MundaneSoul

zomgggg dude

2006-11-15T14:10:00.000-08:00

MAN.

It's been a long time since I posted on my blog. What the eff.

So, uh...this is kinda weird, I mean, we haven't seen each other in like, a long time and stuff. Do we just act like everything's cool? We're not going to sleep together are we?

I did something incredible.

2006-01-28T22:19:00.000-08:00

I can't tell anyone about it.

PLEASE GOD DON'T TELL ANYONE.

Signed,
Your Really Favoritest Person

P.S. What the shoo is wrong with my blog and please tell Jesus to fix it.

Basically servin' it up twice

2006-01-28T21:51:00.000-08:00

Question.

Why is Blogger so amazingly retarded? ANSWER ME. All that I want to do is upload a stupid picture into this stupid brainfacehead and it is not happening for me at all. It is happening for me less than random incredibly beautiful women stopping me in public and showing me their breasts. It is happening less than Robert Downey Jr. not doing coke. It is happening less than this:

Hmm. Looks like it's working now.

Um. Basically I was just going to rant and rave some more about that. Plus I'd probably type some more stupid and random stuff that nobody cares about. For instance, oh God. Oh man. Oh I just remembered why I got on here in the first place.

No, I forgot.

TiVo is to be worshipped on days ending in -day.

2006-01-18T06:04:00.000-08:00

So I got TiVo for Christmas.

Ahem.

Mathematical Equation:

24 + TiVo = One time when I was a kid and I was in sixth grade and there was this sort of attractive girl in the eighth grade that I had this huge crush on and then I thought I was so cool because I hung out with this 15 year old kid so then I asked her out and I'm really pretty sure that she almost, almost, ALMOST said yes -- well, I thought that I had experienced the coolest moment of my entire human lifespan and I was certain that nothing could ever be more amazing than that moment. Until now. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. OMG OMG!!!! Jack is frozen in shooter's stance looking totally like the coolest person in the universe. Chloe is moving frame by frame so I can determine whether or not she is actually hot. Curtis looks like a horse when watched in slow motion rewind. President Palmer has some sort of neck tumor. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AS MANY TIMES AS I WANT FOREVER!!!!! I have to find a way to put a bigger hard drive in this thing so I can store every episode of 24 ever inside of it. Okay?

I am allowed to say that I would like a vagina transplant so that I can have my way with Kiefer Sutherland. Willing donors may contact me at my home between the hours of seven and ten p.m. (P.S. I am not (NOT [NOT!]) gay. So not gay. Really, I mean, I'm not, it's just that, well, Jack is such a badass, you know, and um...)

Acetaminophen Scapegoat

2006-01-12T15:23:00.000-08:00

I have come forth with a new song to slap your face off with rock energies and here is a written transcript of the finished version:

[silence - :08]
Acetaminophen!
[guitar solo - 2:45]
Scapegoat!
[guitar solo - 7:31]
[silence - :08]
[guitar solo - :27]
Acetaminophen scapegoat is like a...like a really big...[unintelligible]
[scream]
[guitar solo - 9:40]
[bass solo - :02]
[drum solo - 13:06]
[silence - :08]
[scream]
[silence - :08]
Scapegoat built out of acetaminophen-colored lego bricks from the town of 1937 in the year of Chinese Implosion in the shape of a small wooden chimney on the side of a fake yarn helmet beneath the underbeard of Thor in the closet of a '98 Impala!!!
[synthesizer solo - 207:13]
[guitar outro - :12]
[silence - :05]
[scream]

Yes, that's right. I close with a 207 minute synth solo. So you know. It's good.

P.S. Also I will be covering every song ever created by The Pixies because
A) They are awesome
B) Yes
C) Rolling Stone told me to

Golfwidow. Why you are so full of wit that it makes my entire life force explode violently into nine hundred eighty three thousand five hundred and six pieces?

Okay. I admit it.

three x five nines

disclaimer Acetaminophen is not a brand name it is the clinical term for a drug which has certain side effects but does not, I repeat NOT, cause herpes or downs syndrome. I am not beholden to you or the retarded prescription drug company you represent. Do not send your neonazi pharmacy hitmen to torture me with ginseng suppositories or st. john's wort. Also I will not play Magic: The Gathering with you because that game is for nine-year-old gay Republican robots from the planet Hobar and I only play cool, socially-accepted RPGs, e.g. Dungeons and Dragons.

Three plus eleven equals five hundred million thousand and two

2005-11-30T19:50:00.000-08:00

Lateral riddles are AWESOME!!! I mean, um, there's a dead lateral riddle hanging in a room with a puddle of water and it only takes the elevator up to the seventh floor, but it lives on the tenth. WHY?!?!?!

Nobody knows how dry I am

2005-11-13T16:53:00.000-08:00

Once there were seven ravens sitting on a fence. An insane cannibal came dashing up to them frantically and asked for directions to the school that his favorite daughter attended, to which the third raven from the left replied, "Caw." This was followed by unanimous votes of Caw from ravens top-of-fencepost and first-on-the-right. The insane cannibal then brandished a military surplus catalog in their general direction, which greatly offended ravens three and four. These two flew away promptly, while the raven third from the left pretended (or perhaps not) to search for some stray bit of effluence behind its wing. This was followed by a reiteration of Caw from first-on-the-right. Shortly thereafter, said raven was given quite a slap from the broad side of an earlier referenced periodical work of nonfiction. This caused the remaining ravens, including the offendee, to vacate the scene. The insane cannibal then proceeded to climb the career ladder into a stagnant middle management position.

Solve for x.

Open up, I'm in love...

2005-09-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

I can't stay for long.

I just finished my first playthrough of Coheed and Cambria's new CD. It's called Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, Part One: From Fear Through The Eyes Of Madness. I never, ever want to do anything else in life except sit motionless and listen to this music. Make the bad things go away. Watch your problems dissolve. Buy Good Apollo now. You never need feel anything negative ever again.

Can a song, upon first listen, bring one almost to tears? Now, I believe.

Wake Up

I'm going to ride this plane out of your life again
I wish that I could've stayed but you argued
More than this I wish you could've seen my face
In the backseat staring out the window

I'll do anything for you
Kill anyone for you

So leave yourself intact
Cause I will be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips
I love you

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath till you decide to wake up

I earned through hope and faith
The curves around your face
That I'm the one you'll hold forever
If morning never comes for either one of us
Then this I pray to you wherever

I'll do anything for you
This story is for you
Cause I'd do anything you want me to
For you
Kill anyone for you

So leave yourself intact
Cause I won't be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips
I loved you

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath till you decide to wake up

Simply freaking amazing. From now until eternity and then upon return, Coheed and Cambria are the rulers of the world of man.

Easy funny

2005-09-07T19:22:00.000-07:00

I am pretending to have some things that are even remotely important to speak of when, in fact, I have only this terribly old carton of egg nog which has resided in my freezer for many long months. I am selling it for seven dollars and no cents. If you would like to buy it you need only bring this money to me. I accept non-blood-soaked one dollar bills and nothing else. Thank you.

Fantasy football

2005-09-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

Fantasy football fantasy football fantasy football fantasy football wheeeeeeee!!!

I will not hesitate to disarm you with retarded and made-up insults like anus bracelet or gentrified accoutrement.

2005-08-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

Nugatory.

Nugatory is a great word.

In other non-bovine and/or equine-oriented news: I got the second Coheed comic and I liked it so hard we had babies. I mean, I'm still liking it even as we speak. We liked eight times last night. MAN! I'm liking its brains out.

New rule for people over 75: STOP DRIVING. Put down the cars and go into hiding. Disappear for small periods of time in which some people may or may not notice you're missing. Here's what people say to me when I talk about this: "But what about when you're 75? Hmm? Mr. Smartypantsbritchesguy? HMM?!!?!!!" After I'm done throwing my seven non-operational telephones at them, I tell them that when I'm 75, I won't need to drive because I'll just sit in my little room in my little wheelchair by myself and look in the mirror and scream at myself. Ha ha but seriously, I am tired of paying high insurance premiums because you're too damn proud to look backwards when you're reversing or because you mixed up left with northeast again. Stop it.

New rule for Burger King employees: NEVER EVER STOP FEEDING ME DOUBLE CHEESEBURGERS!!!!!!!!!!! EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OHMYGOD OHMYGOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!! (Let's have relations. [Except for, you know, the guys. And the ugly people. And that chick that screwed up my order last time.])

New rule for my hair: Be cut as is most convenient for me.

New rule for Pat Robertson: Shut up forever a million times infinity. You are the reason why I hate every single person who gets in front of a TV camera until the end of all times when the Dhutu overlords come to reclaim our soul-crispies. I cannot watch 30 seconds of modern television without wanting to punch every person I know in the face nine times and then do a really stupid-looking amateurish breakdance of frustration on my crappy apartmental carpeting. TV and I are breaking up until it stops trying to sell me on near-constant casual sex and the almighty bastion of unholiness known as The West Wing.

New rule for people that smoke a lot of pot: All of you should get together and ride in a little train that goes anywhere except for places that the rest of us have to be EVER. Welcome to Happy Adultland where people stop being the most retarded people of all human history and start actually doing anything at all that can be considered even remotely productive. Like me, for instance. I make babies for a living.

New rule for guys that are trying really hard to be macho: The new awesome way for you to project your masculinity all over us is to put yourself in a little iron box and have it welded shut and then have that box placed inside of a larger iron box and then have that larger iron box welded shut and then have that same larger iron box placed into a very large mechanism which crushes large iron boxes into small bits of fluff and then have that fluff set on fire and burned for as long as possible.

New rule for everybody that lives in the same city as me: Tomorrow is Let's All Stop Playing The "Who Can Be The Biggest Asshole" Game Day. Oh, the day after that too...and the day after that. Hopefully you can see where I'm going with this.

New rule for people who tell me a story that is something I don't really understand or care about because it makes no sense and also you happen to be the owner of the business I'm working for and you are paying me basically nine cents an hour and constantly belittling me. Yeah, um... Rule for people like that: I hate you. When you're around me I'm going to wear a shirt that says "I Hate This Guy" and points to you and you can wear a shirt with a picture of me elbowing you in the kidneys really hard while I am, in fact, elbowing you in the kidneys really hard.

New rule: The Macarena is BACK.

I am a superhero and my superpower is really good dishwashing.

2005-08-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Did you guys know that if you try to kick yourself in the face that it's practically impossible to do? In case you were wondering.

Here's something else that I've been working on:

Brain Stew

Hey, look, the title of this nonspecific thingy that I'm writing is also the title of a Green Day song! That's really exciting, right? Because man everybody effing loves Green Day like man they've got all these really radical and awesome gnarly sweet songs like Boulevard of Something Dreams or whatever and also HOLIDAY (!!!), which must be the best song ever because my local radio DJs play it 14undred times per day.

Also hey have you guys seen the Dukes of Hazzard yet because dizznang that Jessica Smithson chick is SO FREAKING HOT dude I would totally like to see or perhaps even touch one of her luggage sized breasts. Also guys she has one heck of a pooper. I saw this one preview where basically she was a whore. That is awesome. But like, at the same time, she is all like dammit guys I am a real woman and would you please back up off of me. Ha ha! Man I know some girls who are all about that like in that Destiny's Child song. (Shout out to independent womens because that's cool and everything.)

Another thing that I am into right now is just being a really huge flaming Liberal Democrat because let's face it if you are going to make it in the music biz you basically are going to have to speak out against Repukelicans. Man, nobody likes Republicracks. Stupid Repubelicans. Man it's like George Bush just doesn't understand me. Plus, I mean, if Michael Moore says that there is some bad stuff going on, you know it's true, because he's a retard, and retards can't lie. And there is also the fact that all of my favorite artists are urging me to leave the country because George Bush was re-elected.

