Thursday, December 22, 2005
My Army of Monkeys and Horses.
i'm bored and yesterday i finished the majority of work i had to do for this week. so i figured what the hell. post a blog. yesterday we had band practice - which is really just an excuse for me to drink beer. after that, i went to Champs (or is it Champps... or Chammps...) and ate with a few people. it was kind of funny, because right before practice, i told talley and paul i was eating at Champs and they both laughed because they thought it was the shoe store. wouldn't that be interesting? so i went to the restaurant all the while thinking how funny it would be to eat in the shoe store, and drank even more. luckilly it's only about 2 miles from my house. when i finally got home, i opened another beer in the fridge and spent about 45 minutes trying to convnce the wild housecat that lives outside my house to come INSIDE the house because it was warmer in there. i finally warmed up some deli sliced turkey in the microwave and set it inside the front door. when the cat started eating the turkey, i shut the door and said "see? doesn't it feel much warmer in the house"? she probably thought so for a minute but then realized she was inside and started making all kind of fucked up meows and noises. i opened the door and with the quickness... she was up and out. i was sad because i thought i was being like St. Francis of Assissi, and i walked outside and told the cat this. then i started thinking how great it would be to have dominion and command over all animals, complete mind control. i would have an army of wild horses with chimpanzees on their back. the horse for the speed. the monkey for dexterity. i would send these armies over to old people's houses. as the herd of monkeys and horses approached the house, one of the chimps (the lead monkey) would get off the horse and quietly open the front door. he would then walk back to his horse, get on it and then lead the charge... 10, 20, 30 horses being ridden by monkeys running wild through the house. knocking over lamps... attacking the old people in thier beds... fucking awesome. alls well that ends well. i passed out on the couch with all my clothes on and woke up at 2 in the morning and my hand was asleep. michelle wie was on television on a replay of ESPN's Sportcenter. so i got up and went to bed.
the night i got beat up
Here's a little story people have been reminding me of lately. Now, i haven't been in many fights in my life. it's just not something i really want to do. i assume nobody likes to get punched in the head, neck, chest, face, eyes, or mouth but i guess you just never know...
let's flash back to march 2002. i was manic, depressed, and unstable. i'd just gotten out of a super long relationship that had spanned my senior year of high school all the way thru college. it was a love-hate thing. it was fueled by teenage angst and later by twixter post-college rage. head over heels one minute and painfully low the next.
one night while leaving a super bowl party, i had an revealation. get out of this now. virtually the end of a 7 year fight came to a denoument. it was like the voice of God telling me "Look... this just isn't in the cards for you people. You take my name in vain too much...". it was either that or the gallons of beer i drank that night. regardless, i had a long drive home from Mike's in Gonzales and plenty of time to think. by the time i got home, the decision had been made. the fights were over...
but i suppose we had one REALLY GOOD fight left in us.
easter weekend, 2002. me and a bunch of friends had gathered at my parents house to do a little pre-partying and night planning. getting a buzz and deciding what bar to go to. it was here that my friends revealed that most of them had been invited to a party at my ex-girlfriend's house. she'd informed one of them about how awesome it was going to be and how there was going to be a spacewalk, a pool filled with pudding, jello shots - you name it. my friends, being the stand up folk that they are, were like "man, we really want to go to this. i mean, there might be naked chicks" and all this shit. of course.
i, being the post-volitile man child i was at the time, became furious. my friends weren't gonna go to a party and leave ME at home!!! i had 2 options at that point: raise hell and tell them we should all just go somewhere else; or i could go to the party with them. unfortunately i opted for the latter, thus putting into motion a wave of events that should have never happened. we packed a couple of ice chests, got in a few cars, and ventured into the promised land.
when we arrived, i was amazed at all the cars. i'll give her credit - this was a pretty good party. people were running around out of thier minds. there was a slip-n-slide (or a piece of visquine caked over the lawn with a nearby hose), spacewalk, all kinds of shit. scantilly clad girls were covered in pudding, water, pieces of grass, dirt... it was an interesting scene to say the least. she'd also made about 5 billion jello shots, to which my friends helped themselves to aggregiously.
booze, girls, the hose, and a bunch of people we don't know are not a good combination for my clan. as the hours ticked by, i watched my buddy Dustin take at least 10 shots. now, you have to know him to appreciate him. he's an odd one and engages in questionable behavior when the alcohol flows. always pulls off the shirt and starts talking amazing amounts of shit. a very powerful country accent (even though he's not from the country) and a touch of madness, combined with his 5 foot frame mixed with everclear was a death sentence for all of us. he's walking up to girls and saying things like "yall wanna fuck?" and "yall wanna see it?", etc...
by 2 am or so, it had come to a boiling point. it was getting crucial that we got him out of there. every girl in the party had now seen him with his pants down as he propostioned them. it wasn't pretty. finaly he walked up to the wrong girl, a friend of ours from way back but no longer single. in fact, surrounded by her boyfriend and several of his friends. they were all standing around their car and getting ready to leave. dustin was smashing his pecker against the passenger side window and screaming "YOU WANNA SEE IT?!" we were like "Oh my God, this is not good...". her boyfrined's pals were not amused and said something along the lines of "Bruh, you better get the fuck out of here or, bruh, we're gonna kick your ass... bruh" or the like. mac, matt allen, and myself (the only ones in my click left at the party) were trying feverishly to get dustin into mac's car. i remember saying "hey man. he's drunk. we're getting him out of here" and mac saying something like that as well.
just then, dustin tears into this "FUCK YALL MOTHERFUCKERS. I'LL BEAT ALL YOUR ASSES" and we're like "No. You won't. Let's just get in the car". The goons are adding fuel to the fire, saying "You better get that motherfucker out of here" and we're like "yeah, we're trying" as we goad dustin to the car. Dustin continues with "Let me go. I'm gonna go beat the shit out of those motherfuckers" and we're like "Come on, man - you're wasted". Finally we got him into the backseat of the car, shut his door, and we all walked to our corresponding car doors and got inside. As soon as we shut our doors, Dustin got out.
I remember looking at all of them in the car, realizing that things were about to get bad. Mac looking into the backseat from the driver's seat. Matt looking into the backseat from the front passenger seat. Me looking at the both of them from the backseat. There was this collective "Oh shit. Here we go" that came out of all of us. Dustin was outside screaming, daring them to come over. As we all opened our doors, one of them finally got tired of hearing his shit and walked over to him.
We all walked to the back of the car and one of them lunged for Dustin. As he tried to move out of the way and assume a fighting stance, his lower leg just snapped. Nobody had laid a hand on him. Just the way he pivoted. He just sort of crumbled, holding his leg going "Motherfucker!". So the guy sort of leans over him like he's going to hit him and Mac pulls him back.
Next thing I know, Mac is on the ground getting pummeled. left. right. left. right...in the face. I'm like "Hey, man. Just get off of him.." and tried to pull him off but I was hardly slowing the blows. Finally I started punching the guy in the back of the head until he stopped.
That's when the melee began. One of the other dudes threw me onto the ground and had his knee on my right arm. He's punching away while one of the other guys comes over and is punching me as well. I'm using my left arm to try and sort of deflect the punches but they just keep coming. Bap Bap Bap Bap. I remember thinking "Ok. Ow. Ok. Come on. Please stop hitting me. Ow. Dammit. This is rediculous. We're making fools of ourselves..." but the guy just kept pounding away.
Eventually they got tired of beating us. We got up and assessed the damage. I remember picking Dustin up and putting him in the car. It was ironic that the guy that got us into all this had never thrown a punch. My lip was bleeding but that was all. I thought "Wow, all that punching in the face and all I got was a busted lip?". Mac looked ok (at the time). I remember looking up and everyone at the party was just looking at us. Everyone was thinking "Oh. It was that Ex-Boyfriend that caused all this trouble."
Dustin immedietly starts talking about how needs to go to the hospital. We kept telling him he would be ok and that if we went to he hospital they would call his parents. "I don't fucking care, man. My leg is seriously broken, i know it...". So we head to OLOL and proceed to spend the next 5 hours there...
All in all, Dustin required major surgery on his leg involving a metal plate. Mac's eyes were both black, and I got a busted lip. I called the ex-gf the next day to apologize but it did little good. Getting punched in the face doesn't hurt that bad, but it makes for a great story.
let's flash back to march 2002. i was manic, depressed, and unstable. i'd just gotten out of a super long relationship that had spanned my senior year of high school all the way thru college. it was a love-hate thing. it was fueled by teenage angst and later by twixter post-college rage. head over heels one minute and painfully low the next.
one night while leaving a super bowl party, i had an revealation. get out of this now. virtually the end of a 7 year fight came to a denoument. it was like the voice of God telling me "Look... this just isn't in the cards for you people. You take my name in vain too much...". it was either that or the gallons of beer i drank that night. regardless, i had a long drive home from Mike's in Gonzales and plenty of time to think. by the time i got home, the decision had been made. the fights were over...
but i suppose we had one REALLY GOOD fight left in us.
easter weekend, 2002. me and a bunch of friends had gathered at my parents house to do a little pre-partying and night planning. getting a buzz and deciding what bar to go to. it was here that my friends revealed that most of them had been invited to a party at my ex-girlfriend's house. she'd informed one of them about how awesome it was going to be and how there was going to be a spacewalk, a pool filled with pudding, jello shots - you name it. my friends, being the stand up folk that they are, were like "man, we really want to go to this. i mean, there might be naked chicks" and all this shit. of course.
i, being the post-volitile man child i was at the time, became furious. my friends weren't gonna go to a party and leave ME at home!!! i had 2 options at that point: raise hell and tell them we should all just go somewhere else; or i could go to the party with them. unfortunately i opted for the latter, thus putting into motion a wave of events that should have never happened. we packed a couple of ice chests, got in a few cars, and ventured into the promised land.
when we arrived, i was amazed at all the cars. i'll give her credit - this was a pretty good party. people were running around out of thier minds. there was a slip-n-slide (or a piece of visquine caked over the lawn with a nearby hose), spacewalk, all kinds of shit. scantilly clad girls were covered in pudding, water, pieces of grass, dirt... it was an interesting scene to say the least. she'd also made about 5 billion jello shots, to which my friends helped themselves to aggregiously.
