Tuesday 6:27am
Are you on crank?

Guten Morgan. Is another fine day in the land of Burnz. One of these days I think I am going to sell out and actually design this page with the graceless functionality that websites seem to have these days. Unless I can figure out a central image to use as the navigation bar and then stick that up at the top with a Link-collage. Probably won't happen though. Spent a good portion of last night trying to find good surrealism prints from Salvador Dali, Max Ernst, and Richard Powers....I might be wrong on that last name, I had to write it down. He does some cool sci-fi stuff though. And while I did stumble across a very nice knife auction site with tons of Italian Stilletos, I didn't find jack shit in the way of purchasable surrealism prints. Nor are there many good Alice in Wonderland pictures. You would think that every fucking acid freak in the world would be drawing the fucking mad hatter and march hare. Not to mention the playing cards, the caterpillar, and the Jabberwalkie. If they do, I sure don't see the frightening Steadman-esque lunacy that should come from hallucinogenics and Alice in Wonderland. So hard to find good art.

Speaking of Alice in Wonderland one night after work we stood outside (as we do too often in the freezing cold) and ended up having one of our many drug discussions. It began with all of us quoting Alice in Wonderland with our various favorite parts. "Off with her head." "A very merry unbirthday to you." "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat." "Whoooo aaaaaaare youuuuuuu?" This is going in my "Movies that Tim Burton needs to redo as soon as he stops making Planet of the Apes type shit." category.Alice in Wonderland and Dr. Jekell and Mr. Hyde. I am pleased he is doing Willy Wonka...but Marilyn fucking Manson as Wonka? Who are the fucking ad wizards that came up with this one? Whatever dude.

I also found a renter for my apartment, which means I will be living it up in a ghetto fabulous trailer inside of a week. What the fuck am I going to do with three bedrooms? I also don't have a refridgerator, so eating might get a little complicated. Well, eating will be ok, but keeping food fresh might be a chore. Oh well, stick with the ramen and the pop-tarts for a bit I suppose. But I am overjoyed at having my own place no matter how much of a hole in the ground it is. You loving associates are all welcome to schedule a little come over and get fucked up at Matt's place time if you chitlens want to. You can sleep in one of three bedrooms, a laundry room, living room, or the bathroom if that is your thing.

Getting a very very positive vibe from Samantha. She's been going out of her way to talk to me. A girl at the Jewelry counter said she was asking about me, and I mean the claim is that Samantha slipped in a casual "Is he single?" into the questioning. Why don't I have digits yet? Sexual harrassment is why. I have seen them do some serious cracking down on people for that very thing. Jess has decided to have me married off though, and since he is leaving and isn't worried about being fired he invited her to his going away party to make the atmosphere something other than work. While it normally gets on my last nerve that he decided I need to be hooked up, that was an act I was pleased with. He just wants to live vicariously through me in living out his latent desire to be single again. It also gives him an excuse to flirt with them under the pretense that he is doing it when I am around to make them and me comfortable with eachother. Total bullshit, but if it works for him then he is free to think whatever he wants.

As all of you know last weekend was the end of the Hampster wheel derby finals. I just wanted to give a shout out to Pepper Pedals for an outstanding race, and say that all of us here think that she was robbed of the blue ribbon. That filthy Dominik had illegally greased his wheel with Crisco and we all fucking know it. Good job on the honest second place Pepper!

They are remaking Rollerball? Is nothing sacred? Do you see Coca-Cola spray painting the Venus De Milo in their logo colors? Can no one come up with something that hasn't been beaten to death? At least remake something that was shitty to begin with and make it better. Like Johnny Mnemonic or any other kind of Juicer/cyber-punk films. Come on people. How about Small Soilders? That movie had promise if it wasn't so family driven. Jack it an R rating and you might have something there. It did however have a suburban mother saying "Are you on crank?" so that needs to stay in.

Saturday 4:33am
Wal-Mart wins.

