Juxtaposition defined
So I'm walking downtown trying to look tough, right? I'm wearing shades, got my hoodie pulled over my head, got my headphones on, and I'm walking like a boxer, giving off this "don't fuck with me" vibe.

Then I realize I'm listening to The Carpenter's "Close To You."

I haven't had sex in so long, my penis makes a creaking noise.

Well, it's kind of a miracle.
Tonight I did my laundry, cleaned my apartment, vaccuumed, did the dishes AND got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor! Amazing. I don't even have a girlfriend. I don't even have a date coming over for the next, um, year or so.

"I just have this flashy, wacky job that confuses people into thinking that I'm somehow fascinating."
-- JULIA ROBERTS

The caption for this photo should read "Bitch, don't leave me hanging!"

Two quick thoughts for today,then you can go back to whatever you were doing

THOUGHT #1
I think the guys from the Discovery Channel's "Monster Garage" should meet with the "Queer Eye" guys, and have a party or combo/hybrid garage/style show.

THOUGHT #2
From a Dove Chocolate wrapper: "Footprints in the sand cannot be made sitting down." True, unless you've got feet growing out of your ass.

My favorite quote I heard today
"(sigh) I'm nobody. There are guys in the background of Mary Worth comics who are more important than me."
-Frye, "Futurama"

I finally bought the man-purse, dammit. Yes, after over a week and a half of bag-related stress, I have finally chosen a man-purse. And I am happy. I am one happy, bag-carrying motherfucker.


I think you should know what I went through. During the last ten days or so, I made three trips to Sports Chalet, one trip to Big Five Sporting Goods, one trip to the luggage store downtown, and over five hours online looking for a goddamn bag. Jesus, I had an easier time deciding on a tattoo!

Maybe it’s a commitment thing. Maybe it’s a pickiness thing. I’m almost sure it has something to do with women. Huh? Yeah. You heard me.

I’m picky as hell when it comes to women. And I think that sometimes my pickiness gets in the way. So maybe I was trying to divert my pickiness energy elsewhere, in order to be less picky with women. Follow me so far? Good, cuz I’m confused.

Picking a bag should be simple, and not some freaking ordeal. I just wanted a bag that looked good, was strong, elegant but not too feminine, wasn’t stupid, would last many years, would be there for me when the apocalypse happened, and looks sexy wearing a vinyl catsuit.

Okay, that’s the pon farr talking.

Why did it take almost two freakin weeks? Because I’m a picky mothertrucker. Picky with women, picky with backpacks.

OK, enought with the bag. On to another subject...the woman with the orange sweater…

I kinda want to ask her out. I think it would be totally out of the blue, me asking her, because we really didn’t talk that much. But heck, she’s cute and the next time I see her again will be February. I mean, what’s the harm in asking, right? And February is three months away. I mean, the way things are going now, the apocalypse COULD happen in three months. And what if it did? If the world cracked open and I was being sucked into the earth’s molten core, I would hate my last thoughts to be “Man, I should have asked her out.”

In fact, I think everyone should do that. Just for fun, everyone should imagine that tomorrow the earth is going to open up and swallow you into a red hot fiery death. Fun, right? OK, I’m sure the first thought would be “where’s the fire extinguisher” or “are my boxers lined with asbestos” or something along those lines. But if any of those thoughts are “why didn’t I ask so-and-so out,” then I suggest you stop imagining the world’s end and ask that person out.

Okay, it doesn’t mean that I’m gonna ask her out, but it’s a fun exercise.

Man, I love it when women walk around in their underwear.

Huh?
It's the pon farr.

Okay, so like, I met this, she was, it was...OK we did this show, and the person, she...she's really pretty. She was wearing calf-high boots and a black skirt that went to her knees and it had a nice, tasteful slit on the side and she was wearing this orange sweater and she's just really pretty. So I looked and looked and looked and I didn't see a ring on her finger, so that's a good sign right there, hope hope. And she's like, I dunno. Nice. It seems. And I think if she's not married or engaged or seeing anyone, well, that would be a good sign right there. And if she didn't just break up with someone really serious like, then that would be good too. And man, if she thought I was attractive and would want to go out on a date with me, then maybe, just maybe (i'm not guaranteeing it, though), I will belive in a god of some kind. Maybe.

I generally don't have much of an opinion of Oprah Winfrey either way. I was never a fan, but then again, I never hated her.

Until a few minutes ago.

I'm usually up late (reading, e-mailing, or just lying on the floor contemplating the apocolypse, which may happen really, really soon), and I usually have the TV on in the background. So here I am, just puttering around my apartment, when she comes on, and I hear that she's going to go shopping at Costco, where you can find the best bargains ever. I agree with that.

What pissed me off, though, is what happened afterwards. It just seemed to me that Oprah was just an ultra-rich woman marvelling at what us common folk have to go through. She kept saying how amazing it was, and was in awe of the ultra-huge bargain sizes of everything. She was also amused that you could buy Cartier watches, jewelry and toilet paper at the same place. "Truly one-stop shopping" she said. And then she asked for the bargain designer clothes section. Like she can't afford the full price ones. Yeah, Ope, we can dress just like you without having your income. Surprise.

Oooh, what really pissed me off was when she went to pick up a jumbo box of Tide. She thought it was "cute" that it had it's own handle. Cute. Yeah. It's cute when you're hauling your entire family's wash to the 24-hour laundromat at 2am.

THen she joked about the junk food aisle, where she looked at food she said she wanted to eat but shouldn't buy. She looked at the chips and drooled and talked about how much she wanted to eat them, then she said "OK, back to reality." So she went off to the gourmet section to buy lobster tail, giant prawns, and white wine. Who's reality Ope? Not ours.

C'mon, when is Oprah Winfrey ever going to use her Costco card again? You think when the cameras turn off she's ever going back there? And if she ever does go back there, you think she's just going to pull up by herself and drag her own cart around and lug cases of water into her basket?

It reminded me of when the press saw George Bush Senior buying groceries at the local supermarket, and how fascinated he was at the price scanner. We have to go through this shit every day, it's not fascinating to us, it's common, everyday stuff. Both Bush and Oprah made me realize how out of touch with everyday people they both can get.

I was really happy though, that when she wrote a check for her purchases, they asked for her ID and phone number for check approval. Yeah, Oprah, there are some things your fame can't get you past.

I'm having a crisis
I don't know why I'm having this issue, but here it is: I've been trying to buy a new man-purse/backpack. I've been searching and searching. I've been searching for over a week and can't decide on one. I don't know why. I want something that's not so overwhelmingly big like a messenger bag, but also something that's not so small that I can't carry anything. I've found several nice bags, some shoulder man-purse type things, some sling bags, and some smaller messenger bags, but i can't decide! I want to get good value for the money I'm spending. I want something that will look pretty stylish and last for a long time. Something that is not too corporate looking, something that's not too fancy looking, yet something a bit eye-catching, something that people will say "hey, nice bag, I need one of those."

For shit sake, it's just a f***ing bag!! Why is it so goddamn difficult!?!?

HELP ME FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Sometimes I just want to stop what I'm doing and yell "Ow! My balls!"
Especially when there's nothing happening to my balls.

Dude, I was at this party tonight, and it was at this house in the valley, and the dude who played Cousin Oliver from The Brady Bunch lives there! He was there! He still looks like Cousin Oliver, but older and with facial hair! Dude! Dude! For real!

