Socks

Shit. Gotta wake up. I should probably go to my next class. Man, this bed is comfortable and warm. Shit. If I hit that snooze one more time I'm gonna never get up. Can't go to class in these sweatpants... Damn. Should probably put on a new shirt. Shit. I'll wear the pants I wore yesterday, they're still good. Plus then I don't have to move all my stuff from one pocket to another. I'll wear this shirt I wore yesterday too, no one will notice. I had a sweater over it, if I don't wear the sweater this time it'll be like I'm wearing a new shirt. Fuck. Socks. All my pairs of socks are clean; I don't want to waste a whole pair of socks if all I'm doing is going to class. That wouldn't be worth it. I'll wear the socks I had yesterday. Passed the smell test: They won't drive people away. Plus they'll be in shoes anyway. And besides, feet stink, people need to learn to deal with that. I'm just doing my part. Shit, these socks don't match. Well, I've gotten away with wearing them the past few days and no one has noticed. Like I said, they're in shoes, who cares? No one looks at your socks anyway. Socks are inconsequential, they don't even count as part of your wardrobe. You see the very top of the sock, at most; I really don't know anybody on a personal enough level where I will be removing my shoes in front of them. Besides, they kinda match. Black and off-black. One has a red stripe thing on it, but who cares? They might as well be the same damn sock. Shit, this one is a lot thicker than this one. Shit, this one's actually sort of falling apart, holes and such. Ah, whatever, I'm going to class and then coming back here, I'm not fucking going to some hoighty-toighty ball where I will drink champaigne and dance with duchesses. Now I gotta decide which foot deserves to be warmer. This is actually a pretty tough decision; I don't necessarily have a preference towards either of my feet. I think the right foot oughta be the warm one today. It deserves it, I think, I've been putting a lot of extra weight on it by leaning on it lately, it could use a decent sock, even if it just for going to class and coming back. Shit. Class. Fuck. I'm like 10 minutes late already. God dammit. What CD do I want to listen to on the way there? Fuck. Aaagh, I don't wanna look through this big pile of CD's, but fuck if I'm listening to Minor Threat again today. This is important. Jesus. Why the fuck is this important if nothing else involving getting ready in the morning is important? Shit, I oughta shower. I don't even remember the last time I showered. I don't have time now. Whatever. It's just class, I don't care if any of these people think I smell bad or have shitty hair. Well, come to think of it, I really don't care if ANYBODY cares, in class or otherwise. Maybe that's why I never shower, wear the same clothes everyday, spend so much time in bed and jack off to ninternet porn every waking moment of my life. Shit. I wish I was jacking off right now. Maybe I won't go to class.

I promise I'll go next week. Maybe with a new pair of socks even.

Slovenly Borax

I used to play this game when I was a kid. Every time I would take a poop, I would save my urine and stand up and pee on the logs. Here was my little mental scatological version of Space Invaders! It was my sworn duty as Piss Commander to take down the big evil brown alien ships that were set to invade. I had to break apart these giant ships in a full-on arial assault. This game was very difficult, as usually I had a very limited amount of urine at my disposal. It was like if you could run out of ammo in Space Invader and could never get it back. If you lost, you lost. The upside was there was no firing back from the evil ships; they simply laugh at your poor shooting. I suppose I always got the last laugh, flushing them all to oblivion, but there was still a little onset of disappointment seeing a big old log still in one piece. Ocassionally I'd kill a few and still have some left over for a Level 2, but rarely did I ever complete the game and kill all turds floating on screen.

Sometimes when I'd eaten and drank a whole bunch, it was like the Ultimate Edition or something. The ammo was doubled, the turds humongous. Taunting with their sheer girth, my shit cackled in it's delight at being a rim-hanger surronded by a pantheon of peon poops. This was the final boss; I call him Thanksgiving Chunk. Thanksgiving Chunk was a sight to behold: Here was a creature of such magnitude, there is no way my simple penis fleet could muster up the pee-pee power to take down such a brown behemoth. If I could only get together enough sheer hydro-power to fire hose my way through, but rarely did this happen in my pre-beer drinking days. Thanksgiving Chunk has never been taken down, and it stands to reason he never will. As I grew out of the game, I was less determined to even pay attention. Thanksgiving Chunk wins. He'll even refuse to be flushed sometimes, he was that hardcore. That was always the secret weapon you'd have to rely on if you ran out of ammo, but even that atom bomb of plumbing advancement would do no good. He would keep rearing his ugmo head despite my most intense efforts. Damn you to hell, Thanskgiving Chunk!

These days I don't play that silly game. I don't know how the fuck that shit came to me as a child; perhaps my inherent obsession with video games had to transfer even the most ridiculous concept into some sort of playable galactic pursuit. These days I primarily do a post-check on the bowl, like the Germans do, just to make sure everything is in order. But sometimes I get a sort of "I did some sick shit as a kid" flashback as I de ja vu my pee onto my poop. It's sort of wierd to think about today, and I don't know if this is something that will ever be represented in any sort of mainstream media. Where the hell did I come up with that, and, more importantly, why the fuck was it so much fun?

Thoughts That Entered My Mind While In Line At The Dresden Dolls

- 18 year olds are as dumb to me now as 15 year olds were when I was 18.

- I want to shoot a cannon through the neon guitar advertising the Hard Rock Cafe.

- Did I masturbate today? I don't remember.

- I'm glad that I have a candy bar in my freezer at home. Maybe I'll eat it later tonight.

- I never ever want to hear the words "I was into Panic! before they got big" ever again.

- People really seem to take issue with people who ask for change and people in wheelchairs.

- I hope they don't put those fucking X's on my hand again. People keep thinking I'm straight edge. Maybe I should just carry around one of those giant legs of meat like in the Flintstones and gnosh on it every so often until they wash off.

- I wonder if that bouncer realizes my permit is expired.

- I really should have pooped before I left.

- Maybe it's time I got a haircut.

- I wanna have sex in an elevator.

- Why does my back hurt?

- Maybe I should type all this shit in my blog.