see you next tuesday!

hey, it's a familiar theme.

i received potentially the most hate-filled invective-ridden email EVAR yesterday. i was minding my own bidness, enjoying an iced Americano and chatting with a friend in africa when i bothered to check my email. how to say? my most recent ex, seems he can't take rejection, and it took awhile, but i knew this was coming. he's an angry little man.

i wanted so badly to simply copy and paste the entire email here, but i think that's a little exhibitionistic for me..the highlights are as follows:

i'm stupid
i'm typical of "white" privilege (which was misspellleleddd, by the way)
given that i smoke, i should invest in mouthwash
i'm a lousy lay and generally cold and disinteresting
and the crowning bit of this email, that i'm a "fat smelly disrespectful cunt"

clever, original and really a nice exercise in expanding the vocab.

some small part of me feels like i deserve some of this, because i did after all choose this dude, and spent my time with him. i also chose to end it, and being that i'm a grownup and all, i didn't think i needed to check with anyone, least of all him. so i dumped his ass. he gots mad.

anyway, i'm officially letting it go at this point. this is breathtaking only in that it took nearly 30 years for someone to up and fire off the C word in my general direction. just keep in mind that should we ever meet, i'm apparently a bit on the odoriferous side, zaftig and damn it if i'm not all uppity and white. shit! that's my parents' fault, not mine. i didn't ask to be a WASP.

so i embrace the hate. and i know that had it been me, it would have been a lot more clever.

i write my hate mail in haiku.

bulletin!

if anyone offers you Coney Island Pizza, try it before you start making noise about how hotdogs don't belong on pizza. it's delicious.

my hair's all eurotrashy and short now.

the last entry was a bit dour, and for that i apologize. i just dislike reunions, and certainly i'm a little more paranoid than the average cat..those things just aren't my cup of tea and i'll simply go to no more. until someone has something to promise (...psst! one of misty's boobs asploded! she's all lopsided!) me in terms of entertainment (open bar) i'm not even considering going to anything of that ilk.

so i'm groovy. i'll never be as funny as the nick, but dammit if i don't know how to apologize to the readers of the world. rather, the readers of this blog. all five of you. and nick.

mostly, i just wanted to mention the hot dog pizza. i kid you not..Knolla's makes a damn fine pizza, this one just happens to have hot dog slices, chili, diced dill pickles, cheese, onions and mustard on it. and it's fantastic. just don't eat it right before bed. you'll dream of evil slimy things ala Karl Rove.

hiya

well, hell. i've been gone again, and it's not that i'm not up to anything, it's that it's none of your goddamn business, is what it is. and here i am with the online diary and whatnot. bleah.

i've got a man in my life, and yes, they consume time. and it's been good time. but also, in case you're one of those rare ones reads these because you're interested in the person, i've got a new gig with the Home Depot..apparently i'm a "designer" now, so i think i'll get my asshole license in the mail before too much longer now.

yuks.

it's actually one hell of a job. i couldn't have been more tired of my previous job if i'd tried..'twas miserable there at the end, but now it's over and i've got something else and therefore am grateful.

still at home, still frittering away money and trying to sack up for school. i had to go to a wedding over the weekend where i encountered some former classmates from the glorious days of BSEE. they say, smugly, "So..what are you doing these days?" and i think to myself, "Not driving a minivan, you self-important yuppie prick"...

not that i dislike minivan drivers or yuppie pricks. it just gets old, the questions, and while i don't know these people well enough to tell them the truth, lying and dodging gets a little old. "Hey, Gene. I spent half of my twenties, time-out-of-mind style. I see your wife is pregnant again...she must be one hell of a fuck!" i mean really. maybe i'm being oversensitive.

it's shit like this that made me avoid my last class reunion, and why i hate weddings and whatnot. i went nuts, happy? i'm the freak, you're the winner, blah blah blah. IT'S NOT A CONTEST...why are these things still hard for me? god.

i don't know why i get so angry about it sometimes. it's not as if i can change the past. i don't like being angry. it makes me feel ugly.

meme: the shopping list

there is an old email game afoot, it's the shopping list. you've got to come up with three items available at some all-day and night store (ala dillons or walmart) that one could take to the counter and confound the clerk. an example: 40 watt bulbs, a 5 lb can of crisco and some drop cloths. garlic, sterno and tweezers. you get the idea.

last night we went to the store, ostensibly to buy beer and saline solution. dillons, a grocery store. and wouldn't you know it, they also sell women's underwear. hanes. we almost got those as well to live out our game.

i charge you lot with coming up with a list of your own. three items. come on, you have dirty dirrrrrty minds, and i believe in you.

g/j

i'm not wearing any pants.

i thought you should know.

i've been absent from the blogosphere lately because of the for-shit internet connection i've lately been party to, and that essentially nothing of interest (nothing i can be very specific about) has happened. JJ: i quit my job. yep. i've had it with retail..i'm going back into consulting. the money and chairs are much better.

i lost the latest boy in my life. such is life, and so it goes.

one week left on this job. hopefully the nextr one goes better. only 5 months til august, when school starts. so much to think about, and more than once this last week it fees like the world is whirling away.

is this maudlin? it's not supposed to be. i'm not upset about any of these things, only curious as to where it's all leading me.

i just have to keep perspective on things, and remember the overall goals and whatnot. blah blah blah, the big picture, etc.

but i'm still not wearing any pants.

and you can't make me.

