Are you scared of crushing hordes of nubile young pussies as easy as breathing? Are you scared of bending dewey-eyed coeds to your sexual whims like you were General Fucking Zod as portrayed by Terence Stamp in Superman II? Except General Zod was trying to have sex instead of throwing cars and shit? And therefore Superman didn’t give a shit what General Zod was doing and instead of having to thwart his plan just left him alone, and General Zod just went around the Earth peacefully fucking everything that moved until the end of his days? Are you scared of being like a Kryptonian except instead of flying and X Ray vision our Earth’s yellow sun just gave you extraordinary powers of fucking? And Superman was watching from on high where he was using his majestic power of flight and looking down on you and thinking “fuck, man, I really got stiffed on these powers. That looks way better.” Continue reading
Diary: Light Sleeper
28 MayFucking morning, fucking mockingbirds, my stupid neighbors with their jug-band bass lines playing all thumpy and loud. What are they listening to, these white people in their late 20’s or early 30’s who appear to have a college education. Why does their music sound exactly like what would come out of as late model Dodge Ram pickup truck with spinners on the wheels and a cartoon of Calvin pissing on the logo of some Mexican soccer team on the tinted windows.
Why is their fucking dog barking his head off at something in the three spare minutes I have per day to sit at my desk and write. These – this is what is going to get me thrown in jail. Some animal making some noise at 7:30 in the morning. I sit at my desk and eat shit all day, suffer indignity after indignity; I go out to parties and bars and people are pricks to me; I just suck it up. People cut me off in traffic and I don’t flip them off in case they’re some kind of crazy gun-wielding Armenian whose roots in what I can only assume is a goat herding culture run very deep and thus he has to take action on this perceived slight to honor by cutting me off again after I flip him off and waving a gun in my face. Or God forbid he’s black. So I just sit there and eat shit. Continue reading
You Are Pitiful Insects
25 MayYou are pitiful insects and I am some crazy awesome animal like a dragon or something. Maybe a hybrid dragon/ unicorn. Something as beautiful as a unicorn, but as fierce and deadly as a dragon. And as cunning as the fox. But like, a super fox, with extra cunning, even beyond the renowned cunning of an ordinary fox.
Advice for Anorexics
24 MayWeigh yourself once a week. 2-3 days before your weighing day stop eating salty food of any kind. The morning of your weighing, do not hydrate yourself. Preferably you should have gone out drinking the night before and made yourself piss like crazy and smoked cigarettes and then woken up in the morning and taken a massive acidic liquidy shit. Then do your longest cardio workout of the week without drinking any water, and weigh yourself afterwards. The whole week you will feel thin.
My Future Retarded Child
24 MayI am thirty six years old and just at the age where my ball sack is becoming full of retards. If I met my soul mate TOMORROW I would have kids by age 39 at the very minimum, and I am not going to meet my soul mate tomorrow. If you extrapolate current trends, I am forecast to meet my soul mate never. Or even someone who would not get an abortion if I impregnated them. So by the time I have kids they will be virtually guaranteed to have severe chromosome damage and have to blow themselves around in special wheelchairs. They will have to wear corrective skull helmets and occasionally have the strength of a bear when startled. They will probably want to watch LIFE GOES ON reruns constantly. I’m going to have to buy another television because I need that shit for Xbox. Continue reading
Diary 11/20/11: Feelings
21 MayMy grandmother died. I still haven’t cried about it, and now I don’t think I can.
Crying is not like cumming that way. A weird thing to type after the death of one’s elderly grandmother, but true. Crying is not like cumming. If you are about to cum and you get interrupted, the next time you are faced with any sexual stimulation whatsoever you will blow the load of your life with such force that it’s almost painful. With crying, the thing hits you initially, tries to hit you, and then if you don’t cry right at that instant you aren’t crying at all. The moment passes and it just goes away.
The same with joy. You have about a minute to experience joy when something good happens, and if you don’t whoop and celebrate and all that shit, well, the thing that made you joyful just becomes another fact; it can be fit into a larger philosophical pattern and it becomes: I better not fuck it up. Or: this is just going to go away. Or: in order to sustain this thing that gives me joy, I better not get too excited about it. Especially with girls, if you meet a girl whom you like so much, you know– if you meet a girl that gets you excited enough to actually feel teenage hopefulness and excitement, that very feeling will make you fuck up. It sucks that the state in which women are interested in you is basically apathy. Because that means anhedonia. If you need to not feel anything to get the people who would make you feel something interested in you, what is the fucking point. Continue reading
Diary 3/13/12: Nikol Has MRSA
19 MaySo, Nikol now has MRSA. This means “(Something) Resistant Staphylococcus (Something).” Which is the “superbug.” The strain of ordinary bacteria that a TV news piece comes out on once every few months, that you can get in the gym, that eats away your flesh until you die and normal antibiotics can’t do anything about it. This is the sort of thing that organic farming types are warning us will happen with all sorts of bacteria because we pump our livestock full of antibiotics constantly. The germs, for whom a generation is about three minutes long, are going to out-evolve drugs so fast that we will have created virulent megagerms that we can’t kill. Now we will again be vulnerable to bacterial infection, as we were through most of history and as we still are to viral infection. If you have a virus, they can’t do shit for you.
Well, this feels like a wash to me. 1,000,000 BC-1920whateverthefuck, whenever penicillin was invented: no cure for germs. 1920’s-2012: cure for some germs. 2012- on: no cure for germs. I mean, it was nice having that little vacation I guess but really, humanity survived eons without any protection from bacteria except our immune system; if it goes back to being that way it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
Hipsters
18 MayI am often accused by extremely unhip people of being a hipster. People who wear jeans with a blazer and have short, neat hair cuts, people who have no hobbies and talk about their jobs constantly and are pleased with their professional success use this slur because while I work in the same industry as them I wear tight pants and live in Echo Park and in the scant hours I have outside of the same office doing the same horrible things as these people I occasionally manage to put my penis in a nineteen year old who likes non-mainstream music. They discuss how I must like drinking Pabst and how they are surprised that I don’t sport an “ironic” mustache.
All this tired, old shit– the tight pants, the mustaches, the Pabst drinking– all these tired old stereotype are in fact completely true; there are scores of these exact people whom you could have made by listening to anti hipster douchebags talk shit and then feeding this info into the computer from WEIRD SCIENCE. They are real, and they’ve been around for over a decade, and they share the Echo Park streets with their fellow stereotypes, undereducated Mexicans; a guy with a teardrop tattoo pushing a stroller alongside his pregnant seventeen year old wife. The whole scene looks like something out of Grand Theft Auto, where the game designers wanted to take a tongue in cheek jab at our culture but didn’t have they processing power to make realistic human beings. Continue reading
Cats and Dogs
16 MayThe people with their dogs. What if I had a dog. I like to think I would be out walking it all the time; it would have gotten me out more, and perhaps I would have net a nice young woman out with her dog. You know, out in the park, the dogs are frolicking, you get to talking… and then, you know, she comes over to your apartment, the dog recognizes her; she fucks you. They say this kind of shit happens.
But really, my cat is the exact right amount of pet for my lifestyle. He has his own life. It would be immeasurably cruel to have a dog, go to work for eleven hours per day; sometimes do drinks after, you come home and the dog has been trapped in 400 square feet of poorly ventilated carpeted space with only the smells of garbage under the kitchen sink to amuse him. The dog’s whole life is waiting for the moment you get home. You get home and it’s just looking at you all expectantly, like, please focus one hundred per cent of your attention on me. Please spend every waking second not otherwise occupied, throwing a tennis ball again and again. Continue reading
New Book
delicioustacos 