You Talking Blah Blah

Right. I have a feeling I'm going to piss some people off soon. No spoilers, but I am working on something for my last post before I go. Speaking of spoilers, I recently read an alleged script for Star Wars Episode III. I think it's apocryphal on account of it sucks and makes no sense.
I wish I had a pretty singing voice. I really do. But my shit usually sounds horrible. I wish I had a cool speaking voice as well. I listen to myself on tape and cringe. I wish I had a cool voice like Sam Jackson or that cowboy guy. You know, the guy who played in Tombstone and the Big Lebowski.
I'm bored. I hurt my knee and I can't do much. I want to rest if before the training but I feel I must work it to make it better. See. These are problems. So the TV guy came today and fixed moms new HDTV, and I am stoked.
When I am done with my training, my life will be sad. I'll end up every night playing on pogo with my mom. I just know it. I'd have to buy a PC for that shit though. So it may not happen in accordance with my boycott of PC. It's just a personal grudge. No need for you to join me. Unless you feel compelled to fight the good fight. But the thing is. Well, the thing is that to be a member of this crusade, you have to order me one of those "Singing telegram/Handjob" ladies. Sorry but I don't make the rules. Wait, yes I do. Sweet. I knew I was looking out for me.

I'm Trying To Think Quick At A Fast Rate

Right. So it looks like the Ass Hats will be Series champs. Yay. Turn to Christ now, because the four horsemen are neigh. And I'm not talking about Ric Flair. So I went to my insurance company today and took out a fat million-dollar life policy on my ass. It will pay to my mom and dad if I were to die in the war. It's funny because I have to pay more per month because I use tobacco but not a dime more because I am in the military. I was very honest with my agent and told her what I was looking for, why and what I would be doing. She said there is no problem with it. So if I die, my parents will no longer have to worry about bills and such. Not that they worry now. But I try to be a nice guy.
So I couldn't find the picture I wanted to use. I remember in an art history course I took this painting of Nero being a putz whilst Rome burned. But I couldn't find it so I used this one of Nero being a putz after murdering his mother. Nero. What a jerk ass. I usually try to tie the picture into something I write about, but today I have failed you.

Do Not Go Gentle

Right. So I was supposed to go to lunch with my sister today, but alas it looks as if that won't happen. Bummer. Now I don't have to listen about how great she is and about how I suck and am the worst person in the history of the world. I still feel a little let down. I mean I wanted to go to lunch with my big sister. But I knew it wasn't happening. She's like that. She makes plans or promises and can never come through. So I wasn't surprised and shouldn't be disappointed but I still feel sad. But I think it is mostly me being nervous about leaving soon.
Why the fuck do children love me? I don't understand it. Everywhere I go friggin babies can't stop staring at me. Little kids smile and want to play. I enamor little girls. I don't get it. I friggin hate kids. I don't hate them. I just don't like the noise. Yet it never fails, I go to the mall and I have mothers apologizing to me for their children pulling at my pant leg, trying to get out of the stroller to get at me or playing with me like I know them. I usually play along and smile and all. But I am thinking, "For Fuck sakes. All I wanted was to come here and buy a pair of jeans or maybe a stove and I have to deal with this loud kid whom believes I am a jungle gym."
You know the black guy on Sportscenter who says, "Cool as the other side of the pillow," around eleven billion times each broadcast? I wouldn't mind hitting him in the head with a pillowcase filled with doorknobs. That guy is a toolbox.

Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum.

Right. I really have nothing to say. My mind is preoccupied with fear. Well, not fear, but concern. Two weeks and I leave for like 10 months. So there won't be much of a point to you checking these here musings until like next Christmas and shit. But I will write until the day I leave. So the four of you who read this won't be let down. My mind is prepared for the training; I'm just worried about my body holding up. Hopefully everything will work out well though. The first two weeks is what I am most worried about. After the first two weeks it's routine. No thinking just reacting.
The end result will be the same. People will pass on stories of what happened when the grey-eyed devil came to town, or angel, depending upon how I am feeling. No. That won't happen. I'll get some boring desk job and file papers all day long.
Here is what you are going to want to do if you want your mouth to run a batch. Note: This is different than having a batch run in your mouth.
Go get some meat, chunks of meat. Boil it. Skim the blood as it cooks out of the meat off the top of the water. When the meat is nice and cooked add a can of tomato sauce and dice up a tomato and put it in the mix. Later cut some potatoes into chunks and toss said chunks on in. Add some corn, green beans, lima beans and cabbage when the potatoes get soft. Add some carrots. Add some salt, pepper and worcestershire sauce for flavor. Let the shit cook. Then eat it. Your taste buds will fill your mouth with jizzum.