Damn this pon farr thing! Damn it all to hell!
I rented a Lara Croft game for my playstation2. I tried playing it, I really tried. But I can't. And not because I'm not good at it. It's because she's so damn distracting. I mean, c'mon, those jeans. And the noises she makes? I can't. I just can't.

I can be soooo dorky sometimes
One of today's headlines read "Palestinians Install New Cabinet," and all I could think of was "...and it matches the wallpaper."

My dad's warmth overwhelms me!
Yet another internet chat with my dad:

Me: Hello.
My dad: what's up?
Me: Nothing. I'm at work.
My dad: okay, bye now dad

And he signed his last message, just to make sure I knew it was him!

What the hell happened to Liz Phair? She used to be cool!

Same thing goes for Mickey Mouse. In his black and white movies, he was more rowdy and ready to roll. Now he's a happy people pleasing ass-kisser. What the fuck?

A memo to a certain breakfast food
Dear Egg McMuffin,

Did you feel that? That was your sorry ass being kicked by the McGriddle. I bet it hurt. You should just take your lame self off the breakfast menu, because you are not wanted here. Sorry, McMuffin, I never liked you then, and I don't like you now.

I have now found a purpose for my hypnotized chicken army. They will invade all McDonalds and destroy every last Egg McMuffin. Then they will steal all the McGriddles and then bring them to me, where I will make them a new home. In my belly.

The streetlamps on this particular street were really short, maybe just bigger than a person. I though it was funny, so I pointed it out to her.

She looked at them. Then she laughed really hard.

Yeah, that's my kind of girl.

Too bad we're just friends.

The skinny on a lightweight problem
All of a sudden, Dr. Phil is on this crusade to keep America obesity-free. He wants the country to get off their fat asses and drop a couple of pounds, for chrissake. I can understand why. We are the most powerful, wealthiest nation in the world, yet we have the most overweight people with the unhealthiest eating habits. We can't have that happening, now, can we? We've got an image to uphold. I think it's a government plot to create more soldiers. But I digress.

Doesn't it just seem natural? Didn't our parents want us to have everything they didn't have? They didn't want us to suffer as much as they did, and they didn't want us to starve. So, what's the problem? Success means not having to suffer the indignity of unneccesary physical labor and never having to worry about where the next meal is coming from. Americans just take it to the extreme.

But I'm not going to write about the overweight problem. I'm going to write about my weight problem. Yes, I have a weight problem, but it's not viewed as a problem by the rest of the country. I have a hard time maintaining my weight just like anyone else does, but in the opposite direction. I have trouble keeping my weight up.

Now, people always say "I wish I had your problem." I get very offended when I hear that, and I'm not fucking around here. A weight problem is a weight problem, regardless of which way the scales go. My story reads like an overwieght person's problem, but instead of the word "fat," replace it with the word "skinny." Everything else is the same. I had the nagging relatives, friends who poked fun, and the terrible self-image that goes along with a weight problem.

It started with my mom. She would look at me and berate me for being so thin. "You're not eating enough," she'd yell. "Are you anorexic?" "Look at you, you're wasting away."

And I would hear it from other relatives. "Oh, my God, you're too skinny" would be the FIRST thing I'd hear at family gatherings. And they would say it with such horror in their voices that I felt like I'd done something wrong. "You're losing weight!" "Oh, my God, you're skinnier than before!"

Then the comparisons. "Look at your brother. He looks normal. But you...why aren't you eating?" They'd compare me to cousins, and other people my age. "Look at him. He's not skinny. You should be like that."

I couldn't explain it. I eat, yes I eat. I eat when I'm hungry, and I stop when I'm not. Maybe I have a fast metabolism. Maybe I have a small stomach. But it was impossible for me to eat the way everyone else did.

"Finish everything on your plate."
"I'm full."
"Come on, you have to eat everything."
"I can't."
"Look at your cousin. His plate is empty. Your plate should be empty too."
Like there was something wrong with me.

My stomach was full. I wasn't hungry anymore. I was stuffed. Yet saying I was full, or I couldn't eat any more was not believable to them. Somehow I was lying, or being stubborn.

It came to the point where I feared going to family gatherings because the issue of my weight would come up. I would try to make my way to other rooms or out of sight, or hold a plate of food so no one would bother me about eating. My mother was convinced I was anorexic. How's that for fun? I'm a teenager, I'm struggling at school, I just want to go home to relax, but my mom thinks I have a psychological disorder.

As I got older, I would just lie.
"You're so skinny. I think you've lost weight."
"That's impossible because I've gained five pounds since you last saw me."

That would shut them up.

But the worst thing about it wasn't what they said, but how I felt. I thought I was ugly, like those pictures of Civil War soldiers, bony, almost skeletal. That's how I saw myself. I was some strange caricature with a huge head, big glasses, braces, and a lollypop stick body. "So that's why I'm not popular. That's why I can't get a date." And the comments from family never helped. The worst thing you can do to an awkward teenager is point out how awkward they look.

So you go around thinking that you are not right. I tried working out, weight gain powders, eating calorie-laden food, hoping my body would change into something acceptable. But it didn’t matter, because I didn’t feel acceptable, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. I was lifting more weight, I was punching and kicking the bag harder, I could do more sit-ups, but I still felt like a tiny, invisible person, never looking the way I was supposed to.

It took me many years of really looking at myself and at the scale to realize that I really wasn’t as bad off as I thought I was. It took me a long time to convince myself that, as far as height and weight proportions, I’m really not that much underweight. I’m not the average weight for my height, but I’m not grossly underweight, that’s for sure. I do eat. It’s not like I’m refusing to eat meals or puking in the bathroom.

Every once in a while, though, the old feeling comes back. Sometimes I freak out when my pants feel loose. I mean, REALLY freak out, like "holy shit, something's wrong, something's wrong, somethings wrong" freak out. But I know I'll eventually gain it back if I just eat right.

But what really pisses me off is when I try to buy new clothes. I went to Old Navy to buy jeans once, and I asked for a 28” waist. They said they stopped making that size. “Maybe online, but we don’t carry them in the stores.” And it’s not just Old Navy. Levi’s, Banana Republic, all of them stopped making my waist size. So, for a moment I'm pissed off at the world. Fuck you, I like my skinny ass, now make me a pair of jeans that fit!

Why does it have to be that way? When I went to Singapore, I was at least a medium to large! Here in America, I couldn't fit into a large unless it was a children's large! But I have to remember: this is America, success equals bigger.

My name is Kennedy. I lose weight really fast.

No, you don't want my problem.

A man's thought on menstruation
There's "On the rag." Or, my leastfavorite, "I'm bleeding like a stuck pig."

Why do euphamisms for the period sound so vulgar? The female body is only doing what it's supposed to be doing. Be proud of your womanhood! Don't be ashamed! Start using the phrase "My uterine lining is finished with its tour of duty."

See? Pride. And a little patriotism.

Just trying to help out my sisters out there.

Another open letter

Dear people who run McDonalds,

I can't say enough aboout the McGriddles you make for breakfast. They fucking kick the shit out of the Egg McMuffin. Really. I never really liked that piece of shit lame-ass breakfast thing. In fact, I may go as far a saying I fucking hated the Egg McMuffin. Which is a really strong statement, because I like eggs, and I like muffins. But you guys sure did some fucked up shit to that thing.

