Wednesday, November 03, 2004

I figure the barrage of post election bullshit is not going to stop so I will throw in my two cents.
Between the subway ride this morning, the 400-decibel debate in my office, and the scores of posts on here, Ive heard it all.
Fuck the South
Bush fixed the election
Im leaving and Im heading to (insert country name here)
Why is no one questioning the Democrats?
Why is no one asking if John Kerry was the best they could come up with?
Did they honestly think that people were going to vote for anyone other than Bush?
It was basically choose between a rambling puppet and a mystery. At least with Bush we knew what we were getting. Sure hes full of shit and seems to be trying to finish what daddy started but at least we know that. What would you have gotten with Kerry? I guess it depends when you heard him speak or if you ever heard him speak. I dont know about you but I certainly didnt even know what he sounded like until the debates.
Something also should be said about a candidate who chooses a running mate that cant even get him votes from their state. Edwards is from North Carolina and they couldnt even carry that. This guy was trying for a job in the on deck circle and his own state wanted nothing to do with him.
One more thing before I go. As a senator, Kerrys record is right there for everyone to see. Take a look at it sometime. And to destroy this man, all the Republicans had to do was to question his commitment to our troops on the ground. To do that they just pointed to his record. And its a surprise that the Democrats lost the South? Has anyone watched any interviews with any of the troops? How many of them have fucking Brooklyn accents? They all have slow Southern drawls. That’s where the troops are coming from. Those are the families that are sending their sons and daughters to Iraq. Not so much to defend this country but to try and get a better life. Can you blame them for voting the way they did? A destitute dirt farmer from Nebraska doesnt give a shit about the economy or social security; he was poor yesterday and he will be poor tomorrow but if his son or daughter is thousands of miles away, hes voting for whoever he thinks will keep his child the safest. The question of whether or not we should even be in Iraq in the first place is now irrelevant. Our troops are there and the question should be whether or not John Kerry if elected to be the most powerful man in the world would take care of them.

If you have to point the finger, point it at the Democratic Party. This is twice they were beaten by a snide and mindless child. No wonder he’s always got that smug smile on his face.

Im not a Bush supporter by any means.
I dont know much about politics except for the little that I see on tv and whatever I read on the internet and in the newspaper.
If you ask me, I dont think Bush belongs in the White House but at the same time, John Kerry doesn’t either just because he is not George Bush.
This is just my opinion of the situation

posted by mike on 2:28 PM

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

As the need increases so does the need to fill the position.
But Im getting a little ahead of myself already.I am in need of someone, be it male or female, to beat some sense into me.Im not talking about knocking me into a coma or rendering any part of my body useless; Im looking more for a good shaking (shaking leaves no marks) and maybe a shot in the face or two.
Just to wake me up.
Just to make me focus.
Just to make me conscious of what Im doing.
Just to make me see what Ive become.
The goal here is to remove my head from my ass and to keep it out.
All applicants should be healthy and able to restrain themselves and not get too carried away in their prescribed duties.All work shall be done by appointment only.Please, do not just approach me on the street and begin beating me. I will fight back and I do cheat. I bite and I will try and blind you.
No experience necessary
We are a not for profit organization so compensation will be minimal.Upon completion of your duties you will be awarded a certificate recognizing your Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence.
EOE
Please post your applications below.

posted by mike on 1:12 PM

Monday, November 01, 2004

Monday
November 1, 2004
6:45 am
I couldnt hear what she was saying over Kickstart My Heart coming through the headphones of my Ipod so I removed them and hung them around my neck.
Are you one of those vegetarians? she slurred. She adjusted her crotchet shawl and rocked slightly on her six inch heels.
No.
So you're carnivorous then?
Yes, maam. My father taught me to always be polite.
Excellent. She patted me on the back. Good. Good. Good.
I put my bottle of juice on the counter and a headline on the stack of papers beside me caught my eye.
Ahhh, meat, she sang. I love the feeling of meat in my mouth with its juices dripping down my fucking throat!
I ignored the headline and turned around.
One bacon, egg, and cheese. Do you want a bag? the bleary eyed counterman asked.
She snatched the sandwich from the counter ignoring the napkins he had placed beside it. No thanks. Im gonna eat my meat while I walk. You boys have a good day now. She picked up her bag off the ice cream case and threw it over her shoulder. She turned for the door and steadied herself against the newspaper rack before heading out into the morning air.

I guess this is how some letters to Penthouse begin.
This is how my morning began.
Now Im sitting here at the start of another day of work and shes home with her meat.

posted by mike on 6:58 AM

Saturday, October 02, 2004

Today marks 6 years.
Six years of you not being here when you should be.
You should have been out with me tonight. You should have been sitting with me on Christmas abusing Creature throwing cheese at him yelling Rat Face! You should be here watching your niece grow up. You should be here but youre not and everyday that youre not, I wish it was me who wasnt.
Goddamnit.
It gets easier with time. Its not that it hurts less; it just hurts less often.
Fuck you for your weakness. Fuck you for making us do this. Fuck you for making me do this. Fuck you for making me cry everytime I hear certain songs or watch certain movies. Fuck you for making me miss you. Fuck you for making me question how I chose to do deal.
I dont mean that. That was how we left it. With a Fuck You. You cant yell it back to me now. Youre not here to yell.
Im sorry for not being able to help you. Im sorry for not being able to do more. Im sorry for not telling my friends to stay away from you. Im sorry for being so weak and Im sorry for not being able to deal with this still. Im sorry that I still blame myself. Im sorry for being a bad big brother.
I miss you everyday and if I could trade places with you I would so no one else would have to miss you like this.It should have been me, Gordie.

posted by mike on 4:34 AM

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Drunk on a Fucking Tuesday
Im sitting in my room drinking a can of champagne.On Friday instead of sitting here and waiting for promised calls that never come I decided to accept one of the invitations that routinely come my way. I went to a party at a hotel that I have no business being in, surrounded by people that I would normally never see and I drank champagne from cans and stared with my mouth agape at a world I had never seen. Clean, well dressed people, smiling and happy interacting with each other in a civilized fashion. Not throwing pint glasses at each other to emphasize a point. Not pouring candle wax on the table, rolling it into balls and throwing it at random passers by. Not pissing on the floor or in garbage pails because they just dont feel like getting up. I dont think I heard the word fuck once while its usually peppered throughout every conversation.It was different. Not necessarily better. Different people. Different atmosphere.I missed the slobs. I missed the cursing. I missed the yelling. I missed the urine.So now Im drinking that champagne out of a can while watching Star Wars.
This is what I am.Tomorrow, if I happen to meet a socialist parasailing heroin addict who happens to be fun and interesting, this is who ill still be. I wont suddenly say that Im a socialist and claim to know about the subtle intricacies of parasailing. I wont pronounce myself to be a junkie and nod off on a filthy mattress. What I am will not change because I am exposed to something different. I will incorporate that experience into my life under lessons learned or as an amusing anecdote but I will not purport that that is somehow me. Im sure I could pull it off though: the rouse. Im a damn good bullshit artist. But at the end of the day, Im still the Star Wars nerd drinking champagne out of a can sitting on the edge of my bed. Sure, I could do it, at least for a little while but what then? What will I be then and what will I be left with when the parasailing socialists surf away? A bunch of socialist propaganda that I dont understand and have no desire to read and a hollow feeling. And thats only if I make it that far. I might be exposed for the Star Wars nerd that I am and not the hero of the parasailing community or another junkie on a mission. And then Im left with that hollow. I guess I could always read the pamphlets on socialism to fill myself with bullshit.Christ, I sound like a sarcastic motivational speaker right now.
Please excuse me for I am quite drunk.

posted by mike on 10:43 PM

Thursday, September 16, 2004

If your feet are planted on the floor and youre bending your knees in rhythm to the music, is that considered dancing? Also if you don’t pick up your feet at all are you even dancing? Also, if you witness said acts, is it acceptable to smack the person doing it?

If guys in football jerseys show up to a show and point into to the air during the choruses, has the band playing officially gone mainstream?

Theres an old woman I pass every morning on my way to the subway. She has one of those laundry carts that she drags around and collects bottles and cans in. I walked by her yesterday morning as she was digging through someones garbage pail. As I passed her I heard her say something and when I turned around she was on a cell phone. Its ten to six in the morning and shes digging through the garbage, who is she talking to?

Whats the shelf life of leftover Chinese food if its kept in the refrigerator? How can you tell if its gone bad? Everything is coagulated and jellied and it never smelled too good to begin with.

Most mornings on my way to the subway I have to fight the urge to punch people walking home from the bar in the face just so theyll be as miserable as I am. Am I wrong?

Should playing airdrums above your head be allowed ever?

Could the movie White Chicks ever have been made if it was called Black Chicks?

Is every cell phone ringtone annoying on purpose?

