Thursday, May 26, 2005
| End of the Week Ass Bits I don’t know about you, but I loved me some Lost finale last night. It was riveting drama. A person exploded and their guts went everywhere! And then the little boy was kidnapped by Pirate pedophiliacs and then the hatch blew open and then the French woman stole the baby, but then got caught and then the monster was stomping through the forest and almost got Locke, but he got away and then almost fell into the hatch, but got away again! I’m sure ALL of this makes sense to you cuz you would have been CRAZY to miss it! In other news, I leave tomorrow morning for Syracuse! Woo HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You would think I’m about to go on a Caribbean cruise or some shit. I can’t stop talking about it and thinking about it. A whole weekend of hanging with my ladies, shoving my face, and getting drunk! But I’m really just mostly excited to get drunk. Cuz you can’t do that in NYC. The new law has been hard on all of us. I have to admit that I’m a bit nervous about the flight tomorrow. It’s only an hour long and I’m usually pretty good about flying. But for some reason, I’m a tad nervous about tomorrow’s trip. Just keep me in your thoughts. My life is annoying enough without having to throw in a plane crash on top of everything else. hee. Superstition is for weirdos! This morning the security guard that works in my building walked up to me, pokes me in the butthole and says “You’re gaining weight in your ass”. I looked at him as though he was a complete fucking psycho and I say “Are you serious?” He burst out laughing and was like “No, no, no…”, but the damage was already done. It was mere minutes before I was in the bathroom looking at my ass in the mirror. It isn’t THAT big. I mean, I have an ass. Big fucking deal. And last I checked, his ass was rocking in the free world. Pot calling the kettle black or some shit. I decided to shut him up by eating two slices of pizza and a bowl of rice at lunch. NOW how big’s my ass, son?! My allergies are so annoying today. One side of my nose is butt plugged and the other side is a gaping hairy vagina. I’ve been fingering the butt plug all day, but no dice. It refuses to unplug itself. Harrumph. Guess who I love? Natasha Bedingfield! Her brother is Daniel Bedingfield…do you remember him? He was that guy that sang, in a super high pitched voice, “Gotta Get Through This”. Remember? “I gotta get through this…I gotta get through this, I gotta get gotta get gotta get gotta gotta gotta fucking get zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”. Anyway, I didn’t think he was that awesome either. BUT his sister is rocking this new single called “These Words” and dammit do I love it. How much must it suck if you release a single only to have your SISTER release a better and more fun single? And then how much would it suck if your sister was much cuter than you? And then what if she was cuter, but also could fly? There is a fart the size of Mount St. Helen’s in my stomach right now. It’s moving into the “littles” and pretty soon it’s going to squeeze itself out of my HUGE ass. I’m doing my best to keep it under wraps until I have a chance to leave my desk. I can tell that it’s going to be a doozer. But then again, I work with some doozerbags, so maybe I should rip it up and then laugh as they suffocate on the nauseous gaseous. So it’s Memorial Day weekend! I hope the weather is nice where you live. Maybe you could do some BBQing. Or maybe you can go to the beach and get some sun. Or MAYBE you can shove this fist up your ass. Juxt kiddin. I wouldn’t want to get my fist dirty. I’m very ass focused today, huh? So weird. It’s got to be a direct result of what the security guard said to me this morning. That’s fine though. I’m off on a 4 day weekend and fat ass or not, I’m flying out of the city and not looking back. At least until Sunday. Then I’ll look back, but I won’t be happy about it. In fact, when I walk on to the plane, I am going to walk up to the first stewardess I see and say “You’re an ugly cunt!” while spitting in her face and sulking my way to my seat. That’ll teach HER for making me cut my trip short. ENJOY EVERYONE! I’ll be back on Tuesday! And I’ll Shirley miss you! Will you Laverne miss me? |
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
| Put the Whipping Stick DOWN! Today has been pretty uneventful so far, which I suppose is a good thing. When you live in my world, there is usually so much drama that while you’re busy bitching about it, you somehow become accustomed TO it. So when things are low key, I’m either waiting anxiously for the shit to hit the fan or bored out of my skull because there is no shit flying around. But of course! Why would I make ANYTHING easy for myself? Today during my therapy session, Sophie fully yelled at me. It was the first time that she has actually opened up and told me to CUT THE SHIT! I was discussing some of the reasons why I haven’t moved forward in my acting career and I suddenly found myself more frustrated than ever with who I am. As I began to tear up, I said (rather loudly) “I HATE MYSELF! I HATE MYSELF! I HATE MYSELF!” Then, without warning, Sophie cuts me off and says “JOE! Take the whipping stick and put it on the ground.” Joe: “But-“ Sophie: “No buts. I don’t expect you to be at the place where you can SEE all of the wonderful things you’ve accomplished, but I can’t allow you to beat yourself up anymore.” Joe: “But-“ Sophie: “Joe…NO buts. The pressure you put on yourself to be perfect is something that we can work with, but if every time you hit a block, you BLAME yourself, that’s not doing anything, but making you even more frustrated.” Joe: (Tears sucking back up into my eyes) “You just yelled at me.” Sophie: “I’m trying to get you to stop criticizing yourself for everything. You work so hard to make sure that your friends, family, and boyfriend are happy. You do more for them than they will ever realize. Don’t slight yourself this wonderful aspect of your personality.” Joe: “Ok. That makes sense. But…can I say ‘but’ now?” Sophie: (Laughing) “Fine. Just this once.” Joe: “I haven’t figured out a way to appreciate anything I’ve accomplished since I’ve been in this city. I can never be happy with any obstacle I’ve crossed. So what if I live in Manhattan. So what if I’ve done some theatre since I’ve been here. So what if I took the first step to get help. None of this matters because there is always something else I have to do.” Sophie: “Joe?” Joe: “Sophie?” Sophie: “You know why it matters?” Joe: (Shakes head “no”) Sophie: “It matters…(pause)… because I can see what you’ve accomplished. And I can honestly say that I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your strength and I’m even more proud of your courage.” I gaped at her for at least fifteen seconds, running her comment over and over in my head. Then I started to cry. Joe: “You’re really proud of me?” Sophie: “VERY proud of you.” And at that moment, some of the baggage that I carried with me to my session fell off my shoulders and landed on the ground. I was able to pull my shit together, take one last look at that baggage, and walk out of her office, leaving some of it behind. Sophie is encouraging me to make decisions in my life that I think will best suit me. I’m way too worried about upsetting my loved ones and I go to great lengths to make sure that never happens. But according to Sophie, my loved ones will “get over it”. It’s not my responsibility to make sure that everyone is happy with me. It’s my responsibility to make sure that I’m happy. One step closer to rediscovering what makes Joe CuttheShit such an amazing person. As I’ve learned over time, how can you expect anyone to love you, if you don’t love yourself? But knowing that and living that are two completely different things. Yet, if only for a minute, I loved Joe CuttheShit. I loved his strength, his honesty, his need to be a healthy and happy guy. And like Sophie, I was proud of myself too. Falling in love with me. Who knew it would be so hard? |
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
