Here's a snippet of convo with my friend noel about what i'd really like to do with my life...

Slayngren: be a hermit like me
LUshUss05: yeah
Slayngren: i'm gonna end up as some crazed dude living on the craggy rock beaches of scotland in a hut
Slayngren: fishing for food
LUshUss05: thats sounds so awesome
Slayngren: people will come to me to hear me tell the future
LUshUss05: haha
Slayngren: or curse their enemies
Slayngren: with my eerie magic
LUshUss05: oh is that what you excel at?
Slayngren: no i just excel at being angry
Slayngren: just one of the many things i'm good at
Slayngren: but being angry helps the whole hermit thing
LUshUss05: hehe
LUshUss05: how bout i live on a deserted island across the sea from you and we send each other messages in bottles every day
Slayngren: mine will eventually degenerate into gibberish
Slayngren: you know that right?
LUshUss05: thats cool
Slayngren: and sooner or later i'll forget it's you that sends me messages
LUshUss05: just some kind of contact
Slayngren: and i'll believe they come from the sea god
Slayngren: goddess excuse me
LUshUss05: we can send reflected messages at night
Slayngren: and i'll make crazy sacrifices and stuff
LUshUss05: like cutting your ear off and sending that to me?
Slayngren: i need those ears
Slayngren: but i'll send you weird dolls made out of my extraordinarily crusty hair
LUshUss05: aw dolls!!
Slayngren: which will be down to my ankles
Slayngren: in giant dreadlocks of dath
Slayngren: death that is
LUshUss05: thats hot
Slayngren: with various sea creatures living in them
LUshUss05: hahaha
Slayngren: seriously i wnat to look like that
Slayngren: in all seriousness
LUshUss05: like a merman
Slayngren: if i could do that i would
Slayngren: my ideal look would be 'sewer monster'
LUshUss05: hehehe
Slayngren: so the ugliness without reflects the ugliness within
Slayngren: i don't want to be 'dark and sexy'
LUshUss05: but i dont think it would be ugly...
LUshUss05: well not sexy maybe
Slayngren: i want to be 'dark and hideously horribly repugnant'
LUshUss05: but cool
LUshUss05: : (
Slayngren: i mean i'd still kinda look like me
Slayngren: but i'd have a giant beard and weird dreadlocks
Slayngren: and like old 19th century suitcoat
LUshUss05: and you know it would be cool
Slayngren: frayed beyond belief
Slayngren: coolness is key
LUshUss05: ok
LUshUss05: good
Slayngren: and once a year i'd swim out into the ocean naked to 'mate with the sea'
Slayngren: oh man it'd be frikkin ridiculous
Slayngren: at the end of my life my hideous army of monstrous sea creatures, half man half abomination would rise out of the depths to claim my home
Slayngren: the villagers would speak of the event for centuries
Slayngren: awaiting my terrifying return for their children
Slayngren: shwy oh why isn't my life like this
Slayngren: i would give anything
LUshUss05: youll just have to compromise i guess
Slayngren: yeah i guess squatting down in the shower and making growling noises will have to do
Slayngren: and mating with the sea frankly sounds kinda gross
LUshUss05: a bit murky yes
Slayngren: but i'd do it if i was crazy
Slayngren: and god willing someday i will be
LUshUss05: i think youre on the right track

I kinda have to write about this because it's been driving me crazy for the past few weeks or so.  As the previous post mentions, I have a girlfriend.  Haha let's all have a good laugh at how twistedly ironic life is. 

Here's the thing though...

I have never, ever, ever had a relationship this good.  We don't fight, there's no awkwardness or anything.  In fact, I couldn't be happier, Caitlin is absolutely perfect for me in every way.  She's outgoing, positive but with a history of being depressed (wow just like me!) very intuitive and smart, jaw-droppingly beautiful and about a million other really fucking awesome things.  I mean we've been living together for a little more than two months now, and things have been going without any real hitch.  So why can't I shake the feeling that it's all going to crash and burn?  Besides you know the inevitability that she realizes I'm totally worthless, uninteresting, unmotivated, and destined to fail at pretty much every aspect of life.  Well, as some of you may know, I am very much the jealous type.  I've had to deal with so much of the 'cheating' and 'indiscretion' phenomenon throughout my life through friends or even myself that I'm SO SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF PEOPLE BEING UNFAITHFUL.  It literally makes me screaming levels of angry, to the point where I lose all sense of rationality.  Why is this, because I object to it on principle?  No, because it makes me feel like if it were to happen to me it would completely emotionally castrate me.  I have such a low self-esteem anyways that even the merest hint that Caitlin (or any one of my friends-->in an emotional sense at least) is not being 'satisfied.'  So why do I even mention this, when clearly there has been no hint of it whatsoever--our relationship and sex continuously rocking out or what have you? 

