20 September 2006

Making A Dollar Out Of What Makes Cents

Right. Chad McGreevy is awesome. He rules. Chad McGreevy and I are going to write a book about the adventures of a female who is hot, smart, funny, rich and has taste. We will name this book, "This Bitch Doesn't Exist." It was Chad McGreevy's idea. He is so smart about ways to make money.
I want to have children. Well, not me. More I want a female to have the children; I just want to be there for the conception and raising of the children.
I bought this new strawberry scented soap for my lufa, and I must say I smell delicious. I usually go with the cucumber-melon bit, because I think Cool Hand Luke would have used cucumber-melon. However, I think Johnny Cash wouldn't have not liked a man who hadn't nor may or may not have at one point in his life smelled like strawberries, so I guess it's like the old saying is said, people in glass houses ought not walk around naked.
It seems the pope pissed off the Muslims. Good for him. Can I try? Fuck a bunch of Muslims. Ha! Take that! Let's try to piss of the ilk of the Mennonites. Fuck a bunch of Mennonites. Let's try to piss off the Quaker's. Why the fuck are you reading this you fucked up assed Quaker?
Would you like to read something funny? My last name happens to be the actual name of a brothel here in the greater Bavaria area. I do not get a discount, which is the unfunny to the funny. The proverbial rub as it were.
I am having the darndest time trying to get my car's navigation system working. Help.
So, I am "required" to learn one new word in German a day. Instead of learning anything I find a local and ask them to teach me a word I will forget in a day, thus I will only ever know one word on any given day. However, I learned that the word, "toussle," is German for douche-bag. I will forever know that word.
Her face is a poem. I can read it. Her smiles are the stanzas holding in the rhymes put forth by God. Her eyes are the window into the soul of amity. I look into eternity through the blue stained glass of creation. Every word ever created is shown through. Her hair is the flow of the piece. It bounces as it moves and waves as it curls. I try to grasp it but it is always out of reach. Her tongue is the medium upon which all light is transformed shape and every shape is defined. I use it as an incantation to meditate upon when she is away. Her skin is the paper upon which I feel, hold and sense. No face has ever existed before and no face after that will make men feel this unambiguous way. No feeling has ever been so equivocal. Mankind will never be the same after she is read. She will never be the same once I stop reading.

12 September 2006

That Is Not The Plan

Right. I will blog here from a government computer and live with the consequences. It is no longer a priority of mine to be extraordinary in any way. I am enjoying Germany just fine; I am not enjoying anything else, namely my job.
The thing is, is that if it weren’t for my mother and father getting fucked with my student loans, I would disappear. Being a bum doesn’t frighten me, and I hate my job so much that I would gladly hide for the rest of my life if it wouldn’t put a financial strain on my mom and dad.
Remember how I live in an attic? Well I think the frau and her husband might be Nazi sympathizers. I don’t really want to get into it at this point in time.
I am trying to remember all of this crap I make mental notes of that would be good shit to blog about, but I am failing.
I am alive and I am counting the time before I am out.
I am alive and I have determined that I have always wanted to be a drunken, whoring layabout and not a shiftless, worthless layabout. Thus my hatred for the loafing peoples of Bavaria.
I need cronies, a posse of peeps to do my bidding. That would be bomb.
My ten year high school reunion is, I think, today. Or tomorrow. Maybe Friday. Who cares? I actually got invited to this one. Sadly I am not in the country and can’t attend.
New plan. I need to speak like an Englishman and you need to be my mortal enemy. Then I rake in the dough. Big money in that plan.
My Internet at my “apartment” will not be installed for quite some time because the German populace takes their collective sweet ass time doing everything. It is so sad. So Uncle Sam read it and learn it. I hate this job. When my contract is up, I will leave, even if I have to get thrown out to do so.