Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Tend Your Own Garden

The following should be read in a ten-year-old's voice, with uptalking at the end of each sentence fragment.

This one time, last week, we were watching this documentary in school, about this guy, and everyone in his town was always saying that he was really stupid, and that he could never do anything, and then one day, he saw this rocket go off into space, and he thought about it a lot, and so he went to school, but his family and friends still told him he was stupid all the time, but he studied rockets, and eventually he became very intelligent just doing this, and eventually everyone saw him launch his rocket and he was famous and got a parade, and so really, you shouldn't pay a lot of attention to criticism, so much.

Know This! Redux

My favorite question of all time to pose to a "creative" person (i.e. an author, or a filmmaker, or whatever) is "How do you get your ideas?"

I'm going to be doing an author interview soon for my work with a VERY FAMOUS AUTHOR, and here, so far, is my preliminary list of questions:

Q: How do you get your ideas?

Q: When you want to have a really good idea, what's the first thing you do?

Q: Let's say I want to write a book, how do I start?

Q: If you could give one word of advice to a young writer who might be reading this, and who is having a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for his writing, what would you say?

Q: Picture this, you're on a beach, now what happens?

Q: No, no...you're on a beach because your plane has crashed in the ocean...

Q: AWESOME! That is a great idea. Are you going to use that idea for your own writing?

Q: What is your favorite TV show of all time?

Q: That is an awesome show. What's your favorite episode? Want to hear my favorite? My favorite is the one where Jerri goes to Indian camp. Ha ha ha.

Q: In closing, why do you think your ideas are so much better than, say, someone less famous's ideas?

Monday, November 29, 2004

Do This At My Funeral. Seriously.

Probably not unlike most of you, I generally find myself pretty depressed by the shape my life has taken. Where's the excitement? Where's the mystery? What is the big point? I'm here to tell you that if you have a digital camera or a scanner, input all of your photographs, not just the good ones, but all of them, into your computer, and run a slideshow with 2Pac's "Keep Ya Head Up" as the background music, and stand amazed at how awesome and inspirational your life seems.



This weekend, McCullen and I watched the HBO sexumentary, Thinking XXX, about a fine art photographer who put together a book of "fine art" photographs of porn stars. He took a picture of Jenna Jameson and then everyone talked about how she was so famous and then this one porn star was like, "I remember when I did my first scene with Jenna, and I was just in shock. I mean, like, afterwards I vowed never to wash my face again, and I was running around the studio shouting, 'Smell my face! Smell my face! It's got Jenna juice all over it!'"

The next morning I watched XXX, and Vin Diesel did a rail-grind in Prague on a silver dinner platter.


Just Look At This Asshole

Seriously, if you want to deport someone, deport this fucking guy. Look at him! I've got two words for you: Ray Bans. Not good enough? How about two more: Blow Pop. And he didn't even make that fucking sign. Illegal aliens made that sign at their shitty job. DEPORT HIM NOW I SAY!

Hey, Man, It's The '90s

You may already know this: Thanksgiving=Better Than Birthdays!

But did you know this: L.L. Cool J=Secret Pro-Life Activist?

I was never ghost
When lives was on the line
Confusion in ya mind
Runnin outta time
Drama of all kind
But theres faith in our mind
We spiritually inclined

(Hush by L.L. Cool J)

Speaking of unaborted black children, on Friday, during Thanksgiving II, Mémé #3116 busted out, a propos of absolutely nothing: "How are you going to tell me that Little Black Sambo isn't just a beautiful children's story? It's not racist!" Now, if you know Mémé #3116, you know that this is not totally shocking. She is the one who used to sit with me in the lobby of a restaurant and point at fat people and say, "Oooh, look at that one, what do you think? Triple Oinker?" But it really came out of absolutely nowhere. Like, no one was talking about race relations, or racism, or even children's stories. But while everyone gave her a funny look, I was all, "You're missing the point, people. What's really at issue here is not whether Little Black Sambo is or is not racist, but rather why people think a horribly racist children's story can't also be beautiful."

Anyway, McCullen informed me this weekend that we are apparently hosting the New Year's Eve party, and I'm already disappointed. Sorry, everyone, that our party wasn't better when it happens in the future!

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

I'm Worker #3116, Bitch!

Two Girls Accused of Serving Poisoned Cake

MARIETTA, Ga. - Two 13-year-old middle school girls were held on assault charges Wednesday after being accused of serving poisoned cake to about a dozen students who became ill and went to a hospital.

Lawyers for the two seventh graders said the cake was a prank, and that they had no intention to harm anyone. Lab tests showed the icing on the cornbread cake contained an expired prescription drug, bleach, clay and tabasco sauce.

"They took it into the cafeteria at lunch time and began passing it out to students, just whoever would take a piece," said Jay Dillon, spokesman for the Cobb County School District in suburban Atlanta.

Some of the students started vomiting after eating the cake Tuesday, officials said. Eleven students, mostly seventh graders, were treated at a hospital and released, Dillon said.

"There was some hysteria, from what I understand," Detective Wayne Delk said.

The 13-year-old girls appeared Wednesday before a Juvenile Court judge who refused their attorneys' request to allow them to go home. The judge will reconsider the request on Friday.

Police said one of the teens was charged with 12 counts of aggravated assault with intent to commit murder, among other charges. The other girl was charged with the same 12 aggravated assault charges.

In addition to the charges, Dillon said the girls will be suspended and could be expelled.

"We don't understand why they would have done something like this," Dillon said. "It's certainly something more serious than a prank."

I'll be waiting, m'ladies.

Wait, no, no I got: I'll be waiting, m'ladies, and I'm saving room for dessert. Get it? Do you get it? Just tell me if you get it, 'kay?

I'm Worker #3116, Bitch!

In the grand tradition of me pointing out how I was the first to totally hate the fuck out of something, I'd like to just say that I've always known references to the Chapelle Show were lame and in poor taste, even if it was a super funny sketch, even if you totally "smell" what "Chappelle" is "cooking". Somehow, I even hated Chappelle Show references more than, say, The Simpsons references, or the oft-heard 's famous Mr. Show quotes, because people who referenced Chappelle Show somehow thought they were better than people who referenced other shows. Like they were black, or something. But all you bitches will now realize how right I was, when I tell you that last Sunday at brunch MY STEPFATHER was heard to say "I'm Rick James," about A THOUSAND times. Not only does this prove how lame Chappelle Show references are, but notice how MY STEPFATHER dropped the exclamatory, "Bitch!" from the end of his reference. Your comedy, despite its edgy use of profanity for emphasis, is still funny to white men in their fifties, who feel it is totally appropriate to cite your comedy at a family meal.

Stop it, everyone 18-34. Stop it right now.

Girls, Girls, Girls

Wait, is this a good pick-up line:

"I want to be the Jerry Lee Lewis to your Myra Gail"?

Just kidding. I KNOW it's a good pick-up line. To paraphrase the words of the immortal bard, R. Kelly, "I'm on top of the world, and life's a [14 year-old] pussy buffet."

