Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Oh damn...

I have a blog? Fuck.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Everybody Does It...

Sooner or later technology takes a shit. I don't care you you fucking think you are, but a big fat robot on chicken's legs is going to sneak up behind you, squat, and release. Maybe it will scream as it does so. Maybe it will quiver oh-so-slightly. Maybe it will have had a serious night of all you can eat Indian buffet followed by a taco truck debauchery. Well... if that's the case this might sting a bit more than usual. It's like that scene at the end of Gremlins 2... remember that? REMEMBER?! REMEMBER...MESSY!?!!?!?

In any case, the basic message is the same: There's an evil robot that somehow has figured out a way to eat foods that make it shit. Lot's of shit. This is not an easy feat, since robots don't have human organs and would ultimately rust and rot if it shoveled curry, carne asada, or spicy kielbasa down it's throat... which it also shouldn't have...

So wait... now I have another question about this whole fucking mess... who is making these asshole robots??? I bet I know the answer. It's Stephen Hawking, isn't it? I should punch him in his fat face! That guy is like the new epitome of super villain! Can you imagine if HE was the bad guy in Unbreakable?!?! That end scene WOULD BE CRAAAAAAAAZZZZYYYYY!!!!!!!

Ok, anyway, this post has downhill written all over it. So I'll go some more. Robots? How about computers? Computers with buttholes? What if you had your laptop on your (duh!!) lap, and you started to smell something? BAM!!! Lappoo! You better get your fucking computer a diaper stat! What a fuck!! Now, as much as I like talking about inanimate objects shitting all over the place, I don't want to leave out other important functions. Let's have 'em piss all over you too. Yeah, that's right. You think they have a CD/DVD/DVD±RW/Blu-ray whatever drive, but that's all a disguise. It's a urethra waiting to happen, man!

YOU: Oh man, I gotta rip this fuckin shitty mp3 collection for you and do a diddy on this popcorn fuckin bullshit cause I like you to have my shitty movies!


YOU: ...aw man!

So now you have laptops on big ol' legs that can shit and piss and fuck all over your house and one Stephen Hawking laughing... and laaaaauuuuughing in that computer voice. He's probably doing that thing too, where he just spins around and around in circles in his chair. He's just got it cranked on "left."



I just want technology to do something right for a change. I'm thinking that's too much to ask. Huh?

Oh, and I want someone to go here - yeah, that's right, the South Pole has a fuckin urinal... I hope it's an outhouse!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Stories Before Bedtime Waking Up.

Don't you love that fresh morning air? The song of the birds? The sweeping of the ice cream man opening up shop? Aren't you excited about that morning cup of coffee? Would you like to have a conversation with that special coworker?

Do you have 3 vicodin? Maybe a hammer too?

Monday, August 24, 2009

Movin' On Up.

Life is funny, right? It's like a big Marx Brothers movie where everyone is chasing after you over and around the couch, and all you want to do is shake their hand. Right? Or maybe it's like one of those Three Stooges movies, where everyone's hitting you in the face, but you sure fooled them with the ol' hand in front of the nose to block their approaching fingers. RIGHT?! Or maybe it's like that WC Fields movie, where you drink and drink and drink, and then you drink absinthe, and drink and drink, and then drive the car around the curvy hill from the cops! RIGHT?!?

Wait, wait, I'm starting to get the hang of this game! Give me back the mic!

Sometimes life just works out for you, and you're livin large and riding that phat car with the money flying out of it and you're rapping at the camera which will be seen by bah-zillions and they'll know how hot and sexy you are and how much ice you have. Or, maybe there isn't a camera there. Just some old lady screaming at you to watch the fucking road. Or sometimes you come home to a house filled with hardcore kids strewn around your living room floor. Maybe some are outside drinking vodka out of the bottle. Maybe some are in the kitchen smoking pot while Mr. Grouch tries to push them out with a broom from his garbage can house. Whooooooo knows! The real question is... "Isn't this a good sign to be moving on?"

If the answer is yes, then I'd advise you to start making nice with the Grouch boy. Me? I'll take the flat hunt, thank you very much. The charms of my honeymoon period with the hood are starting to fade away anyways, however, it's not filled with as many needles and curb shittings and crazy talkers that I thought it might. Instead, it's full of bigfeets, strippers, garbage and jamming.

Is this supposed to be the new face of gentrification? Or is this some freak of nature event horizon the likes of which we have never seen? Is it one of the signs of the coming end of the world? Is this the meek inheriting? The thought of Oakland being completely overrun by bigfoot hunters and the Hardcore equivalent to Phish seems like a near impossibility. But then again, no one really thought killing all of Satan's cats would help rats spread the bubonic plague across Europe... I guess we got that one wrong too. Anyway... I get ahead of myself.

