this is.

THIS IS BULLSHIT!

except i'm trying to think of something other than bullshit to say. because bullshit isn't appropriate. please don't tell me to replace 'bullshit' with 'Sparta!'

sandman.

these new headphones are too comfortable. like. the ears are sad when the headphones are gone. and they get overly happy when they're around. catch 22.. if i knew what that meant. so they turned my ears into one of those hyperactive dogs that sits around all day.. until they catch the scent of opening the garage.. and they piss all over the place with joy. my ears are like that now. minus the pissing.

'the sandman never sleeps.'

sometimes.

sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes. sometimes.

beards.

when edward gates calls you a 'born engineer' you grab onto that and don't let it go.. not even to grab onto other notable phrases like.. 'this whistle isn't very clean.' and 'nelson shouldn't be allowed to travel to cuba to see if he can hide a pirates treasure map in fidel castro's beard.' all i have to say to that is.. i bet i could hide a treasure map in there. or perhaps even the treasure. note to cia. hide treasure in osama's beard so people shovel up his head and leave him with a hole minus the treasure for a face. i think i'd be very good at hiding stuff in my beard.. if i had one. it'll be like doraemon's pouch. i'd pull stuff out of it when my dork nerd buddy can't do his homework and requires a homework doing machine that'll end up eating all my chocolate.. then dork nerd will get beat up and learn his lesson. everybody wins. except me. i won't have anymore chocolate.

ffn.

i have to write this report on fast food nation.. i read it like 2 years ago. so i can't remember anything from it. but i feel confident enough in my awesome writing and presenting skills that i'll get full credit.. well.. even if it's a piece of shit.. i'll get full credit. frank says. 'if you're here wednesday and you're breathing.. you'll get full credit.' so i don't know why i'm so worried. i read the book. i just need to talk about how these corporate fuckers screw up. or how these corporate fuckers fuck us.. but having two fuck's in a row sort of ruins the effectiveness of the word. FUCK! see.

shit dumpster

i'm supposed to be writing this report on civil engineering. but i can't get started. or i can.. but everything i write sounds like shit. so i'm tossing all my shit into the shit dumpster. what will be left is a jewel encrusted, golden report on shit i put together in 2 hours. so.. here's the shit.

this is not ice cream. and ice cream probably doesn't go well with whiskey. for some reason part of me thinks that'll be good. cookies are pretty good with it. is that ice cream or whiskey? does it matter? cookies are fucking great! the word 'fuck' should be more common in business. things would be easier. no more long winded terms for owing somebody money.. all you need to say is.. 'are you fucking me? you're fucking me aren't you? you mother fucker! i ain't your mother..' and you break some legs. now that this is out of my system. i just need some magical writing juice which the actor in the lost weekend enjoys. fuck you CE report!

in my sleep.

what the hell does asparagus do to your piss to make it smell the way it does? it smells like.. highly potent piss. um. like jellyfish stings would be all better after you poured this piss on your leg. or arm. or ass. or whatever area you let the jellyfish get you. and the toilet. upon receiving this potent piss would flush as you were urinating.. spraying all sorts of aerial bacteria at you. and you'd be forced to stand there.. because if you moved out of the way.. you'd end up pissing all over the wallpaper. or if you're stupid enough to do something awful. you'll end up pissing all over your dinner because for some reason you thought it would be a good idea to have a meal in the bathroom. retard! that's probably the 3rd worst place to have your dinner.. i'm going to say.. the 2nd is at a breakfast convention. and the 1st is inside a fat lady.. who ate you.

my mind is like a knife. it's very sharp and you keep it in a drawer. or you carry it around for protection. bang bang. you're dead.

i'm going to do economics problems in my sleep now.

do it in your sleep.

