FUNFACT: I have a pet tarantula. She's an African-Rose variety of tarantula. The story of how we got her is pretty rad. My step-dad let a dude he knows, Rob, have our basement suite of one of our old houses. He was a bum. All of the money he managed to scrounge up went to beer, weed, and porno. He wasn't paying rent, so my step-dad whipped him into shape. Somehow he scored a job as a manager at a pet store right off the bat, and was making pretty good money. I didn't understand the workings of the quirks behind what he did, but all I did know was that his living room was turned into a cornucopia of little creatures. Some fuzzy, some slimy. Some bitey, some runny. Some loud, some quiet. I was in pet-heaven. All of it was free! So I'd play with some rats and hamsters, where as Rob, the roommate, remained a low-life. Yeah he had a good paying job and lots of critters. But he was still a loser. So he'd laugh, get drunk, and watch as he made scorpions fight tarantulas. And he'd laugh, get drunk, and watch as he fed snakes live rodents. He'd even laugh, get drunk, and watch as he screamed "Not the king of fucking jungle now are ya, smartass!!?!" as he dunked a chinchila into the piranha tank. Kinda cruel, but makes a funny story. Anyhow, in a drunken stupor Rob called me downstairs. He was full of beer, as per usual, and he wanted to show me and my step-dad a new trick. He picked up a tarantula, placed her on his tongue, and then went "Watch", you know, in that kind of voice where you're holding liquid on your mouth, but you crane your head back to balance the liquid in between your throat and your mouth? I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Just imagine swishing around mouthwash, and then someone asks you the time, you respond in the type of manner Rob is talking in. Rob has a spider the size of a small plate on his tongue. He then puffs a cigarette. Then he whistles "Yankee Doodle". All the while tittering like a schoolgirl. "Watth thith you guyth!" For the finale, he decides to swig some beer around the tarantula, who was probably already mortafied as is. He puts the beer up to his lips, gives out one more drunken-retard-chuckle for the road, and then starts pouring the whole bottle into his mouth. He gets about halfway through, and spasms. He coughs up a shitload of beer, and a spider the size of a hardball, and starts screaming. He goes "Dwive me to da hothpital pweathe". My step-dad calls him a retard and they go to emergency. Apparently, on the way to the hospital, Rob's mouth was swelling so fast that my dad had to shove a tube in there to make sure he can breathe. When I saw Rob the next day he said that he doesn't give a shit if it's against store policy: he's either giving it away or squishing it. And that was well over ten years ago, and she's still kickin' around. She's really old and I love scaring people with her! She pseudo-bit me once. It swelled up a little. Result: lame-assness and lack of transfering super-hero-powers. Pfft. Loser.
I'm so fucking sorry I haven't been updating lately. I've been SO busy with work and girls and friends and my non-internet-social-life. So much has happened in the past month, and it's all so exciting, but if I were to tell you all about it here, as exciting as it was, you'd come to one of two conclusions: A) Boredom, or B) Questioning my integrity. So much shit happens to me that nobody ever fucking believes. It's amazing. I love it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm gonna blitz this bad-boy. Point-form stylie for now...
- Got into a fight with a bunch of wiggers. Apparently they're so "street" that they go around beating the shit out of people who are different from them. Also note: I am currently (and not for long, hopefully) residing in a shitty little town. Apprently, my mohawk and other apparel makes me "emo". And if it's not "emo" it's "fag". Yeah. Too cool for school, I know. Anyhow, I was longboarding, a bunch of them came out of a house and tried to push me off my deck, a bunch others were stomping on it as I rode by the crowded street. I pushed some away from my board in an attempt to keep me and my longboard safe (the thing is about 300 dollars, I'm not losing it). I got a dozen beer bottles thrown at me, so I said "Fuck it". They were looking for a fight, and I was in a great mood, but these fucking coke-head, steroid-abusing, redneck-wigger-alcoholics needed to learn a thing or two. I fought 6 guys at the same time, and not even a punch was landed on me. I find that people who go out looking for fights, can't fight. It's called overcompensation.
This whole thing gets me wondering. These guys go around town, committing petty crimes, and claim that they're more "street" than anyone else they grew up with in this shithole town in bumfuck-nowhere. Now, if they did what they do where I come from, the real people from "the streets" would fucking filet these kids before they hit the ground. They're so "ghetto" and "had it rough". Yeah, life's hard when daddy loves his 6-figure-a-year-job more than you, and mom's an old-school traditional house-wife. That's some tough shit. Fuck those sissies from Compton, representin' the 'Burbs, yo!
Fucking idiots. I should introduce them to a few friends of mine. Smarten them up.
Movin' on.
- I've been participating in many recreational activities, all of which are benefitial to my lifestyle (inside joke, but the point shines through!). I've been kicking old ladies' asses at their own game, Bingo. I've been drunk off my ass at a fun park, and annihilated some mini-golf. I went out for an actual mountain of pasta, then tried a shitload of Jager-Bombs for the first time, and the proceeded to a night of free strippers (not ugly whatsoever either!
). I yoinked some rad-ugly bowling shoes from the local lanes. Only shoes I have that fit me even remotely. Still a tight squeeze. But I'll post a picture. I've been going out waaaaay too damn often, and I'm piss-poor because of it.
- I saw Sethy eff on camera. I feel obligated to do the same now. But I'm so fucking scared in a really superstitious way. I'm not superstitious at all, but I got this dumb preconcieved notion about performing. I dunno where it comes from but it's basically: "Everybody gets fifteen minutes of fame." It's true. Everyone everywhere gets their fifteen minutes. I want mine to be benefitial and entertaining for myself and all of my audience. I fucking dread-fear reality TV. If anyone catches me down the street on candid-camera or some crappy street-gameshow, I'd fucking snap. I don't want my fifteen minutes wasted like that. I want to create. I want to be responsible for a million peoples' jaw-drops and laughter. I want my name to be heard when I'm on my way up. Not "Congratulations, you answered 3 out of the 5 questions correctly, so you get, 20, 40, 60 dollars my man!" And for the record Oblivious is shit. Regan Burns is a hack. He wasted his fifteen minutes. I don't know if you noticed, but he's doing allergy commercials now that his gameshow bombed. He's hard to spot, especially as "nasal-congestand-sufferer number two". Loser.
- I wanna touch it so fucking bad. I fucking need it. It's summer. It's fucking mating season. PunkerSlut's in heat. Touch me. Let me touch you. Let's do this...
- The more I play bass, the more I love ripping shit up. I need people to play with. Specifically a drummer, I gotta work on my timing-chops. They're a little rusty. I'm getting pretty good though.
- Like I said, I'll post pictures later. But for now, discussion: I had a fantasy fulfilled. I bought my fucking longboard. It cost me pretty much $300. Worth every penny. I got an mp3 player. An iPod mini, silver, first generation, and everything it needed. Not bad for $100. As soon as I bought these things, I had to wait 5 fucking weeks. FIVE FUCKING WEEKS where you notice every minute of every hour of every day that the sun's not fucking shining. I'm beginning to hate BC's weather. I'm not fucking kidding. It knows what your plans are and goes and fucks it all up. I by 400 dollars worth of stuff, to enjoy in the sunny fucking weather, and then the grey clouds roll on in. Wasn't it until March that we had 150+ days of rain in a row? I swear to fuck, my heart's in LBC. Anyhow... After much delay, I was able to ride on my fucking longboard, listening to Sublime and The Long Beach Dub All-Stars.
It was a dream come true. (I'm easily entertained, I know. 
) I'm gonna do it again, but add a can of Lost to the equation. Oh fuck. I love Lost. That shit is super-yummy-delicious-deluxe! I love so much right now. Feelin' the love!
See what the fucking sun does to me?
I love it.
- Ever been friends with someone, but never know why or what for? Like, have nothing in common, do nothing together, haven't seen them in years, and yet they're still on your MSN. You see them in public and maybe they'll smile when you share a glance. Like, I don't give a shit. I like to get along with everyone. Not complaining, just pondering. Hmmmmm...
- One thing I JUST learned: You can tell someone's being a fucking bitch for the sake of drama when their sense of humour flies out of the fucking window, and they take everything WAY too fucking seriously. I fucking hate Ridge Kids. Seriously. It doesn't get any more fucking lame than the kids out here.
- My fucking li'l buddy Emily went on a camping trip and had the worst time of her life. Seeing as she almost died in several fucking ways, none of which can be viewed in a humourous light, I must vent. She's a youngin'. She's small, and cute, and fun, but I've got a couple years on her. It don't mean a goddamn fucking thing though, I love her all the same. She has some pretty rad fucking art, I might add. Maybe I shall post some... Maybe not... Anyhow, the girl arranges (out of her own pockets and kindness in her heart) a birthday-thing for one of her best friends. I couldn't go because of work. What it was supposed to be was go to camping spot near lake, stay for 3 days and 2 nights, and then get self and friends picked up by family. The buddy she was throwing this for is a sweetie. So quiet, always keeps to herself and is always mondo-polite. She's not as... "priveleged" as most kids her age. And this birthday thing was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to her. She had a rough year with some family-deaths and other really misfortunate things that are way too fucked up to even talk about, so she really could use the break. The trip was 3 days of fun with her bestest friends. Her, Emily, one other girl and two other guys. No adults, just friends. Dumb idea. Birthday girl's friends went all out on her presents. Saving up allowances and after-school-jobs for months to make her dreams come true. Imagine being a girl who has butt-fuck nothing when it comes to material items, and then your friends bring you on a trip, give you a 5.1 megapixel digital camera, a 20g iPod, a bunch of new clothes, and a pound of weed. She was in heaven! They hit the bong hard and played with her new toys. After a while they got sleepy. It got cold in the girls' tent, so they went into the guys' tent to huddle together and keep warm. Everyone's asleep. Four in the fucking morning rolls 'round, and they hear a bunch of screaming and smashing. Long story short (even though it's already pretty long... Sorry), two fucking idiotic fucking rednecks, came by, ripped open the tent that was vacant, stole what was left of the beer and ganja. What's fucked up here is this: They didn't fucking steal the brand new iPod and digital camera. They fucking smashed them right in front of the tents and threw what was left of them around the campsite and into the fire and into a nearby river. Why didn't the guys do something about this? Well, one was a good buddy of ours, who is SUPER gay. Like as gay as a man can get without becoming a woman. That gay. We love him all the same though. Good guy. But he was more scared than the girls. The other guy? He's a fucking psycho. He tried to blow up his highschool a few times, but he wasn't an idiot. He was gonna do something, but as soon as the guy was going to go out there and teach these fucks a lesson, they shot at him. Yeah. You fucking read that right. They shot at him. Then he hid back in the tent, the hicks saw that there was a bunch of people in there, and pretty much unloaded their guns in the general direction of them. Apparently they were pretty drunk, so that explains the bad aim. But everyone's SO fucking lucky that they didn't get shot. Over 20 shots were fired apparently, and nobody got hit. Inches away from faces and heads, but nobody got hit. Knock. On. Fucking. Wood. But the rednecks didn't stop there... They went through birthday girl's personal belongings, like books and clothes... And fucking shredded it, pissed and shit on it, then threw it in the fire or into the river. After the whole ordeal, they didn't wanna stay there. The drunk guys wandered away, said they'll be back the next day to "finish up" and then fucked off. Nobody wanted to be there. They had no phones. They had to hike about 60 kilometers to the nearest gas-station. What's even MORE fucked up? Birthday girl officially owns NOTHING other than what she was wearing. The 60km hike... No shoes. They were in the tent, pissed on, and burnt. What's even MORE fucked up? They talked to police officers at the fucking gas station. You wanna know what these poor kids were told?
