As the world turns
Current mood: creamy gorganzola and big boobs
Category: creamy gorganzola and big boobs Quiz/Survey

Have you told anyone you'd marry them?
I have fond memories of the Easy Bake Oven.

Would you rather live in Alaska, or Texas?
Prison.

Did you mean it when you said "i love you" last?
What I meant was that I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a prefrontal lobotomy.

Your most recent ex REALLY needed you at 3am and you had a way to his/her house would you go?
As long as there was a Taco Bell on the way and I could get like four orders of Pintos N' Cheese and a grip o' hot sauce.

When was the last time you wanted to punch someone in the face?
Even if I like you, I fantisize about busting you in the mouth, I can't help it.

Do you have a friend you can tell stuff to and your sure they wont tell?
Children of the 70's will remember Bugles. A corn chip shaped like a funnel, well now their available with caramel. Sweet AND salty. A real game changer.

What is wrong with you right now?
I can't stand anybody or anything. I like coleslaw but I'm picky.

Do you plan on kissing the last person you kissed again?
That would be my cat Beddy. She tells excellent jokes about latin homosexuals, so yes.

Do you crack your knuckles?
What I do is boil bowtie pasta in salty water with olive oil, strain it, sprinkle fresh Parmigiano Reggiano and then add the sauce. Maybe some pinenuts sauteed in butter. I pour some decent cab franc.

Would you go in public looking like you do right now?
I'm always at my best. Right now I'm dead sexy. I don't need much support, I'm barely a B-cup.

Would you kiss someone to make your bf/gf mad?
Or to make her happy.

Can you handle the truth?
Handle it? I spew it. I covet it. I seek it. Bitch.

Did you like anyone last summer?
I loathed everyone I came across.

Do you believe exes can really ever be "just friends"?
I am the poster child. Seriously.

Ever kissed a blonde haired,blue eyed person?
Yep, she was hotter than Georgia asphalt. There were others but she was so round and ripe. Her name was Charlotte. I called her Charlotte the Harlot.

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months?
Bob Dole.

What did you have for breakfast this morning?
A chicken salad melt on sourdough with cheddar and tomato.

Are you too shy to tell people when you're developing feelings for them?
I either tell people the truth or what they need to hear, depending on the nature of my relationship with them. Often the truth and what they need to know are the same thing. Hardly ever mutually exclusive. I am however, a salesman.

Do you read horocopes?
What I do is sit on the toilet and blow my nose. Depending on the volume, I then fold it and use it for my first swipe. I'm a conservationist you know. Somewhere in there I may read my horoscope from the latest Hooker Paper. The Hooker Paper is free and right there on the sidewalk in front of the 7-11. America rocks.


Do you tell your mom everything?
Pretty much. She needs to know the truth about me to understand and advise me. She's in her early seventies and only says "fuck" when she's talking about Republicans.

Are you enemies with a former friend?
Nope. Former friends do understand they make me sad. The ones that make the saddest I probably won't speak to again.

Have you ever done something dumb?
Bitches can't stop staring at me.

Have you ever had the cops called on you?
Yep, by other cops. The Reno cops couldn't catch us, so they called the Carson cops and they waited for us at the bottom of the hill.

Who was the last person you yelle?d at?
The clerk at the 7-11 until he pointed out the Funyuns.

Who was the last person you cried in front of?
Sarah Palin.

Have you told anybody you loved them today?
Joe Walsh. The chicken melt.

Think of the last person you held hands with, do they mean something to you?
Now I'm annoyed.

What color shirt were you wearing when you last kissed someone?
Dishwater blond. It was made of hair.

Do you remember your kindergarten teachers name?
Mrs. Jenny. First grade Shaw, second grade Springmeyer, third Bobay.......

Would you rather go to a party or go out of town?
A bash in Egypt.

If you could get back in touch with anyone,who would it be?
Jimhead, Daisy, Charlotte?

When was the last time you talked to the last person you kissed?
What possible relevance can this question..........

Whats on your room floor?
My room floor? The floor of my room.

What did you wake up to this morning?
The need to eliminate waste.

Describe your current shirt
Nope. Wait.
It's more like a blouse. Mariachi kinda. Red. The ruffles look like roses. You should see my pants. My shoes. My hat.

Who were the last people you ate with?
Who eats with people?

