Sometimes people listen to me...

While standing on a plank of wood measuring 48"x10" and blasting down a hill at speeds approaching 35mph weird stuff goes through your mind. "Will my wheels hold the next carve?" "My toe-side is way more stable than my heel-side" "What the fuck am I doing? I dont even have insurance...."

Fitness has long been an enemy of my personal state. Though when I was much younger and much more spry I used to participate in several varieties of vigorous physical activities. There was baseball, football, tennis, biking, skateboarding, and a few other oddballs. I was almost good enough at sports to work my way into the seedy underbelly of high school hierarchy known to most as "the Jocks". I played varsity football my sophomore year and varsity baseball all 4 years of my high school career. At that point in my life I was a regular Bo Jackson. Right after high school something changed and I stopped almost all sporting activities. Maybe it was because I discovered smoking, drugs, alcohol abuse, and spousal abuse. Maybe it was because my time became occupied with failing out of my first semester at college while simultaneously mastering Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4 on my friends Gamecube console. Who knows. It would be almost impossible to accurately pin-point the cause of my physical downslide. The point is, I lost it.

Every man and woman on the planet at some point in their life will interact with a child or adolescent. And eventually there comes a time when during one of those interactions, every man and woman on the planet will say to one or more young budding child, "Embrace your childhood! I wish I could be young, vibrant, and carefree again." Everybody wants to be a kid again. People will do anything to get the feeling of youth back. They'll spend tons of money to obtain something from their childhood such as an original Buck Rodgers ray gun in C10 condition. They'll scour through phone books and spend hours searching facebook for their childhood pals. We all do the same thing. For me embracing my childhood coincides with regaining my physical prowess. Recently, I embarked on my first attempt to lasso my youth which was let out to pasture so long ago.

I found myself shuffling around a hardwood floor which created a dissonant fugue of groans and squeaks as I moved from plank to plank. The tired and worn floor was that of Fairman's Skate Shop located on Gay St. in the heart of historic West Chester, PA. I was there to purchase a time machine. A device that could send me on a trip back to when I was a few inches shorter and several years younger. I carefully examined the time travel devices which were lined up against the wall like small orphans putting on their best to get adopted. After finally making a choice, the shopkeep rang me out and I was on my way. Now I had my time machine, my longboard.

While standing on a plank of wood measuring 48"x10" and blasting down a hill at speeds approaching 35mph weird stuff goes through your mind. "Will my wheels hold the next carve?" "My toe-side is way more stable than my heel-side" "What the fuck am I doing? I dont even have insurance...." Having the time of my life is what Im doing. I finally found a way to regain what I lost with age. Exuberance, life, meaning. It all comes rushing back while bombing down a hill. Usually thats the exact moment when you catch a ditch, jam on a rock, or mis-step a foot brake and quickly get snapped back to reality as your extraneous appendages slam into the ground and grind asphalt into your pores. But hey, what would you do as a kid in that situation? Get up, rub some dirt on it, and do it again. Thats the beauty of youth. We think it never ends.

I highly suggest everybody take a moment and grab something from your childhood. Its fun and exciting. If the only childhood memory you can wrangle up happens to be the time you put your hand on the stovetop because its warm glow seemed so inviting, please be sure to wear oven mits this time. I dont want to be liable for any injuries....

So today is just another day in the giant Hobart mixer
of life. I dont have anything special or fantastical
to write about. I just felt like blogging and it
honestly seemed the right thing to do. Sitting here
at work doing nothing can be quite boring so to mix
it up a bit I decided to take a smoke break. My buddy
DustyButtons blogged today about something awesome I
did last night. Everybody should check out his blog
to see cool things about me. That seems backwards but
Im gonna let it fly. I got to drive my Ford Focus
again yesterday which was pretty awesome and is
actually related to what DustyButtons posted. Again,
check out his more interesting blog for more details.
More more more more more more! F'n A right!

