Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Friday, May 30, 2003

 
first watch this

then look at this

stubbornism is a tough life to lead.

YOU're always right. even if YOU're the only one who thinks so. and there's no convincing you... cuz well... ummm....
YOU're stubborn!
shit. it's fucking tough man.

and us suckers have to learn to accept it.

kinda like Dude's vietnam vet friend in "the big lebowski"... we're all like The Dude in that movie, and we all have that kinda friend. the kind that KNOWS how right they think they are, no matter how wrong.

no this post isn't saying YOU are stubborn. anyone i know. but kinda.


Thursday, May 29, 2003

 
bought a new face shaver thingy. it doubles as a pube mower. excellent, eh? i geuss beard hair is just pubes-for-the-face anyways. it's charging now. and i'm literally gonna scratch my face off if it doesn't charge fast enough.

everyone should go to toronto NOW! there's all these deals cuz of sars, and sars is a total joke. would you not travel to LA cuz you might get famous? it's almost the same odds of getting sars.

so some posers were graced with my presence, some homeless guy almost got the shit beaten out of him for asking me for change (and not even by me, thanks nice homeless-bully guy), we stayed in a nice and swanky hotel, ripped off street cars, stalked/spyed on city-slickers, AND public urination all happened during our "in the city" excursion.

tyranny was the inspiration when he's all, "why not go to the city?"... he knows it's hard to pretend to be a townie when you're a city slicker at heart.and it's pronounced "tier-anny" not tie-ranny, or as i misread it long time ago... tranny.


Tuesday, May 27, 2003

 
i talked to MY mom today. she called and i roamed my cellphones ass off, prolly cost a small fortune... or at least a bag full of variety store food like ketchup chips coffee and my favorite food, cigarettes

i think my mom might miss me. she didn't miss me as much when i lived within skateboarding distance. funny how that works. my sisters too. it's like you have to become literally UNavailable for them to remember to care. ahh pshh. i guess one IS getting married friday. or saturday. whatevs.

i hear pounding footsteps upstairs. furniture sliding. that's usually my cue to go arrange it back to how it was before we all pass out at sunrise like literal vampires. literally. i mean it.

my hair is standing straight up right now from greasy-ness. i like it.

blahhnt!


Monday, May 26, 2003

 
today i'm reading a book. in pajama style clothes... while it rains.
i just had a donut. it's been the only staple in my diet for years now. the circle of death as a health teacher once called 'em. that guy doesn't know shit.

we watched sex tv last night. it was all about sex and smoking. kinda interesting. kinda boring.

we have all these things we want to do everyday... but without a ride or car it's like, "fuck it till man-yana"

i'm wearing shoes with no socks.

raymi's mum asked me if i'm depressed becuase my hair is greasy. i don't follow the logic in that deduction. but no i'm not. i'm happy to be chillin, farting, and smelling like an ashtray. honestly. the only desire left un-fulfilled is the ability to drive a vehicle all over canada to run pointless errands. cuz we have no wheels. except for bicycle ones.

and the "joke" of having a pervo-moustache is REALLY wearing thin. i wouldah shaved days and days ago 'cept my electric razor has gone AWOL. i think it may have fallen in the trachcan next to the bathroom sink. i hate face hair. they feel like little itchy worms taking over my jaw. i have to scratch my neck constantly. i think i mght just let it get all ned flandersed-out. oka-lee-doka-lee styles.

suck on these nuts


blogs with pics are like totally the kind i return to. even if they're just random pics. having my brain's attention is valueable. so is everyone's. lotsa blogs i just go to for the pics. or i look at the pic, read a sentence or two, get bored/lose intrest.... and move on.

that's why i always put pics of myself up. i figure nobody reads these manifestos of a stoner anyways. i wouldn't read me.


