8.30.06
3:08 PM
You know those petulant, sharp faces that peer at you from advertisements for clothing and products that you will never be able to afford? Well I met them today.
I had an audition at House (the production house on the absolute Western edge of Manhattan) and, at the same time, they were holding some sort of model audition. People, it was sexy/creepy. I felt like I was 6’1 and in a beautiful porno. It was a good way to start Wednesday.
After I got home I watched Le Samourai, a French film about an assassin that follows the code of Bushido. It was interesting to see an assassin movie without huge special effects or Sylvester Stallone. Not the best assassin movie I’ve ever seen, but it was good.
Aside from all this, I am feeling rumpled today. I’d like to be in a soundproof room without windows right now and not at this broken down Hospital populated by overloud stereotypes.
Why must stereotypes be so loud? That is a puzzler. Maybe they think that if they’re loud, people will think they are real and not just annoying shadows of the Real. If they think at all that is. Maybe there is some sort of hive mind. Like squirrels. Loud, stupid squirrels.
I wrote a song the other day. Usually when I do that, it remains at 4% completion: written but nothing else. This one reached at least 10% before I gave up on it. I have the melody for the first four lines and a few demos recorded of different ways to go about it. It might go further, it might not. On the upside, it is very easy to get a myspace musicians page.
Who knows.
May the grace of God deliver me from my enemies.
8.30.2006
8.28.2006
Jodie Foster will kill the President for me.
8.28.06
4:01 PM
What an interesting weekend. Saturday started with me at Ray’s to record some very badly written voiceover for some shitty product called TagAlert. Ray and I ended up rewriting most of it. After that was Lauren’s Birthday Extravaganza. It started with dinner in the Rape Zone at a place called The Park. During dinner, Angelica (who is a third year med student) told me about a 395 pound illegal immigrant woman whose surgery she had to assist with. Now, we’ve all seen doctor movies where people assist with surgery by handing people things, wiping sweat off people’s brows etc, for this particular surgery, Ange had to be a human brace for this woman’s fat rolls. This consisted of her throwing her body over the bulk of this leviathan and using HER WHOLE BODY to hold the rolls back. The surgeon planned to remove a 25 pound, 2 foot long, 6 inch thick strip of fat from this woman’s midsection because that would give her enough mobility to (hopefully) start exercising and lose some weight. Anyway, the doctor that performed the surgery had a pretty sick sense of humor. He was overheard saying things like, “Naw, she’s too skinny for me”, “I would totally hit that” and other colorful phrases. At the end of the 8 hour procedure, the presiding surgeon told the nurses to get a baby scale because he wanted to know how much he had removed. At that point, he HEAVED the 25 pound carpet of fat at the assisting surgeon and said, “That’s your girlfriend.” After this 8 hour period pressed against this open tub of guts, she was covered in blood and fat, and then, had to push an old Black man’s anus back into his rectum. This all happen in one 26 hour shift. A post script I must add: three weeks later, the woman (who was supposed to come back every three days for check ups) returned with a massive infection and Ange had to assist to removal of several more pounds of infected tissue, fat and pus from this woman’s stomach.
After she told me this story, I immediately ordered a crème brule and said I wanted to be a doctor. She informed me that I don’t. I paused, thought about it and decided she was right, I didn’t want to be a doctor, I wanted to recount her doctor stories to everyone I know.
And I will.
Once dinner ended, Lauren demanded we go to Red Rocks since Ange and I had ruined her dessert (it was an apple cobbler that began to look a lot like infected tissue, fat and pus once Ange’s story continued…). I was told it was a biker bar without bikers.
Hm, I thought, hm.
Inside we saw scantily clad biker bitch bartenders doing strange things with dildo guns. The less said the better.
Now, concurrent with these events, Christina was at the wrap party for the movie she has been working on. It was happening in Pressure, a club right above Bowlmore Lanes…where the third phase of Lauren’s Birthday Extravaganza was to take place. Once we arrived at the bowling alley, I was informed that it would be a 45 minute wait for a lane. I decided to meet Chris at the party. She escorted me in, offered me champagne, caviar, and anything I wanted from the lobster, meat or sundae bars. I was impressed…a little. The first thing I noticed was the Karaoke.
Now, I don’t do Karaoke. I don’t do Karaoke because I can’t sing very well and because I can’t see the huge fucking screen with the lyrics. I have done it twice before in my life, (both times with songs I knew by heart) sober on MTV’s Say What? Karaoke (Eminem’s “My Name Is”) and drunk at Heather DuChame’s graduation party (Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”). I don’t know why I wanted to do it now, maybe because Chris seemed a bit bored/isolated at the party, maybe because I thought the people up there sucked or maybe because I didn’t know any of these people and Chris was never going to see them again after this week so I figured I would blow their minds a little and give them a glimpse of the Paulitosphere. Whatever the case, Christina was VERY uncomfortable about the idea of me getting up and doing Karaoke by myself. I mean, she knows maybe a dozen people on this film and I ‘m her guest, you know? So I suggested we sing something together. After a quick perusal of their selection, we noticed that it sucked…then we found “Take Your Mama” by the Scissor Sisters.
Long story short…we quickly gained the approval of the audience and were told we had to go back up. After deciding upon “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror, we did. After that performance (which Jodie Foster witnessed in a state comprised half of trepidation and half of sheer, animalistic lust) we left the stage, never to return again…or did we? Again we were told to return to the stage and we closed our mndfucking set with the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout”. I screamed a lot.
Other highlights from that evening included seeing Jodie Foster’s drunken stunt double (as in her stunt double was drunk, not the stunt double used specifically for when Jodie Foster’s character is drunk…) sing “My Sherona”, seeing two people from the locations department sing “Fuck Her Gently”, scaring Jodie Foster away after “Time Warp” (she was going to sing right after us and backed down but came back a song later and did “Break Another Little Piece of My Heart” by Janis Joplin with a Cosmopolitan in her hand. It was adorable.), finding out that all the Karaoke was being shown on huge projection screens all over the party and, finally, hearing Neil Jordan’s wife say she was going to contact the Coen Brothers to do a movie about us. That last one is a direct quote and, I think, the coolest fucking compliment I have ever received. Also, the Shirley Temples were excellent.
Sunday was spent recuperating, brunching with Chris and Kelly and watching “Mulholland Drive”. Afterwards, Chris blew the whole mystery open for us and now I love her even more.
This was one for the books, folks.
One for the Sexy Good Weekend books.
4:01 PM
What an interesting weekend. Saturday started with me at Ray’s to record some very badly written voiceover for some shitty product called TagAlert. Ray and I ended up rewriting most of it. After that was Lauren’s Birthday Extravaganza. It started with dinner in the Rape Zone at a place called The Park. During dinner, Angelica (who is a third year med student) told me about a 395 pound illegal immigrant woman whose surgery she had to assist with. Now, we’ve all seen doctor movies where people assist with surgery by handing people things, wiping sweat off people’s brows etc, for this particular surgery, Ange had to be a human brace for this woman’s fat rolls. This consisted of her throwing her body over the bulk of this leviathan and using HER WHOLE BODY to hold the rolls back. The surgeon planned to remove a 25 pound, 2 foot long, 6 inch thick strip of fat from this woman’s midsection because that would give her enough mobility to (hopefully) start exercising and lose some weight. Anyway, the doctor that performed the surgery had a pretty sick sense of humor. He was overheard saying things like, “Naw, she’s too skinny for me”, “I would totally hit that” and other colorful phrases. At the end of the 8 hour procedure, the presiding surgeon told the nurses to get a baby scale because he wanted to know how much he had removed. At that point, he HEAVED the 25 pound carpet of fat at the assisting surgeon and said, “That’s your girlfriend.” After this 8 hour period pressed against this open tub of guts, she was covered in blood and fat, and then, had to push an old Black man’s anus back into his rectum. This all happen in one 26 hour shift. A post script I must add: three weeks later, the woman (who was supposed to come back every three days for check ups) returned with a massive infection and Ange had to assist to removal of several more pounds of infected tissue, fat and pus from this woman’s stomach.
After she told me this story, I immediately ordered a crème brule and said I wanted to be a doctor. She informed me that I don’t. I paused, thought about it and decided she was right, I didn’t want to be a doctor, I wanted to recount her doctor stories to everyone I know.
And I will.
Once dinner ended, Lauren demanded we go to Red Rocks since Ange and I had ruined her dessert (it was an apple cobbler that began to look a lot like infected tissue, fat and pus once Ange’s story continued…). I was told it was a biker bar without bikers.
Hm, I thought, hm.
Inside we saw scantily clad biker bitch bartenders doing strange things with dildo guns. The less said the better.
Now, concurrent with these events, Christina was at the wrap party for the movie she has been working on. It was happening in Pressure, a club right above Bowlmore Lanes…where the third phase of Lauren’s Birthday Extravaganza was to take place. Once we arrived at the bowling alley, I was informed that it would be a 45 minute wait for a lane. I decided to meet Chris at the party. She escorted me in, offered me champagne, caviar, and anything I wanted from the lobster, meat or sundae bars. I was impressed…a little. The first thing I noticed was the Karaoke.
Now, I don’t do Karaoke. I don’t do Karaoke because I can’t sing very well and because I can’t see the huge fucking screen with the lyrics. I have done it twice before in my life, (both times with songs I knew by heart) sober on MTV’s Say What? Karaoke (Eminem’s “My Name Is”) and drunk at Heather DuChame’s graduation party (Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”). I don’t know why I wanted to do it now, maybe because Chris seemed a bit bored/isolated at the party, maybe because I thought the people up there sucked or maybe because I didn’t know any of these people and Chris was never going to see them again after this week so I figured I would blow their minds a little and give them a glimpse of the Paulitosphere. Whatever the case, Christina was VERY uncomfortable about the idea of me getting up and doing Karaoke by myself. I mean, she knows maybe a dozen people on this film and I ‘m her guest, you know? So I suggested we sing something together. After a quick perusal of their selection, we noticed that it sucked…then we found “Take Your Mama” by the Scissor Sisters.
