New house shoes

So, for a while I was thinking about getting new house shoes for a while. My old ones looked like dead animals on my feet. So I threw them away. When I say "away" I mean I threw them "somewhere". Hell probably at someone. Anyway, one Friday night I decided to get crazy and walk the mean streets of Santa Monica to look for a pair of nice house shoes. I ended up at Whole Foods half a block away and came home with some sort of chewing stuff. "FOOD" I think some say. I had a 9:30 a.m. soccer game the next day, so I went to bed early. Suprise suprise.

As I woke at the butt-crack of dawn at 8a.m., I felt great. I had breakfast, which was a banana, wheat grass, vitamins and a chicken burrito from Whole Foods the night before. I had my protien and vitamins roaring. I was good to go. As I showed up to the game just in time for the whistle to start the game, in which I was going to surely score like, 20 something goals, I sprinted onto the field like a bottle rocket. Turf hurts when you bite it while in full sprint. FAIL. So after the game that I actually did NOT score 20 something goals in, I started feeling a little off. My stomach was cramping I thought. So I came home, and drank water while reading SCAR TISSUE. I felt a little sick, then GOT sick. I tried to chalk it up to playing a full game of soccer with a burrito for breakfast, and not the deadly condition I have. Oh yeah...I should menttion that. It's called "Pancreatits". It's HORRIBLE. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. Not even Satan himself. Ok, I'm lying. I hope he has it. And to tell you the truth, I don't know what I would trade, between the "Cluster Headaches" I get, which are migraines x30 that come 4 times a day for about two months straight every year, or the Pancreatits. Yup. I have them both. So feel better about yourself. Anywho...

I got sick. I then started to read my book in bed as I started to feel a little better. A few hours later, my phone rang. It was a friend wanting to have lunch. I got up and out I went in full soccer uniform. I felt fine, we were talking, and then half way through, I felt it. My body shutting down, then my stomach hurting to the point I was motionless. We left quickly. I laid on the couch, as he took a crap in my bathroom. I knew what was in store for me. It went out one end from him, and was leaving through the mouth for me. You do the math. Fantastic. He got done, and I ran in. I was getting an attack. Getting very very sick. No relief. As some hours past, I had gotten sick about 6 or 7 times, (by mouth, shaking violently, sweating, almost in shock actually) with the worst pain you could have LITTERALY, and walked the S.O.S. walk out into the living room to my roomates. They were going to look at a bike. I detoured the trip and I asked to hitch a ride to the E.R. Thank GOD they were home.

