Archive for the 'I Am Stupid' Category
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Tuesday, October 2nd, 2007The Cleveland Clinic is a no-go.
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All I Do Is Get Sick and Party.
Saturday, September 1st, 2007Hosting a cookout tomorrow, going to a cookout Monday. Never mind that I am currently so fried on Vicodin that I have that Vicodin Grin; and rightfully so, due to the fact that I singlehandedly pulled all the furniture off of the 12′9′ soaked-ass basement rug, removed said rug with the help of Bullshit, cleaned […]
Growl. Bite. Snap.
Monday, August 13th, 2007I am quitting smoking tomorrow with Bullshit, whose sister gets back from Amsterdam at that time - she who started all this let’s-quit-smoking mess. I am actually going to throw my heart and soul into this attempt and have already carefully crafted cigarette placebos out of Bic pen shells, but the problem is that I […]
EMGod Damn, That Stings.
Thursday, July 5th, 2007Just had a particularly painful EMG in my right leg and foot and my back.
I still hold fast to the belief that doctors and technicians really enjoy shocking patients with electrodes and sticking them with long, electrically charged needles.
I guess I probably would get some sort of cathartic thrill out of it, too, now that […]
Robojaw.
Friday, June 22nd, 2007Thank you, O Lord, for giving me the drug tolerance of a professional wrestler, because the damned dentist had to give me four mondo shots (why do those shots look like something out of the movie Hostel??) of Novocain before I started to numb up yesterday.
Now the left side of my face feels as if […]
Decaf.
Friday, May 25th, 2007I’m off caffeine.
I read the PI sheets from the medications I’m currently taking - read them and did not toss them away with a roll of my eyes, this time - and have decided to follow them to the letter, taking the pills at the exact times recommended, no alcohol, no caffeine.
No alcohol is not […]
Conversation With the Me of Twenty Years Ago.
Wednesday, April 4th, 2007“Hey, Thirty-Three Year Old Self. Whatcha doin’?”
“Oh, hey, Thirteen-Year-Old Self. Just listening to some music on my iPod.”
“iPod?”
“Yeah. It’s this little thing here that’s about the size of my cigarette pack that holds about ten thousand songs.”
“Sorry?”
“Also movies.”
“What?”
“You can listen to songs on it, and on some of them you can watch […]
When Rugs Attack.
Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007My mother likes throw rugs.
My mother also likes throw pillows, “throws”, throw anything. “Hey, let’s throw some shit over in this corner!” “Let’s throw a bunch of knickknacks on the coffee table so that there isn’t even room for a cup of coffee!”
There are tchotchkes and fucking doodads and whatsits and items of […]
Not The Marshmallows.
Friday, March 9th, 2007I’m on some thing called 25 Peeps.
Since the photo theme there seems to be nudity, I’m the one holding the sign that says “No boobs, just blog.”
If you’d like, give me a click, which apparently increases my traffic from the site, for which I get…
…a shiny gold Mercedes.
Kidding.
I have no fucking idea. I get […]
Told Y’All…
Monday, February 19th, 2007…that my hair was orange.
Goddamnit.
By the way, whomever is on a certain filesharing program and is putting up phony Stiff Little Fingers files that feature your crappy-ass garage band, you suck.
I hope you have a day job.
Happy Monday.
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