29 November 2005

Words That Burn Me

Right. Thanksgiving came and went, and with it went my vacation. I am in a hotel somewhere on the alleged Great Plains heading to Washington State. I sort of just left and don't think I said goodbye to anyone other than my mom and dad. I really miss my dog.
Anyway, it's hard for me to explain. I saw the people I care about while I was home. Everyone in St. Louis I love I was fortunate enough to see. If I was a jerk or anything I am sorry. Underwear that comment was directed at you.
Cocaine, I have your jacket and I will mail it to you directly upon my arrival at Fort Lewis.
K-Luv, I will mail your comic, my awesome mix CD and two new CD's I have thusly burned for you and you will love all three.
I know how everyone lives under the same sky and how the God's live above and are so immense that we all live under them. But it is times like this, when heaven feels far away. The farther I drive away the further heaven feels. I wonder what love lies above Seattle.
I wish I had said goodbye to my friends. I wish I had gone out for a last night. I wish I hadn't fallen victim to hangovers and the most violent and time-consuming diarrhea ever known to man my last weekend in town. But I am not one for ceremony or goodbyes or anything like that. So it's hard to have a last night out when it could very well be our last night out. I have an eternity before I will deploy, which I still want to do, but if I don't make it back I just don't want the people I love to have the memory of the last night out. I can't explain it.
I'll try again when I am steady.

25 November 2005

Say Something New

Right. I hate the fact you laugh at me. I hate it. It's not that you laugh at me, more when you laugh at me. Because you laugh at me when you do, with the disdain that you do means that you don’t get it. Most people laugh at me because I make them, thus I can laugh at them. (For reasons of pure ego.) But you don't. You laugh with such disdain in your voice it makes me feel bad to play my game.
I still love you though. I wish things were different. I wish I were older and you were younger. Or you were older and I was older. Or we both were younger or older. Or we were the same age we are currently, only we weren’t related. Or we were related and living in Oregon or Arkansas. Or I was pretty and you were smart. Or we knew each other from the library. Or you had a flat tire and I had a jack. Or there was room in your refrigerator for the watermelon I bought on the black market from an oriental guy named Larry. In a way, I wish all of these wishes.
I would though, like to dance with you. Old timey dancing where we are an appropriate distance from each other and my hand is eagerly around your waist and my eyes never leave yours. I long to hold your hand and feed from your energy as we make our rounds across some barren dance floor while some guy named, "Pap" looks on with approval, and some woman who is very proper looks at us with disgust because she sees where this is leading. It's going where we all want it to go: me subsisting off the condensation on your lips for three days.

23 November 2005

I Love This Time Of Year

Right. There are things I may or mat not be thankful for as the celebration of thanks is upon us once again, this third Thursday of November. I am thankful for women, each and every one of them. Excepting they who are of the mindset that they should not bone me. Which is every woman in St. Louis. But I am keeping my fingers crossed that Crivitz Wisconsin has mad fly bitches. But as I have no plans to go to Crivitz, they might have to migrate their hot asses to wherever I am.
I am thankful for girl on horse porn. While I am speaking of porn, squirters, lesbian, torture, MILF and enema porn all deserve my thanks.
I am thankful for having the opportunity and experience of watching Favre play. I am thankful for hockey and MILF's.
Gin, leather, Copenhagen, the trumpet, air conditioning, pavement, MILF's, root beer, my car, your blog and hot older women are all receiving my thanks.
I am thankful for my job and having the opportunity to work where I do and with the people I do.
I am thankful for my friends. I would be more thankful if they would find hot ass hoes, preferably older, to slurp up my expunged liquid like it was going to save their lives. But my friends are still pretty cool.
I am thankful for the remote control and break dancing.
I wish to give thanks to the lady who hosts Everyday Italian and to cocktail shrimp.
I am thankful for my family, each and every member.
I am thankful for my mother, whom is part of the afore mentioned family, but deserves special praise and she is cool.
I am thankful for Gore-Tex because it rains more than you'd think.
I am truly thankful for you. All of you. Even if you know it or not, you make me try to be a better person.
But mostly I am thankful for MILF's.

22 November 2005

You Shall Be My Queen

Right. There are days when I feel taller than I am. When I believe my hair is acceptable looking. When my shirt isn't so tight around my shoulders and my pants aren't too loose around my waist. Days when I don't need to look in the mirror to change lanes. When the random gas station I go into has Gatorade at the fountain. When the radio plays good music. These days are never when I go to the mall and consequently see retarded-hot girls.
This week is going by too fast. My vacation is almost over. Fuck.
My vacation sucks. It consists of me trying not to do laundry, then getting nagged to do laundry, followed by me getting yelled at to do laundry and culminating in me doing laundry. Other notable things I've done on my vacation is that I have drunk a lot of gin, played pogo, gotten snubbed on pogo, played with my dog and gotten snubbed by my dog.
Where have you been? I have missed you. I must leave now. You take care of yourself.
I hate living with my parents. I fucking hate it. Though the 16-year-old neighbor girl needs to come over and serve her country. I said it. Someone had to. So I did.
Christmas is coming. I want an attractive hooker and fireworks and a keg of beer. Man. Best Christmas ever.
I am part of the 25th Infantry Division. All this means to you is that I got the job I wanted. Booya.

