Monthly Archives: March 2005

Them’s the Lunch Breaks

Clown Coffee:
Worker #3116:
Clown Coffee:
Worker #3116:
Clown Coffee: Oh my god, we’re worse than Website and Married.
Worker #3116:
Clown Coffee:
Worker #3116: I know.
Clown Coffee: Say something, quick.
Worker #3116:
Clown Coffee:
Worker #3116: I’m almost out of groceries. I could really use some.
Clown Coffee: Yes! Groceries, good!
Worker #3116: But I can’t decide where to buy them.
Clown Coffee: I’m glad you brought this up! I know just what to say.
Worker #3116: Whole Foods parking lot is always so full. Sometimes you can’t even find a parking spot.
Clown Coffee: Parking! I could talk about that for hours.
Worker #3116: My husband always seems to find a spot, though.
Clown Coffee: This weekend we went to Home Depot and then we sat in our matching Barka-Loungers and watched T.V. We‘re really enjoying this weather.
Worker #3116:
Clown Coffee:
Worker #3116: Ha ha.
Clown Coffee: Ha ha.


As I was going to my car this morning a bunny ran across my path. You know what they say about the symbolism of a bunny crossing your path on the last Thursday in March: best Spring 2005 ever! I was all, “Thanks, bunny, for the good vibes,” and bunny was all, “carrot, carrot, fear of predators!”

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but the name Courtney Thorne-Smith was spoken in the house last night. It has something to do with Stevil watching the Style network on On Demand…because he’d already worn out all of their regular programming. McCullen proclaimed that it was the first and last time her name would be invoked, but somehow I don’t believe him. He’s always breaking promises about stuff like never again speaking the name Courtney Thorne-Smith.

In the meantime, blah blah blah. BORING BORING BORED.

Missed Connection

Me: Wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that used to look better but are fading kind of weird. Pretending to be reading Midnight’s Children but not actually reading it, a pattern I have been following since motherfucking October because the book bores the hell out of me, but now that I only have a hundred or two hundred pages left I obviously have to finish and am guessing at this point that it will take me one whole year to do so. I don’t see you that often, but when I do, you’re always hanging out with other people. I stare at you very intently, wishing you would come over, but you don’t even acknowledge my existence. I think it’s time to get together. My desire for you is intense, and constantly unrequited. Stop making me suffer.

You: Fun.

I’ve Got Your Nanoo-Nanoo Right Here!

Imagine that you’re walking down the street one day and suddenly a parade begins to pass by. Everyone is frowning and stern, and the floats represent things you would never expect a parade float to celebrate, like AIDS and wheelchair basketball. One of the floats is all about the elementary school practice of grading children on “handwriting”. It’s been raining, and as each parade goes by it splashes through puddles, so that all the bunting is muddied and soggy.

No, wait, bad analogy. Okay, you’re talking to your mom and all of a sudden she starts telling you this story about yourself, except that not only do you not remember doing the things she’s talking about, but they’re all really tawdry and unlikely, and then she begins to show you pictures of yourself from that time period and it looks like a really weird TV version of yourself, but not you, an unknown actor playing you, and you’re like what is this? And your mom is like, why don’t you finish your milk and go take a nap.

No. Again. No. Okay…It’s late at night. You’re by yourself, watching television in the living room. Suddenly, a show comes on about a surgeon being sued for malpractice. He was drunk one morning during a routine operation that tragically left the patient blind in both eyes and paralyzed from the waist down. The doctor does have a drinking problem, but he’s a sympathetic character, and he’s got a family and problems of his own, but obviously this malpractice suit is going to ruin him, if not land him in jail. But the weirdest part of the show is there’s a laugh track but no jokes. It’s really uncomfortable because they’ll have the paralyzed man’s wife on the stand, bawling about how her husband can no longer see her, and there will be this raucous canned laughter.

This is really hard, but I’m trying to describe the strangeness, fear, and utter loneliness of seeing this advertised on TV last night.

Look, I Rule. That’s Just a Fact. Proof? I Just Told You That I Rule, How’s That for PROOF?!

