Monday, November 30, 2015
Seasons Don't Fear The Titler
That's great, just great.
This is the end of the month. And what a month it's been. Who can
forget November fourth, or the eighth, or the seventeenth. All classic
days for some reason. I'm gonna call it randomness and guesswork.
The good news is I have a lot to think about for next month's color scheme.
Really got to try to get it right. I watched The Dark Knight yesterday.
More depressing than I remember it. They tried to warn me with the word,
"Dark" in the title, but I just didn't listen. Still, confirmed my
confusion about why Matt Harvey is called The Dark Knight. Harvey Dent is
the white knight, they make it very clear. Of course, if Matt Harvey calls
himself the White Knight, he's racist. That's baseball for ya. What
else is going on. I need to shave. Because my facial hair keeps
growing for some reason. I don't have all the details. Hey,
Thanksgiving happened. And then again on Friday. And then again on
Saturday. And then again on Sunday. The point is we bought food for
10-12 people and we're only 2-3. My gut says three. I guess the
whole point of Thanksgiving is to overeat. Thanksgiving is one of the most
passive-aggressive holiday names. Probably made that joke before.
Seems like something I would have said. Christmas is the most Taco Themed.
Live Mas. Christmore seems like it should be a last name.
Let's get that started somehow. Apparently, Christ wasn't even his name,
its just a title. I feel lied to and betrayed.
Christ was the original Dark Knight. Let's talk about
it. What else is going on. Man, if Christ had an alterego that was a
super-rich party animal, that woulda made things a whole lot more interesting.
And no one ever sees them at the same time. And he loves Tacos.
That's a given. Showin' Christmas movies on T.V. for Thanksgiving.
Get your own movies, Thanksgiving! You're ruining Christmas! I
saw this last month. My life is ruined. You know, that sort of
thing. I had a small scab on my nose that broke during class so I had to
go to the bathroom to get a paper towel which I repeatedly dabbed my nose with
during class. How did the scab break? Certainly not from me
scratching it off. I would never do something so thoughtless and
irresponsible. How was I supposed to know this would bleed like
a mother fucker? I didn't know! The good news is if people
noticed, they probably thought it was a nosebleed. Either caused by
picking my nose or doing cocaine. Either one, not a good thing you want
people to think about you. I was just scratching scabs! You would
do the same if you were in my shoes! Also, my shoes are always untied!
You know, for fashion?! If I were in Germany in the 1930's, I would be
like, Fascists? A whole political party for being fashionable?
I'm on board! That's probably how they got most of their followers.
Let's talk about it.
Right, right. What else. On the bus, an elderly
gave up a front row seat for me. Has the world gone mad?
Talk about a role reversal. Then there was a seatbelt under the seat,
which I didn't know existed. I had a lot of fun playing with the seatbelt,
trying to figure out what it was, and if it was possibly some sort of explosive.
No one is safe. These are the times we live in. Where's
Batman when you need him. If Matt Harvey insists on calling himself The
Dark Knight, I insist he starts fighting crime at night. You want the
name? Well, it comes with responsibilities. That's how I feel.
Mets awarded 300K to everyone on the Playoff Roster. Ruben Tejada must be
like, easiest 300 grand I ever made! I wish someone would pay me
300 thousand dollars to get kicked hardcore. A slide is a kick. It's
got the foot-causing-injury aspect, doesn't it? Countdown to Chase Utley
getting punched in the gut still ongoing. #Neverforget. What else is
going on. If Giuliani was running for president as America's
Mayor, why isn't George Pataki calling himself America's Governor?
As of now, people don't even realize Geroge Pataki exists. He needs to
play up that hook if he's gonna get any sort of traction. That's how I
feel. George Pa-tacky. He's not very fashionable.
That's politics for ya.
What else is going on. Tomorrow is December. I
wouldn't lie to you. December, commonly known as the twelfth month of
the year, includes... and so on. Not sure exactly what that
accomplishes. Either way, what else. I'm pretty sure every Street
Fighter has a slide-kick move. That verifies that. What else is
going on. I gotta get out of the house more often. I need crap to
do. I guess I can just ride the bus. That's a solution to most of
life's problems. Some kid, teenager I guess, asked me for a cigarette on
my way home. My response? I'll give you a cigarette... in an
unintentional angrily phrased way. Then I dropped it on the ground.
Should said, Pick It Up. Instead, he just picked it up without me
saying anything. Also, on the same walk, some kids, real kids, were like,
Somebody's smoking. Oh, it's that guy! And I should have turned
around and been like, You got a problem? But I didn't. Kids
get a free pass. They don't know any better. It ain't my job to
teach them a lesson. Anyway. I guess that's why I smoke cigarettes.
To make new friends! Like those kids. And that teenager. My
social circle is skyrocketing at an unimaginable rate! I haven't found
circles to be any more social than the other shapes. Certainly not as much
as parallelograms. What else and crap. My trashcan is full. I
keep tossing things into it, empty cigarette packs, and they just bounce off and
fall to the floor. There's gotta be some sort of solution to this problem.
I'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure. In the meantime, floor is just
gonna have to put up with it.
What else and crap. Made it to the fifth paragraph.
How wonderful. I found a lump in my ballsack recently. Then I was
like, wait, no. That's a testicle. That's almost a joke for
some reason. Not quite sure what. I did feel a slight bump on my
throat recently, though. But then whenever I try to feel it again, I don't
feel anything. That solves that problem. I find the best treatment
for Cancer is usually it'll go away on it's own. That, or
Robitussin! No sex in the champagne room. That's a reference I
could explain. I'd rather not, though. Now you can look it up on
your own and feel the reward of a honest day's work. Yeesh. I should
have made the first comment on one of the plays we were work shopping, and said,
This play made me bleed. Might as well have some fun with it and make
the most of a bad situation. How did it make you bleed.
Who KNOWS. Then call attention to my nose.
Probably from pointing at it. And it would make sense, because I'm slowly
devolving into bullshit. More so than usual. Anyway. If we
weren't supposed to pick at scabs, why did evolution make it so much fun?
Doesn't make sense. When I was a kid, I would get nosebleeds all the time.
Don't mean to brag. What else and crap. I have to see the
Endocrinologist on Thursday. Hopefully I still have Endocrine. I'm
not 100% sure what endocrine is. Apparently mine is bad for some reason.
I don't have all the details.
Anyway, great. What else. The Olympics are coming
up. At some point. I saw a commercial about it. I want to
say... 2018? Right around the corner. Special Olympics, why don't
they televise that. I'd watch the crap out of that shit. Also, are
the mentally disabled really fooled by this, "Special," crap? I really
would like to know. Do they understand the condescending nature, or are
they just like, Yeah, I'm special! It's got to be a mix, right?
Some of them must be like, Yeah, I get it, why they say that, for my less
intelligent brethren. Anyway, I'm gonna go sniff some markers.
Whose the smartest mentally disabled person. If their disability is lack
of smartness. That's a competition I would watch the shit out of.
Anyway, I'm gonna go sniff some markers. Yeesh. What else is going
on. I've been having a lot of acid-reflux at night before I go to sleep.
My parents have a bottle of Pepcid which I've been using, but I think I've
earned the right to have my own bottle. You know, to make me feel special.
That's how I feel. Pepcid should sponsor this website. Give me a
Pepcid free. You want a Pepcid, you're gonna have to pay for it!
Stupid. Also, how did Marty McFly pretending to be an alien not scar
George McFly for life. I don't get it and crap.
Yep. I do feel a bump on the back of my neck. I
guess I can still have neck cancer. That's a thing. I did feel a
little bit of a sharp pain urinating yesterday, which excited me. Guess
whose got their very first Kidney Stone! I've always been scared of it,
but now that it's happening, let's knock it out of the park! Then it
went away. Oh well, probably for the best. Anyway. I guess I
could chug some salt. That would do the trick probably. I gotta read
my play in a few weeks. Beforehand, I should be like, Listen up, those
other things you heard were crap. Now get ready for some Absolute
Greatness. You ready?! Anyway. A few of the plays of my
classmates we had to read for this week were actually pretty good. Strong,
funny, all that jazz. I of course take full responsibility.
Cart People, no doubt, was their main influence. How could it not
be. Yeesh. What else. Stupid back of the neck cancer. I
hate it so much.
Alright, I guess one more paragraph. You
ready?! Right, right. What else and crap. Almost 2016.
That's the future. I don't like it. Future is scary. Who knows
what sort of bullshit is gonna happen. When I was living at Queens College
in June, there's a Tarot Card/Palm Reader on the way from there to the movie
theater. I once went, knocked on the door a few times, rang the bell, no
answer. So, logically, I assume the psychic was intimidated because my
future was so bright. Or dark. Either way, didn't want to get
involved. That's my educated guess. Also, who needs psychics.
I got educated guesses. That's just as good I imagine. Also, if, in
a paper, you have a hypothesis, get it checked out. That could be a real
problem. What do things mean. Special! Anyway.
What else. I watched the remake of The Amityville Horror recently.
Darker than I imagined. They tried to warn me with the word Amityville.
Adventureland is in Amityville. That's an amusement park. Don't mean
to brag, but I went there a few times. I think it became a movie or
something, right? Never saw it. Too scared. What else is going
on. I believe their tagline was, Don't feel like driving to Six Flags?
You know, that kind of crap. Anyway, see ya later.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
To Chokeslam Or Not To Chokeslam
That is a question.
Not the question, but a question, certainly. I don't like
this Orange Is The New Black nonsense. What's next, Yellow is the new
White? Blue is the new Purple? You've opened Pandora's Box on this
one, I'm afraid. Okay, that's the two sentences + Title that I prepared on
the bus. Now let's get into the real bullshit. Do colors mean
nothing anymore? Roy G. Biv. I have no idea how they figured out
that would actually work in our memory banks. Biv isn't anything. G
is just one of 26 letters. Roy is a name I guess. Either way, thumbs
up. What's that called, a pneumatic learning device? My grandmother
died of that I think. That's a lie. I never had a grandmother.
Ah, Mnemonic. Oddly, one of the toughest words to intuitively know how to
spell. Let's talk about it. I told one joke in class today
and it got nothin'. Teacher asking us what we're doing for Thanksgiving,
gets to me, you gonna eat turkey? Yeah, I'll
eat turkey. Stuffing though, that's where I draw the line. Not
the most brilliant joke in the world. Not really sure what makes it a
joke, to be honest. But saying it, I was like, man is this funny.
You know, pretty much waht happens here, every entry. Except I'm going
into each entry knowing it's a B at best. Still, though, B is pretty good.
Certainly better than the lower letters.
Blue is the new purple. Where does he get this
stuff? Mostly from the names of colors, you know, stuff like that.
I like telling store clerks I don't need a bag. They take a bag out, ready
to start puttin' my stuff in it, No thanks, I think I can handle it.
That way they know I mean business. And they save precious inventory by
keeping the bag. Win/win situation. I'm not a fan of a store that
has a complete library of Vitamin Waters without any Vitamins Waters Zeroes.
You just lost yourself a cust... oh, here's a Dr. Pepper. Just when I
thought I was out, they pull me back in. With the delicious taste of Diet
Dr. Pepper. The building my class is in, there's a sign in front of the
main entrance, Show Queens College I.D. to security guard. He never
checks I.D. People just walk right by him. So, naturally, I'm
dreading the day I start to walk past him and he goes Where's your I.D.,
mister? Sure, I can alleviate the situation by taking my I.D. out of
my wallet and showing it to him. But that three seconds would be agony.
Because it's my fault. I saw the sign. And I was ready to just
dismiss it. Like your run of the mill rulebreaker. Also, the front
entrance has these doors that open automatically... once you start opening the
door. You start opening the door, then it starts opening automatically.
But you need to start opening the door. Is this really saving anyone time
or work? The initial effort of opening a door is pretty much the main part
of it. Having it open more automatically just seems retarded.
You know, things like that. What else is things like
that. The weather was okay today. Consistent between morning and
afternoon. I got no qualms with the weather of today. Shouldn't
Obamacare really cover Dr. Pepper? Let's talk about it. #Jokezzzzzzzz.
That's right, hit you with a joke and crap. It'll happen from time to
time. Thanksgiving tomorrow. I'm thankful we live in a country where
we can celebrate the total decimation of an indigenous people. #USAUSAUSA.
I think it's good Native American Reservations can have casinos. Have you
seen what happens to these people? They're not lucky at all. I have
a lot of confidence beating the house if the house is American Indian.
That's how I feel and whatnot and bullshit. The American Indian
uses all parts of the Roulette. Not sure what that means. Almost
means something. Either way, thanks for the help! Thanksgiving
tomorrow. I'm thankful for... wait don't we have to do this crap again
at Christmas? I can't blow all my thanks on this holiday when I gotta
be thankful again next month. Too much. You talk about what you're
thankful for at Christmas, right? Seems like you would.
I'm thankful because of Jesus, and Santa, and all that bullshit. That
Sounds right. Anyway, birthday also coming up in a couple of weeks.
27. That means I'll be 54 after just one more of what I've already done.
I don't want to be 54. That's just a decade away from being full blown
Elderly according to The Beatles Band.
Great, great. What else is going on. I do
like getting together with family, though. Because I have no friends.
Family is now friends. Plus, have you seen these people that are potential
friends out in the world? Not impressed. Not impressed one bit.
That's how I feel. What else is going on how I feel. Probably crap
and crap. I'm getting pretty good at not having to go to the bathroom
while still on the bus. It's an acquired still, certainly. A lot of
people think it's easy, but it's not as simple as use the bathroom immediately
before leaving the house. There's more to it than that. Probably.
I forget what I was talking about. Probably crap and shit. I don't
really forget. That would be no good. I can remember things pretty
well, I'd like to think. What else. That's where I draw
the line. Classic. Anyway. Because I didn't use the
bathroom before class, I had to take my Ritalin real discrete like, sitting in a
chair outside my classroom. If someone noticed, would they think I'm
addicted to pills? Possibly! Do I care? Possibly!
Probably whatever and who cares and bullshit. Ritalin does not get me high
at all. Makes me more in the moment, sure. But not high!
Please believe me you idiots! I had a dream I hadn't smoked cigarettes in
a while, and the next cigarette would be oh so fresh because of it. Woke
up and smoked a cigarette. More or less normal. I'm sick of these
dreams that lie to you. Where do they get off. Probably when you
wake up. That's the logical place.
Either way, I think we can all agree that last paragraph was
crap. And, despite what websites say, Ritalin doesn't get you high.
Maybe if you snort it. But it has all kinds of weird Pill Filler, you
can't be snorting that. Also, I don't wanna suddenly get Ritalin High and
then go downstairs and talk to my parents like a madman. Wouldn't be
right. Not one bit. I'm sick of the bus taking longer on the way
home than on the way to school. Sick and tired! The comptroller is
gonna get one bad hate-mail, I can tell you that. Also, waiting for the
bus takes longer. I almost want to go, to the congregation of people
waiting, We can all agree this is bullshit, right? Let's get a
discussion going. Because that's the kind of guy I am. It's
always great when the bus opens right where you are. Like a blessing from
Heaven, I would say. I think a good 20% of what ends up on this website is
bus-related. That's what people want to hear about. Anyway.
Aiming at a six paragraph entry. That makes sense. I'm sick of
Fortune Cookies lying to me. I've been led astray way too often.
It's not right. At least now I know how to say Apple in Chinese.
Mandarin or... the other one? I want to say Cantonese? Who knows.
Also, I forget how to say Apple in Mandarin or Cantonese. I remember it's
phonetic version had seven letters. That's pretty good, right?
Probably. What else and crap. Readin' more
classmates plays today. Honestly, some of them can barely speak English.