Long story short…we quickly gained the approval of the audience and were told we had to go back up. After deciding upon “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror, we did. After that performance (which Jodie Foster witnessed in a state comprised half of trepidation and half of sheer, animalistic lust) we left the stage, never to return again…or did we? Again we were told to return to the stage and we closed our mndfucking set with the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout”. I screamed a lot.
Other highlights from that evening included seeing Jodie Foster’s drunken stunt double (as in her stunt double was drunk, not the stunt double used specifically for when Jodie Foster’s character is drunk…) sing “My Sherona”, seeing two people from the locations department sing “Fuck Her Gently”, scaring Jodie Foster away after “Time Warp” (she was going to sing right after us and backed down but came back a song later and did “Break Another Little Piece of My Heart” by Janis Joplin with a Cosmopolitan in her hand. It was adorable.), finding out that all the Karaoke was being shown on huge projection screens all over the party and, finally, hearing Neil Jordan’s wife say she was going to contact the Coen Brothers to do a movie about us. That last one is a direct quote and, I think, the coolest fucking compliment I have ever received. Also, the Shirley Temples were excellent.
Sunday was spent recuperating, brunching with Chris and Kelly and watching “Mulholland Drive”. Afterwards, Chris blew the whole mystery open for us and now I love her even more.
This was one for the books, folks.
One for the Sexy Good Weekend books.
8.25.2006
Like a handjob for a cancer patient...
Not really, but I've had that one in there all day.
Had a bad day folks. Spent most of my time at work with the phone off and the switchboard on mute.
Cut myself a bit. The Nextel thing was released so I figured I'd release some blood as a fair trade. Haven't done THAT since, like 7th grade. I will say there was a sense of relief though. Wonder why that is? I should ask a psychologist.
I am about to eat Chinese food (steamed dumplings and chicken fried rice) and watch some mindless movie.
I will then go to bed.
Had a bad day folks. Spent most of my time at work with the phone off and the switchboard on mute.
Cut myself a bit. The Nextel thing was released so I figured I'd release some blood as a fair trade. Haven't done THAT since, like 7th grade. I will say there was a sense of relief though. Wonder why that is? I should ask a psychologist.
I am about to eat Chinese food (steamed dumplings and chicken fried rice) and watch some mindless movie.
I will then go to bed.
8.21.2006
I have no patient here by that name.
8.21.06
9:39 PM
Excellent dance with creativity today. Lisa, Becca, Kelly and I thought up an idea of Friday and I’ve been fleshing it out since. Ray is going to shoot and edit the project and anyone who is interested is welcome to be a part of it. I think that Alan, Gia and Mel would work well on this. Anyway, I just finished the first/final draft (depending on what we think of it) and I’m going to send it out tonight.
Sunday was a looong day. Chris and I woke and took a train to New Haven, Connecticut to meet up with Will, Megan and Drew…to see what will soon be dubbed the biggest grossing movie of all time…Snakes On A Plane.
It is everything the title promises. It is gold and silver and diamonds.
See it or be lost.
After that I had some pizza that made me ejaculate and then Will drove us back towards NYC although we had to get out on 171st street and Webster in the Bronx. I felt the bullets aimed at me. Then I watched the William Shatner roast on Comedy Central at Alan’s. Character assassination xmax.
I think that’s all for right now.
On the other side of the room I am hearing the laziest of the lazy security guards standing in the office talking about how they should get more for doing less. I completely agree with the concept, just not for these assholes. They sound like little girls who have dropped their ice creams on the ground and want mommy to buy them more just because. Jesus. I wish the Mafia would swing by and drop some Hoffa on these pussies.
Anyway, yeah.
Hm. Interesting. Gia just called. She is watching Rocky in Bryant Park, drunk and willing to participate in The Modern Actor’s Guide To Auditioning Or What Never to Do If You Want To Be A Successful Actor (that’s the title of our magnum opus). Magnum, baby. Magnum opus inflagrante delecto xmax.
Opus.
Exit.
9:39 PM
Excellent dance with creativity today. Lisa, Becca, Kelly and I thought up an idea of Friday and I’ve been fleshing it out since. Ray is going to shoot and edit the project and anyone who is interested is welcome to be a part of it. I think that Alan, Gia and Mel would work well on this. Anyway, I just finished the first/final draft (depending on what we think of it) and I’m going to send it out tonight.
Sunday was a looong day. Chris and I woke and took a train to New Haven, Connecticut to meet up with Will, Megan and Drew…to see what will soon be dubbed the biggest grossing movie of all time…Snakes On A Plane.
It is everything the title promises. It is gold and silver and diamonds.
See it or be lost.
After that I had some pizza that made me ejaculate and then Will drove us back towards NYC although we had to get out on 171st street and Webster in the Bronx. I felt the bullets aimed at me. Then I watched the William Shatner roast on Comedy Central at Alan’s. Character assassination xmax.
I think that’s all for right now.
On the other side of the room I am hearing the laziest of the lazy security guards standing in the office talking about how they should get more for doing less. I completely agree with the concept, just not for these assholes. They sound like little girls who have dropped their ice creams on the ground and want mommy to buy them more just because. Jesus. I wish the Mafia would swing by and drop some Hoffa on these pussies.
Anyway, yeah.
Hm. Interesting. Gia just called. She is watching Rocky in Bryant Park, drunk and willing to participate in The Modern Actor’s Guide To Auditioning Or What Never to Do If You Want To Be A Successful Actor (that’s the title of our magnum opus). Magnum, baby. Magnum opus inflagrante delecto xmax.
Opus.
Exit.
8.17.2006
Sharon Stone is a bad actress.
8.17.06
8:07 PM
First off, Vault makes your teeth FUZZY with sugar. If you don’t brush within a few hours of consuming it, you will lose them forever. That stuff has enough sugar in it to power a 10-year old.
Next, I just ordered sushi. I. Ordered sushi.
World be comin’ to an end.
Today, I am tired. I awoke at 10 after a mere 6 hour respite in order to attend an audition for the Nextel Company. I shone as only the brightest star in the sky can and hopefully, they will see that and pay me a lot of money to do very little. Hopefully.
Tomorrow (since I am out of work at 7 rather than 11) I am going to bring Jacob’s Ladder over to Lisa’s and we (a whole bunch of ‘we’, I think) are going to watch it. What do you think of that? Ha. Stick that in your hat.
I am also a bit peeved because I had a good idea and now it is gone. Fucking hate that.
8:58 PM
Yum yum. Had a truly enjoyable sushi experience. California Rolls and Spicy Tuna Rolls xmax. Plus some nummy num num miso soup. They also gave me two fortune cookies.
I feel like Ice Cube.
8:07 PM
First off, Vault makes your teeth FUZZY with sugar. If you don’t brush within a few hours of consuming it, you will lose them forever. That stuff has enough sugar in it to power a 10-year old.
Next, I just ordered sushi. I. Ordered sushi.
World be comin’ to an end.
Today, I am tired. I awoke at 10 after a mere 6 hour respite in order to attend an audition for the Nextel Company. I shone as only the brightest star in the sky can and hopefully, they will see that and pay me a lot of money to do very little. Hopefully.
Tomorrow (since I am out of work at 7 rather than 11) I am going to bring Jacob’s Ladder over to Lisa’s and we (a whole bunch of ‘we’, I think) are going to watch it. What do you think of that? Ha. Stick that in your hat.
I am also a bit peeved because I had a good idea and now it is gone. Fucking hate that.
8:58 PM
Yum yum. Had a truly enjoyable sushi experience. California Rolls and Spicy Tuna Rolls xmax. Plus some nummy num num miso soup. They also gave me two fortune cookies.
I feel like Ice Cube.
8.16.2006
Coming to you, 1,000 beats per minute...
8.16.06
5:16 PM
In early 1997, the Coca-Cola Company released a new caffeine charged soft drink called Surge. It was the green of a cirrhosis patient’s piss and tasted like rotten fruit infused with ultrasugar.
I drank it like babies drink breast milk.
(For some reason or other) I stopped drinking it for a short period of time. After that period was over, I picked up a can, opened it and drank deep of the poison sweet within.
I never drank Surge again…until today.
Yesterday I picked up the 8th season of the Simpsons on DVD (my favorite season) and doing so spurred me to contact an old friend from high school, Sunir Joshi.
Hang on, that’s not fair.
Sunir and I were. It’s hard to describe and grasp. We just were. And now, like before, we just is. We just is SuPaul, we just is on this Web, still wondering who the Spider REALLY is (it might be Mr. Snow, but no one can really know for sure…), we just is not allowed to be in the same room as Phil and Will or everything will just not be.
He is about to become a doctor (Infant rape counselor, transsexual anal gynecologist, something along those lines) and that is more frightening than the idea of me babysitting visually impaired, pre-adolescent albino Negroes…..wait…
So we spoke for a bit yesterday and he told me that there is a new Coca-Cola “energy drink” out called Vault and that it reminded him of me as soon as he tried it. He told me to find some and find some I did. Ladies and gentlemen, Surge has returned Granted it is now called Vault and being marketed as an energy drink, but it’s Surge. It even comes in the same green bottle with the same black cap it used to. Those bastards. Filthy dog-fucking whoresons. I have promised not to play their game, but as I type this manifesto of rebellion, I am searching for a vein in which to stick the IV.
Hm.
