Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Monday, January 31, 2005

 
i had mark signwalk for me again today, and because he's a buddy, i gave him his $50 for the day right when he started. that was a mistake.

see... mark's an idiot, and the proof is that he lost his wallet today.

he was taking a dump in the del taco, and someone was pounding on the door trying to get their turn.

mark let the guy in, and headed back to his corner to grab his signwalking stick, and get back to work.

he was close to 20 yards away when he realized that he had forgotten his wallet in the bathroom, and ran back in time to see the guy who took it driving away.

"but mark, why did you have your wallet out in the bathroom? what were you doing in there?"

"i was taking a shit, man. i had my wallet out because i was counting my money.... i know, im an idiot."

"hmmm..."

"...and the del taco wouldn't let me use the phone to call the police. im pretty sure that's a crime."

"losing your wallet is a crime?"

"no, a crime happened on del taco's property, and they wouldn't let me use the phone. im pretty sure that i can sue them."

"sue them for what?"

"i dont want to talk about it anymore."

"mark, buddy... i don't think you have a case. you didn't have your wallet stolen as much as you just LOST it, and why is anyone obligated to let you use their phone?"

"well you're a retard if you think that."

"if im the retard, then why am i the one who still has their wallet? dipshit."

"they have to let me use their phone, because the crime happened on their property. this is just the break i need, this law suit will make me thousands of dollars."

"mark, im tellin you buddy, it was only $60 that you lost. how are you going to get thousands? do you know how law works?"

"i took a civil liberties class in highschool, man, i KNOW what im talking about."

"if you say so. i wishyou luck, man."


 

a shower and some hair gel and now i feel funky fresh despite staying awake all night long.

if you see me sign onto AIM from my cell phone today, say whatup, because it means im bored at work.

must go fetch coffee from 7-11 now.


 
so i've sat here and tinkered around and twiddled my thumbs, and sung out loud, "tra la la", i did a liitle dance, i made a little love, but i just can't get down tonight. not down to bed. not for the life of me. all i can do is smoke my kush away. but im trying not to. i just like having it near me to smell it.

i don't know how many years, and how many people, have mentioned the idea of either an incent that smells like good weed, or a spray, or some kind of air freshener... but i know it's a lot. we talked about it this weekend, because the jack herrer that my cousin had is equally stench ridden.

god dammit. i yawn every ten seconds, but when i lie down, my mind starts racing around like the tazmanian devil. i think im just anxious for this job to be over, because then it's no more work until after New York.

i want to buy some new york pot while im there, and the good news is, jamie said he might know a guy. but if he doesn't knwo a guy, im sure we can find a guy. it's never muy difĂ­cil.


 
howard stern's show is missing artie today, and it's like the show is naked.


 
god dammit. i can't sleep, im wide awake.

i woke up and waited for howard stern to come on the air at 3am, live from new york, like i always do, but i guess because i totally passed out earlier for like 4 hours.... im screwed.

so it's almost 4:20am, and that means it's time to get high. im tired of tossing in my bed searching for the magic position that will send me to narnia.

i leave for New York City this friday. all im going to bring is a backpack... because im staying for just slightly longer than a weekend.

fuck a blog post, i have cigarettes to smoke. and walls to stare at.


 
i woke up passed out on the couch wearing othing but my underwear with the heater on full blast in my tiny apartment, and the TV blaring a poorly produced infomercial at full volume.

so i turn off the heater, turn on my fan, and notice i have only 25 minutes until howard stern's show starts. that means im going to grab a cigarette, and wait until my man comes on the airwaves.

i work the last day of my santa fe springs job tomorrow.

my eyes sting... must go lay down.


Sunday, January 30, 2005

 
my home phone was shut off for deliquent payments on thursday, because i gotta be me. and of course i can't pay it today, or even tomorrow, because why? i have an all consuming job! yay!

i can't be mad, because it's my own fault for not paying my bill, and consistently only paying to get my phone turned back on. never any other time.

so maybe they just zing me when they want to shake the money tree. who knows.

but it's fucking annoying when you want ot order a pizza, and then put the phone down because you want to not waste all THAT money that a pizza delivered costs, and think that maybe taco bell would be cheaper. ONLY TO FIND OUT LATER, when you are too lazy to leave for taco bell and go back to plan "A" which was pizza hut, that your phone is/was still disconnected!

nothing says classy like ordering a pizza from your pre pay cell phone, because you are too lazy to go to the taco bell that a two minute drive (literally) away.

fuck this, they put me on hold!!!!!

i have a rule that i dont wait on hold for pizza. if you put me on hold, you just lost my business for the night. ugh! me and my stupid rules, man, what good are they in a time like this?

fuck this im outta here.


 
long day.

i had to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to fetch my helper mark from east side torrance and rush it to a home depot somewhere's, because a fw of the stick that uncle bill had given me for signwalking had snapped in the wind.

so we re build what needs correction, and wait for the signwalkers. but i start freaking out when there's only ONE, and not the normal 12 of them all lurking around the entrance to the McDonald's.

they fucking barely made it on time, actually four of them went out about ten minutes late, and i was one walker short still.

so i threw mark out there.

mark is a good sport, and sign walked like a champion.

i checked in with teh promoter, and could barely take a breath of relief when the viking called me and told me he was havinga car emergency and needed my triple A membership having self to RUSH OVER IMMEDIATELY, wich i did, and next thing i know i am in bell gardens, california, and im driving the viking, the viking's lady, and the viking's helper danny, to the place his F250 was towed to.

and about 20 minutes after that, him and i were dueling on the freeway, jockeying for position. the only two race cars on a freeway full of obstacles

we both went in opposite directions when we hit the 105E to the 605 interchanges. i went north to santa fe springs, and mike went south on the 605 towards whever he was going.

so now i was screwed out of taking the signs down at the normal time. usually we have them all taken down by the time the signwalkers are off werk. but i couldn't do that because my helper was signwalking, and so fuck it. i waited until mark got off his signwalking shift...

and i slaved him out while we fetched our 200 street signs spread through out the city.

i talk mark how i like the signs fetched, to optomize and expediate things along, and we were done lickity split.

i couldn't believe how fast it was, and the next thing i know im pissing behind the walmart, preparing the net i use to hold my signs in while i do Mach 10 on the freeway.

i work tomorrow, and there'll be traffic, and it will suck man. oh yah. big time.

sucking big time to the maximumation.


 
i never did get a hold of dealer mcdope in the end.

so i just had to give up, and hope for the best, even tho i knew that would make my life hell to know there would be no weed to drive home to, after work tomorrow.

but now things are sitting pretty as i have the Kush, yes, the real deal purple kush, and whole eigth all to myself, and it REEEKS.

i remember as a kid hating the smell of a skunk. becoming a stoner has changed that 100%. now i love the smell of a skunk and skunky weeds. and that's exactly the smell coming out of my pants pocket right now. loverly.

im so tired i could barely drive home. i yawned so hard i popped my jaw in the weird way, and now i just wnat ot go to sleep and fucking get WARM.

im frozen balozen


Saturday, January 29, 2005

 
so north hollywood happens to be rockingthe kush and some jack herrer as well. my lungs are destroyed, yes its true. but believe me, im enjoying it.

i have been eating tons of pretzels and working my ass off, all weekend.

salt is my friend.

the phrase that pays this weekend is, "just spit it out, will ya?" because im sick of every prefacing what they need to ask me with a million little mundane random factoids that partain to nothing.

my time is precious as yours should be.


Friday, January 28, 2005

 
i want to make a list. these are the top 3 celebrity women that anti thinks should die immediately. (in no particular order)

1. Rosie Odonnel
her show's not on tv anymore, and she's fat and gross and unfunny, she's techincally a lesbian but i call bullshit, that's a man baby! and wost of all, she's friends with madonna. ugh! and plus after she dies we can play a game where we see how many basketballs can fit in her giant head. im guessing at least three.

2. Vanna White
look honey, you were pretty hot like a million years ago, and now even tho you are older than dust, you're still hot for a dinosaur... but the reason seinfeld took his show off the air when he did was so that people remembered it when it was good. not old dried and withered like an old tube of toothpaste...

3. tara reid
yah so i'd chop off her head too. no wait HER TITTY! but yah i wouldn't really chop it off, id have the pastic surgean do it. because that nipple shaped like africa is not working. and then with her new titties i will brainwash her to murder the entire cast of The View. barbara walters last so taht she can know what's comin. muah hahahahha.


 
blogging, luckily, isn't homework. not today.

Thursday, January 27, 2005

 
alright i'll take a second to tell you fucks what hell on earth is. because this is it, right now. im rocking it full blast on my boom box, yo.

my lower back is scareaming at me not to move in certain positions, but then i forget and pick up a towel off the ground, which is usually half a second before my erupting into full blown yodeling with pain.

yodelay-hee-hoo

yah so. that's the gates of hell i spose, then where i stood after that was the firey furnace.

there's this velcro back-brace that my mom gave me. she bought it at the swapmeet, and i have it cinched as tight as it can go, and it's still loose like a hoolah hoop. but i still wear it because that way im not just blogging here in only my boxers. now i have a weirdo mock cumber bun.

and if THAT was hellacious... then NOW im locked in the iron maiden that is being dipping in boiling battery acid.

because see, i got all comfy safe and warm before i remembered to get MORE CIGARETTES. and that means, naturally of course, that im due for a mission to see [whatever that pricks name is that works graveyard shift] at the 7-11. plus, my back would like a nice cold 12pack of coors light, or some other equally pissy beer, because i like my beer like i like my nonfat milk. watered down. and yes i only want 12 beers, because im a fucking pussy. it's true.