Saturday, May 24, 2003

 
From : "r le minx" To : peter@hellotoast.com Subject : Re: i tried... Date : Fri, 17 Jan 2003 17:15:18 -0500 hmmm ok but those things i can only write like once a month or every other and i just babble stream of conscious i dont plan those either i cant do deadlines or any of that shit i know its going to be tough i know sometimes i dont get scared when my friend drives like a maniac the same feeling like when i am in an airplane and driking a vodka tonic with lemon after all the stress of getting on board i can accept and be ok with dying like whatever this is it its ok hmm -raymi

------

From : "r le minx" To : dan Date : Fri, 17 Jan 2003 17:03:57 -0500

and of course i know what a culture jammer is its what i am but too fucking cuntish to admit or to put a full effort into like i hate the gap and fully understand how they work and how banana republic is gap's rich parent for those with more disposable income while old navy is for fat americans with less dough still wanting to conform to be "hip" and i dig their marketing they're on it fully along with all the others i just dont put into thought things like, "oh i need pants. no wait, i need LEVI'S." thats about it. From : "r le minx" To : peter@hellotoast.com Subject : Re: blankgirl? Date : Fri, 17 Jan 2003 16:48:51 -0500 dont re email the pics it wipes out my account listen, don't critique a fucking 19 yr old girl who is FUCKED UP and does not try i dont take any picture seriously at all the elevator one was when i was on my way to this huge loft with a buddy to do a run i was scared and that picture was a pure fucking FLUKE all of them are u should see my reel of leftover shots yeh i may sort of pose but nothing NOTHING is pre-planned and blankgirl is through a convex mirror so you are looking at me backwards in a bar where i am fucking loaded and stoned and neurotic and alone and taking pictures cuz i am too introverted to talk to my people and their friends no more picture critiques you've made your point duly noted

the masses agree with me oh and i think i look fat and weird in blankgirl


Friday, May 23, 2003

 
fuck TWIN beds. they're so not meant for two.

i have to shit now.
(lightah match!!)

ok now i'm done, and i got to read how to shampoo my hair. read it over and over again.


Thursday, May 22, 2003

 
the news stations here rule. they have these cool accent having motherfuckers, and you can't not laugh. there was this black dude who talked like the chef from southpark on last night. he even looked like isaac hayes. go t dot!

i need to see movies. lots of them. at sarah's house we watched dood where's my car... making it the millionth time i've seen it. shibby. but i'm talking about all the NEW movies out that i look ill. like the matrix of course. hulk. and other shit. i don't wanna see that jim carey one... the god one... but the commercials are kinda funny regardless.

i feel like going to the mall for good reason at all. maybe to harrass retards that werk there. eat in the food court. and take spy pictures of fatties buying designer goods.

i never know how hot or cold it is, cuz they use celcius. it's just always cold, that's all i really need to know anyways.

and the harder i try to get fatter... the skinnier i get. i eat junk. ONLY junk. like chocolate, burger king, gravy soaked fries, pepsi, pizza, and ice cream. now i'm down to the weight i had when i was 16 on my drivers license. a buck fiftey. and i'm 5'11".



at this rate i'll never live out my fantasy to be a famous sumo wrestler. damn, life's a bitch.


Wednesday, May 21, 2003

 
whoopy cushions ARE funny.
buy one. use it on everyone at all times. it's the kinda gag that even survives axe grinding. it's most effective in stores and restaurants. classy.

being bored in the burbs, and carless... that can make you find all kinda ways to entertain yourself. like, "oh joy... let's go walk around and MAYBE some life will happen to us." although trouble, not life, usually finds us. but not really.

i've heard that it's un-typically cold. el neen-yo? suuuure...whatever they say. and i didn't steal your lighter. but who's using matches? BWAHAHAHA.... heh. ha. hmm. ok. composure gained.

really it's not that bad. it's gonna get warmish. soonish. the adventures? they're Innnnnn-say hay hayne.... yes, insane. but pronounced like one of those paki electronic store owner commercial things. like "crazy gideon" in downtown LA.

i wish i had my selection of american brand smokes available. marlboro reds, american spirits, lucky strikes, kamel reds, camel lights, parliments, newports, pal mals, and whatever the fuck you can't get here.

but here you can "shit" on the radio. literally.