Here's the 411. <-- Im a tool. When did having good taste become so expensive? Why should I have to pay more for things I want just because they're awesome? Im in the process of designing/decorating my loft space and unfortunately I don't have a million dollar budget. Ikea is the root of all things "cheap chic", but at times they dont have everything. Im just so tired of things being so expensive. For example: go to www.jonathanadler.com and see if you can afford one thing there besides the $32.50 scented candles. Ive been to a Jonathan Adler store and I'll admit his stuff is amazing but the price is insane. So many stores exist where I could spend thousands of dollars to do one room such as Crate&Barrel, Pier1, and others. Why arent there more stores that arent so expensive? There is the thrift store depending on what youre looking for but that is always hit and miss. Im just out of ideas and frustrated. Perhaps I'll just have to concede and admit I have "expensive taste"....

I haven't blogged in a while and I felt it was my obligation to post something. I dont have anything new or exciting to add to the world but everyone should utilize the webspace they are entitled to. Real Player junk just popped up. That really grinds my gears. I hate when things just randomly pop up. So freaking annoying. Im going to be cryptic here for a second so deal with it. Sometimes a toaster breaks after a long period of heating and coolig over and over again. The toaster simply reaches the end of its lifecycle. Not at all the toaster's fault but nonetheless its broken. Said toaster needs to be replaced with a newer, younger, and fresher model. Perhaps it's time for a new toaster. Done...

PREFACE/: What you are about to read was written for no purpose and written under the influence of endorphines...


I sit here stroking my beard pondering so many questions. Does it make me smarter to stroke my beard when Im thinking? Or is it just something people percieve as smarter because all smart people have beards as a prerequisite for being said, "smart," and while one said, "smart," person is thinking they always stroke their beards? Seems like a waffle to me. I sit here and wonder why people are the way they are. Is everything based on reality in interpersonal relationships with other human beings. For example, to be "friends" with an animal one must momentarily for a brief instant place themselves in a fantasy world where the simple animal can hear, percieve, and process what you are saying to them. Of course in reality all of that would be highly impossible. Except with orangutangs. They are smart. But with an ordinary animal such as a giraffe, suspension of reality is required to have an aquaintance. With human beings, and this does not in any way transfer to interpersonal relationships with martians, one tends to base everything on tangible facts. You are friends with someone because you like them. You like the way they look, talk, act, sit down, interact, whatever. These things can all be seen and documented. What if you just had friends with which you didnt base the relationship on facts at all. You simply pretended, now in opposite of the situation with the giraffe, they didn't understand you whatsoever and you could say, do, act, or sit anywhere you wanted with them. You would treat them much like those gigantic life size barbie dolls kids play with. When you are young those dolls seemed enormous. I personally was afraid of them and would thus avoid any girl owning one as if she were a french nudist in a razor shortage. Later in life though when our perspectives change we realize they are only about thirty-six inches tall(3ft.). I would now walk up to one, kick it, lick its eye, and summarrily run away[Im not gonna lie, I still think they are creepy thus the running away]. However, back on the topic of using people like 3ft mini whores from the darkest back alleys of Madagascar, I think it would be fun. Im going to search high and low until I find someone whom I can ignore completely if they are speaking, moving, or corresponding with me in any way. In response I would simply take them places or maybe lock them in my room and tell them stories of the good ol' days when nobody came as in the past tense of cum. Cum being a sexual slang term for ejaculation. That's the male discharge of sperm through the gooey vessel reffered to as cemen out the end of the erect penis. My stories wouldn't bore or annoy the doll. My how grandiose that shall be.

