| Another day, another word on the page... |
[Mar. 20th, 2008|08:35 pm] |
I finally managed to get the entire goddamn script onto Live Journal. Entries can only be so long in length, making it a real pain in the ass to get it all there.
Not only does this mean I have proof of my creation (the time stamp will be my evidence if someone rips me off until I get the $45 to copyright the damn thing), but I also have a copy outside of my computer (which tends to explode a lot).
It also give people the chance to read it if they so choose. What's the point of writing something if you're just going to keep it to yourself? Besides, Jordan and Avery has to be my best work to date. I know it's short, but I think it's damn fun.
Another story will be up within a couple of week. It depends on what I can do with it. It's different. I'm writing something that's not a comedy. The last time I did that was for ProJo's class and I have a partner. Going it alone will make it develop a little slower.
Untill next time cowboy. |
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| Those writings I promised |
[Mar. 18th, 2008|12:14 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  chipper | ] |
So, I was supposed to work on my scripts today, but I got sidetracked. Hopefully I'll actually post at least one tomorrow.
In the meantime, I'm thinking up ideas for a sexually themed film noir. Why you may ask? Because five minutes ago I answered an ad on craigslist for someone who needed a writer. If I get an answer I'm going to have to bullshit like I've never bullshitted before. I'm running on half hope, half fear.
Theresa's in bed right now, otherwise I'd probably go on and on about how full of shit I am.
If you're reading this tomorrow, then I want you to know that I've either found the most remarkable 'in' of my career or set myself up for a big fall. Either way, I tried something and that's all anyone could ask of me.
Oh! Inspiration! During a hostage crisis, a private detective is asked to hunt down the past of the man holding him hostage. When the client dies, however, the mystery really begins...
But how to make that sexual? God! Why do independent directors want everything to be about sex? Sex is great, but it's been done! What's wrong with a good story? Maybe I'll have the detective visit prostitutes. One of them should be a man. And he likes it. There! I did something for both sides of the independent circle. It's about gay people and it's a weird mystery/drama.
I hope everything goes well. We'll see then.
Adios cowboy.
p.s. - Let me know what you think hun. Your input puts me a step above the rest. |
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| I'm back Goddamn it!!! |
[Mar. 16th, 2008|11:51 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  irate | ] |
| [ | music |
| | nothing right now | ] |
Hey!
Guess what I discovered? Apparently I still have this account. That's what I get for supporting these motherfuckers with a monetary value.
Why am I writing again? Truth be told, I don't know. Maybe it's the joy of finding an old friend. Nah, that's not true.
I read through most of my entries and frankly, I'm trying to delete most of them. Goddamn! I was a little whiney asshole! Still being a teenager, I guess I can understand. I was a stupid motherfucker. Can't deny that.
Most of my entries were complaining about writing scripts. Guess what? Two shorts (with several drafts) and three drafts to an actual screenplay and I can now say that I'm an actual writer. Being broke all the time confirms this.
You could say I'm trying to get rid of the past (although I'm keeping the stories I wrote), but I like to see this as a new beginning. Without getting too melodramatic, I'm trying to start over. I'm not the same person I was then. Probably for the best too.
I guess what I'm saying is: fuck that motherfucker!
If anything, I want to post my work. My work is what defines me; at least as far as the public is concerned. What I do is what I do. I want to entertain. That's my goal. What could be a more noble thing for a writer?
Alright, I done with this whole talking about stuff thing. Time to do something.
Here's to a fresh start cowboy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 10th, 2005|02:18 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
Since it's been another long while I decided that this would be the opportune moment to share the paper I'm sending to Professor Johnson. Basically we had to observe someone of the opposite gender alone and then with a group. What needed to occure was that we had to target someone who was alone and hope that at some point they entered a group. Well, let's see how it played out shall we?
Subject is a Caucasian female, age 18-20 looks as if she is dressed in the fashion of the current time period. By that I mean that she's decked out in Abercrombie and Fitch clothing. The subject is alone and situated with a laptop.