Should lighting a lighter during any song with the exception of Wanted Dead or Alive be allowed?

posted by mike on 2:54 PM

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Id like to thank the two NYPD police officers who woke up the man who shit his pants on the subway this morning. You guys did an excellent job watching him sleep and inhaling the stench of his shit for three stops. I think your shining moment though was when you gently shook him awake and asked him to sit up so other passengers could sit down. Myself, along with the other passengers, wish to extend our thanks and gratitude for not throwing him off the train. I am sure you were just looking out for him and the tight schedule he must follow. Like the rest of us, I am sure he was on his way to a long day of work. Why else would he be lying across three subway seats, with his shoes off and his pants full of his own shit at six in the morning?

posted by mike on 11:36 AM

Friday, September 10, 2004

Today I was talking with someone and she said that she was concerned because she was turning 30 next year. I thought about it and realized that we are the same age. I thought Holy Shit Im 29. I did the math on my fingers. I did the math on a calculator. Then I remembered that Im 28. I actually forgot how old I was.Does this happen to anyone else or am I special?

posted by mike on 3:15 PM

I work and I sleep.Thats what I do. Thats all I do. Maybe thats what I was meant to do. Work and sleep. I work. I work a minimum of 50 hours a week. An hour commute each way. Thats brings the total up to 60. And thats just a minimum. Im fine with that. It keeps me busy. Sure I dont have the time to go out and hang out till 3 or 4 in the morning but thats fine. Im not missing anything. Interaction with people who in 5 years will still be leaving the bar at 4am on a wednesday. Will they still be doing the same thing when theyre 30? What about when theyre 40? Can you go on like that forever? Can you really spend your life sitting in a bar looking for the next party? I guess some people can. Do these people work or do their parents still support them?I could be spending my evenings in the bar. Coming home at 2 or 3 in the morning and getting a few hours of sleep before waking up to face a 12 hour day. Skipping a shower and hitting snooze and accepting a beer and whiskey vapor trail for 9 more minutes of sleep. Praying I dont fall down or vomit on the subway as it passes beneath the east river. Spending the day propping my head up with my hands and watching the clock between trips to the bathroom and cigarette breaks. Forcing down a lunch that Im too nauseous to keep down but too weak not to eat. Coming home to crash for a few hours only to wake up in day old clothes to turn around and do it all over again. Scraping together rent money that I spent on cars to the bar and 4am cravings. So I work and I sleep. I can pay my rent. I can keep on top of most of my bills. I can pretty much do what I want. I can as long as I work.

posted by mike on 9:56 AM

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

There are no cool people in here anymore.
Cool?
Yeah. No more cool people in here. Its always just the same assholes in here every night.
These assholes pay your rent by tipping you on the hundreds of drinks you sell them.
Yeah but I need to work in a bar where a cooler crowd hangs out.
Why so you can make cosmopolitans and apple martinis for underage girls with credit cards who run up a tab they cant pay? You serve them their drinks only to hear them bitch that theres no Diet Coke and that the vodka doesnt taste like Kettel One or Grey Goose when they wouldnt know the difference between Grey Goose and ferret urine. So you can serve cheap beer to trust fund guys who havent worked since they were 16 in their daddys mailroom? So you can listen to them spew forth through their orthodontist created teeth about how the system keeps them down; how they cant find work that allows them to explore their creativity; how their band is unappreciated because their music is misunderstood?
You have issues.
Just sharing my opinions.
There are issues beneath those opinions.
And there are man tits beneath your shirt.
Why do you have to go and say that?
Because its easy. That shirt is so small I can see your fucking nipples.
Thats not cool.
But its true.
Why are you looking at my nipples?
Its kind of like watching a dog take a shit on the sidewalk; you cant help but look.
Why would you watch a dog take a shit?
Cant help it.
Thats weird.
So is a man with big ass, Rosie Perez silver dollar nipples.
Again, not cool.
Neither is the fact that Im sitting here talking to the bartender and I cant get a beer.
I thought you came by to bullshit.
Why would I do that when in three hours this place will clear out and then I can sit right here at the bar and Ill be able to bullshit because Ill be drunk enough to pretend to listen?
Have I ever told you that youre an angry little man.
You have.
Why is that?
Why is it I cant get a beer?
Why do you always have to be a dick?
If I tell you can I have my beer?
Of course.
Im a dick because in order to get a beer I have to listen to a guy complain who works maybe 30 hours a week, can sleep all day and can still pay all his bills with money to spare. And all the while I patiently wait for my beer and Im forced to watch your nipples grow under your shirt.
Heres your beer.

posted by mike on 11:49 AM

Thursday, August 19, 2004

What have I become?
While most people my age are going out, meeting new people, doing things, I come home from work and watch the Olympics.
I supposed I could go out and meet new people and be social but thats a crap shoot that I dont want to involve myself in. Feigning interest in pointless conversations with random people so afraid of silence that theyll drone on incessantly about obscure topics to make themselves seem interesting. Do I really need that after working a 10 hour day?
Instead I turn on the Olympics.
I watch people compete at a level that makes me tired just watching them.
I guess Ive become an Olympic dork. I really dont care what country the winner is from. I wanna see people win despite separated shoulders. I wanna see a high jumper with a shattered knee cap jump over a bar 20 feet in the air and break a world record. I dont wanna know that an athlete overcame such and such an injury last year only to get healthy and come back to compete. I want the guy who cant stand up to win the 100 yard dash.
Its just a bigger accomplishment that why. At least thats the way that I see it. Lots of people can perform on the uneven bars but it takes an amazing person to do so with a shattered pelvis.


I honestly cant believe that Im talking about this right now.
On the first day of the Olympics, I walked into my living room and my roommate was sitting there watching some qualifying heat in some obscure sport. I hesitantly asked him if he was one of those Olympic people and now, here I am, an Olympic dork.

posted by mike on 4:03 PM

Has anyone seen my Dillinger Escape Plan tickets for this past Monday and Tuesday?
Being the picture of organization that I am, I somehow misplaced the tickets for both shows.
No Dillinger for me.
Me=sad

posted by mike on 8:17 AM

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Sleeveless Hot Topic shirts with Rock N Roll printed in big letters exposing barb wire tattoos and sun faded tribal arm bands.
35 year old bankers with more gel in their hair than actual hair.
12 year old girls cramming 180 lbs of baby fat into a tube top, 5 sizes too small.
NYU sophomores still ripe with the freshman fifteen ordering Cosmos complaining that they dont know any of the songs and just wish they would play Float On.
And me sitting in my seat.
That was the scene.
That was the Modest Mouse crowd last night.
That is what it has become.
That is the price of success.
Long gone are most of the kids who were at their old shows dancing, singing every word and not just the choruses. Drunken fans taunting a drunken Isaac. Stench of stale beer and cigarettes replaced with mixed drinks and perfume and axe body spray.
The dancing has been replaced by kids only coming alive during the singles and the songs from commercials. No one knows the words; they only know the choruses, most of them anyways. Between songs they shout PLAY FLOAT ON! PLAY FLOAT ON!
Sit down and shut the fuck up.
Christ!
Fat girls screaming, We love you, Neil!
Who the fuck is Neil?
Did Isaac change his name to Neil?
They sang the every chorus to the songs from the new album and they talked through the rest. When asked to sing lower they told us to go buy a walkman and some headphones, they were going to keep singing. Luckily the last two songs were not on the new album so they didnt know the words. Drunk and stinking of Schnapps they snuck from the bottle Mommy hides in the laundry room, they managed to ruin most of the show for everyone around us. And how do I know this? We polled those around us and they concurred with our assessment. Maybe they were trying to relive their passed glories at Color Me Bad shows. Maybe they thought Isaac, aka Neil, would seem them way up in the mezzanine, invite them down to the stage to do their karaoke Float On choruses on stage with him. He could probably seem them from the stage. Its hard to miss three shrieking manatees covered with bronzing lotion and concealer with their stomachs hanging over their pants exposing glow in the dark belly button rings. Hopefully Nickelback will be playing the next time Modest Mouse comes around and those bitches will have the chance to torture those poor bastards.

posted by mike on 8:50 AM

Friday, August 06, 2004

I banged my knee yesterday and now Im hobbling around like Verbal Kint.
I didnt hit it hard. I just clipped the wall as I was returning to my desk. Now, whenever Im walking around, it feels like its about to buckle.
When I was little and Id hurt myself Id go to my dad and say, Dad, my knee hurts when I walk.
He always had the same answer:
Dont walk.

