Friday 11:23pm
Who writes this stuff?

L is for Loathing - I always had to hide
O is for Ownership - In which you took such pride
V is for Viciousness - That came out in subtle ways
E is for Everyday - The time I navigate this maze.

C is for Cocaine - In the freebase style
R is for Rock - I'll smoke one and smile
A is for Acetaline - The kind of torch I have
C is for Chicano - He cooked some in a lab
K is for Kadafi - Who sells it in his cab.

S is for stupid - Which it helps to be
E is for Estrogen - It always works against me
X is for Xenia - The man who wrote the law
U is for Uncouth - To ask to feel her bra
A is for Ass - I told her it was nice
L is for Left hand - She used to slap me twice
H is for Hearing - They held before the judge
A is for Acquittal - They said "no" and wouldn't budge
R is for Revenge - She was trying to get
A is for Attourney - That was my final bet
S is for Slimy - They said is what I am
S is for Sally - She was hot, goddamn
M is for Mandatory - Years from four to nine
E is for Eckerton - The place I'll do my time
N is for Next time - I'll be sure and run away
T is for Temptation - To make a woman prey.

And this bullshit that was a discussion I wrote months ago which I didn't finish because it really isn't funny or...anything. I post it now out of apathy and sloth.

Friday 1:27pm
Another mysogynistic tangent.

I swear I have said this before. I looked through all the backlogs on this site and my others. I couldn't find anything that said what I am about to say, but it seems too goddamn familiar...

So I'm talking to the single mother. I use queries, I make a show of taking an interest in her. Does she pursue me at all? Does she seek information on Burnz? No, not at all. And you know, it may just be the women I know, but this sure is typical. Ladies want a lot of things. Most of these things are...well they are silly. In being silly though, they are easy to do. But...despite the ease of these things, the females seem loathe to do it. Example: What woman doesn't adore it when you come visit her when she is sick? You sit there and hold her sweaty, bacteria-covered hand stifling your desire to gag at the filth, disease, and animal odor they are producing in buckets that is then being soaked up by their sheets, making the zoo cage ambiance barely tolerable. But you're happy enough to do it, because...you're dumb as a box of fucking rocks and so long as they have a vagina you'll crawl miles through the desert to make sure they stay happy. Or you are just a nice guy. If anyone didn't burst out laughing at that, please be a little more realistic. Has a woman ever come to see me when I was sick? I'm doing the thinking back thing now and I'll have to say no. They did offer me comfort in the guise of going out with their ex-boyfriend to dinner until 3 in the morning so I really shouldn't complain. Hey, I needed my rest and she was bored. Who wouldn't have done the same thing?

Flowers. Lots of you guys get flowers? Now I know you don't want them. You don't know what you would do with them unless they are of a plant that you could dry out and smoke. But wouldn't the thought be nice? I know a guy, Justin, that will say women take interest in his interests, are always doing useless things for him, and even pursued him...I hate Justin and I frankly don't know where he finds these women. Maybe it is me, just the reaction people have to me. Maybe it is the women I choose, but as I said a couple of posts ago, women are all hot and cold. Just enough hot to get you interested and just enough cold to piss you off for the rest of eternity. Actually for me it is usually that they have enough cold to stay fresh, but just enough hot that the police dogs can find them under the floorboards. Now that is good murder humor.

As usual I am off topic. I will say that women can be very attentive later on in any relationship. But I am talking early in the stages. Man you gotta be on top of your fucking game. Funny, charming, interested without being creepy and smothering. You pick what to do that evening, you stimulate conversation, what the fuck do they do? Answer questions and dress alluringly. I was watching Elimidate. If you are not familiar with this show....you are smarter than I am. It is like Blind Date only in this scenario, a single woman goes out with 4 guys and periodically cuts the number down to 1. Women are always in demand, so they don't have to do anything but pad their bra, jog a little bit, and smile a lot and it doesn't matter to us what they are like. This works against people like me. As much talk as their is about avoiding the objectification of women, the biggest perpetuators are the women. Just in a social setting they are fluff. Trim. If I wanted a problem solved, needed something done, or just wanted an informed discussion, you know who I wouldn't call? A woman. Or maybe I would if she were ugly and studious. A note to the estrogen-carriers out there: If you want to be thought of as a person, develop like a person. You know, wit, charm, intelligence. These things are much more attractive than your fat desposits or muscle tone. Although without good mammary glands and waist size, all that means jack shit. Just learn to balance it out or you'll get classified with my man friends.

