Thursday, May 16, 2013

What Is This, America?

         Hi.  Everything is weird lately.  First I saw Peeples.  That's the movie with Craig Robinson and David Allen Grier.  It was actually really good.  That's not the weird part.  The weird part is that it's a black remake of Meet The Parents.  It's not supposed to be, but it is overtly a remake.  Like, you could tell they were clearly summoning elements of that movie.  But I think this was actually better.  I watched Meet The Parents like a month ago on DVD, and it was okay, pretty good, but this one just resonated more.  Now, I will start to drink, so I will lose my inhibitions, and start talking Crazy Sheet.  Lately I've been thinking of it as Crazy's Heat.  I like that more.  It's like how "Mr. Show" could be "Mrs. How."  It's all in the spaces.  I think that's NASA's motto.  Anyway.  "It's more difficult to improve something than it is to create something."  -- Tim Allen. I wonder why he never just took a chainsaw to that fence so he could finally see what Wilson looked like.  I still have to start drinking.  To make the entry good.  And to make me throw up in an hour.  I wonder if when football players are about to have sex, they say "Break!" to the girl they're with.  Anyway.  I wonder what it's like to talk to a girl.  I haven't talked to a girl in, oh, I don't know, about a year.  Imagine That.  That's the John Lennon song where he was really sarcastic and spiteful.  Nowadays, that would be the normal title to a song.  Oh how we have changed.  Oh how the west was won.
    Anyway.  It's about time to start drinking.  I mean, it's already 2:30.  Am I obliged to make a Chinese Dentist joke?  Yes?  Okay.  Why did the Chinese Dentist take off his pants?  Because he was exploring the dentist office.  I find it's better to explore things in the nude, sometimes.  That way you get to experience it to the full extent.  Like, if I was wearing clothes while I was writing this, I would feel confined and out of touch.  I am wearing clothes, for the record.  Well, a robe, so to speak.  I'm the king of my castle.  I'm also the Prince, Court Jester, Mime, and Bassist.  There's really no one else in the castle, so I'm obliged to take up multiple positions.  Now, who wants to read "An Abortion Song" that I wrote in high school?  I've alluded to it before, but here it is in all it's glory.  Also, it's pretty obvious I am somewhat clueless about how abortions and the female body work.  But I'm not ashamed.  Mostly because I'm still clueless.  Someone explain this stuff to me.  Anyway, here it is.

Now I'm here to tell you about an abortion
And this story has not been blown out of proportion
A girl, young and stupid, once got knocked up
Little did she know she also jut got fucked
Her boyfriend, also stupid, tried to use protection
But the condom was confusing, he could not follow the directions
Inside out it's not as effective
So pretty soon there was a baby inside her
And just like that there was no man beside her
Her boyfriend left at the prospect of being a father
He said he wasn't old enough to have a son or a daughter
And there she was all by herself
So she turned to her parents for help
They said "Hell no you're way too young"
"You happy now?  You had your fun?"
"Well I don't want to hear about it you are having this baby"
"You want to get an abortion, what are you, crazy?"
"I will not let my daughter kill my grand child"
"Because I got mad rhymes like Oscar Wilde"
The girl was disillusioned with what her parents had said
When suddenly an idea popped into her head
"I'll give myself an abortion!  That's a good idea!"
So she went to the drawer and took out the scissors
She stuck them up her pussy and it sure did hurt
No baby came out, but blood did spurt
All over the place, and she screamed bloody murder
When some hit her face
And that wasn't the worst of it, cause she soon got infected
But the abortion had worked, a baby had ejected
But that was only because she soon died
Her parents, her boy friend, and the aborted fetus cried.

