Friday, January 26, 2007

Thursday, January 25, 2007

leave a beep and call a message

Ocean's fillin' up
Blood's spillin' out
Catch the contagious
Rotten rinds poking ends through to my eyes
I hear your voice
still but it's an echo
Pinball tilts universe on stilts
Please take a number go to back of the line
Make a dotted line
Cut the coupons
Anyway, leave a beep and call a message

Gettin' lost on my way home

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


As we all take turns being President, remember that I want to go last. People say they only remember the first and last act in a show and while I don't have anything against going first, I'd prefer to be last.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Monday, January 15, 2007

start yourself yourself

Hi, I'm in someone else's house right now. I don't know where I am. A living room?

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Friday, January 12, 2007

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

stinky smell bad smell

Around 7:30AM, the divorced lady Struthers confirmed her earlier ambitions: she wouldn't be going to work today. She was not ill, though notified her place of business otherwise.

But what would she do on this day? She knew she had to make it count.

Around 1PM the snooze blasted the afternoon daze and haze into the cracks in the ceiling. Sally stared at these cracks, and saw it as some sort of metaphor for her life. She didn't like it one bit. She remembered when she and Dr. Charlie Sheen had married in the '70s how promising life once seemed. She campaigned for children all over the globe until the doctor and she produced one of their own. Who fights for her? Who fights for Dr. Charlie Sheen?

The Pringles man -- not English goalkeeper David Seaman -- cared not for Sally's midlife strife. He judged not that the lady Struthers was remembering a 10-pound candy bar she had purchased the winter past. The candy has been sitting in the back of a cupboard perhaps with some dust atop it. She dusted off the candy, and resolved herself to an afternoon of decadence.

For today was the day that is the stuff of legends. She caught the tail end of a Spanish soap opera where the cast attempted to out do each other in both melodramatic stares and motormouth dialog. The commercials all featured men in expensive jackets screaming about what must be an impressive sale, or a store going out of business. She couldn't understand them but didn't need to. Sally's been all over the world and had learned from a Vajrayana Buddhist monk how to tune the world out as she dealt with more important matters. These techniques were taught after saving Lusoy Bhanasa (not his real name) from choking on a sizable wing bone and were intended to reach an elusive level of inner peace. Sally mainly used it to block out Jehovah's Witnesses as she focused her intellectual prowess on higher minded affairs: "Is 3 down 'Sudoku' or 'Sardine'?" Oddly, most of the monks employed these techniques in a similar fashion.

At 4:13PM exactly she had to go to the bathroom. This day was slowly going down the toilet as well, and she had to make it count. She finished her duty and went to her car, risking the chance that someone, anyone, might see her out on a personal day. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, she figured. So she drove out to a dirt road and to the unfortunately titled TNT Fireworks Hotstuff store for festive explosives. After paying $3.19 for what is effectively a land mine that can be launched skyward, she headed to the woods. She left her shoes behind in the car and made foot prints to a local creek, past the enchanted bushes. Even though the berries all cried "Eat, it's good for you!" to her, she was on a mission.

When the cluster of mourning doves plummeted toward the earth, their wings tattered, their grey matter blasted, their souls climbing up to birdy heaven, Sally rocked herself into a comalike state of insincere comfort.

The berries all cried "It was their time, now it's yours."

"Shut up, enchanted berries," Sally countered. "Your ass is grass."

With that, Sally ate the forbidden, enchanted berries of the enchanted shrubs. What happened next eludes description, though I shall try my best as narrator to do so.

One thousand skinned rabbits fell into a sinkhole in the sky and turned their backs one by one, revealing a communal mouth only Struthers can see. "The deed is done," they said. "You have taken a personal day, and for this you shall perish. Prepare to pay dearly for your life."

Sally Sturthers had an okay life.

Monday, January 08, 2007


good advice is great to get


It was 2:35AM on January 8th, 2007, when Sally Struthers rolled onto her back, glanced at the Sony alarm clock and decided she would not go to work. She decided to take one of those personal days the gals at the office always chuckle about.

She did not take the decision lightly; sure, she needed the money, and though inside she found that something else inside died everyday that was more costly than a mere cup of coffee. And though this cost was unquantifiable, it was evident the toll it was taking. The office, the friends she revered with equal parts politeness and calm, none of them would rank high on todays to-do list. For today, Sally Struthers takes a personal day.

And though she has nothing sinister in mind for this "mental health day," she planned to get a lot done at her leisure. You know, personal things, "getting her shit together."


Friday, January 05, 2007

Failed Nicknames Based On Spices

Dill Weed
Chinese Five Spice
Kid Tarragon
Basil (for a heavy person)
Dundicut Pepper (for a skinny person)
Buttermilk Ranch (for a farmer)

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Monday, January 01, 2007