This gettin' older shit ain't going away.
In an earnest effort to regain writing more (i.e. at all), I decided to start dabbling again on the interweb. (I can't bring myself to refer to myself as a "blogger" {noun} or that I'm "blogging" {verb}. Its just a shitty word thats been as overused and abused as "waterboarding," or "going green," or "pedophile.") I guess the idea was in a way sparked by that Huffington retard who was pimping her blogging book on Jon Stewart the other night, and then reinforced by reading my retarded friend Nate's food blog, but I had really been meaning to get back to it for awhile. [*sidenote- the author has nothing against retards, per se, and wants to maintain all necessary politically correct parlance. Its just that retards are, well, retarded. -ed.]
Anyhoo- I was meaning this to be a sort of continuation of the work I'd done on my old page, Rizzaks.blogspot.com, and I was even just going to cut and paste all the HTML and replace the content. To my chagrin, they've got this user-friendly idiot proof interface that, in its infinite wisdom, lets you know when there's HTML script errors. Evidentially the Rizzaks page is chock full of em, so I can't do dump with it. I mean it worked fine before... I mean, just look at it. Its beautiful. As is self promotion.
The point, if you must have one, is that I'm back to square one regarding "how to adjust page layout." What a waste of all of the hundreds of hours, gallons of alcohol, grams of amphetamines, etc. that it took to teach myself HTML. Its like when I mastered DOS on the Commodore 64 {load *fastball.exe,8,1}. Then they came out with Apples and Windows, and by the time I got to college all I could do was make a douchy animation of the 'have a nice day' face shooting himself. Actually, that was pretty awesome.
So needless to say I'm superfuckinpissed that I'm at square one in how to jazz up this informational e-log. I don't know if its from reckless destruction of brain cells or some kind of built in idiot-time-bomb, but I swear to God I can barely program my remote control anymore.
Nevertheless, enjoy the ramblings. Maybe you're bored. Or in jail. Or trapped in a fortune cookie factory. In any case, grab a loved one (not a relative, unless you must) and enjoy NY Times' "Best Blog to Make Love To."
Shaka.
December 08, 2009
January 25, 2009
December 20, 2008
E-mail from "Fat" Warren (feat. Joe Cotter), dated Tue, 7 Apr 1998
[Sic for the whole letter, ed.]
Hey homes, what's up? I haven't even talked to you in fuckin' months. I don't know why I've missed you, I haven't really seen Chad or Adam at all either since I moved. I think you've met those friends of Joe and I, Jeremy and all those fuckers. Anyway that's who Joe and I live with now. It's alright except the sharing a room with Joe. Anyway, I don't have so much to say, I was just re-ordering my e-mail nicknames and I came across you. The other day I was in Houston and I thought about trying to hook up with you but I didn't know how. My brother and I were trying to get some X from a buddy of his and I thought you might want some. Plus I figured we could hang out too. We ended up getting shafted anyway. We had to hang out with my brother's braindammaged steroid freak friend for hours waiting in vain. I should say that this asshole was my brother's friend, he just knows him. He's part of the steroid/musclehead/tittydancer/exotic drugs scene. What's even more fucked up about this guy is that he fights professionally in Mexican pit fights every now and then. This guys was litterally shooting up with Rohypnol (sp?) ! And nowadays (my brother told me this part, he's in med school) they make Rohypnol in a non-water soluable tablet so it won't dissolve in drinks. So this guy had to grind the shit up and mix it with some water then shoot the little chunks of the shit into his arm. I had naver seen anything like it. But sorry I couldn't hook up for you. We ended up going to these dog fights instead I didn't think that kind of shit still went on in citys as big as H-Town any more but apparently Y'all have one of the biggest underground dog fighting circuits in the nation. How's that to make you proud of your home town? Anyway, we went down around the shittier parts-acctually I don't know where we were, it seemed like we were getting close to Baytown and all that shit. But there were all these fucking mexicans (no offense) with the meanest, biggest, baddest pit bulls you'd ever seen. I swear to God these dogs had to be on steroids. One fight ended in something like 6.73 seconds (a new conference record I believe) when one dog litteraly tore the other's arm off from about the elbow down. ACtually, you know how dogs have their joints ordered different from ours such that their elbow is really their wrist or some shit? Well anyway, He tore off his fuckin arm! It was impressive. Before we left I had won about 260 dollars off just that one dog. You can imagine how much I was wishing we'd have made the hook up. Hey, Joe's yellin at me to let him type. Write me back.
