Friday, June 13, 2003

aloha and mahalo nui for all the gak fiends & toe jam specialists currently crowding the room. Feel free to knock over a lamp or two and trudge mud in on the carpet, that’s what it’s there for.

Well DC’s got a new criznab, ie, ham fisted theatrics iz in the hizzle fo bizzle. Chiggedy chizzlek it. maybe someday, one day, I’ll be a dotcommer. Maybe one moon after my hammy I won’t be a cheap ass blogspotter and I’ll venture out like fozzie & Kermit and stake my claim as a something or other. Or maybe I’ll just keep talking smack over here in hermitville. Anyway check out his site cuz he’s a pretty amazing writer. Once he wrote a story about the relationship between the needle on a gas guage and the empty sign that made my heart break in three sections. It was like, he looked into my soul and made a metaphor for my spleen.

Hold on fer a fukn minute. I gotta go take care of a little tete-a-tete.

Fuk I was taking care of something very important and happened to be sitting down & reading at the same time and people magazine informed me that Jessica simpson and nick lachey or whatever his name is from 98 degrees have separate toilets. Ya know, like his & hers. This is so he doesn’t fuk up & leave the toilet seat up & she accidentally fall in in the middle of the night. So she can have her own special toilet. Which brought to my mind, are they right next to each other, these toilets? Do they romantically sit side by side, dropping the kids off at the pool in unison, making mooney eyes and pontificating that magical moment together? I mean wtf? How hard is it to remember to leave the toilet seat down? I think hose monster needs to explain to us what these toilets might be saying to each other. Am I the only one that thinks his & hers toilets is bizarre and weird or am I just thoroughly behind the times and antiquated? I mean let’s make a special toilet for the fukn dog in the bathroom so everyone can defecate together in a family environment already, I mean, after all, togetherness, it brings us together.

Oh and by the way as far as I know, the shitting bandit at the gym has not been apprehended yet. I will keep you posted though, of that you can be sure.

That is not appropriate dialogue between me myself & I at this time. No no no. not even for a little junior high mentality beyatch trapped in the body of a 30 year old comic book geekazoid.

This guy has a pretty cool page and he’s a big time kool keith fan so you should definitely check him out. Plus he’s from Hawaii. Plus he’s, um, shaka khan’s grandson. Ok he’s not that, but everything else in that description is 100% true.

Well I feel happy now because I wrote a really amazing blog post in keeping with decades of tradition based on the old secret of letting your fingers keep tapping the keyboard and some crap or another will come out. And it did. And you’re reading it. not because you have to, but because you want to! Because I am good! I’m not a traffic whore, I do it all for the love of the game! I am pure unadulterated blogdom with no trials tribulations and or references to anything that a lot of people are discussin becuz, hey man, I ain’t no sellout, I’m the real deal holyfield and I’ve even got the half chewed ear to prove it. just ask clipper. He’s my friend’s dog.

And yes it’s a high traffic day and yes it’s because I’m a sellout traffic whore and yes that was me and not the monkeys jumping on the bed. And now my punishment shall be the comfy chair. Oh yes, the comfy chair and soft pillows will fuk my shit up, so be happy those that hate, for I am reaping the whirlwind of that which I hath wrought.

All right bachannalaian dancemasters, I gotta go scrounge up something to eat. But first I’m gonna try to find a picture of a comic book, because I think that would be really sophisticated.

UPDATE!!!: well readers, the old adage of "ask & thou shalt receive" has never been more fitting. Hose Monster has blessed us with a behind the scenes look at the dialogue Jessica & Nick's twin toilets might be having while their owners are away shooting videos, doing designer drugs, or whatever the hell it is famous people do. of course because it's blogspot the permalink's fucked up, so just click here and scroll down until you see a picture of a toilet. aloha!

Thursday, June 12, 2003

Warning: if you’re not a big blog dork, most of this will probably mean next to nothing to you, but if you follow my instructions and click the links and get deeper and deeper into the story it will spark your interest the way it has mine, and you will know.

I wasn’t gonna get involved. But it’s just too much already. This whole moxie thing is blowin up the internet. Moxie nu versus moxie pop. You know it, you tell the story, you tell the whole damn world, as if it doesn’t know already, but who gives a rat’s ass about my point of view on this whole thing? Absolutely nobody, but I gotta speak I don’t know why.

