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Friday, November 1, 2013                      

This Better Be Good

    It's November!  Hooray!  I mean, I knew it would be November eventually, but it sure caught me by surprise.  "Surprise" is one of the most pleasant words in the English language.  It usually insinuates something very good and unexpected is about to occur.  Sure, there could be bad surprises.  Like, say North Korea drops a nuke on Japan.  The headline would be, "Surprise!  Surprise Attack On Japan."  And that's a patently bad thing, I think.  When we're born is really the first and biggest surprise birthday of our lives.  No one even knew it would be our birthday.  Unless if it was a C-section.  After a c-section, when the doctor hands the mother her baby for the first time, she could easily say, "I knew it!"  No surprises there.  As a prank, after a mother gives birth, the doctor should hand her a kitten.  Or maybe a robot, and then say, "The revolution has begun!"  So, Halloween was yesterday.  We bought maybe 5 or 6 bags of fun-sized candy, and we had a total of 2 trick or treaters.  We could have given them each two bags of candy.  But did we?  I forget.  Probably not.  I wonder if they have Halloween in prison.  Sure, every time you go to a cell and say, "trick or treat!" you risk getting raped, but the reward is CANNNNNNNDYYYYYY.  If I was Andy Dufrane in The Shawshank Redemption, when Red says, "I'm a man who can get you things," I would have just said, "Get me candy.  Lots of candy."  Because when your in jail, and you have a sweet tooth, you might as well make the most of a bad situation.
    So, it's raining today.  This is pertinent information.  What isn't pertinent information?  You got me.  I like how in the trailer for After Earth, Will Smith says, "Everything on this planet has evolved to kill humans."  Everything in my head has evolved to write crazysheet entries.  The mayoral election is next week.  I'm voting for the guy who's a career politician.  You know career politicians are good, because they spend their whole careers perfecting the art of representing the people.  Snort.  De Blasio is most likely pretty good, though.  That's what they tell me.  I don't trust them, though.  They've led me astray too many times.  I wouldn't want a lead ashtray.  I think lead is flammable.  Most ashtrays aren't flammable, for obvious reasons.  I don't get The Shawshank Redemption.  Spoiler Alert: the main character tunnels out of prison to freedom.  What I don't get is, why did tunneling through the wall work?  It should have just gotten him into his neighbor's cell.  Another plot hole: there's a guy who shows up and proves the innocence of the main character, and the main character tries to get him to testify so he could be released.  But, if that happens, they'll eventually find out he was making a tunnel to escape, and then he'd have to stay in prison for that crime.
    Oh well.  What else is up.  I drank some coffee, and now my heart hurts.  That's not supposed to happen.  My coffee mug is from White Castle.  It says, "White Castle: Real Good Coffee."  It also says, "Since 1921."  I don't think White Castle was serving coffee in 1921.  That was before coffee was even born.  I remember my sophomore year in college, I walked all the way from Water St. to midtown to get White Castle, and I distinctively remember thinking, "This wasn't worth it."  Oh well.  A journey of a ten thousand miles begins with a single step.  And most journeys of ten thousand miles just aren't worth it.  That would make a good car commercial.  Voice Over: "A journey of a thousand miles takes a single step," and then a car drives into frame.  "Why not get there quicker?"  And then the car shoots off.  I'd like to hire a taxi, and then at a red light, get out of the taxi, and get up on the hood, and say, "I'm the king of New York!"  The taxi driver would be confused.  And then the taxi would hit an iceberg and we'd all drown.  I think I once drank Iceberg vodka.  That's kind of like drowning.  I think calling them "icebergs" is pretty generous.  I think "iceplot," or, "icesurface," are more accurate.  I guess for polar bears it could be a "burg."  Not for people, though.  I don't know.  I don't trust polar bears.  Why can't they just live in a warm climate like regular bears?  Frankly, I think they're trying too hard to be cool.
    My dad was watching The Bad Seed, and I confused it with Frankenstein.  One of those movies is where a girl gets drowned, and the other one is where a girl deserves to be drowned.  So you could see how I might make that mistake.  I think they should start making crossover movies, where famous monsters become superheroes, and famous super heroes start killing people.  Oh, Frankenstein's monster is saving us from Doc Ock!  Oh, Spiderman is terrorizing Bangkok!  I don't think terrorizing Bangkok is that super-villainy.  "Someone's terrorizing Bangkok!"  Most people would be like, "Eh."  It's already a pretty terrible place, as is.  I'd really like it if monsters became super heroes.  Jor-El coming to Freddy Krueger, "Now is the chance for you to redeem yourself."  And he becomes a good guy.  Charles Lee Ray became a Good Guy.  He still killed innocent people, though.  It was just a title for him, really.  I don't get why Chucky from Child's Play is such a scary villain.  It's basically the same as if a dwarf started killing people.  He's pretty easy to stop.  Just pick him up and throw him at a wall.  Problem solved.  The doll is probably even easier to kill, because he'll probably fall apart easily.  I assume the doll was made in China, to cut back on production costs.  I bet if Chucky was in the next Toy Story, the other toys would be pretty congenial with him, but definitely wouldn't let him into their social circle.
    God, toys are so judgmental!  They don't even know if Chucky actually killed anyone, it's all just hearsay.   I mean, I would like to believe he killed people, so they could be right, but where's the evidence?  LET HIM BE YOUR FRIEND.  It's 2013.  If cowboys and astronauts can be friends, then potato heads and serial killers could be friends.  I have a dream that all toys are created equal.  Except for Bill Cosby.  He's better than other toys.  Because he was a man.  Lets face it, people are better than toys.  Anyway.  I don't remember particularly liking any toys as a child.  I'm part of the video game generation.  When I was really young, I remember liking train sets, where you make your own track with pieces of track.  And I used legos, I remember.  And as an adult, I guess my guitars are sort of like toys.  But that's about it.  I remember in 3rd grade, I had a portable electric fan.  That was pretty fun.  And in college, I knew someone named Yot.  That's toy backwards.  I remember when I was really young, I had these towels I used to carry around, as some toddlers have "blankys," or whatever.  And I was really attached to them.  But I remember, one day, when I was 2 or 3, I just woke up, and thought, "No more."  And I went to my parents bedroom, so they could see, and just threw them in the trash.  We all gotta grow up, sooner or later.  I imagine.  That's what I've been told, at least.

-1:19 P.M.           

Sunday, November 3, 2013                      

I Think You Should Leave

    Good morning, internet!  I had a weird "It's a Wonderful Life," type dream last night.  I won't go into details, mainly because I forget all of them, but suffice to say, I woke up with a brand new attitude.  Then after 20 minutes of watching T.V., I became the exact same person as I was last night.  A curmudgeon who contemplates suicide.  I don't know if Jimmy Stewart was really a curmudgeon.  I never saw the movie.  I'm basing that more on A Christmas Carol.  Which I never read or saw.  Also, I don't really contemplate suicide.  I'm a fan of handball.  Suicide is too simplistic for me.  In elementary school, we used to play suicide in the yard.  It's like Spin the Bottle, but the person who the bottle lands on has to kill themselves.  It's really more of assisted suicide, I guess.  We also used to play Freeze Tag.  That's a good game for out of shape people.  Just get frozen, and you can sit down and twiddle your thumbs.  I've never twiddled anything.  I don't think.  I'm pretty sure underage twiddling is against the law in this state.  Of course, I am of age.  I still don't see the point in twiddling, though.  Frankly, I think it's a little gross.  Unsuccessful movies have a little gross.  Are you impressed I know homonyms?  Cause I am.  Gross(e) is also French for oil.  Are you impressed I speak French?  I know how to say oil, thank you, and Buongiorno.  Sounds like America's foreign policy for the middle east!  BAM.  That's funny if you forget that we're involved in two wars there.  You might have forgotten.  It's okay, I forget sometimes too.  Qu, I looked up grosse online and it didn't say anything about oil.  My French/English dictionary lied to me!  I'm putting that book on my, "things to assist in suicide" list.  Man, is that disappointing.
    I bet dead people are really good at freeze tag.  If you think you win by being frozen.  Which some people might.  I got tagged and now I'm frozen!  I WIN!  Sit down and have a sandwich, or something.  It makes sense.  Ah, grasse is oil.  I was this close!  That means I was as close as italics is to regular.  And it actually means, "oily," not "oil."  Oil is the oiliest thing there is, though.  They should have dunk tanks, where instead of dunking the person in water, they dunk them in oil.  I'd laugh heartedly at such a thing.  No way I'm misusing any of those words.  I think there's a movie where someone holds a gun to someone else, and then it turns out it's a water gun, and they think they're okay, but then they shoot them with oil and set them on fire.  I'm 100% sure that happened in a movie, and I think that's great.  I think oil should run for president in 2016.  Imagine the campaign rallies.  "Oil!  Oil!  Oil!"  Oil would be a shoe-in.  Or at least the Beverly Hillbillies.  They'd be a good president.  I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I got Newport 200s.  What dreams may come.  When you're drilling for oil, is it more like you're jerking the Earth off, or butt fucking it?  Or is it both?  These are questions that need answers.  I guess it depends on if you see oil as cum or shit.  I hope in most butt fucking equations, you don't actually make the recipient shit.  "Oh, I made you cum shit!"  That's the oiliest thing I've ever written. 
    Anyway, let's get back on track.  I was almost gonna go on a 2 day trip to Atlantic City this week, but my parents nixed that idea.  I was looking forward to a little vacation, but oh well.  My parents' argument was valid, that as I sometimes get freaked out when I'm seeing a movie and have to go home, they're worried I'll get anxious there, and be stuck there.  I don't think it would have happened, I think I would have been more calm, but whatever.  It does kind of suck, though, being practically 25, and having my parents tell me what I can and can't do.  But, hey, it's a wonderful life.  I was playing computer poker on my phone, and I made a straight flush!  Who needs Atlantic City now?!  I like playing computer poker, because I just go all in every hand, and if the computer's about to win, I shut the program down.  I'm unstoppable!  I mean, you might say, "Where's the fun in that?" but given the rules and regulations, I'm maximizing my virtual profit by playing that way.  So who's laughing now?  We gained an hour of time overnight.  I woke up at 6:30.  What genius came up with this idea?  I'm not supposed to be up this early!                    
    So, what else is new.  I would like to take this opportunity to remind my readers to please check out my music page.  Just click the link that says, "Music" on the left, and you'll be directed to a page that includes 40 of my original songs.  They're not that great, but they're not that bad, either.  Well, they're pretty bad.  But they're also partly okay.  And also, 1 song is a cover.  But which one is it?  Only I know.  Well, and you, if you're familiar with the title.  Anyway.  I hate taking a drag of a cigarette and then getting smoke in my eye.  It makes me wink, and you know what that means.  You don't?  Well, I'm not gonna tell you.  How do you like them apples.  Also, I don't like candied apples.  Aren't apples sweet enough?  Some people just don't know when enough's enough.  I'm thinking about having another Bar Mitzvah.  "Come join Michael as he becomes a man... Again!"  I'll put it to you this way, I've done some questionable things since first becoming a man, and would appreciate the blank slate.  I remember I ditched my own Bar Mitzvah party to go hang out at a friends house.  It wasn't a big party, like most people have, it was just a lunch in another room of the synagogue, but still.  That was a jerk move. 
    I wonder if Richard Simmons ever comes onto a guy, and then says, "I made a Straight flush!"  Is Richard Simmons really gay?  Who knows.  I mean, I know he's really gay, but is he really gay?  Who knows.  I like how Macklemore's song, "Same Love" is a pun.  Because it's like, homosexuality is equal to heterosexuality, and also, homosexuality is, "same love," because you love the same gender as you.  Wonderful.  "Homo" as a prefix literally means, "same."  We learned that from our fun with homonyms.  I just made a virtual $5000 dollars with two pair, with Q10 vs JK.  Virtual Johnny Chan is such a sucker.  I like how you could call unskilled people, "fish."  There's a block of sidewalk in my neighborhood that someone marked, "fish" into it before it was dry.  Now every time I walk by it, I think the sidewalk's insulting me.  Thumbs down!  Oh, you're busy twiddling your thumbs.  Well, once you're done with that, thumbs down!  Anyway.  I saw a commercial, I think for Long John Silvers, where they offer fried lobster.  That's pretty gross
.  Long John Silvers is too suggestive a name.  Thumbs down.  Thumbs down is too suggestive an expression.  Thumbs down.  Anyway, I guess we're done here.  In conclusion, I support legalized marijuana.