Anyways, back to the McGriddles. It's almost genius. OK, so it's like two small pancakes (with the syrup INSIDE!!!), with eggs and cheese and either bacon or sausage sandwiched in between. Fucking A!!! That's fucking beautiful. How the hell did you come up with that? Was one of you eating a big, hearty breakfast and said "Fuck this, I want to eat all of this at once"? So you came up with that bad ass McGriddle. Because, really, it works. It really works.

I must reiterate that I believe you should sell those motherfuckers all goddamn day. You hear me? I'm one of those bastards (and I'm sure there are many others) who can eat pancakes (or any kind of breakfast, except for those fucked up McMuffins) all damn day. If it was, like, 2am, and there was a McDonalds open, I would sure as shit buy one of those bad boys, hands down. I swear to fucking god I would.

So, please, McDonalds people, listen to my plea. And I'm sure I speak for countless others who have been hypnotized by your breakfast treat.

What the fuck is in there? Crack? I'm fucking addicted!

the Kennedy Kabasares

An Open Letter
Dear McDonald's,

I think you should sell your McGriddles all day long, and not just for breakfast.

Sincerely,
the Kennedy Kabasares

It's in the genes
Ever since my dad retired, he's gone back to his first love, writing columns. Here's an example -->CLICK HERE<--

Get me to Vulcan, quick!
For some reason I really need a 2-speed drill and a double action saw RIGHT NOW!! -->CLICK HERE RIGHT NOW, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!<--

Some of the weirdest people
I just came back from a television shoot. I must say (and I'm trying not to make generalizations), that extras are the weirdest people. Why do the weird ones come up and talk to me?

So I was standing around, for them to call me to the soundstage, when an extra came up to me and asked "Do you watch Hong Kong movies?" I said "No." Then she asked "Were you born in America?" I lied and said yes. Then she proceeded to talk about Hong Kong movies. What the hell is that? Just because I'm Asian you think I watch Hong Kong movies? What pissed me off more was that SHE WAS ASIAN TOO! Anyways, I was doing my best to not have a conversation with her, and then she says "Are you Pilipino?" I said "Yes." Then she says "Do you watch Pilipino movies? They're bloody awful." Whatever, lady, you suck. I was not talking with you, and I was not asking your opinion. Yet, since I just happened to be standing there, I became your conversation buddy.

OK, so next, I did my scene. After I was done, I was walking back to the dressing room, and another extra just happened to be walking next to me. He was a big guy, about my age, but he had this little kid attitude, like I had the answers to everything. I was flattered, but really, I don't have the answers to anything. But as we walked the LONG WALK from the soundstage to the dressing area, he spoke nonstop to me. "How long have you been doing this? Is it fun? I want to get into stunt work. I think I would be good at it." And on and on and on and on. He wasn't annoying, really. In fact, I found him a bit endearing. But it was just that he KEPT ON TALKING. Again, I didn't say much. I tried, but HE KEPT TALKING.

Oh, and by the way, an older, fading megastar from the 70's/80's was on the set for the same show. She looked kind of schlubb-y. And all I could think while I looked at her was "I wonder if she's drunk?"

Paper jams are the most suck ass things in the universe!!! Wait, poverty and world hunger suck more. Ok. Well, paper jams are pretty high up there.

Europe anyone?
I said "Hey, flights to Berlin are really cheap right now."
She replied "Yes! Let's go to Germany for the weekend and go bowling!"

Hell yes. That's my kind of girl.

Too bad we're just friends.

The hotter the weather, the less women wear.

Thank you, God.

P.S.
Pon Farr.

I do important research...
...and found THIS

Damn. The Pon Farr is really working me.

Living on the edge
I just came back from Dodger Stadium to pick up some donation items for work. I wanted so much to yell "GO GIANTS" as I left, but I didn't want to get shot in the parking lot.

I soooo love this song, and not in an ironic, mocking way. I really love this song. So shut up.

SOMEBODY'S BABY
Jackson Browne

Well, just - a look at that girl with the lights comin' up in her eyes.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She must be somebody's baby.
All the guys on the corner stand back and let her walk on by.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She must be somebody's baby.
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She's so fine.
She's probably somebody's only light.
Gonna shine tonight.
Yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right.

I heard her talkin' with her friend when she thought nobody else was around.
She said she's got to be somebody's baby; she must be somebody's baby.
'Cause when the cars and the signs and the street lights light up the town,
She's got to be somebody's baby;
She must be somebody's baby;
She's got to be somebody's baby.
She's so....
She's gonna be somebody's only light.
Gonna shine tonight.
Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight.

I try to shut eyes, but I can't get here outta my sight.
I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.
We'll, I'm just gonna walk up to her.
I'm gonna talk to her tonight.
Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's only light.
Gonna shine tonight.
Yeah, she's gonna be somebody's baby tonight.
Gonna shine tonight, make her mine tonight.

OK. Here is a mock example of an IM with my brother...

me: (1:00:00pm)Hey.
bro: (1:00:30pm)Hey.
bro: (1:00:45pm)How are you?
bro: (1:00:47pm) Hello?
bro: (1:00:49pm) Hello hello? Are you still there?
bro: (1:00:53pm) HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!!
me: (1:01:30pm) I'm fine.

If you are ever IM-ing with my brother, apparently you have to answer his AS SOON AS TEMPORALLY POSSIBLE, or else he thinks you've been killed by a boulder, eaten by a shark, taken hostage by some splinter group, or abducted by aliens.

Just remember that.

This is wrong
I think I'm getting addicted to craigslist missed connections.

So I had an incredibly full weekend. Not painful, just full, and tiring, and it got me physically stressed out and the stye on my eyelid came back. But that's OK because now I am calm and it is receding. Regardless, all the things I did were very fun, but it was just tiring.

My Saturday started at 1am. Yeah. So here goes:
SATURDAY - 1 to 3am: hosted the radio show. Then I had to rush home to sleep as much as I could.
9am - 2pm: Short video shoot.
2pm - 6pm: rehearsal for a Shakespeare reading.
7pm - 10pm: recording with zero 3. I thought i was going to be done, but Traci had to host an event on Sunset that evening, and I guess she didn't want to go there alone, so I went with her. Got home at around 2:30am.

SUNDAY - Had to be at ANOTHER video shoot (a different one) at 11am, then worked from noon til 6pm.

And that was it. But it was very full and I was very sleepy by the end of Sunday. But it was fun. The end. Oh, and the stye is gone. The end again.

SO MUCH FOR SECRECY
OK, so NATO went through an exercise yesterday. Here's what Reuters had to say:

"The exercise was held at the U.S. military's Joint National Integration Center, a high-tech missile defense and space warfare facility 10 miles east of Colorado Springs.

The high-tech war-gaming base is so secret that the military refuses to post photographs of it on the Internet."

Yeah. A top-secret base that we know is 10 MILES EAST OF COLORADO SPRINGS. We don't have any pictures of it, but we know WHERE IT IS.

The pon farr is back.

Another reason I am a goofball
I live in a studio apartment. It is smaller than the computer you are reading this on. I have a cordless phone. Already, that seems a bit odd. Not only do I have a cordless phone, but I cannot tell you how many times I have had to hit the "find" button on the damn thing. Did I mention I live in a stuido?

One reason why I'm kind of a goofball
Yesterday I was flipping through a book of old pictures from Russia. I saw one photo from the 1920's of all these factory workers gathered for a labor meeting. They were hundreds of them all standing in the factory, looking straight into the camera, all ages, looking quite stoic, faces hardened by labor, clothes dirtied with machine dust, yet looking quite dignified. And all I could think of was "Wow, look at all those hats."

