VOL 2. THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MO

2006-04-23T14:55:00.000-05:00

from tony pierce via binsk.

Put your music player on shuffle. Press forward for each question. Use the song title as the answer to the question. Post on your blog.

will i get far in life?
If I should die - jayz

how do my friends see me?
photography - the starting line

when will i get married?
give me novocaine - green day

what is my best friends theme song?
move along - the all american rejects

what is the story of my life?
the chicken sandwich, the heckler and the kabbash - dane cook

what was high school like?
mother father - dave matthews band

how can i get ahead in life?
back to school - deftones

what is the best thing about me?
deep inside - incubus

how is today going to be?
two words - kanye west ft mos def, freeway

what is in store this weekend?
the worlds greatest - r kelly

what song describes my parents?
london beckoned songs about money by machines - panic! at the disco

my grandparents?
a little less sixteen candles, a little more touch me - fall out boy

how is my life going?
one weak - deftones

what song will they play at my funeral?
kill you - eminem

how does the world see me?
i am crack - juelz santana

will i have a happy life?
lights and sounds - yellowcard

what do my friends really think of me?
4ever - the veronicas

do people secretly lust after me?
i dont know - lostprophets

how can i make myself happy?
hostages - dead poetic

what should i do with my life?
session - linkin park

will i ever have children?
its time to party - andrew wk

what is some good advice?
stitches - orgy

what is my signature dancing song?
straight out of line - godsmack

what do i think my current theme song is?
rape me - nirvana

what does everyone else think my current theme song is?
right thurr remix - 50 cent ft young buck

what kind of women do you like?
shake - ying yang twins ft pitbull

what do you think of this meme?
nothing else matters - metallica

2006-04-09T00:50:00.000-05:00

how to be my kind of woman, by mosephus jones.

if you drink wine at a bar, you are not my kind of woman.

if you are holding hands with anybody at the bar, you are not by kind of woman.

if the color of your drink matches the color of your a. shirt b. shoes c. nail polish, you are definitely not by kind of woman.

if you dance by yourself, you are not by kind of woman.

if you dance with a bar stool, you are not my kind of woman.

if you go to a bar to hang out with a barkeep, you are not by kind of woman.

if you shamelessly fake sexual interest in the owner of a club, just so you dont have to pay cover cuz you think you are better than everyone you just skipped in line, trust me, you are not anyones kind of woman.

if you think porn is gross, you are not my kind of woman.

if you cannot recite three lines each from the Godfather part uno, goodfellas, and scarface, you are not my kind of woman.

if you havent seen all of the above listed movies, plus Godfather part deux and Closer, you should kick yourself in the head. oh, and you are not my kind of woman.

if you are more like natalie portman's character in Closer than julia roberts' character in Closer, you are not my kind of woman.

if you cannot handle a guy calling you out for being a stuckup bratty bitch, you are a golddigger.

if you are a golddigger, you are not my kind of woman.

if you are the hottest thirty five year old, mother of two adult film actress in the world, and you personally handcrafted one of the best wines in the world.

woah, man. you are my kind of woman.

mexico chronicles coming soon. mo out.

2006-03-11T13:05:00.000-05:00

the devil went down to mexico, and that devil's name was mo.

tequila will be shot and hearts will be broken. pics and stories in six days and seven nights. peace!

2006-03-02T23:39:00.000-05:00

welcome to the first edition of mo's morons of the week

fernando vargas for trying to smuggle a baseball into a boxing match

this guy for chopping his million dollar ferrari in half with a telephone pole

dubya for showing everyone that osama is not the only one hiding from america in afghanistan

anna kournikova, for going on the lohan coke diet (sorry, tony)

and coach k, for being a pretentious, hoity toity stain on the game of basketball.

be sure to tune in next week to see meredith grey, the officials at this weekend's Game, and a certain young greek brunette from new york.

2006-02-23T13:40:00.000-05:00

alfie
2005
directed by charles shyer
jude law marisa tomei omar epps nia long susan sarandon sienna miller

jude law, jude law, jude law. whatever are we going to do with you. probably the very definition of man candy and he knows it. women want him, and men want to be him. his critics will point out that he tends to be a lot of style with only a little substance, but how can you blame him? he bangs gorgeous blonde actresses two at a time and is adored by millinos over there across the pond. if thats what a lack of substance gets you these days, then bring me a $3000 suit, a haircut, and some of that toothpaste that makes ya teeth go bling! when you smile.

jude's character in this film is even more important that his flashiness. it used to be that in movies, the hero had to be this uber macho roided up hot head, and anything or anyone less than this was a total wuss bag and didnt deserve to save the girl. think rambo, superman, bruce willis, excetera. but in more modern times, the post teenage love drama era, there is a new hero. the smart, smooth, all too confident ladies man. instead of destroying a whole village with a flamethrower and carting off his booty by throwing her over the shoulder, the 21st century leading man makes women faint and fall and pursue him. by outthinking and outplaying women at their own game, this new hero expends much less energy than Early Man. the ramifications of this new hero are astounding. the man doesnt need the fancy car or a big house or lots of guns. the man needs to project confidence and utterly unflappable demeanor to get the girl, finally proving that the best pick up line in the book is a shit eating grin. also see jerry maguire, hitch, spiderman.

charles shyer is most notably the director of steve martin marriage films, ie the father of the bride series. in this film, however, influences from british pop film directors, such as tony scott guy ritchie and numerous other music video producers are easily seen. lots of bright colors, and edits of fast paced artsy short scenes made me feel at times like i watching snatch without the guns and the gangsters. another trick shyer used a great deal were the not so subtle mise en scene billboards when alfie is walking around the city that proudly display large emotion words, such as PERSUASION and DESIRE, in huge letters. these are not typical ways of conveying emotion, but they work kinda like hiding your dirty magazines under the coffee table books in your living room.

stylish and flashy like a pink shirt. highly recommended.

2006-02-21T00:45:00.000-05:00

i believe in lots of things, and other people believe in lots of things too. sometimes those things dont match up, and thats ok, cuz the important thing is that people have something, anything that they believe in. its almost like the answer to why humans were put on this planet is to believe in something. if not, than what are you here to do? make some money? see some girls' tan lines? take drugs? no way man, theres way more to this world than that. something bigger, greater, more powerful than any fist or missile. to find something to follow to our hearts content.

thats what i believe in.

i believe that good sportsmanship is better than bad sportsmanship

i believe in the sanctity of casual, commitment-less relations with beautiful women.

i believe i can fly.

i believe i am not going anywhere after i die.

i believe in the golden rule: he who has the gold should treat everyone the way he would want to be treated.

i believe in hockey.

i believe that hockey will not survive the next 10 years.

i believe that the pen is mightier that the weapons of mass destruction.

i believe that ive learned everything i needed to know about how to get women through the game of poker.

i believe that poker is as much of a sport as window washing.

i believe in the sand beneath my toes, the beach give a feeling, an earthly feeling...

i believe that baseball is the reason why the world hates America.

i believe that the star spangled banner should be played on electric guitar, not sung, before sporting events.

i believe that all professional athletes should play for twenty dollars an hour, and have no bitching fines written into their contracts.

i believe that a well dressed ugly man gets laid a lot more than an underdressed sugar daddy.

i believe that marisa tomei is the sexiest woman alive.

i believe that by june, i will have slept with three of my bosses at the dealership.

i believe that no one will find out, and i will not get fired.

i believe that no one could survive a single day without good friends and good food.

i believe that lists are windows into the depths of the human soul, without all the pesky paragraphs.

2006-02-07T14:55:00.000-05:00

one year ago today (ok, not quite today):

carolina vs. duke is the best rivalry in all of sports. period.

baseball is not anything remotely resembling an athletic activity, so yanks-sox arent even in the running. i mean really, who cares about a bunch of overpaid, overweight dads playing catch.

college football is out cuz all the players are slaves of the money machine called the bcs. all bullshit.

rivalries arent driven by money. rivalries are driven by pride. pride for your school, pride for your teamates, pride for your fans.

pride for the name on the front of the jersey and not the one on the back.

at the end of the day, win or lose, a professional athlete gets paid. his kids eat, his wife shops. and ever once in a while, he gets a spot on mtv cribs. even latrell sprewell.

but rashad mccants doesnt do a throat slash playing against a school 10 miles down the road because he gets a bonus. he does it because he wants a W. no matter what.

north carolina basketball players have no contracts to answer to. no general managers. no agents.

just ghosts.

and banners.

and history.

and while a may paycheck speak louder, the ghosts will not be denied.

ever.

2006-02-02T14:29:00.000-05:00

20 questions:
1. what on earth could cindy sheehan have possibly done to get arrested?
2. has george dubya bush given a single new speech in the past four years?
3. why do girls think the most of guys who treat them the worst?
4. hey canada, now do you get what the blue states were bitching about?
5. is this really stephanie tanner?
6. does anyone have her phone number?
7. does anyone know why jennifer aniston is moving to albany, new york?
8. true or false: the winter xgames are more popular than the winter olympics.
9. the new bond movie doesnt have a villian or babe cast yet. who do you want to see?
10. shouldnt the leader of the free world wear something other than white shirts and navy suits all the fucking time?
11. does anyone really take hillary clinton seriously?
12. where are my pants?
13. whats worse for the sanctity of marriage, a 43 percent divorce rate or two guys getting hitched?
14. if i said you have a nice body, would you hold it against me?
15. why are people surprised that britney spears has gone all white trash on us?
16. isnt she from bumfuck, mississippi?
17. true or false: terrell owens will never win a super bowl.
18. whos better: jj redick or adam morrison?
19. how do you make your last spring break the one to remember?
20. and when i get back, who wants to see pictures?

discuss amongst yourselves.

2006-01-07T01:37:00.000-05:00

i never learned how to smile. i do it all the time. and laugh too. a lot. but whenever someone says hey, get in this picture of two hot chicks, i always get really nervous. cuz at some point, he'll inevitably say cheese or smile or some variation of that and all of a sudden, i have no clue what to do.

my cheeks do a sort of confused shrug and the corner of my mouth nudge them a little in the wrong direction and somewhere along the line, a tooth or two pops out like a super bowl halftime show. and then theres a flash and its over.

i blame it on other people. totally and completely someone elses fault. as with most things, like driving a stick or writing a term paper, someone has to teach you how to smile. i can do it, but only randomly. if someone tells a funny joke, i smile. if a pretty girl looks me in the eye and says hey there hot stuff, i smile. but its not a conditioned response. i cant pull it out of my ass when someone tells me too.

say cheese, muthafuckas.

2005-11-30T12:44:00.000-05:00

you can tell when youve been away too long. when you start thinking in hours not minutes, and in years and not days. we come, we go, but we never stay the same. the high school buddy in the powder blue jersey on tv you havent seen in a lifetime is different, a stranger. he doing big things now, that jersey will take him places beyond his wildest dreams. maybe beyonds yours too.

but when you get to that point, it might seem like youre far off and away, but its doesnt take as much to get back as you might think. actually its just two things.

a leap of faith and a quiet thank you.

ive been gone so long that the parking lot full of cars at work is starting to look a lot like stacks and stack of destroyed denim jeans and long sleeve polo shirts. even the faces are different. you learn something about yourself teaching high school kids to wax and sell cars, but thats another story for another time. lots of new people, to whom i, tenured at a long six months, am the senior salesman. senior enough to get called in when they need help, even if im not availible. i know youre not availible, she said, but i called you on a leap of faith that you might want to come in, even if its just to hang out with me. i said i have to check with my hot date tonight, we'll see.

i walked into the stock room to clock in and put down my jacket. when she saw me her eyes lit up, and she told me to close the door.

what for

she grabbed me and we kissed, under 1979 buicks hanging from the ceiling.

thank you, she said.

maybe thats why we go away, just to come back. just to get back. make that leap of faith so that maybe after ive been away so long, everyone will be so happy to see me. just because i was gone.

thank you.

2005-11-07T12:14:00.000-05:00

by that morning, i had forgotten who she was. the old trick where i go through her purse and look at her drivers license didnt help either. she laid in the bed next to me, wearing next to nothing. i probably enjoyed that part quite a bit last night, but now im not so sure. the only thing i really remembered was how we were introduced and what a long strange coincidence it was.

hi, my name is so and so, and its my birthday.

shes really little, i thought. a short brunette with a few curves in the right places and smooth skin all over. shes smiled, a lot, and she loved to do it. she told me she was on the dance team or was some kinda dancer, and watching her on the floor, it was easy to see why dancing to most folk is the language of sex. it was here in the soft sunlight that i remembered she was quite fluent, and that taught me a few words last night.

it used to be that this was the easy part. the make like a tree and put your pants on part. there was never any shame walking down franklin street on a saturday morning with messed up hair and nowhere to go but home, but today is a bit different. cant quite put my finger on it, not quite yet.

somewhere between the booze and the bed, theres a feeling. a feeling that people tend to only notice when they want to act on it. a feeling like, i want to be next to someone, that being next to someone would be really nice right now. call it lonliness, call it horniness, call it a need for intimacy, call it what you will. but this girl and this guy and a million other guys and dolls felt it last night, so its hard for me to figure out whats so bad about it.

oh wait.

shit

my guitar is laying on the ground, in the corner, all by its lonesome. its stand is across the room, next to my desk. my tv remote is next to it. the bathroom door is slightly ajar, just enough to see my neon green monogramed towels that say MO in huge blue letters. now i know why this scene, this day is different. this is my room, a place where i dont have to put my pants on for nobody. this morning someone will be doing some walking, and that someone wont be me.

2005-11-04T02:05:00.000-05:00

nine months and three days ago today:

i first kissed her on a monday night. the next day was some made up celebration of something called university day, but it got us out of class until 2pm. so we celebrated like we were supposed to.

she sat on the left side and andrew sat on the right side of the couch. i sat right in the middle where i always sit and theres a nice little dip in the padding. she kept getting up to get more vodka. she really really likes vodka.

we were all watching stern but andrew (who is the brit's roomate, and with whom i share a wall) had a test the next day, so he called it a night before the second episode came on. so her and i got some alone time. and i wanted it and i didnt want it at the same time.

she got up to clean something off of the tv and when she came back she straddled me like the extacy girl from garden state when theyre all playing spin the bottle. she really likes that movie, but she gets mad cuz i tell her shes more like zach braff than natalie portman. i just say natalie portman is a brunette duh.

shes just a twenty one yo sophomore with a lot of scars.

i dont know who leaned first, but i remember seeing her eyes close, her head tilting that one way. i remember stroking her cheek with my thumb and rubbing right underneath her ear and she purred. hollywood coulda made a movie out of that kiss.

and the whole time i thought: i cant do this, i shouldnt do this, why is she doing this? why am i doing this?

wow, shes a great kisser. a really great kisser.

i could get used to this.

and then i built up all my courage and what judgement i had left and i ruined that beautiful moment and said do you really want to do this? she looked up at me and smiled.

for everything thats happened, for all those drunken nights. for all the tears and hugs and makeouts and condoms. for all three of us to be bound together like this with no easy way out.

she still hasnt answered me.