Let the flat hunt begin... and let it be good.

Your friend,
Ozwaldo Joe's Goblin Brigade BBQ

P.S. - Why's this guy so happy?!

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Honestly, when did you stop defending rap?

Mr. Rock gave up after "Get Low".

Look Back At Me - by Trina

i got a ass so big like the sun
I hope ya got a mile for a dick I wanna (run)
Slap it in ma face, shove it down ma (throat)
Nigga where ya blunt, I can make this pussy (smoke)
I know how to (fuck) I know how to (ride)
I can spin around and keep the dick still inside
Now your mouth (wide), your lookin real scared
I'm a man eater, head hunter, (I'm prepared)

Yeah you runnin now, you runnin! I'm a put this pussy on you! (just like this)

Put this pussy in ya jaws now(snack) like it's thanksgiving and it ain't comin' (back)
Collard greens (neck bones) Nigga chew dis ass
Boat hold a special don't stop till it pass
Licky, licky, licky, licky, licky for a (hour)
I'm a make it rain for ya here's a golden (shower)
I'm smellin like a (flower) My pussy is a (rose)
Come a lil closer I wanna fuck your nose

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it*up and* smack it look back at it I'm a addict

Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me(girl)
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me(girl)

Look... back... at... me(girl)x3

This ya killa kill form da ville man

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm a addict

Third bread red broad in my (jeans)
Up all night, took pipe gave (head)
Ass like Trina, face like (Mya)
Shot it on her chest she said Daddy aim (higher)
Put Jimmy on her titties I bust off {wicked}
Gave her mayonaise on her face (pearl necklace)
We turned da camera on and we did a (sex scene)
She called me R. Kelly and I call her.... Dats ma bitch right there nigga!

Hand full of ass and a fist full of (weed)
Ass in da air face down(on ya knees)
I'm a beast when I fuck I put it (in ya gutt)
I'm a have ya sayin no please let me get(up)
I'm a make you say dats the spot don't take it (out)!!!
I'm feelin like I culd nearly put it in ya(mouth)
Kanye told dem gold diggin hoes dat we pimpin in da(south) and it ain't payday unless nuts in ya (mouth)

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm a addict

Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me(girl)
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me(girl)

Look... back... at... me(girl) x3

Back it up drop down to your (knees). Bring it up real slow make one cheek (freeze) x2

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm a addict

[look;look;look] (LOOk.)
Back at you for what? I'm tryna concentrate on bustin me a(nut) I'm thinkin bout trav I'm thinkin bout [boe)
Lil dick nigga shit hurry up I gotta (go)
Sence they in prison pussy nigga make me know dat ya ain't a virgin and ya done dis before.
Fuck me till ya can't (breathe) Till ya swim and scream(help)It's your lucky day all the lifegaurds left.
Lil dick ass nigga you better get your face down here and(eat dis pussy)!!
Dribble Dese titties on your(lips)
While ya doin dat put your hands round my (hips) bounce me like a ball slam me like kate moth on and off the(dick)
better know for breakin hearts Nigga call a cab I'm finna to pack my shit and leave shouldna let ya (fuck)
Now dats some shit I can't believe wastin time fuckin all (off beat)
pussy nigga next time when ya see me (don't speak)

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm a addict

Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[girl]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[uhh]
Look back at me[girl]

Look... back... at... me(girl) x3

If you want it you can get it if you with it I'm a hit it flip it rub it up and smack it look back at it I'm a addict

why ya runnin now u kno im goin merk wit u all night and all day holla at ma babes

...Thanks life!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Does Flaming Lead Smell?

If I were a piece of food, I would hope that I was something with fists... fists and swinging arms. Maybe with an extra elbow, just for added swinging effect. Remember Food Fighters? Why didn't that take off?! Nothing seems more delicious than a pizza with a helmet and bazooka, or a hotdog that stabs you in the night, right?!

P.S. - If you take a big whiff, you can smell our neighbors burning everything in the name of Bigfoot. He's here, you know!!

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

24 - The Pinball Game?