So needless to say my dilemma about the woman having a child has been solved. I ain't about to waste my time pretending to be enamoured with listening to her babble if she won't do the same. Picky Burnz as always. And this posts marks one year of celibacy....This means I have been thinking about all the pussy I have turned down in the past...and there was more of it than I realized. Missed opportunities because I was "faithful" "respectful" or some other word that sure don't keep you warm at night and definately doesn't have a tounge ring or a bisexual friend. Oh, to have those opportunities back. The good old days. Imagine that the angry guy that bitches about women isn't getiing laid. Huh, does anyone understand this mad mad mad mad world

Thursday 10:13pm
Easy listening, beer cans, and old phone books.

As I write this I am singing along to my oldest CD, a little Phil Collins. Nothing with any impact, nothing with any real meaning. Just trite background noise that you can hum along to. I am very cozy in my home. I call it my home because it is gradually becoming more and more the place I live, not just the place where I keep my bed. Many of you will mock me, but I had to get Christmas lights for my living room. The overhead lights are kind of harsh, and when you work nights your sensitivity to light gets jacked through the roof until a bare bulb can make you nearly vomit with the piercing brightness. I couldn't afford the little spotlights to aim at the walls and ceiling, so until more money comes in, Christmas lights will have to do. I also bought a robe, so I pad around with my quaint green robe, listen to my bitch music, and lackadasically hunt through websites for a couch. To amuse myself, I took the empty beer cans from all over the floor and smashed them. Most people smash cans with their foot, but I wasn't wearing shoes and Matt doesn't put on shoes to go to 7-11, so it goes without saying that I wasn't about to put them on just to mash Old MIlwaukee cans in my own house. If you need something to do on your Sunday night then I have got a plan for you. Get your beer cans (or if you are a pussy, your "light" beer cans cuz you all drink right? Just say yes and keep my make-believe world functioning) and then take and old phone book and sit with the can between your legs and smash it. It is fun and violent. I was hunting for more cans when I was done. It is a ball. Keep a napkin close to wipe the beer splatters off the phone book, and a jar nearby to hold cold water and your sweat rag. Because if you are anything like me, and pray that you are, you'll work up quite a little heat doing this!

So I am having a grand old time doing essentially nothing. But I think after four days or so I owe you whores a real update and not just babble about my lovely robe and beer can smashing. With that, I Bring you:

As most of you know, Ben is down under with the same crazed creature I went to see in one of my deluded attempts at winning "CrackPot of the Year". I did get the award, but was unable to attend the ceremony because I was *ahem* indisposed thanks to the Teller County Sheriff's Office and the Colorado District Court. I did make one of those tapes holding the award and thanking everyone who was helpful in the twisted neurosis that grips my mind. I also got to say "They have been very good to me here. The Sheriffs have not beaten me, I am well fed and they have not sold any important organs to the Italian black market. My trial was fair, even though there was no jury and the public defender was a parakeet named Percy that was only able to say "Roger Wilco" and "Percy has all the ass" and then whistle." Which wasn't true, but you say whatever they want after they make you throw fertilizer at a target on a wall for 16 hours or suffer having leeches stuck to your eyes. The good news is that the trophy they gave me was insturmental in my escape. I beat the trainer to death and then with the help of a gentle, beautiful, and brilliant young scientist made my way through the tunnel system and out into freedom. She then fell into my arms on a black sand beach at sunset and confessed that if she had it to do over again, she would have gone back to that 3rd world hell-hole if it meant that she would meet up with me. She was then killed by an internet stalker who lures innocent girls from their homes to play his wicked game that involves african masks and lots of chains. Ironic since I was locked up for cyber-predation. Oh well, that is what happens when MGM/ Warner Brothers writes your life.

I digress, a lot. The point is, for some of that crazy real-life drama that so many people crave in small helpings when the flock tells them to, I am going to update you on Ben's situation as he updates me. This will probably be the only post considering some people are touchy about having their life stuck up for any asshole to read. Here is installment #1 of Aussie Watch 2001:

Yeah dawg, that would be me, kicking it southern style down under. And this keyboard is a mjor piece f worn- out shit, and I'm leaing this sentence just like it is so youcan fucking see how much I'm having to correct.

The country is quite nice, if you ask me. It's equal in the nice factor to the degree of fucking intensity that the flight sucked.

Sarah stepped out for a while, so I'm trying to resist the temptation of going through her shit.

I DO have to mention how lovely it is to be able to purchase alcohol without being carded though. And I've been smoking like a goddamn freight train.

Got drunk last night and went up to the point with Sarah, which is nice, then came home, got drunker, and went back by myself. And after being swallowed by a fucking monster wave, and having a conversation (in which case I pretended to be Aussie) with a guy that was setting up stage for the party tonight, I came wobbling home.

I'm sure you're wanting details regarding the social interaction status of Sarah and I, so I'll sling them to you.

It's... well there hasn't been one single problem, and she doesn't mind when I touch her. We have sober conversations (on the rare), but most of the time I've been really fucking inebriated... so it's hard to tell if I'm doing a good job or not (because I've been drunk enough not to care). I think tonight I am going to refrain from drinking so much... scratch that, have to go to the beach for that fucking party shit tonight. So, I gots to get mah drank on southern style, NIGGAZ. I swear, I can outdrink all of these motherfuckers... and fuck, yesterday they were giving me free samples at the alcohol shop.