DON'T PISS ME OFF!!!
I know how to hypnotize chickens...

so don't fuck with me or I will gather my chicken army who will do my bidding without fear!!!

Yeah, who's laughing now!!! You'll be sorry. You'll all be very, very sorry!!! BEWARE WORLD! MY CHICKEN ARMY AWAITS!!!!

People think I am a very sociable, outgoing person. But the absolute truth is that I get anxious about social situations. It could be as simple as meeting friends for lunch. I seriously get kind of apprehensive about it. In all honesty, sometimes I would much rather spend a quiet time at home watching TV or reading than going out with people.

But the thing is, when I do go out with friends or whatever, I usually have a good time.

I'm a freak.

Looking back, the fire seems very symbolic. In rituals, fire is symbolic of change, purification, stuff like that. It makes sense now. Well, when you look back at your life, a lot of things start to make sense.

But the fire. I wasn’t there. I was in a van on the way back from Las Vegas with friends. My cell phone rings. It’s my roommate. He tells me about the fire. It was a shock, but I was excited. Everything was coming to a head.

C was becoming more unstable with me, and I just wanted out. I was realizing that the relationship was not making me happy, because I started basing decisions and changing myself in order to accommodate her. I realized that had been going on for a long time, and I was losing myself. I wanted it to be over. I needed to find my self-esteem again. The whole relationship with C was a slow erosion of my self-image. I slowly started to see myself as a loser, never being good enough. At least, not good enough for her.

And I wanted to move out of my apartment. It was a great living situation, the rent was dirt cheap, the place was huge, and the place would be better than before after the landlord made repairs, but I really needed to have a place on my own. And what better way to go looking for a new apartment than being burned out of your old one.

It was a good starting point, that fire. That was nearly three years ago. And since then, things have accelerated for me. I have gone through and have grown so much since then. I can say that I am definitely in a much better place now than where I was.

Everyone could use a good fire now and again.

Today's internet chat with my dad
me: Hello.
Dad: what's up?
me: Nothing. I'm at work.
Dad: bye now.
"dad" signed off.

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!!!

At home I have a dial-up internet connection, and I've signed up for Netflix. I'm that much closer to becoming the reclusive eccentric hermit I want to be.

More eye things

OK, now my right eye is getting puffy. I don't know why. What is up with that eye? What the hell is going on?!?

My horoscope for today:
Weariness and low biorhythms may have you feeling a bit weak and listless today, dear Gemini, and you're likely to want to stay home in bed rather than get out and go anywhere. This goes against your normal inclination, so you might be tempted to bite the bullet and get out in spite of your malaise. However, don't fall into this trap. Get some rest, so that when you absolutely have to go out you'll be your old self again.

Aw, shit! I should have read that BEFORE I went to work!!!

Who keeps stealing my post-it notes?

I just ate one of them there McDonald's breakfast McGriddle things. Wow. They are like the best fast food breakfast thing ever created! Did you hear me? I said the best EVER CREATED!!!

I don't want to grieve again for a second death. Not again. Two in three months. I can't go through it again. I'm too tired.

I don't want to alarm anyone, but...click here -> WE'RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!! <-click here

Jesus is coming any minute now and I look like shit!!!

Been listening to the Plaid remix of Bjork's "All Is Full of Love." It's really pretty. Didn't know a remix could make me cry.

I feel awkward when I'm around her.

I'm just weird.

Ok, ok, as long as we keep them under four feet tall and don't make them any stronger than us, and make sure they don't have a "kill" logarithm in their programming, I think we're safe...Check it out.

What I want today...
1) For my heart to be made of Nerf.
2) A good backrub. I said GOOD, dammit!!!
3) An ice cold soda pop.
4) A nap.
5) A big, long kiss on the mouth.
6) A million dollars.
7) A pony.
8) A shower.
9) A decent parking space.
10) Another nap.

I read recently about a report that men who frequently masturbate lower their risk for prostate cancer.

Great.

Now I'm masturbating out of fear.

Yesterday it was so hot I came home and just lay on my bed in my drawers, just laying there moaning "it's so goddamn hot, it's so goddamn hot" for about an hour and a half.

T says that since I usually write in bed, most of my poems are about women. OK, she's right. The last two poems I wrote recently were in bed and were about a certain woman. You know, that one. The one from somewhere else and the one whom I asked out and the one who is completely not ready for dating right now and the one who makes me feel all goofy. Yeah, her. THe first one I wrote a few days after I met her. The last one I wrote the night I saw her last. It's really frustrating. I feel like a dope. I feel like I'm back in high school and I have braces again and I have to not act like myself or else she'll think I'm a dork. Yeah, just like that.

The stye on my eyelid is going down. Yesterday it was about as big as a small house. Today it's about as big as an RV. I just want it to go away.

It's like she's lurking around the corner, or hovering right over my shoulder. It's very disconcerting. It's almost like she's threatening. But threatening to do what, I don't know. It puts me off.

I'm watching this PBS documentary on Sparta. Man, the woman hosting it is HOT!!!! I like history.

My weekend in Chicago
Hmmm. Chicago. Chicago, Chicago, Chicago. What can I say about this lovely city? This last weekend was my 4th visit to the Windy City. Chicago brings back many memories, mostly bittersweet. But, hell, life is bittersweet.

This last trip was a combo, almost a surprise-pak of everything. But at least I was with zero 3. There was mostly stress ( I got a stye on my eyelid Saturday night, and it has grown to the size and weight of a bowling ball), a lot of work, and a lot of fun.

Friday we were running late and rushed like motherfuckers to the airport. THEN, we were delayed on the runway of LAX for about 45 minutes. When we landed at O’Hare, we were greeted by lightning, thunder as loud as cannons, rain like a monsoon, and some hail. We wondered if this was an omen of some kind. Me, E, R, and the other E checked into a small, private hotel where we could have ordered a stairmaster to be sent up to our room. How? The room was as small as a walk-in closet. Where the hell would we put it? But I really, REALLY wanted to order one anyway, just to say that I did.

Saturday I met up with A, an ex-girlfriend from many years ago, who is now married and expecting a child. We spent most of Saturday afternoon together, which was the most relaxing day all weekend, although we ate enough dim sum to stuff a young elephant (maybe her baby was really, really hungry). Afterwards, I went to meet R and the other E near Wrigley Field (they tried to get standing room tickets to the game, but it was sold out).

Saturday evening we saw a great showcase of poets from around the country. Some of them I knew, most of them I didn’t. Afterwards, a barbecue at a friend’s apartment. Yum.

Sunday – thundershowers, workshops. Work. Zero 3 ran an ensemble performance workshop. It was lots of fun. 2 hours goes by so quickly in those things. Afterwards, straight to the theater to prepare for the showcase in which we were to be featured. The program had to be changed, though, and we ended up not performing. Regardless, we were witness to and participated in a really different, bonding event. Odd, yes. Somewhat uncomfortable, but definitely, something that affected everyone. Oh, and afterwards, E and a bunch of us went to a bar where we were part of a racial incident that became a learning experience for everyone. And I had a cheeseburger.

