Thursday, July 01, 2004

You would think I would be really busy at the super cool magazine. Unfortunately for me, we are not a currents events publication and hence there isn't the frantic aura of daily deadlines and breaking stories. My magazine is a month. Let's for the sake of explaining things, call it, Proctology monthly. Now this morning around 10, we shipped out the September issue of Proctology monthy to be spec'd and printed. Why are we done so long before the magazine hits shelves? Well, to be honest, not a lot is going to change with your ass between now and then. Hopefully it will still consist of two cheeks and a crack 8 weeks from now. And by then I'll be working on the nov. issue. So today, after the sept issue hit the road, I had absolutely nothing to do. So I spied on all of you. And I read every single article at The New York Times. And I still had so much time. So I went for a walk with my new bling bling gold ipod mini. Now I'm bummed that the mini holds so few songs but it's way worth it in the fact that I can strap it to my arm and head out for a run without even remembering it's there.

So that's exactly what I did when I was finally done staring at pictures of assholes all day. Not only did I run, but I ran to the gym. I hate the gym. But I am also addicted to it. All the people with their music, in their own worlds, not paying any attention to one another. I don't go to the gym to look at the hot girls or to talk to people or even to get into shape, I just go to blow off steam. I don't want you to talk to me at the gym. If you see me there, don't ask me if I can take a look at your bum since I work for that magazine. And most of all, don't be like that guy today and ask me to spot you. I don't want to spot you. If you can't lift it, don't. But for some reason that prick came up to me today. Now I am no muscle bound meathead. I didn't get so good at the super-cool sports activity by getting huge. But I am fit and can move my body well for my proportions. So why he chose me I have no idea. But he did. And he threw off everything. After that I just couldn't get it back.

No reason to stay at the gym now that I was pissed off. So I left to begin the run home. And I passed so many hotties running the other way. I didn't need to stare though. Just kept running. Then there was this cute little 2 year old in a stroller. And I did stare at him cause he was smiling at me. And I stepped on the curb wrong and pulled my Achilles. Cause I was smiling back at the little kid. And it hurt. So I decided to walk the rest of the way. And 2 blocks from home there was an ear of corn lying in the gutter. How the fuck did an ear of corn get in the gutter? I have never seen a corn truck in these parts. Did someone huck it at an unsuspecting passer-by? I really really wanted to take it home and cook it. It looked so sweet and juicy and still mostly in the husk. But shit, it was in the motherfucking gutter. So I went home.

Saddam Hussein WANTS YOU to vote for Kerry.




Slow day, right? Well I guess the TMG now decided we are buddies. So she called me tonight. wtf? Bitch please. I an understanding of your situation but get out my face. Guess that's all today. Oh ya. The G2K finally bought a ticket out here to see me. A week from monday she'll be here. For 7 days! I really hope she still looks good. And that we get along. And that there is a ton of deplorable sex. But if she got fat and her haircut looks bad then I know a nice hotel down the street. And then I can call her on the phone and pretend that she is still 2K miles away. Honestly, I am petrified.

One last thing. I am sick of fucking people writing about politics but much more sick of reading about it. I'm going to write a little political commentary from time to time when it really fucking pisses me off but remember that in the times in between I'm going to do what most of us are going to do: Keep my fucking mouth shut and vote for Kerry... but do it quietly.

1 Comments:

Blogger scribbs said...

I have no idea what's true, and i dont bloody care because the truth is truer when it's fiction. Immorblogtality? Take it, it's yours.

10:00 PM  

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