Wednesday, December 20, 2000 [ 10:12 p.m. ] good, hot and hearty a few inneresting things for y'all to ponder while hopefully choking on egg nog this holiday season... what's the point of canned water? this just blows my damn mind when i think about it. they waste all that time and money to filter all of the "harmful" chemicals, metals, and toxins out of your beautiful sparkly alpine water. then they go and slap it in a fuckin' can. now it just tastes like metal all over again. dummies. on the subject of cans... today i made myself a delightful bowl of chef boyardee spaghettio's with hot dogs. but they can't call them "spaghettio's." they call them "spaghetti rings & hot dogs." gay. anyway, on the back of it, it says "good, hot and hearty." now, doesn't "hearty" mean healthy, and good for the heart? well, they obviously aren't good for you, but that's not the point. if "hearty" means good for you, does "livery" mean good for the liver? hell no it doesn't. it means it contains liver. in that case, does "hearty" now mean that it contains heart? i suddenly feel sick at the thought that my supposedly delicious bowl of spaghetti rings & hot dogs has big bloody chunks of animal heart in it. maybe it's just me. either that, or bad wording. Friday, December 8, 2000 [ 08:11 p.m. ] the ten commandments of arby's so many interesting things, and so much time to tell about them... tonite at wal-mart, i was standing in line. me and my bottle of hair gel, holiday snack cakes, and my 74 cent loaf of bread. anyway, you know those little 99 cent books they have there to peruse while waiting in line? well, one of them was titled "what do dogs dream about?" my interest being perked, i pick it up and flip through it jokingly. then, this old man in front me (he was buying some spray-on deoderant) reached over and grabbed one and said "i gotta get me one'a them too. i always wondered what that little dog was dreamin' 'bout. his legs wigglin' around while he sleepin'." you would have had to have been there to fully appreciate the hilariousness of the situation. did you know they have "the ten commandments" on the wall at arby's? i did not know that. it might just have been this one. i saw it, and i thought, "haha, it's some 'ten commandments of arby's thing,' or something like that." yeah, thou shalt not covet thy neighbors roast beef sandwhich. thou shalt eat only at arby's. and thou shalt try our new chicken tender special. but it was the actual ten commandments. what the hell? thought that was funny. Friday, December 8, 2000 [ 03:46 p.m. ] here comes santa claus, right down santa death row would you be pissed if santa claus didn't come to your house this year? i sure as hell would be. why wouldn't he come to my house you ask? well, let's think this through... santa claus supposedly has all those little elves that make all his toys for him, right? well, what does he pay them with? cookies and milk? happiness and good fortune? any way you slice it, he's crackin' his whip on them elves like the slaves that they are. can we say sweat shop? but that's only the beginning... ok, now that we've established the slavery part, here's the big one... let's say you ask for a nice tv, or a swell collection of cd's, or a computer for christmas this year. the elves make all this crap, right? well, i don't know what you call it, but from where i'm from it's known as "piracy," and maybe even "bootlegging." this isn't such a bad crime though. it's only a fuckin felony, right? i would say we turn that fat bastard in to the feds, and get the reward money, but then millions of little brats would be left deprived of their god given right to get all sorts of free shit without giving a thing in return. those kids don't care that santa's risking his neck to give them all this crap. plus, the fact that he spends most of the year building up an immunity to all that fat in those damn cookies and milk the stupid little bastards leave for him. i mean, he can't NOT eat it, right? santa claus? BAH! i say we nail his ass. Wednesday, December 6, 2000 [ 07:31 p.m. ] the dead janitors society what's the last thing you expect to see when you go into a public restroom? have you ever rolled up in school bathroom and seen a group of 5-6 janitors in there just chillin'? that's what is saw. there were janitors on sinks. janitors leaning against commodes. janitors sitting down. there were all sorts of janitors in this bathroom. it must be a special little boys room. i just stood there with this stupified look on my face. i wasn't quite sure if it was real or just a hallucination induced by the aching in my bladder. then, one of them speaks to me. he was obviously the "leader." or he could be a decoy to mask the true identity of the real leader. anyway... he says to me, "go on to the otha bathroom sonny," in his most redneck janitorial voice. not knowing what