*scratches face, buggs out eyes, let's out a sigh*

alright im going to get dressed. wait here to see if i remembered to bend at the knees to pick up the clothes off the floor.

a white under tee shirt, and a pair of blue jeans later, im off to fetch that what kills me.

genius.

welcome to hell, my babies.


 
my camera is so cool for these lil movies with sound.

so what i filmed today is:mark is my helper. he is nuts.

it's 1 minute and 9 seconds.


 

it's easy to look at the world around you, the millions of people...

shit! the fucking UNIVERSE, and how infinitely unimportant, astronomically microscopic, your pith existence is.

it's hard not to feel like an ant who has just been lucky to not have been stepped on when you see things like that.

but it is my opinion that this is a defeatist way of thinking. because it's not WRONG per se... it's more true than anything.... but it's focusing on bad energy, and justifies a low self worth more than anything.

have you ever had a bad day, where everything just keeps going wrong. and no matter what... all day long you're just miserable, and the shit keeps on piling and piling...

and just when you need a straw to breath, they pile on ten more feet of bullshit to make staying sane 100% unfathomable.

but what's appauling to me is how unnecessary that is. if you do some introspective thinking, and reflect back on things, you'll notice that you had a shitty morning with a few bad luck type things AND THEN you hit a point when YOU were the monkey wrench in your OWN program, and everything from that point on was only difficult because of you and your bad attitude.

there's two people late for an appointment stuck in gridlock traffic on the freeway. one person is freaking out, honking, biting their nails, and sweating bullets. the other person has their seat leaned back as far as it will go, and is comfortable rocking out to a bad ass play list he made on his ipod...

which person do you want to be?!?!?!

what you have to realize also is how circular all of what i talk about is. everything connects and is relative to eachother. and it comes down to my definition of success as a human being existing here on earth.

to me, the easiest way to explain it is that when i go to sleep, i know it was a good day if im happy. and im happy so often it should be a crime. thank god it's not.


 
the timeline for my job tomorrow:

5am arrive at home depot to stock up on last minute tools and supplies.

5:30am pick up my helper for the day, Mark, from torrance.

5:45-6am fill my truck with all the signs that are at my uncles house waiting for me. grab the checks that are waiting for me. and leave behind the flags that i bought from downtown LA.

7:15am-10:30am arrive at the sale in santa fe springs and begin dressing the site, and building large signs to decorate the the edges of the parking lot that go along the street, and put flags along the fenceline.

11am get the signwalkers prepared and distributed through out the city on their propper locations.

11:30am the clock starts for the signwalkers to start waving at the cars.

11:45am i check in with the promoter, pick up a check from him, and head off to the bank to deposit it, and to cash the check i have for my signwalkers payroll.

1pm-2pm im back from the bank, so my helper mark and i begin to build the small signs that we will put out in the streets on friday. (you never put out signs on a thursday in the street, because the city code enforecment will pop your ass. always start on a friday afternoon)

5:30pm with the signs built and put away neatly by the used car sale's security guard tent, you collect and pay off the signwalkers, and let them know the hours for the next day.

5:45pm check in with the promoter once again, and find out how the sale went, and see if their are any concerns he wants me to adress. if everything is ok, i shake his hand and let him know i will arrive at about 8:45am the following day.

5:50pm drive home, and sing along to the radio while mark smokes cigarettes and makes uncomfortable small talk.

7-7:30pm arrive at home and hit the bong.


 
this was a portion of an email i got from my boss/cousin the other day...

In the future you will have to comply with the following rules if you are to work a sign job:

1. NO CAR BONG
2. NO CAR PILLOWS
3. YOU MUST PURCHASE A CAR CHARGER (and if you already had one you are an asshole)
4. NO GOING HOME FOR ANY REASON - ESPECIALLY INTERNET
5. YOU WILL BE ON TIME FOR ALL EVENTS THAT TRANSPIRE
AT A SALE- ie. SIGNWALKER CUT OFF TIME
6. YOU MUST SHOWER EVERY MORNING BEFORE ALL SIGN JOBS
7. YOU MUST SHAVE AT LEAST EVERY OTHER DAY WHILE ON A SIGN JOB
8. YOU MUST CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES EACH DAY WHILE ON A SIGN JOB.
9. YOU WILL BREAK DOWN ALL SIGNS BEFORE DROPPING THEM OFF AT MINE OR MY DADS HOUSE - NOT AT OUR HOUSES (messy)

I don't think this small list is hard to follow at all. Everyone else seems to do it just fine. Get with the program. I am taking up the slack.

Best Regards,
Mike.


i tried to get mad and defensive about it. but the truth is, he's calling me out only because he expects more of me. he isn't giving his cousin a chance to make good money with a rad job just so that he can feel it's not being taken seriously, and being under appreciatedl.

and that's not like me. so that's not going to continue. i had a weekend off to clear my head, and get my shit in order, and this list that my cousin has imposed on me will be obeyed.


Wednesday, January 26, 2005

 
my penis is circumsized. but it didn't happen until i was 14 years old.

i guess when i was born my mom was talked into leaving me un-cut, because the doctors told her it was old fashioned and barbaric, and really over the top. why not spare your son the agony, and just let him keep his foreskin. he'll be happy about it later.

and really most of my life it wasn't even something i ever thought about at all. it was just little things that i had to worry about... such as pullling the skin back when i took a piss, so that it wasn't like a garden sprinkler splashing everywhere. and there was this one time at this summer camp that made the boys all shower in one of those giant jail showers, where you can all see eachother naked... and i DID notice that i was the only one rocking the jalepeno.

but i wasn't overly insecure about it or anything...

but because i had always had issues with this hernia thing since i was 3 months old, when i was 14 years old, they had to go in and operate again, and would be cutting me open in my abdomen, and welp... that's pretty close to my dick, so my mom spoke up, and gave me her two cents.

she said she had always regretted not getting me circumcised. that she was talked into it by these doctor guys who told her the times were changing, and they LIED, or at least were WRONG. because boys never stopped getting their foreskin cut by and large, here in america... and really, in her honest opinion... she thought sex might be less weird and awkward for me as an adult if my penis just looked like everyone eles's penis. (yes i think it's weird that my mom talked to me about it too)

so she left it up to me.

i had to go in for surgery anyways, and if i wanted my foreskin lopped off my weiner.... i could add that to the shopping cart as well.

so i did.

the reason i decided to do it the most, was that it's true what my mom said. people are all misinformed. they think it's "dirtier" or harder to keep clean, among many other weird ideas that hold no basis in reality.

a dick is a dick is a dick. sorry to burst anyone's bubble.

anyways, im sure you want to know about the recovery process...

the thing is, it was much more painful where they cut my abs to get to my hernia than where they cut my weiner. i could barely sit up for a whole week.

the penis had suture stitches all along the head, and you better beleive i thought i was going to die the few times i got boners that week. BLOODY FUCKING MURDER.

but eventually the suture stiches disolved and went away. and the rest is history.

but my advice to mothers out there is to just cut that shit off when he's young and dumb, like my mom should have.


 
wow! some rolling blackout shut off all things that either make noise or produce light in my house, and helped me sleeping to 1 in the afternoon!

so guess what?! im gonna rub one out, and fall back alseep!!!

days off work are golden.


 

people who get their feelings overly hurt all the time are unbearably self centered.

oh now YOUR feelings are hurt? great. just what the situation needed.... for YOU to make things all about YOU.

take the example of a mom getting all butt-hurt because her daughter didn't ask her to prepare the food for the wedding, and instead hired a caterer, so she decides that she's "too hurt" to show up, and really...

she took a day taht was sposed to be all about her daughter, and twisted it, messed it up, and made things all about HERRRR...

i see it play out in all sorts of settings, and sadly im guilty of it at times as well.

taking a situation and flipping it all so that whatever it is, somehow becomes all about myself.

i think it's very telling of a person's maturaty level, when you can see how well they are able to get over themselves, and do the right thing rather than the selfish thing.

thankfully tho, my awareness of my own such behaviour, and will and drive to correct it is a sign of my own personal struggle to be all i can be.

the person id like to end up being is the one who is impossible to piss off. the one who you can not offend, and mostly the person who never LET'S GO CONTROL and thusly never get's their feelings hurt.

the secret to not getting your buttons pushed by people, and avoiding frustration like that...
is to not have buttons.

often times the attacks launched by insecure people are exaclty what point out THEIR OWN way of thinking. like when my cousin sasha tried to call me out and say that i only showed up to christmas because grandma and grandpa were handing out money.

i let it bother me, and i got my feelings hurt, because i beleived that there was maybe some truth to that, and she was perhaps speaking on behalf of others.

i was wrong because i asked around, and i found out that no one ever even considered such an idea, and really it reflects on my cousin sasha.. i guess now we know why SHE showed up, eh? because it was ONLY HER that even had that line of logic in their head.

also, way not to judge thy neighbor, you faker devout christian.

look at it like this, you have one of TWO CHOICES. either you control your feelings by never letting yourself become the adverse effect of someone's actions OR you surrender your feelings and you're really more like a human wind sock, dependent on everyone but yourself for your happiness.


 
so this weekend i had a hunch i was going to be flung off to Simi Valley to do a sign sale, and i was gearing up for it, i even looked on the map to plot out my strategy.

so now instead, im being hurled at Santa Fe Springs. also known as, santa gay springs, because they wont let us do signs in that city. not even signwalkers.

now listen, this is actually an area that we as sign guys know a lot about. and a person's right to hold a sign is really a first amendment issue, and if we had the time and/or energy to take things to court, we'd win everytime.

but we only have one weekend, and we're gone, worrying about some new cities uptight code enforcement.

whitey and i did santa fe springs together recently. the viking even swung on by and threw down his thumb print of approval on the sale, add a few touches to make it tits how he likes it.

so it'll be totally formula, and i even know where the santa fe springs city limits all are, so i can get our signwalkers NICE and CLOSE to where they need to be.

the guy i'll be working for has an interesting profile lately. he used to be cool as a cucumber, no prob bob styles all the way home. now he rides you and sketches out on things, and you can tell he's got something he's up to. we can only speculate as to what it could be...

im just glad because even tho i don't have a double sale to get rich from... i have a 5 dayer. which is basically just as tight.

i will go for it with no helper, and i have the luxury of BRAND NEW SIGNS, because re-use signs are cool for getting us jobs week after week, but every sign guy loves new signs.

they're all crisp and shiny and clean.

tomorrow is my last day off before i start going comando for the weekend.

you don't know "living" until you're running through the streets of some random southern california barrio barking at the moon and screaming, "MUTANDO LAS CHUPACABRAS!" as high pitch as humanly possible, with a wooden stake raised over your head in each hand.

