Monday, May 09, 2005
And then, eh, fuck that shit. Everyone can basically kiss my ass. Unless I like you. And most people I like. Except, uh, that guy. And her, over there. And I’m kinda pissed at that dog. No, that one.
It’s probably better that you not read this. Gratzi.
Well if either of tonite’s games are half as exciting as the ones yesterday, I might be drunk enough to actually care, but probably not, as that would take about 83 gallons of everclear.
No, no, no, no, that just won’t do.
The master thesis is like a hair over 55 thousand werds now. That sounds impressive, but the last 5 grand generally involve either this dude sitting at a funeral and his old man thinking about jumping in the grave and beating up his dad’s dead body, or some guy on an airplane, going to said funeral, and just thinking and thinking and thinking about what a phenomenal piece of shit he is, among other things.
I guess there's a bunch of other shit, but it's turning into this overwrought orgy of subconscious balderdash, directionless, spinning, spiraling; maybe I'll revisit that bit where homey wakes up in the bathroom stall in Atlanta, that had a little promise, possibly a window for something interesting to happen in there. I dunno, I'll keep you posted, or not.
So yeah, the movie version should be out right about the time that Hitler’s having a nice cold iced tea and riding a polar bear with Suge Knight.
pink is the new blog
If liking the above makes me gay, well, engorged penises is the new chartreuse and beetle bailey was prolly playin grabass with marmaduke anyway, so, que sera.