little brother's high school graduation, take your daughter to work day in both Arby's and the Social Securities office, and, well, this entry.  This entry has made the list.  Happy days!  So, it's been ten days since the last entry.  I should tell you about how I've been doing.  I've been doing okay!  There's a shocker.  About 10% of you would have thought I have killed myself by now.  And, unless this entry was part of my last will and testament to be published to the internet, you would have had your fear rebuffed by the mere existence of this entry.  Anyway.  What's comedy all about?  I think smoking a cigarette is the epitome of comedy.  Mainly because that's what I'm doing now and don't know what else to talk about.  So I'm talking a UCB improv class, and on the sheet of paper where they give information about the class, they tell us how to behave to each other, and they say, "Don't be a Jerk."  Why is jerk capitalized?  Are they telling us not to be Steve Martin?  If anything, capitalizing it where most people wouldn't notice it almost makes me want to be a jerk, like they're sending some secret symbol that only true comedy jerks would understand to mean a silent permission and encouragement to be a jerk.  Or, I don't know how to read!
   Anyway.  I lost a contact lens in my right eye.  Hopefully it just fell out on it's own accord, but it's possible it's logged up in the top or bottom of my eye.  Also, hopefully that sentence didn't just trigger internet ads to advertise to you Honda Accords.  Mostly because I don't like internet ads, but also because I don't like Honda Accords.  I know nothing about cars.  I know that you put your key in them and then they zoom zoom.  I lost ten pounds in the last two months.  Time to celebrate.  However, in lieu of celebration, I will continue to diet every day so I could lose another ten pounds in the next two months.  Dieting sucks.  Because it's like 10% of what I think about all day, is how I'm going to get through the day with my hunger satisfied with keeping my calories in an acceptable range intended for losing weight.  But the good news is, after about a year of it, I'm back to a good weight!  And it's only a year taken out of my life!  What do I need a year of life for.  So I could read more mail from Action Against Hunger, a charity group I signed up for back when I had money?  Well guess what, Action Against Hunger, I'm taking it personally now!  I don't know if that's the accurate name for the charity.  It's something like that.  This was back when I was making thousands of dollars playing poker.  I don't think I ever even donated anything, I just registered to eventually donate something.         
    So, yeah.  I'm thinking about refining all my music into a double album.  I probably would have done it already if I thought more than zero people would listen to it.  I got the track listings and everything.  Also, the music's not that good.  So let's just forget about it.  That's also partially how I think of it.  Besides, I'm onto bigger and better things!  Like test driving cars from the dealership, then getting back to the dealership and saying "this was the best car I've ever droven!!!" to entice other customers to buy the car.  The pay is minimal, and by minimal, I mean nonexistent, but boy is it fun.  Also, I misspelled driven on purpose.  To add character.  I like keyboards.  Sometimes I try to think about how the guy who invented the order of the letters and everything, and what his reasons were.  That stuff fascinates me.  I mean, I know it's supposed to be the most convenient for typing and everything, but how did he figure that stuff out?  And can we trust him?  How do we know he was wasn't just some malevolent fellow who made sure that curses and slurs were the easiest to type?  Anyway, I like the middle row of letters.  A sad fag hijack killed.  I added a couple of letters, but c'mon, you can read between the lines.  Maybe he hand jobbed killed.  That's one of the great mysteries of the keyboard.
    When I press the enter key, I half expect to be transported into the computer, a la Tron.  Yeah.  So, anyway.  I've covered just about everything.  Cigarettes, food, keyboards.  What else is there in the world?  I like Newports.  I remember the first time I had a Newport, it was the best cigarette I've ever tasted in the world (not counting marijuana).  Normally I smoke Camel Blue.  And, anyway, the appeal of Newports wore off, to the point where I actively disliked them.  But now I'm coming around on them again.  Is there anything more interesting than a guy talking about his taste in cigarettes?  Because if there is, I sure don't know it.  if I did, the last several sentences wouldn't exist.  I can't stop reading my horoscope.  Every day I check them, read 'em and think, "this should be fun!"  And then I judge the rest of my day based on that.  It's something that's so obviously bullshit, but still I let it effect me.  What does that say about me?  Easily swayed?  Low will power?  Whatever.  If my horoscope is positive, then I'm positive.
    Last paragraph time.  This is it.  It was my half birthday yesterday.  I celebrated by drinking a beer and watching "This Is The End."  It was a pretty good time.  It's a weird movie, though, because it has people like being ascended to Heaven from an apocalyptic landscape, and instead of going, "I hope that happens to me one day!" I just felt, "No!  I want I stay on the Earth as long as possible!"  Cause doesn't it seem like Heaven would suck?  Yeah, you get what you want for all eternity.  That was literally Hell in one episode of the Twilight Zone.  A guy died, thought he was in Heaven, got whatever he wanted, then got bored of it, and then realized he was in Hell.  I don't get it.  Also, is there sex in Heaven?  You'd think there would be, because it's one of the most enjoyable things, but what if the person you want to have sex with in Heaven doesn't want to have sex with you?  Do you just have sex with a fake version of that person?  And even then, in Heaven, is sex considered immoral?  I'd rather rough it out on the Earth.  Anyway.  Things are weird. 

