fil is turning three-hundred on friday and i am trying to convince patrick to have a big yuppie party that we all can show up at after the em haines thing. i figure a party will cheer everybody up. patrick and his young thing gone done broke up. i tole him we won’t be able to show up ’til maybe 1 30 or two or so in the morning. i know that it is last minute and selfish to ask of a yuppie party but that’s how things work these days when everyone is miserable and drinking a lot and it is cold out and we all hate ourselves and pretend that our lives aren’t awful, i guess.
anyhow, right now we are waiting for markus to finish up in the tanning salon so we can meet him for a beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer or two. i know, markus + tanning salon = sounds faggy. markus is going to someplace hot for two weeks with his girlfriend so he is getting a jumpstart on the shit i guess. markus had his picture in the townie hoity-toity paper what comes out and brags about local businesses and other fancy yuppie shit and we like to look at it a lot and make fun of it a lot because it goes into great detail about his hair and how it was cut and then about his clothes which we know he only got to borrow and it’s pretty classist the whole crap altogether but so what, i’d’ve done it if i had my own shoppe though the expression on my face would have been a lot cooler.
anyway.
all i really wanted to do was post that picture i drew and then i started writing about fil’s birthday which turned into making fun of markus and now i feel bad.
holy shit! no wonder blondes are dumb. there is only time to think about your fucking hair when you are blonde, i swear! it’s ridiculous. making it straight and keeping it not-big, as in, frizzy crackly dry is ruining my life and i have to think about it a lot and then when i see other blondes with their nice hair ends and then look at my hair ends i feel like a big lazy hippie and i want to hide in a library forever and make myself a pair of spectacles out of multi-coloured pipe cleaners and then i am looking at all the pictures of me with long black hair and it makes me hate myself, just a little bit. and i am still not use to walking around with this obnoxious hair, i want to hide it with hats and stupid ponytails and then when i go to all the trouble of making it nice and sleek and straight and i go out and take off my hat and NOBODY CARES OR SAYS ANYTHING AT ALL ABOUT IT I WANT TO KICK OUT A WINDOW AND SMASH THINGS BECAUSE HELLO MY HAIR IS A WHOLE OTHER COLOUR NOW AND IT WAS EXPENSIVE SO FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGE IT AND KISS IT YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
anyway.
blonde hair = my new enemy = it’s too late to turn back now = something new to complain about = awesome
the following is a tale sent to me from my nice ladyfriend in England where she says in her town everybody knows everybody so i am not allowed to say exactly where, not until she moves away from it i guess, if ever, that is when you are allowed to s-talk everybody.
OK.. something sorta funny and or dark.. thats a toughie but after having
gone for a poo and read the backs of all the shampoo bottles nearby for
inspiration I can only offer this story which begins with the weirdos who
lived in the bungalow next to my house when I was a kid.
From the very start they werent right because they lived in a bungalow which
was set in the middle of a row of terraced houses so it was like a whole
bunch of terraces had been removed and an oddball bungalow stuck in the
middle. So they had a grumpy fat son and a grumpy fat daughter who never
spoke but she used to go out wearing a pair of bright pink stilletto heels
and a black jacket which I always thought was the height of fashion and I
wasnt allowed to have that kind of stuff so I just stayed in my room all the
time trying to dress like Madonna a la Material Girl stylee and Id peep thru
the gap in my bedroom curtains and watch the grumpy daughter walk down the
road every day wearing those shoes I wanted. The grumpy parents of the son
and daughter never spoke to my family not even if we were standing in our
front garden. The dad drove an ugly brown Citroen car which he parked in the
driveway and he always shut the gates behind it and the lock on the gates
made a little arc shaped groove in the cement on the driveway where it had
opened and closed so many times. They always shut the gates because they had
a dog which was a labrador – a black one. I dont know that dogs name to this
day but guess what – yep – it was grumpy but I loved dogs so in my
estimation it was the best of a bad lot… a rose between a bunch of
thorns.Out of the blue the grumpy mother waddled up to the fence between our
gardens one day as my mum was trying to find the front door key and she
asked if we would look after the dog while they went on holiday. My mum said
ok and when we got inside the house she launched into disbelief that the
rude bitch had the balls to never talk to us and then ask for a favour as
large as that and I remember a whole load of kiwi fruits fell out of a tear
in the bag of shopping mum was holding in the hallway and she said ‘shit’.
