Friday, May 19, 2006
I once had an icecube, pretty little ice cube, now it's gone, now it's gone. Her name was Mary, pretty little ice cube, now she's gone, now she's gone..." I love Primus. I am strange like that. It's (me) definitely a beat, but not very easy to dance to. Almost an awkward jig, ala Jim Morrison, without the hip/cool. OR the happ'nin'. Ya dig?
Like my new pic? Over the next couple days, I will be sharing a few "candid" pics of me. I call this one the Mike Tyson. My neck looks like it belongs in the NFL. I was supposed to see a movie tonight but I just didn't want it to be the Da Vinci Code. I was going to opt out for gore instead with See No Evil with Kane (some huge wrestler.) Unfortunately, the only cinema playing it was the dreaded Fiesta Square cinema, a place that I have personally vowed never to return to. Oh wells, I have to get up at six a.m. to go to Silver Dollar City and I know that's going to be sheer hell. I treasure those mornings where I don't have to be up at the crack of dawn. Kids have NO FUCKING IDEA how much sacrifice we parents go through on their behalf. I'm just the guy hassling them, and keeping them from living their lives the way they gosh darn wanna. Right, they don't realize that I've been a rebellious teen back in the day, and full of ransackery. Fuck that now, I'd rather answer to someone who financially supports ME. Work sucks, and by the end of the week, I'm at my wits end, like I've just narrowly avoided drowning, breaking through to the surface after thrashing desperately the last few feet! I can't see how living like this will do anything but harm to me in the long run. Some weeks it is easier than others.
And to all a good night...
But wait, there's more!!!!!
I did go and eat Chinese at this new place but can't remember the name. It had a (goddamn) "Mongorian" Barbecue with a cook that spoke not a "rick" of "Engrish". I asked if I could have mine cooked just a "rittre ronger" to give me the crispiness I so "rong" for when I'm hugging my "pirrow" in the middle of the night. He goofily stares distantly at me, immediately clueing me in that he's not catching my drift AT ALL. And since the article came out about the family that was legally asked to leave a Chinese restaurant because they wasted TOO MUCH FOOD, they've been getting cocky. Ours hovered over us, looking approvingly/disapprovingly depending on the emptiness of our plates before filling a new one. I didn't really care, I don't like Chinese AND I damn sure don't have ANY love for the bacteria buffet these places put out for your munching pleasure. I catch people coming out of the bathroom attempting, unsuccessfully, to avoid washing their hands sometimes! And THEN getting more food., putting their dick slobbers all over the tongs, or spatula, or LADLE, or...
It's just rude and disgusting people. You should be roundhouse kicked to the head for visually being caught NOT observing proper safety and cleanliness procedures. I mean come, don't just splash a few drops of water on your "buttmeal" covered pecker pounders! Lather up, you selfish bastards! I do it for my kids, I do it for all who are going to eat it. I also don't do taste tests with the spoon I'm stirring stuff with. Hell, we might as all just start French kissing now. I once saw my dear own Mother drinking straight from the gallon of milk as a kid. Not as horrendously traumatic as the time I caught Mom and Dad doing what I like to call "The UNMENTIONABLE" but scary nonetheless. I don't believe there is anything wrong with feeling like this, do you?
I just don't want what you have. Kind of like what that guy says in The Frighteners.
"You are invading my territorial bubble!!!"
I'm wrecked now, I had so much to be pissed off about and horrid things in my life to lament, but I heard a bunch of good tunes and hung out with Herb. Now the bad has become only the mildly annoying. Yet sleep beckons me now.
Later I will tell you just how much I hate me, you, us, THEM (oh-h-h-h especially THEM), we, they, and even the dreaded THOSE! Maybe I will whine, I will surely gnash my teeth. I may foam. Nay, even bore into you pleadingly with mine own beacons of helpless bewilderment. OK, I could've just said eyes there. Enough ten dollar words.
Time to hop on that magical train that takes you on down to "Sleepies" house.