Thursday, April 03, 2003

I got my motorcycle license and now it turns out that due to some administrative tight-ass bullshite I can’t ride the motorcycle on the regulah. Meaning the motorcycle that resides here in the shop. It was going to be my transp once I got my license, and now I got it, and paranoid fuks are like “oh well, um, ya know, liability, etcetera” fuk you. Well it should all be gee pretty soon, patience Daniel-san, can’t complain about a free vehicle I GUESS although I like to complain it seems mostly about shit I shouldn’t complain about.

So I am legal and really I was riding that bitch before I was legal on the down-low, and will continue to do so, see when no one’s here, and ain’t no one gonna be here for a while, I take that fucker out, and raise HELL. Ya hear? Werd.

So the other thing I was gonna tell you, you being my monitor I guess (fukn psycho) is that I have a fish named Wacko. That’s the first time I’ve typed it and thought about the spelling, but that looks aight. It’s name used to be Heckel, like as in Heckel & Jeckel, those cartoon magpies, but the other one, Jeckel, died, and Mrs. P kept mispronouncing it as “Wacko” cuz she ain’t never heard of no heckle & jeckel, she’s from Mexico, and they had that cartoon when she was a kid, but the birds were named something else. Anyway, so wacko as I decided to rename him, cuz it was depressing having a heckle & no jeckel, is the last surviving fish from Mrs. P’s first round of her science experiment. She’s got all these jars of fish, 3 jars with one fish each, 3 jars with 2 fish each, on down the line to 3 jars with 6 fish each. Then you weigh and feed the jars each day and keep track of which one’s live & die, and it’s a scientific analysis of the life of fish in relation to how crowded they are with other fish. Wacko was in one of the jars with only one fish. Now he’s down with the fam and has full privileges, including the remote control on Tuesdays at 10 am when he watches judge wapner.

I found another pretty good kool keith interview.

Over & out.

Oh and one more thing, the jerk store called, and said they’re running out of you.