Three Inch Sideways Vagina

Nope, that's not the name of my new wave emo band. Although, it would be a pretty kick ass name. It's actually what I have on my tummy right now. I have a three inch sideways vagina. It doesn't bleed nearly enough to be a real vagina, but it's just as ugly. Thank god for watered down Vicodin or I'd be in a hell of a lot of pain. I still am, but now it's only confined to when I have to stand up.

What sucks most is that I have three positions. I'm either lying on my back, sitting up and standing. There's no lying on my side or stomach. My back is kicking the shit out of me. Luckily, I'm going to finally be able to start my trendy drug habit, but play it off as being hooked to pain killers. Hooray for me!

Speaking of shitty bands with cool band names, which I think I was at the beginning. Or maybe I was just thinking about it when I started writing this. Either way, fuck you, it's what I'm writing about now. There are so many cool band names taken by shitty bands. Most of them are shitty emo bands, which is redundant, but hey, there used to be a cool emo band or two back in the day. Hell, Jawbreaker was the first and they were amazing. Anyhow, there should be a rule that if you sing shitty music then you should stop making music, but since that won't happen, you should be forced to give up your cool band name. That's right, I'm talking to you Fallout Boy. It's the same thing with kick ass girls who date douche bag guys. You see the girl and think "wow, what a lot of potential" but then you hear their boyfriend talk and you just want to strangle them. That's how I feel when I hear a cool band name and then find out the band sucks. It would be like hearing about a band called "Death to Whitey" and then finding out they play reggae-inspired emocore. It just makes you want to blow your fucking brains out.

Well, I'm out of here. No reason.

What shirt works best with an open wound?

Normally, I try to make my blog into a little story, but I realized that the past four days have been way too long for me to write all about them. I'm going to just give ya'll an update.

It turns out that my appendix had burst. Hence, the horrible pain I was in. In fact, my surgeon told me that they removed it in chunks. Not the normal way to remove an appendix. Usually, it comes out in one piece. I was lucky that I made it in when I did because I could have turned out really, really bad. My doctors were actually kind of surprised that I was well enough to be discharged today. I was never so happy to be home.

Apparently, it's mandatory to set all hospital rooms to sauna level. I don't think I've ever sweat so much in my life. It's not like I had a fever or anything. I was just laying there soaking in my own sweat. It was pretty disgusting. I hadn't showered since Sunday night. Luckily, I did get to rub myself down with some huge wetnaps.

I really don't know what to write about. I mean, there's so much shit to talk about, but nothing that I feel the need to write about. Maybe it's because I just got out of the hospital and I hardly want to relive the last four days. Maybe I'm just tired. I don't know.

I do know that I did only get one visitor other than my sister and father. Well, I guess I got two visitors, but Mandy was just bringing me a few things I needed. Anyhow, my point is, I only had one visitor and it was quite unexpected. I know she's reading this and I just want her to know that it really did make the four days seem not so bad. Definitely something that kept my spirits up. Anyhow, I just want to thank you... all night long. (get it?) I'm a pervert, remember?

Well, I really am tired of sitting here. I need to go eat some solid food now.

No Delivery on Sunday?

If you don't deliver on Sunday, then you should really put that in the ad, don't ya think? Today I absolutely had to get my prescription refilled. That's not normally a problem except that I'm in such a huge amount of pain that I really didn't want to walk all the way to town. Normally, I would walk it and not think twice about it. Sure, I'd prefer a car, but since I'm a loser and don't own one, I have to rely on my roommate. She's not home this weekend, so I figured I'd have the pharmacy deliver since it says in the phone book that they offer free delivery. Well, not on Sunday. So, I had to struggle to put some pants on and walk a few miles to the pharmacy to get my life saving medicine. Luckily, today I feel a lot better than I did yesterday, but that really doesn't say much. Today I feel like killing other people instead of killing myself. That's not really that much of an improvement.