| Taking My Foot and Shoving It In My ASS and FACE. ass AND face. Yesterday as I sat at my desk, a very old man walked off the elevator and we had the following conversation: Old man: “JOE CUTTHESHIT! How ARE you?” Joe CuttheHot: “I’m, uh…doing fine. How are you?” (I HATE when old men walk off the elevator) Old man: “Joe, when did we last meet? You’ve been here a long time, yes?” JCTH: “Yes, I’ve been here for 4 years actually.” Old man: “Do you recognize me Joe?” JCTH: “Yes, of course. I just don’t remember your name.” Old man: “No problem. My name is Herman Wouk. Pleasure to meet you again.” JCTH: (HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!) “Oh my goodness. Oh, Mr. Wouk, I’m so sorry.” Herman Wouk: “It’s okay Joe. I’m here on an impromptu visit. Is your boss here?” JCTH: “Yes, of course. I just want to say that meeting you was such a huge deal for me. Your books, your legacy…I am so sorry for not immediately recognizing you.” Herman Wouk: “Well, I have gotten older so maybe that’s why you didn’t recognize me.” JCTH: “Oh no! That’s not it. You’ve made such an impression on me, I should have-“ Herman Wouk: “Joe, stoppit. “ JCTH: “Yes sir. I’ll get my boss.” Herman Wouk: “Thank you Joe.” MORTIFYING. You see, many people probably don’t know who Herman Wouk is. If you haven’t read his UBER famous books The Caine Mutiny, War and Remembrance, Marjorie Morningstar, or seen the UBER famous movie The Caine Mutiny, then maybe the rock you are living under would have saved you from this experience. But considering the fact that my rock doesn’t include being ignorant about Herman Wouk, I was ASHAMED to have not recognized him. Of course he found out my name from our security guard and acted as though he TRULY remembered me, but still…I am a MORON. My new drag name is IMA MORON. PLUS…my best friend Rita named her CAT “Marjorie Morningstar” growing up. How could I not remember him after THAT? Worst part of it all? He is a member of my organization’s BOARD. He donates shit loads of money and is a BOARD MEMBER and I’m like “Yeah, whatever old man, I’ve worked here for four years, what the fuck IS it to you?” Ah geez. |
Monday, May 23, 2005
| Shondra’s Visit Today I have a tumor on my neck that I THINK is an ingrown hair. I tried to pop it this morning in the bathroom and all I succeeded in doing was making myself scream in agony. I tried to run hot water on it in the shower, but to no avail. Then it hit me, rather than trying to exorcise it from my neck, I should just name it and make peace with it. So, welcome. Journal readers, I would like you to meet Shondra, my neck tumor and Shondra, I would like you to meet my journal readers. Get to know each other as you deem appropriate. I’ve been sipping on the same flat diet coke for hours. Each time I take a sip, I cringe with a taste of BLAH. Yet, do I empty it out or go get a fresh one? Nah…Shondra likes it and at this point, she’s in charge of most of my actions. I saw the movie Spanglish this weekend and I absolutely loved it. I even cried my eyes out. It was funny and sad and wonderfully acted. I had heard some negative things about it, but it just goes to show that you can’t believe everything you hear. Especially when what you hear is that you’re going to die in 12 seconds. Huh? Huh. Not only is today Monday, it is a BORING Monday. The first couple of hours went by pretty fast and I was shocked. Then time started to slow down around noon and it’s been crawlskis every since. I even jerked off in the bathroom hoping THAT would fill up a good 5 minutes. It did the trick just fine. Then I ate pizza for lunch because the sandwiches that we had in the building were absolutely horrifying. Angela, our housekeeper, kept trying to shove them down my throat cuz she didn’t want me to pay for lunch. So every time she walked by, I would take a nibble of the mushy, old sandwich and be like “Yum! Oh, GOD, YUM!” And then I ran and threw it away in a garbage can outside when she wasn’t looking. I came back with pizza and have been fat and happy ever since. I’m flying to Syracuse this weekend to visit my best girls from college. To say the least: I’m damn fucking excited! I’m probably most excited that I’m flying there cuz the trip will only be an hour versus 5-6 hours on the train. And guess how much my plane ticket was? Um…$96 round trip! I mean, I’m only flying to Syracuse from New York, but STILL…the train ticket cost like $160 round trip. Since when is flying so much cheaper than training? What a crazy world we live in! JUST CRAZY! JUST! CRAZY! crazy. Paul took me out to a four-course dinner last night. He has been super adorable lately and the dinner was no exception. We ate and ate and ate and we actually had to take home the final course and dessert because Desperate Housewives was rearing its awesome head. Considering that Paul doesn’t really watch the show, he was very supportive about it and didn’t mind eating his boneless rib eye in bed while I screamed along with the television. You know, sometimes he is so fucking cute that I just want to eat him alive. This morning when Shondra and I rolled out of bed, Paul said “What’s THAT on your neck?” I said “It’s a new friend, would you like to meet her?” He said “Yes” and stupid me leaned in so he could say “hello”. Before I realized what he was doing, he jammed his finger into Shondra’s face. She FREAKED out and I slapped his hand. If he doesn’t know how to treat friends of mine, then he will not be allowed to meet them anymore. SPECIAL MESSAGE FOR RITA – I can’t WAIT to see you and Gwennie this weekend. I don’t think I’ve been this excited about something in my entire life. Well, except for that time that we ate our pizza on the couch in Queens. “There’s nothing like the way I feel when I’m eating my pizza.” Have a great day ya’ll! |
Friday, May 20, 2005
I Must Be Manic, Cuz I Feel Great Today!
First things first…
If you missed the season finale of ER last night, shame on you, you dirty, smelly shamer. It was THE best episode of the season with many shocking moments. In typical ER season finale style, there was a huge disaster that (although I was alone watching it) made me scream out loud. I’m talking scream. And I’m talking out loud. Then the last scene of the show…BOO DAMN! I smell pedophilia in our midst…I wish I could describe each moment in detail, but I know there are some of you out there that taped it, so wouldn’t want to ruin it for you. It rocked on so many levels.
In other news, I had an inspiring and monumental meeting with the Theatre Company last night. We are preparing for one last show together and the progress we’ve made is astounding. I was pretty depressed when I showed up at the meeting, but within minutes, Kelly and Megan healed many of my fresh wounds and gave me back a little of the confidence that I’ve been missing this week. If I wasn’t so happy on the way home, I would have surely cried my eyes out with relief. These girls have a way of reminding me who I am without making me feel bad for losing myself along the way. I am a very lucky boy and today I feel happy enough to recognize that fact.
Now, I know I’ve said this a hundred times before, but please for the love of G-D (I love when I pretend like I’m Jewish), watch this season of South Park! The show has tackled some of the biggest and most influential pop culture issues of the year and the creators know how to push the envelope as far as possible while making it damn fucking funny! The episodes have ranged from Plastic Surgery to the Terri Schiavo case to the bullshit election that was held back in November. Please give this show a chance and I promise, you will be offended, but also (if you’re open minded enough) laugh so hard your tits will break off and smash on the ground.
As for The Apprentice season finale…Y A W N. I’m over Donald and his smarmy bitch face. I think I’ll go so far as to say that I will NOT watch the show ever again. At least until September.
This weekend I plan to see some friends of mine that I haven’t had a chance to see over the last couple of weeks. I actually have three sets of dinner plans. One with Kelly, one with Mariah, and one with Paul. I don’t know HOW I’ll find the way to shove all that food into my ever expanding gut. Eh…I’ll probably just drink my dinner in the form of vodka sodas. With extra lime of course.
