confessional- get off my chest!

five years ago,
i moved into a house, with my brother, and three other punk rock mofos.
their lead singer/roommate, was leaving their band due to the fact he had fell in love. he moved out hastily, and without paying rent.
nobody in this house liked the idea of cleaning, especially the old roommate.
so, i was forced to move whatever was left behind.

in the process of moving the slob's dresser outside for fumigation, a untitled video popped up from behind it.

needless to say, me and untitled, hidden videos, have always been homies. so-

house meeting was called. everyone was asked whether or not we were ethically bound to return the tape.
through much deliberation, though, we realized, no, we weren't.

long story short- dude is a short fat brit covered in hair.
his girl is a super hot bible-thumper, who, apparently, likes to call men whores while she rams them from the hind-quarters.

we laughed, and turned the tape off, planning on destroying it. (this is where the confession comes in).

the tape never made it to incineration.

we sold it to your rivals.

you might see yourself on the internet sometime- making the o-face while the old lady bangs your bottom.

my apologies dude- we can't all be perfect.

we believe you tom

do you really want to hurt me

the bar i'm banned from, is a little whole in the wall dive surrounded by super-ghetto.
for some reason, i seem drawn to this dank den of iniquity.
so, every now and then i bribe the door man and play nice for the bartenders in order to spend twenty minutes of drinking in my favorite watering hole.

the owner is a big fat lady who hates my guts.

ty used to get drinks for free untill she found out he knew me.

i'm going to get her a muffin basket, i think.

just one of those days

stuff i know/ 4 shizzle

kharma is real.
murphy's law is always in full effect.
i'll never make it as a ganster rapper.
if a super hot girl sits next to me in two consecutive classes, she likes females as much as i do.
fast food will hurt me estomago.
beer will run out before i do.
waiting is the hardest part.(gotthatonefromtompetty)

happy hump day, you humps.(j.kiddin-loveallya'll).

walking after midnight

preface: halloween is a time where spirits and lost souls have a short reign of the earth. mostly, spirits can't hurt you.
but, sometimes, people delve too far into unknown realms, and what they bring back with them is far from harmless.
enjoy the tale.

the new moon silhouettes two teenage boys walking along the edge of a graveyard. the boys trip each other playfully. the taller boy smacks his younger brother in the back of the head, than trips him while he tries to fight back.
"you're a dick, bobby." the younger boy scowls at his brother, then dusts himself off.

"don't get mad, benny, get even." bobby was always trying to instill toughness in his younger brother. part of his job as an older brother. that's why they were coming to the graveyard. time for benny to find his inner-machismo.

"what are we doing here?" benny looked around nervously as they entered the graveyard, waiting for big bro's response.

"conjuring, benny." the older boy unzipped his backpack, and pulled out a ouiji board, a candle, and a small egg. "did you bring the glass, benny?"

the scared child pulled a thin drinking glass out of his small bookbag. his mom had bought him a powerrangers bookbag even though he was already fifteen, so benny had ripped all tell tales signs off of it, and in the process, left huge gaping holes where the p.r. patches had been.
"here."

bobby layed out the board on the oldest grave he could. mostly to be dramatic. he figured the more intricate details he involved, the more scared his little brother would get. "put your hands on the signal benny." the two boys layed their hands onto the plastic piece provided by milton-bradley to speak to the dead. "spirits, can you hear us?" the wand slowly moved towards yes, with help from bobby.
"see that ben. they're here. do you have a name, spirit?" again, bobby moved the pointer towards yes. "please tell us your name, spirit." the pointer started moving before bobby had put any pressure on it, and spelled out ben. "benny, quit moving it." the little boy was ghost white.
"i didn't bobby."
bobby looked at his brother, not really believing him.
"what is your last name, then, ben?" again, the pointer started moving without the older boys help. S-T-O-N-E. "quit moving it benny, or i'm leaving you here." the younger boy look almost in tears.
"i'm not, i swear." benny let go of the pointer, and suddenly bobby felt his hand shift from letter to letter, all by itself. H-E-A-D. stonehead. ben stonehead?
the battery lantern they were using tipped over to reveal the name on the grave the were at. benjamen tyler was on the headstone. headstone.
"can we please go, bobby?" the young boy was now crying. bobby thought hard. this was a little wierd.
"no benny. you have to face your fears. give me the glass." bobby had heard of a trick from one of his friends. contact a spirit, then crack an egg into a glass. while lighting the glass from the underside with a candle, ask the spirit to come out from the yolk and into this realm.
bobby took the lighter he had stolen from his father, and lit the bottom of the glass. "look into it benny, while i light it, and you should be able to see this guy." benny looked frantic.