Anyway, tonight isn't going to be worth writing you over, because I won't remember half of it, and I'll probably end up passed out on the floor at midnight.

So tomorrow, I will make a no drinking day, and see how that fares.
I am so full of shit, Matt. I cannot quit drinking.

Talk to you soon, sugar plum,
Ben

This upset me. I felt that there was no reason that Ben should succeed where I had failed. It took her very little time to uproot me from her house, and we didn't ever take a fucking walk together. Once I realized that the bitch is crazy, I dealt with this a little better. Not to mention the unyielding support that came in from none of your at all. That was really my deliverance. I guess if you are as callouse as I am, can't expect anyone around you to be better now can I? In that same vein, Randal thinks that everyone I know from "back home" are all fucked up. Looking over the personalities of you folks, I can't disagree. And that is by my standards of what is fucked up. I think I am going to update the people page with what I found on that external soul searching. There is your update bloodsuckers.

Sunday 10:05pm
A brand new low for the price of a used low.

So last night, as some of you know, for reasons that I am not going to go into now, I ran out of liquor and really really needed some. I thought about stealing some 3.2 from 7-11, but I figured stealing was a really alcoholic thing to do so instead I bought a couple of bottles of nyquil and drank those. That put me right to sleep. Life is good. I slept all day today, and had some seriously fucked up dreams that were disturbingly real. I kept waking up confused about where I was. Why one minute I was holding out a clipboard(in the dream) and the next I was rolling over on my pillow. It was fun, but odd as all hell. And funny thing since you can make cough syrup out of crystal meth....wait, stop that. Reverse it. Since you can make crystal meth out of cough syrup, I expected the attendant to shoot me dirty "you are a rampant drug abuser" looks. She didn't. It is the same girl that is always there when I get off work and she was actually nicer to me this time than before. I acted sick, and she looked at all the medication I was buying and must have thought best to be gentle with me. When I am trying to be nice, I get nothing when I am busy with something else then people treat me like a human being.

Talking to the mother woman tonight, and it dawned on me that most women are all hot and cold. They can't get enough of you one day, the next they barely say three words to you. I am realizing more and more that I am not the problem. They are. I am happy I found this out, because in America, we love a scapegoat. Blame them for my social failings. Guys are pretty constant socially while women are fickle little sacs of estrogen.

Lastly, Randal mentioned the post right before this one. I didn't mean to say that all people are evil, deceptive, cruel, etc. But that most of them are, and your best bet is to not only be careful who your friends are, but to be careful how close you hold those friends. That people are dangerous and unpredictable and you have to be ready to eat one of your teammates if you crash with them in the mountains. You have to prepare for this shit or when it happens you are totally unaware of what to do, how to deal with it, and why you were on a plane in the first place considering you have to be up for work at 6 o'fucking clock in the morning tomorrow. I also made a calendar! It wasn't as good as I envisioned it to be...probably because I was having freaky, semi-hallucinogenic dreams through the many many many daylight hours. I am the link of Calendar's present. There will be two other links coming to visit you tonight Ebeneezer....

Friday 1:3pm
I sure is sick of your bullshit.

In another victory by the great Burnz machination I ruin one more friendship with my sharp tounge and slobbering, rabid inability to accept defeat. Confessions of a reamed out Jew:
DIGeMEkOUT: listen, you've gotten to me, and maybe this'll lead me to have some sort of constructive change in my friendships even. But you and I are done. You enjoy this too much, which is why you have to exaggerate or whatever. And I'm not going to bother defending myself to you, I'm not going to prove anything to you. you're not worth caring about if this is how you treat people, because this isn't honesty to you, this is a chance to beat someone at their game. Maybe I'm wrong about people, maybe you can change, I don't know. I tried, Matt, but, I don't know, I don't even know what to say.

The biggest mouth my side of the Amazon river and what happened? Bitch wanted to go three rounds and got fucking dropped. He provoked it. Don't roll if you got an alligator mouth and a hummingbird ass. I have had to listen to what he thought of me and my "sociopathology" and my "horrifying morality" so he got to hear what I thought of his arrogance, his self-absorbtion and his bullshit. Goodnight sweet prince. If you are going to snipe at my personality behind a wall of constructive criticism you will get what you give. So I am going to go preen my feathers and wallow in my own amoral love of beating motherfuckers "at their own game". Here's some rope, make with the hanging of yourself. I will have the good update later rand0m.

