It's bitching time
I have a headache. I've had a headache for a while now. I'm not real sure what causes these things, but I'm willing to think that it's some kind of internal malfunction. I mean really, a headache? I didn't hit it on anything, what could possibly hurt my head? The real reason I'm talking is not because I hate headaches, and that I have one, but because I haven't posted in a while. I'm sick though so I'm not going to really say anything funny. Sorry kids, you'll have to get your laughs elsewhere until this shit goes away.
An idea for christian porno
I'm not sure if they have this yet...but who would want to see a jesus related porno called 'Jesus 2, The second coming.' This is a glaring error on the part of porno facilities worldwide if this has not been done already. I propose, that because of my hair and various other jesus like similarities, that I star in this movie. Only it won't be a porno, it'll just be me, in front of a camera, sitting, for three hours. I will sit completely still and say nothing, while a fixed camera just clocks the time in front of me. Approximately one hour and twenty five minutes into the movie, I will begin to fall asleep and a voice offscreen will whisper 'keith wake up.' I will then say 'what' and sit up rigid again. It will be, the most exciting porno of all time.
Soundtrack: Def Leopard
Director: Spielberg
Starring: Me, as our savior, and porno king
The Damage has been done
Today I had to beg for food for lunch. It's my birthday. You'd think, that on your birthday, someone, anyone, in the whole frikkin world, would do something nice for you. Speaking of german shit porno, for some reason, this seems to be all the rage nowadays. I hear people talking about people shitting in one another's mouths all the time now. CAN WE TAKE SOMETHING BETTER FROM THE GERMANS PLEASE?!?!? DO WE HAVE TO TAKE THEIR SHIT PORNO??? Why don't we take their efficient cars, or their more efficient social security system. No, the people have spoken, and we decided that shit porno was the way to go. After all, it has all the eroticism of grunting and sphincters. FUCKING SPCHINCTER, what the hell is that? IT"S LIKE A LAMPREY'S MOUTH ON YOUR BUTT. ONLY IT DOESN"T DRINK BLOOD IT FUCKING PUKES OUT BROWN WASTE MATTER. What stupid ass god thought this up...
IMAGINATION TIME!
Picture a bunch of gods around a table, you've got Athena, goddess of wisdom, you've got Haichiman, the japanese god of war and bushido, aaannnnnnnnddddd how about Kali. They're all thinking to themselves, 'people eat, so when they have stuff in their bodies that they can't break down...'(they decided we can't break that shit down because it's too 'hardcore' for us)....'so, why don't we shove a fucking lamprey backwards up their butt, and squeeze it's tail so it shoots brown smelly shit all over the place. And then jesus came in and said, 'guys, it also has to shoot methane, so when they get near fires, the flames can shoot up their butt.' They all agreed that this was the best idea ever because for some reason jesus thinks scorched butt is a hilarious phrase.
So in short, someone shit in my sandwich today, which I had to beg to get, on my birthday. I will fight you right now baby jesus.
Why do fat women think they're attractive
FUCKING LEATHER PANTS. A THREE HUNDRED GOD KNOWS HOW MANY POUND WOMAN IN LEATHER PANTS.
I HATE AMERICA!
Why is it that here, fat people are accepted as members of society. Why is it, that someone who would be incapable of living in the wild is allowed to drive around in their fat person car and eat chickin mcnuggets. They are taking our resources! JUST TAKING THEM. THEY ARE SPECIFICALLY TAKING OUR LEATHER PANTS. Who would I be if I couldn't wear leather pants, without making the specific statement of 'yo i am a lameass goth kid who is sex starved, so I rub my crotch on the inside of my pants.' This is ok in small doses. I am a big fan of crotch rubbing in general. BUT THREE HUNDRED POUNDS? DO YOU WANT TO BE MISTAKEN FOR A LANDBOUND WHALE? How many cows were killed to make your pants? I could use them to cover my couch! (Keep in mind I think leather is wrong) YOU ARE TOO HUGE FOR LIFE, LET ALONE LEATHER PANTS. DO US A FAVOR AND GO BREATH SOME BLEACH!
FUCK YOU FAT WOMAN WITH LEATHER PANTS.
Warm days and crotch grabbin
Ladies and gentlemen, I have a problem. A sweaty problem. NO it is not phil, the guy I keep in the closet for lonely nights and stressful days. This sweaty problem is a self-inflicted one. You see....I travel commando...
