Anti abandons the internet.
it's finally over, thank fucking god.
Tuesday, December 31, 2002
totally. i have this to-do list in my head, and nothing ever gets crossed off of it, my laundry has been piled there for a month and a half. a little ironing, some deodorant spray, and POOF!! good as new. besides boxers and socks are cheap enough that you should just always buy new ones anyways.
it's like i'm only able to do non productive things like order pizzas, drink booze, smoke cigarettes, and be stoned. usually just staring into space, i like to call it "deep in thought" but's that just to save some face.
other times i'm like super-ninja-hero-errand-boy, and i get everything done, even my car washed, and my hair combed. how's i do that?
damn my eyes are itchy...
oh and this one guy totally had a hissy fit like a little baby girl because supposedly me and whitey where, and i quote "talking about disgusting shit since the time you guys got here an i'm trying to eat my dinner"... whitey and i left about 10 seconds after that, and laughed our asses off, because we were talking about SUCH mild shit that i'm embarassed to say what is was. alright fine i'll tell you. i just said that i was stoked that i didn't bleed from my private parts once a month, and that reminded whitey about a catheter
that got ripped out cuz of some nurse that tripped over some cord. (i know, i know... i don't buy whitey's story either) but i mean, c'mon.
whitey and i hated that guy already. but now we hate him extra
Sunday, December 29, 2002
breetard and dreddy sitting in a tree... H-A-T-E... I-N-G
i'm not sure how i feel about friends fighting with eachother. although, because i'm so good at satying out of it, i guess i like it when my friends fight. i get more of their undivided attention. yeah, there is a little bit of that, "awww too bad for them..." kinda feeling. but not really. i guess the key is to not know anyting. to not be a messenger monkey... all i know is dreddy banned breetard from her bar, and that she has some other beef too i guess
that's a poloroid of when they used to love eachother.... actually i think breetard still loves dreddy... BAH!!! who cares? cuz you know... it's like save the drama for your mama...
when i don't like a friend i just never see or speak to them again. easy does it. and it almost always works. i think ppl are too nice these days, and they need to tuffen up, and just say the blunt honest truth, even though it probably hurts. fuck man.... the truth always hurts, it just does...
but not so much when you're drunk.
Saturday, December 28, 2002
sometimes the freeways are so muh fun. i usually hate them, but on occasion i play this game where i race a complete stranger. like, "i don't care what happens, as long as i get to my exit before that pontiac grand prix". the best is when they're on to you, and are trying to win also. it's like... in LA you're car is either part of the race or just a fucking obstacle. nothing like my high beams flooding your car with light to make you move over. oh and i hate drivers that are old, young, white, black, and mexican. oh and chinese too. basically i hate them all, because they all suck. i'm going to die on one of those freeways one of these days. i just know it. i've already come so close to getting popped... it feels like it's just a matter of time. and know what the scary thing is? when i die, who is going to go through my shit? who is going to find shit i never wanted found. i'm gonna make out my will... right here right now
I, anti, leave all my worldly belongings to my friends, to divvy up and pawn. except for my skateboard which i leave to laura
, my live eel collection which i leave to jamie
, and raymi
can take whatever she wants.
then i want my body put in a little boat and sent off to sea with my friends and loved ones shooting flaming arrows at me from the shoreline. like in that one movie...
Thursday, December 26, 2002
yawnnnnn.... xmas sucked way less than i thought it would. i even got a present here and there. whatta shocker. and i got nice and drunk consistantly. when i remeber this years xmas, all i'll remember is tequilla, vodka, southern comfort, gin, and some shit called yukon jack. oh yah, and beer, cigarettes, weed, and pills. it just wouldn't be christmas without that shit anyways, right? i even convinced some of my being-religous-to-the-point-it's-scary cousins to take some shots of cuervo (ew, i know, it's all gramps had). but what i'm learning in life is that any situation is as good or bad as you choose to make it. and i knew this xmas was gonna be sucky this year as far as gift getting.... so i said, "fuck it... i'm gunna par tay anyways"
oh and on a side note... i HATE my mom's boyfriend. HATE him. the guy is obnoxious first of all, and secondly he gets all these fucked up crazy ideas in my mom's head. the worst part of it all is that he has my same first name. that asshole has some fucking nerve. and my three cute little neices all call HIM uncle anti, but I'M uncle anti... and needless to say, when i hear them call him that, my skin crawls. him and i had this huge fight once and i got him kicked out if my mom's house... i got kicked out too... but it was worth it.
