Why you should never buy Vegan/Dairy free "cheese"

So the other day I was at Trader Joe's looking for cheese. I wanted to make a pizza and since I am gluten free, I wandered over and picked up some gluten free pizza dough. I remembered that the previous time I made pizza, I purchased one of those packages that has pre-sliced mozzarella and how terrible the gas was afterwards. This time I thought, I'd look for something that was maybe dairy free and being that I was at Trader Joe's, naturally the only cheese I could find that was dairy free, also happened to be Vegan. No big deal I thought.

I had a small laugh at the adjectives listed in bold italicized lettering on the front: "Stretches and Melts!" is what it said.

I knew from the need to say that this "cheese" stretches and melts that it was going to suck. I pictured a round table of creative minds from this company sitting around and knowing that their product is just the crappiest thing ever invented but still needing to fill the empty space on the packaging. I mean, what possibly interesting attention grabbing thing could there be to say about Vegan dairy free cheese?

I purchased the stuff anyways because. I wanted to say I purchased the cheese because I'm a risk taker. That's really what I wanted to say but some "risks" don't belong in the risk taking category with things like oh I don't know, bungee jumping or swimming in a black wetsuit off seal island where those great white sharks leap from the ocean.You know, for scientific reasons you let a team of shark biologists tie a rope around your neck and drag you behind their boat to see if a great white will breach. Both of those are valid everyday risks, okay?

Anyhow, I get home and am excited about the pizza. My mouth is salivating at the smell coming from the oven. Long story short, the timer goes off and I pull the pizza out. I always let it set for a minute or two before I cut it up. Makes the fingers less burned feeling.

I look at this cheese crap, and know that it cannot possible be good. I roll the pizza wheel to cut the larger dough down to size and the cheese sticks to the wheel. So now I have more cheese on the wheel than I do on the pizza. The sauce is super hot and I'm trying to de-clump the wheel and put the crap back on the pizza. I'm doing that dance you do when something is hot. You know, where you begin to river dance the pain away.

I get the cheese back on the pizza and take my first bite. First off, the cheese tastes horrible. Shouldn't even be in the cheese section. It should have been in the gum section next to Big League Chew. It sticks to my teeth, plasters itself to my gums and is impossible to scrape off. I take a few more bites thinking that well maybe I will just suffer through this horrendous pizza and call it good. As the cheese begins to cool the flavor goes from barely acceptable to absolutely disgusting.

HA, I just realized that as I am typing this out, I am talking shit about PIZZA. How ludicrous is that? I get to eat pizza because I'm an adult in America that can purchase the ingredients and make it for myself. There are people on this very same planet that drink blood from the neck of cows. Here I am complaining that the cheese I purchased with my own money at the grocery store around the corner from my house wasn't very tasty. That I've had better. Booo whhhooooooo.

Basically, all I am getting at is that the cheese sucked and I gave it to my dog. Who didn't like it either by the way.

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Dream sequence #4

In my dream,
I can see my sleeping body as I float above it.
There is an unusual sensation that I can feel but also hear.
It sounds extremely loud without making any noise whatsoever and feels like how I picture a black hole might feel.
If I focus on it, the noise becomes louder while the feeling goes away but it also works in the exact opposite way so that one variable always changes the other so that it never goes away.
This intense sensation is at first very warm and almost feels like I am floating in warm water but quickly turns to a more chilling sensation.
My skin feels different and the atmosphere becomes dark.
All of the sudden I am sucked out into space and can see the reflection of my own comet's tail.
The space around me is a blur and I can sense that I am traveling at incredible speeds towards the uncomfortable feeling of deep space.
I become empty feeling as if the emotions of despair and love had never been a thing I knew.
Time can be altered when I think about it but I have to focus on the white blurs as they whip past me to remember to slow down.
My eyes close and I can imagine watching the lines on the freeway as my family traveled from one end of the country to the other when my father got new orders.
The memory of fishing in Yellowstone at a lake that had no fish in it comes to mind and I can smell the wind and then become a spectator to the singing along to "There's a Hole in my Bucket" in the van on the way back to the tent.
In an instant I am on a planet that is like no other planet.
It's as if I had traveled so many miles into deep space that the planet I am on abides by no rules like we have on Earth.
The best way to describe how I am on this planet viewing what is taking place is that I am vapor.
It's a planet with life but not of anything organic like humans or animals.
Everything is made of rock and gravity seems to be in between Earth's gravity and none at all.
Rocks are gathered in formations that float past the screen I am able to view.
They pulsate and snap and pop in every which direction.
Little pieces of black rock that look like slivers violently explode when these pulsations occur.
In the foreground I can see shapes moving across the tundra of red earth.
I can't exactly describe what they were but they look like Velociraptors but on a miniature scale and made of metallic rock.
They are playing with one another and I can see that something is being tossed between two of them while the others look on.
Where I imagine their chest would be, I can see Mercury sloshing about in a fish bowl like device.
The silver of the Mercury flashes and reflects back into my eyes but I look behind me and this only a distant and not very bright sun.
I look closer at the sun and it looks more like the sun for a different planet that is orbiting rather close to the one I am on.
As this other planet passes between the sun, the tundra rapidly grows dark as the other planet blocks out the sun and casts shadows that engulf the planet I am still on.
I look up and can see mountains and volcanoes on the other planet it's so close.
The end

