Saturday, August 30, 2008
And bottled beer doesn’t fill empty hearts
But lungs are full and so are stomachs
Can’t see the next mistake and won’t feel it either
Smoke burning holes in lungs like money in pockets
No will care until morning
When she takes the money and they wake up with nothing
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
We weren’t married , but we were just as miserable. She had stopped talking to me in a normal tone of voice about 6 months ago. Now she had three different ways of communicating with me. Yelling, talking down to me or a fake sweet voice that she would do when she wanted something. I’m not sure which one I hated the most.
She usually just spoke to me like I was the family pet that had just taken a shit on the living room carpet. So I usually reacted like a scared animal by either snapping back at her or just running away. When I left, it usually meant I was going to get liquored up so I wouldn’t care what she would say when I came back. I’d just block her out while I tried blacking out.
The Nazi’s were marching across the screen when she started barking again. It cut to Hitler giving a speech when I decided to mute it and try to hear what the fuck she was saying since she currently sounded like one of the adults from the Charlie Brown Cartoons. As I strained to listen I was still staring at the screen. I started to realize that the noises coming out of her mouth were matching up with Hitler’s lips. It seemed appropriate except that she didn’t discriminate against anyone but me, especially when it came to spreading her legs. I sat mesmerized for another few minutes before I decided to make my way up the stairs to see what her fucking problem was.
As I got to the top of the stairs I couldn’t tell where she was because both the bedroom and bathroom door were closed. I sat and listened and could hear her gasping and crying in the bathroom. “Fuck is she really hurt?” I started thinking to myself. I tapped on the door.
“You Fucking asshole what took you so fucking long!?!” I immediately started to tune her out.
“Waaa! Waaa! Waaaa! Waaa! Waaa!”
I started realizing why Charlie Brown was so depressed.
When she calmed down I decided to open the door to see what the problem was. I popped my head in and was violently struck in the ear by a small, hard object. It bounced off of my head and landed in the sink.
Who throws a toothbrush?
While she spewed obscenities I realized that she was sitting on the toilet and her pants were down. She started scolding me like an animal as usual, but this time she was the one who had taken a shit. I’d been yelled at for many reasons over the last 6 months that weren’t my fault, but this time she was right. This was all me.
I forgot to buy toilet paper.
I started thinking back to the last week trying to remember why I hadn’t made that purchase. It was still very clear in my mind. That night as I was picking a cart out at the front of the store this amazing blonde walked in the door. She wasn’t beautiful, she was hot. It was porn star shit. She didn’t have the kind of face you just wanted to kiss. It was something that you wanted to fuck. My cock wanted to destroy her uvula. I wanted her measurements tattooed on my forehead.
We both proceeded to shop and I tried to move through the aisles as incognito as possible. My thought process was we had both started shopping at the same time, so it wouldn’t appear like I was following her if I just stayed at a distance. Sometimes I’d go to the aisle before hers on the opposite end so I could walk by her from the front and catch another glimpse of those fucking missiles.
My plan seemed flawless and overall I think it would’ve worked if I hadn’t skipped the same 5 or 6 aisles that she passed over. Apparently, I wore out my welcome when we reached the Napkins/Paper Towel/Toilet Paper aisle because she abruptly turned around and said “Fuck off pervert.”
It felt like the time my mom had walked in on me masturbating to my cousin's picture in the family reunion photo album.
Obviously embarrassed and caught off guard, words would not come out of my mouth. With one head down and the other one managing to somehow stay at least half way up, I quickly pushed my cart on by and straight to the check out line, without any fucking toilet paper.
So little Hitler was screaming again and I started to laugh as I reminisced about my only moment with a porn star that I will ever have that didn‘t involve a computer screen and monthly subscription. I turned around and started walking back down the stairs to find some form of ass wipe. The kitchen seemed like a good place to start, but since I missed the entire aisle containing any paper products we were out of napkins and paper towels as well. It was summer time so I couldn’t seem to find a box of tissues either. I could still hear her doing her best dog in heat impression in between sobs and it almost sounded like she was speaking in tongues, maybe she was reading from Mein Kampf or Acts Chapter 2.
And then finally, there it was, the solution. It was just sitting in the cabinet between the tea and the extra bag of sugar. I quickly grabbed it and ran back up the stairs to remedy the bitching.
I didn’t even knock this time. The door slammed against the wall as I kicked it open and with a maniacal laugh I tossed them at her feet. I must’ve looked insane because as I stared at her she was cowering on her toilet seat so much that she almost fell off.
“You’re welcome!” I smiled and walked down the stairs and out of the apartment.
As I was getting in my car I could hear her screams once again. I had never heard them from outside the apartment before. This is what it must’ve sounded like outside of Ed Gein’s house I thought to myself. And just as I was shutting my car door, through all of the sobbing and Charles Schultz gibberish she let out one last cry.
“Fucking Coffee Filters?!?”
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
For obvious reasons, these poems make me feel like I'm in Sunday school or in a training session at some lame ass job. So I decided to make the content anything but. Enjoy!
Finally, they were alone
Underneath the covers
Crotch to crotch
Kids ruin everything
Always on time
Nothing to come between them
A look speaks a thousand words
Let’s do this!
Everyone should try it.
Let’s just do it once.
C’mon, you know you want to.
I promise you’ll like it.
Now that’s what I’m talking about!
God! Why are you gagging?
Monday, August 11, 2008
Knee deep in pussy
Up to elbows in assholes
Life is Yin and Yang
I've also included a list of facts that you might not have known about Bruce Lee:
- Lee's striking speed from three feet with his hands down by his side reached five hundredths of a second.
- Lee's combat movements were at times too fast to be captured on film at 24fps, so many scenes were shot in 32fps to put Lee in slow motion. Normally martial arts films are sped up.
- In a speed demonstration, Lee could snatch a dime off a person's open palm before they could close it, and leave a penny behind.
- Lee could perform push ups using only his thumbs.
- Lee would hold an elevated v-sit position for 30 minutes or longer.
- Lee could throw grains of rice up into the air and then catch them in mid-flight using chopsticks.
- Lee performed one-hand push-ups using only the thumb and index finger.
- Lee performed 50 reps of one-arm chin-ups.
- From a standing position, Lee could hold a 125 lb (57 kg) barbell straight out.
- Lee could break wooden boards 6 inches (15 cm) thick.
- Lee performed a side kick while training with James Coburn and broke a 150-lb (68 kg) punching bag.
- Lee could cause a 300-lb (136 kg) bag to fly towards and thump the ceiling with a side kick.
- In a move that has been dubbed "Dragon Flag", Lee could perform leg lifts with only his shoulder blades resting on the edge of a bench and suspend his legs and torso perfectly horizontal midair.
- Lee could thrust his fingers through unopened steel cans of Coca-Cola, at a time before cans were made of the softer aluminum metal.
- Lee could use one finger to leave dramatic indentations on pinewood.
Got laid in the baptismal
Wiped off with a choir robe
Dined on unleavened bread
The communion wine flowed
Paper airplanes out of the Old Testament
Origami from the New
So many different uses from stories about a Jew
Baptists say I’m evil
Charismatics think the worst
Athiests are probably jealous
Because I wrote this poem first
So I’m probably not going to heaven
I hope I don’t go to hell
It’s probably just made up anyway, but only time will tell