WASTE YOUR TIME

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The time has come

2006-08-01T21:54:00.000-04:00

Little kids are really cute... these are cute little kids. I saw you standing there the other day and thought I'd throw up in your general direction... you know who I'm talking about... writing your character education books in the coffee shop. Tom Waits said you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops. I didn't meet you there, anyway. You could be nice. Where am I going. I live in a fucking tent and now I'm dirty with ticks crawling in strange areas. What if that's true? What if I die tonight. Maybe that would be okay. I knew an Italian guy that got bit by a brown recluse... I don't know if that's the way you spell that... anyhoo, he didn't die. He went back to Rome last week. We're going to the Smokies sometime so he can study the rocks there. That's what he does best. That and have two girlfriends. One in Rome. One in Spain. L-I-V-I-N my friend. That's livin'. For him. I didn't know enough to keep one girlfriend/fiance... let alone two. I think I'm going to be sick with myself.

Pepperoni Karaoke

2005-12-31T03:13:00.000-05:00

Don't go softly into that good night. Don't eat at Karaoke bars either. I love Pepsi, when I'm not drinking Coke. Remember what it was like when Bi Lo was Red Food? They had the best frozen pizzas then. Big stupid pepperoni's that just made your mouth raise its hand and say, "Yes, I am a mouth, I remember what it feels like to be alive." They were cheap too, not like a dime store hooker, but, y'know, inexpensive. Like Dylan Thomas. And the Talking Heads. Sufjan Stevens once said, "Damn, I'm hungry." I wasn't there, of course, but the point isn't the credibility, it's the timing of truth. Everybody gets hungry. Shouldn't we unite somehow. Red Food knew about this years before this silly war in Iraq. They knew good food at low prices helped bring a new kind of freedom. Freedom to eat. Oh, those pepperoni's were so stupid and big. Nothing tastes better with frozen pizza (when its all cooked and stuff) than a nice glass of Pepsi (with ice) unless it's Coke, and then that's the best taste. So, to end this thing in sand land, why don't we bring back Red Food. Pizza too. Nobody eats pizza anymore. Nobody cares anymore. People are too busy making blanket statements. They're always wrong. Blanket Statements. Always. Karaoke!!!!

Hello Clint Eastwood. Hello Death. Goodbye Apple.

2005-12-23T18:53:00.000-05:00

I'm waiting for you, Clint Eastwood. You're coming down the hill, and I see you. It's only natural to be afraid. My finger is resting on an apple. It's firm, but it gives a little if I squeeze it. Don't want to bruise it now, though. Not before you get to my porch. Oh, Clint, it's been too long. You look tired. I wish we weren't aiming to kill each other. All I have is this apple, but I'd say that it's a good enough piece of fruit, I wouldn't mind staying alive long enough to finish it. I washed it myself, kept it in the fridge too. That means it's going to be crisp. I'd be happy if I could see long enough to swallow the first bite. You're not sure you can wait, though, are you, Clint? You want to do the job and go. Hell, you might even take the apple. Right after I told you it was all I had. That's like sleeping with a man's wife, Clint, it's all I have - I told you that. It's silly for me to get upset. You wouldn't ask, and I haven't really told you anything. You're still coming down that damn hill. Like an older, deadlier Laura Ingles, but this ain't no Little House on the Prairie, is it Clint? I'm no Michael Landon, either. Haven't got time to develop the drinking problem or become a guardian angel - not like Michael, anyhow. It didn't have to end like this - you coming down the hill to my porch to finish the job you started 23 years ago. You're a bastard, Clint Eastwood. You're the yellow bird I've been waiting for. This would be a sight easier if I didn't love you so much. I feel like Abraham, I'm watching myself sacrifice the one thing I love. You're getting too old, Isaac. I hope God spares you. You're a good man. I'm ready to go. I don't need the apple, it's been getting warmer in my hand since I saw you. It won't be crisp anymore. I'm ready for you, Clint Eastwood. You'll be here soon - no ram around to take my place. Stories all mixed up, isn't it? I hate when I do that. Goodbye, Clint. Enjoy my apple.

TV Got it Wrong? Trailmix in the Eyes? Is it Thursday Already?

2005-12-22T13:50:00.000-05:00

Do you like it when people shove trail mix in your eye? Neither does Mr. JonnyPantz. In fact he, wait, what was it he said last night? Oh, that's right, he "hates it." Whatever. What a lame-o. Do you ever want to have a cigarette at work? Sometimes I do. I'm the only one here, though. Who would answer the phone if I went out to weather the elements in a cloud of nicotine? Nobody... that's who. Remember that old Anti-Drug commercial where the announcer says, "Nobody ever says 'I want to be a Junkie when I grow up'". I wonder if that's actually true... I mean, I knew these guys in high school... they seemed like that's exactly what they used to say. I'm no mind reader, and I'm no telemarketer, but I can rememberize. And that seems to be exactly the conversation I remember over senior lunch. "Man, when I get older, dude, Junkie! That's what I want to be when I grow up... a Junkie." Weird. TV got it wrong. I'm out of Trail Mix. Score 1 for JPantz's eyes. You're lucky, buddy. I think I'll step out for a bit... if anyone reads this in the next 7 minutes, don't call the office. You'll only get the machine. Seriously. Don't. Trailmix. Eyes.

