I'm lazy

In the coming weeks expect some new media.

shiz will fluff you up

My condolences

Today my cousin Lynn Marie lost her baby boy, who was set to arrive in three weeks. How devastating. My heart goes out to you.

-

We The People

If you are privileged to follow Rich @ beachbitchbimbo.blogspot.com/ you'd be aware that our Spider Sense was tingling, and we were close to tracking down Osama Bin Laden. Now, the events recorded by Rich were 110% accurate, however, there was one important detail that he forgot to include.

The night before we were tipped off by an anonymous source. I have struggled keeping this under wraps, however, I feel the truth has to come out. His name is Doctor Rabbit.



We were out on the town drinking various mixed drinks from the Orient when my cell phone began ringing off the hook. I picked it up and a strange voice gave a hint that at 1 PM Bin Laden would be looking for cha cha heels and ski masks at the old Building 19 turned flea market in Lynn, MA. He made note that we shouldn't get distracted by shiny earrings because they're plentiful in this location. It took me a while for this information to register. I had to tell Rich and Amy. They were in shock.

When we were outside smoking cigarettes I remembered a specific quip made by the voice on the other line. He made reference to Plaque Monsters, and how we need to remember to brush our teeth, since Bin Laden has quite the nose that can smell the will of an American Hero on the breath of any trackers.

We skipped town, drunk, and made our way to a Lexis-Nexis database where I searched for "Plaque Monsters". A game came up, and the plot thickened.



I knew I had seen those JNCO flood pants and yellow Keds at some point prior to these events... I remember going on a tour across the world, somehow riding a bicycle to Africa, where local wildlife told me to brush two to three times a day, and to floss often. We observed, but could still not put a name to this face. We knew what must be done.

Being that we had been drinking, eating Lo-Mein, and smoking cigarettes for a majority of the night, it was an established fact that we had our own collection of Plaque Monsters. Rich actually tried to floss in the meantime. If you know Rich, he loves to floss because, according to him, it is like a massage for your gums. Amy and I had to tackle him and bring him to his senses. If we wanted to find out the name of this operative we were going to have to consult as many Plaque Monsters as possible. If the three of us weren't enough we'd have to assault people on the streets and perform an oral smear. The more monsters the better.

We had a throng of them from ourselves, but they wouldn't crack. We went to the Mobile On the Run, and inoculated the gentleman behind the counter, leaving him with a swollen eye, a heroin addiction, and a complimentary chocolate so he could regenerate his stolen Plaque Monsters.

The Plaque Monsters spoke after much Guantanamo Bay influenced secret torture. However, they never spilled the beans completely. They mumbled "Med School", "Maury Povich", "Day time TV for assistant", "Jefferson Airplane", "Alice in Wonderland", "Easter"...

Needless to say, we were thoroughly confused by this. We thought they were simply giving nonsensical answers to throw us off our quest. However, after a few fishbowls and Paris Hilton impersonations it struck us. It simultaneously hit us like lightning. Our minds were consumed in a vacuum that pulled us into it's Hoover brand bag (old vacuum). Somewhere in the lint, cat hair, and baby teeth was the answer.

It was him!

Doctor Rabbit!!!

I can't put my finger on what Doctor Rabbit has to do with 9/11. Rich came to the conclusion that it must be because Bin Laden doesn't promote good oral hygiene, rendering him godless in Doctor Rabbit's eyes. Doctor Rabbit also works close with Lady Fatima, and he must have received a vision from her at this time. Like Nostradamus, Doctor Rabbit prophesied that Osama Bin Laden would be on the North Shore...

We prepared ourselves.

However, we forgot about Daylight Savings, and we didn't spring forward. So aside from Amy's obsession with chunky earrings, we also had a late start.

This is one hundred percent fact. I had a tape, but the CIA removed all traces from my possessions. I hope this gets out. Doctor Rabbit and Lady Fatima would make a formidable team. With our powers combined we can stop Osama Bin Laden. We are true American heroes, and I hope that you, the reader, join our cause. Never forget...

I'm going to an open house at CDIA @ BU on Moody St. in Waltham tomorrow.

I'm going to make a doctor's appointment so a) see if I still have health insurance, because I really don't know at this point, and b) so i can potentially right my brain with medication. I understand that there is no reason to feel fucked up about anything, but sometimes I can't escape the feeling. It's not even about anything in specific, really. I just feel really anxious for no apparent reason. When you can no longer identify what grinds your gears, you know you need a little help.

Slow night here. I have a busy morning (for once).

4 the kids

blogging friendly

I purged the last few entries because I feel like I'm giving off a "douche bag" vibe.

This isn't who I want to be.

That being said, I applied to some jobs today. It's mostly hustle work, which is probably the best I can do at the moment. I want a job like anything. I'm willing to sell my teeth. I'm also abundently bored. I want to move out so much.