Monday morning (yes, I said MORNING) – workshops. We closed our weekend with our final workshop. Again, a ton of fun. All participants were fun and open, and we met many cool people. Was driven to Oak Park to have lunch with my cousin, who really wanted to see me. I was in such a rush (we were leaving for the airport) I had time to see her for 10 minutes, stuff my face with lumpia, and leave. Met the rest of zero 3 and others at Bennigan’s on Michigan Ave. I paid for E’s lunch and the rest of the boys (they were driving back to L.A. and I figured they needed the cash for the trip). The other E drove T and I back to O’Hare. The sun was shining. During the wait in the airport, T and I discussed that we were quite disappointed that we couldn’t perform, but figured we were not meant to perform in Chicago that weekend. Another time would come.

So I’m back home. At work. With a stye on my eyelid the size of Rhode Island. I learned a lot from this trip:
1. Pack light. It kicks ass.
2. I have conditioned myself to fall asleep once I get on the plane. Mostly because sometimes planes freak me out.
3. A map on your hand-held computer makes you look less like a tourist and makes you feel so much like a space traveler.
4. Taking the train makes me feel so metropolitan.
5. Bring a compass. I’m not kidding.
6. Pon farr travels with you.
7. Douglas Adams was right…don’t forget your towel.

I'm sooooo happy. Last night I got 10 hours of sleep. I really, really, REALLY needed it. Hooray for sleep!

Oh, yeah, about the girl (see July 7th post)...yeah...um...I asked her out on a date and she said, quite nicely, "no." It's a timing thing.

Two quotes I live by
"Show business is just like high school, except you get paid." - Martin Mull

(on dating)"If you don't get me, you don't get me." - My friend Alec

It's easy to have a party in my head, since I don't have much brains taking up all the space. It's kinda like having a party in an empty warehouse.

Conversation is an art and some people are still working with fingerpaints.

Everyone just shut the fuck up for five seconds and let me finish my goddamn sentence.

Something I have always known and have proven this week...I sooooo cannot wake up before 9am and be coherent all day.

Sometimes I'm really into world news and current events, and sometimes I'm really into staring at my toes.

Because of my age, many women I meet are engaged, married or divorced. Which gives them little time for going out on dates with me.

Reasons why this week may bug the shit out of me...

1) Yesterday my schedule for this week just got complicated.
2) I may not go to San Francisco for my friend's wedding.
3) Even if I do get to go, it will be in a crazy rush.
4) I'm going to miss two days of work (no pay)
5) My cel phone just died for no reason

Today's internet chat with my brother

Me: hey.
Bro: hey.

THANK YOU, EVERYBODY! DRIVE SAFELY!! GOOD NIGHT!!!!

I'm celibate by choice. Oh, it wasn't my choice, but a choice was made somewhere along the line, and because of it, I'm not getting laid.

I think I can go to Burningman this year! I'M PRETTY DAMN SURE I'M GOING TO BURNING MAN THIS YEAR!!! YAY!!!!

ANOTHER INTERNET CHAT

Me: So, what's up with you and [girl’s name] these days?
My friend : Not much. She canceled on me last week to do stuff with family. I hadn't heard from her up until yesterday. We talked for a bit but haven't made any plans 'cause she's busy these days.
Me: I see.
My friend : yup.
My friend : But I think things are ok.
Me: Did she reveal herself as a cyborg from the future?
My friend : er...
My friend : no.
Me: OK, cool. So everything's fine.
My friend : huh???
Me: Look, as long as she isn't a cyborg from the future intent on destroying the human race, everything's cool.
Me: I mean, come on, you gotta draw the line somewhere.
My friend : Then what kind of cyborg is she, if she is a cyborg?
Me: Look, I think you're asking too many questions. Just be happy that she's not here to destroy us all.
My friend : So in a way, I'm saving the human race from total annihilation!!!
Me: You may very well be, my friend.

Unless it's literally a life-or-death situation, nothing is a life-or-death situation. So chill out.

This weekend kicked all available asses, and some outside of the immediate area. Met a girl. Went to a 4th of July barbecue. Sang with a band. Saw 2 gloriously bad movies. Saw a kick-ass play at the Taper. Had dinner with two wonderful friends. Went to a roller-disco party. Did my laundry. Shopped at the Rock n Roll Ralph's.

Did I mention I met a girl?

Everyone goes through moments of self-doubt. Even though those moments are very brief, to me they are more than just brief moments. They are micro apocalypses where my universe violently collapses on itself in a bloody, fiery whirlwind, accompanied with the screams of a million angels, and compresses into a dark, cold ball of lonliness and despair, where no light can ever penetrate.

It lasts for about 10 seconds. Then I think about ice cream and sex.

I like the puddin.

P.S.
Not the dessert kind.

P.P.S.
Yes, that's what I mean.

P.P.P.S.
It's the pon farr.

Re-interpreting my history
I used to say that I was never cool in high school. Now I say that I was way cool in high school. It's just that no one was paying attention.

It's been so long
And I've been putting out the fire
With gasoline
- David Bowie

A typical internet chat between me and my brother
Me: Hey.
Bro: hey
Me: You get married yet?
Bro: yeah we got married on Friday.
Me: Oh. Congratulations.
Me: So is she taking your name or keeping hers?
Bro: Thank you. She is keeping hers. She's had it for so long. I don't care.
Me: Makes sense.

Fuck. Static trapeze is alot like ballet on a trapeze bar. And ballet is fucking TOUGH. So imagine doing ballet while balancing on top of a bar AND THEN hanging below a bar. Fuck.

OK, here it is, on the toughness scale...

1) ballet
2) martial arts
3) football

I like getting into my car and seeing cat footprints on the windshield. I like it even more when the cat footprints skid, like the cat slipped on his way up.

Yeah, it's the simple things, ain't it?

I think women in underwear are sexier than nude women. Bikinis don't count.

I'm telling you, pon farr.

I love chocolate. I love it a LOT. Love it, love it, love it. BUT, no matter what anyone says, chocolate is not, never has, and never will be better than sex. Except for bad sex, but I'm not counting bad sex. I'd rather have good sex than great chocolate.

Dude, it's the pon farr.

Today's Conversation

Friend: What can you tell me about her that I don't already know?
Kabasares: She's a cyborg sent from the future to destroy the human race.
Friend: oh...
Kabasares: So don't let on.
Friend: ok... will do.
Kabasares: And be nice to machines when you're around her.
Friend: like the soda vending machine?
Kabasares: Yes. Don't hit it.
Kabasares: And don't go near any large magnets.
Friend: why?
Kabasares: She might get stuck to them.
Kabasares You know, metallic skeleton and all.
Friend: oh!!
Kabasares: And don't get all weird if she says "I need a pickup" and she sticks her finger in a socket.
Friend: ??????
Kabasares: Just dont get all weird.
Kabasares: THe fate of the human race is in your hands.
Friend: I don't know if I can do this.
Kabasares: Look, you're all set. You're a nice guy, she's got a titanium skull. It'll be fine.

It's Contagious
So my friend T met this cute lawyer, and she thought "Oh, I should introduce her to Kennedy." In the course of their conversation, she found out the the lawyer was married.

The cycle continues.

OK, new law written by Kennedy - no married people, recently divorced or dis-engaged. I have spoken.

Tip for the day (that I learned yesterday)
Don't eat anything for at least an hour before a solo trapeze class.