Fantastically based relationships with human dolls wasn't all I was thinking about while stroking my beard. Let me invite you into my mind for a moment. Please put on the radiation suit, goggles, and full length rubber gloves provided for your safety. I don't have health insurance so I don't want to be responsible for any injuries. Think about this with me. Along the same lines as the previously mentioned relationship issue, why do people still use shoe laces? Fewer things bother me than having to bend over to tie my shoes. With all the amazing technology used to clone things, blow up stuff, and lubricate condoms with a solution causing a warming effect while inside a vagina, why can't the scientists of the world unite to solve the shoe lace issue? There has to be a better way. Just simply has to be. Now I know what you're saying to yourself, mosly because you are inside my head with me and I can hear your thoughts. They did invent, sandals, clogs, slippers, gellies, and genetically modified gigantic tomatoes. Genetically modified gigantic tomatoes also don't have shoe laces so they have just as much right to be in that list as the other things. Stop shafting the tomatoes. Im tired of it. So it's true, all of those foot wear creations are laceless in nature. That's just wonderful. All the problems in the world have been solved. These are not the things Im talking about though. Is "though" a preposotion? I didnt think it was so Im gonna let that last one slide. What Im talking about are shoes that are easy to get on and off, have climate control built in, possibly even dual climate control, last a long time, and don't have any fucking laces in them. When I put them on I want to just slide my foot in easily and then through the miracles of modern science they should constrict themselves around my foot to an exacting perfect fit every time. Im fed up with lazy scientists these days studying the effects of sleep deprevation on African swarming moths. Do something productive, please. Now get out of my head. I need to be in silence for this next part. Its going to be a humdinger so prepare yourself. Please return all seats to their full, upright positions. Buckle up.

I need more drugs, Im sorry hold on a second... ...those six dots in a row bisected by one stroke of the space bar implies time has passed from when I wrote, "hold on a second." to, "those six dots...," and in that last case where it was simply three dots consecutively typed without any strokes of the space bar it implied I dropped the end of the sentence containing the phrase, "those six dots," and obviously I did drop the end because it hasn't even happened yet. There it was. Now the implication is complete. I feel whole again. I’m mystified by how useful dots can be. They end things, imply things, and start things. Kind of like God. Yes, from now on I will refer to periods as God of the menstrual cycle. You didn't see that coming did you? Perhaps that is exactly what you think of immediately upon hearing the word period. Rag. Bonus round. Finally after much anticipation, unless you've already forgotten about the bombshell I was supposed to drop because you were too easily and unconscionably distracted by ovulation, I introduce to you my other thought while stroking my beard. Pontiferous communication of well known fashionably late homo-erotic incense burners made out of Chilean sea bass monkey bubble boy brown sugar pop-tart confectionary recess house fire started by rabid chipmunks. Has your head exploded as of yet? Did you survive that calamitous train wreck of twisted, mangled, and muddled temporal insight? Of course you did. The full effect is transferred slowly and intravenously by a twelve hour time release gel cap. Let's begin breaking it all down piece by ectoplasmic piece. Did you know the Chilean Sea Bass is nearing extinction, and if fishing laws and sanctions aren't changed they will all be gone within ten years? A known fact to the same lazy useless scientists unwilling to create the perfect laceless shoe... ...the first dot back there was a sentence ending period. Like that one, but I got distracted so I wanted to signify time had passed while I was typing. You are better informed now than you were seven years ago. I would analyze the theoretical importance and academic applications of the word "pontiferous", but I simply have no idea in the great expanses of the universe what the hell it means. Maybe at one time when my beard was longer I knew it. But now my facial protein art has been cut down like the thriving rainforests of Iowa. I’m going to start a dot ORG site for the rainforests of Iowa. They need somebody fighting for them too. Sally Fields is busy getting fatter and eating Ethiopian children. I will come to their rescue. So yeah, pontiferous. Look it up. You know you love brown sugar pop-tarts. Everybody does. It's of my understanding, and I have a vast expansive knowledge of breakfast snacks, they contain phenylalanine. So beware phenylketonurics. You could die. You can also find phenylalanine in many diet sodas and other diet minded products. For consumer information please call 1-800-433-2652. When I think of homo-erotic incense burners I can't help but picture a big penis incense tray burner catchy thingamajiggywhosawhatchacallit-fuckinpieceofshitfatherleftmewheniwastwoandnevercallsorsendsmoneyihopehefuckinburnsinhell. Im sure if you were more interested you could locate one at your local adult bookstore perhaps. And maybe if they don't carry them in stock they might even be kind enough to order you one. I can't deal with this any longer. New pararaph.