"i don't think i want to, bobby." the boy was visiably shaken. "i don't want to."
"just do it benny, and we can leave. you gotta face your fears." the small boy put his eye over the top of the glass. all he could see was illuminated yolk.
then a leg popped out. then another. an arm, another, and finally a head. the head looked from the candle light to benny, then started moving towards the boy through the glass, growing bigger with every step. benny tried to move his head, but his older brother had his hand stuck on the top of his head, preventing escape.
"no bobby!" the boy shrieked, and candle blew out along with the lantern. damn batteries the older boy thought. bobby relit the candle to see his brother sitting indian-style on top of the grave. benny was no longer crying, nor did he look scared. he looked, almost, happy.
"please don't be mad benny. i'm sorry." the older brother took his sibling's hand.
benny's grip drew tight around bobby's hand. "i don't get mad bobby, i get even, remember.
bobby looked at his brother, a little alarmed by his response.
"and the name, is benjamen."

don't be scared

gather round kiddies

crazy grandpa has got a really scary story

fat camp

excuses for not running:

10)rain rain rain
9)too early
8)too late
7)legs sore from last weeks big run
6)need new shoes
5)have to check to two comments on my blog
4)late night run to white castle
3)alarm didn't go off
2)so depressed

and the number one reason for me not running-

DRINKING WITH BLUESMITH

damn peer pressure

if it weren't for bad luck

rain beats the back of my neck as i walk to get a gas can.
ran out of gas- again. (gasguagealljackedup).
ten minutes late to eight thirty class, and cordially informed that i cannot take the quiz due to the fact i was tardy. explained that i ran out of gas,
and then not-so cordially informed that excuses won't be tolerated. (siryessir).
financial aid never processed my loans, so out of pocket shit getting rediculous. (nextweeksir).
i forgot my lunch that i packed last night for this extremely long day, and am craving a cigarette even though i quit.

mondays suck.

weekend warriors

it's friday. you ain't got no job,
you ain't got shit to do.

another day, another dollar.
can i please be independently wealthy- i don't ask for much.
looks like a cheap beer weekend, but that's ok.
me and slummin are pals by now.
thinking about monkhood. or, is it monkdom?
anywho, i don't think the silence will be a problem,
only abstaining from the good stuff in life.
monks get really cool robes, though.

happy weekend everyone.
i'm just a junkie with a monkey.

it's the weekend(bring on the dancing girls)

represent your hood

i told this guy he couldn't join my gang. (i don't have a gang, on the real.)
guy persisted.
"i'll do whatever, man. just let me role with ya'll."
"you know you have to be initiated, right?"
"i'll do anything, man. want me to blast a fool? how about rob that quicky-mart? whatever you say dog, i'm down."
wheels turning, brain working.
"dance like kevin bacon in footloose.
no prom dancing either. i'm talking rope swinging, door punching, angry kevin-mill dancing."

dude thinks for a minute, than starts flailing arms and legs ridiculously.
i walk away lmfao.

dance newbie, dance.

where have all the cowgirls gone?

this is it folks- the last post for this weary blogger.
we've had our great moments,
and laughed in the face of adversity.

good show all.

so, it's with heavy heart,
that i bid all fellow bloggers goood-day.




untill tommorow bi-s.

haha.

happy hnt- for real this time

be nice to me- or die!

