4:43 AM & My Balls Still Hurt

So, it's 4:43 Saturday morning and I'm still awake. Reason: I don't have one.

Actually, I do have a reason, but it's rather lame. I was stupid and said I'd work Sunday morning at 6AM, so now I'm trying to stay up late and not get too much sleep, so by 8 or 9 tonight, I'll have to go to sleep. Meaning that I'll end up with 8 hours of sleep and still be able to get up at 5:30AM. I really wish that I hadn't agreed to come in, but all I could think of was the money I'll make. Which will come in handy because I'm broke and have some rent to pay. Hooray for responsibility.

My roommate might be coming into a bunch of pain killers. And since she can't take them or else she'll get sick, that means I'm going to finally start my trendy drug habit....at least until she runs out of pills. Maybe by then I'll start breaking into houses and stealing money from little old ladies. And just for the hell of it, I'll rape one or two of them.

When you're as hard up as me, forcing an old woman to have sex with you doesn't seem so disgusting. Sad, isn't it?

Try Suicide

I listened to "Try Suicide" right before I tried suicide!

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So, for some reason, I can't do better than a 10 under par on Hot Shots Gold 3. It's really starting to piss me off. If I had any friends, I'd probably complain to them, but instead, I'm stuck blogging about it. Lame? Of course.

I just downloaded the Flaming Lips' version of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It's pretty fucking good. Of course, I'm sort of biased towards anything the Lips do. Call me stupid, but they are my favorite band.

I also downloaded the new Flaming Lips song called Mr. Ambulance Driver. I never thought they'd be able to top anything on Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, but by god, they've done it. If the rest of their upcoming album is half as good as this song, I'll shit my pants with joy.

Gib came home this past week. I only got to see him on Sunday, but he fed my lasagna, so I forgive him. Damn lasagna is good. I wish I had enough money that I could have thrown it up so I could more of it. Oh well. Someday.

Dutch Land Diesel

I really don't have much to talk about. I'm surprisingly in a good mood. After the party on Saturday, I woke up to find a house that wasn't trashed. It was nice to not have to clean first thing in the morning with a queazy stomach and light headed mind. As LL would say, "Don't call it a hangover!" I don't get those. At worst, I get a mild crappy feeling, but anyone who drinks an assload of vodka (yes, I measured it out by pouring a bottle into my ass and then pouring [or is it pooing?] it into a cup) on a semi-empty stomach. I mean, liquor will rip the shit out of your stomach. That's all that happens to me. I eat some toast, I drink a glass of water and then I take a healthy shit and I'm good for the day. Granted, I'm usually ass-tired, but that's not from drinking. That's from getting two hours of sleep.

Anyhow, things went relatively well. Dishes needed to be done, but that's what dishwashers and procrastination are for.

I did eat a pound of king crab legs on Sunday. It was fudgin' awesome. They are my all time favorite food. And I happened to be in BiLo to buy something that I forgot to get at Wal-Mart when I came upon the seafood section. I figured I'd check out the prices, realize I couldn't afford any of it and then simply be on my way. Well, king crab was $7.99/lb. That's fucking insanely cheap. I bought a pound of it, took it home and promptly forgot about it until Sunday evening. Thank god I did because it was a kick ass dinner. I ate it while watching a very funny King of the Hill. That show is awesome.

Well, I'm bored of this, so I'm splitting like a pair of tight jeans on a fat guy who's doing a split. So, I'll leave on this note. The Pittsburgh Penguins will make the playoffs this year. They keep signing more and more kick ass free agents. I have a boner dreaming about it. Yay for Hockey!

Drunken Lullabies

So, last night I got pretty shit faced. I'm a two beer queer now. I used to be able to hold my liquor quite a bit, but last night, I got thru half of a mixed drink and I was buzzing. I think I'm a fan of it, though. I was buzzing in fifteen minutes and it cost me a total of $7 to get messed up the entire night. I found out that when I'm drunk my singing voice becomes way shittier than normal. I couldn't give away any of the Fat Tony cds I have. I started the night with about 60 of them and I ended up with 65 of them. Somehow, people brought copies with them to give back to me. I was loud and obnoxious and made an ass of myself. That was to be expected. I stared at some cleavage a few times. That made my night even more unbearable. Cleavage is an unfair weapon in the battle of the sexes. Girls are poo. Kulek was the king of the stereo. Most of his choices were top notch. A few times, I wanted to put a cd in, but to my surprise he was already putting it in for me. Eerie. Anyhow, I'm off to watch MythBusters.

FUCKING PLOW!!!

Fucking Plow should have been the new name of the band, but instead they chose Plow United. It makes no sense, but it's what they wanted. They could no longer go on being Plow because some band from Baltimore was going to sue them. I think their unofficial name was Fucking Plow because that's whate everybody called them. If you knew who they were and they were playing then you called them Fucking Plow. If they you missed one of their shows, you called them Fucking Plow. Here's how it usually went down.

GUY ..1: Hey, who's playing the show tonight?
GUY ..2: Dude, fucking PLOW is playing.
GUY ..1: Wow, holy shit. I'm calling off work.

Or if you missed the show, it went like this:

GUY ..1: Dude, where were you last night? You totally missed the show.
GUY ..2: I know. My girlfriend wanted me to spend time with her.
GUY ..1: That sucks. You missed a great show.
GUY ..2: Really? Who played?
GUY ..1: Plow.
GUY ..2: Fucking Plow? Hand me my gun.

They were quite simply, the greatest band to ever come out of Pennsylvania. It's that simple. And today, I received their remixed, remastered, rereleased albums. They come complete with a few bonus tracks. And folks, they sound insanely good. Even their kind of shitty sounding, yet ass rocking, first album sounds god damn great. If I were you, I would kill myself, but first, I'd be jealous of me.

Fucking Plow!

Cold Showers and Wrong Numbers

So, the number that I've been trying to get ahold of my father with for the past month or so, has turned out to be the wrong number. I used to have it written down, but then I put it into my speed dial to make it easier. Well, apparently, I'm a fucktard and put in the wrong number. Which really sucks because he's pretty handy with electricity and my electric hot water tank isn't working. See my problem? That's right. No hot water.

I had to take a cold shower today and boy, do I have taking them. After I'm done, I still don't feel clean. When I'm at work and it's over 150 degrees inside the plant, everyone talks about going home and taking a cold shower. I scoff at the notion. All cold showers do for me is cool me down a bit, but they don't get the dirt off nearly as well as hot showers. I mean, does anyone wash their dishes in cold water? No and for a reason. Hot water breaks down the dirt better. It's fucking science. People at work don't get it. But I did introduce my little shower trick to them. Start out with your normal hot shower and after your clean, slowly turn the hot water off. Little by little. After about five minutes, you're getting hit with cold water, but you eased into it, so it's not a shock to the system, but you're still cold. It's the genius of me.

Hey, everyone. Go to Passion.com. They have Sexy Personals that ROCK. It must be true. I'm looking at the ad right now. The internet would never lie to me. Good old Passion.com. I'm sure that there are a ton of women in their system looking for a fat 25 year old without a car. Oh wait, it's actually an offshoot site for AdultFriendFinder.com which doesn't work. I joined it once to see who in St. Marys was in the system. A lot of them, but none of them were real people. I found that out by looking at a picture of a girl from St. Marys. Then fifteen minutes later she was Dagus Mines. Then five minutes after that she was from Ridgway. Either this was a fraud or this girl really can't pay her rent. Either way, I'm not getting laid.