If I had just three wishes for today, they would be:

1) More sleep.
2) I'd like to- ...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Moratorium
OK, I propose a moratorium on all freindster requests. No more friendsters. Jumping Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, stop emailing me to be your friend! I hate you! I have 32 goddamn friends and that is WAY more than enough! I'm connected to like a gagillion people! I'm connected to a german shepard in Nairobi, for chrissakes! STOP IT! YOU ARE NOT MY FRIENDS!!! I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW MY FAVORITE DESSERT? NO YOU DON'T, SO FUCK OFF!!!

Nobody touch me. I'm going through pon farr.

It's Friday the 13th. There's a full moon. I'm sick as a dog. I've got a show tomorrow. Man, when it rains, it pours.

Monkeypox is a scary and terrible disease. But hey, it sounds funny, doesn't it?

Today's conversation
Kabasares : Are you making the moves on [name witheld]?;-);-);-)
Some other guy : yes.
Kabasares : Tee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee!!!!
Some other guy : What?
Kabasares : Hee hee hee heee hee hee heee heeee hee hee hee hee
Some other guy : You have to keep this a secret.
Kabasares : hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee
Kabasares : hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee
Some other guy : HEY!!
Kabasares : :-D
Kabasares : :-*
Kabasares : :-p
Some other guy : HEY!!!
Kabasares : :-Dhee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee
Some other guy : STOP!!!
Some other guy : :-D
Kabasares : Oooooooooh!!! Wooooooo hooooooooo!!!!
Kabasares : Hooo hoooooooooooooo!
Some other guy : :-p
Kabasares : Ah. Ok. I got it out of my system now.
Some other guy : Good!
Some other guy : Not A Word!!!
Kabasares : Wait...no, not yet...Hee hee hee ha ha ha!!! Wooo hoo! Hee heee heeeeeeeee!
Kabasares : Woooooooo hooooooooooooooo! Hubba hubba!!
Some other guy : STOP!!!!!!
Kabasares : Hee hee hee haa haa haa ho ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha!!!!!!
Kabasares : Ok, ok. I think I'm done now.
Kabasares : Wait...
Kabasares : No, I'm done.

Self fullfilling prophecy begins NOW
I am a heartthrob no matter what my hair looks like or what I wear, and women have catfights over me.

And, on a totally different note...I've been fighting this cold thingy for the last couple of weeks, and today I woke up with a sore throat. I hate the cold thingy! Hate it! Hate it! Stupid cold thingy.

A strange fantasy
I'd like a naked woman to accidentaly slip off the edge of my bed (not hurting herself, of course). I'd hear the slight "thud," and then think, "Yep, there's a naked woman in my room."

So, like, if I was a heartthrob, I'd be the type that, five years from now, women would look back at and say "Woah, why the hell did we think he was so cute?"

This may reveal something about my IQ...
I don't get high, but the things people laugh at when they're high are the things I laugh at normally.

Happy Thought of the Day:
If you took all the women I've had a crush on and put them in one room...well...that would be a really pretty room. And it would make me blush. And I'm not going to tell you who would be in that room either, so forget it.

Bad Thought of the Day
If you have not had quality conversations with me, or if I do not see you on a regular basis, then DO NOT REQUEST TO BE MY FRIEND ON FRIENDSTER. Sick of that shit, man.

The most rock and roll thing I've done in the last 24 hours
Drive through the Arizona desert while the sun was setting, in a rented black Mustang convertible with the top down, singing along to Lita Ford's "Kiss Me Deadly" on the car stereo. I am so f*ucking rock and roll.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was hit with an insightful, almost transcendental revelation, almost an epiphany. I was going to write it down but instead, I said "Nah, I'll remember it in the morning."

Yeah, right.

Things that are always funny to me
- Nuns
- The word "pants"
- Pratfalls
- Spit takes
- Well-timed fart noises
- Animals that repeat the same action for no apparent reason (jumping in place, spinning, etc.)
- Cats who forget to put their tongues back in their mouths
- When jackets (or other clothing) get stuck in a door, on furniture, etc., and yank the person back
- When physics is thrown into a mundane conversation
- When ice cream falls off the cone

The Story Of My Life (if it were told by my friend, ES)
So there's this girl, right? And she's married. The end.

I would like to let everyone know that I made it to the Morning Job® on time, and I am not naked. Wait...let me check...No, I am not naked.

It's really unnecessary for you to know that it's 1:40am, and it's been the first time I've been drunk in months, and I'm in my underwear right now.

I'm not making excuses. There is no reason for you to know this, but I was at 2 simultaneous parties at the same place. I got drunk in front of many people whom I have much respect for. I was dressed like a male ho. Yet, for some reason, these people still see me as OK. I hide my drunkedness really well, which is sometimes scary. I'm amazed I'm spelling these words.

I have to be at work really early tomorrow morning. I have an audition tomorrow afternoon. And I'm typing this in my underwear. Don't look.

I DID IT!!! I GOT A COMMENT THINGY FOR MY BLOG!!!!! YOU CAN COMMENT ON MY BLOG NOW!!!! HOO-FUCKING-RAY!!!!! okay, that means you guys had better use it or I'll get pissed off.

Say what you will about Sisqu0, but I think he is a true artist, because whenever he sings the line "Let me see your thong," I really believe he wants to see someone's thong. But I don't think he specifies that you have to be wearing it at the time. It could be sitting in a dresser.

Sometimes when I am having an intelligent conversation with a beautiful woman, I want to say "That's an interesting thought. Would you feel the same way if you had your pants off? Wanna give it a try?"

It's the pon farr, dude.

The rules of society state that...
I have a penis, therefore I cannot cry.
Unless someone kicks it. Only then can I cry. Like a bitch.

The sci-fi geeks will get this
For those wondering about my behavior lately, I am going through pon farr and am in the throes of plak tow. Well, it is springtime, you know.

I can tell it's springtime because, you know, I feel it. You know what I mean? I'm...feeling...it, you know?

Just a KK FYI
If you are female and any of the following are true:

a) I send you a recipie for ****** ********* ****,
b) I burn a CD with a song by ******* *****or ***** ********or from the sountrack to **** ****** * ****,
c) I write you a long poem (or quote a line from *******),

then you are considered a kick-ass woman and are indeed KK girlfriend material.

A Proposal by the Kennedy Kabasares
Since Starf*cks Coffee is buying up every molecule in the universe (I think they even own part of my left buttcheek), I think we should start encorporating Starf*cks in our everyday speech. For example: "I would date her, but her ass-achino is too grande."

Accents
Why does the British accent make any phrase sound nice? Even a phrase like "I think I'm going to vomit" sounds rather pleasing in an English sort of way. So what I'm saying is that if you have to be around a bunch of sick people, make sure you're in London.

I was having a hard time sleeping last night. I kept waking up. This morning, around 7am, as I was trying to fall asleep, L came to me in that state, that in between time, sandwiched between awake and dreaming. She just appeared and started talking. We were nowhere in particular. It was just her and me in the darkness.

"Thank you for coming to visit me in the hospital," she said.
"No problem," I answered. "I couldn't tell if you wanted me there or not towards the end."
I paused, and then asked,
"L, what are you doing here?"
"I'm dead now, and I want to show people my appreciation. Thank you for your hard work."
"L, thank you."

And with that, she faded away.

Saying Goodbye Part 1
It's hard.
I went to visit L in the hospital Friday night. I got in at about 9:40pm, and I thought she'd be resting, but no, she was undergoing her last chemo treatment. Her sister T came up to me and was quite frank. "She's not getting better," she said.

