Saturday, January 06, 2007

so this crate arrives at my house. it had all kinds of crazy lettering on it..they looked more like question marks made out of triangles or rubix cubes with assholes painted on them then any kind of letters i've ever seen.

anyways, i sign for the package, and the delivery guy leaves. the box than starts to shake and i hear a voice that sounds like Diamanda Galas falling down an elevator shaft while reciting latin prayers. it's coming from the box! i go to the tool shed and look for something to open the box and i find a chainsaw, and my eyes zoom in on it like "Evil Dead". i come running out to the front with this chainsaw, wearing a rainbow ski-mask (the same one i wear when i'm out stalking roller derby girls). apparently the sound of the chainsaw engine and my cougar-fart screams gave this woman more than enough terror-sweat to slip out of a crack in the crate.

she was a sight to behold...even with the splinters in her face. about 5 ft. 3, 89 lbs, black hair, face like Zoe Lund's funeral. she had tarantula-leg-dreads with sporadic death's head-shaped yellow spots , bone-color nail polish at the tips of fingers, a red-chainmail mini-skirt, pickle-green lipstick, knee-high leather boots with 6 inch pewter dragons at the knees, and a nose-ring in the shape of Robert Shaw getting eaten by a shark. she had no panties under the chainmail skirt..her vagina looked, as Bill Hicks would say; "like a whisp of cotton candy framing a paper cut". she had a snow globe which had a tiny figure of a naked Harvey Kietel crying. she threw it at me. all i remember after that was waking up with Bad Lt. covered in my rectal trauma.

i didn't so much as "sleep with her" as i did "get knocked unconscious with a snow-globe and raped with an action figure by a crust-chick/bush-woman hybrid".

and that woman was my FATHER.

Friday, January 05, 2007

10 Things I Hate About Myspace Users

1. post "wow you're so hot" in the comment/picture section of an obviously fake cam-whore's profile. She's not going to fuck you.

2. create a music page for their one-man shit-house bedroom band. you're never going to have a real band because you have no talent or imagination and everyone thinks you're a cheesy loser.

3. thinking that because you're "friends" with Dresden Dolls and you post empty-head compliments in their blog means that you and Amanda Palmer are on a first name basis, and someday you'll sip tea and listen to Einsturzende Neubauten together and you'll pretend you actually know who Einsturzende Neubauten is and she'll think you're a real cool time. not in this life, you basketball full of smegma.

4. being a 15 year old prick tease. either stop being 15 or tell your parents to lift the restaining order. you can't have it both ways. seriously're fucking 15 years old. you've got your whole life to be a penis-ashtray. go enjoy your youth and budding beauty, and for the love of all that is good and true stop fucking the fucking lowest common denominator. believe or not, you're better than that. or maybe not. whatever. just keep this in mind; CREEPY LONERS ARE RAPING YOU IN THEIR MEMORY.


6. seriously...she's not going to fuck you.

7. being Tom. i'm willing to bet Tom never had a real friend in his life. i can sort of relate...i just hate hate hate that gaytarded picture of him.

8. posting embarrassingly confessional blogs. i don't care about pretty much everything that you think is important. you're boring and lame and also lame. also you're boyfriend is not hot or special, he's a dipshit loser who plays violent video games, listens to ICP, and tried reading "The Turner Diaries" but couldn't wrap his mind around its "complex social statements"...and he probably beats you...and he's fucking youR best friend because she's an even uglier sack of thrush with even shittier self esteem than YOU. get the gun.

9. posting a suicide note in the Bulletins. stop wasting bandwith with your self-important melodrama. you're no where near as depressed as you think you are, and no one cares. you want revenge? well, your vendetta against the cruel cold world that let you down won't be satisfied by posting a typo-riddled sob story over the fucking internet.

10. telling people to repost bulletins. you're a lazy asshole and i hate you. and she's not going to fuck you.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Doom Generation should've been called Rose McGowan Fucks A Lot.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Sunday, December 31, 2006

in about 15 minutes it will be 2007.

i've spent the night drinking coffee, listening to Diamanda Galas and Laughing Hyenas, and now i've got the Itus from eating toasted hamburger buns.

Toni Braxton is on TV right now. she sounds sort of like when Maya Rudolph makes fun of Whitney Houston on SNL. i remember when Toni Braxton was everywhere. that video where her boyfriend dies in a motorcycle accident. Celine Dion did a similar video that same year. i didn't realize we were ringing in 1997 as opposed to 2007. as long as i don't have to relive the twin nightmare of Hanson and Batman and Robin, i'll be ok.

tried watching Waking Life this afternoon. shut it off about an hour into it. philosophy classes are boring. "wacky" squigly animation makes it boring AND an eyesore. it's like someone made an insightful movie for people who have never had an insightful moment in all their days. another opportunity for self-important morons to feel "deep" about they-don't-know-what. really it's just an excuse to mentally masturbate to the sound of their thoughtless-egotism given a rambling voice.

now they're talking about Mel Gibson's Jew-fueled Alcohol tirade (or some other arrangement of those words) and Britney Spears' mound and KKKramer. they're playing "Imagine" in the background as Toni Braxton and one of the losers from American Idol is being interviewed.

yeah...i think we're done.


something will be very wrong here.

as always.