I'm Blogging as Hard as i Can

Right. I hate it when I spend like five hours detailing my car; proceed to wash it and I go inside for a sandwich because all the work has made me peckish, and it fucking rains. Ruining the wash job I put on the car.
Remember when one had to make the punk rock belt oneself? Remember how the pyramid spikes were hard to come by and you were proud of your jacket or belt or bracelet or shoes you studded with them? Remember how all that went to shit when some shithead thought it a good idea to manufacture angst and turn rebellion into cash money? Fat girls ought not wear that belt, especially when accompanied with a t-shirt 50 sizes too small.
What in the blue hell is with the "Do Something" song by Mrs. Spears? That song is piss poor. The music from Donkey Kong was better.
I am vexed. To remedy this vexation (a not so subtle shill for my man k-luv's bog,) I simply must tell all of America how wrong they are. I once wanted to see a movie. But hadn't until last night. It came out right before I left for training and I would never would had remembered it had people not been raving about this film when I finished training. So I rent it. I didn't laugh once. This alleged comedy just wasn’t funny. Napoleon Dynamite is in fact the worst movie I have ever seen. I am sorry if you disagree, but you are wrong. It is horrible. Nothing about that movie is funny. I do not understand his popularity. Maybe I am too old to get it. But I doubt it because I am funny and I know funny and Napoleon Dynamite ain't funny. You know what is funnier? The title of the new guaranteed crapfest, "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."
I seem to have bitched a lot in this here posting. So you know what rules? I'll tell you, spelling bananas in your song. No wait that sucks too. But I love that song. So you know what really rules? Raisin Bran.

A Peculiar Compendium of Serious Nothingness

Right. So Sergeant Hardcandy called me last weekend and made me go down to some Army post to fix some paperwork issues. Naturally ten minutes of work turned into three days of wasted time and wasted leave. Thus, I was unable to spend time with K-Luv before he had to leave town. The Army is one soul-crushing defeat after another I swear to God.
I have a big fucking headache right now. I am assuming it is from the quantity of beer I imbibed last night. But it may be something totally different. This alien turtle could have slowly burrowed into my head last night during my slumber. A little know fact about the elusive alien turtle is that its ass has the ability to look like my hair. Ergo, I wouldn't even know if that happened because that fucking turtle is self-camouflaging.
I like to remain calm. Calmness is key. That's what I always say. But I will tell you something that outrages me. It vexes me to the point where a three state killing spree is in order. Why are girls wearing pants under skirts these days? This will not stand. So stop. Tell others to stop. Because it is unnecessary and wrong.
Let me inspire you. Let me tell you that you're special. Allow me to inform you that the wisdom of the ages could not have described your beauty. If I can impart upon you that the poets of old could never have imagined your importance to me and to the world. The world is a better place because you are in it, and I am a better person because I am in your aura. You are destined for great things and I am blessed that I live during your time.
You deserve more.
I'm going to go look up more porn.

Wild Kingdom Mutual of Northern Cal

When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer. When Rikki Lake looks upon the breadth of herself, she weeps for there was so much to eat. Anyway, that is Jason sans his beloved Argonauts.
I want to do a lot with my life. Wait, no I don't. I want to sham my way into a shit-ton of money and sit around all day only to leave in the event I need to buy clothes or watch hockey or something. I have to be the laziest person in the history of the world. Yet I keep doing shit that most lazy people wouldn't. I'll let you in on a little secret of mine, I pray that all this shit I keep doing will enable me to live the life of lazy, sloth-like gluttony I feel I so deserve.
My brother, Tron, has yet to start making babies. What a jackass.
Have you ever felt so shitty you can't even remember why you feel this way? For no reason at all you just feel like a shell that one of those crustaceans has just left in order to find a bigger shell to live in as it grows. I feel like that most of the time. I usually don't feel like that when I am shucking and jiving and people are laughing at my jokes. But soon, the jokes end and then the laughter fades away. I have felt this way for as long as I care to remember.
I have this desire deep inside my gullet to sleep. I just don't have the time. Have you ever been so tired for so long that you just can't sleep? Because you know even if you had 3 years to do nothing but sleep it just wouldn't be long enough. I feel that way now. All I want to do is wake up when something important is about to happen in my life.

