ooh la la

Update: my spending habits are out of control.
without blinking, i dropped 60 dollars on a birthday present.
granted, it was for my mom, and i love her very much, and she's worth every penny, but....FUCK. I wouldn't drop that kind of money if i was out on a date with Jesus H. Christ. ...and he was gonna put out.

and, its a nice thing, and i know she'll like it, and its so cute, and trendy, and all, but....its not a lot of present. its pretty little, and could cost .59 cents at any reasonable flea market. but, i had to go to a nice little place and make nice banter with rich twat yuppies in order to get this. Make no mistake, i hate yuppies more than i hate hipsters (and by hate, i mean "desire to become, but can't"). I cant stand the way they feel they are entitled to everything, and get in my way with their fancy cars that dont have cigarette burns and huge dents. Fuckers.
but, i love my mama, so i sacrificed.
so much.
i agreed to go back down to houston, where she lives, a scant two days after i had last been there. This is for a birthday celebration, so i just COULDN'T miss this event where my mom and sister get drunk and complain about men. There was a a reason i didnt watch Sex and the City. Well, a bunch of reasons. Well, the only reason i could watch it was when the episode said M(Mature audiences, Nudity). and no one was home.
If you get what im figurrin' at..

but, yeah, im gonna spend untold amounts on gas (stupid outrageous war) and a whole day driving, pretty much. but i cant complain. cause kim cattrall scares me.

anyway

I got a haircut. Finally. When i was looking at the pictures from last week, i got scared to death. i thought i was totally hot shit with my rockstar hair flying about every which way, but i was way off. I fixed this today with a bizarre trip to a barbershop.
My barber looked like a younger, wimpier version of danny trejo, who, if you dont know, is the mexican badass in just about every movie that there is a mexican badass.
He cut my hair quickly, and about 60% on the haircut was him cutting my hair with one hand, while talking on the phone in rapid, angry spanish. I was more than a little worried about the end result.
He tried to be all barber-y and took hot cream (ha ha, laugh it up, youre so mature) and rubbed in on the back of my neck and (!) shaved me.
I wasnt used to this, mentally or physically, and i felt wierd and bled. both. a lot. totally gross.
then, he pulls out a big wand massager. now, i know you're immediately thinking "wand massager=big vibrator" and youd be right.
he proceeds to give me a very awkward massage with this thing. It seemed discourteous to not pretend to be enjoying this, so i closed my eyes to feign relaxation. apparently, that wasnt what he wanted to see, and quickly brushed excess hair off me and admired his handywork.
i paid my moderate sum, and then gave him my phone number.
Kidding!
i never pay for haircuts.

well, needless to say, i look super hot, and, even though my shoulders are bleeding from my haircut 10 hours ago, I can safely say im on the right track.

have a lovely evening,
or go fuck yourself;
-steve

gosh

not a great deal to write about. I went over my finances today, and im definitely way more broke than i thought i was. So...not good. add on to that ive got a big week with a roadtrip and gift shopping, i may not make rent. for real. shit.

oh, well, who needs a bed, and a roof?

Remember when I mentioned a girl here, and told you to hold on, cause i would soon mess it up?

well, the other shoe has fallen, folks. one of the first times ive picked up a phone and called her, i left her a message. now, i always panic when i leave messages, especially with girls. this time was no different.

I'm 92% certain i called her the wrong name in the message.
yeah, i do rock that hard. not only do i leave a lame "call me please!" message, i use the WRONG FUCKING NAME. I need to see where it goes from here, or if she even noticed. I'll keep you posted on how it goes

man, im good.

alright already

Ok, so i've been putting this off forever. I had a super weekend and a million stories to tell ( i got my mom drunk last weekend) but i dont want to bore you with a rehash of my weekend. The last thing ill say about my holiday break was that I rocked so much ass, i spent nearly 200 hundred dollars on bar tab alone ( I went out on only two nights, and bear in mind I don't drink fancy, expensive stuff. My drinks don't cost a whole lot). This is money i most certainly DON'T have, and this jaunt might have turned me homeless when i cant make rent.
but I can't complain. It's not in my nature. Besides, i had a pretty great time. This is me at my most glamorous

very little needs to be said about this. Yes, that is in fact a mic in one hand, and a beer in the other. I was smashed at a karaoke bar. On a scale of one-to-awesome, I'm an eleven. The song being sung was "paradise by the dashboard light" by Meatloaf (new album in stores now!) I was singing the girls part.

