Anti abandons the internet.
it's finally over, thank fucking god.
Monday, March 31, 2003
toronto rules. it's too cold, there's some death-virus, gasmask-wearing, quarantine-style shit going on, and i somehow made everyone hate me like in under 24 hours. and fuck this whole USA vs Canuhhh-duh money situation.raymi
loves me still though, and some of the circle of trust. butt-fuck everyone else. they're gay.
L-ayme is the new dis on LA, and fuck... why didn't i think of it?
did you know that every single canadian citizen has medical coverage?!!!!!!
so uhhhh.... any hot canadian sluts, only the freakiest of hos of course, wanna tie the knot? we have to have a "open" relationship... and there's NO FUCKING WAY we're living together. dream on...
and YOU're paying the extra taxes... tard-for-brains
Thursday, March 27, 2003
right now i'm hovering over three piles of clothing. whites, darks, and clean enough to not really HAVE to wash...
i found some cool ass shirts that i forgot about... i'm uber-stoked. and whoa shit... i figured out that i can stop hating that one guy, cuz it turns out my Stone Cold Steve Austin lighter was just in some jeans... sweet...
wrestling is so dumb, it's scrotum.
but stone cold flips ppl off all the time supposedly... so i bought his lighter...
"my style is impetuous, my defense is impreggnable, and i'm just ferocious, i want your heart, i'm gonna eat his children..." mike tyson
the elevators at the courthouse by the 105 and LAX are so fast. maybe it was the fragile stomach i've been rocking lately, but man i thought it was gonna be a projectile-vomitting-nightingmare. if there wasn't a sherrif in there with me and that decrepid old hag, i mightah letter roll... but shit i don't need no sherrif getting all barf-coated-pissed-style on me. sheezuss
and my bank is the coolest ever. hawthorne saving man... they pay you $20 to start a free account, and they always have free popcorn and coffee, and ONCE i even gotta hotdog.
i hardly even hold a grudge about getting robbed out front of one of their branches.
i mean, FREE popcorn...
but they are kinda sleaze-ball-ola, i mean my ATM card doesn't even have my name on it...
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
i bet my bus blog shirt design
is cooler than one you can think of. pssh.chumps.
and FUCK MAN, why does everyone come to me with their petty little mundane questions. most of of the time when they ask me something, i don't even look at them, i sorta just say to them the appropiate answer, and ignore them if they ask again. or i put on my head phones and when they tap me on the shoulder, yes they actually tap me on the shoulder, i point to the sky, as if to say, "one sec" and then ignore them until they go away. i'm living in this world of do what feels good, live by the seat of my pants and all that jazz. i kinda plan on dieing sooner than later, not like in a suicidal way -- more like an intuition, so i wanna get the most out of life RIGHT NOW. i want to see and do everything, or at least go to sleep knowing i had a dope ass day... even if it was shitty. life is what i make of it, and i like it when i have the smarts to just chill back, take a deep breath and look at the clouds, roll down my car window, and smoke a cigarette while i sing along to all my favorite CDs. shit man... things could be worse. they weren't worse when i had a girlfriend. i think i was more dependable. i kinda wish i could have her back just for the stability. but she was not for me. boring. not sexually proned, like i am. most days the first thing i do is jack off. i don't even think she jacks off ever. but the fucked up part is i'm a hot commodity and i know it. i'm hot. i'm employed (a cool sounding job might i add), i live alone and in a ritzy part of town, i'm funny, i'm smart, i'm just retarded. girlfriends are too mcuh for me right now. i'm just not good at pretending to care what they're talking about anymore. how did i used to do it, because now the pained look on my face usually makes them shutup and hate me forever. but oh well... at least they shutup. and what's the the matter with all my male friends?! they're all cut. all except whitey. and his retarded ass has a broken ankle. they're all too problematic, and tacky, and really are just highschoolleftovers that i'll still be polite to, but never call or make plans with. most of them live at home with mommy, or are have no real job, or look stupid, or are stupid. did i evolve or just develop a huge fucking ego? who cares?ok enough again... (ps... i was in the middle of a gross binge when i wrote this originally; this was the end... most of the rest of it is unreadable)
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
"girls with puma's are the kinds i like, i steal your girlie like i stole you bike" -MCA
now i remember why PUMA is the shit. click the above thumbnails...
