i will see how they behave or react to something, and it's always clear-as-day what's wrong about what they do. it sticks out like a sore thumb.
too bad that doesn't apply to self analisys.
looking at my own self, i can see some of the obvious flaws. but lots of the time im clouded by pride, and my ginormous (and equally fragile) ego.
i dont speak up, and tap so-and-so on the shoulder and offer my pearls of wisdom. because on top of it being none of my beeswax, and it being overly presumptuous to say that i know "how someone should act"... but i'd also likely get myself into a fist fight.
but it sure is tempting...
i wish i had an advice line poeple could call. im sure 99.9% of my advice would be for people to smoke more pot and watch more cartoons.
just think how awesome this world could be if that was EVERYone's answer to stress.
i respect ppl who draw limitations, and stick to what they say... although nobody can or does say that im a man of my word, i hope to prove to people that they ought to.
they're these long awkward appendages that don't seem to cooperate with me.
i'll throw my hands into my pockets, and then a insecurity wave hits me and i pull them out, and fold my arms across my chest.
but then i remember from the body language book i read that folded arms appears confrontational, and i dont wanna appear that way. so i dop my arms and let them hang, or swing. sorta like a wrecking ball...
it DOESNT happen when im feeling more full of either confidence or booze. i could give a FUCK when it's on like that.
i'd take a shower, but i like being a stinky scummy slobby fuck. wich also why i never shave.
the viking just told me he likes to shower twice a day so that when a girl smells his ass, she doesn't smell a stank one.
WHERE"S MY DRINK?! i swear to god this house is too ginormous.
charlotte tooth is doing her immitation of a statue
and tomorrow I HAVE ANOTHER DAY OFF!!!
time to ante up.
i accidentally dunked my new digital camera in the viking's rum and coke, and now it's sticky and wont turn on.
but i had fun.
and everyone seems to think i look like keanu the last day or two. for the record, if i DID look like keanu reeves, it would be his retarded ugly, disfigured, distant cousin. NOT actaully like him.
the good news is my camera is a very pretty paperweight now. an so there is a silver lining on every rain cloud, it's true.
no. i guess not. at least to them they're spreading the truth as best they know it to be true. even if it isn't.
fact checkery isn't something that comes easy. there's no one single source to verify what the fuck people say. you gotta look around, and get multiple sources at that.
it takes time. time that people (myself included) feel that they dont have.
im a candidate for a decent human being and here's my qualifications. i dont lie or steal and i've cheated but not often and um... ect ect.
i could go on and on about why im a loser though. i know it. it's true. i back you, and yall. im an underachiever, and waht saddens most people (or so ive been told) is that i have "potential" to do great wonderful things, because i have a sharp mind, and im a hardworker.
but the pot smoke has taken over my life, and if i added up all the $ i spent on it
...let's jsut not go there.
but like the typical apathetic amrican "angsty" age group i belong to, i say fuck it, and eat a banana and drink a coffee.
i like to think great things are in my future and i think "holding out hope" is awesome... but i dont, not currently. and i'll tell you why.
the only thing that holds me back, or has EVER held me back is myself. im my biggest hurdle.
i know why im a slob and my room's a mess, and why the fuck i dont take my writing more seriously, and why i dont do this that and the otehr thing.
like the unfinished photoessays i made in hopes of kissing up to tony pierce. or the stand up comedy routine that's not going to happen, because im affraid of failure to boot.
sometimes i tell myself, why the fuck do i wanna see if i suck at my dream, and then i dont even have the DREAM to have.
and other times i dwell on how i could be hit by a mack truck at any second, my life ripped from my body, and what do i have to show for myself?
because if this blog is IT, im in serious trouble my friends.
when i said i dont have hope that i will better my life, and prgress into adulthood (eventually) that was a lie. i DO have hope, but NOT in the sense of "im just sitting here twidlling my thumbs, and holdin my breath"
i know that i have to persevere and want something bad enough to hold out for the delayed gratification.
god i hate when the gratification is delayed man. i hate delays.
but if there's anything i believe in, it's my potential. i know this! i know it.
the ability to kick myself in the ass, and go fetch my dreams? that remains to be seen.
and so when it rains a shit storm on me, i dont care, i let my work and my character speak for itself, and in the end, it's THEM that looks like the chump. yes im talking directly to you now, even tho you dont read my blog.
hi mr. tent sale guy who likes to make shit up, and cant look me in the eye, how YOU doin?
oh and sorry to greg the secruty guard, but bro put those sunglasses back on! those eyes are freaky enough to double as tractor beams. i mean they suck you in and freak you out. but it's all wavy as gravy when he rocks the locs. who does he think he is? the black cyclops?
i take pieces of wisdom with me everywhere i go, and one thing tony pierce dropped on me is that when someone chooses a side between two friends, everyone loses. i take that into account with my homies these days, and cut them ten times the slack i used to.
i thought i was better than them or something. or maybe i didnt' realize my shit stinks too, maybe even worse than theirs.
like the nader. i think i used to think i was smarter than him, and i still sorta do, but really... he has NO job, he lives off of god knows what, and has sex a fwe times a week.
what part of "the american dream" does that NOT fit into? i mean not just whoa, ultra-whoa.
but to each thier own, and when he puts on most serious face, and asks me to be partners in some stoned ass invention "with all sorts of pulleys mannnn, and like levers!!!" i realize he IS a genius.
BAH BAH BAH
BAH BAboo Baba-booey
simplify and shorten
you'll love it.
take prop 63 for example. this is what i'd say, "this taxes millionaires so the crazie get their crazy-medicine"
"i know, lloyd, what's up? your cell phone's breaking up."
"ohhh no... HAHAHAHA it's not MY phone--"
"lloyd, it's your phone, im not on a cellphone. you called me at home. what's up?"
"did you talk to your cousin or your brother? err- i mean cousin?"
See when lloyd drinks he's difficult to deal with, and really kinda annoying. when does he drink? always. like literally, his skin smells like budweiser at all times. the same way whitey used to constantly stink like tequilla.
im really still not sure what lloyd wanted or why he's calling, but i think it'd be best, and less annoying if i choose to deal with it at a normal hour.
id call to ask my cousin what lloyd was thinking, but im sure my mike's already totally over it by now, hence how lloyd got my home number to begin with [touche, viking ;)]
it works out great for me, and i totally could see myself with an "i heart logic" tattoo. but that's my choice, and it's not fair to impose my ways on others. in fact, it's a waste of both mine and their time. so i dont try, and if you're sitting there with your head up your ass...
basically im saying nobody died and made me the act-right police. (luckily)
man it's YOUR life. that shit has NOTHING to do with me, no matter how hard that is for me to swallow. it's not about me.
"i figured out how life works, and i have it all mapped out, and now im going to go on a crusade to make everyone see things the way i do."
ever known someone on a kick like that? it'll make you hork faster than your middle finger tickling your tonsels.
it's like how christians and jehovas witnesses and all these religions are all about RECRUIT RECRUIT RECRUIT, even sending "missionaries" into foriegn lands, because they are THAT desperate.