Found Poetry #2

In the milky mangrove the Australian man sat

twiddling' his thumb, exploring the uninhabitable island in his mind,

homesick and love starved for basking on ice floes.

His Finger Cherry quotes Dickinson

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so-

'Tis Living-hurts us more

The linguistics of her hypnotic Angel's Trumpet

oscillating between poetics and gun fire.

The tall Tansy Mustard growing tall as sunflowers

shake and sizzle in the Autumn wind

tapping against the Victorian window pane of her kitchen

thirsty for condensation

desperate to touch where the Waxwing slain himself

and impetuous.

The music of wind. A short story

The wind it was said to blow down from the high hills around this time of year. As she lie there, head down in the grass, she thought about the evergreens far up on the hill as they swayed in the Autumn cool wind. "Honey," a voice said from her side, "they are on the way." The grass she was crumpled on was damp from the previous night's rain. The yellow patch of flowers growing like weeds in the grass surrounding her boomed with the fortissimo hum of honey bees. As it grew louder she began to lose the feeling of the wind that blew down from the high hills around this time of year. Her breath began to shorten and her mind wandered. She remembered the porch of her grandmother's Victorian home and how the chestnut floor boards would creak. As a young girl, she would slide the door open and sneak up to the edge, her small fingers grasping the banister. In the garden her grandmother would be humming and digging in the soil. The girl would sit quietly, all the while her grandmother had heard the creak, and watch as she planted vegetables.

The light began to fade and the wind became still as it does during the Winter. "I told her to be careful," the voice in lentando from her side said. "Oh I cannot stand to see her suffer." The wind could not escape; like a jar with its lid sealed too tight, the air turned rotten and the small and fragile flame suffocated.

The world was black now. The stars hidden behind dark rain clouds like during the summer months. The stinger still throbbing in her arm.



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Nanny used to step on my toes. It never hurt.

Today I was reminded of a game my grandmother and I used to play when she was alive. Well, it was less of a game and more like her just stepping on my toes. I remember her challenging me one day. Her older wisdom versus the cocky young hormone filled brain of my teenage mind. Her baiting me in with a "I bet you can't..." sort of thing. Being A MAN, I stepped up to the plate before I knew what the game was. She bet me that she could step on my toes and make me flinch. She never won, let's just get that one thing clear.

First she tried just stepping on my toes with her toes. Shoe on shoe contact. She'd get in my face and pivot her weight onto my toes. Inches from my face, she'd do her grin. Nothing. Didn't even hurt. I'd laugh at her and tell her to come back with something better.

Then she would try stepping on my toes with her feet perpendicular to me for added pressure. Still nothing. She'd roll all her weight onto the side of her foot, the weight bearing down on my toes. I'd suck up the pain just like I did when my friend bet me to walk across the black asphalt during a hot summer in southern California. Sure the tender arches of my teenage feet were burnt and smelled alarmingly like fried chicken, but damn if I'd show any bit of pain.

I miss my nanny. I also miss being a teenager. Wait a second, no I don't miss being a teen at all. Being 28 years old is great! I don't have to go to house parties anymore. Impressing the ladies no longer means doing stupid pointless shit like digging the deepest hole at the beach and then asking them to come see how dark it is at the bottom. Now I just show up to wherever I am. BOOM! Ladies all over me.