...sigh.

right now we're not sure exaclty how we are going to get all the signwalkers i need to my sale, because we're short of people with cars this weekend... but we're proffesionals. we'll handle it.


Tuesday, January 25, 2005

 
i just found out that there's these too younger chicks who want me to teach them guitar lessons once a week. i haven't taught guitar since i was in highschool, so im looking forward to it because i know it will be fun.

but before you all get excited for me thinking that im gonna be rapping with young chicks. these are my neices, and that means all those in-the-gutter thoughts you had are now totally gross. and you are a pervotron, and you know it.

sometimes i like to just stand around and watch the clouds float in between the palm trees. and the cool part about los angeles, is that you're almost always nearby a set of palm trees. just keep scanning the landscape until one pops up. one always will.

this is the land that i love. and i hate when i hear people saying negative things about it, just because of some convoluted, wapred idea taht they've gotten from TV and the movies.

the most common criticism i hear from folks who've never visited before is that they think Los Angeles appears depressing, plastic, tan, phony... and all around wacky in general.

"don't all the girls out there have fake tits?"

"isn't everyone trying to get into the movies out there?"

"what's with all the tan people?"

and to all those questions i just shrug my shoulders because i don't no what the fuck they're talking about. i think those people watch too much TV, and to think all those things about the town i love and was born and raised in, is no different than for me to say, "isn't NYC just a bunch of rap guys breakdancing on the subway, and squeegee guys attacking the cars at red lights, and mean stock brokers talking on their brick cell phones?" just because that's how i remember it looking the last time i saw crocodile dundee. pffft.

people are people, and every one can relate to those common little slice-of-life type things that no matter where you are, are universal.

and that's the beauty of travel, is that you see how our differences are microscopic when compared to what the people of earth have in common.

you don't have to be a mexican to enjoy a corona on a white sand beach in Baja.

you don't have to be a canadian to get crunked off Labatt Blue

and you certainly dont have to be a dirty sweaty slimey guinea to enjoy sticking your dick in the mash potatos, because YES THIS IS THAT KIND OF PARTY!!!

it's like how i found out that jamie smoked a doobie on his last trip to Amsterdam, i couldn't wait to rib him about it, because it's not typical of jamie to get high. and all he said to magically make it not-fun to rib him was, "yah well, when in rome... or i mean, when in amsterdam..." and he's right. when better a time to smoke some quality rope, than when it's legal and at it's best? or even just to see the world through the same stoned eyes the locals see it. just to see it.


 
i like that everytime i see my mom, her and i get into these crazy talks about the illuminati, karmic justice, or how capatalism is flawed due to the inability of ethics to exist in such important areas as Medicine and Law.

you know... simple small talk...


 
feeling the wind blow in your face, making your eyes squint, and you hair flap & fly around, like a teeshirt caught in the door of a car on the freeway. the sky is bright blue all around the edges and darker in teh center, with not a cloud left after the winds blew them all away. the little bits of skin you have exposed to the air, your face, and ears, your neck, and hands... are ice cold to the touch.

and you just stand there. swaying in the wind...

the epxression on your face is defeat, despite your efforts to choke it back.

people on the sidewalk pass by you while you stare into the direction of the cars flying by in front of your face.

you suck in a deep breath, hold it for just a second andyou think to yourself, "oh man," just before you exhale, letting your rigid body deflate with every escaping bit of lung capacity.

and when you're almost withered all the way to the floor, you hear, "#97, YOUR ORDER IS READY!!" and you spring back into formation, turn around, and walk back into Baja Fresh...

grab your food without taking your eyes off of the floor, and head on out the door...


 
here's a clue for the dumbasses that wake me up EVERYDAY.

when you call a wrong number, you can tell you made the mistake almost immediately, unless you have the IQ of a fruit fly.

do you really think that if this was a fucking animal hospital, i would answer the phone, "hello?"

unless you were born yesterday, you know that no business answers their phone like that. and trust me, from the sound of your voice i can tell you weren't born yesterday. maybe 100 years ago, but that's none of my bees wax Grandma.

if this was the animal hospital, dont you think they would answer the phone like, "this is the animal hospital, this is anti, how can i lick your ass today?" or something. not 'hello' .

and after i tell you that you have the wrong number, you want to still ask me stuff. what the fuck old lady?! i have a life to live over here, that doesn't include being a good lil boy scout and helping granimals like YOU.

this is the question i hate the most, and i got this one today. the phone will ring, i answer the phone, and have some stranger on the other end asking me who i am.

"who am i? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! you called ME, lady."

she says, "oh this is judy..."

i say, "i derno no damn judy. BYE BYE!"

"wait wait, is this 379....

"BYE LADYYYYYYY"

i know i could be a little less unpleasant, but my theory is that if im a huge enough asshole, they won't make the mistake of calling me twice.


 
i can't believe it, whitey's getting a new car! i just talked to him and he said it's going to be a black 2002 F-150, and the fucker is leaving town immediately after buying it so i won't even get to hot box it, and have whitey drive me around the block, while i push all the buttons, and roll the windows up and down.

apparently when lloyd got sick and was pouring bloog out of himself, and losing control of otyher bodily functions, it was all in whitey's truck.

ryan has no sense of smell from a head injury, but he asked if big tanky or myself would go to his truck and tell him how bad the smell was.

we refused.

in fact, we insisted that we would maintane a good healthy distance from his truck.

so now he has a new black truck, and i wont even see it for a week.

i feel so teased.

btw, i have bought my tix for NYC. and i can't wait to get there!

and in case u are down with ppl named whitey, as i am, here's a whitey that is no the whitey i know. it's just some random whitey.

this is the whitey i know.


 
robbin quivers has the day off work today. the show sucks as a result.

 
what hangs from my mouth is the last dunhill menthol cigarette that big tanky (who has a new blog, btw) left behind for me to smoke, from when she was here using my laundry facilities.

i watched that show the medium, and decided that it's going to be my last time watching that show.

whitey left way before that, but not before he ordered a pizza that neither tanky or i could even consider eating.

it had olives, so i wouldn't touch it. and it had meat (sausage) so tanky was out.

lloyd got taken to the hospital today, and we're all very worried about him.

i guess he was working with whitey and wasn't feeling too hot, and before long he was puking blood, whitey said, "it was coming out like a running faucet" and an ambalance had to be called, and the viking and whitey and myself were all on the phone with each other.

whitey standing next to lloyd and the paramedics, me sitting here biting my nails, and the viking pacing his house shouting at whitey to find out more about what the fuck is going on.

whitey's mom is like head nurse at whatever hospital taht lloyd got sent to, and that's good, because lloyd is family to us... and when i thought the worst about his health... when i first heard the news... i had no idea i would get so emotional.

so FUCK YOU LLOYD, you better get your ass better. because we're not ready for you to bone out on us yet.

im out now cuz stern's on the radio, and i need more cigs and perhaps a pint of ice cream. because ice cream helps me feel better.


 
oh and here's a tip for people that actually still DO believe in God.

don't worship jesus...