My Favorite Show, So Of Course It Only Lasts One Amazing Season

Am I the only one out here petitioning FOX to air a second season of Paradise Hotel, because it sure fucking feels like it.

You guys are all a bunch of fair-weather faggots.


Shorty Wanna Ride With Worker #3116?


There are a lot of things on my mind and the theme is "which of these things is not like the others, and by 'which' I mean 'all'". Remember, this diary is for MY INNERMOST PERSONAL THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS, so it DOES NOT MATTER WHAT YOU THINK, or if I BORE THE FUCK OUT OF YOU WITH DISORGANIZED THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS THAT SEEMINGLY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH EACH OTHER. As Britney would say, "I gotta be me, y'all."

As you know, I have been watching FOX's hit T.V. show The O.C. on the DVDs. Four episodes down and I can say this: I enjoy this show, and I do not believe one single thing about it. It's so hackneyed it's like fucking Stephen Spielberg and M. Night Shamalayananaya, the two GREATEST FILMMAKERS IN THE HISTORY OF FILMMAKERS EVER got together and smoked each other's poles and then wrote it. BOO REALISM!

This morning I saw the Young Buck video for "Shorty Wanna Ride" and I was blown away by two things. For those of you who have not seen it, it is styled after Natural Born Killers, but if you watch the first thirty seconds of the video, maybe even less, you will have your mind fucking blown the fuck out. First of all, it starts with a fake newscast about the nationwide manhunt for super-criminal Young Buck. But who is the newscaster with a terrible, fake Australian accent? Pauly Shore. PAULY SHORE IS FEATURED THROUGHOUT THE VIDEO. Secondly, the camera pulls back from the television to reveal Young Buck sitting at the counter in a greasy spoon. By all accounts, the set designer did a relatively good job of recreating the look and feel of a roadside diner (with the possible exception of a guitar mounted on the wall because you're like "um, what's up with that acoustic guitar mounted on the wall?" and it isn't until later that Young Buck's eponymous "shorty" pulls it off the wall and smashes it over the head of a white guy in a cowboy hat and you're like "good thing that acoustic guitar was mounted on the wall") but so, okay, diner. Right. We're in a diner. SO WHY IS YOUNG BUCK DRINKING GLACEAU BRAND VITAMINWATER? Ha ha. Ha ha ha. The end of the video is great, too, because Young Buck escapes from his high profile courtroom drama and is running through the back halls of justice and finds all these government secrets that he reveals for Pauly Shore, like a door marked "Florida Votes" that opens into a room stacked high with the fraudulently stolen votes of disenfranchised black people (one assumes), and then "Weapons of Mass Destruction" which opens onto this room filled with toxic looking barrels marked "Iraq", and then "Area 51" which opens onto a room where surgery on an alien is taking place. But my all-time favorite is when Young Buck (who is shirtless during all this, and relatively ripped, surprise!) shoulders open a door marked "Illuminati" behind which a bunch of white men in suits are playing, like, "Worldopoly" with REAL CASH MONEY! This is almost as funny as the VitaminWater, because I have a very strong feeling that Young Buck arrived on set and was like, "What's illumanatitini?"

Then last night I saw the new episode of the Real World and it was really fucked up. Everything about it just grossed me out and left me feeling super uncomfortable. The main plot line was about how horny Sarah is and how she just has to get laid, like, immediately or her fake breasts will stop working, and so she's out at this gay bar and starts dancing with some guy, and she's all into him, and I'm like "well, um, you met him at a gay bar, remember? And he was a pretty good dancer, so, that's like, a big hint!" And then he tells her he's gay but she just keeps saying, "But I want to fuck you." The whole episode revolves around how she keeps pestering him and nagging him to stop being gay and to just fuck her already, and for whatever reason he kind of gives in to this, and Willie made what seemed like a very good point which is that for a gay man to sleep with a woman brings up pretty major identity issues, and that Sarah should not force him into doing this unless she's sure that she has feelings for him because otherwise it's just mean, and she's like, "Well, no, I don't have feelings for him, but he's cute, and I'm horny, so basically, I'm going to make him fuck me." Then I was like, "Wait a second, this isn't making me feel uncomfortable, because the only thing I care less about than gay people is whores!" Ha ha, then I laughed myself all the way into the bathroom and threw up.

Remember, last weekend, when there was that girl who said she had a gold tooth, and I asked her how much it would be worth if I was to take it out of her, and she was like, "Take it out of me?" and I was like "40 dollars? You think 40?" CONSIDER THAT MONEY SPENT, BITCH!

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

When Civil Rights Goes Wrong

I have always hated Lil' John, and although I can't say that I really know much about the Eastside Boyz, I'm just going to go ahead and make the leap and say that I hate them too. It is not enough that his music just sucks ass so hard you're hungry a few seconds later, but that he is a living, breathing clown. When white people used to be (or still are) scared of their daughters marrying a black man and having black people move into their neighborhoods and having black people even just be considered as 100% human beings rather than just 66.666%, it was Lil' John that they were thinking of in defense of their bigotry, and although I'm not a real big fan of racism, I have to say that THEY HAVE A POINT. Granted, the Chappelle Show has already done a perfectly good job of skewering this asshole, but I will point out that I hated Lil' John long before the Chappelle Show did anything about it. You know how people are always acting like total tools, and being like "It sucks that everyone likes Interpol now, I was totally into them, like, so long ago that Paul Banks wasn't even born yet"? You know how people do that? Well I've got a new thing, and it's pointing out things that I hated way before everyone else hated it. Consider this my first public announcement. More to come, I'm sure. So, anyway, today I saw this and it expresses everything that I hate about Lil' John, everything. EVERYTHING. If Lil' John is reading this right now, you make me want to hate crime.


To Lil' John, Usher, and Ludacris

Hey guys,

I told all my lovers and friends that you guys had to do it again, like you asked.

My Blackberry's down, so just call.
Worker #3116

To All My Lovers and Friends


Um...Lil' John, Ludacris, and Usher wanted me to tell you that they had to do it again.

Worker #3116

Monday, November 22, 2004

Truth in Advertising

Round-trip airfare to Paris: $1100
Four nights at the Georges V: $2200
Champagne on ice delivered to your room: $150
An unforgettable kiss by the light of the Champs Elysee: $3450 all told.

Welcome to the O.C., Bitch!

Everyone has been like, "Worker #3116, you're so savvy about American pop culture, when are you going to weigh in on the hit T.V. series The O.C.?"

Now, bitches.

Having seen the first two episodes, I can now make an educated judgment of this show. First of all, everyone has been saying that it is this generation's 90210, but obviously this is incorrect. It is this generation's Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and apparently this generation prefers melodrama to hilarious situation comedy. Beyond that, it trades loosely in adolescent cliches, most notably episode 2's clear nod to Rebel Without a Cause in the set-up of Troublemaker living in abandoned house shown to him by emotionally needy social outcast, along with beautiful girl who secretly abandons socially celebrated but morally and attitudinally maladjusted boyfriend to hang out with dangerous and mysterious new-to-the-neighborhood Troublemaker. Beyond this, of course, is the lovable Orphan Annie storyline that under-girds the show's basic structure, although it is too early for me to know whether or not the mother will return to lay claim to Benjamin's good (but totally unbelievable) fortune. I would like to point out that in typical "Hollywood" fashion, the role of Seth is one of the most enjoyable and least convincing aspects of the show. It is, of course, impossible to believe that someone who looked like that and had such a sharp sense of humor, and who liked to skateboard, would be so unpopular. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to watching Seth's social skills develop now that he has such a great new best friend. And actually, even less believable than Seth's unpopularity is that he and Benjamin would ever become friends. Ever. Your bubble is now bust.

