to get ahead in life, do this :

"Use a meat baster to "squeeze" your pancake batter."

lessons i've learned

have you ever tried to hide in a hamper, because you felt hampered in life? i think i'll try that. no, i have tried that. don't do it. people laugh, then they throw dirty pelvis mittens, and foot sleeves on you. you think you're making a point, but you're not. you become the guy who lives in a square tube with butt stains all over. trust me. if you're thinking about it, stop. just stop, and abandon the idea.

them somalians

i made a bunch of food for myself the other day, and as i had finished a quarter of it, i thought to myself, "why did i make so much food?" then i started having cliche thoughts, like, "well...those kids in somalia..." but no sooner than that, had i thrown my food away. as my food sat in the trash, i thought, "oh, i could've somehow given this food to those somalians." but as soon as the anxiety developed, it faded into bliss. "well, wait! the garbage man is going to take this trash away. and when he does, it will be like the post office," i assure myself. "then, other international garbage men will whisk my trash to them somalians, like an angel." i now have no fear of wasting food, as it will be within a tidy bundle of cigarette butts, banana peels, and used condoms. i'll tell you, after all these years of giving, i've never onced recieved a "thank you" from those damn somalians.

chalk

i remember when i was feeling gloomy one day in kindergarten, i was depressed, the teacher was talking in monotone. i looked out the classroom window, and at 8 in the morning it was just different shades of gray outside. the ground was reflecting the absence of any color in the sky and the clouds couldn't have looked more dead. this is what i said to myself, "damn. i bet this is what life is going to be like AFTER i leave this shithole." guess what. nope! everything's just rainbow's over here. how are you?

breakfast in bed

whenever i'm stuck, and i don't feel like i'm contributing to society, this is what i do. i go poop in the toilet. see, without me, the toilet guys over at the plant wouldn't have anything to sift through. well, i can just about fall asleep correctly tonight. don't e-mail me on this, as i have no idea if this is true.

here are a few sites that are actually good...

http://www.r213g037b053.net/

and

http://www.r243g197b208.net/

and

http://www.r000g000b000.net/

red, pink, and black. if you can laugh at pink and black like i did, then maybe we should never meet.

i'm sorry. the most amazing webpage can be found here...

sorry about the post below. no, this is in fact the best webpage on the internet.. http://www.pixyland.org/peterpan/

i've been touched by His noodly appendage

i must say, after years of having no religious identity, i now have one. i am no longer free from belief. i'm not going to say anything about the religion, as He would probably not want me to...i just can't believe i haven't stumbled across this before. go here, http://www.venganza.org/about/open-letter/, if you'd like to learn more about the only religion you should believe in. if you search for more information on google, there's a bible, more information, and user submitted art, of Him.

hamlet

through obedience, hark, there is this : "in her excellent white bossom, etc." that is a direct quote from the motion picture, Hamlet (1948). "in her execellent white bossom, etc."
to comment on this brilliant film, i'd say, "wow, what a great film, etc." to further my findings, i'd announce this, "completely unannounced, etc."

this film has, like, 4 stars. out of five. this is just one line that i've picked out. feel free to pick at your own lines. until then, shove a square pack of razor blades into your mouth, and swallow, individually.

office meetings

if i worked in an office where they had board meetings around a big table, and the boss was flipping out going, "ok guys, see this pie chart? now look at this graph. things are getting hairy, people." i'd pull out a shaving razor, and hold it in the air. "need this?" i'd say. then the boss would take the razor, and shave away the companies problems. this is how you get promoted to janitorial duty.

the family

have you ever been in one those uncomfortable situations where you don't even say anything, but everyone's looking at you weird? this happened to me the last time i went to visit my family. we were all sitting around the livingroom, and i wasn't even saying anything, but they were all just looking at me so weird. this was my own family. the people who aren't supposed to look at me weird. well later that weekend, after they developed the pictures they had taken, i could see why their perception of me was a little skewed. in one of the photos, there i was, just completely devouring the neighbor's baby. i don't think they were looking at me weird because i was eating a baby, but because the look i had in my eye. i looked crazed, like i hadn't eaten meat in weeks. and in the photos, they're all just sitting there, being calm, eating babies.

sharks

if i were born a shark, i don't think i'd eat seals. i think i'd probably just "nudge" them to safety. of course, the other sharks would probably get exhausted of my behavior. but i'd just point to the surface below, towards all the delicious sea-snails, with my hand.