Thursday, May 28, 2009

And Now Something We Can All Relate To:


JOHN: Why are you there?
JOHN: You got the fucking drugs bitch!
TATIANA: What✌s that?
PHIL: Bananas are my favorite!
THOM: This doesn✌t seem right!
PHIL: I✌ll call you in an hour.
HOGAN: Wait!
JOHN: Wait!
HOGAN: What am I doing here?!
JOHN: Is this really heavy!?
TATIANA: Did you get a call from that man?
PHIL: Yes.
THOM: I don✌t like you!
PHIL: Oh boy, it✌s about to get rough.
HOGAN: What are you looking at?
TATIANA: You are a fat cooper!
JOHN: I guess we all had it coming.
JOHN: What are you doing?
TATIANA: We are going to a party!
PHIL: Where?
THOM: Over there in that tower. They make clothes.
PHIL: And there is a party.
HOGAN: You want to come with me.
TATIANA: Undress!
JOHN: Undress!
HOGAN: (Whispers) Undress.
JOHN: Is this the TV?!
TATIANA: You✌re going to meet me, right?
PHIL: I sure do like this banana!
TATIANA: What are you going to me?
THOM: Welcome to midnight!
PHIL: Wait! What?
HOGAN: What✌s going on?!
TATIANA: Call me back please!
PHIL: I✌ll cut your whore dick!
JOHN: Why do you hang out with her?
THOM: She fucks like a quadrilateral.
TATIANA: Whisper to me!
ROSALIN: you like this.
TATIANA: Do you have crack?
JOHN: I don't have anything dangerous on me?
TATIANA: You are like a cookie shelf!
JOHN: If I✌m crazy... what are THESE?!?!
PHIL: I✌m gonna slap you!
THOM: It is time for GUN SEX!!
PHIL: Chocolate banana?
HOGAN: I knew this was gonna happen.
TATIANA: Is this a movie, right?
HOGAN: You like guns?
JOHN: I want my money! BITCH!!!
TATIANA: Suck my dick!
PHIL: Where am I?
THOM: Who✌s calling me?
PHIL: Time to die!
HOGAN: I✌m a cop??
TATIANA: Just another fucking shit fuck mother fucking dick ASS TITTIES COCK PUSSY KICK BALLS BALLS!!!!!!!
TATIANA: When we✌re 80 we'll talk about this and animate this andzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZ...

Friday, May 8, 2009

It's delicious!

Sorry I haven't posted for a month. I fell in the toilet and just made my way out this morning. I had the potential to get out earlier, because I found a rocket-fueled jet pack. But then I decided that making my way out sooner wasn't worth being surrounded by flaming shit... but that's just me.

I was thinking about things, as I often do, and I starting thinking that there are just some things that don't happen in real life. You see this in movies - action dude is in a tight spot and wants to leave, and he says, "LET'S GET OUTTA HERE!!!"

... No he fucking doesn't! And he doesn't say, "for the first time in my life I blah blah blah!" And no one else says, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" But someone somewhere seemed to think so at some time, and thanks to that butt cheek mouth, we get to hear these words in movies and our brains all the time! Deep, right?! Do you feel all crazy now?!?!

Well... here's something else that I've decided just does not fucking happen - the heimlich maneuver.

Yes, I'm sorry for all you do-gooders out there, but I am convinced that no one ever does this. No one runs up to a choking asshole and gives him a stomach pump à la reach around. Asshole chokes. Asshole dies. If you want to choke and want to live, you're just going to have to serve up the saving punching fists of life to your own gut. You're also going to like it. You may love it. You may not be able to stop. You should go to Vegas and have Elvis make this a legally binding thing.

Another event that you will not see is this: when someone in a public place is choking, having a heart attack, stroke, dangerously self-heimliching or getting shot like a pie gets salt, no one says, "is there a doctor in the house?!" And no one definitely gets up and says, "oh shit, crazy! yeah! I'm a doctor! Wassup?" Doctors have a tough enough time when they're working! Leave them alone on their break!!! Doctor is trying to enjoy her/himself. Doctor wants to party. Shh! Doctor sleeping. Doctor wants to fuck!

Now think about what you've done. I'll try to stay away from the toilet.

Friday, April 3, 2009

If It Walks Like Shit, and It Talks Like Shit...


That's right! Art is big! People like it cause they don't get it. If they wanted to get it, they'd buy blueprints! Blueprints are hot, right?

And art is easy! Any asshole can do it! How? Buy a fucking can of paint, asshole! You don't even need a brush. Grab a stick! Use your fingers! Use your dick! Shove paint up your ass and blow it all over the floor! Take a metal cabinet and sign it! Steal your neighbors coathangers and glue em together! Chew bread! Shoot at a rock with a machine gun! Take pictures of every fucking piece of furniture in your house! Piss on cheese and encase it in resin! See?! Now you're an asshole -- I mean, artist.