-2:49 P.M.     

Friday, June 14, 2013

Do Mine Eyes Deceive Me?

         Hello.  What's going on?  Today is Friday, June 14th, 2013.  I think that's the first time I ever referred to the year as 2013.  I'm kind of behind the times.  Anyway.  I started drinking diet 7-Up.  For real!  That's something a man with nothing to say would say.  That man is me.  I'm getting sick of my routine.  Waking up, watching some T.V., listening to some music, playing some guitar, then doing those three things again in whatever order throughout the day.  It's not only boring, it's frustrating.  I keep waiting for my life to turn around, but my horoscope today said, "Nothing new or interesting will happen to you.  Don't bother looking for signs.  You're a loser and a joke."  Which I thought was kind of mean.  But it's good, it means I should start weaning myself off of checking my horoscope.  So, anyway, what's new?  It's hard to run a website that supposedly shares 'what's new' with me when nothing ever changes.  Well, it's easy to run.  The website will be here whether I like it or not.  It's harder to update.  That's the key.  Although, if you don't keep up with something, it's almost like it goes away.  Publish or perish!  That's a thing people say.  So a couple of days ago, I was taking a taxi, and the guy was talking about how much driving the taxi stressed him out, and I was like, "I hope it's not to the point of Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver," and he was like, "What's that?"  How can you drive a taxi without knowing "Taxi Driver?"  Apparently, all he was familiar with was Jimmy Fallon's "Taxi."  I think that's a movie.  I also think Taxi Driver is a movie.  But I really can't trust my memories these days.
    Anyway.  I guess it's better he didn't know the movie "Taxi Driver."  Because if he did, he might be be swayed from being the somewhat disturbed man who talks about how crazy driving taxis is to going all the way and plan to kill someone.  Now, if he watches that movie and kills someone, there's blood on my hands.  I don't want blood on my hands.  I want blood in my hands.  Otherwise, there'd be no circulation.  Lately I've seen a lot of bugs, mostly, I believe, ladybugs, and whereas in the past I would just crush them and toss them aside, lately I've been saying to myself (in my mind), "I'm sorry, I'm about to kill you," and then crush them.  I think it's a Buddhist thing rubbing off on me.  I think there should be a bank robbery movie starring the Dalai Lama called, "Bood Heist."  I don't know what 'Bood' means.  I know what 'Booed' means.  It what I hear, silently, in my head, every time I finish an entry.  In my improv class on Tuesday, someone referred to the Third Reich as the third "rake."  That's the funniest thing I took away from the class.  I guess it wasn't that funny.  I don't particularly like laughing at people's mistakes, especially since I'm not so good in the class, anyway.  It was just noticeable, is all.  So, father's day is coming up soon.  By that, I mean they're re-releasing that Robin Williams and Billy Crystal movie.  It was called Father's Day.  Hence, the mock confusion.  Hence, the mork confusion.
