Monthly Archive for December, 2004

December 28, 2004

Published on 12/28/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. Closed

I had to see it to believe it. So I climbed out of bed, nearly knocking my shin a new asshole on the way to the kitchen window, and I watched the catfight take place in the back patio. It lasted no more than six seconds but it was the loudest one I’ve heard in a few years. Those fightin’ felines woke me up for crying out loud, the least they could do is fight for a minute or so!… I needed to get up anyway, have a lot to do today. What a great alarm clock that would be, a prerecorded catfight that is set on your alarm clock. Press snooze and the cats purr really loud for eight minutes and then BAM! Back to the screeching catfight! Have to put that in a movie or play. I’d laugh my nads off if I saw that in a movie or play.

After reading James Frey’s book, A Million Little Pieces, I’m determined to get my crap done while I’m alive and able. Don’t want to get into the book too much, but that guy’s story about going to rehab got me pretty good in the heartstring department. What a powerful story that was. He is a great writer too. No punctuation worth a shit the whole way throughout the book. That’s my kind of writer. Breaking all the rules! Love it! Makes me really want to sit down and write my memoirs in a book that I will title, Snot Rocket, The Life Story of Bobby Tisdale and Other False and Manipulated Observations. I was asking my father indirectly via my mother on the telephone a few months ago about what you call a book that is half true and half made up stories. Kinda like my Dear Diarrheas, some are real and some are the most randomly made up stories ever created by a human. Like this Diarrhea right now, it is all true up to this point but then the next paragraph might be about something like this….

As a stocking stuffer, Phil Flappers got a green tow truck that had HISS PETROL written on the side of the box. When he opened the box his mother slapped his hand and screamed, “What in Moses’ name are you doing opening that Hiss truck! It’s a collector’s item! Where is your head, Phil?!”

“But… but, MA! I want to play with it. That’s the only present you gave me!”

“That’s not true. Play with that can of sardines I got you. Open it up?
And, I don’t know… set them up like army fish- I mean army men… Try to blow them up with the bottle rockets I got you for your birthday!
There’s a good idea! That’s a fun present, I don’t know what you’re talking about!? Better yet, try to launch the sardines at that old goat Mrs. Harrison and see if she will come out and clean off that stupid nativity scenario in her front yard. I hate that damn thing! At least put a baby Jesus in the manger! Look at that animal she has sitting in the manger! Look at it Paul!? Aim for that mangy dog of hers.”

“I think her dog looks cute in the manger, Momma. ‘Sides, he’s just gonna eat the sardines if I shoot them over there. Can I PLEASE play with my Hiss truck Mom?! PLEASE! You do this every year!”

“Go downstairs in the gun cabinet and get all the other Hiss trucks and then you can play with them all together. You can play with them like blocks… You liked to play with blocks. Just stack them like very expensive blocks! How fun is that?! You have twelve boxes to stack and organize into anything you want… You can make a BUILDING, or a tall thingy… Just put on your cotton gloves and go to town.”

“Never mind, I’ll just go try to pick the lock to my stamp collection.”

“I told you that if you ever pick that lock, I was going to let you lick and play with THREE stamps. And that’s it! Don’t go licking your college fund away, Mister!”

“I won’t… I’m really sad right now Momma. Want you to know that, okay? Really, really disappointed with you right now… I’ll be in my room.”

Phil turns around and slowly pouts towards his room.

“Hey, Phil, Ya know what… Go on and get your jumpsuit on and wash your hands with bleach water and I’ll let you play with your Hiss truck for TEN minutes. That’s it though.”

“Oh, thanks mom! Thank you soooo much! I promise not to get any saliva or bodily oils on it at all. I’ll be extra careful!”

“It’s Christmas time Phil. Go on and play with it for an hour. I’m in a good mood today…”

“Oh goodie goodie goodie!!! Thanks Mom, I’ll be extra careful!”

“One more thing. Phil… I like you.”

