ok so comments are back now though keep in mind i didn’t put them up to fight with anybody so if someone is wanting to stir the pot with me don’t bother because i will not acknowledge anything negative or stupid i will simply delete it and that is that. if you are going to be disagreeing with something i say that is fine, but be sure to at least leave a real email address and your own website address so we can attack you in your comments because then that would be fair, right? right. comments are for a community vibe and boredom and to share ideas and so on so please don’t screw it up this time around. thank you.
Just thought I would write my first fan blog letter to you. I chose to write to you today because today (Dec 29,2004) you had the line “lets drink to the military” on your title, which is a line from one of my favorite bands Metric. Of course you would know that (expect for the fact that you would like it, that would be freaky). Anyways the nakedness brought me into your blog, I stayed for the writing. You and Bill Simmons (from ESPN) are my web internet writing inspirations. Since Bill Simmons doesn’t write me back I thought I would write you because you might write me back. I’m from Edmonton, I have a blog too http://fookthepeople.blogspot.com and I hope you visit. And I hope you like it. If I had my digital camera with me, I would take more naked pictures like you. But I don’t know if people would like that.
German
“This radio station is named Kowalski. In honor of the last American hero, to whom speed meant freedom of the soul. The question was not when he was gonna stop, but who was going to stop him” —Primal Scream
hi german
i went to leave a comment on yer blog then a million pop ups came at
me so wtf is that all about? anyhow, i like that your name is german
and that other person’s name is herman. herman and german. fucking
clever. so how old are u what do u do in edmonton do u have a job do
u go to school is it boring there do u have a drinking problem?
Ok I dunno about the pop ups, that’s fucked. It doesn’t happen to me. If you want to leave a comment you can also leave it in the chatty thingy on the left hand side. Yep Edmonton is terribly boring. Terribly. Like one day I want to start lightining tires on fire in front of the legislature so it can bring some excitement to this drab city. Even our protests are boring.
Yeah me and Hernan used to work together and we always get each other’s phone calls. Even our girlfriends mix us up even though we are totally completely different. The guy loves Oasis. That’s fucking bullshit.
I’m 24 and I work in Best Buy and yep I hate it there. I work in the Customer Service part of it where we get all the complaints. But the upside is that I get to yell at people and tell them how stupid they are and it’s the only department where 70% of the staff are girls. The rest of the store is like a rampart sausage party. Quick aside, what do u think the female equivalent of the sausage party would be called? Anyways, It’s only a part time job because I’m in the University and I have one more semester left till I get my degree in Education. My major is in Math and minor in Social Studies, so I know a lot about Euclidian Geometry and William Lyon Mackenzie King. Speaking of Social, loved how you put the Waldo pictures after you talked about Veterans Day, it seemed liked the Waldos were the vets. Imagine if there was an army full of Where’s Waldos. That would scare the living shit out of the Nazis.
Drinking problem? The only drinking problem I have is that I don’t drink enough. I’m always stuck being the DD. But it’s cool too because I can get all the cool pictures of them flipping off people in Whyte Ave.
So what do you do? You talk a lot about yourself on your site but never say what you do really, expect for write cool blog entries. Anyways thanks for writing me back I totally appreciate it.
German
well i was doing some web consulting since august, kind of apprenticing and learning how to build websites but there was some drama involved so i decided to stop so i may pick it up again who knows. i do some admin. assisting for my brother who is now running this company as the main fire safety technician. this means i chainsmoke and delete crap off the computer and send an email here and there and look like a genius and tidy the place up and tell fart jokes to my brother. the other guy was a fucking louse of a drunk and the family was like fuck you go to detox so he did then he escaped and went to buttfuck ontario for awhile and started drinking again and calls my brother’s work like he thinks he still works there and he sasses me on the fone meanwhile i am deleting all his stupid video games off the harddrive going hahahahahahaha in my head. truth be told i am delaying finding real work ’til i move to toronto come february/marchish because i am lazy and scared of the real world and so i blog and write and have delusions of grandeur and drink all the time and people seem to like it so maybe one day i’ll be an actress and act like my snotty self in a movie if i am lucky. oh and i read that guy’s name wrong. it’s hernan. that’s a pretentious name. i like it. equivalent to female sausage party would be something like “the gash station”? that’s pretty clever. i just made it up.
