I molested a dinosaur today. He was reluctant, but I was firm. Both in body and mind. Have you ever fucked a brontosaurus? He says no, but he really means yes. Flipping him over, he wanted dinner first. Where are the flowers he roared. I need some damn roses. Shut the fuck up, I responded before I duct taped his mouth shut. So proud of all the things i have done.

itching.

need to start something relevant. like something that will find a place in the spectrum of all things important. maybe a new blog. one with cute dogs dressed up as hip kids. perhaps kittens in deep v's. who knows. maybe i'll write a song that people will hum. just really want to write a song that people will hum with lots of keys and air horns. just have to create something that people will enjoy. got to convince people the shit i write is something. like I really need to step it up. if i start a relevant blog, i can be snarky and then i'll get a book deal. definitely need to be jaded. then with my book deal i'll convince authentic bookstores to sell my book based on my blog about cats in deep v's. just need to start something relevant. maybe something offensive. we'll see, work in progress.

I listen to shitty bands everyday. Especially those I plan on seeing at sxsw this year. it will be my second spring in austin experiencing this festival. this week I am going with the company i work for. Shitty bands and good bands. it should be a grand time. find more info at www.austincarniville.com. the full lineup will be there along with additional info. Second year? how fun. How fun. I miss my dog.

blurt things out.

I won a board game tonight. I called out so many correct answers. more than the rest. I ate a chicken stir fry tonight. I called out so many dead birds. Called them out for all their negative traits. Too much soy sauce, not enough salt! The rice is too dry. But wait, I'll just add water and make them less so. Yeasayer isn't half bad. I listen to too many shitty vampire weekend remixes at work. The girls don't come calling like they used to. And the ones I want don't. Or at least not as often as I'd like. A girl leaves late at night to get fucked by a dick. Not the body part. Well yes, the body part, but also the man himself. The dog shows unlimited love. The dog shows unlimited love for Iams and his water dish. Merv loves to hide under things. I need to move out. But I want to stay. I want to stay because I think it will be easier than moving. I want to stay because I want to believe people are good and if you do good things then good things will happen to you. But people will only take things from you. The five dollars you left in change or the half loaf of 12 grain you placed on the counter. Two sodas in the fridge? A 2 liter is no such replacement. They'll take a year of your life and leave you nothing but downtrodden and stuck in a lease. Walgreens sleep aid just doesn't do the trick these days. Add four whiskey on the rocks. The effects tend to wear off around 4Am. Thats when you hear the roommates get home. Or the slut that lives upstairs. Thats when you think the clearest. When the clock seems to move slower. When the clock slowly crawls forward. I still got 3 hours left. Thats when Merv starts barking. When I mistake his barks for something meaningful. He only hears of the slut who lives above climbing the stairs. But that is okay. It's quite alright to start a sentence off with but. That's the best part about creative writing. You get to do whatever the fuck you want. Make shit up. And start sentences with and. And then use too many commas. Like my writer friend with the curly hair. That kid has uses so many goddamn commas. His sentences run like fucked up tights. But it is okay. It's creative writing you bastard. It's sleazy shit. It's skeazy shit. It's drunk at 2 in the AM shit and it's okay if your mother reads your blog. You gave her the URL. Mom, don't worry. I'm just going on and on and on and on. 'But son, this is on the internet, anyone can see it!' But I'm a writer mom, people will understand. A writer? You can't just classify yourself as a writer Adam." Thanks public. This is rambling but I actually get paid to write now. What does that make you, special? No! It just makes me a sham that is really good at covering up every shit he decides to take. Please understand, it is not the short hair that gets me. It is the idea that you went back to him. The fag with the puffy cheeks and slouch neck tshirt. gasp! A slur has slipped. Every tongue deserves the cover of passion. The heat of the moment. I will and I can say whatever I want. Of course, be aware I do not mean it. Not at all. I love my men who love men. Like Kanye though, no homo. I love this depression I have seemed to become so fond of.

Knives and their Ability to Cut

Allow three days to heal before you attempt to reopen wounds. Let the blood bleed out and harden. Keep the scab visible and out in the open. If the cut happens to be located in an area that makes one blush, please by all means, adorn oneself with regular garb. Scissors or a box cutter will do. Remove an inch of cloth or two inches if need be. Just maintain innocence and keep the wound in sight. If kept hidden, the wound runs the risk of being forgotten and this will do irreversible damage. If the wound happens to be worse than the wounds prior, allow six to eight days to heal before you attempt to reopen. This will allow for maximum dramatic effect. Associates and acquaintances will view this wound and ask what happened. Assuming of course you have associates and acquaintances to share in your discomfort. If you do not, take an adequate number of photographs. I would advise against a cellphone camera, as the detail will not be as detailed as it could be. Print out copies, generally the size recommended is 8x11. Tell everyone you meet, strangers or customers (depending on your place of employment) what happened and who did this to you or how you did this to yourself. Negligence on whose end? Inform the person. Details are appreciated.

If a wound occurs on a spot previously known for wounds to occur, please without hesitation, move across the room. Stay away from the object that inflicted this wound. A distance of at least ten feet must be maintained at all times. I cannot or I will not stress this enough. Steel sharpens steel or something like that. This is an utter lie. The lie will be spoken from the object. They will say with complete confidence that their blade isn’t as sharp as it was before. Again, an utter lie. The blade will cut deep, if not deeper than you remember. The knife disregards your skin’s ability to be lacerated. Stay away from knives my friend. You do not need them. You do not need any of them. If a distance of at least ten feet cannot be maintained, you are damned. Relocate to another apartment.

this just made your day/week. youre welcome.

Birthday cake for me?

Really you shouldn't have adam. Please enjoy said adam. Again really you shouldn't have. But it is my pleasure. Oh, in that case. eat up. eat it all up. mmhmmm peanut butter frosting for the birthday boy!