"There's nothing we can do... Sorry."
...I can't fucking rant on long enough to explain how fucked up that is.
I love Birthday girl. She's got a heart of gold. She's still smiling. The next day, she had enough balls to laugh at what happened, and thanked everyone for everything even though she came out even MORE empty handed than she went there with. Becuase she only owned so much clothing, she had to bring it all to last for a mere 3 days.
She's 3 years younger than me, and she's made it as one of my fucking heroes.
- Also unfortunate, is the lovely Jordan's book has not yet hit my mailbox.
It's the next book I'm planning on reading, and it's taking too long to get here! I can't wait though.
- My fucking feet are driving me fucking insane. I'm already a size 15, and my feet are fucking pouring over the edges of these really expensive fucking shoes! I've had them for a year, and I woulda bought new ones except I can't find any 15's or 16's... I'm suck a freak! It's so frustrating!
- About 3 weeks ago, I got pissed drunk and said some rather uncalled for, and very fucked up things. I got a zot warning. I sobered up, got drunk, and did it all again a fucking day later! Haha! Two SG-Zot warnings in 24 hours! Hahahahaha! Awesome!
- Light duties are far more tedious than they sound. Stupid work.
- I work with a guy named Kyle. Kyle's a dick. He's 33 and he's got the immature taddle-tale-y mind-set of a 6 year old girl. So I wrote him a letter:
"Dear Kyle,
Fuck off and die of AIDS.
Sincerely, and yours truly,
FuckoffanddieofAIDS."
Fucking idiot looks for ANY little thing you do improperly and snitches left-right-and-centre. Nobody likes him, but he treats everyone good to their face. Then he's condescending. Then a prick. Then your enemy... Two weeks later, back to friend. Repeat. He thinks that if he gets a shitload of people fired he's gonna move on up somehow. Well, I hope his fucking children get molested. Hahahaha!
I'm kidding, of course. Forgive my sense of humour. 'Tis a bit twisted at times.
- Too much fucking work.
- I'm a fucking moron. I had a date planned for new ink, and lots of moolah saved up, but I fucking cancelled it like a moron. I chickened out because this summer, I wanted to tan lots, swim lots, sweat lots
, and bathe lots remove said sweat. All of which are not good for new tattoos. So the day that I cancel, the clouds roll on in. And they stay there. For weeks. No sun, just rain. Like I said, I fucking hate BC for it's weather (most of the time).
I swear to fucking Christ it knows! The weather knows! I swear!
- One of my many old underlings bumped into me the other day. He was with his new girlfriend and a shitload of other kids. He goes "See everybody? This is Christoph. Christoph is a God. Christoph can have any girl on Earth, but chooses not to (most of the time) just to be a rebel like that. Christoph is my hero. No matter what he decides to do, one day he'll eventually wind up as a gynocologist... Because he was born perfect and God loves him. Touch him. He's magic."
I fucking love Andy. You're rad dude. Keep on rockin'.
I guess that's pretty much everything, I guess pictures are in order now. Hmmmmm...
Where to start?
I guess not with the pictures, someone stole my fucking digital camera. Woo-FUCKING-hoo!
It's been a couple days since I've added to this entry. I'm so fucked up. I fucked up everything. Everything is so fucked up. I'm so messed dude. Seriously. I don't think drinking is a good idea anymore. It's fun when you're doing it, but I pay for it so much afterwards. Like, not in a bad way like lighting fire to someones pets or anything. It's just that I have to drink so much in order to get drunk, that I usually end up getting sick. What's worse is not sick to the point of vomitting. Just before that point. And the feeling of having to vomit is much worse than actually vomitting. The ways I fucked up are pretty dumb. I'll list those later. Why? I don't know. Now would be logical, but like I said: I'm a li'l bit fucked up right now.
Got kicked out of my parents house. In need of new place. To pay rent, better paying job is needed. Looked into a few places, the best score of a pad actually called me back, and I was too fucking hungover to make any fucking sense on the phone, on top of the static, on top of the guy's Australian accent. I specifically noted in the e-mail I sent him to reply back to me via e-mail. Did he? No. So I sounded like a total junkie on the phone, or I was homeless or annoying or something. I don't remember much, other than I totally didn't make much sense. I fucked up such a good opportunity because of the alcohol I drank last night. About ten Jager-Bombs, and a new drink I invented called "The ChestBurster". You put two shots of Captain Morgan's spiced dark rum in a glass, you put two shots of Jack Daniels in there too, you put two shots of Jager in there, and then you fill a shot glass with energy drink (preferred: Lost (from the LBC muhfuckah!)). You drop the shotglass in, let it foam, and drink as fast as you can. I did this. This is a good example of "idiotic behavior". I hate myself. I felt so sick. It's name comes from Alien (and Aliens) because I'm obsessed with it, and it makes you feel like you have one inside you. If you don't know what I'm referring to, please, die of rectal-trauma. Anyhow... Yesterday was payday, I'm about 200 dollars in debt that I REALLY need to get out of, and my asshole friends convinced me to blow practically my whole fucking paycheque except for bare scraps. Yeah. Lame. When I drink, I'm easily influenced. I bought them food, myself food, too much alcohol, the most expensive mixer we could find, cigars (that my throat hates me for pretty badly right now), transportation, more food, snackables, aaaaaaaand... other stuff I can't even remember. I got drunk, pissed off my friends because I got loud. Girl came over. Third-wheeled the crap out of us all. She got bitchy. Then loud. Then mean. Then fucking everything man. When the shitstorm hits I don't remember much other than a lot of people weren't very happy... I was in pain all day because the day before I went to the beach, enjoyed the crap out of myself until the mosquitoes ate me alive, and the sunburn from being in the sun for 14 hours straight with no sunblock at all hit me. I drank. I regretted that too. I pissed my friend's girlie. It sucked. That's what's shitty about first impressions: You only get one. This computer is so fucked up. I drank. Became loud and sloppy and funny and wobbly. Got sick because of the heat. Yet again, not pukey... But just before pukey. It sucked. Then I had work. They had too many guys on, offered for me to leave, I accepted like a fucking moron. I really need the money/hours... But like a moron I turned them down, only to discover that practically everyone was busy until the time when I woulda been off had I worked all my hours. I'm not impressed with myself one bit. After that's when the friends plus booze fiasco happened. Not happy. I've been making dumb fucking phone calls to the girlies I know while intoxicated. While sure, lots are funny, I regret a lot of the shit I end up saying. Again, not happy with myself. What else? Family hates me. Why? I dunno. I seriously don't see what's so wrong with me, but I suppose I am freeloadin' a little. But I pretty much take care of myself, I just live here rent-free(ish). I have no respect for parents that literally kick their kids out, let alone on a bad note. So needless to say, not happy with them. Why am I typing this? I'm probably gonna regret this paragraph. Yeah. Prolly. I work fucking graveyards tonight for the first time in years at a job I know nuffin' about. It's gonna be fucked up, seeing as I haven't really slept yet, what with the sunburns and some chick waking me up at 7am to go to some fucking waterslides that weren't open until 2pm. Why the fuck did you come into my bed knowing I'd get two hours of sleep, then waterslides, then graveyard shift?! Asshole. Hahaha! I kid, I kid. But yeah, I'm ill to the tummy and sleepless North-of-Seattle and I gotta work... Again... And again...
- I need to update my profile. I'll do that after I post this.
- I went to a party with some homies, and my homies had siblings at said party. Siblings are 14-16. These siblings ended up doing a pound of coke. One if their whore-ish, idiotic, LG, girlfriends tried to convince me to snort my pirate rum. Her logic was, "Why let the alcohol disperse into your stomach? Send it right to your brain to get drunk quicker!" I called her a lot of things. Then she did it. Then she did coke too. Then I called her even more things. A lot of people were entertained.
- I'm all like "Maybe" and shit. Piss me off.
- In happier news, I saw the Eagles of Death Metal at the Commodore (the kickin'-est venue in the world!). Jesse played a fucking solo to me during whorehopping, and a few songs later he called me the hardest rocker he's ever seen. Wanna see the video? http://youtube.com/watch?v=s9LGACsd5Cw&search=eagles%20of%20death%20metal%20commodore (when he plays and points his guitar, it's to me, you can't see it well, but he also gives me the devil-horns for a split second after a strum)...
- I see Mindless Self Indulgence in three days. I'm going with about 30 people I know. I've never done that before at a concert, should be rad. Jaxxx is fucking excited about it. I'm gonna buy Lyn-Z a MASSIVE fucking lollipop and hand it to her onstage. It should rock thy box.
- Ummmm... I have a new list... Not a hit-list, but a spin on one. You ever get passionate about something? Like a hobby, or a skill? Yeah me too. But then have you ever seen someone do it WAY better than you ever could in your life? Yeah. Those people are dicks. Being all famous and shit for being good at something you enjoy. Who do they think they are? I have a list of all the people I hate for being "Too Rad" at what they do.
