Corndog, California

"When I die, they'll put me on a table...make me look like I did when I was alive. They'll tell all my friends and my family I died of natural causes. But drinking ain't natural."--Joel Kliebe--

This past Saturday, Corning, Ca. received a net gain of about 10 gajillion creds as most of the coolest people evAr descended upon its hallowed grounds for an evening of serious debauchery. Years spent training with J. Deuche allowed my liver to weather the alcohol tsunami and return home relatively unscathed...which is always nice.

you say it's your birthday. it's my birthday too...

yeah.

Since I blew it by not dying at 27, I guess I am pretty much in it for the long haul now. Which is alright I suppose, considering I have my mid-life crisis to look forward to. I'm sort of shooting for joining a motorcycle gang, but learning how to fly a triplane isn't out of the picture either.

Either way, buy me something. I'm old(ish).

a man of few words (and even fewer ideas)

Twitter has seriously ruined me. Ever since I joined and begin enlightening the world with my yawnable whatareyoudoing(s), I have found myself unable to write in complete sentences and equally incapable of elaborating upon anything. Seriously...you try writing some epic kcmasterpiece in 140 letters/symbols/spaces/whatever and see how it goes.

ps...you know what would have been clever? If I would have ended the above sentence about complete sentences in the middle. I should prolly go change that.

songs i wish i had written: track two

" Look me in the eye then tell me that I'm satisfied. Was you satisfied?"
--The Replacements: Unsatisfied--

osgiliath burns

I think I am dying of smoke inhalation. Which, while slow and painful, probably beats being burned alive or having a heart attack on the office toilet...with your co-workers swearing at your corpse and screaming "Oh my God" and "aaaahhhhhhhh" and stuff.

The real bummer of this whole thing is that as my body crumbles and I debate becoming one of those creepy mask people, chronic smokers everywhere are having the time of their lives. It's like they were all crammed into one of those little Clark Kent spacepods and blasted off to the land of the yellow sun, where they now have superhuman strength and can see through sorority chicks' blouses with their x-ray vision eyes. Everywhere I look, I see them. They drive around town with the windows down, cigarette in hand, mocking me with every puff. "Join us, lunger," they cry. "We used to be like you...only able to breathe good air. But then we found these magic sticks and now we can breathe anything we want! Anything! Muahahahaha!"

Darwin's survival of the fittest crap is sure doing me a hell of a lot of good now.

tales from the mundane: part three

Guess who's got an increasing appetite for free lunchables? If you answered the armpit of the United States, congratulations! You win!

songs i wish i had written: track one

"And i saw you at the funeral, you were standing there like a temple. I said, 'Hi. How are you? Hello.' And I pulled up a casket and crawled in."
--Daniel Johnston: Grievances--