....

to a guy.

and if you're keeping score at home, this is;

5 Times that i have done something kinda fruity and written about it

vs.

1 Time that i have even mentioned a girl and written about it.

sigh

I know the numbers don't look good folks, but don't write me off, cause reckon I'll get some notches in my bed post, soon enough. Being that kind of awesome is sure to impress.

oh. also, i have a new project on the horizon. I know i've kinda done this in the past, to little success. I want to try to grow an awesome beard. And really try. No giving up cause "It's itchy!" or "Girl's won't talk to me cause i look like 'that scary man who hurt mommy'" No more excuses. Im gonna grow a kick ass beard (sometime), and i dont care if it takes a year to grow(untrue). So, this will be starting soon, I'll update the status of my beard in a segment I will call "Face-Sweater '06" (doesn't that sound like the grossest adult film ever?

...patent pending.

so, I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving break. I know i sure did. I'm gonna go count what's left of my money.

G'NIGHT YA'LL!

Hooray!

UPDATE:
So, i guess the fine people at Abercrombie must be very into consumer happiness, cause as i drove to work yesterday, they had replaced the girl sign(!) with a slightly less gay, but still quite erotic looking man. Now, to test out how quickly they can swing this one, I want to see a shirtless man holding a baby, in black and white. (not black baby, white guy, that looks like kidnapping) cause that is just plain hawt.

I need to quit drinking

....
well, i meant i need to quit drinking and smoking. seriously, i guess once my body gets to a certain BAC, my brain says "eh, fuck it, get ready body, im gonna make steve eat thumbtacks" I dont even like smoking. ...much.

So stop me if you see me.
cause my body is against me.

So, when an idea strikes for writing this thing (you mean you dont just get drunk and make spelling mistakes and dick jokes?) i try to write it down on a scrap of paper in shorthand. last night, i was getting way fucked up cause my coworkers have this notion that i am this terrific drinker, and make such a big deal of it that i often have to drink way more than id like to in order to not dissapoint (...i swear that didnt sound sad in my head)
So, anyway, Im checking my pockets this morning, looking for advil, and i run across this little scrap of paper that id scrawled an idea on.

and it says "Chicken leg =funny for party at chinese"

And i have NO idea what this could possibly mean. Its pretty funny in-and-of-itself, but...shit. i cant think of one thing i could have possibly wanted to say that followed those guidelines. I dont even remember writing it. Stupid coworkers with high esteem for me.
I love them so.

something new

ok, this one won't be long at all. nor entertaining. Nor punctuated correctly. Thats right, folks, I'm actually sober writing this, and dead fucking tired. These past few days have been the most soul-crushing, painful and stupid days on record. From working two 13 hour shifts starting very early in the morning, to various car trouble and being absolutely miserable-hungover ( never mix pot and wine) ive kinda had a rough week.

I will not disclose the results of my most recent date. Not because i didnt make out with a girl with tattoos for the first time, ever (I totally did, but shh) but because im a gentleman. I know, fucking A, steve, quit being a puss and brag. but....a simple google of my name would bring any suitors to this site, and...bam...another one goes down the tubes. But feel free to quiz me in person. I will go into creepy detail.

The only real news i have is actually terrifying to me. This might be the gayest thing I've ever done, and ive done some pretty sissy things before. Ask anyone, im sure they have a story about me dancing to donna summer, or blowing a homeless guy as a joke (his sign said "Anything will help") but this might just take the cake.
A little known fact: change saddens me, when i see something that isnt the way i remember it being, i get sentimental, and sometimes a bit teary-eyed. This can range from someone getting a new haircut, to mcdonalds for keeping on taking away and reintroducing the Mc Rib (Seriously, dont toy with me, One or the other, please)
So, that having been said, i give you the gayest thing ever (besides you. BAM!)
As i was driving by work, i pass by a billboard for Abercrombie and Fitch. This is at an intersection i pass by at least 5 times a week, and usually get caught at the light. This billboard is fairly stark, its black and white, and features the Abercrombie logo, and is fairly tasteful.