Les Claypool for his bass skills.
Rodney Mullen for his skate skills.
Bam Margera for narking on my lifestyle and stealing my path to fame. You fucker.
Chino Morino for singing too awesomely.
Matt Freeman, also for bass skills. (Although, I ponder my abilities and their capability to exceed Mr. Freeman... It could be done... By me, of course... In general? See top of list.)
DragonForce for melting my fucking face. Assholes. I needed that face too!
That's all that comes to mind so far. It'll grow, no worries.
- I'm so fucked, even Sublime isn't helping me. God... What have I done?!!?!?!!?!?!!?!?
- Mineux is a fucking Goddess. Wanna do me a huge favour? ...Stay rad!
- I have fulfilled my longboarding/Sublime/Lost/sun fantasy. The next one is lotsoffriends/BBQ/beer/Sublime/LongBeachDubAllStars
- I'm so ill. So sick.
- What else?
- Ummmmm... Oh yeah!
- You gotta 86 the chumpstuff... Globetrot the fucking McDonalds, boyeeeeee! (Fucking Jonny Abandoned...)
- Well, I've been updating this journal over and over, without ever publishing it. So I guess I got more stories to tell...
- Last night I went to Mindless Self Indulgence, Kill Hannah, and FakeShark RealZombie. MSI was the only noteworthy band. I'm in like with their bassist, Lyn-Z. I made such a ruckus, again, being the loudest and biggest person in the crowd. So I screamed "Jimmy I wanna have your baby!" He replied with "You can have my baby, as long as I don't have to pay shitall for it." Then I screamed out Lyn-Z's name, she winked. Jaxxx screamed something when I wasn't paying attention and apparently Lyn-Z showed her rump or something. Jimmy made some chick kiss his ass. He also put a chair on the stage, said it was "VIP Seating" and it goes for 20 bucks. I was the first person to whip out a twenty, but I was too large of a person for security to haul over the gates, so they went after the next kid. He knew all the lyrics anyhow, though I woulda put on a show. I found some stuffed animal kangaroo on the ground, I threw it at Lyn-Z, she didn't give a shit, hahaha! She just kicked it away. Jimmy, near the end of the show, picked up said kangaroo and bounced him around to a song. Can't remember which. He also got pantless at some point and was wearing a mesh thong underneath his boxers. Hahahaha! I caught several bottles of water, and so did the people around me, and it was a nice crowd, so everyone shared. Thank god nobody was sick with anything, otherwise we'd ALL be infected! I played body guard again, like I always do with the girlies, and I put my arms around them, locked them onto the gate, and gave them som room to relax. Haha! Everyone around me is like "Dude! How can you do that?!" and "I gotta bring you to concerts with me!" and "I want a personal bodyguard with a mohawk!" It was fun. I caught a setlist after Jimmy molested the FUCK out of a snoopy-stuffy. For the song "Animal" Jimmy pulled out this REALLY real-looking stuffed wolf. It was so convincingly real, except for the fact that it was waaaaay too floppy. He fucked the shit out of that thing. At the end of the song, li'l buddy Kylee screamed "Animal Cruelty!" and Jimmy went "It's okay, he's a vegetarian!" Hahahaha! Awesome gig. It wasn't the best sound quality, but for fuck sakes, what do you expect at Mindless Self Indulgence? Hahaha. Kill Hannah was SO emo. Another buddy Paul who I unexpectedly ran into at the gig handed me his Motorola Razr, and kept dragging it across my arm, encouraging others to do the same. You shoulda seen it. It was fucking funny. FakeShark RealZombie has a better name than their performance. They need to practice more and find a bloody sound already! Criminy! That's basically everything I can remember from the concert at this moment, other than my having to slam some people for trying to grope the girlies. That's nothing new though. OH! My buddy, Invader Zim, fucking crowd surfed about 12 times in the course of an hour! The thing was, there was a "No crowd surfing" rule for some lame reason, and EVERYTIME he did it, security said they were kicking him out if he did it again. This happened ONE DOZEN TIMES! Hahahahahaha! Morons! After the show, we received some phone calls while we enjoyed some much-needed slurpees. These phone calls were basically invites to some events that were taking place on that lovely Tuesday evening. We drove to the other side of the fucking province to hit up a party. We get there and I saw SO many faces from that I haven't seen in YEARS! It was gnarly! The birthday boy was this casual acquaintance of mine from highschool, it was his first time getting drunk-out-of-his-mind and his birthday, and he was making such an ass out of himself. He was "the quiet, polite kid" too, so you know how fun that is! Sure enough, he ends up passing out and we attack him with make-up and sharpies, I slapped a swastika on his forehead, and a giant heart with the word "COCK" on the back of his neck and in his platinum-blonde-hair. After that, I dunno what he had on him because I was too busy getting naked. I stripped down and found a hot-tub. Soon after, a dozen people joined me. Some naked, others, not-so-much. Some cigars were passed around, someone spiked my slurpee with half a mickey of Smirnoff. Thanks, whoever that was, Megan, I'm looking in your general direction. And Alex, even if you didn't do it, you're a fucking accessory to the fact! Handing me all those beers, who do you think you are? So I got good and buzzed, and people were begging to hear some stories. I filled their ears with so much entertainment, that I think I'm gonna have to file a lawsuit soon, because I think some movies are gonna be made. Haha! There was so much bi-curious-lesbianism going on, it was more intense than any porno. In the past three days, I have seen more dyking out in front of my face than I have -collectively- in every porno that I've ever set eyes upon. I'm a little spent. I need a break from all the hussle-and-bussle... Until tomorrow when it's all happening again! Hahaha! Booyah! I went home alone though, I was too drunk to give a shit about anything other than... Ummmmm... I forget. Hahaha! I know my mind was on ONE thing only though, and it wasn't sex, or my own well-being... It might've been sleep, but I doubt it. Fuck it. Regis, sleep, and that's my final answer! Anyhow, It's been an enjoyable rough couple of days! I heart it.
- Holy shit, I gotta slow this fucking update down!!! Look how big and long it is! (Teeeeheeeeeheeeee!)
- You wanna know what's rad? Boobs. The end.
- I'm glad I have a pool this summer.
- I gotta fix my longboard. I fucked up my trucks. I think I'm gonna do some field-surgery on it and fix it good enough to MAYBE bomb the seawall at Stanley Park on July 9th. It's a beginners run! But I don't know anyone who's going, so that makes me a saaaad paaandaaaa!
- I've been losing more weight. I think it's time to dabble in porn-movies again. Haha!
- I think I've impressed some people with my fake-bass-skills, hopefully from this I've found people to jam with!
- Fuck you Jagermeister, you ain't got shit on me.
- Gotta slow down the drinking and cigars. Seriously.
- Gotta stop being such a fucking pirate all the fucking time. I'm so close to getting caught/fired from work.
- Beaches rock. Especially ones with 2 miles of sand until ocean, and then only 4 people per square mile.
- I gotta clean up my rooms. Shit. This place is a sty!
- You know, porn is mostly junk... But I love sex and all things about it. But I've come to the conclusion that the best porn is couples-porn. That shit is hot! "Ameteur Porn", if you will. It's just so much more entertaining knowing that they aren't doing it for money, but because they care for eachother to some degree. For examples of hot porn, try This Video and This Video and This Video... Lemme know wutchya think!
- OKAY, WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! In the last of those video-links... You'll notice a couple screwin'... They fuck, he unloads into her mouth, and then makes out with her... Someone PLEASE take note of some continuity! What the fuck happened to his hair?!?!! It went from black to blonde in a matter of seconds! I think maybe we're seeing to videos spliced together! Hahaha! Anyone else got a theory? Maybe a third party? Maybe a goverment conspiracy? Anyone? Anything? Hehe.
- Bradley Nowell is one of my Gods. Perhaps the greatest one. Brad passed away. One of his friends was Opie Ortiz. Opie Ortiz gave Bradley his famous "Sublime" tattoo on his back. Opie also made the famous 40oz To Freedom sun-logo. I am trying so fucking hard to get inked by Opie. I want something that reminds me not only of Brad, and Sublime, and the LBC, and the good vibes, but all of the above with a fresh twist. I'm thinking a personal rendition of something Brad had inked on him... But maybe not if I end up feeling like I'm ripping off another dude's ink. I want it original, but "In memoriam of", so I must do some deep thinking as to what I want.
- Tony Ciavarro is featured in this months Tattoo magazine. I fell in love with his work. I need something by this guy. Unfortunately enough, so does the rest of mankind. So the guy has a really quirky way of doing things. He only books appointments one day every 3 months, and he will only book appointments for people he's already started work on. So how does one get a tattoo from this guy? Make it to conventions he is at. He will start new work on people at conventions, and then finish them at his shop. Thing is, no conventions happen up here in Vancouver (well, ones that I know about anyhow), and the closest he's coming is to California and Seattle in August. I need to find homies to get me to do this thing. Another major obstacle is the fact that I've never been to a convention before in my life and I'm not sure as to how they work. So I'm gonna have to cart my ass on down to the Tattoo Group and ask some questions! Hopefully this guy will hook me up with zombie swallows under my nipples!