BECOME him.

that doesn't mean that you should go to home depot and buy the supplies it would take to crucify yourself. not that i would complain if you did (one less idiot)

and it doesn't mean to live a life the way he lived it, actiing all perfect all the time, because man, he wasn't all that anyways. i read somewhere he was totally laying the pipe to that mary magdalan person, twisting up doobies, ect.

look at that long hair and that beard, he's basically your average red neck partier. and in that way, you gotta love the guy...

but i digress... become jesus.

but don't do it like hitler either. that way won't work. but if you can pull off kidnapping the pope, props to YOUR ass. no doubt.

nevermind... this is a waste of breath.


 
ok fat people, i get it, you are sensitive and dont like being laughed it. stop emailing. don't be mad at anti, be mad at god for making waddeling so fucking funny. i don't even believe in god, so the joke's on you.

i think if you believe in that shit, that's great on you. i hope it betters your life, and it truly might. but the rationale some people use is plain retarded.

you'll hear that they have proof god exists, and whenever i hear such a claim, my ears perk up, because you're typically about to hear some funny ass shit.

so yah, a typical story will be that some guy's mom and dad died in a plane crash, his wife got cancer, and his daughter was kidnapped and murdered... but he KNOWS GOD IS REAL because, after all that tragedy and misery, god was kind enough to help the asshole buy the winning lotery ticket from his local beer store.

so god is real because he let the guy have $5,000, but at the same time killed off his whole family.

what a nice god.

i've even heard my religious family use god for weird ideas, like, "oh look how we got a parking space so close to the theater, that must be god watching out for us..."

ummm ok? so god punishes the non believers by making them park far? listen to yourselves.

or how my religious cousins who are my SAME AGE will spout things like, "evolution is satanic, and besides, i didn't come from no monkeys!"

riiiiight.... the scientific fossil record is to be completely ignored. way to be open minded.

honestly tho, i don't hate fat people, i just hate the ones who act all high and mighty about it, and want to paint a pretty picture about being victimized by their fatness.

oh woe is me... life is so hard with this condition... im simply helpless, and unable to tolerate criticism... yet i dish out criticism as if i was cast as the oracle in the matrix

why is letting people live their lives the way they want to live so hard for you? why must you be so smug to assume that im wrong and you're right? you haven't even heard me out, man.

i have this other uncle who's claim to fame is one upping every single other family member. and he has done so very effectively, and on the surface, by all acounts he appears to be a happy man.

but one upping everyone? it seems so petty, and so twistedly self-absorbed, and how is a man living out his life if he's forever in some sort of secret competition with his family?

that's just loony to me.

you can't compare yourself to others. look at me for example...

compared to doogie howser, im a grade A retard. but compared to george bush... im albert einstein.

what does that tell me about myself? not a god damned thing. you can't look outside to find the answers within.


Monday, January 24, 2005

 
what's up tittie scabs?!

i made it to the bank in time, and now that means my check-card visa logo thingy is on deck, and i can buy fantabulous things via the innermanet.

and im going to buy tix to go to new york city, in february, and i'll only be there about 3 days, but it's a big deal, because i haven't been somewhere that far away in a long time. and i can't wait.

my friends there have all said that they're excited to see me, and that they can't wait to meet up for either a drink or a high five. whatever we happen to have time for.

i want to ride the subway, get snubbed by a taxi cab, and swept away in the rush hour siedwalk traffic.

i've been to new york before, twice before. the first time i was very young and with my parents and we stayed in a hotel i'd never be able to afford in this lifetime, and i did all sorts of fun touristy things, like make it to the top of the statue of liberty... the empire state building, and eating in the rainbow room.

we saw the meuseam that's all spiral, or whatever googen-something.

the time i went after that was to visit a girlfriend i was dating that moved there for school. it was about a month after my visit that her and i where thruough.... but that visit was so much super tight.

i didn't have a hotel to crash out at (i slept in her dorm room on a bed that barely fit HER alone) and i didn't have any money for anything (everything in new york costs a lot) but i walked the streets alone. doing my thing, figuring my shit out... and if new york is anything to a californian... it's...

well fuck man, it's another planet.

there's not shit like that here at all.

all i want to do this time is chill out man. go no where, and just be there, and see a few people who i want to meet up with. that's it. no sight seeing, not really.

i actually dont even intend to make it into manhattan. fuck that place, iv'e seen it.

plus i need a good dose of, "this cold bitch ass weather is why you live where you live" because thats always nice.

so... now that the guts have been spilled on le glob, i shall do what i said, stimulate the airline economy.


 
im very proud of the pics i have been taking on my buzznet account. check them out, leave wonderful comments about how hihg you wish you were.

and if you don't have a buzznet account, i want to ask you why. everyone has one, it's free and more fun than you'd guess. just look how big it's blown up.

perhaps you're thinking, "i have a blog, and that site's nothing but pics that you can comment on. why should i care?

but remember that trying out new things is good, and not going to kill you. and what.... you're too "busy" reading blogs? hah.

i have the solution to that feeling of the world on your shoulders.

tell all your secrets. dont have lies.

it's like the stripper who lies to her parents, and tells them that she's a "bartender"... but she never knows man... one of his budies could walk in at any second.

or how tom leykis tells men that they shouldn't cheat on their girlfriend. they should dump the girlfriend if they want to mess around, or at least see if she's down to see other people. but never should you lead a double life.

because man, NO ONE is that good at lying, and you're gonna feel so much better when you have nothing to hide.

i know this is lame, because im 25 years old and such, but i was lying by omission to someone. and i was stalling on shit because of it, and welp, now she knows.

now my mom knows i never showed up to that court date, and i had to pay hundreds of dollars to make it so i was driving on a legal license again.

i wasn't going to be in any trouble. it's MY life, and if i want to skip court dates, and pay way more money than if i would have gone on time, that's my busines. and what does she care? she didn't care.

she was happy i figured it all out for myself. but it wasn't any big whup to her. but it was to me, because i know i would have felt like i was letting her down if sh eknew about it before it was all done and wrapped up and taken care of.

whitey handles his DUI's the same way. he only tells Bev about them about two years after they happen.

anyways. i feel great having gotten it out of my system. thouroughly.


 
i spent my hard earned money on this today:

that's what the weed that dealer mcdope is selling looks like.it's not as tastey as the orange roughey batch... but i like it, none the less. see how spikey it is? that means extra heavenly goodness.

i understand that people are trying to say their weed is superior to california weed when they say, "weed from cali sucks, man." and i even believe them that they have the better pot, and we are deprived because our pot is not as nice.

but look at that pic... we may not have the world's best pot, im not trying to claim that. im jsut saying... we ain't hurting, and our weed definitely doesn't suck.

i dont smoke parliament lights anymore on the basis that they are the world's most chemy tasting cigarette. camel lights baby... thats my flavor for right now. loving that turkish blend.

and big ups hardliquid for always taking inapropiate pictures of his girlfriend jax. who doesn't love a guy like that?

he lives in oregon where the weed is undoubtly cheaper, better, and more plentiful. but los angeles has higher crime, and more smog, and one of the world's largets homeless population.. TOP THAT!

i wish i was tired.


Sunday, January 23, 2005

 
do you know that feeling?

the one you get when you close your eyes, lean your head back, and let yourself go... and commit fully to a song you're into?

if it's the right song you can totally lose yourself...

lose your time and place in the world...

and even perhaps feel a bit overwhelmed with the goose bumps that have taken over your neck, arms and face.

music is a special thing for me, as it should be for everyone. it's the closest i'll get to being "spiritual" because enjoying song and dance is the only ceremony i have besides hitting the bong.

i long and burn for new good things that i will like and enjoy

the good news being: as badly as i want new stuff, that's how easy it is to get.

i wish i had the time to paint a heartfelt oil painting that describes the mood i feel for each individual song i've ever heard. in my whole life.

like the song on right now, "four theives vinegar" by MF DOOM... i dont have pain't brushes, oil paint, or a canvas, to i'll paint my picture with words.

there's a guy walking down a dark poorly lit sidewalk with his face hidden by his hair and the shadows. he's looking down at the ground anyways, and breathing out big white puffs of freezing cold air, while his hands remain shoved firmly in his pockets. the filthy ground and everything around him is wet from the humidity, and is shiny and reflecting the street lights, but it's not raining, it's just misty. in the backround the sky line is glowing from the combined energy of a million tiny lightbulbs, lighting various busineses and houses that make up the clusterfuck of a city. but other than what's described, you see nothing.

it's dark. warm. welcoming. in motion. and lonely...


 
And if laughing at fat people waddling out of WalMart is one of my most treasured past times, who is anybody else to judge?

i read that quote off alecia's blog, and i felt like responding to it here.

my friends have often accused me of being prejudice against fat people, and just not liking someone because they are fat, and for no other reasons.

i too think that fat people waddling out of k-mart is a precious site, that can envoke laughter even out of the terminally depressed.

and you who's to judge? judgemental people, man. that's it, no one else.

ten bucks says a lot fat asses know how to laugh at themselves. their poor health that has led them down the path of fatness (waddling down the path of coarse) was their own fault. no one makes you fat, you do it to yourself.

and hey, the flipside of it is that i dont trip out when someone laughs at me. im the butt of the joke too sometimes.

people will make fun of my sloppy hair, or laugh at me for "still dressing like im 16", or whatever... for being a dumbass stoner, because thats what i am. and it IS funny.

if we can't laugh at each other for the faults we all have, then tell me... WHO CAN WE LAUGH AT?

everyone is funny, and it doesn't have to always equate to something "demeaning". sometimes some shit is just funny because it's universally funny.

like that time i got sent to church camp, and we were all sitting cross legged outside with our eyes closed, doing some fake american-indian ceremony bullshit....

well i was trying to hold in this huge fart, because i wasn't sure if it was gonna smell so bad that it might peel the varnish off wooden cabins, or how loud it would be, ect. and i was like 8 years old, and easily embarassed.

of course it was the loudest fart known to man, and stunk so bad that i was the butt of the joke for the whole week.

and as sad as that story is for ME, the kid who was made to feel bad... for farting... if you think about it... that story is true comedic genius. and i shouldn't have ever let it bother me. in fact i should have stood up, pulled my pants down, and farted proudly in all those other 8 years old's faces. throwing them a thumbs up while im at it.

shame is weird, people can smell it on you like how a doberman pincher can smell fear. and when they do (especially 8 year olds) they'll exploit it.

so i say keep on with the making fun of everyone you can. it's funny because it IS funny, and people are best at making themselves look foolish, including ourselves.

if i was a fat ass and you were laughing at me waddle out of wal mart... i'd prolly laugh along with you.

because you are either cool, or you just take yourself too serious.


