…you’re always seeing all these movies about time travel where somebody goes back and steals some invention to make themselves rich…have you ever thought that maybe the founders of google actually are from the future and stole google from the guy who really was going to create google…
..is acid rain still a thing, or is it once again safe for me and my supple epidermis to frolic about during a summer shower….
….what’s the difference between swine flu and bird flu…i’ll tell you…you need an oinkment for swine flu and a tweetment for bird flu…
…first i stole his money clip then i stole his honey dip…are those rap lyrics…if not, and you are a rapper, you’re welcome…just give me a cut of the songwriting credits……..
..i’m pretty sure my neighbor is torturing a cat or something…but i have no way to prove it…
….i’m worried that someday a guy with a peg leg will move in above me….
conversation…..someone who isn’t me: i’m leaving for texas in a few days…
other guy: texas, that’s cool man. where is that…….
someone who isn’t me: you’re asking where texas is…….
other guy: (holding out hand) yeah, like if my hand was a map of the united states, point to where it would be…..
…..other guy has lived in america for 47 years………
….a few years ago, during my influential run as a pizza delivery driver, a coworker nicknamed me “the doberman”……possibly because of my fierce, aggressive attitude and germanic ancestry……or maybe because back then i was always drinking from toilets and humping people’s legs………..
thanks for reading this. adios.
The following interview took place in a room a few days ago during a thundery March day, on a spread of rare, expensive animal pelts. Succulent incense burned in the background, stimulating the olfactory sensations of all present, while soft, sitar-based music only added to the mood. The interviewer – the writer of this Blog – me. The interviewee – the writer of this Blog – me. Let’s take a look and see what happened.
Michael: I like to start off all my interviews with this question, what-
Michael: Michael, may I interject? All of your interviews? You’ve never interviewed anyone before.
Michael: That’s not true, I interviewed Louis Byrd for that journalism class last spring.
Michael: Was that the one where you were supposed to come up with insightful, character-revealing questions and you ended up asking him what flavor of Skittle he would be, and what his favorite super power was, and then, when you turned it in, the teacher told you it was terrible and that you had to do it over?
Michael: That would be the one.
Michael: That’s what I thought. And, by the way, did you know that the red Skittle is actually strawberry, and not cherry? I didn’t even know that until I had been an avid Skittle eater for about five years.
Michael: Yeah that’s crazy. It totally changed the way I thought about strawberries. It’s like I have more respect for them now or something.
Michael: I remember being a little kid, getting a fresh bag of Skittles, then dividing all the flavors into seperate piles, and creating different concoctions by combining them. But I always saved a few from the red pile so I could eat them last.
Michael: Yeah, I know.
Michael: Oh yeah, of course you do! But still, wasn’t it great?
Michael: I feel like we’re getting off topic here. What is your worst fear?
Michael: I think you know the answer to that question.
Michael: I do.
Michael: Then what’s the point of asking it?
Michael: There is a very redundant haze around this whole interview, isn’t there? Tell me about your childhood.
Michael: Well, I already told you that Skittle story. Not much else happened. I ate a lot of Skittles.
Michael: Yeah, you did. Describe yourself in three words.
Michael: Hmmm, that’s a tough one. How about this – Dominant force, wrecking ball, fire-breathing cyclone of all-encompassing, earth-shattering pestilence.
Michael: I guess I’ll accept that.
Michael: You can, and you will.
Michael: I shall, and I have. Where did you get that shirt?
Michael: Uh, I’m not wearing one. You told me not to.
Michael: That is correct. Moving along, what is your favorite word?
Michael: No it isn’t.
Michael: Yeah, you’re right. How about this – I’m going to turn the table and start asking you questions. Just who the hell do you think you are?
Michael: To be quite frank, I think you and I are a lot alike. Some might even say we are the same person.
Michael: Touché. Well, this whole thing turned out to be pretty pointless then. You wanna make out a little?
Michael: I thought you’d never ask.
Michael: I’m gonna watch you pee later too.
And that’s where I’m gonna have to cut this off. What happens after that doesn’t need to be seen by anyone, anywhere.
Well, I’ve been doing this Blog thing a little while now, and I feel I can finally open up and share with the readers my deepest, dirtiest, sauciest secret. This won’t be easy for me to do, but here goes. Back in 2007, in a drunken rage, I kil- oh, hold on, I just drank a ton of water. I gotta piss on a racehorse…………………………………………………………….annnnd..back. Anyways, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Drunken rage. 2007. I went down to the kitchen, grabbed a dull butter knife, and stab- crap, hold on, guess I wasn’t finished, gotta piss on a racehorse again………….ok. Here we go, back to the secret. Wait, this is starting to bug me. Why do peope always urinate on racehorses when they have to go really bad anyways? I never understood that. Plus it’s actually hard to pee on a racehorse. I don’t have anything to stand on, so I kind of have to aim up and push really hard if I want to hit him right in the ribs. I tried standing on top of the horse one time, but it kept moving around, then it got really slippery up there, so I got down and worked the hooves for a while. Anyways, the secret. Wait, do racehorses derive sustenance from human urine? Is that why everyone is doing it? But it’s still eating hay and oats, so does it really need my ropy, golden strands of superfluous liquid drenching it every time I down a bottle of water? Is it more of an indulgence for them? Like chocolate? It’s gotta be getting something out of it, otherwise keeping a racehorse around just so you can pee on it all the time isn’t very economically sound. I’m afraid to stop soaking it because I don’t want to anger my equidaem friend by denying it vital nutrients. Maybe it’s like broccoli, no one really likes it, but its good for you. Because the racehorse kind of gets that scrunched up look in its face when I’m doing it, a lot like when a little kid is being forced to eat broccoli. I mean, we use their manure as fertilizer, so is it a two way street? Their solid waste feeds our vegetables, and our liquid output feeds their insides. Is that what’s happening here? Sounds logical. I’m looking in your direction, science. What’s the deal? What was I even talking about? I gotta go talk to somebody about this.
