Happy fucking new year


Always fucking looking forward

this time of the year always slows me, winds me down, makes me fucking think hard for some solid seconds. i need that. i need signposts and things to remind me to feel how i should feel. i need that glance inward every now and then.

and this year is no different.

in 2010... i became a better person. 2011 will most definitely see me become even better yet.

because i finally started to give a shit.

after 31 fucking years of loathing of shimmying of running away of switching the moment of not being able to let go of banging my head against the wall, i FINALLY started to give a shit!

i did something about it.

i quit smoking. i started running. i made a point to spend time with my family. i ran in races. i met a girl. i changed my diet. i fell in love. i got my heart broken. i let myself cry. i pounded the roads. i got my ass to the gym. i got tough. i took pride in my body, determined to make it stronger. i picked myself up. i stood tall. i started making real connections with people, with my friends. i started to voice my feelings. i embraced my talents. i became disciplined. i kicked some serious road racing ass and i got myself back in the dating world where i'm slowly building quite the directory. so now, i simply can't wait for





Gonna take a day or two...

... to collect my thoughts and tell you what i really think of 2010, the best year i've experienced yet.

and i'll tell you why 2011 is gonna be even better.

but i need to take a few minutes. and.

think about it.

maybe go on a  nice, long... very, very long run.

Dear god

also, dear god let the infidels suffer a long, agonizing death. and kill the gays.

i think the "god" these people reference would be okay with that. after all, he is an asshole. (he let jayson werth make $23 million a fucking year!)

(image via smbc)


Grandmas are special

i only have one grandma left and i make sure to call her, to see her, as often as i can. and it's never enough.

grandmas are special. the memories i cherish of my grandma lois, who left us six years ago, are a testament to that.

it was rare that both my immediate grandmothers would be in the same room, especially after my parents divorced 25 years ago, but i have a picture of both of them sitting on an old 70s era pleather couch, me in my osh koshes between 'em, smiling a big cheesy smile. i think of that when i watch this vid and smile to tears of joy...



Watching this makes me think i'm stoned...

happy friday!

One ornery muthafucka

i've always been known in my family as "the ornery one". i like to stir up shit if i'm bored. not sayin' that's a good thing, but i have been known to do it.

and as jesus day approaches, i'm gettin' bored with all the traditional christmas bullshit.

so, i was thinkin', maybe the best christmas present would be the stuff i've written here. yeah... i'll take all the entries i've written on sky god! and have them published as a book i can give to all my delusionoid relatives!!!!

hey, dummy who believes in unicorns, happy fucking christmas! now read this shit and get over yourself!

i dunno.

think it'd go over well?


I got my peter gabriel back!!!

my friends! i got it! i got my peter gabriel back!

what the fuck is he talking about, you're asking.

well, here's the deal:

for some reason i just happened to be listening to peter gabriel when i realized i was falling in love with the last chica i was seeing. this was a few months ago.

and i just haven't been able to stomach one of my favorite soul singers ever since. i was so fucking pissed at her for making me allergic to peter gabriel!!! seriously, i was beginning to get very pissed the fuck off.

but then, just recently, i was in a bookstore when that very song came on and i smiled and started groovin and a light bulb went on and i got super charged 'cuz i got MY MUTHAFUCKING PETER GABRIEL BACK!


Find your inner tarahumara

to say christopher mcdougall's book born to run had a profound affect on my development as a runner, as a thinker, as a tuned-in secular humanist... well, that's just a fucking understatement.

the book MOVED me. very few books do that.

and i read it at a time in my life when i needed a friend more than anything else in the entire universe.

i know running's not for everybody, but it is for me. it is my drug of choice. it is the one physical act (other than fucking of course) that i think about, all the time, every day, all day long.

and when i watch this tarahumara vid below, i get high. maybe you will, maybe you won't. but i need to post it here for myself, so i can find it easily when i need it most.



Still wanting be a cock!

oh yes... another excuse to share one of my favorite stories of all time, the oft shared "i wanna be a cock!!!" story.

