My Dear, Dear Friends

Well, I have decided, with today's blog, to offer you all a gift. The gift of friendship, because it is the most precious gift that anyone can offer. Giving the gift of friendship is much like giving someone a black eyeliner pencil, or an extra Playstation 2 Controller (if you catch my meaning...and if you do, could you please tell me what my meaning is?)

But this is my treat. I am going to say one nice thing about all of my 20 friends...some of whom I'm so close with you could practically say that I live with them, and some of them who live in freaking Illinois. In fact, I'm pretty sure the state motto of Illinois is "Freaking Illinois." Or is that the motto of Indiana?

Then I thought to myself, how much fun would it be if I just said one nice thing about everyone I'm "MySpace Friends" with? So, to keep things interesting, I'm also going to say one viciously mean thing about them, that will be completely fabricated...but will hopefully entertain. It's all about getting to the next paragraph, iddin' it? Oh, and instead of bullets, each person will get an emoticon...because there are a freaking buttload of them, an emoticons make me giggle.

Erika Erika has the sexiest body that I have ever seen, and is by far the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet. On the down side, I also saw her punch a homeless guy once.

Matt Matt has the most beautifully trimmed facial hair that I have ever seen on a man, and I think he'd look great with a full beard. Unfortunately he has a nasty habit of stealing my car and selling it for drug money.

Molly Molly decorated her apartment elaborately, and I would turn to her first if I were to ever purchase a chandelier. That is, if she could ever stop setting things on fire.

Meaghan Meaghan is all that a first cousin could ask for in another first cousin. But she's been crashing at my place for about 4 months now, and always eats my Nutri-Grain bars without asking first.

Lauren Lauren did me the great service of actually marrying my cousin Danny, which she did with Aplomb. Unfortunately, Aplomb is the name of her Pakistani housekeeper, and the three-way-marriage is reportedly fairly awkward at this point.

Noah Noah is the tallest person I have ever met, and he has very nice teeth. But whenever I see him, he bites me with those teeth and tells me my flesh tastes like "Cooked Turnips..." and I wish he'd stop.

Patrick Patrick is the tallest person I have ever met, and he could destroy me in either an arm-wrestling competition or Boggle. But I think he's a little vain sometimes, and just because he is the most beautiful human being alive, it doesn't mean he has to act like it. Sheesh.

Jess Jess makes me crap my pants she's so talented. Now if she could stop using that talent to promote the forces of evil at the "Church Of Ba'al," we'd probably be even better friends.

Nick Nick's hair smells like Pert Plus, and I really dig that. His breath also smells like Pert Plus, and that makes me a little uncomfortable.

Sharky Sharky is strong...I bet he could bench press the New York Knicks if he wanted to. All he does now is bench press the grass in my back yard, and there are some unsightly divots that need constant filling because he always feels the need to show off his manly biceps.

Tessa Tessa looks totally awesome when the wind whips through her hair. But when her whip whips through the air, it usually leaves welts on my forearms...that have been placed in a protective manner over my face after she's "had a few."

Aubrey Aubrey not only has the coolest name I have ever heard, it also happens to fall at #1 alphabetically on my list of friends. Just be warned though, she will tackle you violently if you accidently call her "Aub."

David David wears the best pants. But pants are the only thing he wears -- the rest of his body is covered in moist pink paint.

Eric Eric can put a healthy dose of "stank" on a track that he's mixing, and he's far and away the best DJ of all my friends. But dude cheats like hell when he plays Bed Bugs ©...trust me.

Jocelyn Jocelyn has the most awesome speaking voice that you will ever lay ears on...and if you have a chance, let the woman talk to you for a while. Now, when I asked her to do this she stabbed me...so be sure to ask nicely.

Betsy Betsy can apply glitter so that it appears as if her skin itself glistened...and she knows karate. She has a monkey fetish.

Brett Brett is the tallest...wait...um...I mean Brett does an amazing Groucho Marks impression. But his Harpo impression sucks.

Krystle Krystle can literally kick her leg 7 feet over her head -- I've seen it. She told me that her Beanie Babies© taught her to do that...according to her they teach her "everything."

Chris Chris was in Drivers Ed with me, and he didn't hit a car the entire time we drove together. He did run the car into the side of a building...but the damage was minor.

Lisa Lisa and I went to junior high, and high school together...and she has lived her life with passion. But with great passion come great responsibility, and I fear her passion is almost too passionate for the world to bear right now.

Now, if I have offended, then dammit lighten up. But if I haven't, then dammit what's it gonna' take? No, but I treasure you all, as a pirate would treasure his booty.

The Perfect Chain Letter

Yes...I am constructing it right now. It is going to be amazing. You know, there are a lot of winners out there, and I've learned from each one. I've been silently waiting...like a hawk...or throat cancer...and now I am ready to strike.