Maybe The Bitch Uses Jelly Now

Right. A very good friend, the best of friends has come in town this weekend. The English language is neither sophisticated enough nor evolved enough in order for me to describe how good it feels to be in his presence. I haven't spoke with him in quite some time. Longer than my time in training I believe. I am an atrocious person for many of my actions in life, however my one redeeming quality is recognizing the majesty in him and allowing my actions, thoughts and life to be influenced by his inspiration. He is my Obi Wan, or Yoda, depending upon which Skywalker I am.
I-Tunes is the fucking devil I swear to it. I spend billions buying songs I either already have or don't need. Trying to rekindle a love for songs I loved growing up, but I haven’t heard in years is retarded.
I know the rims I want for my car, so send me three thousand dollars American so I can have them. Or get three thousand of your closest friends to send me a dollar. Either way.
I once dated this girl in high school that I find myself missing. It is weird because I graduated high school in 1996 and hated every second I was in high school. But she was something else. I found out she recently moved to San Diego or some shit. Maybe she went to Southern California. I am certain she moved to California, but I am unsure where exactly. Anyway her name was Erika and I pray she is doing well. I dropped the ball on that one.
One thing I didn't drop the ball on, as a matter of fact, I slam dunked the fucking ball so hard the crowd went home because nothing else could be so spectacular, was not sticking around my old tumor any longer. She was horrible. Or still is, if she even lives.
But all of that shit is moot, because I am secretly in love with Claire Danes, whom is also secretly in love with me be it unbeknownst to her conscious self.

XM Radio Sucks

Right. So I am back in that ass. Or living room. Maybe even your office. It all depends upon where your computer is, and I hope it is in fact your ass. Because then I am mentally sodomizing you. Which is bragable. But I will be honest, no one is reading. Except God. But that is only because he reads everything. He is quite voracious about it.
So what did I miss out on? Are you seeing anyone? How's the car running? Does inflation have an impact on your purchasing power?
I am looking for rims for my new car. Yeah, I know I would never have done such a thing before. But I have a strange desire to buy shit for my car. Maybe I should start smoking again. I'll bet that would take all motivation right from me.
You know what I want to do? I want to figure out how to bag a rich old broad. Yeah. That's what I want.
It may take me a bit to actually start with this whole blogging thing again. I mean I will hit that ass everyday with some serious pejorative shit. But alas, I am trying to acclimate myself to the world. Ergo, it may take a while. But seriously, for the first time in my life I am happy with my life. I don't have any friends and everyone I know has moved away. But I love what I am doing.

Mystery

Right. I'm back, not that it matters, as I am sure no one was reading to begin with. But I am back and pretty much the same. I just weigh less and can run more now. Christ can I run. I can also do some other "Army" type shit, but who cares.
Let's talk about what is really important: Brad and Jen broke up. Wait, I could care less. I have no clue as to what else happened in the last six months. But that's a good thing. I really only missed out on having sex, which I had very little of to begin with, but at least I got in really good shape. I did buy a car. I bought an Acura TL; yeah it's the bomb. It has the Nav system in it, which is whooping a Mule's ass with a belt.
Also I didn't shake hands with the unemployed for the last six months. Translation: I ain't jerked off in half a year. Well, I did last night. Sweet merciful crap I thought a brick was coming out. It hurt like hell.
I made some really good friends in OCS. So Billy, Sam, John and Corey...I drink to your memory, may we reunite soon and often. They all got different branches than I did so we won't be seeing each other for a bit. They are fantastic people; so if you meet them, give them all your money.
So since I am tired let this be a warning to you. I am back so prepare your soul for the grandeur that is the Yossarian. For I am Grand.