    Okay.  Well, summer is in full swing.  No it's not.  It hasn't even started yet.  But people think of late May and June as summer, for some reason.  Most likely because of the distinctive "summer-esque" weather.  Such as hotness.  But it feels like summer, anyway.  Mainly, in that I feel cooped up in my room and the air is stiff and hot.  I don't like it!  If it's spring, it should feel like spring.  That's what I say.  I say it all the time.  Well, that's the first time I said it.  But it's somewhat possible I'll say it again at a future date.  New episodes of Futurama next week.  That's a good show.  I like how T.V. is called episodes and in this website it's called entries.  I think it should be the other way around.  I'm halfway done with this episode.  That's glorious news.  Anyway.  I like vanity license plates.  Whenever I see one, I'm like, "Ha, that's cool."  I also like regular license plates.  Whenever I see one, I'm like, "That's a concrete letter and number combination."  You can't go wrong when it comes to license plates.  Except for how they say what dealership you got it from, or whatever.  Too much information!  Leave something to the imagination!
    Alright.  What else is new?  I just wrote an entry yesterday, Jesus.  How much could have happened in 24 hours?  As we learned from that Edward Norton movie, it takes 25 hours for something to happen.  Yeah.  What else is up?  I've been thinking about trying stand up at an open mic.  I'm sure I have 5-10 minutes of jokes somewhere, I'd just have to find them.  From this website, the previous incarnation, facebook notes, private notes.  But I'd have to be one of those stand up comedians that brings their notebook on the stage with them, because I suck at memorizing things.  Also, the jokes are adequate at best.  If I'm going to be adequate, why bother?  I can do that from the comfort of my own home.  Yeah.  Can and will.  Anyway.  The moral of the story is never try unless you're sure you will succeed.  That should weed out all of the non-succeedors.  That's not a word.  Who cares.  I'm down to two packs of Newports.  What bullshit is this? 
    Well, final paragraph time.  Gotta make it count.  Usually, it doesn't.  But maybe, just maybe, this'll be the entry that turns it all around!  So far, not so good.  But we've got a solid five to fifteen sentences more to make this paragraph great!  So far, not so good.  However, there is most likely five to fifteen sentences still to come which will redeem this paragraph!  Maybe the reason the fifth paragraph always sucks is because it's like the Thesis statement of paragraphs, and to summarize each entry, you would more or less comment on it's suckitude.  Yeah.  Anyway.  Well, this was a fine entry.  Not so good, not so bad.  Right in the sweet spot.  Wouldn't the sweet spot be in the "good" category?  Nope.  Ha-ha, fooled ya.  Anyway.  I lost one pair of my eyeglasses.  I had three pairs, two with an up to date prescription, and I lost one of those.  The one I'm left to wear is severely bent.  What the hell.  Just my luck.  This website is okay.  I defy anyone to say the website is anything other than okay.

-3:51 P.M.                                      

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Man, I Love These Entries!