 

the right to bear arms makes no sense in the world we live in today.

our forefathers made that shit up back when there weren't Uzi's, Semi Automatic Assault Rifles, and AK 47's.

the right to bear arms was the right to own a gun that took 20 minutes to re-load.

what does the right to bear arms do for americans these days? why do you need a gun? how is that gun, and the "right to go buy it" going to help you and your family?

oh i get it, you think that when an intrudor breaks into your house, you will have your fancy lil boom-stick, and you're going to fucking blow his fucking head off. because as you say, "it's either kill or be killed!"

or another reason i hear gun freaks talk about why we should never restrict the right to bear arms is, "IF YOU TAKE AWAY OUR GUNS, THE CROOKS WILL STILL FIND A WAY TO GET GUNS, AND WE WILL BE HELPLESS!!"

but why don't they think about THIS for a change. if you mnake it harder to get guns, there will be fewer guns, and fewer guns, and...

in canada if someone shoots off a gun, it's like FRONT PAGE NEWS, because no one has guns, because guns are hard to get, and welp, life is less deadly as a result.

i think the right to bear arms makes america a dangerous place. more dangerous than if NO SUCH RIGHT existed.

i read a blog written by a person who voted for george w. bush, and who has thier mind all clouded with terms like "LIBERAL" and "CONVERVATIVE" or whatever. they think the democrats (as a whole) are foolish for wanting gun control. i think they need to step outside themselves and not identify with one group's IDEALS so often.

there are no red or blue states. i dont even know what that's sposed to mean.

how about people are people? hows that for a crazy idea?! stop pigeon holing yourselves by saying you are on the left, or on the right, or whatever. stop thinking of ideas as "a liberal idea" or "a conservative idea" because that's just low brow side choosery, and not thinking for YOURSELF.

people dont know this, but the idea of conservative and liberal has been force fed to americans to boost radio talk show ratings.

the combine will try to make you believe things like, "you are one of US, or you are one of THEM. now are you with us, or are you with the terrorists?"

there is no black and white, im sorry. i know that means you might have to do some thinking of your own, and not just follow what a radio talk show host tells you to follow. or that lousy preacher you listen to. or whoever you listen to...

the truth is you should take everything that everyone says with a grain of salt. it's good to hear what they have to say, but dont believe anything, until you went and found out for YOUR OWN DANMED SELF.

i read on a seperate conservative blog that they were annoyed with the protestors during the inauguration. they said, "nothing was going to change that day, what did they think would happen? dont these people have jobs?"

that's the most un american thing i have ever heard in my entire life.

what that blogger failed to realize is that while she's feverishly punching out blog posts to defend the RIGHT TO BEAR ARMS, she's also talking shit about the right to peacefully assemble and protest.

what was the point in protesting? how about getting your voice heard. how about protesting to be doing all you can for something you believe in.

something that *I* personally find admirable to the 100th power.

the president works for you and i, never forget that. and when i work for someone, if im not doing what they want me to do... im going to hear complaints, no doubt about it.

and so will g dub, for four years. you know this, stop acting like protesting is so hard to understand. bitch.


 
the women here are just like in the magazines.

stern, too precious, pissy, ferocious, blank.

just so.

bodies like twelve year old boys.

faces like casino poker dealers... plastic and distant.

they look right through you.

and they're only interested in your money.

they all smoke.

gorgeous and boring.

who are they talking to on their tiny phones?

phsycics? drug dealers? crisis line operators?

or maybe the ghost of sarah gainsburg?

what music do they listen to?

or do they listen to music at all?

-buck 65 on Omid's Monlith album


 
the sign business has an interesting history.

it was one man's vision. he invented the idea of a signsale with signwalkers. it was his idea, his company, and eventually those were HIS millions of dollars that were made in the process.

signs grew and grew, and soon there were operations that reached across the entire country. from the north east to southern california, and back again.

my cousin mike worked for that company, and was one of their MVP's being sent all across the country to manage and head up important going-ons. his comany car was a lincoln navigator, and it was pretty ill, lemme tell ya.

the signs have had such a powerful impact over the last 20 years they've been in operation, that almost 90% of the cities we try and do signs in TO THIS DAY, have enacted their own city ordinances banning signs and signguys. yes, it's true.

so like any good business idea, competitors started to take advantage of the cash cow known as signs. and also, in the process of this guy who invented signs becoming a millionaire.... he also became a crack head.

and what's scarier than a crack head with a million dollars? nothing.

this crackhead, he fucked up the sign business something fierce. he's undercut his competition, driving the price down, and ruining it forever. for everyone. a sign guy used to make three times what i make. how fucked.

the crackhead would also do straight up FUCKED things to competing sign businesses. like call the city code engforcement for where someone was going to do a sale, and rat them out, and fuck over their business.

that's shady.

it got so bad, and he became SUCH a crackhead, that his business was taken over by the banks and his employees, and he was ousted and blackballed and moved to las vegas, where we heard very little about him.

there was a rumor that someone gave him a sign job, and he put out the signwalkers, and ran off with the signwalking payroll, and screwed everyone over. so like.... same old same old.

but now there's a new angle being worked. and we dont like it, we intend to block all chances of it working out.

one of our competitors has hired the crackhead back on as a consultant, and a deal maker.

the truth is the crackhead DOES have more connections than anyone, and could steal an account or a client from you with just a few carefully chosen words from his lying mouth.

well guess what... we are working on ideas to snuff out the crackheads chances of fucking with OUR company (at least our company) and he can go back to vegas, and never be heard from again. like he was sposed to do.


Saturday, January 22, 2005

 
whitey and i want to go to angel stadium tonight. because we've never been to a monster truck rally, and today is SATURDAY SATURDAY SATURDAY. if you catch my drift. and if you dont. i hate you.

so yah, that will make it two nights in a row in anahiem. ana-crime. but i get this nagging suspicion that we are going to flake on our briliant idea, and do something totally lame instead... like cram our ipods full of new tunes.

or finish off my beers.

right now my nipples are harder than diamonds. yes it's true. anti lives in a chilly apartment.

it's chillier than the chilliest chili that ever chillied. ask anyone.

screechbone bought my book! and i am thanking her publicly right NOW. thanks. i hope you dont end up deciding to use it for toilet paper.


 
the reason i hate sushi is because it's the ultimate fake out food.

no food is as hit or miss as sushi is. and sadly, it's never the sushi's fault. well almost never, there IS bad sushi, but that's a whole seperate blog post about how you shouldn't eat sushi that sucks (which should be obvious anyways)

so yah, what im saying is tht the sushi is always the same old shit, sitting there all pretty like a coloful little piece of art. it's a constant.

but your mood, and what you have done recently may cause the sushi to become inedible.

there was a time like two years ago that the viking and i got super coked up, and went to the sushi bar a few blocks from his old house on sunset strip. we walked in like kings of the castle. rock stars. shooting people dead with hands pointed into fake little guns. oh yah... bad asses for sure.

that is until the sushi arrived. if you do a few lines and eat a burrito, you're fine. if you do a few lines and try and eat sea urchen.... GOOD FUCKING LUCK BUDDY.

i never feel full from sushi either. where as eating @ el terasco, not only do i feel full, i am SO full that i worry that i may have broken or POPPED on of my vital organs.

now THATS geting it done.

not these little shiney turds they fucking serve on a cube of rice. that's like trying to get full from a pez despenser.

i will attempt to eat sushi again, but next time, im getting way more stoned first.


 
high! i mean hi. or whatever. IM HIGH!

so hey. and not hay, because hay is for horses, and jackasses like YOU. and guess what? im buzzed too. i had some mexican beers, and saw a chick about to give birth!. yes a real live soon to be baby's mama. in anahiem. tanky's cousin. crazy shit.

i spent most of the time in the waiting room watching jay leno interview the crocodile hunter. good times.

i like beer in green bottles. i'm sick of brown ones. green is the color of goodness.

tomorrow? i dont know. prolly something. OH YAH! i have to take pictures for work. and you shmucks know how much i love taking pictures of thing thangs. should be tight. whitey's going to be shooting too with his digital camera. apparently he found his cord or whatever.

whitey has also has a new Ipod, have i mentioned that? he has the color photo one with twice the storage space that mine has. aka he one upped me to the max. but thats ok, there's no one else i'd rather one up me on such a rad thing as ipod-ness.

it's like a whole new life when you rock one of those, i can't believe tony pierce doesn't talk about his more. you'd have no idea until you got one how badly you needed it and how much you will hate yourself for waiting.

it's true.

wait here. i need to beer meself again-skis.

everyone's left my house, and that's good, because now i can geek out, and listen to that one song im obesessed with over and over and over again until im numb. currently the song in that file is "work that we do" sublime, off the Robbin da hood album.

can't get enuff.

i dont have a car charger for my cell phone, and it's like i might as well saw my nuts off.

the carpet i bought from target is one of those, "i get crinkled and need to be straightened every two seconds" kind of rug thing. im sure you've met one of those before. we all have, and welp, this one's fucking stubborn. serially.

did you know im flying to the BIG APPLE soon? yes it's true. im going to take afew days to visit the most famous island in the world. and perhaps bump into some people i know. or i might just get tanked in a random bodega solo style, because im secretly a recluse. a closet recluse. dont tell anyone.

my hair is past my eyes now. longest it's ever been.


Friday, January 21, 2005

 
this is an anti-drug blog post.