Is it healthy to only eat a bowl of ramen throughout a three day period? Since friday at noon, that's all I've eaten. Not to mention a few LifeSavers just to keep my mouth from getting that shitty sick taste you get. I didn't even finish the entire bowl. The thought of eating anything makes me want to throw up. Of course, I'm hungry as hell. After got home from my 45 minute walk the pharmacy, I stole a packet of my roommate's hot chocolate. It just seemed like a really good thing to drink. I was cold as balls and I figured it would make me feel better. Yeah, about two minutes after I drank the six ounces of liquid, I immediately wanted to vomit. I didn't, but I sure wanted to. I'm thinking that my knee cancer has spread to my entire digestive system. Luckily, I have to work tomorrow and I can't afford to take a day off moneywise or attendancewise. Of course, if I'm still as shitty feeling as I am today, I will definitely be going to the doctor or to the hospital.

It's weekends like this that really make me wish that I had a girlfriend to take care of me. Hell, I'd settle for a live in maid. I've never felt so goddamn helpless in my life. I could sit up at times. I just laid in bed for hours at a time struggling to find the strength to deal with the pain of just sitting up. I almost fell down my steps because I got light-headed and almost stepped out a little too far. All I could think was that I would have fallen and just laid wherever I fell because I was going to be in too much pain to move. Ever. It really sucked. Oh well, no use feeling sorry for myself. What does that get me? Apparently it makes girls think I have low self esteem or some bullshit. Stupid cunts.

Am I the only person who's glad that the USA isn't winning the medal count? I love it. Especially since a lot of people actually care how we place. Like winning more medals makes us a better country. It's irrational nationalistic thinking like that that makes me pray (yes, I'm an atheist, but I still pray) that we come in last place in every fucking event. Plus, the Olympics interrupt some of my favorite sitcoms like Joey... and that other show that's stupid.

Anyhow, I'm done. I want to go admire my bulemic weight loss. Hooray for nonself-induced eating disorders!

I've Never Been In So Much Pain

So, all day at work yesterday I had the worst indigestion that I've ever had. My entire chest felt like it was going to explode. All I wanted to do was either fart of burp and I couldn't do either. Before I went to work I had taken some Immodium because I could feel the upset stomach/gassy feeling coming on and I didn't want to have to keep running to the bathroom all day. Well, that was a huge mistake. The few times I went to the bathroom to try to relieve some dookage, nothing would come out. It hurt to not be able to poo.

Later in the day I started feeling all vomitey, too. Eventually around 3PM, I forced myself to throw up. Then 15 minutes later I did it again. My eyes were all bloodshot and my face was, and still is, covered with little broken blood vessels. It's pretty sick. I did feel a lot better after I threw up, though, but after a few minutes the pain came back. I finally got home and just forced myself to dook, but nothing would come out. Every five minutes I would feel like I could force something out, only to end up on the toilet with nothing to show for it. This went on all night. I eventually called my father to have him bring me some laxatives, hoping that would get my colon blowin'. Well, it didn't. Not until about two hours ago and nothing really came out.

Anyhow, today I am left with what can only be described as some torn muscles or something on my side. It only hurts if I try to stand up straight, so this weekend I'll be doing a whole lot of laying down and not moving. I know that all of you ladies are disappointed that I won't be able to shake my sweet groove thing for you, but wait, no one's disappointed. In fact, I'm sure that if some girl wanted to get busy, I could find away to deal with the huge amount of pain that I'm in.

The good thing is that I threw up what little I ate yesterday, so that should help the weight loss. In fact, it's been 26 hours since I've eaten anything. All that's entered my body since noon yesterday has been some laxatives, some Excedrin and some orange juice. Talk about healthy. The worst part is, just the thought of eating makes me sick.

So can anyone tell me what that fucking "Podcast Enclosure" is for? There's nothing anywhere that tells you what that is exactly. I'd like to know just so I can make fun of people who actually use it.

It's a good thing that this whole "getting sick" thing happened this weekend. Next weekend I'm going to see George Carlin. The weekend after that, I'm going to Cleveland to see NOFX. Plus, it's a good thing that I wasn't forced to work this weekend because there is absolutely no way that was going to happen. I can barely move let alone work. I guess Jesus was on my side with that. Of course, if he was on my side why did he let me get sick? Jesus, you have some 'splainin' to do.

Can You Get Knee Cancer?

