Thursday, November 6th, 2003
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Thanks in no small part to my legendary sexual prowess, luxurious facial hair and amazing grasp of the English language, people often make the flattering assumption that I am a perfect human specimen. Alas, I must deny the validity of this statement. Don't let my cheerful demeanor and gorgeous complexion fool you: as radical as I appear to be, I suffer from numerous afflictions. First of all, there's my chronic back pain; a direct result of the time that I dragged an entire busload of children away from the edge of a dangerous cliff, and then hurled the very same bus into the sun. Then there's the less painful but equally annoying flaws, such as my webbed toes. Yeah sure, they greatly increase my swimming speed, but at what cost? Of all my ailments though, perhaps the most aggravating one that I live with would be my violent wisdom teeth.

You see, every so often my wisdom teeth, or as I like to call them, my "MOTHERFUCKING PAIN CONDUITS FROM WHICH SATAN UNLEASHES CONCENTRATED HELLFIRE INTO MY MOUTH" tend to flare up. Since I have a tolerance for pain on par with your average six year-old girl, this results in several days of me wandering around the apartment, whimpering like a recently neutered pitbull. Of course, this situation has a few minor advantages; it provides a perfect excuse for not lifting a finger to clean the apartment, I can more easily coerce my girlfriend into sex by proclaiming that the horrendous pain in my jaw is evidence of my approaching demise, and perhaps best of all, it affords me the opportunity to conduct bizarre experiments. For example, I like to see how many days I have to go without a shower before my oily body starts to stain our bedsheet like a Big Mac in a McDonald's bag. Six, by the way.

In order to assist you in understanding just how horrible this experience is for me, I've gone to the trouble of preparing a few handy visual aides. A quick search on Google offered up a picture of some kind of mutated ovary which happens to bear a striking resemblance to your average tooth. Anyway, carefully study the "tooth" on the left. Notice the pleasant smile? The huge, shimmering eyes? Wrap this thing up in a horridly flashy package adorned with a variety of crazy Korean moon-man scribbles and you've got the next big Sanrio character. Just for the hell of it, we'll call him Toothamoogi-AZNPRIDEMOFAKA-Shinshin. That, my friends, is my wisdom tooth during it's inactive or, "Not Hurting Like a Bitch" phase. Now, kindly direct your slack-jawed, hillbilly stare to the second picture. Here we find my offending wisdom tooth deep within it's "Gene Simmons and/or Darth Maul Stabbing My Gums with A Rusty Cock and then Pissing an Endless Stream of Acid into the Bleeding Gash" phase. All kidding aside, I'll bet my entire collection of Voltron pogs that this shit hurts even more than childbirth. And in the unlikely event that I'm mistaken, the joke's on you. I don't even own any Voltron pogs, you gullible bastards.

Tuesday, November 4th, 2003
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Lately I've been in the mood for a new CD. That, coupled with the fact that Nine Inch Nails still hasn't released their long-awaited new album, which I've dubbed "Yar, this is our god damn fucking hardest shit ever, Grrrrr... fist fuck" means that I've been compelled to once again make an effort to expand my musical horizons. So I shamelessly shattered my rule of never buying a Tool CD, and I picked up their most recent album, Lateralus. It was either that or the newest KMFDM sans En Esch, which is like Ron Jeremy without one of his testicles.

I'd already heard the majority of the songs off of Lateralus before, so I was relatively confident that I wouldn't be pissing my money away on a CD that sucked, and I was right. It's pretty damn good. Standout tracks such as- What the fuck? There's a ton of noise coming from outside all of a sudden. Hold on a minute, chief.

OMG D00D HEAVEN IS LEEKING!!! IT"S FUCKIN RAINING OUT THEIR LIKE NOAH AND THRE RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK OF THE COVENANT@!!SEWRIO- SERIOO- FUCKING A MAN, ALL OF OKLAHOMER IS GONNA BE FLOODED INA AMTTER OF SECONCK<>SD<.s!!!!OY. ID BETTER EAT ALL TEH HOTPOCKETS IN TEH FREESZER CUZ I MIGHT NEVER GET A 2nD CHANCER!!! I WONMDER IF I WAS FLOATING AWAY IN A FLOOD AND I PEED IN THE FLOOD IF ANYONE WOULD NOTICE THAT I PEED IN THE FLOOD???CUZ I JUST DRANK A BIG GLASS OF MOUTIN LIHTNINGZ AND I HAVE TO PISS LIKE SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN SHOCKED WITH ELECTROMAGNETICITY AND JUST LOST CONTROL OF THEIR BLADDERZ~~~KEKEKEKe OMGZERGRUSH!!1

Nevermind, I think it just stopped raining. Anyway, standout tracks such as "The Grudge", "Schism", "Ticks & Leeches" and "Triad" really showcase the talent that Maynard James Keenan and his associates possess. And the final track, "Faaip de Oiad", is simply bizarre. All in all, it's a fairly decent album. Tool fans are still a bunch of filthy ass-grabbing mongoloids, though.

Monday, November 3rd, 2003
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It's interesting how oftentimes when we plan to do something, fate steps in and totally screws it all up. Like this one time, I was going to take a piss real quick and then play some Playstation, but my trip to the bathroom turned into a magical quest where Indiana Jones and I traversed the world, shooting Nazis and retrieving lost relics with the giddiness of two school boys who are relieved to discover that they are in fact straight, regardless of the "funny feelings" they have for each other. Eventually we ended up in this bar in Austria, where we were downing shots of Vodka and looking moody. At some point during the evening, some hot chick slinked over to our table and watched us for a minute, then smirked coyly and spoke to Indy. I couldn't understand what she was saying since Austrians speak Spanish, but she handed him a key for a hotel room, and wandered off. As Indy stood up to follow her I said, "Where are we going now, broham?" He just grinned and replied, "I need to investigate something with my penis. You can stay here and guard our table from Hitler, ok dude?" And that's pretty much where my adventure ended.

See what I mean? I intended to apologize for not updating, but instead I made up this radical fake story about how one woman destroyed my friendship with Indiana Jones. I mean, I'd fully expect that kind of shit from James Bond, because he's a fucking whore... but Indy? He was the one that told me virginity rocked "like a hurricane". None of this makes any sense. Unless she was a siren! For the love of Christ, if you can read this, Indy: cover your ears! Don't listen to her alluring song! She's just going to strangle you during sex and take your wallet! Indy!

Oh yeah, I rented the movie "28 Days Later" this weekend. I guess it wasn't too bad, but the ending was utter shit. And to all the people that told me it was a zombie movie: you are retarded in the brain. Zombies are supposed to move all slow and stuff; it says so on page thirty-six of the "D&D Monster Cliches" Manual. NO EXCEPTIONS, MOTHERFUCKER.