         Hey.  It's time for another entry.  What's up?  I did my first comedy open mic yesterday.  I didn't know I was going to do it until two hours before, so I just had to go with whatever jokes I had ready.  I was really nervous on stage, but every joke got a laugh.  And by a laugh, I mean that at least one person laughed at every joke.  Which is pretty good, I think.  I only had like six jokes, since I wasn't prepared.  But it's good, I have that experience behind me.  I think I was less nervous when I was doing music open mics.  Probably because I was prepared to do them.  But the problem was, I was really nervous telling the jokes.  Any aspirations that I might one day be a stand up comedian were brought crashing down by my apparent unease on stage.  It's okay, though.  That probably wasn't a very likely career option anyway.  Ugh, now the sun is shining in my eyes through the window.  I can't even be comfortable sitting at a computer at home in my boxers.  It's the boxer rebellion!  That's what someone should say when they have a boner.  Anyway.  I'm almost half way through my improv class.  It's going a lot worse than my previous improv classes.  For some reason, I'm just more clueless this time around.  I don't know how to think of something funny/be part of a funny scene.  My main persona in scenes is, basically, "guy who doesn't know what's going on."  Mostly because I'm a guy who doesn't know what's going on. 
    Yeah!  Anyway.  What's going on in the news, recently.  Mostly news.  That's what's going on in the news.  I assume.  I haven't been kept abreast.  I watched all of VEEP in the last two days.  That's an okay show.  The main thing that I like about it is that you can substitute the two "e"'s for an "i" and it means something different ("VIP"), and you can do the same with this website ("crazyshit").  All I take away from things is how they can relate to me.  That's why when the bar was playing The Cure's "Boys Don't Cry" right before my five minute set, I decided not to cry intermittently and/or at the end of my routine.  Which was a huge burden for me.  Normally, I would figure about 40% of my set would be crying.  Such is life.  Really.  Life is such.  I gotta clean up my room.  I've got papers all over the place.  I need to get rid of them because when I'm bored, or have a certain inclination to, I start reading them.  It's all just school crap from the last ten years.  I don't need these hazy memories of what my life used to be.  That's like if Michael J. Fox watches "Back To The Future" all the time.  That joke was made possible by watching stupid hack comedians for an hour last night.  Otherwise, my brain wouldn't tell me to do it.  But since it's technically now part of my life, I have full rights to say it, and then qualify it.
