Tag Archives: freeflow

words that describe my current mindset.

huh?
Bleah?
Zoinks!
hammina-hammina-hammina

in that order.

Just slurped down a tasty cherry slushie. I wish takeout made grilled cheese.

I’m sad that nobody wants to play email scrabble with me. 🙁

I’m happy that I’ve been fed. 🙂

I’m surprised that I’ve formed a crush already. Silly Scotto. Gives me something to think about, though. 🙂 or :0

I wonder how Newt’s going to deal with me heading out to the sleep study after work… It’ll get dark and light without me coming home.

I’m flattered that I’ve gotten so many new friends the last week or so… I don’t know if it’s interests or random, but It’s pretty spiff.

Funds…

Military money goes for all kinds of strange things. I always thought they should try to have more fun with it. Like maybe they could give out tricky joke gifts when the men get promoted. The drill sargeant would march out and get everyone lined up. Then he would start screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Men! You are the most highly trained! And deadly! Soldiers in the world! You! Are unmatched in combat efficiency! You can kill a man with your ass in five seconds! Now! You men have proven your worth to your God! And! To your country! Stand easy! And receive your can of pea-nuts!!! Now, men! They sound half full! That is due to settling during shipping! You men are trained to deal with this! Gentlemen! Open! Your! Cans!!!”

Then, when the highly trained deadly soldiers open their (supposed) cans of peanuts, they are surprised to find out that instead of delicous nuts, the cans are bursting with springy snakes!

“You men! Are very funny! You should! Have seen your faces! Ha! Ha! Those were not peanuts! But snakes! They were however! Nutty like peanuts! Ha! Ha!”

If word got out that there were snakes in the peanut cans, they could switch the prank to gum that turns their mouths blue, or cigars that explode. And filming events like this would be a much more effective military recruitment video than a bunch of sailors mopping aircraft carriers.
It may sound stupid, but someone somewhere is pondering it right now. Now they’re scratching their crotch. Now they’re walking across the room. Now they’re turning their head… Oh my god! They see me!

Sarcasm

We don’t listen to warning labels, and I can prove it. On every pack of cigarettes, it TELLS YOU IT’S GOING TO KILL YOU. This isn’t a warning label on a plastic bag that was written by some jerk at the plastic bag factory. The warning on cigarettes comes from the Surgeon General. You can ignore advice from non-surgeons. If your stupid friend tells his girlfriend the key to curing her cold is plenty of rest and giving him head, she’ll remind them, “Hey, you’re not a doctor!” right before she gives him head. Well the Surgeon General is a doctor. In fact, they’re the supreme commander of doctors. If doctors were to start a war against the bowlers or the bird watchers, the Surgeon General would have the biggest hat and stand at the back of the army shouting, “Hold the line, men! Take two of these FISTS and call me in the morning!” Read the pack of cigarettes. If the Surgeon General tells you something might kill you and give your future kids extra toes and eyes, listen to him. Do you need a warning from the Surgeon Jesus before you start taking advice?

The non-smoking commercials are actually funded by the company that makes cigarettes. It’s like they’re taunting us. Are they flash-framing subliminal messages at us? How can half the country smoke when the only thing on my TV is lists of tobacco death statistics. We know more about what cigarette does to the human body than than anyone knows about anything else. Unless you count my knowledge of Wonder Woman’s breasts, and you don’t.

They have to be mocking us. One of the commercials actually says “Tobacco is Wacko (if you’re a teen).” That’s the kind of shit you’d hear from a person in a fucking puppy costume. That’s the kind of campaign that can get non-smokers called fags in their schools. Did the mormons decide to take over on the anti-smoking ads for a week or something? I know they did a great job spreading that crazy religion around the country, but getting cigarettes out of kids mouths is a lot harder than getting people to go to church. Church is seductive; you get everlasting life and those lenghty painful medical procedures are reduced to getting slapped in the head by a man on a stage. Convincing a kid to not smoke is a harder kind of mind control. You remember the mind control used on us that made us all lay down and cover our heads every day at 4:00? Of course you don’t. Because the Russians don’t want you to.

People claimed Joe Camel marketed tobacco to kids. Bullshit. Think of all the forest fires that got started just to piss Smokey the Bear off. Kids hate you. They hate your irrational bitchy asses. Nicotine barely makes you high. You can smoke 50 cigarettes, and still get about as high as you would if you held your breath for half a minute. So they’re not doing it to get high, and the fact that most of us are still sane after the Super Friends and the Banana Splits proves that kids don’t base their lives on what cartoon animals say. Screw Joe Camel. They’re doing it because they know that if their lobbying parents are trying to get rid of something, it must kick ass. Remember video games, sex, alcohol, not being somebodydrugs, and fire hazards? Of course you don’t. Because the Russians don’t want you to.

Cigarettes give you black lungs, shortness of breath, yellow teeth, your clothes smell like something you spilled on the stove, and then you die coughing forty years before your friends. The Surgeon General or a man in a puppy suit might have mentioned all that. But what they didn’t mention was that cigarettes give your hands something to do when you’re in a bar. People who don’t smoke nervously fidget their hands around all night. Biology did what it could; it gave women breasts so man would have something to grab onto instead of fidgeting. This groping helps keep them from taking up smoking. Ladies, please offer your breasts for the sake of his health, and yours! (Second hand smoke is a killer too!)

