the fonz.

i swear to God, if you got your shit together, don't hang around motherfuckers who don't. they'll end up hating you for it.

biased review.

Instant classic.

Work.

I work at a juvenile detention facility.

There is so much sadness here but you would not see it from the outset. If you first walked in here, you would see brash, ballsy, bullying boys unafraid of you or any authority. But get them one-on-one or speak to them softly without a veneer of toughness and their true core comes out: savagery grown wildly around a broken middle, like viciously thorned vines protecting a soft seed inside. These boys weren't born like this, they evolved.

Ript.

So I got the new P90X videos and was having an intense workout when I was shocked by the next set of excercises-- kegels. It was very disturbing to watch this guy grunting and groaning while doing kegels for 30 minutes. Even more disconcerting was his promise that in two weeks I'd be able to crack walnuts and tear marshmallows.

clint vagino.

i went to the social security office today and changed my name to clint vagino

GOD BLESS ALCOHOL

GOD BLESS ALCOHOL

the simple things.

saturday morning sports.
couple a beers, couple a shots, couple a friends.
bartenders you fall in love with.
sunshine.
sunday nights.
excercise.
a job well done.
sincere gratitude.
making a small difference.
newspapers.
magazines.
good books.
a good love song.
a great movie.
a good dog.
love.

Bullseye.

This chick was hot, man, like unbelievably hot. Like make-a-guy-wanna-write-about-her hot. She was fierce. She was savage. She was every adjective you can think of. She wasn't no blonde Barbie and she was minding her business like no one else existed. Like really minding her own business. I turned my head and saw her walking past me with who I'm assuming was her kid brother and younger sister. She was raven-haired, with massive amounts of black eye make-up. She wasn't a little emo girl, otherwise I'd want to throw a rock at her head. She was wearing this big, purple parka, and black leggings that showed off a juicy, smackable ass. I don't know what was up with the parka, but even in that she dazed me. I turned back and went on with what I was doing but had to look for her moments later. I walked down the direction she went and saw her again. Other dudes around her were staggering. They'd look at me like, "right?" but I wasn't even looking at them. This chick with the jet-black hair and the raccoon eyes was piercing my heart like a sterling silver needle. She had really thick hair, too, that was half up and half down. Her little sister must have been seventeen or so, and she looked savage-in-the-making. Her little brother was fat. They were shopping. This was in Target, of all places. Bullseye, I'll say.

Regrets, I've Had a Few...

I'm not one to regret things(even though I probably should), but this weekend I really fucked up. I was having a great weekend, healthwise, and when I say healthwise, I mean pertaining to "healthy mind, body, and soul." Friday, I didn't drink. I ate well and got a lot of sleep which made me feel good on Saturday. Saturday I slept a lot, worked out, and ate three pretty good meals. I had eggs with cheese and french toast for breakfast, pizza and carrot sticks for lunch, and smoked salmon with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables(organic) for dinner. Then, I did something stupid. I went out drinking. I was feeling pretty damn good healthwise on Saturday, and even sat outside the bar for ten minutes debating whether I should just go home. I didn't even feel like drinking, which I haven't felt in a long time. I calculated how many days it had been since I last got drunk and it was four. I really thought about starting my car and just heading home but then I heard a couple of guys outside talking shit about the bartender. I know the bartender, he's a good guy, and for some reason this convinced me to go in. Long story short, I went in and got drunk. On Sunday I felt like shit. I woke up sooner than I wanted to and couldn't go back to sleep. I had the liquid shits and didn't get any of the things I wanted to get done today done. I usually listen to my body when it's telling me something but last night I ignored it. I did worse than ignore it. I said fuck you to my healthy mind, body, and soul. About a year ago, I was drinking maybe twice a month, meditating in the sun, and working out regularly. I still work out, but lately-- for as long as I can remember, I'm drinking at least every weekend. That shit fucks you up. I have friends who are physically on the decline because every weekend is all about drinks. They've got bellies and nonexistent cardio. I've run into girls from high school whose faces look like they dated Chris Brown from partying too much. Getting drunk all the time ages your face and bludgeons your liver. Healthy mind, body, soul. Listen to your body when it's trying to tell you something. Yeah, we'll see what happens next weekend.

Let Them Be Juiced.

man, i really need some connection to the baseball commissioner. i been saying for years that baseball should not only allow steroid use, but should make it mandatory. why deny the most exhilirating aspects of the game simply for human health reasons? how cool would it be to see a real life human superman walk up to the plate and hit a 48,000 foot home run? the ball would land in the next state, or hit a plane. how fucking cool would that be? how cool would it be to see a beefed up megaman run the bases and score an inside the park home run on a routine double? he would run the bases in like eight seconds. baseball would definitely become america's greatest sport again if everyone could see an outfielder scale the wall, run up the stands, and leap off the rear of the stadium to catch a 500 foot pop fly. stadiums could supplant parking lot cameras to watch players jump off the building and land on the ashphalt, cracking it like the hulk. i dont know why everyone's trippin. there's a golden opportunity here to make baseball the most awesome game ever invented. who wouldnt want to see a player decapitated by a fastball? of course when they're not playing, baseball players would have to be caged for the public's safety

BITCH BETTA HAVE MA MONEY!!!

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night...

cerebral swine flu.

saw a picture of an underage, fat latina's tits today... been thinking about her again... foot on the pedal refusing to let up... numb mind and a mind numbing pain... excruciating workout... five hours of sleep... fifteen minute nap... corn dogs and pot pies... hot hot heat... killer boredom... adult life... single day eternities... don't wanna work here any more... lakers lose... nothing but disappointments... alcohol, sweet alcohol... the drink... bully bitches... everyone annoying... temporarily permanent insanity... inability to poet... rhyming is elementary... no will... or grace... itchy face... they don't know nothin about redemption, they don't know nothin' about recovery... need a break... need a break... need a break...

The Kill.

she kills me all night
with her devious smile
i come for one drink but i stay a while.
she moves like a dancer
smiles like a star
so bright and beautiful, illuminating the bar.
her body's to die for
her smile's worth killing
when she speaks, shut up, give her top billing
i wonder how many
how many have tried
how many like me have reached out and died
how many numbers
how many lines
how many dumb conversations and misread signs
how many quiet souls
stay quiet and stare
at the amazing beauty that's just standing right there.
i sip my drink
get it out of my mind
but i'm only practicing the art of denying
denying that the beauty
is just standing right there
scratching her cheek and flipping her hair.
i finish my drink
and head for the door
before i come back for her to kill me once more.

The Religion of Smoking.

Smoking relaxes me. It isn't the nicotine, it's the act of smoking a cigarette. It's seven minutes where I can stop and think. Sometimes, I'll have a cigarette and be with someone I don't really want to be around. We'll share a smoke, some conversation, and seven minutes later I'll wait for them to leave. Then I'll smoke another alone, in peace. My seven minutes with them wasn't what I was looking for. I was looking for calm. For peace. Seven minutes of unfettered solitude. If you ever see me and we share a smoke, don't be offended if I have another when you leave. I'm trying to relax.