Man oh man.
My feet are all blistery and I've been swimming in my sweat since nine this morning.
I've been pushing cart-loads of books uphill outside for the last two days. The heat index is 115, and the actual temperature is 100. Man oh man. The only thing that keeps me going is the ten bucks an hour- I even made up a little song. "Buck every six minutes, buck every six minutes, buck every six minutes, soon I'm fucking rich." Even though I'll still be poor. A buck every six minutes sure feels like a lot.
So my pop, in his searches through his wife's dad's old house, unearthed some ancient comics. Apart from smelling like mildew in a major way, they're full of kitsch value.
Superman comics in the fifties and sixties were so damn wacky. I love 'em.
Gosh, Superman, I didn't think about that.
Okay. Here's my new thing I'm telling myself. Every day I'll either write at least a page of my own stuff or transcribe at least a page of my grandfather's stuff. THIS I DO SWEAR! ngah ngah ngah ngah...
So the Leech said to me a few days ago:
Wesley says: "stew" says i should do the comic strip, and wonderfully, he wants me to give him anal...yey
He's gone to the Art Supply store and picked up some Art Supplies. I eagerly await the first installment of Leech's Funnies, and if you have any goddamn sense at all, you do too.
My friend Harold went up to Canada while he was visiting last month, and he brought back a pack of Canadian smokes. I don't know how aware y'all are about Canada's surgeon-general warnings, but here's the pack Harold brought back:
Most of their packs are far more blatant, including color photography of fucked-up gums, lungs, et cetera. Right on the package. Apparently, metal cigarette cases are coming into vogue in a big way up North.
tee hee! I'm gonna work 55 hours this week, and I still won't make as much money as my friend Nate who's on unemployment. Yay!
So my favorite new site to play with is Merriam-Webster's.
I've used it for a long time just for traditional purposes, looking up words, antonyms, synonyms, definitions. It's always handy. Recently, they added a new audio feature. Many words have little "speaker" symbols next to them that you can click on and hear a dry academic type say the word. It's supposed to help you with pronunciation, or some crap.
It's the most unintentionally funny thing I've ever heard in my life.
Not only is it inherently hilarious, you can come up with some of the most whoop-ass combinations ever:
and the best one ever:
Check it out. Have some fun.
goddamn goddamn goddamn goddamn
I just took my final. I feel like I bombed the holy hell out of it. Oh god, save me por favor.
Of course, I felt that way after my mid-term, too, and I ended up getting a B- on that. We'll see.
OH HOLY GOD I'M NEVER GOING TO GRADUATE AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!
IT MAKES ME WANT TO STRANGLE A MANATEE... IN THE NUDE... *grunt*
That's another one of Wes's comics.
Mail him and tell him you want him to do strips regularly for Keef Dot Org.
In other news:
Look at those big wonderful nostrils. That's where I get my monstrous flaring nose-holes. I've always been proud of them. I'm from a clan of hellacious sniffers. My odor-detection abilities come from the Ohio branch of the family tree.
I wish I could sleep. Instead, I must finish this goddamn paper about The Matrix, and the Ramifications of Descartes' Scepticism Within. Then I will eat, and go on the radio, and watch Planet of the Apes. Then I will sleep, get up and work nine hours, sleep, get up and work five hours, sleep, get up and work eight hours. Sleep, work eight hours, sleep, work eight hours.
Rinse, repeat until a) my head blows up or b) I'm rich enough to retire comfortably.
Man o Man. I haven't been getting much sleep. I slept for three hours last night and I'm probably going to get about three hours tonight. But the upside of being almost hallucinatory when I do my schoolwork is that I always feel like everything that I write is pure goddamn genius. This book? Man, I'm revising the shit out of the first chapter, and it's going to be finely honed into a battle-ax of literary fantasticness with which I shall behead all those other lame-o authors. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
So I was talking to my mom today and I was bitching about how that fucker George W. Bush fucked me over with his "Aid For the Rich" tax cut, and my mom related my Grandfather's three rules about money, which are:
1) It never comes as soon as you thought it would.
2) It's never as much as you thought it would be.
3) It never goes as far as you thought it would.
In my experience, this has always been the case. Except for that time in 1998 when I was working at the Brown Bottle for like a week and then I dropped that dish and it cut my tendon and I got like this fucking massive $700 worker's compensation check. Man, that shit was the bomb-diggity. Word up. To your mom.
Last night I was talking to Wes about stuff. He was drinkety-drinking. I recalled that I still had all his old comic strips. I scanned some of them for his enjoyment. Here's one of 'em for the enjoyment of all of you out there. This one always makes me laugh.
(NOTE: that was drawn years ago and Leech draws much better now. Although I still think that shit's pretty fucking funny.)
I was telling the Wes that I thought it would be really cool if he did a fairly regular comic strip for keef dot org. Like, I dunno, weekly or something. Or monday-wednesday-friday. Or some shit, I don't know. What do y'all think?
Tell me. Or, what the hell, Tell Wes.
Okay. Now I need to get back to all this goddamn work. Jesus fucking Christ. Tomorrow I'm gonna see Planet of the Apes. I'm looking forward to that quite a bit. Plus I might sleep some. That sounds nice too. Goddamn.