Getting the pants rolled up.

I like this look with the exception of the shirt. I don't know if I could pull it off, but it will be worth a few tries. That is, when the swelling in my ankle goes down enough to fit into shoes again. What a day that will be.

Roma-O-ma-ma

Levi

Levi’s® × Tommy Guerrero Ranchero Collection T-Shirts

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Parents?

This video begs one question, what kind of parents are letting their children take part in something like this?

Time to start again: Freewrite

This is me typing on my keyboard. It’s what I do. Actually, I peck. I use only a small number of my digits, somewhere around four is my best guess. I am prone to typos. Not mistakes, mind you, I never make mistakes, only typos. Sometimes it’s my keys fault. They don’t always bounce back and get stuck in place and my text often ends up looking like this, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Like I said, typos. These typos happen because I peck, not as a result of anything but my lack of skill as a typist.

I should take a class. I would probably not pay attention in this class though and it would not benefit me in the slightest. I do not pay attention in class. I often write in my notebook during class. It only cost me 4.95 but if you do the math, because of my doodling and scribblings the thing is worth somewhere around 100,000 dollars. Imagine that. The things I have in there are probably not worth that, if anything at all. But it’s too late to go back, as I do not have a hot tub time machine.

You should go see that movie. It’s good, really good. Well maybe that’s an exaggeration brought on by my love for hot water, men, alcohol and time travel. But still, I suggest you see it. And don’t bring your notebook otherwise you would waste 9 dollars. I was asked for identification when I bought my ticket. I’m 22. This hurt my feelings in a way.

I can’t grow facial hair and I am rather insecure about it. Every so often, I try to let my facial hair grow for a week just to see if it has blossomed at all. It hasn’t. I fear I will never be able to grow facial hair. Vonnegut had an amazing mustache, which I am jealous of. So did Custer. His was very big and blonde. My facial hair, what I have of it at least, appears to be brown or blackish. I wonder how I would look with said black mustache. Either way, it saddens me. My bare face. I look so young an vulnerable. Okay, vulnerable is maybe too strong of a word for my facial features being that I am such a large burly awesome super cool kind of guy. Again, there’s another exaggeration. Sorry.

I shouldn’t feel the need to apologize. So let me change that to fuck you. See, now that’s better. Here’s a sentence I always wanted to experiment with:

Bam!

Rather short and concise, but it gets the job done. You can almost feel the pain and angst in that Bam! Freud might suggest that it has something to do with my repressed sexual desire to copulate with my brother. But that doesn’t make any sense because my brother is straight. Then again, what does Freud know, he’s dead. Too many cigars.

I bet he wishes he could take a lot of the stuff he said back. I would if I were him. But he’s dead now, so he can’t which is unfortunate in a way because he’s ruined a lot of bright minds with his bull shit. Maybe some of his stuff is right, I don’t know. I just don’t buy into all that fuck your mom nonsense. Really though, if you were that hard up for sex, wouldn’t you just hire a prostitute rather than fuck your mom. That’s me though. And he’s still dead.

This means that he is unable to operate a twitter. I never know what to say on that thing. It’s just 140 characters yet everytime I click on the box to type, I go blank. Not even blank, but like duhhhhhh. Like right now, it’s like duhhhhh, but I keep my fingers moving on these keys because it has been so long, oh so goddamn long since I posted one of these motherfuckers on the blog. And I’ll be better. Oh I’ll try. But no promises.

And Ricky Martin is gay.

For my brother, who doesn't read this.

DIg it part deux