First observation is that she is stoic as she types away on the laptop. Because of the intervals of which she is typing, and the fact that she's not at a desk in the library, but rather in a chair, gives the impression of talking through an instant messenger program. Further investigation is needed. Yes, yes she was. It should be noted that I tripped on a step during the investigation and it really, really hurt.
Time is going by and for the most part there's really nothing happening. Here's the highlights of what happened:
Subject made a face of shock as if someone told here something shocking even though the information was given through a text base. Closer inspection was not taken as I still feared that step.
Later a slight bit of laughter came from the subject followed by three key strokes. I can only determine that they were LOL.
When not typing one hand was on her cheek and her weight was shifted to the left. She must be left handed. It looks like she's waiting for a reply from the person she's talking to.
She scratches her forehead.
She sneezes.
Subject is leaving the library. Aw shit! I'm supposed to see this same person with a group! I'm about to fail the assignment because I didn't think she was going to be alone for long. Maybe I shouldn't have picked the person with the laptop. Then again they all have laptops. I don't think people go to the library to interact with other people. Johnson is going to kill me.
Should I be writing my every thought or just the observations? Fuck it, I don't care.
Following subject, powering down laptop.
Now the subject is in the cafeteria. Subject joined other females along the way. The first thing they pick up as they enter is a knife, fork, spoon, and tray. Because they are talking and laughing they are slow in grabbing the required eating tools and also slow down the line. I'm probably going to lose them.
As I grab my roasted chicken (mmmmm mmmmm good!) I notice that they never even came to the side of the cafeteria where there was the pre-prepared food. They automatically assumed that the food was going to be awful and went to the grille. How could anyone turn down roasted chicken? It's one of the best things the cafeteria has to offer!
Following, I decide to get a burger. In the line, chicken in hand, I overhear them talking about how the food is bad. Both agree to every point. The topic changes to something that happened at the gym. Then something about a guy. Throughout their conversations I never noticed any topics that were about separate opinions about anything. Nothing about entertainment, politics, changes they want to make in the world, all they talked about was situations that were happening to them. Few opinions were stated and those that were either became dismissed or quickly accepted by the other.
I'd continue to observe the subject with the rest of the group, but I know I'd get bored and my chicken is getting cold. After all I've already had to wait in a line to get a burger, with a plate of chicken, that I'm more than likely not even going to eat.
And now my battery looks like it's going to die so I can't e-mail the assignment right away.
Great.
That's it for now. Adios cowboy. |
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| Finally...it's done... |
[Dec. 6th, 2004|12:31 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
This here is my final project for my drama class. Nick and I are presenting it on Monday the 20th at 9:00 a.m. It's going to suck doing it so early, but it's not like we have much choice in the matter.
Enjoy cowboy!
The scene starts in a dorm room set up in a symmetrical fashion. There are two desks and two chairs facing away from each other. Past the desk on the left is an imaginary door. Sitting at his desk Mr. N is working at his lap top. Mr. M enters through the door.
Mr. M
Throws jacket on chair.
So today I chased a kitten down the highway.
Mr. N
That’s nice.
Mr. M
I was on my way home from the movies when I see this little gray ball of fluff running in the middle of the road. Luckily it was just after rush hour so there weren’t any cars, but still! Morality got the better of me and after debating what to do for a moment I took off after it. When I finally caught it I was so mad at it, but guess what it did?
Mr. N
I have no clue.
Mr. M
It put its paw on my nose. I don’t care who you are that’s so damn cute you can’t stay mad at it for long.
Mr. N
So what did you do with the cat?
Mr. M
What?
Mr. N
The cat. What did you do with it?
Mr. M
Oh, I didn’t even think you were listening to me.
Mr. N
I wasn’t, but eventually I couldn’t help it.
Mr. M
Well, I pet it till it fell asleep, wrapped it up in my long sleeve shirt, wrote a note and left it on a door step. The people opened the door, saw the cat and took it in. Now that I think about it I probably should have hid or ran after they shut the door.
Mr. N
So you just stood there like an idiot?
Mr. M
Yeah. Think they’ll call the cops?
