'08 bummerz

i really wanted to be watching 'intervention' on A&E, really stoned, and realize it's someone i know. so somebody pleaz fuck up ur life enough in '09, so i can have this notch under my belt? thanks

another year that has slipped through my fingers, without taking some dudes virginity. i believe '09 will be my last year to accomplish this feat, because after that, it's just gonna be creepier than it already is.

i feel like i should've done more psychedelics..// although, i did add a new drug to my list in '08, the mutha fuck'n weed.., so not a total waste.

ice blocking. i should've gone ice blocking. it's a good time.

wow. people were a huge bummer this year. i gotta make sure that my highly addictive personality doesn't attract too many psychopaths in '09. for some reason, psychos always make me go a big rubbery one, thus always slipping past my acute radar and wind up making my life lamer than it needs to be. i'm gonna be on top of the red flags in '09 fuckers.

///that's all i can think of for the moment// time to shower. get ready, so i can capture people's worst drunken NYE moments/

quick self-assurance ///

when you wake up feeling like a scumbag and yearn for some good ol' self-assurance, but can do without the introspective soul searching......

clean your fucking microwave. i shit you not, you'll feel like a new person.///

// shroom liner notes:

// post, post, x-mas fucked up notes//

god be damned if i don't love psychadelics. love 'em to death. especially now that i'm not 14 years old and can actually appreciate the situation"s", so, so much better.

status: been shrooming allll night. started at 1:30 am? try to bring the shroom bubble back to my house. realizing again..., that is impossible. drama drama drama.. there is always that "fucker" who finds their way into an obvious 'we are all on shrooms' environment.. however, many fun moments were gained.

cops came. to my house. noise complaint. sober, was not the look i carried. just wrote "cops came" with a sharpie, on my arm.

status: 6 AM. people have all gone home. sun is coming up. listening to blues.. really really wanted to listen to elmore james. great great old blues. i luv the blues.
jesus people are so fucking peculiar.
i love to laugh. i wish i laughed, like truly laughed a lot more.

//fuck. i love flannel. //
death to pearlzz-- pearlzz had to be ripped from my neck earlier while dancing, for they were strangling me.. had to rip 'em right the fuck off.

i love chewable vitamin C. shit is my crack// more people should know... //

satus: 9 AM safeway run. by myself. drove. was great. bought $90 worth of food?? not sure why.
i love popsicles. i bought a huge box of popsicles. wow! there is actually and website// www.popsicle.com//
and it's amazing.. you can find out what kind of popsicle to eat next by choosing an answer from a limited, abstract, drop-down list, to 3 very sophisticated questions//

1. if you were an animal, what animal would u be? //armadillo
2. what do u do for fun? // play music
3. what's your head most shaped like? // light bulb (uh-huh)

/// what odd questions.. but, i'll tell you something hilarious.. the kind of popsicles that were chosen for me, where the exact fucking ones i just bought at safeway. the firecracker.. so fuck, it ain't all bullshit. they know things. //


end transmission//

fuck the DPT

i want a rap song for my generation that’s called “fuck the DPT”. that’s the 'Department of Parking and Traffic', for those of you who aren’t acronym savvy.
it can be like NWA's song “fuck the police”, little bastard child or something, yeah know? don’t get me wrong, “fuck the police" is a great lil ditty that i myself have had many a drunken 4am, wannabe gangster, rock outs to.

however, i kind of wish that my hatred for the DPT, would be represented properly through the joy of music.. that way, when i have to leave the warm womb of my room at 5:00am,.., to move it, to avoid a stupid, yet always pricey, parking ticket, i can at least know the joy, of my hatred being validated through singing about how much the fucking the DPT can suck a dick. maybe that can be the name of the song? ‘the DPT can suck a dick’ -- perhaps a lil change up? i mean, the options are endless here.