So we get to the E.R. they just opened down the street. I remember seeing that and, for well, I guess this reason, I felt a sense of great joy seeing EMERGENCY in huge letters so close to home a few weeks ago. (this is where things get interesting) I am doubled over in pain that worsens by the minute. Going almost blind and starting to feel the color drain from my face. I tell the crap-douche my info and I sign the papers. I have a seat with my roomates. Then asked to go into the back to get my vitals. "Ahhh...I'm saved from pure torment..." SIKE. They took my vitals and made me go back into the "waiting area". I told my roomates they could leave. I knew what I was in for. Near death all kidding aside. This was like saying my goodbyes...again. Close to getting called out of the pool. Pretty big deal you can say, if life is your cup of tea. This was going to be a loooong night and it wasn't my first rodeo. This was E.R. trip number 3 so far. The last one was the Saturday before. Like clockwork! Awesome! So I let them go. As at least 20 minutes go by, and I was moaning out loud and rolling in pain, litterally starting to go numb, in a stupid ugly blue seat, like you'd see in the D.M.V., the guy comes over and says, "sir, make room for the new people coming in please. Go into the other room." What? ME? MWAHH?? The guy that looks like he's in the worst conition than anyone in the emergency room right now?? And who are all these new people? I'm sorry, I didn't know the hospital had freaking happy hour! So, being the nice dying guy I am, I walk around the corner like a crippled ewok into the "other room", which was a pane of glass separating my old seat from my new one, which was not an upgrade. After snagging a few peeps at people making thier way into my "new room" and seeing them stare at me and just wait outside of it, my self confidence shot through the roof...like a pig laying in mud. Sleeping. In a coma. Not breathing. Already bacon. FINALLY, after what seemed like 3 days, they came and got me. They set me on the bed as I was moaning in agony. I could see the light. I was going to get medical care and feel better. NOPE. Some selfish lady decided to have heart failure. The nurse said "oh, just sit tight, we have a patient who needs tending to." I thought, B**CH are you blind, deaf AND smoking crack??!! You mean the lady trying to be funny behind the curtain that's separating us? I can hear her. Ya'll can hear me. Who can formulate words and who can't? ME. I CAN'T you idiot! This is not my speaking voice. I don't speak like Chewbacca normally. Maybe I didn't clear that up in magic waiting station land with the stupid ass three-stripe buddy boy art work placed on the walls for people to take thier minds off of things and go blind looking at. So, the girl comes back, she gives me an i.v. then an i.v of this wonderful stuff called...say it with me kids..."Dilaudid". Or "Dope". Whichever is easier. I told her how much it would take for me. I knew what I was in for. As she walked away not listening and probably thinking of her childhood, I felt the dope enter my system, but was still in pain. That's when you know life is going to suck for a little bit longer. As I moaned and moaned, rolled around, shaking, twitching and going numb all over, listening to the old lady talk and talk beside me, they gave her at least 62 different meds. Being human and operating my brain once or twice, I knew what was coming. Sure enough...she started blowing chunks. What do you think is going to happen to a 4,000 year old lady when that happeneds? First thing she's talking about furniture, second thing her head is in a bag. The Golden Girls aren't real. It's a T.V. show. She's not invincible. Quit giving her so much!!

Anywho, so another hot nurse comes in. Again, I'm feeling like a real stud. I tell her what the deal is. She injects an entire bottle of dope into my veins. I ask her "How much are you...doing tonight after I get done?" (I think were my exact words.) VOILA!! BAM! From zero to ten in seconds. I was feeling no pain and hitting on a nurse that was looking at me like a science experiment. Ahhh...back to good ole me. She then hands me a remote. She says it's to a T.V. I opened thine eyes and sawith...a huge flat screen T.V. just for me!!! I hit the power and was off to the races trying to find sports center. The lady was still throwing up beside me, so I turned the volume up loud enough to drowned her out. THEN everything was cool. After about 30 min, the doc came in. Gave me a script for meds and sent me home. I ended up on a street corner LOADED out of my mind. I'm pretty sure I was looking for the pharmacy and tried to get my prescriptions filled at Baja Fresh. I'm sure of it. All I knew is that I was at a Baja Fresh. Called the roomies, interrupted thier dinner to pick me up, and headed to a 24 hour pharmacy. 24 hours!! We get there, and they wait in the car. A guy tried to make small talk at the DROP-OFF counter. I stated it wasn't the SMALL-TALK counter. Idiot. So after I get that taken care of, they said 20 min. I found myself drinking a Coke I evidently just opened and sat at a picnic display in the middle of the CVS store. I saw a display of toy cars that looked real and lost interest in the lame patio wanna be set up. As soon as I was having fun with those, this guy with a mohawk and everything pierced was talking to me about headaches. I could relate. We talked about Excedrin for a good while, then my poor roomates came in. They decided to go shopping. I would too. Maybe I did go shopping and just left the stuff all over the store for all I know. Anyway, got the stuff, came home, took some meds and conked out.

Long story short, the next day I felt drainned but ok. I could eat solid foods which was a huge suprise. (Usually you can't for a few days)I sent my G.I. a copy of my cat scan from when I went to the ER in Nashville 2 years earlier. He calles and ask, "So, when did you get shot?" I froze. What???????? Then I remembered the ER doc in Nashvegas asking and my parents looking at me for an answer. You'd think they AND I would know the answer to that. So my doc here, again, asks, "So, you were never shot? You didn't get shot in the past? Ever?" I was baffled again. Evidently a FREAKING BULLET, or something metal looking like a bullet had gotten into me without me knowing. It wasn't ingested, it is lodged in between organs. It HAD to have pierced the skin. I HAD to have gotten shot. But, um, I've never been shot by anything other than a rubber band, and maybe a freaking COMET. So yeah, that's a mystery we are working on at the present time. Like tomorrow. I'm what you call "A HOUSE episode."