By The Way, nobody stops to think "why am i SO SURE im right?" and really the need to gain recruits is PROOF positive of how insecure they are with their "faith".
it's so "the emperor's new suit" type thinking.
well hear comes anti, and you better fucking grab him and strangle hold your hands over his mouth and throat, cuz if you dont, he's gonna ask....
in his most stoned-californian of accents:
why's that dude naked?
and anyone else who wouldnt do just that, is a total asshole wastoid.
wrap your head around THAT
i just wish i knew about it in advance so i could be prepared with awesome plans, like trips to las vegas or san francisco, or anything really.
i guess Steel Pulse plays at the vault in long beach on sunday. maybe whitey and i can go... although i already know he's too broke.
the only thing i had to do today was pick up some checks. so i headed over to my uncle's house, because he picks up the check from my cousin's way up in north hollywood, and hides it in his BBQ in his backyard for me to find. and i also headed over to teh big k mart in torrance, to pick up a check from a client. good times.
the good news is that i was able to score weed finally, and it's ok, i mean its called the blueberry, and smells nice nuff. but homie was ASKIN $200 a half ounce, and shit'chall this wasn't even the kush...
i walked with an 8th, because i cant leave empty handed, but i sure as hell wasnt gonna get ripped off for a half.
i hate the old song and dance too, "well normally it goes for 210, but for youuuuuuuuu, i could slang it for... 195"
firstly i dont give a fuck about your stupid "salemanship" or whatever it is you think you're doing, and secondly YOU'RE A LIAR, and thirdly... i dont care how long you flap your lips, i will not buy weed for that price.
...fourthly i can go somewhere else, and fifthly, fuck you.
anyways, i have a few days off this weekend to find out what's REALLY going on up in here with the weed. who's got the kush?
she asked me about him today, and it turns out they both have northern california sorta in common. im going to tell whitey he better ask her out. and he'd better. she seems like his type, but what do i know?
50 cent machines with homies in em, fucking weirdo novelty lighters next to the register, that aim-n-flame they have next to the cashier conveyor belt at teh grocery store.
I WANT IT ALL.
sometimes that's all im interested in at a liquer store, is those little last minute goodies that they have to catch your eye as your buying your cigarettes, like you do religiously... those things that make you say hey, "i NEEDED a san dimas key chain, thanks guys for reminding me!"
i'll buy their hats, sunglasses, or fuckin postcards, rock-em-sock-em ball point pens, phone cards, energy pills, AND car fresheners.
when you get older you dont get less excited about going to the candy store or toy store, in fact you get MORE AMPED. and lucky you, now its the same store.
here's a little pic of one such adult toystore, located on PCH. it's one i like, good old "House of Cigar-Liquor Cold Beer Fine Wine Discount Cigarettes"
and yes i like it because of the catchy title. you gotta love anyplace that starts off with "house of..."
is this the house of jizz stained sweat socks? obviously so, i guess...
anyways, who wants to be my business partner because i have a million dollar idea. a store that is NOTHING BUT impulse items. HOWS THAT?!
we'll be rich.
stoked on the plumber coming over and fixing the shitter, the tub, and the garbage disposal.
i wasn't even offended that he didn't bring any beers. or that he made all taht raquet.
now he's gone, and i can't wait to take a shower. in fact im not gonna wait.
yes, shamelessly, right there in the parking lot of 7-11, like noon's watching, because im so stoked.
consider it a victory dance on another successfully slam-dunked day off.
eat your heart out paris hilton, cuz LA's biggest slacker is here to hold my title belt high over my head.
"my head" and "high" end up in the same sentence with me a lot, eh?
or maybe it's just the vanilla starbucks frappacino, that i just totally pounded seconds earlier, sending copious amounts of caffiene to my skull via a brain freeze. back me?
becoming an adult is harder than it looks when yer a kid in school unaware of life's bumpy assed rollercoaster of a road.
im like where do i start. i mean, do i really need an Ikea tv commercial saying "hey grow up, numbskull. it's time..." ???
i like to piss my money away on dope and worthless handheld electronics like ipods and digital cameras and im lazy on my days off, and so what?
who am i being compared to? because stand alone, im doin great. so what if there's ppl from my graduating class in highschool, making a shit ton more money than me... they're fucking unbearable pricks.
you'd pay me to not have to hang with these snobs, and i wouldnt trade anything to be one of them.
wanna know what sucks about me? im selfish. im not very mature. i have poor hygene. im disrespectful. AND inconsiderate.
im no shining star. and how annoying is it when you read a blog that's basically a personal ad, all the "here's my best foot being put forward" crap, the "i live in my tiny bubble, and am unaware of the world around me" bit.
sometimes it boils down to spite, and sheer bitterness on my part. i always hated the alleged chosen ones. those types you've seen all your life even in highschool, where they did nothing, and everyone let them and loved them for it. made me jealous as hell.
but i know better now.
now i know that failure, and struggle are what build character, and broaden a person's personality.
there's something liberating about failure... because you find out it's not so scary afterall. shit, you didnt die did you?
you let the goosebumps that accompany any good old failure possess you, until you feel them on your face and cheeks. and learn, MAN.
older people are smarter than younger people, and only for one reason. experience.
you can't learn karate from a book, and one year of ACTUALLY DOING IT, is worth ten years of reading how to.
in the end i'll never grow up, out of spite. because fuck all yall. i gotta be me. if i had a peso for every time someone gave me a "helpful tip" of how to improve myself as a person, id be a billionaire, and i had a hard time not taking it as an insult, like they're saying that im not perfect the way i am.
so fuck that, and fuck them, because they're close... i DO look fat in these jeans, but it's WRONG because it's PHat. har.
with a p to the h suckatash.
i feel 95% better. the last %5 always creeps up on ya anyways, and pffft, yer lucky if you had it to begin with.
mcdonald's was what i decided made me so sick i contemplated my REAL life options. wich were: fill up my bathtub and drown myself, or ride out the nausea and the endless vommitting until it was over.
therefore, i will NEVER go back, and am taking real steps to improving my health. for one, i got to get my sink fixed so i can wash dished, and pots and pans, because currently the garbage disposal is not happening.
if i can prepare food at home, then i'll trust that it's not under cooked, or contaminated, or whatever is was that the mcdonald's on slauson and western avenue did to my quarter pounder with cheese.
im even considering scrating my beloved del taco off the list permanantly. if you dont have to get out of your car, then i dont want to eat there. from now on.
and i should be be eating at home anyways. why dont i buy a hibatchi grill, word! that's gonna be sick on my patio. too bad i missed summer, like a genius. well, im slow like that. k?
tonight it's robert and i at 8pm to take down the ford dealership that we do on a weekly.
no rain this sunday. how nice.
ummm.... who is calling?
this is sarah with verizon customer services...