Mr. N
They probably did. And you’re going to jail.
Mr. M
If they find me.
Mr. N
You’re not very inconspicuous.
Mr. M
I can be.
Mr. N
At night maybe.
Mr. M
It was night.
Mr. N
Touché.
Mr. M
What are you looking at?
Mr. N
Dude…fuckin’ Doom 3.
Mr. M
What about it?
Mr. N
It exists and that’s enough for me.
Mr. M
Wait a second. Didn’t you say that you were going to write that script for class while I went to the movies? What happened to that?
Mr. N
But dude…fuckin’ Doom 3!
Mr. M
Oh man! It’s due next week and we still have to rehearse it! I could understand if you slacked off for a good game like Halo two but-
Mr. N
Halo two sucks in comparison to Doom.
Mr. M
What? You have to explain this one to me.
Mr. N
First, Doom has the better graphics. Second is it’s got balance. It has huge monsters, huge weapons, a huge story and they are all so…perfect.
Mr. M
So you’re argument is that it’s pretty and everything is big yet proportional.
Mr. N
Pretty much. Video games are kinda’ like a nice woman if you think about it.
Mr. M
You mean thin, circular and shiny? That’s a strange looking woman if you ask me.
Mr. N
Hey, I like my women like I like my bread. Warm, soft, tasty…
Mr. M
Crusty…
Mr. N
Grabs notebook and pen.
You know, since you’re here why don’t we just write the script together? We can come up with enough ideas to make this thing go faster.
Mr. M
Motioning to the pen and paper.
You know what else goes faster?
Mr. N
Your mother?
Pause.
Mr. M
I was going to say your computer but if your just going to make fun of my mom…
Mr. N
Pen and paper are easier for me.
Mr. M
Bullshit. What’s on your screen?
Mr. M get closer to the computer as Mr. N tries to block his vision.
Mr. N
Um…porn?
Mr. N is moved aside.
Mr. M
Oh sweet Jesus! You’re bootlegging Doom three! No wonder you’re acting retarded about it before it even comes out!
Mr. N
Yeah, so maybe I am stealing it and until it’s done I’m not going to risk the download for anything. Anything! Ya hear me?
Mr. M
You sound like a bad action movie villain you know that?
Mr. N
I can laugh like one too. Want to hear?
Mr. M
No.
Mr. N
Then let’s think of some ideas for our script and we can argue about whatever later.
Mr. M
Alright. Fine.
Silence as the two conjure their thoughts.
Mr. M
Anything?
Mr. N
Nope.
Mr. M
Damn!
Mr. N
Well, you know a lot about movies, why don’t we do a scene from one?
Mr. M
Yes! I’ll think of a good one while you write down our options. Make a title that says something like “movie ideas”.
Mr. N scribbles something down while Mr. M looks through his desk then returns.
Mr. M
Your handwriting is awful. Give me that.
He grabs the pen and writes something.
Mr. N
Yours is worse than mine.
Mr. M
Suppose I go really slow…
Mr. N grabs the pen away.
Mr. N
Give me that! What are some possibilities?
Mr. M
There’s a lot I want to do, but nothing that we’re capable of doing. Too many politically incorrect things that I don’t want to get in trouble for.
Mr. N
I don’t think the professor will mind anything risky.
Mr. M
It’s not the professor I’m worried about. People meeting me in the parking lot with baseball bats afterwards is what gets to me.
Mr. N
Alright, what about a part from a musical? It’ll be easier to do because all we do is sing.
Mr. M
But I can’t-
Mr. N
Singing
And acting is not an issue when you sing!
Mr. M
Stop singing you jackass! No musicals! I’m sure our professor would prefer us to do some actual acting as opposed to BSing our way through. He looks out to the audience.
Isn’t that right?
Mr. N
What are you looking at?
Mr. M
That hole in the wall. How long has it been there?
Mr. N
Slowly
I don’t know.
Mr. M
We’ve been here for a year and a half, how haven’t we noticed?
Mr. N
I hope the school doesn’t charge us for it. Anyway, we need a really good idea. (Pause) What about something Shakespeare?