Oh, yeah, and theres a 25 foot tall shirtless man torso, with low-rise pants that expose just a smidgeon of male-model carpet. Now, today, as i was driving to work, theres a new billboard up. Its an attractive girl, in semi-undress. She is beautiful.
but, im in the car, sitting at the light, i look up and notice the sign has changed, and i cluck my tongue, and shake my head solemnly , as if a cherished elder relation had passed away all the sudden. And this threw me off for most of the day.
pretty gay, huh?

hang on

Im in a funk for most of my shift (hopefully unrelated to the billboard thing) until i recognize a song on the radio. Its vanessa carlton's " a thousand miles" now, i immediately get into it, singing in my slightly patronizing, ironic vocal style to amuse myself. but then i realize, "Holy shit, i know every word to this song, and im actually singing because i enjoy this song"


.....

ive got nothing more to add to that story. I think it stands well enough on its own.

Oh, and since thanksgiving is coming up, i am going to do my fabulous family thanksgiving joke. Its been a few years since ive done it, but thats perfect for something like this. At dinner, i propose a toast, and look around, and say "mom, dad, I'm gay"
This amuses me to no end. try it yourself. It works especially well with older, conservative relatives.

and im out of words.

date night

wow, so tonight i actually have a date. and not like a date with a box of tissues (one for cryin', the other for wiping) wish me luck, im sure i'll find a way to screw it up hilariously. more to come later

Im not here

Ok, so im gonna try out a new feature tonight, i am going to chronologically go through this evening, up to and including the times as i write this. Fucking confused? You bet! So, in layman's (stupid people's) terms, im gonna tell a story from back in time up to currently. Does this seem like how i normally tell stories, just much more confusing? Great, cause thats where i want you to be. Now hold on.

So, my day actually begins yesterday. After a great day off, sitting around, doing minimal cleaning, and looking for celebrity porn, i start drinking with my roomate late in the evening. We do our normal routine for weeknight drinking, which is; properly finish our intended day's tasks (or, at least lie about it, and say you had) and patted ourselves on the back on a job well done as we speed-drink bottes of crappy wine. this goes on much longer than it should have, as i will be forced to wake up very early in the morning in
"THE LONGEST DAY EVER!"
"The story begins on a youngish man, about 21 with thinning hair, as he slowly prys himself from the cold sheets, wearily ready to brave the rapidly dropping weather conditions of the day to keepe world safe for yet another day of american freedom-itude. As he guides himself into his work clothes, he silently curses the fates that lain that he must work a grueling 12-hour shift at his occupation, which was the honored position of keeping america's fat bellies fat. Flash forward a many-numbered amount of hours, when the beaten youngish man with bad hair returns home. He sits with a parchment and goose-feather, recounting the ways of his days. His ass hurts very badly."

So, i sit around at work today, starting at an unheard-of 10 in the morning. The only time i'm up at 10 is if my crappy body chooses to begin rejecting the toxins i've ingested, drunk, or smoked during the day. Seriously, I would never be up that early if left to my own devices. The morning holds nothing for me.
except Mcdonalds breakfast, which is the only way i could justify attending work at that hour. I have a transcendant opinion of Mickey D's in the morning that you could be bored with my telling, or just understand id stab my sister for an egg mcmuffin any day, if offered.
I have coffee, which i never do. Coffee is for posers who can't afford good drugs. But over the course of the day to keep from nodding off, i drink 7 cups of coffee. Holy fucking shit. I should never have done this. I have a horrible way of dealing with caffeine. I get all jittery and angry, and wound up for no good reason. After bouncing off the walls for 14 hours, i head home and sit around, eat a whole lot of leftovers, and drink a lot of beer quickly. Completely alone. Awesome. What a great way to end a great day. Binge-eating and drinking alone. But, I dont care. somehow, im very happy. It might be chemical. Im just high enough to like the new bob dylan album. (C'mon though, bob. Every other song on it sounds exactly like that one song from that Ipod commercial. Fix this) Im ready for this day to be over, so i can be unproductive and slovenly and enjoy the hell out of my day off tommorow. I think i like my new weekly routine of "Fuck pants" fridays". As in "dude, you gonna wear pants?"
"dude, hell no, pants are for suckers, Fuck pants, i say, Fuck 'em!"
not as in "Spongebob fuckpants" big difference. If you don't believe me, google "Spongebob fuckpants" better yet, google-IMAGE that. Let me know how that goes.

I'll be too busy looking at celebrity porn.