booze, girls, the hose, and a bunch of people we don't know are not a good combination for my clan. as the hours ticked by, i watched my buddy Dustin take at least 10 shots. now, you have to know him to appreciate him. he's an odd one and engages in questionable behavior when the alcohol flows. always pulls off the shirt and starts talking amazing amounts of shit. a very powerful country accent (even though he's not from the country) and a touch of madness, combined with his 5 foot frame mixed with everclear was a death sentence for all of us. he's walking up to girls and saying things like "yall wanna fuck?" and "yall wanna see it?", etc...
by 2 am or so, it had come to a boiling point. it was getting crucial that we got him out of there. every girl in the party had now seen him with his pants down as he propostioned them. it wasn't pretty. finaly he walked up to the wrong girl, a friend of ours from way back but no longer single. in fact, surrounded by her boyfriend and several of his friends. they were all standing around their car and getting ready to leave. dustin was smashing his pecker against the passenger side window and screaming "YOU WANNA SEE IT?!" we were like "Oh my God, this is not good...". her boyfrined's pals were not amused and said something along the lines of "Bruh, you better get the fuck out of here or, bruh, we're gonna kick your ass... bruh" or the like. mac, matt allen, and myself (the only ones in my click left at the party) were trying feverishly to get dustin into mac's car. i remember saying "hey man. he's drunk. we're getting him out of here" and mac saying something like that as well.
just then, dustin tears into this "FUCK YALL MOTHERFUCKERS. I'LL BEAT ALL YOUR ASSES" and we're like "No. You won't. Let's just get in the car". The goons are adding fuel to the fire, saying "You better get that motherfucker out of here" and we're like "yeah, we're trying" as we goad dustin to the car. Dustin continues with "Let me go. I'm gonna go beat the shit out of those motherfuckers" and we're like "Come on, man - you're wasted". Finally we got him into the backseat of the car, shut his door, and we all walked to our corresponding car doors and got inside. As soon as we shut our doors, Dustin got out.
I remember looking at all of them in the car, realizing that things were about to get bad. Mac looking into the backseat from the driver's seat. Matt looking into the backseat from the front passenger seat. Me looking at the both of them from the backseat. There was this collective "Oh shit. Here we go" that came out of all of us. Dustin was outside screaming, daring them to come over. As we all opened our doors, one of them finally got tired of hearing his shit and walked over to him.
We all walked to the back of the car and one of them lunged for Dustin. As he tried to move out of the way and assume a fighting stance, his lower leg just snapped. Nobody had laid a hand on him. Just the way he pivoted. He just sort of crumbled, holding his leg going "Motherfucker!". So the guy sort of leans over him like he's going to hit him and Mac pulls him back.
Next thing I know, Mac is on the ground getting pummeled. left. right. left. right...in the face. I'm like "Hey, man. Just get off of him.." and tried to pull him off but I was hardly slowing the blows. Finally I started punching the guy in the back of the head until he stopped.
That's when the melee began. One of the other dudes threw me onto the ground and had his knee on my right arm. He's punching away while one of the other guys comes over and is punching me as well. I'm using my left arm to try and sort of deflect the punches but they just keep coming. Bap Bap Bap Bap. I remember thinking "Ok. Ow. Ok. Come on. Please stop hitting me. Ow. Dammit. This is rediculous. We're making fools of ourselves..." but the guy just kept pounding away.
Eventually they got tired of beating us. We got up and assessed the damage. I remember picking Dustin up and putting him in the car. It was ironic that the guy that got us into all this had never thrown a punch. My lip was bleeding but that was all. I thought "Wow, all that punching in the face and all I got was a busted lip?". Mac looked ok (at the time). I remember looking up and everyone at the party was just looking at us. Everyone was thinking "Oh. It was that Ex-Boyfriend that caused all this trouble."
Dustin immedietly starts talking about how needs to go to the hospital. We kept telling him he would be ok and that if we went to he hospital they would call his parents. "I don't fucking care, man. My leg is seriously broken, i know it...". So we head to OLOL and proceed to spend the next 5 hours there...
All in all, Dustin required major surgery on his leg involving a metal plate. Mac's eyes were both black, and I got a busted lip. I called the ex-gf the next day to apologize but it did little good. Getting punched in the face doesn't hurt that bad, but it makes for a great story.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Wesley Willis once sang about the Rock and Roll McDonalds. Well, I think I finally found it. A couple of weeks ago, i had to drive to Lafayette for my job. We have a couple of active things going on around ULL and every now and then, they pull my card to go look at them. Well, a few friday's ago I just happened to get the nod. It wasn't too bad, because I'd worked the bar the night before and got off at around 3, but by being on drive detail to old Acadiana, it nets me about an hour extra of sleep. So anyways, I didn't have to wake up until 8 which is good. It also coincides with the fact that I usually top my bar nights off with a little midnight snack from Jack in the Box (home of the 99 cent heart attack)...
Well, like a real Jack in the Box - you never know when it's going to pop out. It's like those toys from when you were a kid - you turn the little crank and SURPRISE! So I'm just past Breaux Bridge when I feel the first signs of discomfort. I can tell that this one is going to be bad too. My stomach is just going crazy rumbling and tumbling and it's just not a good situation. To top it off, I had that post late night dry sweat thing going on, and my hair was sort of matted down and I was all unshaven (just giving you a visual). You know the look I'm talking about. Well, you know how that look feels? Just horrible. Like, I'm leaning forward over the steering wheel - mouth open, slightly frowning. So finally I'm nearing the University exit and I'm like "Man, I'm going to have to take care of some buisness soon"... So I pulled into a Circle K instincively, then realized this would be the worst place to do what I have to do. I mean, I've never had a good experience in a Circle K bathroom. So I turn around and continue driving. Then I see a McDonalds. I mean, this can't be so bad. It's almost 10, the breakfast rush is probably out of the way (you have to plan these things...), and there's not too many cars in the parking lot. Just a van. A long one with a lot of windows with some church listed on the side of it. Nothing out of the ordinary.
So I walk inside, visibly uncomfortable - hastily walking fast and awkward to the bathroom. As i'm making my way through the dining room, there's a bunch of people, more than i'd think would be in here, sitting at tables together. They're also wearing these little green chords around their necks attached to those laminate backstage pass looking things. I really think nothing of it, because at this point i know that time is of the essence. If I don't get in this bathroom now, i'm going to have a VERY bad day in Lafayette if you know what i mean.
I open the bathroom door and thank God it's empty. It's nice to know that every McD's bathroom is fairly uniform: brown tile, beige walls with that orangepeel finish, lots of flourescent light. There's usually a papertowel dispenser next to an electric blower in which someone has most certainly scratched 'step one' into reading "push butt" instead of "push button". Classic humor. I'd like to meet the first guy who came up with that one. Not to get off the subject, but I noticed most of the blower companies wised up and learned to just use pictures instead of worded instructions. That's too bad. I'd always snikered at the thought of an old man in say 1987 walking up to it after washing his hands and saying "well now, gotta dry mah hands.. lets see here... step one: push butt...ok.. oooh.. AW DAMMIT. NOW MY ASS IS ALL WET. i'm going to ask for the manager...".
Ok.. anyways, so I run into the stall, slam the door, drop down and just BLAM! you know. Do my thing. oh man.. relief. Thank you sweet Jesus. Oh thank You!!! but no sooner had I sat down I heard the door open. Ok, now - you know this is going to be bad. You NEVER want that door to open when you're in a public bathroom stall. Never. It's like you just went from taking care of one of nature's absolute most necessary things to putting on a show when you don't feel like it. It's like seeing a little dog wearing a sweater... he's not happy about it. Well, Ii wasn't happy about this. So i hear what sounds like 2 people in the bathroom shuffling around. I'm like "what in the hell are these people doing? TRYING to make me feel uncomfortable?".
Next thing i know, one of them starts going "UUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNGHHH". Now i'm freaked out. I'm like "What the fuck is going on? Could there be genuine retards in this bathroom with me? This is either going to be extremely awkward or completely hilarious - one or the other" So then the unthinkable happens. I'm sitting down on a toilet, obviously feeling vulnerable - when one of them looks over the stall. Down at me. I mean, I'm naked waste down, man.. I have pants around my ankles! There is the top half of some dudes face staring at me. I look back at him, blink for a seond, and as plain as possible say "Um, can I help you?"... The face retreats and says something in retard to the other guy, and i'm like "I'm getting the fuck out of here...". I wiped and got the hell out.
As I open the stall door, there's 2 dudes standing there looking at me with green chords on like i'm the outdsider. It was eerie. So I open the bathroom door and they're all out there. It's like "holy shit..."... Like - of all the luck, I pick the one fast food place where these guys are. Every table is filled with retarded people looking at me. Like they sent the other 2 in after me. Where's the church leader that was supposed to be watching them? Who is in charge here?! What the fuck is going on?! As I left, the first thing i thought was "Man, I should have just crapped at the Circle K". I guess the moral of the story is try and avoid fast food at all cost. If you buy it at the fast food restaurant, chances are you'll be leaving it at another fast food restaurant... The second thought i had was "I have to call Hilbun immediately. Of everyone I know, he'll probably get the most humor out of this...". So there it is.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Semi-Meaningful Tasks HURT!
what if it was your job to perform small semi-meaningful tasks that caused some pain and/or discomfort? like, what if it was your job to put keys on keyrings, or clasp and unclasp gold necklaces... (you know those circular hooks with the little barb sticking out). what if it was your job to see how many times a lighter would provide a flame, or just start pull start lawn mowers. like, thats all you did. pull start lawn mowers...all day. you know, we can invent everything in the world, but instead of just inventing new stuff - why not spend time improving what we have? i'd love beer in a bottle, without the somewhat painful job of opening it. maybe i'm a big panzy, but instead of creating a new dispenser for beer (like the party ball), why not make regular 12 oz. bottles easier to open? i mean, when you get up to 32 oz., it's a screwcap. now, why make that size easier to open? i mean, you'd have to go through several painful 12 oz. bottlecap openings to equal the far easier task of simply unscrewing a much larger 32 oz. personally, i think that by making the much bigger bottle even EASIER to open, it promotes alcoholism. but no, instead of making a domestic bottlecap thay doesn't scrape your skin all up, they'll invent some sort of new device to dispense beer into (like a new 11 oz. bottle, or a ceramic lemur coffee mug). here's another question: why does coffee have to be so hot? i mean, is that absolutely necessary? couldn't it be just a little cooler? does it have to be 4000 degrees, with the power to melt your skin off? now, instead of making even more varieties of coffee (like lattes, cappachinos, mochas), why not just make regular coffee a little less hot? i know, i could get iced coffee... but that's just it - i don't want iced coffee. i want regular coffee that isn't hotter than freaking lava. i don't know if i've mentioned this before, but i like the little warning i see on the side of to-go coffee cups. it says "Warning: The Product You Are About To Enjoy Is Extremely Hot". that's not exactly true. you're not ABOUT to enjoy it, you're ABOUT to burn your tongue like an idiot. now, it should say "Warning: The Product You Are About To Enjoy Is Too Hot To Physically Consume Right Now. Wait A Little While So You Don't Burn The Piss Out Of Yourself.". now, that would be a great warning.