all clean. super clean. my hair is my favorite when it's wet. it's all cold, wet, and good. and still smellin like shampoo. i love that.
my room is immaculate too. if you choose to ignore the beear cans and bottles, trash, and laundry strewn everywhere. fuck it's buggin me... wait here while i make it nice
ok done. that was easy. i'm going out of town AGAINNNNNN. this time i wanna come home to a clean pad. grrr!
that's me in my bed/closet. people are always trippen out thinking it's a one bedroom. how can they be SO STUPID?...
i'm going to ikea tonight. i need better pillows. my neck feels like is has rusty bolts holding the head on. tankinator is driving... and i'm gonna eat her cookies
Sunday, March 23, 2003
so i call up the viking in hollywood and he's posted up on La Brea and Sunset waiving too full sized american flags... we rolled up kick it with him and his black lab.
he's like totally my news source. fuck CNN anywaysjennyeah
is sick of writing. she'd rather make dope ass photo essays...whitey
started a blog
it's brand new, so it sucks. but it will pan out i'm sure.
doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo (twilight zone)
Saturday, March 22, 2003
so what i gottsta do is cruz it to players liquer, get smokes, pick up my #5 conbo from El terasco , and hit up Harry-o's for somwe shots and sloppyness. i lueurve rockin the maybe-i-can-make-thru-someday-style.
oh i i think i found out from breetard telling amy #3 telling dreddy telling me that i got fired from appraisal. wha?! i'm me!@%#^$!
i'm the shit...
sign jobbing is tighter anyways.
Thursday, March 20, 2003
i'm rockin the showmeyourtits beads. i mean.... they worked in pheonix. thank the gods for that drive-thru liquer store right by the Red Lion Hotel off Cactus and the 17...
so i'm just gonna quote whitey for this post, since he's babbling over my shoulder anyways... "i'm gonna speak english, english...."
"i speak american english"
"your bong is the only one that screams like that"
"two shots two bonghits and anti is on his way..."
"what are you so anti about anyways?"
"you know that's what kieth richards did... he would just party and record at night. or party, or record. whatever he did. and i realized that... how much great shit has come to everybody late at night... you know what i mean?..."
"see you're getting off the guard because i told you about the accapella"
"see no fuck this.. you're quoting at too many random times..."
"rip the lid off id"
"what i'm saying is... you can tell i'm just on the spot... my ears are red already"
"see what's cool is that you don't have to have the bad parts of the relationship when you look a chick in the eye"
"see my problem is, ayyy, hoowee... shit i'm drinkin.."
now some "farmers market of the beast"
like an ape with a cape, i'm like... some type of super futuristic primate, from the planet of the hairless apes, bloggers are going apeshit, silly, willy wonkers, totally bonkers, bananas, hana barbara, blundar. the bar-barrrrian, bursting out the sanitarium, collecting money for the man, playing the accordian, aquarium of sea monkeys, who, monkey see, monkey do you, see what see what i do, he's clue-less..., bloggers are giving me goosebumps, pucker up, buttercup, for the plunger suction cup, sucker puching is for punk sucker chumps, i'm a lamp chimp champion in the fast food experiment, like jimi hendrix, you need to get experienced, but what's all of this, monkey... business-men, at every pill party, i find, 12 monkeys on my back attacking with the monkey wrench, henchemne wenchin, sacrificing goats, on the altar, vultures, swarming with parts and napkins, this looks like a job for captian, caveman, with the man sized tale, of the gold monkey, man what will it be, do you wanna make a monkey outta me?, monkey see... no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, but people say we monkey around, monkey shine, shock the monky, spank your monkey, go ahead have a barrel of monkeys, everyone's got something to hide, except for me and my monkey, a monkey is my uncle, it's my distant cousin, kissin a martian, darwin, ancient alien lifeform, word is born, step up and get reborn, transform into a budhist monkey, avenue monk, cousins from another country are starvin, there servin monky brains, as a delicacy, drinking brass monky, drunkin flippen, broken cookies crumble-lin, concrete jungle jim... morrison, rumble in the bronx, barroom barnyard brawl, i was a teennage neanderthal, all over wild styles, man child, man cub, like tarzans loyal companion, i ain't the man or the chief, bloggers are the king of the beast, beneath the surface, mosquitos feast on the deceased blood of the earth mother, rest in peace, soul provider, easy rider, iraq's, on the backs of the world's largest taradactle, black gold, fools gold, going going going gone sold, we got the right to know, we got the right to grow, 7 ft long dear, if we want to die for a dead dino-saur.... SUCKER
new ppl on the cast
that tankinator is on her way over so she can be my big date for costco. i have this thing lately where i can't do chores alone. i owe her presence and slave-driver way for my apartment being cleaned last night. the tankinator
wants to have a Dom-off with the Blonde Gurllll
.... would be an intresting battle...