But it doesn't stop there! Why not be a part of your art?! Now you're a performance artist! You don't even have to make art! You don't even have to know what art is or where to sell it! Light a donkey's ass on fire and ride it into a library! You're a fuckin performance artist! Drink 20 bottles of laxitive and shit and run down Broadway! You're a fuckin performance artist! Shove frogs up your ass in an elevator full of howler monkeys with crossbows! Webcast it! See!!? Performance artist!!

Is art really better when contemplated and displayed with an "artist's statement?" Or should we just throw care to the wind and let chaos run balls out rampant all over our eyes, ears and brains? Who decides if we are eligible to create art? And should they have their licenses revoked? As someone who considers themself an "artist," I can't help but cringe at the shit I see by "colleagues" who actually make money on the shit. My biggest worry is that I'm completely delusional, and there is no discernable difference between "their shit" and "my shit." But I like to hope and dream that there is a difference.

But regardless of what the answer is, buy shitty art. You never know if it's good, they never know if it's good, and the best part is, it doesn't fucking matter! Art collectors are hotter than artists anyway! Be one! Get laid! Shove as many paintings up your ass as you can, before they take over the world and make us our slaves! Have you ever been a slave to art? I don't recommend it.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Don't Be Illiteral

I shot a movie this weekend. I shot all over my house, and all I did was scream. I screamed directions. I screamed my lines. I screamed for coffee. I screamed in thanks for coffee. I screamed as I pooped from coffee. I screamed about how I screamed at pooped. I screamed why people weren't excited for me.

It makes me wonder why more people don't scream. Everything would be better. Everything would have added importance to it, and eventually no one would want to talk anymore. Movies would be way more awesome because everything would be intense. Radio would be more awesome because everything would be more intense. And speaking - or screaming - of shooting, I think everyone should have a gun on them at all times. I don't want people to shoot each other. No, that's not nice. But I do think that everything would be more awesome if you could scream and fire guns in the air while describing it. Instead of throwing caps at graduation, fire your semi-automatic in the air. Instead of throwing birdseed at as the bride and groom leave the church, fire your automatic in the air. Instead of Tweeting, shoot Tweeters.

I want to be able to stand outside my house and fire my super-automatic gun machine gun into the air as I scream hello to my neighbor, and don't stop screaming. I hope that he will be able to fire and scream back. We'll scream about how a lovely day it is, and fire in excitement over our blue skies, new shoes, big shit. Fixing shit is easy. Shoot at it! Toilet clogged up? Shoot at it! Scream at it! Phone doesn't work? Shoot at it! Scream at it! Can't scream anymore? Shoot about it! Can't afford anymore bullets? Scream about it!

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. I scream in the car. I scream in my shoes. I scream for breakfast lunch and dinner, and forth meal, and noonsies. A big bowl of I scream. A big bowl of shoot. A big bowl of fuck. A big bowl of screaming shoot fuck.

Oh, and don't get ticks people... I'm just saying.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009


Clearly I'm not on this enough. Clearly I'm not a real "blogger." If I were anything like the real deal I'd be posting every 20 seconds while yelping my ass off about the food I was eating right now!!!

It's delicious
I'm shitting
I burped
I'm shitting
This sucks
I'm pissing
I can't remember that band
I'm shitting again
I forgot my pants
This taser hurts!!!
I'm farting
I'm getting on BART
I'm shitting!!!
I'm getting off BART
I'm running!!!
They're trying to arrest me!!!
I'm shitting!!!
But I'm still running!!!!

The question is how to blog nonstop and still function properly as a kind and endearing member of society. The answer should be simple and straight forward, like: Hot glue your laptop to your party mule and ride it to work/cafe/friends house/toilet. But it isn't that easy, is it?! First of all, mules aren't allowed on BART (well, unless you take the last car at the end of the night). What about a video visor? Do they attach to iPhones? But I can't look at iPorn AND iBlog while I walk AND masturbate... this is a toughy!!!

A monkey on a segway with a second iPhone might work. But a segway might be too crazy for it technologically, and I don't really want to have to train him to do anything (which reminds me, I should check the Apple website for iPhone savvy monkeys). I could just give him a party dog to ride around. They could follow me while I dictate what I'm thinking, eat, shit, masturbate, and ride away from the cops on my party mule... but then I'd just have to figure out where to store them all at night! The monkey's dog just sleeps in the dog house, piece o' cake! I could get a portable shed for the backyard... but I'd have to worry about the monkey either trying to fight the party mule... or trying to party with it... and I'd have to worry about where they're gonna shit. I wouldn't be particularly comfortable with them using the house bathroom - mostly because they'd just raid the fridge and end up pissing in the garbage can... wait. No, I got that backwards.