T had been there all day, and needed to rest, so she took a nap. S was there too, keeping an eye on her during her treatment. It lasted till around 12:30am. I sat there next to the bed on one side, with S on the other. S was nodding off, and I wondered if I had ever been in this situation before.

When I was 18, I went to the Philippines to visit my grandfather, who I had never seen before, on his deathbed. He could not talk, but he cried when he saw me. It was quite a sad experience, as my grandfather was well loved by everyone. The family stayed by his bedside, all night long, in a vigil, almost. It was a very big downer. We were in Davao in 1986, and the hospital was very much typical in a non-developed region. The hallways reeked of urine and feces, the floors were dusty, the windows were cracked, and there were ants crawling along the windowsill. They would call out his name. Why? What were they doing? It seemed to me that they were having a hard time letting go. That was the first time I had to watch loved ones suffer along with someone in a hospital.

Well, here I was, seventeen years later, in a calmer, cleaner, yet just as stressful situation. We watched as she writhed in the bed, obviously in a pain I could not even begin to imagine. S and I sat by the bed, watching, helpless, yet trying to be helpful in our own way. We had to be strong. Even though she was not fully conscious, we had to show a strong face. I believe that the sick can feel our energy regardless of their state, and they can sense when we are being weak, even if they can't see us.

After her therapy, S had to go home. T was still asleep, so I stayed by L's bed until she fell into a more peaceful sleep. That wouldn't come for another two hours.

The chemo, combined with the other medicines, made her obviously uncomforable. She would try to rest, and suddenly wake up, obviously in pain. At those moments I would grab her hand and she would look at me, and I'd say "I'm right here. Take a deep breath. I'm right here."

And it was in between those moments, when she was trying to rest, when I would hang my head and feel as if I couldn't continue doing this. She was one of the strongest women I have ever met, how could I possibly give her the strength she needed. How could her family go through this every day? I felt so weak, wondering if I could help her at all. But I maintained this strong front, holding her hand when she needed it, looking at her, saying "I'm right here. Take a deep breath."

She fell into a quieter sleep at around 3am.

CAN THE GOVERNMENT BE ANY MORE FUCKING VAGUE?
FROM REUTERS 5/20/03
The decision to raise the alert level to "high" or "orange" from "elevated" or "yellow" on the color-coded scale was made at the White House at a meeting of top national security officials after a review of recent intelligence, a senior official said.

The FBI said earlier in the day that recent suicide bombings in Saudi Arabia and Morocco could lead to an attack on the United States, though it said it had no specific threat information.
"Recent intelligence suggests that attacks may be a prelude to an attack on the United States," the FBI said in a message sent to law enforcement agencies across the country. "However, the FBI possesses no information indicating a specific threat in the United States."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I think I'm a pretty intelligent, sophisticated kind of guy, but for some reason, a really well-placed fart noise will make me laugh like a motherfucker.

I am all alone at Morning Job®. I am about to eat a banana. This is the most exciting thing that's happened to me all morning. 2 hours and 15 minutes, then I get to go to Afternoon Job®.

I think I'm depressed. I usually can't tell until a few days into it. It's allright I'm depressed, with all that's happened in the last couple of weeks. And I could use the extra sleep. Who ever said depression had to be a bad thing?

I went to the hospital to day to visit my friend who has cancer. I helped her pick out her meals for the day from the hospital menu. Look here, hospital people: just because she's losing her hair doesn't mean she's losing her taste buds too. Make some good freaking food, for god's sake!

I didn't make this shit up...
From the California City website:
"2000 - It's going to be a great 21st Century for the City of California City.
McDonald's opens next door to Rite-Aid. "
This city is the shit. Maybe next they'll have flying cars. And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.

I'm not feeling entirely like myself. Maybe I've been replaced by an alien.

She's married. Shit. Looks like I gotta gas up the car...

I swear to god, if she's married, I'm just going to give up. Just give the fuck up. I swear, I'm driving up to San Francisco and jumping off that goddamn bridge.

I am feeling quite unnerved that we may never know who let the dogs out.

Ok, my archives aren't archiving right, so here's some help...
click here for:
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003

Am I a geek or what?

I have yet to find a woman worthy of me burning a mix CD for her. But when that happens, man, just watch out!

Whatever, dude.

Dear god, make it stop. Make it all stop.

Look, I'm just way too tired right now. Don't even. I may just snap.

Sometimes I wish I was a really jealous person, because I think things would get interesting.

Wow.
*sigh*
Just...wow.

She is made of math and equations and numbers, formulas and angles. She cries in her sleep and sings with a child's voice. She sits on tree branches and watches me from afar. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but when I look at her, she dissappears. Maybe someday I'll give her a recipie.

We'd be in trouble if monkeys actually did fly out of my butt.

The other night, as I was driving to the grocery store, I saw a car that had not one, but TWO dogs in the back seat sticking their heads out of the same window. The back door's window was open just enough to let them stick their heads out. Now, one dog head sticking out of a car window is cute enough. But TWO dog heads? Man, I was screaming from the utter cuteness.

The only things you can do if your girlfriend is puking into a toilet is hold their hair or rub their back. There's nothing much else you can do. Maybe you can hum something.

I recall a friend who commented that the perfect breast can fit in a champagne glass. I agree. Unless he meant champagne FLUTE, which is something different altogether.

I love going to the doctor, because that's the only place where I can read "Highlights for Children."

War is not the answer. Unless you are on a game show, and the question is "Which band sang the song 'Low Rider'?" Then, of course, War would be the only correct answer.

P.S.
My shoulder hurts.

You know what rocks right now? The fact that I'm going up to Mammoth tomorrow morning to snowboard ALL WEEKEND LONG!!!!!

The shallow side of me
Just for two weeks, I'd like to know what it would be like to be a heartthrob pin-up boy. Just for two weeks. After that I could go back to eating Ramen and shopping at the 99-cent store.

I spend my nights alone in quiet despair. Which is OK, because my neighbors are old and have trouble sleeping.

Oh, god, help me!
This morning I woke up with the song "Genie in a Bottle" running through my head.

Call me sappy...
Like the song says, I think that what the world needs now is love, sweet love.

And a fucking enema.

When I was in the Philippines, my cousin took me to this small island where my father was born. He had us climb up these steep, lush cliffs into this cave that had a natural pool inside. I was told that a long time ago, the tribal people would take their sick leaders into that cave and bathe them there to get rid of their illness. I thought of them, carrying their elders, people they respected and loved, over these cliffs and into this cave, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by this feeling of connection to this history. I felt somehow joined with these people from centuries past, knowing that I was part of them, feeling this legacy surging through me.

And then I thought, "Eeeeew, gross water!"

For some odd reason, I am reminded of the time when my mom and I were on a cruise last year, and we were watching "The Day The Earth Stood Still," and there's the scene where Patricia Neal is on the ground, and Gort, being the security robot that he is, starts his menacing walk towards her, intending to laser beam her into oblivion. And my mother and I start yelling at the TV, "Say it! Say 'Gort, Klaatu Verata Nicto'!! Klaatu Verata Nicto!!!"

Just having the opportunity to hear my mother say "Klaatu Verata Nicto" really rocks.

Don't get me started on the time we were watching a nature special about snow leopards.

Oh...hey...I'm feeling a little light-headed today, so please forgive me if I jaksld;fu zx nval;sdfsvu'alwelrkc la;/.