Here are my two favorite plot-lines of the first two episodes of The O.C. reduced to their basic premises:

"Hello poor teenager who has a history of criminal activity. Come stay at my house."
"Hello old boyfriend. Here is $100,000. Do you need more?"

All of this, of course, only makes me more convinced that the time is right for my televised melodrama, The A.C., a teen soap that takes place in Atlantic City, involving a kid from a troubled household who moves into an even more troubled household.


Friday, November 19, 2004



The song "I Don't Want You Back" by Eamon was in heavy rotation at the end of the summer but I only ever heard the radio edit, which is really boring. If you haven't heard it before, you have to imagine the most syrupy R&B crooner you can, à la R. Kelley, I guess, although I'm sure there's an even better comparison. Based on the radio edit I thought Eamon was just really shitty. But I was wrong. He's so awesome:

Whoa oh oh
Ooh hooh
No No No

[Verse 1:]
See, I dont know why I liked you so much
I gave you all, of my trust
I told you, I loved you, now thats all down the drain
Ya put me through pain, I wanna let u know how I feel

Fuck what I said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses, they didn't mean jack
Fuck you, you ho, I dont want you back

Fuck what I said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses they didn't mean jack
Fuck you, you ho, I dont want you back

[Verse 2:]
You thought, you could
Keep this shit from me, yeah
Ya burnt bitch, I heard the story
Ya played me, ya even gave him head
Now ya askin for me back
Ya just another act, look elsewhere
Cuz ya done with me

Fuck what I said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses they didn't mean jack
Fuck you, you ho, I dont want you back

Fuck what I said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses they didn't mean jack
Fuck you, you ho, I dont want you back

Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah

Ya questioned, did I care
You could ask anyone, I even said
Ya were my great one
Now its, over, but I do admit I'm sad.
It hurts real bad, I cant sweat that, cuz I loved a ho

Fuck what I said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses they didn't mean jack
Fuck you, you ho, I dont want you back

Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah
Oh oh
Uh huh yeah






The Free-Masons are a secret society founded at the time that the pyramids were being built. From the time of the ancient Egyptions, a great treasure started to be collected. Every time the owners of the treasure would be attacked, more would be added to the treaure, so it would get greater. In the middle ages, a group of knights found this treasure under Soloman's Temple in Jerusulem. The knights decided that a treasure that great would be too much for one man to own. They then swore to protect the treasure, and loaded it up onto ships and brought it to North America. All of the United States founding fathers were free-masons, and they swore to protect the treasure as well. They hid it somewhere in the country, and left clues to finding the treasure on money, in ships, and even in the declaration of independence. This brings you to present day when you meet up with Benjaman Franklin Gates who is a modern free-mason, and is searching for the treasure from clues that his father, grandfather, and great grandfather had found. He continues to find more clues, and then he finds out that the next set of clues is on the back of the Declaration of Independence. But they are invisible. No one in the government will let him look at it since the clues are invisible, and then his ex-partner in searching for the treasure plans to steal the Declaration. Since no one will believe Gates that the Declaration is at risk, or that their is a map on the back, he decides to steal it himself to protect it from being destroyed. Gates gets to the Declaration of Independence first and is successful at stealing it. The only problem is that he used a credit card to buy some duplicates in a gift shop, so the govenment knows all of his information. He has to run, and while running from the govenment, he contintues to search for more clues that he found on the back of the declaration. This leads him to the Liberty Bell where he finds a pair of x ray glasses invented by Ben Franklin. This allows him to see the next clue, which leads under a church in New York City, into a tomb, and then into a huge underground tunnel that goes straight down and seems bottomless. He is accompanied by his ex-partner at this point who is holding Gates and his friends as hostages so they could tell him the clues. After some trickery, Gates finds the treasure, and donates 99% of it to the world's museams.











I Call Him Nick Cage, Because Then He's Only One Letter Away From His True Name!

It's happening!

Today is the day!


Thursday, November 18, 2004

Now They Can Say They Knew Me When

The day that I was at the pre-center of the indie universe:

Once, when I was in high school, after spending all day in classes with the likes of Zach Wallace from Ida and Andrew WK, I was walking around downtown and one of the guys from Wolf Eyes yelled at me from across the street, "Hey, don't you have a posse?" because Fred Thomas from Saturday Looks Good to Me had made stickers with my face on them that said "Worker #3116 Has a Posssseeeeee"—in the style of those Andre the Giant stickers—and Wolf Eyes had seen them in the bathroom at the Taco Restaurant.


Something New Every Day My Eye

I'm not that different from you, or that cousin you like to make out with in secret at family gatherings: I love to learn new things! It's so exciting! Food starts tasting better, even the air around you feels softer, colors are all vivid and vibrant like a rainbow in your eyes! Worlds can open up to you that you never even knew existed!



Hair Day

Clown Coffee: Your hair turned out pretty good today, with just a few obvious problems.
Worker #3116: Well, okay, I didn--
Clown Coffee: I got my hair cut yesterday, and it looks great!

I've Got One Word For You: Cholera

Two people across the cubicle wall are talking about Oregon Trail, but instead of feeling happy and like I'm experiencing a moment of cultural synchronicity with these assholes, I'm having the reaction I have when I'm at some party and everyone there sucks and my favorite song comes on the stereo and people are like "I love this song sooooo much, don't you just love this song? Come on, let's DANCE!" and then they're all like, "Check it out! The Cabbage Patch! Ha ha! Remember the Cabbage Patch? Ironic dances from Junior High RULE!"

You can't talk about Oregon Trail until you've LIVED Oregon Trail, cunts!

The Evolution of Timmonem. Get It, Spunk'd? Get It?

Last night I saw the very beginning of this MTV News special (w/ my favorite newscaster, Sway, who can spell his name AND tie his shoes!) called "The Evolution of Eminem". At the very beginning of the special they talked about how Eminem rose to the heights of hip hop stardom from his humble beginnings doing off-the-cuff rap battles in UNDERGROUND CLUBS in Detroit. They showed clips from the beginning of 8 Mile, which indeed looked like an UNDERGROUND CLUB where a dirty, poorly-lit, No Holds Barred rap battle might take place. Then they went to the real UNDERGROUND CLUB where these rap battles took place, the UNDERGROUND CLUB that the UNDERGROUND CLUB in 8 Mile was based on...and it was The (fucking) Shelter. I was all, like, "Wait, The Shelter? You mean, like, The Shelter Shelter, where I saw Cibo Matto? Oh come on!" Sean Lennon, too, rose from the humble beginnings of performing "Know Your Chicken" at UNDERGROUND CLUBS in Detroit to become the man who dates Milla Jovovich!