The comment board is open

daaaamn

ok, so tonight the wheels fell off. fo realz. while i dont want to be a snivelling little punk, i think today was one of the worst days ive had in a long time. which, all things considered, is a great thing. I love my job, i sleep late, and i get drunk nearly nightly. so no complaints really.

but today was one of the first times ive been really really pissed off being at work. i arrive at 4, feeling great, i had grabbed a leisurely cup of coffee (something i never do, as coffee is for assholes) and had a great relaxed lunch. not ten minutes after i get there, a big truck lumbers into the parking lot. it goes to the side of the building and parks there. I then realize that its a septic truck, and it is coming to drain our dishwashing sink, which has been acting up and overflowing. no big deal, but itd be best if it were fixed. well, as it so happens, the same hose thats been used to clean out truck stop septic tanks is used to clean our sinks, and this powerful stench begins to foster in the back of the restaurant. now, im not the squemish type, so i let it go. but not before overtly insulting the septic tank-cleaner guy, as he asked me to sign a paper saying work had been done, and i flatly refused, since the pen he proffered kinda definitely had doo-doo on it. but, as the day grinds along, i notice the smell hasnt left the building, and is much worse then when the septic guys were there. thats when i notice that theres a big brown smudge and (!!!) a small turd sitting under our sink. thats when i freak the fuck out. i run around telling anyone who will listen (customers included, to much chagrin) that we have a code-brown, and to not go back there. i spend about half an hour dry heaving (which surprisingly makes for good ab exercise) and generally being a big fucking lady about the whole thing. not that there's anything wrong with being a lady, its just....eh, fuck it, i know i already lost the female audience with this one.
so that sucked big time, i couldnt hardly work cause i kept near-puking, and i couldnt eat or drink cause i was so sure i would get dysentary or whatever disease you get from whiffing dookie all day.

oh, yeah, i had a big booger in my nose today. all day. i was all cool, flirting with whomever had ovaries, and then i clock myself in the mirror, and boom, my powers go away.

and, lastly in girl news..
no word from girl i got number from. i am stuck between letting this be my first fish tale (the one that got away) or pushing it and calling again. the thing is, there is no subtlety in my wooing of a victim, err, girl. its either on or off. like a lightswitch. a hairy lightswitch. if i choose to pursue her, i will either end up eating a pint of haagen daazs by myself, crying and listening to jackson browne, cause she wont call back, or ill have a girlfriend who is just as crazy nutso as me, and we'll do murder-suicide cause nothing could be more perfect than our love. theres no middle ground. of this im sure.

so that leaves me little option. i guess i should root more for the smoldering-passion-sex-crime one, cause that at least nets me some make out time before i have to drink the kool-aid.
and thats really what life is all about anyway

blech

ok, now i promise you this one wont be entertaining, im just writing for stats. keeping up the numbers, what not.

so tonight i come home from work, and my roomate is actually the one who goads me into hard drinking tonight. now, i have a bottle of liqour at the the ready, cause a friend wants to challenge me, ME, to a drinking contest over thanksgiving. given his bad genes(native american, bad with alcohol), his history with alcohol (threw up at midnight on newyears eve for no apparent reason), and my overt alcoholism (it took me three times to type that, if that gives any evidence) i think i might have him beat. but as a precaution, ive been practicing. and its been tough work. ive sworn off all alcohol cause ive been too hungover to function for the duration of several days a month. but i keep coming back, cause im a hero of the working class. i look at myself as a guinea pig for the masses, taking great risks( see my bum wine experiment) in order to entertain and enlighten.
so, after a half a (big) bottle of wine and half a pint of whiskey, i write this non-entertaining, didactic recourse of my life.

that having been got out of the way, i want to tell the world about the return of the Mc Rib. this is something i get way excited about. scarily so. i didnt vote in the most recent election. when the McRib made its farewell tour last year, i signed a petition to bring it back. 123 times. and no, im not joking. (i was 122 signings away from being the hundred-thousandth signer of this, and i wanted all the glory, even if i had to think of a hundred variations on my name.) so, this is a very big deal for me. but, as a citizen who is very concerned with keeping in proper health, i have yet to romp in the pickle-laden, bbq smothered goodness that i so desperately crave in moments of weakness. this is just a ticking timebomb waiting for me to compromise my (semi) healthy diet and (sporadic) exercise plan. so, until further notice, my tastebuds are on lock down.

