From my notebook 2

The bible says to not worship Idols. Any religion that says no to Billy is no religion for me.

Status symbols in my world

I have noticed, whenever I imagine living like the rich does, it involves a german butler and a bucket of cocain. In my mind, the german is named Schültz. I don't know why a bucket of cocain. I don't even do drugs, and I am reasonably sure that cocaine is not a status-symbol in most groups. Though it would be cool to offer it to guests. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, cola, cocain? I don't even know where you could buy a bucket of the stuff? Do they give discounts if you buy in bulk? Do I have to buy a few grams at a time? What if the cops find my cocain? I have no intention of selling it, or doing whatever you do in order to take cocain. Sniff it, smoke it, inject it, throw it up in the air and yell "SNOW", whatever. So can they charge me just for possesion? If they do, I will just jump on my tiny pony and ride of. Yes, if I was that rich, I would have a tiny, tiny pony, just for emergencys. Then ride it into a limo. Then ask schültz to drive the limo into my helicopter. Then get him to fly the helicopter into my private airplane and fly to Monaco. Then gamble my fortune, until all I had left was a bucket of cocain, which I could sell to movieactors for more gambling money. Not good actors. Just former SNL stars who think that they are oh-so-pretty that they could laugh over sketches and almost ruin the genius that is more cowbell.

Throughts on South Park

From my notebook:

South Park has sucked a great deal since season 3. After that, it went really far up its own ass and got stuck there. And if you are real quiet, you can hear the muffled yells of "Quick, reference something current to give the impression of being relevant. And be sure to insult all sides of the issue, so that we actually don't say anything and offer no solutions. Ooooh, and jokes involving butts, sex and lots of poop, in order to give the illusion of being edgy, despite being adolescent nonsense".

Happy Birthday to me!

Yes, I survived yet another year. A year of ups and downs and starting a blog that is, on average, read by between 14 to 18 people a week, so it is mainly for my own amusement. But anywho, this is a day for celebration. Of me! I need presents and I need them to be forked over pretty soon. Perhaps some chocolate. Or some sort of entertainment. Gimme!

The most annoying phrase in the world

"All you had to do was follow the damn train, CJ".

Yes, and all you had to do was shoot the bloody Vargos, you fat git! How hard can it be. I am on a motorcycle, trying to keep up with a train. You just have to point the gun in a way as to hit the intended goal, in this case four latino criminals on top of a train, not hiding behind anything.

Actually, I am reasonably sure that Marks least favorite phrase is "I am a lesbian", but only after the sixth or so time he heard it. We decided that either he is some sort of magnet for lesbians, who will seek his friendship and lead him on for a few weeks, until they decide to come out, or, he is a magnet for women who are insecure in their sexuality, and he will lead them on their intended path, or, he actually creates lesbians, in some sort of weird way that makes women actually change their sexuality, AKA, the "There gotta be something better than this for me" theory, OR, finally, women lie to get a quick way out of the relationship. That is Ashleys theory. Mark leans to the magnet-theory, while I prefer the creation-theory. Julia has never met a lesbian, so she don't know if they exist.

Mark claims that it all began down at Club Sinnah, where a crazy girl with red hair, who wouldn't say her name, but just quoted Popeye (I yam what I yam an' dats all dat I yam), told him that he was destined to lead girls to their true destiny. He once attempted to form a threesome, and got a couple of girls, but had to leave them alone for a few minutes, while he was finishing some paperwork, and when he came back, they were dancing chin to chin, around a picture of Ellen Degeneres.

Julia just said that her least favorite phrase is "Call heaven, cuz they must be missin' an angel". Apparently, she has heard it every single time that she has every been out on the town. Yes, I live in a one-pick-up-line town. Mark says that he has a much easier time picking up lady-folks here, because they are facinated by his fancy big-city jib-cuttery and novel pick-up-lines, like "you must be a broom, cause you just swept me off my feet" and "Is it hot in here or is it just you?".

My new answeringmachine

"Hi, there. You have called my house and recieved the answeringmachine. Chances are, I am at home. I have not yet picked up the phone. That probably means that I am either doing something more important than picking up the phone or I have checked the caller-ID and found that I didn't want to speak to you. You can try to yell for a few minutes that I ought to pick up the phone, see what fat load of good that'll do you, but I will most likely stay here, right next to the phone, timing your call. The recordholder is still my mom, with 19 minutes and 26 seconds of yelling at me on the machine. Mr. Denby is currently last, with a single "Jerk" afterwhich he hung up. And Mark, it doesn't count as yelling at me to pick up if you are just reciting dirty limerics. Your call may be recorded for trainingpurposes. Now, how do I turn this thing off? Darn it. Julia, did you see the manual for the answeringmachine?" "Here you go." Thank you, but this is for the microwave." "Sorry. You got all this talk all over it. Are you going to rerecord it?" "That whole spell? Hecks no." "Here it is. It was still in the box". "Thank you, Jules. "Press the OK button when done". Well, ofcourse".

50 ways to get your but outta my sight!

