cabin fever
I have a problem, I'm bored. I can't work on my Defiler because the damn thing is front heavy. Whenever I remove whatever's holding it up in the front, it tips forward. I wonder how the rat bastards down at Game's Workshop get theirs to stand up straight, but then...they're bastards. I have a good idea to add some chains to the back, you know...really unholy looking crap, but I don't have a little chain, so my project has been halted.
But that's not really my problem. My problem is that Jason is damn funny. That alone wouldn't be a problem, it's just that whenever he calls me, he taunts me. So, I feel compelled to write on my blog, knowing full well that I have no chance of being nearly as coherent as Jason in this regards. I only have so many of those "funny" posts in me. Dammit, I'm only human, and besides Jason doesn't know his audience. I know mine.
Like, for instance, I was going to write a blog about how the handicap bar in bathrooms is good for everyone and how we wouldn't need so much bran in our diet. I mean I really wanted to create the image of grabbing that bar and shooting crap out my ass like a veritable shit rocket. But then... that's just toilet humor. Besides, I don't know, but I hope that I'm alone on this. Anyway, my wife reads this, and she would probably think I was just being disgusting.
That's also why I'm not writing on why I'm completely confused by the fact that they still make porn. Is there really a need for new porn? Is there someone out there that's exhausted all the porn that already exists? But, again, kind of blue subject so...
Super Bon Bon. Yeah, me neither. I have four versions of Super Bon Bon on my Winamp. I have no idea why. Did I just have to have Soul Coughing one day? What's worse is that no matter how many copies of Super Bon Bon I have, I don't have a single other song by Soul Coughing. I remember a really bad camping trip I went on once where I had to catch a ride home from Hillary Owens and she had a Soul Coughing tape, and I kind of felt bad, because I too liked Soul Coughing, and yet, I didn't want to have anything to do with her.
Ever notice that there are some people who you don't want to talk to because you know that the first thing you'd say would be, "you're so full of shit." Honestly, how do you make conversation after that?
Everybody heard Wheatus? Good. "Teenage Dirt Bag" just came on. That's a great frickin' song.
Anyways, I found out that my father-in-law reads my blog, and he is a good guy, but he's also a Republican. Luckilly, he doesn't focus on that difference, but still... I can't exactly go off on tirades when I know that I'm actually going to offend someone I know. I can't even use sarcasm because he's smart. I think he'd figure that out, which is too bad, because I realized that Republicans are now making a reality out of all the old Democratic dreams. No, it's true. Democrats were always complaining about American arrogance, but I ask you, did they vote for a President that was willing to do something about it? I think not. The Republicans are moving all of our jobs overseas so that we can no longer flaunt our high employment rate to the people of India. Share the damn wealth.
I'm telling you, it's in me...festering. Ed, get a screen name. It's no fun debating alone, and the other Republicans are busy trying to learn how to read. Haha! I'm just kidding.
But the main problem with my current mood is that I know... I KNOW... that I should be working on my novel. I'm now having dreams where the cats are trying to encourage me to write. My father in law is convinced that I should finish my novel, and well...I don't think it's his kind of book. Erik, who is the most arrogant bastard in Scotland, is in Scotland and he's still giving me shit. It's time to put this baby to bed.
I already know what the movie pre-view should look like. Susan Vega going A Capala on that old 80's tune State of Shock while all the best scenes of the book play out one after another without explanation. Is it weird that I already think of Super Bon Bon as the song that should be playing when Slam shows up for the final battle at the end of the movie. Seriously, that is weird.
So, the end result is that Jason is kicking my ass on entertainment value for his blog. But...I'm writing a book, mofo. It's only a matter of time.
But that's not really my problem. My problem is that Jason is damn funny. That alone wouldn't be a problem, it's just that whenever he calls me, he taunts me. So, I feel compelled to write on my blog, knowing full well that I have no chance of being nearly as coherent as Jason in this regards. I only have so many of those "funny" posts in me. Dammit, I'm only human, and besides Jason doesn't know his audience. I know mine.
Like, for instance, I was going to write a blog about how the handicap bar in bathrooms is good for everyone and how we wouldn't need so much bran in our diet. I mean I really wanted to create the image of grabbing that bar and shooting crap out my ass like a veritable shit rocket. But then... that's just toilet humor. Besides, I don't know, but I hope that I'm alone on this. Anyway, my wife reads this, and she would probably think I was just being disgusting.
That's also why I'm not writing on why I'm completely confused by the fact that they still make porn. Is there really a need for new porn? Is there someone out there that's exhausted all the porn that already exists? But, again, kind of blue subject so...