welcome to the rock, baby

Girls...girls...girls

man, i totally rock at being a lame chickenshit. a girl gave me her number the other night (!) and i found a way to blow it.
I can bitch all day about how nobody wants a nice guy (untrue, just nobody wants a nice guy that looks like me)
but that aint what it gonna be.
it gonna be however, a stylistic review of my technique to date.
and any girls that ive been familiar with who may read this, (unlikely, as they number few, and tend to avoid me) i was not in fact talking about you, you are a peach and a beauty, and i never used angles.

that having been said to cover my ass, ive been far too reliant on the friend/shoulder to cry on. this one is definitely not a ploy, this is me being me; a coward who falls in love with every girl who talks to him. no joke, i had this problem for way too long. luckily now though, since i dont have too many long-term friends where im living now, i dont get the chance to fall for them in a When-harry-met-sally meets Godzilla kind of way. (the godzilla is in there to represent the crushing power of my love, in some states, its considered a lethal weapon.)

Another one that ive gotten by on (another real to me tack) is by being semi-cool-ish, and being aloof and unaware. this is also me, cause i cant flirt for shit, so i just avoid it and try to look fly. less result here, although i totally had a rockstar moment trying this one out. dont ask, ever. But this one usually doesnt work, cause there are plently of actual-cool people that girls would be much more eager to let play with their underpants.

The last one ive got is pure dumb luck. Looking back, it seems ive got a penchant for making out with older girls (if two can be considered a penchant. If thats even what i penchant is) This one is unreal to me, i suppose i should thank the planets, for aligning some goofy way and benefiting me. sometimes. Now, i like this one, cause it has a strange timing usually, ive fallen into some pretty good situations (not to brag, although my belt doesnt fit right from all the notches) The thing about this one is, you always have to keep your room clean. which is not my usual thing. Nothing kills game quicker than, "uh, yeah, lets try your place, my roomate kinda got stressed out from school and went into my room, and threw all my clothes around, and made my bedroom smell like balls... and placed a fine coat of DNA on everything...and" but shes already gone. nuts.

so these are just some weapons in my arsenal of love, or as i like to call it "weapons of ass destruction" cause i get up in them guts. fo realz. Again, if you were someone familiar with my love cannon, i am not talking about you, the time i spent with you was lovely and ill cherish it forever.

now can i please play with your underpants?

my body is a wonderland

I think i just threw up in my mouth typing the title. Oh well, that will set the mood for this post. again, squemish need not apply.

So, i just got back from the store after getting basic toiletries that ive been putting off for some time. And i ran up a 50 dollar grocery bill from these items alone. christ.

In an effort to be more F- able to the lady-types, ive been half-heartedly working out and trying to cut back on things that kill me but i enjoy (like slamming my genitals in the refrigerator. theres nothing better on a hot day) so, in this new, slightly more vain version of myself, ive been running a fair amount, and picking up heavy things a few times, and running to the mirror to see how huge im getting. nothing yet.

but, as an added bonus, im getting my first (warranted) case of athletes foot. Actually, it might be something else, cause in most commercials for athletes foot, the sufferer's feet are ablaze. mine are not. instead, ive got a rashy thing on both feet that looks (here comes the gross part) like i have a set of cat's nipples on both feet. yeah. its like that.
so, i get my tough actin tinactin and a lot of other embarrasing remedies for a lot of embarrasing maladies, and slink home.

in two-to-four weeks, though, im going to be adonis.

really

....

my head hurts. alot. this isnt going to be very entertaining. im probably gonna follow my original planned form on this, and exaggerate my exploits and bitch about how i'm not meeting girls (Ive actually heard "im pregnant" used as an excuse not to talk to me)

Girls: who needs em?
me. the girls here are sooo very nice looking, i fall in love honestly every two minutes when i see any girl. ANY girl. desperation, thy name be steve. no, im not gonna commit any sex crimes (probably) cause thankfully, its getting to be winter time, and they're wrapping up all their juicy presents in coats and sweaters. (i gagged a little typing that)

this phenomen is dangerous. As i have been frequently informed, Austin is the number one place for my demographic to get aids. (my doctor told me most bluntly; "wrap your tool, cause that shit'll getcha".....which is horrifying in and of itself, before you stop and consider my doctor is also my father....)
so, if i want to avoid the junky-plague, ive got to take precautions. after i put my wallet through the wash, i noticed that the rubber i keep in my wallet (i figure a friend might need it, i know i wont) had the packaging warped and was letting air into it. rather that say, "eh...probably works fine" i instead threw it out. Is this a new leaf for Big Boy Steve? p'raps

I also think that preventation starts at the source. so from now on, i need to have a wingman at the bar (im taking applicants now) who comes armed with a stun gun. when i start chatting up some hoodrat who has sores on her mouth and bruises on her arms, my wingman will reach over, and shock me in the raspberries.