So I make an apointment to get a CT. I get there 30 min early as I usually like to be early. It's usually a good thing. I walk in, see a hot blonde, grab my paper work and sit...you guessed it. 8.3 inches away from her. As I got done, I handed my paper work in. She had boots on and so did I. DING! DING! Conversation starter! As I turned, and the letter "I" rolled off my lips, for the wonderful ice breaker "I like your boots", the nurse comes over to me with 6 freaking styrofoam cups and says, "ok so here's the mixture for your proceedure. It taste like Crystal light, but not as good. Drink one every 10 min and if you need to go to the bathroom it's right across the hall. Do you need to go to the bathroom?" "NO." I said. As I sat starring at my sippy cup WITH straw, I just kinda gave up on the girl. My tail was tucked. So I said **** it, I do have to go freakin "pee pee". So I went. Came back, she was gone. I chugged those things down hoping they had elephant tranq's in them so I could just drop to the floor, and leave when it was all over with and not remember anything. Not the case. As I was called into the Lost hatch, I was told to put this gown on. I came out with my head through a sleeve and my butt hanging out. The nurse took it off, and fixed it infront of the doctors and all of the patients. As I felt thier gaze upon me, as if I was a lost child, I went into my happy place and entered the Lost hatch even deeper. Jack, Desmond, John Lock, Freckles, Alex, Hurley...none of them were there. It was just me and the nurse. I call her nurse "other". She placed me on the bed and said I didn't look comfortable. So she situated me. (cue the Butt-head laugh) As she put a needle in my arm, she said it was "Iodine" and I was going to feel VERY warm. (great!! just in time for the nuclear cloud from Japan to hit L.A. and I'm gonna be loaded chalk full of the stuff every one is racing out to buy!!) So she is holding my hand. All the sudden...WWHHHHOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!! WOW!!! It hit me like a wave! "Is this heroin??" I asked. She saind, "No, and now you know what it's like for a women to have a hot flash." I laughed. She did not. She explained menopause and night sweats for women. I went back to ME land. Then, as she was holding my hand, she saind, "ok, NOW you're going to feel this in your groin area." Then she let go of my hand quickly. I know now why she let go. WWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!! I may now be addicted to Iodine.

