Sorry it's been so long, but I'm busy, and I'm Jesus. Get off my damn case. Anyway, it's been so long because I've been uber busy with work and x-box. Mostly x-box. Frankly, I'm only writing a blog now because I don't want to go completely ape-shit crazy and beat my room mate to death with a frozen hot dog. It's a long story, but I'm Jesus so you're inclined to read on. Fuckers. Ha.
Day one of my holding back the fists:
I get home from work to find my house in fucking tatters. I have lived here alone since '96. I liked it a lot. I had a few girlfriends pass through, but they get all weird about boning Jesus. So they eventually have to go bone my friends instead. This past year, money's been tight so I took in a room mate. It sucks. He lied about being clean, he lied about being responsible, he watches tv too loud, he eats my food and smacks his fucking mouth when he does, and he rarely flushes the toilet. I've talked to him many times about this, but since I'm Jesus, he always uses the 'forgive everyone' thing and leaves to go to the bar or something. Tangent. So on this particular day, 'bout two weeks ago, I come home from work to find my toilet in the living room. Then I hear the most dreaded sound any home owner can hear when they get home: Loud bangs of metal on drywall. Oh shit, that better be my room mate hitting his head against an anvil. No. "Hey man. I've been a dick lately, so I decided to do you a favor and remodel your bathroom." "What? I'm sorry. It sounded like you said you're remodeling my bathroom." "Yeah. I figured this house is pretty old and it needed it." "Okay. I'm going to go get shit faced and forget you are alive." "Okay, see you man."
Day two of me not swinging hatchets at everyone:
"Oh hey man. Sorry about your bathroom. It'll take me like a week to finish it cause I need to get the new drywall from work and my buddy's free on Wednesday to help me with it." "Okay, I'm going to go to work, then go to the bar and get shit faced to forget you are alive." "Okay man, see you later."
Day three of me not stealing a tank and running over puppies:
"Hey man, I'll put your toilet back in today, but my buddy isn's going to be help out on Wednesday cause his sisters Quinciñera (alt 164 for the awesome N tilde. Bitches.) is that day. Also the drywall hasn't come in yet. So it might be next week." "Are you still alive? Where's the rent for this month?" "Oh, hey sorry man. I'll get you the rent next week too, cause my boss said something about payroll screwing up." "Okay. Stop eating my food." "Okay." *smack smack smack*.
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Okay. I got distracted and saved this as a draft to work on it the next day. Now I'm bored and really don't want to finish. So, yeah. Long story short, I don't have cold water and my room mate isn't going to have an arm soon. Okay, I'm really bored now. Maybe I'll just go play x-box. K, thanks bye.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
New Thing
I've decided to give myself a reason to come back here every week. It's called 'Weekly Abomination'. It will allow me to show you uncaring idiots the things you are doing wrong, without getting myself in serious trouble (i.e. smiting you with bricks).
The first abomination is something that's troubled me in the past, as well as the present. 2000 years ago, we called it "get off your ass and do something" syndrome. Nowadays, it's known as RLS, or for you retards, Restless Leg Syndrome. It's a disease caused by A. Severe Boredom, B. Hypochondriasis, C. Bullshit pharmaceutical companies, and D. People who want to get more drugs.
Lets start with choice A, severe boredom. Get off your ass and do something. Nuff Said.
Now, we'll move on to choice B. Hypochondriasis. This is a tough one, because you stubborn fuck nuts will always think something is wrong with you. I think, however, I have a solution. If you thought something was wrong with you, don't you think it would be a little more severe than Restless Leg Syndrome? You better go to the doctor's office and find out...you might have something terrible. Idiots.
How 'bout C. Bullshit Pharmaceutical Companies. Yeah, it's hard to argue with these people because we all take and use their drugs and systems. But, I'm Jesus and I can do this kind of shit. Yay for me. These people are smarter than you. And they know it. They all get together and think of ways to con/kill you. Ever notice on those TV commercials the list of side effects? Every single one of them includes either 'anal bleeding', or 'death'. Come on, people...you're not dead yet, so why the fuck hell would you take something that could, and probably will kill or debilitate you?