Mr. M
Man, Shakespeare is boring! He takes a great idea and draws it out until there’s nothing left but a bunch of long ass metaphors that aren’t even about the original topic, speeches about personal angst that put Anne Rice’s vampires to shame and so many comparisons you can’t tell the problem from weather. What’s left is the ghost of something cool.
Mr. N
They can’t all be bad.
Mr. M
Name a good one.
Mr. N
Othello?
Mr. M
Better racism on Cops.
Mr. N
Hamlet?
Mr. M
Whiney bitch.
Mr. N
What about the Tempest?
Mr. M
They all should have drowned.
Mr. N
Henry the fifth?
Mr. M
Sucked.
Mr. N
Macbeth?
Mr. M
Sucked.
Mr. N
Midsummer Night’s Dream?
Mr. M
Loudly
Sucked!
Mr. N
Alright then. No Shakespeare.
Mr. M
Damn right.
Mr. N
Do you have any better ideas?
Mr. M
No…wait! I’ve got it!
Mr. N
What?
Mr. M
It’s so easy I can’t believe we haven’t thought of it yet?
Mr. N
What is it?
Mr. M
Let’s write a play about us! We know enough about ourselves to make characters based on us right?
Mr. N
Yeah! That could work!
Mr. M
Let’s get started!
They peer over the pad of paper in silence.
Mr. M
It’s not so easy is it?
Mr. N
No.
Mr. M
Damn! I though I actually had something!
Mr. N
It’s not a bad idea it’s just harder than we thought.
Mr. M
Trying to make realistic ideas is ridiculously difficult.
Mr. N
Yeah it is. Well, if it is supposed to be us then we should just start a scenario and see where it takes us.
Mr. M
Okay, but where should we begin?
Mr. N
How about with what just happened?
Mr. M
You mean finding that hole?
Mr. N
Will you let go of the hole?
Mr. M
I really can’t.
Mr. N
What I meant was when you came in and told me about the kitten.
Mr. M
Oh yeah! That’s a great idea!
Mr. N scribbles on the pad.
Mr. M
But I think we should turn the kitten into a puppy. It’s more believable.
Mr. N
How so?
Mr. M
I don’t know! It just is! In any case, one of us shouldn’t think of all the ideas or write all the dialogue for the other.
Mr. N
Why not?
Mr. M
Because they’ll make the other sound childish and end each gag with something that would never happen in reality.
Mr. N
Nah uh!
Mr. M
Uh huh!
Mr. N
Nah uh!
Mr. M
Uh huh!
Mr. N
That does it bitch it’s go time!
They grab Game Boys and battle it out until Mr. M wins. He dances in slow motion.
Mr. N
What are you doing?
Mr. M
Dancing in slow motion.
Mr. N
You know you’re not in a movie right?
Mr. M
I know.
Mr. N
And you do know how stupid you look right?
Mr. M
I don’t care. It’s not like anyone can see me.
Awkward pause.
Mr. N
Well cut it out. It’s kinda’ creepy. We still need more ideas for our script.
Mr. M
I’ve got a great idea!
Mr. N
What?
Mr. M
Why don’t we make the script about us trying to write the script?
Mr. N
Dude that’s lame. Who wants to see a play about a play?
They look to the audience.
Mr. M
You’re looking at the hole aren’t you?
Mr. N
It really is distracting.
Mr. M
See? I told you! Can you think of a better idea?
Mr. N
Not really.
Mr. M
Look, it’s a good idea and it’s not like it’s easy. We have to make it fun because if we just wrote down everything as it has happened it’ll be boring.
Mr. N
Except the kitten.
Mr. M
Puppy.
Mr. N
Whatever.
Mr. M
You know what else we need? An entertaining intermission.
Mr. M runs through the crown doing anything that comes to his head.
Mr. M
We can run through the audience and poke people or tussle their hair and clothes. You know, just overall freak them out!
Mr. N
Dude, it’s a short play, how can we have an intermission?
Mr. M
Oh right.
He returns to the stage.
Mr. N
Ass.