Cause that makes much more sense than self-restraint.


cause lets face it, that aint gonna happen

ugh

so, last night, i drunkenly relayed two stories from my past i had mostly out-run, giving you a terrible glimpse into my inner-workings you wouldnt normally be able to see unless you had a really small camera and vaseline. terrible.

i am in fact, now going to bore you with yet another dream, not because it was all that interesting, but because i invented a death sport in it.

No name for it yet, but its a lot like human checkers. its gonna be played in a huge field with two scale-able walls on either side. the middle is a giant mud pit, and the object is to immobilize your opponent in the mud before he climbs up your wall and gets "kinged" what happens when he gets kinged, you ask?



He gets a BIG FUCKING KNIFE, ASSHOLE! THATS WHAT!
but at the top of the wall, the defending team can throw said player off the top, presumably to his death.
If player survives being kinged, he runs back into the field and is allowed to neutralize opponents with BF'n Knife, vato-style. the team that has the most players that can remove themselves from the field on their own power wins....i dunno, a palm pilot. but they all have to share.
at least until the league starts to take off, and we can afford better prizes.

Tuesday is a very fine day

Ok, so tonight was a bit different. instead of writing in here when my night is over and im totally drunk, well.. ok its mostly the same, but instead of looking towards the recent past, im instead going to look at the way back when, a time when i was innocent, or so it would seem....


flash back to little stevie balshaver, in the 1st grade. we were making paper dolls in class to demonstrate how, even though different cultures looked different outside, we were all god's creatures on the inside ( i went to a christian elementary school, go figure) I was assigned to do the picture of the african american male. As a strange joke ( i was a wierd kid) i put a crayon over the crotch of the afro-american and feigned having an erection, saying "guess we're not all the same" i got sent to the principal, both my parents were pulled out of work, and i was suspended briefly, knowing only a little about the offense i had commited. when having to explain what i had done in class to my parents, i apparently said " i dunno, maybe i colored bad?"

Flash forward five years, i was in 6th grade, at a school in san antonio. I knew a schoolmate's screen name on instant messenger, so i created a bogus account, something girly, and proceeded to internet sex this class mate with the help of one of my friends (highly pornographic, despite me not knowing hardly what to do in a sex act), and then printed up the whole thing, and brought it to school the next day to embarrass him. i passed around this conversation to other class mates, and soon, the teacher noticed what was going on and confiscated it. one nerdy guy who had been reading it last was sent to the principals office while i got to watch all the drama go down guilt free.

theres no real point to this post, im not getting anything off my chest, and i dont feel guilty. i suppose its more me blowing off steam and giving ya'll more ammunition. enjoy.

update!

It took me three hours after getting myself together, constantly drinking water before i was able to pee. im getting too old for this

OW

This one wont be a very long one. im suffering through one of the worst hangovers i can remember. i drank enough water so that im able to pee again. upon waking up WAY earlier than i need to, i realize im still drunk from the night, and can barely close my eyes again before i get the spins. great. so, i get up for a bit, get medicated (bunch of advil and a handful of tums) and try to save a little bit of sleep. no good, stomach says everyone needs to leave the party, one way or the other. so thats why i have to clean puke out of my bathtub. thats right, classy.

the implications of this are vast however, my roomate and i have a standing wager that the first person to puke would owe the other 20 american dollars. so far, he has puked, but reneged on the bet, cause he had a "head injury" and might have been "concussed" i gave him the benefit of the doubt, cause i was there to see him fall, and it was pretty fucking funny. but the bet is still on. technically, since i lost my lunch, im on the line for 20 bucks, but in my mind, since i went to bed ok, it was a stomach thing. rather than i drank too much at work. again. God, my job is sweet.
20 dollars is a lot of money,(thats a lot of cheap porn and fast food) and im prepared to do a lot of dealings in semantics to get out of this one.

oh, plus, i saw a commercial for volunteers for medical testing. I wouldnt normally so quickly jump at the chance of being a guinea pig, but the do offer a free regular checkup before you enter the program. and since i recently found out i no longer have medical insurance, i wanna make sure all my gear works still. also i like sitting on those paper bedsheets. the drawback is, if i do this testing, theres a couple of overnight visits where the monitor me to make sure i dont flip out, i guess. but this means for FOUR days out of the week, each week for 4 weeks, i wouldnt be allowed to drink. so not likely. youd probably get better results asking me to menstruate then stop drinking.
but dont ask me to do that either, i dont want to stain my new paper sheets.