-11:27 A.M.                   

Do More Things

    Really?  Second entry in two days?
    I took a walk out my front door, and into the street.  Shit plays,
    I almost got hit by 13 or 14 cars. 
    It's been a while since I left my house, and I didn't go far
    I was listening to the radio, thinking about alcohol,
    And I totally got song fucked.  Song fucking is when a song
    Hits you hard, both in the brain and in the heart
    I highly don't recommend it cause it can really cause you harm
    So don't listen to the radio, shit, fuck, blah blah blah
    This website really sucks, but you can be the judge

    Anyway, I can't find my ID.  I guess I wouldn't have been able to go to A.C. anyway.  I shouldn't leave my house, anyway.  I mean, my parents are cool, I know them.  But other people?  Leave something to the imagination!  The world is weird.  You'd think being here 25 years would give me at least a B- understanding of things, but really, it's more like 46% of things.  And 71& of what I do understand is, "Don't die."  How much percent of things is, "Don't die?"  Facebook me the answer.  Actually, you can't know, because a fraction of what I don't know can also be, "Don't die."  So send me the range of percent it can be.  Anyway.  I want to go back to college.  College is a land of knowledge.  Also, boobies.  But mostly, beer.  It's been four years since I've been in a college dorm.  The last time I dormed, I had a gay roommate, which isn't weird, and another gay suitemate, which isn't weird, but they were a couple... before signing up for the room.  Which is weird.  Maybe they thought being in the same room would take the spice out of their relationship, but being twenty feet away was fine.  I don't know.  God didn't put me on this planet to judge.  You be the judge.  That's why God put you on this planet.  To judge.
    Just kidding.  No one should judge anyone.  Unless if you're on the X-Factor.  And if you are?  If you're a contestant, good luck!  May the force be with you.  Hi-Yo!  Because, "May the force be with you" is what Johnny Carson says.  I remember seeing Star Wars in theaters when they rereleased it for it's twenty year anniversary.  I remember seeing Obi Wan Canobi fighting, and thinking, "What is this crap?"  I had never seen it before.  And why is it called, "The force?"  If I wanted to learn about physics, I would have stayed in high school!  I actually took physics twice.  The second professor let us cheat on tests.  That's why I didn't take physics three times.  And because I thougt physics was about carbonated beverages was why I took physics four times.  And because I thought carbon dating was when sodas went out with each other was because why I'm an idiot.
    Anyway.  I'm gonna have some dinner, then go to sleep.  It's a regular Suite Life of Zach & Cody up in here.  I assume.  I never saw the show.  But if I did... Hello.  It would be cool if one day, I open up the door to my room, and there was a naked girl in my bed.  Then I could take her photo and masturbate to it later.  I don't have a camera.  What am I, a millionaire?  I don't even have a bed.  What do I live in, a hotel?  I wish.  I imagine Zach & Cody live in a hotel, hence the, "Suite" pun.  Man, do I get easily confused, though.  Anyway.  I'm possibly thinking about doing another music open mic in the next couple of weeks, if anyone wants to go.  I don't really wanna go alone.  That way I can get song fucked in person.  Oh, baby.  I can't believe Paul McCartney died.  I loved The Velvet Underground!  I'm always sad when people die.  I'm happy when they stay alive.  That's the antithesis.  I assume.  I didn't pay attention that day in English class.  Wannak now what makes an English muffin?  It's a muffin that says, "Ahoy Guvnah!"
    Ugh.  Anyway.  This has been a fun entry.  Now it's time to say goodbyes.  See ya!  Adios!  Hasta luego!  FiOS On Demand!  Port Washington branch!  The Dark Knight Rises!  Occupied!  Ringo Starr!  Anyway.  Life is strange.  But we try to make the most of it, don't we?  That's not a rhetorical question.  Facebook me your answers.  I'm thinking about buying two iPhones, so they could be friends with each other.  Yawn.  I gotta figure out what to do with my life.  So far, my plan has been, "Do what people tell me."  So far it's worked out alright.  I guess I could have crab cakes for dinner.  I meant that as an inner monologue.  You weren't supposed to see it.  Sorry.  If I have crab cakes, though, I'd want to make a sandwich out of it, to make it more of a meal.  Otherwise, it's not really enough.  I'm surprised more people, when they have a vendetta against the owners of a restaurant, don't order extravagant meals to be sent to fraudulent addresses.  It seems like a pretty good plan to me.

-4:57 P.M.   


Tuesday, November 5, 2013                      

I Guess This Title Is Good Enough

    Holla.  What's going on in the world.  It's election day!  The porn parody of today would be, "Erection Day."  Also the Chinese version.  Because they can't pronounce words like regular people.  That's why John Liu didn't get the nomination.  Every time he told a constituent his name, they said, "Bless you."  The WSOP Hold Em final table is down to 2 people, who will face each other tonight.  I'm rooting for, as I do in anything where I have nothing else to go on, the shorter guy.  He's currently the chip leader, so that's good.  I haven't played poker with a real person in years.  I think if I was at the final table, I would just go all in every hand without checking my cards.  That'll get people's attention.  That's what poker players are playing for, right?  Attention?  Besides, worst case scenario, is they call and have you dominated... and you still have a 20-40% chance of winning!  If you won the final table by just going all in every hand, people would remember you forever.  Probably as, "The Guy Who Ruined Poker."  I don't have the discipline to play poker anymore.  I used to play all night, but I think now I'd start losing focus after 20 minutes.  Because I'm on drugsies.  My channel 11 isn't working.  That's the Maury/et al. channel.  What kind of sorcery is this.
    Good news!  I no longer have to sleep with a night light!  I wish that was a joke.  Since I've been out of the hospital, a year and a half ago, I always used to leave the T.V. on, on mute.  But now, darkness does not scare me!  It's just the opposite of light.  What's so scary about that?  The other opposite of light is heavy.  "This is heavy, Doc."  "No, Marty, it's dark!  When it's night time, we say it's dark, not heavy!"  "You're right, Doc."  Just some dialogue from a movie.  Sometimes, when I'm using the toilet in a McDonalds or something, and they have the kind of lock where you push the button in, I get paranoid that that's not really a, "lock" button, so I try to relieve myself really quickly.  So far, no one's walked in on me... but no one's ever been at the door, either.  So I guess I'll just have to continue not knowing until fate steps in.  And the toilet is always set up, so that if someone walks in, they get a view of everything.  Personally, I think the people who design the bathrooms of public places are probably voyeurs, themselves.  It makes me sick.  They have those kind of locks on the bathrooms on LIRRs.  And that's the worst, because you don't want someone to walk in on you on a train, because then the whole train will know about it.
    That paragraph was fun.  Night lights and bathroom talk.  Welcome to my world, holmes.  I started drinking soda out of a coffee mug.  Then I stopped.  With good reason!  Actually, with no reason.  Except that it just didn't feel right.  I'd like to design and build the world's biggest coffee mug, and then the guy from the Guinness Book of World Records will come, and he'll just sarcastically say, "Yeah.  You did it."  Then roll his eyes.  I'm really doing it all for that reaction.  It would amuse me.  So, I guess on January 1st, Bill De Blasio is going to be, "America's New Mayor."  I hope the rest of the country is ready for his progressive views on things such as progression.  He's married to that woman from the Progressive car insurance ads, I think.  They make a cute couple.  It does force the question, though, is America ready for Progressive car insurance?  I guess we'll find out.  It does have the, "Name your price," tool.  That should be popular among politicians.
    Anyway.  I'm not here to judge.  I'm here to entertain.  Or to fill time.  I forget.  I like how on election day, kids get the day off, but teachers still have to show up.  I guess they teach each other.  I remember, my first job was as a camp counselor, at the elementary school in my neighborhood.  All I remember was, I was helping counsel the pre-K class, and I would just sit in a corner and read Jurassic Park.  The book.  I remember wishing I could counsel the older kids, so I could play kickball and dodgeball.  Oh well.  At least this way, I learned the pretty significant plot differences between Jurassic Park the movie, and Jurassic Park the book.  And then promptly forgot them.  I also remember reading them some short story I wrote, for some reason.  This was when I was like in like 6th or 7th grade.  I think I must have had an assignment the previous year in school to write a short children's story, or something.  It's not even 5:00, and it's already getting dark out!  I'm scared!  Hold me.  It would be cool if someone installed a laser light show to play on their ceiling.  Cool, or extravagantly boring?  I mean, by the second night, you'll be like, "I saw this one before!"  So there goes that idea.  I'm down to 142 pounds.  I've lost over 50 pounds since January.  It's because I'm awesome.  I still want to lose another 15 or so, but I got all the time in the world!  Well, at least like fifty or sixty years.  And then, after I die, I'll lose all that pesky water weight.  And all weight, except for bones.  And then, even those will disappear.  It would be funny if Marty Macfly gained 200 pounds, surprised Dr. Brown at his home, and said, "This is heavy, Doc!"
    Yep.  So, the YouTube awards were this past Sunday.  I'm still waiting for the Facebook awards.  That way, when the winner says, "You like me!  You really like me!" they'll really mean it.  So, in conclusion, get out there and vote.  Polls don't close for another four hours.  I would have voted, but I'm not registered.  And I'm not registered to protest how easy it is to register.  If idiots like me can vote, the country must be in bad, bad shape.  For those of you who can't understand sarcasm, that joke included it.  I am not in favor of citizenship tests or other such things to be a requirement for voting.  Except for not allowing early voting in places where the tendency to vote early runs high in Democrats.  That just makes sense.  For those of you who can't understand sarcasm, you should have learned how to understand sarcasm by now.  I already explained it to you once!  Back when I was camp counseling, I asked a kid, "Do you understand sarcasm?" and he said, "What's that?" and I was like, "Are you fucking with me?"  Anyway.  Peace out.

-5:22 P.M.                               