Shed some fucking skin

the sexiness of the main guitar riff on this classic pantera song, coupled with the uncomfortable irony of lead guitarist dimebag darrell's gruesome death, always leaves me reluctantly charged.

the song is badass. no doubt. and to watch darrell's fingers move up and down the fret with the precise accuracy of a groove metal savant always leaves me satisfied.

but goddamn it if i don't get pissed off (EVERY TIME) now that the fucker's dead. with him died a musical genius.

(if you don't know the story of darrell's death, you can read about it here. you can even watch him die. yes, there is video on the interwebs of some fuckface murdering him -- and others -- on stage.)

shed some fucking skin.


A static-x inspired victory

it was just one of those days. i didn't wanna get out of my warm bed on a cold, december morning. but i forced myself to anyway.

i threw on my shoes, kicked out the door, and ran 8 miles as fast as i could, which ended up being about 6:40 per mile pace. but with just 1200 meters to go, i was quickly dying. going that fast for that long is something i'd never done before.

out of water, out of gels, out of gas... i resolved to give up and just walk to the eight mile marker.

then this song sprang on my zune.

i fucking blitzed to the end. in that moment of defeat, i found one last inspiration.


To fix or not to fix

...there's a lot of money to be made (and a lot of mistakes to be fixed) if the chinese would just take me up on my offer to fix their country's engrish epidemic. i would even do it for a modest fee.

but they just don't listen.

they'd rather sell boba tea by likening it to sucking on balls.

and while i've never done the sucking on balls myself, i'm pretty sure it's a lot different then sucking on honeydew-flavored tapioca.

but don't quote me on that. not yet.


God's big stone

(via smbc)


Here's my advice:


To do sex on your ears

um... yeah. i am totally convinced deadmau5 exists for one reason and one reason only:

to make fuck music.

now, one must not always be fucking when listening to the deep, bass-bumpin tunes; just know that, in a perfect world, you would be fucking right at that moment.

'least that's how i see it. his new album (4x4=12) features a whole new slew of 'em, and this one in particular does a good job of translating my words into visuals, thoughts, etc.


Get outta the way

all y'all delusionoids blocking human progression with your bibles, your korans, your talmuds, your fairy tales, your hate, your discrimination, your intolerance, your backwardness, your FUCKING IDIOCY...






we're trying to make real moves here.

in fact, there's a good fucking chance stem cell research will help keep your sorry ass alive longer, so you can spit more lies into the face of fact.

win... win?


More on the void

don't know why it took me so long, but i finally got around to watching the critically acclaimed docudrama touching the void.

every human being needs to watch this fucking movie.


if you have netflix, you can watch it instantly.

for me, this film hits on a subject that i've been delving deeper and deeper into the last few months. it's a tale of endurance, of pain, of suffering, of enlightenment, of finding out who you really fucking are -- inside and out.

those are all characteristics that most people have totally lost touch with. we aren't in tune with our bodies anymore. we're weak. we can't survive without our things, our toys, our technocracy.

having experienced this event through the words of the survivors, i feel a certain privilege... that i have more philosophical and physical fuel to charge my next adventure. and as my appetite for discovering who i really am increases, so too do the tests of my body swell.

7 time western states 100 winner and ultramarathon messiah, scott jurek, once said, "running is a vehicle for self-discovery."

indeed it is.

in fact, any physical challenge or test of endurance or cradling of lady death herself... any of these things will reveal one's true self.

and that's something that is lost on today's masses.

a fucking shame.


More pressure from familial delusionoids

family is supposed to love you. no matter what. unconditionally. right?


unless you're a fucking christian crazyface, like most of my family.

they prefer to judge, to ridicule, to gossip, to pressure, to... threaten...

in fact, what was an otherwise miraculously pleasant birthday party for my 8 year old nephew at a skating rink this past summer became an all-out war for my soul once a couple of my elders cornered me like the inquisition, asking me why i wouldn't take jesus as my lord and savior.