- Oh shit! So, uhhhh, did anyone else get ran over last week, or was that just me? ...No? Nobody? Awww... Yeah, I got fucking run over. I was lonbaording at 1am, and I decided to go through the "busy" part of town (aka - lame-fucking-strip-mall-central). I stole a can of RedBull from work and yoinked my pay stub, and went for a cruise on my longboard. I got to a Mac's, bought my second energy drink: Lost ( LBC!). I drank the Lost but still had the RedBull in my hand. I went bombing down this REALLY mellow(-looking) hill next to Mac's, and like a moron, I took it on the sidewalk. The sidewalk segments were constructed so poorly that the vibrations were making me not-thing-straight. So I stayed ON the fucking sidewalk. I get down to where the sidewalk ends in that fancy little dip, but there's a meridian in the middle of the road to encourage drivers to turn only where they're supposed to, I notice that, try-for-the-very-first-time a boardslide, but it didn't work too well because I got gel wheels. So I'm going forward, I'm turned 90-degrees thanks to a shitty boardslide attempt, and out of fucking nowhere, this "Pimped-Out" Honda Civic fucking mows me over. I was ALREADY going fucking 60 km/h, and then this fucker hits me with an additional 60km/h... Yeah. It fucking sucked. I seriously went so far into the air though, I had about two seconds of air-time. I seriously went about 10 or 12 feet into the air. I landed. I came to just moments later. I landed in a ditch-like thing, where Safeway likes to cement their signs in. My head (unprotected) ended up mere inches away from the cement block that holds the Safeway sign in. Note: I landed head first. I looked back to see what became of my longboard, and without even checking to see if I was okay, the Civic fucking peels out on me. I heard my smooth-ass bearings roll away, so I quickly gathered my thoughts and went after it. Turns out I was missing a shoe. The little 300-dollar fucker was rolling down the highway. I collected it unscathed thank fucking God. But yeah, the worst part was the 45 minutes of hellish shoe-searching. I was in a bush-ditch-dirt-barrier thing on the outskirts of Safeway's parking lot. It was 1am, and here I am, wandering around like a zombie, for my lost shoe. Haha! I think I forgot to mention, when I came to, I was still gripping the RedBull. Couldn't care less though, RedBull is crap. Viva La Lost! It took me 45 minutes to find that goddamn skate shoe. The worst part still? The fucking sprinklers turned out 30 minutes in... SO I'm all cut up and bloody and muddy INSIDE my shoes... It sucked. I almost needed stitches on my arm, but I toughed it out and bought a bunch of chicken tenders instead.
- I've been fucking ADDICTED to well-made honey-mustard! I'm going broke because I keep attacking this local pub for their cheap-ass perfect appetizers (half-price from 3pm-6pm Monday through Friday). Fuck you Poutine, and Chicken Strip-Tender-Things! I'm going to be the first person to join rehab for honeymustard... Yeah... I'm a loser...
- My prior statement about lesbianism and my viewing of it, has just fuckin' doubled in the past two days... (Oh and for those of you don't clue in easy enough, I've been writing this journal for several days now. )
- I think I'm gonna get the F-word (FUCK!, Just to clarify. ) tattooed on the back of my knee. It'll be all elegant and whispy. Still contemplating it though...
- Alright, so I get off work on this lovely Friday evening, longboard over to Jaxxx's place, and chill for about half an hour, making phone calls to see what's up. A lot of people are already unavailable, and one person is with a bunch of homies I haven't seen in a year or so... So I tell the girlie to let me scope it out, and call me once she's done bathing and shit to lemme know when to come back so we can board out together. I go, find them, lots of people out, generally everyone minding their own business. I get to the elementary school where everyone's hanging out. Saw some rad old faces, scored a couple beers and cigars. After some stories and some greetings and some catching up, I get a call, I'm supposed to head over to girlies house to skate back out with her. I exchange one last rad story and leave. I pick her up, she's a slow skater, so I push on my longbaord while pulling/pushing her with me. We're about halfway there when we see three kids fucking looking for fucking trouble. Wiggers. I fucking HATE fucking wiggers. White kids from the fucking suburbs trying to be the most "gangsta". Nothing irritates me more. I've never met a wigger I've liked. Ever. Gotten along with a few just dandy, until they tell me about the "bitch" they "pimp-slapped" or the "ho" they "date-raped". I just can't fucking stand them. I hate to generalize, but this is an exception. Nothing fucking good comes out of wiggers... Anyhow, there's three of them, all of them are obviously pumped on fucking 'roids and coke. Seriously. The constant "FUCK YEEEAAAAHHH!" 's and "WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! YOU WANNA SCRAP DAWG! YOU WANNA SCRAP? LETS SCRAP FAGGOT LETS SCRAP FAGGOT!" to everyone they see... Even some fucking poor girl walking home from her day of work from Little Caesars. They were seriously gonna hurt her until they realized her ride was nearby. Now if you know anything about me, I don't stand for that shit. I don't fucking care who you are. You touch a girl in any fucking way that displeases her, and you're losing a fucking limb. Anyhow, they fucking take their shirts off and run after us. We skate away, I am waiting for Jax to catch up shortly, miss a crosswalk availability, the wiggers cross... They're leaving us alone now, but we get the next crosswalk, cross, and start pumping. I'm too focused on pushing that we end up missing the corner we're supposed to turn off of, by about half a block. Behind us, are the wiggers. Still screaming "Fuck Yeah!" as loud as they fucking can. Fucking hate roid-ragers. Fucking hate coke-heads. Fucking hate wiggers. So much testosterone. So we cruise back, minding our own fucking business, not saying a goddamn word about anything other than our work days and the fucking kids stop and go "What! What! What! What! What up dawg! What! What up dawg?! You wanna scrap? Huh? You wanna scrap?" We walk away. Then they scream even louder and run up to us, so I stop, waiting for one thing to throw me into rage mode. "Yo dawg, iss da foo' who beefed you! Iss da foo' who beefed you!" I replied with "What the fuck are you even talking about? I don't even fucking know you?" "You wanna say something smart guy? Huh? You wanna say something?" "Fuck off, you don't wanna do this." "Yeah dawg I do, you wanna scrap? Huh? You wanna scrap?" "Fuck off, you don't even fucking know me. Seriously. Don't do this." "Fuck you, I know you. You beefed me. Your name's Ryan." "Hahaha! What the FUCK are you on about?! My name's not fucking Ryan>" "Then what is it, faggot?" "Chris, now if you don't fucking mind, we'll be leaving." "No it's not, your name is Ryan. Let's fucking do this thing bitch." "Fuck off, I wanna leave. Now. You're either gonna let me or not." And the little fucker has the balls to push my shoulder, I stand up tall and point my longboard at his face and go "Fucking last time you touch me." "Gonna hit me? Fucking hit me!" "Touch me and we'll see." And then they look at Jackie and tell her to fuck off, because they're gonna kick the shit out of Ryan. She said "His names fucking Chris you fucking idiots." And they moved ONE fucking step towards her. "Don't." And they stopped. The littlest fucker out of the 17 year olds told the roid-ragers to chill out and that they didn't want any trouble. Me and Jax walked away and I screamed "We don't even fucking know you idiots." And they screamed with about a million more "What!" 's and gave us one last "You don't wanna know me, motherfucker!" And they were on their merry-gangsta-ways. I tell you, people of SG, NOTHING wrecks your good fucking mood like fucking redneck, fucking suburbia, fucking steroid-abusing, fucking alcoholic, fucking coke-snorting, fucking wiggers. Nothing on this earth infuriates me more. Nothing. I was in a GREAT fucking mood, and then they HAD to fucking bring me down. I even said "Tonight's gonna be a good night, I want it to go well," to my friends. I didn't want any trouble, and sure fucking enough - wiggers happen. I hate this shit. It affects me so much. I keep thinking "What if I swung at them?" Or "What if I just walked away and didn't say anything?" Or "What if I just waited for Jax in the first place and we left together?" So many What-Ifs... Looking back, I didn't do anything stupid. Sure I didn't seem as big and tough as I can be. But wouldn't that be considered stooping to their level? Sure I didn't fight them as I'm sure I could have, but that'd be low too, right? I dunno. So many What-Ifs. Looking back, I want to make them hurt. Bad. Start shit with me? Why? I didn't fucking do anything. I'm with a girl, minding my own business, and you fucking go "G-G-G-G-G-Unit" fucking on me. FUCK! AAAAAH! I shoulda fucking rocked these kids. Seriously. So many things told me not to though. I was with a girl. I was in a good mood. I didn't wanna do anything to wreck my evening. But fuck man, these fucking losers get away with too fucking much. Like I said, I just don't fucking know. What do you guys think? Did I do the right thing? Hmmmm...
- Drunk chicks are a pain in the ass.
- I feel so awkward. Last night, as I was walking out the door to go to work at 11pm at night for a full graveyard shift, the phone rings, my dad picks up, and gets all quiet. My grandmother passed away. She's technically my step-grandmother and my dad is technically my step-dad but they've been there for me since I was two, so they're solid family. She passed away as I was leaving. I get to work, and while I'm working I think about how sad my dad must be. His dad died very prematurely, and nobody knows how, and my dad was about 12 or 13. Now he's lost both his parents, as has my mom. Now I have no grandparents anymore. I have technical biological grandparents, but that side of the family has not contacted me within almost a decade. They're dead to me. But this grandma, who just passed away, I've only met 20 or so times. I know, that's more times than when some kids meet their grandparents, but I'm Italian. Our family is tight-knit. I feel so awkward... Like sad that someone passed away, and I feel like I failed somehow because I never got to know her better and stuff... I don't know. So I told work, and they gave me the next graveyard shift off. I don't know how they're going to react to this, my parents, because I need the money and technically the passing was of a "distant relative", but they asked and I told and they gave it to me. They bitched. I don't know why. Maybe because management has no remorse or feelings or conscience. I swear to god, the morning went as follows. "Hello Christoph, how are you doing today?" "Oh, I've been better. I'm tired because I haven't slept in like 36 hours, and a truck driver screwed up the recieving process this morning, and then a skid broke and it took me half an hour to fix. And my grandmother passed away last night while I was leaving to come to work and -" "Yeah, that's nice, you do know you did a really poor job facing this morning right? It's unacceptable. Purely unacceptable." I'm not even fucking joking. Heartless fucking sloppy fucking cunt. I called in, complained, and they ended up giving me the night off. I think my parents are going to kill me though. Technically she's a "distant relative" but she's still family. I feel like I should have made an effort or something to know her better. I'm just sad. I'm usually not sad. But then again, I'm usually not experiencing relatives passing away. I got the night off and I don't know if I should fuck off and pretend I'm going to work, or tell the parental units... I'm so effing confused...
- Well... It's been three fucking days since that last paragraph, and I lost my job. Basically, I was forced to quit. if I didn't quit, and challenge the call of management and the union, I could have been charged up to five-thousand dollars. Assault. Yeah. Assault. For saying mean things behind a dude's back. Remember Kyle? The asshole I was telling you about? Yeah, I vented to some buddies of mine at work, and some new guys overheard the conversation. Thank god they didn't hear the whole thing, but what they got was bad enough: "Kyle's a fucking prick. I'm gonna get my license just so I can run him over, in front of his family. I hope his child gets molested at a very tender age. I hope Kyle dies of AIDS." Long story short, I have three written and signed statements proving that I said very harsh things, and that was enough to get me fired. So I beat 'em to the draw, and quit before I had anything permanent on my record. Fuck man, being a pirate is tough shit. May sound unrelated, but for those of you who know me well enough, you know that I was a fucking pirate and a half at this workplace. It's good I got out with a pile of swag and other awesome booty.