thursday, thursday. can't trust that day.
so far i've..
been stole from,
ran out of booze,
stubbed my toe,
and
reached my spending limit for the week.(andit'sonlyf'ingthursday).
i'm going to run and hide now.

hiders

i'm a helpy helper-ton.
i let this dumbass who i've known for years sober up at my crib.
did she thank me? if you count stealing as gratitude, than yes.
so, just for shits and giggles,
i stopped by and asked if the girl who steals is working. (she stole something very special to me, seriously.)
her coworker/cohort says,
"um, i'm not supposed to tell her buisiness."
fair enough. "my good man, can you just ask her to come from out of the stock room. please."
"yo cuz. i told you, i can't get in her buisiness.
what, you wanna fight or something?"
let me think... "yes. as a matter of fact, i'll wait outside untill you can find someone to watch the register."

long pause- "yo, so, what's your name? so i can tell her you were here."

"ask your momma."

time for some action

time to get back to work, i suppose.
back the rat race, nose to the grindstone, all that jazz.
classes starting again, bills begging to be paid.
breaks never seem to last as long as we'd like, do they?
started running and working out again, (time to lose this summer's beer gut).
feel like i should be on the biggest loser.
in the sumo culture, i'd be macking.
if only i could find me a chubby chaser.
i'd be set.

the living dead

i drank with zombies, and the malcontents.
i stumbled my words, and spent every cent.
i fell out in a shower and howled at the night,
and only today, have i regained my sight.

thx to house of bluesmith and everyone else who made binge drinking possible.

i'm no stranger to the rain

far cry from the rest of the world,
i sat weeping aloud.
not so much from sadness, or anger,
just a innate urge to explode.
pressure release valve, or something.
i hugged myself,
and whispered reassurances i'd heard in years past,
speaking kind words amongsts sobs.
then,
my tears dried suddenly.
as if a brief summer shower,
wetting the ground,
not penetrating the earth.

then i had a beer.

name of the game

winters passed, and i never felt so cold.
years they flew, and i never felt so old.
longer days, and shorter longer nights,
i might go crazy, but i gotta keep in-sight.
maybe, baby
we can run away to vegas.
i heard the girls are hot,
and the streets are full of playas.
that's all i need,
you and weed,
and we can make it.
i wouldn't fake it,
the feelings i present.
just don't wonder,
where my time is spent-
we all gotta hustle,
and so far my road is long,
nothing big-
just singing diesel's song.

the groups i dig

killers concert coming up- rock!

requests, requests

so, i've just been asked by a friend to behave tonight,(BAD D). apparently, i leer at girls who show interest in me.
she's married. aren't all the good ones.
married or in canada

give me something to break

how do i lurve thee

what if i showed up at your house,
screaming at the top of my lungs how i long to be with you, serenading you with a band backing me up.
shall i bring you flowers, picked from the narrowest ledge, of the highest point, from the tallest mountain.
recite ballads, thick with inclinations and thick with innuendos.

if i wrote i love you in lighter fluid across my chest,
and let you strike the match,
would you be with me then.

final scene

they'd pulled it off. she'd just got the phone call from d, and was now packing her ralph lauren luggage set she had gotten for christmas. she wished she'd never set eyes on that damn luggage. it always reminded her of the road; stupid jobs d would take out of town, the life.
the door swung open behind her.
"who loves ya momma?" same catchphrase every time. monotony drove tiffy crazy, but she smiled and answered, "you do, poppy."
"we did good baby, real good. with this score, we can start our own business. no more answering to anyone, no more outrageous cuts. from now on, whatever we attain, we keep. take a week off, hit this next little sight i got in mind..."
tiffany was boiling inside. "you asshole. you said, "last time baby". you promised me. now you're talking about new jobs, week off. we're supposed to have kids, a house. we can do that." tiff felt a tear roll down her cheek. she never cried, but was on the verge of bawling now.
"what do we do when the money runs out- get jobs? you going back to dancing singles out of sweaty nasty palms? go head bitch, but not me. i'm taking my money, and going to my next hit, and no dumb little slut from alabama is going to stop me."
tiffany sat on the bed. d had never talked to her like that. he promised not to. he'd promised her alot of things, and at this point they all resembled lies.
"bitch, get your coat, and grab your bags. i'm not the damn bellhop."