A more practical answer might be to just get a fancy port-a-potty that they could all just live in... but I'd have to make sure the mule didn't have access to any cocaine, because I'm sure it would try to snort it off the toilet seat, and that's just not sanitary! Now, keeping the monkey and the party mule separate is still an issue. I'd have to get two port-a-potties so that they wouldn't try to start anything. Sleeping in a port-a-potty is nice, because you can just fall asleep on the toilet and not have to worry about getting up in the night, but I would be concerned about the monkey trying to throw his iPhone into the shit... and then throwing his shit everywhere else...

Now... if I gave the monkey two iPhones, I could dictate what I was thinking over the phone and he could type AND listen! This would ensure that he and the party mule would remain separate. The party mule would need it's own iPhone too, just in case we got separated. I'd have to get the monkey a bluetooth headset to insure he would have his hands free to type out my blogs on his "typing" phone, and also in case he needed to drive. But now that I think of it, he wouldn't even have to leave the port-a-potty! He wouldn't even have to live on my property! He could be in Russia! Which means I'll have to start looking for russian dogs and think about whether it would also need an iPhone...

I just wonder... do they have port-a-potties in Russia?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Conversations Between Me and Mr. Sunshine


MR. SUNSHINE enters stage left.








Epilogue: Oh what a wonderful day!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Who wants to strangle BART?

I have an iPhone app (sadly yes, I'm going to use that stupid fucking word, zomg lol). My sweet new app has maps of famous subway systems from around the world. Guess what ain't on there? (hint, this is a fucking open book quiz, dammit!) Ohh wow, you guessed it! You know why? CAUSE BART FUCKING SUCKS!!!

Now, I don't mean to hurt anyone's fragile wimpy feelings, but this is true. And I've been on a few other subway systems to back up my statement. True, BART is good for several reasons. It's carpeted, so it soaks up your pee! It looks like Star Tours, so you might see C-3PO! If you get shot, Oakland has a smashy party! And if you think I'm a fucking asshole, you only have to walk 4 minutes from the MacArthur station to punch me in my face!

But there are downsides to BART. You want to go to the Richmond in SF? Sorry. You wanna go to the Haight? Oops. You wanna go the the beach? Nope! The Marina? Eh, not really. SF State? UCSF? Nah. Huntet's Point? Praise Jesus, no! Daly City? Sure can! ...wait, what? Why?!

The tickets are a little crazy too. The only place I've been with a stranger ticketing system is Rotterdam, which is cah-ray-zee, but a great subway. However, in The bay area, you pay by distance. If you get out at the same station, it's actually more than if you get off at the next. Why do you need to just chill at the station? C'mon! Maybe you need to (ahchem) make a music video... or just sing in an echoy place while you shit and piss at the same time, then sleep in it! Most places either charge a flat rate for any number of stops, or they give you a time window (ever heard of the honor system?). So by this standard, with people taking long distance trips every day... wouldn't you think BART would be loaded? Huh...?

That said, BART offers many things I generally love about metro systems: the wind as the train enters the station, crazy music and performance art, and--

Fuck! My glasses just broke! I guess that's what I get for talking shit...

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


New York City?!?!?! Ok, so I've been here. I've seen the sun, clouds and snow. It's colder than even a beard can handle. So bring it! I got to hear someone say "whoopty frickin' doo!" and ate more whoopty frickin' pizza than I have whoopty frickin' fingers. I spit and pissed and shit off the Empire State Building, and I ate live rats to my hearts content. Woody Allan lives here. Does my saying that make you uncomfortable? What if he ran around Manhattan screaming and foaming at the mouth grabbing butts and boobs? Oh, hearts on fire!! I wonder if he feels the same way about the coffee here as I do.

So now we get down to it, coffee in NYC blows! BLOWS!!! It shouldn't, right? RIGHT?! Just about every place I went - too watery! Too cold! Too chocolaty bullshitty! I went to a place in search of a good mocha, and they said they didn't have chocolate! And when the woman tried to put my cup in a to-go bag, I had a heart attack AND a stroke!! I finally tasted what was supposed to be plain old delicious coffee, and it was so bad I threw it out and went to the next closest coffee shop. Finally, when I had a decent cup of coffee, it was covered in fancy fucking bullshit!! Whipped cream... maybe. SPRINKLES!!?? Get that shit away from me!!! Dunkin' Donuts is hot shit over there too. Maybe over there it actually IS the best coffee. WTF?! FTW?!