My knee is pretty fucked up. It feels really swollen, but if you look at it, you can't see any puffiness. It's messed up. It hurts when I bend it more than halfway and then something inside clicks. It's weird. I'm hoping that it's knee cancer. Well, actually, I'm hoping that it's brain cancer that moved to my knee. That way, it's no longer eating away my brain. It would suck if this was knee cancer that moved to my brain.

Today at work I was singing some songs to myself to pass the time. One of the bands that I tend to sing a lot is Screeching Weasel because I know a lot of their songs and they tend to cheer me up. I was thinking of some songs when their song Claire Monet popped into my head. Then I remembered that Joe Beimel (ex-Pirate pitcher and ex-Kersey, PA resident) had a daughter and named her Claire Monet Beimel. I think that's pretty rad. He's obviously a huge Screeching Weasel fan, so it was a nice way to pay them homage. Plus, it's actually a pretty nice name for a girl. So, I started thinking what song I would use to name any kids that I have. I realized that the only bands I like at all don't have any songs that would be appropiate to use for a kids name. Somehow the name Taking Retards to the Zoo Nelson just doesn't seem to work so well. How does American Jesus Nelson sound? I guess that's closer to being a cool name. Jimmy Jazz Nelson is the winner so far.

If you're not offended by super, super crude language and you enjoy hearing people talking about comedy and whatnot, then you should really, really watch The Aristocrats. It's gosh darn hilarious. If you want to know if this movie's for you, here's a little test. Do the words cunt, nigger, or fuck offend you? Does talk of incest, rape and being shat upon gross you out? Are you offended by coarse talk on prime time tv? If you answered yes or even a maybe to any of those questions, then do not, I repeat DO NOT watch this movie. It's damned offensive, but only if you have a shitty sense of humor. I happened to love it, but then again, I'm the type of guy that talks about his hemorrhoids and masturbation habits like it's dinner table conversation.

You know what I love right now? Ignoring the Olympics. It's way more fun than watching them. In fact, watching them even for a few seconds tends to make me want to commite suicide. Hell, just watching the highlights on Sportscenter makes me want to jab knives into my eyes. Fuck the Olympics.

Fuck you, too, now that I think about it.

Love Me!!!!

MySpace is Fucking Retarded!!!

How much special maintenence can one website take? Apparently, a whole hell of a lot. How much special maintenence can one account take? Apparently, mine can take more than anyone else's can. This is fucking ridiculous. All I want to do is check my mail and go to bed, but I can't because the server is fucking retarded just like the people who monitor it and just like the people who apparently can never fix it and just like the people who use it, myself included. It took me fifteen minutes just to log in. I mean, I really wanted to read a bunch of bulletins from people who are proclaiming their love for someone else. It's so sweet. It makes me want to form a suicide pact with these people and let them go first.

Seriously, is there anything worse than being single and having everyone one of your friends telling you all of the wonderful things they are going to do with their significant others for Valentine's Day? Well, I'm sure there is. I mean, having cancer would be worst, but being single on V-Day is a close second.

In honor of being single on Valentine's Day, I'm going to have a personal celebration tomorrow. I'm going to sit in my room alone and eat an entire tub of ice cream and watch sappy romantic comedies starring Ashley Judd and Reese Witherspoon while I touch myself and cry. I know that some of you might wonder at this behavior, but I figure that it's okay to move my normal Friday night routine up a few days to Valentine's Day. If you can't be with the one you love, well, then dammit, I'm going to love the one I'm with... many, many times. Ashley & Reese, here I come. (Get it? It's a double entendre.)

My knee's swollen up. I don't know why. It must be all the extra weight I'm packing on my head. My hair is fucking long. Look at my gay ass main picture and see how there's some hair popping out behind my ear? Yeah, that's long enough, but that was about four months ago. This is by far the longest my hair has ever been. It's pretty disgusting. I almost, but not quite, look like a stinkin' hippy.

Q: How many feminists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Two. One to change the light bulb and the other to make me a sandwich and suck my dick.

Who Died and Made You Suck?

The moral of the story is that you shouldn't eat an entire Crockpot full of chili in one day's time.

