Tuesday, July 29, 2014

It took you this many years to write a post? FUCK YOU!

Just blendin in...

Odd, but I feel like writing an entry today.  I haven't written one since 2012, last I checked.  Times have certainly changed since then.  I'm sitting in the same apartment, sipping wine, having a muted cam girl dance in the background. I'm still at the same job,  same car, no real prospects of any of those things changing.  OK, so like 95% of shit hasn't changed.   Actually, drinking on a Monday night is now very uncommon. I've said that "I will only drink on the weekends" and I've mostly stuck to it.  It's made me a sharper person.  It's also made sleeping at night a little harder with the thoughts of death and shit doing their usual "thing" to my mind and spirit.  Waking up not hung over is pretty fucking nice.  I'm drinking tonight because I'm in a funk.  Also, I had a chocolate caramel thing that tastes the best with red wine.  My body just hates booze now.  My mind likes it, but my BODY.  I'm just not the same person I was a few years back.

I've been doing the stand up comedy thing, at least and that's mostly taken care of the crushing loneliness and melancholy that orbit around me like satellites.  For the most part, I've been fairly happy this last year. I'm finally doing it.  I've literally had dreams where I'm doing comedy and I'm terrified and excited and it felt right, so fuck it.  I've also had dreams where I'm playing a bad ass guitar solo and everybody loves me, but yeah, I'm not going to chase that one.  All my finger skills go to playing Dark Souls 2 and trying to finger beautiful ladies, so sad, but no guitar solos.

I've been feeling mediocre on all fronts lately.  That's part of the current depressed state.

My love life is basically shit.  Courting ladies I don't care about is kinda easy, with nothing to lose and all.  Trying to court a lady I actually like mostly feels like this:

Well most of the video feels accurate, except for the end.  The lady never tells me she's down to kill a unicorn to trick me or anything.   I always loved this scene the most from the movie Legend.  Even Satan's got problems trying to mack on bitches...with sexy silk robe thing.  Anyone saying the line "I value your thoughts, share them with me" always sounds full of shit.  It's like being wooed by a customer service rep while on the phone with Comcast.   I wonder if that shiny black apple tastes any good. I bet it tastes like Jagermeister.

I saw myself on video doing stand up comedy.  It killed me to watch myself.  Even when I'm getting laughs I'm watching everything I'm doing wrong and it drives me nuts.  Maybe some things don't look bad in person and I do alright, but boy does video do a good job in letting you know about every little terrible thing you're doing.  I'm still a terrible comedian.  I like my jokes...conceptually, at least.  My delivery system is the worst.  Stupid body and mouth....ruining my life, once again...

Work is blegh.  Sometimes I think I'm ok with doing my non creative mundane but relaxing job that I currently have.   Work is easy when you're a dry husk.  When the wind blows through dry bristles, it can be cool and refreshing. For the most part its nice.  I go in and handle easy 3d tasks and leave at a reasonable hour.  It sounds decent.  Then I think about the idea of having a great job where I'm doing the cool paintings  I'd love to do and then I feel like I'm wasting a big chunk of my life. There could be 20 potentially cool paintings done by me if I just focused on being a pro painter.  I mean, there'd be another 40 terrible paintings, but there'd be 20 cool ones.  I have no reference for the numbers I'm using either.

Overall I feel like the Brooklyn Brawler of life right now.  If you don't know who the Brooklyn Brawler is, he's a WWE wrestler who had just enough going on to be given a costume, but he was still just a fall guy for the cool wrestler to take down. My video game development career could be considered a Brooklyn Brawler type.  All those ported games.  GoldenEye 2...I have the skills to be in the ring, but eh, we're gonna take a dive.  Same could go for a lot of other things in my life.  Art in general, stand up, dating,  I'm in the ring, but I'm taking a fall.  A positive person could say, "Hey, just being given the shot is gift enough, some people don't get that".  FUCK YOU!  At least make me, BAM BAM BIGELOW or something! Maybe I should get tattoes on my head.  Really though, I should be the 1-2-3 Kid and force my way into the big leagues.

Look at airbrushed filth on that shirt. I bet it's not even dirty. Get it together Brooklyn!
The 1-2-3 Kid kinda looks like Jon Heder of Napolean Dynomite.

Of course I take the responsibility for where I am right now.  I just want to pull myself out of the mud that I'm in.  A lot of it's my own doing to, of course.  Oh I wish I had more time for everything.  I hate making vital decisions about shit..