Friday, September 9, 2005
Adam's House. Episode 2.
ah, July 4th. a great day for celebrating the independence of our country by drinking obscene amounts of alchohol. it seems that i've been doing this since birth - and this year was no exception.
i started the day off with good intentions. adam had called me and mentioned he was having people over at his parents' house again, and if i'm not mistaken, also told me to not take anyones pants this time. i assured him i wouldn't, said i was gonna go pick up some beer and me and the aimster would be right over.
of course, by the time we're walking out of albertsons, we've bought 2 cases of Bud Lt. and 2 cases of Natty. everyone was like "hey, buy me some beer and i'll pay you when you get here", etc. we put the cases in the back of the truck and headed for the:
(ding! ding! here comes mistake number one)
daiquiri shop.
so aimee orders the regular old pina colada or whatever. but i'm thinking "ok, daiquiris. this should start my day off with a nice buzz" so i order the super-gallon ass size TKO with an extra shot of everclear. she handles me the bucket, i took a sip, and it tasted like i'd cracked open a bottle of rubbing alcohol. seriously. we use everclear at the bar to remove permanant marker. it's like i'm drinking kerosene - with a fruity aftertaste. but did it slow me down? oh heeeeeeeeelll no.
so i'm drinking this massive concotion and driving for the kings. we pull up and it's just a few people. i'm was drinking the TKO, but fast because by this time, i was tired of it and desired one of the beers. i was taking these huge gulps. i was like "here, taste this" and people were like "hmmm... did you get into the gas can again? jesus...".
so finally, about 20 minutes after we'd gotten there - i finished it. i went inside and grabbed one of the beers. it was about this time that things started to get a little hazy and distorted. it's like in the movies when they show the fucked up guys' face, show what he sees: this wavy contortion, then shows his face again. thats what was going on. really.
so i had another beer and another and another. i remember talking to blake and may near the table, and they're like "sam, you're obviously fucked up", and i go "what?! no man, not yet...". but oh yes. i was. so i drank another beer and decided to get in the pool.
(ding! ding! mistake number two.)
i don't remember much about this part but i do remember this is where things started getting absolutly rediculous. this is that point where alcohol has taken control of you. i just remember swimming in the deep end and going all the way to the bottom and staying down there too long. then i'd pop up. i did this over and over again. swim down, pop up. so then i decided to swim over by the slide. i came up and there was heather and tandie. so i started talking to them, and one of them says "sam, you have this huge booger hanging out of your nose...". i was like "son of a bitch, motherfucker. i think that's the most embarassing thing that has ever happened to me."
but it wasn't. it was at that point i decided to get out of the pool and get on the slide.
(ding! ding!. HORRIBLE mistake number 3.)
so i climb to the top of the slide and i stand on it. standing up. wasted, about 12 feet above the concrete patio just waiting to split my skull open like a melon. everybody was saying "SAM! GET OFF OF THERE! YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! GET DOWN!". i'm just observing the view, in a maniacal drunken rage. so finally i slide down, swim over to the side and get out of the pool with my ass hanging out of the trunks.
by now, i'm clueless. i'm completly shit-hammered. i think i walked around and ran into stuff. i remember walking out into the driveway and talking to people. somebody told me i started pissing all over bradley's car but i don't remember that. i was just super fucked, and still drinking beer. i mean, schnokered.
eventually i had to pee again, so i was walking all around the house trying to find a place to go. i saw aimee go into the bathroom in the hallway, and i was like "what a great idea", so i went in behind her. she sat down to pee, and i had to go too so i started going in the sink. aimee was like "you know, if you had to go that bad, you could have gone before me" but i told her that pissing in the sink was much cooler than pissing in toilets. so then we finish up, i rinse the sink out and we walk out into the living room. aimee immedietly starts telling everybody that i pissed in the sink. i said "i just really had to go" and aimee was all "no you didn't. you said you peed in the sink because pissing in the sink is cool" and i go "well, it is...". shortly after this, i started thinking i was having a heart attack and i was totally ready to go home. but then i remembered to go and ask for the money for the beer i bought. marco and bradley told me to get $10 out of thier wallets. people were making jokes like "hey, better not let sam get into the pants room again". so i remember opening every wallet in the room, checking id's to see who's was who's. i took whatever, made change for whatever, and walked out the room.
so then i was like "ok, everybody. i'm leaving." so i walked outside, and glen says "sam, you're a little messed up. let me drive you home." we got into the truck and glen - the saint that he is - drove me and aimee to the homestead, about 8 blocks away.
so for the rest of the evening, i sat on the couch being confused. looking around the room breathing heavilly..wondering about corners, cracked paint. just sitting there. eventually i passed out and was late getting to work.
the next day i called adam to ask him what i did. he filled in some gaps that i'd apparantly forced from memory. he did key me into something interesting. apparantly after everyone was getting ready to go home, there was some discussion about the transactions i'd performed. bradley was $20 short instead of 10 and glen's wallet was completely rearranged. he'd magically made about $7 though.
so, there you go. drunken memories of another July 4th. i wonder when adam's parents are going out of town again.
i started the day off with good intentions. adam had called me and mentioned he was having people over at his parents' house again, and if i'm not mistaken, also told me to not take anyones pants this time. i assured him i wouldn't, said i was gonna go pick up some beer and me and the aimster would be right over.
of course, by the time we're walking out of albertsons, we've bought 2 cases of Bud Lt. and 2 cases of Natty. everyone was like "hey, buy me some beer and i'll pay you when you get here", etc. we put the cases in the back of the truck and headed for the:
(ding! ding! here comes mistake number one)
daiquiri shop.
so aimee orders the regular old pina colada or whatever. but i'm thinking "ok, daiquiris. this should start my day off with a nice buzz" so i order the super-gallon ass size TKO with an extra shot of everclear. she handles me the bucket, i took a sip, and it tasted like i'd cracked open a bottle of rubbing alcohol. seriously. we use everclear at the bar to remove permanant marker. it's like i'm drinking kerosene - with a fruity aftertaste. but did it slow me down? oh heeeeeeeeelll no.
so i'm drinking this massive concotion and driving for the kings. we pull up and it's just a few people. i'm was drinking the TKO, but fast because by this time, i was tired of it and desired one of the beers. i was taking these huge gulps. i was like "here, taste this" and people were like "hmmm... did you get into the gas can again? jesus...".
so finally, about 20 minutes after we'd gotten there - i finished it. i went inside and grabbed one of the beers. it was about this time that things started to get a little hazy and distorted. it's like in the movies when they show the fucked up guys' face, show what he sees: this wavy contortion, then shows his face again. thats what was going on. really.
so i had another beer and another and another. i remember talking to blake and may near the table, and they're like "sam, you're obviously fucked up", and i go "what?! no man, not yet...". but oh yes. i was. so i drank another beer and decided to get in the pool.
(ding! ding! mistake number two.)
i don't remember much about this part but i do remember this is where things started getting absolutly rediculous. this is that point where alcohol has taken control of you. i just remember swimming in the deep end and going all the way to the bottom and staying down there too long. then i'd pop up. i did this over and over again. swim down, pop up. so then i decided to swim over by the slide. i came up and there was heather and tandie. so i started talking to them, and one of them says "sam, you have this huge booger hanging out of your nose...". i was like "son of a bitch, motherfucker. i think that's the most embarassing thing that has ever happened to me."
but it wasn't. it was at that point i decided to get out of the pool and get on the slide.
(ding! ding!. HORRIBLE mistake number 3.)
so i climb to the top of the slide and i stand on it. standing up. wasted, about 12 feet above the concrete patio just waiting to split my skull open like a melon. everybody was saying "SAM! GET OFF OF THERE! YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! GET DOWN!". i'm just observing the view, in a maniacal drunken rage. so finally i slide down, swim over to the side and get out of the pool with my ass hanging out of the trunks.
by now, i'm clueless. i'm completly shit-hammered. i think i walked around and ran into stuff. i remember walking out into the driveway and talking to people. somebody told me i started pissing all over bradley's car but i don't remember that. i was just super fucked, and still drinking beer. i mean, schnokered.
eventually i had to pee again, so i was walking all around the house trying to find a place to go. i saw aimee go into the bathroom in the hallway, and i was like "what a great idea", so i went in behind her. she sat down to pee, and i had to go too so i started going in the sink. aimee was like "you know, if you had to go that bad, you could have gone before me" but i told her that pissing in the sink was much cooler than pissing in toilets. so then we finish up, i rinse the sink out and we walk out into the living room. aimee immedietly starts telling everybody that i pissed in the sink. i said "i just really had to go" and aimee was all "no you didn't. you said you peed in the sink because pissing in the sink is cool" and i go "well, it is...". shortly after this, i started thinking i was having a heart attack and i was totally ready to go home. but then i remembered to go and ask for the money for the beer i bought. marco and bradley told me to get $10 out of thier wallets. people were making jokes like "hey, better not let sam get into the pants room again". so i remember opening every wallet in the room, checking id's to see who's was who's. i took whatever, made change for whatever, and walked out the room.
so then i was like "ok, everybody. i'm leaving." so i walked outside, and glen says "sam, you're a little messed up. let me drive you home." we got into the truck and glen - the saint that he is - drove me and aimee to the homestead, about 8 blocks away.
