"So many things. So many things to hate. So many things for me to hate. I can go on and on, but I won't, writing emails doesn't make me money."
-Lucas, on he who must not be named

I think the airconditioner is broken in my apartment. Of course, if it is broken, you're listening to a dead man. Because, without AC in The Big Funky you're as good as dead. Last night at 10:49 my car thermometer read 104 degrees outside. No fucking shit. With those kinds of temperatures it won't be long before I turn into a ravenous beast, killing left and right for the chance to feel cool conditioned air on my beast-face once more. I'm so fucking scared, and I'm not ashamed. But maybe it's my time.

"The hate. The hate. The hate, the hate, the hate. You're bringing me down asshole, don't you fucking bring me down asshole!"
-Lucas, on he who must not be named

"Always remember, you can buy yourself a baby-doll. And even the ones that aren't baby-dolls, it's not that they don't want the money, it's that they're too ugly."
-Heavy D, on having $150,000 for a few days

I'm really excited about Anatomy of a Shark Bite this weekend on the Discovery Channel. They've really been promoting the fact that "the unthinkable happens". Unfortunately, I've pretty much thought of everything they could show on TV already. I mean, the unthinkable to me (without getting into the impossibility of thinking the unthinkable) would be to see a diver or cameraman actually fuck a shark on TV but I just don't see that one happening. Or maybe if they found a talking shark, that would be fucking awesome and damn near unthinkable. I'm pretty sure though that all they have is some asshole who got attacked on camera. I guess that's ok but it's certainly not unthinkable by any means. I guarantee you I'll be unimpressed with what happens simply because there's no way it could be as cool as any of the attacks in the Jaws movies. A shame really. Unless they actually reenact all the deathblow / climax scenes from each of the 4 Jaws movies which would be fucking sweet! A whole hour of watching sharks get blown up by oxygen tanks in their mouths, electrocuted on transoceanic power lines, blown up by underwater hand grenades in 3D, and culminating with the impalement of sharks onto the bow of the research vessel. Fuck me, that would be sweet. Of course, I just thought of it, which means it's not going to happen. Damn hell.

The inside of my mouth tastes like rusty dog shit. Fucking cigars. Fucking communists.

I have a plastic container that used to hold Chiclet-esque gum. The ad-wizards that work for the company who made the gum named it "Chicle Chicks". The name pisses me off quite a bit but not as much as the tag line "office pleasures" and the massive No Smoking sign that occupies the bulk of the container's lid. In spite, I intend to fill this container with chewed Chicle Chicks. As I progress I'll snap some pictures of the monstrosity and post them here, that is unless I get bored with the project.

All Hail Big Steve, for it is his day of days!

When I can't think of anything to say my hate grows large.