It ain't so easy as it once was. I like the stuff that scratches your head and says "WHA WHA?" But then there are times when you just have to go out and buy something. There are drugs. For that. And for that. Brock Moore.
I do so wish you'd kwiddit. I do so wish that it was as easy as saying yea or nay or "Mike Hagan."
Either way, I'm still going to lay in the bed with my pants off and touch it.
My hair looks like my dog's dick hair.
Sometimes, if you get a good deal, you can buy a human girl for thirty dollars and have your way with her. But the thing about that is this: she don't gotta pretend like a girl does that you just bought some food to eat for?
You only get seven characters on your license plate. Right.
Ain't vocal. Ain't pretty. Ain't that a shame. Ain't got one. Ain't never been like it should be.
The Cigarettes Get Yourself Something To Eat
1.We're Glad You're Dead 2.Leave Love Alone 3.One Of Which Must Be A Girl 4.In Your Very Own City 5.Heart, The Band, Not The Organ, Not The Band With An Organ 6.Bitten Off Often 7.Nearly Got It In My Mouth 8.How Can You Think That Of Me? 9.Morrissey Songs Are Often Complete Sentences, A Trend Which Has Been Echoed By Many. 10.Last Song Ever
If you can find a greater fictional record in the planet which is this planet we piss all over, I'll buy you a keg of beer, Michael J.
I feel like the matted shit around a rodent's ass for not blogging in so long. I truly do. I'm gonna do it now, though. If only to make myself feel better. Here's A Bunch Of Shit I Wrote On A Napkin At Work. Not to be confused with the Tater's Buncha Stuff appetizer sampler. Please do not confuse them.
1. I've never seen a tattoo on a man's leg that looks good.
2. It is now easier than ever to judge a book by it's cover.
3.Why do some middle aged women do the tight curly short hair thing? That never looks good.
4. Invariably, certain very skinny men will marry very fat women. There is nothing to be done for this.
5. People's walks reveal nearly everything you need to know about them.
6. Some people are very close to be midgets, but they are slightly too tall to be eligible. Having escaped midgetdom, they almost always are the nicest, most loving people in the world. Because they caught a break. Befriend a near-midget today.
7. Some girls cling to cuteness by a thread. These girls are always, ALWAYS safe bets for marriage, but excercise caution, as they could cross to the dark side at any moment.
8. I'm not sure where some middle aged women buy their pants.
9. Different styles of breasts have been popular at different times throughout history. Keep tabs on the current breast trends, girls, as yours could be next.
10. Though I have actively tried to find reasons, Creedence Clearwater Revival simply make it imposible to fully hate them.
11. Technically, sex standing up does not count as getting laid. Technically.
Fuck me in the ass this coffee cake my mom made is good! This shit should be sold in stores!
I'm coming out of blog-tirement to say 2 things.
1. Sure, I'm happy for them and all, but I'm really not buying this whole Cathy/Irving marriage. Y'know, in the comic strip? It just seems like she's settling for second best. And that's sad.
2. Be on the lookout for the following Phenomenal Pop Prodution soon to be playing a club near you (as long as you live in Decatur, IL)... Nick Stolle and Warren Brinegar are...
are...
are...
NICK FICTION AND BREAKIN' NEWS - THE HUMAN TRACTORS!
You ain't seen shit til you seen it, you ain't heard shit til you heard it.
I make an ass of myself when there's a dog present. I think people love dogs so much because we're free to treat them the way that we'd like to be able to treat people we love, without the embarassment. Dogs don't understand that love is a shameful thing that is to be supressed, so they don't know that when people grab them and rub their bellies and go, "Who's a little buddy?! Who's a little buddy what's all covered in fur? Is it you? Is it you?" that that person is more than likely a closeted homosexual.
I don't know what I'm talking about. This is why I don't blog so much anymore. Whenever I sit down and write, it don't be makin' no damned sense. It's the mescaline, I know it is, but I'm just not ready to quit.
There will be a new Josh Rouse album in stores February 22nd. I gon' buy that shit with money I earned at my job. There will be Josh Rouse the human man performing songs at a bar in Chicago on April 1st. I gon' be at that shit.
Me and Warren prank called people last night. It made me feel like I was twelve. Minus the debilitating shyness, weight problem, and constant, painful erections. SBC Ameritech will rue the day they gave us phone service. This is what we did:
We called a few establishments. First was the InternationalHOP. I introduced myself as "the white haired lady" and told them that I was going to "lose it" if I didn't get some more pancakes.
This makes no sense to you, I'm sure. For further information on why this is funny, read the story "Silly Bitch Loses It At IHOP" in the January 9th issue of TIME magazine.
Then we called Steak and Shake. When they answered, we cranked Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop (Til You Get Enough)" on the stereo and danced and yelled shit like, "Yeah!! Party! We got Steak and Shake on the phone!! Whoo!!"
Then we called another Steak and Shake and did the exact same thing.
Then we called Jimmy Johns and placed a "delivery order." When the nice man on the phone asked what I wanted, me and Warren both exclaimed, "ROCK!" and cranked Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again On My Own." Good clean fun.
But we could not be stopped. We went out to my car, got in it, drove to the nearest gas station, robbed it, shot the attendent, raped him post-humously, spent most of the money on joints dipped in embalming fluid, smoked them, got crazy as shit, tore off a great deal of each others skin (we could not feel pain), ate a human baby, and then went to bed.
This computer would have me know that I do not exist. I have no email. Nobody has commented on my blog in the last two weeks. Such is the way of things.
I am at the WAND news station. I am here because Warren is here. Warren is here because he works here. He is working currently. It's midnightish. I'm typing on the computer and eating a Jimmy Johns sandwich and listening to a police scanner. It's very entertaining, the computer, sandwich, police scanner combo. They are the only three things I need in life.
There was just a "loud music complaint" on the police scanner.
Why are the people who win prizes on the radio so unenthused? Everytime I'm listening to WDKR, home of "Oh Wow! Wednesday", and somebody wins a Rascals box set or other such shit, this is how the conversation goes...
"This is Ian Grinestaff's dad, you're caller number five!!"
"...'kay."
"Congratulations! Who we got here?!"
"... ... ...Monica."
"Well, Monica, you just won The Mamas and The Papas Are Alternately Fat and Thin box set! Whatcha think about that??!?!?!!!!!!!!!1111111112334789"
Why are these people not flipping the hell out? They just received a free prize! THE prize! There's nothing better in this life than winning the prize. That's what life's about. Prizes.
There wa a big black man KA-AAHing like a bird at the mall today. We're pretty sure he was full on drugs. He had eaten too many and gotten a belly ache.