So, Mark has got a new girlfriend, but he doesn't really want to. So, Mark needs to break up with her. Trouble is, neither of us has ever actually broken up with a girl. We are the ones being broken up with. So, we need some sort of tip. We tried listening to that Paul Simon song "50 ways to leave your lover", but none of those apply to us. Sure, there is Jack, Stan, Roy, Gus and Lee, but no "Tell her that you are a narc, Mark", "Be a little snark, Mark" or "Say she was a lark, Mark", and I can't even come up with a word that rhymes with my name. Well, there is a word in the obscure african language Abumgang, which means something like "A man who takes great pleasure in itching his left knee while humming to theme to his favorite TV-panelshow", but that is not really appropriate. Mark tried to be a huge jerk, to make her break up with him, but she didn't notice any difference. So, eventually, we wrote down a bunch of reasons for why we have been broken up with in the past. So, Mark called her up and called her a womanising jerk. As it turns out, he couldn't come up with any other reason for being dumped. When I get dumped, it is for specific actions, like spraying them with anti-bacteria spray or trying to remove a tattoo with rubbing alcohol. Or responding to hands being cupped over the eyes and "guess who" with "Judging by the roughness of the hands, I would guess uncle Paulie "Fat Pig" Salvatore".

Doing something positive with my day

I have been following Something Positive for a while now. And I have noticed a pattern. Even if a reasonable conversation is taking place, the final panel will always say something horrible.

Panel 1:
X: "So what about that new TV-show with Jay Mohr?"
Y: "I hate it".
Panel 2:
X: "Me too. The producers must think us idiots".
Y: "Yeah".
Panel 3:
X: "Oralsex from small babies".
Y: "Rape of elderly male cancerpatients with syphilis".

The whole strip is pretty much the story of lives going gradually worse. Like Johnny Cash's autobiography, just a long list of things that went wrong. "So, Davan was just a-sittin' there, when, suddenly, a freakstorm hit town and ruined everything that he held dear and then he fell into a pit of inconveniently placed acid and he got horribly scarred and then PeeJee drank some methanol and went blind and Aubrey developed a taste for butterskotch and killed a guy to get some candymoney and Jason knobbed a boysenberrybush and he got a divorce and then he was playing with a gun and accidentally shot up a mall and got charged with horseplay with homicidal intent and then that cat ran away and was run over by Davans car and everyone insulted each other". It is almost worthy of a countrysong.

Alright, I admit, most of this post was just a ploy to get to write that long list of things going bad. And while, I am here, say hello to the newest member of my family, Tom Servo, my new robotic vacuum cleaner. It is like the pet I never bothered to get.

The original american idol

Theodore Roosevelt was the manliest leader of state, ever. He, and I am not kidding here, got shot in the stomach, decided that he was not shot in the lungs, since he was not coughing, and he went up and did a 90 minute speak with blood seeping out of him. And was he not about to hold a speech, I bet that he would have shown Schrank what's for. Bully!

So, I have been alone for a week

And already I got an overwhelming desire to play Second Life. I say "Play", but it is really only a very advanced chatengine and, as such, insanely boring and filled with people that goes "Any hot woman who wants to send me emails with pictures of themselves in the nude" and "Any hot woman who wants to have sex". But there never is, you fools. If a woman is hot, she doesn't have to have sex with random men from chatrooms. She can get all the men that she damn well feels like just by sticking her head out of her apartmentwindow and say "Oy, you with the big willy and the great arse. Get the hell up here and satisfy my wildest urges". So why do they need you to offer yourself? Use your brain, you idiot.

I think that I lost my train of throught, there. So, I am getting bored. I spend yesterday singing introes from songs from myself, but I always knew what they were. The day before I played Minesweeper. My record for easy was 35 minutes. I am not very good at it.

So, you are leaving me behind, eh?

Everybody is. Mark is going to Chicago to watch an american football game, and is going to stay there for a while. Julia is going with her family to Cutesy Land, an amusementpart for Cutesy the Bear, you know, the one from TV. With the catchphrase "I vuw evewyone, and so should you". Dang bear. They have seasonpasses, so who knows when they want to go home. Ashley is going on an angermanegement course. Not courtordered, surprisingly. She beat up a platoon of sailors in a bar, last week, and, as it turned out, that one guy did really just say that she ought to put some of his PEAnuts in her mouth. It was a sexual innuendo gone horribly wrong. So, I am going to be alone for quite some time. I am not quite sure what to do. Perhaps just mope around the house for as long as they are gone. I could be alone for an entire month. Julia arranged for a grocery service to deliver to my house, so I am not gonna starve. I wish that the friend-audition had went well, so that I would have had some friends outside this circle. Hey, wait a second. Didn't I have more friends before I was locked up. I am pretty sure I did. My adressbook says I did. Aaron A. Aaronson to Zachary Z. Zeddemore to Frank Turnip. It is not alphabetical. Why haven't I talked to any of these people since I was arrested. I should try to call a few people. Later. Knightrider is on right now.