to make of the situation, i started to slowly back away. 2 weeks later. walking down the same hallway as the aforementioned rest area, i glance into the little girls room, since the door was wide open. to my surprise, there they were again. they must suspect that i know what's really going on in their stupid little janitor's club, and migrated to the girls room. weird shit i tell ya. Tuesday, December 5, 2000 [ 04:46 p.m. ] Jesus wore teal pants it's been a while. i've felt a bit overwhelmed with all the stupidity running amuck the past few weeks. here's a quick sum-up of what's been goin' down... saw a commercial the other day. a commercial for a loan agency of some sort. and check this shit out... it had Mr. T in it! where the hell has that sum'a bitch been? i don't remember what was said (i was in awe of the blackness of this man) but he said something along the line of "i pity the fool who don't get his loan at _____." i can't remember the name of the place. fucking brilliant. why don't old guys use their hands when they piss? i'll tell you. they just don't give a fuck anymore. that's why. i was in the bathroom washing my hands after relieving myself when i glanced in the mirror. to my surprise i saw an old dude standing there with both hands on his hips takin' a piss. this isn't the first time i've seen this. a few days before i saw another old guy (or it could have been the same one) standing there with one hand on his hip, and the other arm propped up on the wall between each commode. that's hardcore. if you can do that without drizzling on your pants, then you got skills. sunday night i smeared peanut butter on the toilet seat. it looked funny. i saw a guy wearing teal colored pants today. oh my god. i don't think anyone could pull that off. he certainly didn't. i don't even think Jesus could wear teal colored pants and not look like a tool. man that was some funky shit. speaking of Jesus. you know those church channels they got on tv? i saw one, and it was called "Mother Tucker Ministries." good lord. how can you not notice that? and they call ME stupid. Monday, November 20, 2000 [ 04:49 p.m. ] onethousanddeathsinarow while sifting through my email, i found a letter i'd written to someone a few weeks before. i don't know why i saved it, but then i read it through, and it's actually kind of decent. enjoy. at least you have something to seek refuge in. my writing is all that helps me, but it only seems to drag me further down, so it accomplishes nothing. i haven't been myself lately, but when have i ever been known to stay the same for more than a day at a time? i'm a mixture of thousands of rampant emotions each and every day. i don't even recognize myself anymore when i look in the mirror. it used to be i would look in the mirror and see nothing, but now i see someone i've never seen before. sometimes i just want to crawl in my closet and go to sleep forever. i dream every night before i go to sleep that maybe i'll finally get my greatest wish, and not wake up in the morning. i'm so detatched when asleep. no one is there to break me, there's nothing left for me to worry about. there's nothing there to drag me down. not even myself. it's the only way i can truely be alone. it's the only time i reach peace with myself. it puts me back together, for what seems like only a minute. it floats me up to heaven, even though all i seem to see is a blink, then drops me back down, only to shatter me for the waking of the day. but for that second, i feel like myself. i feel like that's how i need to be, like how i want to be. i feel like that's how i really am, but it's being hidden from me every time i open my eyes. but i'll never be able to grasp onto that for more than a second at a time. it's like feeding the weak one small morsel at a time. i've never been myself. i don't even know who that is. do you know what it feels like to wake up every day and not know if this is your life, or if you're living someone else's for them? i don't even know who i am. i know my name is daniel, but it's only daniel because my parents gave me that name. everything i've ever done or come to love & hate has been because of other people's influences and relfections on me. my whole life has been lived for me. it's not even my life. not my life. their life. does this depress you as much as it does to me? that you're whole life is one big fucking joke. you're not important. you're not special. you're not fucking different. you're just here. and you're only here until you die, then you're gone and it's the next person's turn to rot away over the course of their "life." we're not even living, we're just inching our way closer to death. we're never in our "prime," we're constantly rotting ourselves away and we don't even know it. but then again... it's not my life that's ending one breath at a time. it's theirs. Friday, November 