The fat grumpy lot all went on holiday and left us with the door key and on
the first day I went round their house. Thru the first black wrought iron
gate and the second and to the back door where once I opened the door I was
confronted with a pissed off black Lab dog growling at me. I liked dogs and
I didnt like to see him upset so I filled his bowl up with food and then
looked around the kitchen to see what stuff they had. I remember the kitchen
was green and the floor had brown tiles. The dog didnt want its food so I
took it for a walk and when I brought it home it snarled at me when I took
the lead off its collar. Just as I was going to leave I gave the pissed off
dog a hug and that is when it snapped and tore a hole in my face near my
mouth.
And that is when my mum came running over to see where I had been and she
saw blood down the front of my favourite white t-shirt with a whale on it.
So she grabbed the nearby garden pitchfork and jabbed it at the dog to get
it in the house and ushered me back to our house.
I looked in the mirror in the bathroom and saw the hole in my face and stuck
my tongue through it. A drip of blood landed on the corner of the small rug
which also had a whale on it. My family liked whales.
Several weeks after the incident I had the stitches removed and ended up
with a giant scab which I was itching to pick. My mum threatened me with
death if I picked it because it would scar my face. My finger nail scraped
nervously at the edge of the scab day and night, slowly flaking tiny pieces
of the edge of it away… making sure never to make it bleed.But I couldnt
stand it.
I took my bike across to the pavement on the other side of the road because
it was smoother over there. One of the neighbourhood kids was in her front
garden and saw me riding up and down. She didnt like me on her side of the
street so I rode up and down more, making her angry. She kept telling me to
go on my side of the street but I taunted her. And thats when she went off
and came back with a really big branch from a tree and dangled it over the
fence to knock me off my bike.
She didnt succeed but with some quick thinking I dropped my bike and grabbed
my face yelling “OWWwwwweeee” and I ran like the clappers to my bedroom and
took great delight in ripping that big ass scab off my face…. and stood in
horror as the hole opened up again…
and then lied my ass off to my mum when she screamed at me!
“it was Sarahs fault!” I shrieked.
Sarah got the ass beating of her life and I rode up and down that side of
the road alllll week while she watched from the window of her room where she
i mean, i try to stay away from backstabbing et al
raymi says:
boring
nowlf says:
yeah, im just really busy here at work
nowlf says:
and then at 4 we’re going to the ************ for a secret santa homo fest
raymi says:
thats fucking gay
nowlf says:
but i dont want to go because i have so much work to do.
nowlf says:
how sad is that?
raymi says:
what did u buy for the secret douchebag?
nowlf says:
its a lose/lose all around
raymi says:
coal?
nowlf says:
i bottle a bottle of bourbon, stuck a pair of black runnber gloves on it, and afixed a pack of lube and a note saying “keep it loose”
nowlf says:
i bottle a bottle. nice.
raymi says:
you are so clever
raymi says:
kind even
nowlf says:
Runnber. what the fuck is wrong with me
nowlf says:
usually i buy crap for them
raymi says:
working too much typos happen
nowlf says:
i mean, someone has to lose at secret santa
nowlf says:
if everyone got nice agreeable gifts there’s be no fun
nowlf says:
one year i bought a frozen turkey, bag of potatos, onions, box of stuffing.. you
know, everything for xmas dinner in a big 50pound garbage bag
nowlf says:
recipient didnt dig it much
nowlf says:
carrying it on the subway..
raymi says:
well what an unappreciative cunty fucker
nowlf says:
thats what i told her in front of everyone..
raymi says:
did she know that it was from you? cos isn’t it suppose to be a secret thing?
raymi says:
or you just couldnt contain yer pissed-offness
nowlf says:
yeah, i just exploded and raged for an hour at the restaurant — going along the lineup of coworkers, telling each and every one of them specifically what i hated about them
raymi says:
and then you got promoted, right?
nowlf says:
no, i went from blacksheep to madcow disease sheep
raymi says:
fuckin right
raymi says:
remember u told me about the time u broke into some girl’s place when she was away and completely rearranged all of her furniture and she didn’t appreciate it at all?
