Welcome to Ass Is1and

I haven't felt like updating because I haven't felt funny at all, and I didn't want to update and be boring, but screw it. But actually, certain recent events aren't boring. They're... interesting.

Today the electricity went out due to the fact that a large cr0w that nests on top of the utility pole was struck by lightning causing his nest to catch on fire and sending him to a fiery death. Thud. So glad he didnít land on the ne0n, although he used to defecate on it everyday. Not so much anymore, I suppose. Huh, I thought, this inspires me to write an entry. I mean you donít see that kind of thing every day, thatís special.

So what have I been up to?

I moved to D@vis Is1and, suburb of T@mpa, although the smell at low tide makes me wonder if it should in fact be called Ass Is1and. I suppose Ass Is1and doesnít have the same touristy vibe to it.

I caught pneumonia which was an experience. I refused to believe I was actually sick which is my way of dealing with coughing up a lung. I went to Winn Dixie one night to buy some cough syrup and as I coughed into my ever-present kleenex I noticed blood. Well now that canít be good. No, no it wasnít. Dammit, I felt disgusting. Like I was crawling with biblio-VD. Bleh. I passed out in the cough syrup aisle at W1nn D1xie. Fun times.

I sold my e-m@chine on h@lf.com for a whopping $75. It was really old, you had to press ctrl alt shift f3 to logon since I lost the windows product key, it refused to acknowledge the cd drive (even though it was totally there and was just being antagonistic), etc. So yeah, $75. Go me. Except the dude I shipped it to is claiming he never received it and I canít find the tracking number and Fedex is being asstastic about helping me so I am no longer checking my e-mail because psycho guy keeps e-mailing me about his e-m@chine. Dude, chill.

My dumbass 0range cat came out of the litterbox and began to exhibit butt-sc00tching behavior. You know the one, where they sit down and put there back feet over there ears and pull there butt along the floor with their front feet? Yeah, thatís the one. I knew that wasnít going to end well. Chasing, biting, loss of fur, scissors, paper towels, band-aids Ė these are elements to the story that I will gloss over. I am so never ever ever doing that again. Let's just forget it ever happened.

Then there was the job interview which occurred the day after the cat butt incident. I had to get up ass early to shower, dress, and cover my wounds so it didnít appear as though I had been attacked by a psycho cat on @mphetamines. I didnít have enough bandaids to cover the scratch marks up and down my arms so I scotch taped a p@ntyliner to my arm. What? Itís a thing people do. Yes it is so.

I left my house at about seven, because even though M@pquest said the office was twelve minutes away, I know for a fact that Mapquest is a crazy lying ho bitch. I get in my neon mobile and drive along to fourth street until I'm way the hell down where it turns into Ghetto Street and Ghetto Street ends. I hadn't seen any office building on either side of the road anywhere. Ghetto fabulous people running amok, yes, but an office? Not so much. I turn around and go back down to Fourth. No office. Adult bookstores, um yes. Finally, I figured screw it. Either I'm totally blind, or the damn thing is in somebody's basement. I saw no office, nothing. I then realize that numbered streets are intersecting with Fourth. So there is Fourth Avenue AND Fourth Street. What kind of sick bastard designs a street system like that. Crazy crackers I tell you.

So I get to the job interview and all is going well until about half way through when I decide to take off my jacket and my spring fresh scented p@ntyliner flies onto this absolutely horrified manís desk, covered with blood no less. Arm blood, but I donít suppose that makes too much difference. You really canít bounce back from an interview like that. Trust me.

Um, I wrote that all two hours ago, and now I forgot what my whole point was going to be.


Okay, you know what, this entry sucks. I've stopped and started it like six times already, so... screw it. I'm stopping. I'm not even going to bother proofreading or spell checking.


2003-03-20 at 10:31 p.m.