Movies I want to see this weekend: Stage Beauty, Sideways, Phantom of the Opera, and Lemony Snicket’s Series of Snoresville Events. One of my favorite new things to do is watch a movie with all the lights off, full glass of ice tea on the side table and my favorite visiting puppy “Rio” curled up in my arms like a baby. He is SO good and lies in my arms like a literal child and when I watch my movies he looks at me and licks my cock to orgasm.
Bet you didn’t see THAT coming.
One week until I fly to Syracuse to see my favorite ladies from college! I am so excited about seeing all of them (especially my bestest girl Rita!), that my bowels are exploding with joy. We will play card games and drink our faces off and tell secrets and memories. There are few times in my life that I get this excited about something. I miss my girls every day and seeing their little faces is going to bring MUCH happiness into my world. I may even go to bed early tonight just so next weekend will come quicker.
The bagel I’m eating right now is like stardust on a cold winter’s – fuck damn it’s good!
Ok, we’re getting to THAT point in the post, so I should probably sign off for the weekend. Have fun everyone and know that I appreciate all of the support you’ve given me over the last couple of days. YOU are the reason I keep this journal. And the reason I keep masturbating.
Don’t hate the playa, hate the game!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
| For Joe This post may make no sense to any of you, but in all honesty, this is the first post in a long time that I’ve written solely for myself. As you read yesterday, shit isn’t very good in my world. I’ve become an expert at faking it in front of my friends, family, and co-workers, but truthfully I feel absolutely horrible deep down. I’ve never hated myself more and I’ve never been more frustrated with my current station in life. The medicine isn’t working as I had previously hoped and it’s time to make some alterations. Everyone is different, but for me, depression is kind of like coming down with a really bad cold. The first day you feel that tickle in your throat and maybe experience some random sneeze attacks. Cigarettes no longer taste good and the muscles in your body ache to either be stretched or cut out of your body entirely. You wake up on the second day of the cold to find that your nose is completely plugged up and you can barely swallow your morning juice. Most likely you’ll stay in bed all day and if you’re lucky, you’ll be able to sip down a bowl of soup. Sleeping is really the only way to escape the way you feel. On the third and last day of the cold, decongestants start to actually work and if you’re able to get rid of the sore throat and stuffy nose, you’re on your way to recovery. You still feel like shit deep down, but you’re able to tolerate it with more ease. On the first day of my depression dip I can feel that something’s wrong. I go in and out of good moods and I can tell that there is a shift for the worst on its way. It’s these days that I usually get drunk and do whatever I can to not admit that I’m about to hit a low point. As the day goes on, I start to feel really tired and the good moods are fewer and farther between. On the second day, the depression hits full force. I wake up with a lump in my throat and I’m angry at just about everyone and everything. It’s almost impossible for me to go to work as I’m petrified of having to be the “happy Joe”, the “funny Joe”, the Joe that everyone expects. If I end up staying home and hiding out in bed, the only way I can escape feeling shitty is to go to sleep. Only asleep do I forget that I’m a walking mess. When I do wake up, the depression is still there and the scary thoughts and feelings come flooding back in. I know I’ll probably feel better the next day, but getting to that next day seems almost impossible. Its days like these that I want to cash it all in and be done with the challenges that life brings. On the third and last day (today for example), I start to feel a little bit more in control. I’m still really sad deep down, but I know that if I just get out of the house, I’ll start to feel like my old self. The good moods start creeping back in and I laugh a little bit more. My appetite returns and I don’t feel as exhausted as I’ve felt for the past couple of days. I know that by the time this day ends, I’ll start to see the positive parts of my personality. I’ll realize that I’m not ugly and untalented and that it’s ok to be 27 and working towards a dream. When Paul got home last night, he found me in bed at 6:30pm. He immediately sensed that something was wrong and he walked over and took a seat on the bed next to me. He asked me how my day was and how the therapy appointment went. All I could do was look at him and start to cry. I couldn’t really talk and I didn’t want to talk. Tears rolled down my face and we both sat there quietly for awhile. Eventually I was able to wipe my face and talk about what we were going to have for dinner. I think the hardest part about having depression is the way that it makes other people in your life feel. My parents, Paul, and my friends are all very worried about me and some of them express that to me constantly. It’s got to be so frustrating to see someone you love hurt so badly, yet you know there is nothing you can do for them. I then feel even guiltier for being that burden on my loved ones. And the cycle continues. I spoke about this cycle with my therapist yesterday and she made an excellent point. She said “Your honesty is one of your best qualities, but you must realize that you don’t HAVE to tell everyone all of the feelings and thoughts that go through your head. Some of that stuff is meant just for our sessions and it’s ok to keep some of that stuff just to yourself. You make that decision and everyone you love will respect that.” My question was “How do I be real if I don’t open myself completely up?” Her response was “Do you feel like you ARE being real when you do open yourself up?” I thought for a minute and my answer was a definite “no”. I use honesty as a way to be real, but deep down I know that the real Joe is hiding and scared to let go of his crutches. He’s afraid to not be funny. He’s afraid to not be a good listener. He’s afraid to allow other people to care for him. And most of all, he’s afraid of the successes he could achieve if he just believed in himself a little bit more. |
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
| The Low Down I feel really depressed today. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it. I went to my therapy appointment and for the first ten minutes, my therapist and I just bullshitted. I made a few casual jokes and she just listened and chuckled. Then without warning, I broke down. Big time break down. Major sobs and uncontrollable shaking. It was the first time that I’ve cried in front of my therapist. We made some major headway today and for that I’m grateful. However, as the process continues, my therapist and I have decided to take it to the next level. I need a lot more help than what I’m currently getting. Sophie is a wonderful therapist, but it’s clear to both of us that we’re going to have to explore some other options as far as treatment. Things are a bit more serious than I made them out to be and we’re equally concerned. I actually have some homework to do this week for my next session. It’s not easy stuff to do, but I can clearly see the positive effects of the long term commitment. I’m just scared to confront some of my mainstream demons. In a way I’m almost too afraid to get better. Most likely because with improvement comes change and I’ve always shyed away from that. My one goal for the week is to allow myself to feel and to worry only about the expectations I have of myself. There is no need to worry about my friends or family at a time like this. As Sophie said “How can you expect to be everyone else’s answer, when you don’t have the answers yourself?” She’s a brilliant woman and I know that she has the capability to lead me out of the darkness. When that light will finally show itself is still up for debate. But until then, I must focus on my life and not on the self-induced pressure that I feel from my friends and family. For the first time in a long time, Joe CuttheShit will truly be worried only about himself. |
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