During the very very long discussion, he did say something that I think I want to address. He says that I belittle and attack everyone that cares about me. That I seek misery, that I will forever be alone because it is what I deserve and what I ask for. He isn't wrong. Almost everyone who got close to me either became cannon fodder for my insults and outright viciousness or they sashed (sa-shayed....how do you spell that shit?) right into a cold shoulder. I kept them around if they came back for more abuse. Nothing better than an emotional punching bag. It is true, I do go for the jugular like a psychotic tiger on crank. I've never liked to lose, but really it is more than that.

It is about self-preservation. Self-preservation and social darwinism. It is no secret that I have a weak ego. That I am easily enraged. This enragement is a secondary emotion. It is easier to be mad than to be hurt. Showing someone that just insulted you (intentionally or not. Directly or not) that they wounded you is not something I can do. The best defense is a good offence. So when I get hit, anger is the way I deal with it. Go after them. Retribution. I am not a girl, I am not going to sob at my attacker. That satisfies them. They win. I say, if they are going to break the seal of unkindness, that answer with vigor. Pummel their esteem. Hit harder and faster. This is why I avoid telling people what they mean to me, what their worth is to me. Fuck em. They all turn it around on you. I've regretted every confession of affection to every person, whether it was platonic or romantic. People are fickle and cruel, and the only way to cope with that is to be fickle and cruel. Keep your guard high and your head low. They want to take clumsy swipes at you, they want to go against basic etiquette and hit below the belt, well then you do them one better. You rip out their goddamn throat with your bare fucking teeth and spit it into their dying eyes so the last thing they see is their life-pipe flying sloppily at their face. If you show them your underbelly and they will do it to you. Call me paranoid, but it is fucking true. They've done it, they like it, and they won't stop. Trust me, I've had plenty of first hand experience. Rules of engagement. I hate that it has to be this way, I hate that people can't show eachother simple respect but as long as I have to live with it then by God I won't be a victim. And if you don't have the sensibility, you are prey. Thanks for all the humanity, humanity. Lesser gives way to the greater. And while I am the first cocksucker fighting for the underdog, you can't help someone that won't help themselves. Bigger, stronger, faster, smarter. Urban laws are the same as jungle laws.
Tonight's Quote:"Save the last bullet for yourself."

Tuesday 3:59am
Burnz amuses himself.

I was bored this evening, and instead of wallowing in self-pity I decided to write crap. Since this crap uses a table and my mad web design skills are neither mad, nor web design skills I am just going to link to this bit of madness now.

Monday 4:39am
Unlovable.

Talked to the woman with the kid some tonight. I did it online, figuring that was a safe forum for discussion. We had damn little to say and I failed to make any kind of impression at all. She met me, she talked to me, but when you see me in my glass computer tower my appeal drops to nothing it seems. If I speak to her again it would most likely be nothing more than a conversation where I explain what I was doing outsider her house in the middle of the night. Score one for my so-called personality. I wouldn't have been able to get through it were it not for the Jim Beam and Old MIlwaukee I ingested over the course of the conversation. I can't handle real people, I admit it. I am better this way. Less obstructive.
In other news I got the days off I wanted for new years. I will make sure my honkies know how to get my mad lovin' to their parties. I fear that no one will call however and it will be a couple of days spent with my family. I'm going out and buying some Clorox to drink if life keeps in the rut it is currently in. That is my big bad update. How do I keep fucking things up? On the good side, I did buy "Loaded" for the original playstation, that made me as happy as I can be. I really gotta make something work right before I trip out and fucking lose it. Assuming I haven't already lost it. Love you.
Last note is that as soon as I have the money, this ugly motherfucking site will be "Terroronthe32ndFloor.com" so I changed the little banner to the side to fit.

Friday 2:54am
You're damn right I'm a fucking player hater.

†Response†
In the name of the first amendment I am putting an e-mail I recieved regarding the post below. I think it makes sense, and I will use this as a rebuttal / clarification to the c::onceptions I brought out.

Dear Burnz,
i just had to comment on this last entry because i found it kind of funny. i could be totally wrong and off so please fully tell me if i am, but it seems you hate the men who damage your "goods" because you are the one who has to deal with it, that i understand, but what i don't get is how you can give off the personification of one who has never been the player himself, and I find that hard to believe. No, I'm not some man hater trying to get my point across, it's just can you say yourself you have ended every relationship, without hurting [Damaging] the other involved? I think every person has been the player and playee and been hurt by it, and I just think it's funny how you complain about hating the very thing you are. I don't mean that in a bad way because I really don't know you at all, so, but can you honestly say you are seeking a relationship or ever have for good conversation and nothing sexual? Because in our society, no one does, it's part of it. maybe instead of having to clean up somebody's mess, you should find one that hasn't spilled yet?