The small girl crawled silently, no louder than the wind, through the thick bushes nearby being mindful of the backpack she was wearing containing essential items to completing her mission. She was perilously close to getting caught. The men stood inside punishing someone they had found earlier. She was well aware what happens to people like her in places like this. Few escaped and survived to tell others the treacherous and inhuman atrocities occurring within those walls. The girl had spoken once a long time ago to a survivor, an escapee. "The things they do, you wish you were dead. It’s almost better to die than live with the physical and emotional scars they imprint you with," the survivor told her. The girl cared not about what she had been told all her life. She wanted nothing more than to be inside that dark and dirty hell hole. She craved the excitement it offered. Still, without a sound, she approached the door. Ever so slowly she swung her hand from her side and guided it towards the door. Suddenly she froze. A pause for thought. She decided to ring the door bell instead. A huge naked black man came to the door. As he stroked his beard, he opened it void of a greeting and simply nodded at her implying he was asking what she had wanted. "Is this the gangbang?" She was so giddy and excited to be there. She had always wanted to get plugged by three huge cocked men at once, and maybe throw a gigantic neon pink double ended dildo in there somewhere as well. It was her wet dream. "Yo you niggas wanna have some white meat?" He yelled back to the other two guys still pounding the other girl from both ends.
"Yeah bring dat shit in here man, hurry da fuck up. Im tired a dis one." His friend yelled back to the door without missing a beat.
"You a slim goody bitch. Get dat tight ass in here. Yo, you came just in time. Dis bitch weez workin on now is fuckin over wit. We done stretched dat bitch out like spandex on my fat cousin Shonequa's fo hunned pound ass!" She stepped inside and unzipped her backpack. Upon dumping the contents on a nearby table the three men knew she was serious about what she was doing. The inventory was as follows:

4 large tubes of KY
1 24" neon pink double ended dildo
1 12" black Lex Steele replica dildo
1 8" anal plug
7 boxes of magnum condoms in assorted colors and styles
1 beige bathroom towel

I bet you never saw that coming. Regardless, I can't stop rocking back and forth incessantly compliments of the drugs. I’m still stroking my beard. I find there are times when people come together for no good reason at all other than pure and utter desperation. When some people get lonely they will do anything to be with other humans. Desperation is a funny thing. Desperado is a funny movie. The symbolic symmetry of those two sentences is, neither the concept of desperation, nor the movie Desperado are comically amusing to the human emotions, except perhaps when examining at a level no deeper than the superficially exterior. When two things get together sometimes it doesn't work out. For example, if a wind up toy carousel got together with a bottle of tequila it would never work out. The carousel requires too much attention and winding for the bottle’s liking. He just wants to sit there and look appetizing. He can't be bothered with winding. Who has time for that. The carousel would always be angry about the burning aftertaste the bottle would leave. They would be doomed from the beginning. I realize my theory about desperation was specifically slated to apply to humans. Pardon me being outlandish to make a point. In the realm of humans the same applies though. You can't have some fat needy bitch who spins around all day being with a tall slendor and sexy mexican guy. Just doesn't work. Same point with people. You just can't force things.

In review, scientists are lazy, gigantic dolls are creepy, homo-erotic incense burners can be hard to find, giraffes make great pals, stroking your beard makes you think harder in correlation with the length of your beard being the deciding factor in how much knowledge you can obtain, wind-up toys are fat lazy bitches, black men like "white meat", you could get the Eiffel Tower up your ass with enough KY, you never knew there were rainforests in Iowa and if you don't act soon they won't be there much longer, killing hookers is no joke, (... ...)=time passing, 24 hour diners need to worry more about high overhead. Thank you, god bless, and good night. I'll be here all week.