2005-10-17T23:32:00.000-05:00

this is the best magazine cover of the last forty years.

id have to agree for a number of reasons.

one:

its rolling stone magazine, a pop culture behemoth hiding in low key print journalism clothing.

two:

john lennon is one of the most iconic figures of the twentieth century. his catalogue with The Beatles, and as a solo artist are untouchable, both in sheer volume and quantity. he set fashion trends, political trends, ideological trends.

three:

while he was sadly taken from us too soon, lennon is one of very very very very very few non political figures whose murder is referred to as an assasination.

four:

lots of artsy fartsy visual stuff. soft focus and medium lighting creates a painting-on-canvas effect. neither of the two bodies are looking at the reader, which places focus on the picture as a whole, rather than the star power of yoko and john. through positioning, gender roles are reversed. while women are usually the ones who are objectified through showing skin, here john is the one whos naked, in the fetal position, no less. its not sexual at all, but in fact it displays him as weaker and powerless compared to the fully clothed, comfortably positioned yoko. you see her barely accepting his embrace, as if he is fully and totally subservient to her. this image of their relationship is supported by the public's image of their relationship during his life; one of a loving, affectionate john and a supportive, noninvasive yoko. powerful stuff.

five:

magazine logo is de-emphasized by using a darker color that blended into the overall feel of the picture. funny thing is, bring out the words 'rolling stone' more would have weakened the image, and consequently, weakened sales.

six:

this cover has nothing to do with the crazy crazy weekend i had. there arent any crowded malls, dirty celebrity apartments, or gay cats in bed with mr and mrs ono, but those are stories for another time and another place.

night.

2005-10-11T11:05:00.000-05:00

nhl hockey
october 2005 - june 2006
oln and fsn

folks, ive been struggling with something for quite some time now.

i think its been about 310 days or so.

thats how long the nhl lockout over collective bargaining took. it was the longest lockout of any north american sports league. ever.

but thats all in the past now.

hockey has returned and its better than ever.

professional level hockey has always been the fastest, most hard hitting, graceful and flowing sport in the world. in a live setting. the problem that hockey has always faced is that all that poetry in motion jazz doesnt translate as well to television. which is just a dumbed down way of saying that american sports fans are an slow bunch and need stoppages of play to keep up.

too bad for hockey that bad tv numbers mean bad numbers on the paychecks too. the nhl has experienced a slow decline in significance to the america sports fan, and that adds up to less and less money for the owners who have to pay the players who want more and more.

something had to break.

the saddest part about the nhl lockout is that hockey has always been a blue collar game. when other major sports leagues has labor disputes, the running joke in hockey circles was that professional athletes should be happy playing for $20 a hour, let alone millions a year. the players lost sight of this ideal, and the players lost big time.

however, we shouldnt lament them too much. the economics of game are now structure so that the league and the players will be able to keep playing for years to come.

the other, maybe greater benefit to come from the lockout process are the new rules of the new nhl. the previous league had gotten so bad, it was almost unwatchable, even for diehard fans like myself. for the non hockey fan, imagine an nfl where linemen can hold, quarterbacks and kickers are free game with or without the ball, and there is no such thing as pass interference. the old nhl game was like that. freeing up the puck carrier, tag up offsides, no two line passes all add up to a faster, cleaner game that is many times more fun to watch. the skaters get space to skate, the shooters get time to shoot, and most importantly, the playmakers get a chance to make plays. cuz even hockey players like to be on sportscenter once in a while.

welcome back.

2005-10-04T22:21:00.000-05:00

kanye west
late registration
produced by jon brion and kanye west
roc a fella records

on the season premier of saturday night live last weekend, the writers filmed mr west come out of his dressing room and walk around backstage before his performance. standing by the coffee and donuts in the back, he just so happened to run into none other than mr mike myers, snl alum and west's screenmate during the hurricane katrina relief telethon where kanye made his now infamous statements, including "president bush doesnt care about black people."

this moment was probably one of snl's cleverest instance of juxtaposition and social commentary ever. and kanye didnt even say a word.

mr west has become quite a polarizing figure in both the music industry and in american culture in general. the hip hop appreciating public talk about kanye because he makes hit records, not only for himself, but for anyone and everyone that he works with. that list is too long and too diverse and too talented to go in this space.

but the way that musicians, or actors, or athletes cross over into the psyche of mainstream america is through force of character and personality. too often, the mass media will address these quais household names only when they piss someone off by being either arrogant or stupid, and wholly unapologetically so. barry bonds and colin ferrell are two good examples of this phenomenon.

mr west's debut album, college dropout was not only critically acclaimed and wildly successful commericially, it did what no hip hop album had done before. it presented the hyper macho self promoting shouting black man with a mic and a quieter, self-conscious, introspective intellectual in the same breath. the world was amazed, and word spread fast that this college dropout would change the face of music forever.

late registration does nothing but support this idea ten fold. kanye's staple beatmaking style, which combines heavily effected soul samples over melodically instrumental tracks are found on two thirds of the album, but never sound dated or over done. 'golddigger,' 'gone' and 'diamonds' are all shining standouts with that classic kanye feel. he brings along on other tracks a familar crew of friends, including jayz, jamie foxxx, consequence, and glc, all of whom made appearances on the first album as well. on top of the regulars, kanye also brings into the fold some newcommers, like the game, nas,paul wall, adam levine of maroon 5, brandy and camron. all in all, a motley crue indeed.

west's second album is not just college dropout 2005 however. kanye's rapping skills have matured exponentially, while his lyrical style and self-exposing content have never been more keen. west also pushes the production of this album to another level, no doubt the result of working with the multitalented and eccentric jon brion. the most convincing change in kanye's beats stems from more melody and musical movement in his tracks. horns, strings, pianos and the like populate nearly all tracks. the last time the music world talked about a producer/rapper who changed the game with melody and pop sensibility, it was dr. dre's the chronic. that album is nothing short of legendary, and in a few years, hip hop fans might say the same thing about late registration as well.

two thumbs way up. enjoy.

2005-10-03T10:59:00.000-05:00

bourbon street bar
333 E Broad St
Athens, GA 30601
september 30 - october 1, 2005

this week is The Week of Reviews here at volume2. sorry, but cinderella on dvd didnt make the cut.

evening, bouncer.

howya doin

heres my id, sir.

studies id carefully

is there a problem?

looks at my shoes, studies some more

son, i dunt thank yew can come in here t'night son. yew gots white shoes on.

(frat boy walks by with white shoes on)

looks at bouncer.

what about him, sir?

well, you gots dem tore up jeans on too son.

(frat boy with ripped jeans walks by)

sir, there must be some kind of mistake here. i just wanna drink some beer man.

well, son, yewr gon haf ta do it sum wur else tnight

look of disbelief.

are you being serious or are you just joking with me?

im sawry, but that thur is the rules. i just werk here.

notices there are only white people at this bar.

well it doesnt seem that those are the rules at all. why dont you tell me what the rules really are around here.

damn, son you got a mouth on yew, doncha now boy?

badass staredown

badass staredown

in case you havent noticed, yewr kind aint real appreciated around here, so why don yew jus run along home now boy.

(crazy drunk friend starts shouting fuck the dawgs, go jackets, dawgs suck, and other such expletives).

sorry for disturbing your kkk meeting. have a good night.

yall take care.

2005-09-27T23:53:00.000-05:00

crash
directed by paul haggis
sandra bullock don cheedle matt dillon jennifer esposito brendan fraser terrance howard chris bridges thandie newton ryan phillippe larenz tate michael pena.

i heard about this movie on mtv. suchin pak was talking to ludacris and all of a sudden he goes hey i have a movie coming out and then i have a nother movie coming out. the first one he was talking about was this one. the second one was hustle and flow.

turns out this one is not really "his" movie, and thats a really really good thing. its another one of those clusterfuck of stars kinda movies, with a starring cast too long to mention in a breath.

at the root of things, crash is about racism. pure blatant unadulterated saying things that everyone thinks but no one has the balls to say in public racism. racism in america, more specifically, and racism in one of the most diverse cities in the world, the city of angels, los angeles.

with so many characters and so many stories and so many plots and subplots, and with how much all of them are intertwined, its hard to pick out defining points. i guess the main theme is that, when it comes to racism and stereotypes and what people think of other people, no one is completely bad and no one is completely good. sometimes people just work hard to be the best people they can be, and fall under extreme circumstances.

sometimes people make decisions for the worse or for the better, and then, in a moment of weakness or strength, completely erase what they did before.

pretty much the best thing about this movie is that there are no heroes, and as depressing as that sounds, its really not that bad. the lines arent black and white (no pun intended), so the audience has to go figure them out for themselves. you leave the theater thinking, and thats the best part.

highly recommended. much better than glitter. enjoy.

2005-09-18T04:03:00.000-05:00

this week in gratuitous pics of fine women:

never mind the dudes. theyre just along for the ride.

2005-09-13T12:30:00.000-05:00

this is the defining moment of the bush administration:

Bush:"I take responsibility."

"President George W. Bush took responsibility on Tuesday for any failures in the federal government's response to Hurricane Katrina that struck two weeks ago and acknowledged the storm exposed deficiencies at all levels of government four years after the September 11 attacks."

Bush takes responsibility for blunders:

"...to the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility..."

read more about it here, and here, but for some reason, not to be found here or here.

2005-09-07T23:50:00.000-05:00

fifteen minutes to one am east coast time. sounds like a tight squeeze, but itll have to do.

ive imposed a one am bedtime for myself on school nights for the rest of the year. i really have a lot on my plate right now, and i dont do any of it after ten, so if im still up this late, im just fucking around my house, watching tv, or worse, blogging. if ive learned anything in three years of college, its that i like to sleep and that i need to get more of it.

anyway, i said that there were some important things that i needed to talk about tonight. these will come a little fast, so see if you can keep up:

katrina: a completely tragic situation. i wish i could do more than donate 15,000 dollars to the red cross.

rehnquist: sudden, but not unexpected. replacing one of the most powerful men in washington is just another thing for bush to fuck up.

bush: hes fucking up. nuff said.

whew, now that we have all that out of the way, lets get back to business.

i got an email yesterday from a kid in dallas wondering why i dont just quit my job at the dealership so i can fuck, i mean date jennifer aniston. he says that she so smokin hot that it would be worth it to be unemployed for a while, wouldnt it?

to that i have to say, yes and no.

i talked before about how it feels when a gorgeous girl whispers sweet nothings in your ear and tells you she wants you. its an amazing feeling, so amazing in fact that, if only for a day or two, i actually asked myself paris who? and really believed that i had forgotten about her.

but the thing is that i really like my job. i think retail sales is highly underrated. ive learned so much in the few months that ive been at the dealership. meeting a bunch of new people everyday, learning about those people, trying to get them to give us a whole lotta money. those kinds of skills are what are important in a real world job, not some piece of paper from a big school with a seal on it.

but dont get things twisted folks. this is not a job i see myself doing for another ten years, like the head manager, syd. he started as a saleman when he was 19 years old and hes going on 234 next month. i plan on not working there anymore sometime within the next year or so, so im not going to say that this job is my priority over all other priorities.

so basically, im saying this. if i were to quit my job now, even for legit reasons like the low pay, lack of hours, and constantly getting hit on by the gay guy in financing, deep down i know that i would also be quitting just so i could date jennifer. doing anything for the sake of following a girl should only be done under the most serious of circumstances, and my little thing with the recently single ms aniston is in no way a serious circumstance. on top of that, quitting just to date her would put tremendous pressure on that relationship to actually work out and last for an extended period of time. let me remind you folks that we havent even been on a date yet. that pressure, in and of itself, is enough to torpedo any relationship, especially one that hasnt even started yet.

so, for now, im just holding steady. i might start casually browsing the classifieds, i might start nonchalantly flirting with her around the office a bit more than usual. or i might not be. we'll see.

2005-09-07T01:29:00.000-05:00

im waiting until im more sober to blog, because i gots lotsa important shit to talk about.

dont hold your breath.

2005-09-03T02:24:00.000-05:00

a litte less than six months ago:

if you come here looking for enlightenment, then surely you must be disappointed.

on a daily basis.

likewise for spirtual nirvana, world peace, and truth.

because frankly, i have no idea what the truth is.

i dont know if i can handle the truth.

because alot of my days are filled with motions without emotions and routine of the worst kind. class food sleep blog class food sleep class sleep food blog sleep.

or something like that.

the ancient story of the phoenix talked about how, after 100 years, this bird would set itself on fire and burn itself into a pile of ashes. and from that same smoldering pile of ashes a brand new bird would come out and do it all over again.

whenever i heard the story i always wondered how he made it to a hundred in the first place.

cuz if get to hang around as long as montgomery burns, then theres gotta be a few decades in there somewhere where shit just wasnt going right. where life was boring and routine and completely without emotion. and then id want to cash in my little burning to ashes routine a few years early, just to get a fresh start if nothing else.

but i think there should be some catches on the whole fire thing. a few simple things, just to make sure when you come back youll know it was all worth it. around the world of emotions in 80 days.

you have to have a really really good day. its has to be 80 and sunny so all the pretty girls are out with little skirts and dresses. and it has to make you feel really good.

then, you have to see one of you friends get hurt. right in front of you. not fatally, but enough for him to writhe around on the ground in pain and scream fuck fuck fuck a whole bunch of times. he has to go to the hospital and you have to wonder if hes ok for a couple of days.

then you have to have the most boring week of your life.

then you have to hear about that girl, that girl that makes your tummy tingle, with another guy. a guy you know. a guy that lives down the street or down the hall. you have to regret ever falling for her and you have lay in bed without food or showering and listen to boyz II men 'end of the road' on loop for three days straight.

and when you come out of your lovesick coma, you have to take a shower and go out with two of your closest friends for a wild night on the town. go someplace where the beer is cheap and flows like wine and theres good loud music. cuz its only in a place like this where good times are born.

and the last thing you have to do is at the end of the night, when its time to go, you look your friends in the eye and tell them you could never have made it through any of this without them. you have to tell them you are leaving and not coming back. not to any of this at least.

and they both understand, because you did make it through.

cuz even though youre leaving behind all the bad things, there are still alot of good things in those ashes too. some of them are good ashes.

and when its finally time, youll turn away and walk down the street alone for the last time. back to your place for the last time. back in your bed for the last time. back of your eyelids for the last time.

and then you wake up and its a brand new day.

2005-08-31T00:57:00.000-05:00

in all the years of my life, i still havent figured out what the best feeling in the world is.

a whole lotta people try to tell me, try to enlighten me. i try to listen to them cuz theyve lived a great deal more life than myself.

my sister says its love.

my female best friend says its love too.

my male best friends says its the heaven between her legs.

my mom says its success. and growing old and wise

i think theyre all wrong.

i dont really have anything to dispute them with. chances are one of them is right about something. maybe its her heaven when you are really old and you really love her. or are in love with her. i could never tell the difference.

but tonight, oh tonight, this fated tuesday night. humid and sweaty, the gods all got in a row and agreed that tonight was gonna be the night.

but first a preface. i believe in fate, but i believe that we control fate. sort of like the watchmaker theory of God, in that he only sets our lives in motion, tinkers here and there to make things work correctly, and pretty much lets things run their course.

i believe fate is more like a used car salesman. he will embrace you, butter you up, hand you a whole bunch of sets of keys, and even let you drive a car or two. but its up to you to choose which car you want. which car you want to pay money to hang around with. which car you want to go home with.

tonight i saw jennifer aniston, my boss at the dealership, at the tuesday night spot and it was completely and totally unexpected. what happened next wasnt as unexpected, but surprising none the less.

she told me

to my face

only a little bit drunk

that she wished i never got hired at the dealership.

i almost just walked away. instead i gave her the look of the devil and asked her why she would even think such a thing.

pinky swear you wont tell anybody at work?

umm sure. is it that important?

important enough to get us both fired.

well neither of us want that so you better tell me.

dramatic pause.

its because im attracted to you.