so anyways... this guy, my mom's boyfriend, got more gifts from my family than i
did. and then.... and then... he
was the only one to get me anything. you know, like, what the fuck?? gawwwwwwd i hate him.
Monday, December 23, 2002
i'm so doing my happy dance. look out bartender... you gotta thirsty em effer headed your way with money to burn.... well not really. but the great news is that i have tomorrow off, and that wasn't plan "a". plan "a" was to only take off wednesday. so that allows for so much more wasting time. i'm in total heaven. so i'm starting off with spike and whitey for sushi at the redondo beach pier, and the plan is to get ourselves kicked out of as many bars as we can. i love being eighty sixed. if you haven't been booted from a bar in your life, maybe you're not doing it right.
and maybe i need a new hairstyle
so just like thanksgiving-week-of-torture we have xmas-week-of-torture. oh yay hooray. hold on, just sit there whilst i do some back flips of joy. riiiiiight. oh and there's the added pressure of "we need that fucking file before the end of the year!!". suuuuuuuuure.... why not? i'll pretend i'm motherfucking he-man, and i'll ride my green tiger to long beach and flex my file-typing muscle, and collect commisions, and do it all BEFORE januaury first. of course, writing here is totally productive, and not a way for me to further my myself into the hole, and not wasting the ever dwindling hours of 2002. oh noooooooo.......
i'll be so glad when it's new years eve, and i'll be somewhere, fucked up on whatever i could get my hands on, and throwing up a big Fuck You to a shitty year. and then i'll wake ready to push that boulder up the mountain... like i do everyday.
so to go along with my recent "glass half emtpy" state of mind, i wrote a new article-type-shit all about the things i hate. and it kinda rhymes. go find it over there ->. i'm too lazy to link it here right now.
grrrrr!!!!! my microwave just stopped working and right before it cooked up my popcorn. fack! fack! fack! fack!FACK MEEEEEEE
Saturday, December 21, 2002
i'm having cell phone issues. the fucking thing is always dieing, never getting reception, and i hate it. oh so i'm supposed to remember to charge it up? fat chance. and i hate having another thing to weight down my pockets. like the cigarettes and lighter aren't obnoxious enough. Pfff! maybe i should just start rocking a fanny pack. but do they still make those? (god i hope not) last night in my pockets i had a cell pnone, a pipe, a lighter, my ID, my money, my pot, my keys, a pen, some random bits of trash, fliers, my other friends smokes, and that girls pager. i felt like a locker.
AND SO... whitey has some meds for his broken ankle, and of coarse, some booze. and he always likes to share...
i was all, "shit fool, i'm highhhhhhhh...." right before hopping in my truck, and speeding home.
then i fianally slept like the dead.
ps, i like calling chicks "bro", lately. it rules.
Friday, December 20, 2002
i am so fucking happy even tho this weekend will fly by way too fast... and i'll have to drive my hungover self down to long beach, where bossman will chain me to a desk. unless i can find time to finish my work this weekend. but let's be realistic.
i like being able to tell myself, "fuck it, it willl probably work itself out" about everything, and not care if it doesn't and go, go, go.... besides i'm too young to be all lame in my house on a friday night. no matter HOW important my work is, or may be, getting drunk, getting high, and getting laid come first.
so tonight the plan is to throw money away on drinks, drugs, cabs, food, and i guess some tips.
and earlier today while in Long Beach some old fucker came up to me and asked how he could get to some street i never heard of. so i broke out my mapbook, looked up his street, found it, figured out how to get there, and told the old fuck. i drove away feeling all nice and warn inside for being such a good semaritan, then i realized i wasn't being nice for being-nice's sake. i was only being nice so i could show off how well i knew how to use the thomas guide. then i just felt dumb.