posted by mike on 7:50 AM

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Yankee fans across the country owe me a thousand thank yous.
I left the game last night with 2 outs in the bottom of the eighth with the As leading 6-4. Of course the Yankees came back to win with a walk off homer in the 11th.
And why did they win?
They won because I left.
It probably stopped raining as soon as I stepped onto the 4 train to head back.
I love going to baseball games. This one was the best one that Ive ever been to. I sat in the bleachers with the rabid fans who scream at opposing outfielders and constantly provide the closest opposing player with a thorough critique of their playing ability.
Poor Jermaine Dye. Apparently he sucks. Or so he was told repeatedly by the guy sitting behind me.
For eight straight innings, Dye was berated incessantly.
DYE, YOU FUCKING SUCK!
Apparently, that is one of only four phrases in this guys vocabulary.
The others:
STRIKE THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT!
YOU SONOFABITCH!
&
DO IT DOUG! A quote from Mallrats. At one point, the guy I went to the game with asked me who Doug was and what team did he play for.
At the game I fought for my first homerun ball. I didnt get the ball but I did get thrown to the floor amidst the peanut shells and mustard covered napkins. I did get stepped on when my fingers actually touched the ball before it rolled away. If I ended up with the ball, I would have gotten yelled at if I had kept it. You cant keep a home run ball hit by the visiting team. If I ended up with the ball I would have held onto to it. I wasnt going to throw it back. I would have run out of the stadium, up the stairs to the subway platform, and onto the train. It would have been my goddamn ball. It should have been my ball.

posted by mike on 11:22 AM

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

My next two weeks are going to be insane.
For a man who normally does nothing to have so much to do is a little unnerving.
Tonight: Bleacher seats for the Yankee game
Tomorrow: Tickets to a screening of Collateral
Friday: Tickets to see Old Crow Medicine Show at BB Kings
Saturday and Sunday: Atlantic City trip for my fathers birthday
Monday: Tickets to see Modest Mouse at Hammerstein
Wednesday thru Friday: Fire Island. Incidentally this is my first vacation ever with the exception of four or five days in the Hamptons when I was 8 or 9.
Monday and Tuesday: Dillinger Escape Plan at Knitting Factory
Why am I telling you all this?
I have no idea.
I guess Im putting all down like this because it doesnt really seem like a lot to do when I read it. Someone asked me yesterday when I had some time to hang out and when I told them what I had going on for the next two weeks or so I immediately felt overwhelmed by it all.
Luckily, most of it is paid for already. Except for Atlantic City of course. Now if I can just keep my losses there this weekend below a grand.

posted by mike on 8:18 AM

Congratulations goes out to my brother on his engagement announcement last week.

posted by mike on 7:58 AM

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Its raining again.
Unusual things happen when it rains.
People lose the ability to drive. They fail to recognize crosswalks. They run in traffic. Walk and dont walk apparently mean the same thing.
Umbrella salesmen grow out of the sidewalk.
Have umbrellas gotten larger or are people getting smaller. Last night while I was huddle under an awning waiting for a light to change, something struck me in the back of the head. It was the corner of an umbrella which was the size of a Volkswagon beetle. It protected a Lilliputian polish woman oblivious to the outside world.
I dont mind the rain. People stay home when it rains. I knew a guy in college who wouldnt go to class if it was raining. Not because he didnt have an umbrella. He said it just wasnt something that he did. Everything is cleaner after it rains. The garbage water that spills from the backs of garbage trucks is washed away. Streets have a shine. My car doesnt look as dingy.
Everything is cleaner after it rains and lets face it, this place needs a bath.


posted by mike on 7:52 AM

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Its back again.
The smile is back.
I woke up beside her again.
That new day dread wasnt with me this morning like it normally is. That what the fuck am I doing up at 5:15 in morning feeling. That why the fuck should I shower and put on fresh drawers attitude. That fuck this, why should I go to work, banging on the steering wheel, Cameron Frye Ill go Ill go Ill go SHIT Ill go temper tantrum I put myself through each morning.
It wasnt there.
I got up quietly and shut the alarm so as not to disturb her.
I smoked in the kitchen.
I returned to the room to get my shoes.
I whispered to her to wake to see when to reset the alarm for.
Down the steps of my apartment, I pulled on my headphones to start my morning with Motley Crues Greatest Hits. Fuck Wheaties. This is the best way to start the day.


posted by mike on 7:39 AM

Thursday, July 15, 2004

Waking Up Happy


Im not the same person I was yesterday. Im not that grumpy crabass today. Im not that guy this morning. Part of him is still in here somewhere but the rest of me is happy. Not fully happy but happy just the same.
I woke up next to her this morning. Fully dressed, sleeping on a diagonal forcing me into the wall she slept beside me.
I passed out in the clothes I went to work in. She was out before the movie finished as usual. I wanted her to make it through the whole movie; I wanted her to like it as much as I did. But she fell asleep. So while I watched the movie she slept beside me. Scratching her legs, rubbing her newly tattooed forearm, pulling up the comforter and then kicking it off, she moves more in her sleep than I do awake. As she sleeps, a faint smile will appear on her face before she wrinkles her nose then she turns her head and continues to sleep.
I woke up beside her this morning and that feeling of loneliness that I usually wake up with wasnt there.
I hope she knows how much spending time with her last night meant to me.
I hope she knows how much she means to me.
I hope she knows.
I think she does.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 9:56 AM

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Why is it some people become the people they spend time with?
Political ideas.
Musical preferences.
Religious ideals.
Philosophical mindset.
They meet someone new and suddenly their collection of 80s punk seven inches gets shelved for glow sticks and bad techno. They spew ideas, verbatim of the last CNN broadcast they last saw when two weeks prior they decried the media for its one sided journalism. They will only watch movies screened at the Angelika or movies with subtitles when a few days ago they were in a heated argument over which is better: Billy Madison or Happy Gilmore.
I understand that when you meet someone new, boyfriend, girlfriend, friend of a friend, a drifter you connected with in the midst of a whiskey binge, a bartender you felt a kinship with because he stopped charging you after your third Stella, you are exposed to new ideas, new ways of seeing things. You hear about a song or a movie or a book or an author and you become curious; you want to find out what made that person so passionate that they were driven to expound on a subject for hours on end.
This excitement I understand. The part that confuses me is the instances where people become someone else not because their ideas or their environment changed but because they heard something new, they saw something different and they immediately immerse themselves in it. They lose who they are and transform themselves into their interpretation of who their new acquaintances would want them to be. Who they really are becomes lost behind baseless rants lacking insight or personal opinion. They think that theyre changing who they are but in actuality they are hiding themselves behind a misguided perception of cool.
And for what?
Next week theyll be revealed for what they are by the group they pine for acceptance from. Exposed for the fraud they are theyre left with nothing. The causes they championed they never really understood. The bands they praised they never really liked. The ideas they expressed werent their own. What are they left with? The memories of plotless Hungarian films. A few bad cds that theyll never listen to again.
And what do they lose? A piece of themselves is gone forever because theyve compromised themselves to appear more interesting, to fit in.
Im not saying that you should avoid outside influences. Take in new things, look at them objectively and decide whether or not to incorporate them into who you are. Dont come to me and argue the merits of NAFTA after reading a bi-line in USA Today. Dont try and convince me that a band is great because you heard about them from a bartender without ever hearing them. Dont complain about foreign policy after watching a documentary at the local cineplex. Dont compromise who you are just to fit in with the crowd du jour. At the end of the day, theyll hate you for the fraud you are and youll hate yourself for the fraud youve become.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 8:21 AM

Monday, July 12, 2004

Im not 21 anymore.
Saturday I drank from around 3 in the afternoon till 3 in the morning. I did take a short break during that time when I realized I was drunk in my kitchen at 7pm. But then I started back up again.
I did manage to control my drinking though. Only beer; no shots; no whiskey.
Its amazing that I ingested as much as I did and I didnt throw up which lately has been a common occurrence though its rarely involuntarily. I force myself. Rather than spend hours on my bed with my head spinning and pounding, trying to focus on the numbers on my alarm clock to keep the room steady.
So that was my Saturday.
It started off innocently: drinking while playing cards which is better than me smoking and playing. My smoking, Ive been told, is one of my tells. Then we stopped playing to go buy more beer. Suddenly that beer was gone. We decided to leave and visit The Feast of the Lady of Mt. Carmel where we wound up in the Beer Gardens which was basically the front entrance to some building that had a few tables set up and a booth selling beer to people who stopped by on their way to the bar and lonely local alcoholics out for an evening of cheap beer and leering at young girls.
Eventually we ended up in a bar and I tried my best to be as antisocial as possible which is never that difficult.
And I kept on drinking.