Hey, Spunk'd, remember when you used to pick up swarthy drummers at UNDERGROUND CLUBS in Detroit?

For the record, The Shelter is technically underground, beneath another club. I have a sneeking suspicion that while Eminem was facing hardship downstairs, I was watching Blur or Pulp or Pavement or Guided By Voices upstairs.

Hey, SmartStar, remember when Stale Girl With Braids dated Eminem, but then she totally slept with his rap rival in the studio at WJLB and then the next time she was at the Superchunk show she was all like, "I don't care about Marshall anyway. He's a punk. Besides, he gave me shit about wearing my giant backpack to his shows and carrying a lunchbox, and I'm all like, Marshall! It's got my stuff in it!" And then she was all like, "Check out my backpack!" Remember? Bet she feels sorry now! I bet she's just crying all the time in some UNDERGROUND CLUB in Detroit, stroking her long, beautiful braids!

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Dear Fans

Dear Fans,

I'm just getting back from my honeymoon and it was absolutely breathtaking! This is the happiest I've ever been in my life, although since you don't know me, it's not like you have anything to compare it to. I could be totally miserable and still be the happiest ever, y'know? It's weird, putting things in perspective. Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm in college. Unfortunately, we couldn't take our honeymoon right after the wedding because of the closing on our new house. We are just settling into our new home and it is coming together perfectly. I'm redecorating a lot of things because when we decide to start a family, everything in it needs to be perfecto! I love decorating; it's very therapeutic for me. I believe your house is a reflection of yourself, so I want everything in mine to be trashy and like a poor person's house would be if suddenly a poor person got a lot of money.

My new hobby is experimenting with all different types of art lessons. It's always been a passion of mine, which is why it is my new hobby. Maybe I'll even do my sister's make-up next year for big events like her first abortion! Jamie Lynn is turning into such a beautiful little lady, and I can call her a lady if you, and the visitor, know what I mean. Her new show is coming out soon and I am sooo proud of her. It's called Zoey 101 and it will be on Nickelodeon in January. DON'T MISS IT! I LOVE NICKELODEON!

I haven't really thought a lot about work lately, or what I jokingly refer to as work. What better time for a greatest hits album to come out, before I ruin my career with a string of flat, poorly-selling records that display my true lack of talent? I can actually enjoy & reflect on my success at this point in my life. 23 is so old! But wise! I may be disappointing some fans out there, but I don't think I'll do another tour for a couple of years. You'll have to go somewhere else to find an erotic, whimsical hotel where "wondrous dreams are realized, and the darkest of secrets are revealed". My priorities in life have changed since two years ago when I was 21. I am having fun again reading all the magazines that I enjoy (mainly because I am not on them). Big "hey-ya" to Cat Fancy. At this point and time, what I want is not my face on every cover, but someone else's instead, which is a really weird construction to just say that I don't want to be on magazine covers for awhile, but hey, I gotta be me, y'all. I really want to help other people achieve their dreams and possibly even develop new artists, or just develop their dreams, like a big dream diary. I don't even know. I'll ask Kevin what I mean later. Everything is in the very beginning stages and it feels great to just think about different opportunities that I am interested in pursuing, like my new hobby, being supergood at art.

The Holiday's are right around the corner and I can't wait to have my own white, aluminum-framed fake Christmas tree in my very own house. As far as New Year's plans, I really wanted to have a huge party for all our friends and relatives who were unable to be at our wedding, due to the last minute surprise element, but I think we might have to wait until after the house is completely finished. Oooh, and I've already got a New Year's Resolution! Learning how to spell Holiday's correctly!

Well, I've got to go. My dog, Lacy, just got fixed and she's not acting like herself! Man, that dog used to FUCK like CRAZY. I'm going to have Shabby Chic re-cover her bed and maybe that will lift her spirits!

Love, B

PS ~ Regarding last week's letter: I'm not the type of person to put blame on other people unless it's their fault or I don't want it to be my fault, but I do feel that some things which were done for me were not always in my best interests. (Stop reading my personal letters to my fans if you don't like what you're going to hear, J!) Looking back, I feel now that on my 4th album "less is more" should have been the way to go. Other than the production quality on my 4th album, there's probably other things that weren't in my best interest, like forcing me into entertainment at age seven, but it was all pretty cool, really the production on my 4th album--which was just TOO MUCH!--is the big one! As for me quitting the business for good, that is kind of harsh. I have a husband to support, people's! As I said earlier, my priorities have changed and I am going to be focusing on three main areas of my life for the immediate future. Myself, my husband, Kevin and starting a family, which looks like four, but if you go back and read it you'll see I just missed a parenthetical comma. When I really come back, things will be totally different. For one, I will know how to paint in acrylics! Until then, there are some things close to me that you might be interested in seeing. For one, you will be able to get a taste of my fine hubby on a few covers (he tastes kind of like...like sweat mixed with cigarettes and Flamin' Hot Cheeto's powder); Jamie Lynn has her show coming out and of course, the tabloid's weekly analysis of my "letter of truth". Hopefully, they won't be trying to decipher that one for much longer! It was written in a code I like to call Bringlish! I can't wait to read what they say this week. He He! Well, now I've really got to go!

Love ya,


Message to I.T.

Dear I.T. (or should I say "lover" [*wink wink*]),

A google image search for "hard at work" turns up lots of HILARIOUS pictures of people sleeping on the job, like this one:

Get it?

But what a google image search for "hard at work" should be turning up is lots of pictures like this one:

Please fix.
Worker #3116

Curing Diseases Through Laughing at People Who Have Them

"WE HEAR . . .

THAT Sen. Hillary Clinton played a critical role behind the scenes to orchestrate Sen. Chuck Schumer's appointment to powerful committees, which persuaded him to stay put and not run for governor: "It's easier for her to run for president with Eliot Spitzer as governor. This keeps Schumer where he is" . . . THAT Audrey Quock — the gorgeous model who inspired Jamison Ernest to wear a T-shirt declaring "My Ex-Girlfriend is a C- - -!" — has inspired her current boyfriend, SVM Models booker Richard Wheeler, to design a shirt saying, "Don't Feed the Models" . . . THAT a tribute to Michael J. Fox called "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Cure Parkinsons" last Saturday at the Waldorf raised $5 million with the help of Robin Williams, Katie Couric and James Taylor."
(New York Post)

At first, there is nothing spectacular about this hodgepodge of celebrity gossip, but I like it for two reasons:

1. The second story is a continuation of a celebrity gossip item from last week about this feud between Audrey Quock (whoever the fuck that is) and her ex-boyfriend Jamison Ernest (whoever the fuck that is) over who gets one of the more than one apartments that they own together, and a big part of that piece was about this "My Ex-Girlfriend Is a Cunt" tee-shirt that Ernest "designed". What I like about this story, now, is that apparently Audrey Quock has started a tee-shirt war, in which her current and ex-boyfriends "draw inspiration" from their experiences with her, and try to become the toast of the town through awesome tee-shirt designs that are so crazy, like, like the kind of crazy you see at maybe Urban Outfitters or like those CRAZY Abercrombie and Fitch tee-shirts about Pennsylvania!