    Anyway.  I recently realized my life isn't that bad.  I mean, I sleep 12 hours a day, and spend the rest of the time listening to music and watching T.V.  Until recently, I thought that was a boring, monotonous, and depressing existence.  But then I realized actually having to do stuff all day would be way worse.  I'm not prepared to do stuff.  I'm barely prepared to do nothing.  Doing stuff would be way worse.  I don't know.  There's pros and cons to whatever.  I like this website, though.  It makes me feel like I'm doing something productive.  Even if there's only one or two funny things in the entire entry, that's still one or two funny things that wouldn't have been there unless I wrote the entry.  So it's like I'm giving back to the world.  And to myself.  Because this is a great time waster and self esteem booster.  I don't know if it really boosts my self esteem.  To be more accurate, it just keeps my self esteem where it is.  Which is still a pretty big feat.
    So, anyway.  It's summer in two days.  How about that.  I miss being a kid and having summer vacation.  It's an exciting time when you're a kid.  When you live on a permanent summer vacation, it's not as exciting.  It's so weird, having my life juxtaposed as that.  I was in school/doing homework like 14 hours a day in high school, and now it's literally down to zero, and has been for years.  Yet, somehow, I feel at least as stressed as I did then.  Probably because of my mental illness.  That shit is real shit storm in my head.  I don't recommend it to anyone.  It's a good thing, too, because you were probably thinking, "Maybe I should become mentally ill, to get out of all my responsibilities."  Well, let me tell you, sister, it's more than you bargained for.  Unless you bargained a lot for it.  Then it might be as much as you bargained for.  I don't know why I called you sister.  I just assumed Whoopi Goldberg was reading this.  Damnit.  What else is going on?  I'm almost done with this fucking entry, that's what the fuck is going on.  I don't know why I started cussing.  I also don't know why I referred to it as "cussing."  I've never used that word in my God damn life.  Yet it seemed appropriate here.  I bet if General Custer cussed a lot, they'd call him "Cussing Custer."  Good thing he didn't.  At least not to my knowledge.
   Final paragraph time.  Wee.  I think about numbers a lot.  Like, what's my favorite number?  I'd probably say 88.  It's the year I was born in, if you add a 19 to the beginning.  And it's got number alliteration.  So that's good.  And 8, itself, is a pretty cool number.  So having two of them together is just gravy.  And 88, it's like having the 8... of 8.  Can't be topped.  Nope.  Shit, I have to go to sleep soon.  Being asleep is fine, but trying to go to sleep is a nightmare.  No pun intended!  But, pun surely welcomed!  Anyway, when I'm trying to sleep, my mind just gets full of all depressing things, and I think, "When I awake, all these things will be gone," but the truth is, when I awake, brand new depressing thoughts appear.  It's a real... nightmare.  Also, I have nightmares a lot.  I try not to talk about nightmares, because I think if I refer to them, they'll trigger more nightmares.  But, oh well.  I'm in too deep at this point.  I did have one good dream recently.  It was basically the best dream I ever had.  And it itself was sort of depressing.  So that kind of paints a picture of where I'm at, mentally.  Anyway.  This entry is over.  See ya later.

