The only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[The Dismemberment Plan]
[Archives]
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
May 2008
[Features]
[x] College Blog
[x] My Friend Turdy
[x] New Swimmysuit
[x] Prom Nightmare
[x] When Pastors Attack
[x] Enemas and Douchebags
[Happy cam]
(mouse-over)
[Guestbook]
Peek/Sign
[Contact]
|
November 28, 2002
Yay! I hate turkey!
Familes all over the United States are coming together tonight to be thankful.
Mommies and Daddies will be thankful for their stinky-bottomed children who don't wash their hands.
Little Jimmy will be thankful that his parents usually aren't as horrible as his teacher, Mrs. Clappenhagen, who touches his private areas when all the other children have gone out to recess.
All of these people are sitting at the table this evening to shovel their disgusting, gaping mouths with forkfuls of stringy, prehistoric monsterbird..
.. And will continue to do so for the next few days in all sorts of the usual denominations and abominations of turkey:
Turkey sandwiches, turkey cubettes, turkey kabobs, turkey salad, turkey noodle soup, turkey gumbo, turkey casserole, stir-fry turkey, turkey slurry, turkey pie, turkey pudding, frozen turkey ice pops..
Ugh.
If America is so gung ho about celebrating its little friendly alliance with the Native Americans, why is it that so many of them were killed, fenced into those little Arizona encampments, and made into those wooden cigar shop indians?
Why is it that the United States of America has a grand total of no more than five Native Americans in its entire population?
Five, one of them being Danny Lightfoot from Nickelodeon's "Hey Dude."
And even Danny was a poor excuse for a Native American.
He was such a bad actor. Man, I hated that guy.
I also hated that stupid show.
That Mr. Ernst was such a stupid doucheba--
Happy Thanksgiving. I hate turkey.
November 26, 2002
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My psychology teacher's cousin was murdered in her apartment last Friday.
She was beaten, her throat was slit, and her apartment was set on fire.
Isn't it a strange world?
What a great way to start Thanksgiving weekend.
In other news.
Well, it turns out that the most feared household pest is not the rat, the mouse, the squirrel, nor is it the east Brazilian muskrat.
This horrifyingly stealthy menace has been found all over my house. They are countless, innumerable.
This terrible threat has my mom constantly in a state of utter dread.
She is too scared to come into my room.
It has broken our vacuum cleaner, and more recently, our laundry dryer.
It is my hair. Clumps, and clumps of my hair. It's wonderful.
They're breeding.
Isn't that kinda creepy?
And disgusting?
Sorry.
In other-other news that you care about so much (I know you do. Don't even bother pretending that you don't.), my nose whistled quite loudly just as the train whistle blew somewhere nearby. Both were eerily at about the same pitch. I delightfully whistled away with my semi-congested nasal cavity with glee for quite some time afterwards.
I also realized that it is impossible not to either dance or at least strut when one hears "Safety Dance."
November 23, 2002
Ha. Ha. Ha.
You know what's funny?
When people get food poisoning.
You know what's even more funny?
The fact that my fat, bitchy manager got it from eating the Chinese food from last night and didn't show up at work today.
HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!
(The food poisoning was actually caused by me pooping in her lo mein.)
:D
Fat Bucktoothed Whorecake.
I don't want to purposely pick on someone solely because of their weight or size, but my manager at CVS is a fucking blob of human waste.
Last night, she was busting my chops from the minute I got there.
"A little LATE, are you?" she asked, with her buck teeth in a chipper smile.
"FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU," my brain silently screamed.
"Yes, I'm sorry," I replied out loud.
I was in the back room fixing some crates of merchandise, and the conveyor belt was stuck and jammed, because the idiots I work with don't know how to do anything. So I had to take them all down, stack them up, fix the jam, stack them back on, and send them back up the belt.
This took a long time, of course. It's fucking manual labor!!
So Fuckface McFuck calls me on the intercom, "PATTY, CALL THE OFFICE."
And I did.
And she accused me of sneaking off on break without asking for her permission.
Fuck you.
And then she asked everyone that was working if they wanted to order Chinese food with her.
Everyone except for me.
Everyone!
Except me.
Did I really want Chinese food? No.
Did I even have any money? No.
But still! It's the principle of the matter.
And Bitchface McBitch kept following me around, biting my ass.
"Did you clean up aisle 13? Or did you SKIP IT?"
Fuck you.
"You left your garbage in aisle 4."
Fuck you.
I only work about 10 hours a week.
I don't even know why.
I don't desperately need the money. I don't like what I do. I don't like the fucking manager.
I don't like Chinese food.
And she made me VACUUM.
I haven't vacuumed at work since August.
"And don't even THINK about going super slow."
Fuck you.
That piece of shit vacuum was spraying out shredded wads of dirty tissues in every direction and didn't pick up anything.
But that made me kind of happy. Fucking bitch.
So I told her I was quitting.
My plan is to go to her on my last day, punch her out cold, and then write my name on her face with my feces.
Then I'll go to the breakroom, fill the microwave up with a big bag of poo, and set it to 15 minutes.
I'm guessing that after 3 minutes elapse, the bag of poo will explode from the pressure and spray the contents everywhere.
