1. At any given time, I can learn the name of an obscure Battlestar Galactica actor, while simultaneously debating that actor with someone halfway around the world.

2. I can end the above debate by calling my opponent a “fag-humper”, and speaking ill of his mother.

3. From my debate, I can go to Twitter and post about my “strong” victory in the constant nerd-war of obscure Battlestar Galactica actors.

4. I can celebrate my victory by clicking on a link and seeing a 600-pound German woman getting fisted by three Albino midgets.

God, I love the Internet.

Does my face hurt?
No, why?
Because it’s killing you!!

I’ve figured it out…
The meaning of life…
And I’m not talking about some hippie bull about being happy with yourself.
Screw that.
I’m talking about the actual meaning of life.
Are you ready?
You ready?
You ready?
Okay, here goes…

The meaning of life is–Ouch, CHARLEY HORSE!!

Her leg brushed up against mine, sending shivers down my spine. My arm jumped. She glanced at it, then back at me, a questioning look on her face.

“Nervous tic,” I said, grinning helplessly. She laughed.

–

Six years later, we’re married. It’s a good marriage. We’re both happy. At least, I thought we were both happy. Then, I walked in on her fucking him. That won’t do at all.

I grab a knife out of the kitchen drawer and head to the bedroom. As I bring the knife down, blood sprays around and their screams are delicious. She looks at me, her eyes wide. I can see the look within them–questioning, searching… wondering if this breath is her last. “Why?” She squeaks.

“Nervous tic,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. I bring the knife down one final time.

It’s the fifth of May.

Spinning on my iPod…

Miss May I
Gallows
Amon Amarth
Dragonforce
Dead Kennedys

Good times…

I don’t think I’ve ever owned a good pair of shoes. Growing up, my dad was a pastor and my mom was a teacher. We didn’t have a lot of money for shoes. So, my footwear selection consisted mostly of cheap shoes from Wal-Mart. It’s something that’s carried over into adulthood as I tend to avoid spending more than 20 dollars on a pair of shoes.

I don’t fault my parents for this. They made do the best with what we had.

My shoes recently developed a series of fine cracks and holes. I’ve been doing a lot of walking lately and I’m quickly wearing through my cheap Wal-Mart shoes. So, I decide to head to Wal-Mart and pick up a pair. But, they don’t have any in my size. Note: I don’t mean that they didn’t have any I liked in my size. They literally did not have a single pair of shoes in my size.

My buddy Barry told me he had an old pair of Nike’s he doesn’t wear anymore. They’re in good shape and probably worth more than my last five pairs of shoes combined. I’m wearing them now and I can honestly say that I’ve never felt comfort around my feet like this. Even these ratty, five-year-old Nike’s feel better than every pair of shoes I’ve ever owned.

I feel like the Philosopher in Plato’s Cave Allegory. I’ve spent my life staring at a wall, trying to guess what shadows will be coming next. But, suddenly, someone releases me and takes me to the surface, where I find a pair of Nike’s. My life is forever changed, and I don’t think I can return to the Cave. If I do, I certainly won’t be able to participate in the game. That much is sure.

Right now? This very moment?

“Jackie Wants a Black Eye” by Dr. Dog. Fifty-Five second mark. Fifty-six secon– fifty-seven– fifty-eight…

Okay… so, Clash of the Titans… Is it wrong of me to want my action movies to have a story that makes sense? Because, I kind of feel like shit when I criticize this movie. Because, the story made no sense. And it kind of feels like I’m making fun of a kid with the cleft lip, because I can see his teeth.

I think I may like you.

Do you like me? (Check One)

[ ] Yes [ ] No