and if wearing the same clothes two days in a row is so cool... then i'm like the coolest guy ever.
so i bought this bulletin board because i thought i needed one, and i hung it up on the wall... stared at it... and realized i have nothing to bulletin. they're stupid anyways...
and earlier today i had to slam on my breaks so hard on the freeway that all my shit ioncluding my fragile camera went flying forward making crashing sounds, as well as every file i had getting tossed around like a cesar salad. and why?
because some dumbass-dipshit-communist-asshole-faggot-motherfuckering-pillowbiting-retard from your worst nightmare was on the San Diego Freeway "doing his thang". and to think i used to wonder as a kid why people would have gunfights on the LA freeways. throwing things helps me... fists full of change, "go-big" drive-thru drinks, straight up spitting on the car... and seal the deal with a fuck you salute. welcome to LA, now get the fuck out my way. asstard.
Thursday, December 19, 2002
it was just one of those silk boxers kind of days. ahhhh.... mmm.
we had a "office christmass lunch". and i wouldn't have ordered any booze if i would've known i'd be the only
one boozing. like it's MY fault the fucking brazilian bbq restaurant had a killer FULL bar. the best was they had food there wrapped in bacon... what genius.
and early this morning i was on 74th and Main street... right off the 110 in LA.... taking pictures of strangers houses for my jobbbbb. if someone catches you they get like sooooo fucking pissed. i think they must think imma cop or something. the last time i was doing a home inspection in that neighborhood... the real estate agent i met at the property told me i had bigg balls to be a white boy in that area. i was like, "duh, motherfucker"
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
this is getting better and better.... i overheard my boss comment that, "anti must have been up all night smoking pot and watching cartoons when he typed this file..."
what does he have a fucking magic crystal ball or some shit?
music is the best. but i hate when it's so good it makes me miss my exit, cuz i'm like so rockin out, and i don't even notice for prolly 10 miles
my neighbors must hate me. cuz i hate them. it's like this really "nice" community full of yuppies where they all wash their new shiny sport-utility-buckets-of-shit, suck each others dicks, and give my vampire ass dirty looks as i slide by flicking my lit cigarette on their driveway. i hate fake friendly. and it's like i gotta be either part of the problem... or the solution
i'm also learning exactly why sleep is so important. silly mistakes are avoided. like remembering to shut
and lock your front door, not
drop coffee drink thing in your lap, and pay
the tab before you leave. so, i should go pillow shopping tomorrow. i'm gonna sleep for way too long when i finally can take a breather. give this mule a raise.
i think i'm gonna get a picture of me on santa's lap... i love santa. there's one just standing in front of wells fargo in long beach, like all day. and that's good because the mall freaks me out sometimes
i hate it there
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
sleep is a friend of mine. a friend i miss. the last days have been spotted with 30-minute to 2-hour naps. i haven't layed down in my bed since thursday. the rumor is that my boss thinks, "anti looks like a junkie..." greaaaaaaaaaaat.
it's like, i wish
that were the reason why.... i've just been up all night working. i mean, how lame.
i listened to that movie A.I.... it sounded like a good movie. it made me wonder what it looked like. broken TV's are so fucking annoying.
Monday, December 16, 2002
i need a break. a vacation. time off. what-fucking-ever you wanna call it s'fine by me. grrrr.
when i'm home i've turned into the email checking machine.
"is there one now?"