tiffany got a nasty taste in her mouth. like either before or after you vomit. d was brushing his teeth, and tiffany slid off the bed and headed towards him. she quietly picked up the steak knife she had used for the fillet. d looked into the mirror. the foamy white toothpaste on his mouth turned pink, then red. the knife had gone through his windpipe, and all he could do was gurgle.
tiffany grabbed two plastic clothing bags and dumped her belongings from the set of raulph lauren bags. she hated those bags, and she didn't figure on traveling much anymore.
tiffany grabbed the money, and a bite of steak on the way out. a little cold, but still good.

go bucks

victory cry

we took their best shots,
and then countered with a flurry.

the day is glorious,
and the night will be blurry,

but the war is soon over,
so me and my sword,
both lay down to rest,
and spread the good word.

full frontal friday

end of the line

last two days of school for the quarter- hoohah.
madness begins in 48 hours, so anyone in a fifty mile radius needs to clear out.
we goina blow this sucka up[notaterroristthreathhomelandsecurity,sopleasedon'tshootme]
forty eight hours untill a guy like me moves into pure mack mode, at least for three weeks.
holla at your boy, and watch out for the cool pics coming soon.

scene two

tonight was the first night she had been alone for two weeks.
the quiet was almost maddening. refreshing, but maddening. she hated these jobs. always sitting, waiting. d always ignoring her, pontificating as he called it.
this had better be the last time, otherwise she just wouldn't be part of it anymore. not that she had much of a role now.

she flipped through the stations on the small television that was permanantly mounted onto the hotel desk.
damn these jobs. always watching tv and waiting. she should have married a doctor, or a stock guy with a porsche. this had better be the last time.
tiffany picked up the phone and ordered a steak.
"rare please." she needed the taste of blood this morning.

i have no legs

three days of camping=four hours of sleep.
warm beer is totally acceptable at four a.m.
fell out at eight p.m. last night, and woke up at noon, still fuzzy.
hellova weekend.
best labor day quotes:

strangers have the best candy
you ask me for molly again and i shove this poker in your eye.
i have no legs.
my shoes feel, i don't know, invisible- you know?
could you please tell mork from ork to hit the road.
i love you salis.

people say the craziest things on labor day.

wish you were here.

three days in the big city

for starters, i'm just a country boy.
love the simple things in life, and tend to enjoy myself in whatever i do.
seems to me, the more simple, the less headaches.

untill, i moved my ass into the heart of the city.(aintnoloveintheheartofthecity.)
since that day,
life is a savory blend of drama, self preservation, and a grinding ambition for greatness.
and, with that,
i now see a different person in the mirror.
at first, i thought i had only grown old and grouchy. mean to the outside world that seemed to be moving too fast for my beatnik speed. cold and angry at anything strange to me.
then i realized it wasn't that at all. i wasn't colder, i was wiser.
so many pages had turned, that i now could predict the ending ahead of time. know the outcome.
a few bumps and bruises paying off, it seems.
so with wisdom in my mind, and hope in my heart,
i continue on,
walking the hard pavement, enjoying myself to the fullest.

scene 1

twisted once again,
little wobble in the step.
heard more than an ear-full,
and so tired.
"what?"

"wake up jupi." my eyes flickered. lights moved at a very fast pace towards me.
suddenly realized i was driving.
"thanks brah. little tired lately." i was lying. it wasn't sleep, it was stress. the stress prevented the sleep.
"you need to wake the f*ck up. come on, we're doing something here."
that was just part of the stress, the job.
the other half of his problems lied in the mouth of a crazy irish girl named tiffany. he loved her a bunch, but lately she was killing him.
all the damn drama.
"you paying attention. grab the tools."
the two men walked to the front of the place they had watched intently for two weeks now. tonight was the night, no doubt.
air felt good, and so did the energy.

"comon' d. let's do this."