So. My plan is to continue bitching about Bush and wearing my hip upper-middle class early 20s fad clothing while playing an indie song on my beat up old acoustic guitar in the town square and dammit I am sorry that I forgot to vote in that election, I was too busy working almost 30 hours a week and smoking as much marijuana as I could get my hands on. Next year perhaps I will find the time and then you know that it is on because my vote of awesomeness is going to save the election. And I will promenade along in my motorcade blaring my awesome new Green Day single (P.S. Dude. They were nominated for a GRAMMY!!!) and hanging my arm around Jessica Smimpsnon and chilling with my two best buds Seannnn Willy "Wonka" Scott and Johnny "My Brain Cells Gots Sperm In 'Em" Knoxville and we will all wear shirts that say Hey Man My Kids Were Forced To Die In Iraq And It Is All Mr. Bush's Fault And Not My Kids' For Signing Up For The Military In The First Place Because Man People Should Not Be Dying In The Military The Military Is For Peeps To Buff Up A Little And Make Some College Money Or Whatnot.

There is such a thing as too much awesome and what it looks like is this:

2005-08-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

P.S. That is not me. BUT! I think I do own those shoes.

And again I say rejoice.

2005-07-27T18:51:00.000-07:00

I have no money I have no problems!!!

Tonight is the news aflame with the following items:

My friend is Davis and he hath left me a comment of one! He has his own blog now and my sweet thrice-distilled goodness is it ever terribly strange and vulgar but also with the explosive laughing almighty. You should visit it somehow. And if you do not, may a pall be cast over areas in which you choose to locate yourself! Ha!

Somebody! Invite me to join your band. Do it do it do it do it. Do it. I CAN SING I SWEAR I WILL SING FOR YOU AND ALSO OCCASIONALLY PLAY INTERESTING AND EXOTIC AND BEAUTIFUL CHORD STRUCTURES which will cause you to possibly throw up small amounts but also you will go Ahhhhhh and Ooooo (if I am lucky and you are very stupid). Do it. Together we will make masterpieces (do it) of Rock and also of Roll, whom I am told are close companions (do it do it). Here is where I segway into another thing which I am about to tell you and this thing is unimportant in an extreme way!!!!!!!!!!!

On the Rock and Roll side of things, Coheed and Cambria are releasing their third album on September 20 of this year. When I heard the news I was so excited that I punched myself so hard in the chest that now I have one breast. I named it Shrinkwrap and damn if it ain't purty. Tomorrow I'm throwing a pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-pre-release party for the aforementioned album during which I pledge to drink sixteen gallons of random alcoholic beverages and throw bric-a-brac from my rooftop at neighbors to whom I shall sing, "I Am The Filet Mignon, You Are The Person Who Eats The Filet Mignon And Perhaps Contracts Salmonella Because, Stupid, You Ordered It Rare (In E Minor [P.S. have you been watching Hell's Kitchen because it is TERRIFIC. Man I hope terrific is not one of those gay adjectives.])," which I will improvise on the spot for your/his/her/their listening and (even!) viewing pleasure. After the lots of pre-release prrrrrty we are going out on the town mothers and yes I do mean we are going to TGI Fridays because that is where some people enjoy going that I know up to and including myself. When we arrive we will play trivia and my friend Davis will drink enough beer to fill my grandparents' swimming pool, which is, I assure you, an extremely large amount. For added entertainment value, I will be performing a forced tracheotomy on him early in the evening and thereafter require that he consume all house brew through his throat hole. P.S. It's cool. Dave don't bleed none.

Help me solve this problem of mathematics:
This is how stupid this guy I work with is. He will go back to the place where I work and he will be all Oh no how many of these things do I need? So he will such as fret for at least an hour and then he will try to call you and while the phone is ringing he is asking people questions and when you answer the phone he is literally still saying to everyone he can find Oh how many do you think I need to get because I am so stupid that I can't think for myself please advise captain would it appease you if I were to pinch myself rapidly? So then I will tell him, "Okay. We need five. That means get five and don't spend four hours being retarded and thinking that maybe we need six." But always sure enough he shows up like twelve hours later and is all Well I just wanted to be safe so instead of seven like you said I brought sixteen and three-quarters. This is the point where I take something like a shovel or an old lady and I almost hit him with it but then I'm like, "Nah," and instead I just drive to his house later and break his windows with a shoehorn.

I got this thing about school kids. They are all like Yo, doing drugs and sleeping together from ages much too young and strange. What are we going to do to solve problems such as this one? I have an idea that doesn't involve hitting them with steel pipes all the time until they scream at high volumes or perish. Instead we could give them little pieces of candy (with their name engraved in it all fancy like or whatever, hey that was just part of the idea so don't get all worked up) whenever they do something really bad. But the joke is that the candy tastes like a big heaping bag of ass.

Hey guys it's almost like this is the longest and best entry I've ever written except for any part of that previous phrase that requires any sort of talent or prose-based prowess. Now I am going to slam on the brakes and pull that funky lever device in the middle with my right hand and I will open the glovebox. After that I will be forced to put on my left blinker and slam the back of my head into the dashboard while blowing an airhorn and listening to some guy with a mullet blast Rock You Like a Hurricane over and freaking over out of his rusty pickup. Now I'm sure you're all wondering--what's in the glovebox? But I can't tell you. I just can't. Because it's lots and lots of Troll dolls. And that is not okay.

Ahem. Golfwidow. LOOK!!!

2005-07-19T15:28:00.000-07:00

http://www.coheedandcambria.com/

Oh sweet mother of all things awesome. Welcome Home is the new greatest and best song in the world. I have signed forms in triplicate naming it the most amazing musical accomplishment of all times and places and a bill will be passed shortly making it our new national anthem. Go. Now. Enjoy. And don't blame me when your head explodes from incredulity overload.

I don't think you understand.

I just don't think you understand.

On the day Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV (Part One: From Fear Through The Eyes Of Madness) is released, I will finally be complete as a human being. Coheed and Cambria, I love you. Let's kiss with tongues and whatnot.

It's time you started listening to your great-half-stepuncle-in-law, Billy!

2005-06-28T16:59:00.000-07:00

What I am trying to say is that I have recently discovered Blogger Images and would like to make the following comments:

In other recent news the President was shot dead by a three inch tall humanoid who claimed his name was Storkyorkyorkyorkyorkyorkyorkyorkyorkyorky (he of the ten orkies) and then vanished into thin air. Also, Journey decided to do one last farewell reunion tour and accidentally rocked the Earth so hard that they threw it out of orbit and it crashed right into Mercury. I'm sure you'll be hearing about that soon. Another thing that is fascinating about today is that it is Opposite Day and EVERYONE DIES HORRIBLY (first rule of Opposite Day). There is also a rumor that Tom Cruise has lost his effing small mind and is ranting like a four star crazed loony goon across all major media outlets.

"Hi, I'm Tom Cruise, and nobody plays a dude who is dealing with an alien invasion quite as well as I do because I've been invaded by aliens six times and even once by Canada. I just wish everyone could know as much about psychiatry as me and also I'm richer than everyone in the world which makes me like unto a god. Am I right or WHAT?!?! THE MARQUIS HAS MANDATED MY RULE! IG NORP THON SACURAE MICH HOMIDI!!!"

-Tom Cruise

Trash Your House Like A Fake Party And Build A Friend Out Of Gunpowder Day!

2005-06-22T20:58:00.000-07:00

Wow. So. The one night I am actually on the internet and there is not a single living soul anywhere in sight. That is so flipping typical. You'll have to excuse me now as I'll be sitting in the corner weeping openly for the next 12 hours.

Man. I cannot even effing get a hold of my friend Davis who is up at all effing hours of the effing night. Effing dude.

Hey: Someone's gonna buy me a FUGGING KEYBOARD!!!!!!chocolate

Hey Launchcast: Play some damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn rock. playitnowihateyousomucharrrrrrrrgggghhh

Hey people with no faces: What happened to your faces?! Holy SHHEEEEE-IT!!! Oh wow, your no-face makes me feel like throwing up.

Hey me: THE INDENTURED SERVANTS ARE PISSED.

Hey Jack Handey: Why aren't you not still having sex with Susan Sarandon's niece-in-law yesterday morning?

Hey grabby-hands lady (from two buildings down the street that is slightly north by northeasterly from here) who stands outside on Tuesday who I have never spoken with: Remember when my wife left me? Why didn't you try to stop her? WHY?!?!?! Remember when my son perished? WHY?!?!?!?!?!?

Hey Bill Gates: Stop it.

Hey jealousy: Maybe we can drive around this town.

Hey everyone I ever knew: MITTENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm in your grocer's freezer with a peg leg and I am not pleased.

It is true that I am not a doctor.

2005-06-16T07:37:00.000-07:00

As a child, I remember watching Saturday morning cartoons and wondering if other children were actually laughing at some of the asinine and patronizing jokes that were continuously recycled and overused. As an adult, I have this same feeling when watching or listening to most forms of mass-produced media that are considered "comedy." Most modern day humor consists of the same five sex and/or bodily function jokes presented in slightly varying formats to the point that it almost leaves me feeling nauseous. It seems that intelligent humor has fallen by the wayside these days, and that's a tragedy greater than most you'll read about in your newspaper on any given Sunday, in my opinion.

Laughing has become a reflex for most of us, a learned behavior. We laugh when other people laugh, and they laugh because they think they're supposed to. We laugh because a joke has been made, and rarely because it contains more than the faintest trace of actual wit. We laugh on cue, a working Pavlovian marvel. As a nation, a majority of us have become little more than a recorded laugh track. And one thing that most people don't realize is that those laugh tracks you hear in sitcoms nowadays, most of those were recorded back in the '50s. Most of the people you hear laughing along to your favorite sitcoms are dead.

I think that it's time we all took a stand for intelligent humor. As an official advocate of intelligent humor, you'll need to send me 23 US dollars and you'll receive this informative pamphlet on intelligent humor, which contains many sample jokes which you may use at group engagements as long as you don't mind getting lots of blank, idiotic stares. Also, you get 50 intelligent humor bonus points if you set your hair on fire and run through an office building. You'll need to send me a Polaroid to get full credit.

2005-06-13T15:01:00.000-07:00

I ain't not buggin' forsooth

It have been a long time since I writed an entry and also there are bats in the belfry!

2005-06-10T17:27:00.000-07:00

What is up all of you crazy mother-oxen?!?! I am hanging out with the new and improved Ronald McDonald, he of the flaming red hair and nonspecific weirdness, and we are totally headbanging to some classic Megadeth, namely Symphony of Destruction. This song contains some totally fantastical and amazing lyrics, including such awesomeness as robots and people's heads a-rolling. I am not even neglecting to mention the hot and steamy Pied Piper action.

Plus:
I am still not a hippie.

However:
I am rocking the hippie hairstylings. Yes, there is a small bush on top of my head. I will show you with pictures in the near future and also I will landscape you to utopia within ten minutes.

Something else that is shocking?
This entry was written not by me but rather by a smallish clone of myself who is programmed to type a modest amount of complete refuse and then do a robot strip tease for all the neighborhood ladies. I have dubbed him Smallish-Me.

Oh yeah, Smallish-Me. That is hot. Oh my. The neighborhood ladies are quite enjoying this debauchery. Yeah, work it. Oh, you are such a bitch. Fabulous.

Nine funny things about human beings.

2005-05-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

I have invented the following fables which you will read with much speed:

Fable one.

Two men are walking along a sidewalk when suddenly one of them trips on an old, misshapen breadbasket. The man who trips falls face first into a barbed wire fence and is immediately blinded. The man who does not trip kicks the breadbasket so hard that he breaks his left leg and then proceeds to dance one-legged into heavy traffic, where he is hit and killed almost immediately by a diabetic woman driving a late '80s model Volvo. His body flies through the air and hits the other man who has just pulled himself off of the barbed wire fence, knocking him back into the fence where he is for all intents and purposes castrated.

Moral: YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY PAY YOUR BILL COLLECTORS IN UNMARKED TWENTY DOLLAR BILLS.

Fay bull two.

