FACEBOOK STATUS UPDATES THAT GOT REJECTED:

I hate when I’m watching porn and just as I begin to nut, there’s a 15 second close up of the sweaty, mustachioed dude. As I avert my eyes and notice the dog watching me, he says, ”Nice timing faggot”. I cannot believe my dog is homophobic!

I don’t regret the banana because it was soft and pleasant. In hindsight, sending in the ferret was perhaps unwise.

A tremendous amount of satisfaction is derived from sitting on the couch naked watching The Biggest Loser. Until you sober up and realize the fat stoner you were laughing at was in the mirror.

If I could do it all over again, I probably woulda paid back Italian Express and avoided the limp.

When I die and go to Heaven, I hope God has a room full of all of my duty. I’m having a difficult time trying to visualize it and it’s the least he could do for killing me.

I’m sorry but maybe I wouldn’t have to be a martyr if you people just cleaned up after yourselves for once.

I don’t understand people’s fascination with history (specifically pre 1970). I wasn’t even alive yet!

I wonder if Alexander Graham Bell knew that someday we’d all be beating off to pornography on our telephones.

Last night while Jen was sleeping I attached a harmonica to her coochie. Now every time she queefs, I’ll think she’s Bob Dylan.

Unfunny

Remember The Swimmer (http://shortstoryclassics.50megs.com/cheeverswimmer.html)? I think I might be turning into Neddy swimming my way back home. Mental illness notwithstanding, I really am sick of cookie cutter culture like Kurt Cobain was sick of cookie cutter song structure. There’s so much new technology and I‘m so back-dated on futureshock that I suffer from pastshock. It’s not that I feel I’m missing out so much as I don’t care. Is it good for anxiety to transform into apathy? Guess I’ll probably live longer.

Buddy Holly

DILEMMA:
When I was 16, I wanted to buy some shit and since my parents were no longer willing to actively/passively participate in my freeloading adventures, I needed to gain some form of employment. With little alternatives in Awesometown, I dropped my hat into Six Flags Magic Mountain’s ring of opportunity.

INTERVIEW:
I arrived 3 minutes early to my scheduled interview only to come upon 6 fellow hopefuls twitching on hard chairs with blank resumes on their laps. My competition. Good thing I smoked a bowl in the Fiat or I woulda shit a brick. We were all called into a large office where a crusty, bald man in a red jumpsuit and white Reeboks introduced himself as Jim, our “interviewing coordinator”. He called my name first and I felt my heart start to pound. Jim looked at his paper, squinted at me, looked back at his paper, muttered something about my appearance and began. Work Experience? The Signal Newspaper Delivery boy (do you have any idea how difficult it is to collect money for a free newspaper?). Education? So far, Wm S Hart High School sophomore, Newhall Calif., sub-par work ethic, poor sense of balance and indifference towards anything beyond Pre-Algebra comprehension (in general ignored by teachers and popular kids alike). Interests? Going to the Mann 6 Theater (with Lenny, wishing I could avoid all of the anxiety that came with trying to publicly pick up girls while wearing pegged Levis and a boner). Jesus, when I read it back, it is way more pathetic than I remember. Result: HIRED! Fuck you suckas! I knew they were wasting their time. I later learned that they were all hired too. Turns out, a pulse and willingness to work for $3.05 an hour was all one needed to get a uniform and free access to Valencia's finest amusement park.

DAY TO DAY:
Two things you can count on during SoCal Summers at Magic Mountain: Chicks and weather (both hot as fuck). I worked at “Head Gear”-foreshadowing? We sold hats and hat apparel. Our big draw was sailor hats that could be personalized with the assistance of an industrial sewing machine. I say industrial because there’s no other way to masculinize the fact that I used thread to cursively spell names. I didn’t mind. I chatted up so many goddamn hot chicks, my spank bank was full of deposits by noon daily. Since this is a coming of age tale, I guess I had better get to it.

COMING OF AGE:
One midweek morning as I watched the new employees touring the park I wondered if I would finally get a decent co-worker. Out of the mass of primary colored uniforms came a vision I’ll never forget. She was blonde, tan and thick. BAM POW! The sunlight prismed through her cascading locks as if she just stepped into daylight for the first time. I simultaneously panicked about my acne, potentially visible boogers, and parted/feathered hair. I took stock of my lack of muscle mass and abundant body fat and felt sick to my stomach. But it was too late (I wished I could freeze time and do another hour of aerobics). She headed my way, I sucked in my gut and stuck out my chest. She introduced herself as Alex and said she was excited about getting started at Head Gear (that's what she said) I was turned on. Male names for women have always turned me on. She was from Green Bay, Wisconsin. I was turned on. I taught her to sew names, give directions to Colossus, and get away with 200 bucks a day from the register. She taught me to feel insecure, needy and wanted. I spent every waking minute in her company for 18 days. On the 19th day, she was picked up for shoplifting stuffed monkeys and got deported back to the Midwest. It was for the best, she had a dick.

LOVE!

7:05 Hi Jen. It’s me. Just calling to say “I love you”. Call me. Bye.

8:18 Hey Jen, you wouldn’t believe what John just ate for breakfast. Musta been that new Egg-Sausage-Ass sandwich from the BK. Call me back this time K.

9:54 Jen. Greg. Where the fuck are you? I’ve sent you like 10 texts and left like 10 messages. Call me BACK. NOW!!!!