“I like you too Mom. I like you too”

They both hug for a split second. Phil runs to the shower and his mother continues with her daily shrink-wrapping.

THE END

I guess instead of saying Fiction or Non-fiction, I’ll be under the
“Fictional non-fiction” section of the bookstore. Maybe I should not worry what kind of book it is and just write it first.

That’s what I’m a gonna do!

December 25, 2004

Published on 12/25/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. Closed

The thing that I can’t stop thinking about is that damn MOMA trip I took with my friends yesterday. I just got so inspired to see all of the unbelievable art, super famous art that is just mind boggling to be around. Makes me want to take another art history class so next time I go to the gallery I won’t try to scratch any of the paintings again. I’m a touchie-feelie guy, everybody knows that. Same goes with art that I love, I want to touch it and scratch it. Not a vicious scratch that one might do if it were an angry cat or wife, the kind of scratching that you’d do if you wanted to put someone to sleep, nice and slow, almost a tickle scratch.

I’ve never scratched any art, but I always think of stuff like that when I’m in a gallery. It still amazes me how you never see anyone screwing around with the art. All the crazy people in the city and no one goes crazy on the art. People do the stupid ‘camera flash’ and ‘too close’ thing, but other than that, never really see anyone trying to punch a hole in a Picasso or a Degas or anything like that. That’s all I could really think about while I was in there. Starry Starry Night had a protective glass covering in the frame, but other than that one and a handful of other pieces, they were all exposed for the crazies to screw around with. A guard that is in a roomful of twenty Picassos can’t stop someone from sneezing directly on one of his paintings. Seriously, I had to sneeze a couple of times and if it weren’t for the training I had as a youth, I wouldn’t have covered my mouth and put up the number one sign when I sneezed as I was standing within three feet of a Warhol.
What security guard is going to stop a person from having a seizure and knocking into a couple million-dollar sculptures precariously standing in the middle of the floor? Are you going to arrest someone for putting a head through a ten million dollar piece of art for tripping over his or her shoelace? (The price went up and the level of accident severity went down on that example to really state my point here) What can you do? I almost tripped over this little guardrail thingie that was surrounding a sculpture. (Which I couldn’t name because I got out of the room as quickly as possible) I mean how awful would you feel if you were responsible for ruining something that was made over a hundred years ago and is priceless? (I really upped the stakes on that one by going with the priceless price tag!)

Think about it. There are more people like me that are thinking the same way but they really want to stage an ‘accident’ and get away with destroying some art just for the shits and the giggles of it. I’d bet out of the hundreds and hundreds of people that go into the galleries across the world that the booger flick is the number one form of passive aggressive art vandalism. I can see an art handler right now after a long day in the gallery, closing up for the night.

“Take a look at this Mitch…Not one, but SEVEN boogers stuck to this Rembrandt. People are so inconsiderate! It kills me. I wish I knew what the answer was how to protect these priceless pieces of work from passive aggressive vandals that come in here and do as they please. I really thought that a security guard could guard all of these paintings at once, all twenty-five of these priceless pieces in this room… What do you think Mitch?” Mitch puts down the mop and quickly pulls out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “As a matter of fact, I have a few very easy and inexpensive solutions. For one, why not put a sheet of glass over the art to protect-…” “Get back to mopping, floor handler! I don’t have time for your crap today! GET OUT OF MY LINE OF VISION!”

So ya see, stuff like that makes me wonder. I just don’t get it. I hate that I had to make the art handler so mean and rude to the floor handler guy. Sometimes I have to do that to really set the right example. You know what? Let me go back and make this whole Mitch and the art handler thing a little more festive. It’s the holidays and all.

Here, let’s see if this works a little better.

“Hey Mitch, take a look at this” Not one, but SEVEN boogers stuck to this priceless Rembrandt. People are so inconsiderate, aren’t they? I wish I knew what the answer was Mitch. I really do… Do you have any suggestions in that fancy notebook that I got you for Christmas? You know, the one with the two zebras mating on the cover? Let me hear them if you do.”

