i'm just using kanye and taylor in hopes that it'll somehow help bring traffic to my blog.
i think the world belongs to kanye west and we just haven't been informed of it yet. he's behind the illuminati. he's the true head of the new world order. which is good, cuz if i have to make a decision between beyonce and taylor swift, i'm going with beyonce. nice to know we're in agreeance on that topic.
but i actually don't think beyonce's video is thaaaaaaat great. too bad i wasn't there at the award show to rebuttle.
do you think this might start a trend? how many people in the whole history of time sit through award ceremonies and disagree with the outcome? maybe now when this moment of discomfort arises, our world's most pampered celebreties will have the freedom to get up and tell us what they think.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
so long anne (or is it annie??) nice to know you
ok, so who's anne?
first off, i'm pretty sure that's her name. it could be annie, it could be something else not even close to anne... i don't know, i just go by what candice (my awesome friend and neighbor) tells me. she seems to be way more informed on the facts and happenings in this apartment complex than i am.
so i'm gonna call her anne and you're just gonna accept that so that we can get on with the story telling.
anne's a nice little old lady who lives in the same apartment building as me. i think she's 94 or 95, but who knows, cuz she always says a different age, pretty sure she doesn't even know how old she is.
apparently her memory was slipping on her and she was accusing other people in the building of breaking into her apartment and robbing her. but they weren't. anne was just losing it. and she had their number and called them accusing them of such and i suppose it got out of hand. word got to anne's daughter who made the decision to get her out of here.
before i go on, i do think anne is an awesome old lady. if she is 94, she's a vibrant, lively 94. she's always walking and hanging out. she has her spots like the dunkin donuts or the porch across the street (her sister lives there... i think it's her sister). she isn't one of these older folk that just sits around and watches the wheel of fortune spin till her eyes decide to close and never open up again. she's still out there trying to be active and live life. and props to her for all that.
but she bothered me a lot!!! she would ask me to help her with things around her apartment... like hang curtains and what not. and i didn't want none of it! i know i sound like a bastard, but when i wake up on a saturday, i can think of a million things i'd rather do than hang curtains. i don't even believe in curtains!
and i wasn't all cruel either! i was up in her apartment a few times. and it was scary! one time me and oneyda were hanging out and we decided to enjoy some bong hits. so oneyda hits it first, and then anne comes a' knockin before i can even take my turn with the bong. i run to the door and there she is asking me to help her with something. i told her i was kinda tied up but she insisted that i go up there and at least look at the bad paint job the super put on her bedroom walls. then she asked if someone else was in my apartment. soooo i introduced her to oneyda. she almost demanded that we both go up to her apartment that second. me and oneyda looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and followed her.
open up the door and bam, the smell of old person and pictures of jesus and crosses everywhere! she was showing us her apartment, telling us stories about her children (who are also old) and what not. then she complained about the super a lot and at one point oneyda was like, 'ummm, we gotta go.' and like that, we were out. and i don't think i'll ever forget that experience. it was weird, surreal, a little scary and semi-uncomfortable.
there was also the time that she asked me to bring a package up to her apartment, which i did. and when we got up there, we talked a bit (or she talked a bit, and i nodded and listened). then she offered me a drink. she opened her fridge and said she had beer or ginger ale if i liked. she actually asked, "do you like beer?" and of course i said i did. she explained how her niece brought beer over to drink but she couldn't stand beer herself. she went to grab me one, reached for the ginger ale and i quickly said, 'no, the other one (heineken and ginger ale are both in green bottles, i understand the confusion).' and then she said, 'see, i told you! i don't even know what it looks like! i can't stand the stuff!' i then took my beer, said my good bye and was on my way.
but besides those two experiences, it's pretty much all awkwardness. i'd see her out and about and try to dodge her. the reason being is that every time i'd see her, she'd have another chore in mind for me to do. kinda negative reinforcement if you ask me.
but she'd get me every now and again. she'd corner me in the hall or at the dunkin donuts. tell me about curtains that need hanging. i think she had a thing for hanging curtains.
