i had a job, it got cancelled, and then i get work randomly for today and tomrrow. i'll be up and at em from 6am-6pm, and baby i'm loving it.
this is the position i spent most of thurday night in, because of my probblem-laden back. something popped in my shoulder blade area, while i was shaking the water off my head after a shower, and now it's vicoden shitty. i mean vicoden city. woop dee doo, i "get" to eat pills that make me nauseas.
props to you pill poppers. it's the same with drinking for me. pills and booze make me wanna puke/kill myself. i go into the bathroom with a terrible feeling, i try to poo, i can't... i try to barf, i can't ... i take off my shirt cuz i'm in a cold sweat, and i say to myself, "was it the grilled steak burrito from taco bell? wazzzzzz it the vicoden i ate before i got in the car? or am i just such an unhealthy mess thast my body just wants to fuck with me and send signals? wait, am i high and paranoid? AKLJSDAKLSJ!!!!"
well, hopefully i'll be in less pain, and feeling way less sick whilst working. i'll have lloyd as my helper, but whatever...
at least i'm getting paid.
oh and i am fully dressed for once during a blog post. even got my kicks on still. word.
i hate when the guy who sells it to you asks for a rip. damn yo, you the one making mad cheese off the deal. why you gotta be a begger like that? but fuck it, cuz homie scored me a new skate video, "crouching filmer, hidden poacher" and it's really fucking tight.
i almost stole a skate board yesterday but didn't do so, cuz i'm starting to buy into this karmic justice thing.
what's radder than instant karma, btw? nothing!
like when you boss cusses you out and then spills coffee hotter than molten lava in his lap.
i want all my family and loved ones to chip in and buy me a skateboard for my birthday in june. and i'm not gonna drop hints... i'm gonna make demands.
i'd buy one myself, but i'm still chipping away at le debt, and i'm cheeeap as fuck to boot.
but fuck it, cuz it was 500 bucks i already had. an old pay check that got misplaced.
so i starved, and wished and wished for weed... and all because my dumbass forgets that he has a pay check sitting for almost a month on some dumbass shelf.
who fucking does that?
who starves and begs while the whole time sitting on 500 bones (or clams) that they totally forgot about??
am i that high all the time???
so i bought bigtanky some 7 up, and bought myself an arizona raspberry iced tea... and tomorrow i'll buy the finest weed this county has to offer. cuz i deserve the shit out of it.
tomorrow i wash the car, the clothes, and i'll even get on my knees and scrub my nasty ass bathroom floor like a little bitch--
i mean like a studdly motherfucker.
there wasn't enough work to go around this last weekend, so yes, i'm back to being piss poor. i've barely eaten the last few days, and all i can think about is how bad i want a nice fresh tastey green bonghit.
i have a job in victorville this weekend. that's like two hours away i think... so looks like it's another weekend of living in my chevy. oh joy.
i am cell phone-less once again as well. see... the cell phone was hooked up thru my friend and was in some chick's name, cuz my credit reads like a transcript from laugh-in, and anyways, the bitch decides out of the blue, "i don't like this situation."
but that's mighty fine with me in the end, cuz cell phones are the devil. just kidding i don't believe in silly things like the devil. a little red dude standing in a pit of fire? with a PITCH FORK? why a pitch fork? what... the fucking devil does farm-hand-work with bales of hay? why is there fucking hay in hell anyways? and are their horses too? bahhhhh, fuck it....
we're supposedly having a heat wave in LA, but here at my pad by the beach.... everythings nice and perfect.
maybe one of my friends will let me scrape their pipes and smoke their resin. damn i'm pathetic.
i had too many shots of jager and capn 7's at the saddleranch on the universal city walk.
lost in a sea of vatos and assholes. sigh...
i;m trying to rememer the last time i was wearing more than underwear while i blogged.
nope i can't remember.
sometimes i might catch a severe case of writers block, but by the end of the day you'll be on my jock
call me an-TIE cuz it rhymes with, "just die!", and i stay happy and high, and my trademark sound is sigh
so just be yourself, and proud of whatchu got, cuz noone else is out to give you props...