Wednesday, November 6, 2013                      

And That's The End of That Chapter

    Hello.  I really should write the entries before I write the title.  I have no idea if this entry will convey the message of, "And that's the end of that chapter," or not.  Surely, the entry will end.  So that will be the end of this chapter.  In addition, the existence of this entry ends the chapter of either this website, my life, or some situation in the world that preceded the titling.  I used to be scared that a homeless man was living in our attic.  I've never even been in the attic, it's really small, and if you put too much weight up there, in certain spots, it will collapse.  I remember when I was really young, I misinterpreted this information, and imagined the attic literally having holes in the floor.  You'd think looking up and seeing a complete ceiling would have settled that confusion for me, but no way.  I still have never seen what the attic looks like.  Even with living in this house for 25 years, there's still some mystery left.  Wonderful.  I would go up there and check, but I don't want to risk the floor collapsing, and then saying, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" to my parents.  I don't particularly want to go up there, anyway.  What would I say to the homeless man who lives there?  I guess if he lives in our attic, he's not really homeless.  But this freeloader doesn't even pay any rent.  And he's always watching me through the vents.  What's he up to?
    If I was homeless, I'd just go door-to-door, and ask, "Can I live here for awhile?" until someone says yes.  Pretty straightforward stuff.  Why don't homeless people just commit crimes so they can go to prison?  I mean, I'm sure some small percentage of them do do that, but why don't they all?  Maybe they just love the homeless lifestyle.  No rules, no one saying what you can and can't do, all the public urination you could imagine.  I once peed in a subway station.  I don't think that's real outlandish.  If I made a habit of it, fine, that's no good.  But once?  C'mon.  And by subway station, I mean I peed over the extra ingredients section in a Subway.  What?  I had to go!  No one's gonna notice.  It's Subway, for Christ's sake.  It's probably healthier than ranch dressing.  Does urine even have calories?  I'd like to play a poker hand, and say, "I'm in," and then the dealer will say, "Urine."  And I'll be like, "Yeah, what of it?  I like puns.  Just deal the cards, asshole."  And then he'll say, "No, the ante is urine."  And I'll be like, "Oh yeah, where are my manners."  I don't know what kind of depraved people are gambling with urine.  That reminds me of a friend I had in middle school, who, at sleepovers, always wanted to play a game called "Soggy Biscuits," where each person cums on a cookie, and the first person who can't produce any more cum has to eat the cookie.  At the time, he made the game seem exciting, but now I'm starting to question the intentions and character of a man who really wants to play Soggy Biscuits.  Also, maybe it's just me, but it seems like the first person who can't cum anymore will be the person who went first, on the second go-around.  Unless you give him, at the very least, another half hour or so.  And that story reminds me of a time when me and my brother were younger, and we told our dad that we wanted something called "Cherry Biscuits" from Dunkin Donuts.  We made it up, just to mess with him, and he totally went there and asked for cherry biscuits, and they told him they didn't have any.  It was a story we would remember for years to come.  That reminds me of a story where my mom had cancer and had to have surgery.  Those were grave times.
    She's okay, now though.  Just to clear the air.  I keep telling her to quit smoking, though.  I tell her, if she quits smoking, I'll quit smoking, as extra motivation.  But she won't.  These are grave times.  I also hope they legalize medical marijuana in New York, because I think she could probably replace smoking tobacco with smoking weed, which wouldn't kill her.  Anyway.  I'm not saying she wants to smoke weed, by the way.  Just to clear the air.  That's all my idea.  And I'm not saying the guy who wanted to play soggy biscuits wanted to eat cum.  I'm just relating the facts of a story in a way to make it more interesting.  Maybe he just wanted to watch his friends eat cum.  I'm not here to judge.  Man, this entry really went off the rails.  So, this Obamacare stuff is going on.  I don't get the big deal.  OH, THE WEBSITE IS HAVING DIFFICULTIES.  I NO LONGER APPROVE OF THE PRESIDENT.  It's a technical issue of a website.  Calm down.  I don't really care.  The news doesn't effect me like it used to.  Ever since I started thinking everything was about me, everything else just went out the window.  I should clarify that that was a joke.  I no longer think everything is about me.  Now, I think everything is about Spiderman.  He's out there, and people are really obsessed with him.  This makes no sense. 
    Spiderman's lucky he lives in New York City.  If he lived in, like, Albany, he wouldn't be able to use his web as much to get around.  Unless he just uses his web to get around quicker at ground level.  We've never seen that from Spiderman, but there's no reason he can't do it.  In Spiderman, he invents the thing that makes the webbing, right?  What if some corporation figured out his design, and then everybody could use it.  I have a feeling he'd lose a lot of momentum if he didn't have exclusive rights to his web use.  Anyway.  The Exorcist is on later.  I think I'm gonna try to watch it.  I have said several times that's the scariest movie in the world to me.  And, even worse, after I see it, I'm gonna have those pictures and sounds stuck in my brain.  But, as a dear friend once told me, we have to fight off our demons.  I don't know why I said, "dear friend."  It was just someone in the hospital.  Hospital buddies are pretty important, though.  They help hold together your social fabric.  Anyway.  I'm probably gonna see a movie sometime this week.  It's between Ender's Game, Bad Grandpa, and Last Vegas.  And nothing.  Nothing may win.  Half because I just don't want to walk to the theater and back.  There's a big hill involved, and one of the ways includes going up the hill, which I'm not a fan of.      
    Also instrumental in my decision is the likelihood of rain.  The likelihood of rain in my neighborhood.  I got in one little cloud, and my Mom got scared.  She said you're moving with your Auntie and Uncle to beneath the ground, where the rest of The Undergrounders live.  I mean, what?  I was just looking through an old spiral notebook, and in the back, they have a long list of frequently misspelled words.  But in the whole list, not one of the words is misspelled!  False advertising.  Anyway.  I'm doin' fine.  Hmm, it has the words, "All right."  Does that mean alright isn't a word?  Because Microsoft Frontpage would have to disagree with you, there.  Who do I trust, computer or notebook?  Or, forget this dilemma ever existed?  Option three: check the internet!  AH!  The exciting conclusion!  Some people consider Alright a word, some don't.  Oh, is that it?  That's great.  That's alright with me.  I mean, it's all right.  How come people don't use the word, "University," to describe, "the qualities of the universe?"  Because they're urine betting-Spiderman obsessed- Exorcist watching abnormalities!  I think that's a good, new insult.  You're an abnormality!  If someone called me an abnormality, I'd be really hurt.  That's the end of that chapter.

-2:55 P.M.            


Thursday, November 7, 2013                      

The Best Laid Plans

    Hey friends.  I ended up seeing Last Vegas yesterday.  It was kind of bittersweet, because you gotta assume this is at least two of them's last movie.  Just joshing.  But seriously, they're old.  I liked watching it, though, because 80% of the crowd was old people, and old people are fun to be around.  They get it.  I'm getting Chipotle later today.  That's always a highlight.  I remember once, in 2010, I got chipotle from around NYU, brought it back home, with a bottle of whiskey, and ended up throwing up all over my floor.  Good times, good times.  Good times, bad times, you know I've had my share.  I forget how the rest of it goes.  Anyway.  I ended up not watching The Exorcist last night.  I was talking about it with my mom, and just talking about it scared me.  So I called an audible and canceled the recording.  There goes that.  I wonder if mute people call regular people, "audibles."  Probably not, because they can't talk.  So, the month is winding down.  Only 2 to 23 more days.  Can you adopt people to be your grandchildren?  Or your niece or nephew?  "Welcome home from the orphanage.  This is your new home.  You can call me, "Uncle Mike."  Why not.  Did you know humans and parrots are the only two animals that adopt children?  Also, cockatoos.  I think for my birthday, since there's nothing else I can think of getting, I might get Rock Band, or something.  I like playing fake guitar and fake drums.  That would really clutter up my room.  Every great decision comes with great sacrifice.  I don't like that adage.  I made it up, and I still don't like it.
    Anyway.  I had a dream last night that I was going to get Chipotle, and then when I woke up, it turns out my Dad is going to a doctor's appointment near where the Chipotle is, which are the only times I can get Chipotle.  What kind of sorcery is this.  I hate it when stuff like that happens.  Even if the outcome is Chipotle.  Or, as my dad calls it, "Chip-aught-el."  But yeah.  I hate serendipity.  That movie was mega-boring.  Serendipity is a pretty good stripper name, though.  I bet a lot of actors suffer from Post Dramatic Stress Disorder.  Sorry.  I like how Teddy Roosevelt said, "Speak softly, but carry a big stick."  Why is Roosevelt fighting with sticks.  My version of that would be, "Speak loudly and carry around marbles."  Or, "Wear glasses and eat sushi."  Or, "A stitch in time saves nine."  Or, "Smoke cigarettes and scowl at strangers."  All good foreign policy options, in my opinion.  I don't like speaking softly and carrying around a big stick.  You're giving them a false impression by speaking softly.  They have no idea you've got a big stick in your back pocket.
    I understand that I am consciously misinterpreting that phrase.  No fucking kidding.  I bet the guy who played Jesse Pinkman is rollin' in the pink, man.  Eh.  I had a heart murmur a few years ago, and lately I've been having some heart pains.  I should probably see a doctor, instead of just saying it on my website.  I've got healthcare under my parent's plan till I'm 26.  When I first got sick, that seemed like forever.  Now it's a year and a month.  Or two years and a month, probably.  I assume year 26 is included in that.  I'm watching Maury in the background, not really paying attention, and suddenly I hear Maury say, "You can't throw a woman in a garbage can!"  What the Hell am I missing.  When I was a baby, my brother told my mother he wanted to throw me out in a garbage can.  24 years later, I'm still upset about it.  I'll get him!  I don't know how, though.  So far, my plan has been to be congenial with him, make him think I'm his friend over the course of our whole lives, and then, when he least expects it, BAM.  Hmm.  I haven't figured out what to do for the, "Bam," though.  Write in your suggestions.  Steal his metrocard, maybe.  He'll be at the bus stop, get onto the bus, and, Oh No, discover he's missing his metrocard!  Then I'll shake his hand and tell him we're even.  Then I'll rip up the metrocard in front of him, and say, "Don't EVER cross me."
    Anyway.  No one tell him my plan.  If he's expecting it, he'll just have a back-up metrocard in his back pocket at all times.  And then where will I be?  Anyway.  I really shouldn't rip up his metrocard, I could just keep it.  Those things are valuable, to varying degrees.  It's a sin to waste metrocards.  Man, time flies when I'm writing these entries.  I just get sucked in.  I have to re-learn how to stop taking it so seriously, though.  The last couple of weeks, I've been writing a lot, and sort of letting what I write and what I determine as the quality of the entry to be to define the pace of the rest of my day.  It's just a 5 paragraph portion of silliness.  That really seems to entertain a lot of people.  To the maximum amount possible.  All in all, though, it's just a big jerk off.
    Last paragraph time.  It's about to get crazy in this sheet.  Now, enter the courtroom of Judge Mathis.  Oops, I heard that on T.V.  I could have sworn it was a voice in my head telling me what to write.  It's not confidential, I've got potential.  Rushin, rushin around.  Oh, another mistake.  That was a song playing, not my head, again.  If I was a doctor treating Gandalf, I would say, "It's not that serious.  This, too, shall pass."  And then he'd say, "Thou Shall Not Pass!"  And then I'd say, "Look, it's a kidney stone.  It's gotta pass eventually, otherwise, you're going to be in a lot of pain for the rest of your life."  Then he'd be like, "I am the great Gandalf!  I feel no pain!"  Then I'd get frustrated and tell him to leave my office.  Psh.  See ya.

-2:11 P.M.                           