so for the rest of the evening, i sat on the couch being confused. looking around the room breathing heavilly..wondering about corners, cracked paint. just sitting there. eventually i passed out and was late getting to work.
the next day i called adam to ask him what i did. he filled in some gaps that i'd apparantly forced from memory. he did key me into something interesting. apparantly after everyone was getting ready to go home, there was some discussion about the transactions i'd performed. bradley was $20 short instead of 10 and glen's wallet was completely rearranged. he'd magically made about $7 though.
so, there you go. drunken memories of another July 4th. i wonder when adam's parents are going out of town again.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
shampoo, JOHN!, angry cow, confused and disgusted...
how often does this happen to you? i'm in the shower, about to wash my hair. i open the little hinge cap from the shampoo bottle, hold the bottle above my hand at about a 45 degree angle, and then accidentally dump a shitload of shampoo into my hand. "fuck", i say... looking at the rediculous sized puddle in my palm. i didn't need THIS much shampoo. so then, it never fails... i try to pour the huge amount back into the tiny hole in the bottle which NEVER works. so then i just end up shampooing my entire body. oh well - i guess i'll smell pretty good today. the other day i was sitting in the house and heard my neighbor yelling. this woman next door was all pissed off, angrilly snapping at whoever. so i turned my tv off and quietly opened my sliding door so i could listen in. she was on the phone and just screaming "FATHERHOOD HAPPENS EVERY DAY, JOHN! FATHERHOOD HAPPENS EVERY DAY!!!". i wanted to go yell out "yeah, i got your fatherhood right here..." then slam the door - but i didn't. then she goes "JOHN, WITH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE...". i was like, what the hell is this woman talking about? i think that if you're going to yell conversations on the phone loud enough for your neighbors to hear, you have to explain yourself. last week, i was driving for my job to go drop off some stuff in W. Feliciana, and i was passing tons of cow pastures. i started to wonder if cows ever get mad. i mean, bulls obviously get mad but what about cows? horses can get mad. i'm pretty sure goats can get mad. what if cows can't get mad? i wish i couldn't get mad. that would be pretty awesome. the other night, mac, joe, and i were driving over to a new bar here in town and i was pretty wasted. so we started shouting out different situational moods that started with the same letter, then wondering what it would be like to combine them. i think the first one was "disoriented" and "disgusted". so i said it would be like "oh, geez. i feel dizzy. woah..man, where am i? whoo... i.. ugh. i don't like this car. good Lord.. this seatbelt is gross...". the next one was "constipated" and "curious". it was like "oooh. oh man, i am really backed up. oooogh, geez. i just feel so weighted..but... what is this over here. a box? hmmm.. i wonder what is in the box. let's see... um... oooooh. ok, maybe later. i feel too full and heavy.". i have an electric razor i keep it in my car and shave on my way to work. this morning, the battery started to die after i'd shaved about 25% of my face. so today i have a half shave. dammit...
Monday, August 8, 2005
Trade In Your Breakfast For This Dannon Frusion Smoothie!
hello, yes. you can trade in your breakfast. just try it. this weekend i had the pleasure of going to Whole Foods for the first time. well, it wasn't the first time really - i went and dropped off 6 bundles of duct wrap while it was being constructed, but at that point, it was a hulking empty buliding with nothing but spiral ductwork running above. no walls, no paint, and no people. but not anymore. Whole Foods has opened, and much to the delight of everyone in Baton Rouge as all 250,000 of its residents were crammed into the store this weekend. It's like an organic Wal-Mart. It's what Sam Walton would have envisioned had he been a hippie. Bright, colorful, and kind of weird. The second i walked in, i was ready to leave. I don't know what it is about this town, but as soon as something new opens - everyone and their mother flocks to see it. literally. i saw a lot of people and thier mothers in there. Ultimately it was kind of neat. There's sandwich bars, sushi bars, pizza bars. All of it organic. In fact, even the walls are probably biodegradable. I just don't know why all the people were in there. I was like "Call Whole Foods. Tell them to build one of these on the south side of town IMEDIATELY! Get some of these people out of here". This is in the new Town Centre shopping land by my house. If anything, this new structure has increased my property value. And it's fun if you're bored with the new Olive Garden on Seigen, or you're finally tired of the Shaw Center and the Tsunami patio. but in the end, Whole Foods is like a grocery store in which you can't buy everything you need. one thing i did need was dog and cat food. after searching for the Gravy Train or Wiskahs, i finally realized i was going to have to buy something made with corn starch and grains or something. Zeke looked at his for awhile and eventually realized it was all that would be served and grudgingly ate it. "Just Cat" (named by Emily) opted for grass or something, but the ants were all about it. but maybe we can learn a thing or two from out pets. Preservatives are pretty damned good sometimes. unfortunately, i was never able to trade in my breakfast for a Dannon Frusion smoothie. Whole Foods does not carry it.
Tuesday, August 2, 2005
Fanta. Do I Want One? Hmmm....
ok, thats it. the "Fanta" commercials have forced me to hate Fanta. before, I didn't know if i liked it or not. Now i know i hate it. i guess the advertising campaign worked. i've never tased Fanta but i already know i hate it. "Wanta Fanta?" "no, bitch. get the fuck up out of my face...."
Monday, July 25, 2005
Things You Can't Do With Silica Gel.
it never fails, everytime i get a new jacket or pair of jeans, i always find a little packet of little crystals called silica gel. i don't know what it is or what it does. i've always just looked at it as a free prize i got for buying the article of clothing, like at the bottom of crackerjack or cereal. the first thing i say to anyone who is in the room when i find it is "hey, silica gel. lets eat this... oh, wait.. it says not to...". literally. i do this every time.
so the only warning is to not eat it. thats the first thing that whomever put that in your clothes wants you to know. it's not for eating. you don't need to know what it is, you just need to know not to eat it. i mean, is this some type of reflex people have i don't know about? eating stuff they find in new things?
it's not like i buy a new cd, open the case and start eating the compact disc. or buy a drill and start eating the drill bits or battery charger. in fact, i can't think of anything people may eat when they would buy some type of new accessory or piece of clothing. "hey, look at this new shirt i bought at the mall. it used to have buttons on it, but after i got into the car i had the strange urge to eat them. yeah, weird.. i know...".
but that's the only rule. you can rub it on your skin, throw it at children, give it to the dog, snort it, rub it in your eyes, pee on it, make fun of it - but for pete's sake.. DO NOT EAT IT! anything else, fine. it might be the tastiest thing in the world but we will never know. we have been forbidden by its creator to eat it.
so tell me. have any of you eaten the silica gel?
so the only warning is to not eat it. thats the first thing that whomever put that in your clothes wants you to know. it's not for eating. you don't need to know what it is, you just need to know not to eat it. i mean, is this some type of reflex people have i don't know about? eating stuff they find in new things?
it's not like i buy a new cd, open the case and start eating the compact disc. or buy a drill and start eating the drill bits or battery charger. in fact, i can't think of anything people may eat when they would buy some type of new accessory or piece of clothing. "hey, look at this new shirt i bought at the mall. it used to have buttons on it, but after i got into the car i had the strange urge to eat them. yeah, weird.. i know...".
but that's the only rule. you can rub it on your skin, throw it at children, give it to the dog, snort it, rub it in your eyes, pee on it, make fun of it - but for pete's sake.. DO NOT EAT IT! anything else, fine. it might be the tastiest thing in the world but we will never know. we have been forbidden by its creator to eat it.
so tell me. have any of you eaten the silica gel?
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Adam's House. Episode 1.
you know, i'm always about a week late on bringing my blog up to date. i guess getting anecdotal takes some time. stories have to age, i assume. like old Uncle Remus or the Crypt Keeper. i mean, storytellers have always been older, right? hearing a sentance like "GRANDPA, TELL US A STORY" would be more traditional than hearing "Hey, Billy. How about one of those stories...". ok, for the record.. it's official... i CANNOT ever drink liquor again. never. maybe a shot. like 1. maybe 2. other than that, better get me to just stick to the beer. last week, good old adam king decided to have a party at his parents house. in case none of you have heard about what happened last time i partied at adam's parents, allow me to bring you up to speed: Party at the King's House. PART 1. Summer 2003. As most summer parties around a pool go, we had been drinking a rediculous amount of beer during the day in the blazing sun. As the party had winded down, I was going to leave and change out of my swim trunks, so i walked into the bedroom my shorts were in - took off the trunks and put the shorts back on. So, as i was extremely intoxicated, i apparantly then immediately forgot i'd changed pants. i assumed i was still in my trunks, and grabbed another pair of pants sitting on the floor. i walked to my car, threw the pants in the back seat and proceeded to not remember driving home. the next day i got up for work and vaguely remember getting a bunch of cell phone calls during the night. (que Nokia tune): "Hello...?" "Sam, do you have Mike's pants?" "What?" "Sam, please make sure you didn't grab Mike's pants by mistake..." "Wait... What? What pants?" "Mike's pants. Do you have them. Did you grab them by accident..." "Pants? No. I'm not wearing any pants..." (click) so i awoke the next morning, feeling like shit, and i got dressed to go to work. as i looked in the back seat i saw a pair of pants. I was like "hmm... how did these get here." I brought them inside and as I carried them, i noticed the weight of a wallet in the back pocket. When i opened it, i slowly remembered the hazy phone calls and a limited amount of their content. But as I saw Mikey's smiling face on the ID, i couldn't help but smile back at him. So at 6:15 in the morning, I called him to tell him of my discovery. "Hey man, did you put your pants in the back seat of my car..." "No. You did....(pause)...and shit, now I have a lot of apologies to make..." Hours after I'd left the party with his pants, he'd gotten out of the pool to go and get dressed and discovered that his pants had obviously been stolen. He'd cursed people out, made accusations, threatened to beat people up. I couldnt help but think of an enraged Mike Terito screaming at people in a pool.. with his swimsuit on. He'd cancelled all of his credit cards, debit cards, everything. I felt so bad that I drove out to Gonzales just to take him to lunch. Well, the next thing you know... it's 2005 and i've got a TKO Daquirri with an EXTRA shot of Everclear... TO BE CONTINUED, maybe...