RIP Carlin

Rest in peace, George. Rest in peace. My desire, right now, is to yell out several of the dirty words, but that is not my style. And, I believe that the only way to honor him is to write something that will, hopefully, entertain you.

I haven't mentioned Denby in a while, have I? Well, a few weeks back, he decided that his new course of action was to smoke me out with monotomy. So, every day, from 2 to 5 PM, he has been playing the Tuba on my yard. In response, we have also chosen a new course of action: Ignoring him. So, we haven't even looked at him for weeks, much less thrown stuff at him. But, he is ignoring our ignoring him, so we are really getting nowhere. It is, pretty much a battle of wills, at this point. And, I am a master of ignoring. On IMDB, hundreds of people on my ignorelist. But, Denby is sort of like a really persistant troll. And, Oompah is sort of like the real-life version of trolling. They are just trying to make other people angry, for no real reason. You know why? Because they are jerks. Damn bavarians.

The band of neighbours, friends and hired geeks

Me, Ashley, Mark and Julia decided that we should start a band. Or, we were talking about what instruments we played and Julia insisted. And why not? We can't really go out on tour, but it might help distract me from boredom. I play the violin, Ashley plays the banjo, Mark plays the bongo and Julia, for reasons that I sensed that I probably would regret knowing, plays the jug. We started out with deciding on a name, which is, ofcourse, the most important part of any band. We each had our own idea of the ideal name, like "Ashley and the Ashbury Angels", "Mark the Days", "Julia and the Headliners", and so on. We finally settled on Adamant, but someone pointed out that that was the name of a great singer of the eighties, minus a space between the first and last name. So, we were back where we started. I wrote down a list of the names as we throught of them, and why they were not chosen.

Various Black Men - Non of us are black and only two are men, claims Ashley. Mark made suggestive remark, Ashley threatened that if he continued, the number of men would fall and the number of women rise by one each.
The Castro Collective - Apparently, Fidel Castro is not a well loved, jolly old man, which was certainly my understanding. Julia claims that it is someone referred to as the Santa Claus that brings presents at christmas. I am still reasonably certain that Fidel Castro was the one who brought presents in my home.
Nightshade - Sounds emo, ew.
Nightshave - Sounds infinently more cool. Ashleys calls it the stupideds name she has ever heard.
Intercourse - Mark found it funny. Ashley suggested the next name.
Mark is an Idiot - We all liked it, but Mark voted it down.
PoopDog - Mark suggested this one.
Booger - Ashleys suggestion. We think it might be sarcasm in response to Marks suggestions.
Kitty and the Cats - Sounds to cute.
Psychotic Mailmen out for Blood of Random Children- Not cute enough. Julia is scaring me.
Friends of Sweetums - Julia is feeling better, but this suggestion was voted down.
Hug-Patroll - Julia is on a roll.
JazzMan - No jazz. No suggestion of jazz in my house.

Eventually we settled on Wolfram. I think that it is some sort of chemical element. I saw it on TV once, and wrote it down, because it is a really cool name. So, we had to decide on a sound. I voted rock, Mark voted electro, Ashley voted metal and Julia voted bubblegum pop. Then we decided to just play and see what happened. As it turned out, our individual instruments sounds terrible when together. So, none of us are fans of our band, at the moment. But we are gonna give it a few more days. I mean, now we went through all the trouble of finding a name, so we might as well try to find a sound. Now, excuse me, but I need to get Julia away from my violin. Either that, or someone is torturing a dog in my livingroom. Either way, I will not have it!

9 out of ten doctors agree:

They all hate the tenth doctor. Who does that jerk think he is? I mean, do you like anything, or are you just being difficult? Grow up, you big baby.

My top ten things ever!

1: Hunky Dory. Besides being one of the worlds greatest albums, alongside a couple of other Bowie albums, it is a fine word. "Everything is hunky dory".
2: Soap. It keeps me clean. It kills germs.
3: The previous decade. It sucks while you are in it, but it always looks better in contrast to the current decade. For example, the nineties, brought a lot of sucky music, but right now it looks pretty good in comparison to the music we have now.
4: Black, grey, white and beige. Because all of my clothes are in those colours. Yes, sir, no pink shirts in my closet. And no poloshirts either. If I had had to wear a poloshirt as part of a schooluniform, someone would have been in for a surprise. Yeah, I would probably have gotten detention every day, from principal Mitler. I never liked that guy. Mitler was a jerk, always followed by that slimy guy, Wobbels. Math, with Mr. Van Trasigk, I hated. We used to call him Mr. Tragic. Even lunch sucked. Mr. Sacke was not the lunchlady that you would have hoped for. He always served gruel. I remember once that, for a joke, Barney went over to Sacke and said "Please sir, can I have some more". And we laughed, especially Mr. Sacke, but only afterwards, when he had thrown Barney in a sack and beaten him to within an inch of his life, afterwhich the rest of the staff would get a chance to smack the sack around. Mr. Mitler would refer to this practice as "Machen Spass". I know that I was going somewhere with this post, but I can't remember what. Probably, stay in school. Cut, print, publish!