Just kidding, this shit tastes worse than Surge. I don’t know if they altered the formula a bit or if it’s just what Surge tasted like all along. Yeech.
Changing the subject.
The plans for this weekend have been altered. I am joining Will, Will’s Ladyfriend Megan (maybe there’s an “h” in there, I don’t know but she strongly resembles Jessica Alba so does it really matter?) and Will’s brother, Dr. Drew, in New Haven, Connecticut for the best pizza in the galaxy (this is what Will has actually been working on since he graduated Harvard), something called a “double-fried donut” (which, if it’s anything like chicken-fried steak, I will have lots of and then experience chest pains and osmotic diarrhea) and a documentary about the increased number of reptiles in the field of aviation. It’s a think piece.
True, I won’t be able to see it with Bob Franklin, but maybe he and I can just hit a titty bar next time I go to D.C.
I bet he abuses strippers. It probably all starts out with him using his fame to get the best looking ones and then he jokingly grabs their throat, putting them on guard, but then he smiles his disarming, I-tamed-Madonna-with-this-smile smile and all is forgiven…until he pins their arms behind their head and then finishes the job. He’s probably got dozens of people to clean up his trail of dead prostitutes…
What price, fame?
Also caught the new Scissor Sisters video today. Funky, scary and fagtastic like all their stuff even though the song is a bit of a letdown when compared to their other singles.
And I have been a bad little consumer recently but, fuck, if I’m going to be dead before I’m 32, I am going to use the money I’ve accumulated over my time here. Seriously, what’s eight DVD’s in the grand scheme of things? Carpe diem! Memento mori! Vichyssoise! VICHYSSOISE!!!
S E G U E
Beck has put out quite a lot of his new album by either putting up tracks on his website or putting the videos (the album comes with a DVD containing videos for each of the 15 tracks) on his myspace page. The overall sound is funk like skunk, baby. There is a lot of his other albums’ sound on this one and I am just fine with that. He also seems to have done a lot of “rapping”. I call it “rapping” because it isn’t as idiotic as a lot of rappers out there rapping today. I should probably call it “talking fast with a set meter”. Yeah, there is a lot of talking fast with a set meter and it is blistering. After listening to some of these bits (the talking fast in a set meter bits) I hearken back to something Beck said about his relationship with lyrics in his music. He said something along the lines of the lyrics being the most and least important thing in his music. From anyone else that would sound conceited or stoned, but Beck not only professes it, he proves it. In fact, he fucking LIVES it. I mean, Midnite Vultures makes hardly a lick of sense, but it fits together like Tetris.
Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the Soviet embassy?
I saw “Capote” the other day.
Laughed my ass off.
I have a feeling that the length and…diffusion (?) of this entry might possibly in the slightest fashion be because of this foul green ichor I have introduced to my unsuspecting body.
Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy Vault from off my wang.
Like a chicken egg to the Gnome King…poison.
8:28 PM
Goodness gracious it has hit me!! Energy drink Xmax!!! Begin the procedure! Hit me with your rhythm stick and sew up the wounds will rain clouds.
I have the inside in my mouth and the dancers are all upstairs except for Joe who is renting the cabin on the third floor (beware the dripping faucet) and dodging the hair attacks when the loon coo coos at 6:35PM. Bad mojo, man. The baddest. Only you can prevent me from preventing forest fires and I ask politely that you don’t. Just let me be. Let me be.
Christ on horses my hands are shaking almost too much for me to communicate to you and the world just how FUCKED UP THIS DRINK IS!!!! IF WE FEED IT TO THE BABIES, THEY WILL DIE OF ANOREXIA AND OTHER DISEASES WITH "X"s IN THEM!!!!
THE
PHONE
IS
RING
It stopped.
IT FUCKING STOPPED!! GLORY BE THE PHONE IS RUNG OUT!
Leaping Jesus it’s like my brain is moving faster than my fingers. If only I had smarter fingers. They would know what to do. They would call someone in charge and report this heinous violation of finger policy. I could lose my finging license for this infraction. Back to the beginning!!! Cigarette smoke! This room smells like cigarette smoke and I can’t do a thing about it. Fire the cannons! YES! I sank your battleship and now I will sink your dream boat. Bam. Sweet, sweet candy. Bam. Touch it!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Chasing my thoughts down like Elmer Fudd.
Wow.
Okay.
Calm down.
I just took a few breaths of this nasty air (armpits…FOUL armpits) and it seems to have worked. I don’t know if this stuff it affecting me this way because I have only had a bowl of cereal today or because there is a lot of “energy” in the drink. Either way my tongue feels scummy. I plan not to drink this piddle again, even though this was a fun little waste of time. My food should be arriving soon and everything will stop blurring then…I hope.
Pray for my blood sugar.
5:16 PM
In early 1997, the Coca-Cola Company released a new caffeine charged soft drink called Surge. It was the green of a cirrhosis patient’s piss and tasted like rotten fruit infused with ultrasugar.
I drank it like babies drink breast milk.
(For some reason or other) I stopped drinking it for a short period of time. After that period was over, I picked up a can, opened it and drank deep of the poison sweet within.
I never drank Surge again…until today.
Yesterday I picked up the 8th season of the Simpsons on DVD (my favorite season) and doing so spurred me to contact an old friend from high school, Sunir Joshi.
Hang on, that’s not fair.
Sunir and I were. It’s hard to describe and grasp. We just were. And now, like before, we just is. We just is SuPaul, we just is on this Web, still wondering who the Spider REALLY is (it might be Mr. Snow, but no one can really know for sure…), we just is not allowed to be in the same room as Phil and Will or everything will just not be.
He is about to become a doctor (Infant rape counselor, transsexual anal gynecologist, something along those lines) and that is more frightening than the idea of me babysitting visually impaired, pre-adolescent albino Negroes…..wait…
So we spoke for a bit yesterday and he told me that there is a new Coca-Cola “energy drink” out called Vault and that it reminded him of me as soon as he tried it. He told me to find some and find some I did. Ladies and gentlemen, Surge has returned Granted it is now called Vault and being marketed as an energy drink, but it’s Surge. It even comes in the same green bottle with the same black cap it used to. Those bastards. Filthy dog-fucking whoresons. I have promised not to play their game, but as I type this manifesto of rebellion, I am searching for a vein in which to stick the IV.
Hm.
Just kidding, this shit tastes worse than Surge. I don’t know if they altered the formula a bit or if it’s just what Surge tasted like all along. Yeech.
Changing the subject.
The plans for this weekend have been altered. I am joining Will, Will’s Ladyfriend Megan (maybe there’s an “h” in there, I don’t know but she strongly resembles Jessica Alba so does it really matter?) and Will’s brother, Dr. Drew, in New Haven, Connecticut for the best pizza in the galaxy (this is what Will has actually been working on since he graduated Harvard), something called a “double-fried donut” (which, if it’s anything like chicken-fried steak, I will have lots of and then experience chest pains and osmotic diarrhea) and a documentary about the increased number of reptiles in the field of aviation. It’s a think piece.
True, I won’t be able to see it with Bob Franklin, but maybe he and I can just hit a titty bar next time I go to D.C.
I bet he abuses strippers. It probably all starts out with him using his fame to get the best looking ones and then he jokingly grabs their throat, putting them on guard, but then he smiles his disarming, I-tamed-Madonna-with-this-smile smile and all is forgiven…until he pins their arms behind their head and then finishes the job. He’s probably got dozens of people to clean up his trail of dead prostitutes…
What price, fame?
Also caught the new Scissor Sisters video today. Funky, scary and fagtastic like all their stuff even though the song is a bit of a letdown when compared to their other singles.
And I have been a bad little consumer recently but, fuck, if I’m going to be dead before I’m 32, I am going to use the money I’ve accumulated over my time here. Seriously, what’s eight DVD’s in the grand scheme of things? Carpe diem! Memento mori! Vichyssoise! VICHYSSOISE!!!
S E G U E
Beck has put out quite a lot of his new album by either putting up tracks on his website or putting the videos (the album comes with a DVD containing videos for each of the 15 tracks) on his myspace page. The overall sound is funk like skunk, baby. There is a lot of his other albums’ sound on this one and I am just fine with that. He also seems to have done a lot of “rapping”. I call it “rapping” because it isn’t as idiotic as a lot of rappers out there rapping today. I should probably call it “talking fast with a set meter”. Yeah, there is a lot of talking fast with a set meter and it is blistering. After listening to some of these bits (the talking fast in a set meter bits) I hearken back to something Beck said about his relationship with lyrics in his music. He said something along the lines of the lyrics being the most and least important thing in his music. From anyone else that would sound conceited or stoned, but Beck not only professes it, he proves it. In fact, he fucking LIVES it. I mean, Midnite Vultures makes hardly a lick of sense, but it fits together like Tetris.
Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the Soviet embassy?
I saw “Capote” the other day.
Laughed my ass off.
I have a feeling that the length and…diffusion (?) of this entry might possibly in the slightest fashion be because of this foul green ichor I have introduced to my unsuspecting body.
Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy Vault from off my wang.
Like a chicken egg to the Gnome King…poison.
8:28 PM
Goodness gracious it has hit me!! Energy drink Xmax!!! Begin the procedure! Hit me with your rhythm stick and sew up the wounds will rain clouds.
I have the inside in my mouth and the dancers are all upstairs except for Joe who is renting the cabin on the third floor (beware the dripping faucet) and dodging the hair attacks when the loon coo coos at 6:35PM. Bad mojo, man. The baddest. Only you can prevent me from preventing forest fires and I ask politely that you don’t. Just let me be. Let me be.
Christ on horses my hands are shaking almost too much for me to communicate to you and the world just how FUCKED UP THIS DRINK IS!!!! IF WE FEED IT TO THE BABIES, THEY WILL DIE OF ANOREXIA AND OTHER DISEASES WITH "X"s IN THEM!!!!
