g_whiz

It's 1250sq.ft., but it's no mansion. I live in the ghetto. ("In the ghetto!") And the roofers spend more time standing around smoking than they do working I think. It's funny when I come home from work, they all see my car coming down the street and start scrambling. "Oh no, tha massa'a comin'!" Mother fuckers must be half mountain goat the way they scurry up those ladders. But I have to admit, I have been messing with them. I've been leaving work randomly, arriving from different streets each time, surprising them for shits and giggles. Sometimes I park down the road a bit and come through the front entrance and pop out the back door and catch them smoking in the back yard. Is this mean? Nah. I haven't said a damn think about Hank Williams, Jr., or the III. All's fair in roofing and war.

Did he get trimmed? Look at him all sassy and groomed!

Yeah, the guy wanted me to send my "photographer" and "stylist" checks. I was like, "wait a minute... this is fucked!" I got back to the bank before the check even went through so they just reversed it. Thay were actually really helpfull, and they gave me candy too. Score! Way better than the dog biscuits I got last time.

Do you want thrown (as in made on the wheel) pottery? Or slip cast pieces? I can throw you things for pretty cheap, but my chickenbabies and things are higher because they require the mad skills. And yeah, high five for not buying store bought crap. Everytime I see a machine made piece of pottery I want to stab someone. Stabby McStabStab!

My dogs eat eggplant and other veggies. I started them off early on 'em and they still love it. Freaks.

Which scar? I have four eye scars, two of which are brow.
1. Eyebrow ring was punched out of my face at a concert.
2. Accident between a dog, a ball and I. The dog and I both went for the ball, the dog ended up with a concusion and I got stiches.
3. Bit in the eye by a dog (different one) and had more stiches.
4. Mystery scar. (No one claims to know where it came from, but I'm guessing mom dropped me on my head. Bitch.)
I could probably write an entire book dedicated to my scars. ...there's an idea!

I saw a bad one on Easter. I always go to my photographers house for holidays (because my family consists of religious fanatics that drive me nuts) and his son got a nasty gash on his cheek. He was running across the front room laughing away and BAM! right into the corner of a table. I almost cried I felt so bad. Are there not kid safe corner protectors? If not, let's invent that shit and make millions! Mwoohoohahaha!!!

Dontcha ever wanna update? Thought I'd kill ya with improper spelling. As far as the email alert thing goes, sorry. I'll tell those bastards your penis is just fine!

So you're leaving? I hope you're well, and if you are, I'll miss you around here.

blah.

Actually, no. I am having a fantastic time here in Montserrat. I'll update my journal soon!