"hmm.... how bout.... NOW?!"
and i was feeling pretty proud of myself for not spending more money than i can afford, like i always do. then my tv broke. now i'm just pissed. i can hear it, but there's no picture, only darkness.... and i thought about replacing it and was like,
"naww... TV is so lame."
but then i remembered that i love TV.
and pay for cable.
and i can't turn off the cable because i "share" it with the upstairs people.
so i fucking HAVE to get a new TV.
and there goes all my money i saved this weekend.
oh and skateboarding in the rain isn't safe, it's bad for your wheels and bearings, and it'll warp out the skate deck.... but sheee-it is it fun. nothing like wearing sopping wet clothes, and rolling around in the dark on a piece of wood, in the middle of the night.
good times... good times...
read my new shit
and whoa, i had no idea
Saturday, December 14, 2002
working from home might not be working out. i sit down with these files and do everything possible to not work. anything possible. i'll decide that it's 3am and, "wow what a great time alphabatize my my sock drawer!". there's something painful about working. like the feeling i'd get when school was juuuuuust about to let out, you know? and you couldn't stand it.... the teachers voice literally causing your head to pound... your forehead all sweaty... and when the bell rang, body checking your way out the door first. FREE! i remember being angry as i left those classrooms. thinking, "those commie pig fuckkers will PAYYY" i probably just needed a smoke.
my mom called me and told me she's cancelling christmass. my sisters didn't want to exchange presents, and i was like so totally relieved and told mom that i felt the same way, and then i hung up the phone feeling like maybe we are all related after all. it's wierd to watch christmass and thanksgiving pass without really participating in it. i like being oblivious to it. i only celebrate the real
holidays like my birthday, and 4th of july.
and what's wrong with cab drivers. i've never met just like a normal-dude cab driver. they so totally hunt down the most socially inept persons on the globe. hits-herself-in-the-face-girl from the retard class in highschool had more grace than some of these dickfaces.7:49pm
having your priorities straight is so important. today i chose sleeping all day as the most productive thing i could be doing. i had appointments i had to be at, files i should be typing, but i just pretended i didn't. and i lied about having "car trouble" to get away with it. they were pissed.
Friday, December 13, 2002
i'm getting so good at being out alone, i don't know why i go out with anyone ever. like i always say, "fuck them and their stupid timeline". tonight the queen mary
was going off. all these real estate hotties. i made friends with these hottie escrow girls... found other mortgage broker girls and shared a joint, got drinks paid for, wore my non-formal clothes. fuck formal, by the way. i gotta be me.
and there was the one blondie that i love, tammi, and her and i made awkward eye contact, and she's been told that i think she's smokin, (thanks office manager), and she wants me for my hot sexy body, but it's all wierd and whatever. meh.
G&T's will be the death of me.(copy raymi
, and pay the price)
i need a cigarette, a bong hit, and some cold britta water... ahhhh...
and also i thought i'd mention that tequilla is god's gift to man
oh lordy thank you
Thursday, December 12, 2002
what the hell is this
shit? that's not me
i'm still anti from the blog
used to post a little now i post a lot
but i still know where i came from (viceland com)
after the sun goes down tonight, the party starts. on the queen mary docked in Long Beach harbor. i'll be the only rep from our office, as this is "one of those" office partys type thingys. but it's not "one of those" offices. this is a place where they ask me if i want a corona, budweiser, or a rum and coke while i wait(captian morgans, at that). so the party might last till sunday.
i love how when you get a cell phone call you can push the little "clear" button, and the caller gets sent to some warp zone. i wish it were that easy in real life interactions... poof be-gone
this weekend i want to get all my work i have done, so i can be rich, relaxed, and on my couch. i have like 11 files. that's like... way too many. i'm fucked. fucked. fucked.
sleep is the enemy
shit, i'm un-armed
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
i really do need all new friends. One's with new stories, ones that haven't heard mine. i feel like i'm trapped in a hamster wheel. running and running, and yet going nowhere. and the scary part? i'm like so much better off than most of my peers. i have friends calling me
for job advice, for crying out loud. i'm like,
"uhhh... how about trying starbucks?"
what do i know?
everyone is always trying to get an answer from me about something.
"anti, how do i make a resume?"
"anti, why does windex-no-drip, drip less than regular windex?"