THE
PHONE
IS
RING
It stopped.
IT FUCKING STOPPED!! GLORY BE THE PHONE IS RUNG OUT!
Leaping Jesus it’s like my brain is moving faster than my fingers. If only I had smarter fingers. They would know what to do. They would call someone in charge and report this heinous violation of finger policy. I could lose my finging license for this infraction. Back to the beginning!!! Cigarette smoke! This room smells like cigarette smoke and I can’t do a thing about it. Fire the cannons! YES! I sank your battleship and now I will sink your dream boat. Bam. Sweet, sweet candy. Bam. Touch it!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Chasing my thoughts down like Elmer Fudd.
Wow.
Okay.
Calm down.
I just took a few breaths of this nasty air (armpits…FOUL armpits) and it seems to have worked. I don’t know if this stuff it affecting me this way because I have only had a bowl of cereal today or because there is a lot of “energy” in the drink. Either way my tongue feels scummy. I plan not to drink this piddle again, even though this was a fun little waste of time. My food should be arriving soon and everything will stop blurring then…I hope.
Pray for my blood sugar.
8.14.2006
A shoggoth says what?
8.14.06
3:35 PM
So, there is a severe lack of communication here at my job. The patients are old and Hispanic (mostly), the nurses are lazy and Haitian (mostly) and I am drunk and American (xmax). There is less of a “language barrier” thing and more of a “Tower of Babel on fire” thing going on. The patient is yelling something in Spanish and calls me, I call the nurse and they go to the patient, trying to soothe them by speaking Creole and, eventually, everything is all fucked up, linguistically speaking.
Anyway, one of the terrible aspects of my job is answering the phone and hearing “Skel bwa Ghana kelp hupy hooman resauces” because I know that that person will be interviewed, given a job and will one day end up on the other end of the phone with me trying their damnedest to impart a very important piece of information, something that might be the difference between a patient being DNR and NOT being DNR and then someone will die. I assume that the person hiring all these non and semiglots is either deaf or has a great sense of humor; whichever one it is, it falls to me to talk with them eventually and then I get depressed. I get depressed because I know that if I had simply hung up when I heard someone gargling with mud and then saying “hooman resauces”, I could have maybe saved a persons life.
You see? Communication saves lives.
Also, the new Beck album, “The Information”, is coming out October 2nd.
Whooty hoo.
3:35 PM
So, there is a severe lack of communication here at my job. The patients are old and Hispanic (mostly), the nurses are lazy and Haitian (mostly) and I am drunk and American (xmax). There is less of a “language barrier” thing and more of a “Tower of Babel on fire” thing going on. The patient is yelling something in Spanish and calls me, I call the nurse and they go to the patient, trying to soothe them by speaking Creole and, eventually, everything is all fucked up, linguistically speaking.
Anyway, one of the terrible aspects of my job is answering the phone and hearing “Skel bwa Ghana kelp hupy hooman resauces” because I know that that person will be interviewed, given a job and will one day end up on the other end of the phone with me trying their damnedest to impart a very important piece of information, something that might be the difference between a patient being DNR and NOT being DNR and then someone will die. I assume that the person hiring all these non and semiglots is either deaf or has a great sense of humor; whichever one it is, it falls to me to talk with them eventually and then I get depressed. I get depressed because I know that if I had simply hung up when I heard someone gargling with mud and then saying “hooman resauces”, I could have maybe saved a persons life.
You see? Communication saves lives.
Also, the new Beck album, “The Information”, is coming out October 2nd.
Whooty hoo.
8.12.2006
8.11.2006
8.10.06
3:32 PM
So I’m bored and reading the Post, sorry the Daily News and there is a headline “Perv loner had long rap sheet”. Can you guess why my eye was drawn to the piece? The only thing better than the headline was the first sentence “The fiend arrested for allegedly terrorizing young girls in a Queens neighborhood is a creepy ex-con plumber who lived alone in a basement.” The rest of the article is rather dark but the headline and opener are brilliant. That is all.
3:32 PM
So I’m bored and reading the Post, sorry the Daily News and there is a headline “Perv loner had long rap sheet”. Can you guess why my eye was drawn to the piece? The only thing better than the headline was the first sentence “The fiend arrested for allegedly terrorizing young girls in a Queens neighborhood is a creepy ex-con plumber who lived alone in a basement.” The rest of the article is rather dark but the headline and opener are brilliant. That is all.
8.08.2006
Spetznaz-29
8.8.06
4:35 PM
Today might be the return of the two hour lunch breaks….
The other day I was on the train with my headphones and they were doing a great job of isolating me. Between songs, there was a silence and I heard the words “pedophile filed”. Obviously I stopped my music and listened on. There was a man stalking up and down my Subway car holding out a newspaper to people and talking about how this guy molested a four year old girl ands then sued someone for calling him a pedophile or something along those lines. He asking people to rip up the newspaper with the story in it, I think. He was mostly intelligible, but not entirely. Anyway, he seemed upset at the whole thing and I concur.
On an unrelated note, the ATM (Automatic Teller Machine, not Ass To Mouth) here smells like Bumper Cars.
I plan to eat Sesame Chicken for dinner. Mmmmm…
Oh, and all of my “Taken From Me” videos have been viewed. Nine of them have single digit view numbers, but “Love” (the one co-starring Pinky) has 1,006 since last Friday. I guess it’s true that the Internet loves a dildo.
9:50 PM
I think I’ve just eaten the worst Chinese food in my life. Usually, Happy Wok (my source for Happy Chinese fun) is 90 to 100% each and every tyime I order from them, but today? The sesame chicken was dry and crackly; utterly unsatisfying. I threw mostofit away. The egg roll was sub par and THAT is always an affront to God. The only somewhat redeeming element of this meal was something I had never tried before. It was called “sliced BBQ pork roast pork” according to the menu, and when I first removed it from the bag my heart stopped. Imagine getting the typical clear, plastic tub usually reserved for soup, and finding it filled with ichor. Then, upon closer examination, you notice things floating in the ichor. Strips of flesh and strings of tendon seeming to twitch whilst suspended in this liquid that could only have come from another dimension…probably from beyond the stars. I was trepidacious, but it tasted just fine and for four dollars you apparently get a whole pig, so I have some left over if anyone is interested in coming over and tasting my Lovecraft pork.
What an unsatisfying meal. My tummy tum demands recompense! Dues must be paid!! The dragon must be sated!!! FUCK DA POLEESE!!!!
4:35 PM
Today might be the return of the two hour lunch breaks….
The other day I was on the train with my headphones and they were doing a great job of isolating me. Between songs, there was a silence and I heard the words “pedophile filed”. Obviously I stopped my music and listened on. There was a man stalking up and down my Subway car holding out a newspaper to people and talking about how this guy molested a four year old girl ands then sued someone for calling him a pedophile or something along those lines. He asking people to rip up the newspaper with the story in it, I think. He was mostly intelligible, but not entirely. Anyway, he seemed upset at the whole thing and I concur.
On an unrelated note, the ATM (Automatic Teller Machine, not Ass To Mouth) here smells like Bumper Cars.
I plan to eat Sesame Chicken for dinner. Mmmmm…
Oh, and all of my “Taken From Me” videos have been viewed. Nine of them have single digit view numbers, but “Love” (the one co-starring Pinky) has 1,006 since last Friday. I guess it’s true that the Internet loves a dildo.
9:50 PM
I think I’ve just eaten the worst Chinese food in my life. Usually, Happy Wok (my source for Happy Chinese fun) is 90 to 100% each and every tyime I order from them, but today? The sesame chicken was dry and crackly; utterly unsatisfying. I threw mostofit away. The egg roll was sub par and THAT is always an affront to God. The only somewhat redeeming element of this meal was something I had never tried before. It was called “sliced BBQ pork roast pork” according to the menu, and when I first removed it from the bag my heart stopped. Imagine getting the typical clear, plastic tub usually reserved for soup, and finding it filled with ichor. Then, upon closer examination, you notice things floating in the ichor. Strips of flesh and strings of tendon seeming to twitch whilst suspended in this liquid that could only have come from another dimension…probably from beyond the stars. I was trepidacious, but it tasted just fine and for four dollars you apparently get a whole pig, so I have some left over if anyone is interested in coming over and tasting my Lovecraft pork.
What an unsatisfying meal. My tummy tum demands recompense! Dues must be paid!! The dragon must be sated!!! FUCK DA POLEESE!!!!
8.07.2006
Taken From Me
I present to you now, "Taken From Me", a ten-part video collection written by, directed by and starring myself. You can find it here on my youtube page. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. Thanks.
8.03.2006
Today would definitely fall into the category of a good day. I woke up early to find that my Nine Inch Nails show had burned perfectly and, when I tested the DVD, I was amazed by how great the quality was. It was dead center from the balcony the whole time. The taper never jostled once and even threw in some pretty nice pans and close ups. The sound was excellent too. It could have been professional. After I test the DVD, I check my e-mail to find out that little nugget about the Bacardi and another piece of good news thanks to Mel. Then I check my usual web sites to find that TMBG has TOTALLY redone their old Dial-A-Song site (www.dialasong.com) with a Podcast themed shrine complete with archived downloads, three new songs and the news of TWO brand new albums coming in 2007, one for kids (I think it might be “Here Come the 1-2-3’s”) and one for adults. The site looks awesome too. I also grabbed the new Scissor Sisters track (I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’) from their upcoming album and it needs some time to grow on me but it’s far from shit. Then the Blood Gods of the Internet were pleased about something because they allowed me to download the two episodes of Nightmares & Dreamscapes I was hankering for in about 5 hours total. During that time, I filmed the last five films and am 90% done with everything except for actually recording the credits and burning the whole project to a disc. Granted, my burner could fuck me in the time between now and then, but all the problems I was having with it have seem to have gone away.