Bariss the Joke Master

2005-12-21T15:56:00.000-05:00

Have you ever walked into a bar and seen a little man with a little pad jotting down descriptions of anything his little beady eyes may find? He's the joke master. He writes the jokes. Evan doesn't like people that underestimate his knowledge. That's why he hates asking questions. He wants to know exactly what he doesn't know. He doesn't want someone making a bunch of assumptions that he doesn't know more than what he actually may or may not know. They are always awkward conversations. Always. He's sleeping now, though. Daddy's left the office, and he's napping. So, steroids. Weird, huh? I could buy some for like $400. I could get big and mean. That would make up for... everything. People like big people. People also like mean people - girls especially (though they rarely admit it). I'd be both. They'd give me a cool nickname like "the machine" or "Bariss". A cookie I'd be one tough. Evan woke up. He's on the phone talking about rollovers and file-what-have-yous. Tax forms. I wish I could be the joke master. I'd finish that joke in the Breakfast Club. This Naked Chick walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm and a two foot salami under the other. She puts the poodle and the salami on the bar, and the bartender says... (sound of ceiling breaking) AHHHHHH! Yeah, if I were the joke master that would be my Everest. I'd wait for years for that naked lady to come in with her poodle and salami. It would be amazing. I would be amazing. I'd Benchpress tables to stay big, and I'd eat raw meat while I waited to stay mean. That way after my time as joke master was served people would still like me. "Bariss," they'd say, "You've been gone awhile, you've written some amazing jokes, and I still like you."

The Plan

2005-12-17T00:59:00.000-05:00

"Bob?" Mike asked, sipping his coffee in front of my cubicle. My break wasn't til nine, the bastard. He knew my name. I hate it when he said my name in a question. Sonofabitch. "I'm gonna need you to move your office space to make room for a new employee," he said with that damn-bastard-crapface-smuggy look on his face. "I'm not sure that's going to be a good idea, there, Mike," I said, the smile plastered across my face. I was respectful. He was my boss, the s.o.b. that he was. Mike was still grinning, "Sounds great, I'll tell Ronnie to get his things, and bring em' on over, kay? Bob?" and then he was gone. He didn't have to tell Ronnie anything. Three seconds couldn't have passed when the cup of water on my desk started to shake. ... What was that? There it was again. A vibration. And then the fluorescent light went black. It was enveloped by a giant orb... I squinted, and I saw it, Ronnie's goatee. "Hi, there fella," he gasped - apparently it had been a tough walk for big Ron. I moved my stuff over, but if felt pointless. There wasn't enough room. When he sat down my chest jammed into my desk, my left lung collapsed. And then the Fritos. Ronnie loved the Fritos- all the time. There should be a law. I've got to walk down three flights of stairs, walk around the building, and stand in a friggin' wind tunnel to smoke a cigarette, and this fat ass ruins his health wherever the hell he wants. I wish I could prove I got second hand fat from Ronnie. I gained three pounds in the first two hours. There should be a law. Mike came back to check on us. He laughed. "Bob? Cozy?" he said, hiding a smirk. Ronnie looked up with glassy eyes, he was thinking, "Cozy? C'mon Mike, it's me, Ronnie!" and then the most horrifying sound I have ever heard. Brute Laughter. It was like open mike night at the sci-fi convention. Shatner was killing. Beam me up, fuckers. Ronnie turned to share his amusement with me. I caught a Frito in the eye. It was soggy with Ron's spittle. I turned to Mike, coffee was coming out of his nose. He coughed up, and spat it out on my chin. "Mike?" I said, "Mike? I quit. Got that? Got that, Mike? huh? Mike?" and that was that. Ronnie ate me before I got to the door, though. That had been the plan all along.

Unrequited Flower Cow

2005-12-12T14:49:00.000-05:00

I wanted to say, "I love you," but I knew you wouldn't understand. We speak different languages, you and I. Maybe we could connect some day far away, in a land that's built for two, near a sea that came from one. I thought that we could make love in the alley of our building, you'd be there with me, next to garbage and a bum. We'd be free together, we'd do what ever we pleased. But you don't speak my language, and I don't know you well. If I could feel your tongue, I'm sure we'd get along, if I could whisper in your ears, I'm sure you'd see me through. Every time I see you I want you near me, close at hand. I feel as though a leaf may blow through the wind and knock me down. Your eyes tell me that story. Your smile brings me home. Pick me, my lovely, pick me above the rest. I will sit inside your mouth and wait for you to hear me. I will be the one that lulls the day out of your eyes. Sleep with me, my foreign cow, I am your rose.

Dino's Blown Date

2005-12-11T17:44:00.000-05:00

The new neighbors moved in. I went over to say hello. Then, he opened the door. His hair was blowing in the slight breeze caused by rocking back and forth on the door. His shorts were riding up to his crotch. I was disgusted. How could someone like me, a mere simpleton, be allowed to see something so fabulous. His name was Tino, and I wanted to become him. I didn't say anything as he stared out those baby blues. I turned and walked away. I walked straight down to the local tanning bed and laid back for an hour. I got highlights. I cut all of my pants to my buttcheeks. I went to Babies R Us and bought some new t-shirts. I got some white gloves to go with my Keds. No laces. No problem. I changed my name to Dino. People knew I was cool. They could smell it on me. They smelled that, and the peach cobbler I carried around constantly. It was a gimmick. It was mine. "Hey who's that cool dude with the short shorts and the cobbler? He's cool. Is that peach?" I started talking with an accent. "Hallo, m'name iss Dino." I talked in third person, and I started to carry a man-purse. Then the most beautiful girl in town stopped me. "Dino," she said, "I was going to ask you out, but I realized you were ... well, I dunno. Unavailable." I was too pretty for the most beautiful girl in town? Well, I had to put an end to that. I went back to my neighbors house. I knocked on the door to say hello. Then, he opened the door. Tino. I killed him with my bare hands. That's what my dad had always told me to do with peer pressure. Take it around the neck and break it. That's what I think about Tino blowing my chances with the most beautiful girl in town. You know, it's funny. A little piece of Dino died in that doorway. I laid him down to rest right beside Tino's body.