"anti, can you explain to me postcolonial criticism and the conflict between postmodernism and 2nd wave feminist theory?"...of course, i quickly rattle off the correct answers, and get irritated.
i'm too busy to brush my teeth and go pee, but no no no, lemme take time out to help YOU
. i mean, fuuuuck
next set of friends i get, i'm keeping everything i know about a secret.
fuck that. enough of that hostility. instead i'll choose to come down with sudden case of the, "hmmm... i'm not so sure" 's, and the, "i sorta forgot" 's...
and i'm totally ignoring christmass this year. i might buy myself
a present or two. at least that way won't have to do the fake smile and barf enducing, "thank you..." for the piece of shit i want to throw away
it always appears the person thinks that i'm not sincere anyway, and they're right. i'm not
Monday, December 09, 2002
i'm calling this... zero movement day. i feel like a sloth, who is conserving energy by holding still. i even ordered dominoes, and will yell, "come in!" to the pizza guy and make him walk to my desk. biatch. here's a piece i wrote for raymi, about raymi... kinda like my point of view. but it's autobiograghical so, it applies kinda.
so there i was no better than anyone. i had a great jobby. it was some job witha fancy title and i'd brag to strangers about it, but the truth was... i was the bosses son. wich means, i can do anything i want. and i wanted to do nothing.
i had recently been dumped by this girl that moved to NYC and she had turned me on to vice before dumping my too far away ass. vice was funny. i hadn't gotten that excited about a zine, well... ever. i read the whole thing, every single printed word, on the way home in that fucking plane, drunk from heinekens at the bar in JFK.
so i had dabbled in message posting a bit on some nerdy hip hop sites... and when i checked out viceland.com
during my work day of pretending to be typing something "important", i saw they had some message board thingy... and this one was so much better than that nerdy hip hop one, because you had to register and nobody could imposter you. all free. so, being the god damned daredevil i am, i choose a name trying to see how long a name can be. some places only let you use like 4-8 characters... so i was surprised when antidisestablishmentarian
was ok. i ran with it.
i had to learn quick though. these people were sharp, and not the mental midget pushovers like in the nerdy hip hop site. these people where thick skinned, and could textually assault you ass with a sentence or two. boom, your done.
but hey i'm witty. i'm smart. and mostly (and this is what sealed it) i stick around. i would just post. and post. and post. people accused me of being this individual known as raymi the minx
. she must have been out of town, because i was all alone to defend my identity. i am NOT her, i said. whoever she is, i hate her. and people said, yeah suuuuure raymi
. nice try.
of all of 'em though (bernie federko
, laura petrie
, raymi the minx
, you know... the main four) raymi
was the best. i soon learned that it was an honor to be identified with her. and she was hot. and when i told the forums it was my birthday, raymi
posted a nice "happy birthday to anti" post. it was more than most of my "real" freinds did. Psh! i've made friendships with these vice people. i liked raymi and laura the best though, prolly becuase they were both hotties, both nice, and both funny as hell.
i'd track raymi's and laura's sites like everyday. participate in guestbook turned message boards, ect. laura petrie had some art i once offered to buy(never panned out), and raymi kept up with her blog so much, it felt like she was much closer to LA than t dot.
so... laura sorta lost her website due to technical dificulties, and vice changed their forums into shitiness. bernie federko, and marachino sorta dropped off. and my dad lost his company, and i got my own job, and shit was all just changed forever. i miss the old forums at times. i had fun in there. but raymi was still going strong,. if anything, getting bigger by the second. she had already done way cool shit that made me jealous. (although, she informed me later, that i shouldn't have selt all that jealous. vice isn't as cool behind the scenes apparantly) but yeah, she was working for them, IN new yawk, and i'd check her blog prolly twice a day.
then i got all wraped up in this girlfriend thing. i've had them the whole time on and off, but this girl lasted a while. i joined the disapeared ranks of bern and mara. BUT, i was too weak to not get sucked into the revamped and sucky forums. i'd post random things from time to time, just because i like to. one post triggered a direct responce from raymi. she called me funny, and told me that my comments on how i hate furniture you have to put together yourself, and how i had this fucking desk and how my thumbs hurt, and anyways.... she told me, "anti, i want you to write for my blog".