When was the last time you felt guilt about something?
Five, maybe ten minutes ago.

When you have kids would you want a boy or a girl first?
Kittens. A basket of them.

What are you doing right now?
Researching Kevin Bacon. Bowling with frozen turkeys. Designing tents.

Are you alone?
We are always alone.

Are you still besties with the same people you were besties with a year ago?
Besties? What am I, twelve?

Have you ever had your heart broken?
I'm going to rub my dick in mustard.

Have you ever broken someone's heart?
I'm letting my hair grow.

Talk to any of your exes?
Ever count the number of peas pictured on a can of corn?

If you could go back in time and change things,would you?
I would sterilize mouth breathing Republicans in the fifties and sixties.

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?
Nope.

Do you want to get married?
Nope.

Drinks for my friends.

Currently reading : What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington's Culture of Deception By Scott McClellan Release date: 2008-05-28

4:01 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Vomiting in my mouth a little.
Current mood: blasphemed
Category: blasphemed News and Politics

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rfz6QGmuvp4

9:04 PM - 10 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Ten more reasons to covet shaking off the mortal coil
Current mood: Cunty
Category: Cunty Writing and Poetry

1. When someone notices you have a booger before you do.

2. Sean Hannity is still on TV.

3. People who walk around in public with a blank stare while mouth breathing.

4. When there's not quite enough sushi left for the beer remaining, so you order more sushi and then run out of beer.

5. Cell phone talking dickheads that make you have to wait a whole 'nother cycle while trying to make a left.

6. When individually wrapped slices of cheddar begin to harden around the edges because the ziplock packaging you purchased them in malfunctions.

7. Tattoos that mar the beauty of otherwise lovely cleavage.

8. "All Scratched Up" by Down By Law. I'm as responsible as anyone for that record but I can't listen to it. Really, I just tried. "Punkrockacademyfightsong" rocks though. Dave Smalley sings his ass off in front of the best band he ever had.

9. Marty Feldman tits. Think about it.

10. Anything sticky on my fingers. Syrup or honey or even jam. Drives me fucking crazy.

8:48 PM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Ten more reasons to self induce the dirt nap
Current mood: Rotisserie
Category: Rotisserie Writing and Poetry

10. There's these really cool overhead lights in my bathroom. Five of them and they're enclosed in in like soffits in the ceiling. Well, one is blinking and clicking. I kinda like it but I wish I could only turn that one on and then I could take a shower and sing Sayonara.

9. Unless I beat them to it, my cats will travel before me.

8. Kids these days.

7. The inevitable decline in our human condition, what with global warming and America becoming a third world country and all.

8. I'm drunk. I meant six.

6. Boy hair cuts on girls. C'mon! Unless, you know.

5. I've been driving around with a thousand dollars worth of Christmas ornaments in my car for over a year.

4. Just the other day, my credit card was declined at a drive-thru.

3. Women seem to be interested in dancing again.

2. freecredit.com commercials.

1. The way people look at you when you stumble into the 7-11 right before two a.m. and you buy everything but booze.

1:29 AM - 10 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Top Ten Reasons to off one’s self
Current mood: fickle and gratuitous
Category: fickle and gratuitous Writing and Poetry

10) Tired of wiping my ass

9) Sick of waiting for a green light.

8) I don't like most people

7) Dust

6) Girls shaped like boys. Boys shaped like girls.

5) Dentist. The very word.

4) Residual urine

3) Ball and/or clam sweat

2) Toenail trimming

1) Having to write a hot check for Bombay Sapphire at Rite-Aid.

1:57 AM - 9 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Man in picture
Current mood: nocturnal lunar activities
Category: nocturnal lunar activities Writing and Poetry

Read previous chapters under the fiction category at:



*********************************************************************


No matter the situation, it’s hard to blame anyone who’s had enough.

I’ve seen the solution in my dreams. The beginning of it anyway.

Nobody knows how things end.

He hasn’t been around for awhile. You may think that’s a good thing.

I do not.

The longer he goes missing, the more anxiety I own.

I look for him harder.

It’s been three weeks now and not hide nor hair.

Nothing.

Quiet.