| Tuesday Rituals As has been routine for the last couple of Tuesdays, I have met up with Ari for lunch. When I say lunch, I don’t mean lunch per se. I mean, having an appetizer, smoking a hundred cigarettes and drinking my face off. Today, for example, I ate chicken fingers and drank 4 glasses of wine, one of which was free. Ari had the fish and chips and damn did that shit look good. Also, to be honest, she only drank diet coke, so it wasn’t like SHE was boozing it up at lunch. After an hour and a half of gossiping, joking, telling EMBARRASSING stories (Right, Ari??); we went back to her office. She answered the phone and I went and sat on her boss’s desk. Once there I proceeded to pack up my bowl with some ganj and puff away. I clicked on Internet Explorer and was immediately connected to both of our journals. I left a comment and puffed some more on my bowl. Once Ari was off the phone, we puffed together. On. Her. Boss’s. Desk. Amazing. I eventually got SO ridiculous that I had to sit down and take a breather. I drank some Sierra Mist and tried to calm down. It’s just that I was having so much fun! I love lunches with the Are dawg. When it was 3:10pm, I realized that I had been on lunch for 2 hours and 40 minutes. That’s never good. Why is it that when you smoke pot time LITERALLY disappears. I was fully aware of the time the whole…well…time, but then suddenly I had been on lunch for almost 3 hours! It’s absurd, I tell ya. And not fair. Ari and I smoked one last cigarette and then I did my damndest to get back to work before anyone realized. The subway was a buzz kill, but it didn’t matter. I had to show my face at the office before I got my ass fired. Long story, longer…no one even realized I had GONE to lunch. I’m that good. And I have Ari to thank for teaching me the ropes. Tuesdays with Ari. And no one dies at the end! |
Monday, May 16, 2005
| Severed Dicks on a Saturday Night On Saturday night I had the most disturbing dream that I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t even have to preface this dream for you to understand what I’m talking about. Just don’t think I’m a disgusting lunatic. Please. Eh, whatever. I’m in a house with a bunch of my friends, parents and boyfriend. I don’t remember what brought us all together, but I distinctly remember that only one of us would leave the house alive. We separated into groups and went to hide in different rooms of the house. My group consisted of Paul, my parents and myself. My friends stuck together and decided to hide in a part of the house that was much farther away from our group. Paul and I huddled in the corner of a closet and my parents slid under the bed. We were all whispering to each other when we heard footsteps coming down the long hallway leading to the room we were hiding out in. Although the room was really dark, I remember looking in to Paul’s eyes and seeing nothing, but fear. Suddenly the door to the room swung open and I held my breath and was as quiet as possible. From my hiding spot, I could see the shadows of feet on the other side of the closet door. The “killers” looked around the room for a bit and then I heard one of the men say “There’s nothing in here, let’s leave.” I heard the door to the room open and then shut again. Paul went to say something, but I quickly threw my hand over his mouth. I could still see people standing in the room. They were trying to trick us! “Joe!” my mom said. “Are you okay?” My stomach went into my throat as I heard the killers rip my mom out from under the bed while she screamed and screamed. I think one of the other killers pulled my dad out from the under the bed as well since he began screaming too. They dragged them out of the room as Paul and I huddled in the closet, both of our eyes wild with fear. We stayed in that closet for a long time, both of us afraid to open the door and peek out. Finally I said to Paul “I’ve gotta take a look. You stay here.” Being the big man that he is, he let me leave the closet and take a look. I slowly opened up the door to the room and looked down the hallway. I saw a hulking guy standing there with his back to me. And then, I blew it. I coughed and the man quickly turned around and saw me. I froze for a second, but as I saw him begin to charge down the hallway, I quickly slammed the door shut and told Paul to “stay in the closet”. I slid under the bed where my mom and dad were hiding and noticed that one of my mom’s fingernails had broken off and was laying under the bed. Sick. The door to the room burst open and I heard this deep voice say “I saw you looking at me and I know you’re in here.” I trembled with fear and watched from under the bed as the killer paced around the room. Suddenly I heard the killer rip open the closet door and Paul began to scream. Rather than rip Paul out of the room, the killer hacked away at him right in the closet. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the screams. There was blood on the floor when the killer dropped his knife. There was a loud thud when it hit the floor and some of the blood splashed on my hand. I continued to lie underneath the bed, hoping the killer would just leave. Eventually he did and after waiting for a few minutes, I slowly slid out from under the bed. Paul was lying in a pile of blood and guts on the floor. I crawled over to him and held his little head. His eyes were closed and I knew he was dead. I sat there like this for a long time – or in dreamland, for about 5 seconds. As though the dream wasn’t fucked up enough to begin with, what I did next is going to make you absolutely cringe with horror. I picked up the bloody knife off the ground, undid Paul’s pants and sliced his dick off. His lifeless body just lay there as I held the knife in own hand and his cock in the other. I then stood up, shut the bedroom door and began sucking on the cock. And as though this isn’t TOTALLY BIZARRE enough, the dick got hard in my hands and I continued to suck it. UMMMMMMMMMMM. While I was jerking my own dick off and giving a blow job to a severed penis, I could hear the killers in the hallway. I quickly threw the cock back into the closet and opened up the only window in the room. As I was crawling out of it, the door to the room opened and the killers entered. There were three of them and they were furious that I was trying to escape. It took all the bravery I had, but I allowed my body to fall from the second story window in the hopes that I would land on my feet. Luckily I did just that and started to run as fast as I could. The killers jumped out of the window as well and were screaming “You are the last to die!” I started to get tired from running and stopped in front of a huge oak tree. I climbed it expertly and watched as the killers surrounded it. I screamed “I want to live. One of us should live!” and they responded with something like “You will die! YOU WILL DIE!” and I hung on to the tree for dear life. I felt something rustling above me and I looked up to see one of the killers climbing DOWN the tree. I have no idea how he was climbing down from ABOVE me as he would have had to pass me to get up there, but I believed in it nonetheless. As he got closer, I knew that my only hope was to throw my body out of the tree and to make a run for it. I took the risk and ended up landing on my back. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream, but the fear of dying was overwhelming. The killers huddled around me and were laughing. I managed to get one scream out and that’s when I woke up. Paul rolled over in bed and said “You’re covered in sweat! What’s wrong?” All I could say to him was “I chopped off your dick and proceeded to suck it while you laid there in blood.” |
Friday, May 13, 2005
| friday friDAY FRIDAY! FUCKING YAY! There isn’t a day of the week that I love more than Friday. Saturdays are cool and Sundays are half cool, but Fridays make me feel like I have a new lease on life. Instead of taking anti-depressants, I should live only on Fridays. It would save me a lot of unnecessary misery. From now on, I only get out of bed on Fridays. Every other day of the week can fuck itself on the horse it rode in on. Unless it’s a baby horse. Then no fucking. Give the baby a chance. I don’t really have a topic for today’s entry, so I’m just going to throw out some shit that’s been on my mind today. First off is the fact that when I was outside getting my bagel, I bumped into the fairy queen of Manhattan. He was wearing the TIGHTEST jeans I’ve ever seen and after he gave me his bitchy look for almost knocking him over (he weighs all of 16 pounds), I watched his ass bob from side to side all the way down the street. I shuddered and tried to get the image out of my head. For some reason, guys that are incredibly effeminate with effeminate clothing and effeminate bodies make me roll my eyes so far into the back of my head that they pop out of my skull and trickle down my back. It’s not that I have a PROBLEM with effeminate gays. Please! I’m nowhere NEAR the most masculine guy you’ll ever meet. But I love being a boy and wearing my baseball cap and my t-shirts and jeans. I love wearing sneakers and it’s FUN to me to have a little rough housing going on. Try to take me down. Just TRY it. I love pretending like I’m the ROCK or some shit. So, when