    Welcome to my world.  Well, my world from, oh, I don't know, 2005.  Man, that was back when the third digit of the year was a freakin' zero!  Which, coincidently, is what this song got in song writing class.  Mostly because I never handed it in.  I never took a song writing class.  Anyway.  Still haven't started to drink!  Anyway.  I smoked some weed last week.  It was pretty good, but it also made me anxious.  I'm anxious enough as it is.  So I don't know, maybe I'm just done with weed.  I also went up on one of my medications last week.  So far, I don't see an effect, but I guess no news is good news.  Unless you work for a newspaper company.  Then, in that case, you've got a lot of work cut out for you.  Or, actually, maybe no news is good news, because of the critique of news that it's just to sell copies with bull shit stories, and not actually about the news.  You can decide which one you want to go with.  My grandfather used to deliver the news.  You know, like in a truck.  My father's father.  That's cool stuff.
    Last paragraph time.  It sucks, because the abortion song counts as a paragraph towards the five paragraphs of the entry, but in reality, I should be writing an extra paragraph to make for you having to read myself idolizing/acting somewhat faux-embarrassed about who I was in high school.  Oh well.  Time to drink!  At what age does drinking alone stop being post-teenage rebellion and start being alcoholism?  I don't drink every day though, like I did last year.  I'm down to about once or twice a week.  I would drink beer, but I have no way of getting that into the house, so I drink from mini bottles of scotch or tequila, or whatever.  I think it would be more socially acceptable to drink beer?  Thought?  Questions?  Worries?  These are examples of things that one person might have in their head at any given moment.  Any Given Moment is the sequel to Any Given Sunday.  Well, to end it, lets go with one out of hundreds of random verses I wrote in high school.  Never mind!  That wuold have been the kind of move that would make me never want to view my website again!  Or, entices me to quickly write a new entry!  And frankly, I just don't care.

-2:54 P.M.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Fine Tune the Crap

         Hello.  This is the first time in a while I've written on consecutive days.  The reasoning behind it is that I'm bored and that's also the moral to the story and the sense of learning how to do things that are stupider than I thought.  Anyway.  I walked by a dead raccoon today.  It was really crazy to see it up close.  They're bigger than I thought, and it was rotting, flies were all around it.  It really makes you reflect on your own life.  Or, at the very least, think about the Beatles' "Rocky Raccoon" and wonder if this experience is what the song is really about.  Anyway.  I'm starting to get tired of music.  But I'm also tired of not listening to music.  So it's like a half 'n half deal.  Really?  It is?  No it's not.  It doesn't matter.  This entry is back into low-coherence mode.  It's a good way to weed out the people who aren't.. uh... weed.  I'm drinking again tonight.  I know, I know.  Who cares?  Well, I do.  And in the future, I'm going to want detailed reports on how much I was drinking in the past.  I'm not sure why.  There's nothing else to do, though, really. 
    Wow.  I actually finished a paragraph.  I'm pleased with myself.  I'm very vain that way.  Sometimes, when nurses take my blood, it takes three or four times to find a vein.  I'm not very vein that way.  I think, I hope, I'm going to go back to college in the fall.  I'm going to change my major, though.  I don't know what to.  That's actually a problem facing me if I want to go back to school.  Maybe I'll just stay in my room another two or three years, doing nothing.  It's not so bad.  I mean, lets look into the future, what will it be like two years from now?  I think it'll go a little something like this...
 

    Hey, I'm smart.  Not crazy.  Of course I still love pizza.  And Lady Gaga.  Did you know she's made out of fruit juice?  Lol, good one.  My sleeping bag that I sleep on over my bed broke.  Broke is my way of saying a urinated in it.  Well, the new Vietnam war is still going on.  I can't believe we fell for it again, we have no business being there at all.  I can't believe it.  Well, I'm up to smoking three packs a day.  I'm an idiot, ask your friends.  I thought I would be better by now, but in actuality, I can't remember most of what I thought.  Anyway.  My dad is insisting we go camping as a family.  I think that's just an excuse, and that he wants me to get eaten by a bear.  Bears are so cute, it's hard to imagine them ever hurting somebody.  When I was like four years old, my earliest memory of a dream was a nightmare where I was in my living room opening presents, and then the view panned to the front door and zoomed in, and there was a picture of the Bearenstein Bears on it, and I woke up in horror.  I lost feeling in my mouth.  My tongue has gone numb.  They say thats a side effect of the new medication I'm on.  Listerine 4 Depressios.  It's really just listerine, but ever since they found it has anti-depressive and mood stabalizing qualties, of course, now they sell it for other purposes.  Other purposes?  That's a porpoise thing.  You wouldn't unsderstand.  I haven't met someone since I bought my hover board.  The salesman was pretty nice.  But I didn't technically meet him.  I just hovered by.  Oh man, hover jokes are all the rage around now.     