They Should Bring Back Dr. Katz

Right. So Pimp My Ride is back and I am secretly wishing I lived in California so they could fix my shit. Or pimp my shit as it were. They appear to be doing some serious shit this time around. I guess the budget increased. I'm going to need a car when I am done with training. I want 1968 Cutlass Supreme convertible. So that's what I'ma get. I'll walk till I find one.
Christ I am happy I am not in Boston for the World Series. People there are weird. You want to know what it is? It's an inferiority complex that's what it is. Boston is like New York on 1/100 of a scale and they are pissed about it. That's what it is. If subways were schools, then the New York subway is Brown and the T is Sanford Brown. Boston is just bush-league in comparison New York. So the mentality in Boston is that everyone has something to prove. It's sick it really is. So anytime anything in Boston might excel, then it's balls to the wall for those people. I got in a four-hour debate one night about the quality of museums in regards to which city has a higher degree of "best." Seriously. That is what this drunken twat was saying. Sheesh. I could have killed myself. I really could have. I couldn't even keep up half the time. By the time I had deciphered what he said, he said something else completely incoherent and lacking both thought and a half-assed attempt for proper grammar.
My Playstation 2 is on the blink again. Fucking piece of shit. 2nd time it broke. Now I can't play anything in my remaining 2 weeks.

Fignuts

Right. I cannot get enough of this song. What song? I don't know. It is some song that sounds like Elton John, but it isn't Elton John. The song implies something about taking someone's mother out all night and showing said mother what it's all about. It pretty much makes me nut, which is embarrassing on account of the only place I have ever heard it is in my car.
I want to speak to my girl out there. X, part of me wishes I could. But I have to. I have to in the sense that I didn't make this decision entirely on my own. I wasn't coerced into it either. More, it was a decision made from the Devine. If you are so inclined to believe in the hands of the Gods in our temporary destinies.
Today is the birthday of my second nephew. I'd say happy birthday but he doesn't read this nor does he like me. So slag off you fucking prat. How you like me now? The kid used to be fun. A little small kid who wanted nothing more than to watch Ferngully with his uncle. Now he is 18 and a big douche that wants to run his mouth. For some reason I am always the subject of his ire and verbal aggression. My niece too, she takes great pleasure berating me about the head and neck with invective and snide comments. But I dig it. I suppose I can't walk on water in their eyes forever. I'm sure there is some quote I can use to some it all up from some classic I read during my education, but I forgot most of them. I didn't really forget - I just hate the looks I get when I do quote shit.
Did I ever tell you that while I was in school I saw Ben and J-Lo when they were the subject of all news in America? I'm pretty sure it was them. It may have been a whore and her douche bag. One can never tell.
In other news the World Series of Baseball starts tonight. So I will be home watching it. So if you are a loser like me and ain't got shit to do, then IM me. We can have a nice conversation about whatever you wish. As long as it has nothing to do with why those fucking bastards aren't playing hockey.

ROYGBIV

Right. So I have to admit something. I must admit that I am of the contention that I will never make time with a woman for the remainder of my life. I saw this girl today at the post office and she looked through me. I swear to whichever deity you may or may not believe in. I am in line and go to her window to mail something. She looks at the line and says, "Who's next?" The old lady in line points at me, standing in her window, and she then takes my literal package, not my proverbial package, for mailing. I mean I honestly believe that if there were a bank entirely staffed by attractive women, then I could rob it, as I am invisible to them. My "superpower" is only enabled when the female of the species is in the same room. But who cares? In the big scheme of things it doesn't matter. In 1000 years no one is going to say, "Boy, I really wish the Yossarian would have been more popular with the ladies." They will say things like, "You want to take the next flight to Mars or wait for your brother?" Likewise, none of the great prophets of old said anything like, "Maybe more women should bed the Yossarian."
Speaking of which, why is it that prophets always have bad news? Where is the prophet who said, "1902 will be the year the Air Conditioning will be inventing, and it will be nice for people." You never hear about the good shit. "Then pavement will be invented thus keeping life less dusty," has never been foretold. All we hear about is the bad shit.
There are few things I hate in life. But I HATE it when PTI isn't on. That is my favorite show and ESPN preempts it all the time for golf, billiards or the spelling bee. I thought that ESPN 2 was for when they make stupid decisions, they just switch their programming. But apparently I am wrong.
Someone want to tell me why I ever listened to the Dead Kennedy's? Christ I must be old.

