cut off fingers- on hiatus

every dog has his day

i love my babies. happy father's day to all the lucky dads out there, or single mothers. stay awake, and let your babies teach you, and happy halmark-er, fathers day

hi everybody

born under a bad sign

short synapsis of cool c's week, (i seen it with me own eyes).
day 1-ex girl bails on the lease, as does other roomate. me and c have a couple pitchers and a pie at an extraordinary lakefront pizza cottage. c's ex-girl decides to replace herself on the lease, minus the paperwork, with her gansta-wannabe girl up from hicksville, (where all the gansters hail from). she decides to invite a group of high school gang members over for a social, in c's apartment. c comes home to drunk 18 year old thugs. kind of funny, kind of disturbing.
day 2-cool c comes home at 4 a.m. to find local talent's gang-banger boyfriend hanging out unsupervised and ALL ALONE.
day 3-c falls into the lake chasing a full fish stringer, losing his wallet with all his cards and military id/liscence. swims in lake snorkel style, drudging the bottom for brief ammounts of time. then c, returns home to find a ten year-old bottle of grappa gone.
day 4 we go to the same bar as on day one, and the same people who served us on day one won't serve c without an i.d. again, kinda funny, kinda disturbing.
day 5 ex-girl lied about paying her share of rent and an eviction notice is placed on the door. gangsta bitch tells c she hasn't got any money, and now she's moving to the hood where she was "destined". seriously, her words.

no ryhme or reason for this- just some jerry springer shit.

pissle while you work

school is out for the summer, and all the cool people get to head out onto breathtaking excursions involving mind numbing agents and general debauchery. alas, poor me working long days in the hot sun of, what this? a lake, and cottages. friendly, scantilly clad girls cruising the waters on party boats. beer in a cooler, (wait, i'm not drinking this week, ah f it). probably, best day of work ever, and i'm here all week. please tip your waitresses.

wadda ya want?

so my comment bar is on the top of my posts, and my page looks like hot dead kitty, but i worked twelve hours today, i apologize.

off with his head

"too many choices. they all look so good don't they honey."
all i want is a lemonade
"i'll take the fish." man looks happy. "no fried food, the doctor said."
they've really got good lemonade.
"do you have a baked fish," his wife is fighting for his cause.
"not tonight mam', only the breaded white fish."
"no, no. get the ribeye. is that spicy. he's got an ulcer."
for the love of.. eat some applesauce and get out of my way. please, so thirsty.
"canadian steak seasoning, i believe mam'."
now the counter guy looks annoyed. good. lemonade please.
"no. can we get two dry ruebens."
"dry ruebens?"
i'm smiling a little now.
"rye bread and pastrami."
"that's a pastrami on rye, betty," the old man finally chirpped in. "i want fish."
"you can't eat fried foods."

"can i just get a lemonade please?"
"i'm helping this couple right now sir."
i thought we were allies.
"then get him a f'in fish sandwich and her a pastrami rueben, and then I'll have a lemonade. thanks."
everyone looks dimayed, so much for breathing exercises. i think i'll go get a slushy.

if you dont know vida..

max ernst

i forget sometimes

it's been a while since i've given props to where props are do. here goes;
thank you for sundays. thank you for my babies and family. thank you for sweet girls who can still cook. thank you for watching out for me, and answering my needs. thank you for clarity when clarity is due.

this is a weekend blog devoted to the decadent side of life. i live for the feel of soft breasts rubbing gently across my chest, fast cars and slow woman,(i love the fight), good wine and bad judgement.
also, special thanks to crazy people from canada who keep leaving cool ass comments. don't be shy, come to the mainland,we be jammin.

whoa

moderation is key
moderation is key
moderation is key

no posts = crazy weekend

big hair bands rule

description of self
loner, rebel. work at convenient store and give the rock and roll sign to all my customers. have very long hair with increadable bangs, and carry oversized comb to style. have been known to huff hairspray from kleenex, and get suspended from school for rocking out.