Alright, I've emptied out the sadness bag enough.  I think I'm good for a while.  I should probably write an entry while I'm in a good mood.
Ok.  I can't stop yawning.  I hope I wrote everything I wanted tonight now eh, fuck it....goodnight journal.

Friday, December 14, 2012

I'm not dying in Santa Barbara...I'm living in it (the Power of Positivity and why the year 2013 might not suck)

So it's been forever since I've written a post.  I actually have to half posts just lying in limbo and who knows if they're coming out but that doesn't matter.  I'm here now and I'm feeling in a "write-y" mood.

The year is coming to a close and it's taken this long for me to finally feel good about myself and my surroundings.  Here are some reasons why things are good and will probably be good next year:

I'm not as fucking broke as I used to be.  When I first moved to Santa Barbara,  I was probably the brokest I've been since I was maybe 19 years old.  Everyone was rich and attractive and having a ball, throwing their money around.  I was sitting around drinking $2 chuck wondering why the cost of living here is worse than LA.  Well, time has passed and now, if I choose I can walk into a bar, get properly shitfaced and  not worry about going negative in my bank account.   I still think drinks shouldn't cost that much though.

My work schedule is way better than a lot of peoples.  I'm not doing video game hours anymore.  I mean,  I'm not getting that phat video game pay, but I'm also leaving at a reasonable hour.  My friends in actual game jobs,  it seems like it never quits.  They actually have loved ones and lives to lead and they're working crazy hours, meanwhile I got nothing going on and I get to go and dick around to my hearts content.  I actually have enough spare time to follow a side path of some sort.  Unfortunately, playing Dark Souls and beating off have their way of distracting me.  I really should put that time to better use come next year.  I have some ideas and I think I'm gonna finally pursue them.

My car being in the shop taught me how to walk again.  So I would wake up at 9:40 am, get ready in ten minutes, manage to waste an extra 5 minutes dicking around and get to work around 10:08.  I was basically milking every minute I could to just lay or sit perfectly still, pretending I was not where I was but somewhere else, probably being someone else, doing something else.  Well, I had to give up my car for a few days and had to fend it out on my own.  You know, all I had to do was get up about 20 minutes earlier, do the same shit,  and just start walking and I'd get a nice lil chunk of exercise.  The first day I couldn't stop sweating (and by first day, I mean first week) and now I feel weird if I don't get my walk on.

I'm starting to feel my age again.  I think I must've felt like i was about 48 years old for the last two years.  I felt  like I'm at the age where not only did I not physically matter, but my ideas are dumb are worthless as well.  Whatever plans and dreams I had for things I wanted to accomplish were gone and that I might as well just settle in to being the dumb fuck I've turned into and just wait to die.  I think it was walking and exercising and getting that burst of energy from perpetual movement that made me realize it's not over yet.

 I probably sound like a dick saying that once you're in your late 40's your life is just gonna suck and carry little meaning from then on.  Won't it though?  I mean, it's not my idea, it feels like today's society is so youth orientated that unless you're a major success, you're ready for the garbage bin on you're in your late 30's to 40's.  However,  I hear if you hit your mid 70's life gets back to exciting because you're in freestyle mode.  Basically, you did what you had to do and it's like Grand Theft Auto after finishing all the missions.  You can get into any car, punch random strangers on the street and just breeze outta prison if you ever get caught.  I guess it's all in how much energy you have.  The time between your 40's and your 70's is a shitty time where you question what you've done and also, I hear there's a lot of nap taking.

Anyways, my point was, that I feel like I have a few good years left in me to pull some shit and hopefully feel confident enough in my ideas to pull through and create something awesome and shape myself into something I could be proud of and not just sort of fall into something and just  "accept" things for what they are.  I really got to be proactive and push myself through some shit though.

I'm listening to music again and not as many podcasts.  If you've ever watched Battle Star Galactica,  you notice the way the cylon's battleship runs involves a person in an ooze jacuzzi, rambling to themselves about random shit and being completely dehumanized.  Well, I think that's how I lived the last year with podcasts.  I just sat there at my desk doing my work and had peoples voices intrude my mind until it was time to go home. Other people's thoughts , ideas and life experiences just plugged into my brain, as if I even  knew these people in real life.  Once I got home, I'd keep going.  I'd start playing a video game and had a podcast feed more more.   I mean there's nothing wrong with podcasts, I think you just need to break it up with personal time.  Have your own time and life experiences.  Let something like music just flutter you around.
A lot of the comedians I listen to are in their 40's and possibly older.  It's probably why I felt so old. I'm just absorbing their point of view and their current experiences.  Music has sort of gotten me back to just a bouncy mood and I think people have heard me humm on the street as I walk along lately.