2. "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Cure Parkinsons"? Is it possible to have milk come out of your nose and crap your pants at the same time? It is, Mr. Fox, it is indeed. Don't shake your head at me!

The Retard Dress Code and G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G Unit

Last night at the gym there was a retarded guy walking around on the indoor track. This is not a snide remark about someone wearing short shorts and lace-frilled ankle socks. This is a real, dyed-in-the-wool retard, with the ill-fitting pants, and the floppy dinosaur arms, who kept crying out "wooahhhhhooooooooooooo" every couple of minutes. Obviously, I loved this guy, because he was having a better time walking around an indoor track for half an hour than I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE. But it did get me to thinking: why do retards always wear such weirdly ill-fitting clothes. I mean, I don't know that I've ever seen anyone other than a retard wearing jeans that were simultaneously too tight and too loose, pulled chest high, with an elastic waistband and elastic ankle cuffs. And this is always accompanied by some shapeless rugby shirt that is twisted halfway around his shoulder. Is it because the people who help dress retards want to make sure everyone can tell from a distance? So that they don't get lost in a crowd? Do any of you retards know the answer to my question?

Meanwhile, in rapland, I am once again fascinated by the costs of keeping it real. As I'm sure you have heard, at Monday night's taping of the Vibe Awards, an unknown man approached Dr. Dre as he was waiting to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award, and, out of nowhere, took a suckerpunch at the good doctor. Instantly, a riot broke out, with mobs of people (including 50 Cents and his G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G Unit posse) throwing punches and chairs at the man, who was being shielded by a struggling security crew. The man was eventually ushered backstage where he was stabbed by an unknown assailant. Twenty minutes later, the Vibe Awards continued. Now, the LAPD has issued a warrant for Young Buck's arrest in the stabbing. This obviously leads one to try and enter the mind of Young Buck, who has had a couple of hits this year (most notably, "Shorty Wanna Ride" with Lil' John, and "I'm a Soldier" with 50 Cents) off his debut album Straight Outta Cashville, and whose status as a member of G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G Unit leads one to believe that his star is most definitely ascendant, and take a moment to imagine this thought: Yes, I have a burgeoning rap career, but someone tried to hit Dr. Dre. I will go to prison now. Young Buck? More like Young Fucking Idiot! Am I right am I right am I right or am I right?

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

A Review of the New Elliott Smith Album, Which I Haven't Heard

"Each searing track on From a Basement on the Hill wields a sharp-edged knife of raw emotion, stabbing deep into the listener's gut again and again, until he is dead."

Get it?
Get it?

Celebrities Are Like You And Me, But Different, And Rich, And Famous, And Fucking Retarded

I have only recently started reading the sfgate.com celebrity gossip column, but it always has some really funny rumor, like today's:


W-w-wha? What, did BBT get beaten with a Louis XIV bed-warmer when he was little? Je ne get it pas.

Some People Just Love To Read Themselves Talk

Worker #3116: What is that? Chicken Parmesan?
Coworker #3116: No. It's just a chicken dish.
Worker #3116: Do you ever make chicken Parmesan?
Coworker #3116: No.
Worker #3116: Do you ever make eggplant Parmesan?
Coworker #3116: N--
Worker #3116: I do! I make an amazing eggplant Parmesan.
Coworker #3116: Well, maybe you should bring it in one day.
Worker #3116: No.
Coworker #3116: Maybe you could make it and have us over for a dinner party.
Worker #3116: I need a dining room table.
Coworker #3116: No you don't, we could just sit around.
Worker #3116: I sit around every night! Why would I want to do that? You're just trying to get invited over so you can watch my T.V.
Coworker #3117: What's going on?
Worker #3116: He wants me to make him dinner while he watches my T.V.
Coworker #3116: Why don't you have a dinner table?
Worker #3116: I have a table, but it only comfortably seats two.
Coworker #3116: And that doesn't count as a dinner table?
Worker #3116: Of course not. It only seats two. It's like a breakfast nook table. You're an idiot.
Coworker #3117: Mabye you could have an "everyone brings their own T.V. tray" dinner party.
Worker #3116: Are you kidding? You're an idiot, too. I only have cultured people over.
Coworker #3116: Are you saying we're not cultured?
Worker #3116: ...
Coworker #3117: Oh, and Clown Coffee is cultured?
Worker #3116: Yes.
Coworker #3116: Well, I don't have a T.V. tray anyhow.
Coworker #3117: Me neither.
Coworker #3118: I have one. My Grandma gave it to me.
Worker #3116: See. You're trash.
Coworker #3118: But I also have two dining room tables.
Worker #3116: Is one of them in the front yard?

For Less Than The Cost Of A Cup Of Coffee A Day

amazon.com Wants To Hurt You

All week (since yesterday) I've been listening to a lot of Dinosaur Jr. Where You Been, so I'm in a very 1993 mood. What does this mean? It means that I'm totally excited about megabass, SuperNintendo has the best games around, and my car is the latest model fresh off the lot and is totally awesome.

amazon.com has a new movie up today, and it deals with my second favorite movie theme, "ripping off Wong Kar-Wai." I highly recommend watching this movie on amazon if you never went to film school, because it is like a crash course in every film class I ever had. Take a bad idea, no, really bad, and stretch it out into a five minute short, and mimic the style of your favorite director or just the last movie you saw, and then make me watch it. Then yell FUCK YOU at me a bunch of times and pee in my mouth to get rid of the taste of your movie.

Let me give you a real life example: in F/V 400, each member of the class was instructed on the first day to come up with a short treatment for a ten minute synch-sound film (that just means it can have talking, wild-sound would basically be a silent film with overdubbed music or monologues or something, but you don't record the sound at the time that you record the image track) and then everyone in the class would read everyone else's treatment and people would form four or five groups based on their favorite treatments (each group would then delegate its responsibilities so that each group would be made up of a director, cinematographer, producer, etc for the whole semester). The first treatment I read described what could only be re-described as the worst afterschool special ever imagined. This guy is at a party, having a WILD time, with the sound of a HEARTBEAT in the background, and the next thing you know he wakes up in a white room. The only thing in the room is a desk and a chair (both white) and a blank book (white) and a quill and ink pot (red ink! like blood!) With nothing else to do, the man sits down and begins to write out the story of his life, which we see in a series of flashbacks. He remembers the good times: birthday party. Then he remembers the bad times: (these are for real) the time he got his girlfriend pregnant, and the time he killed his best friend in a drunk-driving accident. At the very end, he remembers this girl he saw at an airport that he never spoke to, but just the smiles that they exchanged in passing was a memory to last a lifetime. Then it turns out he overdosed on drugs at the party and is dead and he goes to heaven.