So, may i speak with john if he is available?
well, ummm.... hey sarah, whats this in regards to, eh?
im conducting a quick survey on behalf of verizon.
OHHH... heh, right on. john's not available, peace out...
but then metallica comes on, "master of puppets" and being hugged is just a fleeting thought.
i snarl up my nostrils, and purse my lips as i switch between air-guitar and air-drums.
oh sick one!!!! the itunes just shuffled it's way on over to "suzy is a headbanger" i guess it wants to ROCK right now. kickass, i do too.
fuck a hug. i needs drugs.
or maybe a gatorade.
fuckit i have no clue what i need. so i will just take a bonghit and smoke a butt, because i remember that i normally enjoy that.
why else would i leave the sweat shirt or the OTHER sweat shirt or even the jacket IN THE CAR while going to see the pixies play at the verizon ampitheater? why else would i try and cope with a SPLITTING headache with no ibuprofin to offer me relief?
or maybe i need to lay off the pipe. i dont like torture, i like THC, and thusly, im robbed of my memory and forget EVERYthing.
the pixies were good, what i saw was awesome... before i had to laydown on the ground flat on my back, and close my eyes, with my hands under my butt to try and get warm.
and fuck the crowd. i hate concert goers sometimes, it's always SOMEthing with them.
now im home, and i can hear the neighbors subwoofer thumping my wall. thanks guy.
i grit my teeth and growl like a pissed off doberman. that's how i cope. that and a lot of shouting. oh and bigtanky told me im a very loud horker. she thought my neighbors were gonna complain.
im fine now, of coarse. just slight aftershocks... as in: a wave of nausea will envelop me, and send me into goose-bump-ville. but no more than that.
i hope to see the pixies tonight in irvine, that should be mellow and not too ruckus for my weak pathetic stomach.
smart shoppers shop around, and i did, and i scored a sweet deal. but before i could pat myself on the back, i felt the first pang hit my stomach.
not so much a pang as a sonic boom
it was ten minutes later, and my new shit was thrown wherever it happened to land, as i bust through the front door, and immediately stripped to my boxers.
about 30 seconds after THAT, i was in a ball on the bathroom floor praying for the puke or the shit to leave my body NOW.
was it that McDonald's on Slauson? Was my stomach just upset cuz i took that ancient asprin from the swap meet?
i was literally trapped in my bathroom, because the fan on in my other room was on. and the puking and puking attempts kept me dripping in sweat, so the other room made me frozen-balozen.
i finally got to a point where i could get to my bed, and big tanky came over, and set me up with a bowl to puke into, and she played her gameboy on my couch while i had a 6 hour caniption fit.
i awoke somehow at 1:30am... and saw bigtanky's feet over there on my couch still. i sat up, and held my right hand over my stomach. was it over? god i hoped so.
i woke up tanky, who didn't even realize she had passed out (she thought it was 11pm prolly) and i thanked her for the support, and sent her home.
the good news is that the computer monitor still works after being flung. and my sale this weekend got cancelled. the one that was shitty.
the easy one that requires little to no work is still humpin and pumpin. i have to make a cameo at the dealership at noon.
my throat hurts from all that bile. doncha hate that feeling?
normally when you arrive there are a bunch of cars parked closely together with different colored balloons tied to each car antenna, surrounded by a chain link fence that i will wallpaper with signs, and...
there i was parked in this empty parking lot. there might as well have been tumble weeds and vultures circling. there certainly wasn't any sale for my to advertise.
turns out larry the weasel is up to his weasely ways (don't pretend you're shocked) and so the sale got FUCKED UP, something having to do with permits from the DMV ect ect... long story short - i grabbed robert when he showed up and went on to the next mission at hand, RESCUE THE VIKING
he forgot his wallet, thus making all hopes of cashing his signwalker payroll check at the bank sink like an Iraqi battleship.
i saved the day, because im the rescuer type, and even came equipped with bonghits and a combo #3 from McDonald's. but yah, mike bought me $25 in gas for exchange. fair 'nuff fo sho.
man i didn't know what to do for sure after that... my sale is fuct, my timeline and my strategy for the gameplan this weekend all shot to hell... "FUCK IT DUDE, let's go signing."
robert and i just went and did the job i was gonna do tomorrow. SURPRISE! you random ford dealership in the ghetto! you get bonussed a day early. we'll sit back now and watch yall do back flips of joy...
tomorrow the sale is allegedly back on. *yawn* watch as i hold my breath. but we're not giving them first priority anymore, "you missed year opportunity for that, bros"
im gonna print out my map and decide where i want to place my walkers now. night'chall.
oh and say hi to dez, she just got back from michigan.
why be foolish? especially when it looks like this.
homie told me to meet at his house at 10pm, i was on time and parked directly in front of his house, and was stoked i didnt have to double park with the engine running, and the hazzard flashers on, cuz that's semi disrespectful, and welp, i only do it when THAT space is taken.
and as i jotted up the steps, not only did i FINALLY realize that homie's mini van wasn't there yet, but WHOA there was whitey standing in the bushes... pointing at the cop car slowly driving past us.
"sup johnny? that cop's been circling."
i said what up, and high fived him, and he continued, "yah that cop has rolled by three times all slow like that."
i said, "they must be 'on' to you"
we saw headlights approaching again, and my stomach sank, because whitey is as good a bad luck charm as the tiki thing from the brady brunch in hawaii.
but i guess i was just being paranoid, because it was homie in his minivan, who let us in, and whipped out the nugs.
nugs that are best described as: rooty tooty fresh and fruity. or perhaps... simply, sugar coated.
we all stocked our pockets with expensive little ziplock baggies as more and more people arrived.
eventually homie cracked open the garage where he stores all the shit the tweaker he kicked out left behind. it's sorta an ongoing yard sale, and i think i am totally gonna make a big on the california king size bed. auction on that starts next week.
i might pick up the fax machine too. i know the viking would prolly apreciate that.
right now i have a fat sack of some stuff that i deem october's #1.im gonna have to hide some of this for the "whoa look at this savory morsel i saved, forgot about, and totally just found" factor.
cheers to the tokers who blow it out their nostrils.
a nice neighborhood
TO POOP ON
anyways, im not worried about it, cuz like, six signwalkers aint no thang for a real deal sign proffesional such as myself. plus the second job im pullin this weekend doesn start until friday. so tomorrow? mellow yellow all the way...
the thing is im gonna get up at the butt crack of dawn, like perhaps 5am, and try and be at the viking's house so early that it will make you sick.
but the secret to not being late is being early. as a boss, it's hard to accept people's excuses for being late, because we all know, as reasonable human beings that the solution to being late, is leaving earlier.
the other thing is, it sucks. cuz it's gonna be raining most likely, and signs arent like car washes. we're more like postmen, in the sense that rain, hail, sleet or snow dont stop us. wich i remind the signwalkers is GOOD, because those car wash boys dont get paid for rainy days, and so they should be grateful we still want to pay them, and "let" them work. har. but anyways im going to bring trash bags to make insta rain coats. moer like ghetto ass rain vests. but im not their damn mommy.
