How fucking cool is this? You're standing in the back of your garden tub, taking a shower, and facing the back wall. Your left hand is raised and wrapped around the in-shower towel bar. Your right hand is resting on your right leg which is propped up on the back edge of the garden tub. Your head is bent forward, eyes closed, resting on your left arm. You rip a juicy fart, it has great resonation in the shower. You open your eyes in satisfaction only to see you sprayed a bunch of blood all over the bottom of your tub. You're speachless with horror. Slowly the shower water washes away all the blood leaving the natural cream colored plastic of the tub in its place. You get out of the shower, do a double take, but all the blood is gone. Was that just a dream? A morning halucination? Absolutely! What else could it be?
9.5.2003
9.4.2003
"Farmers are the worst damn people on the face of the earth. Each farmer is trying to get an edge on the other farmer. Each one tries to plant a little bit more than the other and when they go to market they realize that all the other farmers tried to be smart too and the market crashes around them."
-Heavy D, on how apartment developers are like farmers
-Heavy D, on how apartment developers are like farmers
9.3.2003
I can't fucking believe I forgot to explain what happened to me at lunch yesterday. The hate flowed and flowed.
We were eating at the Avalon Diner and our waitress was a grotesque older woman with cigarette breath. This bitch was gross, the kind of woman who if you saw on the streets you'd turn away from her hideousness. She called everyone 'baby' and laughed her throaty, cigarette-lunged, laugh every time she came to the table. I ordered the buffalo style chicken tenders with ranch. The tenders were a new item and since most everything else there is delicious I decided to try them.
We eat at the Avalon Diner at least once a week and every time before this the service has been prompt and the food delicious. Well, yesterday the service was abominable. Our food finally arrived after 30 minutes. The bitch had already forgotten my salad and hadn't filled my water either. On the plus side, there was a shit-load of chicken tenders on the plate. Big Steve and Slick didn't fare so well. Big Steve ordered the fried chicken and got a plate with a fried chicken wing, a back, and a neck. Slick ordered the meatloaf, and got a handful sized loaf of meat product. Obviously, I don't give a shit about how they got fucked since all that's important is how I got fucked. And I got fucked indeed. The tenders were delivered with Honey Mustard and Blue Cheese. The Honey Mustard was what I ordered with my salad, the salad that never was. I despise blue cheese, all those hidden chunks of puke in it, so it was appropriate that at this awful meal my delicious ranch was substituted with blue cheese. I asked our hag waitress for my ranch. You see, I eat all of my buffalo-style food with ranch and only ranch and without ranch I eat it not at all. So, when the bitch showed back up at the table after 10 minutes of me staring at my cooling tenders and told me that they were out of ranch at 11:30 on Tuesday morning, I almost tore her fucking eyes out and would have too if she didn't have that whole Medusa thing working. No fucking ranch! At a fucking restaurant! At 11:30 in the morning! On the first working day of the week! Bitch, are you fucking lying to me! Are you jimmies that fucking stupid! My hate was palpable and she knew it. I couldn't even say anything to her. Buffalo tenders without ranch is like a hamburger without a bun. I ate them, and each tender was like a gallon of hate fuel for my hate engine. In retrospect, I should have eaten everything and then, before we left, walked up to waitress and thrown up all over her. A real wrath of God kind of spewing throw-up that would cover her disgusting ass in partially digested chicken tenders and blood. Fuck you cunt, I can't even be more offensive!
We were eating at the Avalon Diner and our waitress was a grotesque older woman with cigarette breath. This bitch was gross, the kind of woman who if you saw on the streets you'd turn away from her hideousness. She called everyone 'baby' and laughed her throaty, cigarette-lunged, laugh every time she came to the table. I ordered the buffalo style chicken tenders with ranch. The tenders were a new item and since most everything else there is delicious I decided to try them.
