2007-08-21 09:15:18 ET I want eyebrows that mean business. I don't want me any goddamn pansy ass regular eyebrows. Nor do I want those connect-the-dots do-it-yourself pencil hackjobs on ubersweat foreheads. At the very least I'd go for the bushy eyed anarchist look. Fuck, I'd have more facial hair than Karl Marx! Or may be I should go for something sharp and pointish like The Count on Sesame Street. I'd change my name to Veeggo and have sex with mute albino vixens on a schedule meticulously kept by a German... schedule... keeper... person... man... Or may be I'd have eyebrows that flare out like tiny wings. I'd be able to leap out of windows and glide down to my safety. I DO NOT LIKE ANY OF YOU! MAY THE BURNING FLAMES SINGE YOUR ASSHAIRS! Then I smash out the window with my window smashing boot and leap out. FREEEEE! as I swoop down on the alleyway. May be I'll keep razor blades in there. I'd have one sharp headbutt. Hello, WHACK, and the adversary is cut. in. half. lengthwise! May be I'll just tape matches to my brow and light them on fire whenever I'm feeling ferocious. I FEEL A SMOKING HATE COMING ON! and then I light them with one of those piezoelectric lighters they use for barbecue grills and the like. Something like that. Or may be eyebrows in the shape of hands! I could grope people just by staring at them a little too closely. The tabloids would have me pegged as THE EYEBALLER! I would be notorious. People would start carrying around little trimmers just to be safe. Who knows? May be I'll stick with the eyebrows I have now... THE EYEBALLER does sound pretty snazzy though...

2007-08-21 09:14:51 ET i can't write poetry. i try but everything that comes out reeks of stale eggs on a garbage ferry unreadable, unwatchable, and worst of all won't get me laid. i thought that was the whole point?

2007-08-21 09:14:25 ET I've been feeling down lately and just... brain dead. ... I think the worms are taking over my brain! ... Hey, spindle-limbs! Lounge your lanky self over here, totter trotter walking on walking sticks like skeletal stilts. Moves around like a four legged spider. Arms and legs two yards long each. Speaks in grunts and hisses. Sells insurance door to door. Hurkahurka ayeee wooooould liiiike to ssssssssssssssssssssell yooou ssssssome liiiiife insuuuuuransssss. It's too late. Anyone blank enough to go for whatever he's selling has fallen asleep by now. Plan B. Spindle-limbs unhooks a sheath fashioned from rhino foreskin off of his long and slender and holey-in-the-middle proboscis and crawl-walks over to the nearest drowsy delinquent. SSssssssssssssssssssss and he sssslides the nose through the back of the neck sucking off blood fluid like some ssssstealthy sssssstilted sssssspinal tap. Blood, plasma, and marrow chunks and all. It tastes like seven vertebrae cream soda. ... I don't know.

Hiding in the freezer...

2007-08-19 12:17:03 ET

2007-08-17 01:56:13 ET

2007-08-16 02:11:15 ET 1 comment

Defcon 15.

2007-08-08 12:04:38 ET YouTube video of me shooting stuff. 2 comments

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