I have an extreme problem with this phrase, 'going commando.' I certainly don't feel any military might, nor am I a part of any sort of company. In fact, I think most people who 'go commando' (let's just call it gc) tend to be loners. You want to know why? There is only one layer of fabric between my man-cock and the world. That's right, one layer of incredibly thin and wonderfullly sensuous fabric. How does that make you feel? It makes you feel disempowered, it makes you feel small. Not because of the man-cock itself, but the fact, that at any given moment I could rub up against you and leave a sweaty debilitating mark. It is like I have owned you after I 'went commadno' all over your back/face/leg. Those parts of your body are no longer your own. Female raccoons, and male wallabies will be attracted to those parts. In all other respects you will be repulsed by all other animals because I caught you with my residual man juice when you were least expecting it. Does this mean people who go commando are a serious problem? YES. YES IT DOES. After all, as soon as there are enough of us, we'll be marking our territory with our crotch and ass sweat pretty much all the goddamn day. There will be territory wars between me and some girl over property rights to your left buttock. My advice...get on the bandwagon now, take your undies and place them on your head. Do 1,000 jumping jacks. Then go to shake someone's hand and just jam it down your pants. I promise you won't be disappointed with their reaction.
I'm asking everyone to be all that they can be. So just stop wearing underwear you nerd.
That is all.
Issues and Devo Collector's Album
I know I promised an entry on Xena warrior princess, but I think that's going to have to wait for a while.
Instead, in lieu of the fact that my girlfriend told me she wanted a 'break' of indefinite time and so on... I pronounce to you...THE TOP TEN REASONS I AM A WORTHLESS HUMAN BEING!!!!!
*cue devo music--how about 'we're through being cool'(irony is funny)
10. I am emotionally incapable of dealing with a fruit-cup, let alone a human being.
9. I spend more time playing roleplaying games than I do talking to people in the 'real world.' (BUT! I am not talking about video games, people that play final fantasy all day suck donkeys for quarters)
8. I like art history...no no... you don't understand... I LIKE it.
7. I think Devo was the best thing that happened in my lifetime, period. They may not be good musicians, but they are veritable geniuses in dorkiness.
6. My idea of 'partying' is rolling up some new npc's(no this isn't some buzzword for the 'ganja'....you fuck)
5. Hackeysack is how I get my exercise
4. I am captain killjoy of the bringdown brigade
3. I made a top ten about how much I suck....man I must really suck
2. I have a personal webpage to boost my ego... A PERSONAL WEBPAGE, WELCOME TO EIGHTH GRADE DUDES
1. I maintain an ascetic lifestyle and outlook on life when everyone in the whole frikkin world likes to have fun and 'enjoy living.'
On another note, I've decided that I should create a movie on the premise of a paper packaging plant (a place of pure excitement), which is fighting over land with native americans in maine. The main character will have no connection to either of these factions, but instead will be an inner city charity doctor with a weasel tied to his head. His wife will hate him because he is devoted to spending time in low income housing rather than in 'her' low income housing. He will get called for SOME REASON to go to maine. This will be so ambiguous that you could well justify he needs to go there to deliver 'the one ring to mount doom' The airplane ride will take up a full ten minutes of hte film, destroying all hope in the viewer of any sort of good narrative or moviemaking. By the end of the plane ride, the man's wife will have fallen asleep, along with most of the audience. I will then excite them with a chainsaw fight. That's right, a chainsaw fight. Some indian guy and a lumberjack will duke it out with chainsaws. Then I will excite the viewer with five minutes of FISHING.
Anyways to make a long story short, I'll wow the viewer with lots of shots of the inside of hte paper processing plant, then I'll throw in some scenes of a giant radioactive bear killing shit.
Then I will call this movie PROPHECY and it will be the greatest thing of all time. Keep in mind that the title has nothing to do with the film other than it happens to be on the box.
shakespeare really needs to ummm get a job
Rather than rant about shakespeare, being that my girlfriend basically talked me into the dirt about him... Yes I grudgingly admit that he is a good writer on some level....I just personally hate him. On a funnier note, there were some things I noticed about last night's play that deserve mention here...