Writin' like they learned the language on the back of a fortune. Not
impressed! Also, can we all agree that Almond Cookies are better than
Fortune Cookies, hands down? Not even a comparison. Unless if you're
comparing them. Which I just did. In that case, sure. What
else and crap. On the side of Fire Trucks, it says In the event of a
fire, call 911. SHIT I KNEW I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO SOMETHING IN THE
EVENT OF A FIRE! Totally slipped my mind. It should have added,
But wait a while, obviously we're busy. That's something I could get
behind. I don't get fire and police departments. Most of the time,
nothin' to do. Then, what if they get two or three calls at once?
Too much to do. Doesn't seem like a feasible operation. I guess they
make it work. I have a couple of holes in the wall in my room. I'm
thankful that rats and shit aren't constantly invading my room. #ThoughtOfAThanks.
Was thinking about the line, "You want a chocolate" while waiting for the bus.
#ThoughtOfaTomHanks. That's how that goes. I feel bad for any of his
regularly-mentally-equipped relatives. Gump just sounds like a Retard's
name. Most of them are fine, though, I'm sure. Gettin' dragged down
by the name, that's all. See ya later.
Monday, November 23, 2015
You're The Dimwit!
Why Hello there.
It's me, the website guy. Writer of things and so on. What's going
on and crap. We workshopped my play today. Apparently my characters
are more three dimensional than I thought. Fuck I was really aiming for
at most two dimensions. Maybe flirt with three dimensions in the form
of stick man, when you flip the pages quickly. That's two dimensions with
a third dimension undertone. I could live with that. But yeah, the
crux of writing the play was how much the characters hate each other, but most
people commenting in it thought they also had this strange friendship. I
guess that's what passes for friendship these days. Calling one another an
asshole over and over. Kids these days, am I right? Probably not.
I'm gonna get comments on this post saying... negating... well, you get the
idea. Joke accomplished. What else is going on in the wide
world of sports. The sun never sets on the wide world of sports.
Either way, great. This week is Thanksgiving Day. I will celebrate
it by eating things. Take That, ISIS! Right, right.
Maybe ISIS is just trying to be our friends by blowing stuff up. That's
the only way they know how to interact with others. That's a lesson to be
learned from my play. Hero. Also Fuck ISIS. Hero.
What if every time I call myself a Hero, I'm actually being a villain. I
couldn't handle that. I call myself a Hero all the time. I think
mostly based on the fact I've played Guitar Hero a few times. That
qualifies me to be a Hero as far as I'm concerned. And I'm concerned very
far. The sun never sets on my concernment.
Hey, concernment is a word! Hero! That's
how that goes. So I did try a little bit of that potential marijuana.
Smelled minty, so it's probably something. But I didn't get high.
Could it have been mint leaves? I wouldn't rule it out as a prime
possibility. Either way, Mint Leaves are a gateway drug. First you
smoke mint leaves, then you start chewing peppermint gum, then you're onto
chewing tobacco, and then autoerotic asphyxiation. That classic story
we've seen too much of time and time again. Okay, what else is going on.
Is there a way to get artificial mint leaves? Gotta drug test comin'
up. These are the real issues. I had a thought today, I
wouldn't mind some Nicorete Gum. But with no plans of not smoking.
Just to sort of compliment it every now and again. Well, we'll put that in
the Maybe Pile. Pile of what? Pile of shit. Maybe the reason
Private Pyle was so upset was because of his name association with Shit.
Can't rule it out completely. Probably just his way of avoiding the
Vietnam War. Some people became teachers, some people moved to Canada, and
some people went through basic training for the Marines and did a murder
suicide. You know, that story we've seen time and time again?
Because it's a good movie? At least that first third of it?
That's how I feel about things. Turned out "Pyle" was a
nickname for him, not his real name, I see on IMDB. That's bullshit.
If you have a nickname, you have friends. If you have friends, you don't
murder suicide. That's a rule. I wonder if R. Lee Ermey pulled an M
Night Shyamalan and added to his name egregiously. You know, for the
women. Microsoft Frontpage thinks I'm trying to say Himalayan. I
don't think I was, but who am I to argue. You could make the argument
Spell Check is smarter than me. Certainly knows how to correctly spell
most words. Someone shold edit Microsoft word so that if you misspell
something, it goes, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but did you mean
to say... Give the robot function some character and some manners, why
not. Probably would fit as a prequel to Her. A spell check one could
relate to. Either way, what the Hell am I talking about. Man, is
positive feedback... that there is a gateway drug. First it's positive
feedback, then you get the power, then you get the women. I did it all for
the nookie. I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but I don't know
that word. See, you're wrong. It's a word. You moron.
Looks like I'm the Smarter. Also, that's not a sequence befitting a
gateway drug. Some other kind of sequence. I don't have all the
details. I wonder how R Lee Ermey would react to the legions of people
like me who might go R Lee ARMY is more like it!
Probably call them an asshole and punch them in the gut. That's what I
would do. The bad news is there's no more room for positive feedback in
Well, great, that's great. Now how am I supposed to get
The Power and then The Women. I think it turned out they were friends is
because writing is my only friend. And I have Love/Hate/Little Bit More
Love relationship with it. That translated into the characters having a
Hate relationship grounded in Love. That's how I feel. One of my
favorite jokes in it, though, got some negative feedback. It has them both
doing push-ups while a pedestrian just walks by, unfazed. I got comments
that the pedestrian should be trying to get some coffee or something, trying to
engage them. I can live with that rewrite. It's not too far off.
But I of course considered that when writing it and figured my way was the best.
Well, that's what this process is for, I guess. I think it just interrupts
the flow a little bit. The potential customer. I like them going
through the whole play without any customers. What's Spell Check have to
say. Spell Check won't respond. My only option is to ask Jeeves.
But all he does is send me to websites. Never gives his own thoughts or
opinions. Whatta waste of space. The characters are so
lonely that they are each other's only friends and don't even like each other.
That's what I'm sayin', my real life was just bleedin' over into this
masterpiece. Halfway through, I coulda raised my hand and just been like, Can
I ask a question. What is Friends? But it would be violating the
rules. Can't talk while your shit's being workshopped. That's
workshopping 101. When you learn how to workshop workshopping.
Isn't Friday a big day in Work Shopping? I don't have
all the details. What else is going on. The good news is both
classes I'm signed up for for the Spring are workshopping classes. Fiction
and Poetry. I can knock those out of the park, to use sports lingo.
I think if, in baseball, the batter catches the pitch, the pitcher should be
out. It would certainly lead to a lot of broken hands, which is a good
thing for some reason. That's how I feel. It was too cold today.
The morning lied to me. Went to school a little bit to warm in my winter
jacket, left school too cold. I hate it when times of the day are devious.
It's probably in my top ten list of top bottom things I don't not not like.
Also, you don't have to get up from a seat on the bus for an Elderly unless if
it's specifically stated in the front seats. These are the rules. I
think I get too much of a charge when exchanging pleasantries with store clerks.
Thanks. Have a nice day! Like they're hearing that and goin'
Whaatta hero. I like that guy. They must hear it all the time.
Have a nice day! Well, I wasn't going to, but if that's your
recommendation... Hero. What else and crap.
Let's see. Entry, entry. Gotta smoke
some more mint. I mean, it's probably just really weak marijuana made
to taste/smell like mint. I don't know. Maybe I should leave a note
on the grass where I found it goin' missed connection-- you left something
here and I took it. What was it? That's one route to take.
Or bring it to a chemist who can deduce what it is. Something like that.
Either way, Huh? What's going on. There were some kids playing
really loud music in a car and I looked at one of em and he was like What The
Fuck You Lookin At? And I quickly walked away like a Hero. What
should I have done, gone I'm looking at you. The kid with the
loud music. What's the deal? I can't lower myself to his level.
Which, let's face it, is probably the only way I'll ever be able to lower myself
to someone's level. On account of the shortness. You know, me,
short? The short guy. We'll see whose laughing when there's a school
shooter and I escape by climbing through the air vents. And may or may not
go get help? No one would be laughing then. It's a somber occasion.
Now's the time for grieving.
Now's the time for paragraph. What else is going on.
Why would drug dealers be selling Mint Leaves. I mean, there's no evidence
it was a drug deal. Let's not jump to conclusions. I'm not a big fan
of jumping anyway. Seems kinda silly. Just fell into a Poker Daze
for thirty minuets. Now I'm back and possibly better than ever. We
can't rule it out completely. What's going on and crap. Seventh
paragraph? Like those odds, in terms of getting a double entry. I
Like Those Odds. I'll have to talk about shit and things. I can
handle that probably. Let's see. Wide world of sports. Wide.
World. Of. Sports. Nothing's coming to mind. Al Roker
complaining about not getting a taxi because he's black. How do we know
the taxi driver just doesn't like Al Roker. #Topical. Honestly, I
don't know why anyone wouldn't like Al Roker. Anyone who publicly talks
about shitting his pants is alright in my book. Taxi Driver just didn't
want him to make a mess, that's it. Now, if it was my idea for Uber
Toilets, he'd be prepared for anything. That's how that goes. What
else is going how it goes and whatnot. My birthday is in a mere fortnight
and 5/7ths of a week. I'm wishing to turn 27. I figure, set the bar
low, and I won't be disappointed.
Shit, this is only the eighth paragraph? Alright, we're
not getting to ten. Not at this rate. Oh well, still a good sized
piece of bullshit. This website is the digital equivalent of shitting
one's pants. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it probably.
What else. The guy everyone likes is alive again on The Walking Dead.
Good for him. And not like most people who are alive again on the show, he
ain't no zombie or nothin'. Just straight up living. Good for him.
Good fur us, right. We all need a little Steven Yeun in our lives.
In the meantime, though, considering the possibility he's a Japanese Spy, we
should probably keep him in an internment camp somewhere. Just for safety
#Yesallsyrians. Not sure what that joke accomplishes. Either way,
what else. Let's see. Wide world of sports. I think I've
devolved in my participation in this class. Gone from on-point to kind of
crappy. Oh well, I'm not there to participate, I'm there to have people
say nice things to me. Right? Right. What else. Also, to
have a four hour break from drinking. That'll do the trick. See ya
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
If It Looks Like a Title, And Acts Like a Title...
Wait, I know this one.
Give me a second. It's a... shit, I just lost it. One thing I found,
though, was a gram bag of what is most likely marijuana on the street.
Looks like like bullshit leaves. Smells a little bit like weed.
Looks like pencil shavings. Maybe that's what passes for marijuana these
days. Either way, not smokin' it. Save it for later, just like a
squirrel amassing his abundance of nuts. Also, probably a 50% chance I'd
be smoking pencil shavings. That's probably why it was discarded.
That explains that. My play ended up pretty mediocre. A little bit
too mediocre for my liking. I did get a comment on someone who read it
this morning though that they liked it. So I guess, empirically speaking,
I'm a Hero. They must have done experiments on chimpanzees with marijuana.
They must have at some point, right? I wanna see some footage of that.
Give him an edible, ten minutes later, he's somehow found an iPod out of nowhere
and is zoning out. That's a resourceful chimp. Probably was storing
his iPod, not unlike the squirrel amassing his abundance of nuts, for when he
really needs it. Also, if people are paying twenty dollars for a bag of
pencil shavings, maybe I should get into the Dope Game. I could make a
killing. Not literally, of course. I won't murder anyone.
That's where I draw the line. Also, looking to draw a line? Have
a bag of Sweet 'n Low. Just what the doctor ordered.
Right, right. What else. Maybe some guy just
bought pencil shavings from a drug dealer. He needed them for a science
experiment. The experiment I guess would be trying to put together a
pencil yourself. Gotta have pencil shavings in there, that's a key
component, I would imagine. The good news is Man is that play mediocre.
But, I guess, based on empirical evidence, Good mediocre! Looks like
someone's a Great. Me. I'm the great. I think making the
second half them getting progressively lonelier and ultimately becoming friends
woulda been good, but I sorta half assed it. They do get more civil, but
there's no real culmination either way. Well, that's life for ya.
Write about what you know. And what I know is... wait, I just had it.
Shit. What else should we be experimenting on chimpanzees with. I
wonder if you just add a chair to a chimpanzee habitat, if eventually, they'll
just start sitting on it. I hope not. That's too clever. First
it's sitting on chairs, before you know it, Rise of the Planet of the Apes.
What do you think they're rising from. The chair. It makes sense.
Either way, what else is going on. Lemme give those shavings another
sniff. You know, in the spirit of science and all that.
Ha! To keep the bag safe, I unwittingly put it in a box
filled with colored pencils. So I was immediately like, this smells
more like pencil than ever! Jeez. Yeah, it smells a little bit
like weed. Anyway, who cares. That's behind me now. And in
front of me. But certainly not currently. That's how I feel.
Man, is reading other people's plays tedious. Short stories were okay.
I don't know why. There were a few decent moments in my play, but my
favorite was, one Cart guy goes to other, Kind of slow today.
And the other guy responds, Probably because you're an Asshole. Not
the most clever thing, but that line just hits me in the gut. I'm a little
concerned I didn't drive the point home that they're two carts, right next to
each other. When you read the exposition, yeah, it says two carts on a
corner. But some people might miss the inherent humor in that. Oh
well, I ain't here to hold yer hand. I'm here to call people assholes
through the safety net of it being a character calling another character an
asshole. Anyway, what else is going on. Probably things and crap.
I think I've had breakfast and/or lunch maybe a combined five times in the last
month. But I eat a lot at dinner and drink. So that evens that crap
out. The good news is whatever.
The good news is new paragraph. That's how I feel.
I'm trying a new whiskey. Marshal. Hopefully it will help me Forget
Sarah. That's how I feel. Indeed. I'm pretty sure the liquor
store attendant audibly went, Here We Go when I walked into the shop. I
can't say for 100% certain. But pretty sure. I'm pretty sure I'm
getting over my License Plate addiction. I just don't get the same rush I
used to get seeing a good license plate. It's for the best, I suppose.
When I'm done here I can be readin' some peers' plays. That has the
potential to be interesting. That's how I feel. If I had a
chimpanzee, I'd get him to smoke this most-likely-weed. You know, for
science. I'm pretty sure I've seen footage of chimps smoking cigarettes.
It seems like something that could have happened. This is just taking the
next logical step. You know, that sort of thing. Right, right.
That's how I feel. What else is going on. I was coincidently
listening to some music on Spotify that was some of my favorite music to listen
to while high back in the day. Arcade Fire. New Pornographers.
And here, God drops some weed in my lap. There's some divine intervention
for ya right there. Although, listening to it last night, and getting as
much or more out of it than I did when I was high in my past life... sorta don't
need it anymore. Right? Probably. Probably the best thing to
come out of this is I found my colored pencils. Now all I need to do is to
get into a fifth grade art class, and I'm in business, baby. Also, is it
really wise to market scented magic markers to children? Do you
want them to try eating it?
Well, do ya, punk? What else is going on. This is
probably the last paragraph. Also, I've used a lot of Magic Markers in my
day. Don't get the Magic prefix. All seemed pretty pedestrian to me.
Let's talk about it. What else is going on. Crazysheet wasn't
working on Monday. Wrote an entry, put it up, whole website was down.
So, there's a good chance, if you're reading this, there's a new entry to you
under this one. Enjoy. Also, if you're reading this, there's a good
chance you're reading this. Scientifically speaking and all that crap.
Jeez, what else is going on. Gotta be enough going on for one more
paragraph. Lets see. What else can we do to chimpanzees that would
amuse us as humans. Dress 'em up in human clothes? There's an idea.