People are gonna want to fight me for this next statement, so I'll just swing my fists and yell while I type it: FHHJJUHGfdSwfYjOkK... Okay, that didn't work. I'll try just typing: I wasn't impressed with the pizza either. Really?! I thought that was the whole point of real New York pizza. And I ate sooooo much fuckin pizza over there too. Cheese pizza, veggie pizza, white pizza, pesto pizza, fuck you pizza! It's definitely different from over here, but I prefer our bullshit pizza to what I've had. There was a pizza place next to where I was staying that was supposed to be amazing, and since I didn't actually go there... yes. It was amazing. Best pizza in all of New York. Let's just leave it at that.

It snowed over there right as I was leaving, and let me tell you, shit breaks when it snows. You might think that a city that gets snow on a regular basis would have the snow thing sort of under control. Well... no. Flights were cancelled, which is understandable. But the shuttle to the airport was straight busted. Getting from the subway to the airport took and hour and a half. The train stopped at a terminal, then waited for 15 minutes before moving to the next. Then it would get to the next terminal, stop... and go backwards to the previous terminal? When I finally got to my stop nobody could get out because there was a dude texting in the door way while everyone shouted, "c'mon buddy! Today! Pay attention!"

My flight ended up being delayed by 4 hours. On the up side, I got to sit at a restaurant and watch 8 1/2.


Thursday, February 26, 2009

Warm Your Butt!

I'm sitting on a plane between Chris Walters and a very fat man. Heaven? I think... not... But I'm still thinking. They've reset the tv system at least four times, and now I'm not sure if I'm able to watch a movie, which I'd have to pay for anyway. It's Quarantine, though, so I might splurge... cause frankly, I don't have enough to complain about. A fat man crushing me against Walters WHILE watching a shit in-flight REMAKE might just quench all further need for complaint. But for now I'll just settle for mild irritation while seeing the play by play documentation of where my plane flies over... Nebraska. Huh. How about that.

As I wait, I'm noticing that this flight has the craziest looking, most misshapen, mutant people I've ever seen in my life crammed into one time-share sized box. I saw Igor, the Monster and the Bride in one effortless passing. People also don't give a fuck while sleeping. Faceplants on the tray tables. Sprawlies stretched out over open seats. Additionally, I've never really realized before that you can pee while you're changing your baby's diapers... I mean, you can do that anyway. You can shit while you do it, I don't give a fuck. What I mean is you can drop the changing table AND lift up the toilet seat. I guess if you're the baby's mommy you'd have to work out a more clever setup.

Ok, the movie thing is working... Heeeeere we go!

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

New York Post

I'm on BART. Soon I'll be at SFO, and then on a plane, then 700 different kinds of taxi. What happens if you can't actually spell or pronounce "Newark" when getting a plane ticket? Do you just suck it up and enjoy Jersey life for that month that you booked your ticket for? Who's the fuck that's responsible for naming it the "turn pike" anyway? Isn't that a kind of fish? Fuck!

I've never been to Newark... Excuse me, New YORK. I've been practicing my "asshole." I got a book at Moe's and have been spending my nights in front of the mirror and my stuffed animal collection. I even made Mr. Muffinfax cry one time. Serves him right. He better fuckin know how to drive by now! My mom bought him when I was four!

Now that I'm going to the biggest, craziest city in all of the US. I figure I have to claim it for myself. So I'm gonna have to pee on something while I'm over there, and it'll have to be something big and important. Maybe I'll take a tour to Ellis Island (cause that's where the statue is, right?!) and pee out Lady Liberty's mouth ONTO the WHOLE island! People will just think they installed a new fountain, and it'll be considered "cute." They may even throw some money in for "wishes." Perhaps to get the point across better I'll have to severely dehydrate myself so they get the point. I'm not fooling around, and here's "evil death pee" to show I meant business!

Security may be waiting for a superior move like this, so I'll need an effective escape route. Luckily I'll already be at the mouth, so all I need to do is leap out and slide down a rope. That's why I packed a mile and a half worth of rope. In fact, that's all I packed. Do you know how much suitcase space you need for that much rope?! I don't even want to get into it. Let's just say, the climb to the top of the statue won't be fun.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Thanks Belgium!

Okay, first off, I want to say that this post is dedicated to crazy font size. Most of you hopefully won't have a problem with that... But it seems that a disclaimer is necessaryWHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?!?

I dedicate this post furthermore to pigs. Farting pigs. If it weren't for farting pigs,maybe we'd all be a little dumber, and a little crazier.

So for all of you crazy people out there who love farting pigs,THIS FOR YOU!!

Friday, February 20, 2009

Stop, Zombies! Stop!