            Hmm?  Anyway.  I'm going to start to drink now. unlike last entry when I made it through the entry to start.  Here we go!  Bombs Away!  Three, Two, One!  Count Down!  Blast Off!!!  That's the stuff!  Namely, alcohol.  I used to be a real alcoholic when I was younger, literally drinking all day, every day.  Maybe I'll work my way back up there.  I have a song where I mention the date "May 17th."  What does that mean?  It means I have been waiting for this day my entire life.  At least, since last year.  Eh, there's a shit load of better days.  Like, September 22nd.  Who could argue with that?  Or September 20th.  Now you're really getting into elite territory when you're talking about these dates.  What was I talking about?  Nobody know. 
    So, there's a big debate about fire arms in the country.  I say, go for it, if you want arms made of fire, who am I to stop you?  No one, especially becuase you could burn me!  Oh no! Don't burn me with your fire arms!  What the Hell am I doing.  There should be a super hero called "Melt Man," and his super power is that he can melt.  I guess it's good defense, but I'm not really sure what the offensive use melting is.  I guess he can get into your machinery and melt it up, or something.  Anyway.  Well, I almost finished the entry.  It's good, because I don't want that abortion song shit being the first thing people read.  Better it just disappear.  And since it's technically impossible to read entries beyond the first one, I should be in pretty good shape.  Man.  I got to quit smoking cigarettes.  There's this rumour going around that it's bad for you.  Bad, just like spelling words the English way.  I've had it up to here with the English.  First, they wanted to take away our American words by distorting them, and pretty soon they'll come for our numbers!  I say, we have to get to their numbers first!  I don't know.  I was reading old crazysheet entries from 2004-2007, an some of that shit is pretty funny.  Like, if I wanted to try stand up, I probably have at least 5-10 minutes of material of random stuff taken from those entries, and maybe some from the current crazysheet.  Too bad I don't want to be a comedian.  I want to be the guy on trains who tell it where to go.  The conductors.  Do trains really need conductors?  What do they do, tell the train to "stay on track?"  A train could figure that out for itself. Anyway.  See you latery.

-5:32 P.M.