Mr. M
I love you too. When are we presenting this?
Mr. N
Monday I think. At nine in the morning.
Mr. M
Why do we always have to do everything so early! Honestly it’s not like we’re a big group. Big groups work harder on their stuff so that everyone else doesn’t screw up. It’s unfair!
Mr. N
You’re just saying that because you’re a slacker aren’t you?
Mr. M
Yeah, but still…
Mr. N
Now that we have the basic idea of the play how’s it going to end?
Mr. M
I don’t know. What does it matter?
Mr. N
If the play is about us writing a play then it will never end! Right now we’re still writing the play and if we keep writing the play then we’ll have to put into the play that we’re still writing the play and it will never end!
Mr. M
We can do a cop-out ending.
Mr. N
How can we pull that off?
Mr. M
It’s simple. We just say that we have to go somewhere and leave the stage. That way we avoid going around in a circle.
Mr. N
Sounds good. Want to go to the computer lab and type all this stuff up?
Mr. M
Alright. Let’s go since you’re computer is off limits ya goddamn thief.
Mr. N
Fuck you!
Exit.
Re-enter.
Mr. N
If we shadows have offended, remember this and all is mended.
Mr. M
We really don’t give a shit what you think about our show and if you hate us for it then you can go fuck yourselves!
Mr. N
Thank you and good day.
Exit. |
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| ! ::cue metal gear music:: |
[Oct. 28th, 2004|12:05 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | That song about the cow. Yay cow! | ] |
I just found an Alienware laptop that puts most computers to shame for less than the price I spent on my laptop that can't even run Call of Duty. Damn I wish I wasn't so poor.
Well, here I am in the computer lab...missing class...because I had to type up a script for Harrington's class. With half of the class time already over I'm just going to print out a fatality sheet for the new mortal kombat. Hell, if I'm going to be marked absent I might as well spend the time outside of class.
Yesterday I went to a Rasputina concert and I left my "going out clothes" at home. This means I had to borrow clothes from Thom. As fun as it was to dress up a bit differently for a special occasion I can't do it all the time. Let's put it this way...Thom...you must have nuts of steel. The concert was fun and the hobo playing the harmonica to us thinking that we were wiccans was funny as hell.
12:15 now. Should probably get to my group's audio station soon.
Halloween dinner tonight! Red meat! Real food! Fasting till then! Whole paragraph using nothing but exclamation marks!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Time for the whole getting up thing again cowboy. |
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| So bored... |
[Jun. 24th, 2004|05:28 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  crazy | ] |
Well as my luck strikes in my favor again, it turns out I have mono. Yup, because spending the summer working, seeing my friends and girlfriend, doing martial arts, and going to Skotchtobrfest just wasn't a proper use of my time in God's eye. So what the hell to do in a place that's this boring when I can't move too much and for a good part of the day I'm my own company? Since my computer is FUBAR I'm left to using my aunt and uncle's computer (which they don't know I'm using, of course). I guess my best bet to keep sane is to just write whatever stories come into my head in my livejournal. At least then other people can enjoy them. I think I'll start by writing out my fever induced dreams (those that I remember) and seeing where I go from there. Anything to kill time here cowboy.
Santa's Last Hope
It was a sad and lonely Christmas Eve back in 2000 for one Charlie Broker. As a mall santa his job was to greet all the children the the jolliness of the good saint and be the fun, gay spirit everyone envisions arrives on Christmas eve. For Charlie however, it was just an act he did for a paycheck to buy more booze to forget that he goes season to season playing stupid Hallmark characters.
At around two-thirty in the morning, according to police reports, children and parents awoke not to the sound of Santa and his sleigh, but rather Santa and a fourty-five. Charlie was so swamped with children and overexcited parents that from the moment he left work till his spree he had been drinking. After that he made his way from his city apartment to the suburban streets of the nearby Simmer and began firing at random houses in between swigs of Jack Daniels.
"Here's your fucking presents you little brats!" He was heard to say from time to time. Charlie was still dressed in his Santa costume with the top of his suspenders slung off his shoulders revieling a dirty white t-shirt underneath.
