Annie Update

As you will recall, I wrote a short apology to Annie Stensrud in the early morning hours of Wednesday the 22nd.
And early that Wednesday afternoon, Annie Stensrud was picked up for a DWI.

Did she read my post, and was so touched that she just had to drive over to thank me personally?
I'm not sure we'll ever know. 
She was driving in the wrong direction. 
But that's understandable, since she was drunk. 

I only have one last comment on the matter:
She was drunk by noon.
Now that is my kind of lady. 

Story here

Apologies To Annie Stensrud

I was there at the beginning.
Provoking it on, goading the poster.
First saw the video in single digit views,
and probably first to post it to Social.
As a drunk, I shouldn't have taken pleasure
in such and understandable slip
a possibly ruined career.
But I needed views, and clicks.
So apologies Annie.
But as a drunk I know you'll understand.
It was only business.

Proving Yourself

Wedding weekend.
And as and adult single, you start preparing yourself for The Question.
You practice your smile and shrug.
At best, they think you are some sort of puppy with a disease.
"There must be something we don't see." They say, and try to diagnose your problem.
At worst, they question your ability or desire for commitment and responsibility. 
Or maybe you're just gay.
But this time I have a plan.
At the appointed time I will dash out and grab that tossed bouquet.
Then I'll fuck every unattached girl from the dance. 
That should take care of 2 out of 3.

Equality

Sit down, spread, relax, read. (or think, or play games, or whatever)
When the job is done (finally, at times) you set aside your distraction and start going about that hygiene thing. 
Only to remember the new roll is sitting on the counter in the kitchen.
No one around.
Nothing else to do.
Do That Walk, to pick up the new roll.
The thing about That Walk,
king,peasant, sinner, or saint. 
No one is graceful, or dignified while doing it. 
But everyone has done it.
Probably. 

Master of the Universe

Strip Club Stumble Drunk.
Professional type, dressed casual.
Khakis, sweater, loafers.
Master of his domain on a stroll.
Bangs on the bell, our fates are sealed.
Rooms are 89.
Too much.
79.
Too much.
Now 10 dollars is worth debate.
2 drinks, half a lap dance.
But I can't/won't provide what they can.
Says 50, he can get it online.
I invite him to try.
For 30 minutes he plays on his phone.
He is the Master for a reason.
Finally comes back, "what can you do for me?"
77
Fine.
He takes his keys and finds the elevators.
The Master wins again.

The Price of World Domination? 25 Cents.

Yesterday while shopping at the Salvation Army I found this book wedged between Tom Clancy thrillers and teenage romance novels. 

Yes, much like finding the Ark of the Covenant packed amongst crates in Washington, DC I discovered this ancient tome (publish date 1985) which will allow me to unleash powers such as mind reading, hypnosis, and controlling; along with some sweet fighting moves and breathing exercises.
Is the world ready to be dominated by Allen Tesch?
If you ask me, it has been ready for too long.
But do not worry fellow bloggers, you have nothing to fear. 
I will remember you all as I sit on my throne.

Red Thunder

I slowly pull the blade across my face and the infant Red Thunder screams.
It's getting to be winter again, and he wants out.
Red Thunder.
Thick, curly, burgundy. 
With the blue eyes and brown hair the effect is disconcerting. 
Like a mongrel dog with two-colored eyes.
Men fear it. (You can't trust a man with such confused genetics.  He could be hiding anything in there, a switchblade, a tazer, or simply a bottle of scotch)
The women adore it. (For many of the same reasons)
But I fear the New Regime at work, and doubt Red Thunder would pass a background check.
So I keep him hidden, my love and expression taking a backseat to eating.
Just another victim of the Oppressive Culture.
Maybe I should picket.

Now, For Some Penis Levity

Alas, yesterday I seemingly broke one of my rules, which has multiple parts:
A)Don't talk about politics
B)With strangers/audience
C)Online

Not that I got any flaming mean comments, they were more of the "I'm going to be polite and comment back since he commented on my post.  But if the blood from my tongue happens to drip into this reply, so be it." 
I'm not here to make fun of those people.
I do it every time someone has a negative post about killing prostitutes. 

But anyway, I discovered something shocking today.  We all remember/know this iconic cover shot from Rolling Stone, right?

Kinda sweet, right?  A drug addled past his prime rock and roller lovingly hanging on his...whatever. 

But take a look.  No, really, take a closer look.

I'll give you a few seconds. 

Now feast your eyes on this:

Now, I'm not saying Yoko Ono had a penis or anything, but I'm sorta heavily suggesting it. 
Am I the first person to notice this?  My complete lack of investigation has shown that:  Yes, yes I am. 
So there you guys go.
You are now part of the scoop of the century.
Can you un-see this now?

Occupy Mankato

As those of you who have intensely researched my background by reading my profile know, I live in the small town of Mankato, Minnesota.
(Home of the largest mass execution in American history, bitches)
And I'm sure all of you have heard of the #Occupy movement that has been spreading around the world.
(So I will spare the details and background)
Well, #Occupy has come to Mankato. 

It all happened last Friday, when I was going to cash my check from work.  (I know, I know, apparently there is some sort of prize for being the last company to get direct deposit)  But the point is that when I went to the ATM there was nothing going on outside. 
But in the time it took the machine to register a check with so many zeroes, the sidewalk outside my bank went from empty
To this:

They were dressed as rich people, with tuxedos and champagne glasses.  They also had some signs, but reading is for nerds so I didn't bother. 
So I thought "hey, maybe I could get a job with a company with direct deposit, or at the very least some free champagne."
But alas, they were not rich.  Hell, they didn't even have jobs themselves. 
And the champagne? 
Sparkling.  Freaking.  Cider. 

I would have stayed and found out where to subscribe to their newsletter, but I had fish to buy and my short attention span isn't going to just find new stimuli itself.

But as I drove off, I took another snapshot of my short experience with radicalism.

Like two drifting river tubes, lost in the current of life

Hey Ladies!

What did I do last night?  Oh, not much.
Put on a fire.
Read some Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls)
and put some Tchaikovsky on the record player while I sipped some slow whiskey. 
(Two kinds, mixed.  It was confiscated from some guests at work.  It was already a little watered down, but not bad.  It was drank from the 20oz bottle I used to mix it with Coke)

Details.  It's always the details. 

Crossword Message

On Friday, they needed a 4 letter word for snatch.
On Monday, a three letter word that accompanies tat.
It's happened, finally.
I've lost it, it's gone.
The crosswords have joined the voices, speaking to me.
Or maybe some editor just needs to get fired.

Birthday Weekend

So this weekend was my birthday, so I took a few days off. 

Didn't do anything crazy (getting too old for that) but did go to my first Division I college football game. 

I got to watch my beloved Huskers romp on the hapless Gophers (I can say that because I live in Minnesota)

And I got on national television too.  It was a friend in New York who noticed this, and snapped a picture. 

So now that I've made my small screen debut, I can just sit back and wait for the offers to roll it. 

Living is easy, baby. 

(Me (red shirt) and my friend Paul (Broncos shirt) enjoying a fine October day)

Another Classic Song For You

Well, news has come out that there has been a number of sexual assaults at the various Occupy (insert city here) protests. 

Well, what do you expect?  You get a bunch of youngsters sitting around getting all hot and bothered in their idealism and drum circles, what do you think is going to happen?

But really, it does make sense.

Why should women be hoarding their vaginas from so many needy men?

Spreading the (legs) Around by allentesch

I'm Not Alway Lazy When I Blog

But when I do, I post re-runs.

And speak in overused internet cliches.

But to post something, anything, here's an Old Post I'm sure most of you have missed. 

I kinda like it, but I'm afraid it verges on edge of TL;DR.
(There I go again)

I'm sure we all remember Saved By The Bell, even our friends across the pond. 
I mean, it's freaking Saved By the Bell. 