"because it's a fucking scam. a ludicrous, asinine, scam."

okay, i didn't say "fucking", but i should have.

anyway, based on the sheer tone and displeasure in my speech, i walked away from that discussion satisfied and confident that they would never bother me about it again.


now i'm getting jesus cards and sermons burned to cd and bibles and shit sent to my house. all of it... goes in the trash.

why can't they just leave me the fuck alone? why? WHY? WHY!?!?!??!

i don't corner you fucking idiots at family functions or clog up the mail by sending you the works of dawkins, hitchens and harris ad nauseum!!!!

and ya wanna know why i don't? because i respect you and your human right to be left the fuck alone, to do whatever you want, without some outside person imposing his agenda on you, just because he wants to.

get. over. your fucking selves. and just love me for who i am: an angry (yet charismatic and sometimes charming) non-believer who's been around the fucking block and cusses too much.





i miss the comfort in being sad.

never will i forget the day curt cobain died. i was so, bothered. finally, here was a celebrity -- a star, a genius -- someone who got me. someone like me. with similar thoughts, pains, demons.

and boom, like that, he was fucking dead.

i don't think i ever got over that a hundred percent. there are some days when i can't help but wonder what sort of musical brilliance we missed out on because of his selfishness, his inability to fight...

i got demons. i hate myself sometimes. but, more than anything, i refuse to give up. i refuse to lay down.


i will always fucking fight.

Just as -- if not MORE than -- likely to be a reality

the stories, the characters... they're fun. they're adventurous. triumphant.

and too fucking ridiculous to consider actual history.

(via skull swap)


Look at this shit

would you willingly eat this shit? would you ever be excited about putting this fucking garbage in your body? look at it! and we're feeding this to our KIDS!

as a people, we put a lot of value on things that are unnecessary: cars, clothes, y'know... material shit.

as a people, we look up in the sky and make up crazy, unprovable stories about faeries and dragons and talking snakes and sacrifices and bearded old men.

yet we think nothing of putting garbage in our kids' stomachs every day.

folks, we have a problem.

a big, fucking problem.


A blast that keeps getting good

when i get on these musical genre streaks, i might go 7, 8 weeks without listening to anything but trance, anything but jazz, or country or classical or whatever the particular flavor happens to be based on the goings-on in my life. i let my mood effect the music i listen to. i use it, as an ally.

and in doing so, i often forget about certain things i'd once obsessed over.

here's one of those things.

what rap can be when surrounded by quality musical talent.

Constance, you have such a gift!!!

i have mentioned my friend's work before... because she is a simply MAHHHHvelous photographer.

every once in a while she'll shoot one that takes my fucking breath away though... like this one:
uh... yeah.

me likey.

(link to constance k's tumblr, link to her pro site ... <--- you might even find my mug there ;-)


You can't be smart & believe in this stuff. really.

i'm sorry. but the bat-shit-crazy-sky-god-lovin-delusionoids CANNOT have it both ways. you cannot be taken seriously, as someone with some sign of intelligence, and at the same time believe this nutball priest actually talks to demons.

and casts them out.

of fucking people's bodies.


sorry. i know you'd like to. and i know it's p.c. to not call you out on this bullshit. but i'm fucking tired of it. i'm tired of being a slave to your ignorant desire to reject progression, just because you are too lazy to do your fucking homework.

fuck that.


I "saw" the devil once.

there was an old abandoned house on our block. the grass was overgrown, the siding was falling off, and strange lights were reported to be seen from the dust crusted windows.

all the neighbor kids, they said it was haunted, that the devil lived there. they were enthusiastic about it. the older ones mostly... they encouraged us younger ones to believe it. we looked up to them. so of course, we didn't second guess them and what they taught. that would be social suicide.

with that in mind, i approached the house on a dare. i reached the porch and shook... looking back over my shoulder at my friends across the street. far, far away.

turning toward the house, i felt a chill. i pushed the doorbell and a thunderous sound rang out. i jumped! i ran!!! and ran and ran and ran!

"did you see it? did you see the devil????"

"yes, yes, i did see the devil" i replied.

without a second thought to my lie.

i let those crazy fucks -- who didn't know any better themselves -- convince me that a lie could be the truth, if everyone believed in that lie.

fuck that shit.