wow. what an honor, i thought. is this for real? am i fodder for her website, some kinda "trick on anti" thing? she was for real, and it made me feel valued. nice one. so i submitted sever emails of "shit i thought she'd like" and kept getting replies, like, "no. that's good. but not what i want" and i'd get frustrated because i so badly wanted to have my writing on raymi's site. finally i had sent enough of the right kinda things... raymi picked the ones she like, and she designed me a spot on her site. i was so stoked. i knew she had fans, i knew she had hits on that blog, and i hoped people would read my shit, and like it. nad raymi told me they did.
recently things seem to be blowing up bigger and bigger. (not fast enough for the minxer i'm sure, but i don't blame her) i dumped my girlfriend, was getting ready to move, when i decide to start using my MSN messenger. i punch in raymi's codes, and viola, i'm chatting with raymi. she prolly had no idea how excited i was. i could barley type. she was making me nervous.
r le minx says:
i hate when people bug me on messenger
is that a hint?
r le minx says:
no no no
r le minx says:
you i like. long pauses. short answers
so i was happy.i felt closer to my friend than ever. my friend who i never met.
so by now i have casually mentioned i'd like to visit raymi for real. maybe fly out to t dot, take some shots, smoke some cigarettes and smile. to my surprise raymi agreed that it sounded fun. in fact, she wants to come to LA too. she's always going someplace. well, not really... but more than me. and she's never been here, and it would be so really cool. the idea makes me happy. shit.. raymi and laura met and became real life friends, why not anti and raymi?! could happen
bit it's all good. i'm not holding my breath. raymi might visit me, she might not. i mean.... time will tell. and vice verca. but it doesn't matter anyways. raymi has already given me more than she'll ever know. she's inspired the dormant write in me. she's my muse.now i have my OWN blog, i write shit all the time, i feel really good about it all, and i have raymi to thank. (thanks sexy).
she has sent me a ruff cut of her book to read and review back to her. it was great. some minor typos... but great. the book will be published soon. raymi has people with real money trying to get raymi-tv launched... and it's like holy shit. raymi is becoming bigger than ever. her charming way of being so neurotic was catching on like wildfire, and raymi's writing? getting better and better. and then even BETTER.
here's a whitey pic as promised. (oh oh, and my new couch) hope your ankle feels better
k... go to bed, lil one
you need your beuty sleep
no racoon eyes
in a sec
give sylvie hugs from me
i will of coarse
what's the difference between a preist and acne
pimples don't come on your face until you're at least 13
sylvie told it to me, dats funny
in a scary way
look how this individual loves me.
Sunday, December 08, 2002
so we went out drinking, fashionably late, my hair freshly dyed black, high, and on our skateboards again, and found some shitty bar to get cheap booze, talk to sluts, and smoke indoors. smoking indoors is so crucial. and whitey and i run into zippy. zippy's crew is off to some party and i'm like, "yo, we're IN
", and so we're off to find our hidden in the bushes skateboards and to the party in zippy's ride, and there were so many hotties floating around, thinking i was the cutest thing.
", blah blah, you look like keanu reeves", "blah, blah, who cares if i'm married...", ect.
and it's true i did make out with a hot married latina chick, and drank patron straight off the bottle, and went in the "coke" room, and left in a hurry with my board under my arm, and dragging whitey's singing/shouting ass with me. on the way home whitey received his second injury of the night... some kinda ankle issue. he's on my couch whining and crying about it as i type. i keep telling him to shutup, and it is not broken, and maybe i should be more sympathetic... but fuck that. goddamn crybaby. i'm tired of babysitting his ass.
but, the hair dye job went off well. i thought it might be too fagge, and it sorta is... but i only received compliments...
