nobody talks about fahrvergnugen anymore. personally, i never experienced it firsthand, but it can't just have up and left, can it? new year's resolution: experience the juggernaut that is fahrvergnugen.

i saw this kid, probably eight or nine years old totally punch this even smaller kid right in the face today. right outside my house. i wanted to do something about it, but what could i do? i don;t know if the little devil deserved it or not, but i knew i was getting old when i wanted to go tell the puncher's dad what he'd done. it was just weird. i also called the kid a "punk" when he walked by. jesus i'm crotchety. crotch?

last night was the most i've laughed in a long time. a good friend of mine invited me out for a drink to celebrate the end of the semester and i accepted. we wandered downtown for a while, went to some lame bars, saw all the bums with their dogs being accosted by collegiate thumbsuckers. then we decided to find a bar at which not only would we not fit in, but be such sore thumbs that we might get ejected. Grizzlies!!! We drank, saw a guy who was supposed to be dead, and did karaoke. my pal did "electric avenue" and we did a duet of "talk dirty to me" which cleared the fucking room. god it was funny. i'd never done karaoke before and i probably won't do it again. then we had to leave because a very elderly, drunk guy named "Catfish" said or did something to my friend that he would not repeat but it must have been awful. so then we had an adventure-filled ride home...then upon arrival home, said friend decided to leap from the railing of my front porch. unfortunately, he did not take the rain into account. he slipped, fell and broke two bones in his ankle. he'll be in a cast for 8 weeks. jesus, what a night.

c-c-c-c-c-c-c-coolin' at the bus stop cold waitin' for seats
i got a down ass job coach i'm cold goin' to meet
i got a job coach. what? i got a job coach. yeaaahh.
i gots my lunch all packed and my bus pass ready
tonight me and my staff we cold makin' spaghetti
i got staff. what? i got staff. word.
seats is sposed to be here at 8:15
but that mothafuckin' bus it ain't nowhere to be seen
SEATS! SEATS LATE!
i hold my job at goodwill most tentatively
if i'm late again my staff will be yellin' at me
i got problems. what? i got problems with my job coach.

oh what a night. early march back 2006. link and aaron swam us home from columbia, mo in the swervin'ist, slipperiest, slobstacle course ever. holy shit. i like to blog when i'm less than lucid. i feel creepy...sleepy...plus i just finished the novel below and it left me feeling a bit depressed...poor lizzie...mercy, too, losing her finger like that...

i want to write this down before i forget it. so i'm walking down melrose avenue with somebody i can't remember who--i notice on the curb in front of this house a pile of practice amps, cds, tapes, and other interesting stuff.i knock on the door to ask the residents if it's ok that i take their garbage. the guy is mid 40's, long grey hair, moustache. his woman comes out, in a robe or something, probably @ my age. the guy introduces me and pulls the woman's robe off right in front of me. i look away and excuse myself back out side. as i rummage through the pile of CD's, i notice many of them are breakdance cd's apparently rejected by 93.1 fm. after some time, consternation and discussion with whoever i was with, i go back to the door to find out what the fuck.the couple answer, the woman closer to me, and she reeks of sour sex.she leans in to me as if to suggest a threesome, and i fucking bolt.then i'm in the breakdance van, but my stepdad at the wheel. we get blindsided and pull in to some repair shop (now nowhere near i.c.)--blah blah blah---end up at some party where a bunch of kids from high school are hanging out and some kid hands me a pile of records that i hven't seen in years, claiming he borrowed them in h.s.--lots of records that don;t exist. then there was cocaine. then a high school friend's mom showed up with apparently redone lips and informs me of her lack of underwear. i see for myself that this is true. again, i refuse coitus and the band rocks out. my guitar is a nuisance, i grab the mic and we rock "maybe it's maybelline" for what appears to be a room full of 13 yr. old retarded kids. the end.

court sucks. people lie, judges believe them and you lose money. maybe if we'd responded to the letter Judge Mathis sent us instead of going to regular court, it would have gone more smoothly. never go to small claims court.

i goddam erased the goddam blahg i done writ about school. fuck it. schooooooooools out for winter..."try not to kill anybody...try not to kill anybody..."