My night ended with me arguing in front of a bar with someone that I love. I went looking for her and I found her and I let out all of my frustrations. Everything that I had been keeping inside for months raced through my head and came spewing from my mouth. I needed to do it, maybe not then, and maybe not there, and definitely not at the tail end of a 12 hour drinking binge, but it needed to be done. And even so, I hate myself for doing it. Because I should never have let it get this far. I should have said what I wanted to say when it needed to be said and not have held everything in and exploded on a sidewalk in full view of a bar full of people.
All my frustration and feeling of being alone and this depression that Ive been going through these last few months all came out at once and thats what bothers me the most. It needed to be done but just not in that way.
Shell probably never read this but I hope she knows how sorry I am.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 10:03 AM

Friday, July 09, 2004

Weekend
The weekend begins for me in roughly 6 hours and as usual I have no plans. Im faced with two and a half free days and no idea how to fill them. There will be drinking and sleeping and maybe some eating but thats about it. That much I know. All Im missing now is the who, the when and the where. The when and the where are easy if youre with the right person or people. Thats my problem: the who (not the band though I do find them to be awful but thats a whole other discussion).
There are people that I could hang out with but over the past few months Ive been getting frustrated with the way thing have been working out. Actually, thats not true, Ive been getting frustrated because things arent working out. And for once its not due to a lack of effort on my part. Maybe Im pushing too hard. Maybe I should step back. Maybe I should cut myself off all together. This is an argument that Ive been having with myself for too long now and I still cant decide what to do.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 11:49 AM

Thursday, July 08, 2004

The Natural
I watched The Natural with my roommates last night. Its one of my favorite movies ever. It still gives me goosebumps every time I watch it. Just like when I watch Rocky or Rudy or Field of Dreams. I dont think that either of my roommates had ever seen it before which makes it all the more enjoyable to watch.
I love the movie because I still want to be Roy Hobbs less the 20 plus years he has on me and the bullet in the stomach of course. Ive always wanted to be the best baseball player ever. I wanted to walk down the and have people say, There goes Roy Hobbs, the best who ever played the game. Granted, I want them to call me Michael but you get the idea.
Theres only one problem with my plan, I could be one of the worst baseball players in history. I believe I hold the little league record for strikeouts in a single season. In my final little league season I struck out 18 times in 21 at bats. In my other three at bats, I popped out to first base, I was hit in the back on the first pitch in my first at bat in the first game of the season, and I got one hit: a dribbler back to the pitcher that he bobbled for some reason. To make that hit even more pathetic, I slid into first base. Id never seen anyone do that before and Ive never seen it since.
In short, I was that kid on the baseball team. I was always last to bat, my younger brother batted before me when we were on the same team. When it was my turn to hit and there were two outs, my entire team would put their gloves on and get ready to head into the field. No one would step into the on deck circle because after I batted the inning would be over. I was the kid who played right field when the game was already out of reach. I would put my glove on my head and make whistles between my fingers with blades of grass. It didnt matter if a ball was hit to me because I wasnt going to catch it anyway. When a ball was hit in my direction it was assumed that I would just have to run after it. When it was hit too far I just let it go in hopes that the center fielder would go fetch it.
I guess all this disqualifies me from ever being Roy Hobbs. The closest Ill ever come is playing right field just like he did except that he actually played the position while I just stood there whistling with a glove on my head, wishing the pop flies would land elsewhere.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 9:34 AM

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

The apartment hunt saga continues.
My roommates and I are still looking for a place to live. Weve outgrown our apartment and the place we had lined up to move into doesnt look too promising anymore. We were going to move into an apartment that our current landlord was renovating. He told us one price when we first went to see it and now the price has gone up almost 500 dollars since then.
I enjoy getting jerked off as much as the next guy but not by a drunken old polish man.
Now that that apartment seemingly has fallen into the crapper, we must begin our search again.
As Ive said before, I fucking hate moving


blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 8:28 AM

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

On Saturday I made an attempt at not telling any lies.
Its harder than it sounds.
Consciously try and do it sometime.
See how many times you say No.
I must have said it a hundred times.
See how many times you get called an asshole.
I lost count after hearing it steadily for two hours.

I let it be known what I was doing but not why I was doing it.
And nobody asked why.
People eventually stopped talking to me after a while.
No one jumped at the opportunity to hear the truth for once.
I guess people would rather be lied to and feel comfortable than risk hearing what they dont want to hear.
Im at the point where Id rather hear the truth. Im uncomfortable now and Im fed bullshit on a daily basis. What can anyone possibly say that can make any of this worse?
Whats the worst that could happen?
What do I have left to lose?

Anyone?

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 3:53 PM

Thursday, July 01, 2004

What did you do, Ray?
posted by mike on 11:07 AM

Most folks just don't seem to have a taste for testicles no more!

Ive got a midterm tomorrow and Im being chased by Guido the killer pimp!

Gross, did you see that guy's balls?
Yeah, theyre weird looking

I fart in your general direction.

posted by mike on 7:57 AM

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

I know Ive been slacking off on this.
I cant seem to snap out of it. Ive been stressing about everything lately and as a result Ive been sleeping a lot. I dont really feel like writing about sleeping but its what Ive been doing.
Oh boy, sleep! Thats where Im a Viking.
Sorry, Ralph.
Im not a Viking in my sleep.
Im a runner. Running away from dogs. Running away from my doppelganger.
Im a target. Getting grabbed in the dark. Getting recognized by an angry mob.
I cant hold on. I fall from monkey bars. I fall out of trees. I fall off fire escapes.
Thats what I dream about when I do dream.
Most nights I dont or I cant remember if I do. Maybe my dreams are boring. Maybe in my dreams Im sleeping or sitting on a bench staring at a wall. They could be that boring and if they were then Im glad that I dont remember. I would rather think that I dont dream if the truth is that boring.

posted by mike on 8:23 AM

Friday, June 25, 2004

Its 9am on Friday morning. Im guessing that most of you arent up yet. But here I am. Been sitting in this chair since seven. Been staring at the blinking cursor since 830.
That evil little cursor blinking if I stop typing for a second. Reminding me that Im not typing. Then theres the little red lines reminding me of my deficiencies as a speller. The longer green lines appear to inform me that I cant form a sentence. The more that the colorful lines appear, the more I think I wasted my time as an english major.
Stop laughing.
I knew what I was doing when I embarked upon that trail. I knew I would have to face years of What the fuck are you going to do with a bachelors degree in english questions. Ive actually corrected people when they ask me that question and informed them that I was an english major with an emphasis on creative writing.
Is it just me or does that sound lame?
Its the equivalent of being an art major with a focus on floral design, a science major with an emphasis on rock polishing, a communication major with hugging as a focus, and, well, you get the idea.
Does that make me directionless?
Does that mean that I am what Will Hunting referred to as a waster of money because I could have got the same education spending 1.50 at the library in late charges? Granted I didnt go to Harvard but you get the idea.

posted by mike on 9:28 AM

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Im sorry
Im just a little choked up over here

Before I deliver the news I want each and every one of you to stash all sharp objects safely out of reach, lock up all prescription medication, and close all windows. I dont want any unfortunate accidents happening as a result of what Im about to tell you.
Are you sitting down?

Lollapalooza has been cancelled.

For those of you who are overcome with grief, Fear not. Those chill out tents they were conning people into shelling out extra money for will still be erected and used as triage centers fully staffed with grief counselors.
The assfucking all of you that purchased tickets received isnt as satisfying now but I implore to take solace in the fact that you will have the opportunity to be gang banged by these bands individually over the course of the coming months now that their schedules have been cleared by the death of the aforementioned atrocity. Thats right.
Youll be able to shell out cash to each of these bands as they travel the country with their own version of Sha Na Na opening for them. By canceling Lollopalooza, you can now waste countless hours, where before you only had to waste two days, on bands that youre going to forget about by the end of the summer.

My dearest sympathies go out to all the pasty little fat kids. Dont fret, my tubby, translucent friends; that vat of eyeliner you bought at BJs will not go to waste, theyll be back next year to try and fuck you again.


blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 3:28 PM

At least once a week this happens.
I want to drop everything.
I want to pack a bag with a few pairs of socks, some tshirts and some underpants and walk away.
From my job.
From my apartment.
From my friends.
From my habits.
From my vices.
From this life that Ive made for myself.
Walk away and try and start fresh.
Walk away like Bruce Banner does at the end of the Incredible Hulk episodes.
This just isnt working for me anymore.

But maybe walking away would be the easy way, the cowards way.
I could stay right where I am and find new friends, and a new place to live, and a new job, and new habits and new vices. But would that be possible?

None of this is possible now.
I have bills to pay
I have a lease
I have commitments
I made promises

blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 10:31 AM

Monday, June 21, 2004

Im a bad New Yorker.
Ive never been to the statue of liberty.
Ive never been up to the top of the empire state building.
I was never at the top of the WTC.
Ive never been in central park.
I think Ive been in one museum and that trip was inspired by a drunken viewing of a discovery channel show about an artist in a wheelchair who paints portraits using smaller pictures of himself. Dont ask me his name. Its been a while, I have no idea.
This weekend I took a step closer to becoming a better new yorker.
We had a visitor from England by way of Australia come to stay for a few days. We figured that, given the choice, no one would want to participate in our usual Saturday activities: napping, eating, tv, napping, eating, tv, napping, showering, drinking, eating, napping. We instead decided to take him out to Coney Island.
Up until Saturday, I had never been there.
We started off in the batting cages where I learned that I still cannot hit a fast ball. I cant even make contact with a fast ball. Keep in mind that when I say fast ball, I mean the medium speed pitch machine. On the slow pitch one, I think Im the equivalent to Barry Bonds but in reality Im more of a Chuck Knoblauch. Every once in a while I hit a good one but Im usually just smacking the ball around and wildly fouling pitches off.
After BP, we wandered the boardwalk marveling not only at the pleasant weather but also at the lack of coverage provided by the bathsuits of some of the larger citizens present that afternoon. How we were able to eat afterwards was a miracle.
We stumbled upon a game called Shoot the Freak which featured a man who, quite possibly, could have the worst job in the world. He runs back and forth in the blazing sun all day, covered in body armor and a helmet with a facial shield and antagonizes patrons as they try to shoot him with paintballs. I watched him weave in and out of various obstacles in his fenced off area and I couldnt help but wonder what, if any, were the chances of upward mobility in a job like that. At most, he might one day be promoted up to the position of barker which is currently held by a crossbreading experiment of Louie Anderson and James Hetfield. As bad as I felt for the freak, I simply had to shoot him in the face with a paintball. His face is covered with a helmet that could absorb the shell of a bazooka and I became ecstatic when my plastic yellow paint balloon skimmed across the side of his helmet and left a neon splatter mark across his cheek. And the right to do so, only set me back 5 dollars.
From the freak, we hit up Ralphs Italian Ice Stand where I cleaned them out of rainbow ice much to the displeasure of my traveling companions who had to settle for the lesser flavors such as watermelon and a rather nasty looking mint concoction.
With the half empty rainbow ice rapidly melting in my hand we pay our respects to the greatest fixture in Coney Island: The Cyclone. As big a fan of roller coasters that I am, this was to be my first ride on her. Rickety and old, it took on a life mirroring that of a brushless car wash whenever a train load of passengers returned from their ride. The six or seven employees would rush back and forth from one end of the train to the other, helping passengers in and out of their seats while trying to sell rerides to those who didnt get enough of the ride the first time.
We climbed into the last car, wedged a bag that we refused to check with the two overly eager men behind the counter, and were then threatened by my roommate who sat in front of us.
If either of you hold on for one second of this ride, Im going to break your fingers.
I needlessly shouted several obscenities at him, considering our close proximity, much to the displeasure of several parents standing nearby, and the ride lurched forward.
We climbed the first incline which ended in a steep dropped that caused me to knock heads with the person beside me. Everything that followed was a haze of climbing and dropping and being jerked in a thousand directions while being lifted from my seat.
We disembarked and, due to time constraints, headed to Nathans to finish out our day. After two hotdogs I was still 48 and a half away from breaking the record so I decided to quit while I was ahead and we went back onto the subway to find something else to entertain our guest and ourselves.

Just wanted to say hey to Jay. It was good to hear your voice on Saturday. Take care of yourself and give my best to Anna.

Blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 9:43 AM

Friday, June 18, 2004

Its Friday
I have no plans for the weekend
Everyone that I know is going places I have no desire to go to or theyre working
Looks like dvd watching is the most likely course of action. 50 first dates, the station agent, and mystic river. God i love netflix.
Sure, its cheaper than going out way but its boring as fuck. Ill probably make it till about 730 tomorrow night before I lose my mind with boredom.

Just ignore me.
I was given space to speak so Im using it to complain.

posted by mike on 1:56 PM

Please excuse my entry below.
Drinking Tecate on an empty stomach when its this hot out rots your brain.
Thank you
posted by mike on 8:30 AM

Thursday, June 17, 2004

I never win anything but yesterday I got passes to go see a screening of The Terminal.
Youve seen the commercials.
Tom Hanks: Man without a country. Cant leave the airport.
Catherine Zeta Jones: Stewardess. Toms love interest. Why not? Doesnt everyone love middle aged men who live in airports and speak broken english?
Stanley Tucci: Evil airport guy. Not his technical title but for the interests of time, this is what he is. He could be one of the most hated character in a comedy since Shooter McGavin.
I didnt expect much going in. An entire movie shot in an airport? I didnt think you could pull off a movie like this without John McClain running around in a wife beater. Also, almost everything Tom Hanks has done since Joe Vs. the Volcano has left me wishing one of his movies would bomb and hed just go back and do Bachelor Party 2.
Now, I watch a lot of movies. Its actually an obscene amount but whos counting really? I have to say that I havent liked a movie this much or laughed this much, on first viewing, in a long time.
Pagoda from Royal Tennenbaums steals the movie.
It didnt do the usual predictable movie cop out at the end, Im not going to ruin it for you, though for a minute or two you actually think theyre gonna do it. They resist the urge. I was seconds away from screaming Are you fucking kidding?, but I held back. They saved themselves.
But Im tired now. Maybe ill finish this later. Maybe not.

Not much of a movie review but Im doing this for free and Im a little drunk. Go see it.

posted by mike on 10:12 PM

Im too easy.
If youre looking for someone to shit on, someone to abuse, or someone to fall back on, Im your man.
Ill welcome it with open arms. And its not just from one particular person; its everyone.
Im a sucker.
Im a fool. Im the backup. Im the Why Not Theres Nothing Better To Do. Im the Ok As Long As Nothing Else Comes Up.
Sure when I am there Im sometimes miserable but thats only because I know. I can see. I know what I am.
I should be the prick I come off as when you first meet me. Id be happier being that miserable fuck. I should walk around telling everyone no. Eliminate the word yes; eliminate the phrase no problem. Answer every Can You? with a hearty Fuck You!
Instead, Im nice.
And what does that get me? Nothing.
Actually, thats not entirely true. I get that empty feeling. That useless, tits on a bull feeling. Ive never used that phrase before but I figure that nothing else has worked up until now so why not? Maybe thats what I am missing. Doubtful; but at this point why the fuck not.
So come on. Step up with your pants down, clenching your cheeks tight, biting your bottom lip, and sweating. Ill take it all. Then Ill clean it all up and sit and wait for your return. And youll be back unless you have something better to do.
And why not?
This is what I excel at.
Everyone has a gift.
Mine is being a pushover.
Being a bitch.
Again, being a sucker.

Any takers?

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 3:02 PM

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

On Sunday I watched a group of 20 and 30 year old men and women kick dirt on each other, shout obscenities littered with allegations of sexual deviance and incest, and roll around in the dirt. All this was not done during a rally or an anti-government meeting or a crowd gathered at some outdoor festival.
No.
This all transpired during a kickball game.
If there werent so many open containers and ratty beards and moustaches I may have confused the participants with middle school children.
I stood behind the backstop; beside me was a man, probably in his late 60s. As the group rolled around on the floor, throwing punches at random, he looked down at me and asked, Is this how kickball is played?
I laughed but he didnt respond with a smile. He continued to stare at me with the same questioning look.
I covered my mouth and concluded my giggling fit before I even attempted to answer.
This usually isnt how its played. Thats all I could say.
Its been a while since Ive played kickball. I figure that 4th grade had to have been the last time. I didnt remember many games being like this.
The old man looked down at me again. I dont get this game at all.
I opened my mouth to explain but I stopped myself. What would be the point? I think he saw enough. I could stand there and explain the intricacies of what is, in essence, a simple game to this man but honestly I dont think he cared all that much.
Like me, I think he was just amazed at what he was seeing.
And beneath all my amazement and the puzzling effect that watching people my own age beat on each other for no apparent reason, there was one constant that rang in my head:

GODDAMNIT I WANNA PLAY KICKBALL

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 4:18 PM

Friday, June 11, 2004

Im Socially Retarded

I had my first work related lunch yesterday.
Dressed in a white t shirt and jeans that I was wearing for a week and a half, I, along with another guy from work, went to lunch with two representatives from a supplier that we do business with.
About half way through the meal I realized that I was not saying anything. I contributed nothing to the conversation. I got really nervous when the waitress came over and took our orders and that usually happens when I have to order from a menu thats in a foreign language. But this was an italian restaurant for crissake. I shouldnt be uncomfortable saying fussili, Im Italian damnit, but I was.
I thought I was improving. I thought I was getting better. Turns out, Im not. Im 28 and Im afraid of speaking in front of people.
And Ive always been this way. I made it through 4 years of college without saying anything in almost all of my classes.
I get uncomfortable around groups of people even if I know everyone.
I can never speak to people I dont know. I dont know if its because I dont want to come off sounding like an idiot or what, but most of the time I find myself sitting in silence.
Ive never been out on a date with a girl who wasnt my girlfriend.
Ive never asked anyone out on a date.
Ive never asked a girl for her phone number.
Ive never walked up to girl on the street or in a bar or at a party and struck up a conversation.
I really dont think I can do that.
I cant hold a conversation on the telephone for more than 5 minutes before I get uncomfortable. I prefer the anonymity of email, text messaging, and instant messaging.
Am I self conscious? Yes.
Am I intimidated? Yes.
Does this make me a pussy? In most peoples eyes it probably does. But who cares. The silence I sit in allows me to listen. If you sit back and listen to half of what people say, you find yourself amazed that most people can even dress themselves in the morning.
But I guess this is the way I am.
I know its not normal but Ive always been this way.

posted by mike on 1:55 PM

Dont ever watch The House of the Dead. Ive never gotten so bored of zombie killing before.
posted by mike on 7:59 AM

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

News of the day

Creed has broken up. NOOOOoooooooooooooo. Did I just come off as too sarcastic? Anyway, if anyone is actually depressed about this fear not, Scott Stapp will be contributing his talents to a Cd of music inspired by the film The Passion of the Christ. Wow! Creed AND Jesus! I have so much to say that my head is about to explode so Ill instead say nothing and move on.