scab

i cut myself on a shelf today, and i thought, "hey, why doesn't it just keep bleeding and bleeding? and how did i cut myself on a shelf?" then i had a scab. i thought, "hey, i'm sort of like a lizard." but i couldn't grow back a hand or foot if i had severed one of those on a shelf. then, after i threw up, i thought, "wow, i'm drunk again."

is it just me, or do we all make up excuses for everyone's miserable lives? i try to go about my day happy, and then when i walk out of my apartment, the first stranger i encounter is completely miserable. the cashier, the waiter or waitress, the policeman, your mom, the asshole walking down the street. "must be having a bad day," i tell myself about everyone. nope, it turns out everyone is pissed off at everyone else. "that must be why we have holiday's," i assure myself. nope, as it turns out, everyone's miserable then, too. is there any place that anyone could ever be happy? as it turns out, there's this place called, "home." i'm kidding. fuck you. there's no happiness anywhere.

whenever i'm in the middle of eating a sno-cone, i always just throw it away. "why the hell am i alive for this," i question myself, as i stare at some people eating corndogs and painting their faces with stillborn babies.

in retrospect

when i started this page of blog, i thought, "hey, why not put a 'counter' on it, so i can see how many people are looking at this nonsense." well, as it turns out, within a couple of days i have 58 'views.'" thanks. i now have 8 more views than the previous 50 times i've been back here to see how many views i've gotten.

tragedies and the mindframe that follows

everyone knows where they were when the world trade center collapsed. older people all know where they were when pearl harbor was attacked. is it weird that i'll always remember where i was when anna nicole smith died? is it popculture that'll force me to remember, or is it just the rattlesnakes and junebugs that filled the pit i was standing in at the time?

wine

as i sipped the rich, mahogany-flavored wine, i realized this is not what i'm looking for. so i slammed glass after glass of this wooden shit, and finally, thank god, i got drunk. some say i got ignorant that night, others say i was just a sketchy, drunk, stumbling, "dude." here's my point : as long as you wake up, you're good.

bottled problems

sometimes when i'm thinking about starving children or war-torn countries, i'll just turn to "the bottle." this seems to help in every facet of life. in fact, starving who? war-torn what? i have to be where, when? see? it works.

the woods

if you're like me then you'll understand this : have you ever been slaughtering a reindeer, and it's about negative ten degrees out. then you realize you're not dressed appropriately, and you're going to have to spend the night out in the woods, "wearing" this darn reindeer as a mask and cloak, and drinking his blood? then in the morning, a golfer taps you on the head with a nine iron and asks you to please leave the area. you get up on a golf course and there's news reporters and whatnot shoving microphones into your reindeer mouth. then you dance away in your "reindeer" garb, never to be seen again? i just prance home, roll around in my new carcass, and i say to myself, "who were those people?" "just a bunch of crazies," my reindeer carcass seems to say.

work sucks

sometimes when i'm oiling the lawn, i think to myself, "wait, don't i have to work today?" it's only when i realize i have no pants on that, yes, i probably do have to work today. then i crawl into the hole that i have carved into my wall, and i work.

the wiggles

sometimes when i reach for my gun, i realize i have no gun. maybe the prospects for tomorrow will be better, i calmly remind myself. then i watch "the wiggles" on my vhs video recorder, and i don't know what it is, but i soon forget about my non-existant gun. but here IS what i'll do. i'll dance. i just dance until my mind goes, "ok," and my legs go, "ok." then i'm all better, and everyone becomes safe.

the bible was a blog

alright, this is too much bloggage for now. i don't want to clog anyone's bloggaries right now, but today i've went overboard with the blogging. i've blogged about as much as a squirrel "blogs" nuts in his "old bloggers." if i had a blog for everytime someone told me to blog the street with a saddle of handblogs, i'd have enough money to stompblog the ukraine with a paperblog full of bagbloggers. a blog walks into a bar and says, "you shot my blog." i busted up my blog real good. no worries, we'll get you a new blog. that's ok, 'cause today, i'ma gonna cut footloose. if you ever find yourself at a club cutting footloose, blog the speakers, and blog your arms. your arms may not seem important, but when cutting footloose, they are.

cigarettes

all the time, when i'm in a good mood, i'll light a cigarette. and all the time, when i'm in a bad mood, i'll also light a cigarette. it's only when i'm in a sort of in-between mood that i'll slam a beer, fire-up a cigarette, and curse at the stars while standing nude in a parking lot, barking at the moon. this is when the police show up to investigate.