But anyway, here it is again, in case you missed it (the link)

Nacho Cheese. Life Lesson

So my buddy and I were at a college hockey game last night.
And since I bought him a beer, he bought me some nachos.
(Fair Trade)
But you know the Nachos they sell, the gas station type.  A bag of chips, and a cup of cheese
The usual.
So when you get your Nachos, you see the cheese, and think it won't last through all the chips, so you budget and conserve your cheese through the whole damn bag, until you get to the end and realize that you have way more cheese left than you do chips.
And you try your goddamn all to get all that cheese on your chips but you just left too much.
It goes to waste.  (you'd lick it out of the cup, but you're too proud)
So what do you do the next time?
"Fuck it, I'm going to each these Nachos and Cheese like each chip is the last"
And then you have nothing left but a half bag of salty Nachos and no Cheese. 

And then you have all Nachos and no Cheese.

But I guess that's life. 

Nachos and Cheese.

Priorities

Read the paper.
Story about the jobless posting on Craigslist.
Guy named Alley.
29. Was homeless until a few years ago.  Former drunk.  Only ever worked at Wendy's.  Has 7 month old daughter. 
29.
Jobless.
7 month old daughter.
I sit in the back office, on the clock, reading this paper.
And he's the one that's getting laid. 

99 Percent

Yes, I am the 99%

History of the Raccoon.

I've never done requests before.  But fortunately for Hasidic Plumber, I do in fact have a true story involving raccoons.  (and also I've never actually gotten a request)
So if you like it, I'll happily take all the credit.  If you don't, go to his page and blame him because it was his idea. 
Or how knows, maybe I will take requests in the future. 

History of the Raccoon

Raccoons.
Furry little imps, cute trouble makers of the suburban wildlife. 
Broken purr louts, eaters of garbage and dog food.
They smell like the living dead, their black paws speak of necrosis.
They say that the black face is like a mask, but I know the truth.

One summer in high school I went away to go work with a brother. 
The work sucked, but that was also the summer I met Tessa.
A farm girl and Tamer of Raccoons.
She loved her babies, and they loved her.
One especially, more than he should.
After work I'd walk across the pasture to go see her,
and give her the time in the barn as he watched.
The raccoon, heartbroken and pale faced, tried to forgive her, time and again.
Until it was too much. 
He went back to his room, looked at his crying face in the mirror.
He put on his saddest record and slowly painted his eyes black.
Black as the void left in his heart.
He looked at his new visage, pleased that he finally looked how he felt.
Under our sounds in the loft he softly whispered to his reflection
"Goodbye"
Then with a trembling black paw he reached for the gun.
And shot himself. 

On Love and Loss and Getting Back on That Horse

He comes in the back entrance, 60's, weathered.
Plaid shirt with button snaps, dirty denim pants.
Face of a man whose greatest success ended a year ago.
Gets a room. Single bed, smoking.
He wants to leave a key. And talk.
The last year had been hard. Wife died. Forty some years.
Just threw away her clothes today.
“Finally” he says.
Says she'll come and ask for his name, just give her a key.
He goes to his room and waits.
Hours pass.
He comes back, disappointed.
Opportunity lost.
Says he doesn't know why he thought she'd come.
Leaves his key with the other. Says not to let her in if she comes.
She comes in from the back entrance. Dancer.
Young, glitter, lunch box purse.
She asks for his name. She looks disappointed.
Income lost.
She's on her phone before she's out the back door.
Days later. Softball game.
Sun and families and grass.
A few rows behind me I hear the sad man, telling a woman about about his wife and his loss.

Self Portrait

Photos of Derelict Detroit. 
Schools, Opera Houses, Libraries, Train Stations.
They were so lovely when new, you can still see it in the ruins.
Shiny, swanky, promising.
The fun people must have had there.
Now just broken plaster, trash and dust
But where others are irretrievably gone,
others hold promise of a return to what it once was.
I wonder which one I am.

Crap Post

It's been quite the absence.  A week?  Who the hell knows. 

No big excuse. 

First my computer crashed (sorta)

And then my car crashed (as in stopped working)

And then the lightbulb went out in my bathroom.  And that was just too much for me to handle. 

But you don't want to listen to me whine and bitch.  So here, have a picture of one of my aquariums.

Or my brother-in-law's Basset Hound sleeping on his back. 

I am the Harper Brothers

I'm the smart shy lonely guy.
Without the chiropractic.
I'm the drinking fun creative guy.
Without the women conquests.
And as for the boy,
I just do stupid things. 

Another Script in the Works

Been a slow and frustrating day.  After the success of The War Womb, I've decided to start another script. 

This one is untitled and still being hashed out, but it's about a Sperm Mule who gets into an epic gunfight battle on an airplane. 

It'll be stupid, have lots of violence, and of course boobies. 

Gotta have the boobies. 

In other news, my neighbors are having people over again to breed thier dog. 

I'm not sure how that sort of thing even works.  Do you sit around, idly chit chatting, waiting for your dogs to start to make it?  Are there drinks involved? (For you or the dogs) 

I think I'm too afraid to ask. 

Wolf Blitzer is a Jeopardy Super Star

Was drunk and searching through my drives, and came away with this little diddy. You all might now Wolf Blitzer as the authorative news source from CNN But in fact, he's kinda dumb. I'm sure the peppered beard makes him look smart, but that's an easy trap to fall in to. Like a nice rack. This is after he went on the show Jeopardy! I'd link to it, but honestly, I can't do all your work for you. and I'm drunk. Wolf Blitzer is a Jeopardy Super Star by allentesch

Sock Returns

Longtime readers might have noticed that I haven't mentioned Sock in quite some time. 

(For those of you unfamiliar with Sock, just click on the tag at the end of this story and read from the bottom up.)

The truth is, after she threatened me with paternity of her children, and her father's threats of murder, I had successfuly managed to avoid her and her psycho family. 

Until now. 

I woke up this afternoon to this picture slid underneath my door, with a cryptic note telling me to "Do the write thing" or some terrible things might happen to me. 

So I'm not sure what to do now, I like this place too much to move, but I know for a fact that these kids aren't mine.  Their mother is a whore, and really, just look at them, they look nothing like me. 

I guess I'll just drink on it. 

A Shorthand Version of the Fall of the Mayans

Chapter 1

Holy Crap! Look at us! We're the greatest, most powerful, and advanced society ever!

Chapter 2

Hey, what the heck is going on?

Chapter 3

..............



 (Didn't anyone think to write this crap down?)

Sarah Palin Had it with a Black Man

For your enjoyment. Another professionally produced, timely song about the news on Wednesday about Sarah Palin. Sarah Palin Had it with a Black Man by allentesch

Job Hunt

2:45 am
At work.
Two black hoodies out front.  Skinny comes in while fatty stays out front. 
Hood up, dirty jeans.
Pale, sunken eyes, buzz cut and pockmarks. 
Wrings his hands and asks quietly about the application he turned in. 
Tell him I have no idea, to maybe HR during the daytime tomorrow.
HR?  he asks.
Human Resources.  I explain. 
Mumbles thanks and hustle shuffles out, head down. 
Joins fatty, chats, and off into the night. 
The optimist in me hopes they were scoping the place for a robbery.

Another 55

When looking through some stuff I found a few more 55 word stories like the ones I had posted here. 

So, here's one.

Parade

     He drove slowly down the street, a good 25 miles per hour below the speed limit.  As drivers honked and cursed and swerved around, he gaily honked his horn and waved back, throwing candy to awed gawkers by the street.  The police arrived and hauled him to jail saying, "You can't just start a parade."

Music Genius

So you know what I do with my spare time? I'm a musical genius.
 I have gotten a new computer, so this is the only song I have now for now.
 I do have some other tracks which I like to call Harmonica Punk, But I'm too drunk to retrieve them now.
I was going to make this the song that automatically played when you opened my page, but I realized that might be annoying. See people? I'm a giver. And drunk. Blogtest by allentesch

Stray Cat

Stray orange cat.
The third for the neighbor lady in the past few months. 
The first got run over, the second just (?) and the third,
well, I guess we'll see. 
It's dark, dangerous time for unattached pussy.
The Y is closing, and like a stray red head at last call, she's on the prowl.
Looking for someone to take her home. 
She tentatively approaches those leaving, interested but not begging.
Some show interest, but ultimately decline.
You never know what a stray might have.
Finally a young woman picks the cat up, checks for a tag, and petting her gently puts it in her car.
The next day the neighbor lady will be distraught.
Again.
She'll ask me if I'd seen Orangy or Creamcicle, or whatever name she'd given it.
And I won't say anything.