I tried to open with defining what a "player" is and thus using that label to describe what I dislike about that type of person. Yes, relationships end. Yes, people get hurt. Yes, I am the dumper 100% of the time actually, and some of those women don't really like me too much. But I didn't lie to them specifically to exploit them sexually. In my opinion there is a world of difference between a relationship ending and a crumbling of illusions fed to them by a person seeking nothing more than sexual favors. You can say "what about relationships that end in cheating? Don't those also come with mistrust and extra baggage? Isn't there a level of betrayal even greater than a "playing"?" Well yes, I would agree. I am certainly not fond of people that cheat either. Nor people who have (as I have done) ended relationships badly. I don't like playing maid to assholes, as I imagine the follow up guys that had to soak up the misery from the pain-capades I brought into some women's lives hated me. This post wasn't about those things though. It was about my dislike for the act of "playing". So in answer, no, (as I said) I have never been a "player". And relationships are sexual, that is the difference between buddies and lovers. But my point is honesty on the matter. Simplicity and my dislike for those who lack it. You wanna fuck, fine but don't jerk some woman around to do it. Or some guy for that matter. That is just basic respect 101 by Burnz as it would be in a perfect world. Lacking a perfect world, all I can do it state my opinion of the matter on MY site. Thank you for your input.

†Article†
I have come to loathe the term "player hater". It has come to be used so much that I am not even sure who the hell I am against when someone accuses me of player hating. I got in a discussion with one of the chicanos I work with about this. I did cock-block him with some woman because he dips his rod more than a lik-a-stick. Not only is it an unsanitary practice, but the socio-sexual methodology is often damaging. Looking at the word damaging I see that it is far too heavy to be applied here. Let's use "with consequences". Through his low-rider, reform con vocabulary I have come to the conclusion I am indeed a player hater in the most literal use of the word.

What is playing was the first issue addressed. Playing is defined as using women for nothing but sex. Going into every "relationship" with the sole intention of milking the female for sex and then moving on. This is how all you street kids understand this aging attitude. A player hater is someone that not only disapproves of this mentality, but will often actively participate in thwarting the player at every turn. Operating with this simplistic information I have come to realize that yes, I am certainly a player hater.

I don't care if both people go in with the full understanding that they expect nothing from the other but sex. Fuck like bunnies then, because everyone is on the same page. No bullshit later on. I'll tell you what the problem is: the playing situation is fraught with lies for the intent of getting pussy. Then they fuck her and fuck her and fuck her all the while pouring garbage through her ear into her sappy female mind. I just know that later on I am the dumb motherfucker that has to deal with her subsequent mistrustfulness and/or dislike of sex. I've had to fight with prudeness borne of some jack ass's manipulation, as well as once because the jack off was just hyper-aggressive. I hate doing it. I hate that I get stuck with damaged goods, man-haters, and every other kind of laid and left bitch out there. They hate being like that, and I hate dealing with someone else's mess because under all that pschyo-drama there is a decent person that might be worth my time. But I can't get to them because on top of that they have a nice ass that random predator model G-10PH decided to tap and then string along with promises of monogamy, faithfullness, love, adoration, and fidelity.

The obvious argument is that if women are dumb enough to fall for it then they deserve it, but emotions make women as dumb as sex makes men. Push the right button and you own them. One idiocy feeds the other, giving plyers the manipulative tools to make any woman, no matter how bright and perceptive, dumb as a fucking deer in the headlights. None of this is news it just irritates me. And ultimately makes me go out of my way to arrest it whenever I see it occuring so those of us that are direct about our "feelings" don't have those trivialized and questioned while another asshole's actions are thrown back in our face when we later try to court some played woman. And the comparison between me (or any other reasonably nice guy) and Mr.Stallion Player inevitably come. Make a move and the compare, say something nice and they compare. It is like being in an inquisition, living under a relationship microscope so you can "earn their trust". This is way way way more trouble than I like going to over a woman. If they want to see the parallels then they are going to. So I say player hate an abolish the cause of those parallels. I'll cock-block any motherfucker I come across with more glands than brains to save me time in the future. I think it is a good practice and highly recommend it.

Tuesday 3:56am
This is the spot for the header.

Whenever I try something different with the coding on the page I get the jolt of realizing how little I actually know about anything. I couldn't tell you what Red 40 looks like, I don't know who did the remake of the David Bowie song that I like, I certainly don't know where the clitoris is, I can't figure out how to stop my VCR from blinking twelve all the time. I almost don't want to learn that. All the clocks in my room blink like that and it is comforting. Gives the room a rhythm, like an artificial heartbeat. Incidentally I have no idea how to make an artificial heart beat. I struggle to keep my natural one going.