I don't want to make fun of chimps. They're our friends. For now.
Terry Collins finished with the Bronze in National League Baseball Manager of
the Year. I believe on the grounds of, "He was pretty bad at in-game
managing, but probably must have been good in other areas, right?" They
should give MVP to Ruben Tejada. You know, as a Rudy type thing. Anyway,
see ya later.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Does whatever a Title can.
That's how I feel. What's going on friends. Almost done with my
play. Surprisingly, I found out it's hard to base an entire play around
two people just cursing each other. But, I had that, "people who get
progressively lonelier" idea in my back pocket, and, lo and behold, that's a
great way to tie up the story. Pays to brainstorm, that's all that is.
Anyway, what's going on in the wide world of sports. I saw my Doctor for
the last time on Friday. Seein' a new person from now on. Oh, the
times we had, me and Dr. ... something. I remember his first name is
Doctor. Everything else is kind of blurry. Anyway, great, just
great. I feel like there was a Met game or something. Oh, right.
Paris terrorist attacks. I'm not sure what makes that a joke. Either
way, sorry. France is a good country. Based on fried foods, I've
found out that French is synonymous with Freedom. I like Freedom.
And I like Fries. And I like France. That settles that. I like
how George Bush used to say The terrorists hate us for our freedom.
Yup, that must be it. Damn those Americans! I hate them for their
freedoms! Man am I really bad at the punch-lines of jokes. I had
the whole world ahead of me with that set-up. I wonder how this joke is
gonna turn out! Then, well, you saw what happened. I just
repeated the set-up. Well, that's past now. We have to continue with
the entry. The good news is now I'm afraid of Muslims.
Hi! Second paragraph. Originally I imagined the
Cart Keepers as Middle Eastern, but I ended up giving them generic English
names, so I guess they could be played by anyone. This play goes beyond
color lines. Probably. Either way, Hi! Actually, I don't know.
One of them had a father who died in a Parasailing accident. That sounds
like a pretty White thing to have happen. Well, live and learn, that's how
I feel. Can we change this to killed in a terrorist attack.
You know, the minority version of a parasailing accident. I'm open to
all ideas. Except bad ones. That was a bad one. Let's move on.
The good news is I'm almost done with the play. And have the Progressive Loneliness idea
to finish it up. Doesn't get much better than that. The moral of the
story is lets unionize Cart People. Or, at the very least, let's get them
a name. Cart People can't be right. There's gotta be something to
call them. Anyway. I was watching this program about a new drug
somewhere in Europe where, if you do it consistently, you will die within a
year. Those stakes are pretty high. That's got to be a pretty good
drug. I remember the second main component of it is Gasoline. That
sounds about right.
Right, right. Right! What's going on. I
don't need those seven to ten years. I'd much rather smoke cigarettes.
I'm a Hero. Think of all the good smoking cigarettes is doing for me right now. Like,
well, you see. It does, it's good because, well. When you think
about it, it does help in the arena of, hmm, well, well. Stops me
from biting my nails! 50% of the time. Still bite my nails.
That's why I keep getting infections. Try to keep up. Smoking
cigarettes is just my way of celebrating my freedom. It's really a
National Security issue when it comes down to it. Instead of imprisoning
people for 7-10 years, can't we just give them cigarettes. it seems like
the more humane thing to do. Also, I found out that it does make sense for
all these license plates to have G in them. Someone explained it to me.
I forget the explanation. It might have been something like, yeah,
dealerships end up giving out similar license plates. I don't have all the
details. But it was a relief to find out that I'm not in the Matrix.
And momentarily upsetting to realize all this ranting about license plates was
for naught. I was just ill informed. That settles that. Still,
my dream job would be to document and categorize interesting license plates.
Because I'm an Idiot! Hey, using italics to
drive the point home. Talk about a Hero or some shit. Man, is that
play I wrote mediocre. Mediocre is good. Everyone loves them some
Mediocre. There's a French word. The play I wrote is Freedom
Quality. That sums that up. The nurse I saw today was filling in for
another Nurse, and she asked me if I'd seen someone I haven't seen in seven
years, who was hospitalized the same time as me. No. That
was three thousand days ago. And what a glorious three thousand days
its been. Full of License Plates and Freedom Fries. And I didn't
have to deal with this nurse's bullshit. Doesn't get much better
than that. I found a place to use the bathroom at the Main St. Bus Stop.
Tried one place. Go Next Door. Felt pretty confident about
going next door. No bathroom. Maybe they meant More next door.
Bathroom For Customers Only, the sign said. Fuck that. I bet you
won't enforce that. And that bet paid off! So I consider today a
Win. Also, it turns out the only people on Main Street are Asian. I
had no idea. Either way, what else is going on. I watched Back To The
Future: Part III yesterday. Ha, he went back to the future again.
That sums that up. Except for the fact that it's pretty much exactly the
opposite of what happened. Well, he goes back to the future in the end.
Also, what age is Doc Brown supposed to be. Let's get
into it. And why is he hanging out with a kid in High School.
Doesn't seem right. He needs to make some friends his own age.
Believe me, I've been there. And still am. And probably will be
forever. Back To The Future would be an entirely different movie if it's
just Doc Brown going into the past to make friends with his peers back when it
was still possible. I'd watch that movie. I've got nothing better to
do. Anyway, what else. There's a lot of plot holes in Back To The
Future. For further information, I don't know, go fuck yourself or
something. I'm still in the head of my characters, I apologize. All
they do is tell each other to Fuck Off, pretty much, over and over. That's
what makes it a good play. Repetition. I learned about it somewhere.
I wanna say Class. I can't wait to justify my script before Workshopping
commences. Well, I had this idea about two Cart people... right next to
each other... who just viscerally, gutturally, hate each other... and I had had
this other idea, about people who get progressively lonelier as the play
progresses... and I combined them. That's when the applause kicks in.
Figure about two minutes of the Workshopping will just be applause. On the
one hand, I don't want them to end up liking each other. They should hate
each other as much or more as at the beginning of the play. But,
logically, it's really the only route to go. Or at least the easiest.
For me, the easiest is the only way to go.
That's how I feel about crap and crap. What else is
going on. You know me, always wondering about what's going on. It's
my hook. I gotta get back that fire I had last week about re-getting into
music. It's as much a social thing as anything else. I'm not naive
enough (Or, Freedom Stupid) to think that it's gonna get me girls. But it
can be my way into some sort of community, right? Probably?
Possibly? Anything could happen? You never know. One of the
girls I see every time I get my blood work done seemed less Retarded than usual.
It's good to see people making progress. Really warms the heart.
That's how I feel. Anyway. Yeesh. What a bullshit entry.
I shouldn't be allowed to make any more jokes about Back To The Future, The
Shawshank Redemption, and The Shining. Done 'em to death. And all of
them based on Stephen King books. Every... last... one of them. You
gotta assume Stephen King wrote Back To The Future and just never released it,
right? Well, you don't have to do anything. I respect and celebrate
your freedoms when jumping to stupid conclusions about stupid things.
Anyway. Global Warming making the weather all weird. Forty in the
morning, 65 in the afternoon. I hate it so much. The good news is,
our kids are gonna ask us, What Are Seasons? And once you get past
Salt-n-Pepa, you're out of answers. Maybe the next generation is gonna
love the higher sea level, I don't know. Kids latch onto crazy things.
Right, right. What else is going on. Also, we
should have all been issued Hover Boards at the beginning of the year. I
feel lied to and taken advantage of. Those are season-ings.
Don't you smart mouth me! I have no qualms about throwing you into the
Fire Place again. You try to burn me? I'll show you a burning!!!
Right, right. Where awas I. How is Santa Claus not traumatizing for
children. A Big Fat Man is gonna break into our house and leave us
presents! That's the most horrifying concept I could ever think of.
No, the real traumatizing is when they find out he doesn't exist.
Kids are weird. I blame Jesus. Anyway, what else.
Have you heard about this, can you believe it, they're starting Christmas so
early! It's crazy! Can you believe this! Yeah, they
started that joke-rant so early, too-- you know, years and decades ago? I
slammed an inexistent person. That'll show them. No, before class,
one classmate was doin' that rant. That'll show them for trying to make
conversation! Into the Fire Place you go! No one's safe from the
Fire Place! That's how I feel. Man, the people naming things got
lazy when it came to the Fire Place. What do we call this thing.
It's the place where there's fire, get off my back! Can you
believe this, have you heard of this.
Okay, great. I guess I'm doing more paragraphs.
Who named things. Adam? I know he named living beings.
Probably had a crack at naming things, too, what with all his experience.
Eve must have been like Can I name some things? And Adam was like,
Nope, got everything covered. Have you heard of this? And so on.
I saw a license plate that started with, "GZD." And I was like,
Ha. Oh My Gizzod. It's slang you dolts. What else is going
on. Shit, made it to the eigth paragraph. That's a lotta bullshit.
Oh, the new W/ Bob and Davids were great. Watching them, I was like, this
is pretty good. But then my mind kept going back to sketch after sketch
and was like, that was Great! So, that worked out pretty well.
I haven't watched the Behind-the-Scenes special. I don't want to ruin the
illusion. That would be like watching a Magician do magic in reverse.
I don't wanna see that. And by that, I mean that sentence. Complete
and utter nonsense.
If I do shorter paragraphs, I can make it to ten!
That's a concept I can get behind. Only two more to go, now. Also,
who gets excited about writing ten paragraphs. Gotta only be me, right?
There's seven billion people in the world. If you went up to all of them
saying, How would you like to get to ten paragraphs? It
would be me and maybe a couple hundred of other weirdos. The point is I'm
Freedom Great. That's how I feel. What else is going on. I
want to get thrown into a fire place. That sounds warm and welcoming.
Can't argue with that. What else is going on. What does Santa
Claus have to do with Jesus being born. Santa Claus is friends with
Jesus. As far as I know, that's pretty much the justification.
Does Jesus have any say in whose naughty and whose nice? You'd think his
opinion would be considered. When Jesus was born, Santa brought him Mirth,
Music, and Mayhem. Something like that. I don't have all the
details. Great, just great. What else is going on. I can't
believe crazysheet is already talking about Christmas.
I can't believe I have a reader! Hi! Stay a while!
What's going on? Give me some notes, great, I don't care!
I guess that's a paragraph. Prove me wrong! What
else is going on. You can't give yourself notes. Maybe for
Christmas, I'll ask for notes. Santa has got to have some opinions on how
to make my website better. That's how I feel about Christmas. What
else is going on. Ten paragraphs. And you all doubted me.
What else is going on. Being thrown into a fire sure sounds nice right
about now. That's how I feel. Anyway. Guess I'll finish up the
play tomorrow. Sounds like a plan. Gotta come up with a Title,
though. My main critique from the teacher for my story was that the Title
was too plain. It was about homeless people living underneath a bridge.
The title was, "Under The Bridge." No good, I guess. Gotta do
better. And, me, shit, I shuld be knocking these titles out of the park.
Is there a way I can make a pun with Go Karts like I did in the title last week?
Obviously, without it sounding forced? We'll see how that goes, I guess.
Let's see. Two cart people. Start out as bitter enemies. End
up as tenuous friends. I'm drawing a blank. Oh, I know.
Let's Go Cart. Yeesh. How about, I Wonder What's Going To
Happen. That'll set you up real nice for what's going to happen.
Anyway, see ya later.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
What Happens When You Cross A Title With An Entry
You get a crazysheet.
I'm not satisfied with that title. Now, all I have to do is not be
satisfied with the entry. And we'll get an unsatisfying crazysheet.
You know, like most times. Alright! Anyway, what else is going on.
Winter meetings in November. Spring training in March. Has the world
gone mad? Do seasons mean nothing anymore? I know I predicted No
More Seasons later, in the future, in an earlier entry, but I figured we still
had some time. This is all going too fast. Thanks a lot,
Obamacare. Anyway, what the what. That's what a Liberal Robot
says when you ask how Obama feels. Anyway, let's get into the entry and
crap. Liberal Robot, you know, like Hillary Clinton. Let's
talk about it. Or, not. It's my duty as a website to remain
impartial. They all look alike to me. Anyway. I believe if you
write in, Liberal Robot in the ballot box next November the vote
will get counted for Hillary Clinton. It's legality, don't blame me.
I didn't make the system. If I did, I woulda programmed Hillary Clinton to
do more cartwheels. Literal ones. Anyway, how did I get off track so
soon in the entry. Now it's on me to get back on track. Let's do it
and crap. Instead of a debate, one time, can't we just see a Physical
Aptitude Test? People would love it. Martin O Malley climbing up a
rope. Jeb Bush doing crunches. Bernie Sanders doing laps around the
room. Make it happen! Anyway, what else is going on. I'm not
proud of this first paragraph. Usually it takes me two hours after the
entry is over to revoke my proudship. Oh well, live and learn.
Great. What else is going on. Are legitimate
Robot Presidents in our future? I hope not. He'll just give tax
breaks to his robot friends. And then where would we be. Also, at
what point does a robot have to start paying taxes. Has to be comin' up,
right? That's how I feel. Robots are a safe topic to talk about.
Political Physical Aptitude Tests, someone's bound to get offended.
Standing up to robots? I think that's a nonpartisan issue. Anyway,
what else. Gotta write that play. Right, right. Probably cut
out the Super Soaker bit. And add twenty to thirty new bits. There
could be a bit where they try to outdo each other in the arena of physical
aptitude. I'm way more in shape than you? OH YEAH, I
CAN DO TWENTY PUSH UPS, WATCH THIS SHIT. Then he he starts.
Other guy, I can do thirty jumping jacks! Then he starts.
Alright. Makin' progress. And, then, while that's happening, have a
pedestrian just walk by. Only time another character enters the scene.
Just one time. Pedestrian walking by while they're doing push ups and
jumping jacks. And he doesn't even seem fazed. Just walks straight
by. Alright, great. What else is going on. I have to turn this
crap into something I can actually hand in. Crap. Oh well, gotta do
So, great. It's a fortnight from Thanksgiving.
Why do Jewish people start their day at night. Are they vampires?
They're probably vampires. Who starts their day when they go to sleep.
Makes no sense. What else is going on. I don't mean to brag, but my
toe is still fully healed. I guess I do mean to brag. It's great.
I want to share it with the world. Now that you know toes can stay healed,
it gives you something to look forward to and celebrate. Jewish Days
starting at night. I hope you're not planning on Fiddling on
that Roof all night! We need to sleep! Carpenters can fiddle on
roofs. How come no one ever talks about that. These are the real
issues. Also, I saw that play. No one breaks into song that much in
their lives. Just doesn't ring true to me. I don't get how the
President pardons a turkey each year for Thanksgiving. Turkeys aren't
guilty of anything. They don't need to be pardoned. Turkeys never
did nothing to no one. You just took an innocent animal, put it on the
chopping block, literally, and at the last minute, let it free, goin',
you got lucky. And it's gotta live with that for the rest of it's
life. You put the fear of God in that turkey, man. For no reason.
Anyway, what else is going on.
Anyway, what else is going on. I know I said
that twice in a row, what of it. Is the only reason the United States
stopped expanding its empire is because it reached 50 states and was like,
yeah that's a pretty good number. Don't wanna muck up a nice round
number. My guess? Probably not. Still, something to think
about. Also, who cares. Not me. And I'm the one what wrote the
thing. Also, why Alaska? Do we really need Alaska? Sure, it
turned out to have oil. Did we know that when we got Alaska? I don't
know. Consult Google if you're inclined. By the time we're done
with this place, you'll be down to three words for snow! I never
realized it, but America is turning out to be somewhat of a jerk. We need
a Liberal Robot to set things right, that's how I feel. Or, someone who
can do laps around the room. I've narrowed it down to two. Right,
right. What else. I never thought I'd make it to the halfway of
paragraph four. Not the way we started out. Rehashing tired Jewish
Vampire jokes and whatnot. I consider this a victory. We know
Hillary Clinton can sit for eight hours straight. I think that's as close
to a Fitness Test as we're gonna get this election. I think the longest I
had to sit was taking PSAT prep classes for four hours straight. And that
was hard. Eight hours straight, no joke, that's pretty good. Of
course, if you're president, you're gonna have to be sitting all the time.
