Monday, August 16, 2004


What time is it?


Damn. I haven’t posted shit today. Should I force it? Or should I pretend I was too busy and face the inquiry tomorrow? Genius like mine takes time to ripen, you know, like a fine wine. Then again, porn night isn’t exactly the stuff of a brilliant mind.

Did I mail in my registration payment for soccer today? Fuck, I think I forgot again. What the hell was I doing? I was thinking about it when I walked out this morning. Gotta mail my registration payment. Gotta mail my registration payment. Gotta…ooh, licorice!

Oh, yeah.

Why has my scalp been itching lately? Maybe I’m stressed. I wonder if I have psoriasis. Does leprosy itch? I’m hungry. Pizza sounds good.

Would you shut up? No fucking pizza! You’ve been asking for pizza all weekend!

But I want some pizza! Thin crust with pepperoni and mushrooms and onions.

How many miles did you run today?

Fuck you. That's right, you heard me. I said FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!

Whatever, dude. Shut the fuck up.

Uh oh, phone’s ringing.


“Hi, sweetie. I’m at the Jack. You want anything?”

“Jack in the Crack? Hell yeah. Get me three monster tacos.”

“Sure. See you in a few minutes.”

Mmm, greasy tacos made by a clown who’s never been to Mexico.

You don’t deserve her.

Man, don’t I know it.

Still gonna blog tonight?

Nah. Nothing to talk about. Wasn't there something I needed to do?