And so it goes . . .

27 06 2010

A strange night in this foul year of our lord. Not so much that anything has happened, no, not at all. The strangeness comes from within inside my head. And I am not saying that this is some whiny ass rant about how much life is terrible and every other bullshit thing that people piss and moan about. No, not here my good sir. If you want that kind of shit, go look up your typical spoiled rotten 15 year old American teenager’s Live Journal.

Anyway, enough of that nonsense. This strangeness I am referring to is like a surrealistic feeling that only so many experience and not particularly enjoy. It is one of those feelings you can’t recall any specific date, hell, you don’t even want to admit that you felt that way, but it’s there. Lurking in the shadows of your mind like some kind of serial rapist with a deformed member. I wish I was able to properly convey it in more simpler terms. I mean, how often can we get in that mindset of a rapist with a deformed member? Hopefully not at all. If you can then I think you need to speak to someone or just kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble you fucking fiend.

Where was I?

Right. There really is no way to convey how I feel but trust me, it is there. It taunts me and teases me that it won’t leave and let me think in peace. It is maddening to be honest; like “Full Moon Fever” inside my head. And I don’t mean the Tom Petty album. The kind of fever that the police and EMT workers murmur about. Naked people dancing in the streets and bleeding from self-inflicted knife wounds because it felt pretty good at the time. The type of behavior that would get someone locked up for a long time. But on these kind of nights this type of behavior is acceptable as one won’t suffer any long term jail time. Maybe a night in the cooling tank but not much else. Hell, they might even bypass bail if you offer a blowjob for everyone at the station who is willing to get a blowjob through cold prison bars.

I feel restless as usual too. I need to get out but I came up with nothing so I am sitting here typing like a madman. Totally “in the moment” as I type. No pause or rest, just typing whatever is churning inside my head at the moment. I wanna dip my balls in it. See? Totally in the moment there. I won’t accept it any other way.

I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I wish it was literal, that would be easier. I’d just kick the fucking walls back. But no, it has to be the metaphorical sense and it can’t be stopped. Goddamn fuckers. I wish I was able to just go out for a little while and see where it takes me. But having $2 in my pocket won’t get me far. Maybe a soda. Fuck soda! Doesn’t do anyone any good except for a flavor that we just know simply as, “soda.” And fuck whoever calls it “pop!” I find that annoying as it clearly says “soda” on the fucking bottle! The day I see it saying “pop” on the bottle then I will submit and refer  to it as such, but for now it’s fucking soda. Now that we got that out of the way let’s continue, shall we? Or not, you can go away if you feel. I’ll type a little bit more, thank you.

I feel like having a strong drink. But on the same token I don’t want the general miserable feeling it brings on the next day. I drank about twice this week and each time I felt fucking miserable the next day. Not even hungover! I just wake up in a foul mood and I want to stab someone or myself, which is morally easier at the moment I suppose. I’m not violent by nature but you get someone to a point that they could really care less. I guess stabbing myself would be sort of hilarious to explain. “Yeah I got mad so I stabbed myself.”  “So you slit your wrist?”  “Fuck no man! I stabbed myself! Like a dishonored Japanese man! Now lob my head off so my suffering ends!” *End scene*

I hope these walls stop eventually, I’m not the claustrophobic type but hot-damn I can’t breathe right now. Maybe it’s an oncoming panic attack or a heart attack. Either way, it’s an involuntary attack that my body feels it should do because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I seriously want to have a sit down with myself and ask why the fuck self “attacks” are a great thing to go through.

So yeah, I think my well is slightly spent, I need to refill it.





Mario Paint

22 04 2010

Hey folks, I had an article published on Retrojunk.com about Mario Paint! Check it out and create a username to score it! Leave some love too, those are always nice to read.

http://www.retrojunk.com/details_articles/6264/

I know, senseless shilling but I have to get myself out there somehow, right?