Oskar's Fish Heads

2005-12-08T22:41:00.000-05:00

"Oskar's 'as th' best shiat," Jar said, wiping the dust from the top of the tin can. "Gimme tha' fork behin' ye," he bellowed to the woman behind the counter. She was a stone faced woman, not much older than Jar. They were probably 68. Both of them. "M' wife," Jar said, explaining to me, "She's don' hear well... def I thingk." I hated Jar. I hated his toothless grin, and the way he ate his Oskar fish heads. He was my father, though, and I had just met him. I had to be nice. That's right old man, eat up. How do you explain to your dead beat dad the fish heads he eats every day come from the ship yard of his exwife... my mother. I'm Oskar. My mother named her fish head company after me. Look at him stuffing his fat face with the fish heads his son chopped up. By the look of it, I'd probably held those same fish heads in my greasy little hands fifteen years before. The can looked that old. Everything about "dad's" new life looked old.This was the great escape he came to. It made me happy to know he liked Oskars. Not because we were somehow connected. Nothing that sentimental. No, it merely validated my satisfaction for pissing all over those damn fish heads. Every day. Every fish head. A little Oskar special sauce. Take that old man. Take that as a Christmas present, you sick son of a bitch. From Oskar.

Sweet, Sweet, Yeah

2005-12-08T14:35:00.000-05:00

"Wanna-go-to-prom-with-me," Tony muttered in an exhale. He wasn't really asking, he was merely stuttering through a declaritve sentence. He didn't honestly expect Chanese, the smartest girl on the mathletes, to actually go with him. Reggie, Tony's best friend said he didn't have a chance. What was he bringing to the table? Sure, he'd won the Northshire Science Fair eight years running, but what does that prove? Chanese was perfect. She was starring at Tony, that cool and calculating stare that made all the boys in the Honors program cringe with ecstacy. Tony felt as though he had stopped breathing, and yet he could hear his mouth emitting the soft panting noise that had gotten him slapped in a crowded line at the Shop-N-Go. He could see Chanese's soft, blonde bangs swaying in the warmth of his breath. "I'd love to go with you, Tony," she said, pulling herself back out of his breath's range. "Sweeet," Tony said greedily, "This is totally awesome." Chanese quickly wiped the droplets of spittle off her face from Tony's exclamation of joy. Neither of them spoke to each other for a minute. Tony couldn't believe it. He was dumbfounded and didn't know what to say. He simply stared at her, thinking of all the fun they were going to have and what an idiot Reggie was. After two minutes of this Chanese rolled her eyes, "Okay, Tony, you can go and sit down now." Tony smiled, "Yeah, okay," he said, but he didn't move. In fact he hadn't heard what she had said. They stared at each other for another five minutes. Chanese finally left, and Tony did too, three hours later. As the weeks went on, Tony never got the courage back up to talk to Chanese again. He actually spent most of his days avoiding her - his asthma began acting up, and his nerves were shot. He was actually so caught up with avoiding her, that by the time prom rolled around, he had completely forgotten to rent a tux. Chanese showed up at his house, decked out to the max, and Tony simply smiled. "Sweeet," he finally said, staring at Chanese, looking so ravishing. "I just dropped by to tell you I'm going to prom with Reggie," Chanese said bitterly, "He at least talks to me." Tony didn't move, "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, but he hadn't heard her again, "I'll set up the camera." As Tony set up the camera, he thought to himself, "This is going to be the best prom ever... I'm so glad Reggie showed up so I can rub his nose in it."

2005-12-05T15:43:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, November 31 1984.

Dear Diary,
Today I noticed a piece of me was missing. Not like a finger or a toe... a piece of my soul. I'm not sure why it suddenly hit me, maybe I'm going through some sort of midlife crisis, but when I looked into the mirror this morning, I only saw half a troll. Yeah, I know, my life is amazing. I've got a jewel jutting out of my tummy, and beautiful, vibrant hair... still, I feel empty- dark even. Sometimes I look around my room and just stare at all the other figurines and wonder, "Are they satisfied? Do they question existence? Are they..." dare I say it, "happy?" Sure, I've got a smile on my face, but inside, I'm a troll full of tears. I feel as though maybe I understand why we trolls have hidden under bridges, and stolen babies throughout history. Maybe we all get to a certain age where simply being beautiful isn't enough. I caught myself eyeing my master's newborn the other day... and last night on the Discovery Channel they had a special on goats and I was suddenly famished. What's getting into me? I feel as though I'm changing every day. I hope I get to the bottom of this, Diary, I really do. Who knows what I'll wake up and notice tomorrow.
Goodnight,
Trollie

[shortly after this diary entry, Trollie the Troll, a.k.a. Dixie the Bandit, a.k.a. Trevor the GoatHerder, was found with 32 newborns, 58 goats, and a young girl he had abducted. They were hiding out beneath the Thompson State Bridge in LittleRock Maryland. The children and goats were returned to their owners, but Trollie escaped through a drain pipe. If you or anyone you know has any information surrounding Trollie, please don't hesitate to call: 1-800-I-KNOW-WHERE-TROLLIE-IS]

Crazy? Crazy to me.