When police finally took him away at around two thirty-four he was already out of ammunition and was sitting on the curb crying while trying to beat himself with the bottle. During routine questioning Charlie mentioned how much he hated seeing everyone so happy when people like him had to live 'like fucking rats.'
"Look at me!" Charlie continued to say to police. "You think I like playing Santa? I'd rather play the goddamn Easter Bunny! At least then nobody has to see me fucking face! See this beard? See this pathetic beer gut every says makes me look so fucking jolly? You think I want this? Do you think I want to be a fat fuck who can't even afford to shave? Of course I'm going to be a perfect Santa and of course I'm going to take the job because what else am I going to do?"
Charlie Broker was served three years in a minimum security prision where he was able to have therapy made available to him.
Later cowboy. |
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| My Poliltical Paper |
[May. 13th, 2004|09:28 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
I don't know if this is as funny as the Gosiple according to Martin, but I still think it's funny. Extra laughs go to the fact that I actually handed this in to my professor.
Within the United States government today is chaos. Between to war in Iraq and the second coming of Christ, President Bush can’t seem to hold his cabinet together. It’s an old china cabinet that was passed down from his wife’s side of the family as a wedding present and it’s about ready for the old trash heap. According to the cliff notes of Bush at War that I bought from one of my friends, which looked like it was written on notebook paper, if President Bush isn’t happy with the way something is going he takes it out on everyone else.
If TV doesn’t lie to us, and it doesn’t, then we live in a monarchy. The only way Americans can be happy is to keep Bush happy. He needs his guns and his housing projects otherwise he’s likely to bomb a third world nation out of frustration. I know that when I can’t fix the little ball thing in my toilet I want to go to Iraq and destroy what I can.
Yes, it’s true, Bush isn’t happy right now and it’s up to each American citizen to entertain him to make him feel better, if not for his personal gain then for the sake of the world. Americans must unite as they did on September 11th and stand by their president in his moment of need, or stand on a barrel or something, whatever makes him laugh. It will be hard especially with what’s going on beyond our borders. Who can laugh when a half alien mother gives birth to a 400 pound sperm whale? That little tidbit is from the most reliable source ever, The Weekly World News.
King Bush, what we have to start calling him come August 3rd 2004, recently announced to some hobo I was talking to of some of his new plans to not only change a bunch of laws to make him feel more powerful, but to fund research in the development of furry boxer shorts. According to the Boston Totally Not Real and Doesn’t Exist newsletter Bush wants to make a deal with Bigfoot to crush the Mongolians that camped out in his backyard. The only way to do this, of course, is to develop furry boxer shorts.
How was the previous paragraph relevant? How can it not be? Bush is doing these things to make him happy and a happy Bush is a Bush that doesn’t take away public funding an concentrates on stealing oil wells the same way his ancestors stole land from the Indians. It’s a family thing.
In conclusion there is nothing to fear because I just mailed a cheese log to our president, which is something to entertain him for hours. I would rather him pick fights with other countries than fund something out of anger that he would later regret. You know, like the resurrect Hitler program or something to do with Satan. Well, maybe not the last one because he is Christian and he already sold his soul to his brother to win the last election. Maybe his brother’s Satan, I’ll check with that hobo I talked to earlier.
JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ JMJ
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Buddha, God, Allah, Shiva, Genesha, let me at least get a 1 on this paper! |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 14th, 2004|05:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | amused | ] |
Here's the events I must get down from a half day at work:
Event 1, The Phone Call.
Me: Connelly Hardware.
Him: Hi I'm wondering if you know where I can buy a (forget what type he said) fuse?
Me: Sorry sir, I don't know what the competition carries so I wouldn't be able to tell you.
Him: Well do you know what it looks like?
Me: I have an idea.
Him: If you don't know what it looks like how do you know that someplace else doesn't carry it?
Me: Because I don't know what the competition has.
Him: But you would know if you knew what it was.
Me: The question was does another place have this fuse and I said that I don't visit the competitaion so I don't know what they carry in general.