the war woke me up today. i woke up at 6am sitting upright on my couch with everything i own turned on, and a war in my face. i popped in a James bond DVD... the spy who loved me... much better.
here's an email from rosina
went to amsterdam a week ago and stayed in the apartment of a friend of a friend smack dab in the middle of the red light district. had the most fun eating shrooms and watching the neighbors... ahhh, crack heads and whores... gotta love em. we walked around the "nice part" the next day and i actually started to miss them. when you´re in a decent place high as hell, you start to feel like a weirdo, but being surrounded by weirdos makes it like you got a pretty good head on your shoulders, know what i mean? normal by disassociation. well, anyway, i brought some (shrooms, not crackheadsn´hos) back with me to sevilla so the fun-filled battle with sanity could continue. speakin of.... this past weekend went to carnival in cadiz (town 2 hour bus ride from me). no money for excessive luxury (ie. place to stay) so we got a round trip ticket that took us there sat evening and returned 6am the next day. hoards of people dressed up like halloween drinking, partying, peeing and puking in the streets. went with 6 people and lost them all. met new ones though and we all managed to find our way back to the bus station in one piece by mornin. good time had by all. *Rosina
at the bar last night the fuglies were on patrol...
lurking and creeping like they do...
i'm just a space monkey in a tin foil hat. and they can suck a fat sleazy one.
i like ding dongs because they're wrapped in tin foil...
maybe it's cuz of my old cat.. assasination...
but this is how i feel about new one's that come lurking...
damn them. shit smelly fucks that they are.
this one's cool sorta though. his name's slasher, says the collar...
and i think he takes rips...
he better not take dumps
either way i'm kicking his ass out so me and whitey can go drinking walking distance style...
tequilla shots fo sho
i kicked this dude's ass
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
can i get a ride to pep boys?
HEY... i feel like a good-for-nothing, hippie-piece-of-shit. my hair is at an alltime high. and i have to take a crap.
i can't do shit about anything cuz my car has a flat and i'm already riding on the spare, and i'm lazy.
every single fucking article of clothing i own is gross, smelly, and dirty. even the boxers i'm rocking right now. and i need to shower.. i can tell cuz i'm sticky with filth.
GIVE ME a cigarette and some coffeee, NOW!!!
rise and shine my ass
whitey came over... and is now bitching about, "how could big mike's get 'best sub' in the easy reader?!"
i mean,,, is he for real?
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Monday, March 17, 2003
just got back from pheonix where i had a sign job.
weekend from hell.
i got so ferociously hungover from friday night's partying that i was literally puking out the rental truck as i disperssed the halfway-house-junkies out to their street corners to hold their signwalking sticks. the sign walkers thought it was pretty fuckin funny. har dee fuckin har har
then it was raining all fucking crazy on sunday so the sober-living-asstard-rejects decided they didn't want to work. this job is a rain or shine kinda gig... so they fucked us pretty good. we had to hire these tweeker heavy metal looking motherfuckers. we named them their cretins. they hang out ALLLLLLLLLLL day in some transit-ish bus-stop looking thing there at the metro center off the 17 and peora. like all day everyday. props to cheech and rain for being the tweekiest, therefore making a huge scene, therefore being rad signwalkers. getting ppl's attention is key. (rain is also rad cuz he just rocked a t-shirt, and ignored the fact that we gave everyone a poncho for the storm, and it was raining bad... maybe that's how he got his wierdo cretin nickname. or maybe tweekers are fucking mental)
and lastly, my hands are brutally cut up and rendered useless. it hurts like a bitch when i try and make a fist... so my lucky ass "got" to drive the F250 home. and the viking doesn't let me smoke cigarettes in his ride... so it was shitty. now it's 3:Whatever AM... i'm dead tired, still a little sick, and my apartment was a total shithole when i arrived.