BECAUSE--DUN DUN DUN

Caitlin has a past.  Oh wow jeez.  I"M A FUCKING MORON.  But I can't get by this.  Of course she has a past, of course she's enjoyed relationships and stuff before me, and of course she will after me, these are fundamental aspects of life.  Oh wait, gentle reader, you forgot.  I FAIL AT LIFE.  Caitlin has, in her own words 'kissed alot of boys' and certainly has the potential to do so in the future.  And my mind says, well hell yeah good for her, she's an awesome girl, and she deserves to have fun and get what she wants.  The school year is coming up, and she'll be in contact with tons of potentially awesome guys.  But then, I'm selfish, and I want her to myself, to quote the proverbial Weezer 'I want a girl who will laugh for no one else.'  Yes I do realize that I will never get this, that Caitlin's attraction to other guys is totally normal, and if she were to do anything that is her life and she can live it, but once again, I"m a nutbag.  I really do love her, in a way that I've never felt with anyone before, but my ridiculousness is so out of control that this love may turn into some kind of want for posession or control.  (It is well documented that I'm a total control freak about pretty much every aspect of my life)  So what I predict happening is either yes, Caitlin does follow her friendly outgoing nature and starts a relationship or hooksup with some guy thus forcing me to hate her for the rest of my life, a very real and distinct possibility, or barring that, I constantly watch her and close my tentacles of hatred around her until she feels so suffocated that she just breaks up with me in some kind of HORRIBLY RIDICULOUSLY DRAMATIC DRAG OUT FIGHT........which seems to happen pretty often.  I don't want this relationship to crash and burn, it really has done so much for me, and I love caitlin so much.  I don't know what to do and it makes me cry<--what a pussy at night while she sleeps next to me or when she's at work and I'm home.  I'm so sick and tired of not being able to deal with my jealousy and just love someone fully and truly, but I'm so attached to my cynicism and my doubt, and my hateful bitterness about everything in the world that I'm not sure which is going to win out.

Anyways, I hope I can write something funny to balance this shitfest out....thanks for reading I guess, those of you who still falsely believe I'm alive and haven't been replaced by a well dressed robot.

I haven't been writing in this with angry stuff lately because I have a girlfriend (gasp) and she pretty much takes up all my time right now.  Not in a bad way.  Anyways, stay tuned for my music project, already underway.

How many of us can truthfully say that we don't hate everyone we know, even just a little?  Then again, how many people can truthfully say that they DO hate everyone they know, that everyone on the planet is worthless and oh god we should all just drink ourselves into oblivion because life just isn't worth living and everyone has a cock attached to their nose and they just stick it in other people's business.  Ok so maybe that was more convoluted than I had originally imagined, but because I refuse to use the 'backspace' button, as it acts against my principles of always pulling into a parking space like a normal human being.  I mean I've backed up into tons of things, never, and I mean NOT once, has backing into anything ended well.  I've had people make jokes about running backwards through a cornfield, and we all know what can happen there.  That's right......you could get bitten by a snake.  That would be just terrible.  Speaking of terrible, my parents bought me this ridiculous cereal the other day, that for all intents and purposes should have been just generic cheerios.  You would think, that with a kangaroo on the box, you'd be able to trust them to make a quality oat 'o' cereal without fucking it up.  That's right, you would think that.  Apparently they hired some extras down at the factory and they just have a woman named Mona fuckin douche into the bag after her bestiality videos.  These cheerios were flat out the worst cereal i've ever had, and that includes that spinoff of count chockula of that creature from the black lagoon with herpes.  At least the fuckin sores go away!  I"M GOING TO HAVE THE TASTE OF MONA'S DOUCHE-FLUID IN MY MOUTH FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.  WHY CAN"T SHE JUST SHOWER INSTEAD.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, drama.  I don't have any.  The most exciting part of my day is when I wake up to realize that I had left a bowl of ice cream from the night before next to my bed.  There's nothing like a breakfast of sweet syrupy sweetness followed by horrendous vomiting and stomach spasms.  Hah.  Spasm.  I had a butt spasm once, wait no, that was diarrhea.  Can you tell I'm running out of ideas?  I really only posted because it's been like two or three weeks since the last one, and I can't stand looking at it for too long.  I can't stop staring though, its loving thighs, firm buttocks, smooth perky breasts.....fuck this i'm out