20 November 2005

I Was Drunk When I Said That

Right. I don't think I have ever longed to feel the skin of another so much in my life. It is all I can think about. It's getting out of hand, or in hand, if you'd like for me to turn my pain into a masturbation joke, which I can do.
Where did that guy come from? He's been here all along? I never seen him before in my life. What's his story? Well what's his deal? Why does he dress like that? Why does he believe like that? We never paid attention before. Well I never have. Wait I remember him. But he wore different clothes. He thought differently. Maybe I just made that up because I didn't really know him.
I watched you all night as I sat at the bar alone. I watched you stand there on what would be the dance floor if there were more then 16 people in the bar. I watched you, as you didn't take your eyes off the man playing the guitar and singing with equal horribleness in both of his endeavors. I noticed how your shoulders were broad, more so than mine. I noticed how your hair was close to the most horrific blend of unnatural colors known to man. I noticed how you would only drink in between songs as if you had mind control over the band and they needed your psychic support. I noticed how the band left without you. I couldn't help but notice how sad I must have looked drinking gin alone at my age. You didn't notice though.

16 November 2005

Graduation Day

Right. Shit I have found I can do for hours instead of packing which is what I need to be doing on account of how I leave here tomorrow to go home for a little bit and then to Washington State and then to Afghanistan but instead of packing I am doing this shit because I am the greatest how great so great I have no need for stupid shit ike punctuation or apparently "L's"
Pretend to pack but really look for old cans of Copenhagen with some leaf still in
Wish I had a friend named Tom whom liked to go to the laundry mat with me
Shower 13 times
Watch Good Fellas
Reread 1984
Dream about French Canadian porn stars working for vivid
Devise a needlessly complicated plot to kill Ryan Phillippe in order to gain control over his starbucks frequent buyer card
Contemplate if I shoud be the guy who wears his dog-tags normal or down my back
Try to clean my keyboard so L is easier to type
Decide they should make a videogame about an escape from a stabbin, crack smokin girlfriend
Write a post involving my thoughts on this random girl I saw today but delete it because of the leaf I turned and won't think such thoughts anymore
Wish I was boning an attractive old woman right now
Attempt to confuse my nic-fit by placing a tea bag where I usually place my dip
Read old issues of Hustler
Download videos involving a woman a horse a midget an enema and a snorkel
500 pushups
Eat a wendy's old fashioned hamburger
Leave the hot water running to turn my bathroom into a sauna
Kill spiders in the grass outside
Measure how many beer cans it is from one side of my room to the other
Decide cingular must explode
Realize the path to true happiness is to bone every single one of those U.S. gold medal winning soccer playing women
Ponder how many chicken wings I could eat in a single sitting
Contemplate if I should call the stabbin crack smokin old tumor
Wish I had a job with the mafia
Notice my rating on hot or not declines by the hour

15 November 2005

Helps Neutralize Foot Odor

Right. Thank you Alexander. Because of you there are no more worlds to conquer and I weep. Thank you Bill. Because of you everything is cliché. Thank you Chevy. Because of you nothing else is funny. Thank you Lanny. Because of you I will always feel inferior. Thank you Anheuser. You make it all better.
I have no idea what you are talking about.
I should write different shit. I shouldn't write shit that makes me look gay, only not gay, because it's about women. I suppose I just put myself in the position of the nice guy or the good friend. No one really enjoys reading about stupid shit I think when I see random women. Or think of real women. Or remember women whom may or may not have been real.
Let's get down to what you really came here for: racial slurs. Today's ethnicity I will blast will be the Greeks. Why is it I always have to hear how everything came from the Greeks? Am I the only one tired of this? Yes you invented this and that. YAY! You also invented eating disorders and grown men fucking little boys. Celebrate that shit you olive eating shitheads.
Let me dispel some myths about the good friend.
The hot girl never dumps her rich jock boyfriend because she is looking for something more. She is content with the car and the cock and not having to do shit. She isn't going to hit skins with the nice guy because her boyfriend cheated on her. She will continue making excuses for him and contracting VD. She will be Jenny and treat you like Forrest; only you don't own the biggest shrimping business in the land. She isn't impressed by the secret love the nice guy has kept hidden for many years. She doesn't feel the same.