she'd also leave me food. but usually when i wasn't home. i'd come home to plastic bags on my door knob with either a half eaten sandwich, a half eaten tasty cake, or a single dunkin donut in it. kinda weird and i'd always throw it out cuz i just don't like half eaten stuff, freaks me out...
and that was actually an upgrade. when i first moved in, she'd leave plastic bags with stacks of the national enquirer in it. i still have some of the stack cuz i use it for wrapping paper. nothing says merry x-mas like a tabloid story about tom cruise from 2003.
in hindsight, now that she's gone, it's time for me to reflect. and the first thought is that i feel bad that i didn't help her more. kinda douche of me. i try to think of myself as a nice dude, a dude with a good moral compass. but whenever i thought of her, i thought about how i dodged her and it'd make me think, 'am i really as nice a dude as i think i am?' when candice used to drive me to work, we'd talk about dodging the old people (cuz there's a few of them in the building) and candice would always say, "we're going to hell!" i don't know... i hope not, but if i go first, i'll try to save good seats for everyone.
and my second thought on the topic is now i can chill out. yeah, selfish i know. but i now know i can go outside at any time and not have to worry about being asked to do chores i just don't wanna do.
anne, if you're reading this, you're a nice old lady. and you deserve better neighbors. you don't deserve neighbors who pull ninja-like stunts to avoid you. you deserve good, friendly, most likely authentic christian neighbors. i hope the best for you. as for the rest of this building, we'll now rot in our own selfish jerkness. no more curtains, no more false robbery accusations, no more awkward dunkin donut run-ins.
first off, i'm pretty sure that's her name. it could be annie, it could be something else not even close to anne... i don't know, i just go by what candice (my awesome friend and neighbor) tells me. she seems to be way more informed on the facts and happenings in this apartment complex than i am.
so i'm gonna call her anne and you're just gonna accept that so that we can get on with the story telling.
anne's a nice little old lady who lives in the same apartment building as me. i think she's 94 or 95, but who knows, cuz she always says a different age, pretty sure she doesn't even know how old she is.
apparently her memory was slipping on her and she was accusing other people in the building of breaking into her apartment and robbing her. but they weren't. anne was just losing it. and she had their number and called them accusing them of such and i suppose it got out of hand. word got to anne's daughter who made the decision to get her out of here.
before i go on, i do think anne is an awesome old lady. if she is 94, she's a vibrant, lively 94. she's always walking and hanging out. she has her spots like the dunkin donuts or the porch across the street (her sister lives there... i think it's her sister). she isn't one of these older folk that just sits around and watches the wheel of fortune spin till her eyes decide to close and never open up again. she's still out there trying to be active and live life. and props to her for all that.
but she bothered me a lot!!! she would ask me to help her with things around her apartment... like hang curtains and what not. and i didn't want none of it! i know i sound like a bastard, but when i wake up on a saturday, i can think of a million things i'd rather do than hang curtains. i don't even believe in curtains!
and i wasn't all cruel either! i was up in her apartment a few times. and it was scary! one time me and oneyda were hanging out and we decided to enjoy some bong hits. so oneyda hits it first, and then anne comes a' knockin before i can even take my turn with the bong. i run to the door and there she is asking me to help her with something. i told her i was kinda tied up but she insisted that i go up there and at least look at the bad paint job the super put on her bedroom walls. then she asked if someone else was in my apartment. soooo i introduced her to oneyda. she almost demanded that we both go up to her apartment that second. me and oneyda looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and followed her.
open up the door and bam, the smell of old person and pictures of jesus and crosses everywhere! she was showing us her apartment, telling us stories about her children (who are also old) and what not. then she complained about the super a lot and at one point oneyda was like, 'ummm, we gotta go.' and like that, we were out. and i don't think i'll ever forget that experience. it was weird, surreal, a little scary and semi-uncomfortable.
there was also the time that she asked me to bring a package up to her apartment, which i did. and when we got up there, we talked a bit (or she talked a bit, and i nodded and listened). then she offered me a drink. she opened her fridge and said she had beer or ginger ale if i liked. she actually asked, "do you like beer?" and of course i said i did. she explained how her niece brought beer over to drink but she couldn't stand beer herself. she went to grab me one, reached for the ginger ale and i quickly said, 'no, the other one (heineken and ginger ale are both in green bottles, i understand the confusion).' and then she said, 'see, i told you! i don't even know what it looks like! i can't stand the stuff!' i then took my beer, said my good bye and was on my way.
