tell that fucking hamster to shut up.
it's better this way.
isn't it.
don't you love it when you can't have any more gravy?
don't you hate it?
don't you wish you were a pirate?
on a ship, flying aimlessly toward the sun, hoping for the best but expecting the worse? don't you want that for yourself?
of course you do because you're a filter.
filter of love.
lust.
sensual cookies and then some make me hungry for more macaroni.
heeeey, macarena.
puto

best thing to ask an attractive woman carrying a recently-purchased package of toilet paper:

"so, you gonna go home and take a messy shit now?"

guaranteed, she'll respond.

last night i saw adult. at the bottom of the hill. it was quite fun. the audience was pretty cranky at first, which was odd.
oooh, gossip alert!: carlos D from interpol was spotted hanging out there, and i tell you, he was plenty angry.
not really.

you stink something fierce.

at least you have developed your kidney stone remover.

i am sweating.

you are not.

just listened to the matrix soundtrack, which includes -- get this -- a dave matthews band song REMIXED by fucking paul oakenfold...awful. how can this happen?
the matrix soundtrack is kind of lame, metal meets electronica is the best way to describe it, though, when it's paul oakenfold on several tracks, the bar is set pretty damn low.

fuck pigeons
smashed tits in a corset rule.

oooh, i just got a weird memory from being in florida, specifically winter haven, where my grandparents were kicking it...smells like fresh oranges while still growing on the tree, which is different than actual oranges.
i never was a huge fan of orange julius either.
i need to work.
ooh, there was that random conversation i overheard in nyc about some dork that watched "the big lebowski" five days in a row. the dude's response "Who does that?"
agreed. i loved the movie. but come on.
never that much

respiratory issues are not a crime
cream filled donuts just aren't as good
good times was not a good show
show me the money was a lame catchphrase
cuba gooding jr. has ruined his career
those stains on my shirt have ruined me
staind is a lame band
band on the run is a good song by paul mcCartney and wings
on a wing and a prayer is not only the name of a bon jovi song but also the name of the plane richard dreyfuss' character was flying when it blew up.
bon jovi is from new jersey and also named one of their albums that, too.
new kids on the block were never good
good n plenty candy sucks too

i am sick and tired of being fatty.
you're the one for me fatty.
fatty is as fatty does

stupid is as stupid does - i must be stupid because i never understood that fucking phrase.
shitball.

sack of yalls.
needle

what is the deal with me running into that damn song "unbelievable" by EMF? i'm encoding right now and it's on yet another soundtrack, this time "Coyote Ugly" (which, i walked by while in NYC last week, kinda lame)....i also realized that the sample is andrew dice clay, saying the actual line "it's unbelievable" which, is funny, considering i just saw him on TV recently on one of those '80s type nostalgia programs on VH1.

i'm currently listening to the "eyes wide shut" soundtrack, which is really good. ol' stanley kubrick always did have a way about picking unusually good and eclectic music for his films. ah, another genius who went too soon.

puto puto puto

remember when you used to play miniature golf and it was fun?
huh?
i do.
i remember.

i also remember the day i was told that kurt cobain was dead.
and lady diana.
and when the space shuttle blew up - the first time.
second time, wasn't as, um, fucked up.

oh shit. remember when you were in new york? remember when you were in miami?
remember all that?
better recognize.

bitch betta have my money.

the perusal through the wtc site was cool, preceded by a walk across manhattan all the way to the water.
the interaction with the random pee-ers was funny, especially that girl "hello sir! happy sunday!" while she's getting ready to squat.
then in tribeca, that random garbage dude who was pissing on the side of the road and then apologized to me "sorry." i just replied "i don't care."

and i didn't. last time i was in NYC, it smelled like piss. no longer.

the random bar i wandered into sunday night was supposedly called 7B, the hipster bar, and i did not know that. they had a cool jukebox, i met three cool peeps, including the bartender (who was in some band called sock monkey or some shit), another from the new born naturales or some shit (he was referred to as 'mr. new york') and the chick, desdemonna or something like that, who had played in a band at the "st. andrew's academy" in detroit, even though i corrected her once. it was funny.

me throwing the grape juice was fun...all drunk and shit.
obviously the gig at cbgb gallery was the shit. yes yes y'all.
too much drinkin, yep yep.

the guggenheim was extra extra cool, more cool than you.

wandering the new york landscape on a sunday evening.