and if you believe it and now it, and let yourself show it, you'll shine. and people will see it and fucking try and jock it.
do everything without shame. faith in only yourself.
hold that shot glass up to your face, fuck it, just grab the bottle... and don't be a pussy, man... fucking never forget who you are.
you're "the one" not that morpheus asshole. he has on stupid sunglasses anyways
no i don't get it. i never intend to either, cuz that make me unhappy.
ignorance is bliss, but knowledge is power, so how do you decide? well i'd rather be happy than powerful, so fuck you world.
but not fuck you in a bad way.... fuck you like we're best friends and i can say shit like that to you
dirty harry pinball at the redondo beach fun factory? don't mind if i do...
i guess that means i'll have to put on pants though.
someone told me it's beautiful outside today. they prolly weren't lying.
i got almost every fluid in my car changed. it cost ten million dollars. if i could only afford gasoline i could actually drive some place.
i will now eat an entire bag of reece's peanut butter cups.
but they all know im high anyways, it's just a formality.
and then i gave a lesson in old school hip hop, from planet rock to fucking me myself an i. they dug it all.
and i ate a steak dinner. a STEAK.
fucking a, life is good.
i hate that. so now i gotta hide the weed and the bongs and make my bed, ande what the fuck does my aunt sally care what my place looks like?
if i don't get a free dinner out of this, i'm so mad.
i pretend like i care, but i just don't.
i can watch a game, and get into it johnny on the spot. but i don't really care who wins, or who loses, and a really good play makes me say, "nice one." not jump around like my clothes caught on fire.
so kobe flew in from his rape colorado thingy and made it to the game, and the lakers won. some people were all, "oh mannn, i HATE the sacremento kings, " but when i ask them why, nobody has a better answer than, "just cuz, mannn" and that i don't get.
the only sports i ever REALLY cared about were the ones you play on nintendo or whatever. but that was back when i actually played video games.
i LOVE going to sporting events... but again, it ain't cuz i give a shit about what's going on. i like that there's a million people all amped and getting hammered., nothing more. and well.... i like watching hockey for the violence. but f'reals, i'd pay to never have to go to another baseball game. can you say drunken uncomfortable sunburn? try a dodger day game on for size.
i'd lift weights, but they're just so fucking heavy.
i heard if you gamble on the games it becomes far more intresting and exciting. so maybe i'm just too cheeap (or too smart) to enjoy sports. maybe i just was into garbage pale kids instead of baseball cards as a kid. maybe you're a weirdo stalker for reading my blog. anything's possible.
You speak of Rastafari
but how can you justify...
in a God that's left you behind?
You simply fill the gap
between the upper and lower class
and your faith merely keeps you in line. (in line, yah)
An amalgamation of jewish scripture
and christian thought.
What will that get you? Not a fucking fuck of a lot.
Take a look at your promised land.
Your deed is that gun in your hand.
Mt. Zion's a minefield.
The West Bank.
The Gaza strip...
Soon to be parking lots for American tourists
and fascist cops, yah.
i bought this weed cuz it was 50 bucks for 5 grams vs the usual 50 bucks for 3.5, but it's gross and leafy, and tastes like rancho cucamonga smells. (like shit).
i haven't stuck my big old shnauze thru the blinds to see what the days looks like, but from the way the light looks coming thru the cracks... i bet it's shitty out there.
to the windowwwwwwwwwwwws, to the walls.
i have painful callouses all over my hammer hand. my left hand is smooth and normal, but my right hand feels like 80 grit sand paper. you can only imagine what the implications are for jerkin the gerkin.
the only thing i miss about highschool is the wood shop class. staple gun wars, launching wood blocks off the table saws, and smoking cigs in the wood room. right now i'd stick my hammer hand on the belt sander and file away all that dead tuff scratchy skin. then i'd build you a birch wood entertainment center, or maybe an oak book shelf.
my hair gives new meaning to the phrase, poofy-psychotic-mess.
all im gonna eat today is ice cream.
does anyone from back in the day remember the carlos n charlies on sunset? that was where i went on my tenth birthday... and they put this huge sombrero on my head, and they all sang some mexican song really loud, and i had to blow out a candle and make a wish and all that...
so my family all asks me what my wish was after the singing waiters go back to refilling waters and shit, and i told them, my only wish, was to get that fucking heaving hat off my fucking head.
anyways, i miss that restaraunt. fuck dublins.
i'd have one delivered, but it's a total pain in the ass.
i don't have my name on the intercom so ppl have to call me via cell phone to get me to let them in.
my place is hard enough to find as it is. so fuck a pizza.
it's gloomy and chilly outside, so today? i do nothing lebowski. nothing.
this is a rad photo essay.