but besides those two experiences, it's pretty much all awkwardness. i'd see her out and about and try to dodge her. the reason being is that every time i'd see her, she'd have another chore in mind for me to do. kinda negative reinforcement if you ask me.
but she'd get me every now and again. she'd corner me in the hall or at the dunkin donuts. tell me about curtains that need hanging. i think she had a thing for hanging curtains.
she'd also leave me food. but usually when i wasn't home. i'd come home to plastic bags on my door knob with either a half eaten sandwich, a half eaten tasty cake, or a single dunkin donut in it. kinda weird and i'd always throw it out cuz i just don't like half eaten stuff, freaks me out...
and that was actually an upgrade. when i first moved in, she'd leave plastic bags with stacks of the national enquirer in it. i still have some of the stack cuz i use it for wrapping paper. nothing says merry x-mas like a tabloid story about tom cruise from 2003.
in hindsight, now that she's gone, it's time for me to reflect. and the first thought is that i feel bad that i didn't help her more. kinda douche of me. i try to think of myself as a nice dude, a dude with a good moral compass. but whenever i thought of her, i thought about how i dodged her and it'd make me think, 'am i really as nice a dude as i think i am?' when candice used to drive me to work, we'd talk about dodging the old people (cuz there's a few of them in the building) and candice would always say, "we're going to hell!" i don't know... i hope not, but if i go first, i'll try to save good seats for everyone.
and my second thought on the topic is now i can chill out. yeah, selfish i know. but i now know i can go outside at any time and not have to worry about being asked to do chores i just don't wanna do.
anne, if you're reading this, you're a nice old lady. and you deserve better neighbors. you don't deserve neighbors who pull ninja-like stunts to avoid you. you deserve good, friendly, most likely authentic christian neighbors. i hope the best for you. as for the rest of this building, we'll now rot in our own selfish jerkness. no more curtains, no more false robbery accusations, no more awkward dunkin donut run-ins.
Monday, June 15, 2009
myspace will have to get rid of me
i'm not getting rid of my myspace page. i'll never get rid of myspace. myspace will have to get rid of me.
i keep seeing bulletins and status updates of people threatening to delete their myspace page. so do it! don't be a punk! shit or get off the pot! press that delete button and make some room for someone else's stupid status update about how depressed they are.
i'm on facebook. i'm on twitter. facebook is awesome. currently, i even like it a little better than myspace. it's all cuz there's more action and interaction between people. twitter's ok, i really just like stalking the few celebrities that i follow.
but i'm not one of these elitists who thinks that facebook is soooo awesome that it's a calling for me to delete myspace. i don't even wanna debate the difference of who's better cuz they both got pro's and con's. facebook's cool, but facebook's also talked about at family gatherings by the old people... not in awe of it cuz they don't understand it... but cuz they're on that shit... old people, old people related to me.... i don't need them reading my 4am drunk diatribes on a lonely sunday morning after realizing the reason i party all nite is cuz i gotta fill my void with something cuz i can't seem to handle a relationship properly and i'm not gonna pick up any organized religion any time soon..... and then i go to family events and people say i have a problem and etc etc etc... so i just try and lay low... but it's tough... my stepfather's best friend pressured me into accepting a friend request all cuz he wanted to recruit me in his "mafia wars." i hate mafia wars! oh... and he's a cop! he's a cop, and he wanted me as part of his mafia... well not really, just wanted to get whatever bonus you get for recruiting a new person. and since he's a cop, i feel awkward when i'm blasting ice t's "cop killer" and i just wanna run to the computer and type, "what cha wanna be when you grow up? cop killer! good choice." i don't really wanna kill cops, but i figure my friends would get a kick out of that shit... but not the dude who's actually a cop... so i save that immature bullshit for myspace...
so maybe myspace is the more immature of the two... good! i need a place to be immature... i don't give a fuck about turning 30 this year.... i got many more years of juvenule immaturity in me.... and i wonder why i can't stabalize a healthy relationship....