...

in all the years of my life, i was never sure what the best feeling in the world was.

after tonight, i think i have a better idea.

2005-08-30T00:03:00.000-05:00

its one oh clock in the ay em, so lets get down to business.

id like to thank everyone for all the kind emails regarding the end of my relationship with paris. id print some of them here, but some of the female fans of the now unattached Mo forgot to keep theirs pg-13. i think ill keep those all to myself. again, thanks.

but back to the lecture at hand.

the best advice i ever got from anybody was from a barkeep at wiseguys on franklin street. one night when i was a freshman, two guys got in a fight as his bar, and not being lovers not fighters in this guys bar is a big no-no. i asked him about it and he told me that the one guy slept with the other one guy's ex like four months ago and he was bitter.

well, surely he still has some feelings for someone he was with, i asked.

bro, im about tell you something that will save you alot of heartache and grief for the rest of your life, so pay attention, he shot back.

he snuck to the back of the bar for a second and came forth with a bottle of black label and two clinkers. he poured two shots and raised his glass to me.

you just gotta move on man.

i nodded and agreed. to moving on, i said.

we clinked and we drank and from that day on i try to live by what the wise man from wiseguys told me.

so what if a leggy blonde hollywood socialite doesnt want to date you any more? if there ever was a town full of them, it was this one and you have all the time of youth by your side. hell, the brunette ones are hotter anyway.

and dont forget about the freshmen.

oh, right. the freshman. the best thing about them is that i keep getting older and theyre always young. and theres a whole bunch of them.

cheers to that.

2005-08-29T02:48:00.000-05:00

i have a confession, america.

this is my house on a sunday night

the sunday night before school starts.

these folks are way way too happy.

happy about what, im not sure.

i like to laugh, to have fun, to have a good time too. but sometimes its just not in the cards for that particular night, or just not feeling the whole flow of the party thats going down in my living room.

there so many people here the fire marshall would have our asses in a handbag. hopefully we can still have a good time and no one will get hurt and no cops will show up.

like last time.

its a funny thing, though. when a man is surrounded by his friends, but he has a heavy heart because of who actually isnt there.

and none of them are none the wiser.

every time the door opens and i hear a voice, im sitting in my chair expecting it to be her.

blonde hair.

expensive jeans.

designer handbag in tow.

when the door closes and its just two guys with flipflops on and a case of beer, my heart just sags a little lower than before.

cuz i know shes not coming.

i have an explanation for you, america. paris and i had a nasty, knock down drag out fight for the last four days or so.

and then she broke up with me. which is really a nice way of saying she broke my heart.

in the movie closer, natalie portman's character says this little gem, at the beginning and at the end:

"I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."

at the beginning, shes telling dan why she left new york to come to london. at the end, shes telling dan why shes leaving london to go to new york.

i find myself wishing that things went so smoothly with paris. that she would have cared about me enough, even at her highest point of betrayal and disloyalty that she would let me down softly, with such a simple explanation that didnt require any yelling or screaming or tears or sweat.

i wish that it could have been different.

i wish that things could have been different.

2005-08-27T02:55:00.000-05:00

im sorry
sorry that i let you hurt me

sorry that the only thing i ever did to you was make you happy.

i dont love you anymore.

goodbye.

2005-08-25T01:30:00.000-05:00

today i learned something.

something about the human race.

there are different kinds of people, all different kinds. but they can all be separated into two types.

the ones that can shop at walmart and the ones who cant.

cuz you see folks, if you get in your car and drive somewhere with the intent of buying something, chances are that walmart will stock it and stock it for cheap.

really really cheap.

people that successfully shop at walmart realize this, and know that everytime they step foot through those doors, they will walk out those same doors with whatever they came in search of.

milk shaving cream outdoor chairs goldfish dvds team logo tshirts diet coke diet pepsi digital camera memory cars plants shoes fabrics rugs hammers screw bolts assorted nuts toilet seats and spray paint.

and thats just aisle one.

people that shop at walmart know that they can whatever their hearts desire, if they have the patience to find it.

its patience really that separates the walmarters and the lazy.

cuz people who cant shop at walmart dont have the patience to do something crazy like walking around a store, reading some signs, and locating the everyday goods they need themselves.

the people are also known as spoiled, bratty americans.

half of this country is so used to be waited on, having store managers bending over backwards, businesses giving their shit away for free in the name of customer service that its sickening. i guess thats what happens when you can buy your food. people get lazy and dont respect the art of survival because they dont have to do it anymore.

the previous paragraph was brought to you courtesy of db fucking hayes. hes a smart kid.

if you walk into a walmart and cannot find what you are looking for, or dont have the patience to find it, you should be sent to siberia for a month.

to find your own goddamn food.

to make your own damn tp.

to see how you get along without any dvds, much less cheap shitty old ones.

thatll teach em.

2005-08-24T00:54:00.000-05:00

sin city
directed by robert rodriguez and frank miller
based on the graphic novels by frank miller
jessica alba clive owen benicio del toro bruce willis rosario dawson jessica alba elijah wood mickey rourke michael madsen jaime king jessica alba alexis bledel brittany murphy devon aoki josh hartnett michael clarke duncan jessica alba.

during back to school tax free weekend at the dealership, we were really really busy. i musta sold all kinds of cars in those three days, and the brass noticed.

they gave me a ten dollar gift certificate and a hells yeah you fucking rock.

and with that i bought sin city on dvd on a whim. and by a whim, i mean an intense desire to see jessica alba less than fully clothed.

even if its in black and white.

usually in movies with a whos who of alist stars in the cast turn out to be one giant clusterfuck of too many characters and not enough face time to go around.

this isnt one of those movies.

according to frank millers graphic novel faithful, the movie follows the look, the sound, and the feel of the originals. to which i say in that case, frank miller needs to start making movies.

cuz the look and feel of this one is, in a word, luscious.

the conglomeration of different storylines interesting, in that all these fucked up people with all kinds of shady business are all somehow connected.

the washed up cop and the stripper.

the murderer with a new face and a gang of prostitutes.

i always thought that comics were severly limited in scope. the cartoonish aspect of them allow greater freedom visually, but the movement of the story always depended on the movement of the action, so nothing ever stood still for long enough to learn about any of the characters or what makes them tick.

the voice over narration carried the film nicely. always with a consistent tone to the character and doing enough storytelling to be helpful, but no so much that you feel like youre watching animal planet. a little stream of consciousness sprinkled with some poetry. a nice touch.

frank miller should write a damn blog. it would be the best one ever.

did i mention jessica alba?

2005-08-22T00:37:00.000-05:00

i wanted to stop.

i didnt want to do this anymore.

sometimes mo, the guy who types words and hits publish every night, got lost in the shuffle of the day to day grind.

he slipped between the cracks and nobody could tell you where he was for the better part of a week.

even out at a bar, drinking something yellow that tastes like lemon juice and almonds, i wondered what happened to me.

i started blogging because i was going out of my mind.

i hated being fake and being someone im not just cuz everyone else would think youre weird if you were real.

like keeping it real was some kind of contagious disease that shrank you balls and made all the hair on your body fall off.

or something like that.

of course i dont only date the hottest of hollywood actresses. hell, half of them couldnt even spell north carolina, let alone survive a day here. they are real people though, and there are real people that i am dating. but i have never fucked paris hilton and i dont plan on it.

jessica alba was on leno the other night and her new boyfriends name is cash.

you can hit send on your hate mail now.

but after a while, the blogger became the man.

and the man couldnt tell the difference.

and trying to figure it all out didnt work.

so i ignored the urge.

i went away for a while hoping that going back to the way things were before was what i needed, was what i wanted.

let me tell you, it was boring.

i believe that boredom is the number one killer in america.

but fear not folks.

the boy is back in town.

2005-08-19T23:35:00.000-05:00

it's another hot night, dry and windless. the kind that makes people do sweaty, secret things.

i wait and i listen.

for a while it's as quiet as it gets here. coyote calls from the hills. police sirens, rising, falling, cutting through the traffic's white noise roar.

i hear the jangle of the keys at the door as she comes in...

she glides out of her coat like it was christmas wrapping. playing it for all it's worth. and it's worth plenty. shes got the kind of figure you notice.

its her voice that spoils everything.

a little girls voice, all squeaky and mousy and bubbly and bouncy with false innocence.

i get everything i need.

then can i have a ride? she asks, using her real voice this time, a voice thats left innocence a lifetime behind.

i take redondo over the hill toward old town. it takes longer that way, but i figure she could use the time to settle down. at first all she can do is sob and blow her nose and smoke cigarettes.

she smokes six cigarettes.

the last i see of her, shes fixed her makeup and shes sauntering away, tossing me a wave and wink.

then she blends into the sea of flesh that is old town.

old town. where beauty is cheap provided all you want to do is look. but if youre ready to pay, you can have anything you can imagine.

i hold tight to the wheel to keep my hands from shaking. i pull out and cut back over the hill. out. away.

the damn old town memories, of drunken mornings and sweaty sex and stupid bloody brawls.

you cant just pick and choose. you cant take the good without the bad.

ive got the radio tuned to some lonely hearts talk show, but im not listening. one more time, i sort through the broken pieces of my past. and like always, they come together to form the same, sorry picture.

i think about all the ways ive screwed up and what id give for one clear chance to wipe the slate clean. to dig my way out of the numb, grey hell ive made of my life.

id give anything.

ring!

hello?

is that you?

her.

im sorry to call. i know ive got no right. but i need to see you. tonight. please, dont hang up. please.

she keeps talking.

and like and idiot, i keep listening.

her.
damn.

I should tell her to go to hell, instead i give myself a shave i dont need and i show up twenty minutes early.

her.
damn.

what the hell could she want with me now?

you cant drive two blocks in this city without coming across a saloon. this one's a country joint, the bad kind.

its not the kind of place id expect her to know aobut, let alone go to.

i grab myself one last lungful of night air, then i trade it in for a smoky soup spiced with sweat and vomit and booze and blood.

i know the flavor well.

why here? its not like you. no, with you everything alway had to be first class. all the way. and when i couldnt foot the bill, you sure as hell found somebody who could.

i order up a ginger ale and stare at it for the better part of an hour. shes late, like she always was.

and like always, shes worth the wait.

she asks for some kind of scotch nobodys ever heard of, then settles for what they have. not like her to drink hard stuff. the cigarettes are a surprise too. used to be she couldnt stand the sight of them.

she moves close, all vulnerable, a deer caught in the headlights.

ive got places to go. just tell me what you want.

i must still mean something to you.

no reason at all to be nice about it. not after what you did to me.

i was wrong darling! wrong!

you made your bed. sleep in it.

forgive me, darling. i beg you...

she leans over, but i pull back.

you do that again and i swear to hell...

never mind then, its too late. ill go.

she gets in her car and it drives off.

buddy, i dont mean to poke my nose in where it dont belong, but that there is a dame to kill for. whyd you let her go?

the night air hasnt gotten any colder

it just feels that way.

her.

damn!

- Frank Miller's Sin City: A Dame to Kill For #1, Special Edition.

2005-08-17T01:11:00.000-05:00

tonight i got really drunk and had a good time.

and on the way home, i stood outside in the rain and soaking in every last drop.

2005-08-12T01:23:00.000-05:00

hey, america, you dont send me enough hate mail about the shit that i put out when im drunk. so, im gonna give you some more, biatches.

tonight i met two people named angel. one of them was hot and the other would have been hot if i had a vagina instead of a penis.

the hot one is a waitress at east end martini bar, located at the beginning of east franklin street in chapel hill, north carolina. her friend eva mendes, who happened to be working that night as well, seemed to take a fancy to yours truly somewhere in between the twenty five cent beers and the three dollar amaretto sours.

needless to say ms mendes is only the latest in the string of hollywoods finest whos digits grace my ancient year 2000 cellular device.

thank you, thank you, youre far too kind.

hers actually comes right before the newly and happily single ms aniston's and way way after the soon to be married ms hilton's.

so many fine women, i almost dont know what to do with myself.

fellas, if you guys are scared or nervous or otherwise uptight about meeting beautiful women such as these, i have an easy game for you to play.

its kinda like hot potato, but you dont need any vegetables.

its called the dollar game. and it only works if you are out with friends and you want to see them score a little bit of confidence.

you bet youre friend one dollar, to go up and talk to an attractive woman. the key to this game is that you sincerely want him to talk to her and she sincerely has to be attractive.

if you have the dollar, you have to make the same bet to your friend.

the point of the game is to end up with the dollar. and a few phone numbers at the end of the night.

this game has worked wonders on my own confidence with women, not to mention my nerdy friends' confidence with women too.

you have my money back guarentee.

now get out there and

just do it.

2005-08-11T02:07:00.000-05:00

wednesday nights are always pretty slow nights in chapel hill.

usually, people have to work or go to class or what not on thursday morning, and its not quite the weekend, so people feel guity about having fun.

a slow night in chapel hill is when you walk up and down franklin street for a few hours, and during that whole time you dont come across one single bar or watering hole that has more than four people in it.

its just one of those nights.

one of my roomates came back into town tonight. he was stuck in madagascar drilling for oil with a large multinational. hes glad to be back.

to 2 dollar beers.

and vodka.

and corona.

cuz apparently they dont have those things in madagascar.

at least not affordably they dont.

but even around here, beer isnt cheap til thursday nights anyway.

we'll see how that goes...

2005-08-09T01:43:00.000-05:00

Peter Jennings

rip 1938 - 2005

2005-08-07T23:20:00.000-05:00

im not gonna blog about anything important.

today i really just dont feel like it.

when its this late at night, its all about tv beer and sportcenter.

this whole weekend was tax free weekend here in north carolina, which means that theres no sales tax on back to school items

so a whole bunch of people came into the dealership today and bought a bunch of cars, cuz preowned motor vehicles are back to school items.

of course.

my coworkers call me rookie of the year, partly cuz im damn good at selling cars, and partly cuz i dress like i went in the lottery of the nba draft.

today i had on my purple shirt/pink tie combo, which is always a hit with the fashion conscious and the lady customers.

cuz every girl's crazy bout a sharp dressed man.

even jennifer aniston, who is officially the coolest manager ever.

she wasnt working today, but when she does, i bust her balls for being short and wearing too much jewelry.

its funny cuz she takes it with a smile.

if thats doesnt mean shes into me then i give up america.

oh, and whenever we are talking, she fidgets

and she points her feet towards me.

which women do unconsciously when they are attracted to a guy.

i read that on the internet, so it has to be true.

but to be honest, none of that is really important.

i would talk about something that is

but im not feeling it.

peace out.

