Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Thursday, May 08, 2008


I am recalling the line that Stork uttered in Animal House - "Well what the hell we supposed to do ya moron?".

In this case the we is me and I am directing the question to myself, as much as it pains me to cast myself as a moron. Still being fantastically self-actualized can be sobering at times, (now I want to have a beer so I can love myself all over again), so I have to twitter about and sort myself to and fro which sucks but is necessary in my quest for stupendousness.

The point of all this? It's rainy and I kinda feel like a dick about some things, but don't really know how to get the metaphorical train back on track, or if there is even track left ahead, and if there is track how to navigate it.

What to do, what to do?

Listening to Hanoi Rocks helps, at least my feet are tapping while my brain is spinning. I'm creating energy here people!

I just read this over again and it really makes no sense whatsoever. Ah well, there will always be band idiots to write about if I get too esoteric for my own good.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008


Edit - Way too nice to not be sitting on a patio getting refreshed. That is all. I now return you to your regularly scheduled bullshitting.

Every once in a great while something is said to me that makes me go, "WHUUUUUHHH???". It isn't that I don't hear ridiculous shit on a daily basis, because I do, but I feel pretty well armored up against 99.999999% of it. Just when that one little morsel of conversation that seems so totally whackyjack boociferously insane comes through the aural cavity that can make me blink repeatedly, well, that is just got to be some off the wall communication the likes of which would make a Michael Jackson album cover proud.

Such a thing was said to me yesterday, and I'm still shaking my noggin to and fro about it in hopes of removal.

Shake Shake.

Nope, still there!!!!

This hangs on with more perseverance than a crusty booger on a cafeteria lady's nose hair.

The blogs and pundits are all a-twitter about whether Hillary will drop out of the election in the next little while, and I'm kinda torn about it actually. Part of me wants to be able to stop paying attention to this piece of things and get ready for the, "Rev. Wright is an agent of voodoo who has that Muslim operative Osama Obama preparing his subversive plan to destroy Amurrikah ", advertisements the RNC will throw out there. The other part of me wants to chant "let them play" like the kindly Houstonians watching the Bad News Bears at the Astrodome and let Mz. Clinton battle it out at the convention floor. Dan Rather would have to let the crotch out in his pants if that were the case, (as revolting a thought as that might be).

Speaking of news guy crotch, I saw Garrick Utley's ballsack once. That was pretty grody.

Nuts aside and as mentioned yesterday I firmly believe the Dems will fuck this whole thing up somehow, so the end result in how the nomination goes won't matter either way.

Thus ends the thoughts for the day on boogers and balls. I need to get back to work.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008


My dog just ate a bee out of midair. Tasty.

This beautiful morning has not been fun so far, hopefully the day will be more fun as it progresses. The car is in the shop and peoples that are important peoples are upset with me, alas! Still all in all, I have it better today than that bee. He's fucked, (and being digested). Poor bee, the world hardly knew ye.

$66.00 to fill up my tank yesterday, thanks George Bush!!

Today legions of voters head to the polls to help choose the nominee that will inexplicably find a way to lose to John McCain in November, thus cementing the Democrats as the must superb bunch of lunkhead campaign failures in modern history. It's not like they just can't hit a meat pitch, they can't even accidentally knock the ball off a t-ball stand.

This Gutter Twins album is the balls.

Looking forward to some rocking and rolling tonight.

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo which for many is a cause for great booze filled celebration, for me it brings back painful memories of burning flesh, bags of frozen peas and the longest drive home in history. Vaya Con Dios Cinco de Mayo, I have to say I won't be sorry to see you go for another year.

I had a very weird dream last night, the kind you wake up from and look around yon surroundings to see if it really happened. As I have no sand in my toes nor the sound of waves crashing in my ears I guess I can sadly assume that I have not actually moved to the beach. Oh well, let's see what the Sandman brings me this evening, maybe he'll move me to New York City and I can be superbly fashionable in more conducive surroundings than where I currently reside.

I have to go to Georgia next week, that's always a bit of a culture shock. Last time I was there some Bret Michael's lookalike wanted to hug me at the bar, as he was absolutely devastated by the untimely demise of Heath Ledger and needed some bro consolation. I liked the Patriot and all too but jeez dude, we don't really need to hug it out in public.

I picked Dandelions with the wee one yesterday, that was good for the heart and mind. Simple pleasures, but the best kind of them.

Enough randomness, time to grease the wheels of Capitalism and let the pooch out to further pare down the already dwindling bee population.