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4 out of 7 scientists prefer Chewbacca's crossbow
meanwhile, behind the facade of this innocent looking doghouse...
copyright 2002-2011 ultrablognetic |
Friday, September 17, 2004
i have the whole world on a platter but what does it mean?
it means i am lazy, immoral, crazy and really paranoid that everything i pretend not to appreciate will crumble down. that's my intense thought for the day. i am happy happy happy. happy that i found the answer to one of my stupid questions and it's done with. sometimes things really are that simple and we just make them complicated. all we have to do is just look at the simple answer and usually it makes you happy. sometimes the simple answer an involve not being sober but that's ok too. i advocate substance use because i am yoot minded like that. at least i don't pretend not to advocate it. everyone knows i never pretend to be more than i really am even if it makes me a homie instead of a homina.  Howdy pards. That’s a pretty good sign that it’s me (or, uh, the consiglieri) when you see that famous insignia. Well, uh, shit, car is still outta commission. Pissin me off more than chicken in broth. And fuck, I mean, I hate chicken in broth, with a passion. A chicken in a broth killed my great uncle Norbert, caused lightning to strike him while he was sailing on a one man boat, operated by a sasquatch, the lightning machine, that is. I serially wish that like instead of the, no, I don’t wish that, but, I mean, what use is the talent or lack thereof in the opinion of some circles, to express oneself, when there sits a piece of machinery, and you can’t fix it, maybe this is my vesuvius, nay, my, kilimanjaro, nay, my St. Helen’s, no, no, it’s not erupting, that’s the whole point, fuel is not reaching the chamber, we have ignition, we have spark, we have fuel as far as the pump but it is not reaching the damn plugs. Where in God’s green earth is Tony, shit I’d even take Tom, Bosley, when we need him. Trash bags or fake rugs, I mean, shit, if it’ll get the Packard flacking then I’m all for it. And don’t even get me started on nobody answering me in that damn forum which is so useful for everybody else but if your name rhymes with hennyfirth or knee smuckle they don’t want nothing to do with you. I’ll let you rust in pieces before I let you rest in peace. And that’s only out of infinite love & respect. And faith. Devotion. Ps: fuck mike gabbard. Aloha.
The walls are crumbling around me and I not putting up much of a fight. It's like attempting to defy gravity or some other irresistable force. I don't do too well when dealing with things well out of my control.
I'll stop and think for a while. I'll go through stages of denial, followed by rage, and concluded by sadness. And that's where I am right now. Sad and insecure. Before Tuesday morning, everything that was right was right and everything that was wrong was wrong. If something so right could go so wrong in such a short period of time, was it ever right at all?Now my world is literally in chaos. No need to paint this picture with overly garish words. The truth is rather simplebut my feels are so complex. I'm distraught to the point where I can't even articulate my thoughts to anyone else. Anyone else, but you. And you're the reason for my sadness and insecurity. Thursday, September 16, 2004
so i'm sitting here, trying to think of what would be appropriate fare for this much better than mine own blog. all that comes to mind is what comes to mind...must release inner slutiness because if you can't beat the system you should join it, if you are a young guy showing your belly button is an effective way to score rent and jobs, that pacific time and central european time is my biggest time zone of readers and life is a bowl of chocolates. yes it is true that all of these things are spinning in my head. yes it is true that i am sort of crazy. yes it is true i need to sleep more and think less.
i have the worst craving for johnsonville brats/wursts. i could walk down and get some but i'm too lazy. i think i'll just sit here and drink some peppermint tea like the blue haired lady i am.  Howdy pards. Yup, this is a different post, believe it. My uncle, struggling to express his idiom but having been at the very least temporarily banned from these environs as a result of his blatant betrayal has found a new sandbox with the get fresh crew and him and the homeys encourage you to send in pics of peeps or you or like your grandma flipping off the camera with a little explanation or not but understanding that if you don’t put in an explanation he’ll make one up but he’d rather not do that because he’s usually far into his cups. Btw this was a great post at btb, hmmm, just noticed the similarity on the initials, uh, read about it fukn sellout, um, yah, so, I was notified via mysterious driveby im as to that reference, but finally somebody’s explaining to me what’s good about kerry rather than just whut sucks about bush, which I opined for with fervor herein. Uh, that’s all for now. Wednesday, September 15, 2004
 Howdy. The master thesis was greatly assisted by myself, well, is assist the right word when the passer and the catcher are the same person? Hmmm, that sounds vaguely sexual but trust me it’s not. Seriously, trust me. Or not, makes no diff to me, farreal.