Friday, July 1, 2005
Disney World? Disney PLANET!
what a week. i've just had one of the most insane weeks of my life and i'm def ready for a nap. here's the update on what m.c. sam has been into for the last 2 weeks. for those of yous who don't know, me and aimee got engaged this weekend. you know, what kind of word is that. engaged? i mean, it makes me think of some fighter pilot term... "missles engaged.."? anyway, it was finally time to do it and move on to the next chapter in my life. sorry ladies.. this motherfucker is taken. so i just got back from the happiest place on earth: Disneyworld. Aimee worked there a few years back, was part of the Disney college program, and met some of the most interesting people you could imagine. i could honestly do a sociological study on the typical Disney employee. there are some of them who won't go and see movies made by Universal, Fox, or Warner Bros... only companies owned by Disney. They'll only watch ABC, they don't accept the existance of Shrek or South Park. Why have Daffy Duck when you could have Donald Duck? Why have Bugs Bunny when you could have Roger Rabbit? and the thing is, you don't know these people exist until you emurse yourself in their culture. It's the closest thing to a cult that can thrive in modern society. maybe i'm just pissed because there's no Sam-World. instead of the "Tower of Terror", i'd have the "Tower of Terrorism". i'd also make a Judge Genius ride, where you would go into a big dome and people would chase you with rubber mallots while JG played at full volume. or maybe i'd make a ride where you go into a dark hallway and just trip over stuff. I'd call it the "Great Big Falldown". As we walked around Disney, i looked at the despaired looks on some of the people's faces as they waited in lines. then i had an idea for another ride. "Line - THE RIDE". it would be this long line that lead to a door, and after people waited for 45 minutes, the door would open and it would just be nothing. or maybe another line to stand in. after i stood in line for something for like 30 minutes, i told aimee "hey, maybe this is all there is. it's just a line...". then we went on the Pirates of the Carribean. there was this little girl with her parents, just about to get on the boat... and the girl was just crying her eyes out. she was like "I don't want to die..." and aimee leant over and was like "you're not going to die..". i looked at aimee a few minutes later and said "you don't know if that girl's going to die or not. she might flip out and jump out of the boat or something..". then aimee told me a few years ago this retarded kid jumped out of Splash Mountain and died. wouldn't that be awesome to see that happen? anyways, here's the list of rides we're making for the grand opening of Sam-World, coming fall of 2008.
1. "Tower of Terrorism"
2. "Line - the Ride"
3. "The Great Big Falldown"
4. Run from whorish ants in "Ants! Whores! Ant-whore!"
5. "Cow - The Adventure"
6. "Virtual Poverty"
7. "Purgatory. Then Hell. Just kidding, WE GAVE YOU ACID!" (ages 8 and up)
8. "Punch a Bum in the Gut"
9. "the Great Prison Rape Adventure".
10. "Wake Up With Cheetos".
11. fun for the whole family in "Captain Hoof and the Beastiality Train"
12. "Escape From Satsuma"
13. carry a pallet of bricks on "Bad Back"
14. "Grandma and the Money Shot"... and last but not least...
15. Shit Out A Buick.
Monday, June 13, 2005
survey.
in honor of all the stupid little surveys going around Myspace, i've decided to create my own. what do you think?
1. what time is it now?
2. what is your name?
3. what is your sign?
4. what city were you born in?
5. what is your favorite color?
6. how tall are you?
7. ever been in love?
8. have you ever been so in love with someone, you cried?
9. have you ever cried?
10. are you human?
11. if you could choose between saving your best friend from drowning, but had to sacrifice 2 of your limbs, would you do it?
12. have you ever drank?
13. have you ever smoked?
14. have you ever smoked PCP, then gone on a crime spree that ended with you being shot to death outside a Circle K in Gonzales?
15. do you have a good sense of smell?
16. have you ever stolen?
17. have you ever gone on tour with the Eagles?
18. what is the last thing you ate?
19. have you ever commited a crime?
20. have you ever commited felony mail fraud?
21. have you ever been north of the Mason-Dixon line?
22. are you malnourished?
23. have you ever had food so good, that it actually made you slap your momma?
24. have you ever commited spousal abuse?
25. have you ever lost teeth?
26. have you ever seen the jar of animal teeth i keep in a jar above my great aunt's washing machine in northern Mississippi?
27. have you ever missed someone so much, you cried?
28. have you ever missed someone so much, you suffered internal bleeding?
29. have you ever mishandled government documents?
30. what is your favorite alcoholic beverage?
31. have you ever drank rubbing alcohol?
32. did you beat Martha Moxley to death with a golf club in the Hamptons?
33. are you related to the Kennedy family?
35. are you going to beat the cancer?
36. what happened to question 34?
37. if someone told you question 34 got cancer, but is undergoing chemotherapy and may return - would you believe it?
38. shut up!
39. are you ready for the voices in your head to stop?
40. what time is it right now?
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Zeke, Spider Deaths, Miss Bliss and MORE!!!
bus it. (now break into obligatory rhymes)... nevermind. so, i just finished this long ass blog about how old my alarm clock was and how i got it in 1989 and i loved it and it ruled to the maximum but it rules considerably less now... and now it isn't up here. fuck! i think myspace conspires against alarm clocks, or at least alarm clock posts. so how was everybodys Memorial Day? Do a lot of "memorializing"? i spent the day moving out of our old bandroom (next to the caterie) and into our new one (at Adam, Talley, and Paul's new house). it was loads of fun. the kids moved into some new digs and the house is pretty sweet, only problem is that they won't allow dogs. and who would happen to have a dog but the legendary Michael Talley. so, he comes up to me and ask if i'd be willing to dog-sit. i was thinking about getting some new alarm system for the house, so i figured that could definately be an upgrade. so now, Zeke lives with me. very good dog. listens quite well. speaks fluent japanese and can solve crossword puzzles like a motherfucker. ok, not really. who was that Saint (this is obviously a question for Joe) that was kind to all the animals? i've come to a conclusion that he must be my patron, because i'm a total animal pussy. even insects. if there's something in the house, barring it won't bite or disfigure me.. i'll go to great links to get it out without killing it. so, i'm standing at the back door letting Zeke out for a morning tee tee, and i see this fucking massive spider inside my house, right next to the door. so i pick up a piece of floor tile and attempt to fling this creature out of the house. unfortunately for him, his little spidy head slammed into the door frame. so then i sorta just scooped him up and threw him outside. while Zeke was out chasing something around, i leaned over him and said "I'm sorry, mr. spider. i didn't mean to kill you...". i think the neighbor behind my house saw me talking to the ground. i'm sure he already has some reservations about me. i was in my undies while all this was going on and i'm sure i looked like some sort of nutjob. oh well. what's he gonna do? this morning before i went to work, Saved By The Bell was on. it was one of those ones with Miss Bliss and those other kids that mysteriously dissappeared after the first season. Really... what happened to them? did Mr. Belding kill them? did Screech slaughter them to wear their flesh like Buffalo Bill in Silence Of The Lambs? NOW THAT would make for some good Saturday morning tv. Silence Of The Bell? Saved By The Lambs? uh oh. looks like it's time to be up and out. there's some kid huffing gasoline in my bushes. quick Zeke! GET HIM!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
more to come...
you know, i'm tired of going on some musician myspace blogs, every now and then glancing across lyrics and seeing all this cryptic, whiny crap that can be seen in almost every sense except for the obvious... the fact that they make no sense. ok, look. don't get me wrong. you can take what you will from them, sometimes walking away connecting in your own way - or being like me and calling them on the bullshit that they are. i mean, it pisses me off when i see something that could literally be written in minutes, but being pushed as this deep ass thought. something like "you don't understand what you did to me. the keys were on the table. my heart was on the table. you left it there..." really. whatever... there's a lot of musicians that do this and pass it off as a deep, meaningful message. Many of them become grossly famous. Like Oasis' "Wonderwall". 'and after all.... you're my wonderwall...". WHAT THE FUCK IS A WONDERWALL? if you ask Liam or Noel, they'll ramble on about some sort of deep hidden meaning, blah blah blah. I just think they threw some shit together that rhymed. My girlfriend is a huuuuuge Tori Amos fan. so we'll be driving around in her car and she'll have it on, nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually I'll look over at her, and the following conversation takes place: Me: "Ok, WHAT is this song about?" Aimee: "Well, it's about this sad... um... this thing that like... like... it's, uh.. just a sad song..." Me: "Ok, i get that. But what is she talking about here. What happened to her to make her write this song?" Aimee: "well... it's just.. like... I DON'T KNOW, SAM. CAN YOU PLEASE STOP ASKING SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS? What does the Beastie Boys write about? What does the Pixies write about?" Me:"hmmm... well, pre-1998 Beastie Boys is about getting fucked up, shoes, headphones, microphones, elephant tranquilizer, the ladies, booties, things of that nature. The Pixies write about water, animals, and planets of sound." I eventually saw her point. but it still didn't satisfy me. writing lyrics is hard, and when you sit down and just write whatever pops into your head, somebody needs to call you on it. i suppose i'm rallying against the emotioinally charged horseshit i run across on this website daily, but pretty please... with sugar on top... write lyrics that make sense.
Saturday, May 7, 2005
Ugly or Pretty, It's Still My City..
i was just sitting here reading blogs from friends that have moved away to various parts of the country. it always kind of makes me kinda sad. i don't know what its like to move away. i've only known one city and its always safe to say that when i'm away from it for too long, i miss it more than anything. before too long, a week in Las Vegas = me missing home, a week in Florida = me missing home. some places make me miss home even faster. i've spent 1 night in my life in Salt Lake City on a plane layover and i felt like i was just outside the outskirts of hell.
i remember when i was at LSU, there were so many people that were like "Oh my God. I cannot WAIT to leave Baton Rouge!!!". when i think back to that time, it reminds me of the lyrics of the Hot Hot Heat's 'Get In Or Get Out':
He never thought that he would leave so soon. Passed out in May, but then woke up June hanging over July.
Security! Security! Beware: the cost of living is a one way fare.
I'm pulling the alarm, so get in or get out.
His polyester sticks out in the crowd. It's true, there is such a thing as too loud -but I won't let him know.
White lipstick smeared upon my bathroom mirror. He stuck me with the bill -but I don't care.
Ugly or pretty, it's still my city. Make up your mind and get in or get out!