Saturday, November 9, 2013                      

Pajama Directory Pants For No One to Enjoy

    Hello freakazoids.  Today is mega Saturday.  I think this'll be a fun entry.  I'm basing that on nothing.  There's nothing I can say to convince you, though.  You'll surely make up your own mind while reading the rest of the entry.  That's the secret word of the day!  "Entry!"  Now let's all kiss under the mistletoe.  Saying, "mistletoe," makes me want to watch the British, "The Office."  There's a reason for that, surely.  I remember the first time I ever drank alcohol, it was the first month of my freshman year in NYU, and I went to Panchitos with my roommate and some of his friends, and I ordered a Sex On the Beach.  That's right, the gayest drink in all of drinks, not counting man-come.  Because I'm comfortable with my sexuality!  That's a lie.  I'm sexually attracted to the E-T puppet, and Cyndi Lauper.  That's about it.  And also to the cartoon Mr. Magoo.  And you.  I'm sexually attracted to you.  I often kiss you when there's no one else around.  I get lonely.  That's upsetting.  How come in my high school gym, I never had to climb a rope, like I see in television and movie depictions of gym?  If I had to do that, I'd probably climb to the top, and then realize it's not attached to anything, and it will suddenly slip through my hands, and I'll stay in suspended animation for a second and a half, and then fall down.  I have two memories of high school gym.  One is when were playing whiffleball, and my gym teacher kept calling me "The Captain," to boost my self esteem, and in one play, I was on third base, and the pitcher wasn't paying attention at all, so I stole home (but my teammates went, "No!  No!" because they didn't trust my instincts).  The other thing I remember is doing a treadmill and staring at a girl I had a crush on do weight training.
    Oh yeah, pull those weights.  I'm comfortable with my sexuality!  If only my sexuality was comfortable with me.  One day, my sexuality and myself will become one.  Until we reach this singularity, we will exist... in duality.  I suppose.  It's the second paragraph.  Surely, you've realized that.  I was looking into getting Rock Band for my birthday.  I'm worried playing Rock Band alone will be sad, like going to Six Flags alone.  Why is it called "Six Flags?"  I know in the United Nations, there are six official languages.  Could that be it?  No.  That can't be it.  I'm looking forward to Seven Flags.  I have an appointment with my endocrinologist next week.  That should be fun.  The one good thing about going to the doctor is they usually have magazines.  I've been to some doctors where they should have novels!  Am I right?  That's a novel idea.  Ugh.  I'm also attracted to whoever the "Punk Rock Girl," the Dead Milkmen were singing about.  She sounds nice.  I remember the second time I drank, I went to a friend's dorm and had vodka.  The only thing I remember was being drunk in some girl's common room and stabbing the table through my hands, in that rapid fire game type thing, and she thought I was suicidal.  Surely, she was overreacting.  Blah.  Mr. Magoo wouldn't judge me.  He wouldn't even be able to see me, which is pretty instrumental for anyone to be in a relationship with me.
    Anyway.  What else is going on.  I remember the first night I spent in NYU, it was an overnight thing in the summer before freshman year, so we could get acquainted with things.  The main thing I remember is trying to sleep, while my one-night suitemates were partying with alcohol.  One of them happened to be someone from my high school, but I was still extremely shy, so I didn't join them.  Oh well.  You live and learn, as someone said.  Surely, they were talking about learning to drink alcohol with strangers.  Man, do I miss college.  Do I?  Yeah, a little bit.  But in my case, it's not sad, because I still have 40 credits to complete.  I guess it is sad.  But for a different reason.  I remember visiting my brother in college when I was a sophomore in high school, and listening to Sublime on the train ride to and from.  I thought it was the coolest thing in the world.  And, in the middle of the day, he got together some floor-mates to play poker, and I won.  Alright!  Yeah.  That's the end of that chapter.  College is okay, but have they heard about sleeping in your sheetless bed at your parents home every night from 8 P.M. to 7 A.M.?  They have?  And they think it's hilariously sad?  Oh.  Never mind, then.  That's surely a great way to interpret my living situation.  Nirvana has that song, "Rape Me," but I bet if someone really raped them, they'd be pretty upset.
    So that's that.  That was stupid.  College was half a decade ago.  It's time to move on.  Unless college wants me back.  Do they?  I better play hard to get.  Tell college I'll think about it!  Life is weird.  I used to know someone named Senor Weird.  True story.  This is boring.  That's how the story goes.  I remember in Hebrew School, I had a young teacher for a couple of months, and he referenced the band Phish to make his lessons more relevant.  Unfortunately, none of us knew the band Phish.  There were two girls named Lindsey in our class, who were cousins, and they both showed unwarranted dislike to me and my friends who were in the gifted class in regular school.  I once raised my hand to answer a question the teacher had asked, and one of them said, "Show off!"  I nicknamed one of them, "Monkey," and the other one, "Sideburns."  Because one of them looked like a monkey and the other one had sideburns.  I remember I had a crush on one girl in Hebrew School, and I fantasized about us going to Stuyvesant together and becoming friends (and maybe more?)  Unfortunately, she didn't go to Stuyvesant.  I was thrown off by her glasses.  So that was fun I guess.  There's not much more to that story.  I remember that girl I liked referenced Eminem's "As the World Turns" in her AOL profile, which I knew because I'm a low level stalker.  I'm a Sagittarius.  That's a true fact.  I wish I was a Capricorn.  It would make my name apropos.  Surely, who cares.  Blah.  I got two microphones and a turn table.  I have to throw up.  But I won't.  I'll show my gastrointestinal system who's boss.  Calm down.  Surely, I was talking to my gastrothefucksical system.  Here we go.  I remember half the time I would get dinner my freshman year of college, Haley Joel Osment would be there in the same 20 person room in the dinning hall room.  See, I'm practically famous!
    I guess that's interesting.  I wouldn't put money on it, though.  Anyway.  I need to rest my head.  I'll finish this entry first, though.  Surely, you'll appreciate that.  Ugh.  I think more people should floss in public.  That's fun.  I guess.  What else is new.  I hate the word, "harpsichord."  It can suck my dick.  Also, "artichoke."  Fuck those words.  No one needs them.  I think I'm going to start wearing glasses.  I don't know.  Maybe not.  Scratch that idea.  Who cares.  Life is weird.  I haven't drank Dr. Pepper in a long time.  This is relevant stuff.  I love drawing boxes.  Relevant!  For real.  Kangaroos are probably the most fun animal name to say.  You get both, "Kangaroos," and, "Marsupials," for the price of one!  Where else can you get such a great value.  Ugh.  Surely, I'm going to finish this entry now.  I might get pork chops for dinner.  because I'm a rebel and a rabble-rouser!  Also, because I love a good dinner.  Most people don't know that about me.  I also love song lyrics, board games, names, directions, and religions.  But mostly, carbonated beverages.  That's about it.  Red Sox '13! 

-5:07 P.M.


Monday, November 11, 2013                      

Why Don't You Make Like a Tree And Convert Carbon Dioxide Into Oxygen

    Hello all.  Today is 11/11.  It's cold outside!  Every now and then, I hear a train blow it's whistle from outside my house.  The weird thing is, there's no train near my house.  I mean, I suppose it could be the LIRR, which is more than a mile away.  But trains aren't that loud.  Trains aren't that loud!  I suppose it could be the Polar Express.  Probably not, though.  That was a work of fiction.  I don't like watching reality T.V. shows about ghosts.  What if the ghosts come through the T.V. and decide to haunt me?  That's why I'm scared to death of Casper.  I know he's "Casper, the friendly ghost," but that could just be a ruse to gain your trust, and then when the timings right... "BOO!"  If Casper is such a good guy, why is his spirit trapped on Earth and not in Heaven or some shit?  Something tells me he's up to no good.  Life must be pretty monotonous for a ghost.  Hang around, scare people.  Do you even get to sleep?  I've never seen a ghost sleeping.  They're always game for something.  Usually, a Ouija board.  How come ghosts try to scare you when they're being summoned by Ouija board.  I'd probably send the message, letter by letter, "Hi!  Nice to be here!  What's your name?"  I don't think Ouija boards have exclamation marks.  I wonder if, for Ouija boards, they're like twitter, and follow the 140 characters and less rule.  Otherwise, you'd probably get some boring, blowhard ghost boring you with his life story.  Or his death story.  Or his after-death story.
    Since trees die to make paper, I wonder if paper is haunted.  I wonder if anyone ever tries to summon Jesus through a Ouija board.  They'd probably get a message like, "This isn't my thing, sorry."  Before cell phones, people used to communicate through Ouija boards, right?  I mean like back in the '70's.  Right?  I wonder if anyone ever gets haunted after summoning a spirit through their Ouija board, and then when the spirit beckons them out loud, they're like "Woah, I totally did not imagine you sounding like that.  What accent is that?"  I wonder if people in prisons use Ouija boards when they're lonely.  Sure, you get only one phone call a day, but you can talk to all the dead spirits you want!  Moving on.  I'm not particularly scared of summoning ghosts through writing about ghosts in my website.  If there's a ghost that reads my website, I'd be more than happy to make their acquaintance.  Ghosts can be pretty opinionated, though.  "Why don't you tell more stories from your life?"  Shut up, ghost!  That one might not have been a ghost, that might have been my mom.  There should be an impressionist who does a comedy special called, "140 Characters Or Less."  And then he does Jack Nicholson for 90 minutes, and at the end, says, "I said or less!"  And then bows and exits, stage left.  I think more people should go out with ghosts.  "Rachel?  Oh, she's great.  She died of cancer last year.  I gotta tell you, I think she's the one!"  "Vernon is such a great guy!  Ignoring the demon head,  I think we're really hitting it off!"  "Mary?  She's hideous dude.  She would totally scare you to death!"  "Mork is wonderful!  Wait, I think he might just be Robin Williams."
Robin Williams isn't dead.  Robin Williams isn't dead!  Too much?  Did I ever mention I like drawing boxes.  That's where they got the idea for that movie "Cube," from.  Me drawing boxes.  That's also where boxing comes from.  I gotta get out of here.  Three paragraphs to go!  I like how there's a movie called, "Cube," and a movie called, "Sphere."  You put one of them in the other, and you have a math problem.  You have a math problem!  I can quit whenever I want!  Mention parsnips.  No, ghost!  You don't tell me what to do!  Play Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.  I don't even have that, ghost!  Get out of here!  Now I hear a fire truck outside my window!  Everyone knows this neighborhood isn't protected by firemen!  That's a lie, there's a fire station 2 blocks away.  You caught me, alright?  I'll never lie again.  So, what else is going on in life.  It's 11/11.  I think I already mentioned that.  That's a buttload of 1's.  Gotta be at least 3 or 4 of them.  Maybe 7.  Why not.  I like how tiramisu has espresso in it.  That's why I drink tiramisu every morning.  I once tried breaking down a mini 3 musketeers bar into my coffee, but it turns out that doesn't dissolve so well.  When I snap my fingers, you will have no memory of the previous three paragraphs.
    Alright!  Where am I?  Oh.  Anyway.  I've got a lot of problems if I forget where I am after three paragraphs.  Unless I told myself to forget.  Did I?  Can't remember.  Anyway.  I must be blasted out of my mind.  I had a dream I was back in high school, and I felt a lot of pressure that I wouldn't be able to pass all my classes to graduate.  I've had this type of dream several times over the past year.  When I wake up, it always takes me a minute or two to realize, "Oh yeah, I did graduate," and then feel massively relieved.  Maybe it's pent up anxiety about not having passed college.  I don't know.  So, it's been four years.  Four years since four years ago.  What?  I thought I heard something.  I was wrong.  Now, let's finish this entry in style!  Blah blah pork.  Miso soup.  Tangerine headache.  Mustard gas.  Alright, truce.  No more word disassociation.  I wish they could disassinate the killing of Kennedy.  Ugh.  Here's a story.  When I was four, I got my thumb stuck in the VCR, and my dad had to call the police to get me out.  And what movie was I trying to watch?  Answer at the end of the entry.
    Well, this was fun.  Not for you, but for me.  And not really for me, but just in general.  I think just the existence of another crazysheet entry, whether people like it or not, is a generally positive thing to happen in the world.  We'll see about that.  Quiet, ghost!  No one wants you here!  I don't even remember what movie I was trying to watch.  I feel like I've let everyone down.  They should make a sequel to "Free Willy," and call it, "Free Sushi."  Thank my ghost for that one.  I don't even know what, "parsnips" means.  Man, I'm so blasted!  I never used the word, "blasted" before this entry.  Now it's a two-fer.  How delightful.  I can't believe it's been four years.  Time really does just fly by.  I wonder if any overweight person ever took a pie on a plane, and said, "This is really a pie-in-the-sky moment!"  Because he's overweight and enjoys pie.  If he's overweight, he really shouldn't be on a plane.  How do we know the plane can support him?  He's risking not only his life, but the lives of the other passengers.  And that's the end of that passage.

-1:35 P.M.              

Down With Popcorn, Up With Chocolate Milk

    Hey, for the second time today.  I was watching Summer Heights High on HBO.  It's like a mockumentry of high school.  I wonder if Rob Reiner and Christopher Guest sued them for copyright infringement.  It took me a while to realize it was a mockumentry.  It took me a couple of episodes of seeing a man in his 30's or 40's portraying a teenage girl to realize it was what it was.  And after all that exposure to the character's self righteousness, delusions of talent and attractiveness, and a complete inability to properly interact with society around them, I felt right as rain and in the right mindset to write another crazysheet entry.  Perfect.  I ate too much garlic bread today, guys.  I feel sick.  You know garlic has like so many calories, right?  Like, at least 20-50, for a 400 calorie portion of bread.  But I love it.  Oh my god, do you know who would be the best superhero?  Mario-man, from that cartoon video game thing?  Have you seen him go down those tunnels?  Because I have... over and over again... in my pants!  It's unhealthy how much I feel at ease in that character.  I'm pretty sure they based Summer Heights High on, "Of Mice and Men."  Either that, or the devil.
    Time for a new segment!  One thing I rarely talk about in these entries is, "Where do I come up with this stuff?"  So, here's an exciting new edition of...

"Where Do I Come Up With This Stuff?" 

    Last entry, I talked about a passenger on a plane.  Funny story behind that... I have a bus ticket receipt from 2009 sitting on my desk.  It made me think about travel in general.  The secrets out!              


"Where Do I Come Up With This Stuff?" 

    Last entry, I talked about an unsuccessful attempt to mix a mini 3 musketeer bar with coffee.  Well, don't tell anyone, but... I had a cup of old coffee sitting on my desk, from yesterday!  Don't tell a soul!


"Where Do I Come Up With This Stuff?" 