Mitch gets very excited and as he whips out his notebook from his back pocket, his mop handle falls and knocks a hole in a ten million dollar piece of famous art.

“Shit! Oh, my… I can’t believe how stupid I am! Look at the size of the hole I accidentally knocked in that piece of art work.”

“Mitch! I asked you a question? Do you have any answers or what?”

Mitch hands him the notebook and the art handler reads it.

“Simply put piece of glass or a plexi-glass pane over the artwork and it will protect the art from people’s 1. Gas 2. Sneezes 3. Poots 4. Belches and burps 5. Fingers and toes 6. And last but not least, the most aggressive of all the passive aggressive types of vandalism, the human booger…. Great idea Mitch! I’ll take this and see if I can’t take all the credit for it. Now you go an ahead and pack up your bags and leave forever because of what you just did with that mop handle…. Once again, great idea!”

That was much better! Point taken and all is well.

I’m going to go now. I’m gonna go to some pretentious gallery in Soho and flip off some art as well as get some shopping done.

Bye!

Comment Moderation

Published on 12/22/2004 in General. Closed

Hey, we’re turning on comment moderation thanks to spammers. If you leave a real comment, I’ll approve it and it’ll show up. Sorry if any legit comments are accidentally deleted but when you have 200 cigarette and poker spam comments to delete a real one may fall through the cracks…

-The Management

December 22, 2004

Published on 12/22/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. Closed

So I just got out of the shower and sitting on the couch digging out my ears with a Q-tip with Twillow the cat sitting behind me cleaning herself too, when all of a sudden I got sucked into watching Kangaroo Jack on HBO. An hour and a half later I finally got up and put some clothes on for the day. And here I am talking about it.

When I first saw the previews of Kangaroo Jack in the theaters I’ll be honest with you, I promised myself to only watch it three times in the theater and wait until it came out on DVD for me to really study all the lines in the movie. Here are a few things that I had a problem with in this comic blockbuster: first of all, in the trailer they had the kangaroo speaking like a human, rapping actually and it had me believing that the kangaroo would have a large speaking part in the flick. WRONG! Uh, hello! The little speaking part turns out to be a mirage type of dream that the star of the movie was having after the kangaroo kicked him in the face! I mean, COME ON! False advertisement!

This is what really happened. The actor guy (The fat kid in Stand By Me, I forgot his name) was already very hot and tired from walking around in the outback summer heat. That, coupled with the force of the kangaroo kick to the noggin brought on in his head, the kangaroo began to sing and dance as it hovered over him lying on the ground. It was all just some weird screwed-up misleading dream! I was shocked to see that throughout the rest of the movie the kangaroo acted like a regular kangaroo would if it were wearing a bright red Brooklyn jacket and sunglasses. Every time the film crew was around the jumping beast it just made the stereotypical cute kangaroo noises. I’m making the noise to myself right now to see how I can write it for you. I wish you could see and hear me now. Just see the movie and you’ll hear for yourself.

Here’s another thing that I had a problem with in Kangaroo Jack and it happened to be the only time I actually laughed throughout the movie. There was a scene in the flick where this hot girl riding a camel happened upon the two lost and thirsty guys out in the middle of the outback. She helps the guys out with their search for the kangaroo by hooking them up with a couple of camels and taking them to a famous watering hole were the kangaroos hang out. (Kinda funny that they never explained where they got locked and loaded with another couple of camels in the middle of the outback) Anyway, the scene where I laughed was when they were on the camels and for about five minutes the camels kept on farting really loud and it was the kind of piped in soundstage stereotypical fart noise that really bugged me. Farts are always funny, I can’t stress that enough, but they are funnier sometimes when they are obviously fake sounding farts. Takes it to another level that I really can’t explain. But what really bothered me was during the whole farting scene the girl kept on explaining, “That’s what camels do.” And none of the actors laughed at the VERY LOUD farts coming out of the animals. This kind of shit always happens in the movies and in situation comedies. Something very funny might happen and the actors don’t laugh at it. A great example of this is in that situational comedy called Friends. Chancellor would make the quickest joke in the world that millions of people watching laugh at really hard and none of the actors laugh at the joke. That crap makes me sick. Keep it realistic! That’s what I’m gonna preach to my little acting children when I have them. Keep it realistic! Same goes with the camels farting extremely loud. FRIGGIN LAUGH, ASSHOLES! Farts are always funny so go on ahead and laugh if you got one. GEEZ! If I was riding anything and it started farting out of control like that, there is no way in the world I wouldn’t laugh so hard that I fell off whatever I was riding.