A woman is holding a list on which she has written things which she will need to purchase at her local supermarket. Also scrawled on the piece of paper which contains the list is a picture of an extremely small human being and a dog with horns and tentacles. When the woman sees this drawing, she smiles and throws herself out of the window of her seventy-third story apartment. She lands on the oldest woman in the entire world who is on her way to celebrate her 115th birthday.

Moral: QUESTION MARK UPSIDE DOWN EXCLAMATION POINT PITUITARY GLAND

Fable count of THREEN!!!

There is a goldfish who walks into a bar and sits on a barstool. The bartender says, "You are a goldfish. How is it that you can walk as a human does? This seems impossible." The goldfish replies, "I am not a goldfish. I am your cousin Jesus, thrice removed. If you ask politely I will sell you my burro."

Moral: This is clearly more of a joke than a fable.

I am not to be trifled with! You can ask my friend!

Word to your bird straight Peaches n' Herb.

2005-05-13T22:04:00.000-07:00

I have officially fallen off the face of the earth.

On the way out I collided with Mercury and then ricocheted all the way back out to the vicinity of Neptune or something. Man, I do not know how to spell ricocheted. That is bunk. So listen, everyone, I just would like for all people to know that I miss you tons and hopefully I will get to drop most of you a line sooner as opposed to the opposite of sooner which is well known to be later. P.S. Is Frishy back yet? I miss him double. Coheed is my old/new inspiration to rock your face, which with the help of my good friend Jophinius I will hopefully be doing quite soon. We have written one song which will simply be called Doctor & Lawyer Theme Song that is like mindblowing with its amazingness. The lyrics go:
Doctor and lawyer
Talkin' to each other
Today I killed a patient
Theme song!
Doctor and lawyer
Talkin' to each other
Today I freed a killer
Theme song!
Haha, I am so kidding you about that. But yes we did make up that song at work yesterday and I think it has real potential. I am still trying to explain to Joe that it was an accident when I hit him between the eyes with a golf ball sized rock. Sometimes when you are exhausted under the blazing heat, you do not think, you just throw. He is good about listening to reason and he said that he will consider that it might have been an accident when he is done punching me in the arm until it breaks. Also, I think that maybe he has a rock magnet in his face and he just does not know about it because his father works for the Jewish mafia. It is well known that the Jewish mafia will leave a rock magnet in you for quite some time without your knowledge. Also they will bash your face side into a lit menorah and in the empty temple no one will hear your screams as you are assaulted by a vicious Rabbi-impersonator with large hands and feet.

Do not cross the Jewish mafia.

Celerity now!!!

2005-05-09T16:16:00.000-07:00

Hope everybody's doing okay out there. IF NOT THEN THAT IS SOME CRAP.

2005-05-07T18:23:00.000-07:00

Ryan Reynolds sez: "Step off this."

Follow the red arrow to the weird E page.

2005-05-02T21:05:00.000-07:00

Zork is being overrun by such as bandits with large bits of weaponry!

One thing that is not funny is being hit with a club that is improvised from basically a large piece of driftwood. If you are hit in the head with this club you will say many cuss words and maybe you will be shipped on a White Person Slave boat to China, where the white person is hated something fierce. Also on this boat is Richard Lewis and a large vat of cocktail sauce.

Sweet mother of bloodhound!!!

See, it has been a goodly long time since I sat down and wrote some bidness that made you folks realize just how wonky my sad blasted little brain is. So now that I am among America's fine unemployed forces, I thought that I would spend a little time giving you the what for on the five dollar fiction.

First on the agenda is that rap music is hell of popular right now. It is basically rock vs. rap in a battle for what is going to be the new mass-produced junky crap. Sometimes you have folks come out such as Limp Bizkit wherein Fred Durst is the stupidest man that has ever lived in the history of the world and also they try to sort of straddle the line there on the rap/rock. Mostly this fails horribly and it usually sounds like if you were just kicking a cow in the udders all day and the sound it would make when you were finished. How about if we just make things either rap or rock and if we could try to do one or the other in a sort of talented fashion?

Speaking of Finnished there are some great bands out of Sweden and the like right now up to and including The Hives and The Mumps and The Measles and The Shingles and The Herpes and The God Awful Flesh Melting Ebolas, I am not including the more well known Swedish garage rock bands such as Please Shut Up You Bricklaying Quadriped Whores or Why Won't Someone Please Tell You All As A Country That You Are Talentless And Just Awful. The latter is one of my personal faves. There is one Swedish band that I really do enjoy, however, and that is Blindside. Blindside is awesome because they rock. They are also space aliens and listening to their music will warp your mind, just like Toto (let's face it that band is whacked). So now perhaps you understand why I am like the Kool-Aid guy wherein I bust through your wall and insist that you drink of me.

Something else that I've been trying very hard to raise awareness of is this new disease that people are acquiring that has the following symptoms:
1) Rich (basically I'm saying that you are a wealthy individual)
2) Pretty much you're a complete ass-eyed crotchivore
This is an awful condition and I'm pretty sure we can weed it out by just selectively punching some people in their teeth and eyeballs. Also you could serve them some raw calamari which they would then vomit everywhere, causing them to lose their social status and become that old homeless bumlipped sad-factory that is always begging you for change at the bus station. Just slap his fingerless-gloved hand away and tell him, "Not today, Maximillian Buttersworthington!!!" Maybe you could just give him a quarter every once in a while, I guess.

I wish I could spend more time rolling in lots of Kentucky bluegrass (obviously I would wear my eyeglasses).

I am tired, not anemic. Send me penicillin and I will cradle its warmth.

There are only four adults in the world who have not had an orgasm. Wait. One of them died.

Don't have seven babies with your next door neighbor whose name you are unsure of.

One of the most important things of all time is stodgiest.

I have a puppy and his name is Whey. Curds died of canine malaria (which probably does not exist).

If I had a million dollars, I would have people line up to come into my bedroom with pleas for money, and when they came in, I would invariably force them to sit and listen to Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" while I stare at them. They would then be asked to leave. People would be allowed to come back if they wanted to.

I heard that Mr. Ed was really a zebra and that he could do white magic such as healing your terrible cold sores.

somethinghasgoneterriblywronghereplease call my doctor
(he will be the one dressed in naked and holding ninety-three paintbrushes)

Do not play the accordion above me while I am dying in the abyss.

2005-04-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

I should be kept away from the internet when I am in this state of extreme exhaustion. Otherwise I will do things like this:

Barry Fitzgerald will serve you only the finest of beverages! Do not try to sue me Barry. I do not believe in ghosts. When you google yourself and see your picture on my website, you will know that you have finally achieved internet Nirvana (wherein you basically just stare at porn pop ups).

Also, please notify the police that the following item was stolen from my house:

Holy freaking bastardization did that ever look soporific in my kitchen.

Yeah, okay, so you did me a favor. My grandma bought that for me on the day I first suffered a multiple bone fracture. She is basically a complete sadist. She was so happy that day that she almost tried to give me drugs, but then my dad ran her out of the house with a rusty shovel. Basically this is the story of my childhood. P.S. My mom did not perish in a household fire. She is alive and well.

This is a chapter from my book:

Chapter 1

there was this man and he was from a place that was really far away it was so far away that if you tried to walk there you would have to walk for several hours to arrive there the man had a bugle and he blew it at everyone because he was a jerk geez what the em eff is wrong with the common folk nowadays it is like people are born crazy like a loon like some batty old crone

We will discuss publishing options at your convenience, Random House. Do not try to censor my work.

Actual line typed by one of our product reps in a letter to a customer:

2005-04-28T09:30:00.000-07:00

"I appolige for any miss conception"

I am actually slamming my face into my desk repeatedly as I post this.

Legion

2005-04-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

Pyotr stared intently in to the sea of faces below, scanning the crowd for the one he knew must come. Though no official mention had been made to the commoners, the press had begun arriving in waves earlier that morning, and it was not long before the people began filing in to the streets to see what was going on. In the middle of the square now stood a large wooden platform bearing only the flag of the Koyudom Army and a small podium at its center.

Pyotr knew that the reason for the lack of notice was to decrease the chances of an organized attack. The media would leak word of the conference like a sieve given time, but certainly Lyon had waited to notify them until shortly before his thugs had begun setting up the platform in the hours just before dawn. Lyon could rest assured that that the informants and spies lurking amongst the major media outlets would be unable to notify the Rebellion in time for any sort of decisive action. Lyon was a thorough man, and it was what had kept him alive thus far. He had cleverly selected to stage his event in a neighborhood that contained almost no Rebellion presence; whatever his sources, his intel was precise. Surely there would be scattered Rebels on the outskirts of the affair, but Lyon's secret police would put them down quickly and quietly.

The most distressing thing was that both the Rebellion and Lyon knew that soon he would be too powerful to be attacked in this manner. His army had already grown tenfold, and would expand again soon if he completed his campaigns in the west and north. Before long, the Rebellion would become powerless to oppose the Koyudom. The Rebellion would be only eyes and ears then.

And so today came Lyon to announce his power to the public. Before millions, he would lay his claim to everything he desired. He was confident that he had established Koyudom as a new superpower. There were even rumors that he had his sights set on China for his next campaign. If so, he would have it. Lyon seemed nigh unto invincible.

Unfortunately for Lyon, Pyotr had been tracking his every move for days. The Rebellion could not risk shadowing Lyon with a unit, as Lyon's scouts were too skilled to be bypassed by more than a single man. And no one was going to track Lyon alone. It was a guaranteed suicide mission. But Pyotr's flame was fueled by vengeance, burning bright, and he cared little for his own life. He had moved with the grace of a spirit through shadow, and fought like something not of this world. He had killed enough soldiers in the last 72 hours to fill the square below with the dead. With blade and bullet, he had cut his way through each man who would betray his presence. He was a ghost. He was a demon.

He had stealthily dispatched eleven of the men sent to scan the area before the conference. One had been left alive to call in the all clear signal at the appropriate times, but his usefulness was waning as it became apparent that Lyon's arrival on the scene was imminent. Pyotr closed his eyes and breathed deep of the crisp, cool autumn air. It was time to prepare. Today Lyon would die.

After he had dealt with the remaining sentry, Pyotr extracted the briefcase from the air duct where he had placed it several hours before. The rifle went together smoothly, with little effort. He had run through the exact sequence of movements required of him on this day so many times that he became almost entranced now. He loaded one bullet into the chamber. It was all he would need.

From somewhere that seemed lightyears away, raucous applause broke out. Pyotr's eyes drifted to the square. The man called Lyon strode confidently across the platform and took his place at the podium. He raised one fist to the sky and flashed an unfailing smile at the crowd, a gesture that had become all too familiar to those who had opposed him in the past. Lyon smiled only when he had conquered, only when the thrill of victory was his. Pyotr swore now, under his breath, that he would never smile again. His fingers gripped the cold steel of his weapon with a force that would break bone.

As Lyon motioned for the crowd to quiet, Pyotr rested his rifle comfortably against his shoulder. He prayed silently for a steady hand. In the square, on his platform, Lyon spoke in carefully practiced, slow and deliberate English. Pyotr listened for only a moment. The scope met his eye. The crosshair met the podium. With the press of a button, he was close up and personal with Lyon. In the scope, he was face to face with the man he hated. He inhaled sharply. From somewhere inside of him, the anger clawed upwards, into his heart, and threatened to drown him. He pushed it down with the same strength of will that had brought him this far. On this day, he must be cold. He must be precise.

The wind carried the sound of the bells from a nearby church, ringing sorrowfully in the distance.

Into the warming air, as the sun rose over the city, as Lyon paused in his speech, a whisper broke the wall of silence around Pyotr.

"For my sister."

"For Sara."

A bullet pierced Lyon's heart.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The crowd still stared attentively, the soldiers on the platform maintained their stance, and Lyon still stood tall and proud. Pyotr closed his eyes. From below, gasps and screams filled the square.

He opened his eyes.

Lyon still stood.