I bumped into the gay guy and he gave me the signature icy look of queen Dom, I wanted to scream in his face “I’m gay too moron! And you’re a woman!” But it’s Friday, so I let him go. Am I really this big of an asshole? Anyway, I’ve had quite a few email exchanges with one of my new favorite people CHWJOHNS. I would link to him in this post, but I’m still bad with figuring out how to put the html in my post without screwing up the whole thing (his link is on the right). I’ve had some bad experiences with my template before, so I’m leaving it as be. But I’m on a lame tangent, so back to Chews. This guy is awesome. His emails keep my days moving and I’m constantly impressed by how intelligent and intuitive he is. I’ll say something like “I’m hot, but don’t think of me as an egocentric prick” and he’ll write back “Isn’t it sad how the duality of society works against us no matter what we do? One minute we want to be perfect so we’re accepted and then when we are perfect, we are criticized for being egocentric.” That’s not EXACTLY what he wrote, but he used the word “duality” and I about came in my pants. He’s smart and I like him and already feel a little better for having known him. Isn’t it weird when you meet someone over the internet and take a liking to them? For me it is, cuz in my world, the internet is solely used for posting and porning. We don’t make real friends on this thing! Or yeah we do! And did I mention that he’s a bodybuilder? Ah geez. That’s all I need. If you watched Survivor last night (INKS?), then you saw some big time shit goin down. It was one of the best episodes I’ve ever seen. All of the secrets were exposed and it was the most exciting hour of television ever! I’m telling you, this particular season has rocked it out so hardcore that I’m almost embarrassed for you for not watching while you had the chance. I’m talking EMBARRASSED. Please don’t talk to me in public if that’s the case. Paul and I had a very wonderful talk last night. He was exceptionally adorable when I got home and cooked me the most incredible dinner. I helped clean up and I made us salads, but other than that I sat on my ass and watched The Simpsons while he waited on me hand and foot. It was really nice. Then when we were done and watching my “stories” on TV, I brought up (once again) that I think we should enter into couple’s counseling. For the first time, we had an actual dialogue about it and he agreed to go with me! I mean, what? Since when? But I didn’t make a big deal out of it and I told him that I would figure out all of the logistics. Could this be the way to save our relationship? So my birthday is coming up. Hahahaha. I mean, it’s on July 2nd, but right about now is when I start hinting to my friends that I want it to be amazing. When I brought up my birthday to Paul last night he laughed so hard that I had to poke him in his belly button until he would stop. My birthday is a huge deal to me. As far as I’m concerned, birthdays are really hard for a lot of people, me included. It’s like New Years…you always feel like you have to do something cool and different or else it’s just another celebration on another year. And that’s sad. I try to make all of my friend’s birthdays as wonderful as I can and they always do the same for me. So when I turn 28 this year (fucking yikes) I won’t even notice the age cuz I’ll be too busy doing something fun like beating the shit out of a bunch of homophobes. It’s ALMOST time to get the party started. Lately I’ve enjoyed watching the show Kevin Hill. Is that wrong? This week, Taye Digg’s real life wife, Idina Menzel, was on it and my friends and I LOVE her from our theatre queen days. If UPN were to run a marathon of America’s Next Top Model and Kevin Hill back-to-back all day, I would probably sit and watch the whole thing. LAME. GUESS WHAT? I just found out that there IS a marathon of America’s Next Top Model on tomorrow. UM! My birthday IS coming early. In other news, my dear hamster, Jim, who I’ve had for almost two full years, is finally starting to lose the luster for life. It breaks my heart to watch him walking around so slowly. He’s taken to pissing all over himself and almost every night I have to give him a bath. It’s so upsetting to watch, but as we would do with our parents when they get older, I plan on taking full care of him until he breathes his last breath. He is the most wonderful pet I’ve ever owned personally and I’m going to miss him a ton when he’s gone. I know hamsters are like little mice, but Jim has a strong personality and is the friendliest, most talented hamster I’ve ever met. In fact, he holds a Master’s in Education and a PhDizzle in Psychology. My hope was to give him some money to start his own practice, but it looks like that may not happen. My mom asked me yesterday if I was going to euthanize Jim when he got really, really bad. My eyes burst wide open and I said “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!” I would NEVER kill him.” Even if I thought he was suffering. I’m not murdering my best friend. She then told me a story of how we had this guinea pig named “Boris” once and she had to suffocate him in a garbage bag because he was at death’s door and ripping her heart out. FIRST of all…my mother doesn’t have it in her to kill anything. I HIGHLY doubt that she was the one that put him to sleep. My dad MUST have done it. SECOND of all…I NEVER had a hamster named BORIS. That is the most hilarious and ridiculous lie I’ve ever heard her tell. She promises that it’s a true story, but I’m going to have to snoop around to figure that one out. Boris SHMORIS. LASTLY of all…yeah right Boris. Well…turns out that when you have NOTHING to write, you have LOTS to write. My therapist tells me never to come into a session with anything planned cuz the best shit will come right off the top of my head. She would be SO proud with today’s post. I love my damn therapist. Have a great weekend everyone! |
Thursday, May 12, 2005
| The Reason I Live In my life, I have five friends that I consider to be my life blood – my everything – my strength, my weaknesses, and my dreams all rolled into one group of girls. Today I’ve decided to write a little snippet about each of them. No order of importance here. Just a list of the five ladies that make Joe CuttheShit, well, Joe CuttheShit. Mariah My friend Mariah is, by far, the most talented performer I know. She is a drop dead gorgeous lesbian with a hot ass and excellent moves. When Mariah enters a room, men, women, and animals alike pay attention and want a piece of her. When I met Mariah 5 years ago, she and I immediately clicked and became fast best friends. I told her everything about myself and she did the same. Since the conception of our love, Mariah and I have helped each other with some of the biggest obstacles that have come our way. From relationship problems, to depression, to frustration with our artistic endeavors, Mariah is the one that has opened up her entire heart to me. For the taking, if you will. Over time, Mariah and I have lost a bit of our obsessive need to see each other on a daily basis, but the love is still there and if there is ever a chance to rekindle the days of old, I know that we’ll both fall back into it with ease. I’ve never met anyone with the kind of heart that Mariah has. I’m so relieved that she let me steal it for my own. Angie Angie is a friend of mine from Albany that I never intended to become as close to as I am. For two years she dated my friend Kelly and we all lived together in a single bedroom at one point. Talk about chaos! Of everyone in my life, Kelly and Angie are the two that I talk to the most, hang out with the most, and experience the most ridiculous shit with. Since Kelly and Angie are both dating different girls now, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know Angie as a separate personality. I laugh my ass off with Angie and she is usually the first person I run to with a problem (see also: Kelly). At this point in my life, I am in a semi-obsessive relationship with Angie in that I must talk to her daily and see her AT LEAST once or twice a week. We party together, talk about our deepest woes, and share so much in common. If I’m going to smoke some pot, Angie better be there lighting it up for me. If I feel depressed and low, it is Angie who will understand and know how to handle me. Angie is my light these days and I’m so grateful for being granted this time period of our lives to be BFFFF. That’s Best Friends For Fucking Forever. Oh, and Angie has the smallest hottest body and is gorge. Is there anything else left to say? Ari Wow. Ari. When I first started working at my job, I had to become accustomed to the fact that I would be sharing living quarters of about 8 feet with a girl I’ve never met. Ari has a very strong personality and it took me a while