The place in the movie that upset me the most was about thirty minutes later in a monumental moment in the movie; the villains in the movie were pulling the two guys behind a couple camels. One would think, okay, we are now behind a couple of camels and just like the big laugh in the movie before where the camels kept on farting like crazy, you’d naturally think that there would be a couple big farts right in their face, right? NOOOOO! Nothing of the sort. They had such a great callback right there in front of their noses and they didn’t fire off one fart. I thought that “That’s what camels do!” but not in this script, I guess. Made me so mad! What about all that stink you were making earlier? You know, when the camels wouldn’t stop farting for about an hour? Yeah, the same camels that are now a few feet in front of the main character’s face. Come on scriptwriters!

I want everyone that has HBO to watch it and see what I’m talking about. It’ll drive you crazy.

Enough of the movie talk. I need to place my order for the DVD and hear what the director has to say about it. I’ll get to the BOTTOM of this, don’t you worry!

December 14, 2004

Published on 12/14/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. Closed

Probably wondering what ever happened to the girl in my play. Well, here is another little scene from “Struggle’s”.

NOTE!!! Read the first scene from my play first before you read this.
You have to go in order. November 17, 2004.

Open up. Sunday morning at Struggle’s.

Bobby just walks into the shop. He is still wearing the wine stained shirt he had passed out in the night before.

Bobby walks around to each of the plants to greet and check on their well-being.

BOBBY: Good morning plants! Mr. Bumpy, you look a little dry… Get some water for ya… Well well wellll, Tyrell, top of the morning to ya. You a good boy? Tyrell want a glass of water too…

There is a KNOCK on the door. Bobby looks at his watch. The store is obviously closed. He unlocks the top lock and with the chain lock still on he looks to see who it is.

BOBBY: (through the cracked door) Sorry, we’re closed. We open up again tomorrow morn-

All of a sudden you see a gloved hand holding a broken bottle push through the opening. Bobby SCREAMS uncontrollably, like a girl screaming in a horror movie.

BOBBY: Don’t throw it! Don’t throw it! HAAAAA!!!!

The arm just keeps swinging the broken bottle around. Bobby ducks and rolls on the floor and breaks off a sprig of poison ivy from Tyrell, his poison ivy plant.

BOBBY slowly sneaks up from the side and frantically rubs the poison ivy on the evil arm.

BOBBY: It’s poison ivy! I suggest you get the hell out of here before I pull out the sumac!

The person drops the bottle and leaves. BOBBY rolls around on the ground and picks up the phone to call the police. His phone doesn’t work.

BOBBY: (Into phone) Hello? Hello!… Damnit!

He slams the phone down and then it starts to ring. He picks it up immediately.

BOBBY: (Panicking) Hello, Struggle’s Plantery, this is Bobby speaking, how can I help you!… You’re at the front door!?

BOBBY drops the phone and opens the door. His friend Michael Showalter comes inside the shop completely out of breath.

MICHAEL: I’m… out… of… breath…

Michael pulls up a chair and plops down to catch his breath.

BOBBY: Are you all right? Did he hurt you! Oh my goodness, are you injured?

Bobby starts inspecting Michael, digging through his hair like a monkey.

MICHAEL: What… are you talking about? Wow!… I’m tired!

BOBBY: You didn’t see that guy with the bottle!?

MICHAEL: No. What bottle?