Anyway, the official or non master thesis jumped the 25,000 word barrier last night, meaning it is halfway to the 50,000 word mark that national book writing month or whatever, which was back in November, said you should try to write in one month. Well, at this rate I might make it for this November. Or not. Fuck it. The other cool thing I was able to do, well, I mean, I guess I was able before but just being a pile about it, was finally write some little paragraphs as to the backgrounds and thought processes and like place in life and times of the three main characters. Stuff I already had kind of in my mind, but it was interesting that simply by the act of typing it out and making it real I got a much better bead on their characters and cranked out prolly the biggest chunk I had done in one sitting in, like, ever? I’m such a pile like that, I sit and write & I just run out of gas too fast. I only worked on it for like an hour last night and popped out 4 and a half pages, including the character bios, and I was like, shit, if I was disciplined and actually set hours, say two a day, I could have fukn war & peace except, well, not, in a matter of, um, days. Matter of days meaning a million possible potential things. Btw does anybody have any info as to what aspen is like during the summertime? Hmmm I should hit up meesh. Does she still, like, exist? Cuz the boyz are in Aspen now & I’m totally just making shit up. But fuckit, mebbe making shit up is the way to go. If the book comes out & aspen people get all pissed, I’ll just be like, you know whut? Fuck aspen. Anyway, aloha mahalo nui loa and all that shit. Peace. Tuesday, September 14, 2004
PS: I am in no way shape or form advocating physical violence.
As far as figurative ie metaphorical violence on the other hand, well, hey, go nuts. Like, imagine beating up your, uh, refrigerator, relish smashing that relish, catch up on beating down your catsup. Uh, thrash your corn beef hash? But only in your mind. Maybe if you get it out of your system in the astral plane you’ll be that much further down the road to becoming a productive and heartfeltingly (dictionary please) gratifying member of our fine society. Kudos on a potential job well done!  This crap I’m writing isn’t nearly topical enough. I mean, what about the state of the world, national affairs, the current episodical disaster sequence of the tsetse fly? Ah, fuck that shit, I just wanna bump that pitbull miami shit and swing my gats and snort phat blunts laced with bubble gum juice (ya gotta bbq that shit first) and smash beer bottles on innocent bystanders. Ok I don’t but, I mean, fuck reality. I need to catch that balloon with that cartoon elephant and like fry an egg on a mongoose’s back, ya heard?
hey there. i was just about to get into some serious doing of something and i figgered what better time than ahora to get into some blabbing on blabberville acre. so, uh, fuckn howtoe is still strung up like a damn typewriter intern's spleen on front street. serially! heh. didn't even mean it to be that actually meaningful. at least to me. it's really quite pedestrian but at the same time chronicled in a way that although it's totally ununderstandable it can be quite easily dialecticized by the proper authority. eh, ferget it.
Argh mayne shit fuck all that crizzapp. The current sitch you with the ow toe is like may king me so non in the happiness atmosphere. I’m at a loss. Serially. To the point where I’m doing retarded word tricks as interviewed with myself in the above section. Unless you’re looking at the computer upside down, but then, it’s still up cuz down is the new up. Or the new, fuck, shit, I’m just biting styles again. Who’s? eh, if you must know prolly bing’s. ah well. At least I’m kickin verses inspired by true playas.
So, uh, shit, fuck it. Monday, September 13, 2004
shameless self promotion, er, self aggrandizement, er, self help department ongoing expose involved in the following endeavor: there’s still time to be involved in hooking up yours truly with a free ipod. as well as yourself. yes. free ipod. just click here. come to my seminar. Yup. It can be yours. For the low low price of free. Free as in green beans incorporated. Check the dizzle it’s fer rizzle. Scroll down for more pertinent info, linkage, etcetera, go see cal go see cal go see cal. Did you know I thought those dog spot commercials with cal Worthington were saying “pussy cow?” you prolly actually could not have known that. Er well. Have I mentioned as well that my car is dead and it’s not the most productive thing when the guy tells you there’s not much he can promise but don’t give up hope? Is that like, uh, your hair is green but keep thinking it might be purple? I’m confused.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
 Bears roll, knocking off New Mexico State, 41-14. What the fuck did you expect? In other news, I spit some debatably jack handy styles over at xtx’s house. Could there have been a more suitable day for said izms? You'll see me pouring coffee for Batgirl. Well, Batgirl post getting her spinal chord ripped into shreds by the Joker. TMI, yesh, otay. Alrighty then. Have a good one party peeps. Go Raiders. |
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