i have a signwalking payroll check that i still have to cash, but i have already counted out and prepared the first day's money with my own funds. so that there will be no bumps in the road.
the key to problem solving is problem prevention.
im juiced, im amped, and energized about my double gig, and ready to rolllll. i just cant sleep.
whitey whizzle, my nizzle fo shizzle.
him and i totally drove through the rain all day, me rocking my newwwww digital camera that i scored for a sweet $175 out da door, from cirtuit shitty. whitey rockin a hang over and the bad news he got last night (that shall remain undisclosed)
today we had to roll to anna's trading, off of los angeles street, smack in the middle of downtown. i wasn't even outside of my car yet when i had already donated over a dollar in change to the local homeless, wich were circling my truck in a mad frenzy.
we got out, handed off the remaining things we could offer (a few recyclable bottles, and one soda can) they fought over it. and then scattered out of sight...
i bought 20 american flags, and 20 mexican flags, for 3 dollars a pop. coming to a total of $120. the viking totally reimbursed me.
and fuck la for neing such a rain retarded city.
not only is everything flooded like ridiculous, the people who live in teh area that are always trippin on fire storms have now converted to fear of mudslides, the local news talks about the rain like non stop, BUT TO TOP IT ALL OFF... all the idiot la drivers continue on like it's a bright and sunny day and cut off trucks full of signs.
they cut off truck drivers like me who will devote a day to ruining THEIRS. but man, not today.
i wore my PJ's all day, baby (sweats and a hoody)
i have officially surprised myself today.
im not only awake before noon ON A DAY OFF, but im energized and ready to head outta the house, and do errandy type things.
ME! anti! the laziest fuck to ever get high and chill out in his underwear, is actually motivated(ish)
ok, so far it's all talk. im still in my boxers, lemme dress before this post is done, hold prease.
shoes with no socks, dirty jeans, and the sweatshirt that whitey forgot here, and IM DRESSED. now im just filtering the needed pocket things. wallet, keys, cigs, lighter.
the cell phone stays in the car...
so im ready to jet.
lemme pack the bong, so i can be as high as possibl until i return.... i got a pinch of hash from the canibus club to throw on top of the bowl, this is gonna be a nice 'un.
damn i haven't smoked it yet, i took a HUGE picture of it. the bowl im going to smoke right now...
can i just say damn? i mean it. damn. i enjoyed that. my eyes are watering and tearing up, im sweaty, there's still risidual coughing (im a hardcore cougher)
and luckily i can refer to the begining of this post as to what the fuck i was thinking, because if i didn't just do that, i'd have had NO CLUE!!!
weed truely does make you forget.
anyways, im outta here to go run around in my car, doing faker errands, and loving the city i live in, on this crisp wintery day.
i took her home with me, and big tanky and i fawned over her, and took her out to pee, and i eventually broke down and went to carl's junior (after tanky left) and got lil tooth a cheeseburger.
she loved it.
right now tooth is asleep on my cousin's bed, and i think i might take her to the store with me. da kono sto.
oh yah work is going off without a hitch. yesterday i did a job in south central, picked up three checks for the company, did a sale in north hollywood, got the checks in the bank, and STILL had time to chill out and drink one of the viking's bud lights.
oh yah, i totally have the keys and access to his house. wich is set up pretty much like my house (bongs, computer, tv)
.......except there are better bongs, newer computers, and HUGER tv's. if i was allowed to smoke a cigarette in here, it'd be heaven.
i think i might as well just stay here tonight. work is mili-seconds away, and there's all the amenities i could ask for here.
now i'll wander outside, cuz man, nicotine levels are dropping at a frightening speed.
arrive at my uncle's house in gardena at 7am to pick up my load of signs for the first sign job. and truck myself out to south central to meet with robert to set up there, and finish out the gig.
i plan on being done with robert and things for that job (no signwalkers) by 12:30 or 1pm... and then i cut robert loose, and head straight to no. ho. where i have on off site car sale at a k mart parking lot, and i'll be meeting jacob. things should be smooth, i just got off a conference call with the head signwalker and the viking... so that there'll be no blips in my signwalking shizzle for that sale.
im not 100% sure how many walkers i have or where they all go, but the viking has done that site a trillion times, it's five minutes from his house, and because he'll already be halfway to vegas, i can kick it at his house all this weekend.
plus i have ownership of his DOGGGGG. oh man, im so luckyyyyyy... lil tooth is all MINE for three days!!!
i cant wait, tomorrow is gonna be a blast
why is it so awesome when a dog has one of those reverse lamp shapes around it's neck to keep it from chewing it's legs off.
they look like little fury satellite dishes. a direct tv with legs.
i think all dogs should have them.
where is this GU i gave my hundred dollars to? he said he was gonna be back in a second because buying th weed from his neighbor was like "clockwork"
i derno what clock HE'S refering to, but homie lives five minutes away, and it's coming up on an hour.
time to smoke another marlboro blend no. 27 and twiddle my thumbs.
she still lives in the LBC, still loves and lives with tudor balogna, and i guess is going to school in hollywood.
im so self centered i didnt even ask what for... and i immediately told her i felt bad for not calling her for her birthday, but by the time i realized it... it was already a few days after Oct 5th
she laughed, and its all good, cuz erinn and i are homies for life like that. even if we dont talk for years.
there was a time when she and i were everyday homies, back when i still drove the red toyota pickup truck, and three hip hop shows a week was on the low side.
i must have seen the living legends 20 jillion times. son son chief ahhh sun spot JONES underground legend bonez
im such a light weight, it wouldnt be unusual for me to get way too drunk and have to hide out in the safety and familiarity of my truck, and wait for erinn to come out of the tiki bar in costa mesa, and drive us back home.
ive prolly seen her twice in the last year. a shame.
we kinda play this game, her and i, where we each say, "yah man, we SO should hang out, i cant wait till you come over"
"ME come over? YOU should totally be the one to come over"
and welp stubborness is a bitch, plus 30 minutes away means a shit ton in LA.
besides, our once every four months "check up call" is all we need.
it was past ten o clock wich meant that love line was on the air, and adam and dr. drew are talk radio favorites of mine, so i enjoyed my peaceful drive up the sepulveda pass on my way to no. ho.
i arrived to find the viking halfway thru Man on Fire, and i sat down and toked some kush and sorta got into it, but...
right when denzel was gonna go on the killing spree, after he chilled out in the park, met with the blonde chick, and then saw christopher walkin to fetch his arssenal of weapons... the DVD starts skipping harder than a lil catholic school girl on her way home from the last day of second grade.
we were pissed and drove by 20/20 Video to confirm what we already knew. it was closed.
we knew it would be, but we also knew of the Del Taco within proximatey where we spent $15
on my way home i took the 170 south to the 101 south though hollywood propper ...so i could drive thru downtown LA and check out the sky scrapers... and connect to the 110 south, drive through south central and hop onto the 105 westbound, and barrel through inglewood to the 405 south, and exit rosecrans.
i like that downtown way, i mean its twice the freeway hopping, but a jillion times more scenic.
i was reading weapon of mass d's site, and learned about the camera i cant live without.
something to save for perhaps? or should i buy it when i wake up?
well yah i was totally bored of the idea of driving home, being in my car felt good all night long, so i decided to head to torrance and hit up the 24 hour k mart. why the fuck not.
i wandered around and debated on if i should buy a football or a socket wrench set, or perhaps new bedsheets (but im thread count illiterate). then i remembered that i am so totally out of advil gel caps, and so i bought the largest bottle they gots, and then i noticed the rubbing alcohol and the epson salt, and realized i should clean my bong, and now im home. wow.