11:39 Jen. I’m sorry, I think I had low blood sugar or something. John and I were talking in the bathroom and we both agreed that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. When you get a free minute, please call. I love you honey bear! John and I are going to HomeTown Buffet!

1:15 Okay, Jen, this shit isn’t funny anymore. Instead of banging the GODDAM mailman while I’m working my ass off to support your uneducated, lazy, boney ass, how about putting down every cock in the neighborhood and getting back to me or we are OVER like a SOBER ROVER!

1:16 Wow Jen, I definitely crossed the line on that one. I am really sorry. Really! It’s just that I love you sooo much baby. You know how crazy you make me. HAHA! I’m your passionate stallion! Neeeeiiiiggghhhhh!!! HA! But seriously, if you don’t call me back soon, I’m afraid I’ll cut myself again. Okay, bye. Call me. Bye. Don’t forget. Okay bye. Okay?


2:12 JEN PICK UP THE PHONE!!! There was a HUGE EARTHQUAKE and John dove under his desk like a giant pussy. But get this, all of his stupid Salesman of the Month trophies blocked his way out and guess who saved him? Me! HAHA! I got this huge adrenaline rush and saved his limp-dicked ass. The guys think you are totally gonna blow me now! Haha! Okay. Talk to ya soon.

3:33 I gave you your chance and you BLEW IT Jen! You are such a passive-aggressive fucking ungrateful fucking whore. GeT THe FUcK OuTtA MY LIFE!!! UNDERSTAND ASSFACE?! WE ARE THROUGH!! I HATE YOU!!! HOPE YOU DIE!! Why, oh why did I waste my life with you? You have brought me nothing but pain and misery! I have been nothing but honest, loving and heroic. You owe me more. I owe myself more than this. I’ve been talking to John and we both think you have been using me for a looong time. He should totally know on accounta his gayness. We gave it a good run I guess. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, my heart was never really into it all the way anyways. I took pity on a poor little helpless girl. I did you a huge favor and got nothing back. That’s the last time I think of someone else first. Good riddance skank!

3:34 Oh, HAHA! I just found that little reminder note you left in my attache. Whoops, I completely forgot you were taking my mom to the Camarillo Outlets today. Hope you had a great time. Should I pick up some dinner on the way home? Love you! We’re good right?

I know

What exactly is the downside to convalescent living again? Where do I start? You can literally fall asleep anytime you want, even while in mid-sentence if it feels right. There’s the never worrying about shitting yourself because, get this, you are supposed to shit yourself. You can yell at the Flintstones, yell at your herpes, yell at your eyebrows and then yell at the nurse because someone keeps fucking yelling. I don’t even have to think about chewing anymore- food comes in liquid form, it’s like being a baby bird in a warm nest- I asked them to take the rest of my teeth out and guess what...they did. Natch.

Don’t even get me started on the all-day pajama wearing. For the last 3 months, I’ve been Sponge Bob Squarepants bottoms and Spiderman tops and not a one has said a goddam thing about it. Last yesterday, I lost my socks and then I realized I was looking at the wrong feet?! Go figure.

Then there’s the experimental drug ingestion. You literally can have all you want all the time. I spent all of Mayvembery in a haze so thick, I thought I was Ryan Seacrest auditioning for the role of Jimmy Smitts in NYPD Blue. I only made it out because the can of Spam Jen force fed me on her last visit must have been contaminated with the right mix or mercury and piganus.

Can you keep a secret? Good. Sexual orientation is a thing of the past. Once you get over the initial stage fright I guarantee you won’t believe how many cocks you can suck at once and not even break a sweat. Vagina isn’t even the same animal anymore either. Not that I ever really understood all those moving parts, but now it’s more like a sideways roast-beef sandwich hold the cheddar or maybe not. Good thing I’m here ‘til I’m dead cuz you couldn’t pay me to leave. I’d never make it on the outside again anyway.

Vegan

I am turning into someone I barely recognize anymore. I used to be able to stick a motherfucker, ya know. Now I’m full of regret and even worse, self-loathing. I’ve never been the quiet, introspective sort. More like the quiet, I got nothing to think about kinda guy. Lately it seems like shit has just been getting to me. What’s particularly troublesome is that the denial that has been my go to emotion for so long is no longer working. From ignoring my gum disease to believing that my Axe body-wash will eventually get me laid, I’m starting to think it might actually be me. Jesus, the thought of me being depressed is super depressing. I guess prison really fucking works. Plus I miss Whole Foods.

Pants on Fire

I have a 10 inch penis.

I once blessed the Pope (then he sneezed).

I can out stare the sun.

Clint Eastwood once made my day.

I chop down trees on Arbor Day then replant them.

I talk shit about Perez Hilton.

When Google wants to know something, they call me.

I die on Good Friday, come back on Easter and give Jesus the credit.

I was a model for Abercrombie and Fitch but got fired for looking too good.

I don’t know what my ring tone is because I answer my phone before it rings.

I caught the most interesting man on Earth reading my journal looking for ideas. I gave him a dos G’s because I don’t hate.

They make number one pencils for me exclusively and instead of lead, they are filled with a diamonds.

I am the reason Mike Tyson got fat.

I will solve the conflict in the Middle East after I finish watching Season 1 of Archer. That shit is just funny.