Thursday, July 26, 2007

I'm not a morning person

They had met through work, both being entrepreneurs of a sort. He was a take charge kind of guy, she was a small town girl trying to make it. She looked to him for guidance and protection, like the father she had never had. He saw her as the daughter he avoided with the sole of his Timberland. Things were going great until tragedy struck, as it often does in this crazy game.

It was a business transaction like any other. Traveling salesman, nondescript; like so many other Johns before him. The same motel room. He wore a gray suit, blue slacks. She wore a tight black dress, clinging mid thigh to her black stockings.

There was a full moon that night, just barely peeking through ominous black clouds. A dreary Tuesday like so many others in the city. Nothing could be suspected on this November evening, certainly not in a situation like this. While she rattled off the prices for services provided, reciting as if from some imaginary sex menu, he simply smiled.

Removing his tie and untucking the oxford shirt from his cheap trousers, the man stood up. Throwing his blazer on an adjacent chair, he laughed. Unsure of how to react, she too let out a nervous squeal. Removing his undershirt, he revealed a deep scar on his chest that seemed to be pulsing with every beat of his heart. He arched his back and clenched his teeth, doubling over, shoulders almost touching as he retched and quivered.

She was barely out of her second knee high boot when he was on top of her, tearing through the cheap fabric of her black dress with his pointed incisors. "You ripped my dress you fucking prick" she shouted, slapping the side of her head with the palm of her hand.

He stopped. Craning his neck he peered into her pale blue eyes with his own. They glowed a sickly orange, his once plain face now bristling with what looked like dog's hair. His teeth jutted like a wolves, he snarled and took short breaths like some feral beast. Surely there was no price fit for this treatment.

She recoiled in horror, vaulting this man-beast off of her by lifting her legs over her head, a method she had certainly perfected. He was launched into the 27 inch black and white Magnavox that sat on the dresser. She pulled herself up, using the bed that had bought her Prada bag as support. grimacing at the tear in her favorite dress, she looked for the attacker, bringing the stiletto out of her bag slowly.

He was no longer there. The splinters of a dresser, the crumpled carcass of a television, and a bible were all that occupied that floor now. She threw her back to the wall, her breathing labored. Figuring he must have ran from the room in a fit of shame, she looked to the heavens and let out a sigh.

Checking his watch, two hours had gone by. He had not heard from his top money maker and had begun to worry. He knocked on the door of the usual room. No answer. He pressed his ear to the door, his diamond stud making a slight rap against the imitation wood. No sound. He kicked in the door, sending it flying off the hinges. The lights were off, but from the moonlight flooding the room, he could see the bed had no occupants. The shower was running, cautiously he went for the door of the bathroom.

He could feel the dampness a foot from the door through his gator skin boots. With his large, ring laden hand, he turned the knob. He burst in, and to his horror found the remains of his favorite ho, still being gnawed on by this wolf creature. He turned to leave but stumbled on a piece of shattered furniture. He felt the burn of fangs in the back of his neck as his vision of the parking lot went black.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Vacation from the internets

I woke up at 10 AM today. I crawled out of bed, clenched the rug with my toes, and took a piss. Nothing monumental. I smoked a cigarette and had a cup of coffee, still pretty pedestrian. I went to the store and loaded up on Morning Star Farm's finest in imitation burgers, chicken nuggets, bacon,and sausage and made my way back to my place, hooded and well concealed from the drizzle .

I did all of this without looking at my computer once. It has been off for two days, a new record (save for when it's being fixed.) I've decided to take a well deserved break from the internet and start living my life, something that is long overdue. I'm taking a break from any taxing social obligations as well, and due to my new found alcohol abstinence, I'm sure no one will mind.

"You're not drinking..You're a vegetarian, and now you're isolating yourself from people? What the fuck man!"

Yeah, that's what I thought too. I want to paint. I want to travel. I want to lose 20 lbs. I want to watch sunsets and drive around at night. All these things are made increasingly more difficult to achieve when you've become burdened with things like relationships, whether friendly or romantic. I'm giving up. On both, for now.