There's this kid, let's just refer to him as 'the suck' whom was in the play. Apparently the kid went to the Keith Backhaus school of singing, because this guy just couldn't hit a note. I mean, at least I attest to being utterly without tone and key. This kid was all over the place. Later on I would find out that his other nickname is 'holocaust feet.' Apparently this kid's feet smell so bad that they can actually burn out your retinas from a good five paces. Then I thought to my self paces....PACES? What kind of a word is that? What the hell is a pace?!??!! Did someone mispronounce mexican coinage? What idiot decided there should be a word for the most indefinite measurement ever? 'Uhh about twelve paces boss.' Being that EVERYONE is of a different height, and walks slightly differently from everyone else in the world, you'd think this kind of measurement is outdated. The only place that 'pace' should ever be used in language ever is within the phrase 'pace picante sauce.' But then I got to thinking...pace....feet....holocaust feet..... I CAN NEVER EAT SALSA AGAIN! SOME ASSHOLE WITH SMELLY FEET HAS BARRED ME FROM A PARTICULAR KIND OF FOOD FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE! FROM NOW ON I WILL EQUATE TASTY MEXICAN FOOD WITH SOME FAT MAN"S FEET!
*Ahem* I think that's enough for now, but I'm going to post something up about this girl I hit in the head with a hackysack....who's name happens to be xena....yeah i'm not joking.....xena......IIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYI
Love's Labor Lost
Tonight I went to see a play starring the radiant Val Dowdle. Understandibly, being theater...it was boring...very...very boring. They should rename the play "My two hours lost" and give me a lollypop. Not a fan of shakespeare in the first place, I found it nearly impossible to pay attention long enough to really catch the dialogue. You got the jist from all the crazy being sold, but I got the sense at the end that someone had stole my assginity while I was sitting there. I was left feeling alone and destitute. You know that feeling you get when you eat two pounds of chocolate but you just end up feeling really empty? Of course you're about to shit out 2 pounds worth of semi-liquid glory, but at the same time, you feel like you've just wasted two hours and a few dollars that could have been better spent paying someone to have sex with a muskrat. On the plus side, I got in for free under the good grace of my buddy, so all was not in fact lost. It's not like I'd spend my time doing anything enriching anyways. I was planning on spending the night seeing how many bugs I could catch in my mouth if I left a teaspoon of sugar in there.
AHOY ME BOY-OS
MURDER! I have my own shitty ass website now! Let the ichor flow and the tongue waggins be many. Tony helped me a bit as I have said before, simply because this computer business is rather new to me. Being that I essentially live in a ramshackle tin shed and eat the things that crawl out from under my toenails, I deem this site to be the greatest achievement I have ever been a part of in my life period. On the other hand, I did pee on this guy's head at a show once. BUT THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.
Rather than trying to be witty, which at this point is nigh on impossible... I'm going to yell about this kid I don't like.
You ever have one of these kids in your classes?
-->Here's an impersonation, it's funnier if you picture him/her naked
'Hi, I'm a belligerent jackass. I feel the need to walk into class every day ten minutes late because I am a rebel without a cause. In fact, when people say James Dean, I have a visible orgasm and pass out on the floor. I don't wear shoes. Why not you ask? Because it's the shoes that are keepin us down mmaaaaaaannnn. I like to be one with the earth, to touch mother nature in all of her many g-spots with my little piggies. More importantly, I LIKE GLASS EMBEDDED IN MY FEET. IT FEELS ANGUISHALISCIOUS! I also find that having black feet means that I never have to buy dress shoes (ed note... I don't own any dress shoes either...), or deodorant, or pants. In fact, I like being half naked everytime you see me. Don't worry, I'm not attractive, but I am intimidating. Here let me brush my nipples up against your head as I walk by because I spent all morning cramming bean curd into my fucking huge ass beer belly. I feel the need to reinforce the fact that we are living in a police state and we need anarchy. I have never read any anarchist literature in my life. I spend time thinking that anarchy means having sex with lots of 'chicks' and doing drugs all day. Dude we don't need politics, we just need to light some plants on fire and breathe in the smoke. It opens your mind man. When I'm not talking about the police state and all the protests I know about BUT NEVER GO TO OR PARTICIPATE IN, IN ANY WAY, I like to talk about this smoke. In fact, it takes up so much of my life that I barely have time to pull my pants down when I take a shit. Half the time I just leave it drooping in my designer courdoroys (that's hard to spell) which look sixteen lepers had an orgy ontop of them. They must have been well paid lepers because I had to pay $120 for my pants, and I had to suck the janitor's cock. Dude it's hip to be bisexual. I have no identity so I just freely latch on to whomever says something moderately counter culture around me. Please hit me in the crotch with a brick the next time you see me.
Whew.....