nowlf says:
yes
nowlf says:
though it wasnt as much a lack of appreciation, as it was fear.
raymi says:
how do u feel about that
nowlf says:
i felt bad that i made her cry. but i think she found it worthwhile, in the interesting vein, in the end.
raymi says:
did u at least get laid out of it
raymi says:
why the fuck did she cry?
raymi says:
she should have been flattered
nowlf says:
she’s timid by nature. i had no idea. though im sure i wouldve done it all over again anyway
i snored last nite watching dodgeball and i swatted when i was told to go off to bed and i was almost left on the couch for a laugh.
we’ve now added a bass to the band and things are, cooler, i guess.
because of all the smoking and talking and late-nites what is my life, in the morning i sound like a craggy old man/going-thru-puberty boy and it lasts all fucking day long until maybe 7 or so and i’m worried i am going to sound like this forever.
like courtney love, basically.
i have to ham it up and talk like a mouse or three year old girl or some made-up cartoon character not invented yet so as to not strain my vocal-chords and everytime i pass a dog/cat/little kid on the street it’s a huge sigh of relief/excuse to talk like this at/to them and the kid is all over it and the parents are like, harhuhuhuhuh, what is her problem?
shut up, it’s genetic.
rocky the cat is getting his haircut today so he can look like a little monkey and hide in the christmas tree that’s existed since christmas was invented.
when i wake up in the morning, because my hair is now that multi-coloured blondeness (fried/dried-out/fucked) – my hair is all farrah fawcetty, bird’s nest, all over the place and when i go to the coffeeplace with my heroin-addict/movie star sunglasses the girls swoon and say how nice i look and i am like please please don’t ask to try on the sunglasses again ‘cos all these old ladies will have heart attacks when they see my alice cooper junky eye make-up and if they step closer they will notice tiny little birds are actually nesting in my hair making bird colonies and forming their own government and naming streets and then these nice ladies won’t think i look so fucking nice and then i’ll have to go to the other coffeeplace and be even more neurotic over there.
i am totally moving out of town so i don’t have to feel guilty about being a scumbag and fake like i am not.
sometimes there are no more funny things to say and being appropriate is too much effort and compassion shouldn’t be free all the time you think
and then someone says well what about christmas spirit and then you want to rip out all of your hair and disappear until april maybe
or perhaps you’ll wait it out
the same as always
because you can’t escape calendars
and seasons
and people who depend on you
because sometimes you depend on them
and then when it is your turn for help you feel like an asshole asking for it and they have every right to flip you off
we don’t have the patience for feeling like an asshole
we don’t even have time for feelings
buying stuff for others because it’s what you really want
not being an activist
not trying anymore
not caring
saying this is my life
there is the supermarket
garbage day is thursday
some people knit
some people dance
and some drink
some have babies
there really isn’t a point to any of this
there are so many things to be mad about and so many things to brag about
potentially
why aren’t you wearing any clothes in your photographs
why do you expose yourself
how do you feel about that
don’t you have any self-respect
do you even care
where are you going with this
you’re an embarassment
for shame
sinner
pig
what a
why not share your world with others why not share things why not capture moments in time and say looksee here i am there we are big deal i don’t care i’m bored you’re bored
analyzing is what we do when there is nothing else to do when we know the subject enough because we hear about it enough and after all that nonsense all that is left is scandal and gossip and obsession
we want to care and we don’t want to
we want to see and forget
we want to forget forever but we can’t because we know it’s there
i ran out of crazy pills today so i have to do something about that tomorrow.
ward just stopped by and he is now bragging about how he figured out a way to increase his caffeine intake by way of putting the coffee grinds to the top of the filter and then only brewing half a cup of coffee – he says it tastes like shit crap but man, what a rush.
ward is now obnoxiously chewing gum into my ear as loud as he possibly can and taking pictures with my camera and talking about how fast he can type emails after all that coffee – but he makes crazy mistakes, so many spelling mistakes.
he said some guy got fired today because he is in asshole and everytime someone asks for help he just makes fun of them.
and now ward is explaining in detail exactly how this guy is an asshole.
ward bought his mum a new vacuum cleaner for christmas and his sister a food processor.
ward just asked me why i even cared because he is just making idle conversation and i said of course i care, i care about a lot of things.