Say what you will, but get in or get out!
We never thought that he would leave this town.
We always that he would hang around getting old with the rest.
Jean jackets folded on his closet shelf. The weather begs for leather coats... Ah well.
i remember when i was at LSU, there were so many people that were like "Oh my God. I cannot WAIT to leave Baton Rouge!!!". when i think back to that time, it reminds me of the lyrics of the Hot Hot Heat's 'Get In Or Get Out':
He never thought that he would leave so soon. Passed out in May, but then woke up June hanging over July.
Security! Security! Beware: the cost of living is a one way fare.
I'm pulling the alarm, so get in or get out.
His polyester sticks out in the crowd. It's true, there is such a thing as too loud -but I won't let him know.
White lipstick smeared upon my bathroom mirror. He stuck me with the bill -but I don't care.
Ugly or pretty, it's still my city. Make up your mind and get in or get out!
Say what you will, but get in or get out!
We never thought that he would leave this town.
We always that he would hang around getting old with the rest.
Jean jackets folded on his closet shelf. The weather begs for leather coats... Ah well.
Wednesday, May 4, 2005
uh oh. all HELL is breaking loose!
the other day, my buddy mac was talking about God knows what and he happened on a saying i started thinking a little too much about. he was like "Sam, if you do (whatever he was talking about - i forgot), then all hell is gonna break loose...". so i was like "ok... hell is gonna break loose... break loose from what though? what is hell gonna break loose from? more hell? like, big hellish chains or something?" his silence said it all. i'm gonna go pass out in that corner over there. BYE!
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Target this...
the other day me and aimee were in Target and a few things crossed my mind. first of all, what in the HELL is really going on in there? when i was little, K-mart was friggin huge. Target could easily fit like 6 K-marts in it. and if the really big Target is a SUPER Target, than what would a regular Target be? Mortal Target? Meager Target? Target-sapian? So anyways, i wanted some GOOD strawberry jelly (not the Sugar-free non-food that Aimee always gets) so i headed for the "spreads" isle and found the preserves. Then i started thinking "What exactly are they preserving?" but my lack of grocery intellect and big eyes got the better of me, as i was affixed on all the pretty colors. As i picked out a huge jar of Bama Strawberry, i started to think about what would happen if i just picked it up and launched it down the isle, grenade style. I'm sure one of the uniformed Target Asset Protection Officers(tm) would hunt me down gestapo style, as i cowered somewhere in frozen foods. Finally when we got to the checkout counter, i started watching people unpack their baskets. This woman pulls out this massive 5000 roll pack of toilet paper and i found it sort of humourous. How could such a private act be so public in its preperation. I see her toilet paper, an item that will be used in a pretty foul manner. Right now, it's just toilet paper. Clean. White. But not for long... Oh, Target.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
possible album names.
possible album names:
1. we're all going to die.
2. teenage love falls apart.
3. i really wanna f*ck lindsay lohan.
4. a novel obviously written in a coffee shop.
5. diarhea of a mad man
6. lets all get cohlera!
7. rejected as suspected.
8. hey rocky, watch me pull this rabbit out of my hat!
9. the dog that bites you.
10. Q: who's drunk? A: who's not?
11. pissed in your dr. pepper.
12. bloody taco.
13. bloody hairy taco in your dr. pepper.
14. burger queen
15. move with style. move with grace.
16. who wrote "scrote" on my old pet goat?
17. give a dog a bono (U2's singer)
18. stereo in stereo
19. mexiCAN. mexiCAN'T.
20. no room in the red room
21. the chopper
22. huxtable hugs tables.
23. this album does not sound like LL Cool J, i'm sorry!
24. give up and give down
25. the little boy God hated.
26. songs about shit and ailments
27. mothers, fuckers, others, truckers.
28. God made you fat.
29. who's gonna pop the zits on yer back?
30. makin' love during the war.
31. every song hank williams ever wrote.
32. songs hank williams did NOT write, but would.
33. songs by hank jr. which mention hank sr.
34. songs hank williams hated
35. songs hank williams did not hate, but would.
more to come later.
Friday, April 1, 2005
Can you really set ANYTHING as your ringtone?
why is it that when i need something the most, it responds to me the least? for example, my cell phone battery died the other day right when i was expecting an important call. knowing that i had a regular land line phone i could use when needed, i turned the phone back on just hoping to keep it on a little while so i'd know when i got the call. you know, hoping i'd maybe hear half a ring-tone before it died again. but when you turn it on, it has to vibrate and flash a bunch of lights and exert all this crazy energy it's trying to impress you with... of course THAT'S gonna take everything it's got left in it and it's going to immediately die out. also, what's up with ringtones now? i mean, what's wrong with a regular phone ringtone. "ring ring" - pick up the phone. why will people pay $1 or more to have their phone play Notorious B.I.G.'s "Big Papa" when they're in a hospital or a busy restaurant. how does sitting in a coffee shop with you're phone suddenly springing to life, screaming out Ashlee Simpson's "La La", possibly reveal anything about your personality? what extent is this really gonna get to? i mean, how big can speakers be on cellphones? is there going to come a time when people walk in, set their phone in the table, and then set up a little sound system so you can hear some Beethoven in Bose Sorround Sound(tm)? is it going to be like bass in cars, where people will get bigger and bigger cellphones for some window shaking, phone ringing action? in a related story, the jamster things on this website are the absolute most annoying things i've ever heard in my life. post on, dearest samuel.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Item is not in bagging area, stupid!
today i went to the Home Depot. man, what a store. did you know the owner of the Home Depot own's the NFL's Atlanta Falcons? just a little trivia for you. anyways, all i wanted to buy was a pair of gloves. just one little thing. as i prowled the cashier line of about 4000 registers, i noticed only about 4 of them were open - with about 15 people in each line. i mean, why put so many registers out there if you never have any intention of opening them all at once? you know, Wal-Mart and Target also share in this little anomaly. "lets see how many registers we can fit in here". can you imagine what it would be like if Wal Mart had every register open? what kind of madness that would be....? so i decided i'd head for the self check out line. ok, this is something that astounds me. i think a lot of stores are switching to this but not one of them has perfected it yet. everytime i see one, i think "ok, i'm not THAT bad with technology. i can do this". and Home Depot has one that talks to you. "Please place item in bagging area...". so of course i fuck it up and i've got the computer voice e-screaming at me... "Item is not in bagging area, please remove it. please place item in bagging area. Please enter the number of items. Item is not in bagging area. Please place item in bagging area. Please scan item. Item is not in bagging area.." and finally the inevitable "Please wait for assistance..." It's like the computer is telling you you're too stupid. "Please place item in bagging area. Please? Come on, you fucking idiot! Place the fucking item in the fucking bagging area. What are you, retarded or something... UGGHHH... Ok, hold on, you dumbass. let me call someone over here". and the best thing is, as i'm being berated by my personal station at the self check out, i can hear scores of others being insulted as well. over and over again "Item is not in bagging area". it's the section where masochists would shop. you can get the best of both worlds. you're shopping but you're being berated at the same time. so to make a long story short, i spent more time buying a pair of gloves at the self checkout then i would have spent standing in one of the long lines of manual registers. i think that as i breezed passed all the frustrated shopers standing in the long lines, they were all probably thinking "Oh, this should be great. He's making an attempt to use the self check out. this should be a good laugh. bastards.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
E! Presents the Top 100 Horsewhip Beatings.
ok, i've had enough with a certain format of television shows and i can't take it anymore. a few years back, vh1 popped up with the I Love the 80's mini and everyone loved it. it was the greatest little show of wit and banter from pop culture in recent memory. people were like "oh my God, this is the funiest thing i've ever seen...". from Michael Ian Black to Donel Logue, ha ha ha ha! Cathy Griffin, Dong from 16 Candles, ha ha ha! but then i started picking up on a trend. It's the newest thing in pop tv since reality tv. everyone started doing this. some little video package montage, then cut to some semi celebrity to hear their semi coached response to it. back to montage - cut to different sub celeb. is this the new way to get Americans' attentions? and everyone is starting to do this but they're doing shittier and shittier jobs at it. i mean, E! had the Top 100 Celebrity Anal Leakage Moment List on, and i didn't know ANYBODY doing the commentary. even the little produced shit they're supposed to rant about is bad. footage of Lindsay Lohan. Voice over says : "Lindsay Lohan, blah blah blah..." cut to the guy who played the mailman in Who's The Boss: "yeah, she's hot..." more footage. "Lindsay Blah Blah..." cut to Fabio saying "She is girl with nice breasts..." i mean, it's really getting bad here. i'd rather watch animals mating or something. or maybe some footage of the kid from My Chemical Romance getting maimed by lions or boars.
Monday, March 14, 2005
freeze frames.
the other day i was thinking about those voiceovers in the Dukes of Hazzard. you know, where there would be a freeze frame and Waylon Jennings would say something like "Now, I don't know how them Duke boys think they're gonna get out of this one...", then there'd be a quick 2 guitar chord progression and they'd cut to commercial... what if my life was like that? i mean, what if when something was about to go awry, i could have a freeze frame with a gentle voiceover, politely asking how i would correct my current wronging? like the other day when i spilled coffee all over my desk. my arm nudges the side of the 24 oz Circle K cup, causing it to lean at about a 45 degree angle and just as i'm staring at it with my mouth gaping, eyes wide, coffee flying out of it...FREEZE FRAME! "Now, I wonder how MAD sam is gonna be, when the Carnation Hazlenut Creme he added to this coffee dries into a sticky mess all over the desk and floor...". (que guitar chord). i guess i couldn't have Waylon since he's dead. i'd have to have someone else. some other obscure celebrity... like Joanna Kearns, the mom from Growing Pains. or the girl who played Lisa on Saved By The Bell. maybe Wayne Newton, Corky from Life Goes On, or Stephanie on Full House. and i could have my voiceover freeze frame for a variety of issues. from spilling popcorn, peeing on the side of the toilet (when it's dark. geez... sorry.), drinking too much and playing volleyball on the beach without any pants on... you get the idea. "Now, normally one would remember to not go bounding around a public place with his wang flying around everywhere..." Peace. p.s. lately whenever i'm sitting through the start of a movie, and the MGM Lion roars, i mouth the roar along with the lion. i don't know... i just have to do it. i don't know why.