Wisdom

10pm, Sun is down.
Time to wake up.
All the Day Walkers are laughing at monologues
and finishing the day.
I'm just getting started.
Sorta.
Everything takes a bit longer.
A 10pm hangover is a different level,
but at least I don't need shades.
Tums and Coffee.
Stomach acid fight.
Grab my band and head into the quiet.
Crickets, and a stock bass
slowly cruising up the street.
A nice car, for Mommy and Daddy's.
They see my uniform.
A teen boy voice screams teen deep platitudes.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" it shrieks. 
Someday, kid.
You will.

Smart Investment

I stand under the streetlight
smoking, looking North.
They're getting lit up.
Thunderstorms, and most importantly,
Hail.
If I wasn't at work (and somehow sober)
I'd drive up there.
I look at my car.
For five years I've had Full Coverage and
not a single dent ding or bender.
I sigh, finish my cigarette and go back inside.
Knowing someday my investment has to pay off.
Someday we will get the Hail.
And I will finally get my check.

400!

It's been a while since I've reached a follower milestone.
(Stupid Summer, Stupid Life)

So I figured I'd celebrate 400 members!

Early!

(C'mon, I've only got two to go)

I tried to make a song to play for you all to enjoy, so instead enjoy this picture from my last family reunion. 

(me and my family don't get along.  They think they are all that because they have jobs, and throw away cardboard boxes)

If you're reading this and not a member, join up.

Who knows?  Mr(s). 400 MAY BE YOU!

Click, H.

Click, H, Click, H, Click.
Solitaire. 
Addicting bullshit.
Win one game out of twenty.
Then learn about the Hint Key.
Now it's up to six out of.
And you're not even playing anymore.
Just following the will of the Chips
that don't even want you to win.
Click, H, Click, H, Click.
Wonder what they did in the times before Solitaire.
Colosseums and tamed wilderness come to mind.
Seven of Hearts on Eight of Spades.
Queen of Clubs on King of Diamonds.
I know this, because the Chips tell me.
Georgy Noory in the background.
Guest suggests we are being programmed somehow.
I laugh and Click, H.

A True Love Story in Ten Short Chapters

Stanley stood quietly drinking a lemonade and staring at the dead Hutterite man lying on his front step. He was sprawled out on his back with and arrow sticking out of his chest. Stanley wondered if he could tell time off of it. He also wondered where the body had come from. He figured it couldn't have washed up from the river, because that was a good two miles away.
---
“Bolt.” the sheriff told him without looking up from his notepad.
“Huh?”
“A bolt. Looks like he was shot with a crossbow. Crossbows shoot bolts, not arrows.”
“Oh.” Stanley lamely replied and wondered what the sheriff's face would look like if his nose was upside down.
---
Stanley lay in bed that night thinking about the Hutterite man. He wondered what happened, and if he'd find another one tomorrow. Before he drifted off to sleep he decided that if there was another one in the morning, he was gonna have to put up a sign.
---
“Hello.” The ice cream woman purred as Stanley answered his front door. “Do you like what I brought you?”
It was early afternoon, so Stanley was still groggy and didn't know what she was talking about. He also was confused because from what he understood, you went to the ice cream man, he didn't come to you.
The ice cream woman seemed disappointed, and eyed Stanley, who was still in his boxers and a nice robe he had stolen from the governor's mansion when his son had thrown a house party. He had also taken some parmesian cheese, but he had eaten that.
Stanley didn't mind her eying him. It really was a nice robe. Stanley was also really proud of his nipples, but she couldn't see them because of the robe.
Stanley couldn't think of anything he needed, so he just grinned and popped his eyebrows.
The ice cream woman winked.
Stanley looked quizzical.
The ice cream woman looked hurt.
Stanley grinned tightly and shrugged his shoulders.
The ice cream woman reached into a box and handed him her number.
Stanley panned his eyes across the neighborhood wondering why he had the name “Jamie Farr” stuck in his head. Her number melted in his hand.
The ice cream woman looked hurt, and stormed down the sidewalk.
Stanley wiped his hands on his shorts, thinking “Klinger”.
---
Stanley woke up the next afternoon to get the newspaper, and discovered someone had crapped on his front step.
---
There wasn't anything new in the newspapers. The same cars must go, the same places were the best for deals, the great two for one coupons at the local Tramlaw. Not one story about the body found on his front step. Stanley was gonna write a letter to the editor about their lack of quality reportage, but the jerks charged by the word, and he just wasn't that into it.
---
Stanley stood again on his front step, fists on his waist, staring at the new body. This one was half buried up to it's waist in his yard. The legs were all scratched up and splayed this way and that. Stanley thought that it looked really uncomfortable, he also tried to think of the word for how he was standing.
He was starting to get nervous, because he knew that once they find more than one body on your property, the law starts to think of you as a suspect.
Stanley walked back into his house and shut the door. As soon as he'd pucked up the phone to call the sheriff, it hit him: akimbo.
---
Stanley tapped the sign into his front yard with his boot. He was starting to get nervous about the questions the detectives had asked him. “Why'd you kill those men, Stanly?”, “Do you know what the punishment is in this state for defecating in a corpse's ear?”, “How can such a pretty mouth tell such ugly lies, Stanly?”
Stanley thought he could answer any questions they had for him, but these were hard. So he choose to not say anything, even though they were pronouncing his name wrong. The only thing Stanley said was to ask to speak to his lawyer. They said he could talk to the public defender once he got himself out of prison later in the week.
Stanley said that he wanted to use the lawyer he'd used the last time he needed one.
They informed him that he had used the public defender, which upset Stanley deeply. That had meant that he'd given away a perfectly good stereo that he didn't have to.
As he was leaving the jail, the sheriff told him that someone had come in with a sack full of change and dollar bills to post his bail, even though they hadn't arrested him yet. When asked who it was the sheriff only replied “I dunno...some girl wearing cat ears.”
Then the sheriff gave him a 9x5 glossy of himself, telling Stanley that if he wanted to make things easy for himself, that he'd better call the number on the back.
---
Her knock came shortly after he went back inside. She wasn't wearing her paper hat, so he knew it was her that tried to bail him out. He didn't know what to say, so he asked her if he could still have her number. It was the least he could do, he'd been trying to picture her naked. He couldn't help himself, Stanley realized now that she was cute, if the ears were fake.
She asked him if he was into Furries. He thought she was talking about the little robot creature. She handed him a brochure.
He asked what first made her notice him. She said it was his nipples.
Stanley waved good-bye with the brochure as she walked away. She stopped to scratch herself on the tree in his yard.
---
Stanley walked back inside, and when he threw her number into the freezer he was confronted by the picture of the sheriff. He looked at the angry glossy for a moment and walked over to his phone. She answered on the three hundred and fifty-seventh ring.
---
Stanley sat on a cooler filled with ice cream treats, listening to the happy music and playing with the orange and black tail resting between his legs. He tried to think of a better name, maybe “eroticats” or “purrotica”. He tried to think of a word that meant running away with your new girlfriend with an exotic fetish to in order to escape certain prosecution for two murders you didn't commit. And then, it hit him, a moment of clarity that makes you feel both proud for having solved the riddle and foolish for it having taken so long. There it was right in front of his face the whole time.

It was “The Entertainer.”

Recipe For Delicious Rape

Delicious Rape
serving size: multiple

Ingredients:

1-Drivers license with current address

1-Work i.d

1-Work schedule

1-Set of house keys

1-Set of car keys

Directions:
1. Mix in one (1) handbag or purse until desired consistency

2.Leave at a crowded bar on New Year's Eve

Enjoy!