So, as I get in my car 2.5 hours later, I have my ticket validated and on my way out. The guy says "tree doyers" I said "what is that?" He pointed to the sign that said $3.00 I was half an hour early, and it bit me in the end. 30 min over. I had my ATM card. He said "cash or jeck". I said man, c'mon. Really? He said, "There's an AT&T across de street" I gripped the wheel, and asked, "an AT&T"? He replies..."jess". I looked forward and asked if he meant ATM. He knoded and said "jes. AT&T across street". I'M NOT CHANGING MY PHONE PLAN DUMBASS, AND I'M HAPPY WITH MY BRAND NEW ONE. YOU ****ING CROTCH LICE. I parked, got out and walked all over Wilshire Blvd. There was no way in hell there was an ATM or an AT&T. I went back, and he then proceeded to guide me to what he called across the street, which was actually 4 steps away from him, in a secret tunnel, to a secret door, with a secret ATM in it. To my knowlege there was no AT&T in this magical hallway that had nothing BUT an ATM in it. Then some boards or something. As I came back to him with a $20, he gave me change and said thanks. As I took my change in slow motion, I could just feel the back of his head with my fist as it penetrated his face and broke through his brian. I got in my car, sat in 5:00 on the dot rush hour traffic, and just stared at other people. Wondering what their day was like. Wondering if they knew what iodine was, wondering why they can't drive worth a sh*t, wondering if I should've taken Santa Monica Blvd, wondering why my arm hurt...oh yeah...there's a freaking stretcher taped to it. So, anyway, I went to the grocery store. It was pleasant to my suprise. (5 stars Vons. Thanks.) Got to my car, and discovered that not only was the lady just sleeping in her car next to me, she was living in it. Guess what I did without noticing...peered at all of her stuff through the windows and almost took a pic. Then I got into my car. I was backing out, and noticed an old lady behind my car talking on the phone standing still. I said out loud, "get the f**k ouuta tha way!" I guess she heard me. She looked at me then got the f**k outta tha way. OOPS. I guess a window was down. (WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND OLD LADIES IN MY WAY!!??) Oh well, I was off to home sweet home. I pull in, get ALL 6 bags of groceries around my arm about to shut my trunk, as my roomate is coming around the corner to leave. I had to put them all back, and move my car. We talked and I moved it. I wasn't upset. I was glad to see him and talk to him. As I moved, I see this Mercades roll in. I pressed the gas and went toward it. He reved his engine and I just kept moving toward him until he backed up. My car is way sh**tier...I'll hit you. Then I get out, and load my arms up with groceries. (Mind you it looks like a pillow is taped to my arm still.) They guy in the car was my neighbor. His girl asked if I needed help. What a nice girl. We got into the elevator and she noticed my necklace. Guess what it was...A BULLET. She said she had a bullet necklace too, but it was a used bullet. "OH REALLY" I said. "Wanna hear a funny story about a BULLET!!??" As I told them the magic bullet story, the elevator doors opened. We talked of me starting a rap album, called "David Blane Gang Bang".

FINALLY, I get to my door, and into my kitchen while wondering what they must be thinking after hearing that a bullet magically appeared in my abdomen. Then I forgot all about it as I grabbed the huge steak I bought myself. Then the britta pitcher top came off in mid our, water everywhere, and curse words flying as I repented to God after every 6 words. As I was eating my burnt steak, I decided to kick my boots off, YES, real cowboy boots, and enjoy some more flat screen television action NOT in a hospital bed with an old woman divided by only a curtain talking about stupid sh*ty furniture and throwing up. So, as I kicked them off, I put my feet up on the coffee table. And guess what...the booties from the Cat scan place were STILL on. So, I decided rather than go into shock, I would look at it this way...

I FINALLY GOT HOUSE SHOES.

"SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO WALK A MILE IN YOUR OWN HOUSE SHOES TO KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE"

PEACE.

Who knows WHAT is gonna happen

Well, as I sit here, on my huge patio in the Hollywood hills, with my new ipod blasting with out needing speakers, and well, having a few, and NOW noticing my F button wont work until I slam my index f...f...F...Finger on it, I realized something. You never know what the day will bring. I didn't mean to, but I drank a little WAY too much last night. But no hangover. At ALL. Is this a sign telling me, "quit"? Who knows. I've had several. Anyway, as I knock back a f...FFFFew.(I HATE the F button right now) and the Beatles are now playing, I sit back and think what I was thinking when I woke up. My plans, no hangover somehow, and caffFFFFFFFFF (damn this F thing is killing me) caffiene. My errands seemed so simple. And I awoke and thought I had to work. What a sweet feeling it is to FFreak out and realize you really don't have to do SH*T. Amazing. So I ate, went running, ate again, then did stuff. (I just pressed the F button 7 times to get "stuff" out. Mark it 8 dude.) So anyway, as I have NOT a clue of F**K! There's the F key again...anyway, of what I was doing...you know what, I'm typing without it now. Just imagine an F where it needs to be. Actually I have no clue o the point I was trying to make. So, ater all that, enjoy lie. liFe. Damnit. I'm outta here. Where's my ucking beer.

"When you're picky, someone is willing to take that slack. They don't have it. Cherish every second and everything. You only get that once."

(now bitter sweet symphony is playing right on cue) Ahhhh...LIE. Crap...liFe. You can be expecting a youtube video o the F key burning.