    For this entry's title, I talked about popcorn and chocolate milk.  Keep it in your back pocket, but... I was thinking about having a bag of popcorn for dinner, and my mom suggested I try our lactaid free chocolate milk!  I swear your honor, I didn't know! 


"Where Do I Come Up With This Stuff?" 

    Earlier in this entry, I started a segment called, "Where do I come up with this stuff?"  That one's a secret till the day I die!


    That was fun.  Does that count as one paragraph, or two?  I'm gonna say two.  So, now we're 2-5 paragraphs into the entry... who can count.  What else is new.  A couple of entries ago, I talked about a gym teacher who nicknamed me, "The Captain."  What I should have said to him was, "The correct term is pilot."  I remember I once had a dream about this teacher catching me smoking marijuana.  The really odd thing about that was I didn't even smoke at that time.  On my old ticket receipt, it says, "Adult."  They might have revoke that after that last segment.  Anyway.  I think I might end the entry right there.

-6:18 P.M.             


Tuesday, November 12, 2013                      

I Think I'll Pass

    Hello friends.  I just finished a glass of soda.  I really should go fill it up before I start.  BSB.  I like coughing up phlegm.  If I cough up some phlegm onto a tissue, I really feel like I've accomplished something.  No one understands me.  Mostly because I'm so short!  Rim job!  I might be misusing that expression.  I like espresso.  We covered that yesterday.  And if there's one thing I hate, it's to be repetitive.  Don't make me repeat that.  I had a dream last night I was back in college, and I wasn't doing any of the work for classes, but I was writing a novel.  And in the dream, it seemed like, "Oh yeah, this is what I do, I can do this!"  And then when I woke up, I was so relieved that I don't really need to write a novel.  The only thing more boring than reading a book is writing a book.  I don't even know what I would write about.  Maybe a story about a guy who gets penis reduction surgery.  That's the kind of character that'll motivate people to buy a book!  It can be called, "Downsizing."  Or maybe a book about a baby who becomes a stenographer.  He's just trying to balance his work with his relationships!  That book can be called, "Mr. Potato Dick."  A third idea is a sci-fi book where cars become humans, and humans become cars.  It sorta takes the idea from Cars and flips it on it's head.  Not really.  It sort of sticks with it.  It takes the idea of real-life cars and humans, and flips that on it's head.  That can be called, "Christine."  The only Stephen King book I've ever read was, "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon."  It's about a girl who gets lost in the woods, and I think there are monsters, too.  I don't know why it's relevant she loved Tom Gordon (who used to be the closer for the Boston Red Sox).  I think Stephen King just liked baseball, and wanted to shoe that in.
    I like baseball.  You should really cleat it in, though.  If you want to be accurate.  I remember when I was a kid, I was in little league for a few years.  My most prominent memory is playing the outfield, and literally listening to a walkman while the game was going on.  Hardly anyone would ever hit it into the outfield, anyway.  And because they wanted everyone to get a chance to play, there were usually four or five outfielders.  I don't think, in the three to four years I played little league, I ever got a hit.  Maybe once.  I remember I once hit a line drive that the short stop jumped and caught, and that was the highlight of my batting career.  I also remember, they once let me play second base for half a game, and the one ball I had to field I didn't field cleanly, so they got on first base.  It's not really my fault, though.  I'm a lefty, and you're not supposed to have lefties playing second base, because it's more awkward a throw to the first baseman.  Way to mismanage your all star player, coach.  My confidentiality suffered because of that play, and I've never been the same since!         
    That's right, I don't know words.  I was watching the first episode of season one of Californication, and it starts with David Duchovny getting a blow job from a nun.  I've never been to a church at all, not counting synagogues.  Sorta makes me interested, though.  In the show, it turns out to just be a dream, but tell that to to the actress playing the nun!  She really sucked David Duchovny's dick.  I really hope David Duchovny's friends call him, "Dutch Oven."  Assuming David Duchovny is 19 years old and in a fraternity.  I've never seen The X-Files.  But I do know two songs which reference it.  "One Week," by the Barenaked Ladies, and "The Bad Touch," by the Bloodhound Gang.  They must be doing something right if songs reference them.  I don't like the name, "Barenaked Ladies."  It's too suggestive.  Just hearing the name out loud makes me feel like coming.  There are things wrong with me, though.  The Barenamed Ladies remind me of roller blading.  Roller blading is like skateboarding for kids who are scared of falling.  I still got my fair share of skinned knees, though.  The great thing about skinning your knee, is that a scab forms, and you can have all sorts of fun with a scab.  Pick at it, pick at it again, keep picking at it, and then pull it off!  And if you did it right, maybe a new scab will form!  The fun never ends.  Man, just thinking about having a scab is making me salivate.  Great.  I like that this entry isn't funny at all.  It's reminiscent of other entries.  There should be more jokes, though.  Too bad I don't have a writer.
    Wait, I'm a writer!  Hmm, let's see what we have here.  Personal website blog, courier new, white font on black background.  Hmm, okay, let's see.  Alright, I'm picturing it... alright, I've got it!  Write words of things until you have five paragraphs.  My job is done here.  That'll be $500.  Why am I, not only talking to myself, but charging myself?  I don't know.  Not everything has to make sense, man.  Get over yourself!  You know, I bet a lot of people visit this webpage, and say, "Anyone could do that!"  Well, if anyone can do it, why am I the only one doing it?  Because I'm lonely?  Hah!  Hardly!  Wait, you said lonely?  Yeah.  That's it.  I thought you said homely.  In which case, how dare you.  I feel like shit.  Not because of you.  You're great.  I just feel like, I'm giving and giving, and there never seems to any back and forth to this!  It's almost as if you just want to read a website without putting any effort into it yourself!  How dare you.  BE QUIET.  It's too late now.  Eh.  Too be honest, the main reason I write entries is to tune out the outside world.  And also, two be honest, how do you spell words?  I like icicles.  They make me happy.  I really need a drink.  It's pointless to say, but man, that's just how I feel.  Why do babies need milk.  Just give them mountain dew, or something.  They don't know the difference, they're babies!  Now, next on my list of "mountain do's and don'ts..." don't rely so heavily on puns.  They are but one (over-used) tool in your comedic arsenal.  It's ironic one of the rules is "don't use puns," when the segment is predicated on the use of a pun.  They sort of cancel each other out.  I don't even like saying the word, "pun."  I can only imagine how terrible it is to read it!
    Here it is, the final paragraph.  I would like to take this opportunity to remind you to click the, "Music" link on the left to check out some of my original music.  I know it seems like I'm just another loser with a guitar-playing habit, but, believe me... uh... I suppose that's fairly accurate.  And I know you're thinking, "This guy sucks at writing.  He's gotta be terrible at music, too.  Is there anything this guy can do?"  Stop thinking such negative things about me.  It's not right!  Or maybe it is.  Leave me out of it.  I'm jsut trying to get by, and so forth.  I gotta wrap this up.  In conclusion, why did I write this entry?  And in further conclusion, why did I post it to the internet?  And in second conclusion, what do I do now that the entry is finished?  And in further conclusion, why aren't I wearing any pants?  And more conclusion, Who's Gonna Want Me Now?  And moreso in conclusion, I need to lose weight if I'm ever gonna get the part of Gandhi in the school musical.  And more conclusion, is it offensive if I call myself, "The Nelson Mandela of Comedy?"  More conclusions, Why did Gandi wear a tunic?  Doesn't he know we can see everything?  And it looks like his member was on a hunger strike as well!  In more conclusions, most penises don't eat things, ever.  Well, I guess that's about it.  Stay tuned for the next entry!  Hopefully I didn't ruin crazysheet forever with this stinker.

-1:57 P.M. 

Thursday, November 14, 2013                      

That's a Lot of Paragraphs!  What?  Only Five?

    Heylo to everyone out there in cyberspace.  Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  Never before has a holiday been such an egregious combination of two distinct words.  Maybe Christ-mass.  Maybe the word, "holiday," specifically, does it.  I'm not here to mince words.  What?  Yes, I know what mince words means!  It means whatever I want it to mean!  It's like a Rorschach test.  I've had several pleasurable dreams lately.  Let's just say, my appetite has been whetted, and leave it at that!  But then I wake up wanting more.  More!  Yesterday I discovered I had a scar across my arm where I had never seen it before.  What kind of tomfoolery is this.  It's reminiscent of a time, in 2008, when I noticed a scar on my left hand that I had never seen before.  I noticed it after eating a bag of Doritos, and the only explanation I could come up with is that there was a really sharp Dorito, and, well, these things happen.  And, to this day, the scar remains.  It's not apparent whether this new scar will leave a scar or not.  To be clear, it isn't a scar, it's more like a cut.  I should have been clear about that.  So, Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  I wonder if you call up an Asian-Indian friend and say, "Hey man, I just want to say thanks," if they'll get offended.  My ancestors weren't here in the 1600's.  They were busy partying and getting it on in Austria and Russia.  What's the difference.  Anyway, I'm excited.  I'm a big proponent of stuffing and sweet potato.  They must have been getting real bored and lazy when they got to naming, "Stuffing."  "Eh, it's stuff."  Thanks for the descriptive noun, fellas.  I understand there's the alternate definition of the word, that it's, "stuffed" into something.  But most people don't stuff stuffing into turkey, or anything, they just eat it, as is.  Get your facts straight!
    Anyway.  I don't know what to do with my time anymore.  Watch more T.V. is all I could think of.  There must be a better alternative, though.  I keep checking my cut to see if it's turned into a scar.  Nothing yet!  We're out of saltines.  I know, I know.  I'm as disappointed as you.  So, I heard India is officially a "sub-continent," now!  That's exciting news.  If Australia can be a continent, why not.  They're lowering the bar for everyone.  I was thinking about, as I'm prone to do, the T.V. show, "Duckman."  It's a cartoon from the 90's which stars Jason Alexander as a duck who's a detective.  It was on after, "Weird Science," (a T.V. show based on the movie with the same name), on the USA channel.  Pretty trippy stuff to watch as an eight your old when you're up past your bedtime on Saturday nights.  Now I kind of want to eat Peking duck.  I don't know if I've ever had it before, but suddenly there's a part of me that feels, "Yeah, I would like to eat a duck."  I must have had it once or twice.  If I remember correctly, it's mostly bone.  I don't know about you, but I eat the bones.  I paid thirteen dollars for this bird, and I'm gonna make the most of it!  Either I digest it, or I don't.  That matter will work itself out, in the way that it does.  I'm not going to bore you with the details.  I poop out what I don't digest.  There, that's what happens. 
    Third paragraph time.  That's exciting.  So, terrible things going on in the Philippines, right?  I believe that's in India, somewhere.  Sometimes I think about the global population numbers, and out of six or seven billion people, 300 million are Americans.  This number seems both ridiculously high and ridiculously low at the same time.  It's high, because 300 million is a lot of people, but it's low, because there's a shitload of people who don't get to be American.  I mean, just think how lucky you are to be American.  We've totally got it made.  Most people (not some, most) live in much, much worse conditions than we do.  I don't care how bad you think your life is, you've already won the jackpot, as far as I'm concerned.  Well, maybe not the jackpot.  But the equivalent to the, "Free Big-Mac," on the McDonalds monopoly game.  I used to get Big-Macs with only the meat and the bread.  This was before they developed, "double hamburgers."  This is relevant because it's my fuckin' website.  Wow, it's almost 4:00 P.M.  That's hilariously close to my bedtime.  I usually go to bed around 5:30, and fall asleep around 8:00.  It gives me a lot of time to think on things.  And hopefully prepare myself for a whet dream.  To be honest, I don't think I've ever had a wet dream.  I've had dreams about sex, but never with ejaculation.  This is relevant because it's my fuckin' website.
    Second to last paragraph time.  What else is new.  I've gotten in the habit of watching online poker on YouTube.  For some reason, it captivates me.  I like it even better than watching live poker (even if you can see the hole cards).  It's just more efficient, in a way.  Mostly, in a way that doesn't mean, "efficient."  But I'm going to stand by my choice of words.  Let's move on.  Second to last paragraph time.  What else is new.  WTF, it's been 20 minutes since I said, "It's almost 4:00 P.M."  I don't want you to know how long it takes to write this crap!  Anything over 20 minutes is pretty embarrassing.  This is fun.  I hope it continues to be fun.  This is fun.  I hope it continues to be fun.  There's no reason it won't. I just need to keep typing until it's fun.  That's a good idea.  Just keep typing.  It should be fun eventually.  That's my plan.  Just keep typing until it's fun.  It's fun for me, and it should be fun for you too, I think.  That's my modality.  There's a lot of reason that it should work.  Life is full of wondrous treats.  Anyway.  I forget what I was saying.  I think my life is crazy, but it's funny, it should end.  That's something I told myself while thinking about what write.  Now, to complete the paragraph!  Completing things is always the hard part.  There's a lot of things that I don't know.  Hey.  What's up?  I either took a half an hour break or a 5 minute break.  There's no way of knowing.  Either way, let's write a last paragraph!
    What else is going on.  Blah blah blah porn.  Wait, I've never talked about porn here!  I haven't looked at porn for months.  I'm scared my computer is bugged.  Other way, I'd watch the shit out of porn!  Anyway.  I gotta get some sleep.  Otherwise, how will I be awake tomorrow?  Out of habit?  C'mon.  I gotta get some sleep.  For real.  I gotta finish this entry so I could go to sleep.  Alright?  I just woke up again.  That's it.