the point is... well the real point is i just wanted to rant about something, cuz ranting feels good...
but the other point is... why not do both? why this whole routine about one or the other??? go ahead, delete your myspace, but then you'll never read my groovy blogs or bulletins. can you live without that? sure... but why would you?
and if i've pissed you off, well, i'm shocked, cuz i didn't think anyone read myspace blogs anymore.... but
if i did piss you off... well that's just what i do sometimes..... deal with it! it's a critique on social networking..... so you could be mad at me or you could realize that in 25 years we'll all laugh abuot how we all had stupid facebook and myspace pages and they were both awesome cuz now we've been enslaved by the robots and can't express ourselves in any way whatsoever....
what i'm saying is...
although i'm defending the use of social profiles on machines...
don't trust machines.
fuck i'm a self contradicting hypocrit.
ps-friendster's for tools.
i keep seeing bulletins and status updates of people threatening to delete their myspace page. so do it! don't be a punk! shit or get off the pot! press that delete button and make some room for someone else's stupid status update about how depressed they are.
i'm on facebook. i'm on twitter. facebook is awesome. currently, i even like it a little better than myspace. it's all cuz there's more action and interaction between people. twitter's ok, i really just like stalking the few celebrities that i follow.
but i'm not one of these elitists who thinks that facebook is soooo awesome that it's a calling for me to delete myspace. i don't even wanna debate the difference of who's better cuz they both got pro's and con's. facebook's cool, but facebook's also talked about at family gatherings by the old people... not in awe of it cuz they don't understand it... but cuz they're on that shit... old people, old people related to me.... i don't need them reading my 4am drunk diatribes on a lonely sunday morning after realizing the reason i party all nite is cuz i gotta fill my void with something cuz i can't seem to handle a relationship properly and i'm not gonna pick up any organized religion any time soon..... and then i go to family events and people say i have a problem and etc etc etc... so i just try and lay low... but it's tough... my stepfather's best friend pressured me into accepting a friend request all cuz he wanted to recruit me in his "mafia wars." i hate mafia wars! oh... and he's a cop! he's a cop, and he wanted me as part of his mafia... well not really, just wanted to get whatever bonus you get for recruiting a new person. and since he's a cop, i feel awkward when i'm blasting ice t's "cop killer" and i just wanna run to the computer and type, "what cha wanna be when you grow up? cop killer! good choice." i don't really wanna kill cops, but i figure my friends would get a kick out of that shit... but not the dude who's actually a cop... so i save that immature bullshit for myspace...
so maybe myspace is the more immature of the two... good! i need a place to be immature... i don't give a fuck about turning 30 this year.... i got many more years of juvenule immaturity in me.... and i wonder why i can't stabalize a healthy relationship....
the point is... well the real point is i just wanted to rant about something, cuz ranting feels good...
but the other point is... why not do both? why this whole routine about one or the other??? go ahead, delete your myspace, but then you'll never read my groovy blogs or bulletins. can you live without that? sure... but why would you?
and if i've pissed you off, well, i'm shocked, cuz i didn't think anyone read myspace blogs anymore.... but
if i did piss you off... well that's just what i do sometimes..... deal with it! it's a critique on social networking..... so you could be mad at me or you could realize that in 25 years we'll all laugh abuot how we all had stupid facebook and myspace pages and they were both awesome cuz now we've been enslaved by the robots and can't express ourselves in any way whatsoever....
what i'm saying is...
although i'm defending the use of social profiles on machines...
don't trust machines.
fuck i'm a self contradicting hypocrit.
ps-friendster's for tools.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
a mom manifesto
my mom kicks ass. seriously. she was in the army for a while. she did boot camp and all that. my mom can kick ass.
my mom's taught me many things. but it's how she lives her life that has taught me the most. my mom's self reliant, tough, smart, and fun. she knows how to get shit done but she also knows that life is to be enjoyed.
as a youngen, she was tired of the same ol', same ol'. she decided to do something about it. she joined the army. she left home. she traveled the world. she went as far as germany and south korea.
somewhere, sometime in south korea, she met my dad. and the rest is history. they both moved back to the states and they both were just about finished with their time in the army.