god i love LA.
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
i have a daily maximum foir nice-ness. there's a point when all my abilities to be nice to ppl are just used up. i can't help it. and it gets used up fast.
nice people are, almost always, big ass phoneys anyways. they force smiles, they fake laugh all the time, and are full of shit. and they're chicks, for the most part. don't drop your wallet around nice dudes
, or if you do.... bend at the knees, man.... bend at the fuckin knees...
why are chicks so affraid to be the bitches i know they are? i have so much more respect for nasty-attitude-having beotches than smiling-more-than-a-retard, nice-girl, phonies.
i mean... have some balls for chrissakes!
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
my landlord calls while i'm partying at some dude's house, and leaves me a voicemail, "yeah... hi... it's mike your landlord.... so, the upstairs neighbor, Jen.... she says there's been a large increase in... AHEM..." he pauses
my pulse starts racing faster than Flo Jo. oh holyfuck, increase in... noise? smoke?? trash??? traffic???? WHAT?!!?!?!?! spit it out dickbreath!!
"an increase in the electricity bill... just try and turn off lights and stuff... THANKS!"
mother. fucker. people obviously love to fuckin freak me the fuck out over minute bullshit.
doesn't asshole realize how paranoid i always am? Jebus!
if loopyness was a sport in the olympics.... i'd be a gold medalist.
i'm supposed to show everyone at Global Headquarters that i'm still the shiz-nit by totally killing it with this one lonely job they gave me. deadline? yesterday. current status? haven't done sheeit.
and the appointment was disaster-central. i woke up that morning at 10:30 and nearly shat myself when i finally remembered that i had a 10-o-clock. the guy was cool about it when i called, maybe cuz i lied my ass off about why i didn't show. new appointment set for exactly 30min away (meaning "be there at 11:15"). but East LA... ALSO is exactly 30min away. so what if i'm 5 minutes late? right?
well, at 11:15... i started to get flooded with that sinking feeling again, cuz i was stuck on the 710 in gridlock. straight up parking lot disgusting-ness. some retardo-maximo accident took it down to one lane, and every wannabe-green-card-having motherfucker decides they need to slow all stupid-like and LOOK.
THEN i miss my exit because they changed the street name. and i can't tell until i get to the end of the 710. fuck you pasadena!
so finally i'm close enough to taste it... i'm on the subject property's street.... all i need to do is cross whittier boulevard and i'm there....
that's right about when i hit the anti-war-whatever parade.
i nearly had a caniption fit. but then i made it, the end.
this weekend = pheonix, arizona trip with the viking. hell will be raised
Friday, March 07, 2003
"we have to have a talk with you..."
that's what my office manager said when i asked for more work. uh... what's a good synonym for cold-sweat-worthy-panic? i've seen it happen to other people, the two office managers and frank, the owner, all huddle up in his office with the current fuckup, and usually you don't see the fuckup ever again.