Crappiest job: Selling newspapers at Kmart

Before today, I could have compiled a list of terrible jobs to have. On it would have been jobs like telemarketers or anyone in the insurance industry (yes please, sign me up to have people yell at me all day...every day. While you're at it, also sign me up to question my self worth and spiral into explosive outbursts of anger as a plea for psychiatric help). Working at Subway. That's a terrible job to have. People see Jared in the window and marvel at how he lost all that weight. They think, in their stupid little heads, that if they just did what someone else did who lost weight, they themselves could lose weight. You mean my fat ass can just eat sandwiches and lose weight? They ask for extra mayonnaise and scoff at the Indian lady behind the counter that only puts seven meat balls, not eight. Side note: all meat at Subway is turkey. Side side note: I don't think many people put mayonnaise on a meatball sub. If you are that person, I can only offer you a deadpan facial response while I think about how I wish giant ants would come to your house and crawl in your mouth in the middle of the night. Death by ant suffocation. Officially the WORST WAY TO DIE.

I was at Kmart buying something, of which I now forget. On my way to the cashier checkout line dodad thing, I hear this man talking to a couple about the newspaper. He's got a speech that he says 100 times an hour. The only reason the man is even talking to people is because he does this dirty little trick. He offers a free paper and right as you begin to approach him, he sneaks in his scripted words and hides the paper behind his desperate pleas of how he needs to feed his starving children and how his wife left him after he spent their life savings in the newspaper stock market. But if you buy now, he says, you can have an entire year for just the price of one week's paper. No one gives a shit. Who reads the newspaper to read about what happened yesterday? I can't even talk about news that happened earlier that morning without someone telling me they already read it on Reddit.

This is when it hit me. The crappiest job to have is selling newspapers at Kmart. People go to Kmart to buy whatever they want to buy. I was going to make up what people buy at Kmart but who seriously shops at Kmart? I only shop there when I have absolutely no other option. Like when my car breaks down outside of Kmart and I have to go inside to escape watching all the insanely old people struggle getting out of their ENORMOUS Cadillacs in the parking lot. That's when I shop there.

Found Poetry #1

The inexplicable part, he thought, was that everything and everybody ignites.

Further elaboration of these circumstances, such as the influence of “breath” and “death”

compress and then blow and crash and bash

like the life creating fluid of a caliper being withheld

until the inevitable byproduct of “process” is eliminated.

The world is built on pain and its foundations laid in agony

as symphonic mold is but a disgusting glossy perfection of laconic slime.

I, a sleeping giant of velvet

made hideously visible by mortified torsion

slice Noon and Paradise only to retreat into never-ever-ending sickness.

For every feeling, there's a song for that

The clouds outside my window this morning kept my room just dark enough to sleep in. I would wake, sit up in bed, rub my eyes, look out the window, think about getting up, then fall back asleep. Hoping to entice my brain out of a lucid dream to inspire me to write, I did this for three hours. Nothing came.

What did happen though is something that happens more frequently than I give credit. My brain has a way of picking out songs that perfectly match whatever state of mind I am in. For instance, this morning when I was forcing sleep, it became more and more difficult to block out "You Remind Me of Home", by Benjamin Gibbard. In the song, he repeats, "you are wasting your life" for the chorus.

Other instances include when I am packing for a trip. I will tell myself to only bring the neecesstities which of course leads to the song from the Jungle Book.

The last example being another way my brain helps coerce me out of bed is Chop Suey by System Of A Down. The part from the chorus that begins with "Wake up! grab a brush and...mumblings of words I can't ever understand."

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Dream sequence #3 Juggling halves of chicken. A close talker. Ninja in a tree.

In my dream,
I was in an older home that was falling apart.
The door overlooking a river was non existent and the river itself was low but still flowing.
I remember a heightened sense of urgency and panic as I had guests coming over.
The guests arrived at this house via the backdoor but did not arrive as normal people do.
They all stuck their heads around the corner of the door jam as if they were floating perpendicular to the floor outside.
They came in and sat down at a very rickety table that my father and I were now sitting at.
I became an entertainer and juggled halves of roasted chicken and asked if my guests needed anything to drink.
They refused.
Next thing I know, one of these guests points out the backdoor and comments on how fast the wind is howling by.
I look out the door and rain is blowing both sideways and vertical at the same time.
I go over to the door to look out and the river is insane.
It's flowing fast and trapping logs and spitting enormous plumes of water from said trapped logs.
Next thing, the house is packed with people and outside on the deck becomes a weird tide pool of water from the river that is incredibly dark and looks like the innards of a cave.
A friend of mine who used to wait tables with me in real life is there and she is carrying chunks of ice on her server's tray while swimming in this tide pool.
She was frantic and knew her ice was melting.
She gets up from the pool and says to me to watch out for the small children swimming at the edge of the fast flowing river.
I went back in time in my own dream and had the thought of getting swept away in the river and never being seen again.
The thought gave me chills and I was back in the time she was telling me about the kids.
I weaved my way back through the house and around to the back to play lifeguard.
I remember this girl whom I just met in real life a few days ago at a wedding that lives in a different state was there.
She was extremely close to my face and talking about something but I could not hear or understand her as my duties were to watch over the children.