NOW, if you think that is bad, let me really drive home the point that only talentless fuckwads take any kind of art classes, but especially film. First of all, the treatment only got better when the kid talked about how this was a really important idea for him, WHICH HE HAD BEEN WORKING ON FOR A YEAR, and that he was GREATLY INDEBTED TO JACOB'S LADDER FOR INSPIRATION. This idea should have taken him five and a half minutes, and he shouldn't have thanked the creators of Jacob's Ladder but rather apologized to them. Fine. Okay. You're still with me? THIS WAS ONE OF THE TREATMENTS THAT GOT PICKED AS BEING IN THE TOP FOUR OF THE CLASS. Also, one day in class, when we had all split into our groups for "group meetings," I overheard this same fucking asshole say "It's movies like Magnolia that just really give me hope that film still has a future." Too bad that kid is dead now. One day his brain just stopped working because, seriously, what was the point?


Monday, November 15, 2004

Worker #3116 Is a Total Hottttieeeeeee!

You should see her jeans. They totally have "Mrs. #3116" and "I *heart* Worker #3116" written all over them in pen, and she gave herself a "Worker #3116 Forever" scar on her forearm with an eraser during Earth Science. Her parents are totally going to be out of town this weekend, so wish me luck.


They say "a watched pot never boils" but it's not true.

Try it if you don't believe me.

Also, you have to MAKE money to make money, people.

Ring Ring

I'm getting a new mobile phone this week that can download and play mp3 ringtones, but now I'm faced with a really tough dilemma:

Postal Service "Such Great Heights" ringtone, or The Shins "So Says I" ringtone?!!


I Am A Sexual Billionaire

Apparently, the people behind Wet, Hot, American Summer share a fan-base with Hoobastank. It's like, if I wanted to spend my time standing in a hot room with a bunch of shitheads who repeat words they've just heard to each other and then punch each other in the arm, I could have gone to the Cereberal Palsy Walkathon. Friday night was almost a total disaster, except for the end when Stevil and I stood outside and made fun of all of the retards (seriously). I'm hoping that maybe Worker #3116 will help me make my new button design, which says:

"Do you think your mom could give me a ride when she comes to pick you up?"

While we were laughing harder than we had all night because WE ARE FUNNIER THAN STELLA, this fat black man came up to us and started raving in his cuckoo language. "Can you believe they wanted to charge me six dollars to get in there?" he asked, indicating a nearby awesome dance club. "I could get a million dollars worth of pussy for that money." I've done the math, and if his calculations are correct, every one of his "man" dollars are worth 166666.666 of your "pussy" dollars. I've earned some capital during this weekend, and I intend to use it.

Anyhow, whatever. Remember when I started dj'ing on Saturday and the whole fucking party fell apart? Remember that? Mix Master #3116 TORE IT UP! And YES, a three second loop of Color Me Baddd playing endlessly with no way to stop it is the BEST PARTY EVER.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Lover #3116

Worker #3116 is watching, to see what you will do
Worker #3116 is looking at you, oh
Worker #3116 is wondering, will you come out tonight
Worker #3116 is trying to get it right, get it right
Worker #3116 is working for the weekend
Worker #3116 wants a little romance
Worker #3116 is goin' off the deep end
Worker #3116 needs a second chance, oh
You want a piece of Worker #3116's heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
Worker #3116 is looking to see if it was you
Worker #3116 wants you to come through
Worker #3116 is hoping it'll all work out
Worker #3116 is waiting they're holding out
Worker #3116 is working for the weekend
Worker #3116 wants a little romance
Worker #3116 is goin' off the deep end
Worker #3116 needs a second chance, oh
You want a piece of Worker #3116's heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
(quick break)
You want a piece of Worker #3116's heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go
You want a piece of Worker #3116's heart
You better start from start
You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go

It's the Monos, Babies!

I think I've got the monos, babies. Three times this week I've overslept by an hour. Oh no! The monos! This morning, while I was oversleeping, I had a dream about Mec, and he was wandering around the apartment, and when I picked him up he turned into a coffee mug, and so I poured some coffee into him and set him on a table and was petting the side of this steaming hot mug of coffee, and then Mec poked his head out and started to walk away and I was like, "Mec, no! You've got coffee in you, you're going to spill it everywhere." When the fuck did I turn into some shitty, acid-flashback-having hippy?

Clown Coffee was just in my cube and we spent about fifteen minutes talking about how we didn't like fat people. But we both agreed that if fat people would just lose some weight, we'd like them fine. So don't worry, fatties. You can still be friends with me and Clown Coffee when you become physically attractive.

If you're going into town, could you pick me up some lube. I need it. For my pussy.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

Oh My God

You Guys, Check This Out, You're Going To Pee!

I don't know if you guys have ever heard of this comic strip called Garfield, but I just discovered it, and it is SOOOOOOOO FUNNY! Here are just a few of my favorites, but I think you guys are really going to love this cat. He's got a lot of fun ideas. If you tell your friends about him, maybe these funny comics will get popular enough with THE PEOPLE so that the BIG WIGS IN PUBLISHING will finally collect them in a MAMMOTH TREASURY. That would be the greatness! (NOTE: The guy in some of the last ones is his owner! Ha ha! And the dog is a dog in the comic!)

Do you love it?
Isn't it perfect?
Ha Ha, I'm laughing myself all the way to death.

I'm Creative, Creative At Hurting

A woman in the cubicle across the wall just laughed and said, "I think we need some random acts of art around here, periodically."


Girls Love Me So Much When They Get Lonely

Last week, I was at the gym, and I saw this girl from my high school who had broken her foot and we were talking and she was like, "I have to tell you something, but I'll tell you later, because it's weird to shout it across the weight room," and then later she was like, "I was at my mom's house and I was going through all this stuff and I found this letter you wrote me on some trip to France or something, and you were fifteen, and it made me cry." I was like, "Why did it make you cry?" and she was like, "Because in reading it you seemed more mature than I even thought guys were capable of being, but you were only fifteen when you wrote it, and it made me sad to think that I was probably mean to you in high school or dismissive of you." I didn't really know how to react, so I just laughed and then in a very subtle way tried to explain to her that I did not remember her ever being mean to me, but was sure even if she had been that it did not affect me because I did not care. Ha ha ha. It is funny when people try to talk sincerely to you, and you're like, "Hold on, let me just finish this rep."