my eyes are lemons. and my brain feels good. my ribs feel out of order. they should be rearranged back to the proper. more comfortable. order. my knee is not centered. my stomach is full of aspirin that does nothing to the pain. or for the pain. like. if the pain wants the laundry done.. aspirin won't do it. nor will it slice up pain's gums and watch it bleed all over the floor. aspirin won't do any of that. and economics is such a terrible thing. what the hell kind of retard writes economics questions.. because the stuff i had to do today was really messed up. 'suppose for a year a company purchases 6 computers at a time when the interest rate is 8% for $90 each while the final savings in the 3 years after is $80.' it was just fucked up stuff like that.. but now i can do them in my sleep. i wish i had a sleepwalking problem. i'd get a lot more done. sleepwalk out to the kitchen. take out all the cans of corn for a unbalanced breakfast of 6 cans of corn.. then.. i don't know what i'd do. i'm almost certain i'll just rearrange stuff. if i could rearrange my ribcage that would be good.

california raisins.

'nelson. stop acting like a fucking lunatic.' said the voice in my head. or maybe it's the green faced seasick cricket. who looks like jiminy. but it's not jiminy. because disney would sue my ass. and i'd be assless in the weeks or perhaps months to come while my ass was in court. the rest of me will have to deal with such wild and outlandish ridicule of not being able to sit that i just might stuff a fat rabbit down the backside of my pants.. just to remind myself how soft and comfortable asses are to sit on. dear peta. i don't really mean that. rabbits are probably a very bad choice for an ass replacement. but you guys fucking nuts. 'peta. stop acting like a fucking lunatic.' said the voice in their head..

bring back the california raisins. i'm going to write my congresswoman. dear congresswoman sanchez. i didn't vote for you. in fact.. while the other student in my 8th grade history class was doing a report on you.. i was shitting my pants trying to think of an opening line to my horse eating speech. it was like.. don't fucking eat horses. because that scene from the godfather is not what you want on your dinner plate. it was like.. vote yes on proposition h.. so we don't end up eating horses. the filipino kid in my class made the mistake of thinking no meant no.

i'll say thanks. if you're pouring my drink.

bitter hands.

eating those grapes that fell in the dishwater may or may not be a good idea. and if they happen to be a good idea.. i'm almost certain i won't be asking for my fruits to be dipped in dishwater before i eat them. almost. although i did wash them again. but the outside tastes bitter as hell. i blame bitter handed pickers who in turn passed it on to bitter handed shippers then finally to the bitter handed store owner.. who then sold it to the bitter handed consumer.. that'll explain why i don't have good handwriting.

the drugs don't work.

the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work. the drugs don't work.

it's a large number

i wasn't expecting it to be so large. but it's a large number. it's like 4 million digits or something. what the hell.. i was scrolling through it and i felt like vomiting.

sunday.

i don't want to drink. but i will. and then i'm going to listen to all sorts of songs about sunday. which is... so far.. the best day to write a song about. and no. friday can kiss my ass.

and isn't it great how you can hear the cold again? if you don't know what i mean.. start listening. it's calling. like. 'hey. the sun is only here for the visual effect. i'm going to freeze your ass. and maybe unfreeze it later in the future along with walt disney's brain. or was it hitler's brain?'

tv

hey. good tv should be like a healthy intestine. one right after you take a shit.. so there's no shit left over. but plenty of twists and turns and whatever the hell else your intestine has that i don't know about. toss in a couple things that are pleasing to the eye. or one something that pleases both eyes. and you have perfectly good tv for retards like me to enjoy.

fat people.

if you no longer fit in a chair. then it's probably time you thought about going on a diet. or getting the fat sucked out of you. or the other one where they staple your stomach. either do that. or complain to the chair companies that they're making chairs too small. then people like me will feel extremely comfortable.. or we'll fall down into the ass groove down to china or something. no. this isn't really for the fat people. it's really for the oh my god you just ate that entire cheesecake, i was saving that for the meeting and you ate all of it, not really all of it. you left the strawberries, but you ate the wax paper stuff. and i think you sat on my cat. whiskers? are you ok? he's ok. but my god you're fat. you know. those kind of fat people.