Through his scope, in a panic, Pyotr surveyed the platform below. In his crosshair, Lyon grimaced, shook visibly, and stood tall again as if little had occurred outside of the norm.
Lyon looked directly at Pyotr, into his heart and his soul, turning everything inside of him to fire, igniting the wrath that lay dormant there.

Lyon smiled at him.

Pyotr recoiled in horror. It was not possible. He knew the bullet had sailed true. It had reached its destination. Lyon could not know he was here, and even so, how could he survive such a wound? Pyotr began to tremble and cried out in rage as he slammed another bullet into the chamber.

He raised his rifle. And fired.

Another bullet in the chamber.

He fired again.

The crowd below stood in mute shock at the bizarre spectacle unfolding before them. Here stood Lyon the Mighty, taking gunshots as though they were pinpricks. And not one of his soldiers moved from where they stood. It was silent for a long time before Pyotr ran out of ammunition. Even in his anger, each bullet had struck home. More than fifty had made contact with the hated thing called Lyon, but none had accomplished what Pyotr had come for. He turned and threw down his rifle in disgust. Tears of frustration streamed down his face. Lyon stepped again to the podium, tall and proud. Pyotr could do nothing but watch.

"On this day, let the world know that God Himself has mandated my rule! No mortal man can harm this shell that carries me! No weapon will cease this life! Let those who stand before my armies tremble and wail! And from this hour when I make my demands known, let the world of man cower before the birth of its new savior! From now until eternity, I am the one who will shape the lives you lead! And you will know me as Legion!"

On this last word, Lyon's voice seemed to become amplified to a volume that was nearly unbearable. Pyotr grasped his head in his hands as buildings and walls all around the platform shook from the force of it. People turned and ran in a panic. Many screamed as they were trampled. The soldiers stepped to the front of the platform to begin taking control of the crowd. And then, very suddenly, Lyon was gone.

The crowd was too involved in its hysteria to notice, but Pyotr saw it all clearly from his vantage point above. Lyon had simply disappeared. Several of the soldiers standing near him noticed but did not seem surprised. Whether by illusion or magic, he did not know, but Lyon had simply vanished into thin air.

Pyotr stood, staring downward. Everything inside him was twisted and strange. He could take only shallow breaths, clenching his teeth and his fists. His vision blurred red.

He had failed. And something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

The above work is copyrighted by R Ryan Davies 2005.

There is nothing quite like mahogany?

2005-04-26T14:42:00.000-07:00

I got this idea from Santa Claus that we should have a new holiday in June called Halfway to Christmas!!! where we could all buy each other even more useless crap that is just going to end up collecting dust in the farthest possible reaches of our least used closets. Also, HtC would have its own mascot: Rock n' Roll Jesus. Here's a song off of his debut album, C'Mon Dude Heaven Is Awesome:

(excerpt from "Just Look At My Beard And You'll Know")

Because it's halfway to my b-day, mothers
So put your speedo on and rock the beach for God
Maybe just kneel down a little
Then go buy some crap for your kids
Spread the love and peace all up ins now
And kick the party for your Lord and Savior
And if you start to doubt me, baby
Just look at my beard and you'll know...
Heaven is awesome

I said it's halfway to Christmas now, chickens!!!

*insane fifteen minute long guitar solo*

Check One 2

2005-04-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

So what if it's only Two's Day. I ain't buggin'.

Somebody decided to put up a sign on the breakroom refrigerator yesterday that reads, "DO NOT TAKE ANYTHING THAT IS NOT YOURS!!!!!!" So I decided that while we're dishing out PSAs for the criminally stupid, I would add a few of my own. Now, underneath the first sign are several other signs that go something like this:

"DO NOT MAUL YOUR CO-WORKERS WITH A WRENCH!!!!!!"
"DO NOT PUNCH YOUR TODDLER IN THE FACE BECAUSE YOU HATE YOUR BOSS!!!!!"
"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO BREATHE UNDERWATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT HANG UP ON CUSTOMERS WHO REFUSE TO ADDRESS YOU AS GOD MAN!!!!!!"
"DO NOT LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE WITH A BLOWTORCH!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT BRING IN YOUR COLLECTION OF DEAD PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT TELL THE CEO THAT HE LOOKS LIKE MARTHA STEWART!!!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO PERFORM CPR ON YOURSELF!!!!!"
"DO NOT EAT YOUR WEIGHT IN MASHED POTATOES!!!!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT BATHE IN HYDROCHOLORIC ACID!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO BLOW UP GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS!!!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT HIT ON YOUR WIFE'S MOTHER!!!!!!!"
"DO NOT FEED RAT POISON TO PEOPLE!!!!"
"DO NOT STRAP YOURSELF TO AN AIRPLANE JUST BEFORE IT LIFTS OFF!!!!!"
"DO NOT JUMP OFF OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING!!!!!!"

The VP of the department was so pissed when he saw my signs that he actually tore all of them down and turned all red and stuff. So after he left, I put up another one that says, "DO NOT TURN MAROON WHEN YOU ARE CRYING LIKE A WOMAN!!!!!!!!"

So far it's still up. Three and a half cheers for insubordination!

That McDonald's salad commercial makes me want to punch myself in the throat.

2005-04-25T19:02:00.000-07:00

I am not joking.

24 is the best show EVER!!!!!!!!! You do not eff around with Chloe. Chloe works with computers, and if you piss her off, Chloe will cap you twenty-nine times in the face and chest with an assault rifle. Previews for next week: OMG!!! I had seventeen aneurysms, a seizure, and a three month long coma from the waves of awesomeness flowing out of my television set!!! Terrorists in the way? Jack kills 'em. Mao Tse Tsung in the way? Jack kills 'im! My brain is melting!!! Hand me my kazoo!!!

BIG WRITING tiny writing Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Sorry guys. I really need some sleep.

P.S. There were probably some spoilers up there. Kay? And yes, I did write that all in roughly two minutes.

And I will write you a song and it will be called A Picture Of Me Screaming At The Top Of My Lungs.

2005-04-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

One thing that is going on here is that I am incredibly tired.

This weekend was mostly about driving. And then there would be a stop at a convenience store to obtain some gasoline. And then more driving. Then more gasoline. Driving. Gasoline. Vrroom. Wssshh (sound of gasoline going through the little hose and into my car). At one point, there were actually children. That part was nice. Then more driving. And gasoline. I have pictures that I might consider posting tonight. In some of the pictures the children were riding such as Shetland ponies at a sort of street fair down along things.

Another thing that happened that is AWESOME (!!!) is that my long, lost friend Joseph has returned from a state that has asked to remain anonymous. He is home now and oh, how verily do we rejoice at his relocation to our proximity. The fact that good Sir Joseph has returned is incomprehensibly awesome for the following reasons:

Joe is the missing link in my band hopefulness. His return also ushers in a Resurrection of Rock, wherein we make screechy guitar noises and slide our picks all over like frigging Jiminy Christmas. We will have all of the most awesome experimental rock in our repertoire, including one song where the mighty Jo-sef speaks the names of several different aquarian animals and ways in which he would like to see them cooked, and another masterpiece wherein the guitar solo is played using only one of those rubber mallets with which the doctor hits your knee for no good reason (reflexes blah blah). In another song we will record the sound of our various joints popping and this will be played in the background along with the sounds of our voices saying words like "shelf" and "mustard" at a very high pitch. This is the beginning of an era of Rock which will span several decades of us making strange noises into audio receiving devices. I cannot. WAIT!!!
Joseph and I share a passion for writing of all kinds, be it lyrical, prose, screenplay, grafitti, inkblot, random scribbling, etc. What this means is that our book is going to be awesome and hated by everyone except us. Send us nine American dollars to preorder your copy of "Marty's 25%-off Dunce Cap Emporium and the Scourge of the Peruvian Homeowners (or Why America Is Like A Big Dead Whale With A Deformed Blowhole And Also Some Heart Disease)."
Joe is a funny guy.

Ladies, Joe is currently single and if you would like to solicit sexual acts from him you may call him at the following number: 1-800-I-AM-JUST-KIDDING-LIKE-I-WOULD-REALLY-POST-HIS-PHONE-NUMBER-ON-THE-INTERNET-WHERE-JUST-ANYONE-COULD-SEE-IT-AND-TRACK-HIM-DOWN-AND-STAB-HIS-FACE-OFF

I'm sure Joseph will inform me if I've left out anything of import.

The trip odometer reads 1078.2

2005-04-24T18:25:00.000-07:00

My whole world and everything I know is my foot on the pedal and my eyes on the road.

Do not believe the elephant, for he is a liar.

2005-04-22T09:55:00.000-07:00

I am leaving shortly for the Kan Tuck Ee experience. Everybody be safe and have a great weekend and please do not salt my pet slugs while I am gone. I know that they are ugly but they are dear to my heart and I will not stand for your lack of compassion. Another thing I will be checking when I get back is my bed. Do not use my bed to have a one night stand with a Norwegian immigrant. Thank you.

P.S. I am not going to drive an airplane! HAHA

Bye bye, beautiful

2005-04-21T14:38:00.000-07:00

My coworker is about to become a recurring character on this blog because if he does not shut up I am going to lock him in my nonexistent basement and we will have daily updates on his condition, i.e., April 25: Today there was some screaming and crying and then he reluctantly ate the moldy banana nut muffin I slipped under the door.

I am serious, this guy is driving me nuts.

April 29: Today he wrote me a poem about the Basement Fairies. I think he is going crazy. There are no Basement Fairies in my basement.

May 6: We took him to McDonald's and he ordered many large fries.

This is a delicious pear!!!

2005-04-21T10:19:00.000-07:00

Today is like what would happen if incredibly tired and incredibly bored did it.

Minneapolis Minnesota Minneapolis Minnesota Minneapolis Minnesota Minneapolis Minnesota

2005-04-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

What I do not understand is who gave everyone this stupid brain disease and then told them to call me at work with their questions. Is it unfair and if I find out who did it I will make a collage of pictures that I have drawn of me giving you noogies and I will put it up on my bedroom wall so that I can always remember how much I dislike you.

Here's a story that I wrote for you today:

Once there was this guy and he edited one of his blog entries. That was stupid. Don't ever do that. THE END

Another part of the story is that the guy is an alcoholic and raises chickens on a farm. Also, the guy once had a son but he died in a terrible car accident. His son was an All-World Basketball Champion and he was a role model for sports children everywhere until he flew through his windshield and traveled six miles through the air before finally landing in a small clearing that unfortunately just happened to be crawling with starving alligators at that exact moment. Another horrible occurence in this man's life is the time that he was given a briefcase that contained four million dollars for a terrible deed that he had performed so that his family would always be financially stable. But unfortunately he got onto a plane and the briefcase was lost and never recovered due to an error in which it was shipped to some dude's home and then that dude disappeared a short time later. So in effect he had just murdered nine innocent folks for free.

I guess that changes the story a little. Whatever.

This is one for the coin-flippers

2005-04-20T14:45:00.000-07:00

I am having one of these days that makes other days seem full of cheer and happiness even if those other days were in fact really stupidlike and not enjoyable. Today sucks. If anyone is skilled in the fine art of kicking me in the brain stem until I fall into a deep coma, you may commence the kickery at once. Another item of note is that if you mumble something under your breath at me today I am going to smash your mind in with a ball of yarn that some kittens would enjoy utilizing.

One movie that is really quite awesome is Equilibrium. This man, see, he has these pistols, and he can do very lovely things with them. Like shoot over 1,000 folks in just over 93 milliseconds. If you like movies that are well-made and well-acted and underrated and have gun battle scenes that actually make you pee a little with excitement, you should barter with your neighbor until he or she agrees to swap ownership of your automobile for his/her copy of this movie. Yes, your neighbor owns it. EVERYONE owns this movie because it is incredible (except for like eight people in the whole universe). As an added bonus, this movie is Jesus-approved and will earn you 30 Salvation points. Do not turn in a false claim, though. You will be smited with holy retribution repeatedly as you are forced to recite the Ten Commandments for several hours in a row. (Also, do not ever try to rob your local pharmacy. That makes Jesus hell of pissed!!!)
The recover post feature rocks my socks.
What do you get when you fall in love? Elvis Costello would like you to know that you get a guy/girl with a pin to burst your bubble (depending on your preference). Why is Elvis Costello such a damn genius, anyways.