WD-40 stops cocaine use

see, i've heard of people sniffing coke off toilet lids in public bathrooms. but i never believed it.

im no coke head, but yes, i have had my fun in bathrooms with other fiends, amping ourselves to the max.

but we always rocked a key. or someone would have one of those cocaine bullets, or perhaps a chick would have a lil mirror with her. whatever.

but i don't know, call me crazy... butif the toilet was the only viable option... i'd just go to my car and grab a CD case or some shit.

honestly, the reason i dont do cocaine anymore, besides it being the type of drug that i will get all OCD on and ruin my life over.... it's just gross.

you never know whatcher getting, and that terrible nose feeling for the next few days is never worth it to me.

have i mentioned that all the coke heads i never knew had anger issues? not just a coincidence...

so im thinking, if you go into the bathroom with your friends to snort coke of toilets. you deserve the nose bleed you will likely get. because sniffing anything off a public toilet sounds fucking retarded to me.

go smoke a joint like a normal person.


 
there's not really any weed in the house, but that's fine. im not even freaking out like i normally would be.

NORMALLY... i'd start twiddling ALL of my fingers feverishly (like jazz hands) and would be looking around the house, and the floor for lost bits and peices of pot.or whipping out bong parts, and pipe thingies, so that i can get a nice pile of resin going for myself.

the pretty side of an addiction.

i just got off the phone with dealer mcdope and he says his day job might let out early, he might be home HOURS before the normal ETA. this is a good sign.

if he still has the orange roughey, that will be an even better sign. i loved that batch.

but yah... im not trippin too bad.

oh shit! i just remembered that the ashtray idea sent me from the philipines is full of old weed bits!

it's mostly stems and shake and scraps in there, but if i dig through, and do a bit of manicuring, i bet i can gather enough to get high for 5 seconds!

la dolce vida!


 

that's big tanky's new vehicle. as you can tell, she is very excited about the whole thing.

she doesn't know how to drive a stick shift, but i was impressed with how well she is learning.

if you see her whipping around the southbay, you best yeild your hunk of junk on wheels.


 
what's being shy all about really? All i can think of is two words when i encounter a shy person. "shy... WHY?!"

because being shy is a subcatagory of shame, and it's not allowed.

that's right space-jesus, im talking to you, and you heard me correctly. That is not allowed.

take your hands out of your pockets. Stand tall and proud. Don't mumble, stutter or speak too quietly... And just try to relax, will yah?

jeeze man...

and clean yourself up for chrisakes... i mean just look at yourself. is that the image of success? is that what you pictured of yourself when you thought you'd magically make it rich? i didn't think so.

you're stuck in your ways, and you continue to sell yourself short.

i mean let's face it... you just ain't thinking big, man. not at all. NOT AT ALL. because swinging for the fences doesn't mean you say "life is as good as it's going to be, and im happy with what i got"

it means you say, "fuck this shit!" and dig your hells into the dirt as you THROW that boulder up and finally OVER the fucking mountain. more like kicking it like a fucking soccer ball. or futbol for my "Latino audience"

i refuse to believe this is what you wanted for yourself. i know you're not dreaming, and i think you hate yourself for it everyday because you KNOW IT, and knowing it ten times worse than the shmuck walking down the avenue all clueless, because ignorance is bliss....

but you're not ignorant...

you're smart....

wasting away your potential for bigger better greater things.

things that are there and waiting for a person like you to grab up.

sacrifice, eh? it's not that you're shy... it's that you can't wait for the delayed gratification. i see it now. it all makes sense to me.

you could go and try and get your dreams, but you worry about failure.

if you can't achieve your DREAMS and you fail.... what do you have left? one might ask themselves. but that's the fear talking.

that's not how men move mountains with their hands.

failure is a state of mind. it's giving up on yourself. if you're not going and getting your dream, you failed before you ever even started.

i've yet to make my mark on this place. planet urff hasn't seen jack shit of what im capable of. pussy footing around until 3am, sleeping all day, jerking off like it's a marathon.

im biding my time, and big things are coming. you haven't a god damned clue.

har har. to YOU, buttlicks.


 

i like listening to sublime because it takes me to the highschool glory days. and how simple those days were.

my biggest worry was that mom wouldn't smell the reefer while i hit the hidden under the bed bong next to the fan that was pointed outward. making sure every last drop of smoke got ventilated out.

i'd sit there with my headphones on, in the dark, getting high, and feeling so close to the music.

like any native of any place, im partial to things that relate to home. movies filmed here, tv shows based here, and fucking musicians that grew out of the Greater Southern Californ-aye-A. sublime alwasy repped LBC, and when i lived there in long beach (even tho it was wimpy ass belmont shores, not very thug at all) i was proud to tell people i lived in long beach, and sublime and snoop dog (i must admit) were huge factors of why.

i think it's the difference in popular music, between making what you THINK the people want ORRR making what you like and the people will follow.

like the difference between dr dre and puff daddy. dre was just dooin his thing, yo. that's just dre being dre. but puffy tried to cater to a market that already existed. he wasn't inventive. he wasn't a musical genius.

and im not trying ot judge either approach, i just find that music that gives me that homegrown, we dont give a fuck, take it or leave it, ORIGINALLLL to the max, type feelings rocks my world (helps to also be so cal based).

pharcyde is another example of a group that's local, original, and just doin what they do, because thats all they know how to do. be themselves.

it's like when you drive down alameda boulevard, and take a left on vernon, and head west towards to 110 freeway, only to stop at the jack in the crack on central ave... WHILE BUMPING NWA, oh yah, that's where it was meant to be heard.

watts too.

music has a geographical preference i believe it. my tribe called quest CD never sounded as good as it did when i was visiting NYC in late 1999.

or maybe im just stoned and this all makes zero sense. because im good at that.


Thursday, January 20, 2005

 
eating is the easiest thing for me to forget to do.

its almost tied with brushing my teeth.

today i have eaten nothing, and when i flig the fridge open, there's nothing but ketchup, and tortillas.

but hey. this time last year all that was in there was an empty budweiser 18 pack.

i ate a tylenol 3 to help my shoulder's calm down to a slow sizzle, rather than searing pain. and... well... IM WAITING!

all pills need to be in gel cap form. if i was drig czar of the USA, that would be my second executive action.

right after legalization of a certain plant, duh.

while i was on the freeway today on my way to the courthouse, i hit the car bong, and i TOTALLY ENTERED THE DEATH STAR!

it was a good day. indeed.

a person unknown to me named heather bought my blook. and i thank her. that's the fourth person in New York to buy it. making my sales total at 12 books sold! better than you'd have guessed, eh?

maybe if i hold out long enough, and leave the link there forever, i might get it up to 15 sold books. one never knows.

i also bought a new $25 dollar glass bong from (oddly enuff) the toy district while i was downtown today.

seriously, go hang out downtown for a day. if you're scared of the homeless... then you have no balls.

the next post i write will have pics of tanky's new car. be excited!


 
big tanky bought a car today. it's a 1990 Honda Accord, that was owned by a mechanic friend of hers, and was delivered to her work for her.

she's prolly somewhere in between torrance and redondo beach as i type this... "good luck man! i hope that stick shift isn't stalling out on youuuuu!"

she can't hear me, i know. it's ok tho.

i think the car is brown. brown rules!


 
the reason i look up to my best friend from highschool, named ryan alan white, is because he has had it figured out since day one when i met him in seventh grade and we were busy smoking cloves behind the science building.

i've always been more of an uptight mama's boy. not that ryan isn't a mama's boy too, in fact currently he's the bigger one of those. but what im talking about is't help from mommy. im talking about how whitey sees the world.

his dad is famous in the medical feild for inventing the procedures for cardio laser surgery. his mom is a career Registered Nurse, and whitey? whitey thinks that dr's and nurse's are full of shit, and would rather do a thai chi set any day of the week, in place of eating a pill

part of the reason we are all so busy this next weekend is because WHITEY is going out of town. a vacation with a girlie from santa cruz.

Mr. 3 DUI's, unpaid lawyer bills, ect ect, is taking a damned vacation?! brilliant.

and that's whitey for you. no one knows how to take time to laugh at life like he does.

sometimes when you bring whitey into a new group of people, some of them dont get "it" they dont get what whitey's all about... and i've seen him 86'd outta parties and bars for just being himself.

when i feel myself overloading with stress, and being unable to cope with things, i think to myself, "what would whitey do?" and that means stop for donuts, or a hot chocolate, or just light up a cigarette and laugh at the mess.

it feels much better when you laugh. and let all that you can't control roll off you back like water off a duck.

it makes me sad that you all can't meet whitey, and see what i mean first hand. but lemme tell you, it sould make you sad you can't meet him too.


 
downtown Los Angeles is a lurvley place to hang out all day.

when you park you are greeted by a nice homeless man who will take your change, and rig the parking meter with a paperclip. it's sorta how they make ends meet, so i dont mind, and in fact, i think it's brilliant.

first things first, was TCB at the metropolitan court house on hill street.

and it was there that i got the bestest ass news ever. not only is my license back in action, but in one month's time, after my case is closed, i can re-open the case, and plea "traffic school" and it will be smooth jams, because my car insurance won't go sky rocketing into the sun.

as it has in the past.

in fact, come september i will have been driving for ten years, and i'll get a break on the insurance. so i gotta just taker easy till then.

next order of business was buying the american and mexican flags we need for the upcoming weekend's worth of sign sales. THIS weekend we only have two sales, whitey's got one, my cousin took the other. I HAVE THE WEEKEND OFF.

but the weekend after that we ALLLLLL have double jobs. hello gravy train!

so i bought the flags, and decidede to drive around and lookit shit, because downtown really truly is a great place to be whne you have the chance. it's unlike anywhere else in LA, there's everything from mini shanty towns to 6 foot tall super models, and i've always been partial to skyscrapers, they just delight me to no end.

so now im home. and i had a great day.


 
idea now has reading material for his dumps. glad i could oblige.