I have titled this letter "Do Not Open This Letter," but I can't tell you what is inside. I can only give you one hint -- it's a scantily clad picture of a famous celebrity. Okay, I'll give you another hint: it's Christina Aguilera. And I'll give you one more hint: the text of the letter reads "Send this picture to 10 of your friends, or I'll send Christina your house to kill your dog."

Okay, turns out I actually revealed a little bit more than I wanted to, but I have no regrets. None. Well...actually two...but they're none of your business...and they involve canned pineapples, which are also none of your business.

Anyhow, I'm not sure what I want with this chain letter. I mean...I have a lifetime subscription to www.chainletters.com, and I know that I can get some amazing distribution (professional chain letterers call it "e-spread"). But I want more. I want every citizen of the United States, from the president down to Armin (who works at my building) to own this letter.

I'd like this letter to be elected to public office -- nothing too big...I'd settle for State Senator...or Student Council Vice President for Arrowhead Elementary School.

All I need you to do is open this letter, and pass it along. Really. I promise that I didn't put any viruses on the picture or anything -- I actually just downloaded it from the FHM web site. It's harmless...really. All I want from you is 20 seconds of your time, and everlasting chain-letter-writer glory. That's not such a horrible thing, is it?

Reflections of Fish

"Are you blogging again?" comes Erika's mocking question.

Yes. Yes I am.

The "F" Word

Seriously, I don't know about all y'all, but when I'm super, super pissed, I sure do use the "F" word a lot (and I'm not talking about "phaser," because that starts with a "P").

Now, I don't know how descriptive I can get, because the funny-looking guy that stands in front of the blackboard (who used to be my friend until I caught him posting naked pictures in my comments section), might get mad at me for cursing. But, man oh man, nothing feels better than delivering an upper-cut to your kitchen cabinet while loudly belting the word that always makes baby Jesus cry. Oh...what joy a little anger is.

Speaking of anger, here's DMX...from some song...and some album...

And the stacks will light up, will "f-word" the night up
blow everything in sight up
"f-word" around and I'll have your "cornhole" right up
What makes you think, you wasn't able to stand
I got "poopie" that'll disable a man with the wave of a hand
The days are longer and seems like I'm wastin time
I've got a lot of dreams but I'm not really chasin mine
I suck it all up like a sicka fly

Damn...that guy knows how to fucking vent, let me tell you.

And It Got Me To Thinking...

Just what exactly did I mean when I told my parents that I was a man without any ice cream? Was that supposed to be deep...like some sort of metaphorical romp across the subconscious? Or was I just really craving a heaping bowl of ice cream? I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good scoop or two here and there, but I avoid the stuff for the most part because my teeth are weaker than an aluminum foil suit of armor. And ice cream to me, is like a phaser to a Klingon. Oh, dammit...have I revealed too much? BACK BEHIND THE GUISE OF COOL, YOU FOOL!!!

But this unfortunate accident made me question myself; do I just say any old crap that comes out of my mouth...without thinking first? Like, there was that time I told my car mechanic that I think he'd look good in a tuxedo...or that time I informed my across-the-street neighbor that I didn't care for her brand of stink (I think I may have said "stank" at the time, but it really had the same effect either way). What I really need to do is just sit down with pen and paper, and write out all of my conversations for the coming week. Now, I'm not talking about something verbatime...verbatum...verbayschin...ver...ver...verbatativie...vin...vu..vuu...vuuuariari!!! VAAAA!!!! Vuskitvfairfiii!! Vivi!! VIVI!!! VIVI!!!!!! VAAAAAAAA!!! SOMEONE MAKE THE VIVVVITY-VIVVITY-VOICES STOPPPPPPP!!!

Sorry..."verbatim" (I know because I checked on "dictionary.com" and "hornysluts.net" to make sure). Conversations are, for the most part, a varied thing that you carry out with people across a day. No way can you script every word, and expect it to be accurate.

For instance, yesterday I was talking to my buddy Bardiche. I said...I said to him, "Hey, dude, what's your problem?" And he was like "You're my problem." And I was like, "Oh, that is soooo original." And he says, "Well, your face is original."

Then I thought...yes. My face is original, thank you. But I didn't tell him that. Instead, I said, "Hey dude, it takes one to know one." Then I drove off on a moped.

So, anyway...I've decided to put write down a brief outline for my very next conversation here...to see how it goes. That way I won't face the crushing embarrassment that I feel every time I go in unprepared. All right...here goes.

-- General Greeting, like "Yo!"

-- Question what this person is "up to," or something of that nature.

-- Listen, respond non-commitally (we wouldn't want them to take over the conversation now, would we?)

-- Talk about how "crazy" stuff is now. If person agrees, then find further examples of craziness. If person is "not so sure" that stuff is crazy, quickly agree, and talk about how things are much better now then they used to be.

-- Ask about the mutual friend you have. If you don't share any mutual friend, use a generic name like "Jon" or "Jen," and ask how that person is doing? Failing that, ask how the person's parents are; if they're still "healthy" and all that.