things you own

have you ever stood up straight, commanded yourself to be brave, then fell to your knees crying? this happened to me only one time. i was watering my apple tree, when a small child ran up, and ripped an apple clean from it. as he sprinted away, giggling, i sorta lunged one of those small shovel, diggie, thingies into his face. it stuck cleanly into his head, but that's not what's funny. what's funny is, is that...hey, that's a crime. welcome to america. someone steals from you, and you go to jail, drunk off tequila.

garbage

today, before i went to work, i carried two large garbage bags filled with some garbage. from my apartment, you carry them across the parking lot to the "garbage" bin. i thought about what i was doing, and i realized that a snapshot in time would've shown me carrying two bags of garbage through harsh weather. why was i carrying things i threw away through a bunch of snow? yeah, it was to get it to the bigger trash can, but halfway through my trip there was a snapshot moment where i was just holding two bags of garbage, outside, in the middle of winter. who just goes outside with a bunch of crap they threw away, then stands outside with it in the snow? if someone had taken a picture of me, i'd be knee deep in snow, but i wouldn't be looking for shelter or warmth. no, i'd be holding two bags of garbage.

ordering out

a few days ago, i was leafing through a one page menu for pizza delivery when i discovered an item that slowed my head down to a calm laughter. it was a $6 "hoagie," and it was completely made out of cheese. that's pretty much it. except if you ever find one in a menu, and you ask about it, they give you some coupons for spotting this april fool's joke of food. some decent ones, too. no, i'm just kidding, they pretty much ask you for your address and phone number, then deliver you a steaming, pile of cheese.

christmas back home

when i visited home over christmas, i had many a plenty good laughs with family, friends, and my other family's friends, and their families. but what really stuck out in my head, was my conversations with the dog. chloe is her name, and she really listened to my drunk ass. i told her of things i hadn't even told my best of friends. she seemed to understand, and would often, "wag" her tail. as i got drunker, she got sleepier. at 4 in the morning she fell asleep. As she slept, i looked up to the starry, bright sky, and thanked jesus for a simple, but satisfying, life. i looked back at the dog, "good night, sweet angel," i whispered softly, as i stumbled back into the house.

something i never had noticed

so there i was, giving it all, and peeing in the toilet that we keep in our bathroom. as i was smiling and grunting as i pushed urine out of my penis, i noticed a framed picture and poem that i can't believe i hadn't noticed before. it was the "jesus poem." the one about jesus using a "sell-out" explanation for people going through bad times. the one where he's lounging on the beach, corona in hand, and some drunk guy walks by. then jesus goes over and carries him to safety. anyway, i looked at it, and realized i hadn't put it there. in fact, i realized i didn't actually own it. but what caught my eye, was that it was on the top of the toilet. just angled against the wall, and resting peacefully on the toilet. i thought to myself, "out of any wall in this apartment, maybe even any drawer or closet space.....here it is......placed on the old shitter." this made me laugh, and later, i drank. but hours later, in a drunken stupor, i looked up at the ceiling and, "flicked," the ceiling off.

a short story

here's a story i wrote for you, the reader : once upon a time, there lived a happy young boy who loved to play baseball and hang out with friends. one day, at school, he found himself at words with another young boy his age. the one young boy says, "hey, you!" the happy young boy, although frightened, replied, "umm....ok, yeah?" the first young boy says, "how good are you at baseball?" the happy young boy, now relieved, stated proudly, "well, to be honest, i'm the best ball player this town's ever seen." the first young boy, who started the conversation goes, "the best huh? we'll see about that." the happy young boy spoke, "what do you me--" just then the one young boy who started the conversation, the one who asked if the other boy liked baseball, hit him with his fist. the happy young boy fell to the ground and bled to death. obviously concerned, the happy young boy's mother, called the other young boy to the mound. with a bat in her hand, she goes, "c'mon, you little brat. put some fire on this pitch." without warning, the other young boy hurled a ball faster than he had ever done on the ol' pitcher's dirt. She swung...........then a crack of wood........the crowd stood tall.........unbelievable!!.....A HOMERUN!!!!!
as the story goes, she had hit it clean over the grade school fence. "that's for my son," she proudly stated before kicking up dirt, and walking off the field. some say she was never seen again. others say she was just frustrated because her son had just died.

my life in a nutshell

when i think about everything i've been through, i pull my pants up. another good masturbation session gone wrong.