BOBBY: Oh my god, this freak tried to break in and kill me with that broken bottle there and I got him with some poison ivy… You didn’t see anyone wearing black gloves run past you or anything?

MICHAEL: As a matter of fact… I did see a guy wearing gloves that almost hit me on his bike right outside the shop. Yeah, he was in a big hurry and he looked crazy.

BOBBY: Great! I’ll call the police and they can get a sketch of him!

MICHAEL; Here… let me just sketch him for you now that he’s fresh in my mind.

Michael goes to the counter and looks for a piece of paper and a pen.

BOBBY: I ran out of sketch paper. Just draw it on the back of my shirt.
It’s already screwed up anyway.

Bobby turns and Michael starts sketching on his back like an overly dramatic artist.

Bobby begins to laugh.

MICHAEL: What’s so funny?… I thought you were upset? You were upset I thought… What’s so funny, Bobby?

BOBBY: I am upset but at the same time I’m having a hard time being upset because that TICKLES so much!

MICHAEL: I can see how that can be funny. My sister and I used to play this game where we would try to-

BOBBY AND MICHAEL: (together, verbatim) -guess the letters we would draw on our backs with our fingers and I would always guess the wrong letter so she’d have to keep doing it because it felt so good!

Michael and Bobby laugh a long time. Michael begins to cry.

BOBBY: What’s the matter buddy? I’M the one that should be upset, not you.

MICHAEL: I have something to tell you Bobby’ The reason I was so out of breath when I got here was because I ran away from home…

BOBBY: Are you kidding? Why?

MICHAEL: It’s a long story. (Forces a smile) Ya know, I have a sketch to finish! I’m gonna be just fine.

Michael continues with his dramatic sketching.

BOBBY: We’ll you can stay with me… Just help me around the shop and you can stay in the storage room as long as you need to.

MICHAEL: Thanks Bobby. You’re a great friend.

A few beats go by and then Michael puts the pen cap on.

MICHAEL: Done! Do you have a mirror?

BOBBY: Actually, I’m sitting on one.

Bobby removes the mirrored seat from the chair and hands it to Michael.
Michael angles it like a hair stylist for Bobby to see the sketch.

MICHAEL: There he is! You’re madman riding a bike.

Bobby turns white as a ghost.

MICHAEL: What?… What? What? What? What? What-

BOBBY: That’s my… Oh, my god…

MICHAEL: What? What? What? What? What Bobby?

BOBBY: That’s the lord… My… LANDLORD!

The two just look at each other for a few seconds. There is a loud knock on the door that startles Bobby and he screams again like he did before. Michael calms him down and covers his mouth with his hand.

The door slowly opens and all we see is a female hand on the doorknob.
Her arm has a massive poison oak rash on it.

And… SCENE!

That’s it for now. It is gonna be ONE HELL OF A PLAY!

December 7, 2004

Published on 12/7/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. 1 Comment

I placed my bag down to save my table at the coffee shop. I stood over a display of cookies and Christmas mints for a good ten minutes it seems waiting for a table to come available. Had to look like I was shopping to make me look less desperate.

The couple sitting at my new table took their sweet time getting their stuff together. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just hovering over you because I want your seat. Take your time. Not like I’m waiting for a kidney or anything.” I didn’t say that but I wanted to. I always speed it up when I know someone is waiting patiently for a table. I wish I had accidentally spilt my iced tea on them. “Shit! I’m sorry! I accidentally spilt my tea on you because I felt that you guys were too slow and were doing the slug dance on purpose because both of you are naturally born assholes. I’m so sorry. Here, let me grab some napkins and clean myself off. A little got on my shoe lace.” You probably think I think everyone is an asshole lately and you’re right. People are good for the most part. I’m sure if I were on fire or was having a problem getting air to my lungs because I had a piece of food lodged in my throat (aka, choking) that this couple would do their part in helping me out. Don’t think they are THAT big of an asshole. It’s just that look that people have in their eye that says “I want to make you suffer just a little bit because my cleaning lady screwed up my laundry a week ago and I’m still venting over it.” All I can do is give them an extra large smile and wait my turn. I got the seat but I wish I carried around some sage to clean the energy that they left behind before I sat down. NEW INVENTION! Sage wipes! Don’t anyone take that idea from me!! I said it first right here and right now!