Now I have a completely separate dream from that first one.
In it, I am following a ninja and he jumps from a window of a barn onto a tree.
He begins to rapidly descend this tree with only placing his feet on opposite sides of the trunk and using them as stopping force as he slides down the trunk like a fireman on his pole.
Halfway down the tree he senses danger and quickly flips to the opposite side of the tree as a throwing knife hits the spot he was just at.
He gets very angry and begins to mumble.
Through the tree leaves he can see the person who just threw the knife at him running away so he flips around to the other side again and slides faster.
He stops at a spot and a blur of him throwing knives ensues and I can't remember how many he threw in one fluid motion.
He yells something at the top of his lungs and takes a few deep breaths as throwing the knives winded him.
My view focuses on a few leaves that fall from being chopped off their limb and then a duck falls from the tree.
Next thing he is down off the tree and sprinting towards this person.
He has his arms forward and is not running like a sprinter, but that of a sprinting person crouched and out of the view of his prey.
He gets to a spot in the taller grass next to this building and I remember gaining his line of sight and seeing the grass masquerade his hiding spot while this other person doubles back to get a view of where his target went.
At this point the ninja leaps from the grass and the other person becomes a young girl.
He tackles her to the ground and now the scenery flashes to the inside of the building we were outside of.
He frantically rips at her clothing until she is naked.
He pulls out his penis and begins slapping her with it.
The end

Dream Sequence #2

In my dream,
I was in a classroom.
The room was quiet and the teacher in between thought.
I remember feeling like the idiots behind me were going to do something stupid and in the next moment, they had laser pointers out and pointing them on the teacher's head.
In my chair I grew infuriated at their childlike behavior.
The chair I was in began to quake and tremble and I remember seeing the little red dot on her face click off.
Looking behind me the two idiots were suspended in space.
The type of space that is void of noise and black.
I felt something growing within me and looked down to my arm as pulses of rock began to push from under my skin.
Quickly it became a mountain shaped arm with rivers of water cascading down the valleys of rocky muscle and dripped onto the carpet of the classroom.
Each valley was dark one one side and light on the opposite side from the direction of sun.
Some valleys had intense amounts of fog rolling low in the valley above the snaking streams of water and I could feel the cool air tickling the loam of my arm.
My heart slowly transformed from a beating instrument to a terrible sound of crunching earth.
My vision quickly snapped to the image of a whirlpool in my chest but made of enormous boulders all churning in a circular pattern until the mouth of the vortex was loud and sucking up the land on my chest surrounding it.
The land instantly replenished itself.
Saplings began to sprout up along the ridge line of my shoulders in succession until I could feel their roots deep within the infrastructure of my collar bones.
The idiots still suspended in space.
My face began to bubble and I remember the feeling of not being able to open my jaw but that intense pressure was building.
Next thing I remember, I was sitting in a car with my parents driving down the road.
Out my window, I could see young men on mountain bikes doing tricks on enormous dirt jumps.
Flash to me as one of the bikers and the sound of air rushing through my full-face helmet as I am doing a back flip.
The fluid movement of riding the bike felt natural and I remember thinking about how easy it was for me to describe the sensation of doing big tricks.
Back in the car, I am pulling at my tongue.
The sensation of gum stuck in the back of my throat was thick and I began to pull.
I could feel the gum stretch but as I continued to pull, I remember thinking that it would never end and that I could never get all the gum unstuck from the back of my throat.
The end

Stupid balding man pumps up car tire with handheld bike pump

I was out getting some things from Lowe's today and saw a man in the parking lot pumping up his car tire with a handheld bike pump. This dumb balding man seriously thought that pumping up a car tire with a handheld pump was the best use of his time. I walked past this Canadian genius and walked into the store. 30 minutes later I walk out and THIS MAN IS STILL PUMPING. His stupid face was red and sweat was dripping from his forehead. Still he kept pumping and checking the tire to see his progress. I was blown away at just how committed this man was to inflating his car tire when I could see a gas station not more than a block away. Probably the same type of guy that evaluates gasoline efficiency from every gas station in town and keeps a small chart of statistics in his sock drawer at home so when he goes to put on his shoes to drive to the gas station, he remembers his mathematical analysis of Shell on that one street having a .00987% better mile per gallon gasoline.