- Well, Mineux, I guess this pirate should take your theory of karma to heart. Long story short, in the past few days, I lost my grandma, my job, my cellphone, my wallet, and ultimately hundreds of dollars worth of stuff in said wallet.
I'm fucking rough right now.
Sick on the inside.
I need to make my mohawk high, and fucking enjoy the reggae/Jamaica-festival that's happening here tomorrow! That should cheer me up!
Hey, you want some pictures? Okay, open wide...
...Aaaaaaand I don't know how to do picture-linking anymore with this new layout. Lame. So if you want pictures of all the shiny things I mentioned in this entry, head on over to my pics folder. Go check out the fruity-but-in-the-closet pool toys I commondeered!
A pirates life for me!
(Someone set out a prayer for me, and hope I get severance-pay, and hope it will be enough to afford new ink and roadtrip to get said ink! Thanks!)
Take it easy everyone! And take care!
I'm so fucking sorry I haven't been updating lately. I've been SO busy with work and girls and friends and my non-internet-social-life. So much has happened in the past month, and it's all so exciting, but if I were to tell you all about it here, as exciting as it was, you'd come to one of two conclusions: A) Boredom, or B) Questioning my integrity. So much shit happens to me that nobody ever fucking believes. It's amazing. I love it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm gonna blitz this bad-boy. Point-form stylie for now...
- Got into a fight with a bunch of wiggers. Apparently they're so "street" that they go around beating the shit out of people who are different from them. Also note: I am currently (and not for long, hopefully) residing in a shitty little town. Apprently, my mohawk and other apparel makes me "emo". And if it's not "emo" it's "fag". Yeah. Too cool for school, I know. Anyhow, I was longboarding, a bunch of them came out of a house and tried to push me off my deck, a bunch others were stomping on it as I rode by the crowded street. I pushed some away from my board in an attempt to keep me and my longboard safe (the thing is about 300 dollars, I'm not losing it). I got a dozen beer bottles thrown at me, so I said "Fuck it". They were looking for a fight, and I was in a great mood, but these fucking coke-head, steroid-abusing, redneck-wigger-alcoholics needed to learn a thing or two. I fought 6 guys at the same time, and not even a punch was landed on me. I find that people who go out looking for fights, can't fight. It's called overcompensation.
This whole thing gets me wondering. These guys go around town, committing petty crimes, and claim that they're more "street" than anyone else they grew up with in this shithole town in bumfuck-nowhere. Now, if they did what they do where I come from, the real people from "the streets" would fucking filet these kids before they hit the ground. They're so "ghetto" and "had it rough". Yeah, life's hard when daddy loves his 6-figure-a-year-job more than you, and mom's an old-school traditional house-wife. That's some tough shit. Fuck those sissies from Compton, representin' the 'Burbs, yo!Fucking idiots. I should introduce them to a few friends of mine. Smarten them up.
Movin' on.
- I've been participating in many recreational activities, all of which are benefitial to my lifestyle (inside joke, but the point shines through!). I've been kicking old ladies' asses at their own game, Bingo. I've been drunk off my ass at a fun park, and annihilated some mini-golf. I went out for an actual mountain of pasta, then tried a shitload of Jager-Bombs for the first time, and the proceeded to a night of free strippers (not ugly whatsoever either!
). I yoinked some rad-ugly bowling shoes from the local lanes. Only shoes I have that fit me even remotely. Still a tight squeeze. But I'll post a picture. I've been going out waaaaay too damn often, and I'm piss-poor because of it.- I saw Sethy eff on camera. I feel obligated to do the same now. But I'm so fucking scared in a really superstitious way. I'm not superstitious at all, but I got this dumb preconcieved notion about performing. I dunno where it comes from but it's basically: "Everybody gets fifteen minutes of fame." It's true. Everyone everywhere gets their fifteen minutes. I want mine to be benefitial and entertaining for myself and all of my audience. I fucking dread-fear reality TV. If anyone catches me down the street on candid-camera or some crappy street-gameshow, I'd fucking snap. I don't want my fifteen minutes wasted like that. I want to create. I want to be responsible for a million peoples' jaw-drops and laughter. I want my name to be heard when I'm on my way up. Not "Congratulations, you answered 3 out of the 5 questions correctly, so you get, 20, 40, 60 dollars my man!" And for the record Oblivious is shit. Regan Burns is a hack. He wasted his fifteen minutes. I don't know if you noticed, but he's doing allergy commercials now that his gameshow bombed. He's hard to spot, especially as "nasal-congestand-sufferer number two". Loser.
- I wanna touch it so fucking bad. I fucking need it. It's summer. It's fucking mating season. PunkerSlut's in heat. Touch me. Let me touch you. Let's do this...
- The more I play bass, the more I love ripping shit up. I need people to play with. Specifically a drummer, I gotta work on my timing-chops. They're a little rusty. I'm getting pretty good though.
- Like I said, I'll post pictures later. But for now, discussion: I had a fantasy fulfilled. I bought my fucking longboard. It cost me pretty much $300. Worth every penny. I got an mp3 player. An iPod mini, silver, first generation, and everything it needed. Not bad for $100. As soon as I bought these things, I had to wait 5 fucking weeks. FIVE FUCKING WEEKS where you notice every minute of every hour of every day that the sun's not fucking shining. I'm beginning to hate BC's weather. I'm not fucking kidding. It knows what your plans are and goes and fucks it all up. I by 400 dollars worth of stuff, to enjoy in the sunny fucking weather, and then the grey clouds roll on in. Wasn't it until March that we had 150+ days of rain in a row? I swear to fuck, my heart's in LBC. Anyhow... After much delay, I was able to ride on my fucking longboard, listening to Sublime and The Long Beach Dub All-Stars.
It was a dream come true. (I'm easily entertained, I know. ) I'm gonna do it again, but add a can of Lost to the equation. Oh fuck. I love Lost. That shit is super-yummy-delicious-deluxe! I love so much right now. Feelin' the love!See what the fucking sun does to me?
I love it.
- Ever been friends with someone, but never know why or what for? Like, have nothing in common, do nothing together, haven't seen them in years, and yet they're still on your MSN. You see them in public and maybe they'll smile when you share a glance. Like, I don't give a shit. I like to get along with everyone. Not complaining, just pondering. Hmmmmm...
- One thing I JUST learned: You can tell someone's being a fucking bitch for the sake of drama when their sense of humour flies out of the fucking window, and they take everything WAY too fucking seriously. I fucking hate Ridge Kids. Seriously. It doesn't get any more fucking lame than the kids out here.
- My fucking li'l buddy Emily went on a camping trip and had the worst time of her life. Seeing as she almost died in several fucking ways, none of which can be viewed in a humourous light, I must vent. She's a youngin'. She's small, and cute, and fun, but I've got a couple years on her. It don't mean a goddamn fucking thing though, I love her all the same. She has some pretty rad fucking art, I might add. Maybe I shall post some... Maybe not... Anyhow, the girl arranges (out of her own pockets and kindness in her heart) a birthday-thing for one of her best friends. I couldn't go because of work. What it was supposed to be was go to camping spot near lake, stay for 3 days and 2 nights, and then get self and friends picked up by family. The buddy she was throwing this for is a sweetie. So quiet, always keeps to herself and is always mondo-polite. She's not as... "priveleged" as most kids her age. And this birthday thing was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to her. She had a rough year with some family-deaths and other really misfortunate things that are way too fucked up to even talk about, so she really could use the break. The trip was 3 days of fun with her bestest friends. Her, Emily, one other girl and two other guys. No adults, just friends. Dumb idea. Birthday girl's friends went all out on her presents. Saving up allowances and after-school-jobs for months to make her dreams come true. Imagine being a girl who has butt-fuck nothing when it comes to material items, and then your friends bring you on a trip, give you a 5.1 megapixel digital camera, a 20g iPod, a bunch of new clothes, and a pound of weed. She was in heaven! They hit the bong hard and played with her new toys. After a while they got sleepy. It got cold in the girls' tent, so they went into the guys' tent to huddle together and keep warm. Everyone's asleep. Four in the fucking morning rolls 'round, and they hear a bunch of screaming and smashing. Long story short (even though it's already pretty long... Sorry), two fucking idiotic fucking rednecks, came by, ripped open the tent that was vacant, stole what was left of the beer and ganja. What's fucked up here is this: They didn't fucking steal the brand new iPod and digital camera. They fucking smashed them right in front of the tents and threw what was left of them around the campsite and into the fire and into a nearby river. Why didn't the guys do something about this? Well, one was a good buddy of ours, who is SUPER gay. Like as gay as a man can get without becoming a woman. That gay. We love him all the same though. Good guy. But he was more scared than the girls. The other guy? He's a fucking psycho. He tried to blow up his highschool a few times, but he wasn't an idiot. He was gonna do something, but as soon as the guy was going to go out there and teach these fucks a lesson, they shot at him. Yeah. You fucking read that right. They shot at him. Then he hid back in the tent, the hicks saw that there was a bunch of people in there, and pretty much unloaded their guns in the general direction of them. Apparently they were pretty drunk, so that explains the bad aim. But everyone's SO fucking lucky that they didn't get shot. Over 20 shots were fired apparently, and nobody got hit. Inches away from faces and heads, but nobody got hit. Knock. On. Fucking. Wood. But the rednecks didn't stop there... They went through birthday girl's personal belongings, like books and clothes... And fucking shredded it, pissed and shit on it, then threw it in the fire or into the river. After the whole ordeal, they didn't wanna stay there. The drunk guys wandered away, said they'll be back the next day to "finish up" and then fucked off. Nobody wanted to be there. They had no phones. They had to hike about 60 kilometers to the nearest gas-station. What's even MORE fucked up? Birthday girl officially owns NOTHING other than what she was wearing. The 60km hike... No shoes. They were in the tent, pissed on, and burnt. What's even MORE fucked up? They talked to police officers at the fucking gas station. You wanna know what these poor kids were told?