I Want My Bike Back Francis

Right. So the Cards just won. SWEET! It sucks that the Yanks lost yesterday. I hate the Red Sox. I know, I know. I was a Bostonian and all that jazz. But Christ, the Sox and their fans are a bunch of ass hats.
So what else is new? Not much here. I've been running and working out. Packing some shit up for when I am gone. Looking forward to it, still a little nervous about all the training and all. But I'll manage. You can trust on that. Once I get acclimated, consider it on. And by, "it," I don't mean Adult Swim. But it is on now so I am watching it.

This Is The Intro

Right. My brother is gone and I miss him. I hate it when loved ones leave. But he has his wife, job, cat and life to get back to. We had a nice time. We went to the Rams game, I bought a Padres hat and we played some videogames. We caught up and talked and it was nice. Good times and noodle salad.
Am I the only one in the world who is a Yankees fan? I love them. It was blasphemy to like them while I was in school, but fuck, they rock. I hope they win tonight. I also hope the Cardinals win out. I want a Cards/Yanks series. That would be as fun as spinach.
I just ate the best sandwich in the history of "best" sandwiches. It was awesome. A little roast beef, cheese, mayo and grey poupon country dijon mustard. Awesome. Oh and I put some classic lays chips on the sandwich. Because if it don't crunch...I don't munch. It's that simple. I think what made it great was how I ate it. I ate it like I was some Greek hero and had just defeated Cerberus or the Minotaur. Then I eat like it is a well-deserved feast of fowl, wine, apples and ambrosia. Have you ever eaten like that? Well you ought. Try it. The next time you eat only use your hands and ravage that shit. Yeah buddy. You just get more satisfaction from it. So do it. Let me know how it works out for you.

I Got A Frog In My Pocket

Right. So my brother is coming in town today to surprise my parents and also to see me before I go away for a year or so. So his reasons are two-fold. I suppose you could have picked up on that depending upon your deductive reasoning abilities. But I thought I'd say it anyway. Because if there is one thing I'm all about, it's clarity.
So it looks like I misinformed you based on a miscommunication. My man K is not mad at me for joining the military. I thought he was. What we had there was a problem to communicate. So Kenny is cool. I still love him like a brother. Why is it all the guys I hang out with get more women than me? I should only hang out with ugly dudes from now on. But then, if they got more women than me, boy would that be an ego blow. I might have to kill myself if that went down. So I can't do that. Because if there is one thing I'm all about, it's self-preservation.
The Cardinals better fucking win tonight I swear to god. Because if there is one thing I'm all about, it's the home-team winning.
I need a haircut. I swear to god I do. I feel icky. My hair is clean; I just like it much shorter than it is. But alas, I am broke so no haircut for me. Because if there is one thing I'm all about, it's saving money.
Did I ever tell you how I want to make my own candy bar? Well I do. I want it to be like a Payday or Nutrageous. Only I want it held together by custard. I'd call it, "Nutz-in-your-mouth." It would be awesome. Then in the commercial, I'd have big fat black women singing, "Nuts in your maufffffff...BEEYYOOTCHHHHH." Talk about a moneymaker. That's the candy bar I'd like to make. Because if there is one thing I'm all about, it's profitability in an over saturated market place.

Men Have A "Y" Chromosome

Right. Here I am. Rock you like a hurricane. I am government property. That's weird to say. But I've said weirder. Did anyone notice during the last debate when W. quoted Kool Keith? He said, "Exaggerations," in a manner that is reminiscent of my man when he said, "And I seen...Exaggerations." It was awesome.
Did I ever tell you about the time I was on the T in Boston and Claire Danes was on the train? Well she was on the same train as I once. I got a modest tan from her radiating hotness. It was funny because all the dudes on the train were all jocking for position to see her and try to get her attention. I found it amusing. I mean I'm a realist. Even if I had jocked successfully and had prime position, I'm harvesting no interest. No. Nothing. You know who I am? I'll tell you who I am. I'm the guy who is friends with your boyfriend and you sit around at bars saying, "I don't understand why you don't have a girlfriend." That's who I am. And you want to know something? I don't like hearing it. I don't have an answer. How the fuck should I know? Maybe it's because women think with this weird XX logic and have a penchant to be attracted to douche bags. That might have something to do with it. But I won't tell you that. I'll say something witty. Then what I'll do is, I'll change the subject to something, usually self-deprecating, and get a nice laugh.
While I am on the subject I'd like to say something. I'd like to say that when we die and go to heaven it must be hard to keep track of everyone's names. Like, it'll be confusing if you want my attention and yell, "Hey Rasputin." Because all the other Rasputin's will think you are talking to them. Rasputin isn't my name, but you get the picture. So I'll bet we get nicknames. I hope my nickname is "Woman Repellant." That would be sweet. Because then when guys like Burt Reynolds or Steve Guttenberg are tired of all the women hanging around and want some completely hetero male bonding, they'll just call me.