Don't go and think that I actually did that or anything. I only had a few small bowls of chili and it caused some havoc in my digestive system. I can only imagine what eating five quarts of chili would do to someone. I swear that I just lost fifteen pounds. The funny thing is, I make my chili pretty damn mild. If I had added even a drop of hot sauce, I'd probably be lying on the bathroom floor in the fetal position. Call me a pussy, but I am one.

Foster, I know you're reading this because dammit, my blogs are your heroin. Anyhow, I'm about twenty entries behind on yours because dammit, you wrote three novels a day on your damn thing. I'm slow. I hate reading. Deal with it.

I'm not sure when the last time I wrote in this stupid thing was, but I'm pretty sure that I didn't mention the Steelers winning the Super Bowl. Seriously, if some of you didn't know already ready, they won it. It was pretty anti-climatic. I was hoping for either a super tight game the whole way or one of the teams to run away with it. It turns out that both teams kind of sucked. The Steelers just so happened to have three big plays and that was all they needed. Plus, a few calls that went their way. Granted, by the strict rules of the game, none of the calls were wrong, but they were just kind of cheap calls that shouldn't have been called, but whatever. My team won. Take that shithead.

I had to work today. That's right. I had to work on a Saturdday. What a bunch of shit. I had to get up at 5:15AM. Luckily, I only fell asleep at 2AM, so good for me. My eyes burn so fucking much right now that I want to rip them out of my head. I did invent a technique for resting your eyes that will keep you from falling asleep while doing so. Now, I'm not sure if I actually invented it, but I never knew of this until I just randomly did it one night and it worked. Are you ready for this? Just rest one eye at a time. It's not as refreshing as resting both of them at the same time, but it does keep you from falling asleep. I know, I know... I'm a friggin' genius. I actually figured this thing out a few weeks ago, but today at work I perfected it. My eyes felt like they were the size of softballs. Plus, they burned like someone poured jalepeno garlic sauce in them. It was not fun. Luckily, I had a Snickers and it really satisfied.

Speaking of work, to keep myself from committing suicide, I tend to let my imagination wander. I'll think about movie ideas or things I should put in my book. I'll think about anything. Yesterday I started thinking up song titles. I have a list of twenty and it's my job to write songs for all of these titles and then hopefully start a band to perform them. If you're a musician and want to help me out, let me know. Here is the list of songs:

1.) Carpe Poon
2.) (I'll Awalys Hate) California
3.) Valentine's Day is for Assh*les
4.) Don't Mention It
5.) We've Never Met (But I Bet You're An Asshole)
6.) I Hate Sellouts Because I'm Not One...Yet
7.) Selling Out Is My Business...And Business It Good
8.) Jesus H. Hitler
9.) Thank God I'm An Atheist
10.) I Pledge a Grievance
11.) Back When Metallica Used to Rock
12.) Jawbreaker, We Need You More Than Ever
13.) Rock Out With Your Cock In, Please
14.) Jumping the Shark With This One
15.) Jerking Off to My High School Yearbook
16.) Freedumb's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Learn
17.) You Toucha My Car, I Breaka You Face
18.) Eating Out Without Leaving the House
19.) Go Get Fucked
20.) The Gift That Keeps on Giving

So, I'm up to like 67 people in my list of friends. I didn't even know that I knew that many people. I might have to delete some people so I don't start thinking I'm actually popular or something.

You know what I just thought of? I've had this thought before, but for some reason it just popped into my head. You know how everyone knows a few people only from the internet. You know, you randomly meet someone who's from Australia or something and you only talk to them thru email or whatnot. Well, if that person were to die, how would you ever know? You wouldn't. You would just think they were ignoring you for no reason and then you'd think they were a dick. But, they're not a dick, they're worm food. And it's not like someone can pop on their account and let everyone know that they're dead. I mean, it's called a password numbnuts. Luckily, I'm not going to give a shit if someone thinks I'm an asshole because I'm dead. And I already think everyone's an asshole anyhow, so it doesn't matter if someone replies to me or not.

I really don't know where that came from, but I never know where anything that I write on this pointless thing comes from. I tend to just write whatever comes to mind which, with me, means it's pretty goddamn random.