Nonstop sitting. That's what the job's all about.
Alright, we made it to the fifth paragraph. That's
great, just great. Tomorrow I'll start on my play. I'm a man with a
plan. Now all I need is a Canal and I'm well on my way to Palindrome.
Shouldn't the word for Palindrome be a palindrome? Let's get into it.
Call it a Palinilap. That's how I feel. Also, which is better, a
palindrome where the middle two letters are the same, or when it surrounds one
single middle letter. Let's get into it. I think I like the kind
where it's one single middle letter. It's a choice, okay. You can
make your own decision. I'm not here to force anything on you. The
point is the entry is almost over. I just had a great idea for a play.
It's just ten minutes of a guy at a typewriter, and he keeps typing, and every
twenty-thirty seconds, he goes, No! and tears the page out and replaces
it with a new one. I can do that. Teacher can't say shit. It's
commentary. We'll put that in the maybe pile. I'd have to write it
all out, though. I can't just say, This goes on for ten minutes.
I'd have to time it and write it accordingly. That sounds like too much
work. I can't be trusted with too much work. Because I don't want to
do it. Better just write some dialogue and estimate how long that takes.
And at the end, he can go, Wait... This isn't a typewriter.
And scene. Alright, I'm on a role now. Gotta write another
paragraph. This is gold!
Right, right. I'm all about bullshit. That's
pretty much all it is when it comes down to it. Anyway. What else is
going on. And the play can be called, "Wait..." I'm full of
bullshit ideas. Great. What else is going on. Gotta finish up
the entry, that's good. He'd have to be miming typing, though. If
there's a typewriter there, and he concludes that there isn't a typewriter,
people will be confused. Doesn't make sense. Only makes sense the
other way. Then it makes a load of sense. Maybe have a sound effect
of typing. That's okay. I can work with that. Also, how come
when I look at the course offerings for Studio Art, there's a class called
Typography I. Is that just a class about different fonts. And, if
so, what the Hell is going on in Typography II. Is that when they get to
Wingdings? I'm sure it's something. I'm gonna go Google it like a
Hero. I guess it's just making your own fonts. Well, great. We
sure need more Fonts. Is there a career in that, though? Seems like
all the jobs would be concentrated at the top. The real best of the best
Font Designers. Kinda hard to break into that business. Right,
right. What else is going on. I'm currently registered for two
Spring Classes, but I'm probably only going to take one. And one of them,
the teacher is like this well acclaimed author and crap. That'll be good
experience. I can be like, Can I absorb your essence? And
she'd be like, I've been waiting my entire life for someone to ask me that.
And then we'd start dating, and soon enough... well, you get the idea. I
guess that's it. See ya later.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Nothing Can Stop Me Now!
Finally, it's Wednesday.
I've been waiting all Tuesday for this! Anyway, what's going on.
Registered for some classes. Probably end up narrowing it down to one, but
for now, I'm well on my way to earning those ultimately imaginary credits.
Also, jeez. I went on Potential Class Excursion yesterday. I guess I
can drop the Potential part. Either way, it was pretty cool. Kinda
made me want to get back into guitar, learn some guitar, learn some singing,
write some songs, and get out there and do it. I mean, I'm a smart guy.
If I just had the skills, it would fall into place, right? Right?
Probably! That's how I feel. Also, it turns out having a life is
probably a pretty good thing. Never woulda guessed. That's half why
i wanna do it. Just find some sort of freakin' community. People
love musicians. Well, musicians love musicians. Particularly
themselves. So, just gotta find some other musicians! I'm well on my
way to wasting my parents supporting-me-money ad infinitum! It's good to
have goals. Just ask hockey players. They know. Anyway, what
else is going on. Preferably more in the real world. I gotta write
the fuckin' play by next week. All I have is, "Two guys with carts in
proximity to each other really hate each other." Draw that out for ten
pages. I just had an idea! At one point, one of them shoots the
other one with a Super Soaker. And, for some reason, that guy has a super
soaker too! And he's like, I knew this would come in handy!
And then he shoots the first guy right back! Okay, that's two things I
have now. Gettin' closer. And then at the end, have a narrator's
voice go, after wrapping the plot up very eloquently, think like a Morgan
Freeman type thing, Brought To You By Supersoakers-- Get Superly Soaked.
I'm well on my way to... some... place. Where people go
when they write plays. I wanna say Pet Cemetary? That's probably it.
There's things wrong with me. The point is why am I doing this. I
got real work to write, Jack. This'll get me primed, though. That's
my false justification. Also, do you think Morgan Freeman would be in my
play? I kinda hope not, because it's never actually being performed.
It's gonna be read aloud at some point, but I think that's probably beneath him.
When you've got a body like mine, people are gonna want to see it, he
might say. Right, right. Anyway. I got a free Spa Treatment at
Class Excursion yesterday because we all had to ask questions into a box, sort
of like a round table thing, and they give prizes to the people's questions they
use, and they read mine. Gave it away to one of my classmates, I don't
need that. My question was, "¿Is
Internet Good?" and they all had to say whether internet was good or
not. For writers. That was me, I made them say that. And of
course I had an upside down question mark. Why wouldn't I. Makes
people know I mean business. That's a surefire way to make friends.
Be a unique jerk. That's what potentially being a musician is all about.
Being unique jerks. And honestly, I got the response I was looking for.
The host picked it out, laughed a little to herself, and I knew right away it
was mine. Plus, one of my classmates' prize was a free drink, so I ended
up with that as a consolation prize. I'll take it. I'm all about
The point is that's over and I'm here now and everything's
okay. Gotta get back out there. First I have the music. Then I
get the power. Then I get the women! I saw it in a documentary once.
It was a Medical Mystery about a guy with a scar on his face. Yep.
What else is going on. That's from Scarface, right? Close enough.
Man. Learnin' music. I'll be playing Power Chords all over the damn
place. Playin' a D, WHAT I'LL HIT YOU WITH A C. Think that's it?
NOPE HERE COMES AN A. Ah, it's finally ove- G CHORD BABY.
Yeesh. What else is going on in the wide world of sports. Stick with
that G Chord, start goin' twee-da-la-dee-dee-dee on the treble, oh baby.
You just got rock and/or rolled. Why am I here again? Oh yeah.
Internet is okay. I don't remember their answers mostly to the question,
though. One guy was goin something like, Is TIME good?
Time is like the internet. If Time is good, then the internet is good.
And I nodded, and he was like, does that make sense? And I
was like, sure! That's how I feel. Was he talking about how
nothing ever dies on the internet, and just stays there forever? Honestly,
I don't think so. If he were, in retrospect, that makes some sense.
Maybe he was. I don't know. I'm just an idiot who uses upside down
question marks to amuse myself. And gives away valuable, valuable spa
treatments. I'm not 100% sure on what a Spa is. Is that like where
they have tanning beds? And/or manicures and/or pedicures? Not
interested. I saw someone die in a tanning bed in Final Destination.
I don't want to die. I have so much left to do.
Like, things, and crap. One would imagine. Spa-derman.
He's a superhero of some sort. I don't have all the details. Right,
right. I mean, it's not that absurd. There are people out there who
do things. Why can't I be one of them? I'm a smart guy.
Standardized Testing has proven as much. Also, I'll only write songs where
the chord progression spells things. That's my hook. Everyone needs
a hook. What else is going on. I burnt my scrotum a little bit
yesterday. From cigarette ash. Not something I would want to
re-experience. But it did offer a glimpse into those people who like
getting hurt as part of sex. That's why my immediate reaction was
AH NOT MY CUP OF TEA. Although, if I was ever going to exclaim,
GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE! I missed my chance.
Jokez. What else is going on. Some good alliteration going on
there. See, I know poetry. Alliteration,... the rest. That's
why license plates are so fun. What three words could this be spelling
out. It's good mental exercise. I'm sick of, "G," though. I've
told you about all the, "GX," and there's a lot of that. But if you just
go with, "G?" Every other car. Every other car. I was never
under the impression they just give license plates in order, but my life
experience has me doubting that sentiment. Or like, by dealer.
Dealerships in Queens get saddled with "G," I don't know.
I just don't know. Someone should write a book about
it. The Great Big Book of License Plates. Sounds like a good
book. I heard it's great in the title. That's a good sign.
Also, That's a Good Sign is the companion book. About some really
nifty road signs. Well, what else. There's a class called
Intermediate Tumbling. I'm sure tumbling is a real thing, probably.
Still sounds funny. Kinda sounds right up my alley, come to think about
it. Anyway, great, what else. For someone who likes do to things, I
really don't do too much. Kinda sad. Oh well, onwards and upwards.
Winter Meetings still going on. I think the Mets should just trade
themselves to the Royals. It's a pretty even trade, but I feel they'll be
ever so slightly better with the Royals 25 man roster. Call it a hunch.
Honestly, fuck that. I'd take the Mets over the Royals any day of the
week, possibly excluding Friday. They have good players like, those guys
who pitch, and the one or two good hitters. The future's so bright, I
forgot to wear shades! I heard it in a song somewhere. I would like
to see them go out and get Jason Heyward. They got the money, just do it.
Don't think about it. Just do it. Just. Do it. Do it.
Why not? Do it. That's how I feel.
Anyway, last paragraph. Also, let's get Charlie Hayes
out of retirement. I don't know why. Seems like somethin' to
consider, though. Charlie Hayes finished 16th in MVP voting one year.
Talk about a hero. I couldn't finish in 16th for MVP. I'd probably
barely make it as a Spring Training Invite. That's where I stand.
Maybe they were just predicting he'd win MVP in 2016. Now's the
time! Let's make it happen. Also, what else is going on.
Ken Griffey going into the HOF this year. Probably my first favorite
player. I was never like, Ken Griffey Jr. Is My Favorite Player!
But, on the video games named after him, on Super Nintendo and later Nintendo
64, he was the guy you wanted to hit as. I was probably not really a fan
of any team until 1996, then I was a Yankee fan probably till 99, since then, a
Met fan. Even as a Yankee fan, I don't really remember liking any of their
players. I think I just liked winning. I thought winning was great.
In retrospect, I think I kinda liked Paul O' Niell, because he was just an
asshole. Social miscreants are alright in my book. A kid needs
heroes. I'd like to imagine Joe Torre talking to Paul O'Niell.
Paul, you have to stop breaking bats all over the place! Think about the
message you're sending to your young fans! And then he's like, The
message I'm sending them is to break bats? And scene. Brought to
you by Super Soakers. If you get Soaked, don't get mad-- Get
Even. You can only get even with a Super Soaker. Make the right
decision. Take care dear readers.
Monday, November 9, 2015
Let's Go Kart
First things first-- EKGs
should be called ECGS. Cardio begins with a C. I'm not comfortable
with a lab technician, a doctor, who doesn't know how to spell. Second
things second-- Hi! I finally had an idea for a play. It's about two
guys with breakfast/coffee carts stationed right next to each other.
That's all I got so far. But I'm happy with the direction I'm going in.
I don't know how you would do that when performing, though. We don't
actually need to ever perform it, but I think it needs to be thought out as an
exercise. Get two food carts up on stage. That settles that.
Anyway, what's going on in the wide world of Monday. They gotta not like
each other, right? The Cart people. There's no play if they're all
buddy-buddy. I was here first! FUCK YOU! It
practically writes itself. Ah. If only it were a two line play.
Potential Class Excursion is Potentially tomorrow night. Gotta sign up for
Spring classes later this week. That's what I got goin' on. Someone
before class was tellin' me she liked my Homeless People story, and asked how I
thought of it. I, wrongly, started telling her about the idea of Homeless
Wife, "where a guy has a homeless wife, and a regular wife." And she and
the few people listening were just plain confused. Knew I shoulda kept
that to myself. Trust me, your kids are gonna love it.
That's how that goes.
Anyway, great, just great. The good news is
Stop Stealing My Customers! MY CUSTOMERS, FUCK OFF!
Jeez, I'm gonna have a good time writing this. Yes, indeed. Ugh.
Is this a rip off of Goodburger? Damnit. I have one truly original
idea in my lifetime and it turns out to be unoriginal. Well, I'm committed
at this point. It'll have to do. I mean, it's a completely different
take on the situation. I think it'll be fine. If anything, it's good
news. If I'm in a rut, just cannibalize the Good Burger script. Have
Sinbad show up for no apparent reason. That's the way to go. But
yeah, different setting, different tone, different characters. I think I'm
okay. As long as I don't call one of the carts Mondoburger. I'll
have to remember that when naming carts. What else is going on.
You don't wanna get coffee from that cart, come over here. THAT GUY'S
FULL OF SHIT, YOU STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE. Nah. Probably
gotta keep it just between the two of them. Customers would just
needlessly complicate things. And possibly they each get progressively
lonelier. And at the end embrace the situation and become friends.
That's one way to go. Or, have them get progressively angrier at each
other, and one of them kills the other at the end. Possibly in a
murder/suicide. That's the more obvious route to go.
Man, this is fun. Up until I actually have to write
it. What else is going on. I've been a staple of this community
for years, you moved in here six months ago. I'LL STAPLE MY DICK TO
YOUR ASS! THIS NEIGHBORHOOD NEEDS SOME FRESH BLOOD. No,
gettin' further away. Let's move on. What if they've known each
other since childhood, and have been enemies their entire life. And the
one guy sets up shop there one morning, for the first time, then an hour later,
other guy whose been there for years shows up, and they're like, You?
No Fuckin' Way. It's on. Also, this might be a rip-off of
Arrested Development, when Michael and Job have competing Banana Stands.
Fuck. Again, different tone... probably? Different characters.
Different setting. I think I'm okay. I guess there are truly no more
original ideas anymore. If a sitcom hasn't done it, a movie spin-off of a
sitcom has. Jeez. Also, my only other idea was two people get stuck
in an elevator together and reminisce about things that happened in previous
seasons. I guess that's no good, either, is it! Competing Carwashes
is a well traveled trope. Somewhat similar. I guess I just have to
flesh out the plot to make it more unique. That's well within my skill set
Anyway, what else. I came into this entry with such
high hopes, and each paragraph I get progressively more deflated. Oh well,
that's life. I guess how angry at each other they are is the hook.
Just extremely, gutturally, viscerally, fuckin' pissed they are. That's
something I can work with. Anyway. I slept for sixteen hours on
Sunday. Probably on account of all the nothing I did the day before.
Really wears ya down. Anyway, I just pitched my idea to my Mom. She
didn't get it. Why do I find stupid things funny that nobody else does.
Maybe it's because I just went, "It's two people with food/coffee carts, and
they're right next to each other... right... ... and they really hate each
other... you know? ... just really heighten it, make it absurd?" Nobody
understands me. Probably explains why I write an entry every other day and
nobody seems to respond. Oh well. What else is going on. Also,
it's important to specifically say, "Coffee," carts. If they're just
selling hot dogs, there's no story. This isn't a story about Hot Dogs.
At its heart, it's a story about people gettin' coffee on the way to work.
I feel very strongly about this.
What's going on and what crap and what else. My Mom
didn't even know carts sell coffee in the city. Whatta rube. Psh.