(via ihmp)


Hear me out

now, lyrically speaking, this might be the dumbest song in the history of music.

but goddamn it if katy perry ain't catchy and cute as fuck! believe me... i have TRIED to get this song outta my head, but it just leaves me feelin' so... so... buoyant!!!

go ahead. see if i'm wrong.

You say to-may-to, i say to-mah-to...

... you say "god's hands", i say "you're a fucking oxygen deprived bass ackwards delusionoid in need of serious psychological evaluation."


While we're on the subject...

... of natalie... well, i saw this girl who looked like her the other night. i was pretty speechless.

my friend recently reminded me of this natalie gem... a gem that still gets me all hot and bothered.


Yes, i will be having three of these please.

click to animate.



Yes, this still happens.

indeed. sometimes i still like to get a little fuckered up and wander the chicago streets with my droid-cam, making helvetica look really fucking hardcore and gritty up close.

it amuses me anyway.



Contemplate this!

this is from the church neighboring one of my favorite chi-town pubs. i see it every time i go there. and every time i see it, i ask myself: do they not see the inherent oxymoron in "contemplative eucharist"?

if we're going to "contemplate"... that means we're going to "think"... and if we're going to "think"... then our only logical conclusion upon thinking is that the idea of a tiny little wafer being the body of jesus fucking christ is absolutely fucking bat shit crazy.


so contemplate that, christians.

contemplate just how ridiculous that is.


Doesn't get old.

i try not to watch it all the way through. but i always do.

What the proverbial angel

i have a friend who is hilarious. she has a blog. it will leave you in stitches. day in. day out.

and i ripped this pic off her site.

because i can. and because it's a bullet-train ticket to boner city.


Labia express

man, i love eating pussy. wow. just thinking about it gets me all bonerfied.

there have been times where i wanted to eat pussy more than cum myself.

not joking.

and i realize my expression might be a bit forward, but, a) i don't care b) when it comes to eating pussy, i can't be shy about how much i enjoy it; it's just not in me and c) i think it's important for women to realize that we men often enjoy it too... that it's not a burden. believe me.

it is not a burden.

also, i will never trust a woman who doesn't love being eaten out. that's just a code i live by.


A long, personal, fucking manifesto

a friend of mine saw a spark in my eye and asked me about it. i explained and he wanted to know more. so i wrote him a letter. a long, important letter. here is that letter, for what it's worth (hint: it's worth a fucking lot):

Dear J,

Now's the time. Challenge yourself. Chuck and I aren't the only people who are passionate about this; and hopefully you'll soon join the fun. To kick start your movement and get you motivated, watch "Food Inc.". It's on Netflix. It's a perfect start. Then if you have time, watch "King Corn". Read any of the Michael Pollan books. Or "Fast Food Nation". You don't have to do them all at once, but gradually, once you start educating yourself on how your body, health and food work, you'll want to know more.

The first thing I did was go through my kitchen and start reading labels. Anything with "high fructose corn syrup" was no longer allowed in my home. Definitely not in my body. This was the most important step. And because of my runner's diet, I cut out all sugary sweets (cookies, donuts, cake, ice cream, candy). Every now and then I'll partake -- as a treat -- but very rarely and only in very small portions. I have found that my now healthy diet palate can't handle too much sweet anything anymore... and staying away from sweets is not difficult for me at all. I simply don't crave them.

But that's me and what works best for me. You'll find your niche. And, as promised last night, here are some of the basics I keep around the house that are not only healthy staples, but taste great too.