We eat at the Avalon Diner at least once a week and every time before this the service has been prompt and the food delicious. Well, yesterday the service was abominable. Our food finally arrived after 30 minutes. The bitch had already forgotten my salad and hadn't filled my water either. On the plus side, there was a shit-load of chicken tenders on the plate. Big Steve and Slick didn't fare so well. Big Steve ordered the fried chicken and got a plate with a fried chicken wing, a back, and a neck. Slick ordered the meatloaf, and got a handful sized loaf of meat product. Obviously, I don't give a shit about how they got fucked since all that's important is how I got fucked. And I got fucked indeed. The tenders were delivered with Honey Mustard and Blue Cheese. The Honey Mustard was what I ordered with my salad, the salad that never was. I despise blue cheese, all those hidden chunks of puke in it, so it was appropriate that at this awful meal my delicious ranch was substituted with blue cheese. I asked our hag waitress for my ranch. You see, I eat all of my buffalo-style food with ranch and only ranch and without ranch I eat it not at all. So, when the bitch showed back up at the table after 10 minutes of me staring at my cooling tenders and told me that they were out of ranch at 11:30 on Tuesday morning, I almost tore her fucking eyes out and would have too if she didn't have that whole Medusa thing working. No fucking ranch! At a fucking restaurant! At 11:30 in the morning! On the first working day of the week! Bitch, are you fucking lying to me! Are you jimmies that fucking stupid! My hate was palpable and she knew it. I couldn't even say anything to her. Buffalo tenders without ranch is like a hamburger without a bun. I ate them, and each tender was like a gallon of hate fuel for my hate engine. In retrospect, I should have eaten everything and then, before we left, walked up to waitress and thrown up all over her. A real wrath of God kind of spewing throw-up that would cover her disgusting ass in partially digested chicken tenders and blood. Fuck you cunt, I can't even be more offensive!
9.2.2003
There's a paraplegic jimmy named Keegan Reilly in Japan right now climbing Mt. Fuji. When I first read about this guy, who's 22 by the way, I thought 'fuck, that's pretty cool.' I mean, climbing a mountain using only your hands! Then I read the entire article and thought 'fuck, who cares.' Because it turns out Mt. Fuji has several wide, winding paths to the summit and thousands of people "climb" (walk) it every year. I pictured this guy climbing up a cliff face like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible II using only his hands, or running along the ground pulling his legs behind him. No, it's not like that at all. The guy's in a special wheelchair that has hand pedals. I'm not going to bash on the guy for being a cripple, I'm sure he's a good guy and he's definitely got a cool chair, but his quote in the article made me laugh out loud.
"We wanted to climb in a country outside of the United States to show people more about what extreme climbing for disabled people is."
Of course the guy has the right idea at heart: improving cripple awareness, that they're real people too, and all that. But calling this shit "extreme" is taking alot of liberty with the idea of extreme sports. I can tell you one thing, if this is extreme, someone needs to come and record the process of me taking a shit and I'll open their eyes to extreme.
"We wanted to climb in a country outside of the United States to show people more about what extreme climbing for disabled people is."
Of course the guy has the right idea at heart: improving cripple awareness, that they're real people too, and all that. But calling this shit "extreme" is taking alot of liberty with the idea of extreme sports. I can tell you one thing, if this is extreme, someone needs to come and record the process of me taking a shit and I'll open their eyes to extreme.
9.1.2003
All I can say is 'wow'. I just visted the RealUltimatePower web site and I was blown away. Go there immediately! Particularly noteworthy are the 'PumpUp', 'History', and 'HateMail' sections. Reading the hate mail makes me realize that this guy is doing a real good job. Here are a couple of examples of the excellence that awaits you:
"My friend Mark said that he saw a ninja totally uppercut some kid just because the kid opened a window."
"Seppuku is the ancient art of killing yourself if you get super pissed and can’t find anybody else to kill. Ninjas use all sorts of crap to kill themselves—guns, ropes, knives, lasers, spears, etc.—and don’t even think twice about it. These guys would kill themselves for just about any reason and often for no reason at all: that’s why there are so few ninjas today."
"But if you want to commit Seppuku and you’re like me, you don’t have access to stuff like lasers. But there’s hope. I tried to kill myself by swallowing a frisbee a couple of times—and believe me, it’s pretty cool."
"My friend Mark said that he saw a ninja totally uppercut some kid just because the kid opened a window."
"Seppuku is the ancient art of killing yourself if you get super pissed and can’t find anybody else to kill. Ninjas use all sorts of crap to kill themselves—guns, ropes, knives, lasers, spears, etc.—and don’t even think twice about it. These guys would kill themselves for just about any reason and often for no reason at all: that’s why there are so few ninjas today."
"But if you want to commit Seppuku and you’re like me, you don’t have access to stuff like lasers. But there’s hope. I tried to kill myself by swallowing a frisbee a couple of times—and believe me, it’s pretty cool."