10, 2000 [ 01:20 a.m. ] the leech of emotions :: daniel nothing pisses me off more than the word "ditto." god damn i hate that stupid fucking word. i'm sorry, but it's the worst possible thing you can say to me, and i will instantly despise you for the rest of your life for using it. here's a little explanation... someone takes a small, but significant portion of their life away from themselves to carefully pick and position words together in the most poetic form imaginable to convey a feeling or emotion that is obviously very important to them, or else they wouldn't take so much of their life-force out of themselves to construct it to present to you. replying to them with the word "ditto" is the most horrid thing you can do. it's the equivalent of saying "yeah, yeah, whatever. i obviously don't care enough about your emotions or feelings to take up my own precious time to think of something equally meaningful. i'd rather just leech off your wasted time and use it against you. i am the very cesspool of humanity, thriving off the hard work of others. abusing someone else's ideas. taking up their precious time, and using it to my own advantages with absolutely no effort on my part. my only effort is the single breath it takes me to utter such a hollow word. i have no inner feelings. i don't have any emotions. i just use yours to make me seem like a decent fellow. i am god in my own eyes, but to the keen eye i am the very epicenter of disgust. i am the core of a wasted life. i am the pit of the rotten fruit. I.....AM.....NOTHING." Tuesday, November 7, 2000 [ 03:25 p.m. ] god of all creations :: daniel how can someone not know about Mr. T cereal?? this just blows my fuckin' mind. if you are one of the unfortunate ones who hasn't had the unearthly experience of enjoying a nice big crispy bowl of Mr. T cereal, then you are one deprived child. i feel your pain. your parents should be either A) molested by bears, or B) shot. your life can never be complete because of them. eating Mr. T cereal wasn't just an everyday thing, it was an experience. seeing that big mohawked black man on my box, staring me in the eyes while i consumed my breakfast was terrifying, yet invigorating. he just had that look in his eye, like he'd pound your ass if you didn't finish every last delicious bite of his cereal. but now, i'll never have that pleasure again. Cap'n Crunch just doesn't do it for me. he doesn't look like he'd kick my ass. he looks like i'd kick HIS little blue-hatted ass right off that fuckin' sailboat of his. and "toucan sam", what the hell is he gonna do? nibble my sack? none of these half-wit bastards have half the attitude Mr. T had in his left nostril alone. R . I . P . Tuesday, November 7, 2000 [ 03:10 p.m. ] baby back ribs :: daniel i ate a baby this morning, and i feel horrible. does this shock you? it should. you probably did it too, ya stupid bastard. how is eating a simple plate of scrambled eggs any different from eating a human baby, you ask? well, in my opinion there is no difference. if that egg wasn't viciously robbed from its mother, it would have eventually turned into a beautiful (or not so beautiful) little chirpy chicken. if it manages to make it that far, it'll be cut into little slabs of KFC ready to please your fat, greasy ass. eating an egg is no different than eating your neighbor's baby. what's the big deal about eating an egg? well, what's the big deal about eating a small 1 year old child named Billy? some friendly advice... next time you get the urge to eat an egg, go grab some random rugrat off the street and fry that sum' bitch up instead. at least you'll help contribute to controlling the real problem society. Saturday, November 4, 2000 [ 04:13 p.m. ] the list :: daniel i can now add another thing to the "weird shit i've almost been run over by" list... a rather large pack of female joggers in the parking lot. i litterally avoided catastrophe by 2 feet. i knew i could make it... Tuesday, October 31, 2000 [ 01:34 p.m. ] absolute brilliance :: daniel i have just had the pleasure of witnessing one of the most entertaining, thought-provoking, and profoundly grotesque musical videos of all time. it's by Robbie Williams, and it's a little song called "Rock DJ." the setting of the video is quite simple... a spatially futuristic version of skate land usa. it is a round room, with all sorts of colorful figures skating in circles around a center area containing the "musician." robbie, obviously being aroused by the many beautifully plastic peoples surrounding him, starts a little strip tease for the young ones. now that he's butt-ass naked, where can one proceed from there? well, robbie decides the best course of action is to slowly peel away his skin from his body. now, being a mass of blood and muscles, looking straight out of a 9th grade science book, the guy just starts ripping