now, you might be saying “whoa, it's just “a” ticket”, or some shiat, but tickets are the weed of the parking world, the gateway drug. they just start building and building, then all of the sudden it just becomes too much, and you ponder to yourself "but.., how did it get this bad?" ... at which point you say "fuck it!", cause it's all about self sabotage, when you're on the crazy train to the tenderloin--- the 'hard shit' aka 'the tow'. and then you’re fucked.
fuck the DPT.

leave the goods instead.

seriously. why? why can't it EVER be a bag of drugs, a bottle of whiskey..., perhaps some treasure of sorts.. (treasure is pretty sweet), that gets left behind, in my room, the day after?

obviously there are multitudes of reasons behind this, that i can't possibly discuss for other multitudes of reasons. mainly, that it's 7:39 am, and i should go to bed. considering that 'tonight', is 'the day after'...
try and keep up here..
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however, to splice this bitch up real quick, i'd say it's 50% due to.., anything awesome like drugs etc., people usually A. do or B. manage, even in a retarded stupor, not to leave behind.
and the other 50%? easy. weird chick shit. weird chick 'accessories', that some chicks leave behind. why? fuck, who knows? sometimes i wonder why these things were worn in the first place to even be taken off later..
makes me curious to what dudes think when they find some alien chick shit laying around, while cleaning up from whatever skank they banged the night before? like, "wtf is this and what does it do?"

EXHIBIT A:
*found in my room after a lil party the night before*


now, what am i suppose to do with that? i don't even know what it is. although, i'm no scientist, i can however, say with confidence, that shit isn't treasure of any sorts. nope. no wealth. no jewels. not even a baggy to scrape.. not like i'd do that or anything, i've just heard whispers about people doing things like that..., pssh.

digital friendship request spam.

it doesn't matter what i do. what i write.... if my myspace is private or not, there will always, always be that one fucker who will randomly write me on myspace with some shit like "i dig art too, let's be friends <-----insert more digital diarrhea here** "... i'm pretty certain that the 5% of the population, that makes up these fantastic individuals, is really just one fucking person..., that is merely a shape shifting morph of what i would define as literally, my polar opposite, possessing every quality of what i would deem as very, very, unattractive.
i mean, i can say with a fair amount of confidence, that there is not a damn thing about my myspace that remotely suggests that if your profile picture holds the alluring charm of no shirt, tribal tattoos and dreadlocks, to please, please, write me with a shitty one line opener, followed by some uncreative way of asking for my digital friendship.
with that in mind, i'm wondering, what exactly is the method, if any at all, to this morphing madness? like, what's the process of selection, in which i wind up the lucky winner? i think these fuckers have some sort of, default, crap message, that just fucking spams inboxes around the nation, with the hopes of getting "a" response...., and that's what's really going here, i'm a victim, man, a victim. well, that's just not gonna stand. solution? i'm gonna create a counteraction, default, rejection message. yep. something that simply states:
"no need for the creation of uncreative spam email titled "yo". digital friendship shall never be obtained. please move on and morph into someone else's worse nightmare."
yeah, something along those lines.., simple, and to the point. however, unlike "random joe" with his spam crapshoot response tactic, i will have a more refined method of madness. oh yes sir.., see, i'm not gonna wait around till victimized again, i'm gonna find these shitty, shirtless dudes and spam them first. boom. rejection before action.
aaaand fuck it, i don't care if i take down some innocent bystanders in the spam rejection process, because i don't think there are any in this situation.. no innocents in the view i'm looking at.. for if you end up on my spam list, which shall be carefully and precisely narrowed down, by being cross referenced with all sorts of super shit like; long dreadlocks held in a high ponytail, tribal tattoos, an urge to show off those crap tattoos by not wearing a shirt, a strong like for noise pollution like, limp bizkit..., and anything else that would make me and most people, not want to even digitally converse with you.. you're fucked anyway. and if you haven't entertained the ridiculous notion that somehow we will be joined in digital friendship by stating that you "dig art too", i'm sure someday you will, therefore, you must be taken down.

interesting, yet pointless fact: it is 6:50 am right now, and no, i didn't just wake up. and yesss, of course i'm still drinking.