Wednesday, March 9, 2005
there's some girls you just don't wanna mess with.
someone asked me the other night about the most interesting thing that happened to me so far in the bar business. about 2 months after we opened, there were these 2 girls sitting at the end of the bar just hanging out. now, these were kind of hard looking chicks. i mean.. i wouldn't want to piss em off if you know what i mean. so they're just talking away when eventually i suppose the conversation took a wrong turn. supposedly there was some debate about a guy both of them knew or something. so they start yelling and at this time, people in the bar are starting to look over at them. so one of them (we'll call her girl A) grabs the other one (girl B), and they just start screaming and shit. then Girl B picks up an empty pint glass and smacks Girl A in the fucking face with it...hard enough to break it. this is when it gets ugly. so Girl A is bleeding like crazy... her face is cut really bad, as is Girl B's hand. you'd think this is where it would end, but they end up on the ground swinging. blood flying everywhere. door guys had to pull them apart, and i mean.. you know. we called the cops and the paramedics and it was just nuts. i've never seen people fight like this. it was the wildest thing i'd ever seen. anyhoo. i'm spent. 3 blogs in a day. i'm tired...
bowling for Wisconsin
a few minutes ago, i went to the circle k and bought the biggest coffee i could get. then i brought it back here to work and knocked it over on my desk. motherfucker, man. you know, it's times like this when you just want to give up. has anyone been to the shaw center downtown? supposedly it rocks to the max. there's a sushi restaurant on the 5000th floor called Tsunami. i bet when they were designing the joint, they were all going "Wow. Tsunami. Great name... we're gonna be millionaires." i bet they weren't so happy with it a few months back when that tsunami in bangladesh or where ever was killing everyone. DAMMIT! back to the drawing board. i want a bowling shirt and bowling shoes. in fact, i want to be a professional bowler. the other day we were having some drinks at Mike Anderson's (the restaurant. I don't want you thinking i was at some guy named Mike Anderson's house), and i was drinking this huge beer. so this middle aged couple comes in and starts asking me about my beer. i was like "yep. just a beer, buddy..." and it was then i noticed they had a yankee, Fargo-ish accent. so we get to talking and it turns out the guy is in town for that massive PBA bowling tournament downtown at the Centroplex/River Center. he's just an amatuer, right? but he made like 300 bucks that day. thats what i need to get into. eventually the conversation dwindled and he was like "so are you from Baton Rouge?" "Yeah. I can tell you're not though..." they were from Wisconsin, and since i don't know much about the cheese state, i had to walk off. went to Boutin's the other night for all you could eat crawfish. good lord, can i tell you i ate until i was sick. it brought back memories of the crawfish boils we used to throw back in the day. i'll never forget when steve carmena and marco saia showed up with a 5 foot alligator and went after ryan clark with it. it was dead, but he didn't know it and i think he nearly peed his pants. oh, the days. i'm gonna throw one soon.
scary phone messages
you know what freaks me out? the numbers at the end of error recordings on phones. you know, mostly on cell phones. "Your call cannot completed as dialed. Please try again later. B-R-1-9-40..." or something like that. in fact, all error recordings freak me out. "We're sorry but you've reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you've reached this recording in error, please check the number and then dial again...". Reached this recording in error? what, do you think i MEANT to reach this recording at all? i think i may be addicted to that recording though. I listen to it all the way through every time. Maybe she'll say something different at the end. "If you feel you've reached this recording in error, please check the number and ...um... you know... yeah."
Monday, March 7, 2005
the douchebag store.
i'm going to open a store where you can turn yourself into a douchebag. it's going to be this one-stop place where you can get the whole workover. a place where you can take creatine and work out all day, bleach you hair, shave your arms, pierce both ears, get a tribal armband tatoo, wax all of your body hair off, equip you with a new wardrobe from abercrombie/pacific sunwear, put you in a 1999 honda accord with a six-inch exhaust tip with little dragon stickers, and free cover at the Station for a year.... everything you need to be an asshole. i guess it will have to be some sort of 8 week program. ponder this: if you're a sucide bomber and you're having a really shitty day, i bet its that much easier to hit that detonator button.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
welcome to Applebees.
i think the band is gonna learn about an hour of nothing but local commercials. we're gonna learn everything from the Cribbs Incorporated song (which is a pretty long one if you've ever heard the entire opus) on down to the very simple but moving "Oh, Oh, OH.. OLINDES!". who are the people who sing these songs? i mean, it's the same people. from "CARPET KINGDOM CAN!" to "HALPIN'S CARPET!". its the same little chorus of the same 10 people or so. if they can do it, hell... so can we. and people are gonna like it, dammit! hi. welcome to Applebees. table for 2? smoking or non? ok, follow me while i seat you as close as i possibly can to this other full-ass table even though every other table in here is empty... i don't like seating sections in restaurants. i know you have to fill up Jimmy's section, but is there anyway you can use a little tiny part of your brain and figure out that me and my guest would prefer NOT to sit 2 fucking inches away from this other damned table. i mean, the entire restaurant is empty for pete's sake. don't be dumb, now. one day and one day soon, i'm gonna sport a mohawk. the last time (and only time) i ever shaved my head, i of course shaved myself the customary mohawk before i shaved the rest off. i want another one. and i'm gonna get me one, bitches... i want to get a job at McDonalds for the sole reason of finding out how fast i can get fired. really. i already have a career so it's not like it would help my resume or anything. i want to get the uniforms and everything, go into work and curse someone out on a drive-thru speaker. that would be the coolest. i'd start off real subtle. "Welcome To McDonalds... (then i would say "shit" real softly, then) Can I help you?" i think i could just do that all day. eventually i'd build up to the point of just screaming "FUCK SHIT BITCH ASS!" as soon as they got up to the speaker. about 6 years ago, my buddy joey got a job at taco bell. the first day he got his uniforms, they told him he'd have to shave his goatee... so he took the uniform off right there in the restaurant and left. classic. ok. time to go tee tee. sam up out of the beeyatch.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
now anyone can write bad poetry...
here's some of my favorite lyrics. lemme know what you think. i'll give background on them as i go along... What if Paul May was A Trucker?!Well I was heading on down that highway, down interstate 55. I just dropped my load in Hammond and I gotta be in Tuscaloosa by 9. I got some old coffee in Crosby, and I got hookers on CB. But I tip my hat to those truckstop girls, man they think the world of me. Yeah, oh yeah… I’m sold. Yeeeeeeeeeah you can’t keep me off that road…. And although I keep on rolling I can never go home. Because it’s life out in them trenches, momma, out on that road. Is this just the ending, end is just beginning, 18 wheels a-spinning, end is just beginning.. Man, motherfucker. When the road hits the rubber. I may look like Willie Nelson, but I’m fifty years younger. I can sit around and wonder if he had a little brother. Maybe that was me and gypsies came and took me down under. Was it LSD, methamphetamines, huffing gasoline, or too much caffeine. I’m just a blip on that state troopers radar screen and I’m traveling at a speed that he would never believe. this song was actually written on the premise that my friend Paul May became a truck driver. I don't believe he's ruled it out. Technically the lyrics were just written about a misc. trucker, but since Paul wrote the song that accompanies the lyrics, he got stuck with the moniker... Spawn Of The Hell Beast While she sits at home, She sits alone and beats back down, but I should have know better, all alone, She was out fronting from the get go. Why don’t we go back to my place, Watch some old THRASHER tapes, And go and huff some freon from my air condition tanks. EVIL!!! Come on kids, it’s time to bang your heads. It’s time to tear some holes in your pants, sew patches on your threads. Oh yes it’s time. Time to get pissed off. Listen to metal and kill yourself. Cuz that’s what music was all about back in them good ole days. Hey, look at me. I can play guitar like Kerry King. I can draw that logo perfectly, and I sound like Hetfield when I sing. Yeah yeah. Down, not done for very long. We can play any Green Day song. Make it sound completely wrong but there was a time. All the kids in school will never understand that since Cobain has killed himself I wear my black arm band, but yes it’s time… Time to bring it back. That heavy metal style you lack. It’s time to grow your hair out and dye it black. So we’re left alone to make ourselves the enemy. If I could have only seen the future when I was fourteen. Why don’t we go back to my place, and drink some hot Café’ Au Lait. We can drink it straight from the ceramic mugs I made! credit this last song to the old school. remember back when kids would listen to a Metallica song, and then blow their heads off? that was great. i hint around some old Slayer references in this tune. Even the title of it is a little foreboding though it has nothing to do with the song. I could draw Slayer's logo perfectly though. in fact i still can... Redneck Kumate well i like racecars, a little country guitar a budweiser in my hand while i chill at the bar and i swear judge genius never carried a gun but still full of piss and vinegar and hard as they come i'm like a full throttled engine with the line in the red full of beers and shifting gears to the noise in my head and with the pedal to the metal i explode in the night and leave your sister in tears by the sight of my break lights showdown, sixty five - the speed limit that i'm drivin'.. . with my clinched fists in the shadow of the dashboard lighting i''ll testify, that in my life, when my battery has died they're gonna bury me in the junkyard walls, with my engine by my side i turn my key, every body waiting for me to explode engine roars into submission and i know i've got to go... have a beer. my gut is full i'm gonna go ride that mechanical bull and we can fly so high, i never wanna die. showdown, sixty five - the speed limit that i'm drivin'… with my clinched fists in the shadow of the dashboard lighting i''ll testify, that in my life, when my battery has died they're gonna bury me in the junkyard walls, with my engine by my side the engine roars, budweiser pours... and i'm never gonna die in your redneck war. this song is about how damaged my soul is and about how nobody loves me and how i'm so tortured. not really. it's about beer and trucks. i like beer and engines and boobs. this ditty is going out to them. thank you beer, engines, and boobs. if you wanna hear some of these songs, check out my band's myspace at www.myspace.com/judgegenius and feel free to comment.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Instant Messenger.
I save some of my favorites. Here's one between Jon and I a long time ago...
sk8trc187: hey there
CPT2117: well hey...
sk8trc187: do you know what you need
sk8trc187: ?
sk8trc187: ?
sk8trc187: you need a dog
sk8trc187: a little brown one named sammy
CPT2117: hmmm... no. my name is already sam. people would think i had a big ego naming my dog after myself. sk8trc187: but you didn't name the dog
CPT2117: it would be like you naming your dog jon.
sk8trc187: if i had a male dog i would name it jon
CPT2117: "hey. i'm jon. and this is my dog, jon..."