My dreamers last night had many parts to them, all of them super bizarre. There was the part of the dream where I confronted my father and grabbed him by his shirt and screamed in his face and he started crying, but that's not that funny. Then there was the part where I had my anxiety dream about airplanes except this time it involved trains. Basically, there was going to be a party this Saturday in, like, Pennsylvania or something, and I wanted to go to it, so I bought a train ticket. Then I remembered that if I took the train on Friday I would miss the Stella show. So I was like, FUCK, I just wasted all this money on this train ticket. Oh well, I'll just go see Stella and then I'll drive to Pennsylvania for this party. The next thing you know, I'm in Pennsylvania playing basketball in this backyard and I realize that it's still Friday, so I'm definitely going to miss the Stella show because there's not time to drive back, so I'm also pissed because I might as well just have used the train ticket if this was going to happen. But being all super pissed off is really messing up my game, so I stop playing basketball to try and figure things out. I've also just realized now that I'm playing basketball that none of my real friends are going to show up, mainly because it's in Pennsylvania, but also because they don't like Bam Margera and all of his cronies. Oh, and by the way, the person whose house I'm playing basketball at is Bam Margera, who happens to be the brother of a friend of mine in this dream, and also Ozzy Osbourne is there, except that he's my age, and he's a midget. At one point I was like, "Jesus, I mean, that is just super short, he is soooooo short." So we're up in Bam's room and everyone is teasing Ozzy because he keeps pulling out these old clothes he used to wear and everyone is telling him that they are ugly and that he should burn them. Then Bam is like, "Are you going to visit me this summer?" Which is a weird question, because it is summer (in the dream), and I'm already visiting him. But I say, "No, probably not," and think about explaining the whole train thing to him, but then he's like, "Well, if you do, bring a bag of lingerie because there's lots of toys and porno in my room that will have you turned-on all the time," and I"m thinking What is a bag of lingerie?, and Why is Bam Margera hitting on me? I leave this room to go looking for my friend (Bam's sister) in the house, and I end up in this wing of the house that is like an office, with cubicles, and she's in there working. She takes me into the backyard which is in the middle of hosting, like, a Renaissance Festival of some sort, and the Margera house is gigantic from all the times that Bam has blown it up and rebuilt it, and there's like, this giant tobaggon/snowboarding track and all these ramps. So my friend is like, "Let's get out of here," because we're at a Renaissance Festival and she wants to just talk. So we walk into this weird forest and then we're by this crystal lake, I shit you not, it's all very Neverending Story meets Mary Timony, and my friend is explaining all these games she used to play with Bam when he was little that involved THE IMAGINATION, and how she knows that the only reason Bam is super famous now is because she gave him all his ideas. At the very end of the dream, when I kept hitting the snooze button when I should have been getting up, I kept thinking "Great, now I have mono, thanks a lot," and I was like, "I better look up the symptoms of mono," and so I found a pen and kept writing webmd.com on any piece of paper or shopping bag I could find, and even in my dream I was like, "Stop writing that," but I couldn't.


Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Stop Me If You Think That You've Seen This Nerd Before

You can now see the new Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sucks teaser trailer on the internets. This reminds me of when Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Crappiest Movie Ever was going to come out and I was riding the L train in Chicago and this guy sitting near me had his laptop computer out and had downloaded the teaser trailer and was watching it over and over again. He watched it at least four times before I got off the train.

Grown-up nerds are just so weird. It's like, okay, getting made fun of in school wasn't really your fault, kids are so cruel, blah blah blah. But at 35 years old, dude, DUDE! Aren't you tired of being lonely? Maybe the reason people can't just accept you and love you for who you are is because who you are is no good.

I Long For The Days When All I Wanted Was a Walkman With MEGABASS

I've been trying really hard for the past week to extricate myself from the news cycle. I do my best to avoid reading the paper (although I still scan headlines), and I've stopped listening to NPR, which you must understand is hard for me. I had previously decided that I should keep away from all things 'current event' for approximately two months. It's not really been going that well, I feel kind of anxious and bored all the time, because I don't know how to fill the vacuum where the news cycle used to be. One can only jerk off so many times a day, and there is rarely anything good on TV.

Even celebrity gossip has been pretty flat lately.

When I do sneak a peek at what's happening in the world, it is generally frustrating, like this short AP piece on salon.com this morning about four states that make women sign a form before they get an abortion stating that they have been informed of the link between abortion and increased likelihood of breast cancer, a link that does not exist. There are currently 14 states considering similar legislation. Arafat is (basically) dead. Ashcroft is gone, which I would like to think is a good thing, but lord knows they will dig up someone even worse. There are plenty of rocks to look under in this stupid fucking country. France is working with the U.N. to pull people out of a bloody uprising in the Ivory Coast. The U.S. now controls 70% of Fallujah. What is that? 70%? I control 70% of Fallujah. That's retarded. See? It's not working!

Worst of all, I haven't even gotten to see any of the new Paris Hilton pornos that are circulating the internets. Boo hoo for me. Boo hoo, indeed.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Give the Gift of Reading

Sorry, Nerdo

Whoever posts something about National Make Out Day and Night coming up this Friday in their ONLINE DIARY will be single for the next 4 years.

Except me.

I'm doing it all the time, with a bunch of people that you don't know. From Canada.

Last Weekend I Went to NEW YORK CITY USA #1

Last weekend, in NEW YORK CITY, I woke up at Ti-1000's house and had one of those dream remnants where you're awake but something from your dream remains very real in your dome. My first thought Saturday morning was, "Wait, Anne Coulter is coming to speak at my house, and none of my friends think that is weird?!"

Also, McCullen, you will be very happy to know that "Mind Sex" is totally in in NEW YORK CITY.

I'm Lovin' It!

I'm not really sure why, but amazon.com has this movie on its webpage that you can watch and it has Minnie Driver in it and it doesn't seem to have anything to do with buying books or movies or loofas or anything, but it addresses one of my favorite movie themes: ugly people turning beautiful for no reason other than that they are nice. Basically, much like Shallow Hal, this short movie has a really fat lady working with a bunch of bitchy pretty ladies and she's really sad because she tries so hard to be nice but everyone is mean to her, and then one day she gets a Glamour Shot that is supposed to "reveal her true inner beauty" and the next day she wakes up super hot and becomes very successful. If you remember Shallow Hal, said Hal only likes to date hot chicks, and then one day Tony Robbins puts a spell on him that makes him see people's inner beauty and he ends up falling in love with a fat chick because she's so pretty on the inside. In reality, of course, he falls in love with a hot chick, not a fat chick, because he doesn't know she's fat and he probably wouldn't have fallen in love with her unless she was Gwyneth Paltrow with the personality of a meek but kind fat chick. In the end, when it is revealed that she is fat, it's just too late for Hal, he's already in love with her, so he's sort of like "I guess I don't care that you're super fat, I love you for who you are, just like I loved all those kids in the Burn Unit that I didn't realize were burned because the spell made me see them as the most beautiful little normal kids ever and I kind of wondered why they were in the hospital because they were just so charming and cute, but they were burned, I realized later, and that made me a little sad."

The reason that I like this theme is that while I understand its intention, i.e. showing people that it's your character that counts, not the social constructs of physical beauty, they always end up getting it totally backwards. Like, the fat chick on amazon.com isn't really happy until she turns into a physically beautiful chick, and she only ends up being successful when she's super hot, so it doesn't really matter what her character was like back when she was fat because she still ended up miserable and in a shitty subservient job. Likewise all the stuff I just said about Shallow Hal, which really missed its moral objective by the kind of berth that makes The Nutty Professor so ha-ha-hilarious. It's also offensive to me that it is assumed that fat people or burn victims always have hearts of gold. Seriously. Fat people and burn victims deserve to be represented by the same panoply of emotional corruption and dessicated soullessness that the rest of us know to be our true selves.

Don't be so sad, though, fat chicks. Just because no one will truly love you for who you are unless they have been put under a spell by Tony Robbins in an elevator and think that the black you feel on the inside is the black you wear on the outside, there is always delicious chocolate!