Mechanical Legs

Right. Sorry about the flitty, emasculating and emotional crap yesterday. I promise not to do it ever again. Until I feel it necessary to do so. Which may be later today for all I know. I don't determine these things in advance. I'm not like that. I'm a spur of the moment fella. If I want to write 40 pages about puppy dogs and ice cream, I'll fucking do it. But I can promise you I will never write about puppy dogs eating ice cream. Never.
So, I was feeding my puppy ice cream last night. I believe she liked it. She's a good dog. Funny. I will miss her the most during my training. I mean we have a lot of fun together. See what I did there? I said I wasn't going to do it and I went and done did it. That's how I roll. I throw curve balls.
Fuck I am leaving soon. It's frightening. It really is. You know what it is? It's fear of the unknown. That's what it is. I have never understood that before now. I'm freaking out about it. It's like the first time I ever had sex. Only now I'm not drunk, naked or wishing I was somewhere else than on a couch.
Anyway, I am thinking that after my training and all. When I get some time to myself. I am thinking I might want to go to Ireland. Back to the Motherland. I'd like to find a nice lady. Who speaks hot. Not about sex, just...I dig accents. I do. I really do. I'm like a woman when it comes to that shit. I have a hard time meeting women I like in America. Why would I think I could do this in Ireland? The law of averages is what I'm getting at here people. I like laws. Except the one about gravity, I hate that shit.

Your Whole Crew Is Ice Cream

Right. Here I am. Look at me. Pay attention to me. My life is hermetically sealed from human interaction. I've been feeling weird lately. Not all the time, just at night. As a child I would feel so small, yet huge. I haven't felt that way in a very time. I lie in my bed and can feel how large the world is. It is a humbling experience. I don't like feeling that way. It's like I can feel how far away everything is. I should be happy. I am in my bed with my 13 pillows and all cozy under my quilts. But it hits me; I am so small and ultimately alone in the cosmos. It sucks. I mean I used to feel that way and become so sad that I would feel like crying. But the past two weeks it comes and I don't know how to feel. I actually feel a little nostalgic. As a child I would go over to the window and look out upon the ground, watching the grass blows or the leaves rustle. Now I stay in bed and try to conjure up the feelings I had as a child. I can hardly remember those feelings or thoughts. I think maybe that is for the best. I haven't let down too many people in my life with my actions. But when I do it really bothers me. So I usually end up sitting there praying that I am not letting down that six-year old kid I was once.

Secret Goldfish

Right. So my man Tron hasn't been busting his blog for quite some time. Then today I check it and BAM, three new posts. Pretty funny stuff. So check it out. I'd link it in here but I don't know how to do that. So just go over to the left and click Tron Shit.
So for real, I cannot fix the way my shit looks. If you can help, hit me up. My blog looks great on my computer. I also found that my stock price sucks. I do that for you. Low bargain basement prices over here. Last dead mouse.
Anyone listen to the Pietasters anymore? I doubt it. I used to really get down with them, but not much anymore.
So what I noticed is. I noticed I can no longer masturbate. It's not that I don't enjoy it. It's just that, well, I have no material. All the porno girls are younger than me. How can I bust a nut at the image of a girl born in the 80's? I can't. I grew up roughing up the suspect to girls much older than I. Now those girls are dead or in some basement smoking meth out of an apple. Or whatever you smoke meth out of, if you were inclined to smoke meth. So maybe I should be a monk. I mean, I don't get laid and now I can't even shake hands with the unemployed.

ROCK!!!