Other people in the parking lot were slowly walking by him also wondering just what on earth he was thinking. The best part about this story is that I have no idea how long he was pumping up the tire before I saw him, but it looked like he was just filling up the tire just a tad. You know, those types of people who need to top everything off. Like filling up their soda cup from the food court vending machine to the brim, taking a small sip and then FILLING UP THE AMOUNT THEY JUST SIPPED.

But who am I to judge these type of people and their usage of time. I spend way too much time on the Internet everyday. Mostly yelling at Yahoo news for having the same stories as Reddit, only many days later and missing all the good bits.

Dream Sequence #1

In my dream,

I was walking beneath pulsating air sacs of black dripping filth. 

Each sac a spitting air bubble protruding from the skin below it.

In between the breathing sacs was a ribbed surface that held liquid beneath its surface. 

I could see as I began walking down the artery that the fluid above me was sloshing against the surface from the opposite side of the sacs like water sloshing on the glass of an exhibit at the zoo.

The artery began to tunnel deeper and the sloshing noise began to intensify until the din was unbearable.

As I followed along, my hands on the pulsating sacs now ribbed along the wall, I felt pockets of stench between the groupings of sacs.

The ability to feel a smell was like nothing I had ever experienced before and I remember trying to note exactly how the sensation felt as to remember it later for putting in my blog.

I pushed my hand through one of these openings and felt a sudden force push from behind me and I emerged out and into a painting of some ponds. 

Each pond was a black mire of rotting water in a landscape of fog and barren trees.

I remember noticing the heavy fog and feeling a slow suffocating feeling. 

The land began to morph around on itself and the next thing I saw was a major city upside down and trash falling from roads. 

People were walking along and I could sense that life was normal for them in this upside down world.

I was separate from the world and floating along in a thick watery world gasping for breath. 

Trash was beginning to swirl in the currents around me and I began to churn and bob in the ocean. The ocean inverted to the land so orienting in the reversal of both worlds became next to impossible. I began to swim and felt a great warmth circling my legs. 

I looked down to see plastic strips of rope swirling around my calves like a serpent and restricting tighter and tighter. 

I had a moment of brilliance and thought that it would be easiest to just ditch the legs and when I got home from all of this I would buy a new pair. 

The thought of home must of sparked my dreamworld to teleport me back to a green lawn of grass. The light was fading and the street lights flickering on. 

I noticed that the lights would flick on and off and as I floated towards one to inspect it, it burst and spit fire in all directions like a giant flower of heat. 

I was then lying on my back looking up at the stars and listening to a banjo. 

The end.

Shitting on my best friend's shirt

When I was in middle school, I lived in San Diego and had a small circle of friends. My main best friend was a kid named Nick. Nick and I did everything together. We went fishing in the local pond many times a week. We played with Legos and built tracks for our Hot Wheels out in the dirt of the backyard. The one thing we enjoyed the most was exploring the canyons behind his house. We would get on our bikes and just go.

I was in about eighth grade at the time this memorable shitty story happened. This is not a story I tell anyone. We were at his house eating some snacks before setting out on our planned journey of the canyon. My other friend Nick was there and so was the first Nick's brother Gregory. All four of us were about to set off when I asked Nick if I could borrow a shirt of his. I cannot recall now why exactly I needed to borrow one but he lent me one and off we went.

Right from the start I knew that something was brewing in my gut. After years of getting that feeling, I had grown accustomed to what the approaching storm felt like. It gave me a certain amount of time to head to the bathroom before gunfire came blazing out my ass. This particular time I payed little attention to it and it wasn't until we were many miles from his house that thunder began to really rumble. I can remember getting to the bottom of this trail and thinking about just how far back to the house we had before I could poop. At that time the urge was not red hot but the lights were on and beginning to flash with warning. We began to peddle back up the trail and being the good friend I was, told Nick about my situation and that I was going to need the bathroom pretty soon. He laughed at me saying poop. The urge grew stronger after I announced it. It was as if telling the Nicks and Gregory about it that made the poop deep in me feel okay with putting the pressure on.