those are cadets i think on rememberance day. america calls it something else day because they think they single-handedly won the war. oh right. veteran’s day.
in grade three me and mark would be all sneaky reading where’s waldo books and these other copy-cat look for shit books during the teacher’s lesson and we got away with it. snap! after you find waldo you are suppose to find all this other stuff but instead you go ok look for a guy with one leg and his head is on fire and then mark looks for it and you are like haha i made that one up.
that’s sophie. remember i told you about her before. she’s the one who makes you throw her a tennis ball a hundred times. she’s mad at us because we are leaving the house so that is her trying to be menacing towards you and you are like pfffffft sophie you are so cute.
that’s some cute thing on television. if you turn the volume down and play other music those cute things dance to whatever song you are playing and it’s like the cute things are groupies to the music that you love and then you get bored of it after a couple minutes and you go microwave some popcorn.
that’s couch city. well, one neighborhood of it anyway.
i was gonna stick one of these on every christmas card envelope this year but then i went oh ya, these are worth something and they’re not very festive. or nice. and that whole holocaust thing wasn’t either.
fil traded in his triumph for that. remember that one time in charlie and the chocolate factory…..?
these are the mitts that i thought i left in a liquor store in parkdale but i didn’t i left them somewhere at noel’s and he and jim take turns wearing them but it’s ok because i have two other pairs of immature mittens to tide me over ’til i get those cat puppet ones back. i bet jim and noel are getting blowjobs all over toronto because of those mittens. sluts.
see tony, this is what snow looks like and ice and boats and canada.
those are upside-down wine glasses that alex has in this fancy wine cabinet hutch thing. standing near it makes me nervous sometimes because i do not trust myself near glass and i try to avoid stores with a bunch of fancy crap crammed into it that is all breakable and pretty looking and expensive because i have bad nerves and i think worrying about smashing something is up there with worrying about dropping a baby on its head when someone thrusts their newborn at you and you are like no way jose, not until that thing can walk.
i miss that fucking hair. everytime i look at these pictures i look at fil and shoot him a dirty look. @%@$@#$%@%#**&@^#*$&^$!!!!!!!!
sometimes cid looks really fat. that was one of those times.
my aunt drew that. her show was at the steamwhistle brewery and the theme was trains. doi. i kinda draw like her except she actually makes an effort and does it all slow and steady and like, makes an effort like how i said before while i am like yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn drawing is boring i have to be done quick because yaaaaaaaaaaaawn i have things to talk about and animals to be pissing off!
that was at the science centre. something about a bridge and origami and scientific stuff i don’t remember i was hung over and my hair was all messed up and kids were everywhere and i was sweating.
that is a shower curtain, the top of it and fancy silver shower curtain rings and the wall is dark blue and everytime you use the lavatory you get to look at them and after awhile you are like, that looks pretty so you take a picture of it.
everytime i go home and see rocky i think about stuffing him in my jacket and bringing him to meet cid but cid would destroy rocky and then i would get extremely mad and my dad would too so i think one day we will bring cid to go visit rocky and be in rocky’s domain and rocky will be like, hello friend, i love you let’s be friends and cid will be all, fuck you and piss on the floor and rocky won’t understand because he is a simpleton and i will cry for rocky because i am a headcase.
i invented fun.
that younger blogger tony pierce groupie took this picture when i let him hang out with me and buy me drinks. he’s cute. he even brought me chocolates. fil was like wtf. and i got mad because everyone was snobby to him and the young guy was just happy to be alive and stuff. he talks to me on msn from time to time and he is always positive and i am like wow, some hot girl is going to scoop you up one day and step all over you and then you won’t be so positive anymore but then i think maybe some rich hot cougar will come along and do the same but keep him forever and be all nice because her ex-husband was a toolbag and they will write each other poetry in france and wear matching sweaters. that would be nice.
when i run out of stuff to talk about and people are tired of my one-liners i like to stick out my tongue and take a wacky photograph and then i look at it afterward and i am all ya that is totally going on my blog and everyone else is like, when are you going home? never?