2005-08-04T01:20:00.000-05:00

around the horn:

just as like bloggers use their blogs to express themselves and tell stories about their lives, webcomics tell stories with pictures. jeph jacques, who draws questionable content, is by all accounts a super cool guy and an out of this world talent. his site has cool tshirts too, so buy one.

i came across malatron during the unfortunate blogobeef with tony, and even though the circumstances of my finding a blog soup, im very glad i did. i never thought that doing a politinewsblog style without political news would be difficult, but malatron pulls it off effortlessly.

omg omg omg! kevin smith, of silent bob fame, has a fucking blog! too bad he hasnt updated in weeks. come on keving, we want to know about your life. write more!

while there seem to be a bunch of new guys on the blogroll, the veterans are still going strong. db, deets, autumn, tony, e4no and scared bunny are probably the most frequent and consistent bloggers in terms of volume.

jess always leaves nice comments and has for a long time, so she rules.

teyden is a guy that amazes me with every single post hes ever written. he calls them fairy tales and its true.

paige has a new layout, sort of.

dave and ryan keep me up to date on sports happenings.

all of them are great reads and you should definitely check them out.

postsecret and preshrunk arent really blogs, per say, but they do their own thing and are awesome of that.

oh, and yes i have links to myself in my blogroll.

get

over

it.

2005-08-02T23:37:00.000-05:00

hi job

hi there! how are you doing today?

im fine...

thats great! i just wanted to let you know that we're have a great sale today! you could save up to $500 on a car!

umm thanks, but im not really looking for...

well, what kind of pre owned vehicle are you looking for today?

umm, job, thats what im supposed to say when im doing you. not you.

thats great! so, what do you want in a car?

dammit job, shut up, im trying to do an interview here.

sigh. sorry mo, im just trying to do what they tell me to do.

what do you mean, job?

well they have all these numbers and standards and things to do for people that do me. they have to say hi! to all the customers that come in, even when theyre twelve or ninety and obviously arent gonna buy anything. i really dont think its effective selling.

well what do you think could be better about you?

i just think that the used car business bases their performance standars for thier salespeople on the wrong kind of numbers. like theres total sales, even though all the people that are at the lot who are doing me on a certain day arent all actually selling cars. some of them are greeting, some of them are doing test drives, some are doing paperwork...

sounds harsh.

thats not even all. then theres conversion, which is the rate of people that come on to the lot that drive off the lot with a car that we sold them. and no matter what, we always always have to do better on conversion. its never good enough.

well maybe you should quit bitching and get better at your job.

well maybe you should quit bitching about paris so damn much. she aint even on this continent right now.

wtf? how did you know about that?!?!?!

mo, everyone knows about that. get over it. move on. you know that manager jennifer?

jennifer aniston? the hot one?

yeah, shes totally into you.

really?

yeah.

hmm, i guess youre not so bad after all, job.

damn straight. hey mo.

yeah?

could i interest you in a nineteen ninety...

shut up job.

2005-07-30T02:28:00.000-05:00

six months ago tomorrow:

i used to go to church we i was a little kid, like 8 or 9 years old. i never saw what the whole big deal was about god and faith and all that, but im pretty sure that all the confusion was mostly cuz they spoke in a different language at the church.

one day i was going outside to get some change from the car. this older kid, who was probably like twelve, was walking towards me on the walkway, which was just a narrow strip of concrete. it had rained that morning, and the grass on both sides was soggy and muddy.

there wasnt enough room for both of us and we bumped on the way by. it was on.

i had kept walking, but he came up behind me a gave me a good shove into the wet grass. he backed up, and before i could get up, he hop-stepped into a 95-yard field goal with my spleen. i puked up what i though were my intestines.

he bent over in my ear and started mumbling some trash talk when i turned over and swung for his face. i caught two knuckles right on his upper lip with a nice crack.

he screamed jack the ripper bloody fucking murder. he cried and grabbed his face with both hands and saw rosy red on his fingers and cried some more. i was rolled up fetal style in the soggy grass. i thought i was dead.

moms and dads and aunts and uncles came out of the church like kids on the last day of school. our shrieks had broken the solemn silence of prayer. they found one barely standing, bleeding from the mouth, one curled up and muddied in the grass, barely breathing.

his name was christian, and i never saw him again.

and with that it was done. the bible thumpers had lost one of its promising ranks forever.

i filled my life with other things to keep me happy. and sane. i turned to sports and had fun. i turned to music and wrote songs. a few years later i got a job and made money. i had moved on, i thought.

lots of blood and lots of sweat, but not alot of tears. not as many as that day at least. and that made me feel a little better.

god and faith and all that means something different to me today than before, but not that much different. i still don't own a copy of the bible. not because i used all the pages for tp, but cuz of the walrus and the carpenter via loki, angel of death himself:

Now in the poem, what do they do... what do they do? They... They dupe all these oysters into following them and then proceed to shuck and devour the helpless creatures en masse. I don't know what that says to you, but to me it says that following these faiths based on mythological figures ensures the destruction of one's inner-being. Organized religion destroys who we are by inhibiting our actions... by inhibiting our decisions, out of... out of fear of some... some intangible parent figure who... who shakes a finger at us from thousands of years ago and says... and says, "Do it - Do it and I'll fuckin' spank you. "

he has a point, but then again, loki is the always paradoxical embodiment of the killer angel, so don't take his word as gospel.

don't take anything for gospel.

traumatic childhood experiences are shrink fodder and since im no shrink i wont even go there. but one thing i do know is that i haven't met anyone named christian since that day at the church.

for their benefit, i hope i never do again.

2005-07-28T23:15:00.000-05:00

tsar lyric of the night!

if you wanna rock los angles
you gotta live with your mom and dad

2005-07-28T01:28:00.000-05:00

dear mo,

i want you back. i dont want you to leave yet. id be a shame, after all those years, that things would have to end like this. i dont want to do the few months a year when you feel like it routine anymore. you the only one who ever understood me, who ever gave me the proper props. everyone back in high school took me for granted. all the kids would sit by the pool and get tan and run around and be crazy for three whole months out of the year and not even realize that their best years would be soon behind them and that i would be gone sooner then they thought.

people only miss me when theyre forty and stuck in a cubicle somewhere and daydreaming cuz they are bored. you miss me even when im still here for you, and i can never thank you enough for that.

im the perfect companion. im warm, fun, easy on the eyes. i give you all the time and space in the world and dont ask for anything in return. what more could you want?

hell, throw and egg out on the street and ill fry it for you.

i know you have a job now, mo, but that doesnt mean its more important than your life or your happiness. i want you to know that no matter what happens, ill always be here for you, whenever you need me. just wait til the months start starting with jay and yoo and thats where youll find me.

love,
summer.

2005-07-27T00:21:00.000-05:00

goodbye summer. i cant hang out with you anymore. its not allowed. i have to be grown up now and work and make money and shit like that. sorry.

job? yes summer i have a job now. if you wanna be so picky about it, it involves used cars and selling them. no, it doesnt pay well and no, i dont care.

yes, i know that you are the fucking shit summer. ive already blogged about that, a whole bunch of times. the only real cure for the aches of the world could only be a few months of you, summer. so many times that the old folks that dont get to hang out with you in june july and august anymore.

to be honest with you, i dont even know what im doing selling cars. ive never done it before, but after i turned in my application, sid's preowned vehickles called me back and said i was hired without so much as an interview or a care in the world. it was kinda weird, but i took it anyway.

i just need some energetic people who really wanna turn it up on sales, sid said. at the staff meeting he and the other managers were jumping up and down and being really silly in the hopes of looking like those energetic salesfolks. they didnt pull it off.

sid called the company goals 'non negotiables.' maybe its me, but that doesnt sound very positive and energetic and shit like that, but hey, ive been working here for two days and theres no way in hell im rocking the boat already. the discount is too damn good.

the job itself shouldnt be that hard though. i would imagine that its a lot like selling jeans or ice cream at the mall. get in the customers face as much as possible and ask open ended questions. at least thats the impression i got from orientation. i guess we'll find out.

so, again, im sorry summer. i have to put in a lot of hours in the next few weeks, so that means we're pretty much over.

goodbye.

2005-07-26T02:31:00.000-05:00

this week in gratuitous pics of hot women:

2005-07-25T00:30:00.000-05:00

the call came thru on the double secret golden cell phone around three forty three in the am. i only carry it when im on call, or have a night off. charlie never ever calls the golden cell phone, i thought. where the hell is tmobile and why isnt charlie calling him.

baby, isnt it your night off, she said.

hold on, i have to take this. its charlie.

just when i was about to lay into him for interrupting my night off, charlie said that tmobile was in the hospital and he was in pretty bad shape. before charlie could say go go gadget guitar i was out the door. i hoped into the grungemobile, cranked up band girls money and blazed off.

tmobile looked like shit. he was lying in the hospital bed, passed out, barely breathing. his face was twisted this way and that. it was obvious he was in a lot of pain.

what happened doc?

your sidekick is lucky to be alive. hes been tortured quite badly. hes suffered a noogie, two atomic wedgies, and multiple indian rugburns on his arms and legs.

oh geez doc, is he gonna be ok?

well, thats not all. it appears that whoever did this to him also gave him a third degree titty twister. it the worst ive ever seen.

seeing tmobile lying in his condition, i knew there was only one person who could be responsible for all of this. i got back in the grudgemobile and called charlie.

charlie, i need a locator trace on Lownote and the Bassballs.

mo, you mean the subwoofer thugs?

yeah, they were last spotted at the best buy on the highway.

ok, im there.

lownote and the bassballs are the most notoriously savage subwoofer thugs on the block. while most of the other gangs of subwoofer thugs hang out at small audio shops and only rock twelve inchers, lownot does not fuck around with that small time shit. his gang hits up only the biggest best buy stores around and bang out with fifteen inch speakers out of their ragtag caddies. even with both les pauls and a new stack of marshalls, tmobile would have obviously been outmatched, and now hes lying in the hospital.

it was time to teach lownote and his boys a lesson.

they were all in the parking lot, huddled around a circle of cars, talking loudly and saying bad words and scaring all the customers that were going in the best buy. when i pulled up, lownote tried to play it cool, while give me a harsh look through squeezed eyelids.

long time no see, daysleeper.

its time for you to get outta town, lownote. and take your balls with you.

one of his henchman lunged at me, but lownote held him back. he had a cold smile.

heard bout ya boi tmobile. got hurt o' sumthin'. hows he doin' up in dat hospital an' shit.

hes doing alot better than your gonna be, lownote.

the bass balls each grabbed their chains off their necks and attacked. swinging platinum and gold maces were no joke, but i came prepared. the les paul easily blocked and shielded away the chains, and with a few deft swings of the mighty six stringer, the gang was down.

lownote stood and watched, and was disgusted and couldnt believe what he saw. once his last henchman went down, he cried. and cried and cried like a little baby cuz he was scared.

please, sob sob, please daysleeper...

shut up lownote.

he turned and ran for his car, but he was too slow. just as he got to the door, i grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him in the trunk. i dont know if he got out or not...

in the back seat was a stack of brand spanking new PSP's that the thugs had hustled out of the best buy. as i walked away, i slipped one under the trenchcoat.

thanks lownote, i said.

theres a guy i know in the hospital that would love one of these

2005-07-24T01:05:00.000-05:00

fuck shit ass bitch cunt shooby deh doo wop

there once was an episode of south park where the little eight year old construction paper boys said the word shit over 4445869 times. but the moral of the story was that cursed words really are cursed, in the harry potter dungeons and dragons kind of way. and at the end, since the kids said curse words so many times, the dragons and the monsters were unleashed, and almost destroyed the whole town. so they told everyone to stop saying shit just because they didnt want to get knocked the fuck out by some monsters. what a bunch of pussy ass bitches.

yeah, i watch south park. get over it.

trey parker and matt stone are goddamn geniuses. really really funny and talented and smarter than 99.857 percent of people running this country.

no, this is not a review of south park. sorry.

im just trying to be as offensive as fucking possible, you ass fucking shit heads.

cuz you see america, that big, hi im double the size of any other spike on the graph spike is from the day after i made up with the blogfather don blogeone tony pierce and he put the Volume 2 name on his today specials. which, if i were a dumbass eight year old kid in bumfuck colorado, i would interpret as if you piss off somebody, or do or say something offensive, people will pay more attention.

and bloggers are the kind of attention whores only rivaled by eric cartman.

kenny would be pretty bad too, but we never know what he is saying.

if he had subtitles, the fcc would be all over their bitch ass like whoa.

fawkers.

2005-07-22T20:18:00.000-05:00

ive been a bad bad boy. i always wondered what it would be like to be in this position. a position where you can take what you want from others and not feel a thing.

dont worry folks, all parties have given written consent to be taken advantage of.

they always told me that being mean to other people is not the way to live life. that the way to be a good person was to play nice and give a damn what others thought of you and gasp when someone has something to say and say sorry sorry sorry i change ill go ill wait for you whenever at the drop of a hat. well i dont like that, and i dont think i stay that way.

i was starting to get tired of being the reliever. the clean up man. take whats broke and fix it and be quick about it. i was good at it, but its a thankless job and i hated it. the pay is horrible and theres no dental insurance. and the perks are few and far between, so why would i even bother with dealing with people who dont give a damn about you for that?

sorry, couldnt answer.

its a much better situation for me now. i can do and choose as i please. i can have standards and tell someone who doesnt meet them to go fuck a horse, cuz you two look like you were meant for each other. and if i break a few eggs or windows or mirros here and there, i dont ever have to hear about it or deal with it or any of that kind of bullshit, cuz quite frankly its not my problem.

hi. you'll do.

when moses parted the red sea, after he made sure everyone got across, he let the waters close and cause a big mess with the egyptian soldiers and their horses and such. but whatever, not that big a deal, right? if terrell owens can say that people hating him is like people when they hated jesus, then i should be able to break hearts and not catch any grief about it. im sorry, but it comes easy now. ive learned the ropes. ive gone through it, and now i put others through it.

i dont feel bad, but because of that, should i feel bad? should i be whining and moaning about how i dont whine and moan anymore? of course not. thats just the old self talking. hes a fucking idiot, if you see him on the street, give him a swift kick in the bollocks for me and tell him to grow the fuck up. cuz the world is growing up everyday, and if he doesnt keep up, he'll be stuck with clean up on Aisle Whatever till the cows come home. im tired and im tired of waiting for that guy. lifes more fun when youre having fun anyway.

mo, whats wrong with you? why are you acting this way? i dont like it.

guess what lady?

you can go fuck horse.

2005-07-21T21:57:00.000-05:00

from the obituaries:

Tony Pierce and Mo's Blogobeef
7.18.05 - 7.20.05

The Blogobeef between the Blogfather Tony Pierce and an up and coming young blogger named Mo was a small misunderstanding that led to an ugly online exchange of blogger chestpounding over the span of two days in July. It was thankfully shortlived, due the mutual respect that both Pierce and Mo have for each other.

The beef began with this post by Tony, who also made comments that directed the post towards both Mo and DB Hayes of Frozen Toothpaste fame.