Monday, May 20, 2013

The Radiance of This Title Will Guide You Through This Entry And Beyond

         Hey jerks.  Hey Kirks.  That's what they said in that Star Trek episode with two Kirks.  I've never seen a Star Trek episode, yet I know this episode exists.  Why is that?  Because that's God's plan.  God's plan for us is to know outdated pop culture references.  If you're really good at dating, does that mean you can outdate someone who isn't?  It should.  I've never been on a date.  Sure, I've had the opportunity, but it just never happened.  Also, I never had the opportunity.  I'm a bald faced liar.  A surprising amount of people have bald faces.  You'd think the derogatory phrase would insinuate that you're rare in some abstract bad way.  But it doesn't.  Anyway.  What's the deal with public pools.  Do we have to swim in them, or what?  There should be a rule that you're not allowed to swim in public pools unless you're part of the public.  It is kind of implied, but whatever.  I don't make the rules.  The people who name things make the rules.  They harness the power of the English language, in all it's glamour and glory, to let us know what things are, as represented by said English language.  Other languages may work this way, too; so far, results have proved inconclusive.
    Right.  Anyway.  The Dropkick Murphys have been playing on my T.V. too long.  Any amount of time is really too long for The Dropkick Murphys.  Unless you're watching The Departed.  And if you are watching The Departed, what are you doing multitasking reading this here?  Pay attention to one thing at a time!!  I don't know.  The Dropkick Murphys are okay.  Everything's okay.  Except for things that are crap.  Or, things that are great.  But mostly, everything's okay.  Sometimes I like to think that everything is good, but just not for me.  Like, graphic design.  I'm glad some people can do that.  Not for me, though.  Graphic design is when there's a design of something that's really racy, right?  Probably.  Anyway.  I tuned my guitar up from where it usually is.  It has resulted in me playing less guitar.  Who wants to hear these tones?  Not me.  I could put it back, but who has the time?  Seriously, who has the time?  I'd like to have a word or two with this person.  Mostly I'd just say to divide the time up evenly.  He probably already knows, though.  Don't tell the time keeper how to do his job.  He knows, he knows.
     I've started checking out my horoscopes since I discovered a function on my T.V. that allows it.  I think I take it too seriously, though.  I get all pumped before I check, but then after I read it, it's so vague it offers no useful information at all.  Also, it's bullshit. That's the other side of the equation.  Hey, this shit is half over.  Pizza party time!  I do have a refrigerated slice of pizza.  Hardly enough for a party, though.  I guess we could divide the pizza 8 ways.  That's 1/64th of a pie, if you're keeping track mathmatically.  And I assume you are.  Because I know you love math.  Wait, no.  Meth.  I know you love meth.  Remember the guy Meth Sacfarlene?  I sure do.  That fucker probably has like 300 million dollars.  I don't get people with so much money.  Just donate some of it, what would that take?  Oh, you like your money and the perks it allows you to live with?  OH.  Great explanation.  Not!  Not!  It really was a great explanation.  I double "not"-ed so they cancel each other out.  Just the way God intended.  Sometimes, I feel like smoking cigarettes.  I don't get people who smoke cigarettes.  Just quit it, it's going to kill you!  Oh, it reduces your stress, gives you something to do, and provides a nice little jolt of stimulant?  OH.  NOT NOT NOT NOT.
    Anyway.  This has been fun.  These are fun to write.  Mostly because I just go blank in my head and let my fingers do the talking.  I watched Freddy Got Fingered a few weeks ago.  That is one weird movie.  I like it, though.  I remember watching it in college my freshman year with my roommate and his friends, so I have good memories knot to watching it.  Knot knot.  Not knot.  Knot not.  People reading this think I've gone crazy.  That's the whole point of this website, I suppose.  Hence the title, Crazy SHH EAT.  I believe we were promised 1/64th of a pizza??  Yeah.  This sucks.  These are no fun to write.  I can't believe it's 8:17 P.M. and it's still light outside.  Well, I guess I can believe it, because I do.  But I don't want to.  But sometimes you have to bite the bullet and just believe things that are real.  It's tough.  Every time I get iced coffee in the morning I'm so tempted to get a breakfast sandwich, because they are so good.  But they're unhealthy.  I said that sentence to try to appeal to the common folk, who share the same mundance, day-to-day problems I express.  I've given up on being funny, now I just want people to say, "Hey, that makes sense!"  Crazy, She ET!
    Almost done.  This website is The Dropkick Murphys of comedy.  Or blogs.  Or whatever the Hell this is.  Or whatever the Hell The Dropkick Murphys are.  I'm pretty sure they're a ragtag group of Inuits who appear in your dreams, foreshadowing that you will soon get kicked.  Drop kicked.  It would probably suck to be drop kicked.  I've never had the pleasure, I'm just going based on a feeling.  This is the third entry in a week.  That's gotta be some kind of record.  It is.  It's a record of how many entries there were in the past week.  Get a grip!  Anyway.  Life has been tough lately.  And by lately, I mean a long time.  But this is a good way to relieve stress.  If good humour is a brand of ice cream, good weigh should be a brand of comedy.  Or whatever.  I'm not married to the idea!  Getting married to ideas is the slippery slope gay marriage begins.  I like the term slippery slope.  Like, you know the Chinese guy who puts peepee in our coke?  He's a slippery slope.  Sorry.  Stupid things make me laugh.  Good bye.

8:27 P.M.

