And Now Something We Can All Relate To:

A SCRIPT:

TATIANA: Hello.
JOHN: Why are you there?
THOM: Oh my SHIT!
TATIANA: FUUUUUUCK!!!!!
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!
TATIANA: What?!
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.
THOM: Oh my MOTHER FUCKER!
TATIANA: DIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!!
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.
HOGAN: YOU LIKE THIS!!!
TATIANA: Whisper to me!
ROSALIN: you like this.
JOHN: Oh MAN!
THOM: Oh my DICK!
TATIANA: PUUUUUUUUUSSY!!!!!
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?
JOHN: KEEP SUCKING!!!!
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!!!!!!!
JOHN: DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!
TATIANA: When we✌re 80 we'll talk about this and animate this andzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZ...

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.

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

BUY IT!!!

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.

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.

Regularations

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
Fuck!!!!
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!!!!
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!

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?

Conversations Between Me and Mr. Sunshine

IN ONE ACT

MR. SUNSHINE enters stage left.

MR. SUNSHINE: - BRIGHT BRIGHT BRIGHT BRIGHT!!!!

ME - FUCK! I CAN'T FUCKING SEE SHIT!!!

MR. SUNSHINE - STARE STARE STARE STARE STARE!!!!!

ME - IT BUUUUUURNSSS!!!!!!!!!!!

MR. SUNSHINE - PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH!!!!!!

ME - HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT??!! THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!

SCENE

Epilogue: Oh what a wonderful day!

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...