Mo and DB wrongly interpreted the comments as personal insults, and fired back with posts here and here.

The responses led to another series of nasty comments from all parties, and expanding to others such as malatron, boys wear pants, and shane nickerson.

At this point, Mo realized the absurdity of the entire situation and was moved to apologize and end the beef. He then sent a heart-felt email to the Blogfather, which said, among other things:

if it's respect you want, sir, than it's respect you shall have. I owe you at least that much for everything you have done for me. Your link shall go high, in the utmost place of respect, and have a clever line to go along with it. I might even think of it myself.

To which Tony replied with the email posted yesterday.

Since then, Tony and Mo have exchanged more emails, further clarifying the situation. Pierce's only goal was for those who respect the Busblog to give credit where credit is due, while Mo simply did not want his contributions to the blogosphere diminished on account of his influences.

In gracious acts of respect, Mo changed the Busblog link to high atop the sidebar, while Tony placed Volume 2 high atop his "todays specials."

In conclusion, for the main parties involved, the Blogobeef has thankfully passed away. In paying last respects, readers should stop taking sides, and go on reading both the Busblog and Volume2 as enthusiastically as ever.

2005-07-19T23:03:00.000-05:00

dear mo

right on.

i look forward to the link, and nothing more needs to be put up there
than "busblog" anything else you put next to it is gravy.

i appreciate the nice words that you have just said and i realize that
all the people who gank my style are complimenting me. as i said in my
post that started all this, i realize i am a flawed person and i want
the proper respect.

perhaps its the fact that i have grown up among three types of people:
the chicago italian american community - read into that what you will,
and the black and mexican gangs of la. all three of those groups hold
one thing sacred: respect.

thank you for this email and i look forward to what you do with your
blog,

tony

2005-07-19T02:09:00.000-05:00

apparently folks, ive been ripping off someone and havent been very keen about it.

someone very very famous.

famous for doing certain things.

like, oh, say, writing the best fucking blog in the whole entire universe.

and england too.

and every time he links me, i skeet skeet all over myself. right after i jump up and down like a damn fool for five or ten minutes. i just cant help it.

i go to check my site meter on that day and see that twenty more people than usual actually read this shit just cuz of that.

which would bring my daily total up to twenty two.

i would be lying out my ass if i said tony pierce of los angeles, california isnt the single biggest influence on my blogging. ever.

and i could never thank him enough for telling me about TSAR, the saviors of rock and roll.

and posting pics of karisa.

but to be blunt, tony fucking pierce is the last person on earth that i thought would be bitching and moaning about what other peoples blogs look like.

because guess what folks, if you read this blog before i changed the url and layout and everything about it a few months back, you wouldnt have read it very much.

because it sucked. hard.

but one day i came across this list of rules.

it was a post. on some blog that looked very clean and neat.

and it was called HOW TO BLOG. read it, theres a reason why its in all caps. on my blogroll too.

and that single post has been my blogging bible ever since.

i try to follow these rules as best i can but its hard. especially the cry sing fight scream fuck part.

but master pierce's recent rant makes me think that hes not minding one of his very own rules.

lets have a look-see at what tony's rules would do:

8. dont worry very much about the design of your blog. image is a fakeout.

ok, tony. if im not supposed to worry about my design, then why are you doing it for me? holding others to a standard to which one does not hold himself is down right george w bush-like of you, tony.

so now, im really gonna rip off tony. by calling bullshit where i see it.

bullshit.

i like the way your blog looks, and i like my blog the way it looks. if you wanna cry about it, thats not my problem.

my problem is when you think that your astronomical hit counts entitle you to say that every blogger that doesnt capitalize and uses line breaks for emphasis and copies photos from where everyone else gets photos is implicitly trying to live your life. i dont want to be you, tony pierce. i never have and never will. db doesnt either.

you better check yo self before you wreck yo self.

i am represent the east coast, make no mistake about it. la is not on the east coast and neither is tony.

my hometown team wins championships. tony's doesnt cuz he's a cubs fan.

i dont go to baseball games.

i dont get things shoved up my ass. not even by doctors.

i dont do photoessays or podcasts or any of that shit cuz believe it or not, maddox was right about certain things.

i own a car.

and i drive it to work everyday.

tony, i love your blog and i enjoy reading it multiple times a day. the busblog has changed the way i blog, and therefore has changed my life. but the only thing your little bitchfest proves is that los angeles is nothing but a town of egos.

if the blogosphere were the lakers, tony, you would be kobe right now.

so im gonna tell you the same thing db told you.

i wouldn't change for you. not in a million years.

2005-07-18T21:44:00.000-05:00

once upon a time, it was 10 forty four at night. that gave mo sixteen minutes to talk a whole lotta shit. the haters didnt like it, and they went ahead and fucked off. ready? set?

go.

monday night tv is unusually bad. well, maybe just tonight cuz usa network was dumb enough to have only one episode of svu to make room for the first wives club, a movie about a bunch of gold diggers that get mad when they get divorced and get nothing. fooled at their own game and somebody's gonna pay.

last time i checked, people have hated that movie since 1995.

this new show, miami ink, looks promising. a show about a tattoo shop thats not about the technically challenging and uber intricate world of tattoos

ive been sitting in front of the tv quite a bit lately. im not so sure thats a good thing. hell, im sitting in front of the tube as i write. let me tell you about my sweet bachelor pad setup.

-sony 36 inch flat screen
-onkyo six point one channel surround sound w/ 400 watt 10 inch sub
-digital cable with dvr hbo showtime but no skinemax
-xbox
-two playstations
-a dvd rack thats taller than me

yeah, get jealous bitches.

howard stern is tickling a fine white woman in a yellow bikini. shes strapped down tight in the Tickle Chair. oops, when booie gave her water he, um, accidentally spilled water down her chest, so it flowed down between her large large mams. apparently, she had a movie coming out, and by promising her plugs is how howard got her in the chair. national lampoon's gold diggers? she says shes in a bikini in the movie too, so people should go see it.

tiger woods is the fucking man. he will win a total of twenty five majors, but will only have one kid. he wont be any good at golf.

im writing a recap of Wimbledon for a small monthly magazine. hey, when nobody at the mall wants to hire you, a mans gotta make some money somewhere. even if its freelancing for an ezine thats two months behind espn and all the others. oh well.

jessica alba came over last night. yes, she got tanked. no, i did not let her drive home. we just stayed up really late and, um, talked. about truth, beauty and beautiful lies. she likes ben and jerrys ice cream and i just happened to have some. she would lick the spoon clean really slowly, with her whole tongue every time.

it was, in a word, luscious.

2005-07-15T01:45:00.000-05:00

tsar lyric of the night:

its hard to take a stand
with all the women in your lap
oh, look at those hands
man, you coulda been champ

2005-07-14T00:09:00.000-05:00

two fer tuesdays mean early wednesdays

the kind of early where its still dark outside

single digits on the clock

brought to you by the letters ay and em.

and those early wednesdays make for late late afternoons.

the kind where people are still at work.

the people who actually work.

because some of us dont.

dont be jealous.

late afternoons of laziness and watching the telley make for rainy early evenings.

the kind of rainy early evenings where, right after you hop out of the shower, all dried off and smelling good, all dolled up to finally get out of the house, out of a sunny clear sky the waterfalls start coming down in a crash of thunder and lightning.

hurry up and wait a little bit longer.

rainy early evenings make for crazy time.

the kind of crazy time where you make up games like headstand darts and stair surfing.

there was this one time i just stood outside on the porch and watching the rain for like 15 minutes.

didnt say a word.

it was really humid and it was really hot.

i just thought

bout time those trees got a shower.

i wonder whos winning the ants and bugs boat race.

how come God's halogen light bulbs only last like a second? no wonder he has so many.

and then i thought to myself.

what a wonderful world.

2005-07-13T00:55:00.000-05:00

i went out to the bars tonight. actually just one bar, the one bar called hes not here. on tuesday nights its the place to be because no one else has cheap beer on tuesday nights.

i met up with a girl i know there. it happened to be her bday, the big one niner, so i decided to buy her underage ass jaeger shots all damn night. we had a few large cups of really cheap beer in between as well. her indian friend and designated driver for the night was really cool. i taught them both how to play darts because if im a bad ass mutha fuckah at anything, its throwing darts at a dartboard. those things are dangerous around drunk people though. you better watch out, you might poke your eye out with one of those things.

i dont use pickup lines. ever. the easiest way to meet people (read: pretty little girls) is to be completely honest, even when you are trying to pick them up or get the digits or show them your newly washed sheets within hours of meeting them. im no casanova, so boys, stop emailing me asking about how to get pretty girls to notice you. a magician never gives away his secrets, and im not telling you the double secret magic failsafe lines that always always get the ladies acting like they think you are and interesting human being.

if i did have any advice for the hopeless and romantically lost, it would go a little sumthin like this:

-stop wearing the same thing everyone else it wearing. its like camoflauge. it makes you blend in with the crowd, and you dont want that.

-stop saying the same thing everyone else is saying. the hottest of the opposite sex dont care about how many beers you can drink or about how you got soooooooo tanked last night that you puked all over your room. keep your bodily fluids to yourself.

-stop thinking the same thing everyone else is thinking. if youre in a meat market bar/club/nightspot, everyone is thinking the same thing. if you have a different mindset (read: not trying to fuck the nearest thing with two legs) people will notice. ask what shes drinking, ask her if she knows this song, ask her why her friend is being so drunk and making an ass of herself.

those tips come with a money back guarentee, haters. dont be mad at me just cuz my only bad habit is coming home with more numbers and goodbye smooches than you do.

cat wasnt hanging out with any of her friends though. the frat boy sitting next to her nursing his booze could barely keep his head up. the picnic table could carry on a conversation better than he could.

shes working over the summer. some kinda internship where you get coffee and answer phones, but you get to write it down on your resume and it looks good. she hates it, just like she hated blade runner when we watched it in film class. i said whatever you luv you some harrison ford.

she said no, i like edward norton.

i said me too and she smiled.

dont playa hate! playa par ti see paight!

seacrest out.

2005-07-11T23:58:00.000-05:00

dear the game of baseball,

i think you are great.

exceptionally amazing, even.

nothing could be finer than you.

only a sport as great as yourself would have so many loyal fans and have so many people talk about you so much.

only the greatest athletes in the world play you. take for examples such finely tuned athletic machines like david wells, pudge rodriguez, man-ram, jason giambi, and last but not least, the retired john kruk. pulling off so many incredible things on the field, like catching and throwing a ball, i can see why people would easily pay money to see these guys play you, baseball.

and hell, president bush, the greatest president of all time, used to own part of a team that played you.

really though, why else would so many people watch so much of you all the time?

like a game every single day? sometimes two?

because the thing is, during the long hot summer months, there are so many other things in the sports world that sports fans could be watching.

like hot dog eating contests

and bicycle crashing. i mean racing.

and poker!

but the fact that you manage to overpower all those massively popular sports with their massively loyal fanbases is truly astounding. an accomplishment for the ages.

its almost as if people have nothing better to watch.

oh, but your genius doesnt stop there, baseball. everyone knows that you are so much incredibly longer than other sports leagues at over 180 games a regular season, almost all of those games are played during the national football leagues's offseason. a hugely popular television sport on weekends when people watch tv like the nfl isnt any competition at all, cuz you dont play games during its season.

what a genius plan! only you could come up with something like that, baseball!

and when the nfl season does start, you just have a knack for getting those playoff games going. cuz nothing makes the anchors at espn cream their drawers like the playoffs. who cares about the start of nfl, nba, nhl and college basketball seasons when your playoffs are on?!?!

and after avoiding all those other wannabe sports during the offseason, you are still so great that news guys will even talk about all the training you do in the spring, before the next season of you even starts. during march fucking madness, no less.

and then, when your season finally does start, people dont even talk about the nba playoffs, or the nhl playoffs, or the finals, or the championships, cuz who wants to watch those when sports fans can watch the first fifty meaningless games of your season?

your front office is legendary. you never let the players union push you around on anything, like salary caps, trade deals, contract restructuring, or substance testing. and you handle player discipline in such a timely manner. whenever a player appeals a suspension, your administration always always reviews it within the next few months. and meanwhile, suspended players can even play in the all star game, if they so choose, because suspended players have rights too. no other sport has administrators that are as compassionate and as understanding as yours, baseball.

you know what, when you take a step back, and look at all the great things you accomplish, its truly awe-inspiring how you manage to have so many fans, baseball.

keep up the good work.

love,
mo.

2005-07-11T00:49:00.000-05:00

five months ago next week:

dont hate the player, hate the games. or more specifically, learn to play the games and quit your bitching.

when we grow up, we watch sappy movies and listen to sappy music. moms tell their sons to be nice to women, and dads throw away keys on their daughters chastity belts. we like how at the end of the movie, the pretty girl and the nerdy, but good hearted guy always always end up together and its always always the right thing and the right way to end the movie. girls cry, and guys cry inside and believe for years and years that our hearts will never lead us astray. that our hearts are pure and all knowing and work in a small enough office with our brains that they can conference whenever they need to and always come up with the right solution to every problem.

hey, even motley crue and poison sang love songs. thats not who they were and we knew that, but we liked those songs and bought those records anyway.

i dont like telling a girl that i dont want to go out when i really do, but that brings her back over to my place next week and makes her want to kiss me. i cant explain it, and frankly i dont want to. its a game, it doesnt make sense. like baseball.

so you should take love just as seriously as a game.

just do it.

2005-07-07T23:03:00.000-05:00

people have hangups. everyone has hangups. you have hangups. your mom has hangups. every human being is born aware of itself, and when a human being grows up and finds a mirror, they find out that being aware of oneself isnt all that its cracked up to be.

yes, even pretty girls have hangups.

usually more than most.

now im not gonna pull a matt lauer and act like i know the history of psychiatry, but people have problems with themselves because they are crazy. we have a tendency to worry about things that we shouldnt waste brain power over, and forget about the things that truly matter. cuz we are crazy. kobe bryant has three very large, very rare rings and the only thing that middle school kids know about him are the lies that mom and dad say about him like, hes black you cant trust him, or hes rich you cant trust him, or the worst, hes a sinner.

new flash folks. kobe does not give a flying two shits what you think about him. which makes me wonder, why cant we all be like that? michael jordan made a commercial a long time ago in which he simply says "i have missed hundreds of shots in my career" is he hung up about it? what do you think?

are you scared someone doesnt like you? hmm thats a tough question, heres a tougher one.

why?

what difference does it make if other people, those crazy people, with their own problems and their own hangups, point at you and have the gall and nerve to say anything about you and your hangups?

we are all crazy, in one way or another. we all have problems, we all have issues, and none of us are better than any other one of us because of them. so, you can choose to do one of two things

worry your life away

or

be beautiful.... to yourself.

