Sorry about all that suicidal nonsense last week. We was just messin’ around. Suicide. Ha ha…
I shouldn’t joke about the big peace-out, it’s just not funny. I’ve been fortunate enough to have never needed to seriously consider nutting myself… But that doesn’t mean I’m not tap dancing on the razors edge right now… Woops! There I go again. Sorry.
Speaking of tap dancing, I watched that Singin’ in the Rain yesterday, and I’m ashamed to say- It was very, very good. I had to go outside and pick a fight immediately afterward, just to reenstate my sense of masculinity, but otherwise it was good. Pretty talented that Gene Kelly, and surprisingly not at all fruity, according to wikipedia. I’m sure my homo-homies would beg to differ, but then they’re always trying to ‘out’ someone, and it’s rarely an ugly fat bloke. Know what I mean?
How about outing Joey Buttafuoco? What’s wrong? He could be gay. Give him a sporting chance.
Oddly, nobody has offered up some crap to swap for that deck! Aren’t we in a recession? We’re basically talking about free shit here. We’ll swap it for anything: A box of rocks, a bag of wet string, a pube! Anything!
Wake up and smell the maple.
In other news: I’ve quit sugar… sorta. My bird keeps telling me I’m a prime candidate for diabetes and my legs will be cut off. Naturally I scoffed at this, “Scoff, scoff. They’ll never take my legs!” I said, but then I saw a neighborhood guy (who used to stroll along with a Three Muskateers bar, a smile, and a comb in his ‘fro) limping down the street on crutches, one leg missing above the knee.
So I’m making a concerted effort to lay off the sugs. It’s only 10 am and I’ve got a no-sugar headache.
I’ll pull through though. I have to. I’m not selling my extremities to Hersheys. Imagine that sort of regret!
Imagine thinking, “If only I’d laid off the candy I’d still have my left leg”. Jesus! That’d easily eclipse my one and only true regret.
And what’s that? Never having the opportunity to write an obituary for William F Buckley.
The remourse eats away at me like a rapacious camel spider. Oh the contrition. Why didn’t I pay attention in school? Why couldn’t I select a vocation sooner? Why?
If I’d have known about him earlier I would have started working at the school paper!
It doesn’t seem fair. I feel the weight of my shortcomings riding upon my shoulders like gorilla on K.
I feel thoroughly dejected and woebegone.
I’m being crushed by a burden so onerous as to make one refer to oneself in the third. I need more seven dollar words!
What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! How deeply self satisfied with his dreadful teeth and smarmy maw! I’m off my tits!
What am I talking about? Who knows?
GIVE ME SOME FUCKING SUGAR!
I’m actually tripping a bit… I think… Jesus! I’m actually having a biological, psychological reaction here!