That is a great invention. Wouldn’t it be great if I made millions on “Sagin’ It!” energy removal wipes and you were here with me when I thought up the idea. Not really, but when I write these things I picture that I am talking to you guys almost as if I’m sending an instant message.

Here is a typical scene where one might use a ‘Sagin’ It’ energy removal wipe in the real world.

We open up in a crowded coffee shop in lower Manhattan. It’s raining outside and it’s putting the majority of the people in a foul mood.

BILL DIDDIE, a thirty-something earthy stud is waiting for a table very patiently. He spots a young snobby couple about to leave a table so he jumps on the opportunity and stands a few feet away from them as they SLOWLY pack up and leave.

BILL: (Very friendly) You guys leaving?

The snobby man stares at Bill without answering him. The girl’s phone rings and she answers it.

SNOBBY GIRL: Hello? Oh hello Marsha. I meant to call you back last night but we had the Lavenders over for snacks and wine and the cleaning lady accidentally spilled some Brie on your number and I couldn’t read it… Uh huh… right.

SNOBBY GUY: (Under his breath) I don’t think it was an accident and I want her fired.

The snobby girl cups the mouthpiece of her phone and barks to snobby guy.

SNOBBY GIRL: It WAS an accident! You were too drunk to see that Hamilton! You have a terrible drinking problem… Oh, don’t let me forget, we’re supposed to meet the Flapper’s for cocktails at six-thirty tonight…

Bill stands there patiently waiting for them to leave. The snobby guy gives Bill a snotty look like Bill was about to steal his pacifier from him.

SNOBBY GIRL: (Talking to Marsha) No, I hear you. The colors are perfect except for the browns don’t match the little throw I have hidden under my bed… It doesn’t matter if you can’t see the rug… I still know it’s there!

HAMILTON: Hang up on that bitch! My mother bought me that brown rug when I graduated from law school. I hate her!… Who is that anyway?

SNOBBY GIRL (Cupping phone again) It’s Marsha Dadbeat, she’s doing our window treatments. (Back to Marsha) The rug will never leave from under the bed unless Raskles comes over for Christmas and then we let him sleep on the rug… That’s my mother’s golden-

BILL: I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you guys leaving or not? I mean I can wait for another table-

HAMILTON: We’re leaving when we’re ready. (To snobby girl) Do you want the rest of this Danish? I only took a bite out of it.

Snobby girl shakes her head no. A homeless man bleeding from starvation is looking at the Danish from behind the window. He really could use the food to stop the bleeding.

BILL: You should give that homeless man the rest of that Danish.

Hamilton stands up and walks over to the trashcan that is right in front of the window and throws it away. The homeless man stares at the Danish like it was the last hope of food.

The snobby girl finally hangs up the phone and starts to gather her coat and scarf.

Bill pulls out a handy “Sagin’ It” energy removal wipe and starts wiping down Hamilton’s old seat.

SNOBBY LADY: What in God’s name are you doing?

BILL: Oh this? This is just the best invention I’ve ever seen in my life! It’s something I like to call “Sagin’ It” energy removal wipes.
Right this very second I’m getting rid of you and your boyfriend’s negative energy so I don’t get any of it on me. Pretty cool, huh?

Snobby girl just gives him an “eat shit” look and walks out into the rain with Hamilton. A large trash truck hits a rain puddle soaking the couple along with the homeless man.

Bill runs out and offers a “Sagin’ It” energy removal wipe to the homeless man to wipe off the mud from his face.

HOMELESS MAN: (Laughing) Thank you.