careers and confusion

sometimes i imagine myself as a rich, and successful, young man. i imagine that i'm able to buy whatever i want, have a beautiful home, and a beautiful girlfriend. but other times, i imagine myself in the subway, pants down to my ankles, masterbating. i do wish i were wealthy though, but i've got that subway thing down, so maybe i'll climb that ladder.

thinking

i was thinking, today, about how people react to certain things, or overreact to certain things. for instance, i held a toy gun up to a "friend's" face and, in my opinion, they overreacted. their eyes raised all up and everything. mouth open and all that. sort of making small, squeeky sounds. then he started breathing real hard when he realized the gun was "fake." "is it?," i said. when i pulled the trigger, the gun was very real. and he wasn't just a "friend" of mine. he was my, "enemy."

i am fart

the chinese boy says, in a sort of english dialect, "please could you fasten me laces, kind sire?" i say, "sure young child. anything else?" the yellow hued boy goes, "and what about me curly shoes? please uncurl me curly shoes." i'm like, "i don't understand that." then he's like, "me curly shoes. undo me curlies." he was wearing reebok pumps, so i started to walk away. "kind sire?," i hear from a distance, "me curlies. undo me curlies." i turned around, kind of in an angry way, and was about to jump-kick him in the face, when i saw my mother in place of him. my mom was like 8 feet tall. i woke up a few seconds later in a cold sweat.

my experience with the strange, drooling creatures at mcdonald's

i once got 2 hamburgers from mcdonald's at about 2 in the morning. i was the only person at the drive-through, so i ordered quickly and paid quickly. something was strange though. i say strange because i find it strange to wait 20 minutes for 2 hamburgers. 20 minutes. when i say "hamburgers," i mean "cheeseburgers." that will be important later, as will the 20 minutes. when they finally stuck their dirty arm out the window with the bag of 2 dirty cheesburgers, i was almost at a loss of words. actually it was a loss of words. i don't think i said anything as i grabbed this strange paperbag from this strange arm that was just sticking out from this small window. i get home. i open the bag. i take out the cheeseburgers. i bite into them. they feel strange. i take the bread apart. no hamburger. i see cheese. i get mad. i get drunk. i fall asleep. i wake up in the morning. and it wasn't one of those groggy, hang-over wakeups. i sat straight up, wide awake. i tried to comprehend my trip to mcdonald's, but i cannot. i almost believed that it was all a dream, until i get out of bed, go into the living room, and unfold the ball of paper with word mcdonald's written all over it. it is then that i see a nightmare from which i cannot awake. the twenty minute result of putting a piece of cheese between two pieces of bread.

dancer in the dark

when i'm dancing, and when my legs are just going all crazy, bending and shooting out all over the place, i'm thinking, "ok, jesus is jealous and has just probably gathered some disciples together up in heaven to watch me dance." and this is the point when i REALLY start to show off. i just start flipping my leg sideways and and all that. then i might even spin my arms while throwing my hands every which way and i'm yanking my pelvis while it whizzes everywhere. and if there's one thing i know about jesus, it's that when he was alive, he always dreamed of being a dancer. not some loser pinned up on some cross.

some words of wisdom for anyone who has loved

you can't mend a broken heart with the thorns of a rose
and you can't dry sadness with tears of joy
you can't falsify a donut with honest cheese
and you can't walk without bendy legs
you can't be a squirrel, or can you?
and you can love but not without a coaster and a cold glass of snail spit

I hope maybe in some small way, you've been inspired by my poetry. if not, then i guess god really didn't intend for you to actually exist

what i didn't tell my mother

I used to be a boy. yes. My mom has pictures. But what my mother doesn't know is how I used to dress up like a clown and play the flute whilst dancin' in mashed 'tators whilst eatin' cocoa puddin' pops in my rain deflector and my
anti-rain boots.

atti-tude-allicious

About a week ago, a guy asked me this. "Sir, do you have the time?" I did, but instead of feeling used, I told him to go buy a wristwatch. He snarled at me, and i didn't even miss a beat. i just snarled right back. he kept snarling,
and I just kept snarling and we just snarled and snarled back and forth 'till the roosters broke daylight.
he asked me why i was being so immature. This is what i said. "Immature?" and with that i looked at my wristwatch and walked away.

ok, one more thought no one's going to read

Shouldn't there be a day where everyone goes to the bathroom in a small paper bag, ties it, and throws it at their best friend's grandmother. Not to be mean, but just to show her that some days can ultimately be more pleasant than others.