Live action Jetsons movie is in the works. Considering the bang up job they did on those 2 Flintstones movies and those Scooby Doo masterpieces, this cant possibly be anything less than cinematic brilliance.

Reagans funeral tour continues

posted by mike on 9:37 AM

Drinking on school nights is a bad idea.
I wake up with a I wish I was dead feeling and then I spend the next ten minutes or so swearing that Ill never drink again during the week and blah blah blah blah blah.
Maybe I shouldnt have had a 22 of Bass and 2 PBRs for dinner. I guess it was a bad way to start off the evening but by the time I got home from work it was 7pm and I wasnt about to start cooking. I was too tired and it was too fucking hot. But honestly, whether Im tired or not, I just dont have the energy to cook. It could have something to do with cooking only for myself and the fact that I cant eat alone. I usually just wind up eating cookies or a Snickers bar for dinner.
Anyway
After my liquid dinner, I dragged myself over to Tonic to see Jarrod and the Honorary Title record release show. They had cookies at the show. And not just any cookies, no no no no. Vienna Fingers! Which could very well be the greatest cookie of all time and surprisingly compliment Rhinegolds quite well.
I realized something last night. My roommate went outside at one point to smoke before the show started and I was left alone in a crowd of people. Except for Jarrod, I didnt know anyone else. I was all alone and I was totally comfortable. Usually, Id stand against a wall and fidget or roam aimlessly around until I either met someone I knew or became so uncomfortable that I had to leave. For some reason neither happened. I stood amidst a sea of strangers with my Rhinegold in hand and shoved Vienna Fingers in my mouth like a five year old fat kid.
When I put my pants on this morning I found a Vienna Finger in my pocket. I guess I was saving it for later and the poor guy never made it. So this entry goes out to him; Im sure you would have been delicious.

blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 9:22 AM

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Pick up any newspaper today.
Go on.
Ill wait.

Every single one has a headline about Reagan.
Goodbye.
Farewell.
Bye, My Love.
I actually saw a picture this morning of Nancy Reagan with her head on his coffin. Can a picture be anymore intrusive? This wasnt a press conference; this wasnt a media event; its a fucking funeral and these cocksuckers are actually taking pictures. They cant let the poor woman grieve for a minute without jumping at the opportunity for a photo op.
This really is the least of my problems with the news today. Granted he was the president but lets be honest here for a moment: this is no great tragedy. Sure hes dead and that is sad but he was 93 years old and, as far as lives go, he had a pretty good one.
Movie star.
Married 2 actresses.
4 kids
Governor of California.
President of the US.
Id say thats pretty fucking good.

And so I believe they are taking this NATION IN MOURNING crap a little too far.
Are we really supposed to be upset over a man who never worked a day in his life and was fortunate enough to survive till the age of 93?
There are those who will reply to this by saying, but he was the president of the united states, the most powerful country in the world.
My answer to them is, big fucking deal. Look whos running things now.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 10:52 AM

Saturday, June 05, 2004

Back from Great Adventure
I think last years trip set the bar too high for future visits. Can you really top 17 roller coasters in a single day?
Yesterday we hit 7.
Superman. Too limiting. You cant move. Maybe its the novelty of the whole thing. Being strapped in and suspended from the track so you are parallel with the ground. Not worth the wait. Dont waste 2 hours of your day waiting to ride that piece of shit.
Scream Machine. Whip lash inducing. When you get off the ride, your head hurts. Your neck hurts. Your back hurts. It creaks a little bit. What more could you want in a roller coaster.
Rolling thunder. Old, rickety. This thing looks like it could fall apart at any minute. It jerks you to sudden stops and you are lifted from your seat more then a few times. With only a lap bar keeping you in your chair, its a good time with barely any wait.
Medusa. Long ass line but worth the wait. Plenty of loops and a corkscrew or two.
Nitro. The best roller coaster ever. Theres only a small plastic triangle that goes on your lap that holds you in. No shoulder harnesses. No ankle restraints. It starts with this enormous 230 foot incline that used to have signs along the side letting you know how high you were in reference to historical landmarks, Niagra falls, the arc de triumphe and what not, followed by what is almost a complete vertical drop. We hit this one twice. I wasnt leaving until I got another ride in.
Batman. A ridiculously long wait and I started to get frustrated because they pump god awful music while you are waiting as if Pink is going to get me excited for the ride. If anything it made me want to scrap the whole idea of going on the ride and go to Nathans for hotdogs and cheese fries.

I think yesterday was awkward band dork day at Great Adventure. The place was overrun with acne covered preteens running around in bright orange tee shirts riddled with G clefs and announcements that they had escaped from somewhere in the bowels of New Jersey only to fuck up my one day of enjoyment in what has been a dismal year. Mouths full of braces accenting pasty, sun deprived faces surrounded me on every line I patiently waited on. I guess this was their one day. Their one day of release from their hours of oboe and bassoon practice but why did it have to come on the one day that I decide to get off my ass and do something.
I think Im getting grouchy in my old age.

Blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 6:34 PM

Thursday, June 03, 2004

Its Thursday.
Do I start every Thursday post with that line?
Weird
Anyway, today is my Friday. Three day weekend for me.
Let that jealousy sink in. except for all of you who just dont work. How is it I work 50 hours a week and am constantly worrying about money but then there are some of you who never work, go out every night, and never seem to worry about money?
Im ranting.
Ignore all that I just wrote
Back to my three day weekend.
You people who work. Yeah you! Youre jealous.
And what am I doing tomorrow? Whats so important that I am taking a day off?
GREAT FUCKING ADVENTURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yup
I feel like a five year old right now. I think I just giggled. Yup, I did giggle. But this is nothing compared to what Ill be like tomorrow. Running from roller coaster to roller coaster leaving my companions chasing after me, begging me to stop and rest.
This trip has become a kind of birthday tradition for me. This is year three. We went on 17 roller coasters last year. Im shooting for 18 this year. I know my birthday was almost a month ago but everything seemed to be working against me while planning this little outing. Unfortunately the one person that I really wanted to come cant make it because of work issues. But with the mood Ive been in lately, I think that I really need to spend the day on roller coasters and eating overpriced Nathans hotdogs.
I was unsure of whether or not I was going to go after the group of 12 that I put together for the trip shrunk down to 3. But now Im going. Is there anything better than spending a Friday at Great Adventure when there arent any kids there on summer vacation?
If you answered any other way besides No then you are wrong.

posted by mike on 8:34 AM

Looking for something new to listen to?
Drag your ass down to your local record shoppe and pick up The Honorary Title - Anything Else But the Truth.
Damn New Paltzians are everywhere.
Represent
Support the scene
Christ I sound like a 90s hardcore kid again.
posted by mike on 8:08 AM

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

How is it that Donald Duck never had a heart attack?
posted by mike on 2:05 PM

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

I came into work this morning and to my surprise, no one did there homework.
Needless to say I am disappointed.
For shame

Next assignment
This requires no emailing. No pictures. Like the last assignment you will just be doing what comes natural.
The next time you here a 20 to 30 year old woman use the word metrosexual grab a handful of her overdyed, overstyled, overhairsprayed rats nest of a hair cut and slam her face forward onto the nearest bar. Hopefully her pockmarked, bronzer coated forehead will become impaled on her watermelon martini glass, opening up her empty head and revealing how vapid she really is.
And, if you happen to hear a man use this word, leave him be. Odds are, the woman that makes him watch that show will soon drive him to impale himself on a sharp object.
Now, now. Dont look so shocked.


I do not condone violence in any form but, lets be honest, some people fucking deserve it.

posted by mike on 4:34 PM

Friday, May 28, 2004

After last months HIV scare the porn industry is working again.
Now Im just waiting to be called.
Surely there is a director out there who needs a hairy little man to masturbate furiously just off camera.
posted by mike on 11:21 AM

Three day weekend

Since you have this time off, Im giving you a homework assignment.
While mingling through the memorial day parties, mixers, box socials and gang bangs, if you happen to come across a pasty 90lb guy with a flipped up collar, aviator sunglasses, and a haircut that is a cross between Peter Brady and Donald Trump, SMACK HIM IN THE FUCKING TEETH! Enough of these douchebags already. This whole dress like its the late seventies early eighties crap is ridiculous. That whole fashion movement was so fucking absurd that it spawned the inclusion of neon in our wardrobes just to help us forget.
After you punch the asshole in the teeth, tell him looking like shit should be left to the dirtbags. We dont work at it. We look like shit cause we are just fucking lazy.
And as you stare down at him curled up on the floor crying with eyeliner running down his cheeks, give him a good swift kick in the skull so when the doctors staple his head shut they can shave that mop of shit that this dick calls a haircut. Then drop ten dollars on his chest and tell him,
Go buy yourself a sandwich and feed your emaciated ass and take off that Motorhead shirt, you dont deserve to wear it.