It's a good thing I like Pepsi and Miles is already dead..

Joe here, by proxy of Gin who may or may not insert various and sundry
commentary along the way of this diatribe in a certain editorial
capacity.

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

This angered me no end. Are you telling me that somehow, some
dick-brained fool decided that it would be somehow socially acceptable
to induct both Miles Davis and fucking Lynrd Skynrd to the Rock & Roll
Hall of Fame at the same time, thus somehow lending credence (pun not
intended, but perhaps apt nevertheless) to the latter from the
colossal achievements of the former (I don't count the late 80's stuff
with Cyndi Lauper, and by rights, I don't think anyone else does
either)?

Someone is really going to stand up in front of the world, in front of
music critics, musicians, human beings (many of whom are at least
partially educated), and most importantly, their own hideous deformed
soul reflected through their horrible, unseeing eyes that are the
stained and shit-smeared window thereto, and actually say, even if
only in utterly fool-hardy and sadly yet profusely overflowing with
idiotic retardation implication, that a few trailer-park anthems (Free
Bird, What's Your Name, and Swee... God, I'm so appalled that I can't
even type it. It's an epithet.) compares even as a limited and paltry
shadow to Kind of Blue, Seven Steps to Heaven, and Bitch's Brew?

This is it, kids. Pack your shit. This is the final sign. The
downfall of Western Civ. The final descent of Man. If there's
someone you've been meaning to fuck or kill (or both), and just
haven't screwed up the courage or found the time, get to it.

Smoke 'em if you got 'em. Me, I got 'em. I'm gonna go smoke 'em.

it does defy a certain...

yeah.

i have a new blogger to intro tonight. he's the new member i guess, to the lodge. this is uh, yeah. joe and i after really, hours and hours of signifigant drinking. if only they could see his hat just now.

but then again, tis the radiation power hat, and i have a camera phone (god bless mark mothersbaugh)

i suppose, though, given that I have a camera phone, that you can. You'll find evidcence of this posted at the end dof this blog. I'm going to let all spelling errors slide, as it's only fair to my loyal readers, my loyal, loyal readers, what really happens here at the LML (given that the secretary is drunk, himself),

G: What are we doing again?

J: We are introducing my illustrious presence upon the blogger community.

G: You mean the blogosphere (as she goes to pee) I hate men.

J: Why's that?

G; Just hold a sec... I can't here you over the flow of my urine. I can't here you over the flow of my urine. Please tell me you're not transcribing this. *flush*

J: Indeed I am.

G: No, fuck.

J: Quite so.

G: Well, then, I suppose if we're going to tell the world the truth, we need to tell them just what kind of a douchbag Nick (http://akugyaku.blogspot.com) really is.

J: I heartly agree. He passed up prime opportunity to partake in a meat platter, brew, dancing, and witty conversation, which he apparently passed up to engage in inspent self-abuse. Fuck him.

(We drank here, for a moment.)

(Then we chuckled at our own wittiness)

(Again)

G: Nick is a douche. Summer's Eve stock has lost value.

J: Word, mutha.

G: Nick is such a douce, Kansas is no longer a fire hazard.

J: I hate to disagree, but it is hard to beleve that your bro could achieve a level of douchebaggery that he could single-handedly contian the rampant blazes descending upon us with his own feminine freshness.

G: I feel fresh.

J: As well you should.

G: Don't you?

J: None of your beezwax, Ramona.

G: Let's call Pants.

J: Qua?

G: M Pants. Find out if she's feeling fresh. 'Cause if she is, then Nick's douchebaggery has spannned a continent.

J: As opposed to incontenince, which I suspect is rampant in his quest for freshness.

G: How do you suppose that quest is going?

J: We would have known, had he dones us the courtesy of calling our collective asses back. I even left him a message in the name of his Lord, his God, and yet, he has still declined to return the call. Thus, his abject protestations will do him little measure as he descends to hell.

G: Word.

J: to you mutha

yeah, so here's a pic of the traffic cone we stole. i cna't seem to find the other picture at this late hour. we're gonne go watch Family Guy.

nighty night.

drive safe

eat shit

bleah

g

and j