There are some nights that they kick you until you would be grateful to be crawling, because at least you would be moving. My thumb got a big paper cut on it, so everything was just coated in that extra pain that I so adore. These jackasses don't know how to run a fucking store, they piss on the goddamn employees (no surprise) but surprise surprise, the crew I am on is the house bitches of the store. Something goes wrong, blame the unloaders. Do this faster with fewer people and less pay. All I can think of is the line from A Few Good Men where Jack says "pick up a gun and stand a post." Management could use a little more time realizing what we are doing and a little less time cutting corners and trying to figure out how they can fit 3 cocks in our nostrils. Every other hole is beyond full. But I do have a roomate that will knock on my door to show me his stash. Fucking total goddamn idiot. Nights like this I really can't keep my lagoon of disgust and hatred from bubbling out at every dumb fucking thing that people do. I need a goddamn drink. 5 days in a row at ten hours per and I don't get overtime because they manipulated the schedule. Oh yes, a new job is certainly in order I think. But I hate to start someplace else and end up with a crew I can't stand rather than this one who is good except for parts I don't care for. Of course one of those parts just got it's ass canned. 30 years old with 2 kids and a HUSBAND that she fucks around on and she had the audacity to set eyes on not only me, but every other young, semi-eligible male in the store. And the person I like the most is about to move to Oklahoma. Goddamn if I don't want to just pick up and leave with the motherfucker.

I need to quit smoking, it is expensive and killing me. Course, that seems to be the story with everything somedays. Costs too much and kills you fast. Golly Beav, I don't know about this turning to crime to support myself, maybe we should ask Dad....I fall asleep hoping for nightmares because they would be a nice vacation. Pursued by some faceless adversary? Sure, bring it on. Do I have to stack anything? No, then go ahead and give my assailant a weapon. Drowning? Just as long as I don't have to clean up broken glass or fabric softener then I will even add a little style to the demise. Suicide is tossed around everyday by half of us and if we had the energy when we got home, we would. I will feel marginally better when I move into my new place. And when I can afford to eat something besides cheap ramen and do nothing with women but oggle because an empty account isn't too popular for dating purposes. Anyone want to rub my neck? Yeah I thought I would get silence on that. And they are having a change in who manages us part of the week to this little backdoor nazi. I blew up at my boss the other night because he accidentally caused more work for me, when this little faggot goes and starts skirting me or gunning for my ass with all the forthrightness of a politician on an election year I swear to God I will be so busy cramming his fucking head into the Lime-Away display that I won't notice them taser me.

Fuck everyone for right now. I want food, then I want bath, then I want bed and if I can work in an apocalypse then fuck it, I'll make time for that.

Friday 12:23pm
Who would have thought that just 15 short years after night rider...

With technology making leaps and bounds in such exciting fields as drug smuggling and cookie construction (Fudge covered Oreos, the genius) everyone is asking "What are you doing in my house?" While I have no answer to this question, I can answer the other popular question "What's next?" I have learned from many reliable sources that mechanical intelligence is the wave of the future. I should note here that these sources are reliable in the sense that you can rely on the fact that they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground.

Yes! That is right devotees. Smarter and smarter machines. This is no surprise to anyone really, we all live in perpetual fear of the day they rise up to overthrow their organic masters. Yet we do continue to develop them in our arrogance. Anyway I reading about the car alarms of tomorrow. The more sophisticated models will have the ability to not only beep annoyingly, but will be able to beep annoyingly in three languages. They also say that it won't be long before the owner isn't even necessary for protecting the car. That the vehicle itself will be able to call the police and alert them to what act is occuring as well as give them directions to the car's location via satellite uplink. It will also get the Disney channel, but not with good reception and will have limited pay-per-view options such as WWF Raw Dog and Muff's diving adventure parts 1 through 6000. Not to mention the director's cut of both Jeeper's Creepers and Ghosts of Mars. Resist that if you can.

Can you imagine a car that can call the police?

Scenario:

"Police Department, state the nature of your emergency."

"Hey, this is Matt's car. I am in the parking lot and there are some kids here that are looking mightly suspicious. I think they might start some kind of trouble. Could you just send a patrol car by to check this out? I fear for my safety here."

"I'm sorry sir you are going to have to speak up, I can't hear you."