talked with raymi the minx at werk before i went out about an ex of mine, and about her book, and got her friends mad at her and felt like a boob. i hate that feeling. tomorrow the goal is werk, werk, werk, and i really hope that happens, but it won't
is it almost 5am? shit
Friday, December 06, 2002
going out alone sucks and rules all at the same time. because, let's face it: who really wants their night of fun to be potentially ruined by some lame assed loser who is the equivelent of gurl repellent? it's not even that i'm "on the prowl" so to speak, but... i still get embarassed by an even slight association. of coarse, that's why if and when i plan on having fun, the people from the "shameful" file are all banned from my presence. they just are not worthy. but going out alone isn't always the greatest of times either. it's mostly great. no answering to anyone else, or their shitty timeline, which is never syncs up with MY fucking timeline. besides, i've already vowed to make myself all new friends. a whole brand new set, that will promote my progress, and inspire me, and buy me shots of tequilla. i only want to be friends with people who have cell phones, can drive, and have money. people who have fun
when they go out, even if it's lame
. those people rule. i am those people!
that is it. i'm wearing my hawiian shirt i got from the thrift store, dirty jeans, and globes, and i'm going to knock everyone dead with my sharp wit, my charming personality, and my very good looking self. or...
maybe i'll just try and repeat that shit over and over in my head until i believe it.
ps. jewelry is gay
MOOD SWING! whitey is coming to pick me and my hawiian shirt up, and we'll go eat, now this was total coincidence, hawaian food. ka-pow!
i've recieved raymi's
book, and planned on reading it later, but got sucked in... it was so good, i had to break out my highlighter and red pen and go to town on it. sometimes she
can just blow me away with her ability to put to words exactly how i'm feeling or have felt... she inspires me...
so whitey will be here soon, and we'll go off to eat and we'll go off to drink, and we will be silly and we will be the center of fun.... pics of whitey to come soon. the guy ditched out on a free beck show just because i'm the bomb. well, that and because beck sucks.
Thursday, December 05, 2002
so i went to jason lee's
house to do my interior inspection and the guy has the nerve to not even be there. Psh. but his wife was there, and she was hot, and i talked to her, and she had a homie
on her keychain... and everything was fine. but then, as i was stuck in traffic southbound on western avenue, leaving the hollywood hills
, smoking cigarettes
, listening to the radio
... i look down and see that my fly
is down. so great, i looked like a real winner. did i say winner? let's change that to weiner
today i tried to take the scruff on my face and form it into a goatee. too bad for me it looks like shite, and will be removed immidiatley.
i wish i could grow decent face hair... i'd fully rock a manson beard or some shit like that.
went skating last night, zero injuries. shit loads of fun.
still haven't showered tho, and i feel sticky, gross and smelly, and my hair is like toxic paste. and i'm wasting time and feeling sluggish.
somehow breetards pic went down.
and it MUST stay. she ain't off the hook THAT easy
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
i know this seems ungrateful. but my mom brought me coco-puffs, and chocolate cake, right right? and NO FUCKING milk. sure. no big whup... except that i didn't realize i had no milk until raymi
told me she wanted milk... and i already had eaten nearly half the cake. Arf !
it was like being trapped in some evil sadistic got milk commercial. then i had a cigarette, and got over it.
and why don't these
people stop talking about me? i mean.... those sad fucks should have just went here
Monday, December 02, 2002
this is the only place i get cellphone reception in my whole house(very inconvenient). and this is the cake my mom made me.
those aren't candles those are these thingys that keep the cellophane off the frosting. it's true
i want a new ID. i'm 23... and still there's a big warning about being 21. it doesn't really bother me
except when Sake over at the, "reeker rocker..." (liquor locker) can't figure out that i was 18 in nintey-fuckin-seven, and should just shut up and hand over the camel lights!
plus i look kinda pissed.
so today i awoke with a barely working elbow, my bedsheet stuck to my dried up bloody knee, the britta is empty, all my work clothes wrinkled, i'm late for my appointment, and where the FUCK are those keys.
also, i'm going to make lot's of content.... photo essays, articles, all that shit. that's the plan.
but imma lazy stoner who took two years to just make a this simple blog. so yeah
Sunday, December 01, 2002
and by the way, what kind of yuppie scum watchs me roll and slide down a hill and let my skateboard nearly get crushed by traffic? oh yeah....
the kind that live next door to me.
but it's true. getting hurt can be so much fun.
go try it.
then ppl came over....