Right. So how are things? I'm good. I am still undefeated in my fantasy football team. I have been taking care of business. The Cardinals won. But the main thing that makes me feel happy is that it looks like Ben Roethlisberger is already a stud. I was as happy as a box of wigs when the Steelers drafted hem. But I am even happier now. He's good.
One thing is bothering me though. Christopher Reeve is dead. I feel bad because my favorite joke of all time involves him. What's black and sits at the top of the stairs after a fire? Christopher Reeve. See. That's funny. But now I feel bad that I ever told it, or ever laughed at it. But I am sure that wherever he is he has his legs and is so happy that he is even laughing at the joke. That's the thing. All of this shit is immaterial in the big picture. I really think we have lost that as a society. If I tell that joke about him because he is crippled, does that mean that I hate cripples? Does it mean that I think cripples to be inferior? No. It means that I know him being in a wheelchair is a temporary trip. He'll be cool. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I have too much faith. Maybe I am too macabre. Maybe I laugh at myself too much. Maybe I should care about more shit. Maybe I should go make a sandwich.

You Don't Need Birth-Control, You Can Smoke A Cigarette

Right. Does that even make sense? "I don't like Bush because under different circumstances I would have felt bad?" You can dislike Bush for reasons that I would understand. A difference in beliefs on how to make the country better if you will. I mean there are things Bush has done that I can understand why one would hate him. But poisoning Canada's water supply isn't one of them. That is one of the things he blamed on Bush. But whatever, I'm done. The fact of the matter is he exorcized his acceptance of being common on my face. That's it plain and simple. His name is Bryan, and if you knew him, you would know I speak the truth.
On other news, and hopefully news from here on out as I do not like talking politics or persecution or anything, Georgia lost. So did my hometown baseball Cardinals. But Notre Dame won. Tron needs to be a man and hook it up on his blog. He is funny. The funniest dude I know. But that is only because I don't know that guy I seen on TV. That hippy-looking dude who tells weird jokes like, "Rice is good when you are hungry and want to eat a million of something." That guy is my jam. Who is that guy? He opened up for Lewis Black and Dave Attell when I saw them in grad school. I nearly pissed myself that night.
I leave one month from today. I am a little scared. I don't know what this is going to be like. It's weird to be more afraid of the training than if I were to go to war.

Obnoxious Facial Scenes

Right. Sorry for the length of time between lessons. I have been busy. But I want to speak on something boys and girls. No specific topic, unless the topic is last night. Last night the Yossarian was assaulted. I will tell you what happened. But before I do, I would just like to say something. I have always gotten in more trouble with things like this than most people. See when something happens between two people each one usually skews the story to benefit them. I never do. I will tell you where I was wrong. So the mediator, naturally, believes the truth to be somewhere in between our two stories. Thus I usually come out looking guiltier than I am.
So last night this guy I grew up with, let's call him "G," calls me and says he would like to go out and have a few beers. I agree and we go to some local shit-hole and have a few beers and play trivia. A friend of G's shows up, let's calls him "M," and brings his girlfriend. The night wears on and a commercial for Fahrenheit 911 comes on the TV. My friend says I should see this. I told him I have and all of a sudden G and M are arguing about politics. I don't care much to get into this. The G brings up some shit about M allegedly saying shit about G's girlfriend. So I see now that it had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with personal grudges. M leaves and G and I are soon to follow. On the drive home I ask if he and M got everything straightened out. He continues to spout shit about not liking President Bush. I don't care much, but when he states clear lies about the man, I let him know. G then asks me a simple question. "How do you know these things," he asks. I have a choice. I choose...poorly. "Because I read and don't rely on a single movie to explain the government to me," I said. G goes crazy, swinging at me and punching my car. I stop the car to let him out. He gets out of my car, slams the door and says, "I hope you die in the war." I again choose poorly. I stop the car to see what is going on and to see why a man I have known since I was six would say such a thing. All of a sudden we are wrestling around. I choke him and after a while I get tired and decide to leave. I told him I am sorry and we should leave it alone and talk this over another time. I am then blindsided, rightfully so I might add, and pummeled. As he is punching me I am laughing and baiting him to continue punching me. "You want to know why I hate Bush? Because he sent my friend to Iraq and if he had died I would have felt bad because I told him I would join if we went to war." I laugh. I get out from under him and continue laughing. He again says he hopes I die in the war. I said, "I hope you get what you want," and drive away. So today I have a big black eye. I have to wear this bruise as a reminder.
In summation, I have only seven friends. Here is who they are and what has happened as of late.
K. K was my best friend. He told me not to talk to him whilst I am in the Army.
S. S was the only female friend I had. When I joined the Army she said, "Have a nice life." She won't talk to me anymore.
L. L is great. But he lives in Cleveland. So I can't see him much.
D. D is married now. So even though he is still my friend, his time to hang out is limited.
J. J is the only one I really hang out with anymore. I should have hung with him last night.
A. A helped me get into OCS. He is in the Army and still a good friend.
G. See above.
Tron. Tron is my brother. I love you dude.