One for the ladies

Seriously, if your squemish, dont read this. honestly.

oh, if youre clinging to a small little bit of attraction for me, also dont, this will seal the deal.

so, if you dont wanna make golden love, read on.

Ive been working out lately. No, honestly. i have about a half dozen fitness pages bookmarked, and have been trying (kinda) to get sexy.

but its all for naught.
cause im still gonna die someday. no amount of pushups i do (few) or the times i decide to go for a walk instead of sitting around looking for naked pictures of that chick who used to be Harriet the spy; is gonna save me from time's ticking clock. but that still wont stop me from feeling superior to fat people. cause i can see my penis. We hang out daily.
so, in an effort not to be a chunky-man, ive been on a fitness kick. Ive been eating slightly less terrible food, and drinking less beer and more red wine. ( well, more wine, at least. baby steps.) and tonight, i had a big honkin' salad. but it might have been the nail in the coffin in my health craze. see, i dont like waking up sore after "exercising" (which looks a lot like dancing in the mirror with heavy things in my hands while morrisey sings in the background. which MIGHT be the fruitiest thing ever)
that is one big strike for being healthy. also, my workout clothes are as follows: the same shoes i wear everyday, a pair of shorts that are much too short, and i look like frankenstein in an 70's sports movie. and whatever shirt i wore the day before.
but lastly, and most importantly, the diet. I have been strugling to cut down on my epic candy intake. its been tough, but ive got that under wraps. the other side of the coin is, however, eating GOOD things. Back to my big honkin salad. i felt so proud i only had one drink tonight, and spent the rest of it plowing through an epic plate of leafy greens. cause lets face it, my pipes do get clogged. but tonight, the levee broke. within ten minutes of eating the salad, the brown train was ready to leave the station. now, ive had some epic bowel battles, i spent an week in my dorm room eating nothing but easy mac. Literally, nothing else. Or, the time i was challenged to eat an increasing number of wild berries from a tree during lunches. bad times.
but this was something that caught me by surprise. how could something so healthy do something like this to me. after a lot of swearing and crying, the deed was done, and i now have evidence on why vegetarians are stupid.

honestly, pull your head out of your asses', hippies

wierd dream yankovic

Ok, so i know no one wants to hear about my dreams, cause most of the time, they're about aerobics instructors, or a really big hot pocket, but i feel compelled to share this one. cause its totally bizarre. and i feel stupid, but im way more creative and insightful in my dreams.

so the setup is, im in this band, with a couple of old chums ive formed one-off bands with in the past, to little sucess. this time, we've got a sure fire formula. we know we're great, and we have a show, but we need the absolute show-stopper to close with. So, the band members are all sitting around, rehearsing Apparently, id been working on this little ditty, and i show everyone, and theres not a dry eye in the house. Its a hit.

"It" however, is a wierd al interpretation of the blink 182 classic "damnit"
So, in my dream, i get really excited about a parody of a song i didnt really like in the first place. This is bizarre enough, but upon waking up, i actaully remember a whole lot of this song, and it was way more clever than i would be awake. *shudder*

anyway, with a few liberties here and there, this is my masterpiece, sung to the tune of B182's damnit

Jammit

Its alright, to tell me, you dont like, my jelly
That i made, from anthrax, and toenails, and thumbtacks
perhaps its too chunky, i chopped up a monkey
and mashed it in one jar, i hope i have not gone too far
:chorus
and itll happen once again, ill make it for a friend
no one will understand, that i make this homemade jam
to make the whole world smile, but i always question why
my toilets overflowin' i guess all my friends are throwin' up

so, im embarrased, but im actually pretty proud of that. If i can write that kind of gem without even being awake to edit, think of how great ill be when i have conscious thoughts!
Ill be a star, i tells ye