We rode and I rode faster. All the while I was distancing myself from the rest. I was looking for possible spots to get out of the view of them so I could pull my shorts and underwear down and let it rip. I remember having the thought. Every warning light was flashing now and the siren was blaring that obnoxious tone, alerting all personnel to man their battle stations. I knew I had no control any longer. I had to shit and that was that. The only shelter I could find in that instance of deprivation was a small bush on the side of the trail. I had no care for the possible rattle snake hiding in the shade of the bush nor the fear of having someone else riding up and seeing me squatted over with a river of gurgling nasty rocketing out of me. Lets just say that if this bush was on fire, I surely would have extinguished it with a thick covering of fire retardant.

This was no parable. God hadn't struck this bush with fire for Moses to find. I had exploded the contents of my lower intestine all over it. The hatch door was blown from its hinges. I remember that Gregory was the first to find me. At that point I had already done the deed. The release of that kind of pressure puts a tear in your eye. Its been said that sneezing is 1/8 an orgasm. If this is accurate, releasing a fire hydrant of hazardous chemicals out your asshole must be ¼ an orgasm.

In my urgency of getting the underwear off, I failed to see that Nick's shirt had not made it clear of the splash zone. Nor had my shorts. Nor had my underwear. I had shit dripping from my friend's shirt and running down my legs and pooling in my underwear.

There are few things in this world that compare to my humiliation that day in the canyon many miles from civilized plumbing. Emerging from behind that bush to see both the Nicks there and watching the Nick that owned the shirt I was wearing go from red faced from the heat of peddling to the red face of anger that I ruined his shirt has forever been etched into my memory.

No way was he asking for that shirt back. No way was he ever letting me borrow anything every again. We rode the many miles back to his house. I rode in the back of the pack and did not sit down the whole ride back. I was numb to the world around me. No way had that seriously just happened. No way did I just shit all over myself. I remember getting back to his house and offering my apologizes once more about the shirt. His only words to me were to put the shit shirt in the dirty pile of clothes for his mother to wash.

Now that would be some real honest information right there to have on a dating website profile of myself. It would come with a cautionary warning label that reads “Do not feed wild animal dairy products. Liquid poop will happen and it's very messy to clean up.”

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Woman shows me her boobs

Today I was in my car driving around town doing some errands or something. All the windows were down because it's kind of warm and the radio is off. I like the silence. I'm at a stoplight and this redneck mobile pulls up next to me. From the car I hear this woman screaming. She's excited about something and just screaming out the window. She clearly sees that all my windows are down so she directs her energy into my car.
Now I am right next to this woman as she's doing this but I pay her no attention. I knew that's what she wanted. So she continues to scream and I hear someone from her own party of rednecks tell her to shut up. She pays him no mind and sticks her head out the window at me and screams louder. Still, I pay her no attention.
It's at this moment I want to turn and tell her that her desperate attempt at getting the attention of a stranger is not going to work. I then think, well shit. If I do that then she wins. So I roll up the windows instead. Fast forward to the next stoplight. I'm not making this up. She gets out of the car and walks up to my window taps her stupid little finger to get my attention and begins to flap her arms around and scream like she just won the lottery or something. I look her dead in the eyes with an indifference even she could understand.
I shit you not, she takes off her shirt and bra, all while the light is still red, and begins to shake her titties at me. She looked like one of those wacky flailing arm tube men thing. Except she had the addition of boobs. Side note: do such things exists?

I was blown away by the desperation for attention this redneck woman needed but maintained a less than pleased face. The light turned green and I went about staying in front of that car until I no longer saw it. An old man once said, "Once you see one pair of titties, you've seen them all." I am going to amend that and add, "but sometimes you have to see what you don't want to see."

I woke up with the song Africa by Toto in my head

So naturally I am going to share it with you. Except there's a twist! Aha! It's a cover of the song. The cover is AMAZING!

Share it.

Why owning a dog sucks

While out for a walk with my dog, I once again had to pull grass out of his asshole. Sometimes he eats grass from the backyard and it shows up in his shit the next day. If I'm lucky it will be a ball and he can push it all out in one go. This time he didn't get it all out at once so I had to take a plastic bag and grab the danging clump of diarrhea grass from his asshole and pull it out. The two pieces were so long that as I am pulling them out he begins to squat as if to take another shit. I pulled the grass out of his asshole and it made him feel like he was shitting! This reminds me of the time I witnessed him freaking out because he had another one of those shits and he couldn't figure out what was going on. He'd go to run but the grass knot hanging out his pooper hole would pendulum and come back to touch his ass so he'd sit. I watched him do this a number of times and each time he would sit and spin his head around to get a better view of what was hitting him in the ass and sticking to his fur. Funniest shit I've ever seen.