our friend valdez went out to our other friend tony's cabin in the woods. there's not a person for miles but there is a gazebo. one day a dog in a leash was running and the leash got caught in part of the gazebo and the dog went to jump off and hung himself. so our friends tony and valdez had a .22 and some green too. shot that dog's ass didn't seem to be bleedin, though who's gonna look well the federalis seem to. two vans follow me, one's surveillance other's menuto taco.
Maceo 8/97-10/97
R.I.P
fat
Hey homes, what's up? I haven't even talked to you in fuckin' months. I don't know why I've missed you, I haven't really seen Chad or Adam at all either since I moved. I think you've met those friends of Joe and I, Jeremy and all those fuckers. Anyway that's who Joe and I live with now. It's alright except the sharing a room with Joe. Anyway, I don't have so much to say, I was just re-ordering my e-mail nicknames and I came across you. The other day I was in Houston and I thought about trying to hook up with you but I didn't know how. My brother and I were trying to get some X from a buddy of his and I thought you might want some. Plus I figured we could hang out too. We ended up getting shafted anyway. We had to hang out with my brother's braindammaged steroid freak friend for hours waiting in vain. I should say that this asshole was my brother's friend, he just knows him. He's part of the steroid/musclehead/tittydancer/exotic drugs scene. What's even more fucked up about this guy is that he fights professionally in Mexican pit fights every now and then. This guys was litterally shooting up with Rohypnol (sp?) ! And nowadays (my brother told me this part, he's in med school) they make Rohypnol in a non-water soluable tablet so it won't dissolve in drinks. So this guy had to grind the shit up and mix it with some water then shoot the little chunks of the shit into his arm. I had naver seen anything like it. But sorry I couldn't hook up for you. We ended up going to these dog fights instead I didn't think that kind of shit still went on in citys as big as H-Town any more but apparently Y'all have one of the biggest underground dog fighting circuits in the nation. How's that to make you proud of your home town? Anyway, we went down around the shittier parts-acctually I don't know where we were, it seemed like we were getting close to Baytown and all that shit. But there were all these fucking mexicans (no offense) with the meanest, biggest, baddest pit bulls you'd ever seen. I swear to God these dogs had to be on steroids. One fight ended in something like 6.73 seconds (a new conference record I believe) when one dog litteraly tore the other's arm off from about the elbow down. ACtually, you know how dogs have their joints ordered different from ours such that their elbow is really their wrist or some shit? Well anyway, He tore off his fuckin arm! It was impressive. Before we left I had won about 260 dollars off just that one dog. You can imagine how much I was wishing we'd have made the hook up. Hey, Joe's yellin at me to let him type. Write me back.
our friend valdez went out to our other friend tony's cabin in the woods. there's not a person for miles but there is a gazebo. one day a dog in a leash was running and the leash got caught in part of the gazebo and the dog went to jump off and hung himself. so our friends tony and valdez had a .22 and some green too. shot that dog's ass didn't seem to be bleedin, though who's gonna look well the federalis seem to. two vans follow me, one's surveillance other's menuto taco.
Maceo 8/97-10/97
R.I.P
fat
Why the Saints are shitty:
There's a basic sequitur to explain the New Orleans Saints overall record this year.
The Saints played The Chicago Bears.
The Chicago Bears are quarterbacked by Kyle Orton.
Kyle Orton is actually Dave Grohl.
Dave Grohl sings for the Foo Fighters.
The Foo FIghters' latest album was shitty, or the shit, depending on your tastes.
Hope this helps.
The Saints played The Chicago Bears.
The Chicago Bears are quarterbacked by Kyle Orton.
Kyle Orton is actually Dave Grohl.
Dave Grohl sings for the Foo Fighters.
The Foo FIghters' latest album was shitty, or the shit, depending on your tastes.
Hope this helps.
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