If you have no idea whut I’m talking about start here where I did. At treach’s place. The hub of all pertinent information in the gigasphere.

Okay now that I have qualified myself so perfectly I shall proceed.

Moxiedotnu – in my humble opinion, from the evidence shown forth before mine wandering eyes, you are totally off base, you are dead wrong, you are living in a fantasy world, etcetera.

Just feel that way, and I don’t want to, cuz you’ve been copacetic & totally cool with me in all bloglational endeavors and it’s like, we’re cool, and the whole 9 yards, but really, you just seemingly can’t accept that you were, um, wrong! You jumped on moxie pop about being a biter, and it seems you were leaping to conclusions based no your own delusional vision of your incredible fame (such a dick, dude), no pain in admitting it, no one will judge jury and execute anyone that admits making a mistake. Buuuuttt. You just have to admit it. or show the way that you aren’t. wrong, that is. Fuk I’m being a dick by writing this. (Such a dick dude!!)

And moxiepop is really nothing like moxie it seems to me, it just doesn’t. am I on crack? maybe? I just don’t know. But she’s all, I don’t know whut the hell she is, but it’s all political in your face something or other.

And sorry but Dawn is being just a tad ridiculous about this whole thing too. She’s just going to warfare on anybody & everybody and nowhere in whut I’ve read did she explain how the original accusation was warranted. It’s all about defending moxie. At what point does the reality of the situation supercede alliances? Holy la-dee-dah batman!! Fuk I wonder if anyone will ever read this?

So fukn, uh, where was i? so treacher writes the funniest shit about the whole thing, and now moxie & dawn hate him! Casting him as a traitor. Well ok hate is a strong word, they are disappointed in him, ward. The beaver has been a bad boy.

I don’t know WHY I’m going into this. It’s really none of my business. But… it is just so damn fascinating. It’s like the most incredible springer run ever. Just so, trainwreck, just so jerkofferosphere, that it just kills me & I must speak and beat this dead horse even further into submission.

And fukn Kevin parrot’s thing on it is just too funny, you gotta check it.

The surreal moment of my blogreading escapades yesterday, which turned into tracking this sordid tale, was seeing some guy, in some comments section, as the war was raging between moxie camps, like giving the reports on the bus bombings in Israel and all the bloodshed yesterday. And I hate to admit it, but I would just breeze through those kind of, like I’ve been breezing through the political stuff on moxiepop to find the moxie stuff. I am truly the lowest common denominator bottom feeder. i'm, like, closet gossip hobag.

It is just too fukn fascinating & I don’t know why. One cool part is no one will probably even notice this and I’ll have been allowed to vent without pissing anyone off. Or not.

and believe it or not, once again, i held back on the chuck woolery version. truly.

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

Ok I’m starting to (ok actually continuing to, but it’s elevating in, um, degree) get excited about this whole Europe trip thing. Just confirmed the hotel (which we’ll be going back to every night no matter what n-2-deep has to say about it – that’s right, Vallejo bitch, um, I mean, bastitch) in gay par-ee, then it’s on into London-town, then it’s on to the swiss iz-alps. Fukn that redneck guy on real world paris wouldn’t shut the fuk up whining about French people, well, I guess he did at the end of the episode when he had a “realization” about what a goddam hayseed he is and decided to fukn enjoy himself. Shit man, go live on your fukn tractor and drink goat-milk all day ferchrissake.

So yeah me & mrs. P are getting highly psyched. Her oldest sis lives in swissmissville and she’s the one member of the immediate fam-in-law I haven’t met, so that’ll be coolio, and plus I’ve got peeps in the French quarter, and we would’ve had a crizib to crizash in but they’re remodeling. S’all good mate, na mean? Cuz they clued us into an apparently crip ass hotel to which I would show you the link but I don’t want no trouble from the contingent when I’m on vay-cay. Sorry, but I gotta be strong on that. No autographs when I’m trying to fukn eat some soufflés or some shit ladatt.