my mom and dad divorced when i was 10, i think i was 10.... but that's not what's important. even though it ended in divorce, i think they still did the right thing. i think for that time in their lives, it just made sense and i know that for some time there was happiness and for some time, me, phil, mom, and dad were a happy family.
shit happens. stuff falls apart. people change. you can't hate anyone for any of that. but it's how my mom dealt with it that leaves the biggest imprint on my soul.
we were living in oklahoma and my mom at this point was a housewife, a stay at home mother. my dad had rejoined the army and that's how we found ourselves in this part of the country.
my mom decided she was going to go to school for accounting and she eventually got her bachelor's degree. it was quite the accomplishment. being a mom is tough business. that's a full time thing on its own. at night, she would do homework, just like me and phil. i remember if me or phil called out of school, she'd drag us to school with her. imagine that shit!
and then it happened. the divorce. mom was left with two children in the middle of no where in oklahoma and dad fled to his army duties in south korea.
my mom decided to go back where she came from, new jersey. we lived in iselin and mom got a job in the biggest city in the world. just like that she went from stay at home mom in oklahoma to corporate employment in the city that never sleeps.
she did her best while we were in iselin. shit wasn't easy. we had a grandma who's health was in decline move in with us. money was tight. and i hated iselin. i hated the school system. i hated the kids there. i just didn't adjust well. i was picked on a lot and i pretty much thought everything sucked.
somewhere in the middle of the iselin mess, me and phil decided to give living with our dad a shot. so we moved to south korea.
south korea was awesome! no lie! but living with our dad, that was another story. it didn't take long to realize who was the hero in the raising kids dept when it came to our parents. my dad tried, but mom was just better at it. and suddenly, as much as i hated the kids in iselin, and as much as i liked the kids in south korea, i knew eventually we had to get back to mom.
mom moved to north bergen while we were in south korea. about a year after we left, we came back. i'll never forget coming off that plane, skinny and crying. i'd never been so happy to see someone. my mom would later say that we came back looking malnourished with the same clothes on that she sent us away with.
my mom did an awesome job with stuff while we were away. she got a 3 bedroom apartment that for the remainder of my life will probably be the first thing i think of when i say the word, "home." she met a dude, jack, who eventually became my stepfather. my mom had rebuilt her whole life. she was happy. she was enjoying life.
and that's what she passed down to me. there's nothing wrong with enjoying life. she was actually just telling me the other day that life is short. that you gotta do what you want and don't let anyone force you into doing what you don't wanna do. she said i'm 29 and i can wake up tomorrow and change everything if i wanted to.
and she taught me that you gotta take care of shit yourself. in the end, you're responsible for where your life's at. you can damn everything around you, point blame to anyone but yourself, but the truth is there... it's all, ALL on you. self reliance.
the next 15 years would just fly by. so many great memories. there were good times, parties and gatherings, high school, a wedding, car crashes, incidents, girlfriends and x-girlfriends, drama, and jets games. from crabbing and seaside to the awesomest family vacation EVER to cali....
thanx mom for being awesome.
my mom's taught me many things. but it's how she lives her life that has taught me the most. my mom's self reliant, tough, smart, and fun. she knows how to get shit done but she also knows that life is to be enjoyed.
as a youngen, she was tired of the same ol', same ol'. she decided to do something about it. she joined the army. she left home. she traveled the world. she went as far as germany and south korea.
somewhere, sometime in south korea, she met my dad. and the rest is history. they both moved back to the states and they both were just about finished with their time in the army.
my mom and dad divorced when i was 10, i think i was 10.... but that's not what's important. even though it ended in divorce, i think they still did the right thing. i think for that time in their lives, it just made sense and i know that for some time there was happiness and for some time, me, phil, mom, and dad were a happy family.
shit happens. stuff falls apart. people change. you can't hate anyone for any of that. but it's how my mom dealt with it that leaves the biggest imprint on my soul.
we were living in oklahoma and my mom at this point was a housewife, a stay at home mother. my dad had rejoined the army and that's how we found ourselves in this part of the country.