Next time my friend who has children wants to talk about how having babies is rough, I want to remind her that at least she isn't pulling lengthy shit covered grass out of her kids asshole.

Wish I was homeless

I wish I was homeless. I think about being homeless sometimes for the simple fact that it would get me up in the morning. If I were homeless I'd love to be awakened by the sun. It's just not something that will ever happen for me. As someone who has money I have the privilege of buying curtains. Curtains aren't a thing homeless people carry around in their stolen shopping cart. A sleeping bag and maybe a molding toothbrush that they found next to the urinal in a public restroom. If I were homeless, I'd totally have a shopping cart but fill it with nothing but toothbrushes. I'd make a sign and stand on the corner. Need money to buy more toothbrushes.

Let me clarify. I'm a 28 year old and the closest I have ever actually come to being homeless is every single time I go camping. Sleeping on the ground is never comfortable. I eat can food with plastic utensils I licked clean the time before. You shit shit in those camp toilets that warn against throwing trash into where you poop, but you're camping so YAHOOO so you do it anyways. I'm practically homeless and wiping my ass with a baby wipe. 

All I'm saying is that I'd be much more productive if I could get up as early as any homeless person. Me and mornings have never agreed. It's just a part of life that I won't ever be apart of. I'd really like to be one of those old men who go to bed at seven and wake before the sun rises. Only problem with this being that I'D BE THE ONLY PERSON AWAKE.

Last night

I went to bed early last night to be in bed with my girlfriend. She wanted to cuddle some before leaving town for a few days. I agreed and forced myself to fall asleep way before my normal bedtime. Why is this important you are beginning to ask yourself. It's important because whenever I sleep too much, as I had done the night before, and then force myself to fall asleep early again the following night, I have terrible dreams and wake up in terror sometimes.

So last night I woke up to a man standing in my room no more than three feet from my head. I opened my eyes and saw him standing there with straw for hair and very crooked teeth. His face was looking directly at me and I quickly shot my arm over to where my lamp was an flicked it on. Of course nothing was actually in my room but so help me Jesus I thought I was waking up to a scarecrow in my room.

This has made me think of a friend who used to live on the East Coast. He has told me that in the house he grew up in, he would often wake from sleep standing straight up and the foot of his own bed. This left me with a sick pit in my stomach envisioning him as a child with the sheets on his bed torn about from terrible feelings of paranoia and waking up slowly to the realization that you are not in your own bed, but standing at the foot of it. Sleep standing.
He also told me that the alarm clock radio next to his bed used to make screeching noises randomly in the middle of the night. He would wake to something screaming bloody murder and then have to act like everything in the room was cool and he was not freaked out at all. His dreams were nothing but freaky as well. At the moment I cannot recall a specific dream he told me about but they all involved his own death or someone in his family dying. Then he'd wake at the foot of his bed.

Puppy tears

I finally told my dog how big of a bitch his mother was.

Mr. Kazoo

It was yesterday that I witnessed a man with a kazoo and a murder of crows. I just finished purchasing a lotto ticket and as I was walking out the door of the liquor store, I heard a kazoo. Now I should explain that where I live, we don’t often hear kazoos. I watched as this man walked down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street tooting this kazoo for the crows behind him. In his left hand was a bag of food. On his right hand was a latex glove. He would blow the kazoo and point with his entire right arm in the direction he wanted these crows to fly. He would reward them by placing whatever food he had in the bag on the ground for them. I watched him for  a moment with an obvious stance. I did not care if he saw me looking at him and his birds. This was a rare sight.

He would blow the kazoo and point with his arm many more times before crossing the street. The birds only feet behind him flying up from where he just laid food and up to wherever he was pointing. Ask he crossed the street he looked back over his shoulder for the first time I saw (to check if the birds were even still following him I presume) and gave a quick melody on the kazoo. I hate to use that word as it was more like someone trying to forcefully blow up an industrial size balloon. He pointed across to the store I just left and didn’t let his arm down until through the doors. By this point I had moved out of his way and waited to see if the crows would follow this scarecrow looking individual in. They did not so I left for home.

Yep.