- - -

Bread (whole grain only) -- Stay away from anything that's labeled as "enriched", that's code for "bullshit"

Pasta (whole grain only)

Cous Cous (again, whole grain only)

Fresh Veggies (i.e. Broccoli, Cauliflower, Carrots, Mushrooms <--- can be eaten raw (dip in hummus for extra flavor) or stir fried in olive oil, steamed

Fresh Fruit (use fruit to quell sweet tooth; makes an excellent snack)


Olive Oil

Greek Yogurt (high in protein, low in fat; I suggest buying the flavored kinds)

Trader Joe's Pasta Sauces (already made, ready to go, just heat and serve)


Black Beans (i prefer canned; goes well with any carb-based dish or meat)


Fish (fresh or canned... i like canned salmon cuz it tastes great and is so fucking good for you it's not even funny)

Lean Meats (Chicken, Turkey)

Peanut Butter (or almond butter) [The only ingredients in your peanut butter should be "peanuts" by the way]

Jam [read the labels... gotta be careful with these but Trader Joe's has excellent selection]


Fresh Greens

Drink wine (it's really good for you in moderation)

Bagels (whole grain)

Light Cream Cheese


Dried Fruits

Cereals (whole grain; I exclusively eat Kashi products; they're delicious)

Pita Chips

I'm sure I'm missing something, but the above are basic for me. I like to get adventurous at times too.

- - -

Cooking... well, I'm not much of a cook. But, I am learning. And I'm getting better. I
can make pasta and stir fry some veggies in olive oil, season, then add some premade sauce. Add some fresh bread and olive oil, perhaps some cheese and BAM! Awesome fucking meal on the cheap.

Also, remember that you can pretty much stir fry anything in olive oil and it will be delicious.  Some nights I cook, but sometimes I'm a bit lazy and don't want to take the twenty minutes it takes, so I eat salad or a veggie plate with hummus and fruit or a pbj or whatever. Get creative. Explore new things. Get a simple cookbook. Test yourself.
Challenge yourself. Why not? You might be surprised by how well you do!

- - -

When it comes to how you eat, my first-step bit of advice is to START EATING BREAKFAST. Don't skip this meal. Eat something. It will get you off on the right foot every day and keep your clock regular. If you live an active lifestyle (active meaning regularly exercising, working that heart rate), then you might want to consider eating snacks throughout the day.  I eat a tiny snack right before running at around 6:30am, then eat full breakfast after my run around 8am, snack at 10:30 am, lunch at 1pm, snack at 3:30pm, dinner 6:00pm, snack 9:00pm. That's how I eat. That works best for my body. I eat appropriate portions. I don't get tired midday. I sleep great. Libido on full. I feel
good in general because my body is always fueled properly.  Keep in mind, I am running 5 days a week, burning anywhere from 400 to 1900 calories per workout, just running, so I need to eat a lot to keep my body going, to keep it fueled for the activities I put it through. You will find your balance once you find a routine.

The key is finding what works best for you. And like I said before, once you start living like this, you will feel the effects pretty quickly and most likely, won't want to go back. At least, that's how it worked for me.

J, my friend, please... don't ever hesitate to ask me questions about this stuff. Asking questions is what lead
me to feel good again. I'm not a quack. I swear. I am serious about how much simply taking better care of my body and investing time/thought in my health has made me feel, regardless of the world around me. I've taken SRIs, I've seen shrinks, I've seen doctors. You know this. You know how down I've been... but nothing has ever come close to equaling the feeling I get from staying active and eating right. If only everyone in the world would live this way... I swear. It'd be an awesome place to live.

So, that's the manifesto.

I'm your friend. I got your back. Just do it.

and that's the end of my letter.

*note: this life transformation of mine has many people to thank. they all know who they are. and i am forever grateful.


cats van muthafuckin' bags

there are definitely times in my life where i just stop every... fucking... thing i'm doing... put this song on as loud as i fuckin' can, and bounce like a crazy-fuck-rotted-beat-master who's gonna die...



"Theres more said, then in the lines in your forehead
Then could ever try to find print on the inside of that warhead"

Tomato sauce makes everything better

what a VALUE!!!



"you don't have a great personality in your writing. it's... biting. off putting for some."



if it's baby bums and cutesy smiles you want...
...then sit on this and spin.



All hail the bat

if forced to choose a savior between a wimpy, hippie, effeminate smooth talker and a billionaire bad ass with a bat fetish, i think we all know my choice.




More proof prayer is nothin' but a sham

i know it's a fucking sham because i've been praying every night for the last five years for the opportunity to sire an entire army of jan johnston's children...

and here i am.

jan johnston-less.

now that's some motherfuckin' proof.