2005-12-05T01:03:00.000-05:00

"Yeah, he looks crazy to me," John said to Jon. It was Hal's tie, of course, that caused such an upheval at the office. He didn't where his Tuesday Tie like everybody else. John and Jon were very concerned. "Dammit," Hal thought, "I knew I should have gone with Tuesday." It had been a long Monday night at the office, and Hal had stopped off at the local diner for some coffee. He got a cup to go, but when he brought it back to the car, it of course landed all over his dry cleaning- spilling particularly dark coffee all over his Tuesday Tie. He washed it as soon as he got home, and got all the stains out. When he woke up, however, he wasn't feeling very Tuesday. He felt more like Saturday. So Hal did a very unHal thing. He went to his closet and picked out Saturday's Tie. "Let's kill him, John" Jon said to John. "Yes," said John, "we must protect the rest of the pride." Jon looked at John, tears welling up in his eyes, "Oh, my babies, my babies... John we really must think about my babies." John patted Jon on the back, "It'll be okay," he said, "I'll do it. I'll do it on Saturday... it'll be easy, he'll be the only bloke wearing a Tuesday Tie." Jon smiled, "You're right, of course, you're always right," he said and then he passed out. Jon had gotten too excited. John passed out shortly afterward, but only because he had just done a whippit. Hal was still standing there wondering if John or Jon knew that he had been listening to their conversation. As he stared down at their passed out bodies, he also wondered what their chests would look like if they were deep fried in butter. Then he laughed. "Maybe I am crazy," he thought.

What's going on inside our computers?

2005-12-01T20:18:00.000-05:00

Walk down the road a bit... no, go a little farther. Did you fall off the edge of the world? Was it a short trot, or did you go the distance. Stop listening to Cake. Short skirt and a long jacket... who are they kidding. I'm going the distance. I'm going for speed. I wish I could steal lyrics from the old Charlie Brown Christmas special... but I can't... I have morals. I have ethics. I have values... in that order. I know a lot of you out there want to have your Cake and eat it too, but you can't. Not on my watch. And believe me, I watch. I watch all of you. Back in aught six they called me the old yellow dog. That's because I was faithful... to a point. That's right, we all have our limits. Mine was bad music taste. So help me, if I caught any of my subjects rockin it out to Superman, I'd come down on them like the Karma Police. D2 radio, Hitler hairdo and all that lot. Crash the party, yeah. I'm about thirty three and half pounds over my peanut butter cracker intake. That's all I've got pumping through these veins. Crackers and Pepsi, that's what will be fueling the rage that will come down on you if you cross me. That is what you get if you mess with us. Phew, for a minute there I lost myself. Radiohead just made my hit list. He can't write cause of the war on terrorism. Crackers and Pepsi... he's in for it.

Mary Jane had an Evil Baby

2005-11-28T14:20:00.001-05:00

There, in the night sky, was that a... but no, it can't be. Silence. A leaf rustles behind you, the wind blows wildly through the trees above. A scream, you turn, but it's too late... she's gone. You're alone now, the last of your party... you must find it before- before it finds you. It's cold, you breathe out the smoke from your cigarette. It's not too late. It's a baby for shit's sake. A baby that's just taken out half your team. It's not over yet, it's not over till you're gone. A twig snaps in the distance, you freeze. Where had the sound come from? In front of you, or behind? As you consider this, your nerves tense up. The hair stands up on your arms, and you start to sweat, forgetting that it's 30 below. "Run" is all your mind says, but you stop yourself. You've seen how fast the damn thing is. It practically flies. You stand very still hoping that it's motion sensing motor skills won't notice you. The cigarette flares in your mouth, you need to breathe slower. You're eyes are burning, and that damn baby isn't moving anymore. It's out there, watching you... waiting. You slide your knife out of its sheath, but it's too late. You look down and the baby's there, tearing into your calf. You kick it away, but it screams and pounces higher. It's clawing at your heart- too small to hit, you feel like giving up. It stops for a moment to look at you, blood dripping from its chin. You recognize your wife's eyes, your father's nose, and the ears of your grandmother. You're son is killing you. The knife falls to your side. You think back to that crazy night in college... you shouldn't have gotten so drunk and smoked that marijuana. It messed with your seed. Now your evil baby is dining on your flesh. It wasnt' worth it. It couldn't have been worth it. Not to die, not like this.... sigh.

Let's go down to the Convention Center... Together

2005-11-27T22:40:00.000-05:00

Hiyah! is your greeting,
The sweat on your brow,
You've battled into me before
I didn't have my shield up, but now
I'm leatherbound, Baby,
Leather- Bound for love
Studs on my belt loops,
And no blanks in my gun
I see those biker shorts, Babe,
They're tightening my brain
I've got a scar on my face
You've got me in pain.
Look at my fluffy jacket rim, Child,
It's fluffy and new
I left my Blaster at home
But I've got some Mega for you.
I've got my Phasers all set
Set on stunning for you
That blue shirt cape is too much
I'm about to explode.
I'll wear a necklace, I've battled enough
To prove I'm a man, I can handle this stuff.
Do you see this pillar behind me
I could melt it to shreds
Just like all of my enemies
Now they're all deads.
It's good you brought your shield
You'll need it with me,
The oracle saw it
We're meant to be.

sigh, what's up now?

2005-11-26T16:54:00.000-05:00

"Put your keys and contents in the bag" the officer said. I was like, "No friggin' way! Dammit, if this guy knew who I was!! Man, if this guy only knew where I came from." Then the man in blue said, "Sir, are you aware that you're talking out loud?" I didn't even respond. I just looked at the sucker, and unconsciously motioned for my wand. It still wasn't there. I must have lost it in the scuffle. "It's a good thing I'm not wearing my robes, these gosh darn Muggles would lock me up in one of their crazy bins." The officer was looking at me strangely. "You're doing it again, sir," he said, "Do you know why you're here? We found you with 38 grams of ecstacy in pill form. Ecstacy, street names Adam, Bean, E, M, Roll, X, XTC, a drug used illicityly as a stimulant and relaxer of inhibitions. Your pills were engraved with the signature HP from the popular childrens book Harry Potter, the world you seem now stuck in. My kids read those books, damn brats are obsessed." Why did Dumbledore leave me here? These damn Muggles! He's taking the medicine I mixed up in Potions class. I feel funny. I think some of the effects are wearing off. "I need my pills back. Give them to me or I'll hex you." I feel so funny. My head's rolling. What was he talking about... ecstacy? Damn you Dumbledore!

never meant to be...