off random hunks of flesh and muscle, and proceeds to heave handfuls of the bloody matter at the beautiful women. the women, now obviously aroused by his for-going strip tease, start rubbing the bloody tissue all over their hot, young bodies. one of them even goes so far as to start gnawing on what appears to be his left buttock like a rabidly sensous dog of some sort. ...fade to black. good stuff. Wednesday, October 25, 2000 [ 12:14 a.m. ] i hate numbers :: daniel i've always been terrible at math, but this just doesn't make ANY fucking sense to me at all... ok, i'll try and make this simple... let's say i just happened to have 1,000,000 white dildos, but one of those is a black one. OK, the odds of me randomly picking the black one is a 1:1,000,000 chance, right? alright... lets say i throw in another black one. that makes 999,998 white dildos, and 2 black ones. would that make the odds of me picking a black one 1:500,000 or 2:1,000,000? everyone i've asked, and even i myself know that the correct way of saying it is 1:500,000 but that just doesn't make ANY fucking sense to me! just because you add a second one, it doubles the number of black dildos, but it doesn't double your chances. that's still 2 out of 1,000,000. what the fuck kinda sense does that make? adding one doesn't instantly eradicate 500,000 innocent dildos. this has been boggling my mind for the past few days. i'm supposing that's the source for all my recent headaches. Wednesday, October 4, 2000 [ 11:40 p.m. ] country lettuce :: daniel you've been to taco bell before, right? i'm sure you have. just about everyone on the damn planet has been there at least once, and EVERYONE has at least had a "taco" before. but today i was proved wrong... while sitting in a booth bathing in the warm glow of the sun, and watching cars speed down the winding roads of Boone, i heard something. something that sent shockwaves through my cheesy gordita crunch. "i only have lettuce on my salads, what's it doing on a taco? isn't that weird, (insert redneck name here)?" and if that wasn't stupid enough... another (yes there was more than one retard in there) said, while waiting to receive their meal... "do y'all got any mayonnaise for these?" i litterally felt a warm, acidic vomitism mass begin to rise in my throat. mayonnaise on a taco? what about the hog fat, and bbq sauce? Friday, September 29, 2000 [ 07:07 p.m. ] mini-garbage trucks :: daniel i almost got run over by the appalachian state marching band today. yes, you heard me right. i was attempting to cross the street when i decided to check for traffic. this is where i see a large group of possibly 100 strapping young people marching in unison straight for me. and following this was 15-20 cars and trucks packed with shouting redneck folk. i later discovered it was homecoming for a nearby highschool. i've been nearly run over by so many interesting things so far this year, and it's only been 7 weeks! i almost got run over by a golf cart in the parking lot. what the hell? i mean where the fuck does that mess come from? ah yes, this you might find rather amusing... it has recently occurred to me that these mountain folk don't know what a "road" is for. have you ever been nearly hit by a dump truck driving on the sidewalk on your way to english class? i think not. it wasn't even a dump truck. more like a mini-dump truck. or maybe a recycling vehicle of some sort. not a week goes by where i don't narrowly dodge a truck/van/dump truck commuting along the sidewalks of appalachian. once is acceptable. twice, just plain odd. but 10+ times in a 7 week period is completely unacceptable. perhaps if i weren't so agile, the gods would succesfully strike me down with a vehicle of massive garbage transportation capabilities. a word of advice... if ever you have the opportunity of visiting this fine establishment, watch your fucking back at all costs. Wednesday, September 27, 2000 [ 01:34 p.m. ] something stupid :: by daniel this is a real weird one... while consuming a rather disgusting bag of "WoW Potato Chips" the other day, i noticed something quite interesting in the corner: "This Product Contains Olestra. Olestra may cause abdominal cramping and loose stools. Olestra inhibits the absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients. Vitamins A, D, E and K have been added." As if "loose stools" wasn't interesting enough, i took it upon myself to investigate further into this laxative/potato chip product. it turns out that Olestra is a super-sized fat molecule added to certain foods (mostly salty) which in turn, gives the added flavor of good ol' fashion gristle, but is too large for the body to absorb. therefore, no fat is absorbed. delving further into this utterly gripping story, i learned that the chemical took over 9 years to receive approval from the FDA, and was given the most rigorous review