From: sean obrien
Reply-To: sean obrien
Date: Tue, 12 Oct 2004 17:39:13 -0500
Subject: MOTLEY CRUE is some old shit now.
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well fuckin' shit I'm all cranky today, I'm tryin' to quit smoking -god knows why?
Anyway Tommy Lee is going to my university now...yeah. He's filming a new "reality?" TV show about how his washed up, 40 year old ass goes back to school or starts school. It's really ridiculous, in LA i used to get booted from Torrance high all the time cause they'd be shootin' 90210 or some teen movie -but this reality thing is wack, he's like in my class and shit. Is it really reality I watched 'em film the fucker park his car fo like 10 minutes? He's got some bad ass ride, there like "-Now tommy go park over there". It's some phony shit behind all the realness. The bitches are going nuts too, it's kind of sick..I respect Tommy lee...for the music he made like 16 years ago - I never saw the pam&tommy porno, -I went with the one Vince Neil instead.
Hope all is goin' good fo my homies on da west coast.
up until that second, it has been full steam ahead for johnny. Up at 6am to battle rush hour traffic for two hours. At work by 8:30am to deal with the job for 5 hours... or so.
that first break, that first sigh of relief is crucial. it's not rare that there are zero moments like this.
johnny turns the key, starts the engine running, and lets the air conditioning blow the bangs out of his eyes. he pulls his hat down over his eyes with his left hand, and lets his right hand crawl over the center console for a cigarette, and the ipod's play button.
it's these moments that are so precious, as "something in the way she moves" comes on, and the second hand smoke from the cigarette creeps out the crack in the drivers side window.
our hero scoots his butt towards the engine, and gets his leggs crossed indian style up on the stearing wheel. and he thinks to himself about the tree he can see in the parking lot... "nice tree... should i go carve 'ftw' innit? hmmm..."
he can feel his eye lids get heavy, and his two fingers he's using to hold the cigarette feel weak, and he wonders how much longer it will be before he just nods off and drops the butt, and liights the car on fire...
DINGA LING A LINGGGGGGGGGGGA LINGG
Johnny's jarred into alert attack mode, and lunges forward to grab for the cell phone. he can feel his heart racing, and the number on the caller ID is labled 'do not answer'
that means it's alecia. a signwalker, so he answers and listens to her yip yap, wich was pointless, and throws the phone onto the dash board... and sits there wide awake, and mad as hell.
i read a shit ton of blogs, written by women AND men... but i think the female perspective always gets my attention, perhaps because i feel like i already know how dudes think.
so what have i learned from reading blogs written by females? nothing. in fact, because blogs can tend to be a "put my best foot forward" type setting... i think reading blogs has SUCKED up prior knowledge i had before.
cuz see i think that's the real problem, is not that girls are these mysterious creatures who's minds work in ways that men could never comprehend (thats true, it's just not the problem)
the problem is at least MY inability to stop thinking the way i do. my brain wants to catagorize, file, and group information in a scientific format, so that fast... easy... logical choices and decisions can be made.
like with fellow dudes, it's very simplistic.
for example, guys dont call other guys on the phone, unless there is a specific purpose to the call. they dont very often call to say hi. nahmean?
well whitey does... but he's a freak of nature.
1. i was one of a handful of people that knew the whole story, and could relate to what was upsetting him and...
2. he knew i'd be up (it was 2:30am)
ryan said he was at the beach with a pal, they were drinking, and he was taking inventory of his friends, and thought about a mutual buddy of ours from the past (named Chris Morreau) that he'd like to have come up from LA to visit him...
the thing is, chris hung himself in his parents backyard years and years ago. chris is dead.
at this point whitey is on the verge of tears, telling me how upset he is, because man... it's FUCKED up that chris is dead. it's such a shame, and extremely sad.
i, personally, never forgave chris for taking his own life. i understand it's none of my business, and chris had a lot of things he was suffering through, like a deformation in his spine that caused him agonizing pain... pain that was so bad he became a junkie living off the dope he could score off the backrooms of mexican panderias in downtown LA.
did i mention chris had three younger sisters that were all still in grade school...? and when he hung himself, he did it in his parents backyard.
like ok, i guess someone was mad at their family...
but selfishness like that, it makes me angry. i didn't even go to chris's funeral... i didn't appreciate my friend putting me through that... as selfish as that sounds. and really i was mad not just cuz of how i felt, nobody gives a fuck about me, but those poor little sisters of his, and his poor loving parents. even his cousin kimmie whom he shared an apartment with... i wonder how THEY all felt. because it appeared their lives were never gonna be the same.
anyways, i tried to calm whitey down, realizing that he JUST NOW let it sink in that chris DIED. i mean, sometimes it takes years to allow yourself to comprehend shit like that.
i had whitey's back...
i told him how i felt, and what shit i've already gone through in my head that was similar... and whitey appeared to calm down, and we agreed taht it was just fuct, and that bong hits were in order, and we each hung up the phone...
::things feel routine::
me myself and i, we like it better when it's not like that. and we have ourselves to blame. noone's put a gun to my head and held me back from excitement...
everything's just been so fucking PREDICTA-BLAH-BLAH!!!!!
im feeling the weight of sisyphus's boulder, and im ready to let it roll right over and flatten me.
the need to drive out of town for a few days to collect my thoughts has reached levels of uber-priority.
gemme outta heeeyuh
for some unknown reason there's always dimes, and pennies, and nickles in there. perhaps i'm lazy and not good at picking up after myself....
but what i hate is being in bed, and rolling over onto a freezing cold nickle.
it sorta freaks me out, because it feels like a wet spot at first, and my mind instantly jumps to "what the fuck is WET up in here?!"... and believe me, im always annoyed, and throw the penny or nickle (whatever) at the tv, or something.
my favorite is when i wake up all bleary eyed, and drag myself over to the pisser, so i can handle my business... and in the middle of my pee, i feel coins peeling off my back and torso and hear them hit the linoleum floor.
nothing says "rise and shine" like an abe lincoln face impressed into you shoulder.
dont even get me started about the SAND on my bedsheets.
nextly, fuck Mike Nesmith. the monkees are living legends, yet mr fancy pants producer, heir to the white out fortune... he's too fucking proud to hang with his bros.
if i was davey jones, i'd bite mike's kneecaps off.
it's like famous people always wanna be famous for some shit they suck at. like keanu in dog star. like LL Cool J in feature films. like Shaq trying to be a rapper. like arnold being a governor. bill mahar being a political pundit.
i mean how funny is it when you see a TOTALLY type cast actor trying to pretend they aren't who they are. like when you see seabiscuit the movie, tell me that it doesn't look like spiderman is riding a horse. pffft.