I Built This House With Some Wood And Some Nails. I Used A Hammer.

Right. So I think I just might give up. Just say fuck it. But I really have nothing to give up. I might just have to stay the course. Yes sir. There's nothing like staying the course. Steady as she goes. I'm excited about this shit. Yeah buddy.
On a side note I would like it noted that I found some old notes I took in school. What a useless sentence that was.
Remember when like people were different? Remember when rap was cool? Remember when dudes spit mad rhymes about random shit. I get tired of hearing about bitches, guns, politics or the latest dance craze. Tell me about some everyday shit. Some shit I can relate to. I have never drunk champagne, fucked four Asian hotties at the same time or bling-bligned. That's just me I am just one man. Maybe that's why I listen to the hip-hop I listen to.
There was some serious shit I wanted to spray. But now that I think about it, I don't want to. It's like, I don't want to feel like I am preaching. I hate it. I try not to do it. But like I know some shit, that I think others ought to know. But fuck it. Do the homework yourself. I hate telling people some shit that is true because all that ever happens is people want to start arguing. So fuck it. I don't want to get into it.

Ring of Fire

Right. So my time is passing by like a caravan trader. I leave November 10th. I am looking forward to it. A little worried. I'm 26. For the most part of the last eight years of my life I sat around smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and watching my cock get smaller. Oh I also played a lot of videogames. I can appreciate what I've done. So I am a little worried that I will be the most out of shape dude ever to go into basic. Then I was thinking about how much time I'll be getting the shit kicked out of me. I have nine weeks of Basic, 14 weeks of Officer Candidate School, Airborne, SERE and then 9 weeks of Intelligence training. That's like 8 months of training. Sometimes, I wonder if this is the right decision. But then what I do is; I think about how I am sure that during the next eight months the number of times I'll be cold, broken, lonely and tired will be ample. However, in the part of my life I am leaving behind, sometimes I was cold, broken, lonely and tired too.

Bitch Gets No Love

Right. So I fucking hate it when Notre Dame looses. But it doesn't really affect me, so I don't really care. Does that make sense? How can I hate something and not care about it at the same time?
Happy birthday Tron. I love you dude, but not in a sexual way. I love you in that you are my actual brother in actuality. But it isn't your birthday anymore. So fuck you. But not really. If I were a rich man I'd buy you some pimp shit...like a dog, a big kick ass dog with laser eyes and a built in parachute. So you could take him skydiving over hostile territory. But I am broke. So all you get is some dap on my blog.
It turns out that, to my own surprise, more people read my blog than have computers. Amazing. So I did research and the sales for and music by Miles of Wire and the book The Parthenon Code have not skyrocketed. So seriously, go buy that shit.

A Friednly Reminder

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!! TO MY BROTHER TRON!

I Miss Sifl and Olly.

Right. So you know that makeup commercial. The one where the woman is hooked up to a lie detector and she has to answer questions about dating younger guys and lying about her age and all? You know that one? She is wicked hot. Anyone know who she is? If you are she...call me on the phone. She's as pretty as a ten-dollar bill.
So yeah. Friday night and I am sitting around watching Married With Children, wondering how I ever thought this show was funny. Al still has his moments. I still kinda want to bone Peggy. And I appreciate the show for bringing Applegate into my spank bank. But this show sucks a large part of the ass.
I need a life. But not really. I had a life. I don't remember most of it. I remember laughing a lot. I remember meeting a lot of nice people. I remember going to a lot of places. I don't remember what we were laughing about, who those people were or where the hell I was. Which is weird on account of the fact that I remember every page I ever read in a book, newspaper or anything else I read throughout that time. I think I might want to remember the next 26 years of my life. But no I don't. I don't know what the hell I want.
I want to win like 300 million in the power ball. I would just kick the proverbial "it." I would build a house. Build a church. I'd travel and all. I'd be the only millionaire without a date. I tell you the first thing I'd do. What I'd do is I'd go to Africa for a year or so. I'd follow the herds. I would love to watch the big cats hunt. Or when the antelope or whatever attempt crossing the river and the gators bust them up something fierce. Yeah. I would love to watch that shit.
But most likely after that I'd move to NYC. Get a nice place to call my own and live. I'd learn the subway and all. I'd probably just grow old. Leaving all of my grip to someone with more money than me. That would be funny. I'd leave all my money to Mr. Gates. Or Oprah.