13 November 2005

I Get Nothing When I Google Her Name

Right. Why is it that the only people who seem to work inside a porn store are all corpulent mustached women? Why is it I can never find the porn stars I am looking for? Why is it I am rated as a 3.7 on Hot or Not?
There are things science will never know. Things it cannot understand because it requires faith. This doesn't make these things any less real and it doesn't mean science is wrong. Both require faith, just to a different degree. I was shown this.
What was I shown? What if I were to tell you that nothing is new? What if I were to tell you every human event has already happened, to varying degrees, a million times before? What if I told you that the entire span of human and pre-human history repeats itself as a necessary preamble to one moment in your life when you do one specific thing? What if I informed you that that thing you do changes each time and thusly changes the collective unconscious of everyone ever born? Therefore, when history starts again, everything is a little askew. What if I informed you that the first thing you did was build a rocket ship. You were scoffed at, because at the time there was no moon. To ensure you had purpose, I killed myself and used every ounce of my spirit to forge the moon.
I was shown how you wrote poetry for the first time a few million years ago and you will never receive the credit. I was shown how you invented the Renaissance, Classical Period and all revolutions of any kind. I saw how you make the rains come with your moods and how you control the tides. I was shown how the sole reason for the sun rising everyday is so everyone can gaze upon you. I was shown how the sun is useless in generating heat and life as you radiate the necessary life-giving rays from your soul.
I was shown all of this two days ago. I was shown this when I looked into your rearview mirror from my car and your eyes looked into mine when you looked up into your mirror and into my yearning eyes.

08 November 2005

Festering Wounds Above My Eye

Right. I briefed a major today. It sucked. I had never heard of him before so I had no idea what to expect. I knew his name was Major Shanks. It's rather nerve racking to prepare to brief a man and his name means to stab a person with a homemade knife. It went well though.
I like to watch Breakin' 2 Electric Boogaloo while eating jalapeños and debating on who would be Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit, K-Luv or myself. Part of me believes I would be, on account of the fast car and all. But part of me knows I'm Snowman. But a bigger part of me knows that if the movie were Snatch, he'd be Turkish and I'd be the Pikey. And that's good enough for me.
So Jarhead is good.
I think a funny thing to do would be to get the word, "Truth" tattooed on your dick. That way, when some clown is all, "All we are searching for is the truth." That would enable you to inform and show that the truth is in fact in your pants.
Today the Army says goodbye to Specialist Courtney Hapablap. Hapablap isn't his real last name, but you get the point. Courtney is a good man. 23 years old is this amazing person. He joined the Army five years ago and left today. He deployed to Afghanistan and to Iraq. After he finished basic training he bought himself an Esclade. The silly son of a bitch couldn't afford to put gas in the fucker. He had 15 dollars a month left after he paid his payment and his insurance. As time went on he got promoted and raises but just sent in more money. He only ever spent 15 dollars a month. Now, his car is paid off and he has money for college. This has been his plan the whole time. He is going to Colorado State. I will drink to the kid with more discipline than anyone on earth. May God bless the path he walks in life and may he never run out of gas. I will ensure he has the road. My friend, the world is better place for having you in it.

06 November 2005


Right. I've said this before, but I can repeat myself as much as I want, deal with it. Actually, I've never said this before. This is a secret. No one knows this except God, a guy named Walter and myself. I met Walter when I was 17 one night at a gas station. He was buying beer and I was purchasing some grape Gatorade. We were going to the same party so it was weird as it looked like I was following him. I exited my car and he asked why I was following him. I told him that it was just a coincidence that we were going to the same party. It was unseasonably warm so I looked like an idiot with my jacket on. But he must have watched the weather channel or something because he was dressed for the weather.
We entered the house together and began the things people do at parties. We both left at the same time and I followed him back to the gas station where I bought some tea and he bought rolling papers. I got back into my car and he asked if I wanted to get high. I said no and put my car in reverse. He then wished me a good night. That was fucking it. I put the car in park, exited my car and beat him to death. Right there in front of the gas station. I killed him. I beat him till his skull was mush. I placed him in his car and lit the thing on fire.
He must have been an important man, because the cops came around asking a bunch of nosey questions. So I was at the police station and the police were asking me questions and I told them all about how I have no idea what happened to that guy. They were talking blah blah about DNA and bloodstains and surveillance footage. It was legal jargon that I didn't understand.
Well, I went to trial and was found guilty. The judge sentenced me to life in prison. As I was being escorted out of the courtroom, the stenographer, whom liked me, as I would speak slowly so she wouldn't have to type so fast, wished me luck in prison. Well that was fucking it. I killed her, the judge, my lawyer, the prosecutor, the jury and the bailiff. I used the stenographer as a weapon, well, just her left leg, to beat the majority of people to their deaths. I burned down the courtroom because I had to. I guess everyone thought I died in the fire because no one ever came around trying to find out business. I changed my name, to what it is now, which may or may not be Derek Jeter.