Ok, now I love me a good zombie movie, but after a certain point - especially when you're sick and watching them back to back nonstop - things get tired fast.

First: if you're not famous, you're fucked. Sorry. Shoulda got famous. It ain't hard people! If you are famous and are surrounded by more famous people... whoops.

Second: There's that one dude that gets bitten and hides it. You know, tension! Right? Maybe if you ignore it, you won't be zombie. Well guess what? You're zombie. But you kept it really interesting there for a while. Like in 1976.

Third: You're starting a zombie battling team. Why not add that shitty dick pussy to your team? You know, that one that's always cowering in the corner crying and always spouting off about how you're all fucked and that the plan's never going to work? Yeah! Him! Choose him! Now you have a team. Oh, wait, he bailed on you and left all the doors open. Well, it was a good run there for a second.

Fourth: Hey! They're called zombies! Remember?! There have been over a thousand movies about them ever since the 50s. Oh wow! Crazy! Forget all that history. How do you kill one of these things?!

Fifth: If there's a zombie invasion, and you start a zombie fighting team, and your zombie fighting team is all alone, and you hear a sound, and you say, "what the hell was that?" ...IT'S A FUCKING ZOMBIE YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!! FUCK!!! Who gave you a zombie fighting team anyway?!

With any luck, the youth of today can team up and create zombie movies that just plain make us go hmm. And maybe we can all clean our pallets of this whole "new zombie era."

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Get Ill with Yer Bad Self!

I know I said I was sick and everything, but fuck it! I'm going to Vegas! I figure if what happens there stays there, then I could kick it for a bit, barf or something expensive, and piece out. Then, once I cross the city lines - BOOM! Cured! It's as easy as that.

Now, the whole barfing on something expensive thing might not go over so well, and may even lead to my legs getting broken or something crazy like that, so I'd have to be sneaky. Here's a possible plan:

I drive out to Vegas. Granted, my ill condition leads to me trying to drive in and around seven different roads at once (fucking road designs!) and I have to dodge that dragon, but I get there in like 20 minutes. On the way over, I call a mule rental house (they have those, right?) and meet them at Bellagio or somewhere swanky. I get speed and inject it into the "horses" butt. I just use a little speed - I'm not a monster, I ain't trying to kill it or anything, just show it a good time - and then I give it some money for the craps tables. While security and everyone is trying to stop my party mule, I find the most expensive thing in the casino and go barf on it!

Done! I'll be home in time for supper. Which is mush - sweet sweet mush!

A Trail of Lung Bits to Guide My Way Home

Being sick is a lot of fun. Sweaty people are hella sexy, coughing loudly wards off a wide variety of ghosts and rabid beasts, and shivering is the sign of a "sensitive" man! Seeing straight is pretty overrated, in my opinion, and so is not vomiting. And in the end, if you don't really want to listen to someone, you can just drop into a coma and they will, you know, understand.

I woke up monday with a "slight" cough, which didn't really turn into a "substantial" cough until I decided it was a good idea to go see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button at the Shattuck Cinemas. Boy, was I wrong! I never really thought about it, but I guess some movies just make you sick. Maybe it's specific to movies that have the same formula as Forrest Gump... hmm? Anyway, I felt like the screaming baby in the back of a church, or I guess a movie theater. I tried to cover up my cough by laughing, but there are only so many uncomfortable scenes and awkwardly quiet moments that you can really laugh at before everyone knows something's up.

Day two: Cough shit cough... minus the shit part. But I've been pissing enough for the whole house! Thanks to survivor man I know how to drink that shit without dying. But really, who want's to say, "Thanks to the wonders of drinking piss, I am alive today!" So we're back to the drawing board.

Today: I went to Whole Foods and got a bunch of gay homeopathic bullshit. If this stuff doesn't work, tomorrow I move to the big guns! No really! I'm going to point a big gun at my face and say, "NOT FUCKING SICK ANYMORE, ARE YOU?!?!?" and I figure that should do the trick. And just in case I accidentally shoot myself in the fucking head, I'll drink hella piss before hand. See?! Covered!! Nothing to worry about!

Did I mention being really sick totally makes you a genius?! Check!!

Monday, February 9, 2009

Once Upon a Time in History 2: The Wrecking

So here's how I see it. Movies are dead. Period. Well, not period, because I'm still writing... but as a general concept... fuck! Fuck words! This fucking sucks already!!!! Shit!!! Why are you still reading this?!??!

TAKE 2! (Marker, clap):

Movies suck. The end-FUCK!!!!