Him: How do you know what the competition has if you don't know what I'm looking for?
Me: *sigh*
Him: It's a (continues to describe the fuse)
Me: Fuck off ya wanker.
Him: Excuese me?
Me: It good knowledge and thank ya.
Him: Oh, your welcome.
Me: Ya bastard.
Him: What?
::Click::
Event 2, Woman and the Lighter.
::I hand her the lighter::
Woman: Ha ha! It's mine! I'm going to take it away with me!
Me: Feel free to make a break for it. It's been a long day and I could use a chase.
Fucked up day cowboy, fucked up day. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 27th, 2003|03:04 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | amused | ] |
The Gosiple Of Martin
"And I saw the Christ move about the people and they booed him and threw rotting fruits at him and he looked pissed. The cross on his back slumped him so and dragged his garments over his knees and his grumpyness grew because he had a small penis.
Another man stepped on his heel and he did fall. Up rose the great Christ and he spoke:
'What the fuck?! You wanna start some shit? C'mon bitch!'
And many did hold him back.
'I'm your fucking lord and Savior! Remember that punk!' the Christ did cry.
As he walked and was booed and bad grammer was spokeith and written he fell again. But he rose! He walked the crowd again. Thrice he fell! Drivers came and helped the Christ to his feet and spoke to him.
'Aw c'mon Jesus, you're just milkin' it now. People ain't gonna keep feelin' sorry if you make yourself fall.'
'My son, do you really think I want to be nailed to a fucking piece of wood? I'm buying some time here!'
And the Driver did look at the Christ and shine a flashlight in his eyes.
'Jesus...are you...high?'
'Maybe a little.'"
(Martin 2:1:987625365:7a)
"Woe to those hung on the cross! Woe to those such as I! But alas! I was able to speak to the Christ and because he was bored hanging there he answered me.
'I know you!' I say with pain affecting my brain. I should have properly greeted him! How insubordinate I was! Now I should flog myself for not representing men to the very face of God! Mmmmm, flog myself good...
'Yeah, I'm Jesus.'
'So why are you here?'
'Well, there was this guy Judas, and I knew the prick was going to rat me out for a fistfull of change but I let him do me in. I come home one day and say "Hey ma! Great dinner last night!" Sure enough there was the DEA searching through my bag and found my heroine stash. I ran for it but the fucking dogs tackled me. If I had my way I would have gone out in style.'
'Style?'
'I would have come out in a hail of gunfire, fourty-five in one hand and a nine in the other. I bet people would try to idolize me so I guess it's better this way. There's not a lot of symbolisim in a Glock and an H and K.'
Blessed was I who not only had a chance to speak with the Christ but was soon in the very presence of Mary Magdalene herself!
'Jesus!' She cried to the dying savior. Behold her grace! Her beauity! Her rack!
'Shit,' Jesus uttered with dismay.
'What the hell do you think you're doing up there?'
'Dying for people's sins, what the hell else could I be doing?'
'Oh no you don't! You still got child support to pay!'
I had to interject. 'You and her? But I thought you were-'
'Shhh!' he hushed my blasphamus speak. 'I made you a fucking saint! What else do you want?'
'Saintliness don't pay the bills mothafucka!'
'Alright fine! You can get me down from here and piss off God while you're at it! Sounds like a brilliant fucking plan to me!'
'You changed water to wine, the least you could do is reach into your ass and pull out a few coins!'
'Let me just move my hand to do that. Awww look, I guess it's not fucking happening!'
It was then that I departed from this life. Actually I fell asleep from hearing them banter back and forth. I was ressurrected to spread my word about the Chris. That or they let me down when I just wouldn't die, but I'd like to think I did die and if not a little piece of me did when our savior expired. It looked like Mary shanked him when no one was looking. Well, it's what I saw and the people need to know the Truth. This won't be cut from the Bible will it? Amen." |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 18th, 2003|10:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | amused | ] |
Best conversation ever:
My Uncle: What happened to your neck?
Me: Oh, someone bit me.
My Uncle: Okay...good for you. |
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