You're Loosely Based!
by Storey Clayton
While most people haven't heard of you, you're a really good and interesting person. Rather clever and witty, you crack a lot of jokes about the world around you. You do have a serious side, however, where your interest covers the homeless and the inequalities of society. You're good at bringing people together, but they keep asking you what your name means.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
As calm, relaxed, and removed from life as they come, you're just so chilled out, it hurts people to see you. Everyone aspires to be where you are, but most of them just can't put their stress away. Little do they know that even you sometimes have inner turmoil and struggles! For the most part, though, it's sun and fun for you, and that's the way you like it. It's just sort of hard to get things done with all that partying.
Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid
ok, that's retarded.
why don't i trademark the word "the"??
i'll make zillions.
right now? it's raining days off for me.
fuck idol worship, it's all about idle worship.
my guide to being skinny goes like this: eat candy and fast food all day long. and smoke cigarettes.
i just put pants on, and now i'm gonna test out my banks no shirt policy. why do you need a shirt on to bank anyways?
i already know that you can bank shoe-less.
the passions of christ was beat out by the night of the living dead at the box office, and i'm very happy to hear it. how soon the the passion goes away? not soon enough.
i have four days off to do as little as possible.
it looks like its gonna be bright as fuck outside.... ugh....
but some of the regular ones are pretty cool with me. and yes... there are people who are regular signwalkers and take the bus from buena park to get to us. for those of you that don't know the geograghy of southern california... let me clarify... To travel from buena park by bus as far as places like sunland, is INSANE.
but take JR for example... he's mildly retarded, but a hard worker, and fucking just always happy and smiley. he'll be all, "hey dogggg, same hours tomorrow?" but he'll ask me ten million times. or today it was fat ass don's birthday. so i gave him the best corner... the one in front of carl's junior. yes i'm a good boss.
i even bought 1-liter-size cokes for four of the guys that had shitty spots that weren't near anything... but i thought it was kinda funny too, cuz i knew they'd eventually have to pee, and there weren't no bathrooms either.
but yah, the point is this: not all signwalkers are piece's of shit. and fuck you to all the ones that are.
oh and props to the signwalkers that shall remain nameless for obvious reasons who sold me a nickle bag for $3. yay.
i mean, i know signs are special... and we DO genuinely help the average tent sale sell more cars...
but not when there's a clog in the works.
to the sales men at the car show today, "you are the weakest links, good bye"
see? this is why i think that having everyday normal people be jurors is idiotic. cuz in the end, noone wants to be a juror anyways.
i'm lucky enough to never have been summonced, but if i was i'd crumple that shit up and throw it away, because how could they PROVE i got the mail anyways? they didn't send that shit certified...
but if i DID feel inclined enough to actually go in and go thru the ropes... i'd say all the wrong shit that makes tham not want your ass as a juror.
"i have family in jail"
"i have no faith in the legal system"
"i hate cops, and i hate the government"
not only will they throw your ass of there faster thanna bat outta hell, they'll take you off the mailing list.
or they should pay more... then i'd totally do it. i'd even be sober.
but i derno this could be dangerously boring to drive and listen to.
so i'm gonna drink coffee for my drive.
but that's dumb... liquids and six hour road trips are like a bad combo.
i wish i had fastrak
i'm lucky i didn't barf last night.
only users lose drugs.
i was dying for a cigarette when i somehow found an extra pack of marlboro mediums in my back seat that i forgot about.
so i have this big ass mission to take care of today.... pick shit up from the print shop.
also known as... spending close to 6 hours in my car going from here to temecula to north hollywood and back to here.