2005-11-25T20:45:00.000-05:00

Here are a few of my tips for the holidays... and life

1) Every time a baby cries, a fatman dies inside.

2) When you're down and out, don't lug out the vacum, kill Santa Claus.

3) If you smell like an ashtray, buy a Whopper... maybe two.

4) If your kid made one of those handprint turkeys with colorful construction paper, burn it. The flame should evaporate their tears.

5) Don't spend money on an expensive sportcoat and then whine when somebody tackles you in it.

6) Sometimes, when kids look at adults, they think of ponies. Aliens hate ponies. That's how we know kids aren't aliens... yet.

7) Every time a receipt is printed, a comic book character vomits.

8) Don't name your dog Jack... he'll hate halloween for the rest of his life (and they age 7x faster.

9) Don't ask a tire salesmen... anything.

10) Dyson thinks things should work properly... but what he doesn't tell you in his "cute" English accent is that he hasn't been into work since 1987. Think about it.

Lady-girl and the Gay Cowboy Alien

2005-11-23T19:54:00.000-05:00

Damn horse went funny on me again. It was a long ride, m'horse, Lady-girl, was a bit bumpy this mornin'. She's always a bit of a rumpous-rouser when we're heading t' Jakes. It's like she's stuck between gears, trying to shift into third, but she can't. There I am, mid stride, and she just starts thumpin the ground, her rib cage jarring this way and that, until my boys below are two jolts away from seceding from the United Crotch of M'underpants. I swear, it was good t' get to Jakes. He's such a sweet bastard. You'd think by the way Lady-girl rode up to his ranch, that she represented th' entire community of Middle America. She just doesn't know him like I do. Jake wants to shoot her. He wants to do a lot of crazy things like that. I caught him outside with my wallet, he was eating all of my business cards. No salt. Simply stuffing them into his mouth greedily. He's only got three toes on his right foot. I saw him last night with his boots off (he never takes his damn boots off), I'm not even sure he had a left foot. When we're cuddled up together late in th' evenin' he sometimes dreams about the weirdest things. It's always outerspace this, and outerspace that. What ship docked in what port, in such and such galaxy. Jake's an alien. Yep, he told me that. I don't know how he made it up here from Mexico, but thank God he did. Hell, maybe it was Canadia, he never actually told me what border he hopped. Who am I kiddn', an ass like that.... he ain't from no canadia. I wish Lady-girl would warm up to him, though. Damn horse went funny.

John you sick S.O.B.

2005-11-21T12:28:00.000-05:00

Down the hallway he sat. Hand on his face, leaning back in his chair, and writing precariously in his journal with his free hand, John died. I found him face down in the puddle of babble he had been doodling. Apparently he was in love. No matter. He's dead now, and the girl would never have known. Well, the girl would never have known had I not found him first. I'm not even sure I should call her a girl, from what I read in John's journal, she was a Show Girl... an ugly show girl. John loved the ugliness in life. He loved the thrill of appreciating the ridiculous. I saw him once kiss a pile of elephant dung at the circus. I loved John, but I'm afraid I was too pretty for him. He couldn't stand the sight of me. The only truly beneficial thing about our relationship (for him, that is) was the effect of my visage to his tummy. He would vomit almost immediately when I came around the corner. Oh, how John loved the sight and smell of his own vomit. I was his barf key, and he would seek me out when he needed a good upchuck. Perhaps the lovely "Chasity" of Deja Vu had become his new joy. I found a letter from John instructing me to visit his Show Girl, "Chasity". He knew I was the only one that would entertain his obsession with the obscene. Now, I grab my jacket, and I head for the Deja Vu. Here I come, Chasity, I'm bringing you John's body. That's what he wanted. You'll know what to do... you'll read what he wants... I hope you're hungry, you ugly thing. This is gross.

Cha Ching

2005-11-20T22:12:00.000-05:00

There once was a man named Neil, and all he did was steal. I asked him once, by the side of the road, "Hey Neil, why steal? If its gold your after- just ask... if its diamonds, rolex, or rims, come to me- I'll supply all your whims!" Old Neil turned around, and said. "Yo, Homie now your dead" then we both laughed and gave a quick hug, and I filled up his coffee mug. No, not with giner ale, or milk from a pale, I put some St. Nick posion in- I'm talkin Egg Nog here, baby- that ain't no sin. What was a sin was this, as I turned round to piss, Ole Neil gave a glance, I don't think it was chance and he ran right home with my pants. So Neil's walkin now as we speak, with the pants he stole from my leak, and now I don't want them back, cause they've rubbed around on his sack, so if your readin take my advise, and infest all your clothing with lice, when drinking and smoking with Neil, watch your back while you pee- cause he'll steal.

uga uga

2005-11-19T15:44:00.000-05:00

I got so lit last night. I'm tellin' ya, I was gone. I've never had so much to drink... I was dribblin' out juice from the sides of my mouth, and even my stem was wicked bent. I was smashed. Not literally... figuritively. Not like a "rat in a cage" more like in the way those damn teenagers do, y'know all over the sidewalk with a baseball bat. Smashed. I can't believe Randy took this photo. I was so pissed, but I guess I had it coming. It really sucks, though, I was about to pick this fine little honey up at the Watermelon patch. Oooooh, she was nice. Randy said she looked more like a raisin, but I'm telling you she was RIPE!!! Oh, I wish I hadn't blown seeds all over her shell. Damn, I was smashed.

that's right

2005-11-18T14:40:00.000-05:00

I have no apologies, a-holes. I needed to fully prepare myself for last night. You know what I'm talking about... so, Chuck Norris is all over my telephone. He's all over my email, too. Here's an idea, give me some of your own original Chuck Norris anecdotes, and we'll call ourselves even. Deal? Here are a few unoriginal ones to get you started:

- Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

- Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a
canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.

- Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

- Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order
are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

I'm sure there are thousands and thousands of these things, give me some of yours.

What's up y'all

2005-11-15T00:14:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure this says it all. Unless you want a dirty Lymerick. All right.

There once was a boy from Portland
Who slept with a girl on the Beach-Sand
But the girl ran away
To a Convent to stay
So the boy needs a girl he can Port-in.

I wrote that myself, thank you very much.

You wouldn't believe this if I told you, but here goes...

2005-11-13T20:27:00.000-05:00

Boy, it was one of those days today... you know what I'm talking about. My Mom was like, "I'm sorry buddy, I know how y' feel, y' got a monkey on your back, don't ya?" I couldn't believe she said that! I was like, "Maa-hum, try a freaking GORILLA! Jeez, this only reminds me that NO-body gets me!!" I mean, I needed some money to get some candy, and I wanted a lot of candy, so I yelled at my Dad, "Yo, give me twenty bucks!" and he said, "What do you need twenty bucks for?" and I said, "Why the hell do you need to know, just give me twenty bucks!!" so he came down the stairs, and pulled out his wallet and gave me a fifty, I looked at him, and was like, "I hope you're not expecting change" and he cocked this smirk and was like, "that's all right, son." Can you believe that shit! So I fired back at him, "You can't buy me, jerk." And then I walked away. Oh, and my Mom hid her Prescription Drugs. I had to look for like an hour before I found them. Man, my life sucks. Whatever. I just gotta hang in there.

Killin' Killin' Eatin' Sleepin' Killin' Killin' ROCKIN'!!!!

2005-11-12T11:23:00.000-05:00

Hello, we're the doodes from HATED IDENTITY and we are here to tell you "Death Metal!!!! Yeah!" Man, what an AWESOME gig we had last night! There were girls all over the place! I was totally beatin' em' off with a stick. I am AWESOME!!! I mean, yeah, like Death Metal!!! We're Awesome. Even those smart kids love us. It's probably from the deep lyrics we yell:

I kilt your Dawg last night!
I got drunk- we got in a fight!!
It's okay- see through the fog!!!
We got love- don't need no dawg.!!!!

Anyway... come check us out, we're going on a tour soon. DEATH METAL!!!! I gotta go, Tombstone's on. KURT RUSSELL!!!! YEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!

Here we go road

2005-11-11T16:55:00.000-05:00

So I've decided to become a truck driver. Starting next June... after I get my commercial licence, it'll be me and that open road. It'll be great. It'll be so great, cause I'll write poems about all the crazy characters I meet.

ME AND BUDDY

Buddy killed a hooker last night
It was hard to look at the sight
I ran away I was afraid
Buddy just wanted to get laid

I'm driving now, back on the road
Going to Georgia, drop off my load
I can't believe Buddy - doing that
I hate him, I hate him, he's fat

You meet some weird people out here
There's something in my belly... fear
I wish I could forget Buddy
Oh, but I can't... Buddy is me.

Oh, the zany, zany times. I'm going to be a great truck driver... you'll see. The best ever. Hooray for the Trucker Poet (wink).
-Sandra

I'm not two cigarette loyal

2005-11-10T21:33:00.000-05:00

Smokers come in degrees of addiction. There are a lot of ways to figure out where you are on the list. Namely, how many cigarettes you smoke in a day. That's a big one. If you smoke a lot, you're a heavy smoker, if you only smoke a little- you're a light smoker. I'm not saying which is better (light smoker), but listen, there may be a way to tell how much longer you're going to be a smoker. Here's the test, when you're out on the porch... smoking it up with the fellas (or ladies- wink) and its a cool, crisp night, what do you do when the camel's legs are burned and gone away? You're buddy's going for another t'backy treat, you're just flipping your butt into the yard- what you decide to do here is pivitol. Everyone knows that if a friend isn't finished with their first cigarette when you're ready to go in, you wait... sit there, smile, and let him breathe. Be loyal. It's only polite, and that's across the board. Now, back to our situation. You're cold, you're finished with your cigarette, you're friends getting ready to start round two... do you wait it out? You're not "burning another one down" (Harper, pg. 4). If you go inside, if you decide you're not two-cigarette-loyal, odds are... phase smoker. If you wait it out, stickin' it with your buddy... smoker for life. Don't try and kid yourself, "But he's my BFF." Bullshit. Smoker for life.

A Dragon Poem

2005-11-09T20:05:00.000-05:00

My Dragon
Hello Dragon
You are my friend
Because I have no friends in life
You will be my savior
You will destroy the fat people
That try to destroy me
Burn out their eyes, dragon
You can do it,
You have powers, insane
I drew you that way
Today
On my Paper during class
The teacher doesn't know
She doesn't know me
No one does
That's why I have you, Dragon
You are my friend
I'm going to draw a super cool sorceress next
She'll ride on your back
You won't hurt her
She's mine
Don't steal her, Dragon
Don't take her away
or eat her
She's just a prop to me
You'll always be my friend, Dragon
Don't be jealous
I love you, Dragon
I need her, though.
She'll mean that I'm normal
Because people will understand
They'll see her on my paper
They'll think I'm cool and normal
But you'll always be
My Dragon.