And, on top of all this love, just as I was writing that last sentence, my dinner arrived.
Yes, close the books people; it has been a good day.
P.S. I contracted AIDS from a Vietnamese transsexual who sodomized me.
P.P.S. Or did I?
And, on top of all this love, just as I was writing that last sentence, my dinner arrived.
Yes, close the books people; it has been a good day.
P.S. I contracted AIDS from a Vietnamese transsexual who sodomized me.
P.P.S. Or did I?
MySpace
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=75081348
If I ever go there.
If I ever go there.
*t i n g l e*
I got an e-mail from Jenny (who worked on the Bacardi commercial with me as both talent and in a production capacity), check this out...
"I wanted to keep you in the
loop. The commercial hasn't aired yet, so copies are
still pending, but BUT it is getting TONS of press and
is going to be playing worldwide, damn the buyout. It
is the first part of a huge campaign to change the
image of Bacardi and it is going to get alot more
attention than originally expected, WOOO HOOO."
Based on what I know, I guess the new image involves tall people drinking more. We'll soon find out...
"I wanted to keep you in the
loop. The commercial hasn't aired yet, so copies are
still pending, but BUT it is getting TONS of press and
is going to be playing worldwide, damn the buyout. It
is the first part of a huge campaign to change the
image of Bacardi and it is going to get alot more
attention than originally expected, WOOO HOOO."
Based on what I know, I guess the new image involves tall people drinking more. We'll soon find out...
8.02.2006
Get down, make love
8.2.06
8:14 PM
Last night I went to the J. K. Rowling, Stephen King and John Irving reading thing. It was the mad shizzle. I knew they were going to delay putting the authors up there because there’s no way any of these guys were going to read for 45 minutes each, but I didn’t know how they were going to distract us. First, Whoopi Goldberg (who read a King short story for an audio release a while back) came out to introduce all three and tell everyone what this thing was about. Then Kathy Bates came out to introduce King. Not only has she been in both Misery and Deloris Clairborn but she has also recorded several audio books by King. He came out and read the Pie Eating Contest segment from The Body (which was later turned into the movie Stand By Me). After him, Andre Braugher (from Homicide and other stuff) came out to introduce John Irving who read an excerpt from A Prayer for Owen Meany (the only Irving I’ve ever read so that was cool). He did a great job and even did the cracked falsetto of Owen, and very well, I might add. Then fucking Jon Stewart came out to introduce Rowling. She read a chapter from her sixth book and it was during her reading I came to realize what it is about her work that makes me stupid. There are absolutely NO metaphors, similes, or any other literary devices of the kind in her work. It’s all either descriptive, narrative or dialogue. No wonder going from her shit to anyone else’s is so hard. She has a great imagination (like the Wachowski Brothers have a great imagination), but she can’t write for shit. Points for the accent though. Then she had 3 or 4 pre-submitted questions asked of her and after that Irving and King came back out and answered another few (pre-submitted) questions each. Rowling and Irving got tossed some good questions, but King got a bunch of textbook you-would-know-the-answer-if-you’ve-ever-read-an-interview-with-King questions. It was still an awesome experience and (happier still I become!!) just today I bought tickets for the interview/discussion/q and a/signing for King’s new book Licey’s Story, coming out October 24th. I have NEVER been to a book signing and I’m looking forward to actually meeting King and telling him what a creepy bastard he is. I’m assuming he will return the sentiment. Actually, the more I think about this, the more excited I become. With Reznor and TMBG, they’re used to creepy, obsessed psychos screaming around them all day and following them and threatening to steal their children, but King is a writer and I think what he does is so much harder than what Reznor and TMBG do and therefore I respect and value him more. I think. This is going to be great.
Also, I went swimming for the first time in MONTHS (literally) and when I was at work later that day I was overcome by a good sort of tired that you only earn from burning off endorphins. I still had about three hours to go and I couldn’t just take a nap, so I turned to this computer and created nine short films. As of today, I have filmed and edited four of the nine and should (hopefully) have them all done by Saturday. With this DVD burner, I FINALLY have the ability (by combining the forces of my Acid Studio, my camcorder’s meager mpeg creation capabilities and the Nero software that came with the burner) to write, film and create a project without any real limitations. Sure they’re lo-fi and short, but brevity is the fucking soul of wit. And I am witty as hell. I tell you, this DVD burner, which appears to now be working (knock on wood like a motherfucker) is a genius tool. I am going to put these finished films up on youtube and myspace because, seriously, what the fuck else am I going to do with my youtube and myspace memberships? Thank Grod those were free.
Hopefully, by the time I get home tonight, a NIN concert I have been trying to download for the past 6 days will be finished (also knock on wood like a motherfucker) and I can move on to other things. It is a top quality bootleg video from the first leg of their tour before they got all LED screened out. Both picture and sound are apparently excellent xmax. Aside from that one, I yearn for the 100% show I attended at Madison Square Garden (which has no fucking seeds at the moment) and the one either right before or right after that in Philly since both are supposed to have excellent video and audio as well. As soon as I burn this one I have going on now, I will delete the huge motherfucker from my hard drive (4.2 GB) and get last week’s Nightmares and Dreamscapes (they are doing a pretty good job with it I think) and then BURN THEM TO DVD TOO!!!! I’S BE A DVD BURNIN’ FIEND!!!!!! Yas’suh! I’s gwanna burn dem tings til my hade foll ouf!!! Laws a mussy!!!
Two more Beck tracks have shown up on the Net (Internet). One is called “Nausea” which isn’t that great and the other is called “Think I’m In Love” which is as cute (or cuter) than it sounds. The two songs have the simplicity of Mutations with a bit of the sort of bluesy twang from Odelay and Mellow Gold. So far these three tracks do not seem to be just a bridge between Sea Change and Guero, but rather a collection of sounds from all his albums. Hopefully I’ll flip over the rest of the tracks like I did over “Cell Phone’s Dead” (which still rocks my cock to the left and the right, gets me hard in the middle of the night).
And now, I shall urinate.
8:14 PM
Last night I went to the J. K. Rowling, Stephen King and John Irving reading thing. It was the mad shizzle. I knew they were going to delay putting the authors up there because there’s no way any of these guys were going to read for 45 minutes each, but I didn’t know how they were going to distract us. First, Whoopi Goldberg (who read a King short story for an audio release a while back) came out to introduce all three and tell everyone what this thing was about. Then Kathy Bates came out to introduce King. Not only has she been in both Misery and Deloris Clairborn but she has also recorded several audio books by King. He came out and read the Pie Eating Contest segment from The Body (which was later turned into the movie Stand By Me). After him, Andre Braugher (from Homicide and other stuff) came out to introduce John Irving who read an excerpt from A Prayer for Owen Meany (the only Irving I’ve ever read so that was cool). He did a great job and even did the cracked falsetto of Owen, and very well, I might add. Then fucking Jon Stewart came out to introduce Rowling. She read a chapter from her sixth book and it was during her reading I came to realize what it is about her work that makes me stupid. There are absolutely NO metaphors, similes, or any other literary devices of the kind in her work. It’s all either descriptive, narrative or dialogue. No wonder going from her shit to anyone else’s is so hard. She has a great imagination (like the Wachowski Brothers have a great imagination), but she can’t write for shit. Points for the accent though. Then she had 3 or 4 pre-submitted questions asked of her and after that Irving and King came back out and answered another few (pre-submitted) questions each. Rowling and Irving got tossed some good questions, but King got a bunch of textbook you-would-know-the-answer-if-you’ve-ever-read-an-interview-with-King questions. It was still an awesome experience and (happier still I become!!) just today I bought tickets for the interview/discussion/q and a/signing for King’s new book Licey’s Story, coming out October 24th. I have NEVER been to a book signing and I’m looking forward to actually meeting King and telling him what a creepy bastard he is. I’m assuming he will return the sentiment. Actually, the more I think about this, the more excited I become. With Reznor and TMBG, they’re used to creepy, obsessed psychos screaming around them all day and following them and threatening to steal their children, but King is a writer and I think what he does is so much harder than what Reznor and TMBG do and therefore I respect and value him more. I think. This is going to be great.
Also, I went swimming for the first time in MONTHS (literally) and when I was at work later that day I was overcome by a good sort of tired that you only earn from burning off endorphins. I still had about three hours to go and I couldn’t just take a nap, so I turned to this computer and created nine short films. As of today, I have filmed and edited four of the nine and should (hopefully) have them all done by Saturday. With this DVD burner, I FINALLY have the ability (by combining the forces of my Acid Studio, my camcorder’s meager mpeg creation capabilities and the Nero software that came with the burner) to write, film and create a project without any real limitations. Sure they’re lo-fi and short, but brevity is the fucking soul of wit. And I am witty as hell. I tell you, this DVD burner, which appears to now be working (knock on wood like a motherfucker) is a genius tool. I am going to put these finished films up on youtube and myspace because, seriously, what the fuck else am I going to do with my youtube and myspace memberships? Thank Grod those were free.
Hopefully, by the time I get home tonight, a NIN concert I have been trying to download for the past 6 days will be finished (also knock on wood like a motherfucker) and I can move on to other things. It is a top quality bootleg video from the first leg of their tour before they got all LED screened out. Both picture and sound are apparently excellent xmax. Aside from that one, I yearn for the 100% show I attended at Madison Square Garden (which has no fucking seeds at the moment) and the one either right before or right after that in Philly since both are supposed to have excellent video and audio as well. As soon as I burn this one I have going on now, I will delete the huge motherfucker from my hard drive (4.2 GB) and get last week’s Nightmares and Dreamscapes (they are doing a pretty good job with it I think) and then BURN THEM TO DVD TOO!!!! I’S BE A DVD BURNIN’ FIEND!!!!!! Yas’suh! I’s gwanna burn dem tings til my hade foll ouf!!! Laws a mussy!!!
