Hell's Half Acre

slugfest!

We just had a war over at Ham Paw's cube world. It was most excellent and allowed me to both agress against the man and let some haiku fly! See for yourself.

the proletariat bloggers vs. the sirs

brain trickery

although I swore to christ on a stick I would not be partaking of anymore adult beverages in my entire lifetime my brain has tricked me into thinking a visit to my hidey hole might be a good idea tonight. WOW! Minerva just called me and said she wants to go too.  She is psychic.

We have evil twins. They are named Monstra and Evila.

They will be belly up at the bar in about T minus 90 minutes.

The Rogue

There is another character who is jailed with me who will now be referred to as The Rogue. The Rogue is a programmer who thinks in a way that is foreign to the rest of the programmers who are contained in this jail. The Rogue writes code that is indecipherable to the rest of the programmers. The Rogue often takes it upon himself to re-work the code of others, making the code of others indecipherable as well.

I reported to jail today to find angry emails from customers who wanted to perform tasks in an application that I wrote on the jailer's website. They were unable to perform these tasks because The Rogue had changed my code. This took me straight into annuerism-ville.  The Rogue wanted to absolve himself of the responsibility of fixing his mistake but I held steadfast to my conviction that I would not spend all day trying to decipher what The Rogue had changed. In the end, I won and The Rogue had to fix his mistake.

Krixfort 1

Rogue 0

cholesterol blues

I got a letter from the doctor saying I have high cholesterol. I must enter the land of Egg-Beaters and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. The land of non-fat cheese and green vegetables and fibrous products. The land of gaseous fumes.

I was the Dairy Queen. Look where it got me.

I think I will just eat grass, like a cow. That is acceptable. Then I could be milked everyday, an added benefit.

SCRAM!

someone offer me five dollars to tell these chump jailers to SMOKE IT! 

I gotsta go!

new directions part 2

I have decided to write a television show in which c-list television stars from your favorite dramas and situation comedies, battle it out in wacky events.  The point is to win money for charities and for the more nubile young actresses to parade around in revealing wet clothes.  I'm going to call it Battle of the Network Whores!

I think its going to be huge!  I am happy to have found this new direction so quickly, without having to waste time stumbling around on a vision quest. Whew.

new directions

The time away from jail has not made me more accepting of the jail. In fact, it is making me a little bit crankity as useless requests drift into my inbox. It's so . . ..nothing and useless and somewhat futile. I'm tired of this treadmill. It grinds down my soul into a pointy little spike.  There is conflict internally between the need to do something interesting, engaging, perhaps even creative and the willingness to succumb to a mind numbing existence where everyday I dress as a cog and settle into the giant money making machine.   I fear that the machine will crush my interior and I will be left with a shell of my self.  The shell will wither up and blow away on the wind.

I think it might be time to change directions again. I am tired of this computer-y thing. Or at least I am tired of this e-commerce computer-y thing.   I need to travel around the globe and talk to people and write about nothings.  I mean, what was the point of staying single and childless if I couldn't just take off and go exploring when I needed to.

sigh. Monday.

buggy

I dreamt of bugs last night. I think there is residual marihuana in my system. It's freakin' me out man.

a taste of the medicine

The neighbors behind us are having their own bbq tonight complete with loud salsa music, dancing and laughing.  The music sounds like it is coming from my kitchen. I want to watch a dvd but I can't hear it.

This is karmic kickback.

shrimp tails and cigarette butts

Report from yesterday's barbecue:

Many adult beverages were consumed. Not much of the tender meats were consumed prior to the adult beverages as good form would dictate. Consequently, there was much bad form which infiltrated the gathering.  There were gigantic jugs of sangria, pitchers of mojitos, cervezas, margaritas, and so on.

Krixfort, Minerva and the entire crew over indulged. Later in the night, in an unexpected turn of events, Krixfort inhaled the psychotropic herbs.  She then sank slowly into the depths of a pshychotic haze. She reenacted the opening scene of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas where Hunter S. Thompson swats at bats.  She unsubtly whispered about the person sitting next to her, "Make her stop talking she's freaking me out."  Krixfort was then led to the couch to commune with the ghosts inside her head.

We are still in Brooklyn, recovering slowly, eating leftovers and trying to repair the damage that was incurred. Wish us luck.