"Your life is too much for words." – The Cure

_______________

The year was 1985. On a hot summer night, a woman was in a hospital screaming at her husband, "WHY AREN’T THEY GIVING ME DRUGS, BUTCH! I NEED SOME FUCKING MORPHINE!" And as this lady took hold of her husband’s scrotum, squeezing it until his balls busted like grapes, she gave birth to what was to become a leader of the masses of a society amiss.

Unfortunately, he didn’t survive more than five minutes out of the womb and me, his conjoined twin, was left to carry out the legacy. By the way things are now, you can see I’m running a muck of it.

I don’t remember anything before I was five years old. Pretty much, the fifth was the banner year. Even those events are foggy and hard to remember, yet none of them serve any importance whatsoever. Let’s skip on down to the present, because who cares what I did in Elementary through Middle School?

Then again, who really cares at all?

Current day: I have no job. My only job was during February through June of 2000 stocking shelves at the local corner store. I was fired in June for calling in sick and coming in later to collect my check. What can ya do?

I have no girlfriend. I have many people who I’d like to think of as friends who are of the female gender, but no relationship. I don’t mind it though. I just hate it whenever I’m around them, people think that we’re going out, or that I’m trying to hit on them. That just goes to show of how pop culture has twisted the minds of today’s society into believing that the only purpose a woman has in a relationship is as a mouth to molest or a body to violate; as if sitting down and talking is a dead tongue spoken by those who are insane or mildly retarded.

As I write this, my 2 Live Crew’s Greatest Hits CD is blaring in the background. "Ooh, me so horny. Me love you long time…"

Contrary to what my mother keeps telling me, I am not a thespian. I’ve been in two school plays as an extra and that’s it! Yes, I’ll be in next year’s productions most likely, but that’s beside the point. So what if being on stage makes me feel better? Are you up there? No! You’re only in the audience watching, you little bitch! Fuck with me! See how far it gets you, you greasy-skinned fuck. I’ll smack the shit out of you in three consecutive sessions and then just straight up beat your ass to take a breather!

I’m a fan of many different music styles – I like rap (not a lot of the new stuff… like I hate Nelly, Fabolous, and whoever the hell does that "I Ain’t Never Scared" song), rock (mostly Deftones, Rage Against The Machine, The White Stripes, Green Day, and some of Marilyn Manson’s work but not all of it), 80’s (The Cure is possibly the best band of the entire span of time – don’t even try to fuckin’ debate it), and numerous other stuff (Nirvana, Queen, Cracker, Gorillaz, NERD, etc). I’m usually pretty open to anything, but most of time I’ll be listening to the same artists over and over. Possibly even the same album. It’s just me.

I like movies – usually comedies that are funny yet not too cliché or corny. The View-Askewniverse movies, The Friday movies, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (I love animation), Office Space, etc. I also will tend to watch a few dramas in between. Weird movies usually get my attention: Pulp Fiction, Donnie Darko, The Secret of NIMH (I love animation), Army of Darkness, etc. I’ll watch anything once… unless it has pop stars headlining the credits… and will give an honest opinion of the movie when I’m through with it. If I don’t like it, I will make sure you know exactly how much I hated it and exactly why.

I’m usually a very off the wall person in public, but deep inside I’m very shy. I kind of use the crazy image as a façade to shadow the real person inside. All joking aside. Maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe I am easy to read. Maybe I’m in reality just manic depressive and often snap back and forth through the moods like firecrackers. Many people, who have met me in real life, haven’t completely figured out. That’s what I’m waiting for - the one girl who can. That’s all I want: someone who can help me figure out me, or at least know as much as I know. I know in the end it won’t be whom I expect, but I just hope that at the moment it’s not who everyone would think I’m talking about… ‘cause it’s not her, no matter how much you think that. You know… she’s probably reading this right now and, simultaneously, you’re thinking evil thoughts. Let me just assure you: it’s not her, nor is it the other one. I have no interest in the one and haven’t really ever since seventh grade, and I can’t see myself with the other. I’m happier on a friendship status.

I like to make rap songs when I have the time for it. My main goal with all of it is that if I ever can get famous off of it, to release an album that will set the world on it’s ear and mean something more that the average "I Like It How You Do ‘Dat Right ‘Derrr…" shit that’s coming out now. I want to make a CD that will make history, not only with sales, but also with importance. I want to be the artist that inspired the artists.

Yeah, but THAT shit isn’t happening anytime soon.

Well, maybe in the end of it all, the wrong twin didn’t die. Maybe I am a leader amongst the blind and weary sent to lead civilization into the next century. Maybe I might also become a monk and live off of the side of a mountain some where. Half through my life, I’ll realize what a waste of time it is, hook up with a goat, and have a little bit of some braying action.

Eww… farm animal sex… disgusting…

_______________

clickumbuttontogobacktowhereyouhadbeenwhyarentyouclickingfuthermucker?

Copyright 2003 MDT Enterprises. All rights reserved and all cats are grey… in the caves...