He performs this vanishing conspicuously. He knows what he does and so do I. If I’m not thinking about him, I’m trying to forget him. Either way, he is a monster in my mind’s eye. He sits at a grey metal desk under a bare bulb in the very back room of my dreams. He sits in there and breathes and sucks back drool and there’s fucking boars stinking and squealing.

Right now the door is closed. Not a sound. Like they left. I hate that.

I still can’t walk worth a shit. My knees and ankles are beyond sore. I fall down sometimes because if I don’t the low note plucked by my leg travels up my spine and leaves me dizzy and sweaty and unable to stand anyway.

His is the opulent lobby to my nightmares. A cancerous entreaty to my darkest place. An invitation I’m unable to resist. I understand that half my my misery is my own responsibility. It always takes two. Do I miss him?

In absentia, he gnaws at me.

I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.

It’s the wrong thing to do but I decide to run.

I book a five day cruise to Ensenada.

Last minute, but with help of William Shatner I get a pretty good deal.

I buy a nice cane for myself. The handle is a knife.

You’re not supposed to bring booze onboard but I’m successful with a big ass bottle of Maker’s Mark. As soon as we sail, I head down to duty free and pay a buck twenty duty free, for a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. I feel like whiskey.

I look into renting one of those chairs for the handicapped. I tell them I have sprained achilles tendons. I lean on my cain. I think about flopping. I want one of these fuckers.

Ultimately they give me one but express their displeasure at my not having reserved one. I tell them it just happened.

I hole up in my suite with my knife cain and some righteous hooch. I get myself a good heat on. I play with my knife and cain. I feel armed. Prepared. He won’t follow me this far. He’s forgotten. Haven’t seen him for weeks. I drink more whiskey. I’ve got both bottles open now to compare them but there’s no fucking contest. Um, Johnnie Walker Blue?

I light a cigarette and remember I have a balcony. I can smoke pot and cigarettes on the balcony with a drink and the ocean speeding by.

So I do that. It’s wet out.

I decide to look around.

Night on the boat is windy and rainy. I explore her from stem to stern. Five floors. I leave my chair and use my cain wherever I need to. She is a floating city. Food whenever and wherever you want it. Drunk people everywhere. I’m not interested in talking to anyone. I really just want to observe. The ship is awesome. It’s huge.

I get a snifter of good cognac and step out on the bow. It’s beyond some theater and down some stairs. Completely dark save for a veiled moon. I say a toast my rabbit Watership. My tears mingle with the rain and are taken by the wind. I throw the glass into the sea.

I’m glad no one can see me climbing these stairs. I am fucked up.

Back to my suite I order room service.

A grilled cheese sandwich. I hope the sandwich has an impaled olive and a pickle on a toothpick cause that’s what I picture. I kinda wake up when she asks if there’s anything else and I say, chicken nuggets, a side of bacon and some chocolate milk.

I watch an interesting program on the ships engines.

I remember answering the door and smelling the food. I’m not sure if it was the boat or me but gravity was a motherfucker. I know I was still dressed.

Black olives stabbed through the sandwich with a green plastic sword. Cool.

I wake up kinda slow. The ship isn’t moving. I look out the window at what must me Ensenada. I go outside to smoke to make myself puke so I can get that over with. It’s a nice view.

On my walk back in, a humid and cloying cloud of whiskey does the trick. All I’ve got is bile and it emerges with violence and snot from my nose. I’m used to it. I’ll rehydrate and get some protein and a little fiber.

No sign of him the first night.

I’m on my first Gin Mary by twelve thirty. It’s overcast and a little drizzly but warm in the tourist section of Ensenada. Strange place. Stray from the obvious path and it gets weird in a hurry. I left the chair behind. My legs are killing me until I find a place to sit but I look around and see that it would have been an embarrassing clusterfuck in that chair.

I can’t help but pay attention to how heels click on the muddy sidewalks.

When in doubt, wear boots. I did.

There’s a man who’s feet make no sound although his shoes appear ordinary enough. He strides with an umberella as a walking stick and I’m sure he’s not an American.

He wears a trenchcoat and his hands are very old. He wears a simple ruby in a gold band on his right middle finger. His suit underneath the coat is the color of vanilla ice cream.

Both pant legs clean, even the cuffs.

I see him walking across the street. Again and again. Back and forth. He has Colonel Sanders facial hair yet his face is very young. Hardly any lines at all.