April 11th,

I know that I have not updated lately in this little journal of mine, but things certainly have been off the trolley as of late.  I suppose like most of the gentility, I will recount the delights of days past in the following writings, as there has been much going on in my life as of recently.

Last friday I went to the chateau of Lady Zena and Duchess KC, quite possibly the most delightful ladies in all of christendom, for a bit of a box social.  I had felt a bit out of sorts however, as I had the gall to come without having brought a decanter of wine, or at very least, some moutaintop brandy.  I was accompanied by my longtime companion Daniel Hambright, a man of impeccable taste, if a bit off his rocker, if you excuse my crudity.  My word, it has been many a day when I have seen him greet another of our constituents with an informal 'heya' rather than the 'good-day' we are all so used to.  It was good to see that Daniel would be in rare form for that evening, as he had already remarked to me upon entering 'if the wine list isn't to my liking, I suggest we scoff at these faux aristocrats' to which I nearly chucked but stifled myself, knowing full well to chuckle is not befitting of a gentleman in this age.  And so we entered, doing our best to mingle among the various upstarts and broken hearts to be found festooned around the place.  I must admit that KC and Zena have always made for excellent hostesses, and Daniel found a simply charming mixed beverage in his hand before he could protest.  Naturally I abstained, as I'm nearly on my way to becoming a full on clergyman.  Hah.  The music was simply enchanting, and we spent the greater part of the evening gazing at the delectable clavicles and ankles of the womenfolk as they pranced about, even taking a chance to strut about the ballroom floor ourselves.  Everyone was there, hailing from all over our fair alma mater, even the reclusive Davide made an appearance.  If I had but a better purchase on the cliffs of romance, I may have even asked for a dance with one of these fair maidens, but once again, my gentlemanly abstinence told me better, and I remained passive as all good chaps should be.  Daniel began to complain about his humors, so as the social began to die down, we decided to find one of those quaint inns that would still be open, fraught with the potential dangers of provincial folk.  And so Lady Claire, Lady Katherine, Daniel and I departed in my horseless carriage to the nearest open tavern.  We laughed the night away and dined upon wild guinea fowl under a full moon, laughing and braying like tiny lambs upon the spit. 

The following day was wrought with much foolishness, as I had a caller of sorts!  I was as surprised as any other.  Surely it was a break in the traditional bonds to have a lady visiting a gentleman.  What is the world coming to?  Next I'd imagine that the womenfolk will be driving automobiles and talking for themselves.  My word, I surely hope they never reach that voting booth, it would be a shame to see our country fall to ruin at the hands of the germans.  We cannot defend our fair nation with thanksgiving dinners and scrumptious brownies!  (Though I must admit I wish we could, but my constitution couldn't take the sweetness)  We spent the afternoon amongst the lilies, took in a brief silent film about the evils of the little folk (as they call them in the old country).  All in all, a simply wonderful afternoon and early evening.  Following this, Daniel and I made our way to the great home of Lady Natalie and Madame Noel, a vivacious bunch to be sure, to enjoy the delights of a doctor whom I can't recall the name of at the moment.  He had some kind of time traveling phonograph of sorts, and his adventures served to titillate us for hours on end.  I found at this moment that the dear Madame Noel, though currently courted by a gentleman, had pulled at my hearstrings in a way most profound.  Apparently we both had had an interest in pugilism in the best, having an affinity for men locked in hand to hand combat, ready to fall at a moment's notice.  Oh woe is me, for I fear I had left my soul to wander those halls in that house. 