Two more Beck tracks have shown up on the Net (Internet). One is called “Nausea” which isn’t that great and the other is called “Think I’m In Love” which is as cute (or cuter) than it sounds. The two songs have the simplicity of Mutations with a bit of the sort of bluesy twang from Odelay and Mellow Gold. So far these three tracks do not seem to be just a bridge between Sea Change and Guero, but rather a collection of sounds from all his albums. Hopefully I’ll flip over the rest of the tracks like I did over “Cell Phone’s Dead” (which still rocks my cock to the left and the right, gets me hard in the middle of the night).
And now, I shall urinate.
7.29.2006
7.28.06
6:58 PM
Saw something on the train today that made me think better of the future: two little kids playing Rock, Paper, Scissor. Despite the fact that kids today can download before they can read, can play all three leading game systems and no musical instruments and understand all the rules to Yu-Gi-Oh but fail to grasp the basics of polite society, they still play Rock, Paper, Scissors. Warms my heart.
And speaking of technology that I don’t understand, I bought an HP external DVD burner today. I have yet to burn anything because I am getting a runtime error. A fucking goddamn runtime error. Jesus Christ do I hate those motherfucking runtime errors. Only about 3% of the world understands what the fuck that even means. By the by, I am excluded from that 3%. Goddamn fucking 3%. Wish they’d give me a call and explain everything in layman’s terms. Or even better, Paul-is-a-stupid-asshole terms. Yeah. That would be ever so helpful. Fucking 3%.
As the problem progressed, I had a terrifying moment of recollection. My very first external CD burner (from my freshman year at Fordham) was also an HP. It worked maybe 5 to 10 percent of the time. In order to successfully burn a CD with it, you had to shut down EVERY other application on your machine and then (this is my favorite part) make sure nothing touched the surface the burner was resting on. After the 43rd error message (accompanied by the 43rd shattered semi-blank CD-R) I decided to call the help line. I had the guy on the phone for a while, 15 or 20 minutes, and he walked me through everything from uninstalling to reinstalling to running diagnostics right up until I hit the “burn” button. Then he said, “Now we see if it works”. I was confused and asked how can he say that? Isn’t CD burning an exact science? “Nope,” he responded, “if it works, it works, if it doesn’t it doesn’t.” I was furious and vowed never to purchase an HP product again, however, that was seven years ago and it isn’t the burner giving me a problem…yet. I haven’t even gotten that far. I am still trying to figure out why the fuck Nero Express Vision 3 keeps giving me fucking goddamn RUNTIME ERRORS.
This is just making me angrier.
Fucking asshole technology.
Maybe Ray knows what the fuck is wrong with this filthy piece of dog shit…
7:50PM
Okay, Ray didn’t pick up his phone (he might be scrumping) so I tried Will. He told me all about runtime errors. It seems that a runtime error is an error that occurs during the time a program is running. The sad thing is: that is EXACTLY what a runtime error is. Goddamn it.
So, I never read the paper and never watch the news. I happened to catch a snippet of a teenage girl missing since Monday or something a few days ago. Today I saw the headline of whatever paper was left on the switchboard that had the story about how the naked, raped and strangled corpse of this missing girl was found concealed in a suitcase in a Dumpster in New Jersey. They had the whole story about how she was drunk and left her friend unconscious in an impound lot on 38th and 12th and then saw some drug dealer following her around 12th Ave. so she called her boyfriend who told her to get a cab. Turned out the cabbie took the drunk 18-year old back to a hotel in New Jersey where he raped and killed her. They caught him because he used her cell phone to call some people after he’d killed her.
Two things; first, I hope this guy will get ten times the rape and fifty times the fear and pain he has caused this girl and her family when he arrives in prison and second, this is yet another clear example of why I do not read/listen to the new
6:58 PM
Saw something on the train today that made me think better of the future: two little kids playing Rock, Paper, Scissor. Despite the fact that kids today can download before they can read, can play all three leading game systems and no musical instruments and understand all the rules to Yu-Gi-Oh but fail to grasp the basics of polite society, they still play Rock, Paper, Scissors. Warms my heart.
And speaking of technology that I don’t understand, I bought an HP external DVD burner today. I have yet to burn anything because I am getting a runtime error. A fucking goddamn runtime error. Jesus Christ do I hate those motherfucking runtime errors. Only about 3% of the world understands what the fuck that even means. By the by, I am excluded from that 3%. Goddamn fucking 3%. Wish they’d give me a call and explain everything in layman’s terms. Or even better, Paul-is-a-stupid-asshole terms. Yeah. That would be ever so helpful. Fucking 3%.
As the problem progressed, I had a terrifying moment of recollection. My very first external CD burner (from my freshman year at Fordham) was also an HP. It worked maybe 5 to 10 percent of the time. In order to successfully burn a CD with it, you had to shut down EVERY other application on your machine and then (this is my favorite part) make sure nothing touched the surface the burner was resting on. After the 43rd error message (accompanied by the 43rd shattered semi-blank CD-R) I decided to call the help line. I had the guy on the phone for a while, 15 or 20 minutes, and he walked me through everything from uninstalling to reinstalling to running diagnostics right up until I hit the “burn” button. Then he said, “Now we see if it works”. I was confused and asked how can he say that? Isn’t CD burning an exact science? “Nope,” he responded, “if it works, it works, if it doesn’t it doesn’t.” I was furious and vowed never to purchase an HP product again, however, that was seven years ago and it isn’t the burner giving me a problem…yet. I haven’t even gotten that far. I am still trying to figure out why the fuck Nero Express Vision 3 keeps giving me fucking goddamn RUNTIME ERRORS.
This is just making me angrier.
Fucking asshole technology.
Maybe Ray knows what the fuck is wrong with this filthy piece of dog shit…
7:50PM
Okay, Ray didn’t pick up his phone (he might be scrumping) so I tried Will. He told me all about runtime errors. It seems that a runtime error is an error that occurs during the time a program is running. The sad thing is: that is EXACTLY what a runtime error is. Goddamn it.
So, I never read the paper and never watch the news. I happened to catch a snippet of a teenage girl missing since Monday or something a few days ago. Today I saw the headline of whatever paper was left on the switchboard that had the story about how the naked, raped and strangled corpse of this missing girl was found concealed in a suitcase in a Dumpster in New Jersey. They had the whole story about how she was drunk and left her friend unconscious in an impound lot on 38th and 12th and then saw some drug dealer following her around 12th Ave. so she called her boyfriend who told her to get a cab. Turned out the cabbie took the drunk 18-year old back to a hotel in New Jersey where he raped and killed her. They caught him because he used her cell phone to call some people after he’d killed her.
Two things; first, I hope this guy will get ten times the rape and fifty times the fear and pain he has caused this girl and her family when he arrives in prison and second, this is yet another clear example of why I do not read/listen to the new
7.27.2006
From the Book of Lamentations
7.27.06
3:58 PM
I dislike when people say “good enough” in reaction to something. What I derive from it is that someone did or said something, gave information about a situation, you know and the result was just “good enough” for the person saying it. Like, it doesn’t satisfy my needs, it’s just “good enough” to be considered adequate. If someone wrote that on a paper, for instance, I would think I had done badly and would ask for an explanation. I mean, don’t misunderstand, I’m sure there are times when that phrase is totally warranted, but when people use it as a blanket response statement like “okay” or “all right”, it just gets on my nerves.
Also, Chris brought to my attention a new bit of jargon that I have yet to hear, but when I (inevitably) do I’m sure I’ll hate it. Instead of asking “What’s going on?” or “What’s up?” people are apparently now asking “What’s good?” That sounds stupid. Then again, this could be me getting older. Resisting the tidal change of the popular vernacular. I hope not and I think just like the principal from The Breakfast Club “it’s the kids, not me…”
I have tried to instill “xmax” and Lauren uses it although whether it’s just to humor me or not is unclear. It’s hard to picture her saying “xmax” at the Associated Press, but if she is then my plan might bear fruit sooner than I estimated.
I think this impromptu rant about the state of slang and language is tied into the fact that I am reading a book set in the early 1800’s in and around London. There is so little being said, but it’s being said so beautifully and skillfully. I miss that. I miss people putting effort into language, writing and speaking it. IM, text messages, e-mail. All of this is leading to the bottom of a Spiral of Dumb. Shit, the fucking President can’t speak English. They’re offering a COLLEGE DEGREE in Ebonics at UCLA! Letters are being stolen from words in the Dictionary!! We are fucked, people. In a literary and intellectual sense, we are fucked.
Feel the pain and sorrow of the idiotizing, of the moronification, of the dumbass fuckery of our world.
If it doesn’t hurt, you’re already dead.
8:01 PM
Yow. Around 7 tonight, we had a code and I was informed that a patient was found dead in their room. I was also informed (along with the security and administrator on duty—who is an inept boob, but still…) by the on call doctor and all the nurses there that the patient was DNR. For those that don’t know, DNR stands for “Do Not Resuscitate”. I don’t know the finer point of this operation but basically if a patient has DNR on their medical chart, the crash cart with the paddles is NOT brought out and the staff does NOT try to bring the patient back to life. If a patient does NOT have DNR on their chart, the doctors, nurses and everyone else who is supposed to, must do their damnedest to save that persons life.
Anyway, at the time of the code I was told (along with everyone else) that the patient was DNR and they did not try to bring him back. 20 minutes later I called back to get more details (the patient’s name, the person who called the code etc.) and I was told that the patient was NOT DNR. In other words, because someone fucked up in a major way, this person was allowed to die.