"There's nothing we can do... Sorry."
...I can't fucking rant on long enough to explain how fucked up that is.
I love Birthday girl. She's got a heart of gold. She's still smiling. The next day, she had enough balls to laugh at what happened, and thanked everyone for everything even though she came out even MORE empty handed than she went there with. Becuase she only owned so much clothing, she had to bring it all to last for a mere 3 days.
She's 3 years younger than me, and she's made it as one of my fucking heroes.
- Also unfortunate, is the lovely Jordan's book has not yet hit my mailbox.
It's the next book I'm planning on reading, and it's taking too long to get here! I can't wait though. - My fucking feet are driving me fucking insane. I'm already a size 15, and my feet are fucking pouring over the edges of these really expensive fucking shoes! I've had them for a year, and I woulda bought new ones except I can't find any 15's or 16's...
I'm suck a freak! It's so frustrating!- About 3 weeks ago, I got pissed drunk and said some rather uncalled for, and very fucked up things. I got a zot warning. I sobered up, got drunk, and did it all again a fucking day later! Haha! Two SG-Zot warnings in 24 hours! Hahahahaha! Awesome!
- Light duties are far more tedious than they sound. Stupid work.
- I work with a guy named Kyle. Kyle's a dick. He's 33 and he's got the immature taddle-tale-y mind-set of a 6 year old girl. So I wrote him a letter:
"Dear Kyle,
Fuck off and die of AIDS.
Sincerely, and yours truly,
FuckoffanddieofAIDS."
Fucking idiot looks for ANY little thing you do improperly and snitches left-right-and-centre. Nobody likes him, but he treats everyone good to their face. Then he's condescending. Then a prick. Then your enemy... Two weeks later, back to friend. Repeat. He thinks that if he gets a shitload of people fired he's gonna move on up somehow. Well, I hope his fucking children get molested. Hahahaha!
I'm kidding, of course. Forgive my sense of humour. 'Tis a bit twisted at times.
- Too much fucking work.
- I'm a fucking moron. I had a date planned for new ink, and lots of moolah saved up, but I fucking cancelled it like a moron. I chickened out because this summer, I wanted to tan lots, swim lots, sweat lots
, and bathe lots remove said sweat. All of which are not good for new tattoos. So the day that I cancel, the clouds roll on in. And they stay there. For weeks. No sun, just rain. Like I said, I fucking hate BC for it's weather (most of the time). I swear to fucking Christ it knows! The weather knows! I swear!
- One of my many old underlings bumped into me the other day. He was with his new girlfriend and a shitload of other kids. He goes "See everybody? This is Christoph. Christoph is a God. Christoph can have any girl on Earth, but chooses not to (most of the time) just to be a rebel like that. Christoph is my hero. No matter what he decides to do, one day he'll eventually wind up as a gynocologist... Because he was born perfect and God loves him. Touch him. He's magic."
I fucking love Andy. You're rad dude. Keep on rockin'.
I guess that's pretty much everything, I guess pictures are in order now. Hmmmmm...
Where to start?
I guess not with the pictures, someone stole my fucking digital camera. Woo-FUCKING-hoo!
It's been a couple days since I've added to this entry. I'm so fucked up. I fucked up everything. Everything is so fucked up. I'm so messed dude. Seriously. I don't think drinking is a good idea anymore. It's fun when you're doing it, but I pay for it so much afterwards. Like, not in a bad way like lighting fire to someones pets or anything. It's just that I have to drink so much in order to get drunk, that I usually end up getting sick. What's worse is not sick to the point of vomitting. Just before that point. And the feeling of having to vomit is much worse than actually vomitting. The ways I fucked up are pretty dumb. I'll list those later. Why? I don't know. Now would be logical, but like I said: I'm a li'l bit fucked up right now.
Got kicked out of my parents house. In need of new place. To pay rent, better paying job is needed. Looked into a few places, the best score of a pad actually called me back, and I was too fucking hungover to make any fucking sense on the phone, on top of the static, on top of the guy's Australian accent. I specifically noted in the e-mail I sent him to reply back to me via e-mail. Did he? No. So I sounded like a total junkie on the phone, or I was homeless or annoying or something. I don't remember much, other than I totally didn't make much sense. I fucked up such a good opportunity because of the alcohol I drank last night. About ten Jager-Bombs, and a new drink I invented called "The ChestBurster". You put two shots of Captain Morgan's spiced dark rum in a glass, you put two shots of Jack Daniels in there too, you put two shots of Jager in there, and then you fill a shot glass with energy drink (preferred: Lost (from the LBC muhfuckah!)). You drop the shotglass in, let it foam, and drink as fast as you can. I did this. This is a good example of "idiotic behavior". I hate myself. I felt so sick. It's name comes from Alien (and Aliens) because I'm obsessed with it, and it makes you feel like you have one inside you. If you don't know what I'm referring to, please, die of rectal-trauma. Anyhow... Yesterday was payday, I'm about 200 dollars in debt that I REALLY need to get out of, and my asshole friends convinced me to blow practically my whole fucking paycheque except for bare scraps. Yeah. Lame. When I drink, I'm easily influenced. I bought them food, myself food, too much alcohol, the most expensive mixer we could find, cigars (that my throat hates me for pretty badly right now), transportation, more food, snackables, aaaaaaaand... other stuff I can't even remember. I got drunk, pissed off my friends because I got loud. Girl came over. Third-wheeled the crap out of us all. She got bitchy. Then loud. Then mean. Then fucking everything man. When the shitstorm hits I don't remember much other than a lot of people weren't very happy... I was in pain all day because the day before I went to the beach, enjoyed the crap out of myself until the mosquitoes ate me alive, and the sunburn from being in the sun for 14 hours straight with no sunblock at all hit me. I drank. I regretted that too. I pissed my friend's girlie. It sucked. That's what's shitty about first impressions: You only get one. This computer is so fucked up. I drank. Became loud and sloppy and funny and wobbly. Got sick because of the heat. Yet again, not pukey... But just before pukey. It sucked. Then I had work. They had too many guys on, offered for me to leave, I accepted like a fucking moron. I really need the money/hours... But like a moron I turned them down, only to discover that practically everyone was busy until the time when I woulda been off had I worked all my hours. I'm not impressed with myself one bit. After that's when the friends plus booze fiasco happened. Not happy. I've been making dumb fucking phone calls to the girlies I know while intoxicated. While sure, lots are funny, I regret a lot of the shit I end up saying. Again, not happy with myself. What else? Family hates me. Why? I dunno. I seriously don't see what's so wrong with me, but I suppose I am freeloadin' a little. But I pretty much take care of myself, I just live here rent-free(ish). I have no respect for parents that literally kick their kids out, let alone on a bad note. So needless to say, not happy with them. Why am I typing this? I'm probably gonna regret this paragraph. Yeah. Prolly. I work fucking graveyards tonight for the first time in years at a job I know nuffin' about. It's gonna be fucked up, seeing as I haven't really slept yet, what with the sunburns and some chick waking me up at 7am to go to some fucking waterslides that weren't open until 2pm. Why the fuck did you come into my bed knowing I'd get two hours of sleep, then waterslides, then graveyard shift?! Asshole. Hahaha! I kid, I kid. But yeah, I'm ill to the tummy and sleepless North-of-Seattle and I gotta work... Again... And again...
- I need to update my profile. I'll do that after I post this.
- I went to a party with some homies, and my homies had siblings at said party. Siblings are 14-16. These siblings ended up doing a pound of coke. One if their whore-ish, idiotic, LG, girlfriends tried to convince me to snort my pirate rum. Her logic was, "Why let the alcohol disperse into your stomach? Send it right to your brain to get drunk quicker!" I called her a lot of things. Then she did it. Then she did coke too. Then I called her even more things. A lot of people were entertained.
- I'm all like "Maybe" and shit. Piss me off.
- In happier news, I saw the Eagles of Death Metal at the Commodore (the kickin'-est venue in the world!). Jesse played a fucking solo to me during whorehopping, and a few songs later he called me the hardest rocker he's ever seen.
Wanna see the video? http://youtube.com/watch?v=s9LGACsd5Cw&search=eagles%20of%20death%20metal%20commodore (when he plays and points his guitar, it's to me, you can't see it well, but he also gives me the devil-horns for a split second after a strum)...- I see Mindless Self Indulgence in three days. I'm going with about 30 people I know. I've never done that before at a concert, should be rad. Jaxxx is fucking excited about it. I'm gonna buy Lyn-Z a MASSIVE fucking lollipop and hand it to her onstage. It should rock thy box.
- Ummmm... I have a new list... Not a hit-list, but a spin on one. You ever get passionate about something? Like a hobby, or a skill? Yeah me too. But then have you ever seen someone do it WAY better than you ever could in your life? Yeah. Those people are dicks. Being all famous and shit for being good at something you enjoy. Who do they think they are? I have a list of all the people I hate for being "Too Rad" at what they do.
Les Claypool for his bass skills.
Rodney Mullen for his skate skills.
Bam Margera for narking on my lifestyle and stealing my path to fame. You fucker.
Chino Morino for singing too awesomely.
Matt Freeman, also for bass skills. (Although, I ponder my abilities and their capability to exceed Mr. Freeman... It could be done... By me, of course... In general? See top of list.)
DragonForce for melting my fucking face. Assholes. I needed that face too!
That's all that comes to mind so far. It'll grow, no worries.
- I'm so fucked, even Sublime isn't helping me. God... What have I done?!!?!?!!?!?!!?!?
- Mineux is a fucking Goddess. Wanna do me a huge favour? ...Stay rad!
- I have fulfilled my longboarding/Sublime/Lost/sun fantasy. The next one is lotsoffriends/BBQ/beer/Sublime/LongBeachDubAllStars
- I'm so ill. So sick.
- What else?
- Ummmmm... Oh yeah!
- You gotta 86 the chumpstuff... Globetrot the fucking McDonalds, boyeeeeee! (Fucking Jonny Abandoned...)
- Well, I've been updating this journal over and over, without ever publishing it. So I guess I got more stories to tell...
- Last night I went to Mindless Self Indulgence, Kill Hannah, and FakeShark RealZombie. MSI was the only noteworthy band. I'm in like with their bassist, Lyn-Z.