I’m nursing the mother of all dumbovers.

Eventually he makes eye contact and acknowledges me though I can’t say he smiled or anything.

Within just a few minutes, he’s at my table extending his hand and asking to join me. Despite the weather it is crowded. I invite him to sit. He says his name is Carlo Tarcisio. I wonder if that’s Northern Italy. I can’t tell by looking at him.

I tell him my first name.

After the very third drink, I forget all the rules. What time thew boat leaves etc.

The ring on his finger constantly sounds the same note against his glass.

Carlo doesn’t mind buying and we seem to be hitting it off. I barely think about the boat and how hard it’ll be to get back on two half useless legs while shithammered. When my mind does wander there, I feel like dropping a deuce, so I table the notion for further examination once I’m back on the boat.

I dream of a knife. It’s not the first time. The hilt is steel. The blade is hollow glass. Inside is a liquid. It looks like absinthe.

Read previous chapters under the fiction category at:

Currently listening : Hot [ENHANCED CD] By Squirrel Nut Zippers Release date: 04 June, 1996

6:00 PM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Lickety split gorpage
Current mood: Fester Bester Tester & Karbunkle
Category: Fester Bester Tester & Karbunkle Quiz/Survey

1. Bile or plankton?

2. Cabernet or Shiraz?

3. Big sweaty people or petite stinky ones?

4. You people allright with hollandaise sauce? I just bought a jar at Trader Joes. I’m pretty excited. Avacados and bacon bitches.

5. The best mac n’ cheese is the frozen Stouffers kind, available at 7-11’s everywhere. Add a little Tapatio, and Bob is your uncle. Dont you agree?

6. I like to pee off of anything. Dont you?

7. I’ve really been struggling with my identity lately and I’ve concluded I’d rather be Batman than Spiderman.

8. Is it just me, or are you as disgusted with where we have ended up in this Presidential campaign as am I?

9. Once again, we see the lowest common denominator being invited to a buffet of horeshit, cowshit, and pigshit. Their invitation comes from the insanely monied. How hungry can you be? You people are fucking stupid.

10. I’m gonna go ahead and say that David Gilmour’s best solo is from "Comfortably Numb".

11. I like scratchy blues guitars, so scratchy they make me itch.

12. I like Juicyfruit gum. Sometimes guitars sound like that.

13. Nine hundred times seventy two is nine hundred seventy two thousand and seventy two.

14. Would you like to be my Huckleberry?

15. I’ve got Georgia on my mind.

16. As a society, we have reached the apogee of insanity. If we don’t step back, we’ll implode in the ugliest of ways.

17. What would we do without ketchup

17.9 Mayonnaise?

18. Britney and Paris have nothing on the new Apple ad for it’s ultra thin laptop. It’s got an enormous melody and they’re skanks.

19. I have a tough time standing anybody or anything.

20. I’d like to go to highschool in the fifties but I’d probably get my ass handed to me.

21. Wherever I am, I try to make sure there’s enough ketchup and napkins. It is then that i assess toilet paper, water and mustard.

22. Then I look for a TV.

23. Kinda crazy what kinda shit gets on TV. I’m close to positive it’s untrue but it’s still on TV. Apparently, they can make my penis even more grandiose.

24. I’m sure I wouldn’t mind that, but they’re full of shit.

25. I’m gonna have to walk home now.

26. Somewhere in the world there’s an episode of Law And Order or one of it’s spinoffs playing at any given hour of the day. It’s like what Phil Collins was to radio in the eighties.

27. Like the Chili Peppers are now. I’ve come to loathe them. Anthony Kiedis needs to pick a note. And stick with it.

28. Breasts. How can you not covet them?

29. What’s going on with the crisis of disappearing bees?

29.5 Bird flu?

30. Oh my.

Drinks for my friends.

Currently watching : The Prestige Release date: 20 February, 2007

9:42 PM - 5 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment

Man in picture.
Current mood: Giddy, janky, somewhat pulchritudinous
Category: Giddy, janky, somewhat pulchritudinous Writing and Poetry

It was interesting. Fascinating.

I had fun with it.

Sometimes, it was like picking at a scab or the tongue constantly probing at a sore in the mouth.

Still, consummate in the most enigmatic way.

Until he was standing over my bed in the silent night when some sense caused me to open my eyes.