Now maybe some people believe that when your body says, “die” you should not try to countermand the order by electrocuting your heart, but if someone is waiting for something, say, to reconcile with their estranged child or for the new Nine Inch Nails album to come out, or if they have some other reason to stick around despite their own body’s urge to just stop, I think their wish should be honored. What I’m trying to say is, in the time I have been here, I have heard about children dying under tragic and mysterious circumstances, bodies being misplaced and people who could ONLY exist in a nursing home walking right past security into New York City and this is the worst thing I have witnessed. THEY LET HER DIE. A TEAM OF PEOPLE WHO WENT TO SCHOOL FOR YEARS TO BE LEGALLY ALLOWED TO HELP SAVE PEOPLE’S LIVES LET A PERSON DIE. I know I shouldn’t be surprised but, Jesus this is a new low. I’m seriously considering calling Fox 5 of something to just tell them about all the terrible shit people let go on here. I will most likely not mention the time (Yes. Singular. Just once. Ahem.) I have turned this off or unplugged that because this isn’t about me, man! This is about people who have jobs that matter (doctors, nurses, security personnel), jobs that affect the condition of old, sick or crazy people, completely fucking up and causing death or elopement or the misplacement of a human corpse. These idiots shouldn’t be allowed to heat up Big Mac’s let alone be in the health care profession. All I can do is reiterate (for the umpteenth time): DO NOT SEND YOUR LOVED ONES TO THIS PLACE. THEY WILL DIE WHEN YOU WANT THEM TO LIVE (and vice versa) AND EVEN AFTER DEATH THEIR TERRIBLE JOURNEY IS NOT OVER. They’ll probably end up in the basement of a whorehouse or something.
Sigh.
Never mind.
So, tomorrow I have to wake up early to be in the final scene of my agent’s short film. I play a mental patient. I am deciding between the jabbering, raving type and the drooling, muttering type. Maybe a potpourri of both perhaps? The flavors of my mental patient stew make Baskin Robbins look like a Neapolitan.
HOT DAWG!!
3:58 PM
I dislike when people say “good enough” in reaction to something. What I derive from it is that someone did or said something, gave information about a situation, you know and the result was just “good enough” for the person saying it. Like, it doesn’t satisfy my needs, it’s just “good enough” to be considered adequate. If someone wrote that on a paper, for instance, I would think I had done badly and would ask for an explanation. I mean, don’t misunderstand, I’m sure there are times when that phrase is totally warranted, but when people use it as a blanket response statement like “okay” or “all right”, it just gets on my nerves.
Also, Chris brought to my attention a new bit of jargon that I have yet to hear, but when I (inevitably) do I’m sure I’ll hate it. Instead of asking “What’s going on?” or “What’s up?” people are apparently now asking “What’s good?” That sounds stupid. Then again, this could be me getting older. Resisting the tidal change of the popular vernacular. I hope not and I think just like the principal from The Breakfast Club “it’s the kids, not me…”
I have tried to instill “xmax” and Lauren uses it although whether it’s just to humor me or not is unclear. It’s hard to picture her saying “xmax” at the Associated Press, but if she is then my plan might bear fruit sooner than I estimated.
I think this impromptu rant about the state of slang and language is tied into the fact that I am reading a book set in the early 1800’s in and around London. There is so little being said, but it’s being said so beautifully and skillfully. I miss that. I miss people putting effort into language, writing and speaking it. IM, text messages, e-mail. All of this is leading to the bottom of a Spiral of Dumb. Shit, the fucking President can’t speak English. They’re offering a COLLEGE DEGREE in Ebonics at UCLA! Letters are being stolen from words in the Dictionary!! We are fucked, people. In a literary and intellectual sense, we are fucked.
Feel the pain and sorrow of the idiotizing, of the moronification, of the dumbass fuckery of our world.
If it doesn’t hurt, you’re already dead.
8:01 PM
Yow. Around 7 tonight, we had a code and I was informed that a patient was found dead in their room. I was also informed (along with the security and administrator on duty—who is an inept boob, but still…) by the on call doctor and all the nurses there that the patient was DNR. For those that don’t know, DNR stands for “Do Not Resuscitate”. I don’t know the finer point of this operation but basically if a patient has DNR on their medical chart, the crash cart with the paddles is NOT brought out and the staff does NOT try to bring the patient back to life. If a patient does NOT have DNR on their chart, the doctors, nurses and everyone else who is supposed to, must do their damnedest to save that persons life.
Anyway, at the time of the code I was told (along with everyone else) that the patient was DNR and they did not try to bring him back. 20 minutes later I called back to get more details (the patient’s name, the person who called the code etc.) and I was told that the patient was NOT DNR. In other words, because someone fucked up in a major way, this person was allowed to die.
Now maybe some people believe that when your body says, “die” you should not try to countermand the order by electrocuting your heart, but if someone is waiting for something, say, to reconcile with their estranged child or for the new Nine Inch Nails album to come out, or if they have some other reason to stick around despite their own body’s urge to just stop, I think their wish should be honored. What I’m trying to say is, in the time I have been here, I have heard about children dying under tragic and mysterious circumstances, bodies being misplaced and people who could ONLY exist in a nursing home walking right past security into New York City and this is the worst thing I have witnessed. THEY LET HER DIE. A TEAM OF PEOPLE WHO WENT TO SCHOOL FOR YEARS TO BE LEGALLY ALLOWED TO HELP SAVE PEOPLE’S LIVES LET A PERSON DIE. I know I shouldn’t be surprised but, Jesus this is a new low. I’m seriously considering calling Fox 5 of something to just tell them about all the terrible shit people let go on here. I will most likely not mention the time (Yes. Singular. Just once. Ahem.) I have turned this off or unplugged that because this isn’t about me, man! This is about people who have jobs that matter (doctors, nurses, security personnel), jobs that affect the condition of old, sick or crazy people, completely fucking up and causing death or elopement or the misplacement of a human corpse. These idiots shouldn’t be allowed to heat up Big Mac’s let alone be in the health care profession. All I can do is reiterate (for the umpteenth time): DO NOT SEND YOUR LOVED ONES TO THIS PLACE. THEY WILL DIE WHEN YOU WANT THEM TO LIVE (and vice versa) AND EVEN AFTER DEATH THEIR TERRIBLE JOURNEY IS NOT OVER. They’ll probably end up in the basement of a whorehouse or something.
Sigh.
Never mind.
So, tomorrow I have to wake up early to be in the final scene of my agent’s short film. I play a mental patient. I am deciding between the jabbering, raving type and the drooling, muttering type. Maybe a potpourri of both perhaps? The flavors of my mental patient stew make Baskin Robbins look like a Neapolitan.
HOT DAWG!!
7.26.2006
Radio's cold
7.26.06
3:44 PM
There’s a new Beck song out called “Cell Phone’s Dead”. It’s from the new album coming out in September. This is the album Beck purportedly wrote to go between Sea Change and Guero. The song (in its arrangement) reminds me somewhat of “Hell Yes”, but a bit more complex. Very ass shakin’. The lyrics are excellent. The video has been shot and will be released soon. Michel Gondry directed it.
Also, yesterday the guy on the phone at place I have recently been ordering food from referred to me as a gentleman and then they referred to me as Superman. Yeah. They asked my name like they normally do and I said Paul and then he said: Paul? Yeah yeah, the gentleman, Superman” or maybe it was like a formal title “The Gentleman Superman.” Then he hung up. I don’t know if this is because I tip them well or because I am very tall…like Superman, but either way, it made my fucking week.
3:44 PM
There’s a new Beck song out called “Cell Phone’s Dead”. It’s from the new album coming out in September. This is the album Beck purportedly wrote to go between Sea Change and Guero. The song (in its arrangement) reminds me somewhat of “Hell Yes”, but a bit more complex. Very ass shakin’. The lyrics are excellent. The video has been shot and will be released soon. Michel Gondry directed it.
Also, yesterday the guy on the phone at place I have recently been ordering food from referred to me as a gentleman and then they referred to me as Superman. Yeah. They asked my name like they normally do and I said Paul and then he said: Paul? Yeah yeah, the gentleman, Superman” or maybe it was like a formal title “The Gentleman Superman.” Then he hung up. I don’t know if this is because I tip them well or because I am very tall…like Superman, but either way, it made my fucking week.
7.24.2006
One by one I'll knock you out...
7.24.06
8:31 PM
There is an operator here I have probably never talked about. Her name is Eva and she works the Saturday and Sunday shift 7pm to 7am. She has never asked for more hours or broken a brand new leather reclining chair with her bulk or anything like that. Her deal is that she is a Jehovah’s Witness, but not the awesome kind like Prince. She is the kind that won’t touch any people who aren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses. Also, apparently, she is always telling people to change the climate in the security office rather than bringing a sweater or wearing short sleeves like Robin William’s character in Deconstructing Harry.
Anyway, what she does on her late night 12 hour shifts is this, she’ll do her job until 11 or 12 or something like that, and then she’ll fall asleep. Now, we’ve all fallen asleep at work or in school and the way to do it is to make it look like you’re cupping your hand over your head because you are looking down (intently) at what you are studying. She is not as subtle as that. She lays her head down on her arms and snores like a convoy. When she wakes up around 2 or 3 in the morning, she calls her uncle and they talk on the phone for four hours. That isn’t 100% every time but usually it is.