2005-07-07T01:11:00.000-05:00

tsar lyric of the night:

i saw you on monday
your eyes were blue
i think youre perfect the way that you are
but its strange how youre always
taking things so hard

2005-07-05T23:38:00.000-05:00

i know that you might think mo has quite a reputation for partying, america. it would be easy to see why. heres an example. and heres one and heres another one.

but to tell you the truth, i was a good little boy this weekend, and it turned out to work in my favor.

this weekend there were a good number of things that mo could be celebrating in his usual manner, on top of the fact that it was the weekend. hmmm where should we begin...

there was a concert on saturday called live 8. if you didnt know, this show was a ripoff of the charity concert liveaid held in 1985 to raise awareness for aids and hiv and such. what better way to do that than to have freddie mercury and queen absolutely rock the fucking house with a piano and white lyrca tights. this goaround of the concert was to influence world leaders at the G8 summit to cancel massive amounts of debt to third world countries in africa. good stuff.

the mtv coverage sucked, obviously. too many commericials, too many vjs, too much talking and not enough showing of, um, the concert. they were dumb enough to cut Pink Floyd's set off in the middle of a fucking song to go to a gd commericial. really smart, mtv. cut off the biggest song of the biggest reunited band in the world to pay some fucking bills. i hate mtv.

and then theres the birthday of a nation. this nation, our nation, to be exact. the fourth of july is always a great excuse to go outside and grill some meat, drink some beer, and blow some shit up with matches and various explosives. all these celebrations are great, because they remind us that we indeed have the liberty to do such things, and its that liberty that this country was founded on two hundred years ago, and upon which this country stands today.

no animals were harmed during mo's weekend celebrations.

2005-07-04T17:01:00.000-05:00

happy fourth of july everyone.

hooray america!

2005-07-03T01:02:00.000-05:00

garden state
2004
written and directed by zach braff
zach braff, natalie portman, peter sarsgaard, method man

yes, i know ive already posted this picture before, but it wasnt really relevant to the post. this time, thats not the case. get over it.

the first time i viewed this film, i held hands with a pretty blonde girl curled up under a blanket on the futon in my dorm room at school. that made me feel good, enough to not pay as much attention as i should have.

zach braff seems like the kind of guy that he plays on tv and in this movie. the cool, calm everyman who is looking for what any of us is looking for and feels the same kinds of things we feel. even when he got punk'd, zach never really pulled the omg im a hollywood star how could you embarass me on national tv routine, but instead he was pissed cuz he buddy donald faison got him good and it was funny.

zach is the kind of guy you could go out and have a few beers with, and by the fourth or fifth one you would think that hes one of the guys, and forget that hes actually a big hollywood actor slash director slash writer slash power that be.

this movie is at its heart a love story. its hard to see that til the very very end though, because braff and natalie portman's characters are so unique and so quirky that i paid more attention to them and trying to figure them out instead of their interaction with each other and their blossoming love. awww how cute.

dont be fooled, though. it is the interactions that drive this movie. largemann has to go home again, and dealing with the estrangment of his former home is half the film by itself. large also deals with his own character flaws, like dealing with his mothers death, wondering if he really is crazy, and coming out from underneath his fathers clout. even while hes mixed up in all of this internal conflict, he still is able to meet sam, who is just as fucked up in the head as he is, and they going along the path of enlightenment together.

oh, and method man's cameo is the coolest low key apperance ever.

two thumbs up.

2005-07-01T23:36:00.000-05:00

one of these days, i think ill figure it all out. you know, everything. everything thats fit to blog about and some things that really arent.

did you know, america, that in england, the word used to comment on the attractiveness of the opposite sex is 'fit'? its not hot or fine or damn look at that booty like we use, those crazy brits with their crazy accent say fit.

like wow, look at that blonde in the pink top. shes fit.

they say other crazy shit too like bird and pikey and taking a piss, which doesnt mean what you think it means.

its funny how sometimes you can hear a person talk, and talk with them and exchange words, but at the end of the conversation, you have no idea what that person just said.

some kinda crazy two way double talk.

verbage pump head fakes.

crossover spin juke sentences.

or something like that.

once you get used to the verbal gymnastics, its easy to communicate. but just like real gymnastics, or even rhythmic gymnastics, you have to work at it and practice to get any good or have any skill at all.

this post is starting to sound alot like the last one.

perhaps i have something on my mind?

there are alot of instances in life where people have the chance to be completely and totally honest with other people. and in too many of these instances, people choose not to be. for what reason, i could never know.

like yes, the only reason charlotte picked two carolina boys in the draft was to sell tickets, not because they were the best players on the board.

wow, that was the toughest thing ive ever had to say.

but anyway.

why is it that we cant tell people we love them, even when we do? what in the hell could we be so afraid of? how can we look someone in the eye and call him my friend the day after you slept with his girlfriend? how can you tell youre classmates that all your life you wanted to go to dook?

im honest with people, always. its easier cuz you dont have to remember as much. my old brain can only handle a few classes and a few women at a time. geez folks, im in my twenties, im not superman.

wait, what does that disclaimer say?

2005-06-30T00:37:00.000-05:00

welcome to the first installment of thinking aloud with mo. on this show, i see what time it is, then write until the top of the hour. it is now one thirty seven ay em. this week's episode will be 23 minutes long, starting at the tone.

beep.

im not really sure what to think about this picture. gd thats a big ass rock comes to mind. so does damn, isnt she like a foot taller than him? but in hindsight i guess she couldnt possibly do worse that chris im a gay idiot tool cline. at least mr. cruz has money. hopefully, for his sake, he has a pre nup too.

there is good evidence for the case that the whole tomkat phenomenon is a publicity stunt. the guy they call maverick has in the past only fallen for the hot female costar of whatever movie hes shooting that week. mr. holmes does not fall under this category. i guess dakota fanning didnt return his phone calls.

and in case you didnt knotice america, BOTH of them have movies coming out during this whole blowup. and in hollywood, theres a saying that goes theres no publicity like free publicity.

in hollywood, things are different. alot tighter and alot more conservative. yes, you read that right. conservative. if you show up to a movie premier with a woman thats not your mom or your sister, you two are an item and there are whispers and screams about your future together on the morning after front page before you can even say what happened to penelope. so for the most unlikely combination of two stars, who have vast differences in film experience, age, height, and levels of sanity to be sucking face on red carpets on two count em two different continents is, to say the least, odd.

angelina jolie and brad pitt are fucking like jackrabbits somewhere in brentwood right now, and not a soul knows about it. the measure of the realism of a relationship under the big white letters on the hill in la is how hard you try to hide it from the prying eyes of the world, not by how many times you jump up and down and act a fool in front of oprah.

i dont think war of the worlds is going to be a good movie. at all. tom cruise is not the correct actor to play the nameless lead role. dakota fanning is too big for her britches. in movies, any main actors under the age of 12 should be nameless and unknown, cuz if they are known, the directors spent too much time casting and not enough time making a good movie.

my neighbor's hot blonde friend that lives across the street is getting married. shes twenty one and shes happy. she also thinks that cruise and holmes are 'in love' but the marriage has no possibility of lasting longer than a year.

i laughed at her.

guess what lady? the over under is six months.

why so short? she said.

i told her.

oh, one other thing.

the marriage wont last because tom cruise is gay.

2:00 AM. peace.

2005-06-28T23:36:00.000-05:00

the dartboard never lies.

if you miss the bullseye, guess what.

you missed.

theres no, oh, if you threw it this way, or if you aimed that way you might have bullshit.

you still missed.

get over it.

the dartboard never says, oh its not you, its me.

cuz that would be a lie.

which is something the dartboard never does.

people should be more like dartboards.

be straight up.

dont bullshit.

tell people when they miss and when they suck.

not worry about what others think.

let them deal with it.

cuz frankly, dartboards dont give a damn if you dont have a job.

or if you lost the girl.

or you didnt get drafted.

or if you have no friends.

learn how to throw darts

then we'll talk.

but the funny thing is.

you have to throw lots and lotsa darts to get good at darts

you have to miss with alot of darts before you start to hit a few here and there.

you have to put up with alot of the dartboard telling you you suck before the dartboard tells you something good.

and while its not easy to get past all the you sucks from the dartboard, which never lies,

eventually

if you try

hard enough

and listen

closely

the dartboard will tell you everything's gonna be alright.

2005-06-27T01:09:00.000-05:00

when a person spends a good deal of time by themselves, they start out thinking that things are honky dory and that having some alone time is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

this person will do alot of things that they never had the chance to do when there were other people around like roommates and friends and the kind of drop dead gorgeous but desparately horny women that tend to spend the night every once in a while.

stay up till 4am.

sleep till 2pm.

drink beer at 2:10pm

drop a deuce with the door open.

watch porn with the sound turned all the way up.

but then, after doing all the fun stuff by yourself, as with all things, the novelty of the whole situation wears off. acutally, wears off is probably the wrong phrases for such a phenomenon. its more like a disappearing act in a poof of smoke than a slow erosion. one second, youre free from the prying eyes and the ignorant words of others, and the next second, youre alone.

but of course its really easy to see. after the sex and the city marathon is over and youve put away half a bottle of wine by dinner time, all of a sudden you realize that, if you stand still and be vewy vewy quiet, you can hear the crickets really loudly.

its just like a scene from a movie. you know the one im talking about? the one where a person is talking and then boom! crickets and it emphasizes the fact that the actors are alone or its quiet or theres not shit going on around them.

my old roommate came into town on friday for the weekend. he makes his home in raleigh, but is working at a beach resort in the outer banks over the summer. he stayed at my place and we had a grand ol time. last night, a bunch of mutual friends came over to my humble abode and we drank lots of beer and played funny games with red plastic cups all night. its was fun to be around large numbers of people in my home, which hadnt happened in a while.

some how we made it up the big ass hill to franklin street, where all the bars and clubs are located in chapel hill. and even though there werent that many people out last night, it was a good time had by all. so good, in fact, that a total of four people crashed at my crib after all the fun was done. there was the old roommate, tomkat, his gf, poomba, the guy from virginia tech, elvis, and his curiously bubbly friend from durham, chewie. two on the couch, one on the futon, and one in a sleeping bag on the floor.

when they woke up in the morning, my house was a disaster area. cups everywhere, broken bottles, darts, ping pong balls. it was a mess, but my impromptu houseguests were the coolest people in the world and cleaned everything thing up.

when i got up and came downstairs a few hours later, i thought i was in someone elses house.

and then i realized i wasnt because, well

i was alone.

2005-06-26T02:32:00.000-05:00

the thing to do late at night when youve had way way way too much to drink is to blog.

but right before you do that, you should definitely check out was your local cable service provider can offer you at three o clock in the morning. you know, when youve got the munchies and there are beer cans all over your fucking house and you really really dont feel like cleaning them up.

here on the east coast, the main cable service provider for most peoples is time warner, boys and girls. the same time warner that now owns america online and fucked both of the former owners of aol way way way up both of their collective asses.

needless to say, it sucks to be them.

but when you watch tv real late at night, and the corona and bacardi and sailor jimmy's navy spiced rum courses through your veins and thins out your blood to the point where, if you got cut, you would bleed forever oh shit i forgot where i was going with this sentence.

warning, these stunts are performed by professionals and we must insist that you do not attempt to recreate them at home.

bitches.

anyways, im drunk and im tired and covered in sweat from dancing at the club all damn night like a damn fool.

peace out, bitches.

2005-06-25T01:46:00.000-05:00

this week in gratuitus pictures of hot women:

2005-06-22T23:50:00.000-05:00

here on the east coast, there was a full moon last night.

and here in chapel hill, it was the clearest night in a week, so the moon looked even bigger and brighter than usual.

it made the drunk frat boys walking home on franklin street sing its amore! at the top of their lungs.

even though none of them were italian.

the old people leaving dinner from the nice restaurants looked like visitors at a zoo where all the cages have been opened.

the high school skanks walking aimlessly up and down the street past their bedtimes looked at the frat boys and laugh.

one of them stopped.

and they chatted.

and then she walked home.

with him.

i was very close to being intoxicated, but she couldnt have been older than fifteen.

yeah, around here, theyre just sleazy like that.

the frat boys are, too.

michael jordan was in town, it was rumored. i heard through the grapevine that he had eaten dinner at top of the world on monday night with about five buddies. and yes, he still is the king of chapel hill.

the rumor mill went on to proudly boast that His Airness would make an appearance at the tuesday night watering hole because he did it last year and he was cool.

the bar in question used to be called the village green. it mainly consists of a large, open courtyard area with picnic tables, and the actual bar was located upstairs in a two story building near the back with a big deck. on tuesday nights, the special is $2 blue cups, which are a full 36 fluid ounces each and are highly collectible. at the end of the night, blue cup pyramids and towering columns are all over the place. its fun spot.

MJ in his years at the university would frequent the spot. being the living legend that he was, all the groupie love would follow him around after hours all over chapel hill. however, instead of following the entourage of large black men, the hos would just call ahead. legend has it that the owner and employees of the bar were so tired of saying the same thing to the callers that they just changed the name of the place to He's Not Here to save themselves the breath.

guess what boys and girls? the greatest basketball player of all time didnt show.

but of course everyone in chapel hill between the ages of 21 and 41 did.

what a surprise.

there were a few old guys in attendence. if their grey hairs didnt give them away, the tshirts tucked into shorts and the fanny packs did. funny thing was, they werent all in one big group, but came in singles or pairs, like they were on the prowl for some hot summer school college coed booty.

those guys alone were worth the price of admission.

and when paris called, drunk on champagne in wilmington for her friends birthday, i told her all of this and she laughed.

i coulda told you he wasnt gonna be there.

oh shush you.

2005-06-20T23:19:00.000-05:00

chapel hill is heaven, and half the people here dont even know it.

the half thats actually over the age of 27.

in the summer, the hill is even lovelier than usual, but there arent nearly as many people around to enjoy it. some would say that makes it better and more appealling when 20,000 college kids arent running around campus doing all manner of things like going to class, eating, drinking, talking, courting future ex wifes and such.

in case you didnt notice, thats the old people talking again.

kinda annoying, arent they?

these days, its the soon to be freshman crowd. the first in a series of on campus first year orientations started today, and the class of 2009 was out in force. oooo, look! theres library! and theres that fountain thing! and theres the dean dome! holy shit!!! is that raymond felton?!?!?! hes gonna be the best player from this years draft!!! wow wow wow! omg omg i cant believe im actually here!!!!!!!!

and thats the moms and dads talking.

theyre still a bit awestruck by the whole situation.

two hundred years of excellence will do that to a person.

the main quad on campus is where the two long brick walkways intersection like two roads divulging in a wood. standing at about and acre of lush green grass and imposing trees, the main quad is bookmarked by wilson library, venerable and old as ever, to the south, and by south building to the north. every student passes through this area at some point during the day, and if you ask nicely, the trees will tell you some crazy stories about legends and ghosts past.

michael jordan, charles kurault, stuart scott, davis love the trey, kwame from the first apprentice, george steinbrener's granddaughter...

you know, nobody important.

after the long, cold winters of north carolina, anyone on campus knows that its not officially spring until you can see a bunch of pretty girls in frilly little skirts skip class to hang out on the grass. kinda like the first bloom of a colorful flower. its a beautiful thing, really.

ive lived in this state all my life, but i never appreciated it so much as i do now. sometimes i just look up and see what color the sky is, just to remind myself of this little slice of heaven i like to call home.

and it feels pretty damn good.

2005-06-20T00:52:00.000-05:00

my sitemeter says that you like this picture, america.

so i think ill post it again.
enjoy.