 
I wanted to squeeze out an entry before the painkillers close my eyes for the next 10-12 hours, as they do.

it's hard to admit when you're wrong. It's hard on so many levels, because a lot of the time you're hanging on to the idea of "IM so right!" so fucking hard to protect your fragile pride and balsa wood ego.

you know what? No one can dis-respect you, if you choose not to feel disrespected. It sounds insane, I know... I thought so too... But it's NOT.

and people have respect all backwards anyways. "SHOW ME THE RESPECT I DESERVE! DAMMIT"

well... Ok. but. That's not how it works, son.

respect isn't something you get for free. you only get it by behaving RESPECTFULLY.

it's a frame of mind, a way of life, and really it's about being part of your own problems or part of your own SOLUTIONS. but taking ownership of who you are what you're feeling. YOU DID THIS. you own it. look in the mirror and hate THAT person, if you have to hate someone. because this finger pointing makes you look childish.

but see, it's not easy either. it's diificult to face the truth, when the truth is, you're WRONG. you are. and you know it, but you're running from it.

this doesn't mean the other person was RIGHT. they were wrong too. everyone's wrong, and a big baby, and wah wah my feeelings my feelings, whoopteedoo.

join the club. your hurt and pain isn't special.

no one's is.

i've always believed in SHOWING NO SHAME, or at least finding something you're ashamed of, and exploiting so much, and doing so until you have wrapped your head around it enough... and you stare at it in the face... and say "FUCK YOU." because being ashamed is the only thing people should be ashamed of. but...

i have a new policy. and that's don't "prove" anything to anyone.

that whole "i'll show THEM" mentality is whack, yo. can't you see that the longer you live your life to "show them" is the longer that "they" have control of your life.

ok so you grew up to be a doctor because your mom told you one day that she didn't think you could do it. great, the world loves doctors, and i bet that really SHOWED HERRRRR. but what about your life long dream to be a circus clown who juggles chainsaws? did you forget? are you sad you ended up being the adverse effect of what some lady who birthed you said? i would be...

it's funny that in a country that has given it's citizens (LITERALLY) the right to life liberty and the persuit of happiness, well over 60% of the population is clinically depressed. where's all this happiness we're after? it appears many are having a hard time with such a persuit.

to me being a great american is NOT being a sad lonely rich white man, surrounded by ass kissers with their hand out, contributing to the rich-get-richer cycle. all the money in the world doesn't buy the feeling you get bombing a hill on your old school santa cruz skateboard weaving through traffic and laughing your ass off. it's true.

i say we need to be more like superman, and isntead of fighting the good fight in honor of some warped idea of respect, we let the bullets bounce off our chest while we smirk into the camera, and raise an eyebrow for that added "dont i make this look easy" effeft.

you have to ask yourself where you draw the line as well. let's say a homeless crackhead with one tooth left in his whole head throws an insult in your direction. do you waste your time and get into a big verbal war with the idiot? no. you don't care because: who the fuck is that guy?!

and really you dont care or bother with it because you could care less what some dumbass, who couldn't even keep his teeth in his head, thinks about you.

well get this... the world in general... is JUST LIKE THAT ONE TOOTHED BASTARD! it's sooo soo true. and you know it. see, they may not be missing all their teeth, but they sure are dumbassed.

it's very easy to flip it, you'll see once you start doing it.

something that was morbidly annoying, can also be viewed as 100% hilarious. it's all in how you choose to deal with it.

ok this post was a little all over the place so i'd life to list off what i want you to get from this. to make it crystal clear.
ready?
life's messy.
you're wrong.
admit it.
live your life for you.
and SHOW NO SHAME.

ok... lay down time...


Wednesday, January 19, 2005

 
it's 5pm and i am stuck innorth hollywood, bound by shitty traffic. i meani could go out and fight my way down the 405... but what's the point? so i can get home in time to check my emails?

seems futile... especially when here at the viking's house i have all the things i could ever wish for. beers. bonghits. and internet. mike even has GTA San ANdreas, and i just recently learned that it's not grow street after all, it's grove street, and mike gave me so much shit, because as he put it, "of all the people i know no one pays more attention to graffiti, and then, this whole time, you thought it was GROW street? AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH"

yah well, what can i say. i gotta be me.

anyways, now im hungry and thanks the abner for the email about your bursitis. i think i would do that injection shit if i wasn't so scared of it. i think there's perhaps another way, and im searching it out, believe me, anything is better than pain, so if worse comes to worse, i will get a cortezone or whatever it is.

white and the viking got a head start on making fliers for the company, but big pimp daddy antidis is here to throw some know how on top of the mix.

making my blook taught me all these things i didnt' realize i learned, like making PDF's and dealing with printing issues like bleed, red/blue ratios on a photogragh. and thanks to jamie of the knownuniverse.net for buying my book. he's the most recent consumer of antidis merchandise... and undoubtedly.. THE LAST on i will have for a while. unless you people all at once win it big in some high stakes Keno game.

id love to continue this woderful chance for you all to get updated on frivolously mundane details about my life... but i can't smoke cigs in this house. so im off to n-joi my vices. pease.


 
just like when you creat anything from a painting to a song to a blog post, you start with nothing. and sometimes thinking of how to fill the blank space is harder than other times. or so i have been told.

i think thats bullshit tho, because there's always a running voice in my head talking to me, thinking in sentences and asking myself questions, and then coming up with answers.


(that's my cousin joey)
(you can see his bong over there by his laptop. it's a jerome baker.)

everything from simple stuff to the complex. like when i see a character stoll into the laundry mat im washing my clothes at, i might ask myself, "hah, who the fuck does this clown think HE is?" to the complex stuff like, "how high can i really truly get?!?!"

maybe it's just that i dont care if/when blog posts suck, because really... it's a blog man. it's lame and tacky, and i gave away my blogger sweatshirt because i felt like broadcasting my dorkdom that hard was just shameless on a level that even *I* can't acheive.

so yah, blog, log, shmog, dog, whatever. i write the down the dribble that floats into my head, the feelings i have, boring or not, and you shmucks are bored at work, so you read it.

or you look at the pics.

or you got fooled into clicking the link to here, and you prolly are one of those on site meter that read "visit length 0:00" so you aren't reading this portion where i say, FUCK YOU RANDOM SITE METER HIT PERSON... who needs you anyways? you dont know jack shit about me. except for all the wonderful things that i brag about... and pictures showing my "good side"

people are so weirded out by having their own fucking blog, and i dont get it. for example the people who are trippin out on how they are going to be percieved. who cares?! i mean... i look like a damn fool on a regular basis with bad grammer, mispelling easy words, and documenting what a hypocrate i am.

i say something ironically racist to make fun of it, and get emailed about being a racist. i dont write about girls in my life so people email me asking if im a fag. christians write to me about quitting drugs and finding god. and girls email me thinking i will talk to them.

mostly i just find it interesting, the same way tanky and i laughed our asses off at the name boback spoto on one of my spam mails. interesting, but not to be taken very serious.

it's the internet afterall, and you all are fucking creepy. almost as creppy as i am.

i hoe somebody takes offense to this blog post, that's my personal favorite reaction. straight up anger. but i doubt it, because this feels like it's going to be quite un-readable. at this point i just trying to see how long i can the post to be.

oh yah another thing. taxes. i'm going ot settle up with the IRS now before it's too late. if worse comes to worse i'll owe more money than i ever believed i could ever make in a lifetime. or at best, i get a good insurance guy who works a miracle.

if you've read my blog for very long you know im not exactly what they call "lucky" when it comes to matters of the law. in fact "unlucky" doesn't apply either. stupid.... now thats a good description.

well hey. i have no excuse, but i can do one of two things. bitch about it, or handle it. this is the year of SO MUCH OPPORTUNITY and i am not going to wait until im filthy rich to get audited. nahmean?

in that movie BLOW thats what they ended up popping the drug smuggler for, i beleve. yes its true, he's serving hard time for tax evasion.

then again this could be the perfect reason to move to costa rica and kiss this life good bye. but i derno... how many tacos can you eat before you want soem pizza? nahmean?

i have to piss, i'll perhaps decide to write more ramblings when i return. PUBLISH


 
it's not about smoking all your pot all day long so you maintain some sort of WEAK high all day, and go to bed weezing, hoping that dealer mcdope will be able to help you re-up your stash the tomorrow.

if you're on that train, you need to find a new DRUG to give a bad name to, because weed stands for something more soulful than bullshit like that.

getting high is a gift from the gods, and if it's illegal to grow marijuana, then that makes GOD himself a lifer behind bars.. jebus too.

when you smoke your weed... smoke more than you need. get so high, your eyes feel pushed to the edge of your face, and your skull feels lightweight like there's helium inside.

take as deep a hit as you can take, and HOLD IT IN. if you start to cough while you hold it in... DONT GIVE UP! fight it off... BE A MAN! (even if you're a woman)

sometimes, when i hold it in like that, everyting goes sorta dark, and i forget where i am, what im doing, and if i do it Just right, i derno who the fuck i am. we call it "entering the deathstar" for obvious reasons, and i have entered the deathstar in WEEKS.

im starting to get pissed, man.

it's not the weed, its me. i need to chill. i need to SLOW DOWN.

my name's sposed to be anti, not turbo-smokestack-supreme

ok.. here. i'll prove my point journalistically, by doing a B-load right now in mid post and seeing what the results are.

alright i broke apart the nug, and made sure i have a nice even spread for a phatassed milky one. where's my bic... ok.. here i go....

ok that first hit was nice and stuff. but i dont think i lit it propperly enough. either way i coughed my head off. but NO death star. this is getting infuriating. lemme snap this bowl through... so i can light my cigarette, you know thats how i roll. ok brb.

ok well fuckit. maybe the deathstar shouldn't be a goal im so focused on...