Lately, I've been really getting into lyrics of songs. Songs that I didn't really care for a few years ago are now some of my favorite because of lyrics that I either identify with or lyrics that I didn't know were that good to begin with. The Clash is a great example of a band with wonderful lyrics that you never really pay attention to so some of their non-hits don't seem as good. But, after reading thru most of their lyrics I've really come to like their lesser known songs even more than their wonderful hits. In fact, if I wasn't so goddamn depressed all the time and if I was one of those people who was always positive, well, I'd probably kill myself. But, if I decided to stay alive, I would make the song I'm Not Down my personal anthem. It's just so goddamn uplifting. God damn you Clash. You are wonderful songwriting assholes. If I were a drinking man, I would drink a shitload of beer right now in your honor. Actually, I'd pour a 40 in honor of Joe Strummer, but let's face it. I'm not going to buy a 40 and if I did, I wouldn't pour it on the street. That's called stupid. Just pour water and pretend it's beer. It's cheaper and you can still get drunk. See? I'm so smart. S-M-R-T Smart!

London Calling is slowly becoming my new favorite "Any Kind of Party" album. My favorite is still 40 oz. to Freedom by Sublime. I mean, you can throw those two albums on during a beer drinking frenzy or during a mellow backyard BBQ. Try throwing on one of those two albums and just about anyone with brains will either tell you it's a great choice or, better yet, they won't notice it at all because it fits the mood so well. You assholes know I'm right.

Well, I'm done. I've written way too much. All this shit is just a waste of time anyhow.

Ladies, give me a holler!

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

So I've been on a huge Beatles kick the last week or so. Wait, forget about that for a second. I just noticed that I've posted nine times this week. How sad is that? Answer: Mucho Saddo. (Editor's note: The reason for the "nine" posts is because of a glitch with myspace, in that, it wouldn't accept anything so I tried to post a blog about nine times and for some reason after myspace started working, it posted all nine attempts.  Gay.)

Anyhow, back to what I was talking about. I've been on a huge Beatles kick the last week or so. I'm not really sure why. Actually, I do know why. A few weeks back, I copied a few cd's onto the computer so I would have something to listen to while I was writing. I picked a few albums that I thought were good background music. Anything from Pink Floyd to Nine Inch Nails. I also threw on the Beatles' Abbey Road. I knew it was a great album, but the last time I really listened to it was back when I was fifteen or so. Listening to it now, I realize it's pure magic. The more I listened to it, the more I wanted to listen to other Beatles albums. So I did. All I've listened to the last week has been the Beatles and the Clash. Those are two bands that I wouldn't mind listening to for the rest of my life.

So, what's the deal with everyone thinking John Lennon is the greatest songwriter ever? The last time I looked, the songs were always credited to Lennon-McCartney. It's credited that way for a reason. They were both incredible song writers. It's just that John Lennon tended to write the "free love" and "artistic" songs while McCartney tended to be the softer, more ballad oriented writer. That may be true, but remember, Paul McCartney wrote Helter Skelter, quite possibly the best hard rock song ever. I'm not really sure what the point is that I'm trying to make, but let me say this. I'm sick of hearing people slagging on McCartney. I just don't get it. I've had dicussions about songwriters and names like Bob Dylan and John Lennon are tossed out there like they are the only two songwriters ever to have lived. Then I'll say something about McCartney and I'll get looks of bewilderment. So, let me list a few songs that he's written just to prove that he deserves to be in the discussion.

Hey Jude
Helter Skelter
Yesterday (The most covered song... ever.)
Penny Lane
Let It Be
The Fool on the Hill
I Will
Blackbird

The list could go on and on, but those are some of the best songs I have ever heard. And to be honest, Lennon has a list just as long. My point is, just because McCartney wasn't the hippie doesn't mean his songs weren't good. Just because he wasn't shot to death doesn't mean his songs are less touching and meaningful. Hell, the man wrote what might be considered the greatest line ever from a Beatles song. "And in the end the love you take it equal to the love you make." It doesn't get any deeper or more hippyish than that.

I don't really know where that came from. Maybe my aunt has rubbed off on me more than I thought. She might be the biggest Paul McCartney fan in the world. I think that's why I have such a soft heart for the guy. Although, it does bring me to something that I was thinking about today at work.