Tuesday, May 20, 2003

 
hollywood hills born and raised. on my living room couch is where i spent most of my days. chillin out maxin relaxin all cool, watchin fresh prince outside of my school

it sucked growing up there man. my dad was a rich rich man. in this mansion on top of this steap as fuck hill. good for his and his car-having ass. but walking home from school was brutal. it was like a mile straight up. 90 degree angles and shit.

and when you ventured of that hill on a bike, you'd better bring your posse. hollywood is the ghetto afterall. not as bad as hyde park or inglewood. but you could get beat up and your bike stolen just as easy.

in third grade at cheramoya elementary school (just off of franklin ave), the only white dudes were me and bobby. but bobby was a pussy ass loser. so my friends were humberto and eduardo... mexican twins (that's actually thier old apartment building in the pic).

before that i went to a private school in the valley, campbell hall. but only for one year... kindergarten. my best friend from kindergarden accidently killed himself that summer between K and first grade. poor collin... i remeber playing with him on that same electric gate at his mom's apartnent complex that killed him. we were playing chicken, seeing who could hang on till the last minute while it automatically slid back into that slot on tha wall. he died brreaking his neck in that slot. he looked so pale in the coffin... i was like 6 or some shit

and there's more wierdness. in fourth and fifth grades i was the only boy. there were three others in my same grade, Alexa (the blonde i had a crush on), Rosie (the brunette who had a crush on me), and Amanda... (the boring one). but that school was really the victim of poor enrollment, AND taught me that my sisters knew cool not my peers, and they were punk rock, so therefore, punk is/was cool. they shaved my head bald, bought me Docs and a green flight jacket, told me my knew alias was "vex" because i was loud obnoxious, and disgusting, and BLERP!!!! i was the coolest poser in all Los Feliz Hills School. and their friends and their friends liberty spikes all thought so too.


Monday, May 19, 2003

 
i saw little ass kids cruising around rockin some roman candles. uh.... nice. right. and everyone says "the states" is a violent place (and it is) but those kids were 3rd degree burns waiting to happen. the sun is shining too. so they'll get sunburned at least. pale ass muthafuggahs.

it's some canuckistan holiday. may 2-4. which oddly enough stands for 24-pack. not may the 24th. i love drunks. our neighbor has a hangover from one bottle of bud. she's not a drunk.

people are all outside of their houses throwing frisbees at eachother. or footballs. or roman candles. and cuz the air's all hot and bug filled you need on your darkest pair of locs. i wish i still had my Easy E locs. the shits were so dark you were practically looking thru opauque peices of black plastic. or might as well be.

my sister (G diddy this time, not C. lo) is getting married on the queen mary in the LBC. (wesssighhhhh)

good for my sisters. i hope they don't get dirvorced too soon. that's always annoying. right?

and i shaved my shit into the form of a perv-moustache. it looks like i'm some motorcycle cop, or a greaseball. well i guess i always look like a grease-pile. i wanna grow it all cool and thick and burly like captian morgan. he's my fashion role model... the cap. whatta pimp


Saturday, May 17, 2003

 

hi guys. it's raymi. the other anti, you know? this guy is so totally asleep upstairs right now and i am down in the dungeon on the laptop and he is all whiney and crabby and ya ya yay ya, not really. canada is fun, canada is safe, and i get to go to the hospital everyday for free and not have to be ahh-scared of doctors and shit here and bills etc etc. anti is obsessed with reading his own blog. and emails and other things and like all internet tardbags, when there are no emails, it's a personal dis on the world like fuck YOU! EMAIL ME NOW!!!!!!!! we have internet now, so things will be better sooner and stuff. hi mum. you keep reading our blogs, stop it. stop taking it literally and stop fighting with me! im going to have a heart attack.

moist vagina by nirvana is a good song. it's a b song single thing. download it now. he goes, " shrrrreee had a moist vagina." and then he goes, " MARA WAAANANNA over and over and over again and there are all these drums blamming and guitars and bass and ruhhh ruuhhhhh i am typing to the rhythym of this music now sorta, up and down, and you realise what saves your soul, what can heal it all along, is music, even by that of a guy who blew his head off, and why did he do that?

we know why. and we know why other people do it too. and why courtney is all fucked up over it, why she was fucked up before this guy, you know?

no matter where you live, everyone is fucked. ok now its the end part and he's making that sound with his throat where you go uhhhhhhhhhhhh until it doesnt sound like throat sounds anymore, just like this sound. it's a fun sound to make.

bye.