"i spoonfed eisenhower"
and here's a little evidence of how freaky i'd look with blue eyes.
how soon can i visit?
signs is not what i love. i do my job with pride, and execute the operations with diligence. but...
more often than not, i loathe signs. i hate them right down to the cora-plast.
what i love to do is nothing. i love more than anything to mindlessly swivel in my computer chair, reaching for another cigarette, and then deciding... nah, i'll do a binger instead.. or perhaps i just lay in bed with an ashtray on my chest and a matress on my back, and let my eyes dart around to the things ive staple hammered to my walls.
i guess mikes strippe friend, and Dez, and down in garden grove today dressed all hot and sexy, making $30/hour, and like being harrassed by the general male public whilst handing out fliers. the viking is patroling to keep things safe... and needed me to cover for him at the ford dealership for check in with the GM. i sighed back into the cell phone at him, because my shitty cordless home phone isnt good at being much more than a paper weight, and told him i'd be there in 35 minutes to get the check and shake homeboys hand. mike payed me, so basically this was the easiest money ever ever.
the rivals were the beach bakers: radke, woody, tony, sweeny, and Sean Obrien.
but lets face it we're stoners. we all just merged and were like "the homies" and all partied together for a long time. toss in Devcish and Bhart who went to some private school, but were still homies...
welp, its funny, cuz, we all seem to hate eachother, or at least, have disbanded.
peter became a tweeker. haynes is locked down with his girlfriend cindy. everyone hates andy weiss cuz he's a creep. and whitey is like a gypsy, he moves to a new city every 6 months.
radke stayed a beavis and will be a beavis for the rest of his life. woody is an isolationist (like myself). tony moved to hawaii. pat sweeny became a proffessional frisbee golfer, and sean obrien moved to Nebraksa.
and devich and bhart went to UC santa cruz together. now they're both office monkeys to a degree...
so yah, seperate roads FO SHO. but we all cross paths all the time. some more than others. but take my word for it, all the above mentioned dudes are totally not as cool as me.
except whitey, nobody is as cool as whitey.
i guess they're really only allowed to sell the paraphenalia is under the guise that it's for tobacco. not weed. pshhh, yah, they totally look like someone's NOT gonna go home and smoke the chronic. puh-leaze.
and therefore you must call them waterpipes, not bongs. and because hermosa beach hates the fact that there are two head shops here, they're always sending in undercovers who are checking to see if the ask for ID, and to see if they hate on people who call the lovely waterpipes "bongs", so they can pull the license, and make their yuppy-ville hell reach levels of barfingly disgusting like NEVER before...
btw, I'D LIKE TO ADD, that people smoking tobacco in a bong are the ones we should be worried about. not weed. i mean, let's prioritize... becuase we criminalize the pot smoker, and yet the PSYCHOPATHHHH that uses a bong to smoke a bowl of tobacco walks the streets... FREEE! that's an injustice, if you ask me.
the whole thing makes as much sense as giving stevie wonder a plasma screen TV, or spraypainting the lawn bright orange, or paying the homeless hundreds of dollars to break your ribs with a golf club...
you know, logical things.
so go xerox your soul, and doubt what you know. ok?
...until i wake up, BYE assholes!
this is my favorite, a weekend off... and there's so much weekend fun stuff that i want to squeeze in. like the ocean racer, or lunch on the hermosa promenade, or seeing how far away you can get yourself on the beach cities' bike path. it goes from PV to Santa Monica... but you're a 'nammer if you can do taht whole stretch.
i arrived to find the viking had been up all night busy with sluts, and had even dragged a slut to work with him, she was in the truck that was sitting there with the engine still turned on, playing with her cell phone, while we put up the rest of the signs in front of the dealership.
now that i think about it, i dont think mike took off his black flies even once today.
so when the viking and i hop into his truck to do the signs, it totally reeks like redbull and captain morgan's spiced rum. blick. but since the viking only brought a small number of signs, and changed his mind about dissing the staple hammer, so we were done by 10:30am.
the viking dropped me off at my parked truck, i grabbed my bong, my cell phone and my wallet and car keys from mike's car, and waved goodbye, and here i am.
i hope you feel well informed, you stalkery stalkers. because now you are.
i'd love to just fall peacefully asleep. But that'd mean, i derno, that i would have to be tired.
IM FUCKING WIDE AWAKE!@ please kill me
not to mention this head ache. "HEAD ACHE FROM HELL" is what i shall name you.
i'd take another bonghit, but the fear of my blood vessels popping in my forehead from a cougher
yah welp, that scares me away.
oversleeping scares me away from the NyQuil. and its my favorite kind of NyQuil... generic NyQuillllllllll....
thank god imma helper tomorrow, and thank satan it's the no signwalker gig.
those dudes have my back. especially satan.
and no. by "satan" i do not mean "george w." although normally thats what i mean... just not this time.
i predict an earthqauke coming up. a BIG one. like northridge-ish.
you heard it hear first, folks.
if it payed slightly more, i'd settle for being the viking's helper every weekend. that fool is crazy. and mad fun
the bitch is that we're gonna do our ford dealership differently. bye bye staple hammer, hello hammer and nails.
this should make the job take twice as long, and that's kinda annoying, but not really when i think about it, that means i'll still be home before all of YOU office monkeys. prolly home by 2pm.
all i have to do is go shirtless, wearing black pants or somethign, and get like a red sharpie, or whatever, and make those three bloody scratches across the stomach, and cheeks.
easy, affordable, and literally KICKASS
see if ya can beat THAT, mmhmm.
i just know with my luck, it's gonna be colder than a witches tit, and in fact MY tits will be freezing off.
but like any true holloween badass, i'll grin and bear it, and make jokes like, "better to have frozin tits than frozen balls!" and hope i am smart enough to not participate next year.
that's gonna stir shit up in my company.
see, having a truck, that makes you worth gold, because you have one of the most useful things a signguy needs A TRUCK.
my cousin, myself, whitey, my uncle bill... even jesse the dude that got fired. one thing we all have ni common, is that we drive a fucking truck. and that's that.
wannabe's cant step to us in their hoopty mini vans, and ghetto ass Buik Rivieras. that's not getting it done. sorry.
