Jul 222008
 

Urgent. Will die without reading.

  • 09:41 I really hope I don’t die from a stabbing. I keep daydreaming about it though.
  • 09:54 In the car, chooch & I flipped out at the same time over a passing playground; a good indication of my mental age.
  • 20:19 It doesn’t feel like summer to me unless there’s swimming in the afternoon and horror movies at night.

  • 11:50 Today, chooch is really into storing things down my shirt. A bit uncomfortable.
  • 11:53 Eric Nies and his fucking jumprope DVD can go anally probe themselves. My calves have welts from aerobic flaggellation.
  • 11:55 Just bought 2 Lost Boys figurines for myself. I mean, for Chooch. He unforch doesn’t yet understand e-shopping & wants them NOW.
  • 12:07  I don’t approve of any of the ppl looking at the vacant side of my duplex. Time to pull out the Viking metal & Satanist propaganda.
  • 16:41 One of my co-workers is encouraging me to contact Corey Haim so he can see he’s in love w/ me. God I work with a bunch of enablers.
  • 18:02 I asked Henry if he still thought I was pretty. His answer was "when your face is on my penis." Now that’s love.
  • 20:48 Henry won’t get involved in bento box lunches because "those are so gay looking". Yeah but – so is he.
  • 22:10 Kim had me blowing up balloons for some broad’s bday tomorrow, because she knows I blow hard. Now my fingers stink of balloon rubber.

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Jun 122008
 

Today, Chooch and I went to lunch with Janna and my brother Corey. We walked several blocks to Tom’s Diner, which was fine until the way back when Chooch was too tired to walk so I had to carry him in 179 degree weather and he stunk of sweat and curdled milk. Anyway, at Tom’s, he made a fist and held it out to everyone who walked past, and said, "Punch. Punch." Most people ignored him, but a fat old man wearing a big mother-whompin’ ring made a fist on his way out of the diner and shouted, "Gimme some knuckle, kid" and Chooch had this expression of "Fucking finally!" 

Chooch and I both had grilled cheese and fries, but he was more interested in stealing potato chips and pickles from Janna’s plate.

A woman came in with approximately 18 children (fine, four) and as soon as they sat down behind us, a really old should-be-fucking-dead-by-now man hobbled over with a hunched back and passed out saftey suckers to each one. "I just really love kids," he exclaimed to their mom, and then he went back to his table.

Now, this lewd display of favortism went down behind my back, so I sat there and funneled my disgusted sighs and angry scowls at Janna and Corey. "So what, Chooch doesn’t qualify? Why didn’t that elderly douche balloon give my son a fucking poison treat?" I swear to God it made me so angry that I could feel my adrenaline rushing, blood crashing like cymbals in my ears, and I wanted to approach him in the worst way. Me, approaching an octogenarian over a sucker. And then what? Cause a scene over candy that would wind up dirt-encrusted and dropped on the floor after three licks? I have a really ridiculously skewed sense of entitlement.