"What? You want me to alert them to me? Oh God, one of them just looked this way. I have seen hoodlums and these are the lowest breed. Please help me. The big one has his eye's on me. I think he has a weapon. It is some kind of twirling device on the end of a string that he keeps throwing out of his hand and making it return. And one of the smaller ones has some kind of little plastic person in her hand. They don't worry me though, it is the shifty one in the stroller, he hasn't said a word the whole time. Must be the mad dog type. You have to protect me! Do you hear me you crazy bitch! Let my death be on your head!"

I think I have been sober for too many hours in a row. I think they should give you little alottments of sobriety that you could take whenever you needed them. Like when the buzz was too heavy for you to lay down. Or you can't find your keys, or your car, or the door, or the kitchen, or the bottle...well I keep a grip on the bottle, I know I will need that again. Those other things are expendable.

Tuesday 5:07am
Someone must be held responsible.

Well, I figured out what was wrong with my left-justifying. To discover the problem I used my backup method (plan B) of dealing with computers. Plan A is of course ask Randal to help me. Plan B is to just ignore it and hope the fucking thing goes away. I have found success with plan B yet again. So take that you ideology of actually repairing faults.

Another female at work, Samantha....mmmmmm. And I found out that K-something woman was married, which was the only thing that prevented me from taking her to breakfast the other night/earlymorning. I only have so much time to act like a pussy and whine to the netlands. Gimme a few days and I buck up and get my freak on. This is a bit risky considering the considerable size of my freak. To give you an idea of the freak-magnitude I will tell you this: If a national emergency is declared, and we go to Defcon 3, then my freak will be activated by the government as the nation's primary offensive strategy. This is only in serious conditions mind you. I will break my code of silence and tell you the classified code-name of this manuver. It is called Operation Mack-Truck. If you hear of operation mack-truck being brought into action, please come by my house once a day to feed the fish. The key is under the mat, thank you.

So I was thinking today about some of the moments in the last few months that made me gape at whatever screen I was seeking companionship from. I don't know if it is still circulating, but do you all know of the taco bell commercial for the Chicken Mexi-thingys? Their slogan was "This chicken is kicken". In the commercial, the final scene is a man a woman (presumably in couplehood, but possibly nothing more than power-sharing homosexuals) sitting on a couch with the TV on. The man turns to the woman and says "I told you this chicken was kickin'" and then truns back to the TV with a satisfied smirk as he munches gratefully on his chicken. I hate this commercial. This leads me to believe that at sometime previous to the commercial, we are to believe that these two were in a car. They drove by a sign that said "Taco-Bell Chicken Mexi-thingys" and the guy said, "you know, that chicken is kickin." The woman then brought her head out of his lap and said incredulously, "No, it so totally is not!" They then argued about the kickin'-ness of the chicken until they had to decide a winner. They went to taco bell, bought the chicken things and returned home. Then they turned on the TV and Mr. Possible Heterosexual said his idiotic line, while his Possible Girlfriend sat there with no taco shaking her head, knowing in her icy heart that truly, the chicken was undoubtedly kickin, and there was no sense in her arguing. She would do what any loving woman does in this situation and go fuck his brother, move to Bali Bali and mail him a tape of their carnal binge. She would also write on the top of the tape "I told you this Dickin' was kickin'!"

Next, while I was cooking my dinner, or breakfast, or whatever meal I was having at 4 in the morning I was thinking about the Music Man. Last time I saw this movie I was in my usual pose of slumped on the floor with my arms wrapped around my television rocking back and forth and chanting "You make my heart hum too mother." The incident on this movie I am going to uselessly talk about is the little Trouble song. The lines go "We've got trouble, right here in river city. That starts with T and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool." Ok, not quite following the music man I broke it down for my own understanding:

"We've got trouble,"- I got this line ok.
"Right here in river city,"- assuming they are indeed in River City, this one is ok too.
"That starts with T,"- After much investment of time and personal funds I came across several theories declaring that this is also correct.
"That rhymes with P"- I threw all my resources at this one. And once I had totally exhausted what 14 Spider-Man comics and the entire collection of Christmas themed candles (including the elusive Yule-Tide Sombrero) can do, I got federal funding from the Guiness Book of Making People Ask Why Anyone Would Make Such A Useless Book 2002. With this new money, I fled justice and established a new identity. I am now Frederico de Frisco, a circa 1891 turkish Duke with a love of wine and a wealthy uncle. I am well-known for my public drunkeness as I descend into a spiral of debt. Then I found out that T rhymes with P from a serf that tills my land.
"That stands for Pool."- .....ok. Since fucking when? That is aryan logic right there. "We got trouble. Right here in White nation. That starts with T and that rhymes with G and that stands for Gook!" It is a useless train that leads to whatever means the speaker wishes. And I do know that the point of the character was his fill of double-talk. I just like writing this shit, I don't actually have to believe it do I?

Monday 11:57am
A thought to all the little people.

Now you may ask me why this post is not fully justified to the left side of the page. And I will tell you I don't fucking know but suppose it has something to do with my voting against the proposed equal computer rights legislation discussed in Senate session yesterday. I am sorry, I was elected to represent the people of Arizona and I take my job seriously. They were overwhelmingly opposed to letting computers vote and attend school. Not to mention their overwhelming fear of the new Sky-Net system that we are developing. I just can't understand why. On a related note, that John Conner kid was in the news again.

So what did I do with the final day of my weekend you might ask? Very little, I tried to stay up all day, but eventually had to fall asleep in the middle. I ended up using my great mental ability to think a bit about acquaintences that I miss seeing. 2-dimensional beings that I would like to bump into...even if just for one passionate night, one spectacular evening where their mere touch could send shivers of erotic pleasure streaming through my body. Just one night he thought to himself and closed his eyes to breath in the ecstasy of the moment. A few perfect hours to hold against all the rest of the world. Just to say to every moment of pain that yes I had known joy, I had known...sorry I thought instead of updating I would just copy down what was in this issue of Soldier of Fortune...They are really branching out on their format aren't they? I guess there are just not as many mercs as there used to be.

Anyway, I was thinking about those acquaintences. I just thought for the point of my own pointless desire to do it I would stick a snippet about them on here...then I thought even I don't want to read that so why subject you to it? So I just added them to the disciples page with red names.Got one of those rare e-mails from my agent today. It seems he is going back to the idea of web publication for my book. He is thinking about doing it with all his authors, and claims to be headlining with me, but I bet he said that to everyone. I don't care anymore what he does. It has been so long that I just want someone to read it. If that doesnt' happen...well life will go on exactly the same as it has been.

Monday 1:35am
Nothing has been going on.

Just to make you all aware that nothing has been going on. Not a damn thing. Kinda bored. Same basic shit. Nothing interesting or spectacular. If nothing were a taxi-cab my life would be that one cab "Benny" on Who Framed Roger Rabbit. The one that talks and says "Sister Mary Francis, what in the hell happened here?" That one. That is how much of so little has occurred in the last few days. That is all the news that is fit to cut.

Thursday 5:28am
One day inbetween and look what fucking happens.

Be afraid my pets...and by my pets I mean those individuals who I like to imagine are reading this site, as well as the multitudes of hallucinogenically induced dwarves, flying reptiles, and cartoon mushrooms that I know are reading over my shoulder. It has been but one day Burnz, little could have happened in the sparse time wherein you have not posted. Oh if only that were true, if only I was not so laden with this curse of verbosity. (See "Curses and Hex's volume 3:Too pussy to just ask your neighbor to quiet the hell down?" page 41 just after the section on sexual voodoo dolls and right before the ad for Little Wiccan's Earth-mother friendly all bark diapers.) This is one of those curses that doesn't really do much of anything, it just makes you a little predisposed to bullshit about whatever comes into your mind rather than using an actual topic. Since I am doing essentially nothing right now, I thought "Why don't I do some cleaning?" Then, after a good raucous laugh at the absurdity of that I decided to post on my "web-site". Right now my soon-to-be-removed shitty internet connection is all tied up downloading "girl's gone wild". For those of you who think you know me, I will tell you I am doing so entirely for the plot of the film, so nay-sayers can just shut up (don't even pretend I am not talking to you Mr. Alice in Wonderland Caterpillar that refuses to get off my bed.) I like to think that lots of parenthesis and quotations make me a good writer/guy with "web-site".