also also known as... pain in the ass to the tenth power.
i should start listening to books on tape. then i'll be so cool my fucking head will explode.
i owe it to you losers to tell you about how awesome i am. aND yes it's hard to type, and yes i'm drunk as a skunk./
so i met up with half of caustic love bri-something or whatevetr. and this nine mile detouir dude. i brought big tanky and yes i'm gonn amake all these links when i'm fdone.
so katie hall bnought like ten kjillion drinks and i'm totally ytoasted and lucky to be alive sconsidering the deriv back home i had to make and seeing as how i can barely tyope anything coherent.
but here i am. in my apartment alone, and still wearing my green camo t shitrt, nband green boxer shorts, and i'm gonna try and catfch the last of fucking conan mutherfyucuking obrien, and then go to sleep.,p>leave a comment cuz yer a stupid son of a bitch.
begin the shit talking.
they ask me because i know. they ask me cuz i'm a thinker. they ask me because i am shamelessly opinionated, and even if i don't know, i'll fake it like i do. cuz knowing is half the battle.
we live in a world where it doesn't matter who has the right answer, it's all about who can answer fastest, right or wrong.
so what's the question? my answer is who cares... because there's too many questions these days anyways, and a huge shortage on answers.
it's a solution deficit.
what trips people up is the simplicity of everything. the majority thinks it has to be complicated, and that you have to dig deep, and use up tons of effort to solve whats going on. but it's really all very surface, and can be dealt with easily.
you don't need to fall off a building to know it hurts, and if you give a monkey a gun... and the monkey kills someone... you don't blame the monkey - do you?
if this is all very cryptic to you, and you don't 'get' what i'm saying to you, let me spell it out.
f u c k y o u
so today, i wake up for the second time, and it's 2 in the afternoon, i have on green boxers... and google has a coolio green logo today.
kiss me, i'm 1/8 irish.
i used to hate guinness. it reminded me of trying to drink soy sauce. and it was flat. and gross.
my friends are relentless though, and continued to exclusively buy guinness by the boatload...
and so i was the reluctant convert, who has plans on drinking as much guinness as he can tonight at the peir.
st. patricks day is my third favorite holiday (july 4th is my 1st favorite, and my birthday is my 2nd) so lets all get drunk and fall down.
yah so i have two kinds of weed on me right now. there's this one kind that's really nothing special, and then there's the skunky smelling home grown. but what's with that term home grown anyways, cuz ain't it all grown in someone's home at one point or another? anyways... i'm totally feeling this 'homegrown' shit, cuz it's extremely floral... and actually makes my apartment smell kinda nice for a change.
i just woke up, and everything's blurry cuz of the film of eye snot that still coats my vision. and i'm debating just jerking off eating some pills and sleeping away the rest of the day.
maybe i should get up and jerk off in the shower and get ready to run some errands.
or maybe i should just jerk off and write blog posts from here to guatanamo bay.
time will tell.
i worked this same exact spot for a sign gig a year ago, so i'll have it on lock down. PLUS when i did the job a year ago, i spent one of the nights consuming an 8 ball of coke, and was so miserable the next day i almost puked in my car like every second.
now i know better. coke sucks. weed, weed... only only weed. and maybe a pill or two. but no coke.
me and my friend from hoo-ha were bored...
the good life.
i always say one of the best parts of living alone is that you could go to the fridge buck naked if you wanted. but the thing is... i never really want to.
just hang out naked? that seems like it could get chilly.
i've eaten a bunch of muscle relaxers and now i feel better than a brand new pair of socks.
i feel like taking a year long shower. just standing there, eyes closed, letting the warm water spray on my face.
then imma get outta the shower, and...
i met kenneth cowan dot com today. he rode in from korea town on the green line. good peeps
this t shirt company is brilliant
my ex roomate was the main kid in one of the ernest movies.
i got my hair slicked back all nice and guido style and i'm dressed to the nines, and as i sat here at my computer before leaving the house... it felt different.
it's felt like this for a while now though.
and the feeling is basically lack of intrest. i just don't give a fuck anymore. stats? who cares. comments?? i'll never have much involvement with comments anymore.