Then, the remaining 12 minutes will just help to encrust the hot poo to the sides of the microwave.
It's all scientific.
All scientific.
And then I'll write my name on Shitface McShit's face one more time before I go.
If I were a guy, I'd bust a load down her throat with my big, fat, black cock.
Todd knows what I'm talking about.
In other news, two lunch ladies at school ganged up on me and tried to hassle me into buying two slices of pizza.
They were all like, "Whatchoo gonna do, punk," and I replied politely with my "Yo you best be backin' up, crazy hos."
All I wanted was some mozzarella sticks.
:(
Update soon.
I'm too busy repressing rage to go into detail.
Flinging feces.
November 17, 2002
Happy birthday dear bloggie....
Yes, my very first post was made on November 17, 2001.
Aww. :D
Last night, I made a few drawings on Paint.
I might use one of them for a new layout on this site..
Beach Kite
House Fly
School Day
Cup Noodles are so damn good.
November 16, 2002
I am an incompetent fool.
Ultimate secret to slacking off:
When someone tells you to do something for them, act like you have no idea how, and give them the impression that you'll just fuck everything up.
Claim complete incompetency, and you'll never have to work again!
Example:
At work last night at the lovely convenience store known as CVS, my fellow laborers Dave and Lauren insisted that I had to vacuum; I put up a pretty good fight, as I haven't vacuumed since the very first week of work in August, but in the end I weakly acquiesed.
However, when our massive, Chinese food consuming manager emerged from the lurky depths of her office (which reeked of lo mein and General Tso's), I asked her with puppy eyes if I could "please start vacuuming right away," if she didn't mind, "otherwise we'll be stuck here FOREVER."
She slowly swiveled her duck sauce/soy sauce smeared face towards me with some signs of comprehension.
I could imagine the single gear turning and turning in her head as she processed the word..
"Forever?"
After a good amount of pondering, whether or not she wanted to be stuck at work until all hours of the night with me doing a shitty job of vacuuming, she triumphantly came up with a solution.
"We can get someone else to vacuum," she said with satisfied finality.
Lauren was called up to the front; she approached the task valiantly and cheerfully, and even said, "Oh, the difference between me and all of you is that I happen to LOVE vacuuming."
I nearly smacked my forehead in exasperation.
"FOOL!" I thought.
Now she's going to be stuck with it every night.
Lauren ended up vacuuming the whole store, cursing off everything and everyone as our broken vacuum cleaner spit dirt in every direction.
I just hid in the pantyhose and foot fungus aisle and laughed and laughed.
I also tried my best to stay the fuck out of her way.
November 10, 2002
College Radio
Upon listening to hours upon hours of the Princeton University radio station, 103.3 fm, I've come to the conclusion that one of my few goals in life is to be a part-time college radio disc jokey, or at least to date one for a considerable length of time.
I was also thinking about how music elitism is so stupid, yet so omniscient.
There's obviously a feeling of wonderful obscurity that comes with listening to a band which is unknown to the general population, and when that band is brought to light, by MTV, let's say, the special, warm, fuzzy feeling of appreciating the music of this hidden group is gone and replaced by the feeble ability to be able to whine to others that you'd "heard about them before they got so popular."
Then you can go on message boards and in AOL chatrooms and call everyone who likes the new album "FuKin faGG0Tz" to your little black heart's content, commiserating with others who sympathize with the common cause by shunning the mainstream, and cry in your room about how terrible the music industry is, as you download song after song on your computer from the latest Trail of Dead album into a folder labeled "emo / punk / hardcore / screamo."
I know I will.
FuKin' F@gg0Tz!!
On a concluding note:
If life deals you lemons, why not go kill someone with the lemons (maybe by shoving them down his throat)?
I love Jack Handey.
Also, this makes me like techno music.
:D
November 5, 2002
Poo is so popular.
The most common question people ask me about my site is not:
"Are you retarded or something?"
"What the heck is wrong with you?"
nor is it
"Why are you just so damn cool?"
The #1 most common question is:
"So... who is this incredibly attractive Jakeypoo person?"
http://www.jakeypoo.com
THERE, ARE YA HAPPY NOW?
I'm not even kidding.
November 3, 2002
Todd is an ogre.
Social conversational skills do not surpass pleasing aesthetics; I possess neither.
However, it is a good thing that I find validation in A&P.
:D
(No, not the grocery store.)
:D
... By the way, Todd is an ogre.
And whoever goes to Cerritos Community College in Californa that left me that wonderful comment that I am "just another chink," I want to thank you.
It makes me so horribly bitter that I did not get to choose my race and ethnicity when I was conceived.
In the womb, I knew that as a Korean, I would inevitably become subservient to the rest of the races in the world. I contemplated taking the "red pill" available in a secret pocket of the uterus lining, but at such an early fetal age, I could not swallow pills. If only there was a suicide pill in the form of a suspension fluid or a dissolving tablet. However, that was not readily available, so I foolishly pressed the Eject button, and was projectiled into this enviornment as "just another chink."
If I could choose to be any race, I would choose white. I would want to be caucasian.
Thank you, Cerritos Community College student.
WHITE POWER!!!!
(Yes, I am painfully aware that I am merely fanning the flames..)
|
|