Today is one of those days in which I am going to dig myself a small hole in the dirt and mud and construct The Great Wall of Shut The Hell Up around myself. It is not visible from space.

The king is going to be wicked pissed off.

2005-04-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

There's nothing more fun-filled than a monkey standing on a card table holding a half-eaten week-old doughnut in one hand and a large grab bag of assorted 1983 memorabilia in the other. Included in this scenario is the fact that the monkey is possessed by the soul of Kurt Cobain.

Ching Chong Wing Wong

2005-04-20T10:20:00.000-07:00

In case you were wondering, one thing that you should never do is to click the "Next Blog" Button in the upper right corner of this window. You are invariably going to be led to a blog written by an aging Chinese ad executive or containing a large cartoon drawing of male genitalia. I keep hoping that sooner or later I'm going to happen on another normal human being just by chance. Alas, it appears that we ordinary Blogger members are doomed to wander aimlessly through a sea of strange Asian artifacts and oddly shaped pee pees.

This entry has been brought to you by the number 8 and the letters P, U, N, C, H, E, and S.

2005-04-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

This is the week that Anwar finally revealed his true identity as the Giant, Flaming Homo Overlord. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

There is no need to scream at me, ma'am. Here is your baby.

2005-04-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to let everyone know that I posted some shnaz from my old webdiary back in the March section of the blog. Please do everything in your power to avoid those entries, as they've been known to cause vomiting and sickle cell anemia.

Today's horoscope: You will be mauled by diseased jackrabbits.

And the sheep and the lion will lie together and they will create a baby and it will be known as a shlion.

2005-04-19T14:26:00.000-07:00

DISCLAIMER: This post is not going to be in any way coherent. Ah thank you.

I have some things that need to get up off of my chest today and dammit it if you folks aren't going to take the brunt of it!

*brunt*

Haha! And such.

Anyways, I'm in this strange mood where I am equal parts tired and flustered and frustrated and mildly amused and anxious and bleeding profusely, a.k.a. schizophren ee uh. Here's something that pisses me off: if you are my coworker, do not come up with a "project" you would like for me to do. Seriously. What in the dogg is freaking up with that my friends? He comes over all, "So here's something you could do." While he's busily doing mostly a whole lot of browsing the internet and such as emailing his wife. What is up with that, you wet wick. You are worse than a whore who raises all of her female children to also be whores. You do not decide what I am doing at this moment or ever. The next time this seems like a good idea to you then you should know that the business end of my ballpoint pen is going to become acquainted with your earhole. And I do not mean that in a kind way. Basically I am threatening to permanently deafen you. Then you will not be so smart and punky with me and I will spend most of my work days just laughing at you and shouting into your stupid dead ear. Another thing that might happen is I could go all Jack Bauer on you and just quit this stupid, worthless job and all wait in the parking lot to break your fingers. I bet you would not give any more coworkers assignments that you have designed for them because everyone hates you. I think that if everyone on the planet voted on how much they liked you, you would be really depressed because the results would come back and you would know that like 114% of the world hates your face right off. Even babies hate you. P.S. I am not doing your project. So why don't you take your little legal pad back and stick it in your eyeball. Another thing that is funny is that you are standing behind me while I'm writing most of this and you're too damn stupid to figure out what is going on.

I have to go for now because it's almost 5:00 and I'm getting the flock out this bizznaitch. As you can tell, my work ethic is nigh unto effing legendary.

Closing note: Jade Empire? INCREDIBILIA!!!

Another thing that I just thought of is the following:

2005-04-16T10:06:00.000-07:00

If you are one of these poor, misguided chaps who does not have the internet available in the comfort of his home then you should literally take a trip to the libary and use something that I believe is known as the public internet and you should use this time to browse my website and perhaps offer to donate me your spare change through a program which is literally known as PayPal.

Necesito matar para bebidas!!!

2005-04-16T09:22:00.000-07:00

Three exclamation points is exactly the right amount of exclamation points. It lets everybody know that you are totally McWigging up in this bee-yai-yitchy without making them think that you are just one of those dudes who is rolling it out on the fly, all phoning it in like !!!!!!!!!!!!!! just holding down the button all wicked-like, and inside of your skull your brain is making that sound like a telephone that is off the hook. Booooooooop. Today is like one of the best days this year, and I would like to explain why to you. Really I would. And so I will. List of things that are bastarding awesome about today:
1) Saturday. Which only happens like 5o and two times a year or something.
2) Do you really not understand what is awesome about this? Eunuchs!
3) The weather. IS EQUAL TO BEAUTIFUL!!!
4) There is a new computer in my home and it is built like a fricking time machine all wires hanging out the mothereff of it and just totally schooling that data like you know it should. It informs the data and circuitry that it is now my hooker and will be in my employ for quite some time.
6) I am like 100% well. No more sickness. Can. You. BELIEVE. It? It is so awesome that this morning I took like a celebratory seven showers. That is part of one of roughly twelve-and-a-half very personal rituals that I have developed involving personal hygiene. Another one is that I like to wash my hands at least four hundred and thirty three times a day and also you should not touch anything ever because every last bit of it is germ-infested, my God!!!
7) I am telling you that basically this day has been sent to me by Jesus, who loves me, and this I know due to a certain passage which is written in The Bible. (No I will not tell you what passage so that you can remove it from The Bible, you are a heretic.)
8) I have forgotten to mention to you that you are so loving living the life today. Go out and get to it right now.

If you were to leave your house right now and ride your tandem bike to the gun store and illegally buy a handgun that is modified to blow a hole the size of some oxen in the side of a barn, and if you were to bring that gun to my abode and shoot a big hole through all of the things I own including my own personal self right now, I would not be fazed because that is just how awesome this day is today at this exact moment literally. You could step on a puppy right in front of me and I would not cry, because even though you are totally ugly in your heart and cruel and hated by millions, you will pay in hell-fiah at a later date and also that puppy is going to a better place, a.k.a. possibly Hawaii or even the Bahamas.

Songs I listened to this morning (beginning with the most recent):
For Me This Is Heaven by Jimmy Eat World
Find Comfort in Yourself by Midtown
Consumed by Laziness by Hot Rod Circuit
Roulette Dares (The Haunt of) by The Mars Volta
Meanwhile, Rick James... by Cake
On Your Wings by Iron & Wine
Somewhere on Fullerton by Allister
Stranded by Alien Ant Farm
Follow Me by Rufio
Night Nurse by Britta Phillips & Dean Wareham
The Wrong Way by TV On The Radio
One Big Holiday by My Morning Jacket
Quiver by Theory of a Deadman
Al the Killer by Coheed & Cambria
Nobody Girl by Ryan Adams
For Those by Tindersticks
Turncoat by Anti-Flag
Lightness by Death Cab for Cutie
Daylight by Coldplay
Long Goodnight by The Get-Up Kids
See You by Foo Fighters
Farewell Ride by Beck

P.S. Why in the dang does Launchcast think I like Scorpions so much. HINT: I am not a huge Scorpions fan.

2005-04-13T16:20:00.000-07:00

Y'all get up out my airspace or I be swingin'.

I am now posting an entry to the blog.

2005-04-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

This is a blog entry! About things. Things that are important. These things could change your life. Like maybe in a positive way. Or maybe not. Maybe you could end up with Downs syndrome or a melanoma or something. That would be bad. And bad things are totally uncool.

Here's something I was thinking about. Other people have blogs. Other people write interesting stuff in their blogs like what is happening up in their own life and such as their trials and tribulations and other assorted things worth viewing. I, on the other hand, post semi-lucid drivel that appears to have been written by an eight year old mental patient who is chained to a wall and stapled to a monkey (plus they have attached the mouse to his hand so he will not steal it because he is insane!!! [and it is common knowledge that insane people are constantly stealing computer equipment]). Like, dude. That whole thing about the Easter Bunny? Whoa. I think I was possessed by the spirits of four dead high schoolers or something. That was freaky. Oh, P.S. I have tons of pictures I need to post but I have this and that and these and those all going on at once right now so it's just going to have to wait and please stop sending me emails about the pictures, okay, grandma (and also I did not appreciate the e-card you sent me that was full of expletives and I know it was you that slipped that big drawing of a me getting hit by a bus underneath my door last week)? Another thing, weekly Monday guitar tabs bit it this week (let's face it we all knew it was going to happen), so I'll be dealing with that shortly. In other news, I am considering drilling a small hole in my skull to release the pressure building up therein. And babies rock so let's all have those. If you can't have one just go buy one from some lady who is desperate for a fix and cannot afford that baby anyway, kind sir. Or you could just run into the nursery and grab one and run, screaming things such as, "HAHAHAHAHA!!!" or, "Finders keepers!!!" That would be fun until everyone took it the wrong way and did not realize it was a joke. You could even get shot by the authorities. The authorities are ruthless in tracking down baby farmers. So maybe just wear a shirt that says on the back "Dear Security Guard/Policeman, it is okay dude I am just playing with you," so that they will know it is cool when they're chasing you and then you sneakily make your getaway. Just make sure you take off that shirt or they'll find you for sure. No, I will not sell you one of those shirts, that is against the law. DISCLAIMER: You cannot sue me if you try to steal a baby we all know I was joking. Do not use your one phone call to assault me verbally or I will be forced to go all Newton's Third on you and block your number and your incoming IMs, etc (I'm serious, Mark, leave me alone I will get a restraining order against you and then you are mad effed P.S. if you ever want to see your high dollar stereo equipment again you will shut your mouth about me). Also I will not be a witness in your case for fifty dollars and try to clear you that is just ridiculous so don't even think about it (because the minimum I would accept is seventy five). Another thing that I think all of us have realized by now is that Regis Philbin is such an awesome dude.

Guitar Tab of the Week: Jaws Theme Swimming by Brand New

Tipsy Doodle

2005-04-08T20:32:00.000-07:00

I drank beer at this place down along things! Dang, y'all, I haven't done that in like...eight or nine months or whatnot. I'm all with the headswimmy and the happyjoy. Man, I just love you guys. I just wanna get up along the edge of it and act all large.

P.S. Di, you're such a rock star. I'm like clapping two pieces of coal against my forehead and you're all taking them away and lighting them and boiling some soup.

P.S. (again) Davis says you guys owe him some cash now.

Blogger exploded a little.

2005-04-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

Okay, so, apparently there was some kind of five alarm disaster at blogger.com last night. I hit the Publish Post button and like exactly three moments later the website went all kinky-fied on me. This entry that I had written that was just full to the brim with mind-boggling incredibility and sweetness was like all Houdini-style up ins. I'm like, "This is f. up." Fortunately for you, dear reader, I was all Janet Reno on that crap.

Peace mothafreak I'm out.

I am like, "Hello, Nancy." Get your boots off my desk.

2005-04-07T19:14:00.000-07:00

I have spiky hair today. Awesome.

I'm having this problem. Okay. The problem is such as schizophrenia and general malaise. This problem is caused by at least four of the following...um. Causes.