03 November 2005

But I'm Going To Live

Right. We had our height/weight today because we have our final PT test tomorrow. I am 72 inches and 176 pounds. I don't know what any of that means, but I am well within the Army standard. I think it means that I'm number one in the hood G.
The Army is one soul-crushing defeat after another. Remember Germany? Remember how I was supposed to go there? Roger. No longer. I fought and manipulated m y way to get to that assignment. It was the bomb. I was going to be a killer. But they switched up the tempo, and I am headed back to my previous assignment. Meaning, I will deploy less, never kill or even be shot at, I doubt I will even be issued a weapon and all in all a boring job. Fuck it. Three years.
I am tired of bagging the Army. A lot of good things have happened to me. I can run five miles at a seven-minute pace. I can function without sleep, food or encouragement for weeks. I know how to make it rain fire. I can manipulate people better.
Another good thing about the Army is a little thing called TDY. TDY is free money you get for not being at your permanent duty station, like how right now I am in my officer basic course. I've been here since June 1st, so that's a lot of cake. Another good thing about the Army is that a lot of the jobs are contracted out to civilians. These fine people hate doing the job to which they are assigned. So every month I send in my packet of receipts and forms and every month they loose my shit. Thus, I don't get paid. Then you get pissed, talk to higher, create a whole new packet and they process it. So from June 1st until October 25 they give you a check for all the money you should have been paid. This means that today at 1400 (2 pm) Yossarian will have money deposited into his savings account. What's the amount of the deposit? $11,472.86. This is extra money on top of what i already get paid. Now for the dilemma.
What do I do? I need help. Of the following options, what ought I do?
1 – Buy a kick ass big screen flat HDTV.
2 – Buy rims for my car.
3 – Buy the Desert Eagle .50 in order to pistol-whip fools.
4 – Save the money for my future boat.
5 – Buy some new clothes and take my friends out.
What do I do?

02 November 2005

Fuck You Pay Me

Right. These are tattoos I would get were justice served and I win 300 million in the power ball:
1- The cover art to Jesus Christ Superstar on the underside of my left forearm.
2- A flaming sacred heart on the left side of my neck.
3- Whatever the Latin word for vengeance is down my right index finger.
4- A bluebird in the area between my left thumb and forefinger with his wings spread down the two digits.
5- The word, "Beer" with an arrow pointing up on the inside of my lower lip.
6- A three-inch plaid band around my right wrist.
7- A monkey inside a light bulb with two lightening bolts near the head of the monkey on my right shin.
8 &9- Those weird Egyptian stick figure guys on that area in between the shoulder and chest.
10- A rather large Celtic cross on my right side on my ribcage.
11- The words, "HIV POSITIVE," in six inch black letters across my back from shoulder to shoulder.
I think it's safe to say my shit would rule.

01 November 2005

That Cab Has A Dent In It

Right. They are trying to kill me. I swear to God. I cannot die though. The reasons I cannot die are numerous. Mainly it is because I am eternal and also because I cannot die without her. Since I won't let anything harm her, well, you see the problem in them trying to kill me. Their effort is moot, because I will use their jugulars as tourniquets. I am evil incarnate. Yet, not evil at all, which makes me evil. I am so just, so right, so inspired, so determined and so merciful that I am the opposite. I am the pariah that brings rapture. Try your best. But I will always be around.
I am beginning to hate this shit. It's one soul-crushing defeat after another.
I have a problem. I need a solution. I hate this problem. I don't like the solution.
I want some bacon. Seriously. Bacon. Bacon wrapped bacon. Fuck. Bacon.
I require some next level shit this weekend.
Copenhagen is the greatest and best thing ever to happen to me.
There is this girl right. She may or may not be hot. She may or may not have blue eyes. She may or may not have brown hair. She may or may not have an education. She may or may not dress in business attire. She may or may not look dope as hell when she lets her hair down. She may or may not read. She may or may not have a spine. She may or may not have something to say. She may or may not like to drink and catch a fucking in the alley on the walk from one bar to another. She may or may not run in the morning. She may or may not make me feel bad for smoking. She may or may not be unaware of my dipping. She may or may not look past all I hate about myself. She may or may not buy a dog. She may or may not hate holidays as much as I do. She may or may not want to buy me cool shit. She may or may not have a problem with me going through phases where I sing instead of talk. She may or may not give handjobs at the movies. She may or may not wear as little makeup as possible. She may or may not roll her eyes and smile. She may or may not order stupid shit in restaurants and from catalogs. She may or may not have a problem with me buying a pet jaguar. She may or may not believe my get rich quick schemes involving emu farms, railroads, tiny classified ads or midget leasing are inane. She may or may not use stupid words like inane. She may or may not smile through her eyes, providing direction, ambition, motivation and purpose for my very being. She may or may not exist.