On the contrary: I don't mind the free room and food at the moment. Sure, I'd love to be totally self-sufficient, but I do welcome the change. Oh yeah, I also appreciate the ability to live scott free for now.



I was kicking ass at SMB 64 at Dave's yesterday, and I glitched. I got stuck in the wall forever. Mario was perpetually stuck in his "falling" animation. This video is necessary. If you can't stand Scatman John, I suggest muting. I can't help it since Youtubers who post video game crap typically have terrible tastes in music. It was either this or some generic nu metal Slipshit shit. At least this song is somewhat fitting, since it's pretty much a "blooper reel".

I digress. I was on star 12 or so, after acing the first two levels, and then the game gods obviously wanted me to move no further... Or they were trying to tell me it was a nice day, and that I should obviously go play outside.



Today was very sunny. I welcome the change. I can't wait for global warming to sink us under water. We can make an island out of those pool chair rafts and pass out in the hot sun. Cancer is nothing. Nor is the task of importing drugs from our neighbors of the great white north.

This rendition was performed at a Hockey rink, and you can tell. It actually sounds pretty sweet for a bad bootleg video in a usually bad venue in terms of music performance.

I caught a good amount of the address tonight. I'm drinking the Kool-Aid. On that note:



Change smells good.
Drop The People's Elbow on Ted DiBiase.
G'night.

Full Frontal Brutality

Given the time of the year, ginko baloba, and having too much time on my hands I have developed a new hobby. I will give you a hint. It is not made of bubblegum, and it is in the image frame above. I love riding Mr. bike for the reason that I can put on some headphones and completely detach from reality for an hour. Releasing built up anxiety and nervous energy suits well with me during these ghastly winter months. It is also a slight cure for restlessness.

My uncle is coming over to electrify the house. He can harness lightning like Thor, the all mighty Zeus (or Jupiter for you Roman thieves), or Franklin/Edison. I haven't seen him in a few years.

Tomorrow should be amusing. I plan on going to Somerville to drink my think away while watching Fear of a Black Hat with Dan, and maybe more. It should be fun.

I received a few information packets about graduate studies at various local universities. I'm a little overwhelmed with the thought of starting grad school so soon. I really need some work before I can even think of such a thing. Maybe I should assess my options, and look into some loans. I need a fucking car like anything. I also need to live in a locale with a pulse. Billerica is pretty dead. Or, if not dead, Billerica is like that girl on Passions who has been in a coma for the past three seasons. Part of you wants to hold out some hope, but deep down you understand that no matter what you do there is zero chance for resuscitation. If off chance she were to awake she'd be a vegetable; a burden to her family who were too selfish to just let her go, and now must treat her every need. I guess letting go is hard for some people. Rationality torpedoes out the window when the heart is involved with important decisions.

The following is a list of things I want to do, and an excuse to use bullet points:

• Land a super cool job that involves smoking a lot of pot, creating mock-ups in my underwear, and putting old folks in their place: the nursing home. We have square bagels, grandpa!
• Move the fuck out of Billerica, and find awesome roommates who like to cut things out of construction paper and paste them to Lacey's stupid fucking face on Rock of Love Charm School.
• Maybe... MAYBE challenge myself to go vegan. Why the hell not?
• Get a car for those "sticky situations".
• Learn how to play the guitar well, and not awkward, alone, and sloppy like it comes across at this time.
• Give up smoking cigarettes... Ha... Wait, yeah right.
• Have expendable income/buy a Wii, splurge on books and records.
• Potentially change my bank branch.
• Pay that dreadful Comcast balance from moons ago. I swear I'm close to losing a toe.
• Go back to school so I can say "my degree is bigger than yours" when NOT talking about my penis.
• New clothes!!! For real! All of my sweatshirts that I love are starting to fall apart. I also hate most of the crap I own at the moment.
• Bring back LEGOS
• Make an "urban film".
• Diversify my friend pool (see above)
• Party like a rock star/develop a bad coke habit/get a slot on Intervention. If that hack from Days of the New can do it...
  
• Buy a new pair of glasses, and maybe prescription sunglasses, both of which require criminally large frames.
• Build a club house and an army of snowman

That's it for tonight. I'm glad y'all drink my kool aid. Party down the street on Saturday.

Something New, Kind of...

I want to switch things up a little bit. A few posts back I talked about my acquiring of Power Rangers episodes. It has inspired me to put forth a weekly or biweekly entry devoted to some sort of pop culture form of expression that can be brilliant one moment, and completely ridiculous the next.

Guilty pleasure Tuesdays? Meh. It needs work, I think...

Without adieu:

(Mod vegans and ancient Greek re creationists: prepare to sway in a somewhat enthused manner.)