LIFE...MINE

So, here we go. Ok, so I HAVE to get this typed out. I just lit a candle in my studio in a Hollywood Hills house, with a match book that says where I work in Beverly Hills. It just dawned on me how crazy, lucky and out of whack my life is, as I am trying my hardest to get it to where I want it. Well, my friends, it evidently ain't up to me.

So to just tip the iceberg, a few months ago I was trying to find an apartment in Santa Monica, which is ridiculous on the cash part. I STILL am...don't you worry. Anyway, So I start to save massive amounts of money. I had it. So here is why.

1. Dental. I had needed a root canal and crown, then I was flossing, and a filling popped out. Now I had to go.

2. Car. My tags. I needed to renew my registration. And well, take care of what my momma gave me and thank God for what I have.

3. New place to live.

So, I go to the dentist, and try to get a filling put back in. He says, "Eh, I don't want to. It's gonna have to be replaced. Your insurance changed." (Beverly Hills dentist only want money...not to help) ALL I NEED is a replacement filling to live. But NO. I walked out laughing.

Now, we get to the car part...&&^^&*(*&^$%$^%#$!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, so I go and TRY to get my shite taken care of. They say I need to go to another place to get it checked for smog. I did. It failed 50 bucks later. So I go BACK to them to fix it. They say come in on Monday next week. I bring it in. AND this is what I heard when I took my key off the chain to leave it with a trustworthy auto wizard..."Man, I don't even want to mess with it. There's no telling what is causing the problem. It's really confusing." QUOTE UN-FU**ING QUOTE. So, I laughed and went to work asking my Hispanic friends, who ROCK, if they knew anyone. NOTHING. I don't speak Spanish. So now I asked some co-workers if they knew of anyone. I got answers. NOW we are getting somewhere. Calls are being made at this moment. Stand by...

NOW, today, on my day off from a 50 hour work week, which I am lucky to have and proud to say these days, I go to the DMV. I show up, give her my story, my paper work, WILLING to pay whatever, only to hear this..."You're better off just dodgin' the PO-lice". SSSSSSSSSSSSsooooo....off to the beach I went. Smirk, dazed eyes and expired tags.

I saved all this money for people who want money from people to NOT except it?? WOW. OK, well, here we go.

AAAAAAAAAAAND this is a great selling point...for THIS guy to move to Santa Monica...
I get home after a hard days work. Open the gate, and there are still dudes with no shirts in the garage working. It's been a week if that SHIT for me to come home to. THEN, I meet my new neighbor, who is in a Superman T-shirt, a fake cowboy hat singing at the top of his lungs in a horrible death threatening voice of some song. So, I just get my running outfit on. (shorts and a T-shirt) So I go for a GREAT night run in the Hollywood Hills. I get back, and there is SOMETHING...a THING. As I open the gate I hear, "who are you"? I answer, "I live here, what are you?" And IT, with it's long manly fake horse hair, has a f**king COOKIE MONSTER T-SHIRT on. IT tries to shake my hand, and I hit IT'S hand with my keys. I then quickly scatter to my studio.

SANTA MONICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

It was so hot in L.A. I went to the beach to run. I can't WAIT to move there. But I also can't ignore where I was a year ago, and ignore where I would place myself when I moved here. BACK to the matches. I work on a rooftop pool in Beverly Hills, and am living at the TOP of the Hollywood Hills, typing this. Yes, life is a bitch. (Mine? Well, it's a life on Mars I think, and I'd be bored if it was anything else...I think. All I know is that the winds blew those sweet ocean air breezes my way, and I will call that place home very soon.)

"No matter where you are, there is always an up. If not, look right"

APTS

So, I'm looking for apartments. I see these pictures of apartments with huge trees in the entire picture. Are you selling trees or apartments? Second of all, wow. What a view. Who in the F--K wants to look out and see leaves and branches all day? Are you hoping to rent to old people to just sit and stare waiting for it to just up and move? What about winter? It's a bunch of sticks just blocking your view to...I don't know, a nice view of...something else? And let's not forget about those pesky birds chirping as you wake up hungover. What a nightmare. For me, it's either a case of beer in the morning with a BB gun, or move the stupid tree into a forrest where it belongs. Like that of an animal. Humans are so cruel.