Blong (Blog Song). Frank Zappa – Peaches en Regalia.
…why would you ever buy a fancy car….you can’t see yourself driving it…tell your friends to buy fancy cars, it will save you money and there will be fancy cars for you to look at when you’re on the road….
…i’m trying to become more flexible by watching stretching programs for old people on public access….all that has happened so far is my body makes weird popping noises…and i still can’t touch my toes….
…i know a guy who once went to alaska just for the halibut…
…i have no clue what is happening in egypt and wisconsin right now…
…last week a guy asked me how i could survive by eating so little….i had just finished a pound of chili and a baggie of chips and 32oz. of gatorade….he was cooking a family size bag of fried chicken to go with his box of zebra cakes and two liter bottle of mountain dew…
…a few weeks back i was giving a janitor a ride from target to the bus stop…he informed me halfway through the ride that he just got out of prison…he assured me he wasn’t a mean person, he was quote “just selling drugs and sh*t”….i’m not sure what the “sh*t” part of that statement meant…..
….a few weeks before that a woman walking in front of me to go into the library was asking someone on her cell phone how the library worked and how she would know what book to get, how much she would have to pay and then where to pay it….she was at least 40…she walked right by the library entrance and went into the wrong building….
….these people walk among us…
…i went to sleep with a notebook open to a blank page next to my bed…when i awoke the next day i had at some point written “**RECIPE** two burgers with mashed potatoes and gravy in between” on the page….i’m going to give it a try….
that’s all i’ve got
When times get hard, there are two options:
1. You can feel sorry for yourself, and try to bring everyone on Facebook down to your level with depressing status updates, or
2. You can have an attitude that says “Hey world, here I am, here’s my chest. Go ahead, take a nice, steamy dump on it. Doesn’t bother me a lick. I can always shower later.”
I believe that option #2 works better. I like to tell the world, “Here are my hopes and dreams, what do you think? Hey, what are you doing? My dreams are not toilet paper. Are you really gonna wipe your – awwww, you did. Ah well, I’ll have some new dreams when I go to sleep tonight!” You know, stuff like that. Keep it positive. Throwing your aspirations out there, and then being like, “This is what I would like to do with my life. I would like to – HEY! Are you using my aspirations as a pooper scooper? Yes, I realize Fido is a hungry little fella, but did you have to deflower my aspirations with his excrement? Oh, okay, you did. Are you sure? You are. Alright, I guess the beauty of your yard is more important. I’ll hose my aspirations off later.”
Let the positivity envelope you. Go ahead, send a cover letter to that company with the job opening. Tell them about all the professional goals you have – “Here is what I learned in school. I, uh, wait, are you unzipping your pants? Are you hearing what I am saying right now? Hello? Okay, you are now urinating on my goals. Kind of rude. But anyways, I think I could be a good fit – alright, you are now sticking your finger down your throat. Why would you do that? Oh, I see. You wanted to add some vomit in with the urine. Real mature. And you are now defecating onto the concontion. Well sir, someone already did that on my chest earlier, so that actually doesn’t bother me. Good day to you.”
Yes, good things will come. Why not tell the world all about your thirst for success? “Yes, I may lack experience, but I assure you that, uh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice every time I say something, you roll your eyes and make the “jack-off” motion with your hand. That is just the height of disrespect. I didn’t want to work here anyways.”
So there you have it. Keep an optimistic attitude, and you shall garner the prosperity that you crave. Sure, you’ll get urinated, crapped, and vomited on, but one day, maybe a long time from now, you will arrive at that lusted-after goal, covered in feces and various other bodily fluids, and stinking to High Heaven. You may possibly even be too ill from all the bacteria and disease that reside in those bodily fluids to enjoy landing on the summit of your hopes and dreams, but that’s just one of life’s funny jokes. Nature is one of earth’s greatest comedians. Now go out there and get it!
Blong. One of the wisest teachers I’ve had once said “Jazz is not to be listened to before 9pm.” Well once 9pm rolls around, get your jazz listening done with, and then go ahead and pop in the album Untrue by Burial. It’s wonderful nighttime music. You can also listen to it when it’s foggy out. Burial – Etched Headplate, off of Untrue.