my mom decided she was going to go to school for accounting and she eventually got her bachelor's degree. it was quite the accomplishment. being a mom is tough business. that's a full time thing on its own. at night, she would do homework, just like me and phil. i remember if me or phil called out of school, she'd drag us to school with her. imagine that shit!
and then it happened. the divorce. mom was left with two children in the middle of no where in oklahoma and dad fled to his army duties in south korea.
my mom decided to go back where she came from, new jersey. we lived in iselin and mom got a job in the biggest city in the world. just like that she went from stay at home mom in oklahoma to corporate employment in the city that never sleeps.
she did her best while we were in iselin. shit wasn't easy. we had a grandma who's health was in decline move in with us. money was tight. and i hated iselin. i hated the school system. i hated the kids there. i just didn't adjust well. i was picked on a lot and i pretty much thought everything sucked.
somewhere in the middle of the iselin mess, me and phil decided to give living with our dad a shot. so we moved to south korea.
south korea was awesome! no lie! but living with our dad, that was another story. it didn't take long to realize who was the hero in the raising kids dept when it came to our parents. my dad tried, but mom was just better at it. and suddenly, as much as i hated the kids in iselin, and as much as i liked the kids in south korea, i knew eventually we had to get back to mom.
mom moved to north bergen while we were in south korea. about a year after we left, we came back. i'll never forget coming off that plane, skinny and crying. i'd never been so happy to see someone. my mom would later say that we came back looking malnourished with the same clothes on that she sent us away with.
my mom did an awesome job with stuff while we were away. she got a 3 bedroom apartment that for the remainder of my life will probably be the first thing i think of when i say the word, "home." she met a dude, jack, who eventually became my stepfather. my mom had rebuilt her whole life. she was happy. she was enjoying life.
and that's what she passed down to me. there's nothing wrong with enjoying life. she was actually just telling me the other day that life is short. that you gotta do what you want and don't let anyone force you into doing what you don't wanna do. she said i'm 29 and i can wake up tomorrow and change everything if i wanted to.
and she taught me that you gotta take care of shit yourself. in the end, you're responsible for where your life's at. you can damn everything around you, point blame to anyone but yourself, but the truth is there... it's all, ALL on you. self reliance.
the next 15 years would just fly by. so many great memories. there were good times, parties and gatherings, high school, a wedding, car crashes, incidents, girlfriends and x-girlfriends, drama, and jets games. from crabbing and seaside to the awesomest family vacation EVER to cali....
thanx mom for being awesome.
Monday, April 27, 2009
fortune cookies
these are fortunes with commentary added by me.
these 3 fortunes were still layin around on my desk at work from when we ordered chinese the other day:
Luck helps those who help themselves. (or there is no such thing as luck)
It is better to have beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear. (might be the best fortune i've ever received in cookie form and for two reasons, one-- it's mad wise, two-- it speaks of bacon)
Look to your inner being for guidance. (josh knows everything)
these 3 fortunes were still layin around on my desk at work from when we ordered chinese the other day:
Luck helps those who help themselves. (or there is no such thing as luck)
It is better to have beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear. (might be the best fortune i've ever received in cookie form and for two reasons, one-- it's mad wise, two-- it speaks of bacon)
Look to your inner being for guidance. (josh knows everything)
i've never seen the lion king
that's right motherfucker, i've never seen the Lion King. Deal with that shit. You probably wanna respond with one of the same boring responses I always hear when i say that shit:
"WHAT?! Everyone's seen the Lion King?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"You gotta be kidding."
"You're a freak."
"NOOOOO WAY!!!..... SERIOUSLY?!?!?!"
"They should lock you in a dark room and never let you out."
"I hate you!!!"
yeah well... FUCK THE LION KING! since people seem so intent on making me out to be a freak for never seeing this movie, i've decided to make it my personal mission to live my whole life without ever watching the Lion King. My first act of defiance will be to return Albert's copy that he lent to me that I never watched. An actual copy of this movie sits in my house right now, and i will never watch it.
