When I was a Kid I had this fantasy for years about being “the boy” character on the Facts of Life. I just wanted to be in some “awe shucks” situation where Blair would have to kiss me on the cheek every week. I got pissed off when they actually did add Mackenzie Astin as Andy, this was the same season that they owned that little nic nacks shop and George Clooney was the Manager. I think Andy was Mrs. Garret’s nephew or something. They had that other lady on there that came with Andy; she had white hair and some kind of connection to Australia and Mrs. Garret. I think Mrs. Garret had to go have a stroke. A DIFFERENT STROKE. But one of the biggest show biz delusions I ever had as a kid was that I wanted to be the first kid to host Saturday Night Live. It was my favorite show and I watched it religiously growing up. And then E.T. came out and that Little Bitch Drew Barrymore who everyone thought was soooo cute comes on the commercial and was like, “Hi I’m Drew Barrymore and this week I’m hosting SNL and I’m so fucking cute” So I actually let out an “Awe Man”! And my parents were sitting on the couch with me and said “awe man what?” and I said “I wanted to be the first kid to host Saturday Night Live” and there was a pause and then explosive laughter and my mom asked me, ”Who do you think you are”?
I'm from Hampton Roads home of Pat Robertson and his motto is "The visible world is controlled by the invisible world" and he's so stupid and he gets me so mad that my eye starts twitching, but then I think, "what if he's right and that's an angel poking me in the face saying, "you'd better listen to him".
I hope he's not right because I also suffer from spastic colon.
I'd hate to think that a samurai and a confederate soldier were riding a train on me.
I could have a samurai ghost right? Why do they have to only haunt their own country. Some one must delegate the hauntings. What if a ghost was transfered? That's why in every reinactment of a haunting you see two objects float just a little off of a table, rotate slightly and then set back down, all while there's moaning and shrieking. That's some ancient Incan who's never seen a Hummel and a remote control. He's freaking the fuck out.
I got mad the other day because I was thinking about how some kids would come to school with a project that their fathers helped them do (or did for them) and they would look beautiful and professional. In the 6th grade I was assigned to make a San Andreas Fault so I came home and begged my dad to help me with it. He said OK (for the first time ever) and I thought this was going to be "the one". We go to Paul's Arts & Crafts and get a box of modeling plaster. We brought it home and my dad mixed it and poured all of it in a metal pan. It has to set over night and it swells up like bread. It's fucking huge the next day and it's like a 2 square foot brick of white plaster thats smooth and hilly on top like butter top. Then my dad takes it out but he can't get a clean break in it like the fault so it shatters into a couple of different pieces. I line them up on some dirty old board we had in the garage and proceed to paint it with the brown (for the dirt) and green (for the grass) paint we got at Paul's except we just picked up any old paint we saw and this wasn't paint that sticks to fucking modeling plaster. I had to really pour the paint on but it was all uneven and you could see swirls of the white plaster underneath and it wouldn't dry so we had to leave it out over night. Then the next morning (when it was due) I went out to get the Fault and the paint/plaster/chilly spring morning combo that we created grew these long salt crystals all over it. So I had this white, brown and green fuzzy brick of broken cement "mounted" on a piece of plywood and the whole thing weighed about 25 pounds. I only weighed about 65. (A note about my dad) he was an amatuer junk yard owner, (for real) which was in our yard for at least 15 years, and I think his skills and interests reflected in the art of our San Andreas Fault. So my biggest regret now is that the fucking theme song from Sanford and Son wasn't playing at volume 10 while I presented this hulking piece of shit to my uninterested classmates.
Why can't my lady and I make a deal that I can be allowed to look at other women out in public instead of me having to pretend I'm some kind of gay fashionista? I'm always going,(in femme voice and mannerisms) "Oh my god, did you see that slutty brunette in that tight black dress, HELLO what is she thinking? Her butt is way to big for that". It's fucking humiliatin'.
I pulled up to the gas station and there were two scientologists handing out their 200 question personality evaluations. I pulled my arms into my sleeves up to the elbows to make "small arms" and jumped out of my car into the nearest "clear's" face. With our noses almost touching I asked him his name in my best Toby Radlof the Geniune Nerd from American Splendor impression and luckily his name was Ian. "Ion, I said mocking his name using a science related theme, "can the space man lengthen my arms?" As I pumped my gas with my tiny arms I saw "Ion and his partner talk shit about me. That wasn't very "OT" of them.
I was watching reading rainbow cause the cable's out and this girl was reading something, I don't know if it was a real book or if she wrote it, but this caught my ear, " the sand would turn into sugar and the ocean would turn into blueberry juice and the animals and the trees would turn into crackers". So I started arguing with her ,"That's stupid, what so you're just going to grab a giant cracker that used to be an animal or a tree and just dunk it in this blueberry juice that all kinds of God knows what is in it, and you'd just eat it? That's so stupid, do you even hear what you're saying? Did you even think that maybe the crackers that used to be animals might have guts inside or disease? Don't you think people on a global scale would be rioting and going nuts out of fear because that is a very strange thing to have happen? Didn't you learn about the rapture in Sunday school? Well, I just think you should think things through before you read them out on the national airwaves... animal crackers... fucking stupid".
So guess what happens when you turn 30? You get zits again. They come back, but this time they're in weird places. I've got acne on my chest and on my gut. Zits on my gut! You can reinact your puberty. I put my zitty gut up to girlfriend's zitty ass and asked her out all over again. "Hi did you just move here? (in squeaky voice and shaking my gut to the rhythm)You wanna do something Friday?"
You wouldn't know it by looking at me but my father had a great big horse cock... that he was jacking off in his face in a home made video. No, he really had a giant dick though, I saw it when I was little... right before it entered my mouth. It was the size of a baby's arm... a baby elephant. I really know because he used to have trojan xtra large condoms. I put one on and it covered my whole dick and my balls AND part of my knee. But that was a while back, maybe around the fourth of July. It's true what they say about heredity, I'm pretty sure I inherited my mom's dick.