i used to justify cracking out on the internet by saying, "welp, i don't have cable tv. this is my form of entertainment."
but it's not like that anymore. blogs are boring. and so is everything else on the web.
so like, i sit down at the computer, open my web browser... and i'm stumped. i got nowhere i really wanna go. i check my email, scratch my head... and then shrug my shoulders as i get up from my chair and pace my apartment back and forth.
i like shit like buzznet now. where i feel like to participate, i have to actually LEAVE THE COMPUTER, and take coolio pictures. but yah. the internet has really lost my intrest.
but imma moody son of a bitch. so try me in an hour, and i'll be singing a whole new song.
i walk into a silent box, nothing buzzing or humming with life. i set my keys down, empty my pockets (cigs, weed, lighter, wallet, and gameboy) and i take a seat. and i sit there. in the silence.
i'm so glad i'm me sometimes. maybe i'm cocky or concieted, but when i walk into a room there is no doubt in my mind that i'm the best thing in there. smartest. best looking. most funny. possibly best dressed.
when i was a kid i used to wish for a chance to touch a cloud and see what it felt like. or i'd do math to figure out how many times i'd have to live my WHOLE SIX YEARS over again just to be able to drive, or drink, or move out. it seemed impossible to get that old.
i try not to keep track of numbers anymore. i just have what i have and buy what i can, here and there. i pay back on my debts... eventually. fuck em in the end. take me to collections. you want my money? get the fuck in line.
anyways i thought i was gonna work late as fuck tonight, now it's barely the afternoon, and i'm fucking coooool chillin.
two vicodens? i agree. nite nite.
how good are good intentions when they screw you in the end? late at night when you're ready to call it a day, are you happy? do you fall asleep with a smile on your face, excited to wake up? or do you just lay there, your stomach twitching with the fear of waking up to another day here in hell?
for me, it varies. i take each day one at a time. and i try not to sweat the small, and keep the faith that everything will be fine.
to all that does not matter "slide".
knowing what to do? well that only comes with practice. just go with your feelings, don't think too hard.
i think it's a talent though that some people just don't have. where you see through the smoke and mirrors people put up to hide whatever it is they want hidden. i wish i had that talent.
i think i want to barf... my stomach is hating all these pills.
but i ain't no god damned soap belly, and i never will be. or maybe i will, just to spite what i reveal here. cuz fuck this place where people think they KNOWWW all about me.
like what rocks to me is that i've talked about it on here a million times and posted pics of it, and EVERYthing like that... but none of you really understand what the fuck it is i do for a living.
you have some kinda vauge idea that i deal with signs, and hire homeless people for some kinda task... then you're ahead of the pack.
but i guess what's brilliant is NOT the job itself, but the lifestyle that job causes one to lead. YES, signs is a lifestyle.
i'm obbsessed with all other signs i see any and everywhere, i focus in on everything going on with people on the sidewalks. i can't stop talking about signs...
anyways, really i'm just obbsessed with any work that i have ever had. so who fucking knows.
what matters right now is that i'm affraid to lay down right now, because it's near impossible to get back up at the moment.
OHHHH!!!!! and i locked my keys in my car, and had to break into my place. it was the virgin break in too, so i had to sorta plan it out... but now my keys, my wallet, my all that crap, is locked up and away. till tomorrow when i fel like dealing with it.
peace monkeys, and i'm out.
i used to have this back brace thing that was more like a girddle and man i wish i had that fucking thing right now cuz even though i've swallowed countless pilles of various sizes and colors, i can still feel the agitated muscles pulsing in my back.
why do i have back problems? i wanna trade in this body for a newer less abued model.
the cool side efeect of all the pills though is that great slow spaced grip is has on you. pleasantly suffocating any chances of baddnessss.
and nothing offers relief.
i'm sitting here, five seconds afte swallowing a vicoden, and hoping this is the world's fastest acting fucking vicoden ever created.
work, you little piece of crap.... WORKKKKKK
so i guess me and the head shop have a date tomorrow... but it's all good, cuz i wasn't 100% thrilled to the core with the bowl i had.
i've been hittin up the back up road master travel bong as a replacement... but it's kinda ghetto. it don't even gotta carb on the motherfucker.
anyways, it's only 1am, and i feel like driving to 7-11 so i can circle the store, and take an hour to pick out a snickers bar, and then maybe... i start to feel tired-ish.
four days of nothing to do.
i feel a hair cut coming on...
today is my dad's birthday... he was born march 8th, 1942. i don't know how that makes me feel.
i have no clue what that means.