Sweet Deal Weekend.

I was at my sister's house the other day when we noticed her neighbors where putting stuff on the curb for people to take away. 
Having already gotten a nice fish tank from them, I decided to meander over and take a look. 
And what did I find?
Some kind of weird yellow/green box that only said Monaural Solid State.
I had no freaking clue what it was, but the price was right so I took it.
And what did I find when I finally managed to get the cover off?
That's right, a freakin' Portable Record Player for the land before time.
That works.
So I immediately went and picked up some records at the thrifts shop for 75 cents apiece.
And what did I find at the thrift store while looking for records?
A freaking sweet set of binoculars and old leather case for 5 bucks.

So the rest of my weekend was spent being all classy and shit: Drinking beer, listening to classical music on 33 and 1/3, and masturbating to internet porn while getting a closer view of my HOGG than any woman has in months.
At the same time.

I was so excited I decided to pull out the Five Dollar Digital Camera and take a picture of it.  (Sorry, no pictures of the binoculars, they look like...binoculars)

Jealous?  Oh yeah, you're jealous.

My Movie Script

Sorry I've been so absent the last month, but I've been busy negotiating with a Major Movie company about a script of mine that they have purchased. 
Since you have all been such loyal followers, I thought I'd share the good news, and give you a brief synopsis so you can get all your friends and family psyched to watch it.

It's about two identical brothers (one good, one evil) who are fighting each other for the control of the world and their mother's soul.
The hook?
They haven't been born yet. 

It's titled:  The War Womb 

It looks like Nicolas Cage is looking to reprise the stellar job he did in Adaptation to play the twin brothers. 

It's also rumored that Michael Cera is interested in playing the role of the mother. 

Since I'm out of loop now, anything they do to the movie now is pretty much out of my hands, but I'll try to keep you updated with anything I hear.  I just hope they don't screw it up by trying to make it 3D and a bunch of CGI.

On Complexions and Quitting

Really thinking about quitting smoking.
But I wonder what it'd do to my comlexion.
Since I'd literally never go outside.

Saturday Morning

9:30 am
Been up since five.
Must have been an early night.
Tired but not sleepy.
Supposed to go do yard work at the sister's.
An opportunity for exercise
and food.
Wait.
Finally get the call when attempting a nap.
Get up.
Induce vomiting (it was going to happen anyway)
A beautiful mix of coffee and milk.
Brush my teeth and put on my sneakers.
Ready to face a new day.

Growing

I let the spiders in my bathroom
hang out now.
I don't know if I'm becoming more accepting,
or just tolerant.
Or use them as a gauge against the even worst centipedes.
The answer is, I let them live.
This is life.
And history.

Simple Man Review

Watching a movie titled The Kama Sutra.
And 13 minutes in,
I really have to wonder.
If they even bothered to read the source material.

Monday Thoughts

The Party Neighbors with their bad hip hop and Collection of Teenage Mothers with Mixed Children may be gone. 
That was quick. 
Too bad, to.  I was starting to think that one of them was digging me.
If I was in to that sort of thing. (I'm straight, you can figure it out yourself from there.)
But I will miss them sharing their music with the neighborhood. 
Who says they aren't a giving people?

I will also miss Dreds, Butterface Drop-by, and White Brodie Looking for StreetCred, among others.

I also just learned from Tropic Thunder on t.v that everyone has been quoting the movie wrong. 
"You just went full special."
That's the real quote. 
I don't know how so many people could get it so wrong.

But I suppose it's happened with more important things.

Lesson for the Day

Sticking your entire torso into the dryer and enjoying the sensation of laying in a pile of warm, clean clothes is only enjoyable as long as no one walks in the laundromat.

Vacation Over

So back to work again. 
And not just this, but work.
Back to seeing that it's still light out, and going back to bed. 
And learning the rhythms of the night again. 
Crap, I need a new job.

Another Back

After an amazing Wedding Weekend Ohio. 

Just too much to report now.
Drained.
You know the feeling.

Just trying to get it all straightened out and written down. 
So here, enjoy a beautiful MS Paint picture. 

This is Demon Beaver.  He's sad because he's evil, so no one wants to be his friend.

I know.  So, so many talents.

Road Trip

     Brown Beverly screeched to a halt next to me amidst a billow of smoke and blaring noise.  Treev leaned out the window and shot me with his wide wild grin.

     "I said boy, get in."

     I lit a cigarette and eyed the light colored trail Brown Beverly left in her erratic wake, and the pool forming beneath her rusted frame.

     "What's wrong with Brown Beverly?"  I asked with my cigarette pursed tightly in my lips.

     "Got a big ol' hole in the tank, so I filled her up and told ol' Chuck to give me a five minute head start before he lit it.  Now get in."

     "Where we going?"

     "I was thinking of driving out Denver ways.  Doubt we'll make it, but doubt just as much we'll care.  This'll be a night we'll not remember my friend, that I'll guarantee.

     "We can't drive across the plains at night," I said.  "What about the Roving Band of Sodomites?"

     "Didn't you hear?" shrieked Treev, nearly crawling out the window for air.  "They all went to California for the winter.  The plains are ours tonight, and I'll be danged if I got time to sit here and argue with you."

     I eyed the bright blue flame winding up the empty village streets.

     I got in the car, the door slamming shut like a gunshot in the cool fall air.  We sped off into the night with a thick trail of smoke and the fire on our tail; wondering what we'd do, once we got to where.

Guilt by Association

Poor butterflies,
live in the season of mosquitoes and cicadas.
Just fluttering around,
doing their thing.
But when they land it feels like a tiger bite.
So you slap.
Sometimes that happens.
Not just to them.

Quick Back Post

Sorry, been in Yankton, SD and Omaha, NE on a family reunion/vacation. 
For days there I didn't even have internet (the horrors!) 
And for a couple more were just too damn busy.
You know how family is.
But it was a great time. 
Except when an older brother almost got me caught in the middle of a Rail Road gang fight.
Railroads take their territory very seriously.

But more on that later.

Derek Portal Head

Here is a video I made  long time ago and nearly forgot about.  It's not the greatest, but hey, it's better than a filler. 
All animation, voices, and music were done by me.

Yet Another Filler

Not even a story this time.
Just a hectic weekend.
Summer.  Life.
Tried to Put up rain gutters, but got interrupted by rain.  Not even sure what you'd call that.
Maybe Alanis Morissette could tell me.
But I doubt it.
Can smell what the landlord is cooking
It's something with ham.
Damn I love ham.
Oh, and I'm fairly drunk.
Lost a follower too.
That makes me sad.  Sorry I didn't meet your expectations.  You should have contacted my Public Relations department before un-following.
Or it just happens. 
Ever just feel guilty about not posting?
If you have, you know this post.

Filler Post

Why I Need to Start Keeping A 
Sleeping Journal

It's just am image now.
At sleep it was full, real, sensible.
Funny.
"I should write this down."
"Naw, this is too damn good to forget."
So there it sits now,
like a comically posed corpse. 
Not saying it would have turned out any good.
But would be nice to know.

My Keanu Reeves Story

Now I'm sure by now everyone knows the tragic tale of Keanu Reeves.  If you don't, just look up "Keanu Reeves Sad".  The part that always give me the tight chest is the fact is that no matter how much life has pissed on him, he has by all accounts remained what I would dare call an outstanding human being.
But that doesn't mean you still can't have some fun with it.
When ever I see sites were people post their stories about interactions with celebrities, I post this heartwarming tale.
***

About 5 years ago my family went to visit my sister in LA. One day while we were there I got roped into watching my niece in a hair salon while my sister got her hair done.
So I'm sitting in the salon lobby, bored as fuck, watching my niece and who walks in but Keanu fucking Reeves.
At first I was kind nervous and freaked out, I'd just kinda glance at him every now and then, trying not to freak him out. But then my fucking niece starts crying and fidgeting and shit and won't shut up. So I'm trying to keep my niece quiet and not bother Keanu, when oops, too late, he gets up and walks over to us.
He just smiled and stroked her hair, and asked me what was wrong. I said I didn't know. Then he looked at me with those penetrating blue eyes and simply said in that soothing voice "She seems like she's hungry."
Then he lifted up his shirt and breastfed my niece right there in the salon lobby.
True story.