My body can't take alcohol in like it used to.  If I drink any booze without throwing  in anti-acid pills before and/or after,  it's gonna be miserable for me later.  Sometimes IT STILL IS regardless.  I don't know if anyone told you, but shitting stomach acid from your asshole is pure misery.  It can't get any worse than that though, can it?  Oh, you shouldn't of asked cause it can.  You can have it slowly leak out of you as you walk around and go about your day actively.  On a plus note, this has had me stop drinking on most weekdays and then only having a few drinks on the weekend.

You're probably thinking "GEEZUS CHRIST!  That sounds fucking terrible, why don't you quit altogether?  Didn't you almost pass out trying to shit once?  Didn't you smear blood on someone's leather couch?  What's it got to take for you to stop drinking altogether?"  Well, I like drinking and everything that comes with it that much.  I love the taste of alcohol and how it makes me feel.  I love the conversations that come around it.  It's definately hard to stop when our culture is so wrapped around it.   What I learned about drinking, like other things, is that I should make it a "treat" that I only enjoy on occassion and hopefully socially.  If I'm not going to enjoy it, why am I drinking alone in my living room?  Man, I really envy people who can drink and not shit out acid afterwards.  Why am I the only person complaining about this shit?

I'm working my way back to "fucking weight".  Cutting down on booze? Walking around more, burning calories?  Sounds like someone's trying to look less like a bloated piece of shit.  Guilty, as charged.  I haven't  felt physically desirable in a good long time.  I'd say more often than not, I've felt the eyes of a disappointed, if not completely disgusted lady look upon me like lazers.  It'd be even worse when they themselves aren't that great looking.  When mediocre looking ladys give you the physical thumbs down, then I'm not that far away from just fucking a rubber pussy for the rest of my life and walking away from the "human pussy game" forever.

I mean, I had my good moments, within these self hating years, I've had a girl or two like me, but it always felt like I bullshitted my way through it somehow, like I was perpetually con-ing someone.  They very likely enjoyed the personality I carried within my bloated sweaty flesh but of course that can't be enough for me.  I think I've talked to too many women about their relationships and it seemed like they had a split between the decent guys they settle with and the hot guys they fall head over heels for.  Goddamn, I'd love to be the hot guy they'd go stupid over.  Oh,  I can only imagine what sort of asshole I'd be if I had the hot jerk looks to go with the hot jerk personality.  Anyways,  I'll settle for just being about 40 lbs lighter and seeing how that goes.  Point is,  I'm working to get back to a healthier state and good for me and the rest of the world for it.

The world is a ridiculous place we're all gonna die eventually.  Also, I still have great friends.  I'm not alone.  Not totally, I mean.  None of us are.  We're all going through a lot of the similar problems that people have been going through throughout the ages.  There isn't an original thought  or worry left.  Everything that's going on now has been going on for a long time except now we have smart phones.  All my friends are still alive and thriving.

More likely than not, I'm probably going to die before most of them do.  It'd be a real dick move if I outlived all my friends.  Having to do all that mourning... yeeesh!  The sweet spot of dying is probably somewhere in the middle. I'd say it's probably somewhere between the first few deaths of loved ones, where you start realizing that the world you know becomes more strange and different and everything you've known melts away into alienation.  I can only wonder what things are going to be like 30 years from now but I know it's gonna be so bizzare and that I'm gonna want nothing to do with it and my body will be so worn I'll just let my soul slip out of it due to hot weather or something trivial as that.

I also know this,  once the world starts collapsing on itself,  I'll probably go to El Paso to die.  That's my home.  That's where I want my bones to lie.

It's going to be the same bullshit next year as it is this year so don't be a big fucking drama queen about it or anything.  Next year doesn't have anything specific going on.  Expecially Santa Barbara.  Santa Barbara doesn't change.  Motherfuckers have Ipads, but you can clearly see that the font on the street signs is from the 60's/70's.  My apartment probably had a go go dancer die in it and they just changed the carpeting.  Next year is gonna be uneventful.  Everything will flow the way it does and we'll be shrugging our way to 2014.

Could I find a career I dream of, a hot lady I'm madly in love with or simply win the lottery.   Sure that'd be awesome, but I'm not counting on it.  Man, winning the lottery would be awesome.