The week was spent with lazy callow, I spent most of my days wandering the labrynth of the mind, tweaking my manuscript on semiology and the like.  Afternoons were spent in what little sunshine we could pry from his majesty up above, and the young Erik and I spent many an hour on the dock, recounting times of sweet demure girls, and dipping our toes into the cool water.  It has always felt so wonderful to dabble in the fluffly clouds of memory with a companion.  The evenings however, I was wrought with much stress and strain, as I could not force myself to make the visits that I so wanted to.  I find myself intrinsically tied to many good people here, yet my work carries me so far away as to only be able to dabble in the occaisional letter or tip of the hat as I pass.  This past friday on the other hand, was certainly a break in the monotony of work, as I had the privelege of traveling to the great Mario's home to take part in a bit of lowbrow music making.  Frankly to cut loose and play some sinful notes was more than enough to lift my weighty spirits.  I think that I shall save the kerchief I had planned to give to the river in my self-murder, and instead wear it as an ascot in our coming performance, if only to hide my identity.  Oh to be seen as a ruffian would surely destroy my social stature.

Until next time, good readers...

Keith Richard Backhaus Esquire, Prince of Posh

So I have a blog.  That's ok right?  I mean, sure I can only express myself via a computer to the possibility (rather than actuality) of someone caring about what I think or anything I may say for that matter, but doesn't that mean other people with blogs are doing the same thing?  I'm surprised to say no, no they are not. 

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!?!?!?  It's like having a blog is an excuse to be absolutely, ridiculously, mind-numbingly boring!  PEOPLE JUST WRITE ABOUT THE STUPID THINGS THAT HAPPENED IN THEIR BANAL LIVES IN A WAY THAT MAKES ME WANT TO EAT NAILS.  Nobody cares how your day went, nobody cares what kind of secret robotic porno project you're working on.  NO ONE CARES.  PEOPLE LIKE TO BE ENTERTAINED.  I go to other people with squarespace sites, some of whom I actually know, and what do I read?  Nothing.  I read nothing.  Blah blah blah, I met this girl today, blah blah, she likes icecream and backmassages followed by post traumatic shock.  It's as if people take blogs to be their personal journal, their way of leaving an indellible stamp of utter bullshit on the planet, as if anyone ever cares about what they said, how great their goth poetry is, or how many pictures they can put up of them and their ugly friends dancing around with (insert alcoholic beverage here) in their hands.  HOW MANY PICTURES COULD YOU POSSIBLY NEED OF THAT.  OK YOU"RE DRUNK, WE GET IT.  I mean honestly, the people who read your blog are probably people you know, WHO ARE IN THE PICTURES.  THEY WERE THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED!  Do you really need to remind everyone about how you got that table leg stuck in your ear canal? 

EXAMPLE:

Here's a picture with me.  Here is a picture of my penis.  Here is a picture of me holding my penis, isn't this funny.  Here is a picture of a bulldog biting my groin.  Boy I sure was high when that happened....AND SO ON.

BLOG JUST STANDS FOR BULLDOG--LOCKED--ON--GROIN for these people, and frankly it makes me fuckin sick.  I mean it is soooo boring that I don't even know how the person who owns the site can bear updating it.  POSTING YOUR RESUME!?!?!?!?

WHAT!?!?!?!?!??! 

Past Experience:
I've done a dog up the butt twice, and I've had an elderly polish woman shit in my mouth.
Escort Service--16 years

Schooling:
I went to so and so college for four years, earning my BA in BEING AN ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS OVERACHIEVER WHO PLANS ON SPENDING MY LIFE SLAMMING MY HEAD IN DOORS AND WORKING ON MY #(*$&#(@)$&* BORING-ASS BLOG!

I fuckin hate the internet.

I sent this to some jerkass on the internet at this site OKcupid...

Dear Calada,

People say I have nice abs, and I spend the majority of my time comparing them to the volumes of cheap canned beer I purchase at the local liquor store with the money I receive from shaking down middle-schoolers.  When I'm not thinking about how amazingly attractive, witty, and insightful I am, I like to troll the bar scene looking for other uninteresting people to have sex with in a public bathroom.  My hobbies include horrific head injuries and waking up in a warm pool of my lost dignity. 