I made such a ruckus, again, being the loudest and biggest person in the crowd. So I screamed "Jimmy I wanna have your baby!" He replied with "You can have my baby, as long as I don't have to pay shitall for it." Then I screamed out Lyn-Z's name, she winked. Jaxxx screamed something when I wasn't paying attention and apparently Lyn-Z showed her rump or something. Jimmy made some chick kiss his ass. He also put a chair on the stage, said it was "VIP Seating" and it goes for 20 bucks. I was the first person to whip out a twenty, but I was too large of a person for security to haul over the gates, so they went after the next kid. He knew all the lyrics anyhow, though I woulda put on a show. I found some stuffed animal kangaroo on the ground, I threw it at Lyn-Z, she didn't give a shit, hahaha! She just kicked it away. Jimmy, near the end of the show, picked up said kangaroo and bounced him around to a song. Can't remember which. He also got pantless at some point and was wearing a mesh thong underneath his boxers. Hahahaha! I caught several bottles of water, and so did the people around me, and it was a nice crowd, so everyone shared. Thank god nobody was sick with anything, otherwise we'd ALL be infected! I played body guard again, like I always do with the girlies, and I put my arms around them, locked them onto the gate, and gave them som room to relax. Haha! Everyone around me is like "Dude! How can you do that?!" and "I gotta bring you to concerts with me!" and "I want a personal bodyguard with a mohawk!" It was fun. I caught a setlist after Jimmy molested the FUCK out of a snoopy-stuffy. For the song "Animal" Jimmy pulled out this REALLY real-looking stuffed wolf. It was so convincingly real, except for the fact that it was waaaaay too floppy. He fucked the shit out of that thing. At the end of the song, li'l buddy Kylee screamed "Animal Cruelty!" and Jimmy went "It's okay, he's a vegetarian!" Hahahaha! Awesome gig. It wasn't the best sound quality, but for fuck sakes, what do you expect at Mindless Self Indulgence? Hahaha. Kill Hannah was SO emo. Another buddy Paul who I unexpectedly ran into at the gig handed me his Motorola Razr, and kept dragging it across my arm, encouraging others to do the same. You shoulda seen it. It was fucking funny. FakeShark RealZombie has a better name than their performance. They need to practice more and find a bloody sound already! Criminy! That's basically everything I can remember from the concert at this moment, other than my having to slam some people for trying to grope the girlies. That's nothing new though. OH! My buddy, Invader Zim, fucking crowd surfed about 12 times in the course of an hour! The thing was, there was a "No crowd surfing" rule for some lame reason, and EVERYTIME he did it, security said they were kicking him out if he did it again. This happened ONE DOZEN TIMES! Hahahahahaha! Morons! After the show, we received some phone calls while we enjoyed some much-needed slurpees. These phone calls were basically invites to some events that were taking place on that lovely Tuesday evening. We drove to the other side of the fucking province to hit up a party. We get there and I saw SO many faces from that I haven't seen in YEARS! It was gnarly! The birthday boy was this casual acquaintance of mine from highschool, it was his first time getting drunk-out-of-his-mind and his birthday, and he was making such an ass out of himself. He was "the quiet, polite kid" too, so you know how fun that is! Sure enough, he ends up passing out and we attack him with make-up and sharpies, I slapped a swastika on his forehead, and a giant heart with the word "COCK" on the back of his neck and in his platinum-blonde-hair. After that, I dunno what he had on him because I was too busy getting naked. I stripped down and found a hot-tub. Soon after, a dozen people joined me. Some naked, others, not-so-much. Some cigars were passed around, someone spiked my slurpee with half a mickey of Smirnoff. Thanks, whoever that was, Megan, I'm looking in your general direction. And Alex, even if you didn't do it, you're a fucking accessory to the fact! Handing me all those beers, who do you think you are? So I got good and buzzed, and people were begging to hear some stories. I filled their ears with so much entertainment, that I think I'm gonna have to file a lawsuit soon, because I think some movies are gonna be made. Haha! There was so much bi-curious-lesbianism going on, it was more intense than any porno. In the past three days, I have seen more dyking out in front of my face than I have -collectively- in every porno that I've ever set eyes upon. I'm a little spent. I need a break from all the hussle-and-bussle... Until tomorrow when it's all happening again! Hahaha! Booyah! I went home alone though, I was too drunk to give a shit about anything other than... Ummmmm... I forget. Hahaha! I know my mind was on ONE thing only though, and it wasn't sex, or my own well-being... It might've been sleep, but I doubt it. Fuck it. Regis, sleep, and that's my final answer! Anyhow, It's been an enjoyable rough couple of days! I heart it.- Holy shit, I gotta slow this fucking update down!!! Look how big and long it is! (Teeeeheeeeeheeeee!)
- You wanna know what's rad? Boobs. The end.
- I'm glad I have a pool this summer.
- I gotta fix my longboard. I fucked up my trucks. I think I'm gonna do some field-surgery on it and fix it good enough to MAYBE bomb the seawall at Stanley Park on July 9th. It's a beginners run! But I don't know anyone who's going, so that makes me a saaaad paaandaaaa!
- I've been losing more weight. I think it's time to dabble in porn-movies again. Haha!
- I think I've impressed some people with my fake-bass-skills, hopefully from this I've found people to jam with!
- Fuck you Jagermeister, you ain't got shit on me.
- Gotta slow down the drinking and cigars. Seriously.
- Gotta stop being such a fucking pirate all the fucking time. I'm so close to getting caught/fired from work.
- Beaches rock. Especially ones with 2 miles of sand until ocean, and then only 4 people per square mile.
- I gotta clean up my rooms. Shit. This place is a sty!
- You know, porn is mostly junk... But I love sex and all things about it. But I've come to the conclusion that the best porn is couples-porn. That shit is hot! "Ameteur Porn", if you will. It's just so much more entertaining knowing that they aren't doing it for money, but because they care for eachother to some degree.
For examples of hot porn, try This Video and This Video and This Video... Lemme know wutchya think! - OKAY, WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! In the last of those video-links... You'll notice a couple screwin'... They fuck, he unloads into her mouth, and then makes out with her... Someone PLEASE take note of some continuity! What the fuck happened to his hair?!?!! It went from black to blonde in a matter of seconds! I think maybe we're seeing to videos spliced together! Hahaha! Anyone else got a theory? Maybe a third party? Maybe a goverment conspiracy? Anyone? Anything? Hehe.
- Bradley Nowell is one of my Gods. Perhaps the greatest one. Brad passed away. One of his friends was Opie Ortiz. Opie Ortiz gave Bradley his famous "Sublime" tattoo on his back. Opie also made the famous 40oz To Freedom sun-logo. I am trying so fucking hard to get inked by Opie. I want something that reminds me not only of Brad, and Sublime, and the LBC, and the good vibes, but all of the above with a fresh twist. I'm thinking a personal rendition of something Brad had inked on him... But maybe not if I end up feeling like I'm ripping off another dude's ink. I want it original, but "In memoriam of", so I must do some deep thinking as to what I want.
- Tony Ciavarro is featured in this months Tattoo magazine. I fell in love with his work. I need something by this guy. Unfortunately enough, so does the rest of mankind. So the guy has a really quirky way of doing things. He only books appointments one day every 3 months, and he will only book appointments for people he's already started work on. So how does one get a tattoo from this guy? Make it to conventions he is at. He will start new work on people at conventions, and then finish them at his shop. Thing is, no conventions happen up here in Vancouver (well, ones that I know about anyhow), and the closest he's coming is to California and Seattle in August. I need to find homies to get me to do this thing. Another major obstacle is the fact that I've never been to a convention before in my life and I'm not sure as to how they work. So I'm gonna have to cart my ass on down to the Tattoo Group and ask some questions! Hopefully this guy will hook me up with zombie swallows under my nipples!
- Oh shit! So, uhhhh, did anyone else get ran over last week, or was that just me? ...No? Nobody? Awww... Yeah, I got fucking run over. I was lonbaording at 1am, and I decided to go through the "busy" part of town (aka - lame-fucking-strip-mall-central). I stole a can of RedBull from work and yoinked my pay stub, and went for a cruise on my longboard. I got to a Mac's, bought my second energy drink: Lost (
LBC!). I drank the Lost but still had the RedBull in my hand. I went bombing down this REALLY mellow(-looking) hill next to Mac's, and like a moron, I took it on the sidewalk. The sidewalk segments were constructed so poorly that the vibrations were making me not-thing-straight. So I stayed ON the fucking sidewalk. I get down to where the sidewalk ends in that fancy little dip, but there's a meridian in the middle of the road to encourage drivers to turn only where they're supposed to, I notice that, try-for-the-very-first-time a boardslide, but it didn't work too well because I got gel wheels. So I'm going forward, I'm turned 90-degrees thanks to a shitty boardslide attempt, and out of fucking nowhere, this "Pimped-Out" Honda Civic fucking mows me over. I was ALREADY going fucking 60 km/h, and then this fucker hits me with an additional 60km/h... Yeah. It fucking sucked. I seriously went so far into the air though, I had about two seconds of air-time. I seriously went about 10 or 12 feet into the air. I landed. I came to just moments later. I landed in a ditch-like thing, where Safeway likes to cement their signs in. My head (unprotected) ended up mere inches away from the cement block that holds the Safeway sign in. Note: I landed head first. I looked back to see what became of my longboard, and without even checking to see if I was okay, the Civic fucking peels out on me. I heard my smooth-ass bearings roll away, so I quickly gathered my thoughts and went after it. Turns out I was missing a shoe. The little 300-dollar fucker was rolling down the highway. I collected it unscathed thank fucking God. But yeah, the worst part was the 45 minutes of hellish shoe-searching. I was in a bush-ditch-dirt-barrier thing on the outskirts of Safeway's parking lot. It was 1am, and here I am, wandering around like a zombie, for my lost shoe. Haha! I think I forgot to mention, when I came to, I was still gripping the RedBull. Couldn't care less though, RedBull is crap. Viva La Lost! It took me 45 minutes to find that goddamn skate shoe. The worst part still? The fucking sprinklers turned out 30 minutes in... SO I'm all cut up and bloody and muddy INSIDE my shoes... It sucked. I almost needed stitches on my arm, but I toughed it out and bought a bunch of chicken tenders instead.- I've been fucking ADDICTED to well-made honey-mustard!