Please note
I do not condone violence. See the above as merely an idea. I will not provide you with bail money should you choose to perform the above actions but if you happen to take before and after pictures, Id love to see them.

blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 10:53 AM

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Is it just me or are The Jetsons just futuristic Flintstones?
Also
Arent they the worst fucking cartoons ever?

If you disagree, remove your left shoe and strike yourself in the face with it, twice.

Thank you for listening

blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 10:28 AM

Its only Thursday.
Its only Thursday and its only 830 in the morning.
As I was walking to work this morning, I passed an old man bracing himself against a wall, shoulders above his ears. His black shirt hung limp around his waist but was pulled tighter around a large hump growing on his back.
It made me think of Igor from Young Frankenstein. Marty Feldman. One of my all time favorite things to do is to sit around with my father and my brother and watch that movie. Between the three of us we know every word, every gesture, every whinny of the horses each time someone says Frau Blucher. It must be annoying for anyone to watch that movie with the three of us in the room which is probably the reason that whenever its on, most of my family will walk away.
After I saw him I kept thinking about the movie, running through the movie, scene by scene in my head at a million miles an hour. Scenes blending together. Actions sped up to get to the dialogue. Until I got to the graveyard scene.
Dr Frankenstein and Igor are in a grave digging to exhume the freshly buried body. They stand up; the doctor spits dirt out of his mouth.
What a filthy job.
Could be worse.
How?
Could be raining.
And then it starts to rain.
That scene always makes me laugh even though Ive watched it hundreds of times. I actually caught myself smiling as I walked up 50th street on my way to work. I wasnt smiling because of the look of disgust on Gene Wilders face when hear hears the thunder or how Marty Feldman raises his eyebrows and smiles while hes standing in the grave. I was smiling because of the shitty mood that Ive been in and how its been weighing on me and how Ive been letting it. And I guess it could be worse. I could be a hunchback. I could be slowly becoming a hunchback. I could be standing in an open grave in the rain with a bug eyed hunchback. I could get food poisoning from bad shellfish in Mexico City and drop dead of a heart attack like Marty Feldman. But Im not. I dragged my ass all the way to work past the hunchback and I feel better. Not really depressed anymore. Now I just want to watch Young Frankenstein. Anyone wanna come over and watch it with me?

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 10:00 AM

Monday, May 24, 2004

I know
I know
Ive been slacking off as of late. I could run down a list of excuses as to why I have been lax in my duties, heh heh heh doodies, but I will not bother you with tales of drinking binges & ingesting alligator tail. Being accosted by would be flashers & Hooters girls that look like Steve Buscemi in low cut neon dresses. Watching my friend being fondled in a bar by a rather masculine looking woman. Sitting on a rooftop till 6 in the morning and not realizing the sun had come up. Realizing that Im not too old to make new friends and then realizing that maybe Im better off without some of the friends that I have now. Accepting the fact that sometimes the advice of others may be helpful and, most importantly, discovering that whistling the Kill Bill song can drive people insane.
Sure there are a few good stories in there and if nothing else strikes me as noteworthy this week I will perhaps share a few. Otherwise think what you want about the proceeding statements, I havent had enough coffee or cigarettes to do this right now.

posted by mike on 8:25 AM

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Question

Is it a prerequisite that you have to have a moustache to be UPS driver?

Just wondering
posted by mike on 4:30 PM

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

I have a problem saying no.

Can I borrow the Motley Crue biography?
Sure.
And Ill never see it again. Or if I do its dog eared to shit or theres pizza grease thumbprints on every other page or a particularly meaningful passage about Ozzy lapping up Nikki Sixxs urine has been underlined for posterity. But Ill certainly lend it out again and again. Its that good. If you like Motley Crue then you really need to read that book. Not right now, of course. Finish this first. And dont start with, I used to like them when I was like 12 but I just think theyre ridiculous now, horseshit. If thats the case then you never liked them. You wore the extra large Dr Feelgood shirt to hide your immense, preteen man-tits and used to diddle yourself while watching the Girls! Girls! Girls! video.

Can I borrow the Minor Threat discography?
Sure.
Im actually on my fourth copy of that and it again has gone missing. Same goes for Slayer Reign in Blood, 5 copies, Misfits collection 1, 4 copies, and Beastie Boys License to Ill, six copies and counting. I dont know many people let alone five who would even want to listen to any of these albums. Where the fuck do these things go? Maybe someone is reading this right now and laughing because the cds they pilfered are displayed in some elaborate Mike is an Asshole shrine they have in their bedroom. Odds are, the shrine is a fitting tribute. Odds are I belittled them in public. Mocked their clothes. Mocked their beliefs. Mocked their hairstyle and made them cry. Maybe I got some laughs out of it but you got my cds. Fucker. I hope you get tinnitus from Angel of Death.

Its not that I dont like to share.
Im lying.
I hate it.
Especially if its a one sided deal.
I went to the movies on Sunday with two of my friends. I was on line to buy popcorn and candy and I looked behind me and they werent on line. They didnt buy any candy so I didnt buy any.
Why?
Its not that I dont like candy. Its quite possibly my favorite thing in the world
One sided sharing.
I knew I wasnt going to be able to say no if they asked me for any so I went without so I didnt have to share. This all may sound insane but when looked at through my method of logic, it makes perfect sense.
There are too many people walking around with their hand out with nothing to offer in return. I need to stop giving in to these pricks and you all should do the same. Fuck em.

posted by mike on 10:13 AM

Friday, May 14, 2004

A few more musical opinions.
Billy Joel is irrelevant outside of New York. Except for maybe piano man.
The three greatest albums of the 80s are Paul Simon Graceland, Guns and roses Appetite for Destruction, and NWA Straight Outta Compton. Dont start with your Cure albums and your sonic youth albums. I defy you to try and make it through 99 percent of the albums that were made in the 80s besides those three. You cant do it. It cant be done without the help of a significant amount of drugs. And im not saying that those three albums had the only good songs that came out in the 80s. Rock me Amadeus is a great song but can you honestly say that you can make it through the entire fucking Falco album without committing hari kari? Go ahead and try it. Youll be dead by the end of side one.
The Osbournes destroyed Ozzy. The guy was the singer for Black Fucking Sabbath and now hes hawking Pepsi twist in broken English and English is his native tongue. Put him back in the cave where you found him and only let him out every few years for another farewell tour. Randy Rhodes must be spinning in his fucking grave.
I know ive mentioned this before, but the Beatles fucking suck. I dont want to hear anymore about how there wouldnt be this band or there wouldnt be this kind of music without them. Bullshit. Theyre just recognized for doing it first. If it wasnt them it would have been somebody else. At least if it was someone else they would have had the decency to die young and not torture us with solo albums with their fucking wives singing offkey background vocals, greatest hits albums with the same 12 songs, and unreleased tracks that were crap when they were written and they are still crap now, for the next 40 years.
St Anger is not only the worst metallica album ever, it could very well be the worst album of all time. Does anyone really buy that whole Its totally raw and some people cant handle it but our true fans will understand it, bullshit that they have been spitting out since they started pushing the album? Its raw and real, when translated, means, we strayed yet again from what works and we know that we have made a disc of festering crap but youll buy it anyway. Thanks guys. Strike three. Fuck you. I wonder what Mustaine is up to? They put out an album and they have been defending it ever since its release. If you have the chance, look for any interview done with any member of metallica in the last few months and youll see what im talking about.
The Sex Pistols are awful. Never Mind the Bullocks is the St Anger of the 70s. Sid should have taken Johnny with him and because he didnt, we have to see this no talent assclown on TV every few years. Watching him being interviewed is like watching quadriplegics kickbox. Sure, its funny at first but then you just pray for death when you realize that its never going to end.
Im sure you dont agree but if you stop and think about it, you will. And again, like I said before, dont argue with me. This is my journal, Assface.

blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 3:35 PM

Thursday, May 13, 2004

I have opinions about anything and everything. I can argue about them all. I possess the ability to argue about almost anything. Except for preference. If I say that I dont like a certain movie or a certain band I will tell you why. Why must an argument ensue whenever I mention that I dont like something? When you ask my opinion youre going to get an honest answer based upon my experience with whatever youre asking me about. Dont get bent out of shape and tell me that im wrong. If you want to do that, then fuck you. Im right and youre wrong. No arguments then. Its a fact. Youre opinions are as worthless as you are. There I said it. You suck. Deal with it.
It seems that people love to debate which bands are better. Which albums are the best. Which songs could you listen to forever and never get tired of. Ive actually been in arguments about the best scream in a metal song. Incidentally its Sebastian Bachs howl right after the intro in Monkey Business off of Skid Row Slave to the Grind. Its a fact. Dont argue with me. This is my journal Assface.
With that said my opinions are as follows:
Sabbath kicks Zepplins ass. The overplaying of stairway to heaven and pretty much all of Led Zepplin IV can be blamed.
The same overplaying has ruined the Beatles. Enough already. Move on.
Kiss is terrible. Maybe I dislike them because they are before my time. Actually scratch that last statement. Id hate them regardless.
The Stones should have quit 20 years ago.
Aerosmith and the Chili Peppers havent written a decent song since they stopped taking drugs. Tie one on and make a decent album or disappear into obscurity. Please! I liked your music at one time and I dont want to hate your older material but I will.
The only way this years Lollapalooza could be any worse is if they hand out strychnine at the door. Theyve jammed it full of no-talent acts that were deemed underground ten or more years ago along with this years flavor of the day bands. Except of course for modest mouse. They kick ass. All because The Whore decided to rape kids for ninety dollars for two days of music that no one will want to hear. Ever. Get in line now. Pony up your 90 dollars. Spread your cheeks and prepare to have 5 dollar bottles of water lovingly inserted up your ass to spend two days surrounded by fat and pasty white kids with way too much eye makeup on and manic panic oozing off their freshly dyed scalps. 50 dollar tshrits. 10 dollar veggie burgers. 15 dollar parking. Fuck the music. Bring your cash. Perry needs to pay for an eye lift.
You even get the chance this year to finance another awful sideproject from this extraordinary no talent hack. You can be a VIP. For a mere for 250 dollars you get the following

Exclusive VIP entrance. Only wait 2 hours to get in as opposed to 6 and a half
Exclusive lavatories. A portapotty with not one but two windows so jammed with mesh that they actually preserve the stench of the bowel movement a 10 dollar veggie burger creates
Exclusive seating. As if it wasnt warm enough, you get the opportunity to sit directly on the sun.
Access to private concessions area. aka you can afford the 250 why not charge 25 dollars for water.
Private chill tent with A/C. chill tent? are you fucking kidding me? this is a portapotty with linkin park tunes pumped in to help you chill while your ass bleeds from the 250 dollar reeming you just took
Convenient viewing monitors. to see what? im sure its going to be real hard to get up close to see Gomez and Dangermouse
VIP Goody Bag. including salve and gauze for your afforementioned gaping ass. Weight gain powder and white foundation for your face so you can blend with the hip crowd. Two suicide capsules one for when youve realized that you could have purchased every album made by every band that is on the bill and then one for when you actually listen to those albums and realize that you were probably better off listening to your overweight, shutin neighbor give himself an enema with a firehouse.

I seemed to have strayed and went off on a tangent. That shit just pisses me off.
As for my opinions, youll get more tomorrow.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 11:23 AM

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

Im shot today. Emotionally and physically, Im drained.
Everything is weighing on me and I feel like Im being crushed. Im letting it crush me. Letting it all get to me.
Mothers day number 14 without her eats at me. Ive passed the point. Ive been without her longer than I was with her. Its still here with me and guess it always will be. It doesnt hurt any less as time passes. It just hurts less often.
Thats not all of it. Its only a part of it. I think reading Jeffs journal entry about his mom really touched me and got me thinking. Over thinking really. My brain is my worst enemy. Once it starts i cant seem to stop it. Ideas rush together and Im left with random images that translate only into emotions. When i was younger i used my guitar to help get them out. It never mattered if it came out as a song or if it was just a chuggachugga dance part that i would play till i was too exhausted to think. I stopped doing that for a while after I stopped playing in a band but ive recently picked it up again. I had to. I have to. I need a way to get it out or Ill continue to be crushed.



blndr666@yahoo.com
posted by mike on 7:42 AM

Monday, May 10, 2004

Whats the point of dreaming if you are eventually going to wake up? The better the dream is, the worse it is to wake from it. Brought back to reality you are left with the truth that youre better in your dreams. You never drop the pass that wins the big game in your dreams. You never lose the fight. You always save the day. You never cum too early. You always satisfy. You always get the girl. You always win. And then you wake up. You wake up with the ball beside you as you lie on the floor with your front teeth knocked out and a swollen lip. Youre not a winner. Youre a single, premature ejaculating loser who came up short in the end.
Youre left preferring nightmares. You wake from a nightmare and youre glad to be alive. Sure your sheets look like the Shroud of Turin because youve sweat through them. Sure your jaw hurts and you head feels like it was hit with a shovel because youve been grinding your teeth. Sure theres moisture in your pants and it just may be piss. You didnt sleep well but youre alive. Your day of being an average slob will be easier to face. It cant be as bad as your nightmare. It just cant be. Can it?
What shall I hope for then when sleep comes to me tonight? Should I hope to rise to the occasion and be a hero? Perhaps I should hope to climb a ladder with broken rungs, trying to escape a pack of rabid wolves, only to wake with a start as I fall to my death.
Either way, I hope I can slow my mind just long enough to fall asleep.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 7:21 AM

Sunday, May 09, 2004

Im 28 today. How irrelevant an age. Closer to 30 than I am to 20 and thats the next milestone birthday. At thirteen I became a teenager. When I turned 18 I was able to get my drivers license, buy cigarettes but I was smoking for 4 years by then, and of course I could buy porn. At 21 I could buy liquor and get into bars but on my 21st birthday I didnt get proofed at either the liquor store or the bar.
What age do I have to look forward to now? 30? 40? What should I count the days until? Maybe my A.A.R.P. card coming in the mail even though I was sent an application for it when I was 19.
At what point does your birthday stop meaning that you are getting older and start signifying that you are just getting fucking old?
When do you stop getting excited about it? When does it just become a reminder to renew your drivers license?
Maybe its just me. I never really liked my birthday anyway. Every birthday I had until I was 9 I stared at my birthday cake covered in candles, surrounded by my family, and I cried while they sang, waiting for the song to be over so they could focus on their oversized slices of cake. And today, just like when I was 9, I just want this day to end. The best part about today is that its an entire year until my next birthday. Theres only 8 hours and 45 minutes left and this day will be over. Thank fucking god. Maybe to kill some time Ill go stand by the mailbox and wait for my A.A.R.P. card to come.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 3:19 PM

Friday, May 07, 2004

Have you been diagnosed as being insane?
Have you recently stopped taking your medication?
Do you argue with people and or objects that arent really there?
Do you hear voices?
Do those voices compel you to interact with an undersized gentleman hiding behind a beard and a cloud of smoke?
Do you have groundbreaking ideas about the nature of the universe, the sheen of my aura, or the conspiracies regarding Michael Jackson, Kobe, OJ, and rap music?
Do you think you can save me from Satan, from Jesus, from Starbucks?

If you can answer yes to any or all of these questions please feel free to approach me. Go ahead. Let me have it. Very little if anything is going to shock me anymore. Maybe if you can insert a parking cone in your ass and pull it out your mouth or if you can hippity hop on your own testicles then you may be able to unhinge me. But its not likely.
Only in the past two years or so have a taken up wandering Manhattan both on foot and by subway. If nothing else it has provided me with a few halfway decent stories.
Ive had my head molested by a one eared, overly friendly, toothless nutjob at five in the morning while standing on a subway platform on my way to work.
Ive had lengthy drunken conversations about pizza with a man with triangles drawn on his face sitting on a bench.
Ive watched a grown man in a full length black dress stand between two subway cars, hoist his dress above his head, take a shit, and then walk away as if nothing happened.
Ive been lectured about the benefits of cunnilingus by a denim clad gentleman who swore that Any nigger who eats pussy never has to pay no rent.
Ive watched two grown women argue for an hour over which one was poorer the one who stole the others underpants or the one who stole the others socks.
Ive watched two polish construction workers on their way to work get in a kicking and slapping fight with four jamaicans on their way home from a club.
Most recently, ive been farted on by a homeless man while shopping for dvds.
Someone once told me that riding the subway and walking around and watching people made them sick because there were so many strange people. They said it made them lose faith in humanity. Not me. Cant lose it if you dont have it.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 10:01 AM

Thursday, May 06, 2004

I always have the same answer to, So what have you been up to?
Working and sleeping.
Thats what I do. Thats all I do. Maybe thats what I was meant to do. Work and sleep. Mix in a little eating here and there; an occasional drinking binge A steady infusion of nicotine. Thats me.
This makes it almost impossible when someone requests that I tell them about myself. Do they actually want to hear that Im a worker, an eater, a sleeper, a drinker, and a chain smoker. Im also a chronic napper. Im a gambler; Ive been known to place wagers while watching Worlds Strongest Man competitions from the 80s on ESPN. Im a pack rat: CDs, dvds, books, toys, magazines, lighters, guitars, pens. Im a corrector of grammar, though I do so through stuttered and mumbled insults tinged with a drunken slur and a Long Island accent. Im a chronicler of inappropriate comments in a little black book that I update almost daily. Im the silent fixture at the end of the bar or at the table in the restaurant watching you struggle to be the center of attention before I excuse myself to have a smoke outside and never come back.
This is what I choose to show you. I wont show you the rest
Maybe next time Ill tell you why Im here.

blndr666@yahoo.com

posted by mike on 9:46 AM