Security and communications are in the same room and they kind of ignore the blatant shirking of her duty (usually because they are asleep themselves or just not in the security office). In a way, it’s is a long standing joke. If someone looks tired behind the switchboard, they remind you never to “pull an Eva” on the day shifts. So, I came in today to find out a VERY big wig that is usually NEVER here in the weekends after hours totally caught her asleep and snoring like Moses. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the groggy Chosen One, but I’m sure it will be unpleasant. As you can imagine, being asleep behind the board is the operator’s equivalent of letting a patient just walk out (see how unimportant my job is?), but in this case, there isn’t much of a gray area. She was asleep. She was caught. You don’t argue that you were just resting your eyes and head while snoring, it doesn’t work that way. Anyway, the point is, I hope that whatever happens to her will help the other terrible operators to reform themselves before they are also caught using the hospitals property for personal use, eating whole, live chickens and watching DVDs during daytime weekend hours.
To be honest, I really just want them to get rid of Tubby Cuntin and I’m projecting, but a girl can dream, right?
Oh, speaking of Mount Eatmore, she broke the wheel off a brand new leather executive chair (circa $400) by seat dropping into it. We’ve had this thing for a little over three months. Way to go, Tubby.
Changing the subject xmax; got back from my trip to Philly at 2:30 this afternoon. All in all, I consider it a waste of money and I wish I had just seen Peaches at Irving Plaza on Saturday. Philadelphia sucks. It is bad. Watch out, here is comes. Run away. Run away. Now it’s after you. Flee to someplace new. Not even cheese steaks (made the RIGHT WAY WITH CHEESE WHIZ) can redeem this city.
12:29AM
Also, it strikes me that if you speak two languages but don’t know what “bilingual” means, you aren’t bilingual.
8:31 PM
There is an operator here I have probably never talked about. Her name is Eva and she works the Saturday and Sunday shift 7pm to 7am. She has never asked for more hours or broken a brand new leather reclining chair with her bulk or anything like that. Her deal is that she is a Jehovah’s Witness, but not the awesome kind like Prince. She is the kind that won’t touch any people who aren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses. Also, apparently, she is always telling people to change the climate in the security office rather than bringing a sweater or wearing short sleeves like Robin William’s character in Deconstructing Harry.
Anyway, what she does on her late night 12 hour shifts is this, she’ll do her job until 11 or 12 or something like that, and then she’ll fall asleep. Now, we’ve all fallen asleep at work or in school and the way to do it is to make it look like you’re cupping your hand over your head because you are looking down (intently) at what you are studying. She is not as subtle as that. She lays her head down on her arms and snores like a convoy. When she wakes up around 2 or 3 in the morning, she calls her uncle and they talk on the phone for four hours. That isn’t 100% every time but usually it is.
Security and communications are in the same room and they kind of ignore the blatant shirking of her duty (usually because they are asleep themselves or just not in the security office). In a way, it’s is a long standing joke. If someone looks tired behind the switchboard, they remind you never to “pull an Eva” on the day shifts. So, I came in today to find out a VERY big wig that is usually NEVER here in the weekends after hours totally caught her asleep and snoring like Moses. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the groggy Chosen One, but I’m sure it will be unpleasant. As you can imagine, being asleep behind the board is the operator’s equivalent of letting a patient just walk out (see how unimportant my job is?), but in this case, there isn’t much of a gray area. She was asleep. She was caught. You don’t argue that you were just resting your eyes and head while snoring, it doesn’t work that way. Anyway, the point is, I hope that whatever happens to her will help the other terrible operators to reform themselves before they are also caught using the hospitals property for personal use, eating whole, live chickens and watching DVDs during daytime weekend hours.
To be honest, I really just want them to get rid of Tubby Cuntin and I’m projecting, but a girl can dream, right?
Oh, speaking of Mount Eatmore, she broke the wheel off a brand new leather executive chair (circa $400) by seat dropping into it. We’ve had this thing for a little over three months. Way to go, Tubby.
Changing the subject xmax; got back from my trip to Philly at 2:30 this afternoon. All in all, I consider it a waste of money and I wish I had just seen Peaches at Irving Plaza on Saturday. Philadelphia sucks. It is bad. Watch out, here is comes. Run away. Run away. Now it’s after you. Flee to someplace new. Not even cheese steaks (made the RIGHT WAY WITH CHEESE WHIZ) can redeem this city.
12:29AM
Also, it strikes me that if you speak two languages but don’t know what “bilingual” means, you aren’t bilingual.
7.19.2006
Gonna take you up to Glendale...gonna take you for a real good meal...
7.19.06
3:31 PM
I feel vaguely artistic today. Like blue flowers in a vase. Beautiful blue flowers that only want to smell nice for people. But someone has put me in a dark broom closet. If only I had a gun. A metaphorical blue-flower-in-a-closet gun, not a real one. If I had a real one I would probably commit a hate crime. Or is it called a race crime? I feel like a “race crime” would be cheating in the New York Marathon so I guess it would be a hate crime. Can people of the same race, creed and socio-economic background commit hate crimes against each other? Or is it only a straight on gay or black on white thing? If two completely similar white people kill each other, could that be a hate crime? What if they really REALLY hated each other? Hm.
Labels.
I’ve almost finished watching “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”. Very good movie. I hope I get to tell Robert Downey Jr. (RDJ to his close, personal friends like me) to his face just how lucky I think he is for getting to kiss Val Kilmer. And then I’ll wink really big at him and start growling. Morton Downey was a pretty severe looking guy, wasn’t he. I would freak out if he were my father. I’d be like, “Wow! You’re Morton Downey! That makes me Robert Downey Jr.! That is SO cool! Let’s make a movie.” Then I’d kiss Val Kilmer. And wink real big. And start growling.
You know, I need something to make me feel bad about my racist tendencies.
Anyone have any ideas?
I remember going to see “Amistad” with my high school but I was too young to give much of a shit and also, that’s slavery; EVERYONE knows that’s bad. I need something more current.
Something without Ludacris.
Ludacris. You asshole. You know because of this twerp, MILLIONS of young people think that “ludicrous” is actually spelled “ludacris”. He is single-handedly murdering the spelling of “ludicrous”. People watch “Spaceballs” now and think that the spelling of “ludicrous” in “ludicrous speed” is some weird Jewish spelling gag. FVCK! Oh yeah, I’m petitioning for the retvrn of v’s in place of u’s. You know what? Strike that. I am supporting the return of v’s in place of u’s in the word “fuck”, but only when it’s capitalized and used as a stand alone expletive. It makes it look more important and severe. FVCK! FVCK!! Nice.
I am planning to go to Washington D.C. for the premiere of “Snakes On A Plane” (AKA the highest grossing movie…ever.). My goal is to get Bob Edwards to see it with Will and I. How amazing would that be? Also a correction (for all you keeping track) to an earlier entry. Billy West IS NOT the voice of Brain, that’s Maurice La Marche (think I misspelled that too). I got carried away naming voices that rock.
My superhero costume for Lisa’s party is complete. Oh lordy is it complete. And then, after the party, I will meet up with Ray and Law and we will trek to Philly where I will ingest Peaches.
Busy weekend. Busy busy busy busy.
All of you should rent or buy “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”. There are nice boobies, Val Kilmer gay and a severed finger.
3:31 PM
I feel vaguely artistic today. Like blue flowers in a vase. Beautiful blue flowers that only want to smell nice for people. But someone has put me in a dark broom closet. If only I had a gun. A metaphorical blue-flower-in-a-closet gun, not a real one. If I had a real one I would probably commit a hate crime. Or is it called a race crime? I feel like a “race crime” would be cheating in the New York Marathon so I guess it would be a hate crime. Can people of the same race, creed and socio-economic background commit hate crimes against each other? Or is it only a straight on gay or black on white thing? If two completely similar white people kill each other, could that be a hate crime? What if they really REALLY hated each other? Hm.
Labels.
I’ve almost finished watching “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”. Very good movie. I hope I get to tell Robert Downey Jr. (RDJ to his close, personal friends like me) to his face just how lucky I think he is for getting to kiss Val Kilmer. And then I’ll wink really big at him and start growling. Morton Downey was a pretty severe looking guy, wasn’t he. I would freak out if he were my father. I’d be like, “Wow! You’re Morton Downey! That makes me Robert Downey Jr.! That is SO cool! Let’s make a movie.” Then I’d kiss Val Kilmer. And wink real big. And start growling.
You know, I need something to make me feel bad about my racist tendencies.
Anyone have any ideas?
I remember going to see “Amistad” with my high school but I was too young to give much of a shit and also, that’s slavery; EVERYONE knows that’s bad. I need something more current.
Something without Ludacris.
Ludacris. You asshole. You know because of this twerp, MILLIONS of young people think that “ludicrous” is actually spelled “ludacris”. He is single-handedly murdering the spelling of “ludicrous”. People watch “Spaceballs” now and think that the spelling of “ludicrous” in “ludicrous speed” is some weird Jewish spelling gag. FVCK! Oh yeah, I’m petitioning for the retvrn of v’s in place of u’s. You know what? Strike that. I am supporting the return of v’s in place of u’s in the word “fuck”, but only when it’s capitalized and used as a stand alone expletive. It makes it look more important and severe. FVCK! FVCK!! Nice.
I am planning to go to Washington D.C. for the premiere of “Snakes On A Plane” (AKA the highest grossing movie…ever.). My goal is to get Bob Edwards to see it with Will and I. How amazing would that be? Also a correction (for all you keeping track) to an earlier entry. Billy West IS NOT the voice of Brain, that’s Maurice La Marche (think I misspelled that too). I got carried away naming voices that rock.
My superhero costume for Lisa’s party is complete. Oh lordy is it complete. And then, after the party, I will meet up with Ray and Law and we will trek to Philly where I will ingest Peaches.
Busy weekend. Busy busy busy busy.
All of you should rent or buy “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”. There are nice boobies, Val Kilmer gay and a severed finger.
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