No Running

The other day I went to the water slides. I will admit that this is not a park aimed at anyone old enough to have facial hair but I still go because I CAN. Now I’ve been to this park before and what attracts me every year is the thrill of going up and over the edge. It’s a legitimate thrill to have. Before each trip down the slide, I imagine the faces of small children running (as walking is never an option when water slides are involved) up the stairs as they witness me exploding from the hairpin turn up and over their incredibly tiny bodies with a monsoon of heavy water falling beneath me as they are awe struck at the grown man flying over them, free from the slide and giving them one wicked wink from my left eye. I can see in this delusion of grandeur the metamorphosis from panic to jealousy splash across their bare skin little faces. Yes I am a child. Yes I asked my girlfriend to apply a generous amount of sunscreen to my back. Yes it makes you slide faster. No you cannot have my autograph.

Anyhow. The real reason I started this post was to talk about what I witnessed from the “jacuzzi” after having gone down many slides. Side note. If you are someone that puts words in quotation marks because you think it makes things “official” or “proper”, you’re doing it wrong and you should “stop breathing”. Immediately.

Now I was getting out of said warm piss pool when it happened so I totally had the opportunity to help this kid out. I didn’t. I watched him look around for faces of people gasping at what just happened to see if crying should then happen. You know that annoying thing children do. No one else saw what I did so the kid picked himself up and hobbled off. I wanted to help that kid but I couldn’t because I am a grown man with a messy beard and tattoos. For all I know, this kid could have bad memories of someone with a messy beard and tattoos. Kind of like a pound dog. You always mean well by adopting some poor pup but YOU HAVE NO IDEA what that dog has seen. You could be eating an orange one day and BAM, the dog goes Cujo on you because his previous owner used to squirt orange peel mist into his dog’s eyes.

I also had no idea what I could have offered that kid in terms of medical help. Uh, here you go little guy I cured you with my magical powers! Imagine me grabbing at some little boy’s leg. Him crying and me towering over him in his wet swim trunks pretending that I know exactly what to do when a little kid disobeys ALLLL the signs around the park that warn of the dangers from running and ends up on his ass. There are so many signs. So many. Does he really give a shit though? Absolutely not. His mom just stuffed him full of crappy pizza and turned him loose in a confined area with tall fences. She’s over in a cabana passed out. The moment her face touched the sun bleached plastic of the folding chair she was OUT. Stoked to be away from the little demon she just let wild in the park. Here legs bent awkwardly like a ostrich through that plastic ribbon crap of pool chairs and a little dribble coming from the corner of her mouth. Her bathing suit is wedged so far up her mom ass. She gives no fucks.

So I walked right on by him proud that my adult mind assessed the situation and handled it by way of rational thought. Something little kids hyped on blue neon crazy slushy juice would never understand.

Let's get this restarted

Hi.

I want this blog to be fun. I want to write about all the little things that take place in my head. The stories I’ve accumulated over the years and some of the things I’ve made up. My many desires in life, including my newest fascination with the idea of being a stand up comic. The dreams I have that leave me so very confused in the morning time. Lots. I want to post at least one thing a week and hopefully more. I figure that during the winter months I will be posting a fair amount more than in the summer months.

With all that being said, I want to start things off with an observation I had the other night. I was lying on my bed watching Louis CK and it occurred to me that the Internet is AMAZING. Lying there, I realized that the small 17” screen on the desk across the room from my bed acted more like a portal than a projector. I immediately thought this observation was ridiculous. It’s a computer monitor playing a stand-up special I have seen dozens of times. But it’s not all that ridiculous when compared with life of even 25 years ago. The ability to lie on my bed and not have to move while being entertained is AMAZING. I think about farm life or even pioneers and what sorts of lives those people live and I can’t help but laugh. They did what for fun? They didn’t do shit for fun is the answer. I often times sit at my computer desk BORED. Why am I so bored with everything?! It’s ridiculous to me that I am bored when there is SOOO much to look at online. Let’s think about Mr. Pioneer again for a second. Most of these people probably dug holes for fun. They put steel bars sticking straight up out of the earth and threw used horse shoes at them. OR maybe fun for them was finding a wish bone of tree limbs and walking around until the point stuck into the ground. The fun part being that it stuck in the ground. That’s it. And that shit was fun for them (or at least hypothetically). Who knows though, maybe fun for them was peeling the skin off fox skulls and licking cow eyeballs. Or maybe fun was shitting on the bench of your neighbors wagon or sticking their dick into a horse’s ass. Who knows.

What I am getting at is that we have so much CRAP in this world and none of it matters. Not a single thing matters. Try and name two things that you would literally die if you did not have. Don’t be petty and say food or shelter either you twat.