Nobody cares about hot dogs and pretzels. People wanna see plays about
coffee and croissants. Also, can't turn it into a Gentrification type
story. That's not what this story is about. It's about these guys
who really, really, fuckin' hate each other, for no apparent reason. And
they have to work next to each other every day and did I mention they hate each
other? Yeesh. What isn't my Mom getting. Damn, I just
realized, this is essentially a story about my parents. Jeez. Oh
well, onwards and upwards, I suppose. Hah. It's funny, because, in
the story, they hate each other equally, but one guy is slightly more civil than
the other. Just slightly, but noticeably. That's an angle I can
either play up or discard. We got a week to write it, I can think about it
some more. Also, I used the royal We. I assume because Kansas City
won the world series, we all have to use the Royal We for at least a month.
Also, young toddler princes going to the bathroom. That's roughly half of
a joke. If the Mets won the world series, we'd all have to Meet the Mets.
Every last one of of us. What else is going on. Winter Meetings is
going on. That sounds like something you'd do in middle school.
C'mon, you all got each other on speed dial. Do you really need a Baseball
Social to be able to communicate? Do they have activities? Like rock
climbing? If there's rock climbing, I'm on board. Sounds like fun.
That's how that goes. What else is going how it goes.
I saw a really good license plate today but I forget it. Crap. I
really should have memorized how to spell license at this point. Stupid
spell check makin' me lazy. Anyway. "License" would be a pretty good
vanity license plate. That's how I feel. Also, if you're driving a
Van, do you get vanity license plates half off? Seems only logical.
Because I don't know how English works. "Alderson to have procedure, miss
G.M. meetings." C'mon, Sandy. You can have a procedure any time.
I think he's just worried about getting bullied. What, with a name like
Sandy, how could he not. Havin' a procedure. Not buyin' it.
Just like all those contracts Sandy won't be doing at Winter Meetings.
Huh? Wha? I told you I don't know English. Try to keep up.
Also, we're decidedly still in Fall territory. Someone fucked up naming
these meetings. My guess? Don't have one. Thanks for asking,
though! It's an honor just to be considered. What else is going on.
I was kinda off-kilter in participation today. I participated as much as
usual, but the participating was kinda not great. I blame whoever called
Fall Meetings Winter Meetings. Fucked my whole day up.
Anyway, last paragraph. What else is going on and crap.
With Bob and David coming out this week. This is pretty much the
culmination of my Comedy Fanship. Two sketches were available on youtube.
One of them was, it was pretty good, and by the end I was laughing pretty
considerably. The other one was pretty much classic. So an
amalgamation of those two reactions is pretty much what I'm expecting.
Anyway, great. My parents can get YouTube on their T.V. I was
thinkin' about listening to one of my songs, but I'm pretty much certain the
reaction will be, Fuck, This Is What I'm Putting Out There?
So I have no urgent desire to do that. What else is going on. Half a
paragraph to go. That's fun. I got a mere eight hours of sleep last
night. I guess. What else is going on. Also, what's the
etiquette on using stall vs. toilet when you just need to piss, but another guy
just walked in and is using the stall. I mean, it's well within your
rights to Stall it up. But maybe it's the Gentleman's Route to use a
toilet, to create as much space between the two of you as possible. I will
be accepting your answers my e-mail. My e-mail is something. I
forget. I will not be accepting your answers. Also, I use the
bathroom pretty quickly, and sometimes I wonder if, when I take a bathroom break
in class, if the teacher is like, no way that guy washed his hands.
But I did! I'm just really fast. Anyway, see ya later.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Is Mediocre a Genre?
I sure hope so.
What's going on party people. Also, duing the Iraq War, shouldn't we
really have called "genres," "freedom categories?" Someone dropped the
ball on that one. I make that joke every time a French word adopted by
English comes up. Because I find it amusing you dolts. What's going
on in the wide world of sports. I don't get how Daniel Murphy is worth
more than fifteen million dollars for a year. A team of 12 Daniel Murphys
would cost, let's see. Lemme hit you with some Math, here it comes.
You ready? About to get Mathified. Ten Daniel Murphys would be 150
Million. 2 would be 30. 180 Million dollar payroll for 12 Daniel
Murphies. And that's a team that's goin' nowhere. They will hit
roughly 200 homeruns if they make it to the post season, though. So they
got that going for them. It's Moneyball, you dolts. I was listening
to some alt-rock from the late 80s/early 90s radio on Spotify. Wait,
music can be depressing? I had no idea. Too bad, too, because
they're good songs. Just leave ya feeling empty. You have no idea
how much Ritalin it took to get me back on track emotionally. One. I
guess you could have formulated that idea. You're a clever guy. I
like those little bubbles they ride around in Jurassic World. Probably the
best part of the movie, when it comes down to it. I don't remember much
else. Except that it followed pretty much the same plot as the first one.
But worse. There's no scenes of Jeff Goldblum talking to himself and
going, Me talking to myself, that's, that's chaos theory." Not even one.
I counted. I do wanna ride around in a Bubble, though. They got me
hooked on that.
Do Bubbles run on electric energy? Seems like that's
the future. Let's ask Jake Gyllenhaal. Or John Travolta. They're the
experts on bubbles. That's how I feel about things. What else is
going on. I took a walk today. Whatta hero. To get alcohol.
Whatta chump. If I had a Bubble Car, I don't think I'd ever leave it.
That's how I feel. Oh well, what dreams may come. What else is going
on. Looking like Potential Class Excursion will take place on Tuesday.
And, if not, well, there goes that. I tried writing a song for the first
time in a while. I got as far as having three or four terrible guitar
tracks and then gave up. That's interesting and crap. One thing's
for sure. The Liquor Store pretty much knows for sure I'm an alcoholic.
If they haven't picked up on it before. They offer no counseling or
guidance, though. And I thought we were crew. Nope. Oh
well, they're doing God's work. What else is going on. I can't get
that crappy guitar lick out of my head. What nonsense. I was
listening to some of my songs from last year. Getta load of all
these words!, I thought. Jeez. Maybe I can turn the crappy guitar
lick into a crappy melody. A singing melody. Now all I need are
words and better chords. Also, a better melody couldn't hurt.
Right, right. What else. Forget the dinosaurs,
just make Jurassic World exclusively a place to ride in Bubbles. That's
the real attraction. I wonder how the park designers of Jurassic World
came up with Bubbles. Hey, we gotta keep the visitors safe.
What's safer than a bubble? I don't know, not going there?
That'll show them for being a fictional theme park. I gotta stop
biting my nails. Three infections in three years. Does consistency
count for nothing? Probably not, no. That's a triple negative.
Never seen so much negative. I don't get the addition rules, even + even
is even, odd + odd is even, even + odd is odd. That can't be right.
That would make two thirds of numbers even. I did the math.
Something's up. Yep. What else is going on. This has been the
worst entry in a Dog's Age. Which, is, I don't know, fourteen, fifteen?
Sounds about right. Because of the potential of poo, I feel odd instincts
to look at a dog's asshole while a guy is walking his dog. I mean, not
just walking the dog. Then, poo is not imminent. When they're just
standing there, countin' down the seconds. Don't judge me. If
I feel like looking at dog's assholes, then looking at dog's assholes is what
I'm gonna do. Let's be clear, I'm not staring. I just give it a
quick glance, think to myself, I'm a weirdo, then go on my day.
Of course, I spend the rest of the day wondering, I wonder how long it took
from me looking until the dog actually pooed. Damnit I should have stayed
till its completion!
Right, right. Everyone's on board with that, right?
I guess. I mean, now that I think about it, seeing a dog shit is pretty
much on the bottom of my to-do list. I unequivocally do not want to see
it. What else is going on. I hate forgetting whether I poured
alcohol into my soda. I don't wanna double dose it. But I also don't
wanna drink plain soda, like a chump. These are the real issues.
Well, whatever. I have one and a half weeks to write a play. I ain't
even started yet. I do like the idea of having two lonely people.
Having them trade stage time, that's stupid. But let's just have people
getting progressively lonelier. And it's funny, because they're sad.
Feel like there could be something there. I need to have one Impossible
Thing in the play, though. What could that be for a Lonely People plot.
These are questions I should be thinking to myself over time and not wasting
your precious time with. Also, I can break the fourth wall. People
love that. I should just hand in a segment of Hamlet. And the
teacher would go, This is Hamlet. And I would go, Or is it?
Talk about a bullshit. Hamlet. Piglet. Ham is pig.
Cracked that code. What about a couple of code crackers whose lives get
turned upside down when it turns out they have Benjamin Button disease.
Yeesh. I really need to get thinkin'. The only reason I had the
short story done on time was because I thought it was due a week earlier.
This entry may not have the jokkez, but it does shed some
light on me. Mostly because of the dog... shit. I've done a real
540. Now even saying Dog's Asshole makes me cringe. You had to be
there, I guess. Hey, there's a new Evil Dead tonight. It's been a
while since I've been keepin' up with a scripted show that's not late night talk
show. Gettin' On is starting a new season. I like that show.
It's a hard show to be passionate about, though. It just, well, it's
mediocre. But good mediocre. Apparently they're doing a Cricket
match at Citifield. They were inspired by the sounds of the stadium in
previous lackluster seasons! Jokkez! Too bad the Mets are good now.
Took a little oomph out of the jokke. Also, when you play MASH, Shack is
the worst possibility of where you can live. What's so bad about living in
a shack. I wanna live in a shack. Sounds peaceful. Then again,
Apartment sounds pretty nice too. Can't go wrong with a House, either.
And Mansions, that's the classic choice, argue with that. The point is "H"
should be for Homeless. Let's raise the stakes a bit, right? Right?
Maybe not. Also, we would play that constantly in Chorus in seventh
grade. Seems kind of weird. Should be a one-and-done thing.
Look the first time we did it I found out I live in a Shack with Jennifer Love
Hewitt. It's already set in stone, what possible use could crunching the
numbers again have? Also, people in clear shacks shouldn't throw
stones. Can't afford 'em. Right?
Right, right. Anyway. Hey, I told a joke the last
paragraph. I told a joke! Never woulda guessed. That's how I
feel. Also, why was Rock music in the 60's obsessed with Rolling Stones.
The band, the Bob Dylan song, the magazine. Are they all really that much
anti-moss? I demand explanations and such. Anyway, great. I
gotta say, in the last world series game, I forget at what stage exactly, it
might have been late into the game with the Mets still winning, but I think it
was in an extra inning when it was still tied, and Murphy came up, and they
played The Dropkick Murphy's... it hit me like when a wrestler's music plays
unanticipated. 99.9% of the time the guy's music while he comes up is, ok,
great, it means they're up. But when that song came up, World Series, late
in the game, I was like, YEAH! So, that's my case for keeping
Murphy. Also, I don't know if we should keep Murphy. Luckily that's
not my decision. Sure would make sense to sign with the Red Sox, though.
Can't really play Shipping Up to Boston, then, now that I think about it.
He'd already be there. Nobody wants that nonsense. Also, can we
Little Big League the manager situation? Let's get a teen or preteen
savant to handle that job. These kids, they've got Moneyball in their
blood, coursing through their veins. That's how I feel.
Okay, I guess. What else. And his team would
respect him more. That's just math. I was thinking, I think Queens
College has a Phys Ed course of beginning baseball. And I was thinking
about taking it, should it actually exist, reasoning, I'd be way better than
I was at Little League. Then I realized, So would everyone else.
So there goes that idea. Unless a Little League for ten year olds lets me
join the team. Then I'd wreak havoc all over the diamond. And,
honestly, that sounds like a load of fun. Anyway, what else. Anyway,
what else. Turns out the Baseball class is Varsity Baseball. I'm not
100% sure on what Varsity means. I think it's like a step below your top
team, but still, people who take it seriously. I could be wrong.
Either way, even being a step below, too good for me. Also, why is there
no Beginner's Kickball. I demand answers. Also, turns out I was
wrong. Varsity are the straight up for real team. What's the word
I'm thinking of. Oh, right. Beginner. Well, as they say, every
team needs a Rudy. No one says that. What else is going on.
Seventh paragraph and shit. How grand. What else and crap.
Windin' down here at the crazysheet. A paragraph and change to go, I'd
say. I need to learn how to play guitar. I wrote 120 or something
new songs over the past year, and I don't think I remember how to play one.
Which is pretty notable, because they all sound the same. Well, crack one,
then I got 'em all, that's the advantage to that. I guess that's why bands
rehearse and do gigs. I can't rehearse by myself, though, I can be
creating an entirely new song out of the rotting carcass of this old one.
You know, new words and shit?
What else and crap. Last paragraph. Nice breeze
goin' on outside. I can tell through the power of having an open window.
That's how that goes. Gonna watch me some Evil Dead tonight, doo-dah,
doo-dah. If it weren't for the doo-dahs you would have no idea of the
melody. You still might not. Can't rule out anything at this point.
Well, whatever. I should pull a Math and figure out what percentage of
entries are transitional phrases. Gotta be a pretty significant portion.
It's important, though. You can't just keep going from one thought to
another, wily-nily. Take a breather, let me guide you through this.
That's how I feel. Also, I'm counting bullshit like, "That's how I feel,"
as a transitional phrase. That's where all the bulk comes from.
Right, anyway. What else is going on. What if that breeze is an Evil
Dead trying to come through my window. Think, Mike, think, how do you deal
with an Evil Dead. C'mon. I guess I've learned nothing from this
show. Oh, right. You gotta read from the Necronomicon. I don't
have one of those. Shit, I'm fucked. Oh well, live and learn.
What else is going on. Actually, I have a DVD box set of the Evil Dead
movies, and the case is shaped like a plastic Book of the Dead. Maybe
having that would be enough? Well, I guess we'll find out. It
certainly has me more prepared than most people. I'm practically there,
just no words in the freakin' thing. Just full of two to four DVDs.
I guess I could write my own, ala the Ghoostbumps moie. Anyway, jeez.
See ya later.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Hey, It's Me
I wouldn't lie to you.
At least not in Titles. Titles, we here at crazysheet, hold sacred.
What's going on and crap. I have to leave my T.V. on all the time.
If I turn it off, when I turn it back on, the picture is all fucked up for five
to fifteen minutes. Only solution is 25 hour T.V. Which is just
tuned to whatever channel is showing The 25th Hour at all times. I'm sick
of turning on the On Demand and being harassed about ordering a Pay-Per-View
movie. I know my options. Now you're just being a jerk. Stupid
T.V., always being a jerk. Also, I don't know why I ever turn off Closed
Captions. I'm constantly having to turn it back on. Why did I turn
it off in the first place? I like to read, and I like to watch T.V.
This is the only way I can satiate both desires. Other than getting an
iPad, like a sucker. iPads-- Where Books Become T.V.!
T.V.-- Where Books Become Interesting! Anyway, that's my Television bit.
E-mail me your thoughts and critiques. I depend on Feedback to become
better. We're all in this together and so on and whatfuck. What else
is going on. It's pretty much the end of the week. I've done all the
calculations. The weekend is .286 of the week. I keep telling you,
I'm a Math. It's too bad Walter White wasn't a Math teacher. He
would only have to change one letter. Talk about convenience. Except
his extensive knowledge of calculus and geometry wouldn't really help him making
Meth. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.
Microsoft Frontpage doesn't recognize Meth as a word. I
guess a lot has changed over the last decade.5. For a lot of people, Meth
is the only word. Let's talk about it. One
thing's for sure-- everyone on Meth has family and/or friends that love them
like crazy. That's a given. And they love Meth like crazy.
What's the problem. Seems like his friends and family should love Meth by
extension. It's algebra or theorems or something. Whatta Math.