This past Saturday zero 3 helped run a teen collage-making workshop at UCLA. We didn't teach them collage. An actual collage artist did that. They enlisted us to help with their creative writing/performance part. Their goal is to have the students write/perform something about their piece, experience, etc. Man, teaching teenagers creative things is really COOL. They're at this age where they're starting to form opinions, feel all kinds of feelings, and actually want to express themselves. It was really, really fun and I can't wait to do it again.

So after all this wishing for Morning Job™ to get all exciting, what happened on Tuesday? Hmmm? Aren't you curious? Well, my friends, on Tuesday, I walk in and find out that one of the partners just UP AND QUIT. No warning, nothing. The night before, he left a note on the other partner's desk, saying, pretty much, "Thanks, and now I'm resigning." Huh? What? Where? How? See, your wishes do come true! But you have to be CAREFUL! BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR! Or, at least, BE VERY SPECIFIC WITH YOUR WISHES.

So now, the boss asks me if I can come in early tomorrow morning. Like incredibly early. Like inhumane conditions early. 9:30am to be exact. My initial reaction in my head was "Oh, hell no! You expect my ass to get up even EARLIER? No f***ing way, mister Man!!" But what came out was a smile and "Oh, sure thing!" What is that? All peppy and shit, too! Man, I'm gonna stand up for my lazy, procrastination rights someday.

For the safety of professional wrestlers, I think that metal folding chairs, garbage cans and ladders should not be anywhere near the ring. Folding chairs should be replaced by pillows or inflatable furniture, and all garbage cans should be rubber. There should also be two referees. I'm just looking out for the athletes.

On a completely different note...living alone means I can walk around my apartment naked. Which is cool, since I live on the second floor, and unless people get around via jetpack, I doubt anyone will see me.

If you're flipping through radio stations, and you hear Golden Earring's "Radar Love", and you DON'T stop and listen to enjoy the drum solo/brass section part, I don't care how cool you think your musical tastes are, YOU DO NOT ROCK.

Yes, this is immature, but...
One of the most fun things to do when you're bored and watching TV is to add the phrase "for your momma" after every commercial slogan.

On a completely different note: Why does Lone Justice's song, "Ways to be Wicked" get me all hot and bothered?

I was bored and eating toast
I just can't believe it's not butter. I can't. It's not possible. There is no freaking way this isn't butter. You cannot sit there and tell me that this shit ain't butter. I refuse to even entertain the idea that this isn't butter. No way.

Fuck you, it's butter.

Some of my best friends...
I have known my friend T for about 15 years. Yesterday she told me about her butt crack and boobs. Now, I hate the phrase "too much information," because I think it is overused, and regardless, your brain will find a way to store that information, or it will be automatically sent to the mental rubbish bin. So, instead of saying "tmi," I will just say that I don't know how to file those new facts about my friend's derrier and breasts. Should it go under "trivia," "science and health," "friend facts," or "grab bag?"

I hate to be a stickler for details, but...
There is no such word as "nother," as in "a whole nother level." Take out the "n," please.

I'm straight. But like my hair, I have my own idea of straight. Not the common notion of what straight is. For example, I wouldn't mind bringing a date to a gay dance club. Why? Because they have great music, I don't have to act all macho, and my date wouldn't get her ass grabbed by some drunk frat guy.

I am so not ghetto fabulous. I'm not a ghetto superstar. Hell, I'm not even on the ghetto B-list.

I finished writing my play. Yay. My brains are now leaking from my ears. But I'm done. Now, for the re-writes! Sheesh.

Pootie Tang is one of those movies you have to catch from the beginning, or you'll miss all the character development and story arc.

When you spend your Saturday morning swinging from a trapeze, making sure you're positioned right so you don't rip any muscles or dislocate your shoulder, the rest of the weekend seems so easy.

On warm nights like this, sometimes I just wanna jump in my car (dammit, I wish I still had my motorcycle) and drive out to the middle of nowhere with the sunroof open and a U2 cd blasting, just because I can. But then I think "my bed looks really, really comfortable."

Goobers

There is much joy when you are in a rush, looking for something in the mall, knowing exactly what you want because you don't like spending lots of time in the mall, looking through stuff in the store, when one of the sales ladies says "you want some chocolate covered peanuts?" and you say "sure" and she pours a bunch of Goobers in your hand, and you finally find it (a small leather money clip/credit card holder thing), and they tell you it's 75% off, and you end up spending like $2.50 for something in a big, expensive, fancy-schmancy mall store. Yay for candy. Yay for sales.

Every morning there is a battle between me and my alarm clock. I usually win. Which, I'm sure, pisses of my co-workers at the Morning Job.

I SO hate war. But George W. seems to LOVE war. So can't we compromise and say "o.k., SOME war?" Like "War Light?" With half the bullets and no blood? Less killing, tastes great? Hello? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

I'm the type of guy that has to return to his apartment maybe three times before actually leaving because I forgot something. Because I'm kinda stoopid.

Please explain why you know how to hypnotize a chicken, Kennedy
OK. You see, when I was in the Boy Scouts (yeah I was a Boy Scout - to this day, I always have a flashlight with me) some friends taught me how to hypnotize lizards. I'd forgotten that I had that skill until a few years ago. So, out of curiosity, I tried to look it up on the internet, but the only thing I found was about chicken hypnosis, and how it was similar to lizard hypnosis (I guess because their brains are similar). So I thought, "Cool! I can hypnotize both lizards AND chickens! Woo-hoo!"

Anyway, I don't tell people about that particular talent because usually it's at that point when they think I've lost my marbles. And it's pretty hard to prove it because (unlike the Philippines) lizards and chickens are hard to find in L.A., especially when you really, really need one. I'm eagerly waiting for the day when someone will say "Well, I just happen to have a chicken right here! Now let's see it, mister smarty pants!"

Now, if you really, REALLY think about it, it is one of the most useless skills in the known universe. I mean, I don't think there was ever a need for lizards or chickens to not move for several minutes. I don't think it is a skill that was ever in demand at any point in time historically, or, most likely, EVER.

Soooo...I just went to my first trapeeze class today. Yeah, the flying kind. Man, was that fun! My first day, and I was already learning how to be caught on the other side! Oh, god, I think I'm hooked.

Okay. Now just wait. I saw that Vin Di*sel movie, that three x movie. Now just wait, OK? Hold on. I would just like to say right now that Vin Di*sel is the worst actor in the world. He must have signed a contract with the devil because he just plain sucks. The movie itself would have been silly, mindless explosion fun, but whenever the guy walked on screen, the whole movie turned into shit. Really. In the scenes he wasn't in, the movie was almost tolerable. Why does that man have a career?

This is the actual inner monologue that went on in my head when I woke up this morning:

"Hmmm...what day is it? Oh, must be a weekday, the alarm clock is going off...where am I, a hotel? A house? An apartment. Whose apartment? Hmmm...that's my shit in a pile on the floor, I guess it's mine...how am I paying for this apartment? Oh, shit! I gotta go to work!"

I just can't wait for when robots will be doing all our dirty work for us. That'll be the life. But before then, we'd better get some kick-ass programmers to make sure that whole Terminator shit doesn't happen. Yeah, who's laughing at De Vry graduates now?

I hate being competent, because people expect you to do shit, and be all responsible, when all I want to do is lie on the couch and eat red licorice.

Oh, for god's sake, would someone sign my damn gestbook for once? Wish me happy new year? Something? Hello?