before I felt as though I could open up to her and trust that she wouldn’t stomp all over my vulnerability. Four years later and Ari is the ONLY person I’ve met in NYC that I consider to be in my close knit group of friends. She is a beautiful and voluptuous (Right Ari? – I just learned what that word really means!) woman that has the sharpest sense of humor that I’ve ever encountered. She’s terrifyingly brilliant and is THE person I go to to find out any breaking pop culture news. She can name any actor from any movie and these days, her taste in music makes mine look as though I’m a pre-teen gaylord. I have opened up completely to Ari over the last year or so and I’ve come to depend on her in ways that I never thought were possible. If I’m worried about something in my life, Ari listens intently, offers sympathy, and then IMMEDIATELY kicks my ass into shape. She is the only friend I have that can manipulate as well as I can. And when the two of us use our powers for evil, we are a FORCE to be reckoned with. Kelly Kelly is the oldest friend I have in my entire life. In the past I have been known as the guy who moves locations and loses touch with all of my friends. I used to think making new ones was the only way to survive. Kelly broke that cycle for me and while a great deal of our friendship has been submersed in arguments over one thing or another, it is Kelly who has taught me to be who I am and to be proud of that person. It was Kelly who encouraged me to embrace my sexuality and it was Kelly who has kept me on my artistic pathway ever since college. The only reason we argue when we do is because we are wholeheartedly dependent on one another. When Kelly speaks, she often speaks right to my soul. She knows me inside and out and back around again. I can’t lie to Kelly because she knows the truth even before it leaves my mouth. While the other girls are my friends, Kelly is my sister. She has shown me what life long friend means and she is one of the only people in my life that I’m confident will be there all along the way. Whenever I’ve tried to escape from Kelly, she has found me, smacked me swiftly in the face and informed me that I will never escape the friendship that I agreed upon with her. She has allowed me to give over to the idea of friendship. I would do ANYTHING for Kelly and I KNOW that she would do ANYTHING for me. If I ever have the unfortunate circumstance of killing someone, Kelly is the one I would call to help me figure out where to bury the body. Rita Rita. Gosh. Where do I even begin with Rita? If there was ever a girl I would marry, it would be Rita. So much so that we have had numerous discussions about it. When she and her husband got married last year, he knew full well that he was marrying not only Rita, but Joe as well. Rita and I are friends from college, but she gave up her life at one point and moved to NYC to be with me for a year. It was one of the best years of my life and by far the biggest sacrifice anyone has ever made for me. We lived together, worked together, went everywhere together and created memories that she and I will be talking about when we’re two old ladies, drinking our Long Island ice teas on a warm summer day. I was THE man at her wedding and we’ve both become permanent fixtures in each other’s families. Rita makes me laugh harder than anyone I know and I have never had someone support me so much in every facet of my life. We NEVER fight, but when we do, it’s almost ALWAYS because we don’t see or talk to each other enough. Every day I miss her and every day she misses me. Sometimes we miss so much that we actually cry about it on the phone together. If I wasn’t so damn gay and she wasn’t so damn married, it’s obvious that she and I would have ended up together for the rest of our lives. Rita introduced me to the concept of soul mates. I fully believe that our friendship was predetermined long before we met. God knew that we needed one another and he allowed it to happen. I don’t think we’ve let Him down since then. I am obsessed with my Rita Lovely and I know that she’s obsessed with me. Forever we will be in love, laughing, and eating pizza for the rest of our entire lives. Now, of COURSE I have other friends that I care deeply about. Especially my special girls that Rita and I share from college (We’re seeing them in two weeks and we couldn’t be MORE excited about that). But these particular five girls have molded me and shaped me into who I am. They care more about me than themselves most of the time and if I ever find myself in a place of despair, everything drops so that one of them can run to my aid and take care of me. My whole life I’ve wanted friends like these. And to be able to sit here and actually have them seems like a fantasy. I love them all so much that I could literally start crying about it as I write this. If life weren’t about dreams and goals and making fucking money, it would be the joy of my life to kidnap these five ladies and to all live on a commune together; spending our days enjoying each other’s company and making really hot babies. I love you all. Forever. |
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
| You’re Not A Gay I’ve just gotten back from my weekly therapy appointment and yes folks, I still love her more than anyone on the planet. No, for real. If my boyfriend, my best friends, and my mom were on a boat with my therapist and I was only allowed to save one person, I would pick the therapist. That way when I cried about everyone I love dying, she could wipe my tears and tell me that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to. Makes sense, no? I can’t wait for that boat ride. Now, as I’m walking to my therapist appointment, I passed two ARMY men standing outside recruiting new suckers to go to the war. If you’re a long time reader of this journal, then you know my brother was in Iraq on the front lines for a year and a half and how difficult that was for both my family and me. Anyway, one of the ARMY guys steps in front of me and this is the conversation we had: ARMY ASS: Hi Sir. May I talk to you today about your future? Joe CuttheAWESOME: Actually I’m late for an appointment so I’m sorry. AA: It will just take a moment. Have you thought about the current conditions of the United States and overseas concerning political terrorism? JCTA: My brother was in Iraq for a year and a half serving our country, so to be honest, I don’t think my parents would get a kick out of me joining up at this moment. AA: I’m sure that’s not the case. I would assume they would be proud that you were serving your country to the fullest capacity. JCTA: (Getting a bit irritated) Actually, I don’t think they WOULD be proud of me going to the Iraq war. We’ve all kind of had enough with the sleepless nights and the ulcers that go along with having someone you love in the war. AA: Were you in NYC on the day of 9/11? JCTA: I absolutely was. AA: Then don’t you want to do something to make it so that never happens again? JCTA: I really need to go to my appointment. Thanks for the talk (you fucking unmitigated douchebag). AA: This is the state of the country and the future of our nation that we’re discussing. JCTA: (Totally exasperated) Listen, none of this matters man. I’m gay and even if I wanted to serve in the military I would NEVER pretend that I was straight or not be proud of who I am. And a military that doesn’t accept homosexuals that WANT to fight and serve their country is not a military for me. AA: You’re not a gay. (no really, he said “You’re not A gay”) JCTA: (blood boiling in my face) I AM gay and I AM proud of it. AA: I don’t see you as a homosexual. I see you as someone who’s trying to get out of the conversation. JCTA: How would you like me to prove to you that I’m gay? (I then just stared him in the eyes, but so badly I wanted to offer him a quick blowjob) AA: If that’s how you feel, then have a good day sir. Without looking at him again, I mumbled rather audibly “You have a good day too you close minded fuck”. And on I went to my appointment. I guess it makes sense that when I walked into therapy today the first thing out of my mouth was “THE UNITED STATES IS LED BY THE BIGGEST MORONS IN THE WORLD”! Sit down Joe and let’s discuss why you feel that way. Now that I’m back at my desk and pretending like I give a shit about my job and the work that I do, I feel much better about what happened. People are so ignorant it makes me want to explode with hideous laughter. I in no way think that the ARMY itself sucks. And I am FILLED with pride for anyone who puts themselves in the way of danger to protect my livelihood and well-being. However, I will NOT tolerate someone telling ME that I haven’t done my part to serve the country. No one tells me what to think about the ARMY and the war. Cuz none of these people spent hours on the phone with me assuring me that my brother would be fine and that it was ok to cry. Be proud of the military, but don’t be an assfuck idiot that can’t possibly understand the other side of the story. Yeah. Don’t be an assfuck idiot. NO ONE likes to hang out with those kinds of people. Especially when you’re as awesome as me. Remember? Cuz I’m Joe CuttheAwesome today! Hope no one tried to force you into denying your sexuality today cuz that’s no fun. I’m going home and spraying gay cum all over everything I own. Just because I can. |