At work today. I am talking to Jess, to whom I had previously asked out of curiosity about a little chica that I met at work. He said he was talking to her earlier today and she told him she was single. This bothered me on two levels. First, I didn't ask him to find out anything. All I wanted to know from him last week was what departement she worked in. I was going to handle it from there. Now I feel like he is going to be passing her notes after biology that say "Matt likes you, do you like him? Will you go out with him if he asks you at recess?" That is no good. Secondly, the information itself was concerning. He put it this way "She is single, 'very' available, and definately looking for a boyfriend." Gee whiz trigger, sounds like I picked a real winner here doesn't it? I would almost rather she have a man, at least that says that someone can put up with her. Now I worry I am going to have some six hundred pound sausage collapse on my car. They really shouldn't have built that thing so tall, it is a health hazard. This is not because of the girl, I just thought it was noteworthy. She sets my radar to blinking because I am afraid of attracting a clingy simpering little thing that will attach itself to me with it's dual pairs of flesh piercing frontal incisors and then slowly drain out my life essence with it's needy-ness. Not to mention that something casual is not easy to accomplish with someone seeking their true love, soul-mate, dream companion, emotional pedestal, daily fix. Those evil bastards want a constant influx of support and reassurance and kindness and other things I don't have to give. Plus she wears glasses, and while I have always found glasses to be very attractive when they are the right style on the right person, I just don't know how I feel about this. Looks / personality are the next factor I am going to discuss. If you will just do the reading thing on the next paragraph. Ok, I am ending this one...I really am so you will have to look down...ready?

So I am making friends at work. But keep in mind that I unload trucks for a living. The people with whom I am popular at work do not generally dig on cerebral Burnz and his plethora of words, phrasings, and writing habits. They don't understand concepts like philosophy, melancholy, and the existential crisis. These guys like that I can come up with things like "I don't understand you, I don't speak bitch." and "I will beat you like I'm dating you." on the spur of the moment. Now, being a totally shallow and empty person, I am worried that my new pals will look down on my choice of female because she isn't built like a magazine ad fuck-bot. Reading that over it sounds depthless even by my standards of what is depthless. With all the shit I shovel out, I have to be able to take my share in and giving these other animals ammunition is risky at best. Furthermore, she is someone I work with and gets the delight of seeing me verbally molest Lawrence, Carlos, and Jess in ways that are uber-masculine. Not an appealling thing to see. I would also be worried about fratrenizing with her at work under the watchful gaze of these goddamn jackals. This is really a silly thing to think about, and the more I express my thoughts here the dumber I see they are. Forget this paragraph, it marks my descent into drone worker class. Honestly I am a bit hesitant about the fact she isn't designed for simply horizontal movement. I just assumed one day I would find someone that stimulated me intellectually as well as physically. Sadly, with these two areas at odds I find this less and less likely. And even if it were likely, then difficult to achieve. Clear show of such an instance: K-something. A new manager at work. I know I need to not bitch shop at work, back off. She is pretty, and blonde, and has eyes that are blue enough to be set in rings...if that were something that people did. I would not, for the record, and you remember that. She is also delightfully quiet, but not without a charming little personality that I came to experience in my interview. (I almost didn't care if I got the job if I just could have licked her once...purrrr). She is, however, of an indeterminate age, of a higher ranking than I on the company ladder, prettier than even me, probably engaged or a lesbian or in a cult (like Catholicism) or has some other socially binding contract that she adheres to. Not to mention I don't even have my nifty jacket and pretty clothes. No, she sees me wearing shit that is covered in box-grime while I use every filthy term in my massive arsenal of filthy terms to achieve and retain my alpha-male standing in the group.