Punisher arrested

31 08 2009

August 31st, 2009

Reports have indicted that a man by the name of Frank Castle was taken into custody today after a 12 hour stand off with Orlando Police at Disney World. Mr. Castle, who was a decorated police officer himself  for the NYPD was sent over the edge years ago when his family was slain after witnessing a gangland murder. He went under the name, “The Punisher” and was a very unstable vigilante who took to extreme measures to punish those who he deemed as vile.

Fast forward to today, August 31st, 2009. It was supposed to be a huge celebration for Marvel Comics and Disney. They had just merged in a 4 billion (US Dollar) deal that would give Disney distribution rights to Marvel’s characters. While the deal had stated that Disney would stay out of the affairs of Marvel’s beloved characters, reports are emerging that it was not the case. The only character Disney had a problem with was Frank Castle himself. They felt a grown man who wielded more weapons than any terrorist organization and has a kill-rate that rivals car crash statistics was not suited for the new venture of Marvel/Disney. They stated that as long as the Punisher was handled they saw no problem with any other Marvel character, even Ghost Rider.

E-mails obtained by police from Mr. Castle’s laptop show that he was literally given an ultimatum by Marvel/Disney. He had to either clean up his act, check himself into a psychiatric ward and upon completion of therapy wear bright pastel colored clothes and call himself “The Hugger” or he would simply be fired. No retirement plans and no “Death of the Punisher” issue as it would be deemed too graphic for Disney standards. He would have to find work at rival DC Comics. This e-mail sent Frank into an even more murderous rampage than he already had, if it were possible.

Mr. Castle booked himself on a flight to Orlando today and apparently, according to Continental Airlines at JFK Airport, was less than thrilled when he was told he was not able to board right then and there. He then become irritable and called an airline employee at the gate, who remains nameless, a “Goddamn beer swilling, cocaine snorting whore.” She was dealing with her own problems as she found out her son was dating Perez Hilton and was the father of his controversial love child and she had let Frank on the plane. She was promptly fired, with no pay, not even a sandwich as a goodbye gift for being an employee for 23 years.

Continental reports that Frank was actually quite pleasant on the plane and there was no alarming situations. He did have a nervous quirk about sitting by the wing and muttered something about “Charlie” and “Nam” to the passenger next to him. Upon landing he promptly made his way to Disneyland. The reports are sketchy at this point, all the Associated Press knows is that Mr. Castle made his way into Disney World and promptly opened fire on every single Disney employee. He did not harm any children nor families. No one is sure as to how he obtained a weapon’s cache and brought it inside the park but the damage is done. The death toll is around 100 employees who died via gunfire, explosions, cotton candy machine suffocations, Capt. Hook’s hand, Jack Sparrow’s sword, decapitations, piano wire, etc.

Eyewitnesses report that Frank was screaming at the top of his lungs about Disney being a bunch of “goat rapers and fistfuckers.” What Mr. Castle failed to realize that the main offices of Disney are in California. So he was pretty much doing the equivalent of Star Wars when they blew up the Death Star in Return of the Jedi. He killed only workers who had nothing to do with anything and not the head honchos themselves. Mr. Castle was apprehended when the Orlando SWAT team had to subdue him with 10 tasers when he was reloading his AK-47 for the 15th time. They tried to open fire on Frank but eyewitnesses say he slowed the bullets down and literally danced through them. An eyewitness, Todd Stevens, a self-proclaimed speed freak proclaimed, “It was like, uh, Neo in the Matrix, man. Fucking, bullet time and shit.” He was the only credible source and the only one stupid enough to be standing there at the time. The SWAT team refuses to speak about the so-called, “Bullet time incident.”

Mr. Castle is now in police custody and is apparently strapped down and being fed an IV drip of morphine, codeine and valium to control his murderous rage. A sad tale for a beloved character who despite his actions was seen as an anti-hero, but a hero nonetheless. Mr. Castle can face the death penalty by being burned alive. Many are in fear of this because the ink he gives off is toxic in origin.