1) Lack of S-L-E-E-P (shh, my brain doesn't know I'm talking about it when I spell things, it's too tired for any of that. PS if it hears me talking about sl...er. S-L-E-E-P, it'll stroke out. It gave me a warning seizure earlier today in the break room. Note to co-worker: your wallet is hardcore eelskin. Not scrumptious.)
2) Pills. Lots of legal narcotics all over the place and everywhere you can think of. Piles and piles of them. List of drugs I've taken in the past week in no particular order whatsoever (add TMs and the like where necessary): Tylenol, Advil, Motrin, generic-brand (generic rhymes with hysteric...al laughter. Or something. HAHAHAHAHA) ibuprofen, Advil Cold & Sinus, more generic (HAHAHAooookay I'll stop) "Severe Cold & Flu" medicine a.k.a. basically just crack cocaine in pill form, DayQuil (who're you again? My mother? Now that sounds like something I would remember! *coma*), NyQuil, and Aleve Cold & Sinus. Seriously. #2 is directly related to the number that follows it, which in my condition could come out as 5.9 or one of those alphabet letters that I find so very fascinating, so bear with me here.
3)Sicky sick. Sick sick sick, I tell you. Sick. SICK! Symptoms? Yes. I've had those. All of them. Even? Yes. That too. Spontaneously appearing, interleaving (I don't even know what this word means), disappearing, spinning in circles and/or playing hopscotch, possibly signing contracts to publish a graphic novel of their experiences in my body (Symptom City), totally randomly and even also sporadically, if you can imagine that. Headaches, throats of all three varieties (sore, itchy, swelled-up-ish), sinus catastrophes, cough delivered personally to my respiratory system by an agent of Satan, stomach unhappiness, achiness, fatigue, etc ad infinitum. I do not have the plague. I do not have the plague. I have the plague's older brother who's married to ebola and having an affair with SARS. Let the demons leave this child, Lord. Cleanse him of the darkness and fill him with health-ishness! PS Santa = Satan take away your children's evil video games. Now! Lock them in the basement! It's the only place they're safe! The goth teenagers are watching you. Look away! Look away!
4)Um...kittens. (this is either a long story or I ran out of ideas [I'll let you decide])

So anyways. You guys have fun and don't leave the house without your specially-fitted swimwear.

My head exploded a little.

2005-04-04T14:54:00.000-07:00

It has been crazy lately what with the kids all over, the birthday parties everywhere, the deathly illness and whatnot, etc. Bear with me, my peeps. I'll be back with photo hypnotica before you can say "robot overlord."

Guitar Tab of the Week: Faint of Hearts by Coheed and Cambria

I'll link to that right after they rewire my cortex.

Update: Cortex rewired! Link linked!

Easterrific

2005-03-28T07:49:00.000-08:00

Did everyone have a flipping crazy mad insanely awesome Easter like me?!?!?! Great. That's just great. Superb. For our Easter party (!) we painted the walls yellow and purple and slapped on some Fancy Egg wallpaper and then there was a clown who juggled newborn bunnies (he dropped one and it made a sound like a grape) and the clown was wearing bunny ears and there were strangers in trenchcoats grilling rabbits on a spit and the Easter Bunny was there with his Hammer Of Doom Followed Shortly Thereafter By Resurrection and he hit me right in the face with it and I died and went to New Jersey for two hours that seemed like years and then I magically came back to life and now I'm a high-level ad executive for a company that I'm not allowed to talk about (or they'll kill me!). Also there was an exact replica to scale of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the backyard and it was built entirely of chocolate and it was filled with five tons of chocolate wrapped in cheap tinfoil wrapping material and the kids were jumping for joy and they played in it for almost thirty minutes before it melted and then the Easter Bunny came running in and blindsided one of them with the Hammer and he died for ten minutes and when he came back he said he had taken a quick visit to the zoo but all the animals were hungry and then suddenly the lion was loose, dear Lord, the lion is hungry for human flesh. The Easter Bunny just kept following the kid around with the Hammer after that and shouting something about the Chosen One and we all just laughed and laughed at the Easter Bunny because he is such a card except for my Aunt Nancy who kept crossing herself and going on and on about "the Satan." She's weird. Later on, Abraham Lincoln drove through the living room wall in his giant H2 Hummer and jumped out and he and the EB fought to the death. Lincoln won, of course, because he cheated and used his Stretch Armstrong superpowers, but then some dude I've never seen ran up and shot him in the head, which basically killed the whole mood of the party. We spent the rest of the day trying to vacuum up all the stubborn bunny fluff. That crap was all over the place.

Guitar tab of the week: Say It Ain't So by Weezer

Songs playing in the background while I prepared to post pics:

2005-03-21T19:00:00.000-08:00

Art Is Hard by Cursive
You're the Ocean by Teitur
Whoops, I OD'ed by NOFX
She's Lost Total Control by Ryan Adams
Lessons by Rush
Backend of Forever by Coheed and Cambria

The absolute drudgery of complete sickerness.

2005-03-21T14:10:00.000-08:00

This entry has been typed in the midst of a sneezing fit that has spanned at least two minutes and up to 73 sneezes. If I weren't so disconnected from close contact with my magical best friend Advil Cold & Sinus, I might consider checking into that being a fit of the record-breaking variety. Those don't come along just every day, you know. I am barely conscious and should not even really be doing this right now. I may end up typing something completely nonsensical about pigeon hunting and regicide if I don't stop soon.

Silent Hill 4 update: I'm in the hospital now. With those things. Yes. They belch when you hit them with a rusty axe or a shovel. P.S. This is so like one of my family reunions.

Guitar Tab of the Week: This a new feature wherein I hone my musical and guitarrific knowledge by leeching off of the talent of well-established musicians. I'll open with one of my favorite guitar riffs of the century--Soul to Squeeze by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Can we say underrated? Well, I can. This intro kicks my face in everytime I play it:

e:---------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------------
G:------2-----4b54p2-------------2---
D:---2----------------------2h4-------
A:0--------0----------0--0-------------
E:---------------------------------------

e:-----------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------5----------
G:-------2-----------2-----4/6-----6\4--2--
D:----2--------2---------------------------
A:-0--------0-----0-----0------------------
E:-----------------------------------------

e:----------------------------------------------------------------
B:----------------------------------------------------------------
G:-------2-----4b5p2-------------2---------2----------------------
D:----2---------------------2h4---------2--------2-----2----0-----
A:-0--------0---------0--0-----------0--------0-----0-------------
E:-----------------------------------------------------------3-----3--

e:-----------------------------------
B:-----------------------------------
G:--------2-----4b5p2-------------2--
D:-----2---------------------2h4-----
A:--0--------0---------0--0----------
E:-----------------------------------

e:----------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------5--------
G:--------2-----------------4/6-----6p4p2-
D:-----2--------2-----2-------------------
A:--0--------0-----0-----0----------------
E:----------------------------------------

e:-----------------------------------
B:-----------------------------------
G:--------2-----4b5p2-------------2--
D:-----2---------------------2h4-----
A:--0--------0---------0--0----------
E:-----------------------------------

So there you have it. That sound you hear is your cerebellum fusing to your skull as your brain attempts to wrap around the awesomeness of the above tablature. And I didn't even post the second half of the riff! Or the solo! I have to wear a helmet when I play the solo because things around me become charged with awesomeness and start exploding. One time I played the solo for Kristina and she had four seizures followed by an epiphany and then two more seizures. So. Be careful with that.

Anyways. My home-ees and home-ettes. Keep it locked down for me.

Stupid, stupid diaryland.

2005-03-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

This entry exists solely to defame all things diaryland. Here we are on the cusp of an amazing new era of amazingness wherein all of the coolest people alive will join together in the greatest webring known to man: The Three Blogateers. And yet. My diaryland page is completely nonfunctional. Which has caused my mood to shift up to somewhere near "Angry, Flailing, Possibly Drunk Fellow with the Crazy Eyes." But I digress. Whatever that means.

So until D-land gets it together, I'll be camped out here, spouting insults at no one in particular.

Call me.

Bang-a-fricking-rang my dudes!!!

2005-03-15T13:30:00.000-08:00

Here are some things that I've thought about today:

- What if there were giant ants? I mean, like, if they were just a normal part of life and everyone had come to accept it. And every once in a while a pack of giant ants would pop up from their underground lairs and raid a whole city, killing off like 72-87% of its population. You know, everyone would just act like if a tornado or earthquake had occured, all, "Hey guys did you hear about Chicago oh my goodness that is so sad," and, "Yes that's right unfortunately Rita was carried off by one of them last week can you believe it?" That would be pretty weird if it was just like another common occurence. Because if something like that happened to us right now we would be like, "OH MY FREAKING GOD. FREAKING FREAKING FREAKING JESUS FREAKING MY GOD THE ANTS THERE ARE ANTS THEY ARE FREAKING HUGE AND I AM A NEWS ANCHOR PLEASE FLEE YOUR HOMES. TAKE TO THE STREETS AND RUN OH PLEASE GOD TELL ME THAT I AM DREAMING MY FRIEND." Or something.

- I wonder what it will be like when they finally invent teleportation, because wow, that is going to be insane. No more thirteen and a half hours drives to visit the relatives. Seriously. No more drives to...anywhere. Think about it. What are they going to do with all of the roads? What will happen to all of that boring space in between the metropoli? The teleporting is going to be triple-sweet, but...I will weep for the farmland on the day of its invention.

- Being a dog would be odd. I mean, first of all, you're stupid, but for a lot of people that's really nothing new. So you can work past that. But like, you smell the hell out of everything. Somebody at the other end of the house burps and you are presenting them with a list of things that they've eaten in the last 12 to 14 hours. That has got to suck. I mean, sure, there are some great smells out there, but to me it always seems like there are a lot more awful ones, and those mothers are everywhere. Of all the senses that have to be amped up, you know? It's like God resented the dogs and envied their carefree happy-go-luckiness and so decided to afflict them with superfreak smeller glands. I bet they used to walk on two legs, too. Sometimes God can be so hateful and it hurts my feelings. *Job shout out*

- I just think that if people could see some of the things that are going on in their own bodies at any given time, a lot of us would really lose it. Seriously, there is some really wicked stuff going on in there. And all of it has weird names. Like...um, mastoids and shit.

- How about if you could throw a party and just invite every celebrity/person of note that you are constantly swooning over? And they actually showed up!? There's just one catch. Your brain has been transplanted in to the body of Kim Jong Il. What do you do? What do you do?

- I think the reason that a lot of people go scuba-diving is that they secretly want to run out of oxygen down there, just to see what would happen. That is bad news.

- If I could get the telephone number 573-825-3825, and when people asked for my number I wrote down 57-FUCK-FUCK, do you think anyone would call me?

- Sometimes I think about that whole theory that every time you make a decision, an alternate universe is created with another you that made the opposite decision. If that is true, then I bet my other MEs have done some really crazy stuff, man. Like, there's a ME that's gay and a ME that owns Microsoft and a ME that dumps Eliza Dushku for Scarlet Johansson and a ME that sells hubcaps on a street corner and a ME who is a Mormon and a ME who is writing this diary entry but decides to use expletives a lot more liberally and a ME who is taking needlepoint classes and a ME who has been dead for three years from a severe case of botulism and a ME who has one leg and climbed Mount Everest and a ME who just adores overalls and a ME who decides to continue this entry.

Peace, bitches.

The new The Mars Volta

2005-03-15T12:58:00.000-08:00

So I am listening to the new The Mars Volta, and the new The Mars Volta is stroking my ear drums delicately. The new The Mars Volta is treating the auditory receptors in my brain just the way they like to be treated. The new The Mars Volta is rocking my planet and additional planets up to and including the universe. Here is my new uber-review of the new The Mars Volta: buy the new The Mars Volta or I sha'n't call you ever again. The new The Mars Volta is good. The new The Mars Volta is better than good. The new The Mars Volta is great and grand and trespasses unregretfully on sacred burial ground. The new The Mars Volta is just that awesome. The new The Mars Volta is titled Frances the Mute. The new The Mars Volta. The new The Mars Volta. The new The Mars Volta.

The new "IN" list.

2005-03-11T06:52:00.000-08:00

You will have a party and invite all of your friends.
You will serve chilled beverages including such as Ketel One.
You will release doves into the open night air when everyone least expects it.
You will take umbrage with anyone whose garb offends your delicate sense of style.
You will wear a Winnie the Pooh costume and smoke hundreds of cigarettes in a maniacal fashion, with greatly exaggerated movements.
At the stroke of 11:43, you will gather your guests in a tiny, well-lit room where everyone is forced to crowd together very closely, and you will announce the following through a shiny new PA system:

- Diagonal is the new sideways. This instantly renders obsolete the recently released motion picture. Anyone caught watching said motion picture will be beaten with a sock. This sock will be known to contain at least 205 quarters and possibly a small brick.