Monday, November 08, 2004

No More of This, World

Dear All of the Filmmakers of America,


Angry #3116

Dave Navarro Is An Ugly, Ugly, Ugly, Ugly, Mildly Retarded Man

I am looking at this website (FOR MY WORK) right now, and what I want to know is just what kind of faggy, My Little Pony, gay princess slut whore paradise is she trying to appeal to?

Style Guide #3116

Hot is totally IN this fall.


Last night, New York City was kind enough to remind me why I moved away from there in the first place, when I nearly shit my pants. Let me say this: I have lived in many cities, including Europe, and I have never ever felt like I was going to shit my pants except in New York City, where it happens all the time. Man, that place never sleeps!

I'm going to just say some other things about New York City, and then I think I'm going to stop talking about it, but man, what a great weekend. I spent so much money! Ha ha! That's so fun! I would like in particular to thank Doothy for making Tortilla Soup, because I'd never had Tortilla Soup before but I knew from seeing the preview for Tortilla Soup that it unleashes all that is erotic and sensual in the human soul, and also brings families together, and that's what happened. None of the other people who need thanking or MORE RECOGNITION, WORLD have diaries, because they are TOO BUSY LEADING MAJOR ACTION LIFESTYLES, so I won't even speak of them. Also, last night in Dumbo, before dinner, I beat a dyke at pool.

Basically, this is a post that says that Worker #3116 is back.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

America Remains United In Mocking The Celebrated

Is irony dead?

Will we ever laugh again?

Maybe this headline from sfgate.com will help to answer that questions:

Ailing funnyman Richard Pryor constantly moves houses to escape cruel ghosts that mock his deteriorating health.



Worker #3116 As Apologetic Le Worker #3116

I wrote a letter to France yesterday, basically saying that me and a bunch of other people tried really hard to prove to the world that America was still a good-hearted country and that we reject a policy of "terror" but that we lost, and so everybody lost, and I'm totally sorry, but things are about to get way worse. Now France is all writing me back saying they are going to print the letter in their newspaper, and I'm like, well, okay, but it's not even that good, why don't you just republish my diary entry about dick jokes.

Hear me now!

Every Day Is Like Tuesday

This first part is just for the gay, so you should only read it if you're on my friends list.

Gay: I'm starting to think that God really does hate you, just like all the Christians say. Because, seriously, what has he done for you lately? Not to get too discouraged, because God used to hate black people and look how great they're doing now, basking in His love! And God also hated the Jew for his horns and his control of the medias, and now He only dislikes the Jew!

Anyhows, tomorrow is the one year anniversary of my diary! I have posted over one million boring entries! That's 2,740 boring posts a day! But seriously, a lot has happened in the past year. I got my hair cut six times, I lived in four different houses, I went to see THE LORD OF THE RINGS, and one time I cried on the bathroom floor. 200LJ was the BEST YEAR OF THE YEAR!

I'm writing all of this now because I will not have time to update tomorrow as me and my diary are going to be celebrating her birthday in New York City America A-Okay! Freedom is on the march, and so is my diary! Four more years! Four more years!


Wednesday, November 03, 2004

An Open Letter To I'm Scared Of Terror

Dear Terrorists,

Terrorists: 2
USA: 0

Multiple Right To Life

What are you going to spend your permanent tax-cut on?

a) Illegal abortion
b) All of the above



Clown Coffee Says:

"You won't let them put me and [Fellow Gay Co-Worker] in the concentration camp, will you?"

The Tragic Events of 11/2

Even dick jokes don't sound as good.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

No More!

If Bush wins re-election, I'm writing my diary in Canadian.


For months, we've been hearing all kinds of arguments about this election, like how George W. Bush is bad on environmental policy, how his pandering push for a constitutional amendment barring gays would represent a return to federally-enforced discrimination, or the obviously compelling statement that the Iraq war was pursued in a hasty, slap-dash fashion that has resulted in the tragic loss of both American and Iraqi life. But what people seem to constantly forget, and the point that I cannot stress enough today while the polls are still open and the future of our country can be guided by the forceful hand of democracy: what about terrorism? Isn't it super scary?! If John Kerry is elected it is an absolute certainty that the terrorists will win, and we will all die really bad. I don't know about you, but I am scared of terrorism so much. Boo hoo. Boo hoo hoo.



I Gave Blood

At my polling place this morning they ran out of "I Voted" stickers so they started giving out "I Gave Blood" stickers. I guess just because grown-ups love to wear stickers that show they did something? It's like the gold star of the adult world. First, though, when I was waiting for the guy to find my little name tag and put it on his check sheet along with my ballot number, I saw the tag right away in the middle of the page he was opened to, but it took him three minutes of flipping back to the beginning of the book and starting over and I wanted to just point out my name to him but then I thought that maybe he would think I was a VOTER FRAUD and so I just waited patiently. This is, of course, ridiculous for two reasons:

1. I had both my driver's license and my voter registration card in my wallet.
2. I am not black.

Anyhow, voting always makes me nervous because as soon as I am done I think that I have fucked up and voted for all the wrong things. In 2002, during the GREAT REPUBLICAN DOMINATION STATION I actually was one of those tools who over-voted, and that got me really bugged, but I was living in Illinois at the time and that's a state planted quite firmly in the DEMOCRATIC MACHINE POLITIK. Even the Republicans they do nominate are just CRAZY SEX ADDICTS.

Am I right that in Ohio any voter who suspects the qualifications of another voter may question him/her? If this is true, it is awesome. I AM MAKING A CITIZEN'S ARREST, ONLY FOR VOTING! PRESENT YOUR DOCUMENTATION, COMRADE BLACKMAN!

Monday, November 01, 2004

Pizza Pizza President

I've been hearing a lot of nightmare scenarios for tomorrow's election, like what if Colorado splits its electoral votes and Bush takes Wisconsin but Kerry gets New Mexico and the electoral college stands at 269 for each candidate and the congress gets to legislatively choose who wins and so George Bush gets "chosen" for the office.

But what no one is discussing is the wet dream scenario for tomorrow's election, which will only be possible if we, the internet dream-diary community, get our "dream notes" into as many eyes as possible, and mobilize the INTERNET YOUTH ARMY. Were we all to ban together, for the very first time in history, a write-in candidate for President could win, and that write-in candidate could be pizza. Pizza would make an amazing President, just like it makes an amazing meal. So get to the polls tomorrow, and vote Pizza. I promise that, once elected, pizza will receive a 65 percent approval rating, or higher.

Better Than a Glory Hole

They say that God works in mysterious ways, and when it comes to sweatpants that is totally true. Not! Actually, God works in annoying ways when it comes to sweatpants, because if he worked in mysterious ways, the kelly green sweatpants that made this Halloween the fucking outrageous success that it was would have just been sitting in my room one morning two months ago. Instead, they were hanging on a rack in the women's section of a thrift store on Friday at 5:30 p.m. Thanks, God, for all the sadness.

Like I said, this Halloween was a blow-out. My costume was so amazing that a few people went home to think about what they're doing with their lives. Answer: nothing good.

That's all that I can say. Besides, this entry peaked at "Thanks, God, for all the sadness." After that I didn't really know what to do because it was all obviously down hill from there.