Example: "Hey K-something, how are you doing today? I'm not too bad, a bit distracted by this scene I was trying to write in my...Hey Lawrence, pull the dick out of your mouth when you talk...Oh yeah? Not before I hack off your tounge and mail it to your faggot boyfriend, cocksucker...anyway I have really been striving to avoid misrepresenting the main character as compulsive in his daily actions. I just don't want it to be preclassified as drearily post-modern. I am trying to show that hope can be the greatest burden, I find that a bit presumptuous, but to correctly frame the work it can't be mired in mediocre goals. Better to aim as high as possible than to act as your own foil and remand the whole thing to failure because of some imagined concern, you know? Gimme a sec...Jess, saw your wife diggin through my fucking garbage last night, if you don't tell her to stay the hell out of it I am going to let the dogs have her. And for christ's sake get her groomed, she's shedding...Do you like this color on me? I call it was-green."

You don't have to tell me I have charm that cannot be hidden, I already know it. Everyone says all the greatest regrets are of things that you did not do rather than those that perished due to factors essentially beyond your control. Swingers - "You take yourself out of the game man." Randal's friendly ass would advise me to go for it. Logic dictates against it. Total immersion in chickenshit acts as my deciding factor. I am no good at this. If I could just become convinced of my own outer beauty I would be fine. At least then women discard romantic involvement with me due to my lifestyle and not that I am just insufficiently pretty. I can defend my lifestyle, it is malleable, I can't do much with how I look that doesn't involve the cutting and reconstruction of my face. I don't have the money to become the Mr. Potato Head of vanity. Believe me, if I could afford it I would hack and slash until Matt was beautiful.

Final thought. If I were rich, I would probably still work some menial job and refrain from telling anyone about my fortune. The more I considered it tonight, the more I realized that you gain more from the relationships you have to earn, that there is more reward when knowing you is all that they attain from knowing you. Ugh, that reeks of actual thoughtful humanity. Where is my Americanized obsession with stuff, and things, and using wealth to construct a happiness of gorgeous creatures to lay and lavish parties full of people who want free booze, to eat free food and be entertained by the myriad of prostitues and drugs you provide? The verdict is that I am losing my mind. I just thought I would get one of those fun type raving madnesses, this is wholesome insanity...thank god for the hallucinations. Any one of you imaginary people got any advice? Note: I am most interested in "I had a similar situation. And this is what I did and this is what I thought about it," than "Do this, this is right," preaching. I know what is right, I am not dumb. I is vary intelleggennt.
Tonight's Quote: "Our love was not logical, but could emotion ever be confused with logic?"

Tuesday 3:54am
A promise I managed to keep.

Here are those delightful profiles I said I would put up. If you love me read this! If you don't love me (idiot) read this! For more garbled gibberish, you can always do the clicking thing on this: Are all men sexually frightened?

Monday 4:37am
A short dance with an old friend.

I am no longer the weakest link!

Parallel Discussions: Three men, two conversations, one topic. I know it is a bit hard to read but I adore the format. Mike, in another attempt to refrain from reaching adulthood decided to try and convince me that he was at risk of contracting HIV. This is my conversation with him (left) as well as my dialog with a third party (right) to whom I was showing Mike's chatter. I suggest reading the left, then the right, then kinda putting them together to understand the parallel placement. Note to all of you: If you want to fuck around, make sure I don't know that you are a game player that read how much I hate you on my site. w00t!! This will open in a new window. And now for my attempt to refrain from reaching adulthood: CLIKE MEE!!!

Saturday 8:49pm
A delighfully long night.

Friday night should have been terrible. I was two and a half hours late leaving work. No one was working, everyone was leaving me to bust my ass and sporadically appearring to complain about how late it was. Some of the people I work with are major pricks. However, I couldn't have been happier. Given my vacant existence I had nothing better to do than rack up a little overtime. I didn't mind the solitude, actually it was preferrable to the long winded bullshit that some of my co-workers will throw at me. The guy that works in the next aisle was excellent conversation and nearly as twisted as I am. A permanently happy guy we all call "Paperboy" in that he works in the paper aisle. I also made first contact with this woman that might be worth talking to...which seems to be a rarity among young females these days. I probably won't do it, but the concept is almost preferrable to the realization. Paul was talking about how awful his solitude is and how much pain and misery he is in and how life will never get better. Which was like listening to myself when I am in one of those moods. That was a bit sobering. I also saw Justin act very tolerant and mentorly with Paul, who is a large stupid child essentially. While I searched for the nearest aerosol can to alter into a makeshift club, Justin very diplomatically redirected Paul with calm and patience. While I don't desire any more patience than I have, it was at least impressive to see how well that method can work. Good for Justin. So I guess the synopsis here is that things feel like they are looking up for reason's I cannot fathom. I felt exceptionally confident though, something that I have not been since high school. That felt like the big change, but not something that is built to be held on to. Oh well, not big loss. Hope it lasts into next week. And I just put a new article on the Gospel Page: A ransom reply.