Friday, May 06, 2005
| Thanks to YOU! Hi Shit Cutters! I just wanted to take a minute to thank you for your dedication to this journal. Over the last month my sitemeter has gone crazy. I am shocked by the wonderful response that I’ve received from readers just like you! Obviously, this journal is meant to be an escape from your daily routine. In no way do I expect you to be changed as a person from reading one of my shit related stories, but if we can all laugh together, then the mission statement for this journal has been accomplished. I appreciate the emails I receive (even if I don’t write back for a couple of weeks) and each comment that is left on this site. To know that there are people like you out there that care enough about what’s going on in my life to speak up…that’s an amazing thing. Truly, madly, deeply. I’ve been keeping this site running for over three years. In that time I’ve grown a great deal as an individual and it would be crazy for me to think that your support hasn’t had an effect on all of that. I’ve grown, you’ve grown, grass has grown. You should see how big my smile is today. I’ll do my best to keep the shit coming if you do your best to be as awesome as you’ve been all along. Again, thank you! Have a great, super, rad, gnarley, crazy, super, rad, super good weekend! Super. |
Thursday, May 05, 2005
| Fuck This Day and Fuck You Too Today has been rather odd. I was in a great mood all day and then I took a nap at lunch, which I LOVE to do. When I woke up, I felt very refreshed, but in an extremely pissy mood. Like so pissy that when my co-worker asked me for a cigarette, I looked him directly in the eyes and said “Again?!” He took the cigarette and looked at me as though I was the executioner. You know…THE executioner. The one that chops off your balls and face. I decided that getting a slice of pizza was the way to improve my mood. I’m currently chewing and writing and hoping that the ridiculous anger I’m feeling will dissipate with each bite. But it’s probably safe to avoid me right now. I’m a walking time bomb that needs to go home and slap around my dog a bit. Once he’s fully beaten, I’m SURE I will feel worlds better. Thank the Lord that it’s Thursday. The weeks have been flying by lately, which is good, except that I never get anything productive accomplished and am left wondering where January-May went. I mean, was I in a coma? Did I sleep through those five months? Am I the fucking best? Probably. I made the mistake of watching the PrimeTime Live special with Corey Clark last night. If you haven’t heard about this, Corey Clark is the ex-idol contestant who claims that he slept with Paula Abdul. After watching the hour long special, I can say with all honesty, that I believe they did indeed fuck. There is actual proof and I didn’t get the feeling that Clark was a liar. Scumbag, yes. Liar? No. The only good thing that can come out of this special is that maybe, just maybe, American Idol will be entrenched in so much scandal that the show will self-implode. My brother, Winfield, has been officially released from the ARMY and is on his way to Amsterdam right now. He called me the other day and was stoned on the phone. It’s the first time he’s smoked pot in like 5 years. It was hilarious. He will be home in July and I can’t wait to have him so much closer to me. Party all the time party all the time! Alright that pizza went right through me and now I must go release it into the Hudson River. If you live in upstate NY, look out your window in about an hour and you’ll see my log rolling by. Sick. |
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
| WHAT is UP (with)… The subway system in Manhattan? It now costs $2 for a ride and the service has never been worse! I’ve taken to leaving my apartment 15 minutes earlier than I usually do because I know that I will wait on the subway platform for a good ten minutes for a train to come. Yesterday it took me an hour to get to work, when the commute should only last 25 minutes. There is nothing like the fury you feel when you know you’re going to be late for work and there is nothing you can do about it. So many times I’ve wanted to spit on the driver’s windshield as he pulls up to the station. But usually I just clench my jaw shut really tight and scream curse words in my head. The Comedy Central game show Distraction? Have you seen this? Have you heard about this? The show is basically a trivia quiz game where the contestants are subjected to cruel and unusual forms of humiliation while answering questions. Hence the name DISTRACTION! Well, last night I was watching an episode of it and my jaw (and balls) hit the floor when I saw one of the new methods of distracting the contestants. Turns out, all four people competing on the show had to drink a gallon of water before the taping. Then during the first round of play, each one of them pulled down their pants and sat on a toilet in a stall (with only their heads peeking through). In order to answer the questions that were asked, the contestant had to piss in their toilet to trigger the buzzer. For example, one of the questions was “Pop, pop, fizz, fizz” – finish the rest of the slogan. All I heard was this “pissssssssssssssss” sound and when the girl’s buzzer was triggered she screamed “Oh what a relief it is!” How SICK is THAT shit? I mean, are we serious? My sex drive? Ever since I began taking anti-depressants, I’ve virtually lost my sex drive. Obviously it’s one of the side effects, but I’ve never actually LOST my libido before. But now, I very rarely jerk off and it’s almost difficult for me to get hard at all. It’s kind of frustrating, especially since I can feel the cum building up inside of my body with no chance of release. Then when I do cum, it’s like this thick goop that could be used as spackle. Ok, this is getting out of hand. Spackle cum…hot! The Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Inferno 2? As we all know, the Real World franchise went down shit hole road years ago. But if you get the chance to check out the latest CHALLENGE, you will be shocked at how wonderfully addicting it is. These people are such losers and their egos are so high that watching them fall from grace is just about the best thing in the world. They are immature idiots running around sticking knives in each other’s back and all for my entertainment! If you’re going to watch sleezeball reality TV, make this your one stop shop. It’s fucking awesome! South Park? Have you seen this? Have you heard about this? (inside joke for you viewers). This show has only gotten better throughout the years. The creators push the envelope more than ever before and if you enjoy scathingly good comedy, this is the show for you. My favorite episode this season is the one where Mr. Garrison gets a sex change to become a woman. I laughed so hard that my own dick sucked inside of my body and became a vaginer. It’s just damn fucking funny and continuously shocks me at how far they’ll go for a laugh. Mmmmmmkay? 50 Cent’s tits? I mean, don’t get me wrong…the brother is fucking hot, no matter how you look at it. But at the same time, I swear his pecs are turning into full on breasts. I’m sure I could squeeze a gallon of milk out of those jugs. the King from Burger King? I’m talking about that commercial where the guy wakes up in bed to find the Burger King sitting next to him. While I find the King to be the scariest thing I’ve ever seen, the guy in bed decides it’s totally normal and accepts the sausage biscuit sandwich that is being offered to him. I’m sorry, but if I woke up to find the King in MY bed, I’d bug the mother fuck out. The new commercial where the dude opens up his blinds to find the King standing in front of the window is just as terrifying. I have to think happy thoughts for at least a good five minutes after viewing these ridiculous commercials. Justin and Cameron? I could have SWORN he married me only a few years ago. Fuck him and the hot ass he rode in on. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes? Something about this screams BIZARRO to me. What is the deal with Tom these days? Is he gay? Straight? Bi-curiously weird? Or is just that Scientology turns people into crazy monsters? Me writing in my journal? I’ve been writing non-stop lately. Sure, I haven’t written anything of substance, but you’re fine with that. In fact, you LOVE that. I may even change the name of this journal to “Nothing of Substance and You’ll Jizz on it with Excitement”. Have a great day everyone! |
