Cold

Regina is the first person I've ever loved more than I love myself. Her kisses are like a cold beer after a long day at work.

Love of my life

Regina,

I'll love you forever
I'll love you forever
I'll love you forever
I'll love you forever

I Don't Trust Brendon

look at this guy. he's a devious, conniving, lascivious, kleptomaniachal, untrustworthy racist.

i don't trust brendon.

how could you? he's getting married, and what do we know about married people?
they have no code of conduct. they are beholden only to their betrothed, and so therefore have no scruples.
they will steal from you, write disparaging things on bathroom walls about you, and hit your puppy a little too hard on the flanks.

plus, he'll go into your room when you're not there and do THIS.



listen to this compelling testimonial from none other than Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

"One time Brendon came into my house and turned all of the knives in my kitchen around, so when I got up in the morning to eat my salmon, caviar and egg sandwich, I reached into the drawer for my boning knife and stabbed myself in the hand. Then I run over to the paper towels and realize that they've been taken. I bled all over my brand new spanish tile. I am not happy with Brendon."

And what about this from hall of famer Satchel Paige:

"Fucker."

Thank you Satchel, I couldn't have said it better myself.

the following is a paid announcement

jamie is completely without direction.






actually by jamie I mean me.




and by me I mean my blog.

I mean this blog is without direction.

Everyone else has something to write about. Funny quips and observations, information and odd sections of what could or could not be a narrative. What do I have? Nada, zip zero zilch, less than zero (but not like that movie with Robert Downey Jr.). So in an effort to make this blog worth something, I'm going to find a title and a premise. When I titled this blog "someday this title will be something else" I don't think I should have lied. Besides, I like titles. Hell, I like titles more than I like premises. So henceforth, as often as I feel like procrastination, I will search tirelessly for a title and a premise for this blog so that someday I may write less about getting arrested or my bullshit life or random things that may or may not have happened.

so, for all of you out there in blogtown, HEAR ME ROAR!

ooh maybe that should be a title.

it has begun!

Eurotrash Landscape!

To everyone who still looks at this thing.

It's back and it's bad.

Carter Matschullat, your ass is mine.

My blog is so much better than your blog and I will proceed to tell you why in three concise reasons.

1. I am way cooler than you. Therefore, my blog is cooler simply by proxy.

2. My blog is sexier. It comes in black, like the new MacBooks. Now why would apple, who I know you like, make its cool enough white computer in black? Because black is sexy. Oh my god....so sexy.

3. Because Chris Jones, Jamie Lee, and Adam Fisher probably hate it and think yours is pretty funny.


let fly mr matschullat, let's see what you got.

finally, i'm all alone

in cyber-space!

I want the internet to be more like it was in hackers. That was awesome! And there was definitely no way that any old people could use it. They simply couldn't manage the necessary finger dexterity or hand eye coordination to navigate the perils of the cyberweb! Maybe they could, but only if they had at some point in their life been a trained fighter pilot.

Ahh, can you smell the freedom? No one checks my blog anymore, so finally I can truly be free. Brendon's getting married so he's too busy being cute and like the most lovable thing in the history of the world (are my true feelings showing? good. BONER!) Carter has a business and is all grown up. He's more or less forsaken his blog as well. Doug sits on his ass all day and does data entry dreaming of the sweet smell of California and the tangy taste of ditching his friend (are my true feelings showing? good. FLACID!) Shanks...oooh Shanks, where have ye gone. Lena is very preoccupied making hash marks on her wall counting down the days until she can finally be free from Hotlanta, which, I might add, doesn't sound very hot. Plus, her art has gotten weirder since being down there. Kenzie doesn't read this blog anymore... and if she is right now... Hey Kenz! Oh yeah, Lucas has a blog...huh.....whatever.

And finally I don't have to be scared of alienating anyone. Because I'm all by myself! So no one cares but me!

My dad has a blog. Unfortunately I don't know how to reach it. But the thought alone makes me chuckle. ha ha ha. Oh that was tasty.

Well I'm bored. I'm going to go back to watching Ran. Is sassy an inappropriate word to describe Kurosawa? I didn't think so. Ha ha ha. Good Night Computer.

"Good Night Jamie. I love you."

AFRO THUNDER!

So in case you've never been to Carter's Blog. It's at www.iamcarter.com. If you take a look back at the most recent YouTube link about the skiing accident, you will understand the title. A man hits the snow from 15-20 feet in the air...hard. Women are screaming. His limp body slides down the slope to a collective gasp from all of the onlookers. Then when he finally stirs and sits up, what do we hear? "Afro Thunder!"

You can't be serious. If that guy were my friend I probably would "accidentally" spill hot chocolate all over his crotch at the ski lodge. Then I would scream "STERILE LIGHTNING" right in his face, even though that doesn't make all that much sense. But his balls would burn. Then I would send all of his clothes down the mountain at night on a toboggan, grab a megaphone and scream "NAKED PARTIAL CLOUD COVER" at him while he was sleeping. The cloud cover bit is just for the sake of continuity. But then again, I probably wouldn't do any of this. Know why? Cause I don't go skiing, cause its stupid.

It's cold. And wet. The two things I associate least with rest and relaxation. The two things I want to be doing most if I am going to be getting on a plane and spending thousands of dollars on an expensive getaway. Which I will never do. I found out recently that most of my life will be spent in debt. There is little to nothing that I can do about that. I like plays. Money doesn't.

Check Out The Paper Industy - Coming Soon!

dust off the 'ol boots. here comes the blogtrain.

The word douchebag comes to mind. Not just small douchebag, I only dabble in gallons. I wish I dabbled in galleons. Beside the point. I'm talking of course of myself and my self-pity hole I call a blog. Oh boo hoo, i work at a shrimp shack, i got arrested, i have to go to court and it's eaaaarrrlllyyyyy....For those of you who care, a self-pity hole is like a glory hole but for your face...there's also less dick.

So I've come to an important determination. I hate awkward knees. You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about people's knees that either bend weirdly so when they stand they look like a fucking model rocket or people who's knees seem to be totally dissociated from the rest of they're body. Or saggy knees.

Words of the day: Canard, Ruse. Both of these words mean essentially the same thing in certain contexts. And they are both awesome. Fucking Yes. Hm. Who even reads this shit anymore? Nobody that's who. I'm blogging in a void. So quiet. My blogging career could end with me on a 3 day absinthe binge cutting off my own ear and then moving to france. My hair would go silver and I would be so gay, oh so gay. I would hike east until I crossed Kamchakta, over a previously undiscovered ice bridge thinking of Jack's fat cock, until finally I died in the Alaskan wilderness in an abandoned bus in a snow drift. But that's totally played.



www.ebaumsworld.com/videos/crazybackflip.html
This kid is fucking retarded.