OK. Here’s a complaint from Scott.

Smoking. and there’s some other stink in the house too… not pot, but some other funk. I don’t know… I don’t mind smokers, but oftentimes the smoke bothers me. Bad smells make me gag quite a bit, which is why I never got into smoking anything for any extended period of time, tobacco or otherwise. Stinky stinky. I did roofing for way too long in South Florida heat. Foul smells like 12 sweaty booze hounds smoking while doing tar on a house’s roof is a powerful stink. Pee-yeeeew.

Maybe some pretend hot dogs would do the trick for supper. I’ve spent enough already on takeout, and I have a fridge full O’ food. hmm. hmm-hmm.

I went to hops the other night, and really would like to go back again, and have another baked potato. very good!

I want to see godzilla 2000… finally, a badly dubbed giant monster movie in theatres again, not some stinky matthew broderick hokum, either.

If you’ve learned anything from TV and movies, it’s that when you’re talking to someone naked and you’re not about to have sex with them, their body parts start creeping into your sentences. If you offer a glass of chocolate milk to a chick with clothes on, no problem. If she’s naked, you start saying things like, “Would you like an ass of chocolate nipple?” or “mmm… this is the breast lemonade I’ve ever vaginaed!”

inevitable slippery, falling not thinking

the needle penetrates his skin easily, pumping him full of multiple cc’s of a foreign, ghastly substance. human blood, now coursing through his veins. highly hallucinogenic. within moments, he feels his comfortable green skin beginning to peel away from the amorphous membrane that holds his brain in its sac of comfort and delight. his suckers begin to pulse as though a human heart were now beating inside of him; perhaps it is psychosomatic, tales of how that strange hydraulic organ pumps this wild hallucinogen throughout their tiny pink nubs. eventually, his suckers can no longer hold him down, and he begins to float freely, only the saliva tethers keeping him safely connected to the surface of the glans-body below.

Please don’t put anything on the doorknob, because it may cause the Trouble.

There, in the darkness, stood my Greatest Fear, wearing a trenchcoat and some kind of cape, and for a moment, I was breathless with horrible anticipation. It ambled forward to the tune of a sultry saxophone played by All My Ambition, and when it spoke, the words were chiseled in crystal, “Don’t look behind you. I swear to God, you better not look behind you.”

This was in my old journal… It reminded me to chill out. :)

Thought. (11 Weeks ago)
This was told to me be CB. It’s pretty insightful, so I figured I’d share it.

Whenever someone makes you feel hurt or angry, it is a gift. It is an opportunity to look in yourself and see *why* you feel that way. Because, in reality, nobody can *make* you feel anything. That person just triggered something inside you (probably from your past). When you feel the anger, it’s an opportunity to look at that trigger and DECIDE how you want to react…instead of letting past issues make the decision for you.

That really made me think, and I’m glad it did. I have no real reason to be angry or upset, and what’s more, I saw it coming for about a month. A week (or less) from now, April will be living somewhere else, and I’ll be able to analyse more clearly and keep myself much happier.

On looking at my old journal, the relationship lasted all of 14 weeks. A quarte year, and there was a lot of fun, especially in the first month living together, and the courtship period. My next endeavor should be better because of what I’ve learned this time around. 🙂

singing precious, overlooking the years, there’s a storm coming, aye.

Hum. I officially started my workout regimen this morning, mainly so I could get up and out of the apartment. Surprising as it was, it wasn’t oppressively warm out and the hour I spent walking was very helpful in ‘clearing the cobwebs’ of early morning waking. I noticed that not many people out and about were friendly, with a couple of pleasnat exceptions. I waved and said “Good Morning” to about 10 passers-by, and I got approximatly 7 no-replies, one person crossing the street to avoid me (I’m honestly not that scary!!) and two folks that smiled/waved, or said “‘Mornin!” I don’t know, but the friendly people made up for the stinky ones, maybe because I dealt with them last. On the return loop of my trip, I picked up some tasty food from my local grocer… I *love* morningstar farms stuff… Vegetarian Hot dogs! (Not like there’s much meat in regular weiners anyhow, but they taste good to me) Very low in fat to boot, got some good granny smith apples, bagels, nummy cornflakes (which I like to eat dry as a snack while watching the tube), and sundry items, not the least of which was a packet of ant-traps. I hate to kill the critters, but unless they pay rent, provide a service or give me love, they’re not welcome in my home for any extended peroiod of time. (Same goes for anything else, come to think of it. Friendship counts as love, though. 🙂 ) Anyway, the apartment is trapped, and I had to find a way to place them so Newton wouldn’t get at the traps and turn them into “Kitty toys full o’ Poison”… very tricky. Newton, by the way has figured out my situation with April and is being extra affectionate with me (either that, or He was just very happy to have me home all day yesterday, and was super-snuggly) by playing all day, and napping on my chest when I went to sleep midday. Newtie rocks… when I roll to the side, he nuzzles up, and when I go back on my back, he climbs onto my chest again. I really love that dang cat.