***

Some people are amused.  Others...not so much.  But now you know if you see this story you have run into me. 

Or one of my followers.

55 Word Stories

Bachelor Party

"What a bachelor Party!" thought Paul as he slowly opened his eyes, making sure light wouldn't increase the pain in his shrunken brain head.
He briefly wondered what he would tell his fiance, until he realized the hotel room they had last night didn't have bars on the windows, or plastic sheets on the bed.

Double Cross

"Where is it?" screamed Mike, digging violently through the closet.
"I don't know!" Tasha replied, quickly hiding it in her jeans.  Top desk drawer, where she knew it would be.
"I said he wouldn't tell me.  Now we have nothing but a corpse!"
"But I need two." thought Tasha, hiding the knife behind her back.


For anybody who wasn't seen the books, 55 word stories are just that.  Stories that are just 55 words (excluding the title) no more, no less.  Why 55 words?  I have no idea, but they are fun to write if you just have a small story idea, and can be surprisingly difficult to write.  If you'd like to learn more about 55 word stories, check out Google, because really, I'm not sure it's my job to do all your research for you. 

And thank you to Not Worth Mentioning for making me blog of the day.  If you found me from there, welcome, have a look around and follow.  If you haven't been over there, go check him out.  And look, I even provided a link this time.

I Forgot I Wrote This About Treev

The dark night thundered with the sounds of Brown Beverly and the squeal of the windows from the hot wind. Treev relaxed in his seat as he steered with his hand on his lap, barely able to see over Beverly’s large hood onto the faintly illuminated road constantly coming at us. 

Treev claimed to know this road well, and knew that if only he kept it to the floor we would have enough strength to plow through any roadblock or obstacle that was intentionally or not set for us. 

We’d managed to trade enough to get our hands on some black market gasoline, because we could no longer afford to buy any prime, and found ourselves riding with a trunk full of explosive milk cartons and ice cream buckets, just waiting for them to blow us back to where ever if the tiniest little spark decided it was our time. 

Traveling in Nebraska in the dark is always a lonely affair. Since it was too loud to talk, and the stereo system had been ripped out by Larry the Leper’s minions to install in his bionic body, I spent my time anxiously looking for any other headlights as our lonely ship cruised through empty space passing small systems of family farms and galaxies of villages and towns. 

This was Sodomite country, so you knew when you saw another auto at night that you were either dealing with a local law dog in heat over out of state plates, or the incomparably dreaded Roving Band.

We did have a backseat full of sin sticks and lighters, but Locey Laws seldom concerned themselves with the prohibition, and we figured if we had to get some paper to pay The Man we’d just fence a few gallons of the black market in the trunk.

But while The Man could be bought off with paper or maybe a few well fed jump-suited weeks, the Roving Band of Sodomites dealt in a terrible market all its horrible own.

 

With our speed maintained at well over a hundred and ten, it was difficult for me to read all the attractions available at the newly constructed Possum Land, a Possum-themed amusement park dedicated to the obviously heroic church leader. The billboard was bright and well lit, and with its ladder rides and salvation prizes, Possum Land looked like it might be a nice place for us to go and relax after we were done with the assassination.

Treev and I locked eyes as we realized we would soon be in Thayer, but his gaze shifted past my head and out the window behind me into the dark country.

Treev muttered something as he shifted upright in his seat and switched attention from the road to the mirrors. 

I turned in my seat, and saw in the thicket the lights turn on of an old light brown mini-van. With a violent burst the now distant van jumped on to the highway, turning towards us and flashing its headlights.

“Sodomites?” I lamely shouted and Treev replied only with a nod of his head, frantically digging in the seat between us. 

“Where’s my stunner?” Treev yelled while keeping his eyes on the bright rear view mirror. 

I frantically dug in Beverly’s glove box, pulling out a mess of papers and various other unidentifiable things, letting them fall to my feet in the soiled carpet.

I handed Treev his stunner, and the car was quickly bathed in blue light as he gave a few pulls on the trigger to test it.

“Hey, look!” I held up the stuffed gray kitten which usually sat on the dash. “I found Chester!” 

Thinking this could be our last ride together, I placed Chester back on his stand, and turned to see the grim sight behind us. 

The two bright lights of the mini-van had not only gotten closer, but where soon being joined by others as the Sodomites caught the scent of fresh meat

Mankato Paths and the Identity Bandits

     Strolling the tree lined trails is a peaceful, mind clearing activity during the hours of light, but once the sol sets it's a completely different story.

     Bandits prowl the hedges, eater to pounce any fanny pack or wallet bulge they see.  It's not money they are after, no, a few bills of paper will only get you so far.  What they are after is identity.

     They'll snatch your i.d and after a few quick twists of the thumb on ink will have your social security number and mother's maiden name.  Then before you can stumble to the nearest residence, thumb in hand, they'll have jumped back to the bushes with their G6 internet and have started ten new accounts in your name.

     It is a mixed bag of beauty and danger, walking the paths, but that's why so many thrill seekers are drawn to it like bull fighting and whore mongering.  But if you play the game right you can come out on top safe.
   

Quick Post

Wish I could find something to post here, but I've left all my notebooks at home, and Treev and I can't go there since the Huffing Syndicate is keeping its bloodshot eyes on it in order to find us. 
(They don't really want me, but they know that I know where he is)
So now we are staying at the 24 hour coffee shop, napping in 10 minute shifts and occasionally going out to the car to change shirts so they think we are different patrons. 
I'm not entirely sure it's working, but Treev is convinced that it's brilliant.  
This shouldn't last long though.  It's just a matter of time before our watchers run out of spray paint or markers, and have to crawl off into the darkness hungry for another kick.

Thought For The Day

The worst thing you can do to a personal rival is invite them to your funeral.
Let them sit there at the wake as people tell stories of your awesomeness. 
Let them sit there and stew, dare them to be the voice speaking ill of the dead.

3,..2,...1,...

Followers!
(See what I did there?)

You know me, just trying to be original.  I figured It'd be better to pick a different number than the usual round ones to celebrate a member milestone.
It's nice that I achieved it so soon after writing about not being able to get it. 
So guys, there is only one lesson to be learned here:

Begging. Works.
(right ladies?)

But in other news, Idiot Neighbor and Fat Dyke Hair are gone.  They've moved on to whatever questionable future is available to them. 
That's the good news.
They bad news is that they seem to have been replaced by a daycare for the Children of Teenage Single Mothers.
That love to blast the hip hop.

So we'll see how this goes.  I'm rubbing my hands just imagining the inspiration they will provide.

So that's all for now.

And thanks again.

Moment of Clarity

Mark sits on the couch, playing the game she gave him.
At first, he catches a whiff, a tickle, the shadow of a memory.
Slowly it grows stronger, shadows become images
from months ago.
It's real, it's in the room with him, as if she's sitting there next to him,
like when she'd be driving them home in her car. 
Her perfume.
Tests the shirt, the undershirt, the pants.
Nope.
Finally he finds the source, in his socks.
That she washed for him three months ago.
Suddenly the end of their relationship
made perfect sense.

300 Followers! (Eventually)

I mean, it has to happen, eventually, right?
I've been stuck on 299 for what seems like forever now.  Any day now I'll break over that barrier. 
Maybe my odometer is stuck.
Maybe 299 is my lucky number.

But yeah, I pretty much wanted t make a post gloating bout how I can't gain followers. 

You don't get that just anywhere, you know. 

But really, thanks to all you 299 suckers who got me this far.

Hate To Be Cliche...

But Mondays are the worst.  It's just so hard to try to get back on the night work schedule. 
Especially off such a lame weekend. 