From : Raymi Lauren
Sent : December 29, 2004 1:34:50 PM
To : tomgreenblog@yahoo.com
Subject : tom green is a lesbian
| | | Inbox
hi
my name is raymi and i remember watching your eccentric hyperness way back on rogers cable ten because i am all canadian and shit. anyway, i am glad that you have a blog because that is how you keep your people interested and it unites cunty fans across the lands bla bla. i have a blog. i’ve had mine since 1999 and i get 3000-5000 hits a day (lie, kinda) because i am an obnoxious loudmouth who is funny and smart and marketably attractive and sometimes i put up pictures of my breasts and so i have successfully cornered that part of the market. i guess you could say i’m kinda eccentric myself but more in a self-destructive and half-assed i am bored of the world way. i write funny articles about pussy farts and how to be a small town slut and i probably make better jokes than you. i think we should be email buddies and i will post what you write back to me on my site and link you and it can be the new thing you do occasionally, either way it makes me look better. you should read my blog and copy it because it is real life mundane smut. oh yeh im 21 and bipolar manic depressive. how impressive is that. i’m putting this email on my blog, ps.
oh and my favorite thing u did i think is when your parents went away and you painted their house plaid and also the time you woke them up really late/early to watch that bon jovi concert vhs with you.
watched garden state last nite and the whole way through fil and i were fighting over the lead character guy because we thought he reminded us of ourselves and so basically the entire time it went something like
oh i would SO be doing that.
and
well yah but I would have won that retard award too!
but i think in the end i won because duder was on lithium since the age of ten and i understood how the character felt the most because i was on that junk before and so every five minutes more or less i’d say oh well look now he knows how to interact socially again because he’s not on lithium anymore and fil would go, yeh i know, i’m following the story too.
but at some points i thought i was more like natalie portman’s character ‘cos there’s this one part where she makes this strange noise that is suppose to be original in her bedroom in front of the guy and because i am kind of bizarre and bored of myself i pull that crap all the time
except i’m not acting
then we played truth or dare jenga while going through the stoli and soda water and i dared fil to eat a temptation cat treat and he did it immediately and my stomache churned then i started telling him all these ADD-fueled/inspired stories that didn’t really go anywhere and then i had to immitate him so i picked up the guitar and strummed it as obnoxiously as i could and made all these frustrated loud sigh noises and walked around trying to be taller.
then i annoyed cid like how aimee does ‘cos i was bored and it was kind of a setback in the cid liking me more department.
feh.
all this sitting around playing video games reading movies drinking smoking sitting in the tub getting mad at the noise the drops of water make when they hit the water my ass is the size of jupiter and my favorite thing to do when i am taking a pee is plucking out pubic hairs ’til i think i have been in there long enough.
we went outside finally and across the street out the window over my tuna sandwich i was staring at the kid hollywood clothing store and got really mad inside my head over the name of that store and all the items sold inside of it and beside it is bark & fitz some wannabe expensive rodeo drive type crap for all the spoiled dogs and you’d be surprised at how many people checked themselves out in the window reflections. well, maybe not too surprised. people are predictible. nothing is shocking anymore.
at first it was like holy cow everyone is looking at me.
oh wait.
they’re looking at their furry boots.
it’s that part of the season where i fucking hate my looks and want to dress to be obscure and invisible. i asked fil how he was feeling ‘cos he’s been all sick and stuff and he said fine and i said do you want to know how i am feeling? and he said what why huh do you still have cramps? and i said no, i mean, i feel flamboyant.