Finally, we get to talk about chioce D. People who want more drugs. Look...I'm all for getting more drugs, but this isn't the way to do it. It's a bullshit disease, and there isn't much else to say about it. If you want your leg to stop moving, then just fucking stop moving it. This kinda goes hand in hand with the hypochondriasis. Don't you think you could think up something a little more severe than RLS and get something a little better than what they give you for it? Yeah, you might overdose and fall asleep, but mostly you just won't be able to ever move your legs again. And you need those to meet your dealer.
That's all for this week, folks. I'll probably come back tomorrow because I'm gonna get fucking bored with Grand Theft Auto again, and my room mate will still not clean up his shit. He might be the next abomination...
K thanks, bye.
The first abomination is something that's troubled me in the past, as well as the present. 2000 years ago, we called it "get off your ass and do something" syndrome. Nowadays, it's known as RLS, or for you retards, Restless Leg Syndrome. It's a disease caused by A. Severe Boredom, B. Hypochondriasis, C. Bullshit pharmaceutical companies, and D. People who want to get more drugs.
Lets start with choice A, severe boredom. Get off your ass and do something. Nuff Said.
Now, we'll move on to choice B. Hypochondriasis. This is a tough one, because you stubborn fuck nuts will always think something is wrong with you. I think, however, I have a solution. If you thought something was wrong with you, don't you think it would be a little more severe than Restless Leg Syndrome? You better go to the doctor's office and find out...you might have something terrible. Idiots.
How 'bout C. Bullshit Pharmaceutical Companies. Yeah, it's hard to argue with these people because we all take and use their drugs and systems. But, I'm Jesus and I can do this kind of shit. Yay for me. These people are smarter than you. And they know it. They all get together and think of ways to con/kill you. Ever notice on those TV commercials the list of side effects? Every single one of them includes either 'anal bleeding', or 'death'. Come on, people...you're not dead yet, so why the fuck hell would you take something that could, and probably will kill or debilitate you?
Finally, we get to talk about chioce D. People who want more drugs. Look...I'm all for getting more drugs, but this isn't the way to do it. It's a bullshit disease, and there isn't much else to say about it. If you want your leg to stop moving, then just fucking stop moving it. This kinda goes hand in hand with the hypochondriasis. Don't you think you could think up something a little more severe than RLS and get something a little better than what they give you for it? Yeah, you might overdose and fall asleep, but mostly you just won't be able to ever move your legs again. And you need those to meet your dealer.
That's all for this week, folks. I'll probably come back tomorrow because I'm gonna get fucking bored with Grand Theft Auto again, and my room mate will still not clean up his shit. He might be the next abomination...
K thanks, bye.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Kinda new at this.
So...This is my first blog. Be nice to me. I'm Jesus.
I don't really know how a blog works, so lay off for a bit with all the mean comments like "Hey Jesus...you suck cause you don't know how a blog works..." Well, fuck you. Cause blogging sucks. And you're too critical. And I told you to be nice to me. Douche.
Anyway, yeah. This is it. Like it so far? Cause I don't. I don't like much of anything anymore. Except for those kitten videos on youtube. Those are pretty cool. I also like not going to work. Like I'm going to do tomorrow. I've got some pretty sweet plans for my day. I'm gonna wake up, take a shower, drive to McDonalds, eat a sausage egg buiscut with cheese, go back home, tell my roommate to clean up his shit, pick up my xbox controller and play Grand Theft Auto until Monday. Sound like a good plan? Yeah...it does to me too.
So, that was it. My first blog. If you don't like it, keep your blaspheming douchy mouth shut or I'll smite you with a brick. K thanks, bye.
I don't really know how a blog works, so lay off for a bit with all the mean comments like "Hey Jesus...you suck cause you don't know how a blog works..." Well, fuck you. Cause blogging sucks. And you're too critical. And I told you to be nice to me. Douche.
Anyway, yeah. This is it. Like it so far? Cause I don't. I don't like much of anything anymore. Except for those kitten videos on youtube. Those are pretty cool. I also like not going to work. Like I'm going to do tomorrow. I've got some pretty sweet plans for my day. I'm gonna wake up, take a shower, drive to McDonalds, eat a sausage egg buiscut with cheese, go back home, tell my roommate to clean up his shit, pick up my xbox controller and play Grand Theft Auto until Monday. Sound like a good plan? Yeah...it does to me too.
So, that was it. My first blog. If you don't like it, keep your blaspheming douchy mouth shut or I'll smite you with a brick. K thanks, bye.
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