Friday, May 16, 2003

 
cash rules everything around me.

in LA there all these people who want me to work for them, and make lotsa $$$, like the appraiser people, and the sign job people, and all that. i wanna make money too, because i love it (money), and am running out of it more and more. pizza doesn't buy itself. neither do Du Mauriers...(that's the candian equivilent to marb reds)

acadians have the hugest cigarette packs. they're so large marge my pockets are gonna explode. i want to collect all the cool little messages they have on the packs from the picture of the rotten heart to the guy hooked up to an iron lung. classy!

i can't go many places cuz i don't know shit from shinolah aboot where i am. i get lost just trying to get my ass to kinkos. and the places i do know aboot don't take mastercard. i should have gotten hooked up with a cooler bank than Hawtorne Savings... they lured me with their free popcorn. the swine. i keep trying to get a map.... but maps are gay. in LA i have shitloads of maps, and had to study them for appraisal jobs, and lets just say i'm mapped out.

today i'm gonna wear pink pajama pants under my dickies, and shit loads of other layers. acadians are good at being cold.... but i'm not acadian. i'm l-ayme. and hell-A is hot. being hot is my skill... i do it well.

raymi has jail socks. literally

being from ameri-duuuhhhh makes people look at you like they either feel sorry for you or wanna hurt you. they assume too much. i don't like hockey cuz i can't see that tiny ass puck.... not cuz i'm a stooopid ameri-fag. there are just as many fat lazy candians as americans... did i say canadians? i meant acadians. but you gotta give it up for poutine. it should be on their acadian flag instead of that leaf thingy.

and why do so few places sell beer. even the gas stations and "variety" stores don't sell it. they have this thing literally called the beer store. and their hours suck.

i miss tacos. good tacos. REAL tacos.


Thursday, May 15, 2003

 
i miss taking bonghits. i love bonghits. i wish more places took mastercard... nobody does round here. cept for the varaiety store (yeah they don't call em quickie marts here) that has jack shit for selection. my purchase choices are smokes and/or jiuce. my ATM card is split in half due to trying to make it werk in shitty ATM machines. it worked sorta... even broken... for a tiny bit... in big ass atm machines, but now it's as useful as an old hotel key card. mastercard can suck my ass is the point. i hate no cash syndrome.

and another ting... how do they expect me to ride my bike in such shitty weather? isn't it almost june? is it eternally cold here? can more people give me shit about being american for no good reason? i hate my cunt of a ree. well ont the whole country, just the people in it. and not the people really, just the ones that suck. or the one's that work for mastercard and hawthorne savings.

i can't help the things that i do, or the fact that noone cares what i want. i wish i could but that's too bad for me. maybe i should surround myself with considerate people? i'm tired of everyone screaming in my ear about shit... i'm not deaf dammit... not yet. maybe soon.

and if or when i scream back it causes me to lose my smooth smokey singing voice. candian idol try outs? maybe. but i don't wanna crush some losers dreams by being too uber cool.

and chicks and PMS... well fuck man... need i say more on that? i grew up with three older sisters and if i don't watch my mouth i can end up knee deep in shit. or should i say knee deep in period blood? nahhhhh.... that's gross.


Wednesday, May 14, 2003

 
within 48 hours 3 ppl told me seperatley that i resemble keanu reeves. i hope they meant it as in ted theadore logan, esq. and not something gay. and the other ppl think i look like "that guy" they know. i have familiar face disease, i guess.

i'd make a shitty spy, cuz everyone would think they already knew me from somewhere. but the fact that i appear to not have an accent might help. i always thought i said "like" and dude" and "bro" too much, but i guess so does the whole world. well, maybe not mexico. they say amigo.

my birthday is june 7th, please keep my presents under $1,000, or i feel guilty for it. no i won't. email ruttedout@yahoo.com for shipping addresses. ninjagirl... thanks for the early gifts. you get to die and go to heaven. send post cards to hell for me.