I believe I first noticed him on a movie poster. Outside a shopping mall. One of those faux shelters for public transportation. Maybe on the side of a bus.

I remember thinking, after clocking his countenance out of the corner of my eye, that's a creepy motherfucker. He was in the background. One of those visually exploding advertisements for some inspid action movie. He registered only after the fact, in my mind's eye.

Weird.

Time passed.

I swear I saw him wearing sunglasses in a potato chip ad on the back of a comic book.

Not long after, he was an extra in a cell phone commercial on TV.

Tall, pale. Gaunt. Always seeming to stare right at me.

Then, he was pictured on packaging for disposable razors.

Once again, in the very back of an advertisement for a new amusement park ride on a fast food cup.

I would catch a glimpse of him walking opposite me while driving. Of course, I looked back and checked my mirrors. Of course, nothing.

He had large front teeth, maybe buck toothed. Red hair in a sort of crew cut flat top. Pale blue eyes that were unbelievably bloodshot.

I kept thinking that all these companies hiring him for these ads must have thought he was kinda goofy and somehow they were infusing their shit with character or something.

I thought he was scary as fuck.

Then he started to appear in my dreams. He was still pretty innocuous, but more overt. Winking, saying hello to me, that sort of thing

He kept showing up in different places.

In the audience on a talk show. Blackjack dealer in Vegas. One day he was the next pump over at a Shell station. He put ten bucks in a cheesy early nineties 'Vette. It was green.

He always bolts or turns away when I see him. He knows me.

He said nothing. When he placed his index finger on my sternum ever so gently, I swear I could feel dirt under the nail. He said nothing but looked right at me. Not through me, but at me. The sliding door to my balcony was open and the wind clattered the vertical blinds, I smelled gasoline. He blew air past his lips and walked away, away from my bed and out my front door. I heard him close it quietly behind him.

Now I get phone calls at work and on my cell. HEY MIKEY IT'S ME JERRY!!

It freezes me. I know it's him before it rings, if I don't answer the fucking phone, I know he'll leave a voice mail and I'll be absolutely compelled to listen to it, so I try to take it on the chin and then hang up. Get it over with. I know when it's him.

Get this, he always wears brown corduroy pants, blue suede Puma Clydes, a maroon t-shirt under a leather biker jacket and he's pigeon chested. His shoulders are narrow and he's very tall. He's sinewy and long limbed. A glance at his hands says that one of them would kill you were he to grab you by the throat.

About a week ago, I was at Starbucks waiting for my unsweetened iced crack and he was backing out the door and firing a gun at me with his thumb and index finger. I pissed my pants and I'm pretty sure no one noticed.

I don't sleep much anymore. I've begun to obsess about pigs. They scare the fuck out of me. Are you aware of how smart they are? They will eat any motherfucking thing. And we eat them.

This is bad.

1:14 AM - 24 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

The State of The Union
Current mood: A minor malaise of melancholy and yet, magnificent
Category: A minor malaise of melancholy and yet, magnificent News and Politics

Those of you that have been reading me for awhile, may recall that my take on the last State of The Union was titled "No babies in garbage disposals" A not so subtle nod towards populist pablum. Tonight was more of the same.

He still insisted on mispronouncing 'nuclear' six or seven times and stubbornly whipped the deceased equine issue of social security or "entitlements" in the euphemistic vernacular of the neocons. Fuck that. Social Security is not an entitlement. We pay in when we are young, it pays out when we are old.

More pointless and baseless saber rattling at Iran. Way Too many Democrats hauling asses out of their seats for this particular round of applause. Sheezus.

.........................see the rest at

Currently listening : Bad Music for Bad People By The Cramps Release date: 25 October, 1990

8:48 PM - 8 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

I’m so sorry for the sandwich I have caused you.
Current mood: Alvin & The Chipmunks
Category: Alvin & The Chipmunks News and Politics

So the DVR choked again and I found myself staring open mouthed at a kinda cool show with like, the best commercials or something.

Save for CNN and HBO, I'm not much for the glass teat.

Maybe that's why I maintain that despite choreographed obfuscation, I still believe that the character and identity of any candidate is available to those who would look.

Currently reading : Mona Lisa Overdrive By William Gibson Release date: 06 February, 1997

8:45 PM - 5 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment