When the sun sets,
The man nextdoor grabs his hat
And a cane. I hear his door
Whisper shut.
He walks the lawn
With tepid footsteps,
Gestures with a cupped hand
At my face in the window.
His daughter has eaglebreasts.
I dream that once
My head might rest
In her nesty flesh.
When her light fades out
And her silhouette is absorbed,
My dreams
Are all dimples and folds
And pure pure white.
When I dream
She's always in my sight.
When the sun shows up again,
A wooden tap roosters
Me awake. There is no wave
From his tired hands; his eyes
Lie on skin pillows
And don't see me
Blink through the blinds.
I know he'd call
My dreams unkind,
But that's because
A daughter differs
From a shadow,
From a distant image
Small enough to carry
In my pocket.
If I knew his name
I'd say 'I'm sorry.'
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Sunday, June 04, 2006
County Park
I drowned you in this pond.
I breathed the air that hit the surface,
The bubbles of your lungs and lips.
Your arms did not struggle, while mine
Were wrapped by sludgy weeds
And abandoned lily pads. It's a shame
That no one saw me.
On the reedy shore, my shoes
Were slicked with goose shit.
I saw a man catch a fish,
His orange bobber floating above your body,
And he cast again, lusty and impatient.
He caught another. Another flowing
Flick of the wrist, and a third fish
Flew up with his hook. Their breath
Stunk of your tears. How nutritious your sorrow,
When fish will risk an iron barb
To eat their fill.
Soon, the rod was halted.
There was no sport in it. The pond
Became speckled with scaly bellies, and the frogs
Jumped from fish to fish. Your tears
A new lake created, with an ocean's
Salinity. On the bank, I cupped
A hand and fed my mouth, but my throat
Choked on the thickness, and my lips
Were painted a salty red. I had to leave.
I'm afraid I can't go back.
I breathed the air that hit the surface,
The bubbles of your lungs and lips.
Your arms did not struggle, while mine
Were wrapped by sludgy weeds
And abandoned lily pads. It's a shame
That no one saw me.
On the reedy shore, my shoes
Were slicked with goose shit.
I saw a man catch a fish,
His orange bobber floating above your body,
And he cast again, lusty and impatient.
He caught another. Another flowing
Flick of the wrist, and a third fish
Flew up with his hook. Their breath
Stunk of your tears. How nutritious your sorrow,
When fish will risk an iron barb
To eat their fill.
Soon, the rod was halted.
There was no sport in it. The pond
Became speckled with scaly bellies, and the frogs
Jumped from fish to fish. Your tears
A new lake created, with an ocean's
Salinity. On the bank, I cupped
A hand and fed my mouth, but my throat
Choked on the thickness, and my lips
Were painted a salty red. I had to leave.
I'm afraid I can't go back.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Conveyance
Hmmmm...How to explain. This is gonna be hard. It's like, like...God, this is tough. The words, they just don't mean what I want them to mean. Like, let's say there's a dolphin, who really really likes graham crackers...no, wait. I mean, let's take your mom. Just an example, no insult intended. Well, it's kinda like your mom, with all her sundresses and sunglasses and sunroofs and shit. Almost like that, I guess. More like a skylight that some bluejay has shat on.
Still, you're not getting it, and that's not your fault, because I'm not getting it right. Let's say a train is going in two directions at once, like North-East, but the wind is only going up. It's like that, moreso than your mom. But then again, have you ever gotten a ticket for not turning on your headlights, even though it's clearly still dusk, and there is still light, and you can see the pollution turn red on the horizon? And then, you remember the spare pack of Sunny Doodles in your glove compartment. That's the feeling.
OK, enough of this nonsense. I have it, conveyed to perfection: You are playing four-square with the man who will be your husband. His mom whistles, a command, but he stays a silent moment longer, to peg you in the head with that beautiful, red, rubber ball. Your teeth clack and you bite your tongue, and when you get home, your mom thinks you stole her favorite lipstick. The tuna tastes like pennies that night, and you never fall asleep again, until you touch down on your wedding bed.
You still don't get it, do you?
That's what I thought.
Still, you're not getting it, and that's not your fault, because I'm not getting it right. Let's say a train is going in two directions at once, like North-East, but the wind is only going up. It's like that, moreso than your mom. But then again, have you ever gotten a ticket for not turning on your headlights, even though it's clearly still dusk, and there is still light, and you can see the pollution turn red on the horizon? And then, you remember the spare pack of Sunny Doodles in your glove compartment. That's the feeling.
OK, enough of this nonsense. I have it, conveyed to perfection: You are playing four-square with the man who will be your husband. His mom whistles, a command, but he stays a silent moment longer, to peg you in the head with that beautiful, red, rubber ball. Your teeth clack and you bite your tongue, and when you get home, your mom thinks you stole her favorite lipstick. The tuna tastes like pennies that night, and you never fall asleep again, until you touch down on your wedding bed.
You still don't get it, do you?
That's what I thought.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Choose your own adventure
Yes, I was quite fascinated by Vanderbilt's idea. I willgive you a watered down, less well written, unoriginal account of Vanderibilt's already borrowed theme.* Read at you own risk.**
*There actually may be references paralleling the 'real' choose your own adventure
** I don't feel the need to preface the story, or construct any kind of plot. This is because I don't know what the word means.
You find yourself in the a strange city. Some people speak English, and some other language. It could be El Paso, Prague, or Manila. You are ignorant to culture or racial markers.
Do you find the nearest pornographer and converse with him, try to find a newspaper Marty Mcfly style, or try to figure it out yourself, even though you know absolutely nothing.
You happen to be a stubborn chap searching for adventure. You wander the mews, avenues, boulevards, and the like. Your legs are tired, but your loins are not. A woman dressed in a business suit smiles at you. She has a crooked tooth, but you like those kind of flaws.
Do you ask her, "how much to take me around the world Magellan style?", ignore your primal instincts and eat some kind of sandwich, do what you usually do, and buy a loaf of Italian bread and a tub of margerine
See normally you would take the last choice, however, you are in a strange city, no one knows you. You proposition this not so young lady. She looks at you puzzled, like you got mustard on your sweater vest.
Do you, repeat the question, run away, push her down and run away
Well C'mon, you don't want her following you. She doesn't fall down because you are a weakling. You kick the prospective presser of charges in the shins, and take four lefts. Shit! You are back where you started. The women is waiting, quite astutely, for an explanation. You happen to be smooth*, so you approach her casusally to work it out.
*You are not, nor will you ever be
Do you profusely apologize, and make up an excuse, Give her a clothesline (from hell) , Make sweet, sweet, love, to a sweet, sweet, sausage
Uh oh. No good choices there. You unlogically refrain from violence and sexual acts. She's waiting for an explanation. You start stroking the piece to insinuate what you want. It's pretty surreal, even for you. The snaggle tooth whore pretends to walk away. You almost fall for it. She says, "80, that's how much it costs" You stroke your chin and say sure. Uh Oh! You don't have any money. Maybe you can pay her in orgasms, 80 of them.
Do you play it cool, and act like you are the real McCoy, Pplitely tell her you are not interested, eat an ice cream sandwich
You are partial to ice cream sandwiches, but your piece is on fire. You need to put it out. Your doctor told you that you are allergic to blue balls. It could kill you. You make the logical choice and follow her. She walks quite confidently towards an unknown destination. You pass, an 'adult' kiosk. Aha! It's not even a choice, you follow your unlikely hostess. After about an hour and a half you are walking on the side of a service road in a post industrial paradise.
Do you, see if the kiosk is still open, force the issue, keep walking
You felt some audacity, but you lost it. You keep on walking. You get to a cliff. She's got Leonardo wings, you got nothing. She jumps off and falls to her death.
Do you, follow suit, find a safer way down and collect the dead body, or walk back to where you started and utilize the Marty McFly method.
TURN TO P. 48 for your fate!
*There actually may be references paralleling the 'real' choose your own adventure
** I don't feel the need to preface the story, or construct any kind of plot. This is because I don't know what the word means.
You find yourself in the a strange city. Some people speak English, and some other language. It could be El Paso, Prague, or Manila. You are ignorant to culture or racial markers.
Do you find the nearest pornographer and converse with him, try to find a newspaper Marty Mcfly style, or try to figure it out yourself, even though you know absolutely nothing.
You happen to be a stubborn chap searching for adventure. You wander the mews, avenues, boulevards, and the like. Your legs are tired, but your loins are not. A woman dressed in a business suit smiles at you. She has a crooked tooth, but you like those kind of flaws.
Do you ask her, "how much to take me around the world Magellan style?", ignore your primal instincts and eat some kind of sandwich, do what you usually do, and buy a loaf of Italian bread and a tub of margerine
See normally you would take the last choice, however, you are in a strange city, no one knows you. You proposition this not so young lady. She looks at you puzzled, like you got mustard on your sweater vest.
Do you, repeat the question, run away, push her down and run away
Well C'mon, you don't want her following you. She doesn't fall down because you are a weakling. You kick the prospective presser of charges in the shins, and take four lefts. Shit! You are back where you started. The women is waiting, quite astutely, for an explanation. You happen to be smooth*, so you approach her casusally to work it out.
*You are not, nor will you ever be
Do you profusely apologize, and make up an excuse, Give her a clothesline (from hell) , Make sweet, sweet, love, to a sweet, sweet, sausage
Uh oh. No good choices there. You unlogically refrain from violence and sexual acts. She's waiting for an explanation. You start stroking the piece to insinuate what you want. It's pretty surreal, even for you. The snaggle tooth whore pretends to walk away. You almost fall for it. She says, "80, that's how much it costs" You stroke your chin and say sure. Uh Oh! You don't have any money. Maybe you can pay her in orgasms, 80 of them.
Do you play it cool, and act like you are the real McCoy, Pplitely tell her you are not interested, eat an ice cream sandwich
You are partial to ice cream sandwiches, but your piece is on fire. You need to put it out. Your doctor told you that you are allergic to blue balls. It could kill you. You make the logical choice and follow her. She walks quite confidently towards an unknown destination. You pass, an 'adult' kiosk. Aha! It's not even a choice, you follow your unlikely hostess. After about an hour and a half you are walking on the side of a service road in a post industrial paradise.
Do you, see if the kiosk is still open, force the issue, keep walking
You felt some audacity, but you lost it. You keep on walking. You get to a cliff. She's got Leonardo wings, you got nothing. She jumps off and falls to her death.
Do you, follow suit, find a safer way down and collect the dead body, or walk back to where you started and utilize the Marty McFly method.
TURN TO P. 48 for your fate!
Monday, May 15, 2006
I became a little bitch
Time to get serious for a moment.
Here's something that happened at work a couple weeks ago: I became a little bitch. I don't think I was totally in the wrong, though, but I feel that I might have over-reacted, so I want to share the story and get some opinions.
I'll start off by saying that I'm an atheist. I used to be Catholic, but then I discovered this thing called sin, which is a lot of fun, so I gave up on my faith and became a cat burglar. I quit when the price of cats dropped so low that there was no profit in it anymore, but that's another story for another post.
Anyways, I was just sitting in my cubicle, doing some work* and stuff, when co-worker A began talking to the person in the cubicle next to mine(co-worker B). She(co-worker A) asked B if he smoked, and when he said yes, she asked if he wanted to quit. He said it was hard to quit, so A said that she knew someone who could help. That person, of course, was Jesus.
I've had this same exact talk with her. She asked me if I smoked and all, same order of questioning, but I was also asked if I was Jewish. Can you get more WASP-ish than "Vanderbilt" ? I think not.
Well, A and B began to discuss religion. A loves God and shit(meaning she loves God and all that Christian stuff, not that she loves God AND loves shit), B decided to provoke her with stupid questions like "How do you know God exists? Really, how? I could be God!" She would then say, "Of course God exists. See that tree? That's proof." Idiot-talk. It was like she was trying for a conversion. This went on for like an hour. And I felt pretty uncomfortable. I don't know why, I guess the rules in my head just tell me that religion is an inappropriate discussion topic at work. Plus, I was constantly thinking of how I would argue every statement she made. But I let it go.
They finally ended the conversation, and I was relieved. Until it started up a couple hours later. This time, there were about 4 people standing and sitting around. It got worse, though, when co-worker A decided to show everyone how much she loved God by singing hymns. Right behind me. My gut reaction was to turn around and look her in the eyes. I have to state: I did not think this through; it just happened. She just smiled and said "What?" Everyone looked at me, and I don't blame them, since I had just abruptly swivelled around in my chair. I was on auto-pilot, though, and said in a plain voice...
"I don't think that's appropriate."
I saw co-worker A's eyes kind of go sad. I was asked to repeat what I said, and did, and then turned around to hide the heat radiating off of my red face. I had successfully killed the conversation, and I just had to be an asshole to do it.
But was I an asshole? I really feel it was an inappropriate subject considering the setting, and I was feeling uncomfortable. One hypothesis has been presented that I was trying to deflect the attention to the hymn-singer. I kind of see that, because my actions dictated that I had to say something in the moment, since my chair-twist turned all eyes on me. Could I have handled this another way?
This is all coming up now, because I have a new co-worker behind me who is playing a CD of trite gospel songs. Either that or she's a pothead, because I keep hearing the word "higher," over and over again. Now, I don't mind this as much as a person actually proselytizing and singing hymns, it just brought the prior incident to mind. Obviously, people have certain freedoms, like hanging bible quotes on their walls. I can't argue with that. One guy has a couple of construction paper things up that look like tablets, obviously made by his kid in bible school or something. One of them says, "What is it about 'thou shalt not' don't you understand? -- God". I'm glad someone finally found the Gospel of Rupaul, where God is all sassy and in your face. I think the other tablet said, "Thou shalt be fabulous -- God". This is also the book in the bible where God signs his quotes, like it's a high school yearbook.
I won't be an asshole this time. When she's at lunch, though, I might just have to steal the CD and turn it into a sandwich. And, if anyone's keeping track, this might be my first post that has more than 50% truth to it.
*Sudoku
Here's something that happened at work a couple weeks ago: I became a little bitch. I don't think I was totally in the wrong, though, but I feel that I might have over-reacted, so I want to share the story and get some opinions.
I'll start off by saying that I'm an atheist. I used to be Catholic, but then I discovered this thing called sin, which is a lot of fun, so I gave up on my faith and became a cat burglar. I quit when the price of cats dropped so low that there was no profit in it anymore, but that's another story for another post.
Anyways, I was just sitting in my cubicle, doing some work* and stuff, when co-worker A began talking to the person in the cubicle next to mine(co-worker B). She(co-worker A) asked B if he smoked, and when he said yes, she asked if he wanted to quit. He said it was hard to quit, so A said that she knew someone who could help. That person, of course, was Jesus.
I've had this same exact talk with her. She asked me if I smoked and all, same order of questioning, but I was also asked if I was Jewish. Can you get more WASP-ish than "Vanderbilt" ? I think not.
Well, A and B began to discuss religion. A loves God and shit(meaning she loves God and all that Christian stuff, not that she loves God AND loves shit), B decided to provoke her with stupid questions like "How do you know God exists? Really, how? I could be God!" She would then say, "Of course God exists. See that tree? That's proof." Idiot-talk. It was like she was trying for a conversion. This went on for like an hour. And I felt pretty uncomfortable. I don't know why, I guess the rules in my head just tell me that religion is an inappropriate discussion topic at work. Plus, I was constantly thinking of how I would argue every statement she made. But I let it go.
They finally ended the conversation, and I was relieved. Until it started up a couple hours later. This time, there were about 4 people standing and sitting around. It got worse, though, when co-worker A decided to show everyone how much she loved God by singing hymns. Right behind me. My gut reaction was to turn around and look her in the eyes. I have to state: I did not think this through; it just happened. She just smiled and said "What?" Everyone looked at me, and I don't blame them, since I had just abruptly swivelled around in my chair. I was on auto-pilot, though, and said in a plain voice...
"I don't think that's appropriate."
I saw co-worker A's eyes kind of go sad. I was asked to repeat what I said, and did, and then turned around to hide the heat radiating off of my red face. I had successfully killed the conversation, and I just had to be an asshole to do it.
But was I an asshole? I really feel it was an inappropriate subject considering the setting, and I was feeling uncomfortable. One hypothesis has been presented that I was trying to deflect the attention to the hymn-singer. I kind of see that, because my actions dictated that I had to say something in the moment, since my chair-twist turned all eyes on me. Could I have handled this another way?
This is all coming up now, because I have a new co-worker behind me who is playing a CD of trite gospel songs. Either that or she's a pothead, because I keep hearing the word "higher," over and over again. Now, I don't mind this as much as a person actually proselytizing and singing hymns, it just brought the prior incident to mind. Obviously, people have certain freedoms, like hanging bible quotes on their walls. I can't argue with that. One guy has a couple of construction paper things up that look like tablets, obviously made by his kid in bible school or something. One of them says, "What is it about 'thou shalt not' don't you understand? -- God". I'm glad someone finally found the Gospel of Rupaul, where God is all sassy and in your face. I think the other tablet said, "Thou shalt be fabulous -- God". This is also the book in the bible where God signs his quotes, like it's a high school yearbook.
I won't be an asshole this time. When she's at lunch, though, I might just have to steal the CD and turn it into a sandwich. And, if anyone's keeping track, this might be my first post that has more than 50% truth to it.
*Sudoku
Friday, May 12, 2006
Big Announcement
Greetings. Please accept my apologies for my absence over these past few weeks, as well as Madison's. The other guys, don't know what's up with them, but Madison and me have been very busy. Very very busy.
We actually have a big announcement that we can't share at the moment, or any foreseeable moment in the future. BUT, here are some possibilities*:
- We have cured cancer and AIDS, but also accidently created a new disease called caidser.
- We have been commissioned to write the sequel for Tuesdays with Morrie, entitled Wednesdays with Dracula. It's a bit of a departure from the first book.
- We have both been diagnosed with ED(eternal diahrrea). Not fun.
- I've lost the ability to love while Madison can't seemingly love enough. We're trying to find a happy medium.
- We created this. Best time of my life.
- We have discovered a new type of pornography that no one has ever thought of or seen, and which has the possibilty to tear the world apart. One hint: papercuts.
Maybe someday we'll be able to share the big news. If all goes well, hopefully in 8-9 months.
*By "possibilities," I mean "things that are not the announcement."
We actually have a big announcement that we can't share at the moment, or any foreseeable moment in the future. BUT, here are some possibilities*:
- We have cured cancer and AIDS, but also accidently created a new disease called caidser.
- We have been commissioned to write the sequel for Tuesdays with Morrie, entitled Wednesdays with Dracula. It's a bit of a departure from the first book.
- We have both been diagnosed with ED(eternal diahrrea). Not fun.
- I've lost the ability to love while Madison can't seemingly love enough. We're trying to find a happy medium.
- We created this. Best time of my life.
- We have discovered a new type of pornography that no one has ever thought of or seen, and which has the possibilty to tear the world apart. One hint: papercuts.
Maybe someday we'll be able to share the big news. If all goes well, hopefully in 8-9 months.
*By "possibilities," I mean "things that are not the announcement."
Monday, May 01, 2006
off dome pt. ?
Me name be shitface so swim in my spit
I borrow money from you and my name is split
Taped a banana in my pants to get you girl erogenous
Disrespected Lance Armstrong just to prove a hypothesis
We took drugs and tried to have a ball
I pushed you off the cliff and told you I would see you next fall
But this aint cartoonery you aint homer on skate board
I got hungry and ate Donkey Kong's entire banana hoard
The bran provided
got me excited
didn't have the strength to walk so I astroglided
over the Atlantic rocking a purple hat with gold crescent moons
I watch fantasia six times every third June
if you get my logical chain
you might have a decent sized brain
used for barter, I shit on the formal economy
I gave your girl a lobotomy
so now she sucks it abominablely
That means dissatisfaction, like the cheese on the floor
while heads snore
my golden liquid I pour
in your acne medication, you've never felt such a sensation
I gave you anal relations
using a sausage casing
It didn't keep the seamen in, but it sure tasted tasty
Get out and run miles so your guts not white and pasty
I win on the battlefield, go crawl back to Asia Minor
I wont hold on to your piece like my name was Ernest byner
its all you get for now so wipe with your hand
while you dance the horah to Ernest p whirls band
I borrow money from you and my name is split
Taped a banana in my pants to get you girl erogenous
Disrespected Lance Armstrong just to prove a hypothesis
We took drugs and tried to have a ball
I pushed you off the cliff and told you I would see you next fall
But this aint cartoonery you aint homer on skate board
I got hungry and ate Donkey Kong's entire banana hoard
The bran provided
got me excited
didn't have the strength to walk so I astroglided
over the Atlantic rocking a purple hat with gold crescent moons
I watch fantasia six times every third June
if you get my logical chain
you might have a decent sized brain
used for barter, I shit on the formal economy
I gave your girl a lobotomy
so now she sucks it abominablely
That means dissatisfaction, like the cheese on the floor
while heads snore
my golden liquid I pour
in your acne medication, you've never felt such a sensation
I gave you anal relations
using a sausage casing
It didn't keep the seamen in, but it sure tasted tasty
Get out and run miles so your guts not white and pasty
I win on the battlefield, go crawl back to Asia Minor
I wont hold on to your piece like my name was Ernest byner
its all you get for now so wipe with your hand
while you dance the horah to Ernest p whirls band
Sunday, April 23, 2006
this weekend
Vandy and I made up this weekend! So I was in a certain tournament, a video game tournament. Well... let me set this up...
So I'm in the middle of this custody battle, right. About 4 years ago, right, I made a little shitface, right.
Now, it is my custom to have sex with a girl, right, 'and never call her back'. That's my steeze, right? I am a scumbag. Unfortunately, this one chick got pregnant, and she happened to be an associate of my cousin, right, Samantha scumbag, right. Just so you don't get it twisted, right, this whore and I made a kid in 2002.
For some reason, right, she absolved me from any financial responsibiliites, right. I was relieved, right, let me tell you, right. She said, "Shitface, I don't want my kid to know a shitface like yourself, right. Please take yourself out of my son's life, right, and your scumbag tainted money, right." JACKPOT, or so I thought, right.
During the last year sometime, right, little Shitface's momma choked to death, right, on the dick of yours truly, right. A custody battle followed these events, right. As what I think was revenge, right, she legally placed me in custody of 'our' child, right. I showed the courts , right, I was clearly unfit to be a father, right, being that I am quite a shitface, right. Logically, right, the late dick choker's father, right, would take over as the legal guardian, right. Unfortunately, it never worked out like that, right. We had a contest of scumbaggery to determine who was less fit to be, right, a parent, right. Unfortunately, right, this ended in a stale mate, right.
There was only one way out right right right right.... I needed the money to pay this dude off so he wouldn't force this shitface on me, right. He set his price, right, it was grand indeed, right. There was only one way to win the sum, right. I entered a marvel vs. capcom 2 tournament, right (A video game featuring comic book characters fighting video game characters). IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT!!! I went to my local gambling spot and placed my life earnings on my performance in this tournament right, IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT.
I was doing great, right. They were playing the theme song to the Delta Force, right (See Chuck Norris), and I was comboing like a mad man, right. All of sudden, right, I got a stomach cramp from eating too much bran, right. Hey a shitface gotta shit, right. I lost to some punk who had no skills, right. My spirits were down, right. So, I digoed a baked ham, and a turkey sandwich, right. I was ready to quit and take this shitface on, right, and then, the grandfather of little shitface made me an offer I couldn't refuse, right. He offered me a fully furbished right right right(arcade pizza and tokens) arcade, right, with all the 80's game I desired. I was like yes, I think I'll take it, right. Then the kid came out, right, and said something about eating, right. I said, "shit I didn't think, right, I had to feed this mother, right, fucka, right." And with that I stormed out, right, and did a, right, swan dive through a stained glass window, right, and continued with the tournament, right.
Fast forward to me in the finals, right, and this is where Vandy, right, stepped up his game, right, and showed what a true friend he really is, right,. I was down in the final ,right, match, right. I couldn't concentrate, right. This dude kept on spitting shit, right, about how clean I was, and how I could never pull this off, right.
At this moment, right, at my lowest of lows, right, Vandy come out of nowhere, right, and punched the perpetrator in the nuts, right, and proceeded to waft his man smell into my opponents, nose, right. No sooner that, it was over, right. I won the custody battle, right. I DON'T HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT KID, right, and its all thanks to you Vandy, right. You are a true friend, right! Let's, right, eat, right, pizza, right, and, right, discuss, right, Solstice, right.
So I'm in the middle of this custody battle, right. About 4 years ago, right, I made a little shitface, right.
Now, it is my custom to have sex with a girl, right, 'and never call her back'. That's my steeze, right? I am a scumbag. Unfortunately, this one chick got pregnant, and she happened to be an associate of my cousin, right, Samantha scumbag, right. Just so you don't get it twisted, right, this whore and I made a kid in 2002.
For some reason, right, she absolved me from any financial responsibiliites, right. I was relieved, right, let me tell you, right. She said, "Shitface, I don't want my kid to know a shitface like yourself, right. Please take yourself out of my son's life, right, and your scumbag tainted money, right." JACKPOT, or so I thought, right.
During the last year sometime, right, little Shitface's momma choked to death, right, on the dick of yours truly, right. A custody battle followed these events, right. As what I think was revenge, right, she legally placed me in custody of 'our' child, right. I showed the courts , right, I was clearly unfit to be a father, right, being that I am quite a shitface, right. Logically, right, the late dick choker's father, right, would take over as the legal guardian, right. Unfortunately, it never worked out like that, right. We had a contest of scumbaggery to determine who was less fit to be, right, a parent, right. Unfortunately, right, this ended in a stale mate, right.
There was only one way out right right right right.... I needed the money to pay this dude off so he wouldn't force this shitface on me, right. He set his price, right, it was grand indeed, right. There was only one way to win the sum, right. I entered a marvel vs. capcom 2 tournament, right (A video game featuring comic book characters fighting video game characters). IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT!!! I went to my local gambling spot and placed my life earnings on my performance in this tournament right, IT WAS A DOUBLE ELIMINATION TOURNAMENT.
I was doing great, right. They were playing the theme song to the Delta Force, right (See Chuck Norris), and I was comboing like a mad man, right. All of sudden, right, I got a stomach cramp from eating too much bran, right. Hey a shitface gotta shit, right. I lost to some punk who had no skills, right. My spirits were down, right. So, I digoed a baked ham, and a turkey sandwich, right. I was ready to quit and take this shitface on, right, and then, the grandfather of little shitface made me an offer I couldn't refuse, right. He offered me a fully furbished right right right(arcade pizza and tokens) arcade, right, with all the 80's game I desired. I was like yes, I think I'll take it, right. Then the kid came out, right, and said something about eating, right. I said, "shit I didn't think, right, I had to feed this mother, right, fucka, right." And with that I stormed out, right, and did a, right, swan dive through a stained glass window, right, and continued with the tournament, right.
Fast forward to me in the finals, right, and this is where Vandy, right, stepped up his game, right, and showed what a true friend he really is, right,. I was down in the final ,right, match, right. I couldn't concentrate, right. This dude kept on spitting shit, right, about how clean I was, and how I could never pull this off, right.
At this moment, right, at my lowest of lows, right, Vandy come out of nowhere, right, and punched the perpetrator in the nuts, right, and proceeded to waft his man smell into my opponents, nose, right. No sooner that, it was over, right. I won the custody battle, right. I DON'T HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT KID, right, and its all thanks to you Vandy, right. You are a true friend, right! Let's, right, eat, right, pizza, right, and, right, discuss, right, Solstice, right.
Friday, April 21, 2006
"A Shower a Day Keeps Molesters Away"
That's what my mom used to tell me. She said that child molesters didn't like clean boys, that they preferred dirty children with sticky hands and skinned knees. She doesn't know how wrong she was.
Quick fact about Madison: He only showers every other WEEKday. Don't even ask about weekends. No soap, no toothpaste, no deodorant. And has Madison Sinclair ever been molested? Not to my knowledge, and I think I'd know.
Looking back, I can see how my mom had things twisted. She was trying to give me sincere advice based on how she saw the world: sex equals dirty, therefore molesters, who pursue children as sexual objects, would rather a dirty child. Cleanliness is angelic. But maybe the pedophiles would rather a clean boy to defile.
On the other hand, maybe she just wanted to scare me into having good personal hygeine. Thanks a lot mom. I may not have dirt behind my ears, but now I have fingerprints on my rectum.
In other news, I haven't shaved since Tuesday. Because of this, I've been considering keeping the streak alive and growing a moustache, but my dad has a moustache, so that just seems weird to me. Below is a fairly accurate artistic rendering of me with a moustache. Let me know what you think. I need your advice.
Quick fact about Madison: He only showers every other WEEKday. Don't even ask about weekends. No soap, no toothpaste, no deodorant. And has Madison Sinclair ever been molested? Not to my knowledge, and I think I'd know.
Looking back, I can see how my mom had things twisted. She was trying to give me sincere advice based on how she saw the world: sex equals dirty, therefore molesters, who pursue children as sexual objects, would rather a dirty child. Cleanliness is angelic. But maybe the pedophiles would rather a clean boy to defile.
On the other hand, maybe she just wanted to scare me into having good personal hygeine. Thanks a lot mom. I may not have dirt behind my ears, but now I have fingerprints on my rectum.
In other news, I haven't shaved since Tuesday. Because of this, I've been considering keeping the streak alive and growing a moustache, but my dad has a moustache, so that just seems weird to me. Below is a fairly accurate artistic rendering of me with a moustache. Let me know what you think. I need your advice.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Shitface Hates Me
What timing, huh? Here we are, BfN's 100th post, and now is when internal strife decides to strike. In light of the occasion, though, I've decided to come clean in regards to the charges against me. Yes, I took the Solstice game pak. Why? Because I wanted it. I was young and naive and white. What did you expect?
But, allow me to add, I did not enjoy it at all. I played it for about 5 minutes before I went back to playing Crystalis. I much preferred shooting fire and wind out of a sword and talking to rabbits than picking up blocks and solving puzzles and shit. I think most people would agree.
Also, I had no knowledge of the Italian man's uncle in the other bathroom stall. I put a hand through and felt some fur. I thought I had made an informed decision. I didn't know it was his moustache, and I APOLOGIZED RIGHT AFTER THE AMBULANCE LEFT. How long are you going to keep a grudge?
Anyways, I have my own grievances against McStevens. Here are some of them, in an abbreviated list form:
1) You brought me to an Indian restaurant once. You know I can't eat Indian.
2) You told me the clown's name was Donald McDonald. I felt like such an asshole.
3) You tried to digo* Judith Light, and not even 6 feet away from me. Needless to say, I hate Connecticut now.
4) You are forever farting in my car. It's disgusting. And the only time I've heard a "Hebrew Oven" joke not relating to Nazis.
5) I'm just going to say it one more time: Urine is a poor lubricant. Not that I've tried, it's just common sense.
There's plenty more I hold against you, Shitface, but I don't let it stand in the way of our friendship. I'm extending the olive branch here, trying to be the bigger man. And for the record, Megaman did not make me "puke my don," as you so eloquently put it. It was Parappa.
*Digo (dee-go) v. - to copulate; to engage in sexual intercourse.
But, allow me to add, I did not enjoy it at all. I played it for about 5 minutes before I went back to playing Crystalis. I much preferred shooting fire and wind out of a sword and talking to rabbits than picking up blocks and solving puzzles and shit. I think most people would agree.
Also, I had no knowledge of the Italian man's uncle in the other bathroom stall. I put a hand through and felt some fur. I thought I had made an informed decision. I didn't know it was his moustache, and I APOLOGIZED RIGHT AFTER THE AMBULANCE LEFT. How long are you going to keep a grudge?
Anyways, I have my own grievances against McStevens. Here are some of them, in an abbreviated list form:
1) You brought me to an Indian restaurant once. You know I can't eat Indian.
2) You told me the clown's name was Donald McDonald. I felt like such an asshole.
3) You tried to digo* Judith Light, and not even 6 feet away from me. Needless to say, I hate Connecticut now.
4) You are forever farting in my car. It's disgusting. And the only time I've heard a "Hebrew Oven" joke not relating to Nazis.
5) I'm just going to say it one more time: Urine is a poor lubricant. Not that I've tried, it's just common sense.
There's plenty more I hold against you, Shitface, but I don't let it stand in the way of our friendship. I'm extending the olive branch here, trying to be the bigger man. And for the record, Megaman did not make me "puke my don," as you so eloquently put it. It was Parappa.
*Digo (dee-go) v. - to copulate; to engage in sexual intercourse.
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