While looking around the trailer today I finally came to terms with a very serious issue. I am a dirty butt. As of five minutes ago there were a couple dozen rolled up paper towel sheets that happened to be caked in mucus. Empty soda cans litter every possible surface area. There is a strange and pungent odor emanating from the kitchen which must be due in small part to the pile of unwashed dishes. I won't even mention the condition of the bathroom; let’s just say my little brother and father refuse to use it, even only to urinate. What I need is a cheap housekeeper, preferably cute, female and very easy. If there are any takers please feel free to message me.

Talking about human filth is a perfect segue into today's main topic lesbian meter maids. Somewhere along the line a brain-dead walking talking validation for the morning after pill came up with the idea of having a two hour limit on the spaces downtown. The community that I call home/hell deems it necessary to employ three women to walk around the designated area and give out five dollar parking tickets. During the past ten years my dad's store has been located in their ticketing zone he has paid several thousand dollars in fines. That money could have been used to pay my way through college, get me a new car or to blow on cheap whores and expensive champagne. But NO it was used to justify the existence of the gorgon sisters. My dad is not bothered by this loss of money; he accepts the law at face value and quietly pays the consequences. On the other hand I am infuriated because said monies should be wasted on me and not the city government.

However, even I am willing to endure stupid laws and city ordinances. One would have an easier time discovering the means to perpetual motion then eliminating all stupidity from local legislation. Yet, I do take issue with the stupid laws being implemented unfairly. It seems the aforementioned carpet lickers do not give out parking violations to everyone. Point in fact the women who work next door at the jewelry store never find a little orange ticket on their windshield. You know why? They flirt with dykesareus on a regular basis. In other words the jewelry whores and vaginavores have a repartee between them. Isn't there a law about equal protection under the law, oh wait a minute that doesn't apply to heterosexual white fat men with chips on their shoulders.

If my story stopped here my anger would easily be justified. There is another group who regularly violate the downtown parking ordinance. City employees are allowed to apply for permanent parking passes when applicable to their situation (i.e. handicapped, obese, really fucking ugly), which on the surface is fine. Though they do have a multilevel parking garage made specifically for city employees a couple blocks down. Oddly enough that doesn't get used. Problem is they are able to continually apply for passes and hand them out to friends, family, the child molester next door etc. The city has no means to track the number of passes given out. Monday through Friday it is nearly impossible to find a space between 10am and 5pm. Several hundred spaces are no where to be seen. Saturday and Sunday during the same hours a couple dozen cars are littered around the area. What pray tell is the difference? The city employees, wives, and judge's illegitimate children are all at home admiring their ill-gotten parking passes and laughing all the while. So, either my city/county has bureaucratic numbers that put D.C. to shame or there are lots or the alternative where a few dozen city workers share, give and sell their easily obtained parking gold.

The lesson we learn from the above post is the necessity for intolerance when dealing with ugly lesbian meter maids and stupid city officials. I once witnessed a gentleman, of obvious redneck origin, nearly run over one the meter monsters. He nearly committed vehicular homicide to prevent getting a five-dollar ticket.

Good to know hope is still alive.


go to hell

Thanks everyone for sticking up for me during my absence. I have decided to let bygones be bygones and not comment further on shewholicksguysassholesatthetruckstop. Even extremely bitter gents need to forgive and suppress.

I had another interview today, one that went extremely well. If this whole job thing doesn't work out, I should release a "How to Bullshit your way to a winning interview". Thankfully the HR officer was fairly intelligent, and more importantly very pleasant. The job sounds fairly interesting, well as far as work goes, though as usual it pays very little. Starting from the bottom sucks ass. Bright, non-motivated chubby guys should rule the corporate world from the get-go.

F.Y.I.

Do not cut off a wart with scissors. It hurts like hell and seemingly bleeds forever.
Instead burn it off with lighter, much safer process.
Or, be a pussy and go to a doctors to have it removed.

go to hell

So much to say, so little inclination to say it.

Tomorrow I will delve into some recent issues, personal and otherwise.

Come back then.

go to hell

Shewhosucksrandomguysdicks left a message on IM yesterday. She was vainly trying to make me feel bad. Seems her boyfriend has a good job, and the STD test came back negative. Not really sure why I should feel bad about her defying statistical probability and not being infected with genital warts or the fact her boyfriend sells crack to school children, but that is beside the point. The motivation behind her remarks is irksome.

Recently, I was beginning to feel bad about being unnecessarily mean towards her. I even considered rescinding my previous remarks and apologizing. Thankfully that phase has passed now. I killed nice Bob, well ok I ate him. Empathy is a term that no longer applies in my case therefore unabashed hate is now the norm.

What makes that stupid bar slut think she has the right to belittle me? In a perfect world she would be sterilized to prevent further corruption of the human gene pool. I would also recommend a lobotomy, but if anyone who has ever spoken with her can't tell the
difference anyway.