Rage a hol. And temper flare ups. Fuck them. I stay calm typically… only after much provocation will I snap, and when I do it tends to be ugly. But it’s never un-warranted, and never prolonged. Although I always feel ashamed when I lose it.

I’ve punched walls leaving my knuckles a bloody scabbed mess and I can’t even get a lighter outta my jeans without being reminded. I’ve broken things that are either expensive or not, replaceable or not, mine or not. I’ve called out fat girls for being fat, spit on people, thrown whatever was handy, screamed my voice away. Yep… calm, cool, rock steady anti has anger fits like all humans. Believe it.

Anger management is a skill I do posses though, and that’s why the frequency of these out bursts are really low. I don’t like losing control. And I guess that’s why I’m not much of a drinker, more of a pot smoker. Pot is so mild and shit... I’m able to maintain control. Anger is a drug in the sense that you’re not sober when you’re all raged out. You make lousy choices, and do irrational things. Too much of any emotion does that shit to a dude. Once I was so happy I straight up ran into a glass door and banged my face. And once I was so sad that I porked a fat chick. What was I fecking thinking, eh? (Canadian accent shit coming thru)

Some people have it really bad though. They can’t keep their shit under wraps at all. The anger consumes them. They become these screaming violent balls of fury, and you’d better prepare to face the wrath or get the fuck outta dodge man. My ex roommate was so psycho that he’d get his ass kicked in road-rage wars, and punch a few holes in his bedroom door when the simpsons wasn’t on cuz of some news break, or sporting event thingy. In the end he kicked me out (yes HE kicked ME out) because in a typical temper fit he accused me of stealing his homework. And shit man… I didn’t even go to school at that time. I wish I DID steal it though. That would be classic. Tacky… but classic.

So what’s my point? I’ve never really had one, except on top of my head.

Anti the pin-head signing off.


Sunday, May 11, 2003

 
just got outta the hot tub and shit i feel great.

lots of L-aymos are all either worried about me or hating on me, or whatever. so guess what... i'm not dead. i have shit loads to say, and shit loads of pics to post, lots of funny shit. and yeah... i'll get at yall more later when we finally get a real internet connection. kinkos this. although the chinese dude lettus have free access cuz we're c to the ool.

bye asstards


Friday, May 02, 2003

 
SARS shmars.

me and nacnud jammed last night, and it was tight.

we're late for everything. EVERYthing. and making friends along the way. i'm developing a canadian accent. but it's nothing to worry aboot, eh? here they don't have circle k, they do have this thing called tim hortons, and i can only use the internet when/if we're somehwere that has it. so like never. and my self-own is roaming harder than the B-52's. cingular wireless must be closing their eyes and making little "cha ching" noises under their breath. it makes me wanna sneak into their kitchen and wipe boogers on all their food, like i used to do as a waiter for the chart house. i still need a LD card for phone calls...

tyranny, fear, the coconuts (one and two), dave1, RN, the forsythe guy, coolhandluke, whitey, nacnud, mum, rock'n'roll kenny, ninjagurllll, ming(or ling), JG, jamie, true, that guy who swore julia roberts was stalking him, wario... shit man the people who have helped in their own (and very appreciated) ways are too many to list. this is only a sampling. so thank you all. the storm isn't over... not QUITE... but has been down graded from hurricane to tropical storm to lite drizzle. clear skies are in our future. promise

now i must call my ex landlord and tell him how to break in to my ex apartment. he's all some surf-lawyer, and is too laid back even for me. can he just TRY to not say "cool, man" every two seconds? he's older than dust for fucks sake. it makes me want to explode

my sister will be married on cinco de mayo. in the vegas. i'd get married on el dia de los muertos... how cum noone here speaks mexican? pinche jotos.


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