in FDA history. i find this quite amusing... the official WoW Potato Chips webiste (yes, there actually is one) says the following about it's laxatative capabilities: "According to a study published in the Journal of American Medical Association (January 1998), potato chips made with Olean® (frito-lay brand Olestra) are no more likely to cause digestive changes than potato chips made with regular vegetable oil." oh my stars! then how do you explain all the loose poop?! i guess that's just the price you pay for fat-free potato chips. Monday, September 25, 2000 [ 10:43 a.m. ] pain in the purest form :: daniel the other night, while returning from an exceptionally eventful trip to the little boys room, i decided to say "hello" to a friend of mine down the hall. standing in the doorway, i noticed a foreign object as it lunged speedily towards my body. this "friend of mine," who will remain annonymous, being the sharp-witted commando that they are, jumps out of the way of the speeding object. this is where i find myself being socked in the balls with a rather hard object. is this how one is greeted this day and age? despite kneeling on the floor, crushed under the excruciating pain of the moment, it was the highlight of my day. the one thing that took focus off the pain in my head, and then of course, was unfortunately passed on to my groinal area for 5-10 minutes. the horror, i tell you. Monday, September 25, 2000 [ 08:40 a.m. ] monday saviour :: daniel of all the places i go in my day, i never thought the shower could be so interesting. upon applying a generous portion of blue, sparkly body wash to the palm of my left hand, i started to work its magic onto my small, boney chest. the initial movement of my hand to apply the Lever 2000 Bodywash sent some of it spinning off into space, never to be seen again in its minusculity. i watched it fall, and fall, and fall for what seemed like a century, until it was saved at the last minute. how has my blue devil's life been spared, you ask? well, sitting at the front of every man... is a penis. and this protrusion differs from time to time, person to person. on this occasion it was just enough to be my Monday Saviour. thank you, my son. Friday, September 22, 2000 [ 02:15 p.m. ] red squares :: daniel on the subject of breakfast, i would like for all of you to ponder a question that has recently invaded my every waking thought... while devouring my breakfast (minus the biscuit) i noticed something in my mixed fruit cocktail medley. although delicious, what the hell are these red fruity squares? the only fruit i know of that has a red fleshtone is either watermelon, or possibly some rare diseased form of papaya. but they cannot be either. they're rather hard, unlike my delicious peaches and pears, and very smooth, like plastic. could they possibly be recycled Duplo blocks marinated in fruit syrup? i will find out. OH YES... i will find out... Friday, September 22, 2000 [ 02:07 p.m. ] the lonely biscuit :: daniel this morning while partaking in my daily dose of gristle at the welbourn cafeteria, i noticed something. a biscuit was on my plate, right next to my scrambled eggs and hashbrown. how did this biscuit smuggle itself onboard my breakfast battleship, i asked. did i conscientiously decide to purchase this crispy biscuit on my own? after realizing i had no desire to consume the biscuit, i set the tray down on the conveyer belt, and gave the lonely biscuit a final salute before it inched its way into the kitchen. who knows what became of my biscuit. possibly fed to the dogs, or maybe even reused for breakfast on saturday? who knows? only the biscuit. Thursday, September 21, 2000 [ 07:14 p.m. ] he who spat :: daniel after attempting to devise a clever layout for this page, i've come to the realization that i am not alone... on the row of computers resting just behind me, is a man. and believe me, this is no ordinary man. he is a black man, probably between the age of 25 and 30. what makes this relatively young, supposedly ordinary black man so interesting, you ask? well, for the past 2 hours he's been talking to himself, for ONE thing. at first i thought he was doing some sort of voice chat, but then i realized that was not the case. i have no idea what the hell he was saying, but i heard a few sporadic english words here and there. on top of that, he was perusing pictures of women's dresses on Yahoo! ALSO, every 15 minutes (it was like clockwork) he would get up, walk over to a nearby trash receptacle, and proceed to spit into the small blue container. what the fuck?! after listening to the man converse with himself for 2 hours, i'm afraid to admit that i still have no idea what the subject matter of his conversation was. just that he is one of the more interesting people i have seen/heard lately. big ups to ya, ya crazy bastard. WASTES of SPACE:   daniel