I'm so glad that my dad was a Beatles and Doors fan. If he hadn't been, I might not have grown up hearing those two bands and they wouldn't mean as much to me as they do. Who knows, maybe I would have grown up loving Abba and the BeeGees. I almost threw up just thinking about it.

That's the only reason that I would want to have kids. Forget the whole "carrying on the family name" thing. That's just retarded. And I don't want to have kids just to leave a part of me behind. That's also retarded. I hardly want to remember myself, why would I want to leave someone behind to carry on my self-loathing? The only reason I want to have kids is so I can raise them to be kick ass. I want them to grow up listening to the Beatles, the Clash, the Ramones, Bad Religion, Nirvana, Pixies, etc. You name it. I want them to listen to good music in hopes that good music will live on. The same with movies and old school cartoons like Transformers. I want my kids to be huge nerd, but huge nerds that are hip. Let that be my legacy.

Fuck the guy who invented Minesweeper. That bastard is one harsh mistress, I'm betting. What a dick. First he invents a game that is really tough to figure out. Then once you figure it out, it takes a while to really understand how to beat it. But, what makes it worse is that fucking timer. Oh, that's the killer. All you end up doing is playing it over and over and over again in hopes that you'll beat your best time by one second. Then after you celebrate for two seconds you start playing again in hopes that you'll beat your brand new best time. It's sick. I bet he was a junkie. That's the only explanation I can come up with.

Okay. Here's my little warning. If you don't want to hear intimate details about a very recent masturbation session of mine, then please, hit the back button on your browser. Anyhow, here goes. So, I'm rubbing one out. I'm sure I was looking at pictures of hot older women. It's what I do. Anyhow, I get to point where I'm done so I stand up and I'm holding the paper towel in front of my schlong so I don't make a mess. I'm looking down to make sure my aim is true and then I notice a spider was crawling up my leg. Here's the problem. I get really creeped out when a spider is on me. If it's across the room then I'm fine. But if it's on me, I just want to spazz out like a ten year old girl. So, I try to brush it off my leg, but I have POV. That's "post-orgasm vision" which means your eyes can't focus worth shit, so my depth perception was horrible. I couldn't tell where the spider was actually on me. It might have been on my thigh or it might have been dangling from a strand of web down near my ankle. I didn't know. All I know is that I start swatting at it and that's when I remember that I'm trying to hit a square of paper towel and since I was spazzing out, I was doing a horrible, horrible job. Instead of hitting the towel, I was instead hitting the back of my hand... and my boxers... and my leg... and my shirt. So, there I was looking like a post moneyshot porn star and all because of a little spider was touching me. How fucking pathetic is that? And how pathetic is it that I wrote about it and I'm not going to delete this text. I know I should, but fuck it, no one who reads this is ever going to want to fuck me, so I really couldn't care less.

Well, that about wraps that up. I really can't think of anything embarassing or enlightening to write about. Christ, what more do you want from me? Well, I'll do that, but it will cost extra. Be gentle back there.

Remember Swing?

I don't know why it popped in my head, but remember the whole "Swing" phenomenon? If there's one good thing that our society has done as a whole in the past few years, it's that we got rid of "swing." What a crappy genre of music. I mean, there were a few decent bands, but every band sounded exactly as crappy as the next band.

Speaking of crappy, whatever happened to Limp Bizkit. Oh wait, I forgot. They changed their name to limpbizkit. Yeah, they actually changed it to all lower case and all one word. Fred Durst is an asshole like that. I remember hearing that there was a breaking news story about Limp Bizkit and I prayed that the news was they had broken up. To my chagrin, the news was the lame name change. Like anyone gave a shit. Luckily, they put out an EP not too long ago and I think eight people bought it. Suckers.

So, last night I had a weird dream. I was babysitting for somebody. I was in this HUGE house. I never even saw the kids, but I was there to make sure they didn't get into trouble. It was late and I was going to rub one out and then go to bed, but for some reason I couldn't find the bedroom. Then, out of nowhere, this girl shows up and all I try to do is make her leave because I just want to touch myself by myself. I'm not sure, but that dream kind of scares me a little bit. Maybe it's my way of trying to tell myself that I never want to touch a girl again. That would suck.

Can a brother get a "Tony Danza"?