As of this moment, I dig this song. I can't put my finger on what exactly moves me about it...












The "Stop/Drop/Roll" part is golden. This "Planet Health" sounds like a euphoric experience.

4/20

four twenty two thousand nine

also four twenty-one two thousand nine

double feature

twenty bucks

who's going?

Hold your horses

Two of my favorite things.

Best Friend

She may be lacking in the thumbs department, rendering the possibility for her to perform various tasks [mostly] impossible.

She is my best friend. She listens to what I have to say at night. She curls up next to me, and chats when hungry.

I feel like a train hit me. I'd consider sleeping forever. Melatonin seems like a dependable sleep aid, but I will tell you it knocks you out negatively. Meaning, any harbored feelings, no matter how small, are going to manifest into your dreams. You'll want to cut yourself when you wake up.

So, feelings aside, I love Falca Chloe Bear. I'm glad that we're together.

Release the Lid; Mighty Morphin' Thought Processes

Richie had the right idea when he released Mordecai to the sky above Archer Ave. Go forth and spread good will, wise bird. Regain your independence. No matter how tattered or discolored your feathers become, you're bound to find your place among the land(s).

I heard that it was going to snow again tonight. What a fucking cop out. I walked a few miles today, and I was apparently spoiled by the baking sun. I think I might buy a case of beer.

currently downloading:
That's right. The first two seasons in all their glory for my viewing pleasure are currently queued and ready to roll. I think this further solidifies my geekdom. I always found the racial insensitivity astounding, being that Zach was the black ranger and Trini was the yellow ranger. Oh, and let us not rule out the misogynistic undertones. Kimberly was the pink ranger, complete with a stupid skirt in an attempt to differentiate her gender from the others, which brings up another bone to pick; Trini was female, and she lacked a skirt. Was Saban so bold as to imply that viewers should regard only Anglo-European women as "sexy"? Or was Trini, perhaps, not cool with the skirt idea when they were "picking outfits"? Let's face the facts. Kimberly was a bombshell to any eight year old boy. She was also the prototypical California girl (pre-Paris Hilton), who loved to rock side ponytails and Diadora gear. She would be totally down with a skirt, I suppose, while Trini was an introverted, confident ass kicker. No skirt was required to show that she had moves (and hips). Kimberly's pink bow and arrow win over Trini's yellow daggers any day, however. Zach's huge fucking axe takes the cake.

I can't wait to shovel my brains out.

You don't even like Feetball! I'm the #1 Super-Fan!

Let me start by making it known that this is how we looked last night:



Fucking Arizona... Evan and I had so much faith in them; meaning, we're both turning tricks on the corner for a sandwich nowadays after gambling everything away. The sharks are coming for my teeth as we speak.

P.S. I might move to Europe. I'm not kidding.

Photoshop Vector Shape Phun!

here we go, OK!

I've always been short on words.

Corpulent.

Snatch.

Quixotic Sass.

So life has been quite the kick to the dick lately.

I don't have the time or space for cunts.

I am enjoying myself, somewhat, but I find my quest for occupational reciprocation lacking.

Obama, change that shit. Right this sinking ship or, at the very least, employ the bucket system and remove some water. I know it's hard. I also know that there will not be enough life rafts. Women and children first? Eff that. I'll punch a child in the face if I can have a dream job. Yeah, I'll have to live with it, but I'm sure the both of us will eventually collectively get over said punching. He'll join the army. Maybe he'll be a doctor...

So I have this blog... Wanna smoke it?

I'm going to try to not speak solely about my self with this blog. I think that operating in said manner is soooooooo 2002. Break out the Taking Back Sunday Records.





Tomorrow is the big game! I think it's between the Pittsburgh Troglodytes and the Arizona Cro-Magnons. It should be quite a game! Oh, and not to mention, there will be a showcase Smörgåsbord of new, even crappier commercials! I can't wait for the beer commercials where the busty babes with the wet shirts and sideboobs ride the mechanical bull in the middle of the desert while men eat hot wings and shoot guns into the sky. Drink responsibly.

Pabst should make adverts. They'd probably feature trashy loft parties with over privelaged trust fund babies dancing in diesel jeans, rockin' their collective assymetrical haircuts. I need a video camera. I could make it. I'll show up with a key of coke.

Tomorrow's going to be a party over here, a party over there, a collective waving of hands in the air, and much shaking of derieres.

Let's party [like it's 1999].

Episode over.

I apologize for not possessing the appeal of LOST (what's its appeal?).

Edit: Wait... Disregard that prior statement. I love LOST

Another Edit: Wait... Disregard that prior statement. I am very appealing. If you don't think so then you can climb a fucking tree. Oh and I'm not really into LOST. I guess I'll watch it with other people, but not typically hXc on my own.

Yet Another Edit: Titmouse... Heh.