-8:09 P.M.           

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Mississippi Isn't Just a River in Mississippi

         Hi.  It's also in other states.  I assume.  What am I, a doctor of geography?  That's probably one of the simplest doctors to be.  "Oh, that's what's over there?  Great!"  That happens a lot.  I've been getting pretty good sleep lately.  I got such good sleep last night, I didn't wake up in time to go to my improv class!  There's a point where good sleep becomes bad sleep, and that point was reached thusly.  Anyway.  Why did I start this entry.  I probably thought I'd think of things to say.  Oh, me.  Why is it called New Jersey?  Where is regular Jersey?  There's a question for the geography doctor.  If there ever was a colony on the Moon or Mars, where we'd need to have a set of locations or whatever, would it still be called geography?  Because I'm pretty certain "geo" means Earth.  Ask your neighborhood astronaut.  No, I'm pretty sure it would be moonography or marsography.  Wouldn't it be?  Or the Latin equivalent of those words.  I like the solar system.  Pluto is still part of the solar system, right?  Like, the asteroid belt is still part of the solar system, even though it's not a planet.  I hope Pluto is still part of the gang.  I think it has a lot to offer in terms of character.  If anything, it losing it's title as planet only enhances the scruffy, come from behind, do-it-yourself image Pluto already had.  Also, it's friends with Goofy.  One thing that used to confuse me, speaking of cartoons, is the movie "The Lady and the Tramp."  Because to me, the definition of tramp was a "loose" woman.  So I thought it should be called "The Dog and the Tramp," or "The Lady, The Tramp."  But it turns out I just didn't have a full grasp on the English language.  Or "The Lady (The Tramp) [The Bitch]".  Dog words are fun.  Like bark and ruff.  How does the bark from that tree feel?  Rough.  I'm a genius!
  Yeah.  Oh man, my desk was wet from a glass of soda, and I placed my pack of cigarettes on it, and now the pack is wet.  "I'd walk a mile for a camel!"  Well, now you have to walk in the rain.  Inside jokes about what it says on cigarette packs.  Amazing.  I'd walk a mile for a camel.  As long as it agrees to carry me the next mile.  I'd say that's a fair deal.  I'm smoking a Newport now, though.  On the pack of Newports, it says "Newport," and then under it, it says, "Box."  Thanks for telling me what the hell this container is.  I would have gone with "Rectangular Prism," myself, but that's not my job.  Life is like a rectangular prism of chocolates.  Anyway.  I think there should be a crappy melodramatic movie about life in New York called, "aNYway."  I feel like that joke is terrible.  I'm going to go with my instincts on that.  But, still include it.  We need to fill five paragraphs.  Beggars can't be choosers.  That's why in this rectangular prism of life, if you're choosing your chocolate, you're doing pretty good, but if you're begging for chocolate, then, uhh, something, something, something.  Something to make that sentence make sense.  I should write more sentences with the full knowledge that they won't make sense at the end.  I'd get this shit done in half the time.
    I smell something burning.  But there's no evident thing that's burning.  That's what I call a conundrum.  Or a phantom smell.  Start Wars Episode One: The Phantom Smell."  The smell is that it's shit.  Smells Like Teen Shit.  In Shit.  Come As You Shit.  Those are some great tracks off of Nirvana's "Nevershit."  For some reason, that really depressed me.  The overuse of the word shit is just too aggressive.  I don't like it.  I'm pretty sensitive sometimes.  Anyway.  We've reached the halfway mark.  Not in life, in this entry.  I will let you know when we're halfway through what's left, and then when we're halfway through that, and so on, until I, of course, finally reach the end.  Anyway.  I feel depressed now after all that shit.  What else is going on.  This is upsetting.  Fuck it.  Shit shit shit.  I'm gonna take a shit while I eat a shitburger and wash it down with some liquid shit.  Then write about it in my shitty website.  Then I'm gonna talk some shit to my parents, take some shit from them, turn on the T.V. to see what shit is on, listen to some shit music, play some shit guitar, masturbate my shit, and so on. 
    I feel like this is turning into a suicide note.  Sorry.  I'm just joking.  Not everything is shit.  Some things are piss.  That's a good philosophy.  And if you're lucky, you might even find some vomit in there, too.  So, yeah.  I think I need to go up on my antidepressants.  That's a good thing to take away from this entry.  My auntie depressants.  That's her name, or something.  It's raining outside.  I like the rain.  Boom.  Two sentences gone into the mist.  Anyway.  I gotta get back on track.  Things are mostly good!  Things are looking up!  Things are the opposite of bad!  Dab!  A little dab will do 'ya!  What's the point of this entry, anyway.  To cheer myself up.  I don't need to be glib, annoying, pompous, care what you think, etc.  Except all those things amount to what the entry actually achieves.  My life sucks.  Achieve anchovies.  What the hell. 
    So, this is what the last paragraph looks like.  I never thought I'd see the day.  That's what Dracula says.  Yeah.  I need to shave.  When I was in high school, I attempted to shave my face, but ended up also shaving part of my hair, and then I went through several months looking like a weird haired freak.  And then when I finally got a haircut, the barber was like, "someone did this to you as a joke?"  I think I've shared that before.  Whatever.  It belongs here now.  The moral of the story is be yourself.  No it's not.  The moral of the story is that I repeat myself.  That makes more sense.  Anyway.  Take it easy.