I’ve been to Europe but it’s been like 15 years and I was like 15 years old and the eyes of youth are different than those of a grown man, who I theoretically am now, so maybe it will be much more than the drunken carnival it was back in the dizay. Nah, not much more, but not much less, just different Daniel san, a different perspective in a different time in a new world born of the smoke of toppling towers. Hey that’s the American perspective but America makes the world go round right? Oh yeah that fukn train of thought should make me real popular overseas. Seriously I don’t believe it, I’m not like that, I know were just a small sector of the planet, we just so happen to have might which for all intents & purposes besides fairness &/or idealism makes right, take it or leave it, but still it makes for a hell of a backlog at the ol’ potato factory. Ok you caught me I lost my place in that last sentence and had to freestyle it.

Played some b-ball last night but it was a pretty small percentage of the squad so it was only like 3 on 3. then morgan fukn jammed his finger or some shit and so this little runt, some dude’s lil buddy, came in for him, and son is talkin’ yang which always bugs me. Damn when I was a little squirt I didn’t talk yak I just balled, now these youngen’s ain’t got no respect for the foundation. Plus when his pops was vacatin’ the premises, he just up and walks off the court without even a word. No “sorry guys I gotta bail” or “alright thanks I’m outtie” just walk off without the homerun. Lil’ punk. Sheeeiiiitttt. If I’d tried to pull that back in the dizzle in the big Glen-shiizzle, frizzle, I woulda been bizzled with a tizzle by fizzore. Na mean? Wacked and made to run home to madre & padre. But shit, like a said loc, different age wherein the old rules do not apply.

And I guess that’s just progress and shit.

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

99% of the time that I start to write these sentences that end up on this page I have absolutely no fricken idea what I’m going to write. Well maybe the first sentence. I think of a catchy little thing to kickstart it, like, oh, I don’t know, how most of the time I have no idea what I’m going to write, and then I go from there. Today is one of those times. Today is not part of the 1% (maybe less) when there is some kind of master plan, some kind of thematic portrayal and overlaying (?) idea behind the innocuous comments and observations, if you could even call them that.

I don’t really like to tell you too many things about my real life, because, well, I don’t like when blog life meets real life and causes, oh I don’t know, issues. Which is very rare, you see, but may be in part because I am usually so good about not concerning you with any semblance of reality. I find that it makes for a perfectly nice la-dee-dah to simply ramble on and on about nothing and usually when I read it over again it seems meaningful in some trivial and vastly important way.

Sometimes I’ll be listening to a certain piece of music and just throw in a lyric and go from there. Or I’ll read another blog entry and, like, answer it, in my own little style, you know, respond to what that author was trying to put out there with my own distorted and inconsequential view on the matter. Almost all the time I’ll end up diverting my own & your attention on to another matter altogether before our brief moment of time together is completed.

I am totally unashamed of the fact that this blog is completely meaningless. In fact, as mentioned, some of the times it seems that the less I say the more I think I like it. I’ve seen so many bloggers say “I write for me and no one else, so poo-poo (yes, poo-poo, I’m enough of a man to admit my fondness for the phrase) on you and your criticisms.” To this I emit a hearty poo-poo, the verbal kind not the latrinarian type, becuz, really cuz, if you were just writing for you, then I mean, scribble it on a wall, think it to yourself and then look at a bird in a tree and psychically tell him all about it, I mean if you don’t want to or care about broadcasting it, then why are you? I mean, there is a certain amount of action that must be taken to take that step, yes? Set up blog, type blog, hit publish, check that it came up, the whole 9 yards. So no, I don’t just blog for myself, I blog for you, all of you, even you over there in the corner playing jump rope and pining away for your Atari 2600, even you with the scuffed up keds and the iron maiden powerslave shirt, even you. in fact, maybe especially you. ok not especially you, but really, it’s for you too.

Like I said, sometimes the more I ramble and the less I think I said, the more it seems like I say and the deeper it gets. I would tell you that I’m gonna go back and read this now, but I don’t want to sell you swampland in florida, I want to take you back to the secret screening room and give you the extra large tub of popcorn and show you the super exclusive premier of the long awaited film known colloquially as the life of a friend of the owner of a dog named clipper, in 3-D, live from the island of Oahu. 7 years percolating.