I'm not depressed. I'm being productive. I'm doing the most positive thing I can for myself, which is staying away from elements that drain my time and energy with negativity. No more will I drag myself into work on a Saturday morning, still partially drunk and feeling sick from the Chinese food I ate at 3 in the morning. I'll still be pissed off by the fact that I'm at work, and I'll still be cross and snippy with customers, but that's who I am. My whole mission is to continue being myself without having to be bogged down by upholding a social life.

There's no ill will toward anyone, this is just something I want to to. I'll continue 'blogging' (I fucking hate that word) and I'll continue working two jobs. Wouldn't want to disappoint the three people who read this thing.

Lastly, on the subject of vegetarianism: If Hitler can do it, so can I.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Added flav-ah

I made these. Slap them around the internets where applicable. Better versions available at the links below each picture.

"Bonus Points"

Blind Guy Banner

Horse Banner

Midget Banner


Show your friends, because you can never be too ostracized.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Big women,big women,big women fill my eyes!

I'm not entirely sure what happened inside my head, but I've had a craving for the love of a larger woman. Those hips...oooh those hips. Those soft features and large sweaty tits have haunted my dreams as of late. Heroin chic is out, and baby, I wanna buy you a steak.

Marsella,from the bank, one of these days I will muster up the courage to ask you to a sensibly price dinner. Wooed you shall be with my amusing anecdotes and expertly timed zingers. Marvel at my observational and situational comedy, and if I play my cards right maybe I'll get a tour of the vault? Eh? Vault being her vagina, though I hope with her taste in smart clothing she'd have a more hygienic method of storing her loots.

I'm thinking about going rockabilly, if not for looking cool, then for those 'fly' chicks they get. You know the type.. Sassy, with a 'Fuck your rules' attitude and some 'hawt' tattoos. Cherries,dice,ect ect. I'll have to drive a hearse, but hey, I can adapt.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Tre Chic faux pax

Fitness kick. New phone. Binge drinking.FRAGMENTS!

I know I addressed this once, but my new phone is so freakin' awesome that I felt the need to mention it again. In other news, I'm back to exercising. I worked out for an hour yesterday and vomited. It makes me think about quitting cigarettes. FOR A MINUTE!

Fashion is dumb. They should make those sweatpants with words on the ass say better things. Like "gonorrhea" or "chlamydia" and things of that nature. Juicy sounds gross enough, like diarrhea or something.

I drank like 13 or something beers in about an hour today. A few hours later, I took a nap. That's why I'm up at 4 AM and bored out of my mind (thus the blogging.) This is boring.

Sunday, July 1, 2007

Ode to Fresca

In a dimly lit tenement block on New York's lower East Side,circa 1963, a soft drink was born. With the crisp, refreshing side of his father and the smooth citrus taste of his mother, Fresca was introduced to the world. Leaving behind the life of crime his good friend Grape soda embraced, Fresca excelled to become the "Adult soda with the distinctive, one-of-a-kind citrus taste" that we all know and love.

Sure, Fresca never had a Van Halen song to rock out to. But while Crystal Pepsi was being enjoyed by those hundreds of people, Fresca was networking. Building lasting bonds with a taste that never left you unsatisfied. Fresca wasn't out to become famous, he just wanted to be liked.

While OK Soda was out selling Ludes to kids at raves, Fresca was delighting the world with it's crisp citric bite that made you feel appreciated. When you sit down with a Fresca, things are going to be more than just OK.

Surge pushed us to get X-treme! Get your skateboards! Let's hit the half-pipe! It's only a scratch; it's only a broken vertebrae! Get up! Get Surge! Surge it! Yeah! Fresca did the opposite. Fresca promoted chilling out. "Hey buddy, why don't you take a load off and enjoy some wonderfully delicious, always delightful Fresca?"

How can you say no?

This distinctive refresher with a light citrus taste just keeps on rocking. Long after the Mellow Yellow's and Pepsi Blue's of the world fade out, Fresca will be there. Whether you've just mowed the lawn or some particularly violent and sweaty coitus has concluded, when you reach for that Fresca, you've made that right choice.