SEVEN O CLOCK pacific standard time, and i'm ready. i don't know what i'm ready for yet... but who cares? where i'm going, what i'm doing, and who i'll be with... those are just mindless details that i literally have no answer to at the moment.
perhaps i'll just fly solo, in the end.
today i needed two sign walkers to complete my crew. so i walked to the bus stop i was parked next to, and asked the fat black dude, "hey bro, know anyone lookin for work?"
and he was down for it, and actually so was this hispanic hair dresser motherfucker that over heard me ask. so the black dude was dante, and the hispanic was named jonathan.
so like, i raced to work early cuz usually finding people is a pain in the ass, it almost always is a pain in the ass. i've had to ask every fucking homeless person in bakersfield once. even the ZZ Top looking motherfuckers were "too busy"... but whenever it's clutch time, i can make YOU sign walk, wether you want to or not. yes, i'm that good.
then i spent the rest of the day smoking pot and sticking stickers and playing gameboy.
now tonight i'm gonna drench my brain in toxins.
the thing is, i don't have a short fuse... i am the epitome of patience and tolerance. i can take a lot of shit before i explode on you.
although again, the thing is, i have a lot of TNT once the fuse does burn out... so basically my advice is that yes you can be stupid, just don't be stupid in front of me long enough to piss me off.
plotting revenge is fun, and sabotage goes great with milk and cookies. and i'm cold and calculated and laying in wait for you to have me and my crazy ass be the furthest things from your mind so i can pounce and bite deep with my fangs and rip out your still beating heart so i can pawn it on the black market for organs of that nature. and you? you'll be the unsuspecting victim with a jaw dropped look of "wtf?" as the foundation of your reality comes busting apart at the bolts, like a submarine that's gone too deep and is now gonna turn into a tiny little ball of metal.
ya dig me?
at any rate. it's a loverly day today. i think i'm gonna go skip through a field of daisies now.
i think i should save up for a microwave, or maybe a toaster-oven. or at least a fuckin normal toaster so i can eat fucking pop tarts.
and know what? bottled water it totally all marketing. i once heard (it could be total bullshit, but i still heard it) that tap water has more rigorous filtering and cleaning processes than products like dasani or whatever. the over priced bottle having a palm tree painted on it and the plastic being tinted blue doesn't make it any fancier than the crap that comes out the sink.
are you the same morons that pump the super premium gas into your honda accord? to me that makes as much sense as carbom paper in a xerox machine.
my muscles feel loose and i'm smokin tasty tasty. i fear these coughers, and sound like a nuclear reactor breaking apart trying to fight off the coffff
but it's all good when i lay there on my back with stars in my eyes. half between retarded and asleep.
i work in a few day. i'm not doing enough acid. obviously.
well maybe they should use some self control and not host creepy pictures of themselves worshipping some dumb movie.
i woke up on the floor with all of my clothes on, my shoes on, and cigarette burns everywhere.
it took me long enough, believe that. but now i'm about make a full swing come back, and buy myself a new skateboard.
i have the deck all picked out, and i know where i can get some bomb trucks and wheels. and once i have my stupid toy, i'll be happier than shit in a can. and i'll ride it from here to japan. cuz i'm the fuckin man.
now if i can just find where to get some old school airwalks... i'll fucking cream my panties.
hoo-ha gets a makeover.
i wish we had jobs nearby each other every time... cuz i know most of the time will be spent going 4X4ing somewhere we shouldn't be.
even though we spent most of this time diffusing the multitude of problems from plain clothed detective hating on signs to zoning people hating on signs to liquidator managers trying to stir the pot.
i am looking forward to doing nothing lebowski for days.
December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 January 2006 July 2007