Super Bon Bon. Yeah, me neither. I have four versions of Super Bon Bon on my Winamp. I have no idea why. Did I just have to have Soul Coughing one day? What's worse is that no matter how many copies of Super Bon Bon I have, I don't have a single other song by Soul Coughing. I remember a really bad camping trip I went on once where I had to catch a ride home from Hillary Owens and she had a Soul Coughing tape, and I kind of felt bad, because I too liked Soul Coughing, and yet, I didn't want to have anything to do with her.
Ever notice that there are some people who you don't want to talk to because you know that the first thing you'd say would be, "you're so full of shit." Honestly, how do you make conversation after that?
Everybody heard Wheatus? Good. "Teenage Dirt Bag" just came on. That's a great frickin' song.
Anyways, I found out that my father-in-law reads my blog, and he is a good guy, but he's also a Republican. Luckilly, he doesn't focus on that difference, but still... I can't exactly go off on tirades when I know that I'm actually going to offend someone I know. I can't even use sarcasm because he's smart. I think he'd figure that out, which is too bad, because I realized that Republicans are now making a reality out of all the old Democratic dreams. No, it's true. Democrats were always complaining about American arrogance, but I ask you, did they vote for a President that was willing to do something about it? I think not. The Republicans are moving all of our jobs overseas so that we can no longer flaunt our high employment rate to the people of India. Share the damn wealth.
I'm telling you, it's in me...festering. Ed, get a screen name. It's no fun debating alone, and the other Republicans are busy trying to learn how to read. Haha! I'm just kidding.
But the main problem with my current mood is that I know... I KNOW... that I should be working on my novel. I'm now having dreams where the cats are trying to encourage me to write. My father in law is convinced that I should finish my novel, and well...I don't think it's his kind of book. Erik, who is the most arrogant bastard in Scotland, is in Scotland and he's still giving me shit. It's time to put this baby to bed.
I already know what the movie pre-view should look like. Susan Vega going A Capala on that old 80's tune State of Shock while all the best scenes of the book play out one after another without explanation. Is it weird that I already think of Super Bon Bon as the song that should be playing when Slam shows up for the final battle at the end of the movie. Seriously, that is weird.
So, the end result is that Jason is kicking my ass on entertainment value for his blog. But...I'm writing a book, mofo. It's only a matter of time.
posted by Monstro D. Whale at
7:05 PM
2 Comments:
Yes, I’ll admit that my blog of late has been a barrel of laughs. The blurry pictures of my office, the picture of a hawk holding a dead squirrel: ha ha ha ha ha! I bet your sides are hurting as much as mine. But seriously, Brian, I only cajole you because I like to read your blog.
I can only thank you for your glowing praise, if (as usual) angrily stated.
And yes, Brian, I, too, have a large work in the works: an autobiography. The only problem is that my autobiography reads like trashy pulp fiction. Well, that’s not the only problem: I also believe that no one under 55 should be allowed to publish an autobiography. So, in twenty five years, I’ll be publishing a novel, boyo! By my calculations, you should just be reaching page 7089 in your novel at that point.
But seriously, get that thing done! The deadline is next Tuesday. Unfortunately, no extensions will be granted. It's a damn shame, but it's true. You'll have to conveniently wrap things up. Instead of the ministering over end of the world, you can have all the characters sit around in a bar, smoking cigars and reminiscing. Worked for the final episode of Cheers, should work for you.
I find your comments damn funny. But then I just got Bad Taste to complement my copy of The Feebles. I for one think that with things going down the crapper, or into the shoe, there is a definite need for blogs about the use and need for handicap bars in toilets, and for that matter new porn. The Bush daughters gotta have something to look forward to. Anything to keep this Roman feast from noticing how bad things are getting. No more hummingbird tongues for me thanks -- I gotta visit the little boys vomitorium.
You worried about friends and family worried about your sick side? Create a second blog and call yourself drivler. No wait. It's been done. But a secondary sicko blog is perfectly acceptable. Or just post anonymously on my or Hapster Stevenson's backstep.
As for the novel -- to hell with yah. You're too damn talented and I don't need the competition. Novels take awhile. You're in a stew, you're working on it, things are as they should be. Be neurotically happy. Shove some sculpty up your Defiler where the sun don't shine, post a new chapter of Shock T, and stop trying to give Suzanne Vega a kick start in her career. You know Bjork is gonna sleep with both your cats and your Defiler to get the rights anyway.
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