No miracle, sir. just science and determi-fucking-nation

on tuesday, my inflamed gluteus maximus was pressing against my sciatic nerve, leaving my entire right leg numb. i was sorta freakin' out. so i went to the doc.

*cue the holy roller mock voice*


no. not really. he just did some doctor stuff, treated it, and made it better. he even ok'd me to race if i felt good. and this morning i felt good.

so i gave it a go.

not only did i run 13.1 miles in a personal best time of 1:37:33, but i also discovered a new, fool proof racing strategy for success: keep the cute runner girl who runs 7 minute miles in your sight. at all times.







Oh boy.

don't fucking tempt me. i mean, i'm already thiiiiis close to hiring a private investigator to hunt this woman down and make her my wife.


a buddy of mine is always givin' me shit for pickin' up memes way after they've already run their natural cycle of popularity, that i'm always late to the party.

and by the power of leeeeeeeeeerooooooooooy JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENkins i imagine the fucker's right.

but not this time! this is new!

i think i posted a vid of this creepy muthafuckin' kid before... he just keeps gettin' creepier.


Christ ucker

there once was this special powerful black alien man with a squeaky voice that lived in the purple skylands where there were teepee people who loved him and followed him and gave their lives to him.

he would give them sunlight. and food. and bonerjamz.

and in return they would dress up like teepees with deer imprints on them (for the second to last wednesday of every month) and raise their stalks to the sky singing "habba labba habba rabba hiney ho"...

what? you don't believe me?


(image via skull swap)


The good, the bad & the awesome

the GOOD:

i get to see some of my favorite people in the whole world tomorrow!

the BAD:

my ass won't heal quite as fast as i'd like it to. in fact, it might not even be my ass, but a disc/nerve problem in my lower back. my entire right leg/foot has been numb with pins and needles for the last 48 hours.


despite the broken heart, i can still charm the pants off beautiful women!

happy thanksgiving y'all!


Bright sidin' it

a long time ago i learned (the hard way) to be thankful for all that i have. whether that's a place to sleep at night, some hamiltons in my pocket, or the sound use of all my limbs, all my senses, i feel that it is important to be humble and appreciative, if only for one's own mental health.

i begin every run by saying thanks. not to jesus, not to alah, not to any make-believe sky daddy. i say it to myself. to remind me of the perils i could endure in another body, another world. i proclaim to no one in particular the graciousness i have. that -- at the very least -- i have the ability to RUN.

and nothing brings that passion to light more than dealing with a fucking injury. i mentioned previously my "butt pain" and how it wouldn't keep me out of this coming saturday's half marathon. well, it's not getting any better. and from what i've read it could take 2-4 weeks to heal completely. and i don't have that kind of time.

i also don't have the luxury of being stupid. if i run on it, i could make it worse and endanger much more than just my chances of finishing one, measly race. so, in having to take my own advice and find the fucking bright side to every possible negative, here's what i got:

i can still walk.

if i can't run, i'll volunteer at an aid station and cheer on others.

i still look sexy in my winter tights.


take that murphy you fucking dirty whore troublemaker you!


I thought of a name for my hypothetical band.



Aw fuck, you're gonna hate me for this...

but i got duped too, so try to understand.




dem crazy muthafuckin' brits are at it again!!!!!

now this is what i call a weapon of mass fucking destruction! they can kill people, they can kill boners, they can kill free thought, they can kill sanity...

and much fucking more!


Fuck my ass!

okay, not literally. but close. it'll work if i say: fuck my strained right gluteus maximus!

i'm human. so sometimes i do human things, like getting tunnel vision and thinking the entire world revolves around me.

i know that's not ideal, that the world has other things to worry about than my wants and my so-called needs; so i'm actively trying to curb that shit. but that doesn't mean i can skirt my frustration at will.

my running regimen has stayed tough and steady for the last year or so, and as i prepare to run another half marathon this saturday, disaster struck! in my fucking ass!

