Coffee, Cigarettes and Ice Cream

Fuckin' A. I was fighting my inbox all weekend and the avalanche still cascades. Then, I checked my desk phone's voice mail and there were ten voicemails...about bullshit. If you have nothing to say, then fucking hang up. Seriously, if I have to check the fuckin' thing once a month and you have nothing to say, you've wasted all of our time. Mine and yours.

If you are calling my desk phone and it's not to ask me if I want a coffee from Starbucks or an HJ on a barstool in a local watering hole, you must be trying to sell me something or have the wrong number. Seriously, my phone just rang and my time is being wasted and I'm giving directions to a Starbucks in the BelMateo area...and wasted...and wasted.

And wasted...

So, anyway, got my hairdid this weekend and went and heard a womens softball game in the background while I visited a couple of "colleagues" and tried to figure out why I've been choked during intercourse on the first date multiple times. I also tested an application forever on Saturday and Sunday in between Grand Theft Auto IV(with glasses on) and not cleaning my apartment. Oh, and holy shit, I bought new pillows for my couch at Target which is seriously the gayest thing I've ever done besides get kissed by a dude with tongue. I looked homosexuality in the eye and it wasn't for me. I can tell you, however, I'd get so much play if I went gay. It's the cuddling that would be a little uncomfortable. Oh, and the anal sex. Oh, and the beard friction, the leather, the Cher, the rollerblading, the man hands on hips...Okay, there would be a lot of things that would kind of be a rub.

Finally, I entered myself in the best neighbor ever contest by getting my neighbor Battlestar Galactica: Razor, a pack of Marlboro Ultralights and a twelve pack of Michelob Ultra for his birthday. It worked out well because when he got back from the best birthday ever, he was too wasted to drive.

The dudes at the liquor store asked me if I was sure when I asked for a pack of Ultralights because I smoke P-Funks and then when they set the pack of Ultralights on the Michelob Ultra, they go "Hey, this is for that dude, right?" and I said "Yeah, he's my neighbor" and they go "Yeah, it's his birthday this weekend. Do you need a gallon of vodka, too?" Apparently, no man is an island and my neighbor has his thing.

Speaking of the neighbor, we were talking about how awesome his weekend was and surprise mouth intercourse on his birthday and he started talking about how awesome Ironman was. Then, he goes "Dude, my girlfriend and I think Robert Downey, JR owes you money for channeling you. We both looked at each other ten minutes into the movie and said that's totally HughVoltage. All he does is get fucked up and say funny shit."

It's come to this. It really has. I'm completely fictional at this point. Those montages that I imagine, really happen. My iPod is just a soundtrack which explains why I listen to musical scores from James Bond while I drive sometimes. I'm convinced this is someone's fucked up idea of a brilliant reality based concept, when to me it feels like the worst fucking movie ever. Everything is planned for the benefit of others and everyone is in on it. Yeah, a bit paranoid, but might I add that SeaWorld happened during what would've been sweeps. It's the only way that this existence, well, exists.

It's a shitty remake of the Truman Show which must have been a shitty remake of something because Hollywood hasn't come up with a new idea since 1952. Don't lose sight, though, that regardless of shitty remake or not, none of it is real. It explains why I can get hit by a cab and run away laughing. It explains why I never get caught for any of the derelict shit that I do. It explains why I don't eat on a regular schedule. It explains why I don't sleep well anymore. It explains why in the middle of running errands I sometimes forget what I'm doing. It explains why I'd rather say something funny than learn about a person. It explains why my hair always looks so nice and I have such a svelt physique. Okay, now it's just getting silly.

Regardless, I'm pretty sure nothing is real anymore and when it gets real quiet and I forget what I'm supposed to be doing, it's some type of commercial. Yes, this is what I do when you're not looking. I experience xenophobia mixed with paranoia mixed with coffee, cigarettes and ice cream. Oh, and get fucked up and say funny shit.

Seriously, moving to Darfur to become a bush doctor. I need to add purpose to existence. It's not good enough to exist for the sole benefit of existing. This is not an ant farm, but it's feeling like one. I need to do something meaningful. It feels like it's been forever. I'm going to get marketing in here and a whiteboard and we'll figure it out. Stay tuned. Something meaningful is about to happen. Now, where do I find a Darth Vader mask (at home in the closet), a lightsaber, a gallon of gin, and a Star Wars nerd church? I may have an idea.

Oh shit. Just checked my outgoing calls on my celly and I drunk dialed last night. I may have made a horrible mistake. I thought it was a dream conversation until I checked my phone. FUCK! Well, que paso, paso. I can only imagine what we talked about. Too close for whiskey, switching to water...at least until I get fucked up and say funny shit again.

Real conversation of the week:

"Why are you playing Friends on the TV at a bar? That's gotta be the gayest shit ever. Friends without sound is just depressing. Seriously, look at what Chandler Bing is wearing."

"Dude, did you seriously just use his last name while complaining about it?"

"I was married once. You find out shit like that and occasionally have to sit through an episode of Oprah. It fucking happens."

"Okay, dude, what do you want to watch? Anything, but this. Something that is good without sound and not overtly misogynistic."

"What?! Dude, I swear to god I'm going to put Facts of Life or some shit on. You'd totally sleep with Jo from Facts of Life, wouldn't you?"

"Totally. She would be the easiest chick to talk into a threesome on that whole show."

"Yeah, but it would be with Natalie."

"Whatever. Two fives make a ten, right?"

"You're gross."