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
| Five Reasons to Love or Hate Joe CuttheShit About a week or so ago, my dear, sweet Ari took part in a fun little game that involved listing five things that your friends like that you don’t. Like. How did I do at explaining THAT? Yeah. It’s one of those days. In any case, here are five things that I think are completely overrated by friends of mine: 1) Walking OMG. I fucking hate to walk. And it seems like every time I talk to a friend of mine, they’re like “Why don’t we just walk there?” or “Isn’t it a beautiful day for a walk?” Holy fucking shit I hate to walk! Walking wastes time that could be spent sitting and hanging out. Paul just LOVES to walk and asks me every day if I’ll go for a stroll through the neighborhood. Obviously my answer is a swift “No!” My feeling is...if you want to walk with me, have a prior destination picked out. I don’t walk for 15 blocks just to turn around and walk the 15 blocks back. To me that is complete and utter lameness. Paul said last night “So you’re telling me that if we lived on a beach, you still wouldn’t go for a walk?” First of all, I NEVER said I wouldn’t walk on the beach, but still, the theory stands. Are we walking on the beach to go get ice cream? Or are we walking on the beach to look at the ocean and feel the sand between our toes? Cuz really? Get a life and buy a car. Or a bike. Or stay home and stop being a tool. 2) Tattoos. Here we go. Time to piss everyone off. When I was in college, I came up with the perfect theory on tattoos. Here it is: “One is cool, two is trashy”. As I’ve gotten a little older, I’ve modified the tattoo theory. Now it reads: “One is snores, two is fucking lame-oid.” At 27, it’s too late for me to think that getting a tattoo is in any way cool. I’ve seen some nice ones and I don’t judge anyone for taking the plunge. However, if you expect me to jump up and down and praise you for your creativity and bravery in getting said tattoo, you got another thing coming. And if you’re my friend Mariah and get your girlfriend’s NAME tattooed on your pelvis, well you better be as hot as Mariah or I’m fully going to punch you in your numb skull. 3) Brooklyn and Queens. Listen, I ain’t going to Brooklyn or Queens EVER. I lived in Queens for two years and I’ve been back maybe twice since I moved out of there. I understand that these two boroughs have a lot to offer as far as culture and historical landmarks are concerned, but if I have to sit on the subway for an hour to get to your apartment, you can just about guarantee that I will NOT be showing up. Brooklyn and Queens are wonderful novelty items, but if you want the real thing, you might as well move to Manhattan (cuz if you live in an outer borough, you surely don’t live in NYC anyway). On the ISLAND, we have everything you want: culture, food, theatre, strippers, and whatever else your perverted little heart can imagine. I’m sorry if you live in one of these boroughs and are offended. But truthfully, you’re only offended cuz you agree with me. 4) American Idol I can’t think of a more obnoxious and totally OVERRATED television show. I mean, COME ON people! How can you possibly tune in twice a week to that garbage? The weakly talented contestants perform terrible covers of really great songs and if it’s an exceptionally annoying evening, you will be treated to a group-sing in which everyone will fuck up at least 3 times while performing half-ass, shitty dance moves. It’s the cheesiest and biggest waste of time and money. And the kicker? The 26 million of you that tune in each week are so flaky! If you really, truly, love the show and the artists it spits out, then go out and buy one of their shitty albums. If you support American Idol, then SUPPORT the winners. I can’t even get into why Randy Jackson (fucking loser dawg!), Paula Abdul (has-been drug addict) and Simon Cowell (GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK!) suck beyond belief. 5) The Chapelle Show Talk about getting my ass shot as soon as I leave work. Listen, I’ve watched a few episodes and I just don’t understand why everyone thinks it’s so funny and cutting edge. I mean, didn’t Richard Pryor perform his whole act like decades ago? Sure, it’s 2005 now and it’s almost funny to joke about crack whores and white people trying to be black, but enough is enough already. I find myself to be a pretty funny guy and I never (well ALMOST never) have to resort to base and low brow humor. ESPECIALLY low brow humor that's been done before. I can’t say that I HATE The Chappelle Show, but I can definitely say that the whole thing is muchly overrated. Especially since he was offered a most ridiculous contract to keep it going. Who knows? Maybe my opinion will eventually change. But for now? Take THAT BITCH. Well, now that I’ve officially pissed off everyone for one reason or another…I might as well go jerk off in the bathroom. Have a great one! |
Monday, May 02, 2005
| Riding the Bus with My Indigestion First off, I have such bad indigestion today that it’s almost impossible to even crack a smile. Every time the bubble of hatred rises in my throat, I have to literally squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the skin on my hand in order to redirect the pain. I’ve never had acid reflux like this and I am so about to reach down my own throat to give my stomach the beating of its life. As most of you know, I’m currently dog sitting for the most adorable little shit I’ve ever seen. He’s like the best dog ever, but for some reason every time I take him out for a walk, there’s some sort of dog related drama. For example, on Friday afternoon, I was walking Rio out the front door of my building at the same time that another (much bigger and more ferocious) dog was entering. The scary dog freaked out and barked at a decibel that destroyed my ever sensitive eardrums. Of course Rio immediately freaked out and started barking again. I then dragged Rio outside the building with the barking reaching a level of pure chaos. Once outside this hilarious black woman screams out “I ain’t seen a dog fight like that since BROOKLYN!” Everyone died laughing, including me, and then I ran away as fast as I could. Then we walk around the corner and Rio decides to sit directly in front of a group of business men eating Subway. Rio looks the business men directly in the eyes as he proceeds to take a huge shit. The men stopped eating their sandwiches and looked at me as though I had done it on purpose. I nervously laughed and dragged the dog back to my apartment. For such a cute dog, he has this way of totally humiliating me – and ruining everyone’s lunch. Did anyone happen to catch the Hallmark movie on last night called Riding the Bus with My Sister? It just happened to be Rosie O’Donnell’s return to the small screen. I didn’t watch the movie as I was in the midst of Desperate Housewives and The L Word, but when I did switch over during the commercials, I found myself hysterically laughing. I will always love the Rosie (I just have to, please understand), but I will never love Rosie as a mentally challenged person. Everything that came out of her mouth made me piss on myself. I KNOW that I was supposed to be feeling empathy, but the only thing I could do was say “I’m Different!” over and over and over. To be fair, it’s VERY hard to play a character with this kind of disability. However, I’m not sure that this movie was supposed to be a comedy, yet the parts I saw had me rolling on my bedroom floor. One other thing…I work with a complete and utter douchebag. He is my age and was hired into one of the highest level jobs in my organization. Aside from the fact that he LOOKS like a complete tool, his “better than thou” personality does nothing but ruin any chance he ever had of being cool. I can’t stand the man and every time he CLOMPS past my desk, I want to reach out and rip his 2 inch dick off and shove it up his tight ass. In a way that sounded hot, but in a way, it makes me want to ruin his life. I HATE DORKS who think they’re cooler than me! Cuz really…who’s cooler than ME?! Shit. The jeans I’m wearing today feel like spandex. It’s not like I gained weight over the weekend, but these particular jeans make it look like I’m walking around on blue tree trunks. Lord. Why did I even wear these today? I just know I’m going to bend over to pick up a piece of cake off the ground and my ass is going to bust through and make an appearance. Luckily I don’t even LIKE cake. Ok, that’s it for today. I came in here to write about something somewhat interesting today, but instead you get tight jeans, dog shit, and douchbag co-workers. Eat it and love it. |