I remember there's certain Math that involves using Graphic Calculators.
That being calculators with porn on them. But, yeah, Graphing Calculators.
And the way some people would cheat on those tests is, loading the answers for
the test into the graphing calculations, handin' that off to someone taking the
test in the next period. I wanna say it's very possible I cheated that
way, it kind of rings a bell. But being in the social circle required for
cheating, that doesn't sound right. Oh well, that's past now. I
loved calculators like Crazy, but was it reciprocated? Probably not.
Calculators aren't sentient beings yet.
Not to my knowledge. T.V., calculators. Covered
all the relevant issues of the day. Now, let's get into some real
bullshit. What else is going on. I feel like I've used this title
before. Oh well, if anything, at least I'm consistent. I think if
technology ever becomes sentient, hopefully their primary objective is helping
teenagers cheat on tests. No reason why it wouldn't be. Gotta please
your target demographic. Matrix. That's what the Graphing Calculator
did. What's a Matrix? I don't know anymore. The Calculator did
all the work. I gotta say, calculators are pretty smart. They can
figure out any math problem relatively quickly. Very impressive.
It's Friday the 13th next week. Which is bad for some reason. I get
13, that's a classic bad number throughout history. What's wrong with
Friday, though? Friday never did anything to hurt anybody. In fact,
go ahead, poll people. Friday's gotta be the top day. At least in
the top two. Unless Sunday draws the church going crowd, and Saturday wins
the favor of those who just love the weekend. I feel like the Sunday
demographic could split the Friday/Saturday demographic. I really feel
like Friday should be up there, though. That's how I feel.
Especially for school, or work. I mean, sure, you have school or
work that day. But you get the intense gratification of being
done with that for the weekend. Your whole life is ahead of you,
That's how I feel. Anyway, what else. I like how
crazygood a half day is when you're in school. WHAT THE FUCK? I
GET AN EXTRA FOUR HOURS?! THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER! And,
usually, the teachers have a full day. We can't dismiss that as part of
the joy for the students. Teachers, their natural enemy, have to suffer.
That's how I feel. I wish I was still on track for becoming a teacher just
for the Parent/Teacher Conferences. You're kid's a moron, now I
can see where he gets it from. Get out of my classroom you waste of space.
Lots of fun you can have abusing your power as a teacher. Why, I just saw
an article about a former teacher at Stuy who was a drug dealer or something.
I don't have the details. When I say I 'saw an article,' I mean I read the
headline. Pretty sure that's replaced actually reading the article for the
majority of us idiots. Anyway, I kinda recognized the name, not really.
When I read it, I was like, maybe I remember that guy, maybe I don't.
And nowhere in the article did they clarify whether I remembered him or not.
Well, probably not. I didn't read it, try to keep up. Apparently he
was a Musical Appreciation Teacher. I knew those guys were up to no good
in Stuy. The one thing I remember from the class was one song, I forget
which, but I'd recognize if I heard it, and the way the teacher taught us to
remember who wrote it was, singing to the tune, I'm not Bach, I'm not
Brahms, I AM MOZART! Mozart wrote it. Got
that burned into the back of my skull.
Great. Apparently Mozart was all about staking out
his own territory and distinguishing himself from the earliers. Sounds
like an asshole to me. That's how I feel. What else is going on.
Friday never did nothin' to nobody. Not fair. Lemme hit you with
some math. Each month, there's a 1/7 chance there's a Friday the 13th.
Times that by twelve, you get 12/7ths Friday the 13ths each year. A little
less than one and a half. That's pretty shady. 12/7ths? I
don't trust that number. That's how I feel. What else is going on.
How does leap day affect this? It doesn't you dolts. That's how I
feel. Now, the question is, what's the most Friday the 13ths can there be
in one year? I feel like three is possible. Four, I don't know.
Three, that probably could happen. Will I do the math to figure it out?
Nope. My main memory of Biology is going through Bird Shit and picking out
Rat Skulls. Maybe it was Squirrel Shit. Some sort of shit.
That's somethin' that'll aid ya later on in life. Sifting through the shit
for rodent skulls. Valuable life lessons.
Anyway, great. Also, I failed Chemistry because I
didn't hand in the Labs in time. It's not my fault, the person I was gonna
copy the Labs from kept postponing it! Yeesh. What else is going on.
I feel like I redeemed myself to the Chemistry Teacher, though. I retook
the class in the summer and aced it with an 85% average. Great. What
else is going on. I was too busy listening to Led Zeppelin when I was
supposed to be doing Labs. And I didn't even have a partner half the time
on account of me not wanting to talk to anybody. I can't do that crap on
my own. The point is this is relevant stuff. What else is going on.
I can't understand how I go through cartons of Camels quicker than Newports.
I feel like I smoke them pretty much 50/50. The evidence proves otherwise,
though. I should come up with a Lab to test out Hypothesis and crap.
Also, I don't like how Hypothesis is a key part of the scientific method.
I don't have any idea, I don't know. Who cares what I think. Anyway,
what else. The good news is it's topical because it happened over a decade
ago. While I was learning science, my current school social counterparts
were learning writing in script and multiplication. Not so far off, when I
stop to think about it. Anyway, see ya later.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Over The Titles And Far Away
Hey. It's the guy
whose me. Five months ago was our Independence Day. Why isn't there
a word for 'Five Months.' I bet the Inuits would have a word for it.
You don't wanna be one upped by Inuit people, do ya? Let's get some
wordologists workin' on it. Turns out I had class today. Alls well
that ends well. Wait a minute... five months... lemme think about this.
Five months ago would have been June. And Independence Day is in July.
Something's not right here. Lemme think about it. Hmm. I
conclude Independence Day was one clean third of a year ago. That's my
final answer. I don't like it when Regis goes, "Is that your final
answer?" Yeah, I said it didn't I? I would bet good money that
not once in the history of the show has some guy gone, "Wait, no!
I changed my mind! Please, don't let it be too late!!!" Also,
can people combine their 50/50 and Ask The Audience to ask 50% of the audience?
Seems like it should be allowed. There's no rule that says it isn't.
Also, Who Wants To Be a Millionaire? I'm not a fan of rhetorical
questions in general, let alone in a title. I guess billionaires probably
don't want to be millionaires, so there is some grounds for it being a real
question. My Dad knew a guy who was on an episode of Greed that never
aired. Oh well, live and learn. Also, Star Wars. I'm under the
impression that Greed shot first. It's a metaphor for something. I
don't know what yet. I imagine it'll be clarified in the upcoming major
I gave a guy a cigarette because I'm a hero. I find
that 50% of the time someone wants a cigarette, they already have a lighter.
Seems kinda fishy to me. Either they just carry lighters with them for no
apparent use, or they have their own cigarettes, and just want one of mine.
That's probably the deal here. Dang pedestrians taking advantage of my
kindness and generosity. Gotta come up with some better ways to play out
the asking-of-a-cigarette situation. Do I Look Like I'm Made Of
Cigarettes!? is one possibility. Look, If I Give A Man A
Cigarette, He'll Smoke For Just One Day. If I Teach A Man To Cigarette,
I... Well, The Point Is, Fuck Off. Or, just say Sure!
and then walk away. Gotta put these into practice to figure out
which one is the most effective. Of course, I can still give them
cigarettes, and just say I should tell you upfront-- this is bad for your
health. Anyway, what else is giggity going on. Can the Mets
trade Matt Harvey and Steven Matz, and Juan Lagares for Mike Trout. Let's
get some real Fantasy Baseball Trades going this off-season. Sandy
Alderson had a bit of a fall today while talking to reporters. Now, I
wasn't there, so this is pure speculation, but... do you think it's possible
Chase Utley slid into him behind the podium? That guy's out of control.
Slidin' into people all over the place.
Anyway. Wrote a decent three page dialogue today and
read it to the class. I'm all about decency. It's a step above
adequacy, which I'm also all about. And two steps from mediocrity, which,
in a pinch'll do. Also, what else. I don't like it when there's two
busses coming, one after the other, and you have to decide whether to take the
more crowded first one or let it go for the second one. I mean, obviously,
the second one is better. But it feels like cheating. I belong on the
first one. I don't wanna Moneyball the situation and wait for the next
bus. Plus, the bus driver of the first one is gonna be like, what, you
too good for us? I don't think I'm better than anybody. I'll get
on the first bus. Also, today, I got on the second bus. It was
great. Got a seat and everything you want to get on a bus. Basically
the seat. Aisle seat! That's no good, though. I want a window
seat. I like to see the scenery I've seen two hundred times.
Fascinating. So, that pizza place is still there. Good for them.
You know, that sort of thing. I hate seeing the Next Bus
Please busses. Look, you're a bus. You're driving this way.
Lemme get on you. What's wrong with that logic. Bus driver just
taking a joyride in the middle of the afternoon commute. I want to talk to
his supervisor. And be like, how'd you get to be supervisor? You
musta been a pretty good bus driver. I assume they promote from within
their ranks. Gives bus drivers something to strive for.
Also, let's see more of busses crashing into Uber cars.
They'll get the message. What else is going on. Looks like I'll be
going on Potential Class Excursion on Sunday. Sunday? I love that
day! Or Tuesday. Tuesday? I love that day. And if you
combine then, they're a solid .286 of the week. I like those odds. I
like those odds. I know math because of baseball. I saw a commercial
where they're trying to get kids into baseball cards again. Good luck with
that. That'll never happen. Unless if they're glow in the dark.
Then you can look at your baseball cards with the lights off. Then, fine,
you got a decent business model. The calorie count of Kit-Kats is
misleading, because one Kit-Kat is really two Kit-Kats. These are the real
issues. I like the Hershey Kisses business model. It takes the exact
amount of time to unwrap one as it does to eat one. Eat one, unwrap, just
in time to eat it again. Musta taken some real good scientists for that
formula. Also, Pistachio Ice Cream? You don't belong in the Big
Three. Gotta be a better option out there. Is Yellow a flavor?
Let's do some Yellow.
Anyway, great, just great. I hope I get an ice cream
cake for my birthday. Because I'm nine. Well, turning ten! I'm
a big kid now. What else is going on. Crap and shit, one would
assume. My family has a real big deep rooted problem of, when interacting
with each other, we go, "I assume you meant this," or, "I assume you
wanted this," and so on. That's not assuming. If you were assuming,
you wouldn't ask. You'd just assume. I'm gonna take my family to
Vocabulary Court. And I'd lose, because I'm just as guilty as them.
We need help. Iyanla, Fix My Family. Anyway. Maybe we need an
intervention. Look, these guys love you like crazy, but you've got to
start using words correctly. I don't know who the 'these guys' is in
that scenario. I don't know lots of things. Get off my back.
What else is going on. Also, can we get Hoarding to be a slang use
describing people saving up a bunch of shows on their DVR? Seems logical.
Yeesh. What else. Wait, is it five months? Lemme think about
it. No... no. Still four months. Otherwise known as a season
and a third. In a hundred years, we're not gonna have any use for the four
seasons. The Earth will be a semi-apocolyptic Hell Hole. Spring and
Summer and Fall and Winter will mean nothing. The only lasting impression
will be Vivaldi and Frankie Valli. And that restaurant that exists
somewhere. Possibly a hotel. Also, the seasons. Anyway, what
else. I registered for the wrong Play Money Pokerstars Sit & Go.
Where is justice.
What else is going on. This is taking two and a half
times longer than the other tournament. I don't have the patience for
this. The good news is it's Fall. Look at all those leaves!
I've never seen this many leaves. Fall is half over. I know because
of math. I like the term Mathlete. Now nerds can go, I'm
just like an athlete! No... No. Not really. The good news
is I'm a websitetrepreneur. And you can take that to the bank. Don't
know what they'd do with it, though. They primarily deal with different
matters. The good news is I got several laughs today due to my
decency at dialoging. Talk about a hero. The bad news is I have only
two weeks to write a ten minute play. I have no ideas. Except, I
guess I can expand on the bullshit I wrote in crap today. Full
disclosure-- It's about Asian people. It's not important they're Asian,
but, with my extensive experience being immersed in the Asian-American culture,
I do have a unique understanding of the way they talk and feel. And these
guys are definitely Asian teenagers. I guess I can drop the stupid plot I
had and just make it about Asians Asianing it up. Gotta write about what
you know, right. My neighbors are Asian. I've learned a lot from
them. Like, they don't play Dance Dance Revolution at top volume every
night at eight. They don't do that. Well, if I spend enough time
figuring out what they don't do, I'll eventually find out what they do do.
Ha, doodoo. Poop. I did get to use the word, "Poo," in my dialogue.
It was integral to the plot, particularly the ending.
That's how I feel. Poo is a funny word. No
gettin' around it. Gotta say, I think the Ritalin is helping me. I
feel like I should be taking it thrice a day, though. That would really
hit the spot. I'd not be crashin' in the late evening like I been doin'.
Also, my first roommate in college listened to Thrice. Drop D Tuning?
What are we, Animals? That's how I felt. I'm really bad at
tuning guitars. I don't know why. I try tuning it to the last
string, I try tuning it by online guitar tuners. Can't seem to get it
right. I guess I'm just not cut out to be a musician. Tuning, that's
literally the first thing you learn. Well, whatever. That's what
gives my music it's edge. This ain't even tuned right! Sounds
original! Is a thought nobody has. It turns out I won the Sit &
Go I didn't mean to register for. That'll show me. I have no idea
why I constantly want to play at a higher stake than I really should be,
considering how much play money I have. It's play money. It makes
absolutely no difference. Oh well. I think I subconsciously reason
that, the higher the play money stakes, the better the opponents, the more fun
it'll be. It's not so much a subconscious thuoght as it is a conscious
thought that I don't really care about.
It's not so much the end of the last paragraph as it is the
start of a new paragraph. That's how that goes. I've made some good
social acquaintances in this class. People seem to get my deal.
Can't rule out becoming friends with the teacher, either. We're
practically peers, when it comes down to it. He teaches a class, I learn
in the class. Cut from the same cloth. Which I believe is a Biblical
Reference. King David cut some cloth in half when two families were laying
claim to it. Seems pretty practical and straightforward, I gotta say.
Also, I know Joseph had some sort of special jacket. I wanna say a North
Face. Anyway, what else. Also, I recently asked my Dad which tribe
of Israel are we from. I think there's twelve or thirteen of them, and
apparently there's one that was pretty much the ruling class, in times past,
there was one that was pretty much the priestly class, and then everyone else
got mixed together. We're one of the unimportant tribes, don't know which
one. Whatta let down. Anyway, what else. I like how there's a
trend in beverages where each bottle or can you get has a specific logo or
message or something. Great. Makes me feel real special.
Wonderful, it is.
Right, right. Goin' for the Daily Double. Twice
as long as the normal entry. What I lack in quality I make up for in
quantity. Anyway, what else. Except for physically. What I
lack in quantity, I make up for with... personality? Wait, no, that can't
be right. Oh, I know. I don't make up for it. Oh well, live
and learn. I don't really think about being short that much anymore, but
every now and then, I'm like, Man, I'm way away from the ceiling.
That's pretty much how that manifests itself these days. Anyway.
Still lookin' for someone I can hire to fit in my clothes and I'll stand on
their shoulders at all times. If you know anyone qualified, let me know.
Also, I'm always the last to know if it's raining. Someone complaining
about the rain, and I'm like, Is it rai-- oh, now I feel it. That's
how that goes. One of my only play ideas is the title It's Raining
Shit. Now I only need to write a play where the title It's Raining
Shit is appropriate. One thing we learned about plays is, apparently,
there needs to be one Impossible thing in each play. Like, something that
couldn't happen in real life. I don't like that rule. It made me
think of the most boring generic things. Oh, zombies invade. Oh,
vampires. Oh, guy ages backwards. It's all been done.