2005-06-18T23:00:00.000-05:00

theres always something about eating food in front of a beautiful young lady that sends a tingle down my spine. its happens every single time and its a wonderfully great feeling. not something you feel everyday like boredom or lonliness or the need to pet the one eyed snake.

its always at the same time too. right after you sit down, between the waitress coming and asking you if you would like to start off with some drinks and the first flipping open of the menu. for some reason, no matter what her name is or what designer shes got on, it just never ever gets old.

i have two tried and true spots that i like to use when im having dinner with company. you already heard about one of them last time, and thats not even the better one. this one is at the mall, outside, at the end of the promenade next to the movie theater, which is even better for people watching, and its a bit nicer on the inside too. like a trendy rich colorado ski lodge, woody and warm everywhere and the wait staff all have to wear black.

all black

all the time.

i hope its supposed to make them blend into the background cuz, um, thats what it does.

really takes being seen and not heard to a new level.

but i digress.

she was wearing a red dress, not real skimpy but definitely a head turner at a place like the mall. it was warm out, so it was not inappropriate. i actually quite enjoyed the dress, she looked stunning in it. it made slapping down the plastic that much easier.

sure, forty five bucks for a steak and 18 glasses of water sounds a bit steep, but its all about the experience, not the dough. shes one of those that talks with her whole body. moving her shoulders up and down, waving her hands. she has a little wiggle that she does when she laughs really hard. it starts at her neck and works its way down to her toes and comes back up again and almost out of her nose. when she was looking directly into my eyes, she said 'yes, hes wonderful and i love him very much.' i could of sworn she was singing me a song.

and so i wasnt disappointed when she walked out of the door and out of my house and into her car. shes taken, america, and while thats never stopped me before, she truly deserves better than that. so after she left, i picked up the two wine glasses, popped the cork back in the bottle of yellow tail chardonnay, took hitch out of the xbox and turned off the tv.

sometimes theres just no room for desert.

2005-06-16T23:21:00.000-05:00

last week was a tough week for yours truly.

no girls came over to the place.

not canada girl.

or blonde girl.

or even paris.

filled out a few more applications.

still no calls.

not even from pimps R us.

the sidekick got ambushed at the best buy by a gang of subwoofer thugs. hes in the hospital, but he'll be ok.

those fuckers are gonna get it real soon.

and while i may have had a tough week indeed, i joke that hey, at least my name's not michael.

yeah, that would have made it a tougher week i think.

maybe if i was black

and middle aged too.

cuz it seems like the worst person you could be last week was a middle aged black man named michael.

with something messed up looking on your face

whether it be a trendy tribal tattoo meant for backs and shoulders.

or your third nose.

i couldnt imagine that sitting on a stool in the corner of the squared circle is much different than sitting in a nice chair in the middle of a courtroom.

waiting.

wondering.

hoping.

praying.

that this isnt the last time you get to see daylight.

that the public will still love and adore you for what youve done in the past and not hate and detest you for what youve become and what youve done lately.

and its always against the white man isnt it?

whether is a six foot six inch irishman

or someone sober

like a judge.

it kinda sucks that other black men elsewheres with traditionaly white first names didnt have such a tough time last week.

like timothy and anthony and bruce.

and richard and benjamin too.

everything will be fine though.

the mikes are finally free.

the king of pop and the baddest man on the planet can now go back to their lives of seclusion and mediocrity without being bothered to get in front of a camera or a microphone till the next trial or fight.

good luck to the both of them.

and dont worry, there will be plenty of women over at the crib next week.

belieeeeeeeeeve dat.

2005-06-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

law and order: special victims unit
weeknights @ 8pm eastern standard time.
usa network

tv dramas almost always suck. whatever the premise is, be it millions of people come back from missing at once or a police story that involves a seeing eye dog or boston school teachers, all these shows always have the same problems. cold self righteous characters, crappy actors and overall poor worksmanship.

the ones on basic cable are especially bad. they are a large part of the popularity of and backlash to reality television that goes highly under the radar. think about it. would you rather watch the dead zone featuring a child actor from the breakfast club, or a bunch of metro to the point of being gay dudes compete to be gerry hall's personal bitch on vh1?

yeah, thats what i thought. a game where nobody wins.

the venerable law and order franchise has gone from its primtime police drama from car chase interogation court scene the end to spawn a few useful spinoffs. no one reading this will remember the names of any of them, save for maybe csi miami. but somehow, out of all that rubble called nbc, l&o svu has managed to find a permanent home and survive for a very long time.

it takes a few things that most shows dont have in order to do that.

good actors

a good network

and great writing.

the two main characters, olivia benson and elliot stabler (mariska hagarty and chris meloni) are wonderful characters because they represent great ideals, but are also human enough for me to relate to and become emotionally invested in.

benson rules because she really is that smart tough independent female that destinys child can only sing about. shes the obvious sex symbol of the show, and accomplishes that without even trying. her human side is that her mother drank too much, and her dating life leaves something to be desired. if there was ever a wolf on tv, shed be it.

stabler rules cuz hes the superhero without being a superhero. leads by example and has everyones respect without having to show off. his human side is that he is a loving husband and father of four and somehow manages all that even with grueling hours at work and a stressful job. hes what men what to grow up to be.

the real star of the show is the writing. the premise is that this unit deals with sex crimes, so all the victims involve someone being raped. however, the show never ever stops there. every show the writers somehow find a new way for the investigation to get fucked up, or for a perp to hide out, or for a victim to disappear, or for some kind of legalese situation to add drama to the case. the court room scenes are always top notch.

you just never know whats going to happen. and thats why the show is so great.

oh, and it has that famous doink doink sound. gotta have that.

2005-06-14T23:08:00.000-05:00

six months ago today:

you better finish chewing that, or im never going to kiss you ever again. ever.

she took another pork skin and crunched away. she won't eat meat, but damn she downs those chips like its stoli vodka. the 120 proof kind.

she pushed the covers down and wrapped an arm around me.

i missed you last night, she said.

i know. you called me. twice. even though you knew i had to be up early. who the hell do you think you are.

she smiled. she tasted good, even with the pork skins.

what the fuck am i doing over here? i've been here since 4 and its 12 now. i thought we were just gonna eat lunch...

she pulled her naked torso towards me. i like how you cuddle. turkish doesn't cuddle.

turkish doesnt do a lot of things. mainly treat you right. or give a damn about you or your feelings. why the fuck are you still "with" him. you know who you should be with.

she kissed me again. i know i know. i want to be with you.

you have a funny way of showing it. and a funny taste. kinda like lemonade and oregano.

you have to stop hooking up with my friends though. you're just so sexy and fun that they can't seem to keep their hands off of you.

well, who's problem is that? if its mine, im one of the lucky ones.

she laughed. she has a great laugh. i want to be with you, she says. you're the one i want, she says. please, stay with me she says.

ooo, baby, i love your way.

2005-06-13T23:45:00.000-05:00

the most beautiful thing in this world is not named giselle, pamela, or paris.

cuz its not blonde.

not even the bottle kind.

nor does it have perfectly tanned skin.

or look amazing in revealing clothing.

you dont have to go to the beach to find the most beautiful thing it the world, but a lot of the time, people think they do.

a couple of drunk girls from the university of kentucky falling down in the sand at the beach might be beautiful, but they are not the most beautiful thing in the world.

not even close.

the most beautiful thing in the world is the endless summer.

kentucky girls were in the spring.

anyone whos been in high school or college has had the best of times and the worst of time over the endless summer. maybe it was this year, maybe it was last year, maybe it was years ago, but we still remember it.

whatever year, the endless summer gives us a goal, a reason to work hard and study hard and when we bundle up during those cold winter months, we remember the endless summer ahead and it gives us a reason to live.

and when we get there, we fucking live it up like theres no tomorrow. eat til we burst, drink until the sun comes up, all while laughing and being merry with the best of friends.

its beautiful cuz in a world of uncertainty, its the only sure thing left.

heres to the summer. may you never ever end.

2005-06-13T11:25:00.000-05:00

i dont usually have time to revel in waking up in the morning next to a warm body. i dont have as much practice at that as you might think, america. sleeping alone is how we spend a third of our lives. plus i dont much like mornings in general anyway, with all that sunshine and other bullshit. for most people, mornings are usually associated with new beginnings and fresh starts. consequently, they are also the harbingers of regret and remorse, along with quick getaways and silent goodbyes.

so when she rolled over and put her arm around me at the first break of sunlight, it took me a little bit by surprise. i had almost forgot she stayed with me overnight, but a bottle of wine will make you almost forget about alot of things. like summer school and jobs

and her boyfriend.

shes breathtakingly gorgeous, to the point where i wondered how any man could ignore her on a saturday night to watch boxing or something like that. as soon as i caught my breath i told her so, whispering in her ear. she gave no response, of course. just a hand on the cheek and a slow kiss.

wow, havent been kissed like that in a while.

shut up and do it again.

she smiled.

the blinds on the windows in my room make nice wide slots with all the light that comes in. for a good part of the day most days, everything in the room is tiger striped gold and gray. and with the movements in the bedroom the stripes move, flowing over everything in a soft glow. even a beautiful statuesque body that just so happened to be naked.

she walked to the bathroom, and she walked back and got into bed again, and ever second of every minute that the light of the morning shone on her i laid there and stared with my jaw and my eyes wide open.

i could get used to this morning thing.

2005-06-10T00:13:00.000-05:00

pf chang's
durham, north carolina

people dont ever give restaurants enough credit.

a good restaurant is expected to do alot of things, and a lot of important things and events happen at restaurants and no one ever gives them props for handling all that pressure.

no one but the most professional of peoplewatchers could possibly realize how important restaurants are. they give us the most basic of sustenance. they give us shelter from the elements for the two hours it takes us to consume that sustenance.

in other words, they hold the fabric of society together.

think about it. while we sat under low warm lighting surrounded by fake stone statues of samurai that arent even chinese or bistro, a million and one things were going on around us. and she didnt even realize it.

make ups and break ups. business deals and shady business. a lot of home cookin' and a whole lot of hey baby what chu got cookin'. but not a whole lotta shakin' going on.

she had the tofu cuz she doesnt eat meat. i had the sweet and sour chicken cuz im usually sweet but when im sour it usually means im being a chicken of some sort. scared like a hen or being loud and obnoxious like a rooster.

it was really cold inside, which i prefer in restaurants, but i also preferred cuz it was 80 outside. not 80 and sunny, mind you, but 80 and humid and overcast. clouds threatening to ruin the party of the beautiful endless summer.

our waiter was marcus and he was very good at making the special sauce. the special sauce at changs is kinda spicy sweet and sour all at the same time. its great cuz its not thousand island salad dressing like the special sauce in a big mac, and its not like the other kind of special sauce that you make pearl necklaces out of.

paris likes the special sauce very much. at dinner, she downed spoonfuls of it until our food came out.

back on the couch, she marveled at how jimmy fallon can claim hes not gay, and how with a full head of hair, hilary swank is actually kinda hot, and how jon heder really wasnt acting in napolean dymanite. it was all in the hair.

gosh, idiot.

and then we watched the game and ate greasy buffalo wings and nachos and chips. and by that i mean we watched britney and kevin green o vision. how fun.

spurs in 7. manu wins mvp. you heard it hear first, america.

kurt loder out.

2005-06-07T23:59:00.000-05:00

the thing about paris is that its always the same with her.

shes always beautiful

and always gorgeous

and always blonde.

ok, maybe not always.

and her euphemism will always be that she is disarming.

she was never in love with nick carter, mainly cuz he hit her. same for green o vision ric solomon, except he just had a video camera. she has a thing for trust fund babies, though, cuz even hotel heiresses with rich last names like it when rich but not as rich as her boys buy her everything under the sun. she told me this when i took her to mcdonalds on our first date.

so when we had a little spat i knew shed come back to me.

and then she went and got herself engaged. and even then i knew everything would be ok.

even before i made the dinner reservations. even before i bought the dozen roses from the flower lady on franklin street.

even before i picked up the phone and said im sorry.

it took me two days to figure out that she wasnt going to call first. i gave her five more days after that to cool off, and when i called her, i had her at hello.

hey

hi

whos the new boytoy?

some pretty boy with lots of money.

just how you like em, huh?

yup

do you even know what paris means in greek?

umm, no...

it means punk ass bitch.

ha ha very funny smartass.

she has the best sarcastic laugh ever, boys and girls. its the kind of laugh that you feel through your whole body when you hear it. its the kind of laugh that makes you feel happy.

she smiled.

dinner sounds wonderful

pick ya up at 6.

2005-06-06T14:48:00.000-05:00

if you had to choose, america, between boredom and loneliness, which one would it be? a life completely controlled of your own free will in the depths of solitude, or a life of mediocrity and sameness surrounded by countless others exactly like you? to eat when it pleases you, or to eat when it pleases the herders? to not have anyone to tell about that crazy fox you fought yesterday, or to not have anything worth telling happen to you?

a difficult decision indeed. choose wisely america.

personally, i never really knew there was a difference.

like if a tree falls in a wood, and theres no one there to hear it, does it still crush a bunch of furry little bunnies into a bloody pulpy mess?

or something like that?

i have know people throughout the years that had the mostest friends, the hottest women, the greatest family, and yet still they were lonely. and i would ask these friends why, when they had all these great things like wow look at your new gf's rack how you could be lonely. the best answer i heard was hey, everyone loves me too much, it bores me. like im on a deserted jurassic park island and there were all manner of beasts and dinosaurs and animals all about. they were just part of the scenery, not part of the journey. the boredom itself causes the separation within oneself from other people in that way they are lonely.

and then there are the wolves. the ones who almost prefer to walk the streets alone at night, finding some secret satisfaction that while every other frat boy and sorostitute is a clingy bitch and absolutely has to go home with somebody or else theyll die, the wolf himself needs no one else in this world to complete his soul. and then when the wolf gets home, sits on the couch, flips on game seven of the eastern conference finals, a shot glass worth of loneliness slowly seeps into his consciousness. as the game winds on, the shot turns into a glass of wine, then a can of beer, then sometime between the third and fourth quarters, finally into a full blown keg.

cuz cheering by yourself always seems totally pointless.

if you see me out on the town, you might have an opinion on which beast i am. you might say hey, i like your wool blazer. ill say thanks, but secretly despise your frat boy ass for being boring and move on quickly.

and then, at the end of the night, at the time when the sheep are congregating together, getting ready to leave.

ill walk home alone.