Tonight I think I am going to give you some of the "Burnz Best of..." lists. I have tons of these little mentally developed lists for every useless thing that occurred to me. None of these items really had much competition considering there just aren't that many good beheadings in film to fight over the "Best Beheading" category or whatever the item is winning. But here it goes:
†Burnz Best of Film Installment #1†
•Best Bitch Slap - Aliens - Sigourney Weaver gets in a huge yellow powerloader exoskeleton and clocks the queen alien with one of the claw hands like the cunt forgot to get a trick's 40 bucks off of the nightstand.•#2 - The Babysitter - Some guy pops Alicia Silverstone in the mouth in a scene that takes place in his imagination. What hearing person didn't want to crack her in her blonde head when they sat through clueless? I saw a life-sized cut-out of her in a mall once and nearly ripped it like one of the raw pounds of frozen chuck meat they toss into my cage.
•Best Rape Sequence - Strange Days -As you can tell by my video collection I am a collector of good rape scenes. This one was espeically innovative. The perpetrator used a neuro-link to make the victim experience it though his eyes as well as her own. It helps that she was really hot too. Worth simulating at home, in a dingy motel, or the trunk of your car as soon as the technology is available.
•Best Striptease - Striptease -Anyone who I have talked to about porn knows that I am a soft-core junkie. They also know I can't take a subtle hint to stop talking about porn, that I have a very strong grip, and that there is a time when feigning death is the only way to get me to stop speaking. The final thing they know is that faux-death just gives me an excuse to touch them like a scoutmaster touches his Cub-Scouts right after they put out the fire and the night is oh so cold. But I have seen many many many good stripteases. There is no raw fucking, up-close, vialatory, full penetration shot that is nearly as much of an aphrodesiac to me as a well-done striptease. And they hade three different parts in this movie where Demi is leaning over, and crawling, and ....hang on....just be quiet....oh they are truly worth naming the film for.
•Best Beheading - Sleepy Hollow - The headless horseman breaks into a house, kills the father while the mother makes her cute little son hide under the floorboards. The horseman then whacks her head off and it rolls, thumping, along the hollow wooden floor to come to rest just above the child with the eyes looking through a crack between floorboards. Top that shit Final Destination! •#2 - Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade- Some camel jockey gets forced to walk into the first trial guarding the Holy Grail and God's big machine cuts his head off and it comes rolling out with the turban spinning like a pinwheel. In hindsight, that will teach them to knock down our over-sized buildings. It is retroactive cinema revenge.
•Best Weapon Search - Pulp Fiction - Bruce Willis in the gun shop while they rape Marcellus Wallace.

That is enough for now. I am adding in that I have had a single mother show interest in me. Nice, cute, odd, possibly worth getting to know better but...she has one of those little humans that make Matt so very uncomfortable. This begs many answers. Like - Has she had sex before or was this (as I hope it was) immaculate conception? Am I making this woman up or is she the result of DT? Can I be around a child without having the overwhelming desire to use my George Forman Indoor Grill on it? Is she just trying to recruit babysitters? Will I get jealous of the child later and be forced to kick it's ass like I do with other guys that my woman spends too much time with? If so, can I take the child or should I bulk up first?
But really...I don't know how to feel about this. I didn't mention this woman before because she didn't seem like a romantic candidate. I am 5 years her junior and hate kids almost as much as I hate naval lint...and if you know how much I hate naval lint then you grimaced when you read that. I met her at her store. I happened in there one day and got sucked in to a conversation when her and her friend were talking about The September 11th bullshit. Feeling the need to curb the patriotic ramblings, I jumped in with my haywired opinions. It started a little harsh, but after my little tirade (fueled by my exhaustion with hearing about the whole fucking thing) we all ended up laughing. I have popped back a couple times, once to buy a new earring that I haven't put in, and then the day after that because I paid with a check and left my liscense. Each time turned into an affair of at least an hour of bullshitting about this and that. Anyway that is the history. Now back to the topic of the moment. Imagine a dating scenario that terminates on good terms, then she goes to check on the life she brought into the world, and I get too drunk to lay anywhere but the floor after writing (if you can call this writing) on my website (if you can call this a website). Just tonight I got a new hookup to feed my more illegal habits. I have no intention of stopping this. I am still young. She is a mother, she is not young. She is practically dead and buried (I don't mean that as a threat so don't anyone go calling up their law enforcement department of choice and ratting me ou...I mean lying). This isn't a woman that would want anything other than someone to help her feel young again. There is no way she would be into my habits of sitting all night drinking coffee and smoking. She wouldn't find my constant swearing amusing for very much longer. I am thinking too far ahead. But the problem is in the fact that dating wouldn't get sex from a single mother. It has to be in a committed environment. And while I don't mind committed environments in the form of institutions that hand out pills in plastic cups and clean the fecal matter I throw against the walls, when that committed environment is to another human being...But the long and short of it is I will take a little companionship where I can get it. I am very afraid of enjoying it and then having to do the adult thing and stay in the country rather than hide in the bottom of a bottle in some Mexican dive just because of the larva that she allowed to burst out of the chest of some hapless victim...birth works like that for you humans too, right?