-5:39 P.M.                                                   



Wednesday, November 20, 2013                      

I Don't Have Time To Write A Title!

    Hello friends.  This is a new entry.  Hopefully you've figured that out on your own.  I have an appointment with the endocrinologist tomorrow.  Afterwards, Chipotle.  That's what I call a good day!  I don't know why seeing the endocrinologist is particularly good.  I'm proud of the way I've kept care of my thyroid, and I want it to be recognized and for everyone to know it!  I saw my therapist on Monday, and I realized my social tendencies have evolved simply to talk to my crazy peers.  Basically, not really listen to what anyone says and just answer in the affirmative.  Because only 20% of what they say is appropriate or makes sense, but I don't want to offend them, obviously.  For example, a standard interaction is like, "What's your name?"  "Mike."  "Like Mike Tyson?"  "Yeah, yeah."  "I bet Mike Tyson would beat the shit out of you in a fight."  "Yeah, (chuckle), I know."  It's that kind of stuff, over and over.  Anyway, that's that.  I don't like video games.  Why pay sixty dollars when you can have fun with a ball and cup.  Do they still manufacture Ball & Cup?  I've never actually played it.  It seems pretty captivating, though.  And the best thing is, you're not bothering anyone.  That's something I should have got when I was in the hospital.  They might not let you use it there, though.  It's too stimulating.  One of my main memories from the last time I was in the hospital was that was during the popularity of Jeremy Lin of the New York Knicks.  So, for me, Linsanity had a special meaning in my heart. 
    It doesn't surprise me that an Asian is good at basketball.  When I was in middle school, we would play football in the yard, and the best player by far was an Asian guy in my class.  Smarts and athleticism?  Sign me up!  I remember in middle school, something a couple of boys in my class sometimes did, and I may have on occasion, was, during the break during classes, memorize the schedule of attractive girls, and follow them around in-between classes, to look at their asses.  I said I may have done that, but I don't think I ever did, I just wanted to say it so it's more relevant for me to talk about.  This is disturbing, but I remember walking around in-between classes, and imagining shooting up the school.  What?  I'm free to think what I want.  It's tough being a four foot ten tall gifted kid in sixth grade.  Girls would look at me with disgust.  I'm over that period of my life, though.  I haven't wanted to shoot up anything since that time I did heroin.  And I've never really done heroin.  So I don't want to shoot up anything.  Now I'll shoot up the internet with comedy bullets, and the death will be the audience's laughter!  I like that movie Shoot Em Up.  I saw it in college, and it was downright entertaining.  I like how two of the biggest comedians ever are Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Cosby.  Because it's math.  Sine and cosine?  Never mind.  I remember I had a math teacher in sixth grade who actually went out of his way to tell his parents that I was funny and I brightened up the environment of the class.  That's a pretty good achievement, I think.  Oops, I meant to say tell my parents, but I think it's funnier if he told his parents.  Maybe he did tell his parents.  I don't know.  I remember it once was his birthday, and he told us his age was a prime number, but wouldn't tell us what it was.  I think it was in the high forties, so his parents may very well have been dead.  So I told him that, and he thusly revoked his endorsement of my comedy.
    I was thinking about my future, and how I'd like to have a family one day.  It really sucks, though, because I lost, so far, five years of my young adulthood living at home and not meeting any girls.  If I have a family at around 40, I only have ten to fifteen years to fuck around, and even then, I have to start thinking about marriage as a real concept to think about.  Time flies when you're doing nothing.  And I wouldn't want to have kids much past 40, I don't want to be in my sixties and having to raise a teenager.  It's not fair to either of us.  I probably shouldn't have kids anyway.  I don't want to pass my, "shoot-em-up," genes to anyone.  So, that's fun.  My parents were both married when they were my age (to other people).  That's kind of crazy.  Here's an interesting thought I've had, sort of relating to shooting up the school.  I used to imagine that a wall would suddenly form in the classroom, isolating me and a female classmate, and we'd be stuck there forever and have to have sex.  Thinking back, that's a pretty hilarious thought.  So, the new Hunger Games is coming out.  For a long time, I assumed the Hunger Games was a family drama about an anorexic girl.  I still don't really know what it's about. 
    Anyway.  I shouldn't have said that stuff about shoot-em-up.  It could be taken out of context.  Or, worse, it could be taken in context.  In contrast with that, when I was in eighth grade, my chorus teacher nominated me for an award in which I was deemed the title of, "Hometown Hero."  I think just for my general awesomeness.  So, in middle school, redemption is possible.  We all make mistakes.  I mean, I was never gonna act on it.  I was 10 years old, where was I gonna get a gun?  This isn't Florida.   And if it was, would taking a few Floridians out of the mix really be such a bad thing?  What?  Too far?  Fine!  I see how it is.  If I lived in Florida, I'd vote for Pat Buchanan every presidential election, and keep saying, "He'll come back!  He'll come back!"  Because I'm borderline retarded.  So, that's how that goes.  What else is going on.  I put together another mini-album of 5 songs to put on my music page.  I'll get around to uploading it, eventually.  Then I'll have 45 songs up, which I think is a pretty good, round number.  Judging by the response to the songs already there, though, nobody gives a crap.  Which is okay.  This entry is kind of depressing.  I really don't want your take away from this entry to be, "Michael Wants To Kill People."  Because it couldn't be further from the truth.  Well, I guess it could be further.  But it's still not accurate.
    Last paragraph time.  I was at Starbucks yesterday, and on my cup, they spelled my name as, "Micheal," so I was like, I guess this is my name now.  Pretty sure Starbucks cups are legally binding.  So, that's how that goes.  I've been playing a lot of computer chess lately.  I play it against the easiest difficulty, because I like to win.  And I'm not very good.  I remember when I was a kid, I was very briefly in a chess league for kids.  I don't think I did very good.  I wonder if chess pros ever mix up the rules of chess, to keep things interesting.  Kings can move anywhere they want.  Pawns can move like knights.  If you get a bishop to the end of the board, it turns into a queen.  Anything, just to mix it up.  Or maybe somehow get like a four-way chess game going.  That would be interesting.  Or confusing.  Mostly confusing.  You'd probably need a bigger board, or else you'd only have room for 4-6 pieces each.  That's what they would say if Jaws was about chess.  We're gonna need a bigger board.  I like Jaws.  He eats things.  Good for him.  Anyway.  I'd like to go to a maternity ward, and when they ask what I'm doing there, I'll say, "My therapist is always saying I should meet new people!"  Because I'm stupid.  See ya.

-12:55 P.M.                                


Friday, November 22, 2013                      

Premature Ejaculation!

    Hi friends!  Today is the anniversary of Kennedy getting shot.  It also would be my maternal grandfather's birthday, if he were alive.  Are the two connected?  I don't know.  Maybe that's something that should be investigated, though.  I guess he doesn't need to be alive for it to be his birthday.  I wonder when they first started keeping track of birthdays.  Some guy four thousand years ago was just very self centered and meticulous, and thought, "Today is my birth-day.  This is special."  If life begins at conception, why don't social conservatives celebrate their conception day?  Flip-flop!  They're gonna tell you they voted for their birthday before they voted against it!  My birthday is in three weeks.  Usually I get $100 for my birthday, and $100 for Chanukah.  Since I can't think of anything else to spend it on, I've been renting movies on demand for five dollars a pop.  Also, I'm spending it prematurely.  Why wait?  I don't believe in anything happening, "prematurely."  If you prematurely ejaculate, that's all part of God's plan.  When I was younger, for Chanukah, we used to go all out with the lighting of the menorah, and everything.  When it comes to miracles, a candle lasting longer than it normally does has to be pretty low on the list.  Not impressed, Maccabees.  And what's the deal with Gelt?  Little Jewish kids eating candy that looks like money only perpetuates negative stereotypes.
    Yeah.  I do think it's appropriate that Jewish kids learn to eat Gelt (basically pronounced "guilt") from an early age.  Social commentary!  It would be funny if during the Holocaust, a family tried to bribe German SS officers with Gelt to pass them by.  Please, take it, it's all we have.  And then give them a handful of chocolate.  I have a different sense of humor than most people, though.  I like that movie, Life Is Beautiful.  I mean, if Roberto Benigni thinks the Holocaust is beautiful, I can't wait to see his reaction to other things.  A movie about a baby being born; OH MY GOD THAT'S AMAZING.  A movie about first love; HOLY SHIT I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!  He's really setting the bar pretty high.  I might see a movie today.  I don't particularly want to, but I've got nothing else to do.  That Delivery Man movie sure looks like a movie.  It may have passed the test.  Usually Vince Vaughn is paired with another comedic lead in his movies.  I don't think he is in this one, though.  I like that shot-for-shot remake they made of Psycho with Vince Vaughn.  That means, literally hundreds of people thought, "This is a good idea."  Crazy.  I like that movie Swingers, where Vince Vaughn calls everyone, "Baby."  I guess that's how swingers talk.  The best part of it is they show them playing NHL '95 on Sega Genesis.  I used to play that with my brother.  The main thing I remember from it, was the best way to make a goal was to circle around the goal-zone and then shoot it when you come back around while the goalie is still on the other side.  So, now I know how to play hockey.  Don't bother putting me on the ice.  That would just be redundant.
    Anyway.  Sega Genesis is a pretty biblical name for a gaming system.  I like it.  I remember they used to have a Sega Genesis in my orthodontist's waiting room, but the game shut off after three minutes.  How many people really want to play a game for three minutes, and then have to start over again.  You can never even get past the first level.  Way to blow.  Oh, the second best part of Swingers was when they eat in a diner.  Fictional or not, I am a huge proponent of eating in diners.  It's probably one of my favorite things.  Dinner with your family, lunch with a friend, late night meal after drinking.  Anything that involves diners is in pretty good standing with me.  Privately owned, iHop, Dennys, whatever.  A diner is a diner is a diner.  They even had that movie, Diner.  I didn't care for that.  Even a Dunkin Donuts or an Au Bon Pain would do.  You can get coffee and pastries.  That qualifies in my book.  And to think, in the past, you could even smoke in diners!  Oh man, would that be the icing on the cake.  If the cake is your lungs, and icing is carcinogens.
    I read they raised the legal age to buy cigarettes in New York from 18 to 21.  I think that's alright.  I bought my first packs of cigarettes when I was almost 21, so if that law was in effect then, I might have never started smoking.  Oh well, you can't change the past.  I first started smoking because I had somewhat of an eating disorder, where I would basically fast for like three days, and then eat a shit load on the fourth day, and I thought smoking cigarettes would take away some of the urge to overeat.  And did it?  I don't know.  But eventually I stopped caring about my eating, and it went back to normal on it's own.  Things have a way of working themselves out.  Especially if those things are champion bodybuilders.  Meh.  I don't know what I'm doing anymore.  I want to say, "writing a website," but who knows for sure.  There are some people who know for sure.  I'm not one of them.  I got a salad from Panera yesterday.  Salads are pretty good.  I didn't start eating salads until I was like 20, but once I did, I thought, "This is pretty good!"  I don't think I've ever had salad dressing, though.  Who needs it.  I just pour hot fudge on it, and that's good enough for me.  Because that's not a real thing.  So I never did it.  That's good enough for me. 
    Final paragraph time.  I like that book, "A People's History of the United States."  Umm, "A People's history?"  Where did you learn grammar?  It's "A Person's history of the United States."  God, some people.   Anyway.  I'm satisfied with this entry.  A couple of paragraphs of low level hilarity, a couple of paragraphs of mindless chatter.  You put that together in a stir-fry, and you get a crazysheet entry.  Now, the question is what to do with the rest of my day.  The answer is, "I don't know."  Maybe go hang out at a diner.  By myself.  That actually doesn't sound so bad.  I could get a cup of coffee, relax, maybe do that maze on the children's placemat.  It would be funny if someone did that maze, and then stood up and announced, "I Did it!  I Did It!" and expect the manager to come over to congratulate him, and for everyone to applaud.  I guess.  That's what should happen.  One of my favorite diner memories, was when I first moved into NYU in the fall of 2006, and after moving everything in, having a goodbye lunch with my parents at Silver Spurs, a diner around NYU.  I was filled with such joy and excitement, and such hope and promise.  We don't have to go into details on what's happened in my life since then.  Suffice to say, a lot of sucking.  Anyway, see ya.