Big News of the Weekend:  I was the big hero, and fixed the neighbors lawn mower. 
The good news is it was an easy fix, and I spent a good amount of time looking at the amble cleavage of a good looking neighbor girl.  (Sometimes the simple pleasures are the best ones) 
The Bad News:  I also had to listen to an old fat woman talk about her sex life with her son.  (Picture the Old Indian Woman for The Simpsons Movie, only a real person, and now imagine her bragging about how noisy she is during sex)
I'd go into more detail, but believe me, that's all you need right now. 

This is a horrible, horrible post.  But it's Memorial Day, so maybe everyone is out and won't even see it.

Basement Neighbors

Fat dyke hair in a tight pink tank top pops out to ask if I drink regular Mountain Dew.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Do you have any?"
"...no"
Awkward silence of mutual disappointment.
Slowly she closes her screen door.
Damn my neighbors are weird.

Not A Lot News

Meant to post last night but things got in the way. 
A girl I've been chatting with online surprised me by being awake, but since I don't like to kiss and tell, that's all I can really say.
(All the way, baby)

Also some local kids at work(a hotel, if you didn't know) decided to try to Library us again with our lobby computer. 
Oh kids, they think they're so smart, so sneaky. 
What they don't know is that I control the wireless router. 
Now I know why adults were such bastards when I was that age.
First, like all kids, I was a moron. 
Secondly, it's just fun. 
And what did I get for my efforts to teach them about boundaries, and respecting other people's property?
A middle finger as they left. 
You go, Master of Originality and Angst, go. 

Also, Treev is staying with me for a while, as long as he promises not to crap in my dirty laundry. 
We're still not sure why the Po Po are after him, but theory is that the Huffing Syndicate is trying to frame him for something for selling markers at a school. 
The Huffing Syndicate is very territorial. 

Finally Back

It's been a long weekend.  No internet at all.  Barely any electricity.
Found Treev in a park that is well know for being the hideout of people who don't want to be found.
(Which I guess kinda defeats the purpose)
I'll get more into it as I have more energy.
Oh, I found him alive and all.

In other park news, the police have identified a leg bone found in a park as that belonging to a local man who's been missing since last summer.
So we're still trying to figure out if we're looking for a body now, or a one legged hiker.
Which I guess would explain why it's taking him so long to get home.

Hurried Post

Can't spend much time writing today. 

It all started when some law enforcement types came to my door this morning during my nap.
After briefly excusing me to tend to my smoking and exploding microwave, they explained to me that my good friend, Treev Wilson, was missing, and they were wondering if I'd seen him.
Treev is a good friend of mine who is a notorious bootlegger of everything from cigarettes to raw milk.  It isn't unusual for him to disappear for long periods, so I told them I hadn't seen him, and it really isn't a big deal.
They never explained why they wanted to see him.
I said it wasn't a big deal, but knowing Treev's enemies, which range from the Roving Band of Sodomites to the heads of the Pervert Underground to Larry the Leper, any one of them could have finally gotten their sick hands on him.

So I'd better go out now and try to find him.

So, long story short:
There's drama that surprisingly doesn't include Sock
My thumb drives and microwave are now trashed
I need to go try to find my friend.

Maturing

Another night at work.
Two strippers in-house.
Fantasies abound
knowing it never has, or likely will, happen.
But I always keep my options open. 
If only I could be so pragmatic
in all other things.

Weekend Recap

So babysitting went fine.  I was hardly drunk at all by the time her parents came home. 
One of my best friends is getting married, so now I have to figure out how to get some scratch together for a plane ride to Dayton, Ohio by July. 
Also I'm the last one to get married. 

The stray cat my neighbors and I have been taming and looking after is dead. 
She got ran over a couple of blocks away. 
I know that I should feel worse, but I like that her last couple weeks of life were filled with love and food. 
That, and she crapped in my dirty laundry once. 
I'd post a picture of her, but as you know from previous posts, my camera sucks, so you wouldn't even really know it was a cat.

That, and I never took one of her. 

C'mon, she crapped in my dirty laundry.

Babysitting

This is what my life has become.  I perfectly cloudy day and here I am babysitting my niece.
She's like a year and a half or something. 
I guess it isn't all bad, just watching Archer and Evil Dead while she does her thing. 
It's just really making me slow down on my drinking.
Mr. Responsible. 
Also, it appears her parents didn't honor my request to not feed or water her for 24 hours before I showed up.  So a diaper change is imminent. 
At least I don't think that smell is me.

Day of Victory

Jaw feels uneven.
As in, it doesn't open the same.
Try measuring with my fingers in my mouth,
but the results are inconclusive. 
Crush the can and go take a piss.
Baby fly (or something) lands on the side of the rim.
Nailed it.
It tries to crawl out of the frothy hell.
No you don't, you little bastard.
Tries to get out again.
Admire his tenacity, but I must win.
Flush.
Game Over.
Stand outside the bathroom door.
What was I doing?
Suppose I was going to get another beer.
So I do.

Rape Whistles

Short post today.  I was inspired to make this by the post of a fellow blogger.  Sorry if I can't remember exactly who right now.  If you read this, please accept my apologies.

UPDATE:  As Colin has pointed out in the comments it was Kicking Rocks that had the post that inspired it.  Thanks guys.

Notstradamus Right Again

As I'm sure many of you have heard.  The Mississippi river is rising to historic levels. 
Which only reminds me of predictions made earlier HERE

Does anyone else have goosebumps right now?

Award Nomination!

Sorry I didn't post this sooner, but It appears I've been nominated for an award of some sort. 
I'm almost certain that it's for my philanthropy towards the neighborhood cats and out of work hookers, but I haven't been able to look into it too much.

So long story short, you should all go over to D4 and check it out for me.  You know, because I have stray cats to feed and a hooker coming over.

Helping the Helpless

1:30 am.
Guy wonders in, smell him before I see him.
Drunk
Or something. 
Slurred confused topic hopping.
He has a room, he wants a room, here to meet friends.
A mix of speech and gestures,
He's doing Depp doing HST doing Jagger doing that sign language chimp.
Sits in a chair, I should just call the PD.
No, they'll bust in all tough, talk to him, then kindly give him a ride home and water to sober up.
They never do that for me.
They truck me down to Detox if I swerve to avoid a caterpillar on my walk home.
Digressions.
Guy passes out.
Go smoke and wonder what to do.
Minutes later.
Kick, whistle, yell, shake.
"hmm, um, um"
Finally get him up, tell him that the cab he wanted me to call is here.
He looks confused, but knows enough not to question it.
I direct him back out the front door.
He gets into the cab, and within minutes is on his way.

Blogger Glitch?

Sorry I haven't been able to keep up with you that I follow.  When I'm in my Dashboard, it says I'm not following anyone?  Did anyone else have this happen? 
Any idea what it might be?

Recipe For Delicious Rape

Delicious Rape
serving size: multiple

Ingredients:

1-Drivers license with current address

1-Work i.d

1-Work schedule

1-Set of house keys

1-Set of car keys

Directions:
1. Mix in one (1) handbag or purse until desired consistency

2.Leave at a crowded bar on New Year's Eve

Enjoy!

Lazy Sick and Sock Post

Still feeling the Uberflu, though I think a lot of it might be the Hangover.
(Drink lots of fluids, right? hohoho)
And Sock is really getting on me with this paternity stuff, so I'll just leave you with yet another troll wincest picture.  I have others, but they aren't exactly safe for work, or PG.
So, long story short, another crappy post, but don't complain, it's free.

When The Attractive Sing About Lovelack

Still mostly down with the SwineSARSMadBirdLyme flu.  But just wanted to jot down a little something that I've noticed about music. 

And that would be attractive, nay, gorgeous people singing about how they can't find anyone to like them. 

I think my prime example of this sort of insulting poseurism is Taylor Swift.  (By insulting, I mean for all us Uglies out there.  How does she really know the life of the Ugly?  What we have to go through?  All that we have achieved despite our handicaps and social stigmas?  Nothing.)