Friday 12:23pm
I break things.

I learned today that Colorado has a new "abandoned child" law. Apparently if you leave a child in a hospital or firestation within 3 days of it's birth it is not considered abandonment. I almost called to ask about the dumpster behind firestations. Or the "bio-waste" disposals that so many hospitals have behind them. Those seem to me to constitute part of the building and are a much more viable place to leave a youngster that you just want to be rid of. There or in the glass pitcher part of a blender, now that is a bloody Mary, or bloddy Cynthia or whatever stupid name you gave your fucking bastard child. On the news report they even had some mentally crippled nurse saying "I think that being a parent means putting the baby's needs ahead of their own. I think that this (abandoning their daughter in a hostpital) was a very brave thing to do. That is what we need more of in America, bravery like that." I am going to stalwartly throw my baby out of the window. It will land under the tires of a fire truck so it is perfectly legal. Look at me abide by the law, I am so brave. I am putting the needs of my child above my own. Now go long for a "baby pass" while I pitch little Sammy into his uncertain future. Goodbye tiny one, may god grant you a good life and a tight spiral so I don't have to pick your crippled ass out of some ditch. Man of the month: Joe Depri: First man to die in an avalanche this year. Joe, our condolences go out to the hordes of made-up people that give a shit about you. I personally am taking care of your mechanical friend Jimmy. So all your "pals" are taken care of

Did you unshaven grease monkey's hear that they are assisting in the citizenship of immigrants that give terrorist information. That means that all you fucking rag-heads and wetback have to do to become "real" citizens is tell them where a bomb is planted. If they had done this years ago then we would have a lot more Japs and a lot less "Pearl Harbor". So come on out of the woodwork border runner, plant some TNT and then tell "The Man" where you put it so that we can villify someone, murder them and their people, and you can have a job as my supervisor. Don't look at it as selling out, look at it as fucking your culture with an 11 inch strap on. Who needs alah when you have Uncle Sam? Throw money at the problem, it is the path of least resistence.

New Uno Attack family game leaves father bruised and bloodied after taking his wallet. Draw Four cards you wheel-chair ridden asshole.

I saw "Cool Hand Luke" tonight. It was good. All you idiots should go see it before you are totally committed to the lifestyle of soulless animal. Give it a shot and when you don't understand it, realize that it is because you are devoid of all feeling. I know you are the C-17 robot sent to replace me. Get on with it I guess. Look at that Boeing sticker on your ass and realize you are no longer human. FUCK YOU!. USE ME FOR SOMETHING. IT IS WHAT YOU PEOPLE DO ISN'T IT????? GO AHEAD. I DON'T CARE IF YOU MILK ME FOR YOU PERSONAL GAIN OF THE WALLET OR PSEUDO-EMOTION. DIE!

Thursday 12:50am
Humble beginnings.

I moved in to my new living space today, so it goes without saying that I was rather busy. First I had to pack all my shit up then I had to dig up the floorboards to retrieve the heart of the old man. Then I had to flee under cover of night into the forest to dig like a wild animal. Then I had to lay my eggs. I hate moving. It is such a difficult time for me. Especially since I get stuck doing it every three months. I have found that the best way to move is to make a list starting a month in advance of everything you will need. Or at least all the places you have items so that you can pack by process of elimination. My list looked like this:
-Cabinets above the refridgerator - Ramen and cereal
-THE FREEZER - If they find one severed hand you are a three time felon
-Under the Bed, In the closet, Under the Refridgerator, Inside the drawer on the stove, In the Mousehole, On top of the cabinet in the bathroom - You can't afford to lose one piece of porn. You know how much you cried when you forgot "Australia - The great Oral Reef"
-Get the damn butter this time or you will have nothing to shave with when you don't go to the store for a month.
-Tower - Make sure you bring the princess or the White Knight will have no reason to thwart your evil plot later and then what are you going to do?
-Under the bathroom sink - Another drain clog and no liquid plumber and I won't live with you anymore: Sincerely, The Brain.
-Computer - Oh wait, it is strapped to your back like a mule.
So I made sure to get all that. Then I took it to my new quarters after dropping some of it off on my master's pillow as a gift. I usually just give him dead mice, but I had a busy fucking day so he can deal with it.

As is the way with all things, the worst thing that could have gone wrong did. I open up one of my trash bags only to find out that my whiskey was leaking. Thankfully I didn't lose much, and I licked most of it out of the bottom of the bag, but I still learned the horror that a parent must feel at losing a child. Actually it was worse than that, because kids are a pain in the ass where whiskey is just friendly and kind and makes you feel good. Hell if you take enough of it you can even get away with heinous sexual crimes if you just agree to a sentence of AA classes. I don't understand that judgement believe me, why they would send you to a motor club after jumping a waitress in the alley is beyond me. But everyone is happy except the waitress. When they gave the ruling she even started crying and her fucking jugs were jiggling...goddamn, it is enough to make a guy a repeat offender.