TAKE 3! (Quiet on the set):

Movies are like sharks... dangerous, dangerous sharks. They need to move forward constantly or else they die. Now, I am of course speaking in metaphors, since... like... movies can't eat you, or remove a limb painfully. And you won't find tires in it's stomach... because they don't have stomachs-FUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!

TAKE 3 PART 2! (I'm ready to fire somebody!!!)

So! In order for movies to survive as a living art form, we need to have fresh stories and fresh concepts. There! Said it! Movies have formulas. These formulas get old fast. Examples: Shyamalan is a dummy. Twist endings suck and blow. Stop telling stories backwards or in crazy order. The bad guy and the good guy can't be the same person. "It's all in your head" is fucking stupid. How many dance-offs can you really have? Is it "on" that fucking much people?!

It's gotten so bad that the new fad is just remaking old movies. What's the twist? They're all cast shitty! Get it?! So short of Charm School Bus Fuck: The Movie, there has to be a new formula if movies are going to stay fun and awesome. Personally, I believe I have the answer. I saw a movie poster for The Real Rock N Rolla and it all came to me in a flash! BIOPICS! ACTION BIOPICS! Biopics are already bullshit as it is. When history meets entertainment, shit goes in the face! Why?! Because it's about selling tickets, so everything is bullshit exaggeration and stupid love stories and yelling and fucking and crazy deals and arch-nemeses and punching... but not that much punching. If biopics were going to be accurate, they would just be people grocery shopping and taking dumps and complaining about coworkers and getting drunk and masturbating. It's all a lie. So fuck it!

ACTION BIOPICS are a mash up of the two genres that need to fuck each other up the most! As long as so-and-so didn't actually say what to whom, let's make them at least engage in combat! Right?! Johann Sebastian Bach is way more interesting firing an AK-47 at Nazis down the steps of the Colosseum! Sir Lancelot has a hard on for Harleys and dynamite! Darwin was all about anal sex and machetes!! When Franz Kafka killed the giant crab monster with his electro powers in order to save the good people of Duluth, he had no idea his welcoming committee would transform into blood thirsty wendigos at sun down! Emily Brontë beating the shit out of Edgar Degas with a mace on top of the Great White Pyramid in order to save the secrets of the Egyptian gods??! Way better!!!

Chah-Ching!!! Helloooooooooo money!!! Now will someone please fucking finance my shit?! I'm going to make us all fucking stinking bloody rich.


Friday, January 23, 2009

I've seen a Manneken-Pis in Barcelona, but I ain't never seen an elephant-zzzzZZZZ

I haven't been posting for a while because, frankly, I've been pooping. Pooping! Europe is the Konditorei of toilets. They have it all, for every occasion. How do you want it? Do you want to sit while you pee? Do you want to sift? Do you want to take a minute and look (i.e. smell) at your poopies? Maybe poke 'em a bit? Give them a grand sending? Smash the champagne on the mighty porcelain cruise liner? Maybe you just want to squat and drop bombs over a saucy hole in the floor. Splash backs welcome!

Now that I'm back here all I want in life are toilets. Fuck everything! Toilets! Toiiilettss!!!! I don't even want furniture anymore. I'm going back to america and gutting that shit and putting toilets in every room of the house. Oh you want to cook a meal? NO!!! TOILETS!!! Laundry?! TOOIIIILLEEETTTTTSSS!!!!! Other benefits come with shitting all day for a living (because really, what else is there to do, Mr. Shithouse?!) Unwanted relatives stay away, thieves aren't that fucking stupid, and giant rats are cute! Fuck it! Right? Yes, that's right. You love toilets! Use tongue. Whisper softly. Start adding on to your fucking houses, assholes, cause it's baby toilets time. Forever.

Oh, and P.S., I'm traveling in Europe. Wish you were here!

Sunday, January 4, 2009


As we desperately approach the fateful year of slowly runny bowels and quickly singeing armpit hair brought to us lovingly by those wacky mayans, one can't help but think, "boy! Gee oh boy-o! They just thought uh ever'thing, now, di'n't they!" But, really! It's 2009, right? Why wait? Why not just go watch the movie about it all this year (starring John Cusack! Ooh! Hearts on fire!!) right? Why? Cause fucking get over it, that's why. If it makes you feel better you can go to CostCo after the credits and stock up on water... hella water. Water's gonna be the new currency... cause money's gonna go up to heaven... cause heaven needs a bail out. At this rate 2012's gonna need a bail out too, along with smartypantsery. RIGHT?!

Oh, and can Wells Fargo please bring back the tradition of shipping everyone a naked cherub in a wooden crate for the new year? Top hats welcome!