I'd be the worst person winning the lottery too.  I'd do that thing I do where I start very conservatively,  spending way too much thinking about what to do with the money and then I'd impulsively invest it in one stupid thing and then it'd be all gone.  Or it could be that thing where I have kids and I make trust funds for them while I don't enjoy any of the money and they turn into those terrible "trust fund kids" and they're despised for their grandios sense of entitlement and also nothing to offer to the world.  You know, that wouldn't bother me that much either cause I'd be dead and eventually, they'll be dead too.  Given enough time, we'll all be dead and the game is over.  Hopefully there's gator-aid and high fives at the end like most sports events.

So that's why I'm feeling good right now about life and this upcoming year and the next few to follow.  Things are not my most ideal but it can be shittier.  I do miss my dumb youth years but I know I'm still not in my worthless old years.  I can be a dumb kid about shit for maybe another 5 years...please?  5 sounds good.  If not well, fuck it.

I miss my friends and I feel like I'm on an inner tube tied to a rope and set adrift into the ocean where I can still see them on the horizon, but they're only blurry dots. I can only pull myself to shore and actually be with them for a few days a year, but then I float again into the abyss just as fast.

I think that's what I miss the most right now, my friends.  I wish I could have all my friends in the same city.  It'd be like that shitty painting where you have james dean, marylin monroe, elvis and humphrey bogart, etc. at the same diner.  It sounds awesome in theory, but you look like a real asshole after you paint it.  It's dumb idealism and it shows.

You know which one bothers me more..the gangster one, where you have the Sopranos, Scarface, the Goodfellas, etc  at the same dining table, oh it's just so dumb looking usually.  In theory there should be like 2-3 pacinos and de niros there at the same table, but there isn't...wouldn't that be weird, having clones of yourself with different personalities hanging out with you.  Would you both order the eggplant parmigianna?  Fuck, that's what I would order cause that shit's delicious.

If someone gave me a free tshirt with the print of either the gangster scene or the movie star diner scene,  yeah, i'd fucking wear it.  I have a vagina monologues shirt on right now, who the fuck am I to judge anything.  That probably sums this blog entry.  It felt long and exhausting and I'm glad it's done.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Treatment Center

I don't like staying in Santa Barbara on the weekends, but I should get used to it,especially with all the stuff I want to get done. these days.  There's software to be learned,  paintings to be worked out, chores to be done, and heaven forbid,  getting used to existing here and making an impression of some sort.  It's just so hard to do it.

When I give myself the time to think about it, this place feels unreal to me.  Santa Barbara feels like one big treatment center but with a very groovy font for it's street signs.  It's peaceful and you can just wander around at any time, day or night, as long as you do it quietly.  It doesn't help that I live right across from a treatment center. 

What if  I've been a patient here in Santa Barbara the whole time to recover from something that I've just blocked out of my memory?  Like I'm in some sort of program and the "work" I'm doing isn't even work, but just something to keep me busy and make me feel like I'm "achieving" something.  Everyone's just playing along while I just fumble through until I make a breakthrough of some sort to become a regular person again.  I imagine the bill for that will be ridiculous.  Hopefully the medical at my "pretend job" can cover most of it.

I particularly wonder if I'm a a treatment when I'm at Ralph's 5 minutes before the store closes (at midnight).  All the neighborhood "weirdos" are also there.  Buying food for their pets or other random shit.  I look at them and wonder "Ugh,  how did their lives come down to where they are, depressing puddles of sadness."  Of course, one second later,  I look up at the surveillance monitor to see that I am one of them.  What the fuck am I doing there,  in my "homeless" attire?  I'm not even buying booze (as if that would somehow make me cooler).  I'm buying some shitty snack and I'm doing it in some panic that when midnight comes and I want something,  what the fuck am I going to do till morning!  

If I am buying booze, lately, it's been white wine, the official booze of Santa Barbara.  I drank a bottle and wandered around and then you know what,  felt pretty good about. It's the drink of the yoga panted  lady in their 40's of Santa Barbara and you know what,  excellent choice.  On a warm night with the occasional cold and crispy  breeze,  nice stars in the sky,  silhouettes of trees and old Spanish style structures,  a cold bottle of chardonnay in hand feels pretty good.

I've taken to notice how shapely most women's legs are here  I can't believe it.  Tall, short, thick, thin,  there's some hot leg, hip and ass going on.  It's as if  these women have been walking uphill all their lives.  Maybe they do a lot of hiking?..you know what,  I'm not going to ask,  I'm just going to enjoy the ride.  I won't even mind the disgusted look I get for staring.