CPT2117: i want a female dog to name jon. then i'll go "this is my bitch... jon."
sk8trc187: my bitch is named sam
CPT2117: you mother fucker!!!
CPT2117: PREPARE TO DIE!
sk8trc187: do you want her?
sk8trc187: then she can be your bitch
CPT2117: truth be told, jon. i just bought a bar so i'm never gonna be home. and plus i don't have a fence.
sk8trc187: i got your fence right here
here's one between Joe and I several months ago:
CPT2117 [8:04 AM]: SAN FRANCISCO March 8 - A man who was severely mauled by two chimpanzees at an animal sanctuary last week was quickly overwhelmed when the apes attacked, his wife said Monday.
CPT2117 [8:04 AM]: "One was at his head, one was at his foot. But all that time ... he was trying to reason with them," a sobbing LaDonna Davis told ABC's "Good Morning America." "I couldn't do anything."
CPT2117 [8:05 AM]: St. James Davis, 62, lost all the fingers from both hands, an eye, part of his nose, cheek, lips and part of his buttocks in the ferocious attack, his wife said over the weekend on NBC's "Today Show." She also said one of his feet was mutilated. A Kern County Sheriff's commander also said his genitals were mauled.
JoJoD272 [8:05 AM]: Was it you who was talking about this the other day?
CPT2117 [8:05 AM]: yeah.
CPT2117 [8:06 AM]: The Davises were visiting the sanctuary to celebrate the birthday of Moe - a 39-year-old chimpanzee who was taken from their home in West Covina, a Los Angeles suburb, after biting off part of a woman's finger in 1999.
CPT2117 [8:06 AM]: the headline: Mauled Man Tried to 'Reason' With Chimps
JoJoD272 [8:07 AM]: I wonder how he tried to reason with them....
CPT2117 [8:07 AM]: i don't know, but it obviously failed.
CPT2117 [8:08 AM]: i can see him, backing up slowly... "now, wait a minute. lets discuss this..."
JoJoD272 [8:10 AM]: 'You know, Mr. Chimp, I as a human am far more intelligent than you, wha... wait a... OH MY GOD!! CPT2117 [8:11 AM]: "MY FINGERS, LIPS, CHEEKS, BUTTOCKS, AND GENITALS!!! MY FINGERS, LIPS, CHEEKS, BUTTOCKS, AND GENITALS!!!"
here's one me and joe just had...
JoJoD272 [9:12 AM]: How do you do?
CPT2117 [9:12 AM]: Fine, how are you?
JoJoD272 [9:12 AM]: How you come on?
CPT2117 [9:13 AM]: Booch-eee-boo, shyah shabone...!
CPT2117 [9:13 AM]: HOOOOOORAAAAYYYYY!
JoJoD272 [9:13 AM]: Eek! Eek!
Wednesday, February 9, 2005
drying out, ash wednesday, and porn stars who like coldplay?!
last friday night, i put a serious ass whippin on myself. really... i don't know what in the hell i was thinking but i went on a little rampage that involved nearly every type of alcohol-influenced emotion you could have. it was one of those vomit-and-then-you-feel-better-so-you-keep-drinking kind of nights. any one else out there? hello? i felt like nicholas cage in leaving las vegas, except instead of getting ass from elizabeth shue, i was BEING an ass and i feeling like the BOTTOM of a shoe the next day. we went to spanish town and i almost threw up all over myself. hey, you know how rabbits do that thing with their mouths when they eat? i wish i could do that. so anyways it's ash wednesday and i have to give something up that i like. hmmm... what will it be? i wish you could give up something unpleasant (with a .0001 chance of happening) and be done with it. like... i'll give up being impaled through the eyes with goat horns. or elephant tusks. i'll give up being crushed by pianos or falling down elevator shafts. last year i gave up red meat and i think i'm probably going to do the same this year. in fact, me and joe just had this conversation on . JoJoD272 [9:08 AM]: How is your Ash Wednesday going? CPT2117 [9:09 AM]: wonderous. CPT2117 [9:09 AM]: i've given up red meat and pork. JoJoD272 [9:09 AM]: Isn't that what you did last year? CPT2117 [9:10 AM]: yes. JoJoD272 [9:11 AM]: Jesus hates unoriginality... CPT2117 [9:12 AM]: uh oh. JoJoD272 [9:13 AM]: Yes, you are doomed... CPT2117 [9:13 AM]: i think i'm just going to give up being impaled through the eyes with elephant tusks. JoJoD272 [9:14 AM]: That would be a true sacrifice... CPT2117 [9:14 AM]: indeed. oh well. i'm off like a light. here's the thought of the day: do porn stars listen to sad songs? i mean, can you imagine people who engage in three way sex listening to reflective music like the Garden State soundtrack or Jude? can you see Jenna Jameson crying in her car while the Shins play across her stereo?
Friday, February 4, 2005
you know, i've done some incredibly inane shit in my life...
one time, me and a few of my friends all gathered under an overpass over by Blvd Du Province and Old Hammond, and threw bottles over the bridge to watch them burst on the other side. well, eventually one of us connected with a lexus which immediately pulled into the Circle K nearby. instead of running, we concluded they didn't see us. they went ahead and flagged down some policia, and next thing you know i'm handcuffed in the back of a patrol car. my dad told me that he'd "failed as a father" that night and i was grounded for the entire summer. i honestly think this is the pivotal moment where i could have made the transition from innocent law abiding kid to freon huffing bastard who hates everyone and eventually ends up on doing designer drugs and going to raves. i think i made the right choice, but i don't think i'll ever know. **************************************************************** you know the saying "we won, we won, we shot the beebee gun..."? well when i was a kid, i had to endure this saying fairly often (because let's face it - i'm not the most athletic fellow). well one day i said "we lost, we lost. we ate the applesauce". now obviously i had heard this before but i didn't know where... so i convinced myself that i had come up with it. for the longest time i thought that i created this saying and i actually boasted to people in class about it. all the way up to high school, i remember telling people that was my creation. nowadays i'm fairly sure that the saying was just too widespread to be all my own, but i don't think you can prove that i didn't come up with it. in a related subject, i thought i'd come up with the saying "blue screen of death" (to refer to the error message that pops up on your computer screen when something is horribly wrong) as well... **************************************************************** i think teaching has got to be one of the hardest professions there could possibly be. kids are fucking cruel, and to have to deal with them (being the most wretched creatures on earth that they are) takes some serious will. when i was in seventh grade, i actually witnessed one of my teachers go insane. she slowly went crazy during the duration of the school year, and by the end of it she decided to walk around the class telling each individual student what she thought of them. so she's walking around telling 12 year olds things like "i like you; i don't like you; you're ok; i really like you; i don't care for you so much...". well when she gets to me, she says "and hate is not a strong enough word for what i feel for you...". i'm just staring at her. eventually i just said "well, ok." i wonder what she's doing now. maybe she has a myspace account... hmmm....
...and so mardi gras begins
lindsay lohan is filming a friggin movie in new orleans. why did none of you tell me this?! WHY?! i wonder where she'd hang out in NO. she seems like a riverwalk gal. one day when JG makes it big, i'm going to take my wife Lindsay Lohan to Saints games. hey. myles called me last night. Judge Genius is opening for Fishbone at the Spanish Moon on April 22. it could be the start of something. maybe Lohan will be there. last night i danced my ass off at Star 80. it was a good end to a weird night. i through back a Ninfarita around 7ish, then had a couple beers. next thing on my agenda was helping mac with a frat party at the NGT starring the TKE's and DZ's... we noticed they liked to dance to 50 Cent more than the Mars Volta. oh those frat kids. i'm at work right now, and i have to be at another work for 5. Lucid Soule is playing tonight and they're always a hoot. maybe i'll see some of you peoples. Spanish Town Parade tomorrow! Elsah is playing a 4 keg party. check out www.batonrougerocks.com for more details. i'll be back monday with my thoughts on the Super Bowl!
Tuesday, February 1, 2005
the thief joggers
my face hurts. my eyeballs are reddened by the tiny burst blood vessels in there. the fits won't stop... i drove to Breaux Bridge to pick up a set of blueprints (for my other job) and almost had to pull over. son of a bitch bastard! the other day i was thinking. you know how when you're driving in residential/highway neighborhoods (like down Stanford or Old Hammond or Corporate), there's always people running on the sidewalks... like for excersice and stuff. you really never pay them any mind. BUT - what if they were thieves? what if robbers starting wearing that shit, busting into houses and grabbing a napsack full of jewelry, then lightly jogging down the street in an adidas jumpsuit? checking his pedometer for extra cover. shit, you don't even have to run like you robbed something. just powerwalk all the way to the pawn shop. thats it. now i guess i've ruined it for all those thief-joggers out there. sorry. guess i can soon be expecting somebody who looks like Lance Armestrong stealing my PS2 while i sleep.
Monday, January 31, 2005
that damned kid got me sick!
yeah, so i guess the little coughing boy @ the chinese restaurant got me sick. fuck. karma's a beyotch... i have snot coming out of holes in my face i didn't even know i had. and though the cough i have is no where near as wretched as that little kids, it hurts like a motherfucker. it's one of those coughs thats like: COUGH COUGH!!! (pause...wait for the pain...) oh. ok.... there it is. it's this rising build up of body soreness that creeps over your entire head. it starts in the lungs and slowly moves it's way up. unproductive and dry... (COUGH COUGH!). again, ugh.. it's kind of comparable to getting kicked in the nuts. you get this nauseating creep that trickles up from your testes into your gut. except with this one, it's this jarring feeling. my head's hot. i feel like pedro. maybe i'll shave my head. i went to the doctor and got a shot. he's the man. he's my pusher. "hey kid. come here. try one of these... it's called Celestone, and it's an injectable cortasteroid used to treat your weakened immune system. it can fight that infection like a champ. try it. it's free..." oh, i like that. next thing i know, i really like cortizone. it makes me all manic. its like going from -10 mph (cuz i'm sick, you know) to going 60. time to flip around the office.
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