BILL: I’ll get that Danish for you if you want. It didn’t hit anything in the trashcan. It’s sitting right there untouched. That’s stupid!
Here, I think I have an extra dollar. Take this and buy whatever you-

HOMELESS MAN: Are you voting for Al Gore?

BILL: (Laughs) Uh… Yes I am.

HOMELSS MAN: Good.

The homeless man stuffs the energy removal wipe into his mouth and eats it then he flips off a pigeon that flies over his head.

Bill goes on inside and writes a long story about what just happened to him.

AND SCENE!

There ya have it! Let me to work on my invention now. Got some money to make!

December 4, 2004

Published on 12/4/2004 in Dear Diarrhea. 0 Comments

I’m back in the city after a long, long time in the mountains of North Carolina. It’s amazing how long it takes for a week to go by when you are out in the country with nothing else to do but walk the land and eat food. That’s about all I did except for the walking part. I do enough of that in the city so it wasn’t really in the cards on this family trip home. Plus I want to add a little winter weight for the future snow storms a brewin’ on the horizon.

I want someone to knit me a scarf for me. Something long and warm to keep me looking great and cozy for the city folks to come up to me and say, “Where did you GET that great scarf?” Then I’d answer them something like this, “That’s for YOU to know and me to find out! Ha ha haaa… Just joshing with you. No seriously, I have this thing I write from time to time called Dear Diarrhea and I asked for someone to knit me a scarf and out of the twenty or so responses, I chose this one to wear the most because it matches my hair the best. Don’t get me wrong, the other scarves are beautiful too, I can’t go around wearing twenty of these things at a time ya know! Ha ha haaaa. I mean I guess I could if I wanted to look like a walking scarf holder thingie you know? something that you might see in a Gap or something retail like that. SHIT! Look at the time! What were you asking me again?!”

What else should I ask for? Hummm. Hats! I want someone to make me a cute knit hat that will bring out my eyes. Not the color of my eyes! My eyes! I want a hat that will literally bring out my eyes a few millimeters from my head. Can’t wait for these scarves and hats to come on in and flood my mailbox! Here’s my address: 232 Mes- Wait! I need to get a PO Box first. The last thing I want is for people to ship me a bunch of jokes and gags, for example, a scarf that someone finds in the trash behind a homeless shelter or a hat that is filled with the cold and flu. How about this, if you are interested in spending the time and labor to make me a scarf or a hat, email me and I will give you my personal address. I will give you my head and neck sizes and all of that good stuff too. Get to knitting!

I know! Let’s make it a contest and the winner will get to keep his or her scarf or hat after I use them for three winter seasons! Sounds like a GREAT contest! I’m not pulling a Huckleberry Sawyer on you either!
It’s a great contest and if wasn’t so busy writing these damn diarrheas once a week, I’d knit the shit out of a scarf or hat too. Just to enter a CONTEST of any kind! Get to knittin’! Starting to get cold outside!!

I have a new used truck now that I love love love! It’s a 1996 Ford F150 with a 302 V8 that I bought to pull a 27-foot Airstream trailer circa 1969. I will get to the Airstream later but for now, this is what I want to do with my truck. I want to put a big ‘Chevy’ sign above my front window and on the back I want to cross out the Ford with a big marker and underneath that I want to write ‘Dodge’ and have my license plate say ‘GMCYAL8TR’ and a big bumper sticker that says ‘All American’. I know that my plate has two too many letters but I would get permission from the state to add a couple of letters. If I couldn’t get permission, I’d get a second license plate to put beside my legal one with just ‘TR’ on it. I wonder if that is legal? Seems like you could have license plates that could go all the way around your car and really say what is on your mind. Something like this ILOVEFO’ RDSANDI’ ENJOYCH’ EVYSAND’ IALSOAM’VERYFON’DOFDODE’S,BASIC’ ALLYANY’ AMERICA’ NMADECA’ RWILLDO’JUSTDON”TGIVEM’ EARICER’ OCKETAN’ DWEWIL’ LBECOOL

If only that was legal. Need to look that one up.