What are you thinking?

2005-11-08T15:56:00.000-05:00

The lake was heavy today. I could feel the wake in the pit of my stomach as it smashed against the hull of my canoe. I had widdled the canoe earlier this year, and was thinking mildly of the Trobian Islanders of the West Indies. They knew what it meant to carve out a true gem from the carcass remains of a fallen stalk, chopped, murdered, disjointed by their own blistered hands. There was no hiding the distaste I had been carrying around with me since this morning. It was written on the wrinkles of my sea worn eyes. The faint scratching brought me back from my daydreaming. There were three kittens in the bag between my feet. I live in St. Elmo, of course there are going to be cats, and cats have kittens. Lots of them. There were loads this year, and these three had the misfortune of ending up on my watch. I had joined the CCSASECTOEIS (Concerned Citizens Seriously Against St. Elmo Cats Taking Over Everything In Sight) three years ago. It started as a way to make some friends, maybe find a connection to get in on some of the bigger cash deals running through St. Elmo, but I had no idea my life was going to change forever... I had no idea I would be here on the lake staring at a bag full of kittens. Jerry Fontaine asked me to take his watch late last fall. Jerry's always been a good friend to me, ever since I joined the CCSASECTOEIS, so naturally I accomodated him. Little did I know that would be the night I would meet her. Of all the porches in all the world, she crawled on to mine. Her name was Sally, she was big, blond, and beautiful. I'd never seen a cat so pregnant. She walked straight over to me, jumped in my lap, and fell asleep. I couldn't move. I was in love. I finally had the perfect pet. I had to keep the relationship quiet. Based on the rules of the CCSASECTOEIS, all pregnant cats are to be whacked over the head with the standard issued baseball bat, and brought in to be disected. The parts are then placed on spikes strategically placed around the neighborhood as a warning to the other cats thinking of losing their virginity. Sally was different, though. She was special. Sally had her kittens in my room, and I was surprised to find that I loved them just as much as I loved Sally. I turned in to a closet cat lover over the following weeks. I had four issues of CAT FANCY in my glove compartment, and a folded up poster of the kitten on the clothes line that hilariously says "Hang in There". I kept it in my back pocket at all times, stealing glances at it throughout the day- at least until I got home to Sally. But then one day, as I was rushing through the door... Sally was gone. She'd taken the kittens and vanished. She didn't even leave a pawprint. I was heartbroken. I couldn't eat, sleep, or go to work anymore. She never came home. I ended up dedicating my entire existence to the CCSASECTOEIS, and became the top executioner. Cats feared me, Old Ladies loathed me, but i was King... still, I was hurting inside. This morning it was dark. I heard pawprints on my porch, and reached out and grabbed these three little fur balls. I lifted them up quickly, threw them in to this bag, and was heading out for the lake when I suddenly had the urge to stop by Jerry's house. I thought he might like to join me. He wasn't home, but his door was open, and when I went inside I was horrified to see- sitting next to his couch- Sally, dead and stuffed. She was being used as an end table. Jerry had murdered her. I couldn't think I grabbed the bag and continued out for the lake. Killing cats was all I had known for the last year. It was all I had been doing, and now I find out that Sally didn't desert me, she was kidnapped and murdered... and stuffed. I didn't know what to do. I decided to reach for the bag, and open it up. Inside, peering up at me, were three of the cutest little things I had ever seen. They weren't kittens, though, they were little puppies. I laughed loudly, feeling much better. Things started looking up. I didn't have to kill anymore cats. I bent down and tied the little string closed, and dropped th dogs in the water. You see, I'm also on the Concerned Citizens Seriously Against St. Elmo Dogs Taking Over Everything In SIght. Have a good one, everybody. Spay and Neuter Your Animals!

(None of the above comments are meant to qualify as rules to follow... or, uh, yeah...)

Sleep well

2005-11-07T20:46:00.000-05:00

This was my ninth grade science project. I flew down to Hawaii, found a house, and burned it down to the ground. It was glorious. Jay gave me the rest of his "pack" tonight at Amigos. There was only one cigarette left inside. I can hardly call that a pack. Let's go listen the Talking Heads, we'll go down to the beach, it's only five hours away. I'll make some popcorn, and we can suck Chocolate sauce from the trees- they have chocolate sauce trees there, at the beach. Nobody walks down there, they jog. That would be the one draw back because I haven't jogged since 1979. No secrets. Keep it up with the Fondu. There aren't St. Bernards in the Amazon. It's better that way. Remember when we were nine and a half? No, that's okay... we'll take out for Chinese. Funny dinner. Don't worry. Science project, burning down the house.

Luck be a Lady Tonight (wink)

2005-11-06T18:58:00.000-05:00

I went out to the farm yesterday, and have been paying for it all day today. Horseback riding is one of those things that bites you in the ass later... but what a ride we had... yes, what a ride indeed. Lady (she's the bitch of the stable, but she's big, bold, and I love her) stepped on my foot twice. It's broken, but I'm not (wink). I meant that sexually. All that to say, one day with Lady was enough to separate my spinal column in three different places... let me let you in on a little secret, I was just about to type "reminds me of prom night". That's right, I was going to be that guy. Who am I kidding, I am that guy. I am such a loser. I don't understand Spanish, I can't walk a straight line, and 9 times out of 10 I would have sided with that other denist when it came to the Trident recommendation. You know, the one out of five denists that did not prefer the use of Trident over brushing. I mean, I completely understand - who's going to carry around a toothbrush for a relaxing meal at Denny's at 3 o'clock in the PM? Still, I can't shake the fact that chewing on a sugary piece of - let's face it- shitty tasting sugar cube isn't going to do jack crap for my teeth. I'm that guy. My back is killing me... fuckin' Lady.