Goodnight blog,  walk those sexy legs outta here.

Friday, June 1, 2012

The end of an Era

So after many years,  I've decided to get rid of the mugshot of myself on my OKC profile pic.  I just got one too many complaints.  I tried to remain defiant,  I mean, could that many people not have the "great sense of humor" about this thing like I do?  Apparently,  they don't, at least not in the cluster of cities that is Oxnard/Ventura/Santa Barbara.

One of the great things about my mugshot is that it's one of the better pictures I've ever had taken of myself.  Every cell of my being decided to look like a decent human being for a second.  My sister's wedding didn't get that good a pic of me.  You take a pic of me now, you'd just be wondering how somebody managed to sneak such a bloated piece of shit into a t-shirt without staining the shirt so much.  This is why i wear so many black shirts.

The other great thing about my mugshot is that who does that?  Who puts their own mugshot as part of  "what's awesome about me clusterfuck" that is the OKC profile?  I'd say, the worst, or the best. Well, consider I'm not the worst or the best,  it just lies there awkward with me, maybe that's the problem.    I am harmeless as shit,  and once you get to know me,  you realize that mugshot for what it is.  While in LA,  I still managed to get some dates going.  I got one or two complaints but when I talked to then,  I just laughed my ass off and once I reasoned with them,  they sort of saw it my way, or I just laughed at them even harder.  Now a days,  I'm fuckin Creep of the Week on the constant over here.  I don't even get to explain myself.  So fuck it.

Two days after I've removed the image,  I've been getting like double the response from people now.  I hate this world I live in.

On the last note, quick question:  Better Lord of the Rings name?  Dildo Faggins or Dildo Shitbaggins?  

For a while, I'd say it was a close match.  I was thinking Shitbaggins was a little long winded,  while "Faggins" rolls out smooth and to the point.   However,  Faggins has now turned into more of a no-no as it's now more hate linked with gay bullying.  

So for those of the nobody that's reading this and also voted for Shitbaggins, condragulations,  you might get the Rupaul's Drag reference I just made.  

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Quick Dream of a Futuristic Celebrity Holiday Resort

I had a dream where I was in a futuristic celebrity holiday resort with Drew.  It was both exciting and upsetting at the same time. I think this took place in the near future in a very modern building somewhere in LA.  It was a place where celebrities went to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted and I think me and drew won weekend tickets somehow or other.  I think I only really wanna mention this dream because Snoop Dogg showed up and when I smoked his herb,  I literally turned into a cloud and just floated around the corner of a room and observed shenanigans while sayin "wow, that's crazy."  and "I'm so fucked up, I'm floating in the corner of this room".  Meanwhile, there was xbox gaming and girls sexing on each other.

Around the end of the dream, when they kicked us out of the resort,  I was really depressed about it.  It was a combined feeling of  hating the place itself and the tons of wasted resources for such a place to exist and then hating to be kicked out of it.  Pretty complicated right?  If I hated the place so much,  why did I want to remain part of it?  The place offered to satisfy every whim.  I think that in the two days that the dream took place, I was too shy to ask for everything I could have. Maybe this dream was  telling me to chase things harder in my real life.  That whatever I really want,  I should just go for instead of just hanging out and waiting for it all to get inevitably worse, as I'm expecting it to be.  Clearly,  I've been in a weird place mentally and emotionally this last year.  I feel more detached and indifferent and I need to change that otherwise I'll just keep floating farther into a void of nothingness. It's similar to the play MacBeth except without the ambition of being a king of something.. mostly just the "fuck the world" mentality he had at the end.  How good is that Macbeth story, by the way?  You know, a real cool dude and just a lil hype from some ol hagz and it all gets nutter butters.

I should've realized it was all a dream when I was turned into a living cloud, but I figured that when you get high with Snoop,  more outlandish things can happen.  By the way,  Snoop,  real nice guy when you meet him in a dream.  How shitty is the dream when you meet a celeb and the just freak and bolt out.  Well, this was not the case.  Thankfully,  that hasn't been the case with my dreams and partying with celebs.

UPDATE:  Weightwise,  I think I've dropped down to 266 since last time so I'm on a road to wellsville.  It's just one big hassle that I'll hopefully get accustomed to.  Alrght  I think it's time to go to sleep.