Tuesday, January 18, 2005

 
So a few months ago i got a traffic ticket for tailgating the car in front of me.

truly a bullshit ticket if i ever got one, indeed. but no big deal, the plan was to just go to court, and handle my shit, and end up doing traffic school which would erase it off my DMV record, and make it so my car insurance stayed at the current price that they OVERCHARGE me on, so that i can drive legally within my fine state.

ok well, remembering to go to court was like no as easy as i thought it was, i guess i should buy a calendar. or maybe i should just not be such a rucking fetard.

so then the collection notices started pouring in. "GIVE US $648.00 OR GIVE US YOUR BALLS!"

and basically it comes down to, if you don't pay, you're license is GONE. it's defunct. it's as useful as a wooden nickel.

well after much stress, and worry, and scrimping, and trudging through the holiday season, TODAY I FINALLY PAID IT. saaahweet!

i called up and dealt with miss young. collection agency people always have names like that. Mr. black. Miss Torrez. whatever. i think it's because they tend to piss people off, and don't like to have their full name out there. but i don't know, maybe collection people are all just very paranoid.

so what sucks is... the last time i had to pay a collection agency to get my driver's license back, they did all the DMV filing for me automatically as part of their "service" AND THIS TIME it's not that way at all. they want me to fucking go to the fucking courthouse, window 21, and ask for an abstract, whatever the fuck that means.

i hate my life.


 
nothing quite says "boy, that was a shitty night's rest" like waking up in your northface jacket, and reeboks, with every light in the house turned on... and an overturned ashtray and cigartte butts all over you.

good times.

i really need to grab a hold of this funky sleep pattern business, before i monkey wrench my program to death.

yesterday i was late picking up my signwalkers, because i fell asleep in my truck, parked in the parking structure at the south bay galleria. they weren't too pissed, luckily.

i dont know what today has to offer me. but i can't wait to find out!


Monday, January 17, 2005

 
yah so i know i totally lose all my street cred for admitting it, butman, i listen to frosty heidi and frank, the mid day talk radio show in between howard stern and the tom leykis radio shogram.

and welp, i felt compelled to mention it because they are talking about how certain people can't use certain phrases with out sounding totally retarded. like when you preist tells you he had a "radical weekend!" or imagine of your grandma said "drop it like it's hot!"

well i can't say i disagree entirely but when they said that dude was making a come back that's when i ALMOST called in. but that would be even lamer than bloggin about it, so im glad i went this route.

anyways. my point is, dude isn't making a comeback, IT NEVER WENT ANYWHERE.

"dude" "like" "totally"

maybe im just a dumb salt-water-stupid californian who is inept to the world he lives in... but dude is so universal a word that im for seriously naming my first born dude, and my second born will obviously be "rad".

or maybe awesome.

and yes i agree with them that anything ending in the word "izzle" needs to just stop. that's over now.

ok i feel better having said my piece. adios amigos.


 
i love sitting at home while i have people working for me on street corners throughout lawndale. my little bitches out on their corners.

how pimp is that?!!?!? LITERALLY!

except i dont really have bitches or hos, in fact, i only have one female signwalker today, and she's more manly than 90% of men, so i might as well say its all dudes.

i am so proud of my crew this weekend, even judas who was the one we thought might not even show up.

judas has won the hearts of the sales guys, by being our BEST signwalker, and so they requested that judas be in front of the sale, doing his patented tiger-twirl-technique.

and i give props to judas for winning the most randomly morbid comment of the weekend award.

he said, "ok, work's the same time tomorrow?"

i said, "yep, same time man. taker easy, aiight?"

he said, "ok then, i'll se you here tomorrow..."

i said, "ok then."

he said, "that is... unless i fucking die or get killed."

and then i said, "umm. riiiiight...."

i woke up to the most random call ever. well almost.

the thing is, my dad and i have the same first and last name, i think he did that because he's an egomaniac, and well, that's fine with me, i would just prefer he registered his phone number so it was listed in the phone book. right now im the only one.

so this guy calls up looking for my dad, and woke me up to boot. two things that irritate me to NO END. but then, the whole thing made me LAUGH SO HARD, that it was worth it.

apparently my dad went shopping at the exotic furniture store here in the southbay, and the owner of the exotic firniture store was calling me to locate the set of keys he had somehow lost in my dad's car yesterday.

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA, what. the. fuck.?!?!

exotic furniture?

the only reason i even know that there is an exotic furniture store in the area is because XTX is a freaky-deaky, and a beloved weirdo, and took pics of it. her and i live so fucking close to eachother we are like passing ships in the night. she even has pics from my last sign job on her buzznet, peep it.

so now the question remains, not only what the fuck do they sell in there, but what the fuck did my dad buy?! ewww. mebbe it's best i never find out.

to the guy from the exoctic furniture store... sorry i bitched you out, man. but dont call wrong numbers acting foolish at 7 in the morning unless you LIKE that sorta abuse.


Sunday, January 16, 2005

 
i like to change my mind a lot, you could say im something of a flip-flopper.

like when im drunk at 5 in the morning, setting my alarm so that i get a full 2 hours of sleep... all i can think of is how easy it will be to get up, and how brilliant this idea is. BRILLIANT.

but i have a change of heart at 7am.all it took was 2 comatose hours to have me come full circle, and directly oppose my original stance on the issue. Two hours of sleep... the worst idea EVER. that's like jerking off, and right before you cum, you dip your package in a punch bowl of ice and water. tease-city, with a dose of torture for good measure.


Saturday, January 15, 2005

 
so i woke up this morning to one of my signwalkers baby's mama's calling me, to inform me, that her "man" wouldn't be making it into work today, because she's sick, and she needs help from him watching the baby.

"you can't go chill with your sister?"

"no... she'll drive me crazy."

"ok, you can't get one of your homegirls to roll over and kick it?"

"i feel sick again, im going to barf..."

*click*

ooooo k. i guess that means no. or does it mean her lazy ass man wants to stay home and watch football games all day? well i was within an inch of driving STRAIGHT OVER THERE to make sure was really sick, and not lying ot me, becuase i wanted that MF to work. and he got away with it this time... but he wont be so lucky next time.

the truth is, some people just wont work, no matter how badly you need them to. you can hold a fucking gun to their head, and instead of getting to work like you demand, they'll close their eyes and hope the bullet is a dud.

weird.

my other signwalker told me that the viking gave her bunk directions. but what she didnt know was that i was standing directly to the left of the viking as he called her and gave her the directions. AND... at no point did he tell her lying ass to go EAST on the 91 freeway. stop lying girl, you're dealing with a professional human lie detector.

but thats how work is man. when you're the boss you have to fucking check people and let them know that when they fuck up, you are not going to pat them on the head and say, "awwww, it's ok baby doll, i love you!" because that's mommy's job, and my job is to tell you, "IM PISSED, GET HERE IMMEDIATELY BEFORE YOU ARE FIRED!" because that's what bosses do.

hector tried to get crazy too. saying he didnt know he was sposed to pick up freddy from buena fucking park. i even had a chat with him about it as i drove him to his spot. he was busy apologizing profusley (at least thats a good start) and then when i asked him if he had written anything down from when we did the signwalker schedule, he said he only wrote down the directions. well he learned this week that he has to write down everything the viking says, or we will go hire someone that CAN. because being short a signwalker is the ultimate bitch.

where did i find one? well i could tell you, but then you'd know some of my tricks, and those tricks are why they pay me the big bucks.

let's just say i didn't flinch for a second, becuase frazzled nerves, and stressed out brains dont make your job any easier, and i KNOW im the bomb ass sign guy from hell, and YOU BETTER BELIEVE that i was right on time when i walked into the sales tent to check in with our client. killin it softly is all i know how to do.

i came home because i felt like i should reward myself with a bong hit off the house bong. the car bong is nasty, i think i need to throw that shit away.


 
i ain't no captain save-a-ho... not anymore.

there are some guys out there that are not only presumptuous enough to assume a girl is a "damsel in distress" but they make it worse by thinking they can "SAVE HER".

there are a multitude of problems with this logic. first of all, it's self serving! Mr. Rescuer is on a mission because it feeds his ego, and makes him feel needed, useful, and important. pfft. why doesn't he save himself, becuase he's obviously a mental patient.

nextly, man, the girl might NOT want his bitch ass "rescuing" her from her life, or from her drama, or from her family, or from her WHATEVER. just because you can see all the flaws in a persons life, doesn't mean it's YOUR job to correct them all. she sure ain't doing shit to fix your problems, and you might not like it is she WAS doin shit. so there.

id also like to point out, that the ho you tried to save, has no respect for pussies like you. she doesn't want some guy who's softer than soft-serve, and who is all caring and loving and that shit. she doesn't want to soak with you in a bath tub while you two try and get in touch with your faggy feelings.

know what she wants? a REAL man.

the kind of guy who beats up guys like you. the kind of guy who is secure enough to let her be HERSELF, no matter what. and the kind of guy who doesn't sell himself short (because if you believed in yourself more, you'd find a girl who wasn't in distress)

nobody's perfect, and im the least perfect of them all. but these days im only surrounded by those who want to better THEMSELVES, because thats what normal people do. they do it themself.


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