I had a moment of clarity. I think everyone in the world is fucked up. I think there's something wrong with EVERYBODY. Why don't more people think like me? if more people thought like me, the world would probably be a better place. There's gotta be a difference between me and everybody else... and now i know what it is... it's that the rest of you have seen "The Lion King." Something about this movie has ruined everybody and i see through the bullshit. I will not succumb to temptation. I will remain pure and better than most people by never seeing the Lion King ever in my whole damned life.
"WHAT?! Everyone's seen the Lion King?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"You gotta be kidding."
"You're a freak."
"NOOOOO WAY!!!..... SERIOUSLY?!?!?!"
"They should lock you in a dark room and never let you out."
"I hate you!!!"
yeah well... FUCK THE LION KING! since people seem so intent on making me out to be a freak for never seeing this movie, i've decided to make it my personal mission to live my whole life without ever watching the Lion King. My first act of defiance will be to return Albert's copy that he lent to me that I never watched. An actual copy of this movie sits in my house right now, and i will never watch it.
I had a moment of clarity. I think everyone in the world is fucked up. I think there's something wrong with EVERYBODY. Why don't more people think like me? if more people thought like me, the world would probably be a better place. There's gotta be a difference between me and everybody else... and now i know what it is... it's that the rest of you have seen "The Lion King." Something about this movie has ruined everybody and i see through the bullshit. I will not succumb to temptation. I will remain pure and better than most people by never seeing the Lion King ever in my whole damned life.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
poop on my hand
This is the story about how I got poop on my hand. Hope you enjoy.
No one should ever let me sing at open mic.
So James and Chet were up there doing their thing, and people were demanding a poop song from Chet. (He’s got a slight reputation to improvise songs, good ones at that, on the spot about poop, and sometimes about drugs too).
I forget who it was, but someone told me to go up there and help out with lyrics. And this is always a bad idea…. but when I have a few drinks in me, I no longer fear such bad ideas.
So it kinda turned into a punk-ish thing so I started improvising lyrics on the spot, all about poop and pooping.
I don't think it was very good, but I called it poop-core, and I think a movement was started very accidently.
After getting off the mic, marylee told me that I should write “poop core” on my hands. I thought this was a terrific idea, so I grabbed a pen and wrote “poop” on my left hand. I never did write “core” on the other hand. Cuz I can’t really write with my left hand.
But then I realized other people were doing it too. I think like 2 or 3 other people ended up writing “poop” on their hands.
that’s how we roll at open mic… just a bunch of silly fuckers messed up on the silly juice doing silly things.
So anyways, I woke up the next day in a daze, rushing around for work. I took a shower, but I didn’t give my hand the rough washing it needed. And when I got to work, I realized that if you looked hard enough, you could still see remnants of the word “poop” written on my hand. And I type all day, there’s no hiding that shit.
but i don't think anyone noticed... and if they did, they never said anything.
So that’s it. that’s the story about how I got poop on my hand.
No one should ever let me sing at open mic.
So James and Chet were up there doing their thing, and people were demanding a poop song from Chet. (He’s got a slight reputation to improvise songs, good ones at that, on the spot about poop, and sometimes about drugs too).
I forget who it was, but someone told me to go up there and help out with lyrics. And this is always a bad idea…. but when I have a few drinks in me, I no longer fear such bad ideas.
So it kinda turned into a punk-ish thing so I started improvising lyrics on the spot, all about poop and pooping.
I don't think it was very good, but I called it poop-core, and I think a movement was started very accidently.
After getting off the mic, marylee told me that I should write “poop core” on my hands. I thought this was a terrific idea, so I grabbed a pen and wrote “poop” on my left hand. I never did write “core” on the other hand. Cuz I can’t really write with my left hand.
But then I realized other people were doing it too. I think like 2 or 3 other people ended up writing “poop” on their hands.
that’s how we roll at open mic… just a bunch of silly fuckers messed up on the silly juice doing silly things.
So anyways, I woke up the next day in a daze, rushing around for work. I took a shower, but I didn’t give my hand the rough washing it needed. And when I got to work, I realized that if you looked hard enough, you could still see remnants of the word “poop” written on my hand. And I type all day, there’s no hiding that shit.
but i don't think anyone noticed... and if they did, they never said anything.
So that’s it. that’s the story about how I got poop on my hand.
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