blame it on the cold weather, fibers not twitching fast enough, or just fucking murphy's law, but i ended up with a nasty strain in my right glute the other day and so far, the pain has not gone away. in fact, that one little muscular nuisance took me from running 7:15 miles easy to running 10 minute miles like an old man.

so. finally... after trying to run on it anyway (smart move? not likely), with no luck, here i sit.

and rest.

doing nothing.

and it's fucking driving me insane!!!

patience. i believe patience is an integral part of mental toughness. it's the part that is often overlooked, mostly because when it comes to certain subjects -- the ones i hold closest to me -- i just don't have any.

but all in all, i see myself as a patient person. so i'm gonna try to borrow that virtue from other areas of my life, apply it to my sore ass, then hope i can run like a muthafuckin' fiend on saturday.

if not, i'm still hobbling over that finish line, on my own two feet or not.

i'm finishing that fucking race.


What is it with women and vampires?

this is a phenomenon i simply do not get.

most of the women in my life are into vampires. whether it's twilight or dark shadows or true blood, the ladies be lovin' them bloodsuckers.

but why?

are they sexy? are they... attractive? are they... what the fuck are they?

a couple months ago i sat down and watched the season finale of true blood. granted, it was the first (and only) episode i'd ever seen, so i was quite clueless about the plot; but regardless, i can assure you: it didn't appeal to me. at all.

then the other night i met a girl who was so into true blood that she assured me i would enjoy it, if only i started from the beginning.

i assured her i wouldn't.

she assured me i would.

i assured her i wouldn't.

and so on, and so on, etc. yadda yadda yadda.

i dunno. in the end, i think vampires are... well, kinda gay.

i don't mean that as a knock on homosexuals. not at all. i mean it like the kidz mean it. lame.

but for some reason "lame" just doesn't sound right, so i'm gonna stick with:

vampires = gay.


Like i need another reason to fall in love with julia segal

(click to enlarge)

"Company car"

i have a buddy who used to have a band named 'meqqa'.



anyway, this is one of my favorite songs he wrote. i've never plugged his work before, so thought i'd share.



Asians make the craziest christians

they also make the craziest drivers.

and lovers.

and martial artists.

okay, now i'm just stereotyping.

but seriously, i'd put any fucking nutso chinese or korean or japanese christian up against the most hardcore evangelical rapture lovin' delusionoid...



while living in beijing, i was once trapped in a public park and swarmed by a group of undercover self-mutilating christ-fiends whose only harness against shouting their imaginations in full voices to the skies was the fact that "a highly militarized faction of government spies" was constantly watching their every move.

i took on a thick afghan accent and told them (with wily eyes) that i was a muslim.

naturally, they left me alone.

'cuz ain't nothin' crazier than a wily eyed muslim dude on the cusp of bedding 72 virgins.


These people are proof that responsiblity should come with a fucking i.q. test

that's a real sign. by real people. who are really fucking ignorant.

religious folks (who more often than not are also an integral part in the beyond-reason-ultra-conservative-ignorant-fucktard movement) are experts in one thing that should never be overlooked:


these fuckers are experts. i mean, consider the fact that they've been spreading idiocy all over the planet for thousands of years with absolutely no proof backing up their outlandish claims of supernatural sky daddies, talking snakes and parting seas. and they're still doing it. successfully!!!



that's why.

don't believe us and we'll stone you to death. or fuck your children. or rape your wife. or see that you burn in hell, for eternity, with nancy grace reruns playing in the background.



pass it on.

(thanks to AT for the pic)


I have a bad feeling about this...

The worst part about being alone...

...is not havin' that perfect person to share excitement with at four in the morning, or talk to about that argument i got into with my sister, or embrace in that warm moment of complete understanding... of why the fuck i'm even here in the first place.


More found shit

with a keen eye for beauty, i try to snap up pictures of things i randomly find that catch my fancy. i was walkin' to work the other day and saw the sidewalk out front of an empty condo building (less than a block from mayor daley's house in fact) was splattered with this:
i have not color corrected the photo. it was neon fucking green. and i couldn't tell what the hell kind of shit that was. synthetic goo? predator blood? irish bile?

who knows.

looked pretty fucking cool though.