this jacket and these foot soldier boots you know.
then we marched all the way to the movie store and got anchorman and stopped by his mum’s to get laundry and walked it home and talked about all the fucking salt on the sidewalks and he told me that it raised the sidewalks and i said, you are smart and i think he thought i was lying but i wasn’t i was just taking a picture at the time and reading a text message from jamie about when he is coming to toronto.
i wrote to tom green today. i don’t think he will write back to me but maybe he will. i told him we should be email buddies and that he should get me a job being his coolness advisor. every “celebrity” i ever write to i suggest email friendship and it never happens. pfft. like the time i emailed pauly shore and told him he could ride around toronto with me on bicycles and he could sleep in my futon with me and other lame charming be my friend type crap and he didn’t respond at all.
fag.
i’ll wait a day or something for his response but of course i’ll post what i wrote and how i wrote it because the email is just, crap. if i got an email like it myself i would be like, ya thanks, leech.
“Now, Martin, like most embittered ex-hippies, is a yuppie, and i have no idea how you’re suppose to relate to those people. And before you start getting shrill and saying yuppies don’t exist, let’s just face facts: they do. Dickoids like Martin who snap like wolverines on speed when they can’t have a restaurant’s window seat in the nonsmoking section with cloth napkins. Androids who never get jokes and who have something scared and mean at the core of their existence, like an under-fed chihuahua baring its teeny fangs and waiting to have its face kicked in or like a glass of milk sloshed on top of the violet filaments of a bug barbeque: weird abuse of nature. Yuppies never gamble, they calculate. They have no aura: ever been to a yuppie party? It’s like being in an empty room: empty hologram people walking around peeking at themselves in mirrors and surreptitiously misting their tonsils with Binaca spray, just in case they have to kiss another ghost like themselves. There’s just nothing there.
“So, ‘Hey Martin,’ I asked when I go to his office, a plush James Bond number overlooking the downtown core–he’s sitting there wearing a computer-generated purple sweater from Korea–a sweater with lots of texture. Martin likes texture. ‘Put yourself in my shoes. Do you really think we enjoy having to work in that toxic waste dump in there?’
“Uncontrollable urges were overtaking me.
“‘…and then have to watch you chat with your yuppie buddies about your gut liposuction all day while you secrete artificially sweetened royal jelly here in Xanadu?’
“Suddenly I was into this tres deeply. Well, if I’m going to quit anyway, might as well get a thing or two off my chest.
” ‘I beg your pardon,’ says Martin, the wind taken out of his sails.
” ‘Or for that matter, do you really think we enjoy hearing about your brand new million-dollar home when we can barely afford to eat Kraft Dinner sandwiches in our own grimy little shoe boxes and we’re pushing thirty? A home you won in a genetic lottery, I might add, sheerly by dint of your having been born at the right time in history? You’d last about ten minutes if you were my age these days, Martin. And I have to endure pinheads like you rusting above me for the rest of my life, always grabbing the best piece of cake first and then putting a barbed-wire fence around the rest. You really make me sick.’
“Unfortunately the phone rang then, so I missed what would have undoubtedly been a feeble retort…some higher-up Martin was in the middle of a bum-kissing campaign with and who couldn’t be shaken off the line. I dawdled off into the staff cafeteria. There, a salesman from the copy machine company was pouring a Styrofoam cup full of scalding hot coffee into the soil around a ficus tree which really hadn’t even recovered yet from having been fed cocktails and cigarette butts from the Christmas party. It was pissing rain outside, and the water was drizzling down the windows, but inside the air was as dry as the Sahara from being recirculated. The staff were all bitching about commuting time and making AIDS jokes, labeling the office’s fashion victims, sneezing, discussing their horoscopes, planning their time-shares in Santo Domingo, and slagging the rich and famous. I felt cynical and the room matched my mood.