-- After that inevitable pause of a fraction of a second, decide that the person that you're talking to really does not want to talk to you, and provide them an escape. "So, it's been cool seeing you again" always works. Or maybe "Well, I'm off to get some lunch." No one in their right mind would deny a person lunch. Give a little wave to them, and make your way out of their sight.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now, you know what would be a great conversation topic (probably something I will have to save for another post, as this one has gone from "long" to "gaa gaa GOOOHEEIO!!!")? How's about the legendary band "Quiet Riot" (get it? How can a "riot" be "quiet?" That's hilarious!!!)? Here's a little snippet from a song appropriately titled "It's Not Funny." See if you can make any sense of it, because I've now read it twenty-four times, and it's still a little blurry. Anyhow, here goes:

You say when you grow up you'll have what you want
And everything that you need
What is the use of having it all
If you listen and never be seen

Man. That's just...man...

This one is for my homie...wherever she be...

See if you can spot this hidden message...it's hidden in the most secret of places. I call this poem, "The London Snicker"

Every time I close my eyes

Rabbits haunt blueberry pies

In those dreams I answer quick

Killing rabbits with a stick

All about me, angels fly

'Spose they know that rabbits die?

Such is living, such is death

As goes the rabbits' final breath

Wafting up to "Fairy Lands"

Evening gowns, and tiny hands

Something strikes, a fairy shrieks

Overwhelming rabbit dreams

Massive blows about the head

Even fairies want rabbits dead

Coolest Headline Ever!!!!!!!!

Yes, it was so cool that it deserved six exclaimation points.

"Cheerleaders Arrested After Having Sex in Bar Bathroom."

Now, it got me to thinking...you know how you scan them news websites, looking for something that tickles your fancy. I was trying to imagine a more perfect headline -- something that would make me snap a tendon in my index finger with the vigor of which I would click the link. I had a couple of thoughts...

"Bus-Load of Ninja Monkeys Seize Indonesian Village"

For a number a reasons...most importantly because they arrived by bus. Do you think that a monkey was driving? These are things I need to know...

"Nashville Turns Into Gigantic Burrito"

If you want me to be for reals, that is a burrito that I would willingly devour. Not single-handedly, of course, but I would break off a chunk to feed my family.

"Bird Poop!"

Yep, that'd hook me. I'd all be thinking "So!? What about bird poop!?!?"

"'All Out Of Love' Now Ghana's National Anthem"

Now, if anyone were to truly appreciate the legendary "Air Supply," my guess would be the second largest supplier of cocoa in the world.

Brekkie

Seriously, for breakfast this morning I had a can of coke and a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. I'm not even joking.

Didn't Think I Would...

But I did...and I'd do it again if it weren't for this damn artificial hip.

Can I be "for reals" with you for a second? If I didn't have this blog of mine...would you still love me? I mean, I know I don't have much to give you in the way of fancy things...like all them diamond rings...but, if you're just seeing me because I have a blog...well then, sir...I'd rather you spent your time elsewhere. This is difficult for me to say...and it's even more difficult for me to type (because of the arthritis), but I think it's best if we just both go our own ways...

Because see, I've learned something about myself. I've learned that, yes, as amazing as my blogging skills are (and they are quite something -- I scored in the top 17.4 percent my blogging class last Tuesday), there has to be something more that you could be attracted to. We must face facts; if I didn't have this blog, I wouldn't have you. You're a person who is attracted to blog. That's what you told me when we first met -- you love me for blog. And I was fine with that.

But I'm getting old. Very old. Dog old. Older than that old coot who hangs out in front of the general store and combs his ear-hair with a tooth brush. Yes. That old. And I need some security in my life. I need to know that, as soon as I give up my blog, you will still be around. I honestly don't think you can promise me that.

Which is why...as hard as this is to say, you must...must......must go now. Please don't look back. Just walk away. Please. Please...what...why are you looking back? Oh, I still have your keys? Sorry about that. Here. Here's your keys back. Sorry about that -- I forgot that we took your car here. So, please go n--what? Oh, and your purse? Yeah, I have that too. Here you go. Well, I thought it would look nice with my sweater. Well I--huh? Yes. But blue on blue looks good, doesn't it? You don't think so? Teal? Well, I guess in the sun it looks teal...but at Old Navy--

Darling, please, let's not get distracted. You must...you must leave me now, and not look back. Unless you forgot something else. Huh? You have everything? Excellent. Now you can leave. And now I can serenade you in our final seconds together...providing the fitting sound track to our fond adieu. This is from that Sisqo album that you love so much: "Unleash The Dragon." I'll sing our song, "How Can I Love You 2Nite?"

Don't cum
Baby please wait for me
Just think how wet we're gonna be
Let it rain on me
So sorry we can't be baby

Wait...are those really the lyrics? "Let it rain on me." Hmm...did we pick that song on the day I was doped out on DayQuil and Beefeater Gin? Whoops.