|2003-02-25 || it's noon, it's time I fuck your sister now
Soundtrack � The Rolling Stones � Aftermath (UK)
The Hispanic women in the coffee shop were surely talking about me in that language of theirs today. They made an obvious comment, and then started laughing. They�ll see, when Allah comes to take us off of planet earth. I spoke to Allah recently. He said the first people he is going to take are Hispanic women who put too much cream in your coffee that can barely speak English. After that, he will take homosexual men followed by homosexual women, Jews, Christians, and people who bought the last Flaming Lips record and liked it. I�m hoping this is true, as I am all of the above (save for the flaming lips people), and I want to go up to the heavens! I want to see Jesus and all of those angels. I heard they just fuck and eat pussy all day in heaven. Men, women, children, you name it, you�ll see them fucking and eating pussy. That�s why they call it heaven.
If I were to list what I think would make a great �heaven� I think it would be like this:
Everyone would have a vagina, even me.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience would always be playing in the open air outside.
College students would not be allowed to vote.
Osama Bin Laden would have a talk show.
Women would make less money than men�oh wait that already happens here.
The ghost of every retarded person George W. Bush executed would get to sodomize George on a nightly basis.
Cigarettes would be 87 cents a pack, around the same as when I started smoking.
White people would not be allowed to make music anymore, except for me.
Riddle: How many tired fucking pentatonic scales does it take to change a white person into a black person? The answer next July.
Got some more pics of the band yesterday�I like this one because you can�t see any of the lame posters in the back that Breaux and Aarne are responsible. Like Jewel�and Fiona Apple. I swear I would rather fuck Wilfred Brimley in the ass than fuck Fiona Apple.
Tonight we have practice again. Two nights in a row is good because you don�t forget anything�unless you are a bass player that is.
Bring me the head of Avril Lavigne.
Bring me the talent of Keith Levene
Bring me the head of Christina Aguilara
Bring me the balls of Manuel Noriega
So I got a whiff of this perfume that this girl I dated a long time ago wore. It suddenly reminded me of galaxie 500 and painting and fucking when her brother, my high school buddy went to sleep, and smoking pot and drinking wine and Ireland and long brown hair and hippie skirts and acoustic guitars and that perfume and crazy and crazy and nights until 5 in the morning talking about life and drinking more wine and the letters she wrote me that I still have that prove that she was madder than I was. I sat in the car blank. I always would sit in the car blank and not say a word when they would tell me they are leaving. Did you want a reaction from me? You�re telling me you can�t be with me because you never know what I�m thinking. Would like to know if I�m upset about this? Sorry, I can�t disclose that information. Not because I am, or because I�m not, but because you don�t deserve to know. I will stare out the window until you stop asking me questions. I have nothing to say. You don�t get to tell your friends �I broke his heart� because I was lying when I told you everything. I just wanted to fuck my friends little sister. Duh.
It�s kind of cold today, but not the kind where you need to bundle up and look like an Eskimo. Come, visit me for lunch, somebody. I�m dyin� over here.