-1:53 P.M.                                         


Saturday, November 23, 2013                      

This Is The End of The Entry.  Just Kidding.

    Hey buddddies.  Today is Saturday.  Go ahead, try to argue with that.  You will see that it's futile.  Today is Saturday, and today will always be Saturday.  Wait, is it Friday?  No, it's Saturday.  Whew.  That's a relief.  I had to take an elevator a couple of days ago.  You know what that's like, right?  I mean, c'mon.  I don't know where I was going with that.  I like that Led Zeppelin song, "Elevator to Heaven."  I mean, if you have to take the stairs, is it really Heaven?  I'd get tired, and I need my rest.  I'd like a roller coaster to Heaven.  Or maybe a helicopter.  Get there in some style.  I wonder if when the Wright brothers invented the airplane, they had in the back of their minds, "You know, maybe we'll find Heaven."  You never know.  The Pixies have a song about a monkey going to Heaven.  Suddenly, Heaven doesn't seem so exclusive.  I mean, sure, good for the monkey.  But does that really mean that I have to share my eternal paradise with a freaking monkey?  C'mon.  I guess dogs go to Heaven, too.  They made a movie about it, so it must be true.  I guess I just always assumed dogs have their own Heaven, and so it goes for all members of the animal kingdom.  I wonder if there are dinosaurs in Heaven.  I'd like to die, go to Heaven, meet a dinosaur, and be like, "Hey, man, you've been here for 65 million years.  Got any tips for a newbie?"  What if God was a dinosaur.  No one would see it coming. 
    I remember when I was a kid, my parents got both me and my brother a toy dinosaur, and he got the velociraptor, and I got the dilapidasourus (which is the made-up venom spitting dinosaur from Jurassic Park).  Oh man, was I jealous.  My dinosaur isn't even real!  Where is the justice?  Nowhere, that's where.  Anyway.  There's nothing much going on.  I gotta get my head together.  I've been feeling kind of depressed lately.  Sometimes when I get depressed, it seems really futile, but something that keeps me going is the thought, "Most people don't ever feel like this.  It's a chemical disease," which actually kind of helps.  I'm sort of altruistic in that way.  Not to toot my own horn.  I don't even have a horn.  And I'm not a big supporter of tooting.  And even if I was, I'm not a licensed tooter.  Leave it to the professionals!  That's what I say.  I've never said it before.  But I might start saying it now.  At least once.  I've been thinking about going back to college.  I might take some classes in the spring, assuming I can get myself eligible to register in time.  I really miss the college environment.  It's been a while, though.  I wonder if, when I do go back, I'll think, "Wow, these people are young."  That's sad.  I can always hang out with the professors.  But then I'll think, "Wow, these people are old."  I guess I should just hang out with the teaching assistants.  I'll think, "Wow, these people are just right.  Except for being teaching assistants.  NERDS!"  I took a class on the history of feminism my sophomore year at NYU, and I failed the class.  I handed in the final paper late, and they just wouldn't accept it.  I think that's a funny class to fail.  The reason that's relevant was because it was the TA who failed me.  What a jerk.  I bet if I was a girl, he would have given me a C!  There should be a class on the history of meninism.  Or Mennonites.  Whatever they're called. 
    There's good reason to believe this will be the third paragraph.  Anyway.  Thanksgiving is next week.  I'm okay with that.  My family doesn't really do anything for thanksgiving.  We get a turkey, and the assorted foods, just because you're supposed to.  But that's about it.  No, I can't say my family truly recognizes the miracle that was the Native Americans sharing their food with the pilgrims.  I like American Indians.  I don't think I've ever met one, though.  That's kind of weird.  I mean, I've been around a good 25 years.  I haven't met one.  I almost get the feeling like they're avoiding me.  What did I ever do to them?  Ugh.  I like that Greenday song, "Don't wanna be an American Indian!"  Good stuff.  Anyway.  What to do with the rest of my day.  What to do, what to do.  That's a good Meat Puppets song.  I think I wanna get into Yoga.  Or at least give it a try.  Anything that can relax your body and mind is potentially a very good thing.  That's how I feel.  I know wanting to "feel good" isn't a popular position, but I'm a maverick.  My term is up in two years, what do I care?  You don't change horses in midstream!  Ask not what you can do for your country!  Just say no!  If I was running against Reagan, I'd be all over using posters that say, "Just Say No" ironically.  Cause you're saying, "No" to Reagan.  The Exorcist girl was named Reagan!  I wish my head could spin around like that.  That way I could know what's going on behind me in a moment's notice.  How come, when the demon finally leaves her at the end, she doesn't regain consciousness and realize she has a broken neck?  Doesn't make sense!
    Fourth paragraph time!  I like Poltergeist, the movie.  It's almost just a charming, family comedy-drama, but with some ghosts thrown in.  I don't like how like 5 of the main actors of that movie died within ten years of making the movie.  Boo towards the supernatural forces that killed them!  I'm not a fan.  I like the, "Just Say No," campaign.  "Hey, do you want some marijuana?"  "No."  "Why not?"  "No."  "This shit is really good stuff."  "No."  "What do you mean no?  Yes it is!"  "No."  "It is, really, I tried it."  "No."  "Well, there's no reasoning with you."  Anyway.  When I was born, Reagan was still president for a couple of weeks.  That's pretty trippy.  I don't even have one memory of H.W. being president.  I know he said, "Read My Lips, No New Taxes," and then raised taxes.  I don't remember it, I just learned it somewhere.  I don't know why he was talking to a deaf audience, anyway.  Some politician should say, "Read my lips," then pull their bottom lip down and reveal a tattoo on their gums that says, "ThugLife."  That's what should happen.  Anyway.  What else is going on.  I haven't played my electric guitar in like half a year.  It's just easier to play my acoustic.  Having to turn on the amp and everything is an extra ten seconds that I just don't have.  I remember when I first got my guitars in high school, I would stay up all night playing the electric without it plugged in.  Good times.  I used to record every time I practiced the guitar, too, for help with putting together songs later on.  I lost all those files, though.  Too bad.  It would be fun to listen to them.
    Psst.  Last paragraph time.  What's up.  I've been writing a lot of entries the last few months.  That's good, I suppose.  And the best thing is, some people read it!  How wonderful.  I should make one thing clear, though.  There are five paragraphs per entry.  I'm sorry, that's just how I feel.  You can't argue with a feeling.  That's a lie, I argue with feelings all the time.  What to do with the rest of the day.  Decisions, decisions.  Maybe stage a coup in South America.  That sounds fun.  Or trade all my cigarettes for beach towels.  That could be interesting.  Or listen to the Bible, as narrated by John Malcovich.  There are lots of good options.  I never liked the beach.  Too sandy!  Thumbs down.  And what's the deal with salt water?  Do we really need this stuff?  Write me a letter telling me how you feel.  Anyway.  We're getting near the end of the entry.  This entry was a solid something out of something.  I guess that's it.  See ya.

-1:52 P.M.                                       


Monday, November 25, 2013                      

How's The Weather... There?

    Hey!  Time for a new entry.  This one should be off the charts!  Off the charts, "good," hopefully.  This is the beginning of the entry, bro.  Get used to it!  But don't get attached.  A few sentences in, it will cease to be the beginning.  I'm telling you upfront, so please don't get your heart broken.  Anyway.  I like that expression, "There's a thousand ways to skin a cat."  What kind of monster is skinning thousands of cats?  And how can we bring him to justice?  I really doubt there's a thousand ways to skin a cat.  Maybe like forty, fifty, tops.  Next, a joke about skinheads.  In lieu of making a joke about skinheads, please accept the phrase, "Next, a joke about skinheads," with this qualifier.  Thank you.  So, I hear Thanksgiving is this week.  They better not be lying to me.  I don't want this to be like the time they told me Independence Day was in April.  Man, was I embarrassed!  I bought mini American flags, and everything.  I'm pretty sure my paternal grandfather's birthday was on leap day.  I could be mixing that up with something else, though.  I hope they make Puerto Rico the 51st state.  Then, it's to the crematorium with all the current flags.  Your service is no longer needed!  I think, if they make Puerto Rico a state, they might demote a current state to keep the even number of 50.  We need to start thinking about which state to get rid of now.  I'm looking at you, Maryland. 
    Anyway.  What else is going down in town.  I was watching Seinfeld earlier.  It's hard to me to watch Kramer now, without thinking, "Oh, there's that insane racist!"  He sort of ruined the entire show.  But my tendency is to forgive him.  I love that Kramer character!  When I watched the show as a kid, sure, you realize Kramer is crazy, but the rest of the characters seemed relatable.  Now when I watch it, I realize they're all fucking nuts.  This profound realization has changed the way I watch T.V., and live life in general.  Now I have to hold my real friends up to the standard I hold my T.V. friends.  At least, if I had real friends.  And trust me, I hold my transvestite friends up to pretty high standards.  Pretty, pretty high.  I don't get transvestites.  Oh, I'm wearing clothes of the opposite gender!  Haven't they ever heard, "The clothes don't make the man?"  Because if they haven't, I'd gladly say it to their face.  J Edgar Hoover was a transvestical.  I had a dream a few nights ago that someone I know got penis reduction surgery (this was after I mentioned it in a joke on my website a few weeks ago).  It was weird at first, but I came to the conclusion in the dream, "If this is what he wants, I guess it's not so weird."  So, that was fun.
    Anyway.  I saw a program on a pregnant man a few weeks ago.  He was born a lady, but had surgery and took testosterone and stuff to become a man.  But he still kept his female organs, and eventually became pregnant.  It's a good thing he wasn't born a man, and had to nurture the baby inside his large intestine, and then give birth through his penis man-whole.  Hey, this is interesting.  I had a dream I met Oprah.  I forget what happened, but I was really excited to meet her.  Which is a little strange, because in my real life, I'm pretty indifferent to her.  But in the dream, it was announced Oprah was coming, and I freaked out.  I don't remember much of our interaction, but I remember she was really nice.  I don't think I've ever seen an episode of Oprah.  I know I had a roommate in college who would watch a tape of her interviewing Beyonce, over and over again, but his T.V. was to my back, so I never saw it.  But now I know that if I like it, I should have put a ring on it.  Something to keep in mind for the future.  By the way, if a friend ever tells you they're going to see a taping of Oprah, the appropriate response is, "It's pronounced Opera!"  By the way, I felt pretty bad about that joke, but decided to write it anyway.  I don't get people who go to operas when they don't even speak the language.  Can you really enjoy hearing someone sing in a language you don't understand for three hours?  Unless they have subtitles.  That's something they should have at operas, a monitor with subtitles.
    Yep.  What else is new?  I like the name, "Destiny's Child."  What other bands could there be.  "Hope's Uncle."  "Serendipity's Second Cousin," "Karma Chameleon."  Wait, never mind.  Today's the 25th.  I can't wait till December.  It should be a December to remember.  I forget why.  Nobody cares.  So, it's starting to get cold outside.  You know what that's like, right?  No?  Well, you should.  It happens every year, for about 1/3 to 1/5 of the time.  I gotta finish this entry.  When's it going to rain again.  I like the rain.  I guess when I'm rich, I'll buy my own cloud so I could have rain on me, all the time.  Or maybe just dress like the Karate Kid and live in a portable shower.  That's probably more cost effective.  Oh, I got it!  There's not a thousand ways to be a skinhead, though.  They seem pretty adherent to rules and structure.  There ya go.  Anyway, this was a quick entry.  Still one paragraph to go, though.  Let's make it count!  One, two, three... that's as far as I know.  I know there's a six in there, somewhere.  Look, I'll be honest.  I know all the numbers.  I was just being facetious.  On March 14th, my Dad used to take me to a museum for something called, "Pi Day," (3.14) and they had math exhibits and stuff.  That was fun.  I assume.  I don't remember it at all.  Austin 3.14 Says, "I just whooped your ass!"  There's not a lot of jokes that combine wrestling with math.  It seems like a niche that's a real untapped market.  Well, there's, "Why is it called a ring when it's obviously a square?"  That's geometry.  I hate myself.
    Last paragraph time!  3.14159.  I know Pi to seven digits!  I mean, six digits.  I know six digits from seven digits!  I'm a brilliant!  Yes, indeed.  Hey, it's gonna rain tomorrow!  That's amazing!  Did you know the US postal service does deliver when it rains?  I had no freakin' idea!  I wonder what their policy for sleet and snow is, though.  Do they still deliver?  I'm hoping yes!  I'm bored as bologna.  New catchphrase alert!  Ugh.  I'm satisfied as Saturday.  I'm cool as a cucumber.  I thought of that, that was me.  Anyway, see ya later.  Catch ya on the flip side! 
Auf Wiedersehen!  I'm out of ways to say goodbye.  Facebook me ways to say goodbye, and I might include them in the next entry!  See, I'm making this more of an interactive thing.  Bye!