so there will be hateration from wannabe's. jacob's gonna feel it fo sho. because there have been dude's laying in wait for their chance to be a sign guy... and for their chance to save up for a truck so they can be one of our elite sign guy staff.
and SWOOOP, in comes jacob, with good credit, he buys a truck FROM THE CLIENT no less (that makes him look good fo sho) and welp, he better keep his nose clean because it's ON.
you never saw such tattle tales as the people in our crew from where jacob came from. lots of them are good people, but lots of them are crazy wing nuts who'll crack your skull, and hang you from a noose they attatch to the top of their signwalking stick... or tell my cousin if they see you doing anything he wouldn't like. such as speed. we ain't promoting no glassheads, ya heard?
i can't wait to see how this pans out.
don't talk to the 7... walk right passed the 8, and turn up your nose at the 9 sitting over there near the bar... file them under sloppy seconds, and go hit them up if the 10 shoots you down.
but the 10 wont. here's why...
the 10, she's so hot, such a 10, that she ruins it for herself. she scares guys, they are intimidated by her beauty. some try to talk to her, but they stutter, they spill shit. they're clowns.
ultimately she's lonely. and in the end, guys dont approach her as often as other chicks, because a 7 isnt intimidating. a 7 doesn't make you nervous. a girl who's a 7... she's like no pressure city.
that's my dad tho. i think he has a point, and in certain RARE situations... he's prolly right. but everytime i've ever seen a hottie out and about, she ain't lookin too lonesome if you ask me, and to talk to her i have to get in line behind 20 zillion dudes.
perhaps life was different in chicago... and umm... in the 50's.
nevermind, nobody cares.
disapoint LA and we might not ever have your back again. at least... not until you make it to the play offs again (this IS los angeles, ain't it?)
i remember being a young lad getting taken to games at dodger stadium. i always liked night games better. day games would prolly be more fun nowadays... now that i am old enough to be shithouse drunk.
i hate people from los angeles that like the angels. THAT AIN'T LA!!!
that's anaheim. ana-crime... shit... that ain't even LA county!!! plus, i dont like them because they have a religious name, and a lame one at that. they couldn't at least be the anaheim DEMONS? i mean, angel just sounds so wussed out. i thought you were sposed to name your team after something that sounded tough, like the san fran GIANTS.
what am i getting all worked up about anyways? everyone knows baseball sucks. even golf is less boring to watch.
why can't i keep running away? who says i can't get away from myself? just watch me try!
everywhere you go there you are, right? well is that true too for people with multiple personalities? i doubt it.
wherever they go, it's not there they are. they could be anyone by that point. perhaps they're winston churchill THAT hour.
i wish i was crazy, or at least retarded. i've met very few depressed retards. they're too stupid to know how bummed out they should be. life is all smiles, and stains on your shirt from the soft serve ice cream cone.
i think too much, i over think things. i let my imagination take over, and suddenly i live in a false sense of reality where my friends and family want to sabotage my happiness, and are plotting to destroy life.
i quit my blog at least once every two months, for those of you that are new... im a drama queen, get used to it... and for those of you that missed it: yes i quit my blog for aproximately 3 hours this evening. dont ask me why... im just lame like that.
right now i have a head ache, im starved and haven't eaten a stitch all day, and there's a lit cigarette hanging from my mouth. in other words... everything's normal.
oh and here's a special little message for the anti's boring blog from hell's NEWEST reader:
FUCK YOU DAD!
...welp, it results in a lot of pee not in the toilet. perhaps it's less difficult for women, or men that sit to pee. i wouldn't know. i stand... and i stand back about 6 feet away. you can all guess why.
if you think it never gets cold in LA, fuck you, because it;s goddam chilly right now. i mean, it is getting to the point where i might actually have to close the sliding glass door once in a while. RIDICULOUS! ain't it?
i wish all chicks were slutty, or better yet... i wish that the world slut wasn't considered such a dis.
i mean, what is a slut? a chick who likes to fuck? if that's what a slut is... then umm... ALL GUYS love sluts.
im gonna marry me a slutty lil whore. you betcha.
i once dated this girl who wasn't all that much into fucking and sucking and i even had to beg to eat her pussy, she didn't like it, she thought it was too "messy" she was definitely NOT a slut, and definitely not much fun
i think it's like the word asshole. being an asshole is under rated too.
im an asshole, and im proud of it, but i used to be way nicer. i hadn't yet learned that being a nice guy is truely the mistake.
nice guys finish last. nice guys become door mats
so whats the message im sending to the world today? there needs to be more sluts and assholes. the end.
yah i could have driven to a nearby seven... they litter the cities street corners, but man i took it as a sign from the crazy gos from that one movie with the coke bottle and those black dudes that clicked and whistled. btw, i love those dudes.
and yah, i bought gatorade and reeces peanust butter cups.
im too half asleep and half awake to truely fall asleep, it's so totally annoying. nothing makes my eyes widen and feel more awake than laying down.
and siting in a chair makes me nearly fall asleep face down on the keyboard.
30 minutes until howard stern comes on the air... god it has felt like forever until 3am tonihgt...
im just not a face hair guy... not really.
most of the hairs are blonde, so it looks all patchy, and then, the hairs do this thing wear they stab me, and cauze my face to break out.
i like blank walls i wish i still has some. i think my walls are gonna go mirror, or at least my cieling...
i want to upgrade my car stereo so that there's a flip up DVD thingy in the dash
but yah, we all know i will do nothing.
i am currently totally naked except for socks and shoes
wow it felt like it would never come, and now it comes right when i want it the least.
work is slow this weekend.
eh, whatevs tho. imma look on the bright side... cuz there totally is one. this is my chance, see?
i never can go anywhere because i never have the combonation of money to go there, and time off to go there, now i have both. so a car ride up north shall happen. it HAS to happen, i owe it to whitey, and i betcha i can convice guido to roll with. he's always down for swinging by the cruz.
but i wanna hit up SF too, and white-station knows peeps from cabo san lucas to vanvcouver, so wherever we go, we'll be VIP.
or at least stoned enough to hallucinate that we're VIP.
have you ever started to hit yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop?
right now i need a back brace, and i need a REAL one, a girddle practically. not the kind you get from walgreens made by ace bandages. those dont do shit. apparantly i have to go to the wheelchair store by the mall. the one that sells fake legs and fake arms to the one legged and one armmed people of southern california.
dont you hate it when the liquer store isn't air conditioned enough? ...and the reece's peanut butter cups are all melty and soupy and LAME!!
apparantly the 6 footer makes you crave breakfast food.
i got the french toast, tanknation got the belgium waffles.
viking's on his way over with his dog tooth, and we're gonna score us some weed. herbage.
i wonder what the weed'll be like, it's been consistently good, and variety central. i likes. and my homies from the north tell me it's that way up there too.
that it's "that" season.
im grinning, glossy eyed, and stupified.
bong water is piss yellow when it needs to be changed, and it smells like a swamp. hold while i change it...
ok now hold while i chinga my heart out.