Except for a play about it's raining shit. Which, even that, has sorta
been done before. In the movie Kingpin, Woody Harrelson tells Randy Quaid
a Cloud of... (then he says Shit, in response to something else), and
Randy Quaid is like, Look out everybody, a shit cloud is coming! I
think I can smell it!
Gotta do something. That's how I feel. Jeez.
Luckily I didn't forget to do homework for today's class. That brings the
streak of not forgetting homework for class up to One. Sure, I didn't do
the reading. I usually do that before class, cause I'm usually there
early. Today, I was only on time. had to read it as we went over it.
Anyway, who cares. That's how I feel. Stupid Ohio voting against
legalized marijuana. You're ruining it for the rest of us. We need a
big streak of marijuana legalization for it to get to our state-- New York.
It's only a matter of time, but you're making the time last longer! I hate
it when that happens! Anyway, what else. I like coming home from
class, because it usually means I haven't drank at all that day. Then I
can condense my drinking into fewer hours. Talk about a hero. Also,
I even gave the dialogue characters Asian names-- Kevin and Jeff. I feel
like I've known a bunch of Asians named Kevin and Jeff in my time. There
was an Asian Mom talking to her Asian Kid in Asian on the bus today. How
rude. I wanna know what's going on! You're excluding me from your
private conversation, you Jerks! Also, can we all agree that sitting on
the right of the bus is better than sitting on the left? Although, sitting
on the right is second to sitting sideways. That's obviously the best
sitting situation when you get down to brass tacks. Anyway, that's about
all I got. See ya later.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
In Space, No One Can Hear Trees Fall Down
It's a brainbuster you
dolts. I was watching a documentary last night and it turns out there's a
theme park on an island somewhere where dinosaurs come alive. I don't have
all the details. Except that some dinosaurs can open doors. And some
dinosaurs can enter buildings that are smaller than them themselves without
breaking into the building. They just manifest inside the building
somehow. Those dinosaurs are hero dinosaurs. Always to be trusted to
be Man's Best Friend. I know dogs are Man's Best Friend, but shouldn't it
really be monkeys? For more information, rent Dunston Checks In at your
local video store. Also, I don't like how velociraptor can open doors.
I can barely open doors. I guess Jurassic Park just needs to have a
major overhaul of their safety technology-- installing locks to the doors.
I know it may cost tens of dollars, but if it means keeping people like Newman
safe from danger, then I would argue it's worth it. Too bad there wasn't a
tie-in with Seinfeld where he does a voice over for a Jerry-Seinfeldsourus.
Not sure what that means, or accomplishes. The good news is we will never
have to read it again. What's The Deal with Newman? He's Up To Some
Sinister Stuff In This Storyline. That's kind of a bullshit plot
point, though. They literally have one guy in charge of all the
technology. Just him. I think they justify it by saying he's like
the smartest guy that no one can hack or anything. Look, you're on an
island with dinosaurs. They're not gonna crack any computer codes any time
soon. Also, Sam Niell is tellin' the kids, don't move, he can't see us
if we don't move. Uh, literally fifteen seconds ago, the dinosaur ate the
lawyer sitting in the outhouse toilet. He wasn't moving anything, except
for maybe his bowels. But the T.Rex can't see that. So, either Sam
Niell is a liar and full of shit, or that lawyer was really shitting up
something awful. Either way, shit was involved. And I'm gonna err on
the side of Sam Niell being a liar. I suspect he didn't mean one word he
said the entire documentary. It's almost like it was all written for him
and he was just like, okay, I'll say this crap.
Anyway. Rare nighttime entry. Because I feel
like doing crap and shit. Also, why did Newman have to meet the guys he
was sellin' secrets to somewhere deep inside Jurassic Park. Seems like
that's the last place the rival company would want to be spotted. Just
take the shaving cream can of dino DNA and bring it to their
headquarters. I'm sure there's less dilapitdasuarus there. I don't
know how to spell that word, but it's okay, because it's not a real word.
They made that dinosaur up for the movie. Which totally took me out of it.
They literally just came up with a dinosaur foil to give Newman his comeuppance.
I like the part where the one guy calls that other guy on the phone, after the
power starts working again, and he's like, "I'm just calling you to tell you
that the phones are working. Bye *69 for some real fun xoxo." Part
of my address is 69th ave, and I feel like a perv every time I place a delivery.
It's just part of my address! I didn't make it up! Being on Blowjob
Lane, yes, that could have been avoided. In hindsight, I would have looked
at different real estate options. But Blowjob Lane has a very good school
district. You wouldn't want to take good education away from kids, would
ya. Would ya? I like how poeple say, iinvest in land/real
estate, God isn't making any more of it. Hey, have you heard of a
little thing called Mars? Stupid. I don't get people
talking about life on Mars. We've been on the moon for closing in on fifty
years. Let's get some life up there, first. I know there's no frozen
water, but let's just get Monster Energy Drink to sponsor it or something.
Hell, we can create entire rivers of Monster Energy Drink. There's no
rules in space.
That's how I feel about that. Feel about what? I
forgot. Consult the end of the last paragraph for more information.
Why does the Career Web Site Monster have it's own energy drink.
Some questions are better left unanswered. Not that one, though.
That one, I want an answer. My toe is still healed. I ought to
create some sort of sign that says how many days I've gone without an infection.
This point? Two days and counting. It's a good thing I don't have
any infections in my fingers, that would interfere with my counting abilities.
I still remember the time when I was a kid, and my Mom tucked me in, said
goodnight, and was about to turn off the lights and said, "There's a monkey
in the attic." It's relevant because who cares. Pretty sure
that's the anti-Semitic version of Fiddler On the Roof. Either that, or
There's a Yid Up There! I can say that, I'm pretty much Jewish more or
less. And I have extensive knowledge of roofs. My brother did
Fiddler On The Roof in fifth grade. He was the butcher. Man, I was I
jealous. Was I? I forget. Most likely No. Wait, maybe
his fifth grade play was based on Jack & The Beanstalk. I know he did both.
Also, I'm doing an autobiography of my brother, the first edition being his
elementary school years. It's really a fascinating story. He used to
play Sega Genesis. Oop, I don't wanna give too much away. Already
said too much. Anyway, moving on.
Alright, what else. I have class tomorrow. If
history is any guide, I'm gonna Participate The Fuck Out Of That Shit. I
gotta learn to spread the participation love around. Raise my hand, then
when I'm called on, throw it over to another classmate. I wanna hear
what Rick has to say. I would guess Suzie has some thoughts on this
matter. Viscera's mind looks so full, it's ready to pop. Also
the wrestler Viscera from over a decade ago is in my Creative Writing class.
I can't believe it hasn't come up before. Apparently one of the classes
I'm looking at for next semester is being taught by a bonfired re-nouned Arthur.
That would look good on my resume. At the very least, certainly distract
from the plethora of potentially misspelled words. Yeah. What else
is going on. I've done the sabermetrics on it, and this'll be the third
consecutive day of entry to open up the November. I've done the
sabermetrics on it, and the Mets should trade Matt Harvey for The Chicago White
Sox. Sounds pretty much fair. Then he can start every day, without
any pesky defense behind him, muckin' things up. Sure, he'd have to rely
on the kindness of umpires to throw the ball back to him. I guess after
each pitch he can walk to home plate and retrieve the ball himself. What's
to stop the ball from hitting the umpire though, when it's pitched? Gotta
hit something. But, if you're only going to have one infielder, having a
pitcher is the way to go. Equidistant from each base. Probably.
I don't know exact infield dimensions. What am I, a Baseball Wizard?
What is this, the fifth paragraph? It's a warm November
night, it is. This entry has been brought to you by Monster Dot Com.
Monster Dot Com-- "Don't End Up Like This Guy." Anyway, what...
wait, what? I take offense to that! Hey. What else is going
on. Where does this jerk get off from fiddling on roofs. Sounds like
a real pervert to me. It's like how George McFly says he's "Birdwatching."
You ain't got me fooled. I think I might be losing hair again. A few
years back I was losin' some hair, then they shot my scalp with something and it
grew back to normal. But now, there's a line in my hair where it's
somewhat empty. Is it just a normal Parting Of The Hair? I don't
know. Something to keep in mind, though. Yeesh, I got enough
problems. I'm not looking forward to this Female Ghostbusters. What
could they possibly know about crossing the streams. Also, if they see a
hot ghost, like Slimer, their feminine sensibilities would fail them to be able
to deal with the situation the way only a Man can. There was a scene, I
think in II, where Slimer's driving a bus. Finally, a ghost with some
civic responsibility. And he's making all the stops and everything.
I love it. The best part, though, which I think they glossed over and
didn't show, is that he has fuckin' people riding the bus. A guy waits for
the bus, door opens, there's fuckin' slimer. And the civilian goes,
well, I am running ten minutes late. Gets on the bus. Anyway,
that's how I feel about things. See ya later.
Monday, November 2, 2015
You Have The Right To Remain Title
Hi! It's the second
day what of the month and such. That's where I'm comin' from at ya.
Potential Class Excursion to a reading series tomorrow has been cancelled.
Moved back to either Friday or Next Tuesday. Next Tuesday? I Love
That Day! Not sure what saying that crap accomplishes. I noticed the
phrase, "Take a picture, it'll last longer," has fell out of use. Mostly
because now, every guy who receives that response, can go, "Okay!"
What a world, what a world. Also, what else. I forgot to do my
homework for today's class. Not my fault, it wasn't on the syllabus.
If anything, I should get extra credit for not doing it. That's how I
feel. I continued my long running streak of innapropriate immediate
responses to normal situations. Pass the teacher on the sidewalk, he says
something like, "See ya," I think. I said, "You too." If anything,
that should get me extra credit. That's my take away. As we learn
more about plays, I'm inching towards formulating my ideas for my own.
Gotta have dialogue? I had no idea! That'll get me started.
I gotta do something great, though. I owe it to myself and my legions of
fan. That's how I feel. I might take two classes next semester, but
on different days. I feel that I can do. Or, I might drop out, leave
my house, and adopt a Homeless Lifestyle. Can't rule anything out at this
Anyway, great, just great. What else is going on.
Mets lost. The good news is they sure won a lot of baseball beforehand.
That's pretty good. But their chances of winning the world series, at this
point, can't be very good. That's how I feel. At least I won't have
to listen to the Fox commentators anymore. Just give me a lot of animated
robots playing sports, that's what you're good at. Maybe have those robots
do the commentating, I don't know. Also, I blame the fans for last night's
loss. They decided to keep Harvey in for the ninth. That's the
logical route to take. Anyway. Too bad no one brought in the sign, "Oh
Well, Nice Try Guys." They really dropped the ball. Not unlike
what the Mets kept doing. Anyway, November, Eh? I dig it. My
toe is healed. Talk about a who cares. Halloween month is over.
Now it's time for a month of Thanksgiving Movies on T.V. You know, like...
the one where... Annie? She's a homeless to some extent. No, there's
gotta be one. Let's see. That clip of the fake American Indian
crying at trash for some commercial? We can play that on a loop. Oh,
right. A Thanksgiving Christmas. That sounds like a movie.
Seems like it should be. After extensive research, it turns out there's a
horror movie called Thankskilling. That's the most cleverest
thing I've ever read. I'm gonna print it out and write it down everywhere
I go. Don't know why I printed it out. So I could check the spelling
each time I write it, I guess. That makes sense. I wonder how modern
American Indians approach Thanksgiving. Well, that was a
mistake. Oh well, live and learn. Pass me some firewater, I'm
addicted to it, I'm an American Indian. It's quite irresponsible of
American Indians to be pro-alcohol. Kids look up to these guys, they're
setting the cultural trend any generation you look at. Kids see guys on
reservations drinking, they're gonna want to do it too. You know who I
blame? Pocahontas. Sacagawea. Lois from Lois and Clark.
Alright. Did you know Inuits have 43 different
words for Snow? You would too if you had to spend all your time in an
frozen arctic hellscape. Hey, let's come up with some new words,
just to pass the time. It'll keep our minds from literally freezing solid.
I guess. I once heard that humans are 80% water, but I don't believe it.
I have an entire body, I got skin, organs, bones. Seem pretty solid to me.
I also don't believe in Inuits. Never seen one myself. Maybe Inuits
are just trying to keep their language private. Carry on entire
conversations with the translator watching, then just go, Oh, we were
just talking about snow. Just kept bringing up snow, that's it.
They don't want some creep translator knowin' what they're talking about.
The good news is Huh. What else is going on. We got a pretty decent
number of words for snow. Snow. Sleet. Sludge. That's
three off the top of my head. Did you know Inuits use all parts of the
buffalo. All parts of the snow. Pick one of those and qualify it as
a D- joke, and forget the other one. I don't need having two rapid fire D-
jokes on my conscious. It's not even a joke. These aren't even
jokes! Inuits use all parts of the joke. The punch line for
laughing, the setup for getting setup. And so on and thus forth. I
gotta come up with a mindblowing play. It'll have dialogue, stage
directoin, the whole nine yards. I don't get the phrase the whole nine
yards. Like that's supposed to be a full thing. Nine yards ain't
full. You got one more yard to go you imbeciles. I mean, I guess I'm
just assuming it's a football reference. Gotta be though, right?
Yeesh. Well, Cespedes really stunk it up in his last
month. Still gotta consider resigning him, though. Gotta do
something. It sucks, because we have a bunch of decent people at a bunch
of positions, where we can go, Oh, we got this guy, that's serviceable,
that's not too bad. But we need better than that. Also, sign
every free agent relief pitcher. One or two of them have got to pan out.
Keep the rest in the Minors. Also, we can trade Jon Neise and Dillon Gee
for some magic beans. If you want to get a golden goose, you gotta start
out with some magic beans, that's logic, that's all that is. David
Wright's a question mark. Still on contract for a while, and he's done a
shitload for the team, but still, he's gotta produce. Don't know who we
can get at second that's better than Murphy. We'll see how it goes.
Baseball talk is boring. If you wanted to listen to baseball talk you can
tune into Sportzilla & The Jabberjocks. Ain't my job to be a Sports Guy.
I forgot, though, that's why sports is still fun for the winter. Free
agency, trades. Anyway, what else.
Stupid Nine Yards bullshit. Got me back on sports.
Now let's get bullshit to get me back on Bullshit. I had a brief fleeting
unwelcome thought while I was in class. I just shit no more than 30
yards from here. Then I forgot about it because who cares. I
hope Deflate Gate never happens to my testicle sack. Not sure why I
bothered typing that bullshit. Oh yeah, it's bullshit. Bullshit is
what I'm all about when it comes down to it. Being just a Met fan, though,
is a degree removed from being a Sports Fan. Because, generally, the
conceit of being a Mets fan is that you don't really expect them to do any good.
Most of the time, you're basically just rooting for an ideal of probable
mediocrity and inexplicit doubt. Anyway, what else. Well, the Royals
won the year after making the playoffs, and 30 years after their last World
Series Win. Next year'll be the Mets 30 Year Anniversary. They can pull a
Royals. Shit, how'd I get back on sports. Oh, yeah. The
potential of my scrotum deflating. Anyway. Sometimes I feel some
sort of vein, or something, in my scrotum, and logically, yeah, it's some sort
of tube connecting one thing to another. But could it be a tumor? I
don't know. I'm not a doctor. Although, healing my toe myself,
pretty sure that qualifies me as a doctor in most regards.