Did anybody else hear my Secretary of Defense the Rumsfeld on NPR’s Morning Edition today? God, the man is a magician with language! Why, I could have sworn the interviewer, Steve Inskeep, had really cornered my secretary of defense when he asked him about a Government Accountability Office report that gives the lie to msodtr’s claim that over 140,000 Iraqi troops have been trained by pointing out that tens of thousands of those forces have abandoned their posts. Tricky one to slip out of, no? Maybe for you, tardo, but not for my Rumsfeld. “I haven’t read the report,” he began. BOOM! He HASN’T read it. You can’t corner a man on a fact if he hasn’t read about it! Then he let loose a barrage of awesome information, showing that he knows more than everyone about everything. “We spend a lot of time on this, and we know what we’re talking about.” BLAMMO! Ever heard of a tautological argument, Steve Bitchkeep?! “We don’t subtract from the United States military the number of people who may be in jail, or who may be AWOL.” You’re probably wondering, “so why would we do it with Iraqi forces?” HIS POINT EXACTLY. Again, Steve Bitchkeep tries to reign in my secretary, reminding him that the number of US troops in jail or AWOL is most certainly not in the tens of thousands. “[Long fucking pause] What we present is accurate, and the figures currently are something over 140,000, that’s just a fact…It’s less than that by some margin, but it’s gone from 0 up to that.” WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT A TAUTOLOGICAL ARGUMENT, MR. RADIO LIBERAL BIG SHOT MEDIA DISTORTER? You can’t argue or logicalize your way out of a tautological uppercut like the ones I am delivering to you!

I love you, Mr. Rumsfeld, you and your magic brain that could turn the rivers into ice cream and every horse into a flying unicorn if only it so desired.

Also, black celebrities, no more murders for you. I think you know what I’m talking about.

Here You Go, Fucking Asshole

Clown Coffee won’t stop bitching about how I don’t write about him in my diary enough, because he’s quitting smoking and it’s making him into a big fucking bitch, but so anyway, somehow the subject of bumper stickers came up, and I mentioned my favorite one, which is “Mean People Suck,” which is still worse than the abhorred variant of people cutting the sticker up so it says “People Suck,” and so long story slightly shorter I went to google image search “Mean People Suck” because just thinking about the bumper sticker was making me laugh and think about how in fact the sentiment of the variant is true, people do suck, and are dumb, as this sticker and its variant and indeed all bumper stickers proves, and so but look at this fucking guy.

Image hosted by

A Message to My Future Demonstrators

Best headline?

Activists Appeal To God, Congress

46 demonstrators have been arrested outside of Terri Schiavo’s hospice. I don’t know why, but I think this is funny. “We must protect the sanctity of life, and if we don’t, I’m going to throw this garbage can through that plate glass window!” Did you know that my President The Bush didn’t even want to get involved in the first place? He interrupted his vacation and flew to Washington to sign the bill into law because he didn’t want to! The only reason he did it was because he didn’t want to, see?

When I am a brain-dead vegetable, I urge the demonstrators outside my hospice to be a little more peaceful, a little more understanding of the pain and confusion on both sides of the ideological divide. Of course, there won’t be as many demonstrators, because my feeding tube won’t be removed, because I have already expressed to my loved ones my desire that they dedicate their lives to ensuring I never die ever no matter the cost (financial, emotional, or otherwise.) God bless you, Terri Schiavo demonstrators, for giving us all the courage to destroy the very fabric of our constitution for the sake of…wait…wait, I had it…

You Don’t Know Me

I like this part in the newish T.I. video for “You Don’t Know Me” where T.I. strikes the windshield of a car in a junkyard with a crowbar. It happens near the beginning and near the end. The reason I like it is because they cut away right before the crowbar actually hits the windshield, and the reason they cut away is because the man has Spaceham arms. You could wrap your fingers around his biceps, twice. Ha ha. Come on, T.I.. Stop it. He also flexes in the video. I’m honestly kind of confused because it doesn’t seem like he’s doing it with any irony, but considering that he’s a member of a cultural group that prides itself on animalistic musculature and fiercely misogynistic heterosexuality as defined by one’s physical and sexual prowess, what does he think he’s doing? It’s like John Leguizamo thinking he’s comparable to Brad Pitt or George Clooney and trying to vy for some sexy leading man role.

This morning I forgoeded my writing time to create MEGABASS Is Megaback! The Spring 2005 Monster Mix. Too bad you’re out for Spring 2005, or maybe I’d let you hear it.

All the News That’s Fit To What the Fuck?

It sure is lucky the war in Iraq ended just in time to give Terri Schiavo’s case the media spotlight it deserved. Lord knows, this whole issue would have been drowned out by the WAR IN IRAQ if that had still be going on. But it isn’t, not really. I mean, kind of, but all the news is really good, and you don’t want to hear about it anyway. Oh, look, American Idol mishap! New vote tonight!