I spent six dollars playing Skee ball yesterday. It was money well spent. I haven't been so relaxed in a long, long time. My mind was totally devoid of all thought for the forty minutes or so that I played and it was glorious.
I'm apparently doing a show at CMU this Saturday night. Details if and when they become available.
This really does a good job of illustrating just how good the live show is. This is, bar-none, the best concert ticket value right now. The "drum machine screen" is beyond belief.
Looks like the next month will be shitty for movies. May though. Oh boy May. It's gonna rock.
I've been thinking of dyeing my hair. Jet black. Just thinking. I don't think I will. Too thin, and don't want to make it look more apparent. Not me dummy. My hair.
Remember that contest I made the finals in? Yes, I'd forgotten it too! However, they've decided to hold the finals a mere six months after the last round and I've got nothing better to do, so April 18th it is! Big crowds. Twelve people.
Look for me at The St. James Place tonight, because I'll be there. Seething with hatred for everyone and everything, because that's who I am and what I do.
You know what video game "they" should adapt to the big screen next? Muthafuckin' Paperboy!
Made me laugh out loud instead of smirk and move on.
I'm worried. I haven't been looking at porn nearly as much as I used to, but I still have the same sex drive. Not that it really figures into the equation. I look at porn like other people look at uh... things that aren't porn, I suppose. I consider it sort of an unwitting art form of it's own. Really good porn stares it's nature in the face, embraces it's mediocrity, and than ejaculates onto it's chest. Then it licks it up, gargles, and spits it onto the camera lens. Figuratively, of course. Most of my porn comes from underground sources, is of questionable legality, and involves screaming.
I'm tired of rising before even the people who deliver newspapers.
Do you have chocolate?-BK
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