A day in the life of a post-apocalyptic dog

26 08 2009

January 10th, 2057

I really wish I knew how I can remember dates like that. It is not like I can really read or anything in that nature. I guess it is an effect from the nuclear blast that killed millions of people and about 10 Mexicans. I’m not sure were it happened and when, all I know is I woke up to eat some fucking kibble and my house was a gone except for a burned image of my owner in mid-kibble pour. At first I was pissed off at him for teasing me like that. I am a dog you know, I don’t exactly have the ability to go in the cabinet and get my own damned food. Then I realized it was just his body was incinerated and his image was on the wall. I had a good howling laugh at my own stupidity but then I wondered where the fuck my food was so I ate what was left of the cat. He was mutated into some kind of two-headed thing with no legs. Sort of looked like a worm. A tasty worm.

Anyway, fast forward, how ever long the fallout has been and here I am! I made the savage journey from New Jersey and I made my way to Flo-ri-da! What. Up. I have always wanted to visit Disney World, anytime I saw the commercials my little dog tail wagged and would beat the floor like a steady drum beat as the exciting images of Mickey, Donald and company waved me into their home of awesome! I also wanted to sniff Pluto’s ass. Maybe try to hump him in a confusing moment where his nefarious aroma would confuse my little doggy senses and I’d go to town on him in a very non-gay way. Then right before I would climax I’d realize my mistake and shuffle away as if I never met him before keeping my pimp status in tact. Yeah, I like the sound of that.

So, yeah, I fucking get to Disney World and the shit is gone as well! All that is left is half of the castle, a few tea cup rides and not much else. And Mickey and the others are smoldering piles of ash and fur! Fuckers. So I pissed on Donald and shit on Minnie. How dare they go and die without me seeing them in their glory? Florida is decent though, I never saw why people bitched about the heat so much, there really isn’t any heat at all! It is kind of chilly and I think I saw a polar bear, or maybe it was fuzz on my eyeball. That shit sticks to my eye like a molasses. The owner would try to get it out of my eye but he would just hurt me. He meant well I think. He had a weird thing with me and peanut butter, I didn’t understand it myself but hey, food is food.

I pretty much have been trying to find someone to take care of me. I have been doing fine on my own but I need the occasional belly rub here and there. I have found a few people but they were too busy trying to find food themselves and sort of turned violent and almost acted like how I act when someone touches my food bowl. I don’t understand why they can’t sniff a crotch or two, lick their nuts and call it a night. Thats what I do, hell, I’m licking between my legs right now. I’m talented that way.





Squidward reminds me of an old drag queen*

24 08 2009

Watching Spongebob and Squidward reminds me of an old drag queen that is well past his prime and is bitter at all the new “bitches in the game.” He also reminds me of myself when I am around the kids, I just want to be left alone for more than 3 seconds. Now the big question here is am I referring to myself as an old drag queen or do I just share the bitterness of one? Wonders never cease.

I am also waiting to get out so I can hit the liquor store for whatever ten bucks can get me. I don’t like beer though, if I want to drink, I want to drink and get drunk fast and not piddle around with beer. Also, it sort of tastes and smells like piss. Not that I ever drank piss mind you, but it is one of those smells that just goes up your nose and into all your senses and you’re just like “blarghg!” and you can practically taste the yellowy foulness of piss.

Annnnyhoo. . .

Not much to report from the front lines. Same ol bullshit as usual except I am really craving some kind of drink to get me through the night. Sort of pathetic if you think about it, that my entire mood is being roughly based on if I can drink later or not.

And no I do not have a problem, what of it!? I’ll stick ya motherfucker! Gut yo ass like a fish and play wit yo blood! *stab stab!*

Speaking of which, after much consideration I think that Christian Bale isn’t too far off from his Bateman character from American Psycho. I’m sure if he wasn’t acting he would be killing people in a hilarious manner while dancing to Huey Lewis. That is just me.

Does anyone read this shit? Please let me know. It is nice to know if anyone is reading this ridiculousness.

Mahalo