-6:28 P.M.


Thursday, June 27, 2013

I Wrote This, And Then You Read It

         Hi.  I'd say that's an accurate order of events.  My head hurts.  I saw Man of Steel yesterday.  I thought it was going to be about construction workers.  Yeah.  So, what's going on?  The Supreme Court has been pretty active lately.  Let's give it up for them.  I don't know what the cases were, or what they decided on, but at least they're getting something done.  I assume.  I don't follow the news.  No, but they legalized segregation of voting in the south, or something.  And also, now being gay is legal.  Oh, what a world we live in.  What a world, what a world.  I think that's what the witch says in that movie.  Friends of Dorothy.  Look it up.  I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore.  Probably living it, or something.  I had pancakes this morning.  No I didn't.  But if I did, I think it would have went a little something like this...  "Hey, these are some fine tastin' pancakes.  Who made these?  And why do they taste of water?  The syrup on these is disgusting.  Better not say anything, otherwise I would insult the cook.  I like calling pancakes flap jacks.  It's more descriptive, assuming there's more than one.  And who eats one pancake?  Can we destroy these people?
Okay.  Remember Pan's Labyrinth?  If it's her labyrinth, why was she so surprised at everything that happened?  Your name is right in the labyrinth.  Be more self aware.  I gotta get something going in my life.  I really gotta go back to school in the fall.  I hate it, and there's no majors or classes that really interest me, or even seem capable of sustaining my interest long enough for me to pass the class, but I just need to do something to occupy the days.  I like the occupy wall street movement.  It's like they went to wall street, and then the people in wall street said, "It's okay, we're already occupied.  By us.  Thanks, though!"  Well, the day is half over.  That's fine by me.  What the hell was that rant about pancakes about.  It was neither funny or interesting, and it didn't even make any sense. Just like pancakes.  Ahh, the italicisms!  What was I doing?  Oh yeah, I have to finish this.  At this point it isn't even finishing it, it's just writing it.  So, I have to do that.  I was just listening to Linkin Park.  The last time I listened to Linkin Park was around the turn of the century, on some prequel to Napster.  Something else I did around that time, was go into cybersex chatrooms on AOL, then bait some desperate people into having cybersex with me, with me pretending to be a woman.  I would always get about ten lines in, and then say something like "Then I bite your dick off."  And most people would reply, "Ow."  Nothing seems to faze them.  I was a weird kid.
    Does that story make me sound gay?  If it pleases the court, I would like to submit the evidence that I've had sex, with a woman.  And enjoyed it!  And she didn't even bite my dick off!  Though she did use her teeth.  I guess some people do that.  Also, if it pleases the court, I'll suck off everyone of you!  I just want to be acquitted!  I bet when judges get blow jobs, they go, "this pleases the court... very much."  Because judges are perverts.  Anyway.  I bet when the Rutgers coach that got fired heard it the case would be settled in court, he was momentarily excited, but then he realized they meant of a court of justice.  Then he was like, "Oh Shit!"  Cause he was prepared for a basketball court.  Get it?  That's what we in the business call a tedious, mediocre joke.  Sure takes attention away of my cybersexing when I was 10 years old with men, though, don't it?  Oh, it doesn't?  Well, excuse me for not being the perfect child!  I mean, it wasn't anything sexual for me.  I just thought it was funny.  And I think it's funnier now, in retrospect.  Not that I was freaking them out, or anything, because now I see I clearly wasn't, but just that that's what I was doing when I was a child.  What a world, what a world.
    Then the fourth paragraph came.  With it, a whole paragraph of crap.  How did the Cold War last so long?  Russia is a pretty pathetic country.  That's the "AIM" question I'm going to use in modern world history classes.  Then I'll write under it, "Then I Bite Your Dick Off," and get fired.  I'm going to eat dinner within an hour.  That's good news.  When they make meals out of animals, is there any animal they use the phallus for meat in?  That's something to ask your butcher about.  It's between you, God, and your butcher.  Just like arranged marriages.  Yeah.  This is a weird entry.  I blame you.  Things are okay, though.  It's July 4th in a week.  That's crazy.  "That Sounds Crazy!" -- Brian Fellows.  I saw an old episode of SNL recently on VH1.  No I didn't.  I just wanted to make it seem like I said that for a reason.  There is no reason.  Not that I know of.  Anyway.  I'm down to about a paragraph to go.  Hallelujah.  That's what Muslim people who run food carts say to people they suspect of being Jamaican God.  Man am I an idiot. 
    Okay.  What else is new.  It's 6/27/2013.  That's only happened for about 17 hours.  At least in Eastern Standard Time.  That's a pretty good time zone.  It's one of my favorites.  Anyway.  I need to get a smart phone.  My current phone is dumb as nails.  Of all the things that aren't sentient, why choose nails to be dumb?  It doesn't seem fair.  Well, yeah.  I miss AOL.  When I was in middle school, we would all have a private chat room each night, with about 10-15 people in the class in the room at one time.  It's a good way to bond.  I don't even know if chat rooms still exist.  Is that on facebook?  I don't know.  When I  was in the 7th grade, I actually ran for class president.  That was weird, because I was in the gifted class, and knew practically nobody outside my class.  Four people ran, and when they announced the president, they named the president and the runner up, and guess who didn't make the list.  Some other guy.  But also, me!  Can you believe that.  Anyway.  See ya later.

-5:16 P.M.