Goodnight, blog, you big plate of eggplant parmigianna, you!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012



That's how much I weigh right now.  I wish I knew how much I weighed before my xmas break in el paso started. I think it'd be interesting to know what two weeks of complete food and booze debauchery can do.  I was holding a steady 255 with my half hear-ted efforts of nutrition and exercise.  I guess those efforts weren't enough anymore and I gotta push harder into a healthier me

I've been sick this weekend and my sense of taste is kind of warped.  Much like that one time last year, there's  hint of metallic taste in my mouth but it's not as bad this time around.   It's funny how even when things lack flavor or have a distorted flavor, I still manage to eat like a fat jerk.  I guess I need to use the taste as a wellness gauge, but that doesn't mean I should cram the saltiest or sweetest shit around me for measurement.

I feel so lazy and dumb right now.  The fatter I get, the more I just want to give up and fall further into pit.  When I hit 300 pounds,  I'll probably not be able to say a complete sentence.  You'll be able to hear me struggle to breath from the next room though.  These new sounds that come out of me are pretty gross sounding.  I envy people that are 300 or more right now and can hold their shit and manage to live like a person.  I think my body would just shut down at that point and give up.  It sort of wants to do it right now.

I think there were a few times I felt like I was close to a heart attack.  One of them was doing karaoke.  Can you believe that.  Having a heart attack from a vigorous karaoke session?  What a story. "Hey, you hear Jorge had a heart attack?".  "Oh no shit.  What happened?"  "He was singing karaoke and he just got really sweaty and collapsed.  He was singing Lets Get Rocked by Def Leopard".  "That's a terrible song"  "Yeah, it is.  It probably should've killed him."  "Let that be a lesson to everybody."

Shameful Moments of Stupid Fat Body (as of lately)
-I got winded reaching down and tying my shoe.  My brow started sweating up almost instantly.
-I got winded while going up a few steps as I was also cramming a mini peanut butter cup into my mouth.  I then almost choked on said peanut butter cup from all the heavy breathing.
- I started getting sweaty putting on clothing.
-I started sweating when taking a shit.
-I already mention that I constantly sound like I'm struggling to breath.
-I have to adjust the way i sit so that my belt doesn't cut into my stomach.
-I have to adjust the way I sit so that there's not too much weight pressure over too much of an area.
-I don't think I can stand for more than 10 minutes without wanting to sit down.
-I eat a full lunch.  5 minutes later,  I'll start thinking about what snack to get into and at what time would be most strategic to where the least amount of people can see.
-My larger torso catches more food stains and so now I look like more of a sloppy sad sack.
-I notice the way I stand and walk have changed into that of a baby learning to walk.
-I'm doing a lot less running on the treadmill.  I can feel the weight stressed on my legs more and I'm afraid of busting a knee.  So now I'm that power walk jerk on the machine.
-I see a reflection in the mirror at the gym and I say,  "that balding eggshaped man  is wearing the same thing I am." While I am standing next to that guy,  I realize  I'm just as fat as him and probably smell worse.
-My sex drive is not what it used to be.  It's taken a drop for suresies.  Also, I now suffer from what I call "tony-soprano-sounds-like-he's-having-a-heart-attack-when-he's-fucking-a-lady"osis, except that it's just me, handling myself.
- I ate both turkeys ( I think only Chris will get this one)
-  I'm turning into a size 40.  Size 38 is starting to feel pretty fucking tight on me now a days. My pant length is 30.  Do you know how hard it is to find 40x30?  38x30 was hard enough.  On a plus note,  that size is usually on sale cause it's not on the high demand list.  Another negative note.  Most pants are ugly as shit.
-Everything below my belly button looks like it's 5 miles away and is no longer worth considering.

Well, there you have it.  I'm going to try to fix myself.  Part of me really wants to.  Part of me just wants to drink Bud Ice all day and play Saints Row and pass out while eating chicken and waffles.  Man, that does sound pretty good.

My mind is too cloudy and it's affecting a lot of my judgments and ambitions.  I'm surprised I can even write this entry right now.  I still want to do a lot with my life but at the same time,  I'm like, fuck it,  does it even matter?  What's it all for?  I probably just need to sleep more and that is something I'm fucking up as we speak.  Goodnight,  blog,  you stupid fuck,  look at you now. (that last part is to be read in a Scarface voice).

Friday, December 16, 2011

Happy Honda-days!

Time to hit the ol' dusty road.  If you need me,  I'll be choking on my own (or others) vomit in el paso... and loving it.  Merry XXX-mas everybody.