in search of
my paradise city princess. bleach blonde, bangs and boobs. ripped ass in jeans a must, as well as poison shirt, (ratt acceptable). must be open to mosh pits, and making out in uncomfortable places.
my mom will approve all selections.

seemed like a good idea at the time

had a day off, sorta, and took the opportunity to catch up on some chores. i flushed my radiator, mowed two lawns, cut down a tree, and did my laundry, (lots and lots of laundry.) pretty standard stuff, except, the laundrymat has a bar. two pitchers, two shots, and a hogleg later, i'm pretty buzzed. i blame it on the sunshine. my friend who was with me decided to be helpfull, and started folding laundry beside me, only it wasn't my laundry. the guy to whom the clothes belonged came running from his lap top and asked my buddy "what the heck are you doing with my clothes?" dude explained away, but lap top still suspected foul play. i think i got a pair of his socks.

cc

strawberry menthol lingers on my pallet, leftovers from the sun.
searched truthfull eyes and got a glimpse of myself, realized how letting go feels- just sliding into comfort like that of an aged velvet chair.
we laugh late into dawn, tips of toes tingling with sleepiness,
goofy glazed contentment smeared across our auras,
closed eyelids playing back events leading to now.
swelling on the last bit of my tongue,
strawberry sunshine.

pablo pontificates

todos me piden de salto's,
que tonifique y que futbol,
que cerra, que nade y que vuele.
muy bien.

todos me aconsejan reposo,
todos me distinan doctores,
mirandome de cierta manera.
que pasa?

todos me aconsejanque viaje,
que entre y que salga, que no vieje,
que me muera y que no me muera.
no impota.

todos ven las dificultades
de mis visceras sorprendidas
por radioterribles retratos.
no estoy de acuerdo.

todos pican mi poesia
con invencibles tenedores
buscando, sin duda, una mosca.
tengo miedo.

tengo miedo de todo el mundo,
del agua fira, de la muerte.
soy como todos los mortales,
inaplazable.

pablo neruda

spooky

as of late, my horoscope has been right on, down to smallest details. i just starting reading them a week ago. i think the newspaper is catering to me.

walking the line

jalepeno, spicy thing
porching it, cold suds coat conversation.
hot day meets cold rain and i'm standing smack in the middle
love the rain
past and present deeds clash high above the clouds.
timeless battle always a blast to watch.
nibbles on a nervous thumb
outcome hanging in the balance of crosswinds
suspense is killing me.

star wars equal blog scores

smoky flavor exuded from the tiny corner of the bar where me and my party were located. so far i had traveled through six galaxies searching for the princess aryeka. she was said to hold the key to the galaxy, as well as have a smoking booty. we had recieved information that her ship had crashed landed in this seedy little region, but had not verified this to be true. after my third space shot i was all ready to haed to the next quardrant, when in walked the princess. i tried to speak with her, but a groub of nabuan junk traders were hitting her up for any piece of gold they could get. i couldn't stand it; travel all this way to be subdued by flea market vendors. making my way through the crowd, a wooky bodyguard tried to halt me. i smacked his hairy head. the beast fell, and my crew and i hit he gas on the millineum falcon, taking her heiness with us. long story short, we played with blaster guns, rewired droids, and i finally got to show her my light sabre.

f words other than my favorite

false faces forgive fraudulantly. forever fretting freedom friend fellow family fall forsaken for fuel. fallacy fathers fad. fear facilitates followers. famen fallows fate. fueding fecundates fever. feral flowers faulted frequently.

stuff to do

do sketch comedy on mad tv for one season, untill they kick me off due to my uncontrolable boozing
take up sufing
ride in the front seat of a black and white
hang out with paris hilton, and when we're finally drunk enough, video tape her having sex with a fire hydrant, (that's hot)
go to ireland
fight a lion with my bare hands, (and a tazer)
punch the guy who played cockroach on the cosby show, and ask him why he tried to get theo to use drugs
eliminate polio
meet a mermaid
mass produce candy hearts to read eif hearted
milk cats
take over the world