(no subject)

It's settled. I'm blowing this cold-ass state. (It's supposed to snow again today--can you believe that shit?!?) And fuck all this publishing noise. It ain't all it's cracked up to be. If everything goes according to plan, I should be residing at Zendik Farm in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina by the end of the month. Yep, I'm gonna tell my landlord to fuck off and my boss to eat shit, and I'm gonna grow my hair down to my ass and let my freak flag fly.

Anyone wanna buy a car?

(no subject)

Hey, quick question: do people all over the country use the word "drawers" to refer to underwear, or is it just a Southern thing?

(no subject)

I just moved my car into the parking lot next to the building. (I don't have a permit to park there, but it opens to the general public at 4 p.m.) I'm driving down the little aisle or lane or whatever you call it, and there's this old woman in a Brezhnev hat walking really slowly right down the middle. So finally I get tired of crawling along behind her, and I step on the clutch and rev the engine a few good times. And she turns around and looks at me like I'm a goddamn MADMAN! Same thing happened when I did that to a co-worker a few months ago.

People are too doggone touchy. I might go join a stupid commune after all.

Oh, and here's Mother Nature's cruel April Fool's joke on my Southern ass:

(no subject)

DAMN, I wish I could go to the Coachella festival. Mike Watt is playing with the fucking Stooges!!!