- Prague is the new Paris. As such, Paris Hilton is officially no longer popular and will die in a tragic "accident" involving a Jack Russell Terrier and six pounds of cabbage. Anyone in this room who is known to have planned a trip to France will be politely asked to cancel. Immediately. Also, due to this change, sickly-looking is the new unshaven.

- Saying "______ is the new ______" is the new "hot or not." This should be self-explanatory and anyone who is having trouble understanding this should take a coat hanger and just go bend it into silly little shapes or something.

- Top-shelf sake is the new martini. Anyone drinking top-shelf sake becomes instantly hot and should be slept with immediately barring blood relation and/or court orders. People seen to be openly drinking martinis are probably diseased and should be avoided at all costs. Martinis are the new drink of the impoverished and underfed.

- Green-ish blue is the new blue-ish black. Bruises are expected to conform to this new fashion as well. Use makeup as necessary to correct any violations to this rule. Blue-ish black decorative items and clothing should be burned and discarded as quickly as possible.

- Dead is the new popular. Suicides are still unfashionable unless explosives or personal sacrifice are directly involved. Faked deaths are completely unacceptable and anyone found to be alive after "dying" will have vampirism forced on them to ensure that they are eternally out of style.

- Ugly and messy are the new attractive. Bonus points are awarded for infrequent bathing and long, unkempt hair. Clothes that feature at least one stain will increase in value by about 200%, and people wearing anything crisp and new will be labeled "prudes" and teased incessantly. Weight gain and poor application of makeup and deodorant are a plus. It is now okay to play hacky sack again. Anyone seen shopping at The Gap should be mugged in the nearest conveniently inconspicuous alleyway.

- Parents are the new friends. Those known to live with their parents will advance two rungs on the social ladder effective 3/12/05. Secrets and detailed accounts of sexual encounters should now be openly shared with those who birthed you. Please note that stepparents are specifically excluded from this rule, and anyone caught buddying up with grandma or grandpa may find themselves inconveniently audited by the IRS.

- Hard rock is the new pop. Please dispose of all CDs containing boy band music or a person's name (i.e. Kelly Clarkson, etc.). Rap and R&B are accepted but not encouraged. Anyone with the ability to play an electric guitar with heavy distortion will receive a liberal increase in attention from the opposite sex. Indie rockers will be shown little or no respect and occasionally nudged into traffic. Any band that has anything to do with a piano will be shot on sight.

- Stupid and lazy is the new bulimic. Models will need to shake their current disorder in order to replace it with a complete inability to so much as write their own name. This should be an easy transition for most of them. Also, exercise is totally out of the question. Any model who is known to exercise on a regular basis after one month's time will be strapped down and force fed a medium-rare, 17 ounce T-bone steak (which they will NOT be allowed to purge).

- Goth is the new grunge. Black lipstick and fingernail polish will be required at all significant social gatherings, and at least four rings and a leather wristband should be worn at all times. Anyone who does not own a Bauhaus CD should purchase one immediately. Matrix trenchcoats are back. Anyone concealing a compact pistol or a stiletto is to be respected and feared.

- Ninjas are the new biker dudes. For reference material go here.

- "Crazy-go-nuts" is the new correct term to use when referring to someone's insanity.

- Achewood is the new Calvin and Hobbes.

- All references to cash or bling should be replaced with the word "spainch."

- It is still not okay to watch old homeless men fight for money, food, or shelter.

- The New Mustang is the new New Hummer. Anyone owning a Hummer should destroy it as violently as possible.

- Everyone should take a test to determine how many people like them. P.S. Post your scores in my guestbook. It'll be fun, mmmkay?

- Di. Rocks.

- Just kind of letting things vaguely trail off without really wrapping them up is the new way to end a webdiary entry.

Here are some dreams that I've had recently.

2005-03-10T13:48:00.000-08:00

1. I live in a small apartment with my dad and my fake brother who does not exist. My fake brother has Down Syndrome. I am okay with that. Our apartment is apparently built into a shopping mall, because when I go out the front door, I am suddenly rollerblading at high speeds through crowds of shoppers (I would like to note that I have never donned inline skates in real life. Is that odd?). I am on my way to my job at a store which is apparently named Krog (???).
In retrospect, I am wondering if this store deals in general caveman supply. Not that it matters, because the work day goes by in a blur. Back to the important stuff.
Now I'm on the way home. New mode of transportation: skateboard. I am wearing a stupid helmet that I hate. I feel like I'm 13. The mall is empty and creepy. I do not slip and break any bones. I arrive at the apartment.
Dream Dad is mean and sarcastic, which is basically the total and complete opposite of Real Life Dad, who is so incredibly, insanely nice that if you so much as cough in his presence he will buy you a new car and pay your medical bills until you die. Dream Dad basically hates and resents DownSyn Bro and makes that very clear. Who is not having that? Me. So while we fight, Bro goes into the back room and arranges his mint condition NES games alphabetically in to three separate stacks by genre. Dad catches me with a left hook and turns into a monster. I magically pull a handgun out of nowhere but can't actually take the shot, because dude, that is my fricking dad over there, mmmkay?
*End*

2. I am in space. Space is cold. There is a beautiful, blazing white star just out of my reach. I cannot breathe. I am dying.

*End*

3. Zombies are in the house. I am trying to wake up because everyone I love is somewhere in the house and I am in the very back room of the house and the zombies are in the living room and they are dragging themselves along the floor because for some reason they are half-zombies with no legs to speak of and my GOD they are moving at the most agonizingly slow pace, inching towards the hallways where the bedrooms in which everyone is sleeping are located, hungry for brains and intestines. I am paralyzed. I am trying to wake up. I am trying to scream. I cannot move. I am trying to wake up.

*End*

4. I am a scientist. I am about to discover the cure for cancer. At the last moment, just as I am perfecting the synthesis of the two previously unknown elements which are involved in said cure, a large chimpanzee drops from the ceiling and clings to my head for dear life. Beakers full of valuable, unrecoverable substances crash to the floor as I flail wildly, legs and arms akimbo.

*End*

Other stuff:
I beat Silent Hill 3. Dude. That is just...wrong. When she ate that thing? Ick. *shudder* This is me recommending the Silent Hill series to everybody and their siblings.

New slang phrases I've decided to invent, meanings to be interpreted by the individual user (use amongst your friends):
"Juicin' it, hoes!"
"That is the stone cold hotness."
"You ain't berang, Flang."
"That jazzrabbit is stank on a flown sandwich."
"Sally is givin' it the slow rotor."
"Y'all drop the spainch at it."

We are all out of Marshmallow Peeps.

2005-03-04T08:54:00.000-08:00

Here are some insults that I invented for people just like you who always have trouble coming up with good insults until it's too late to use them. You can use these anytime you want but maybe just say my name right after you are done with the insult so people can kind of know where it came from and everything. I know that you will probably just want to take credit for them and I guess that is okay. But if you're using them all the time maybe you should just send me 20 or 30 dollars in the mail. That seems fair to me.

So here's this insult, maybe you could use it on a lawyer or something:
How would you like if I took you to court, buddy? Huh? Maybe like I accuse you of embezzling or something. You can say you're all innocent, but I'm like, whatever he's a liar, and then I pay the jury off to convict you and then you're in prison for two to three years. PS Don't even try to come lookin' for me when you get out, because I will already be long gone and I will change a few letters in my last name so that you cannot ever find me. All this because you are the biggest stupid idiot jerkface.

Here's another one that you might use on that really big guy who is hitting on your girlfriend in the club:
Okay, man, listen, I know people that will have you in a headlock really soon if you can't just leave my female companion alone right now. Darn it, do not make me do this, okay? Alright, I am dialing on my goshdarn cell phone right now and you just get away from me. I am serious, back up. Bouncers! This man is harrassing me! You see what happens when you mess with me, buddy? I will follow you right to the door where they throw you out and you will see me behind this huge wall of bouncer and I will be giving you the middle finger with both hands. Do not even think about waiting for me in the parking lot because I want you to know that there are cameras everywhere in that parking lot and you will go to jail for assault, my friend. I am not even joking about that, you will be sued for punitive damages. I do NOT drive a '92 Honda.

Here is one I used on this stupid idiot police officer who decided that she could pull me over for supposedly running a red light that was completely yellow when I went through it:
Hey, listen, it is not my fault that your mother was always slapping you on your face and ears with a wooden spoon or a windshield wiper blade when you were a kid. I know you think you are the bigshot goshdarnit top dog with your shiny little badge there, sweetie, but that is just not the truth because I have rights too, do you understand that? It is okay for me to tell you that you are probably stupid even if you think you can file a false report on me and say that I allegedly assaulted you just because I am holding this Swiss Army knife while I am driving along at least ten miles under the speed limit. I am not going to curse at you but I want you to know that I have some really good ones in my head right now and I am thinking about you too, maybe that makes you mad but you cannot hit me because then I can defend myself and I will perform a citizen's arrest on you. You probably wish you had not even pulled me over now. That's because you are a stupid idiot who probably did not even learn to drive until you were 17 and I bet you still live with your mommy and she even tucks you in at night and then you pretend to sleep but when she leaves you just lay there in the dark and keep crying until you throw up. I'm sure it is hard for you to admit those things but that is okay because I am here for you, Nancy, and this was just an honest mistake so you just get back in your car and drive away now.

This is an insult I invented for if you are teenager and you have that one parent who is not getting up off of you ever:
Maybe you need to start watching the news more often. If you watched the news you would know that kids can divorce their parents now and they can just go live whereever they want to, like with me I might choose to live in a crack house where the man on the top floor is always screaming and the carpets have weird stains or perhaps I would like to move in with that nice European family down the road who always come outside without any clothes on in the mornings. Then every day I could be in their front yard naked and I would yell really loud that you're just a big fag. I would yell this so loud that everyone on the block would hear me and I bet they would think, "He's right, his dad is totally a fag." They know you're a fag because I told them about all the things you do that are faggy. Like, why are you even married to my stepmom? Is that so you will not have to tell everyone that you just love making out with other men? Is that why I have a curfew? So that I will not see you sneaking out at night to be with one of the nine boyfriends that you have? Maybe you should go buy a big book about parenting that will teach you how not to suck at it.

The next insult would be a good one to use if you met a really famous person who you were not particularly fond of:
Hold up there, Captain, I've got a few things I'm gonna need to say to you and yes you gaping A-hole I do need to say it right here in front of all of these press people. You are going to need to tell your pigfaced moron of a bodyguard to step off my brouhaha and go play with his Lincoln Logs for a minute. I just wanted you to know about how I have been writing to you for almost 3 years about how my great-grandma is in the hospital and she has been dying really slowly and painfully for a long time now. She says that she cannot pass on until she has your autograph and that is all she ever wanted in her whole life, I mean it would be a bonus if you would stop by her room for a minute and say some rap lyrics but whatever. Now her heart is broken and I think you should know that it's all your fault and now she is probably never going to die forever and she will just live like some sort of freaking crone until she gets so old that parts of her are always just falling off. What is really horrible is that she is just a liability and everyone in my family hates her, she even shot my mom a few years back, and now because of you we are never even going to get some good inheritance money from her. Maybe you never even read my letters and I'm betting that's because you were in some Third World country buying a sweatshop and picking out which of your child laborers you were going to transfer from your oil rig in the Pacific. That is pathetic because you are a multi-millionaire and I only asked you if I could borrow a measly ten grand that I promised to pay back. The only reason that I kept threatening to kill you in those letters is because I wanted you to see how badly I needed the money, and I did not mean to kill your dog with that poison I just thought he would get sick and you would understand that I meant business. And those calls I made to your agent where I said that I had kidnapped his wife, that was just a joke and maybe you should both lighten up a little. So why don't you and your model girlfriend who's probably slept with like 40 people just get in your fancy limo that I did not rig with a bomb and drive away. Just remember that you are the worst actor I have ever seen and I bet everyone secretly hates you.