backskis, and seeing stars. i love when people ask if im ok when i am in mid cougher, i can tell they don't "know"
man i paid good hard earned money for that lung butter explosion, so let me enjoy it. cuz im trying to.
i have realized lately that cash is what people like me are forced to work with. credit card deeze nuts, so to speak.
and checks? check yourself before you wreck yourself. got me?
i still rock my hawthorne savings check card... with the visa logo! *barfs*
but hey, i gotta assimilate SOMEhow.
im fakin bacon like i was beggin strips.
and while im on the brainwaves of dog food commercial, i truely miss those old chuckwagon ones where the covered wagon rip roared across the generic kitchen setting's vynle flooring. that was bad ass. bad ace.
i just cashed my paycheck, but i feel broke. damn it. where's it all go? (besides up in smoke)
who knows. prolly in my gas tank.
i've always taken great pride in my sense of direction and my general desire to know the lay of the land wherever i am.
i remember impressing the signwalkers i hired from the sober living home in west phoenix, i knew the town better than they did, and i was only there for three days.
im always baffled at people who can't read a map. it's like a giant picture, there's nothign to really read.
i look at this thing all the time for "fun"...
i think i might drive hundreds of miles away for a night or two. that sounds nice...
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and then i taught dave the wonders of NEW emulation up in here.
i obviously flaked on going to court, and then i found out that my credit card has been deemed "restricted" by capital one, and um they want me to re apply to get a new credit card. wich i know means...
they aren't gonna give me a new 'un.
perhaps i will go to the bank, my back feels loose and semi thrown out, i gotta be careful while i cough on my bonghits or it could get thrown out worse....
it's happned like that before.
i have the body of an 80 year old man.
but then i get home sometimes, i just can't wait to have something to do again. like tonight.
because robert was cracking his cherry at having his own gig... he needed a lot of help, and umm assistance.
that's all gravy, im here to help out my fellow man, but it all started FUCKED when i was there on time to make sure he got his slimey mits on MY TOOLS all so i could go waste money on new tools (ugh, thanks for the no warning on THAT one) and then in the end, he forgot the stickers he was sposed to have for me from the print shop... UGH.
that's fine that was friday, im so over that by now, but today, the guy has some nerve on him. i think he must think im stupid.
because i told him a specific time to start the take down of the signs, and he STILL lies and says that's when he started, but AHEM... the viking and i know that south central job like forwards and backwards, and logistically from when robert SAID he started... to the time Mike got a call from the dealership GM... well that's 30 minutes. it takes 120 minutes to take down the city, BOTTOM LINE... so he's lying about when he started taking them down, or he is lying about how many he put up. and we aren't down for that. and im PISSED as hell.
so i go to meet him to pick the signs because homie doesn't even have the proper vehicle, he has some hoopti cadilac ghetto slide lookin thing. a get-pulled-over machine. and anyways, he of coarse boned out before i could get there... prolly didn't wanna face me after lying and getting so obviously busted by me AND the viking.
so instead of heading home, i get myself into more work, and i call up mike and tell him he JUST found the person who is gonna help him take down his sale in panorama city, wich he said was rad, because he had some stripper who was living at his house for the last 4 days that he had convinced to help him, but she wasn't gonne be much help (duh)
well i was up there by ten thirty, and an hour later we had both our trucks emptied of signs, and were on our way to slam down my THIRD sale slam down of the evening wich we finished by 12:34am... it only took us a half hour.
but, the bad news is that i totally realized that the traffic ticket i got about a month ago that i didn't tell anyone about or blog about (because i was embarassed)
yah, well today i realized that the court date was 9/29/03 and it's um... passed that.
fuck the police.
so imma head downtowny tizzle fo shizzle tomorrow and clear this all up or try to, perhaps i can buy my way out!
im kinda stressed out about the signs like i alwasy am, it always goes fine, whats my problem.
the curse of being a stresscase. yse, i know im sure you doubt that i'd have it in me to be all stressed out.
but when it comes to $. i take things very seriously.
ANYWAYS... i have signs spread out ALL over south central, like all over, and i hate it there, the place is teaming with shitty of the shittiest drivers, and impossible traffic conditions, and my signwalkers have had issues the whole time, and the guys aren't selling dick for cars (not my fault, it's bad credit fever up in that town, homie said he had all the traffic in the world)
OH this lounge conga shit just popped onto the itunes, must depart and boogie down
but i knew i shoudl leave before it got weird, and i did, and here i am, and now i have people on the way with beers, and radio humper asked me just now if i knew how those poor stranded suckers got home from south central, and now i wonder that mySELF... slightly.
so it's kinda weird too how the circle of weed ends up being so small. i was gonn abuy weed from homie A... but as i mentioned, ened up with weed from homie B.
well homie a, and homie b, they know eacghother, and really homie B hasn't been doing to well, and asked homie a to hook him up... and really the reason i couldn't score from homie A was because he was dry.
the point is, i went to homie b, and ended up with homie A's weed. wich is what i wanted in the first place.
and ppl wonder why stoners are so confused. HAH.
but yah ok, mr. psycho jealous boyfriend can be all anal in the morning, but come time to pick everyone up... homie ain't around.
i guess he got busy.
but you can garrrrrrrr - UNNNN - TEEEEE that i ain't picking up the slack. they were asking wich direction i drove home, i explained that i would be right back, and TOOK OFF with dave to check in at the sale and bone out.
i dont care if they have to shove one of their bitchasses in the trunk, my advice was to start hictch hiking...
watch as i lose sleep over it, HAHA yah righttt.
im rocking a goatee, it's temporary.
him and his chewbacca lookin self killed it like no other rookie i seen this side of the mississp'
go on witcher bad selffff
he's like 6 foot whatever so he can staple hammer those shits to the telephone poles WAY up there so non of the damn locals can mess with em.
that's what we call in teh sign business, "FUCKING RAD!"
it's an industry term...
so we arrive to find out we dont have our stickers, wich is fine really, because orbert will fetch them, and i know how to dress a sale in such a way, that i use the arrows to hide the wrong address that the re-use signs have, and it's no big whup, and the stickers came in time, and so did the walkers.
but they were trippin. only one out of the five that came in the car was willing to work, and come to find out from her, sarah the sign walker, that all those people were doing coke the whole ride up saying they didn't really "feel" like working, wich explains the attitude, and leaves me baffled as to why they agreed to it, and even drove the fuck out there. i mean, stay home, i dont want to see your fucking non working for me face.
so i was on the phone with the viking explaiong everything when he told me he'd call me back with answers, and the answer was, "danny pulled together five people they;re on the way NOW... *click* "
stoked, that left me with having to find one more wich took me a minute, but got pulled off. and that;s all that matters.
then me and dave got bonged, and slammed out the rest of the gig like clock work.
but that's why they pay me the big bucks, im the bomb difuser. they needed all the walkers out on time, they GOT that. end of story.
im a man of my word.
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