When things can't get any worse, they can get better. When things can't get any better, they can get worse. Stay in the middle.

-ME

My one year curse. The curse of L.A. according to ME.

Ok, so...when I decided to take off, and take the plunge into LALA land (L.A.) I had a good friend drive out with me. Chip. I was gonna drive my Ford Ranger out here that probably wouldn't have made it, but my loving mother got me a Honda Accord. (where would I be without my loving family) So, I loaded it up, picked Chip up, went to Cracker Barrel and got a "Cracker Barrel" road map (where all the Cracker Barrels are on the way) and actually got to CA by this means of paper direction. YES, we had NOT a road map, but a Cracker Barrel map. We drove through a few places that I could live the rest of my life without ever seeing, but, they were in the way. And we were driving. So I had to see these places due to me driving and having to use my eyes.

So, we get to New Mexico...

We pulled over on Route 66, at a Phillips 66, at gas pump 6. A drunk Indian asked for money. I gave him some cookies my mom gave me for the trip. I prepayed, came out and the cookies were on the trash can. As I looked around for the closest moving car to push him in front of, he vanished. The cookies stayed.

So after this, we drove WAY down the road to find a place to sleep for the night. I didn't want to see my iMac or tires on a trash can.

We get to CA, and it was awesome! The desert, the storm rolling in (mind you I'm a storm chaser and there was NO rain until, we hit California. Odd.) Anyway, we get to a place in the desert. A gas station and coffee shop. Like, a cool real coffee shop...IN THE DESERT. Miles away from anyting. Like, 50 miles. Do they live there? Coffee and gas. That's their diet.

Upon arrival in Los Angeles, we came to a place that was beautiful, vibrant, city strong and nice. I loved it. AND I MET TERESA'S SISTER. Unfortunately, this wasn't downtown "L.A." or Hollywood. It was Westwood. I asked, well, "Where is Hollywood"? He says, "Oh we'll be there shortly."

We left Westwood. We then entered...HOLLYWOOD. I swear it on my life, welcome to the jungle started playing. It was nerve racking. It was shocking, it was dirty, it was...breathtaking. I felt alive. Palm trees, homeless people and traffic. Ahhhh...

I made it to one of my best friends apt. (Ronnie) where I slept on the floor for three months. He was a friend from Nashville. I quickly got lost in the city and found my way. And when I took chip to the airport, I saw my first police chase, in the next lane, on my first day...on the 101.

So, getting my first apt was amazing. Me and Columbus. It was a dream come true to have our own place. 2 bedroom with parking. As I got settled, I (getting more wine...HOLD) o.k. now for just points about my years here...I don't feel like writing a book yet...

1. After getting my first apt, then getting my first gig as the lead in a Stained music video, I awoke to not just mine, but both me and my roommate's cars being stolen. Had to walk to the police station.

2. They didn't believe me.

3. I walked back and called my landlord. They didn't speak English and I'm sure they still don't.

4. The cops believed me at 6 p.m.

5. I got a rental car. WAIT, they only had mini vans. So I took the battle ship on wheels.

6. I popped the rear tire 30 min later pulling into work.

7. Fixed it, drove it back, only to hear they ONLY had mini vans left. So I took it.

8. Moving out, a week later, I was driving around looking for apartments. As I was looking, the right lane turned into a parking lane. TOTALED a parked car. Got out and laid in the grass for a bit.

9. Took the van back.

10. Got ANOTHER mini FREAKING VAN!

11. Found a studio. The landlord met me, threw ALL of the other applications in the trash can. Said it was mine before I even signed. (Thanks Mrs. Merrel!) btw...that was the only one I saw. 1 in a MILLION chances in L.A.

12. Waited on my old apartment floor until 2 p.m. The next Monday. She finally called and said it was all mine.

13. Got a call from the LAPD saying they found my car, the night before insurance (what a joke) was gonna pay me for my loss. They said "Brace yourself".

14. Saw my car? A 19 year old girl had stolen and lived in my car for 2 weeks. She also turned it into a racing car. Put her Cd's in my CD cases, hung her stuff on the rear view mirror, had teddy bears, all her belongings, meth bags and much much more in the car, put a V-6 decal on the gas tank, racing matts, racing steering wheel cover, USC (imagine that) stickers all in it, other stolen Honda emblems glued all in and over it (as if the factory ones didn't suffice), drew pictures, dented it, and an array of delightful stuff that I want to run her over with her mobile v-6 dream home.

15. Insurance kinda paid to get it fixed, but they left the posh decals in and on it, and her stuff in it. What did they do? Wash it I think. By this time I just wanted my car...or a car. Losers. "Wha...derrr derrrr derrrrr...duhhhh, We're sorry Mr. We thought that the teddy bears, straws cut in half, women's clothes 9 times your size, burned Cd's with misspelled words and other car emblems half way hanging on by a dot of glue were yours." IDIOTS.

16. W.W.I.D. (what would I do?)
Answer: Have an auction at work and auction ALL of her stuff off. I made $16.75
If I sold her soul I'd probably be negative in my account. My momma bought me that car! You don't touch what momma got me! Steal from ME! Not my momma!

16.5 Starved for a long time. Had no clue what I was going to do.

17. I'm done for tonight. That's just the tip of ONE of the ice bergs.

18. Read 17.

(If you want to do something, DO IT. Mountains were made to me reshaped.)

I have no clue what I'm about to type. Shove it.

SO, I just realized, that dinosaurs never existed. God just made bones. That's it. He did that, then was like, hmmm, not really working. So he buried the bones with sand, like that of a kitty litter box, and started new. He then made monkeys. He then quickly realized that these things couldn't type, read, drive, kill each other with regret, get on welfare, make a wheel, tie shoes, make and sell crack, hate all other monkeys, set rules and break them, invent things that make them NOT have to communicate at all, drunk dial, wipe them selves, have egos, have heart break, hold a job down with a family, steal, lie, cheat, murder and write blogs....so he made us. Humans.

Onto other things. Oh yeah, like this thing. (spell check)

OK, so evidently, American Idol is on. I can't believe they hired some blond guy judge in Paula's place. What a twist. Is that Dennis the Menace? Weird. So as I was saying, count your blessings. You only get a few. But maybe...just maybe...you should be contacting the person in charge of the blessing depo. I mean, the squeaky wheel gets the grease right? So, why not ask for a promotion in life? Make sense?

So yea...this is gonna be a long but a goody...I think. If not......WHO CARES. Any who

SO what's worse? Making golf tees out of plastic, using them over and over, then having to burn them and make poisonous air? OR chopping down a bunch of trees to make some itty bitty golf tees we break every time we (I) hit them? Hmmmm...well, either way, I don't really give a rats a$$, but that's just me. I think it's a win/win lose/lose situation anyway. Boo-freakin-hoo. Life goes on.

AND I just got asked about "Unicorns". My reply..."When was the last time you saw a stupid horse with a drill bit coming outta its head? What are they good for? IF they were real, they'd leave holes in the ground every time they ate grass." Waste of animal invention is you ask me. We'd be better off with an elevator that only goes down.

Well, till next time, don't take any wooden nickles or elevators that have no "UP" buttons. Be safe, don't travel, and call the blessing depo. (God) If you didn't get that earlier...just...study harder. Life is a one time deal.

L.A. drivers secret

So yeah, I failed my written driving test 3 times in the same day...in the same hour. And the girl behind the counter was actually rooting for me, and laughed out loud when I missed the last question, failing me. I was so close. NOW, here's my question...HOW do these idiot drivers pass? People in LA CAN'T drive. Maybe, the secret, is to do a line of blow, chug some vodka, be on my cell phone with a hooker at the DMV and throw up on the test. Voila! CA drivers license.

(not to mention my car has been stolen, lived in for 2 weeks and turned into a race car the first year I moved here)

I don't feel like typing anymore than that right now after driving. Bite me.