I'm going broke because I keep attacking this local pub for their cheap-ass perfect appetizers (half-price from 3pm-6pm Monday through Friday). Fuck you Poutine, and Chicken Strip-Tender-Things! I'm going to be the first person to join rehab for honeymustard... Yeah... I'm a loser...- My prior statement about lesbianism and my viewing of it, has just fuckin' doubled in the past two days...
(Oh and for those of you don't clue in easy enough, I've been writing this journal for several days now. )- I think I'm gonna get the F-word (FUCK!, Just to clarify.
) tattooed on the back of my knee. It'll be all elegant and whispy. Still contemplating it though...- Alright, so I get off work on this lovely Friday evening, longboard over to Jaxxx's place, and chill for about half an hour, making phone calls to see what's up. A lot of people are already unavailable, and one person is with a bunch of homies I haven't seen in a year or so... So I tell the girlie to let me scope it out, and call me once she's done bathing and shit to lemme know when to come back so we can board out together. I go, find them, lots of people out, generally everyone minding their own business. I get to the elementary school where everyone's hanging out. Saw some rad old faces, scored a couple beers and cigars. After some stories and some greetings and some catching up, I get a call, I'm supposed to head over to girlies house to skate back out with her. I exchange one last rad story and leave. I pick her up, she's a slow skater, so I push on my longbaord while pulling/pushing her with me. We're about halfway there when we see three kids fucking looking for fucking trouble. Wiggers. I fucking HATE fucking wiggers. White kids from the fucking suburbs trying to be the most "gangsta". Nothing irritates me more. I've never met a wigger I've liked. Ever. Gotten along with a few just dandy, until they tell me about the "bitch" they "pimp-slapped" or the "ho" they "date-raped". I just can't fucking stand them. I hate to generalize, but this is an exception. Nothing fucking good comes out of wiggers... Anyhow, there's three of them, all of them are obviously pumped on fucking 'roids and coke. Seriously. The constant "FUCK YEEEAAAAHHH!" 's and "WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! YOU WANNA SCRAP DAWG! YOU WANNA SCRAP? LETS SCRAP FAGGOT LETS SCRAP FAGGOT!" to everyone they see... Even some fucking poor girl walking home from her day of work from Little Caesars. They were seriously gonna hurt her until they realized her ride was nearby. Now if you know anything about me, I don't stand for that shit. I don't fucking care who you are. You touch a girl in any fucking way that displeases her, and you're losing a fucking limb. Anyhow, they fucking take their shirts off and run after us. We skate away, I am waiting for Jax to catch up shortly, miss a crosswalk availability, the wiggers cross... They're leaving us alone now, but we get the next crosswalk, cross, and start pumping. I'm too focused on pushing that we end up missing the corner we're supposed to turn off of, by about half a block. Behind us, are the wiggers. Still screaming "Fuck Yeah!" as loud as they fucking can. Fucking hate roid-ragers. Fucking hate coke-heads. Fucking hate wiggers. So much testosterone. So we cruise back, minding our own fucking business, not saying a goddamn word about anything other than our work days and the fucking kids stop and go "What! What! What! What! What up dawg! What! What up dawg?! You wanna scrap? Huh? You wanna scrap?" We walk away. Then they scream even louder and run up to us, so I stop, waiting for one thing to throw me into rage mode. "Yo dawg, iss da foo' who beefed you! Iss da foo' who beefed you!" I replied with "What the fuck are you even talking about? I don't even fucking know you?" "You wanna say something smart guy? Huh? You wanna say something?" "Fuck off, you don't wanna do this." "Yeah dawg I do, you wanna scrap? Huh? You wanna scrap?" "Fuck off, you don't even fucking know me. Seriously. Don't do this." "Fuck you, I know you. You beefed me. Your name's Ryan." "Hahaha! What the FUCK are you on about?! My name's not fucking Ryan>" "Then what is it, faggot?" "Chris, now if you don't fucking mind, we'll be leaving." "No it's not, your name is Ryan. Let's fucking do this thing bitch." "Fuck off, I wanna leave. Now. You're either gonna let me or not." And the little fucker has the balls to push my shoulder, I stand up tall and point my longboard at his face and go "Fucking last time you touch me." "Gonna hit me? Fucking hit me!" "Touch me and we'll see." And then they look at Jackie and tell her to fuck off, because they're gonna kick the shit out of Ryan. She said "His names fucking Chris you fucking idiots." And they moved ONE fucking step towards her. "Don't." And they stopped. The littlest fucker out of the 17 year olds told the roid-ragers to chill out and that they didn't want any trouble. Me and Jax walked away and I screamed "We don't even fucking know you idiots." And they screamed with about a million more "What!" 's and gave us one last "You don't wanna know me, motherfucker!" And they were on their merry-gangsta-ways. I tell you, people of SG, NOTHING wrecks your good fucking mood like fucking redneck, fucking suburbia, fucking steroid-abusing, fucking alcoholic, fucking coke-snorting, fucking wiggers. Nothing on this earth infuriates me more. Nothing. I was in a GREAT fucking mood, and then they HAD to fucking bring me down. I even said "Tonight's gonna be a good night, I want it to go well," to my friends. I didn't want any trouble, and sure fucking enough - wiggers happen. I hate this shit. It affects me so much. I keep thinking "What if I swung at them?" Or "What if I just walked away and didn't say anything?" Or "What if I just waited for Jax in the first place and we left together?" So many What-Ifs... Looking back, I didn't do anything stupid. Sure I didn't seem as big and tough as I can be. But wouldn't that be considered stooping to their level? Sure I didn't fight them as I'm sure I could have, but that'd be low too, right? I dunno. So many What-Ifs. Looking back, I want to make them hurt. Bad. Start shit with me? Why? I didn't fucking do anything. I'm with a girl, minding my own business, and you fucking go "G-G-G-G-G-Unit" fucking on me. FUCK! AAAAAH! I shoulda fucking rocked these kids. Seriously. So many things told me not to though. I was with a girl. I was in a good mood. I didn't wanna do anything to wreck my evening. But fuck man, these fucking losers get away with too fucking much. Like I said, I just don't fucking know. What do you guys think? Did I do the right thing? Hmmmm...
- Drunk chicks are a pain in the ass.
- I feel so awkward. Last night, as I was walking out the door to go to work at 11pm at night for a full graveyard shift, the phone rings, my dad picks up, and gets all quiet. My grandmother passed away. She's technically my step-grandmother and my dad is technically my step-dad but they've been there for me since I was two, so they're solid family. She passed away as I was leaving. I get to work, and while I'm working I think about how sad my dad must be. His dad died very prematurely, and nobody knows how, and my dad was about 12 or 13. Now he's lost both his parents, as has my mom. Now I have no grandparents anymore. I have technical biological grandparents, but that side of the family has not contacted me within almost a decade. They're dead to me. But this grandma, who just passed away, I've only met 20 or so times. I know, that's more times than when some kids meet their grandparents, but I'm Italian. Our family is tight-knit. I feel so awkward... Like sad that someone passed away, and I feel like I failed somehow because I never got to know her better and stuff... I don't know. So I told work, and they gave me the next graveyard shift off. I don't know how they're going to react to this, my parents, because I need the money and technically the passing was of a "distant relative", but they asked and I told and they gave it to me. They bitched. I don't know why. Maybe because management has no remorse or feelings or conscience. I swear to god, the morning went as follows. "Hello Christoph, how are you doing today?" "Oh, I've been better. I'm tired because I haven't slept in like 36 hours, and a truck driver screwed up the recieving process this morning, and then a skid broke and it took me half an hour to fix. And my grandmother passed away last night while I was leaving to come to work and -" "Yeah, that's nice, you do know you did a really poor job facing this morning right? It's unacceptable. Purely unacceptable." I'm not even fucking joking. Heartless fucking sloppy fucking cunt. I called in, complained, and they ended up giving me the night off. I think my parents are going to kill me though. Technically she's a "distant relative" but she's still family. I feel like I should have made an effort or something to know her better. I'm just sad. I'm usually not sad. But then again, I'm usually not experiencing relatives passing away. I got the night off and I don't know if I should fuck off and pretend I'm going to work, or tell the parental units... I'm so effing confused...
- Well... It's been three fucking days since that last paragraph, and I lost my job. Basically, I was forced to quit. if I didn't quit, and challenge the call of management and the union, I could have been charged up to five-thousand dollars. Assault. Yeah. Assault. For saying mean things behind a dude's back. Remember Kyle? The asshole I was telling you about? Yeah, I vented to some buddies of mine at work, and some new guys overheard the conversation. Thank god they didn't hear the whole thing, but what they got was bad enough: "Kyle's a fucking prick. I'm gonna get my license just so I can run him over, in front of his family. I hope his child gets molested at a very tender age. I hope Kyle dies of AIDS." Long story short, I have three written and signed statements proving that I said very harsh things, and that was enough to get me fired. So I beat 'em to the draw, and quit before I had anything permanent on my record. Fuck man, being a pirate is tough shit. May sound unrelated, but for those of you who know me well enough, you know that I was a fucking pirate and a half at this workplace. It's good I got out with a pile of swag and other awesome booty.
- Well, Mineux, I guess this pirate should take your theory of karma to heart. Long story short, in the past few days, I lost my grandma, my job, my cellphone, my wallet, and ultimately hundreds of dollars worth of stuff in said wallet.
I'm fucking rough right now.
Sick on the inside.
I need to make my mohawk high, and fucking enjoy the reggae/Jamaica-festival that's happening here tomorrow! That should cheer me up!
Hey, you want some pictures? Okay, open wide...
...Aaaaaaand I don't know how to do picture-linking anymore with this new layout. Lame. So if you want pictures of all the shiny things I mentioned in this entry, head on over to my pics folder. Go check out the fruity-but-in-the-closet pool toys I commondeered!
A pirates life for me!
(Someone set out a prayer for me, and hope I get severance-pay, and hope it will be enough to afford new ink and roadtrip to get said ink!
Thanks!)Take it easy everyone! And take care!
VIEW 25 of 41 COMMENTS
and omigeez, the hair, the sheer hotness of the hair is making me melt!!!
*hearts*