I was hoping we could meet up sometime on this here interweb and I could pressure you into having cybersex with me.  When this fails I will spend the better part of the day looking for pictures of people fondling molluscs.  My turn ons include:  women who take their clothes off for money, a free wet bar, though I'm not exactly sure what that means, movies that remind me of my awkward teenage years in an overly sexualized fashion, and walnuts.  My turn offs include:  people who think for themselves, that ever growing red itchy splotch on my groin, and books.

who loves ya baby,
some dickweed

You know who totally rocks?  Optimus fucking prime.  I mean first of all he's a giant robot that can turn into a big rig.  That's right, not some sissy tank, a FUCKING BIG RIG.  Ten forty good buddy I got a keel-ass full of ginger dumplings to deliver at 1800 and a chancre on my ass the size of a dead pig.  I wish I was a big-rig driver.  I mean granted, I'd be the skinniest guy out there and I'd get beat up and left in an old barrel full of expired pickles, but it'd be worth it.  Life on the road, the wind in your thinning hair, the gentle rumble of asphalt on your crotch.  I mean christ those things are huge, and you can just take a fuckin crap out the window and no one can stop you as long as you belong to a union.  But optimus prime, optimus fucking prime, with a name that means basically THE BEST NUMBA ONE SUPA GUY, he's just my fucking hero.  Where else can you go for when you need more than just a shipment of milk, you need a shipment of milk AND SOME FUNK MUTHAFUCKAAAA.  Speaking of blacksploitation movies, I was thinking the other day, we need less of those, and more crack-sploitation movies.  No I don't mean the drug, I mean movies about really really really white middle class people doing really white middle class things.  Instead of being films that have the epigraph 'a spike lee joint'  we can say 'a herman beckstein moderately priced cigar with a hit of vanilla.'  Wouldn't that fucking rock?  Get on the bus would be 'get in my luxury SUV for a trip to the soccer game or the golf course.'  WHO WOULDN"T WANT TO SEE THESE MOVIES?!?!?!  SHAFT!??!? I MEAN COME ON, I"LL DO YOU ONE BETTER.

CRACK-SPLOITATION THEATRE PRESENTS:

RODDY MC ROD ROD--A desk jockey who files bike theft complaints in pleasantville.  The excitement never stops.  Then one day a black family moves into the neighborhood.  The rest of the movie becomes a horrible knock-off of the odd couple combined with blazing saddles.  We all laugh and then feel bad.

YOUNG MEN IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD--A group of young teens decide to buy leather jackets with money they've gotten from saving up the 'mad cash' they've made on their paper routes.  After buying these jackets they terrorize the neighborhood by occasionally being loud and using street chalk to draw boobies on people's driveways.

ARE YOU GETTING SERVED?--A delightful comedy based around young men working in a department store who also do a bit of risque dancing on the side--RISQUE BALLROOM DANCING *GASP*

There is this kid on campus that I have just realized I totally despise in every way.  He's not someone I know personally, or have ever talked to, or even know the name of, but by god I hate him.  I'm sure you've seen him, clean-cut, thin face, features like a weasel.  I suppose most people would say he's an attractive gent, his glasses a mark of gentle intellectualism.  And then you look down, and realize, that for some reason, his shirt isn't buttoned.  Granted, it was warm yesterday, so I can see why someone may go shirtless, especially a male who is interested in attracting some attention.  But I have so much more respect for the person who just takes that shit off and displays their horrid back hair for all to see, than some jerk who leaves his armani fucking shirt waving in the wind like a secondary penis, shouting 'hey look at my good taste and rock hard abs.'  That's the other thing, this kid has toned abs like that creepy guy on tv that sells those exercise tapes.  You know the one, the one that's made out of fiberglass and silicone.  This kid just walks around with a huge smile on his face, saying 'sorry dude, i can't come over tonight and have sex with alot of women (and men), I have an appointment in the campus center to grate some cheese on my stomach.'  What the fuck is your problem kid?  I mean really, does the world need to see that you spend more time doing situps than shaping your personality into something that barely holds a conversation with a dead piece of lichen?  Do we really need to see the sun reflect off of these odd bulges in your stomach that make it look like you have tiny alien fetuses just waiting to hatch?  I think you forget that we live on a hippy campus and nobody gives two shits about how many fat burning pills you take in the morning to make sure that all that excess muscle is taken from your cock and added to your stomach.  Be a person ab-guy.

You ever spend time staring at your groin?  Not out of contemplation, or quiet awe, but really out of this absolute aversion.  I mean what the fuck was biology thinking when it thought up that junk?!?!? 

Just a thought, mitosis forever.