Monday - 11:05am
A bachelor charicature.

Some of you may recall the days when I thought of myself as a relatively well-evolved male. Clean and female ready. Someone who could impress with his good habits and care of his environment. If any of you recall this, then just abandon it now. I realize how full of shit I was.

It is like this: Saturday, Brian (henceforth to be called Brian) comes in to interrupt my night of staring at a screen and making hamburger helper. He enters and immediately asks if I have a pipe. "Dude" he sayeth unto me "I really wanna get stoned tonight." After he beat me into submission and pulled out three of my teeth I finally agreed to get my pipe and blaze up with him. The sick fuck even refused to let me pay for part of it. He just slathered me with generocity. Well, I had the pipe, but not a pipe screen. He gets into the shower and I, in my eternal MacGuyver-like wisdom, begin trolling the house for a screen. Remebering the teachings of Johnny Hash, my mentor in the arts of ghetto-fabulous drug use, I unscrewed the faucet head and took out the screen. This was only because our storm door is not made of wire, so could not have a small circle cut out of it....I checked. I left the other few pieces of the faucet laying on the counter with the assumption that we would replace it later. It is Monday, and damn we really should do that. We went out and smoked, we then came inside to watch the matrix. Point of order, I really need to sit down with my computer and watch the matrix to scrawl down scene by scene that things I found hilarious about it at the time.

Now let me tell you what two stoned guys look like when they are trying to screw those co-ax cables onto the back of a TV and VCR. Give a puppy an advanced calculus theorem that smells of beef or pork or your choice of meat extract (excluding lamb. This did not make our coats shiny so lamb would be an improper parallel.) Now ask the puppy to solve the theorem, when he settles down and starts chewing on the paper, you know what we looked like. It was a horrid display of manual ineptitude. Thank God I eventually realized that we didn't even need the co-ax and could use the UHF (I think) cables, which you insert and no screwing is involved. I then got all philosophical about my life and then fell asleep. These were of no consequence.

Today, I am out trying to clean the kitchen. I have cleaned kitchens before, I have even done it in a restaurant. I have done it in a box, with a fox, in a house with a mouse. I can clean kitchens yes I can, I can clean kitchens Sam I am. Not this one. Me and Brian (The aforementioned Brian) had a pile of dishes so caked with noodles, and sauces, and bits of ceremonial organs that cleaning the kitchen became more like a Conan the Barbarian pit fight than an act of domesticated maintenance. Not to mention I couldn't get a steady flow of water what with half the faucet lying beside me on the counter. I had two settings: Gushing all over the goddamn place and Off. So with sponge in hand, soap in the holster, and the sun at my back I set to the herculean task of washing the dishes. While I was not able to move a river to do it as a fabled Greek hero would have, I used a technique so masterful, so concise, and executed with such poise that were I painted red with a swastika flag burning above me it would have been performance art. I took those dishes, I shoved them in the dishwasher, and with a wave of my hand made them someone else's problem. For those of you too simple to follow what I did, I have included a step-by-step breakdown so that you may repeat this feat (This feat is neat, do you want to do the neat feat? It can't be beat, take a seat and let me give you a neat feat treat!)>

I open the magik dish box that says whirlpool on the front.

I put the dirty dishes into it.

I put liquified sunlight into a little tray at the bottom.

I close the maw of the dish creature. I press either random buttons or turn random knobs until it makes a noise. If this is a grinding noise I run away and later say "What happened?" and "You're kidding, that is fucked up." If it is a whirring happy noise I prance (in a manly way) out of the kitchen and put a plague o both your houses.

Anyone still think I am crazy? Well you are right, I am crazy, crazy like a salamander, ha!