how many times do you think the words "change" and "rearrange" have been rhymed in songs?
seriously, its getting ridiculous. never do it again.
the next person that rhymes change with rearrange in a song is getting hit in the throat.

in china they're breeding florecent green pigs that glow under black light.
i have no idea why, but i think the chinese may have just gotten themselves off of my list of races to exterminate when i rule the world. now its pretty much down to kenyans. they're too fast, its dangerous.
they made three of the pigs and one of them just had two pig children.
five glowing green pigs.
apparently this is a big deal because it means that they think they can breed special pigs with organs compatible for human transplants. i don't see the jump in logic there, but then im not chinese so i'll take their word on it.
man i want a glowing green pig heart so fucking bad its ridiculous.
i'd always be cutting my chest open to show it to people, and then probably throwing up due to the massive chest wound.
glowing green pig heart covered in vomit.

oh god, i just noticed that music and lyrics is on tv in the background here and i think i actually started subconsciously watching it. oh god, i have to go.

first entry from my startlingly white new macbook.
can you feel the glare of its alabaster visage?
does it haunt you?
are you being haunted righ now?
by IT?

so far the mac switch is going okay, though i dont know what to do without soulseek.
how am i supposed to get music?
cause i'll be damned if im going to pay for it like some stupid asshole.

the chinese food place that we order from with ridiculous frequency/consistency showed their appreciation for our business by giving us a calendar with pictures of hot asian broads dressed in modest every day attire.

i'm pretty sure they're pictures of the owner's family members who need greencards.
they probably figured hey these guys look like a couple of perverts who'd pay for an asian wife. sure they might put snakes on her, take pictures and put them on the internet at snakesonchicks.com, but hey, at least they'll be americans.
because those are the same thoughts that go through my head when i look in the mirror.
so our livingroom decor now consists of a jaws poster and a picture of some random asian woman.

i saw walk hard the dewey cox movie.
what a god aweful piece of shit that movie is.
it was so bad that people started just having conversations while it was on and no one else even cared. a significant number of people got up and left which you dont see often. if im paying 9 dollars to see a movie i dont care how bad it is im watching that fucker in its entirety and then bitching about it afterward.

this entry was an experiment in typeing with my fingers on the home keys all 5th grade computer class style, and its going slowly. painfully so.

thats enough.
go to bed.

i bought a sampler case of random american beers that i've never heard of and it came with a BOOK!
probably the only case of beer ever sold that included non-racist literature.
a book?
first they market cigarettes to children and then beer to nerds.
this country is going down the tubes.
if the nerds and the cool kids are both drunk, how will anyone tell the difference?


my computer is making terrifying noises every once in a while.
its either haunted or about to break down.
probably both.
i smell an excuse to spend more money than i can afford on a fancy laptop that i don't need.
eh? eh? macbook?
i am a sucker for white electronics. they make me feel like im in logan's run.


my room smells like popcorn and i can't decide if its making me hungry or if its going to cause me to throw up...eat my own throw up?

"If we are here not to do,
what you and I wanna do,
and go forever crazy with it,
why the hell we are even here?"

i can't think of any better possible way to open up an album than with those words. and i'm the one that thought it was a good idea to name an album "Violence-Jackoff" as well as the never released "John Wayne's Sodomy Festival".
so if my obviously brilliant and creative mind can't top it, then it is most likely the endpoint in the evolution of album openings.
why do i always want to spell album as "albumn"? that goes wrong in your brain that makes that insignificant but oddly specific thing happen?

co-hosted and semi-competed in a bake-off.
yes, im apparently a faggot now.
if you think about it, it really explains a lot.
i'm not sure who actually won, but i'm going to assume i crushed it.
more ideas drunkenly tossed around at one in the morning should be followed through on the next day.
more fun than you'd think.

an exciting week of working 7 straight days in a row begins tomorrow.
can you feel the anticipation?
can you FEEL the ANTICIPATION?
can you feel it... in your HEART?!
so basically tomorrow till christmas eve is going to suck.
i think im going to have to take a week off in january to make up for it.
so if anyone thinks it would be an awesome idea to not work for a week in january and just sit around drinking margaritas while wearing a crown they bought off ebay, to bad, thats mine, get your own.

some indian chick was born with 6 arms and 6 legs and got 4 of each removed.
boy is she gonna be pissed when she grows up and realizes how fucking fast she could have been. not to mention how many things she could have thrown at once.
she probably could have gotten away with throwin all that shit too since she would have been so god damn fast.
thats like god saying "hey, how would you like to be the undisputed snowball fight champion for as long as you live", and you being like "no".
what a waste.

prepare for several disjointed ideas and memories in random succession:

played a little guitar today for the first time in a long long time.
even recorded some.
it seems that the doctor dooms is going to consist of me playing crappy guitar (without distortion, which hurts my heart, but is for the best in this instance) and sean playing crappy keyboard while everyone screams.
we're going to devastate the music world like a shark with a rifle riding a polar bear into a battle against retarded children during naptime.

i also realized that no matter what i try to play when i pick up my guitar, it all just ends up sounding like a late seventies skin guitar riff.
so i figure thats a pretty strong omen that i need to start a skinhead band called the whiskey drinking generals.
we're gonna need calypso drums and a mediocre sax player.
all our songs will be about taking the bus and how health care is overrated. and we'll throw down on nazis, but only if they don't look tough and there's nothing else to do.