Anyway, I lost my yarn. I took all my shit to the place I now live. I unpacked it and that was a whole lot of fun. Did I make it sound fun? It was fun. Are you saying that it wasn't fun? Shut up. Ok. Once I was all unpacked I did what every tenant has to do when they move into a new hovel. I got out the ballpean hammer, turned off the lights, and did a little pest control. I have so many stories to tell you people. The woman that owns this place must be feeding these fucking roaches out of a saucer placed just outside the back door because they were huge. Just battering through the carapace was enough to wear me out. The whole affair became something that even a true slumlord would be impressed with. Thank God for that gas fireplace, I lit it up and managed to kick a few of the big fuckers into it rather than expend the energy pounding them into a yellow pulp. I admit that I did have to reach for the flashlight a few times to distract the latger ones. I am only human after all. I know the self-help guru says I can do whatever I put my mind to, but lets see him club a fucking 8 foot beetle to death with a candleabra. It isn't as fucking easy as it sounds.

I had to open a chili can with my screwdriver. If you buy things in a can, be a smarter person than I am and buy a can opener. I was too cheap to spend the money...I suppose I shoud learn from that mistake, but I won't. And when I do it again I will make you listen to me about it because odds are good that I have been drinking by the time I get to writing this web-log bullshit.\ Why do people enjoy this? I don't understand it. Thnanks to Ben for taking the pressure off me to feel like I should put something up. Post anytime sugar pop. Hell that goes for the 0% of the population that reads this.

It was a good day though. And now I am resting comfortably on top of my desk with a fully loaded pistol and a can of raid. Ok, I have two cans of raid. One for the bugs and one to snort to stay awake. For all you junkies out there: Try the Household Flea and Tick Bomb. You won't regret any of the 14 hours of dry heaves or the 12 - 17 hours of unconsciousness.

Wednesday 1:55am
Bring on the Ben.

(following in Matt's footsteps here and giving you the time although I don't really see the point in it)

Had a temper tantrum last night and thought I could take on the formidable adversary of Oak Door. Needless to say, nobody actually won, but I think he got my fucking point. And now I've broken my left hand in two nice little places, which (also needless to say) is making the task of typing infinitely more difficult.

I'm not especially fucked though, because I still retain full use of my right hand (you sick fucks can read into that however you like).

I think I started off with a digression (oxymoron?), so don't worry, I'm under the impression that this can't get too much more painful to read. I just felt the need to bitch like a whiny princess during her pre- menstrual cycle on a scale larger than me being the only one to hear it, and, sadly, the only vehicle I can think of at the time is the Internet. So e-fuck you if you don't like it, write me telling me what a jackass I am for complaining and you'll end up with a cyberfoot in your www.ass.com, Mr. Sass-Mouth.

All I'm really saying is that nowadays everybody is using the Internet for their complaint whore, so I'm jumping on the proverbial band wagon and giving you this lovely piece of shit you see right here. Just in time for the holidays, too. Faggots.

This is what ails me currently (I add "currently" because if it's not this, it's going to be something else sooner or later); lack of proper communication and/or the ability to reason while drunk. I mean fuck, why does alcohol carry that burden along with it? (Or is that the entire point of consuming it?) The times I really want to say something meaningful, full of verve, and profound are the times I'm totally fucking soused in Jack Daniel's or one of his equally depraved cousins. And this usually happens in front of somebody I really do care about (believe it or not, I'm capable of this sentient action. I have aptitude in SOME areas, you insensitive fuck). Then you have to wake up the next day and worry over how much you've ruined your already self-centered image in that person's opinion.

Only thing to do, then, is make a point in the fashion of kicking in the sheetrock. Then look at the person you were previously engaged in dialogue with like you sincerely forgot your schizo medication that morning. Sweating profusely helps too. You can also add an "I'm crazy, I fucking swear!" to that while slowly wiping your arm across your forehead. Just don't make it too melodramatic, or you could end up looking like a clownish troll, which has the opposite effect.

So you know what I'm REALLY mad at? Me. Fucking me. The alcohol shit is just a guise, because I can't fully come out and admit that I'm a jackass for choosing the wrong words and composing myself like a four year old on a crack high. Giddy little schoolgirl fucking ass goddamn shit. *sigh* There, now that feels MUCH better. *gives a knowing look to the oak door* Best to keep your fucking eyes off me, shit-for-brains.

Hey Matt, consider writing a "Chicken Soup for the Socially Inept" article, would you? I really can't write anymore because my hand deems this action bad, and is filing it under the "not good, and other stuff that sucks" category right now.

Mean people suck! :) :) :) :) :) WELL FUCK YOU!

Hippies....