Friday, May 24, 2013

I'm Okay At Titles

         Hello.  I'm okay at entries, too!  Not really.  Don't get your hopes up.  How do you get your hopes up?  Either you have a lot of hopes, or little hopes.  There's no up and down to this shit.  Anyway.  Life is boring.  I just listen to music all day and try to sleep all night.  Lately I've been watching a lot of generic sitcoms from the 90's and 00's that I never really watched before.  They're okay.  Like King of Queens, or Everybody Loves Raymond.  Whatever.  I think they should do crossovers, like Everybody Loves Queens or King of Raymond.  Those are two shows I would watch.  In spite of what I said earlier, I've been sleeping a lot lately.  It's pretty good when you have nothing to do.  I got to start doing something with my life.  I'm thinking about taking another UCB class, but nothing is final.  Unless we're talking about our mortal lives.  Then nothing is final.  Probably.  Who knows?  Not me.  I've been depressed lately.  I don't know why.  On the surface, things are going pretty good.  I guess I'm just upset my mental health isn't getting better.  Like, I've reached a point where I can reasonably fake being normal to other people, which is pretty good, I guess.  But inside I'm crazy shits.
    I like to calm down.  That's my favorite activity in the world.  It's almost June.  That means the pool in my neighborhood opens.  I like swimming.  It's like, you're underwater, right?  And you move?  That's what swimming is.  It's fun.  I can't get that scene in the Exorcist when the girl's head spins around out of my head.  It's annoying, because I find myself starting to spin my head around to no provocation every now and then.  It's not a good habit.  I'm not a good hobbit.  What?  Oh, yeah.  Anyway.  I really like onion rolls.  They're rolls that have bits of onion in them.  I haven't had one in like five years, but I was thinking about them recently.  That's what my conscious mind is capable of.  Giving a half assed explanation of what swimming is and remembering a food I used to like.  I have this piece of paper on my desk from Sophmore year in college where I was trying to recruit a drummer for a band I was forming.  It lists my influences (a whopping thrity or forty bands) and has rip off pieces of paper where you could call my band manager (a friend I worked with).  Surprisingly, I did find a drummer, and with a guitarist friend of mine, in the summer, we went to his house, and on the first practice, 5 seconds in, I broke a string.  So I guess it just wasn't meant to be.  But it's for the best though, I had no idea what I was doing.  It really was a miracle I broke my string, because that's the way for me to embarrass myself to the most minute degree.  For example, one of the songs I picked to practice was Nirvana's Territorial Pissings, and I was supposed to sing it, and for some reason, I thought I could, but there was no way in Hell I would have been able to pull that off.  I didn't even practice, I was just so sure I could do anything. 
    Anyway.  Is it better to think you can do anything when you can't, or think you can do nothing, and never try?  Did I just blow your mind?  I didn't?  I'll try again later.  This entry sucks.  I mostly blame it on you.  If you knew how to read better, this wouldn't be so bad.  Stop sucking at reading, is what I say.  My life is weird.  Half the time, I'm just listening to music on my computer, pretending I'm a D.J. for the private audience of one (me).  It's fun, until I realize I'm just listening to music on my computer, like anyone else, but more intently.  That's the way music should be listened to, though.  Like you're taking a test.  Like, when the songs over, you're going to have to summarize what happened in the song.  No one should listen to music that way.  It's unnatural.  They should make a sequel to The Natural called The Unnatural about Kevin Costner dying and coming back as a zombie.  Kevin Costner is the guy in that, right?  I never saw it.  Haha.  I've been going through old random lyrics from high school lately.  Man, did I write a shit load of crap.  "I write like woah/I play like hey/I love you so/I'll save the day, save the say, save the day."  I was high off of being able to write prose, that I thought I could write songs.  What an idiot.  I couldn't even write prose that well.  What a wasted life.  I should have paid more attention to my school work.  Then I could be a doctor or a lawyer.  Like a doctor who treats lawyers, or a lawyer who sues doctors.  The possibilities are endless.  Whatever.  There are good days I have.  Today just isn't one of them.  I blame it on sleeping too much yesterday.  I got it into my system that I could just lie in bed all the time, when in reality, I had to get up!  The old trick-er-roo.
    Yeah.  Life's not bad.  I know I complain a lot, but overall, it could be worse.  I could be dead.  That's the worst life I could imagine.  I like songs like Weezer's "I Want To Be Something" because it makes me wonder what word he wants to "B".  Like, say he wants to "B' "Dead."  Then he wants to bead.  Beads are something, right?  That's how it works.  It's a very addicting game.  Anyway.  Banyway.  BANE!!  OH NO.  Yeah.  That's how it works.  Bits Ba Berry Baddicting Bame.  Or, if you're really serious about it, you could see which word he wants to "Be."  Like, 'anyway' would be 'Benyway.'  Plus, you could do it with other letters!  Your fun will never stop.  Really, because once you get started, you'll never be able to stop.  I hate internet ads.  Plus, a couple of months ago, I must have downloaded some virus or something, because now all the ads I see on every website are uniform, and even more annoying.  That's something people love to read.  "I hate internet ads!!"  Shut up, dummy.  Anyway.  I don't know what to do anymore.  My best guess is continue what I've been doing.  I liked following the Mets, because they started out 2-0, but now they're like 17-27, so there goes that.  It sucks, if they were still competitive, that's a good 3 hours I could watch 6 out of 7 days a week.  I don't get it.  You have a high payroll.  Figure out how to have a good team.  What are you, stupid? 
    And the entry is four fifths over.  Anyway.  I like how women are known as the fairer sex.  Then how come they won't have sex with me?  How is that fair?  Anyway.  It's time to wind the entry down.  I know you're sick of reading it.  And if you're not, go ahead and read previous entries.  See if I care!  Warning: you won't really be able to see if I care.  Damnit, I don't want to go back to watching T.V.  I guess I could just keep listening to music.  But I've listened to so many songs already!  I want to get into jazz music.  If you know any good jazz musicians, hit me up.  I always figured crazysheet is like the jazz form of comedy.  Not really.  It just occurred to me.  But I've always figured it since 20 seconds ago.  And now I will recant believing it, now that I've given it some more thought.  I miss going to college.  The last full semester I took was Fall 2010, at Queens college.  It's fun going to college.  I still have like 40 credits to go, too.  Anyway.  Probably start... in... FALL 2013!  Hooray!  Maybe not.  Maybe... In... SPRING 2014!  Holy shit, 2014.  That's the future.  I can't even imagine.  I think I'm going to end this entry, now.  Because I can.  Nobody's gonna tell me where and when I can end the entry.  Except for Jon De Bont.  I think that's a director.  He can tell me anytime, anywhere!! 