-1:49 P.M.

Ugh, I can't believe I told people to facebook me.  I can't stand these people.  I tell ya, if just one of these assholes talks to me, I'll fuckin' kill myself.  I swear.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013                      

It's Not Important

    Greetings loved ones.  This is gonna be a great entry.  I can feel it.  And if it's not, I guarantee your money back!!  Anyway.  Here we go.  I watched the first episode of that HBO show, "Getting On."  I thought it would be really depressing, because it's in a nursing home, and I thought it wouldn't be funny, because the clips I saw didn't really seem funny.  But it actually was okay. I need to start watching a new series.  There's a few Showtime series I've never watched, so I could binge watch those.  I got shit else to do.  My backup computer just turned on, inexplicably.  That's my porn watching computer.  I guess it's time to watch porn now.  Meh.  I don't do what technology tells me to do!  What is this, Terminator 3?  I never saw Terminator 3.  I did see Terminator 3-D, a 3-D show they had at Universal Studios before the real Terminator 3 came out.  I forget what happens, and it probably isn't canon.  I never even saw the first Terminator.  That's why in the second terminator, when he says to Linda Hamilton, "Come with me if you want to live," I was just like, "Go with him!  It's not like he ever tried to kill you before!"  Then I saw part of the first one, and was like, "Oh, yeah.  That's right.  I guess he did try to kill you before."  So I could understand why she'd be a little tentative.  So there's that.  But yeah, so like fifteen years ago, my family took a trip to Florida, to both Disney World and Universal Studios.  Hands down, my favorite part was in Epcot Center, in the mini-Britain area, having lunch there.  I know British people aren't necessarily known for their cuisine, but they make a nice little lunch.  That's my memory of a $10,000 vacation.  It might not have really been $10,000.
    I also remember reading a choose your own adventure on the plane ride there and in the hotel.  Memories that will last a life time.  I remember once, in my senior History class in high school, my teacher asked if anyone could do a Mickey Mouse voice for some reason, and I said I could, because I thought I could, but it was really terrible, and the class sort of booed me.  I felt really bad after that.  Memories that will last a lifetime.  I remember in Disney, the hotel wake-up call was in the voice of Mickey Mouse.  That really impressed me.  And the waffle from the diner was in the shape of Mickey Mouse's head.  I quite fancied that.  In the same trip, we also went to Washington D.C.  The waffles there were in the shape of Lyndon Johnson's head.  You know, that distinctive shape.  And in Planet Hollywood, the waffles were in the shape of some... actor's... head.  I couldn't pull one actor.  Oh!  Linda Hamilton.  They were in the shape of Linda Hamilton's head.  Lyndon and Linda.  Coincidence?  Almost definitely.  Anyway.  I remember when I was a kid, I would only drink chocolate milk, and never regular milk.  It just really disgusted me.  It's a shame, too.  If I had a glass of milk every day, maybe I would be 5'4 instead of 5'2.  I blame my parents for not forcing me.  It's not my fault.  I was a child, I didn't know any better!  I guess I was just lactose intolerant.  Lactose intolerance doesn't need to be a biological disease, does it?  Because I was surely intolerant of lactose as a personal choice.  Another thing that grosses me out: cheerios.  Ugh.  They're just disgusting.
    That's the end of that chapter.  I was just looking around my room, and I saw my DVD shelf.  I have like 100-200 DVDs that I bought in high school.  I remember thinking, "One day I'll have a girlfriend, and we'll want to watch DVDs."  So I kept spending and spending on DVDs, and I never got a girlfriend.  I'm what is known in the DVD business as a, "Sucker."  I guess I got some pleasure from collecting them, the way some people take pride in their music collection.  But now, who cares.  My DVD player doesn't even work anymore.  Why would anyone want a digital venereal disease, anyway?  Because they're idiots?  I don't know, I know idiots pretty well.  I don't just know idiots, I am one.  And that's the end of that chapter.  Can you get a digital venereal disease from finger popping?  And is finger popping a term used by people over twelve years old?  One of my worst memories from Thanksgiving was when I was like ten, and we went to a friend's house for thanksgiving, and the adults were having a conversation about education or something, and I tried to say something, and someone said, "Wait, I think Michael wants to say something!  What is it Michael?"  And then I said some pointless thing, and everyone went on with what they were doing.  It doesn't sound so bad, but that's why you shouldn't hype up things that don't need it.  It makes it fall flat.  And because of that, I didn't speak in public for another eight years.
    Anyway.  This is the fourth paragraph, I swear.  Just give it a chance.  I might get Starbucks later today.  I like going to Starbucks.  I always thought that all the people sitting at Starbucks with their computer was just a stereotype, but no, it's real.  I like to look down on them as I get my coffee and leave.  It makes me feel good.  Also, the baristas are pretty nice.  You don't get that kind of courtesy anywhere.  Now, if only they had Mickey Mouse waffles, I'd be set.  I like how in the NYU area, there's literally a Starbucks across from another Starbucks.  You gotta wonder if that'll pay off in the long run.  Anyway.  I remember the first thing we did in Washington D.C. was eat at a T.G.I. Fridays.  Because that's something you can't do at home.  I like museums.  I have a fantasy of getting high and then going to museums.  It seems like a grade-A experience.  Maybe not the Holocaust museum.  But like, art, natural history, that kind of stuff.  I remember when I was in high school, I wanted to have my honeymoon at Disney World.  I just had so many good feelings associated with it.  I'm not a fan of Disney by any means, I just thought it was a really nice place.  I guess I'm a weirdo.
    Last paragraph time.  I don't know what I'm gonna do with the rest of my day.  Probably things, and stuff.  In conclusion, enjoy this new segment, "What's Your Favorite Color?"


-12:27 P.M.-


Friday, November 29, 2013                      

That's Okay

    Hello friends and followers!  You know what, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say, if you're a follower, I consider you a friend!  Your status has just been upgraded!  But if you're a friend, it kills me to say this, but you're really just a follower.  Anyway.  Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  I think today, to be historically accurate, we're legally required to steal an American Indian's land.  That's how it goes.  I put on my contacts yesterday for the first time in months.  You know how they have those google glasses?  I predict, in ten or fifteen years, they'll have cameras on your glasses, and people will just film their entire life, 24/7, and put it on the internet for anyone who wants to live vicariously through someone else.  So, that's what's keeping me up at night.  If I did that, I'd keep my eyes shut all day, so when I watch what happened, it would be a surprise.  Anyway.  I might get a smart phone for my birthday.  Did you know that phones can call, text, and do a third thing?  Technology these days.  I'm jealous of those streaming texts smart phones can do.  Then again, I've preformed or received a total of about 20 texts in the last year.  I don't need it!  Also, what's with that feature I've seen in commercials where some phones connect you with a live video technical support person?  Did they not anticipate that 90% of people who use that will be masturbating while in contact?  Maybe I'm the weirdo for jumping to that conclusion.  I don't know.  Yeah, you tell me how to activate my phone.  Seems like it would be that way to me.  How could you be using your phone if it isn't activated?  I'm not a technology person.  I'm a masturbation person.  You deal with the technology, I'll deal with turning it into something to masturbate about.
    Anyway.  This'll be a good entry.  It's already got so much going for it!  For example, there is already a paragraph.  Case closed!  Respect!  Anyway.  Friend, follow, or get out of the way!  That's what I say.  What else is going on.  It seems like a nice day today.  I'm basing that on looking out my window.  That's a pretty good barometer.  Thanksgiving was pretty good.  It's nice to spend time with your family and then realize, "Oh yeah, this is why I don't spend so much time with my family."  Aw, I liked it.  Families are great.  I just closed my eyes and went for it.  Yeah.  So, I heard they're making a remake of Life of Pi, called Life of Pie, and it's Chris Christie eating a whole pie in ten minutes.  I also heard they're going to make a porn version of Life of Pi, and call it Easy as Pie, and it's a porn version of Life of Pi, and it's called Easy as Pie.  Ugh.  I heard they're making a porn version of A Beautiful Mind called A Beautiful Behind.  That's all the porn versions of movies they're making.  Ugh.  Porn version of movie jokes are literally the worst jokes ever.  I really need to shave.  I'm not very good at shaving, though.  It's a skill I haven't quite mastered yet.  I've only had facial hair for, what, eight or nine years.  Give me some time!
    I miss vitamin water.  Please believe me.  How come people who's legs don't work don't ever get standing-up-wheelchairs.  Just stand your legs straight on a scooter or something and get around that way.  That way you'll have a higher vantage point, which is always good, and you'll exude confidence from being an individual.  I can't stand people in wheelchairs.  "My legs don't work."  Have you even tried moving them?  You've got to make an effort!  I'm sick of these people in wheelchairs getting a free ride.  In the whole wide world, there's gotta be some people who roll around in wheelchairs even though their legs work.  They're drawn in by the glamorous lifestyle of wheelchair folk and want to have it for themselves.  I feel bad for people who's legs are disabled.  They have to say, "I'm just like anyone, I don't put my pants on one leg at a time."  Because they can't.  There should be an X-Games event for people in wheelchairs.  You mean to tell me not one of people in wheelchairs like doing tricks on it?  And the great thing is, every X-Games, there's gonna be more wheelchair people in the pool for next year, because I'm assuming a lot of them get hurt.  Irrevocably.  I like my phone number.  I think it's a really solid 10 digit number.  I don't care what anyone says.
    Here we go wit the fourth paragraph.  I like hanging out with my family.  I really get the feeling that these people care about me.  I don't know why.  I get caught up in my personal life, though, sometimes, so I lose sight of what's really important.  And by "what's really important," I mean alcohol.  And by "my personal life," I mean alcohol.  And by "alcohol," I mean cigarettes.  I'm gonna try to quit smoking sometime soon.  Because I take my health seriously.  Or, at least, I'd like to.  Otherwise, I have no long term plans.  Maybe punch a hole in the wall and start talking to it.  I'm always in the market for new friends!  I don't like the farmer's market.  It's too agrarian.  Thumbs down!  That's all I have to say about that.  In conclusion, enjoy a new installment of our recurring segment, "What's Your Name?"


-2:32 P.M.