Yes, Taylor Swift, when the biggest part of your "Game" is existing, I'm sure that you spend plenty of weekends alone. 

Well, enough of that, back to the couch.

Slow Post Weekend.

It started last night before work.  Couldn't tell if it was the hangover or the flu. 
Turns out it was the flu. 
Or The SARS
Or The Swine Flu
Or The Bird Flu
Or whatever it's supposed to be this year. (Anyone remember the Lyme Disease fad?  That was years ago.)
So just lying on the couch, seeing what's on, and recovering. 

But don't worry, I'll try to keep up with my blogging, because that's just what a tough guy I am. 

Attraction and Self Loathing.

I saw myself the prettiest girl,
her eyes were smiling at me.
I would have gone to say hello,
but dammit she seemed so happy.

Second Impressions

Dom the Entertainer stares at me from his business card.
That cocky smile, the popped collar and suit.
Confidence, Success.
Small town wedding singer.
Excuse me, Wedding Entertainer.
Pity or Hate?  I waffle.
Long term guest comes in.
A drunk, a philanderer.
Looks like the even eyed twin brother of Sloth.
More tales of his awesomeness,
of all the money he'll make.
He finally stumbles back to his room
chuckling dollar signs.
I break down and check Dom's website.
That grammar.
I settle on pity, wish his little dream luck.
The guest?
Maybe something will come up.

Bright Side of the Apocalypse

With some luck it'll all be the same
when the shit hits the fan.
With no family
and out of love.
All part of the Master Plan.

Back

It was a good weekend.
Small Wisconsin town.
Churches and ducks. 
Everywhere.  
Nothing really excited happened. 
Punched a duck, but he was asking for it.
Seriously. 
Found a bar that let you smoke in it, even though I guess It's illegal there.
So all in all not bad.  I'll try to think of more as I let it soak in.

208 Followers!

I figures since everyone else did the XXX followers post, so would I.  Sorry I don't have any neat gifts to give (unless you're a lady, then message me and maybe we can figure something out)
But sorry for the bland post.  Not gonna be on here much, family obligations this weekend for Easter.
Maybe some adventures will happen on the road to Wisconsin. 
Or not.

South Central (Minnesota)

Outside the YMCA, a bus pulls up.
Red shirts pile out and gather out front.
Blue shirts come out to meet them.
Gunplay does not ensue.

Moving On (A Tale of Love)

I present to you the interesting case of Benjamin Nottingham, who hired a medium to contact his beloved wife of thirteen years and mother of his three children only to learn she had become the biggest whore of the Great Beyond. 

It marriage and bodies ceased to exist in the hereafter, apparently neither did STDs.  Poor dead Mary used this newfound moral and physical freedom to hump and suck her way across the Astral Plane.

After the revelation, Benjamin decided it was time to follow his friends advice and move on.  He removed all pictures of Mary from the house and refuses to talk about her with the children. 

"I just tell them she's happy," he glumly replied "It's not technically lying...stupid whore."

"He spends way too much time reading the obituaries now,"  a friend said "It's creepy.  Every time a relatively young guy dies he sneers 'Have fun with that one, bitch'  I mean, c'mon, what is that?"

Benjamin has even offered to donate his own kidney to his long time friend Mike Sutton.  "Mike's always had a little crush on Mary,"  Benjamin explains.  "You think I'm gonna let that drunk get his hands on her?"

My T-Shirt

I'd forgotten to mention the t-shirt I'd had made up.
If the pic is too small it says Well behaved women rarely make history, but they make great sandwiches.
I also have it available on coffee mugs and bumper stickers. 
Just something I thought I'd share on a slow day, and to see what you think. Sorry to any female readers who are offended.

Tax Day, Bad Day

Oh, getting money back, it's just the damn numbers that depress me.
It's a wonder I eat.
Fish grilling on the Foreman, it wasn't too frozen, not sure how long it'll take. 
No, no, no, next, continue, no, next.
"Really?" the online tax form screams.  "Nothing has changed in your life? This is all you've done?"
"...yes."
"Did you put your age correctly?"
Save the form and check the fish. 
Not like I'll get the money any sooner, should have gone on a walk instead. 
I scrape the burnt scraps of fish off my Foreman, thinking of my refund.

A Snapshot Of My Day

I walked into the bathroom to take a piss, and standing there in front of the toilet I started fidgeting with my toothpaste (the cap was off). 
Suddenly remembering I was there to piss I just started to go.  Forgetting to take my wang out.
I started to piss my pants right there. 
I didn't even try to stop it or take my pants off, figuring the damage had already been done.
So now I'm sitting here in still soaked pants, and it's starting to chafe. 

Picture of Sock

So a lot of people have been asking "Who is this Sock who is hassling you?  Is she at least hot?"  Well, to be honest, I can't give an objective answer to that since we have such a history together.

So I've decided to post a picture of her lying in bed while I had to get up for work.  I promised her I'd never share it, but considering what she's putting me through, screw it.

(Those curves, that mouth.  Tell me you wouldn't tap that.)

Neighborhood Watch

Little Bastards, playing in the yard outside my window.
Dad on the stoop, too drunk/strung to do anything put put his bald head in his hands and yell.
The don't listen, in the high pitched kid haze of fun.
Run and scream. Baritone threats. Silence. Run and scream
Dad finally moves his hands to snare one running by and forcefully sits him down.  His yelling is getting sharper.
Something is going to snap soon.
And then I'll be forced to do nothing.

A Plebe Serving the Masters

She waddles down to the desk and asks for shampoo (probably a first), toothpaste and brush (definitely a first), and lotion. (I can't help but picture it getting clogged in her open sores, probably stings, must have to use a q-tip or something to get it out)

She paid one hundred thirty-five dollars total for the room. Cash. More money than I could think of spending for anything. She thanks me with genuine gratitude and stale breath, and waddles back to the elevators. I go back to the office and adjust my tie. 

One hundred thirty-five dollars. 

Must be nice.

Sock Update and Lack of Post

Sorry, but nothing new today.  Socks been bothering me with calls at every hour of the day about this baby thing.  (If you're not familiar with Sock, you can check out previous posts about her)  So I've had to resort to ripping out all the phone lines in my house and changing the numbers on my house.

That should hold her for a while.

But that being said, I'm not posting from home, and I'm not near my notebooks.  Right now I'm sitting at a coffee shop, using their wireless.  But this won't last.  There's only so long you can hold off the manager's questioning, claiming to be reading through the drink menu trying to decide your order...

Nice Work, If You Can Get It.

He waited just inside the back door, watching the club. It closed 15 minutes ago, won't be long now, he's sure. Pea coat, jeans. About 35 or so. Not a bad looking guy. Didn't stink when I walked by to get my chips.

Not drunk, but had just enough to make it seem like it could happen.

The front of the club was dead. He must not have known the place had a backdoor.

Closed 25 minutes ago.

I watch on the monitors, finishing my chips. Hope he didn't giver her money before hand.

She's putting the cash on her dresser. Not even laughing, just a day's work. Well, maybe he's imagining her laughing.

Closed 45 minutes ago.

He 12^th time checks his phone and slowly walks back across the lobby to his room's hall. Four minutes later the phone rings. Young woman's voice.

“Sorry, I got a call from this number.”

“Oh, okay,” I hang up.

I sweep the crumbs onto the floor with my hand, hungry.

Notstradamus

Some of you might not know this, but in between my careers of being a short story writer, poet, and binge drinker, I also dabble in making predictions.  These all come to me in lucid dreams while I lay in my hang over funk.  Luckily for you today, I found some hidden predictions in one of my notebooks.  Ladies and gentle men I present to you NOTstradamus.

Catagory: World Events
In the West there will be a man
who does evil deeds.
By evil, I mean some seriously
fucked up shit.
The entire world will look at his
deeds and say 
"Seriously, that's pretty fucked up."

Catagory: Weather and World Events
A river in the middle of the land shall rise.
and even though it has happened many times before.
People will act in shock and
be surprised by it.