-3:16 P.M.    

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

I'll Have What He's Having!

         Hello friends.  It's me again.  That sounds like the title to a depressing prime time comedy.  Anyway.  Time to write.  Not a lot is new.  I don't think I've ever known someone who has been in a wheelchair.  It's kind of weird.  You'd think by this time in my life, I would have encountered such a thing.  No such luck.  It's starting to get summery.  It's starting to get summary.  Either or.  My facial hair is growing quicker than it used to.  I was thinking about cutting some shapes.  Like maybe a cross, or a swastika.  Those are the only two symbols I know, so it's got to be one of those.  Actually, I lied.  I do know another symbol.  It's a cymbal.  From drums fame.  If this entry so far was alcohol, my body would be rejecting it.  Your body can reject things other than alcohol.  At least I assume that it can.  I don't know what the deal is with your bodies.  My goal is to have this entry done by sun down.  That gives me over an hour.  I'm usually done within half an hour, though, so we got some time.  However, that time will be cut in half, by me checking where the sun is for 30 seconds every minute.  Now that it's said, I have to keep track.  Does that math add up?  It does if you're lazy!  I asked my Dad what his favorite number was, because he's a math teacher, and he wouldn't tell me.  He did say his favorite variable is X, though.  Which I think is fine.  X is pretty good.  It's no Y, but who am I to complain?
    Well, the sun is still there.  It sure is bright, too.  I don't know if everyone knows this, but don't look directly at the sun for too long.  Just a little PSA.  I've been thinking about it, and it's a big commitment, but, I don't know, what the hell.  Let's get married!  Crazysheet.net is just too dumb.  Let's get married and ditch it.  Then let's ditch each other.  If you know what I mean!  I wonder what that means.  Anyway.  Life is such a ditch.  My ear hurts.  Overall, though, things are fine.  Sun is still there.  Nothing to worry about.  Everything's okay.  The moon will be out soon, too.  So don't worry about that.  I'm practically certain the rules of the universe, as they are today and have been forever, will continue to be tomorrow.  However, there's always the chance that they'll change overnight as we sleep.  Gotta be prepared for that.  Yeah.  Anyway.  Why did I start this?  Not this entry, my life.  Why did I choose to be conceived and birthed.  I remember once when I was really young, like six or seven, I would tell my family stories that I supposedly remembered from before being born, and that I used to be a taxi driver.  I don't know what kind of alternate universe there is that there were streets, cars, and passengers in my mother's womb, but apparently I thought such a place could really exist.  And that I drove a taxi.  I was a weird kid.  Luckily I outgrew that to become a crazy man.
    I signed up for a UCB class.  This is my third improv class.  It should be fun.  And if it isn't, then I'll just act like it is fun!  Get it?  Cause that's what I'm supposed to learn how to do?  Sort of?  In a broad sense?  I wonder if Andrew Dice Clay ever told a joke, where he was saying, "A woman was listening to something, in a broad sense."  Probably not.  Oh well.  Now he's dead.  I gotta clean up my room.  My bed hasn't even had sheets on it in like six months.  That's no way to live!  Anyway.  I'll clean it up later.  That's what Andrew Dice Clay said about his act.  Do people my age even know who Andrew Dice Clay is?  I don't care.  This is for a more sophisticated crowd.  I wonder if Sophie's choice was to be Sophie-sticated.  Probably not, because that's not a thing.  But it might be to her.  It's her choice.  Or so I've read.  I haven't read a book in a while.  Books are okay, but have you heard the good news about T.V.?  Yup.  I almost finished the shit out of this paragraph.  Oh man.
    Well, yeah.  I hope I get some sleep tonight.  Two nights ago I only got two hours of sleep.  And it sucked, because being awake isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Trust me, I know.  I've been awake a good 2/3rds to 3/4ths of my life.  Anyway.  I'm doing okay, though.  Like, today, I hate Halal food.  You gotta be doing pretty good for yourself if you're eating Halal food.  Yeah.  Shit, I have two paragraphs to go?  Who the fuck is responsible for this shit?  Ah.  It's so annoying.  I keep going through old papers from highschool which were half class notes and half lyrics.  It's funny, because it reminds me of how I used to be.  In high school, I literally would just keep my eyes on my desk, and go way out of my way to avoid making contact with anyone, especially a girl.  At the time, while what I was trying to do was look normal, to other people, I must have looked really weird.  I think I got over that in college.  And now that I'm living at home, I've been doing okay.  I make a decent amount of eye contact with my parents.  But I don't hold a gaze too long.  I don't want them to think that I want to fuck them.  And that's why you always take care of your eye contact with people.
    Anyway.  That's it, I'm gonna start a cigarette, and be done by the time it's finished.  That should motivate me!  And motivate my body to get lunch cancer.  I mean, lung cancer.  I wouldn't want to have lunch cancer.  Or breakfast AIDS.  You get the drift, right?  My yearbook quote was supposed to be, "Wouldn't it suck if someone you loved gave you AIDS?  On purpose?"  But they rejected it.  They didn't even give me a chance to write a new one, I just sent that in, and when I got the yearbook, my quote was blank.  Way to stifle your alumni's creativity, dummies.  I'm halfway through that cigarette.  And that cigarette, my friends, is, uh, uh.  Halfway done?  Yeah.  Eh, lets end it now.
 

-8:18 P.M.