That's not a bad idea for a play. A guy talking to his
balls/ballsack. I don't have the details yet. That'll come with
time. Or both balls talking to each other. And make it a
parody of the Twix Commercial, where each factory makes a different Twix that
are apparently slightly different. Also, two testicles. Really, God?
What can two do that one can't. Just symetricalizing the body, I suppose.
Can't argue with that. Anyway. Also, is it cheating that Kansas City
had cheerleaders before the game? Let's go to the phones. What else
is going on. I wonder if you can donate a testicle to someone. And,
if so, if that testicle ultimately led to insemination, would the child have the
donor's DNA or the hosts. These are pertinent questions that demand
answers. Anyway. Inuits are all like, We have 43 different words
for snow. Oh yeah? Well, we have a dozen different names for
you, and none of them are what you call yourselves or are
politically correct! Stick that in your peace pipe and smoke it.
Anyway, what else. At least we saved an hour of
Daylight. That's something worth something I guess. What else is
going on. The Daylight's Never Spent On The British Empire. It's
History, you wouldn't understand. Russia's pretty big, too. You
don't hear them bragging about it. C'mon. Also, when is India gonne
get the Continent status it so rightly deserves. Right now it's a
subcontinent, an after thought. People just lump it in with the rest of
Asia. This is an issue I feel very strongly about. Anyway, what else
is going on. Also, when Antarctica completely melts, at least it'll save
us some ink when printing out maps. Gotta look at the bright side.
And, in this case, the bright side never sets. Thanks a lot, Al
Gore. They knew about Global Warming in the late 80's. I wonder
if, "Under The Sea," from The Little Mermaid was a prophetic warning.
Can't dismiss it out of hand. That's how I feel. I guess the whole
thing could be a prophetic warning. I'm no expert on prophetic warnings.
I don't think anyone is. The good news is, if we're 80% water, whose to
say that some of us can't be mermaids.
Right, right. Also, what's the other 20%. Nobody
knows. And how come when I take a bath I don't dissolve. There's a
lot of questions being posed here that, frankly, really need to be researched.
The good news is there's going to be an observer for Wednesday's class.
Get to show off my Participating Chops to an extra person. I can dig that.
Anyway, what else. It's dark outside. I'm scared. I remember
as a kid, I would always be scared to be the only person in the house on the
floor. Downstairs, upstairs. I wanted some company. I could be
left alone in a room. Just needed some floor companions. Anyway.
I have to wait a week to register for classes, since I didn't do
pre-registration. Whatta bullshit. They'll all be filled up by that
time. The system is rigged in favor of those who do pre-registration, I've
been saying this from the start. I don't have time to meet with an
advisor. I got two and a half hours of class a week, Jack. Plus
Potential Class Excursion at some point. My parents, pretty much all the
time, are telling me to meet with an advisor. I met with an advisor last
spring, after which, they let up a little bit for a few weeks. Then, right
back at telling me to meet with an advisor. I know the classes I'm looking
at for next semester I need. I'm good right now.
Anyway, what else. Goin' for the clean double entry?
Don't see why not. Besides having to write two more paragraphs when I'm
already more or less maxed out. But, besides that, it's a noble pursuit.
Anyway, what else. There are a bunch of rules we're learning for play
writing that seem pretty cumbersome, but maybe if I learn to put two and two
together, can lead me on the track to one great play. Can't count it out
completely. What else is going on. Also, gotta find my old copy of
Final Draft. Pretty sure they have a Play option in there. The final
play might not be so great, but I can format it like a champ, without any of the
leg work. Finally my eleven year old birthday present is paying off!
Anyway, jeez. I like going to class. If I could go to this class
four days a week, I'd be happy to. I can do one class once a day for four
days out of the week. Great. What else is going on. No more
Mets games to watch. That dramatically decreases the time I gotta spend
with my parents. So, that's a positive. Also, more good news.
No more new dog shit in front of my house in the last few days. As they
say, on the topic of shit outside your house, no news is good news. Unless
if there's a piece of shit that stays there for a really long time. Then,
no news means it's still there. That's a negative.
Alright, last paragraph, right? I can dig it.
More often then it should, I walk by our community mailboxes, with ten to twenty
houses worth of mailbox, with the master key still in the lock. That's no
good. If there's an evil version of me in my neighborhood, which is very
possible, he's goin' through all our mail. And if the key is still in
there, I believe he's legally allowed to go through the mail. If anything,
it's probably encouraged. Yeesh. What else and crap. I don't
know anymore. What else is going on. I'm not a fan of bus stops
without a community garbage can in the vacinity. I can deal with no bus
bench to sit on. I can stand. I need to throw something out, though.
I can't here, I certainly can't on the bus. You want me to carry garbage
like an asshole? How dare you. Also, how many times does the driver
have to say it... move to the back of the bus. After school lets out,
these high schoolers congregate standing in the middle of the bus. They
have no respect for rules or authority. I, personally, am scared for our
future based on the actions of these millennials. Also, am I a millennial
now? I don't want to be a millennial. I wasn't a millennial five
years ago. How come I'm suddenly a millennial. I think if you were a
pre-teen or older when the millennial actually happened, you're not a
millennial. Seems right to me. If you weren't on Facebook as a high
schooler or earlier, you're not a millennial. That's about it. See
Sunday, November 1, 2015
50% Off All Titles
It's November! Party
time. Just watched Ash Vs. Evil Dead. Loved it. Army of
Darkness was one of my favorite movies as an old child. We caught it when
it was on the Sci-Fi Channel, me my brother and my Mom, and we thought it was
just a poorly made Horror movie, and that's why it was funny. Later I
realized it was funny on purpose. This few sentences is brought to you by
Ash Vs. Evil Dead, Available Now On Starz On Demand. I figure, if I
advertise things enough, eventually, someone's bound to pay me. It's
logic. I think one of my favorite part about the entire franchise is how
the Evil Dead fight. They just punch and kick and throw you into things.
That's funny. Amusing, one might say. Anyway, Holiday's over.
Whew, that's a relief. Now we're into November. Also, I can't say
with full certainty that it's available on Starz On Demand. You might have
to wait a day. Damn, now they might dock me for giving them false
advertisement. I'd have to pay them. Oh well, alls fair in
movies & T.V. That's an expression. What else is going on.
Mets primed to win three straight. They've got the team work to make a
dream work. That's how I feel. Also, can we take out Terry Collins
in the fifth inning and replace him with a bench manager. I'd feel a lot
better with that arrangement. Oh well. There's no, "We," in team.
Unless you turn the "M" upside down. And I don't know why you wouldn't.
Also, I'm not a fan of the expression, "There's No 'I' In Team." Oh,
well, if the spelling of the word somehow slightly contradicts it, I guess it
must be true. That's not Moneyball. Not in the slightest.
NY Marathon today. I think one of my favorite jokes
I've ever written was, "I don't get people who run marathons. Hasn't
anyone ever told them you can't run away from your problems." Solid B/B+
joke. Gotta hold on to those. And the good news is, it's topical at
least once a year. People love topical humor. It's a way for the
uninformed to remain on top of things. Through humor! Talk about
gettin' your money's worth. Yeesh. Anyway, what else is going on.
New color scheme. Back to the Classic. Anyway. I decided to
use my extra hour sleeping. Not like you chumps who are awake for an extra
hour. You fools. Anyway. What else is going on. I healed
my toe through home remedies. Talk about a Hero. I don't like the
Taco Bell promotion for the world series, "Steal a base, steal a breakfast."
Where if a play steals a base in the world series, we get to 'steal' a free
breakfast at Taco Bell. I already got two strikes, I don't need to go to
the clink for life over a breakfast. Also, if someone strikes out in the
world series, he goes to jail for life. That's the cross promotion they
made with The Police. Yeesh. Really raises the stakes, though.
Also, you can get steak in your Taco Bell Breakfast. Nobody's stopping
you. Also, I'm not a fan of condoning and glamorizing stealing. They
should know better.
Anyway. Great. What else is going on. The
Metropolitans have their work cut out for them. We'll see how that goes.
Got class tomorrow. Gotta get a new Metrocard. I should get a First
Class Metrocard. Where I get to sit next to the bus driver. Because
stupidity reigns supreme. What else and crap. Gotta whole half an
entry to go. Gotta fill it up and jokes and crap. Let's see, jokes,
jokes. Have you heard the one about the Australian who goes to see
the eye doctor? If you have, let me know. I'd love to know how the
joke turns out. Anyway, what else is going on. At what point did
early settlers realize, Oh, we're not in India. These guys
aren't Indians. Had to be pretty early on. The 1500's.
You'd think they'd have figured it out. That's early enough to come up
with a new name for these fellers. But they didn't. That takes
courage. Determination. A supreme lack of Curtsey. I wonder if
the American Indians were ever like, I have reservations about these new
guys. And then we were like, Reservations? We'll give you
some reservations, alright. Because crap and shit. Then again,
if it weren't for the settlers, we'd never have Thanksgiving. American
Indians would have no one to give to. And white people would have had no
one to thank. Also, I find it odd that we feed the Homeless on
Thanksgiving so aggressively. Shouldn't we have learned from History not
to give any free handouts? It's only a matter of time before the Homeless
rise up and overtake us. We're just feedin' fuel to the fire.
That's how I feel and crap. They already have a key
advantage. They don't need to live in homes. Anyway. I have
freakin' two and a half weeks to write my play. We barely even started
learnin' about plays. Haven't even read one yet. I'm woefully
unequipped. I do like the idea about two guys who take turns on the stage,
getting progressively lonelier, till they meet each other at the end.
That's a commentary on modern society if I ever saw one. Also, it's
possible I never saw one. Full disclosure. I guess I could write a
play about Thanksgiving. And call it A Thanksgiving Christmas. Or,
People Getting Progressively Lonelier. Maybe I can figure out how to make
that work, for real. Who knows. Probably not, though. Oh, what
could have been. What else is going on and crap. Yeesh. My
birthday is in five and 6/7th weeks #Countdown. It's getting dark earlier.
I demand an explanation! I demand answers! Daylight
Savings Time. I'm Satisfied with that explanation! That Answer
is appropriate! My Mom was so upset last week when a Walking Dead Guy
seemed to die, it made me upset. I don't even like the show. But he
was Asian, which, as a characteristic, makes you pretty likable.
Not the Asian Guy! That's how I feel in general. Also, any
excuse to watch Chris Hardwick, am I right? Yeesh. I stopped
watching @Midnight months ago. I don't know why. I really liked the
show. I think I just fell into a habit of not watching it if I didn't know
the comedians for some reason. I'm sure it's as good even if I don't
recognize the participants. Oh well, live and learn. I haven't
learned anything. Still not gonna watch it. I can't say that for
certain. Maybe this is just the bolt of inspiration I need to mix it back
into my T.V. Schedule.
At least start a new paragraph. That's good. What
else is going on. I like how on Spotify, I can see what my Brother's
listening to. I've always wanted to spy on people, now's my big chance.
Tame Impala? What the Hell is that. Oh well, not knowing
what it is won't stop me from subconsciously judging him. Why should it.
Downside is, he can see what I'm listening to. I don't need that kind of
bullshit hanging over my head. Now I gotta listen to Cool music, to
impress him. Yeesh. I probably got 80% of my listening to music
background from him. He's a Hero, it turns out. Also, I don't like
how they don't mention Army of Darkness when Ash is talking about his
background. Evil Dead I and Evil Dead II are essentially the same movie
remade, and he alludes to that history. No tellin' people, I went back
in time for a while, and then made it back here. I don't know if it
happened and he just doesn't like talking about it, or if, now, in this
universe, it never happened. I demand answers. If I went back in
time to fight monsters, I'd be telling everybody about it. It's a great
story at cocktail parties and such. Also, I've never been to a cocktail
party. I've barely ever been to a party. I feel like I once had a
birthday party a Q-Zar. Can't remember the details. Except that
people kept hitting me in the chest with their gun, and then shooting.
Takes all the sport out of the game. These assholes are ruining it for
The good news is New Paragraph. If I ever get a ticket
from a Traffic Cop, I'm gonna be like, I hope they accept these at Chuck E.
Cheese! Then Traffic Cop would write me another ticket for Being a
Moron In Public. Pretty sure that's got to be some sort of offense.
Didn't Bill De Blasio campaign on a promise of No More Traffic Accidents?
I feel like that happened. Seems kind of unobtainable in hindsight, don't
it. Anyway. I think Bill De Blasio primarily campaigned on a promise
of Having an African American Son. That's great, just great. Isn't
Pataki running for President or something? Where does he get off.
I'd say I hope David Patterson runs for president, but I don't want him to get
hurt. He shouldn't be running anywhere. Also, I think it turns out
he's just 'legally' blind, where he can still see somewhat. Whatta load of
crap. I thought we were voting for a blind guy! That was the whole
deal! He sure pulled the wool over our eyes, and crap, and bullshit, and
more crap. Also, I've never voted for anything. Except for myself as
7th Grade President of Middle School. Probably got a couple dozen votes,
don't mean to brag. I feel like a teacher in the school probably pulled a
Matthew Broderick and tampered with the results. Or, I just wasn't popular
at all. One of those two things.
Anyway, great, just great. I don't know if I'm gonna
watch the Met game tonight. They got a good chance of winning, though.
I feel, get into Game Six, that's decent. Also, I'm probably doing
something Tuesday Night for Class, and I'd feel like a real Popular, goin,
Ah, big Met game, but I can't. Got some socializing goin' on.
Make me feel like a reallll Popular. That's how that goes. Also,
doing stuff with Classmates for Class counts as socializing. Close enough,
I feel. What else and crap. November! I can hardly believe it.
The month of Thanksgiving. Everyone loves Thanksgiving. Especially
those Homeless Freeloaders, I hate them so much. I have a good feeling
this'll be the last paragraph. That's great. I wonder how Daylight
Savings Time will effect the World Series. My gut instinct? Not at
all. My Dad was sure happy about saying, if this game goes into extra
innings, it could be going on for two months! That's my Dad for ya.
Whatta jokester. Also, it turns out, my parents are very upset about the
playoffs going into November. They have very strong feelings about it.
Oh well. I'll stick to my Oregon Trail comparison. If you want it to
end earlier, gotta start earlier. Gotta be some sort of tradeoff.
That's how I feel. I can write another paragraph. That would be the
Yeah! I'm doing it! I'm a Hero! That's
how that goes. What else is going on how it goes. The guy pitching
for the Royals Dad just died, and my first instinct, I'm sad to say, was
That'll Shake Him Up! Feel bad about it now. No one's Dad
should die. That ought to never happen. There's that saying, you
never want to bury your parents. I heard it in an Opposite Place.
Anyway, what else is going on and bullshit. Yeesh. I don't wanna
close on Dad Death. I need to write another paragraph after this one.
What else is going on. What's today, Sunday? How about that.
What else is going on. We had an extra hour to cleanse ourselves from the
evils of Halloween. That's lucky. One thing's for sure, though.
Color Scheme is back to basics. The white font on black background that
we've all learned to love over o' these many years. Also, I'm out of
things to say. Until I think of some more crap. It's well within my
ability, I have the track record. I bet some of these Marathoners set some
track records. That's right within their skill set.
Last paragraph time. What else is going on. Also,
you shouldn't have to bury your parents. Get a gravedigger to do it,
that's their job. Anyway. They should bury Mets Of Years Past in
centerfield. Every ballpark needs some sort of gimmick. No
gravestones, that'll be interfering too much. Just ghosts, that's an
appropriate level of interference, I feel. It'll be just like Angels In
The Outfield. Maybe put up a little shrub, I guess, to give the deceased
some eternal comfort. But no more than that. It's about time we get
a baseball stadium which is haunted. We've waited long enough.
Anyway. See ya later.