Catagory: Sports
 And a great Coach shall come
save the wondering team.
Adoration from the crowds
will echo,
but like echos, will not last.
As he leaves in disgrace
no fan shall claim him.

These are all I could find right now.  As you can see, they are all very frightening pictures of our future, so I avoid looking at them as much as I can.  But I felt like I must warn the world of least a part of what is coming.  It is, after all, my destiny.

Miscillany

Sorry, usually try to post something new every other day, but today just can't muster it.  So here's some old little ones I've found in a notebook.  Like it says, take it or leave it.

Dating Tips For Your 
Teenage Daughter

It doesn't make you a slut,
If you're passed out.

Something About Direction,
It Think

I tried to write a picture.
tried to paint a song.
I try to do all the right things,
I just seem to do them wrong.

Because He Doesn't Have Eyes!

Billy Toothbrush heard a sound.
Billy Toothbrush looked around.
What Billy Toothbrush couldn't see,
Was that the sound had come from me.

Comforting News

I've ridden a bike,
I've ridden a horese.
So don't worry baby,
I've ridden worse.

Troll Caption 2

Bayside High Class of '94 Reunion

I just got an invitation for our 15 year class reunion from that PC worshiping, holier than thou witch, Jessie Spano. “Dear Peoples of Bayside class of '94!” Blech. Surprised she didn't require us to bring canned goods for the homeless or cleaning supplies for oil stained penguins.

I'm not even sure how she got the job of putting the reunion together, but it doesn't surprise me one bit. She's was one of Belding's Brats, the group of six that hung out in his office all the time, so therefore were the coolest kids ever and got the run of that buffoon's school. Prom King and Queen, valedictorian, running all the class projects and programs, that insipid band of theirs, class president, sports superstars, the school radio station, it's like Bayside consisted solely of them and the other 200 kids that went there didn't even exist. They were the “in” group, and they couldn't be bothered to even talk to anyone else, unless of course they needed you to do something for them in order to help them with some stupid prank on another Belding Brat.

I'm tempted to send an RSVP saying that I'm sorry but I can't make it, I'll be spending that night clubbing baby seals and slapping random women on the ass while stoned on sleeping pills. That's right, just mention No Doze to Ms. High and Mighty and watch her stiffen up like that muscle shirt ape forgot his anatomy lessons again.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'd rather brush my gums with a bleach soaked Brillo Pad than watch another night of her and Albert Clifford, I'm sorry, A.C Slater do their sick dance around each other, trying to flirt by calling each other names. It's like they were stuck in the 6th grade, the way they would flirt. And maybe they were, because lord knows nobody ever saw or heard of them ever do anything but sit in her room and kiss.

It wouldn't surprise me one bit to find out if the guy was technically retarded. That's right, Mr. Wrestling Champ Football Team Captain almost missed the big game against Valley once because he couldn't pass a test that asked what country bombed Pearl Harbor. No Joke. Maybe that's why he spent all his time flexing his muscles and pushing smaller kids around, it's all his feeble mind could handle. He'd walk into the locker room and glare at you like he was gonna kick your ass all the time, or if you happened to be sitting at a table at The Max that he wanted, he'd scare you off or simply pick you up and move you. I complained to Mr. Balding many times about that asshole, but he'd just do his stupid laugh and tell me that A.C was harmless. What a tool.

Maybe he was harmless, because I saw Mr. Mighty Beefcake get in a fight once, and by fight I mean he and Zack Morris push each other around in the hall and paw at each others shirts like they were back in the locker room. Oh yeah, that was the high drama in the school at the time, two of Belding's biggest pets fighting each other over a girl. It was like finding out your parents were getting divorced for some of the kids. It was disgusting. The best part was when they made nice again by pouring punch down each others pants during a dance. Looking back, I think they did have a thing going on, the way Zack would go around pretending he was God's gift to women.

Ah, Zack Morris, he walked around acting like every girl wanted him because he had blond hair and a cell phone. The guy had a serious narcissism problem, he acted like the sun rose and set around him, and time itself would stop if he had something to say. The guy would seriously talk to himself all the time. He had to be the center of everything, every pledge drive, charity event, class project, or school event. Everything was Zack, Zack, Zack. He even had the band he and the other Brats formed named after himself. “Zack Attack”. Seriously? Zack Attack? Attack what? Our sense of musical decency? The band had a damn keyboardist, and played dopey weepy pre-teen love songs. Apparently the whole grudge movement of the 90's passed these guys by while they were all together having a make out orgy.

But of course they got to play every dance because he and Mr. Balding were best freaking friends. No matter how many times Zack would totally disrupt the school while the rest of us were trying to, you know, learn or something, Mr. Tool in Chief would let him off the hook. I heard once that Belding's WIFE showed Zack her cooch while they were in the elevator together. Okay, so that is pretty cool, but the guy really had no other reasons for his inflated sense of self importance other than his little toady Screech Powers.

Have you ever seen somebody who was supposed to be so smart be such a retard? Oh, I get it, the guy had a robot, so he must be a genius. I honestly never saw the guy do a smart thing in his life. All his life was devoted to was trailing Zach around like he was his jew-fro gimp and get belittled and pushed around by him and A.C. I heard he works at Bayside now as Mr. Belding's assistant or something. They probably just sit around in his office all day and cry about how much they miss their poor Zacky-poo.

Oh, and if you thought Miss Not A Cause I Won't Take Up Unless It's Shutting the Hell Up and Corky Beefcake's romance wasn't sick enough, the on again, off again, will they or won't they, my God why do we even care? Soap Opera of Zack and Kelly's was just about enough to make me take a bottle of No Doze and dance like a crazy person.

Yes, perky, perfect, nice Kelly Kapowsky. Actually, alone she wasn't all that bad, she actually was a nice person, the only thing that would piss you off was that she knew she was perky and perfect, therefore had to cram it down your throat like it was Zack's dick after a couple cherry sodas at The Max, but you could look over that, but if you found her around “The Ones” she was just like them and obviously too good for you.

But all the perkiness in the world can't answer the question of what ever happened to Kelly senior year? One day she's Homecoming Queen with her stupid red face, and the next? She's off on some vacation or something to who knows where and suddenly just re-appears just in time for graduation . Some say that she got preggers and her conservative family shipped her out of town until she had the kid, and I gotta say, I can believe it. It would only makes sense that the little blond bombshell couldn't take responsibility for anything. But you can be assured that while Kelly was off taking care of Zack's responsibility, he was having a good time with that Tori girl. Everyone knows that Kelly grew up in a poor family with about a bazillion kids, so I guess it makes sense that she would be in love with Zack because he paid attention to her and his dad was rich, so you know, he had a cell phone and everything.

And speaking of Tori, does anybody know what happened to her? She just disappeared Hadn't anyone else seriously put together the connection between girls Zack has been briefly involved with and their sudden and final disappearance? Tori, the chick he and Beefcake fought over, the fat girl, the crippled girl, that chick Stacy he supposedly banged that one summer, I mean, that guy is connected to more missing girls than Ted Bundy.

I suppose I should say something about their token member, Lisa Turtle, but really there isn't anything to say. All I know about her is that this is a girl who grew up in suburban L.A with two surgeon parents, but as soon as you said anything she didn't like, it was all snapping fingers and ghetto sass up in your face. Girl, give me a break. I heard she's a fashion designer or something now. Which suits her. I can just picture her and other shallow intellects sitting around and congratulating each other for having the brilliance to put blue stripes and black plaid together.

After graduation, (which also, surprise, surprise, turned into another event all about the Brats), I jumped in my car and never looked back. I have no idea where they are now, but I heard that they all went to college together here in California. I'd like to see how the Brats did in a school where they weren't the A team and school president pets, maybe then they'd know what high school was like for the rest of us. I can just imagine the shock it must have been to their system when they found thousands of other students who were much more popular in much larger schools that had things like a full size gym. No, I didn't go to the 10 year reunion, won't be going to the 15th , and probably won't be making the 25th Like I said, I hopped into my car and haven't even given those morons a second thought. I'm over them. Aren't I?