This is an insult you can write in my guestbook after reading this entry:
OMG man that is the stupidest crap I have ever read in my whole life and Im 12 so you know what that is bunk. I have a insult for you how about set a popsicle on fire and then stick in you ear what do you think of that. you probably do not think anything about it because you're brain is retarded. I have this freind in the fourth grade, ok, he is my brother and he could even beat you up becuz your a sissy and I bet your a nerd too. What is wrong with u saying stuf about peeps dads becuz dude Im sorry your dad is like that but mine is awsum and maybe u need to go get theripy or sumthin. ROTFLMAO at how your an idiot.

This test will determine how many people like you.

2005-03-03T21:23:00.000-08:00

Let's begin.

1. The best idea that anyone ever came up with is not:
A) Polka
B) Death, in a very nonspecific sort of way
C) Those things that hold your mouth open while the dentist cuts you all over the place inside of your mouth, which is like the most delicately painful place to be cut, which makes you hate your dentist, because he obviously worships the devil in his free time
D) Stuff that gets moldy
E) Snakes
F) Anything that can or will melt
G) Escaped convicts
H) Jell-o commercials starring that one guy who seems to constantly be having an aneurysm, I think he had a TV show or something

2. The baby is crying. He is trying to tell you that:
A) You are starving him to death
B) The couch has been replaced by a shape-shifting spaceman that may or may not be from Venus
C) That suede ensemble is just not working for you
D) The cat is not sleeping; the cat is dead
E) He has some important questions for you about your current internet service provider
F) You should take him out of the crib sweet Jesus there are demons in the crib with him
G) He is not a Polaroid picture (he realizes that you might not get this joke)

3. Instructions to the local pizza place are as follows:
A) You need to go forwards for a while then maybe you should make a left
B) Just go down the street with the pink elephant that is not really there
C) You can't remember because the leaves are in the trees and the trees have a thing or two to say about that
D) Just keep going west for like two or three hours until you forget what is going on and try not to run out of gas in the bad neighborhoods
E) I forgot to mention that you are on piles of drugs including some primo Latvian smack

4. There's Greg, laying on the floor in front of you, and he's bleeding all over the place. Obviously you need to:
A) Tell Greg to apply pressure to the wound and hotfoot it before the cops show up
B) Siphon some gas from the neighbor's BMW and use it to set Greg aflame
C) Take a leisurely stroll through the nearby car graveyard and forget that you ever saw anything, in fact, you're starting to believe that it never really happened
D) Bribe the maid to keep her fat mouth shut
E) Drive up by Century Hospital and push Greg out as you go by
F) Put Greg in the hammock and hope he heals up okay

5. The waiter would like to inform you that you have a choice of beef, chicken or shrimp. You choose:
A) Beef
B) To punch the waiter in the hip
C) Pikachu
D) Baked Alaska
E) Basically anything that they will give you containing alcohol, because it will nicely complement the eight and a half Tequila Sunrises you plan to knock back before hitting the boardwalk

6. You have four dollars and three cents. You're on your way to buy:
A) Some dude's gall bladder from your friend Jeff
B) A giant corn dog twice the size of your brain, which in retrospect is perhaps not saying much
C) A Corgi with a salvage title

7. In the dream, you are surrounded by superintelligent alien ants. The ants:
A) Just want to borrow your soul for a minute, so lighten up bro
B) Need you to fill out this important paperwork as accurately as possible
C) Are conducting a survey and are very interested in your opinions
D) Probably aren't gay, but that one in the corner is making you a little nervous because it keeps just staring at you and doing something with its thorax
E) Would like to replace your blood with Kool Aid just to see if it kills you really fast, because human life is a joke to them and they don't really understand that you've got kids to take care of, dammit
F) Are dressing you up like Captain Kangaroo in preparation for something that is almost guaranteed to be humiliating

8. You are trapped in a room with:
A) No windows and no doors
B) Keanu Reeves and a board with a nail in it
C) All those books you've been meaning to read and just haven't had time for
D) Four million Canadians reciting the Kama Sutra word for word
E) That sweaty guy from the bus station who won't stop staring at you
F) A mirror and a light switch that doesn't work unless you're screaming
G) A Macintosh computer and the only thing on it is that frigging game Myst and let's face it, that is not going to entertain you for very long before you start getting sort of pissed
H) The ghost of someone completely unimportant
I) That dog from the Family Guy and a six pack of Diet Rite soda

9. You're hanging over the ledge and you're losing your grip on it. It is:
A) That stupid kid you've been trying to save for like a month now from all these different near-death situations
B) This month's Wired
C) A blueprint for a machine that could work for time travel but will probably just warm people up a little bit if they're cold
D) A monkey that is hanging on to another identical monkey that is hanging on to yet another identical monkey and this continues for quite some time
E) A picture of Dan Quayle that you bought on eBay that has his autograph on it, and what's funny about that is he spelled Quayle with an "i" instead of a "y" because apparently he is an idiot
F) Some sheet metal that you were using to tan with
G) A briefcase full of something really important like tube socks and there's lotion all over the handle by some strange twist of fate

10. That's the doorbell ringing but they're just going to have to wait because:
A) 24 is on
B) That guy pointing the gun at you shakes his head to indicate that you should not move
C) You've superglued yourself to the kitchen counter for the fourth time this week
D) You're in the shower singing along to Nat King Cole and there is some amazing dancing going on right now
E) It's probably just Sharon Osborne again, asking if she can borrow a lit match and a week-old half-eaten apple pie

Let tally your scores! Each letter is assigned a certain point value.
A: 2,000
B: -150
C: 7.76
D: the square root of 79 + X
E: basically just any random number
F: if you chose an F you basically just lose instantly
G: Pi
H: number of letters in the word anthropomorphism
I: look up the population of Pittsburg, Kansas and this is your point value for I

Add these numbers up to receive your Total Likeability Index and then compare it to the chart posted below.

-1,500 to 0: Basically the story here is that you're hated by everyone in the entire world. Everywhere you go things are thrown at you and I'm sure you've been beaten unconcious more times than you can really count. I am sorry that it has to be this way for you. Maybe you did something really bad in a past life.

1 to 100: My guess is that you're a really laid back guy or gal and that you have at least 18 people who admire you so much that it almost makes you sick and sometimes you just wish they would go home already, and quit using your Tivo as an excuse to come over.

101 to 2,305: People in this group probably aren't around to read this because most of them have been eaten by crocodiles by now or at the very least shot out a cannon into a flaming vat of petrol.

2,306 to 2,309: People in this group almost always win the lottery right before they die. So at least you'll get to have some friends for a day or two. Even if they're just looking for a Last Living Will And Testament shout-out.

2,310 to 8,605.461 This is your average Dick Smith or Jane Doe. They have the normal amount of friends and the normal amount of everything else as well and they die at a normal age of a normal cause. That is so friggin' boring. Give me a massive, flaming coronary while cliff-diving into rocks any day.

8,605.462 to 21,002 People in this category just want be loved and they will let you know by fawning all up over your junk until you are ready to serve them up a stiff ear smack on the rocks. You will tell them politely to step up off your rad chilies but they are not having that jive from you and they will continue trying to love you until a train comes by and finally, mercifully, carries them into the afterlife at speeds of 35 to 40 miles per hour. For British people: that is not very fast, okay?

21,003+: You possess some sort of strange psychic ability to bend others to your will. You snap your fingers, and that butler is up in your grill in like five seconds flat, all begging you not to hurt him and to spare his family and please don't make him water the ficus again because he's not that good with gardening and he knows that really pisses you off. But you tell him not to worry, because no matter what he does, it's just going to piss you off. You explain to him that basically you are just looking for an excuse to screw around with him, because he has this harelip thing going on and it sort of freaks you out. People who score higher than 21,003 are usually politicians or Martha Stewart.

If you liked this test, or even if perhaps you think that I am some sort of wino, maybe you should go out and tell all of your friends about it and have them come take it. Like right now. Okay?

Which kind of soup do you really not like?

2005-03-03T12:28:00.000-08:00

Remember me? No, come on, I'm a friend of your mom's. My name is Chuck. You remember me. Chuck. Remember? Come on, let's go for a ride in my awesome '90 Porsche. You will enjoy it, I promise, with the winking and the nudging. Billy, let's go. I said let's go. Billy!

What is fun about skydiving: Sometimes the parachute is not going to open.
My new favorite webcomic: Achewood. It is so good and I just know you'll cold love it.
My new favorite diet: Everything I can see, that's what I eat, I eat all of it, and then I might burp or drink some iced tea. I might put liquor in this iced tea. That is my favorite thing. Putting liquor in my iced tea. Other than my kids and my wife or whatever. That is basically what I'm all about.
My new favorite kind of grass: Crabgrass
My new favorite nickname for my left index finger: Itchy Love Wand
My new least favorite noise: Thousands of children, all exhausted from a long night of weeping, simultaneously screaming my name four times.
My new favorite form of recreation: Desensitizing apes to violence by locking them in a room where the walls are covered with pictures of me hitting apes in the shoulder or occasionally the face. The apes in these pictures might have some fake blood on them and some are crying. Really it is just my friend Davis in different ape suits. I don't know where he got them.
My new least favorite way to get wet: Wading through someone else's murky, day-old bathwater to retrieve my lost teddy bear.
My new favorite therapy: Just hitting people until they shut up about their stupid problems.
The last time I remember thinking about Skeletor: probably a couple days ago
The last time I flew over the handlebars of my bike and landed on my head: 1988
What I dreamed about when they put me under for hernia surgery: Two white lions fighting over an old grape.
A story I wrote that is not even a little bit true at all: Okay, so there's this police chief. Okay? So the chief falls in love with a bag of muffins, and the bag of muffins is already promised to another man, so he's walking around all dejectedly when he sees this really awesome car and falls in love with the car (or it might've been a cow...anyways) he's sitting there trying to convince the car (cow) that he loves it when in comes Kiefer son of Donald Sutherland with his special Anti-Terrorist Handgun (in other words it's fricking huge) and blows like twelve holes in the car's (cow's) gas tank (kidneys), causing it go up in flames (moo a lot) and eventually explode (bleed to death). The unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief wanders off into the woods until he comes to a clearing. He spends about an hour in the clearing (playing hacky sack and talking to himself) before he realizes that he's totally head-over-heels in love with it (the clearing). So he hugs the clearing (trees) and kisses the clearing (dirt) and then he gets in an argument with the clearing (grass) and tells the clearing (ladybug) he's fed up with it. He starts to leave but realizes how much he truly loves the clearing (clearing) and decides to marry the clearing and settle down. Unfortunately, he soon realizes the clearing is not in fact a clearing...but a grotto. He screams at the grotto (rusty, discarded piece of a lawn ornament), "I thought I knew you! Why weren't you honest with me?!" He runs from the forest bawling his eyes out just as the Keef drops a nuke on the clearing (grotto) to flush out some terrorists. Good timing, enraged, unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief. Finally, the chief stumbles upon a small pond (kiddie pool) in which he finds a small goldfish whom he names Filibusterifery XXX, Esquire. The Third. The End. Or IS IT?!?!?!?
Something about me that nobody knows: One time when I was a kid I knew this guy who snorted red pepper up his nose. I think he's running for government office now.
Something about me that is false: I remember being born, and woah, dude, that was an experience.
A place I went last week: grocery store
One thing I think about whenever I'm all alone: How far could I pitch a gopher?
I have no legs. What am I? You are a starfish.
No. You're an amputee.
Close enough. I'm just glad that's over with.
Please stop hitting on our female sales representatives. I'm sorry. Is that against policy or something?
No. It's just that they're all either married or over 60. Oh.
Way I'm going to end this entry: If I keep praying, God says I can win the lottery. God is the bomb.