Thursday, September 27, 2007

Monday, September 17, 2007

It's lonely at the top.

She’s pretty. Her hair is long and blonde. Her body is perfect. Tits all day, legs forever, abs that you can climb and an ass that makes your mouth water! She’s the trophy that you won back in High School. She was the perk you got when you lettered in Varsity. They didn’t tell her to suck your cock, but she wanted to. She felt it was her responsibility. So you fucked that perfect body and you pulled that platinum hair. And that’s where it all started.

Your three story house sits on two acres with a chain link fence enclosing the backyard where the dog runs back and forth chasing birds and barking at children, creating a trail of dirt that is as wide as his body and as far as he can run. There’s a pool where she tans every summer and a basketball goal that reminds you that you’re not 18 anymore. Don’t forget about the trampoline and the tree house you built for the kids, but they’ve long outgrown it as they strive to letter just like daddy.

Your vehicle is mountainous and so is the monthly payment but it has power everything, a V8 engine and even heated leather interior. It’s maxed out with GPS, satellite radio, a MP3 player, flat panel screens, DVD players and a stereo system that makes you want to orgasm every time you hear Mick Jagger tell you that he can’t get no fucking satisfaction.

Your office is located in the corner of the building glaring at the city. You’ve lied, cheated and stolen to get to where you’re at. But you’re the best sales man they’ve got. You could sell a vibrator to a preacher’s wife on Sunday morning right after she took communion and recited the 23rd Psalm.

Who needs a vibrator though when you can just fuck?

And fucking is what you do best, whether it’s in the sack or by ass raping an oblivious client who’s going to feel the effects as soon as they get over the pillow talk, even with the freshest intern with the tightest body who thinks giving head is the way to the top. But this isn’t fucking High School anymore. You don’t promote every broad that sucks your cock and you’re not going to feel remorse for some moron who won’t read the fine fucking print.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Head On

I wrote this little piece back in 2004. It was probably the first thing that I had ever written that had some creativity about it and wasn't just me rambling on. I've re-written it a little bit, but it's pretty much the same deal. Honestly, I never thought that I would still be consistently writing 3 years later.

Head on

It's a head on collision where both parties are at fault. Everyone’s crying while getting out their cell phones to call the police. No one is injured physically.

Mentally, emotionally and spiritually we're all out of our minds, but a feeling of peace washes over us as we realize that everyone is going to be alright.

You gain a deeper respect for this emotional vehicle once you've wrecked it. Should I repair it or total it out and let the insurance pick it up? But not even insurance will cover all of the repairs needed.

So many great memories were had in this automobile. Remember the first drive, after our first kiss? Your hair looked the way my heart felt that day, on fire. You were gorgeous, a classic beauty on par with the Marilyn Monroe’s and Audrey Hepburn’s, in your own little way of course.

I didn't need headlights that evening to see in the dark because our smiles we're beaming so bright, the other drivers had to wear sunglasses to keep from being blinded. It was the moment after an eclipse.

With all new cars, you keep the maintenance up pretty well for the first few months or so, while it still feels "new". What makes that new car smell go away? Is it the cigarettes and the fast food? Maybe I should vacuum the upholstery or detail the inside.

"I'll do it later." I remember thinking to myself.

Maybe I should've kept a check list, but does true love really require a checklist?

As we collided, I saw the fear in your eyes and the terror in your heart through the adjacent wind shields. Confused, I thought it was your reflection because at the split second I was reaching over to the passenger seat to protect you, but you weren’t there.

When did we get into separate cars?

Thursday, September 13, 2007

In One Accord

When the first man was created by the Cosmos a long, long time ago he was all alone, so they say. He had his own opinions, beliefs and the only recollection of anything that had ever happened. Since he was the only man alive, obviously his were the only opinions, beliefs and recollections of anything that had ever happened that actually counted. There was no one to disprove him, even if he was wrong. Life was good.

The Cosmos then decided to mix it up a bit.

Shortly after this decision, woman showed up and naturally the shit hit the fan and they disagreed on everything that there was that could be disagreed on. Now there were two opinions, beliefs and recollections of anything that had ever happened, thus making two sides to every story. Since their opinions, beliefs and now two recollections of anything that had ever happened were equally disagreeable it caused for the Cosmos to convene and agree that their ultimately had to be three sides to every story; Man's, Woman's and what really happened or that which was really true.

Good grief, sighed the Cosmos.

Then man decided to reproduce. Once the exhausting process was complete it created an inevitable chain reaction of more people having conflicting opinions, beliefs and more recollections of anything that had ever happened.

The Cosmos were not prepared for this and started to reconsider it's little science project.

Time went on as it always does and some decided that the idea of three sides to every story was no longer true and there now needed to be multiple sides to every story, even if they were in agreement on the major points, but because some of the minor details were a bit fuzzy. These new beliefs obviously created a faction. The title of those who were more focused on the disagreement of minor details regarding "opinions" became known as Political and those equally in disagreement on minor details but were more hung up on "beliefs" were called Religious.

These two new groups had much potential but the Cosmos were never asked to convene, therefore pissing them off. Technically, there were still only three sides to every story, despite man's efforts to go at it alone and create their own systems. Since these systems were man-made, they naturally lacked harmony and once more the shit began to hit the fan.

Now usually when someone stopped believing in the idea of there being three sides to every story they were moved into one of the afore mentioned groups of Political or Religious by the man made system (the Cosmos could care less).