Clip this!

2005-11-05T10:09:00.000-05:00

"Man, Long John Silvers is cheap!" JonnyPantz said, perusing through his daily coupon clippings. He sat naked next to me in the lazyboy arm chair, save his pajama pants and t-shirt (and possibly boxer shorts? I dunno, the pj's were covering that area up). If there is one thing I can say about JonnyPantz, it's his love for coupon clipping. Annie has a similar love. She was voted Queen Bee of the Newspaper Clipping Society of Fourth Graders... mind you she was only in the first grade!!!! Trust me, this is only one of the reasons I knew of her greatness (I won't mention the countless thumb twirling competitions, her presidency of the Game Inventors of Chattanooga, or a certain high jump record). Anyway, between the two of these two close people in my life, I'm up to my armpit hairs in paper. With a clip clip here, a clip clip there, here a clip there a clip everywhere a clip clip

Old Man JonnyPantz

2005-11-04T17:28:00.000-05:00

Just because ol' Mr. J Pantz can't take naps, he thinks that he can project his nambi pambi attitude on EVERYONE. By everyone, here, I mean me. "You're always asleep when I get home" he'll say, which really translates to, "I'm a damn ogre, and I didn't get to eat enough little kids at work today." Sometimes I lay in bed and I listen to Old Man JonnyPantz come home. I hear the metal clang of the door (slamming mind you) and the scruffy thuds of his loafers pounding against the carpet- step by step, until another slam! wooden this time, and I know he's in his room. He doesn't always go straight for his room, though. Sometimes he comes into my room, and watches me sleep. I know, trust me, I know. That's fine by me. At least then I know what he's doing. When he's in that dark room (dark because he never turns any lights on- he's kooky like that) I hear all sorts of weird noises... like he's building something in there. Yesterday I knocked to offer him some of the delicious pies I made, and I could hear him tearing at something... then the faint noise of a scream... a little goat scream. Today, before he got home from work, I went in to the lair. I tripped, of course, on the yards of wire he'd put in place to protect himself at night. What I saw in that room, what I witnessed in the back corner... well, I don't know... but I'm pretty sure I just shouldn't say anything. It's scary, though. It's scary. Anyhoo, I'm tired, I'm gonna go take a nap.

Not Awesome

2005-11-03T15:51:00.000-05:00

I'll tell you what else is not awesome, being at the office and not knowing what the hell I'm doing: "not awesome". I'm supposed to be filing stuff, but Evan is in a "meeting" and can't tell me what to do next. I don't really think he knows what he's doing either. Jonnypantz readily admits he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. More people should be like JonnyPantz. Oh, PS. I'm going to be a Schmagnum Photographer. Don't believe me? Good. I'll show you. I'll show you all, hahahahaha. Oh, by the way: don't ever answer the question, "What's a Rim Job?" It never ends well. It never ends well. Oh,Oh,Oh,Oh, if you're looking to buy some overpriced flowers at Kathy's on Broad Street- they're closed now. So go somewhere else. Buyah!

That Electric Cowboy kind of Drunk

2005-11-02T11:54:00.000-05:00

There I was, no I don't know how I got there, but I was there all the same. It was dark. Too dark to remember that I'd left the stove on. Too dark for me to see that maybe for once I wasn't alone in the world, and there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for me. Yeah, it was crazy, and yeah I was drunk from the six pack of O'Douls Andrew helped me slam before the sun went down, but I'll tell you this- I was there, I was really in there for a minute or two. The wind was cold, my fishnet stockings clung to my thighs like the filters of a thousand camels were sewn to my lips. I was naked from the chest up, a flowery looking fella had ripped my turtle neck in two places. Duble helped me loosen the strings to cut the neck loose. I've never been so lost. The only thing keeping me going was that I was going some place. A place better than the place that I'd come from. I didn't have a beard yet, and I was losing my hair earlier than expected, but it didn't matter: the place I was going didn't care about stuff like that. The place I was going laughed at things like when I was in first grade I cut that girls hair during craft time, or when I was 19 how I smothered that bum on a sidestreet in New York. It was all potatoes to them. After years of waiting, there I finally was. The Electric Cowboy. Expensive beer, a mechanical bull, and all the chubby waitresses in chaps I could feast my grubby little eyes on. We had a big time.

Ugh...

2005-11-01T21:17:00.000-05:00

When am I going to quit smoking? I heard a rumor about this guy that said something about this other dude, but that wasn't totally true. I wish I could challenge the world's first taboo and try infant open heart surgery like Dr. Blalock did. I wouldn't make my assistant hide behind the ferns at the dinner of my honor. Dr. Blalock did that. What a jerk. If I'm not careful, I'll wind up on that operating table. The world doesn't know that I still have a baby heart. Now, if I had a mustache that would be one thing. If I had a mustache that would be just about everything. I'm not asking for a Sellek or an Elliott, but I need a friggin' bone here... I mean, what am I bringing to the table? I've got a Chester, a freakin' Chester the Molester. "Where'd you park the van?" is basically what the thin, weasley tuft screams underneath my nostrils. Anyway, I dunno. When am I going to quit smoking?

2005-10-31T18:34:00.000-05:00

I'm a new boy and I'm fresh in town (wink)