after quite a bit of internal discourse, i've decided to commit to a life-altering decision...
i'm switching to boxerbriefs.
if you think switching the type of underwear you wear everyday isn't that big of a deal, then you're a fucking liar.
god i hate liars.

at office christmas parties you can't have a shot but you can have a glass full of jameson as long as there is ice involved.
sorry sir you can't have one ounce of whiskey, but here are 8 ounces, i'll see you back here in 5 minutes.
thats the kind of hypocritical twisted logic that i can get behind.
some dude at said work christmas part kept trying to tell me that i should hang out with his daughter and invited me to go to vegas with him in the summer.
that guy is awesome, but in the words of chris, "dude, i love you like a brother but who the fuck would look at you, especially while holding a cup full of whiskey, and be like 'this is the type of guy i want my 20 year old daughter hanging out with'"
all that chicks friends must be child killers and serial face rapists.

you know how they say that people can do insane things in insane situations, like some chick pushing a car off of her kid after an accident?
you think that translates to areas other than strength?
you think if i put a knife to your kids throat you could do complex math to stop me from opening its arteries?
i smell a science grant.

christmas bonus day.
mine came in a card covered in penguins and glitter.
hence i am covered in glitter (no penguins yet, knock on wood).
now everyone's going to think im a hot 16 year old girl and try to have sex with me.
even more than usual.
such are the rigors of life.

thanksgiving just isn't thanksgiving unless the turkey is deep fried and you end up full on hammered at a friends house in front of their entire extended family.

that is a fact.

p.s.
i suck at darts.

p.p.s.
people who don't suck at darts are queers.
scientific fact.

livejournal just informed me that i've only made two friends.
way to try and kick me in the nuts livejournal.
good thing i'm a creepy loner, or i may have been offended.
moving on...

music:
seriously, what the fuck happened to the river city rebels?
are they fucking with me?
did they concoct this elaborate practical joke aimed solely at me? are they just sitting at home laughing their asses off while i try to reconcile myself with the steady and seemingly unstoppable juggernaut of their devolution?

doyle, stick to the fake misfits, sunshine. gorgeous frankenstein makes me want to rub my mother's period in my eyes.
and i DO NOT normally want to do that.
AT ALL.

also seriously, streetlight manifesto is probably flat out the best band that has ever played anywhere at any time for any reason.
think of your favorite band.
fuck that band.
streetlight manifesto is better.
every time.
think of a king.
fuck that king.
streetlight manifesto is better.
daily.
streetlight manifesto is better than a king on a daily basis.

my apartment:
a package of guitar strings was recently unearthed from its secreted recess beneath an intimidating mound of soiled dishes in the sink.
eh?
another practical joke by the river city rebels?
i'm on to you jokesters.
on the for real though cousin, who was playing guitar in my sink? because i want to be there next time, playing a bass not in the sink. completing the circle, affirming our own existence while disproving the subsistence of any power higher than ourselves. LIVING.

my day:
there was a leak in the ceiling several feet to the starboard of my "work station". because the source of the leak was indiscernible, i was given license to "open it up" in an effort to reach its determinant.
i had a knife, a wrench and my bare fists.
the tools of a gentleman.
the gentlemanly tools of myself.
the ceiling stood only a slim chance to begin with and, after a disappointingly brief but still satisfying knife-wrenching, yielded to my power. as do all things in my path.

i think that i've decided to actually start a friends list on this journal, instead of only rereading my own posts ad nauseam as with the last one.
i hold the belief that it may slow my descent into the intellectual narcissistic hermitage i've been toying with over the years, delaying its inevitable end in the abandonment of all clothing save a robe and all reading material that doesn't fit within the parameters of poorly written conspiracy theorem, or the hurriedly scrawled oft circuitous babbling of my own mind.
so when random people stumble across my ramblings and take the time to feign interest, i will do so in turn, with moderate enthusiasm.
im up to 2, and as its not really possible to calculate a percentage increase from zero, i can assign any statistical number to my new popularity without fear of reprisal from the barking dogs of the mathematic community.
i'm going to go with 1600%. this journal is 1600% more popular than my last, in terms of mutual acknowledgment.

moving on...

in texas, grade schools have started to ban hugging.
bout time.
i always thought that it was disturbingly hot watching two 9 year olds locked in an intense embrace, their lithe, nimble little bodies rubbing against one another, completely naive of the discomfort caused by their obscene display in the nipples of their intent viewers.
torrid, thats what prepubescent hugs are.
absolutely torrid.
i hope the ban crosses the borders of texas and spreads throughout the civilized world.

and speaking of dogshit states that no one cares about, did you know that 190 proof grain alcohol is legal in new jersey, just a hop skip and jump from mine own beloved philadelphia?
i had no idea until a recently received, and quite excited, phone call from a new jersey liquor store. (the call was from someone in the store, not the store itself. liquor stores cannot operate cellular phones. their fingers are too large. but don't bring it up in front of them, they're sensitive.)
though i am but a shade of my former self drinking wise, i don't think that this is an opportunity that i can in good conscience pass up, or a challenge from which i can retreat without shame.
yes, i was teetering on the precipice of calling back and rescinding my complicity in this evenings endeavor, but no, i will not.
this is happening. and god help the souls of those that are left in my wake.

The first entry is always such a momentous occasion.