Until one day, someone began to question their own opinions, beliefs and recollections of anything that had ever happened regarding not only the minor details, but the major points as well. This self doubt naturally brought about sympathy for the opposing view point. “Maybe they were right?”

As this conflict in belief began to spread, the Cosmos were approached for guidance, once again, and rightly so.

The Cosmos accepted and convened and it's always a serious matter when the Cosmos convene because they can't be bothered with matters of small importance like conflicting opinions, beliefs and recollections of anything that had ever happened regarding only minor details. They then decided that this new group with much self doubt and sympathy for the opposing parties views on major points and minor details regarding opinions, beliefs and more recollections on anything that that had ever happened was good and would bring balance.

They also decided that the name of this new group would be those who "agree to disagree".

And the Cosmos rejoiced.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Get Rich Quick!!!

Yesterday, my day was spent sitting in a folding chair at a folding table waiting for people who were learning how to become rich come to my table and buy something that would help my company become rich which would in turn help me pay my rent. Not many people came to my table so I decided to write haiku's about corporate America which is where I spend about 1/3 of my life.

I'm so inspired.


Facade: Three Piece Suit
Neck Tie Is My Noose
Death Brings Sweet Relief


I have set my goal
Climb that corporate ladder
Bottom rung for life


Fucking Polo Shirt
Awful Khaki Pants
Job Requirements!


Meetings all morning
Paper work just grows higher
Cubicle bonfire!

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Barely Legal

It seems like a lot of life is focused around beverages, at least the social aspect of life. These aren’t just any beverages though they’re “Adult” beverages! The word “Adult” is funny.

Adult Beverages

Adult Movies

Adult Swim

I googled the word “Adult” to see what would come up. Thankfully, Wikipedia has taken over a lot of internet searches so it came up #1, but Adult Friend Finder was #2. Adult Swim managed to get the #3 spot. Good for those guys. It’s all porno after that though.

It’s kind of funny how it’s called “Adult” content or “Adult” movies, but the people watching them are mainly in to the adults that are barely legal.

I wonder if anyone ever googles the word “Adult” looking for porn, but gets distracted by the Adult Swim link and just starts watching episodes of Robot Chicken. That’d be more fulfilling in the long run. I wonder if anyone ever reads my blog, but gets distracted by the Adult Swim link and just starts watching episodes of Robot Chicken. That’d be more fulfilling in the long run.

Back to the beverages! It’s the same thing though, the ones who probably drink the most of the alcoholic adult beverages are those who are barely adults. They’re probably the same ones getting naked in those “Adult” videos.

What’s interesting to me is that most social settings are based around liquid that you put in your body, Coffee and Alcohol. I think coffee is my favorite beverage. I might just like it better than beer. Seriously though, you can drink it all day long and get in your car and not get into any trouble at a road block.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yes sir!”

“Please step out of the car!”

“Just coffee man, just coffee.”

I can picture Mitch Hedberg saying that. Imagine being a cop and pulling Mitch over when he was still alive. That would probably would've been really entertaining. It sure would beat pulling Lindsay Lohan over. Unless, she was naked because you know, she’s barely legal.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Men at Work

“What kind of music do you like?”

I know what she’s going to say before the words even leave her lips.

“I like everything.”

How generic. Why do I even try to make conversation with these people?

“Of course, you do. Want to be a little more specific?”

She squirms. Why do people squirm when you ask them what they like to rock to?

I know the answer to this question, we all do it. I do it. We don’t want anyone to “dis” our collection, the music we truly connect with. Granted, if you connect with Michael Bolton you’ll probably be a little embarrassed and rightfully so. What I love is when people spout off bands they like because they think you’re going to think they’re awesome because they like “old” Creed and Puddle of Mud.

I’m at work though. I’ve listened to better music than most of these people since I was 16, so I feel superior.

“Ummm…I like David Crowder Band.”

Shit, It’s worse than I thought.

Every girl that has believed in Jesus in the last 5 years likes David fucking Crowder Band. I don’t even want to listen to the guy. Maybe I owe it to him though. I think I know what he’s doing. Christian girls are so unsuspecting.

“Every Christian girl likes David Crowder Band. I want to see a picture of this guy.”

“Ohh he’s really weird looking. “

Bob Dylan is weird looking, but I’m pretty sure he got more ass than a toilet seat.

Yeah the guy is pretty ugly, but he’s eccentric, but only in a Christian kind of way, but that’s all he needs. I’ve proved my point, at least to myself. He’s in it for the nookie and I’m waiting for a lightning bolt to strike me any time now.

The rest of my coworkers gather as we’re waiting for a company wide meeting.

As they all start listening to our conversation I decide to address them all in a "Sermon on the Mount" kind of way.

“You guys ever heard of David Bazan?

There’s a resounding “no”.

“He’s kind of a Christian, he's had a couple of bands, but he mainly plays solo these days. You guys probably wouldn’t like him though.” I act as though I'm starting to lose interest in the conversation and that's not too far from the truth.

“Why’s that?”

They fall in to the trap.

"Well, he likes church about as much as I do. He even has a song where he talks about the Holy Spirit trying to tell someone to shut the fuck up."

A couple chuckle, but most of their jaws are on the floor.

I know what she’s going to say before the words even leave her lips.

“He doesn’t sound like a Christian to me.”

“And that, is exactly why I like him.”