"don't worry, it's not that bad..."that
bad? she's killin me. i had to storm outta there and suck down a smoke, and prepare to face the music. i knew they weren't gonna can me, but i was scared. and what if during this meeting it becomes too obvious that i'm on drugs?! deep breaths, deep breaths.
on a side note... that's my alley/cigarette recepticle
ok... so what was this fancy meeting-designed-to-make-me-shit-bricks all about??? they just wanted me to turn in my files faster. 3-5 day turn around. it was so lame. they spent about ten minutes repeating the same thing over and over. and i kept saying, "no problemo"... it made me very uncomfortable. i kept thinking, "what part of 'no problemo' don't they understando?". it also appeared that they think i might be partying to much. they said shit like, "maybe you shouldn't go out all night long when you have files to type up", those comments annoyed the fuck outta me.
there is a bright side to the story, my boss said he thinks i'm in the top 3 of talented appraisers he's got. i think, "talent up the wahzoo" is what he actually said. and i USED to be a top performer there, that's partly why they did the meeting... to kick me in the ass sorta. help me find my fire again. so whatever.
they should have just told me. they're such drama queens
i used to have a guitar exactly like this one, except mine was dark blue.
a B.C. Rich "bich", N.J. Series, with the cool old headstock
, 24 fretts, a floyd rose wammy bar, nice and low action, and some kinda fancy humbuckers that i forget the name of.
my bich made all the heshers drool.
i'm so pissed that i sold it for $200 bucks, just so i could make rent one month, a few years back.
i wanna get another B.C. Rich... but this time i'm not gonna get a bich, i wanna bust the Warlock.
who am i kidding? i ain't gonna do shit.
Thursday, March 06, 2003
i slept for about 12 hours. too much. i prefer 3-6 hours.
nowi feel all NASCARR-ish
i have yellow teeth
i suffer from halitosis
wearing the same clothes for days
and i'm a total asshole
sooooooo... hey ladies, wanna make out?!
and if the blog crews were compared to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles... in mine, i think JG
would be Splinter
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
o begins day two of doing nothing when i should be working...
is it werkin? lemme werk it...
put your shit down flip it and reverse it
right now i'm obbsessed with getting an avocado bacon cheeseburger, and french fries. but they only deliver if the order is $10 or more. fine you communist pigs, i'll order three shitty snapples to meet the minimum. but i ain't tipping!!!el linko muy stupido... i like it though
gawd. i hate when the pot runs out, and i'm forced to live off shake. shake is gross cuz it makes me cough too much, and it burns too fast. and i don't feel like twisting one up.
the pot guy says tomorrow.
but he said that yesterday
i could go to a different pot guy.
but i want the best
i want frosted stony colas of death that reek so bad you have to double bag the shit.
today's so fucking cold here that you need to wear a sweatshirt. or at least long sleeves. what the fuck, man? i hate it when it's balls out cold. damn you weather, do i look like fucking santa clause to you? i might even have to close my sliding glass door for fuckssakes.
10:23pm EDIT:sliding glass door is officially closed. space heater: on.
Monday, March 03, 2003
that's my shwinn i want two hundred bucks for. it's a blue stingray with a springer fork, a velour(sp?) banana seat, shocks on the sissy bar, AND even custom valve caps on the tires. they're dice. it doesn't have any tacky ass gold, or homie-g twisty parts, or a chain link stearing wheel. that shit's for posers. buy it, and maybe i can talk raymi
into sitting on it with no chonies before it ships out. that would cost extra though.
Sunday, March 02, 2003
i don't know why people don't valet their cars more often it's so sweet.
pull up, hop out, and five dollars and a few hours later they pull it up again for you to pop in and jet. i think it'd be a cool job to have too. driving all these peoples cars, rooting through thier personals, coming up on loot.
not really, but sorta
sometimes you just gotsa rock a pack of Newports. menthols go good with chapped lips and blistex anyways.
and i'm watching Bill and Ted's Exellent Adventure right now. bored and waiting for the xanax to take hold. i wish i had some ludes.
Saturday, March 01, 2003
i am that guy that goes home with everyone else's lighter in my pocket.
i haven't bought a lighter since Carter was president.
i plan on drinking as much as humanly possible every waking second of this weekend. cuz i can. for fucking once. and my favorite get-out-of-giving-a-cigarette-away line currently is, "oh i bummed this from some dark haired chick inside..." i ain't some fucking charity worker!
dreddy's tatts are so ghetto.
and chain smoking is the best. sometimes cigarettes are just never long enough. and there's a sick satisfaction when you're lighting your new cigarette off of the cherry of your old cigarette... they say the hardcore dudes only use a lighter or a match once a day. like how we did it back in 'Nam.