Everyone do have a nice weekend

please remember to leave your seat belts unbuckled and to drink massive amounts of liqueur before driving.

go to hell

My allergies are driving me crazy. Nose is running, eyes are itching, left buttock is tingling. Ok, the last one might not be allergy related but still.

I have decided to stay away from paragraphs altogether.

Should make my entries even less cohesive.

Anyway not much to say. I don't feel too terribly well.

My grandmother did turn eighty today.

Old bat is still kicking. God please kill me if I make it that long.

Fifty-seven more years of angst filled existence just doesn't appeal to me.

anyway you can all


go to hell

I literally live in hell. At night the trailer is unbearbly cold, while during the day it puts the Sahara to shame. I would bitch some more but as the saying goes "you get what you pay for".

My diet failed utterly after two days. Who would have thought? GOD DAMN IT.

Anyway, I am sweaty, tired and feeling a wee bit bloated.

So, blah blah fuck off blah sons of bitches blah blah fucking assholes etc.


go to hell

After a six hour midday nap I woke up to a cell phone beeping. It seems I had a message. Low and behold if it wasn't another HR proletarian with an enticing interview offer. I am still pondering whether or not to call back. Regardless, it appears that there is really significant chance that I will be gainfully employed in the near future. Life isn't fair. I just want someone to give me money due to my innate sense of worth. Of course I could just fake a severe back injury the first couple weeks, and then collect disability the rest of my life.


Sounds like a good plan.

go to hell

I woke up at 5:00 pm today. Needless to say my nights and days are mixed up. Best solution is to go back to sleep.

As I mentioned yesterday a great evil has taken residence next door. She actually came over early this morning, used a spare key and began screaming at me. Thankfully there were no easily accessible sharp objects. It seemed that the phone service had been shut off next door. Of course it was my fault. Well for once it partly was due to me. In order to save papa a little cash I opted to shut off my phone, and use the cellular as my sole means of communication. I placed the termination order a week ago. The young lady who keyed in the information made a mistake, one that I had to suffer for. Several phone calls and a half hour later the problem was rectified.

My descent into trailer trashdom hastens. I have no phone. Next the electric will go and then finally the water.



go to hell

Note to self: Do not leave mom sitting in the car at a gas station, without the keys, and head home. Even though it seems like a great idea at the time, ultimately her thirst for revenge will overshadow giddy feelings.

Yesterday was really interesting. I decided to take my mother, a.k.a. source of all evil, to dinner at Red Lobster. We both enjoying eating at the seafood Mecca, so in theory it seemed like a great idea. Dad asked me to take his car, since it had air I agreed. Also, as a favor he wanted me to fill it up and put in a quart of oil. I am not terribly familiar with where the oil goes; usually a mechanic or daddy takes care of it for me. Though, for whatever reason, I took one on the chin and agreed to his request.

Upon arriving to the gas station I proceed to fill up the tank. Five minutes, and twenty-five dollars later the deed was done. After paying the attendant for the gas and a quart of oil it was now time to face destiny. I have put in oil a grand total of four times previous, never in this vehicle in particular. Popped open the hood, searched for the cap for a couple minutes, and then eureka I found it. This was the easy part; all I had to do was pour into the hole. However, fate deemed it necessary to test my resolve, in the form my mother. Shortly after removing the oil cap, she began heckling me. "Is that the right hole? Are you sure it is right one? You are going to ruin the engine? Why would your dad let you do this?" My intestinal fortitude did not waver, even in the face of absolute evil. Nonetheless, every man has a breaking point. Mine was when she blew the horn for five seconds. The sound bellowed in my ear and rhyme or reason no longer applied. I promptly stopped pouring the oil, sat it down beside the van and walked away. There was a voice in the background, vainly trying to apologize, but it was too little, too late. I walked home. A little over half way there it dawned on me that the car keys were still in my pocket. Should I leave the banshee where she was? Most assuredly yes, but the leaving the van was another matter. Father would be angry. Therefore, I pushed my anger deep inside, where it would fester, waiting until another day to come to fruition, and walked back. When I arrived she was sitting there chain smoking, screaming and nearly in tears. For a fleeting moment I was happy. I took her home listening half-heartily to the threats of bodily harm.

The story doesn't end here. Later that evening, around 9:00 pm, mom called. She would have revenge for embarrassing her so. I turned off the phone, but it was for naught. I am fairly sure she lurked around the trailer all night, waiting for me to come out. My anger was nothing compared to her loathsome hate. Even today, with the light still shining I am afraid. Monsters do in fact exist, and I happen to live next door to one.


go to hell

I slept fourteen hours. It felt like five. I really need to become active, as the allure of sleeping, eating and defecting has faded.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend full of friends, drinks, flirting, car accidents, DUI's, and permanent paralysis.

By the way the diet log is ready, though due to a little accident with some doughnuts the daily entries won't kick into force until Monday.


Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
Christopher Hampton