2005-06-04T01:14:00.000-05:00

its probably not the best idea to blog while youre drunk. shit, its never the best idea to do anything while youre drunk. but hemingway once said always do sober what you said youd do drunk. he said that so all of his friends would stop making jackasses of themselves at the local tavern after a few too many lagers down the hatch, but they never listened anyway.

fear not though, because that saying applies today, too. hence, here i am.

i find it easier to blog while sweet sweet mexican citrus flavored alcohol runs through my veins. i dont feel like i need to edit as much. i dont feel like i have to make these posts interesting. all i really do is just

write

write

write.

usually in the morning ill wake up hung over and tired and dehydrated and the such. and ill sit at my computer and see what other people wrote last night and stumble across my own stumbling and bumbling along the way. and ill laugh, and sometimes, ill cry at how drunk i was.

sometimes ill try to apologize because all of my fans out there have come to expect a certain level of quality in Volume 2, and i would never ever want to let them down.

its quite a bit easier to blog when drunk, because all i have to do is look up a pick of some pretty girls, and just write whatever comes to mind.

like how i love my new apartment.

like how i met a pretty blonde girl tonight.

like how paris and i had a fight.

like how i still, still dont have a fucking job.

or any source of income for that matter.

it seems to me that blogging while drunk is the easiest way to blog, because i dont even have to think about it.

words

flow

out

from

fingers

to

keyboard

to

blogosphere.

and thats not just the corona talkin.

2005-06-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

a smart man once said that in order to change your state of mind, you gotta change the state your in. as in im in a new york state of mind, but i live in harrisburg, new jersey, or something like that.

i always wondered if the same think went for the smaller municipalities as well.

counties, cities, villages, and all them little bitty hick towns in between never get enough credit in famous songs. like if i just move from one suburb in one county, to a sleepy college town in another county, does my county of mind change too? does your state of mind even have counties? maybe not or maybe so.

chris rock has a joke that goes a little sumtin like this: "If a friend calls you and says 'I'm lost. I'm on Martin Luther King Boulevard' and they want to know what to do, the best response is, 'Run!' " sure it was funny to people in downtown dc or la or ny or whatever that know what an mlkb is all about. but not every lives in those cities of mind.

i just moved to martin luther king boulevard, the one of about seven hundred or so in america, the same one that used to be airport road in the heart of chapel hill. mlkb still runs from campus straight up to the airfield. its not really a dangerous place, considering chapel hill really isnt know for violence or crime and such. but good ol historic airport road is no more. mlkb is my new home.

i dont feel different. my room is a bit bigger, and downstairs theres a 60 inch plasma with 6 channel surround sound instead of a futon and an old sony. but does that really change me? of course not.

i havent called canada girl back yet, and im not really sure i will. theres a little angel on my shoulder that just bitch slapped the hell outta lucifer and is whispering something in my ear.

hmmm, thats not good news.

i think i need to go.

2005-06-01T00:12:00.000-05:00

there is a girl sleeping in my bed.

a very pretty girl, she is.

a tall lanky brunette from up north somewhere. connecticut or canada or something like that.

who looks really really good in white.

some might say beautiful in white.

its one o clock in the morning and shes been awake since seven aye em yesterday morning.

she also has to be awake in about six hours.

to go to class.

and take a test.

but instead of studying or resting or eating food so she wont be hungry, or any number of other things she could or should be doing

shes in my bed.

its not a particularly nice bed.

the sheets dont have a high thread count

and the pillows are kinda dirty with some odd looking mystery stains.

and seeing as how im not in it, i dont see why anyone else would want to be.

the funny thing is that her clothes are on the floor next to my desk.

short white miniskirt.

pink top.

victoria's secret everything else.

and yet, my clothes are still on my body.

theyve been on since she got here.

and im sitting here blogging.

and im not in the least bit ashamed about it.

2005-05-31T00:15:00.000-05:00

there is something about this person that you may not know.

its something you may not be able to tell just by looking.

be careful when you look at this person, friends, because thine eyes may deceive you.

this is a man.

in his line of work, he is very very famous.

but famous as a woman.

in fact, you may have seen him before in his line of work and thought wow, that chick is really hot.

great body.

piercing eyes.

great tits.

oh, and wow, what a pretty face.

but alas, none of it is true.

this is not a woman.

yes those are breasts. a relatively cheap operation worth years of false identity and a lifetime of stares and the wrong kind of attention.

likewise with rhinoplasty,

and adams apple removal, which only takes twenty minutes.

it just so happens that he is so famous in his career that he has an bodyguard to ward off the hoards and hoards of screaming and adoring fans.

just in case one of them would want to hurt him or fight him.

you know, like if you found out your favorite woman in the world was really a dude, complete with penis and such, and you all of a sudden wanted revenge for you years of sick twisted homoerotic masturbation that you didnt even know was homoerotic.

but that logic escapes me.

i could never fathom why you would want to fight someone with more tattoos than clothes on.

the outlaw bikers that populate the local hooters fall under this category.

so do professional wrestlers.

and a lot of basketball players.

who happen to be a lot bigger than you.

people you know, yet people that are so far away that you dont really, really know them.

because the more you expose yourself by wearing less clothes, or the more you cover yourself with sleeves and sleeves of tattoos.

the more you have to hide.

2005-05-29T01:13:00.000-05:00

when i woke up in the morning and finished rubbing the sleep out of mine eyes, i found a pack of cigarettes and a wad of clear tape on my desk. there was one lone un lit un smoked cig sitting out all by itself next to the pack, and it pointed in the general direction of my door as if to say yeah! its that one! pick that one! i picked up the empty pack to throw it away and, on the way to the trash can, i noticed that the wad of tape wasnt a wad of tape at all. it was a condom; unused, but sans wrapper, which was in the trash can. and as the pack of cigs joined it, a curious sensation ran through my brain.

clues, these are. sure of it, i am. and when i got out of the shower, so fresh and so clean clean, i went on a search to find out where the rest were.

they were all over the house, in the kitchen, bathroom, on the tv, on the porch, in the car.

a cookie

a corona

a piece of paper with the name sharona.

a dirty sock

a dirty mop

broken glass, a pink note from a cop.

and ever so slowly, piece by piece, i put together the thoughts and memories that were the night previous.

paris was out of town with her family, so it was me and the boys and a couple of cardboard boxes full of mexican beer.

and then it was to the top of the world, the rooftop barestaurant and trendy classy frat boy hangout. the white folks were searching out some of their own kind, since in our group they were the minority, and everyone knows white folks get scared when theyre the minority.

turned out sharona is really this chick, and for a good part of the night there was laughter and lol's all over the place while we relived that night that sucked so much for her and not so much for me and the boys. she was taller than i remembered; skinny, but with just enough curves in just the right places to be a supermodel.

she said do you remember me? we got in trouble with the cops that one night.

i said youll have to be more specific. that happens to me alot.

she smiled.

you wanna see the ticket? she said.

you wanna watch chappelle's show season 2 on dvd with a third disc of bonus features? i said.

she sat on the end of the couch and flipped through the episode guide, looking for the one with the racial draft. i sat in the middel, drinking water and reading a pink piece of carbon copy paper and saying dayum, glad im not you.

and when she left in the morning, she left the ticket on the coffee table, right next to the napkin with her name on it.

turns out her number was on it too.

2005-05-28T02:12:00.000-05:00

total tony pierce link count: four

happiness resulting: however many hits i get.

2005-05-27T02:05:00.000-05:00

we now interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a gimme a fucking break.
yes, i wrote that last post.
yes, i was intoxicated.
get over it.

2005-05-26T00:54:00.000-05:00

i am a great writer. of this i am convinced.yes i would be so bold as to say the greatest of great writers, even. my words speak to every heart and every soul of humanity. i grow tired of living this plebian existence, being denied my rightful place atop the psyche of every literate person in the world and mentioned in the same breath as the great twains hemingways and whitmans of our generation.

so listen up while you still can.

it is only when, at any time or place, or setting or occasion, that the voice of a race, of a people, of a nation or of a species stands up upon the platform of the great communicator and is heard by every person and is accepted as the one true voice, the one true leader behind which we should follow to certain prosperity for ourselves and our progenity.

so listen up while you still can.

the goal of the human condition is to advance ourselves into the future. without fear and without a second thought of whether our pursuits and our passions are for the better or simply extentions into the plumenting depths of futility. thou hast been charged with a mission of the utmost importance. the mission not in search of meaning or significance or importance, but the mission of their absence.

so listen up while you still can.

the tragedy of the human mission is that so often and too often we mistake it for something its not, and at the same time, forever lose the possibility of knowing the true nature of why we are put in our places. we're all looking for something that doesnt exist, and all this time that we're crawling around in the dark we suffer all these bumps and bruises and skinned knees and torn jeans for no reason at all. all of these obstacles accomplish nothing, and we could have avoided them if only we realized the bigger picture and the bigger goal.

so listen up

while you still can.

2005-05-25T00:07:00.000-05:00

three months + 23 days ago today:

paris called me on the phone last night and started crying. it took me a few minutes to calm her down, cuz she always drunk dials me, but then i remembered shes on her period.

i told her i dont have any coke and she cried some more. oops.

im just so stressed out about everything. the show the parties the balls the trials. and i havent seen you in sooooo long. i dont know if i can handle it she said.

and i look so fucking fat and whorish in that damn video. i just flipped out cuz i couldnt take looking at it anymore. at a public newstand of all places! for only $8.95!

its ok darling. everyone loves you. theyre just jealous. i love you just the way you are i said.

she sobbed and stopped.

do you like my dress?

very classy.

i have to go to some stuffy ball with old people and opera and shit. they wont even have coke there. nicole's out of town and it won't be any fun.

you'll just have to drink pepsi then.

haha funny jackass. did you like my show?

no i was watching basketball.

its ok, it wasn't very good.

then im glad i watched basketball.

shut up.

make me.

she laughed. i could see her little nose scrutch up and her chin poke out. i miss you she said.

i know.

2005-05-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

hey filibuster.

well, good evening to you, mo. how is a fine gentleman such as yourself feeling on the eve of the demise of your interviewee, which happens to be myself that i speak of.

umm, great. i know youre not much for being brief, but can i call you fil?

why, mr. mo, i see that addressing me by that shorter, more concise nickname would not have any adverse affects on my psyche or the quality of this current interview. i find no objections to your request and approve wholeheartedly.

great. so i hear bill frist isnt a big fan of yours.

well, if my sources are correct in the information that my staff have briefed me on regarding this current situation, than it would appear as though mr frist and the rest of the majority party in the senate would like nothing more than to eliminate me and my effect on the outcome of the confirmation of several of president bush's judicial nominees, in order to simply advance a highly partisan political agenda.

but did you really think that any of the gop senators would be willing to sleep on cots just to get rid of you?

umm, mo, i dont believe that an emergency midnight session of the senate, along with the cramped and makeshift sleeping quarters provided for them in case they get tired has anything to do with their desire to accomplish their goals.

oh come on, fil.

oh come on what, mo.

you know damn well why frist blinked first and gave in to a compromise that kept you around.

im not sure i follow you mo.

drop the act fil. we all know that theres not a single senator that would sleep in a row of cots just to get rid of you.

ummm...

we're talking about holier than thou, too righteous to pay for our own vacations, lets send someone elses kids to iraq on my crusade senators here, fil.

i suppose that, looking at their track record for arrogance and snobbishness, i can see how someone could see that the prospect of sleeping below their means would disgust enough senators and make them realize that the ongoing battle over my role in judicial confirmations is not worth, um, living like common folk for a night.

so you knew all along that you were safe and that the gop senators are a bunch of clowns who bitch and moan when they dont get their way?

well mo, im not sure that someone in my position would exactly go about phrasing my feelings about...

shut up fil. you talk too much.

2005-05-23T00:35:00.000-05:00

and she said goodnight, too.

i kissed her on the forehead and told her goodbye and goodnight.

we made out in the kitchen while her parents watched tv in the next room.

after the experiment, we went to the kitchen for some drinks.

it was a psych experiment for her paper thats due in summer school class on monday.

when i took her home she showed me a picture of a woman and man at a ball, but she tricked me into thinking it was a seal and a trainer.

we sat outside of the movie theater and watched the sun set and ate free popcorn.

after the movie, she picked up an empty bucket of popcorn from one of the seats and got it refilled for free at the snack bar.

then we went and experienced star wars in all its glory, complete with the birth of the siblings, the fall of the republic, and the damn you just got fucked up scene involving a certain hayden christiansen.

it felt good, like we were making up lost time from the hiatus aka break.

we sat on the bench and talked and told stories and laughed and laughed.

we got to the mall and took a leisurely stroll until we found a suitable bench.

but not really a cd cuz the tracks were on my ipod.

while we drove down the highway towards the mall, we listening to Green Day's american idiot cd and got really excited about their show, which is in july at the rbc center.

all three of us went inside so she could finish her makeup and grab one of her 800 pink purses.

hes a little black poodle who needs a grooming and a whole bottle of chill pills.

when i drove up to her house, she met me outside with her dog, jacob.

none of the other stores i went in were hiring either, so i left the mall with two movie tickets and no applications.

i hope he has insurance.

then, since it was such a nice day out, i walked around the courtyard part of the mall and watched the juggler nearly impale himself with a giant steak knife through the heart.

i went to the mall slash theater around 2pm and picked up tickets for the last matinee of the day at 545.

i said ill pick you up at 4ish sharp. be ready.

she said cool ill go.

i told her i was going to see some movie called sith episode wars of revenge the third or something like that on sunday and i was wondering if she wanted to tag along.

she picked up and said hey, whats up like she always does, even in her voicemail.

i called paris on saturday.

2005-05-20T23:39:00.000-05:00

yesterday it was 80 and sunny outside and life was good.

today, it rains and rains and rains for no apparent reason. i can still see the sun too. what the hell.

but life is still good.

at lunchtime it was the return to the glory days of high school lunchtime at some chicken place called bofangles. rizzo and i are the only ones in the fine dining establishment who are not white haired senior citizens or muddy helmeted construction workers or pimply pre-pubescent adolenscents. rizzo was one of the latter back in da day and i made sure he remembered.

dude, whatever, dont hate on me. im a player

whatever riz. you dont know a damn thing about being a player. you cant even spell player.

sure i do mo. pee, ell, ay, why, ay.

and right then rizzo scpieled into his double secret college life of playerdom. i was quite a bit shocked and prompted to talk about playerdom as well and the discussion went on for months and all the old people in the finest of dining establishments this side of the mississippi looked at us all funny.

in the mornings, he usually awakens early and dons a crushed velvet bathrobe and lights up a cuban before he has to kick her out of his room.

in the mornings, i usually awaken to screams and the sound of breaking glass. i grab my pants, jump out the window and down the fire escape. and looking back i usually see a large man who plays a sport involving a ball yelling and shaking his fist at me.

the night before, he called her at home, picked her up, and took her out to wine and dine at the nice restaurant down the street.

the night before, i texted her from the bar, left the blonde at the bar with a smooch and a business card, and walked down the back alley behind the courthouse to her apartment at the end of franklin street.

a week later, he is shoving a restraining order in her crying face and pushes her out the door, again.

a week later, i am running out of the club because shes there and she sees me. and her boyfriend does too.

a month later, he is walking out of the nurses office with a stack of papers, a big frown, and a curious itch.

a month later, i am walking out of the nurses office with a ripped shirt, a disheveled hairdoo, and a big smirk on my face.

different strokes, thats all, i say.

rizzo scratches his head.

you really banged the nurse?

i give him a look.

wtf mate. she wouldnt even return my calls.

wow, you must be some kinda player.

2005-05-20T00:02:00.000-05:00

see kids, the biggest reason why the gop and the president are leading this country into the deepest of depths and the worst of times is not because the two hairdresser dudes down the street want to get married.

and its not because some brown guy who wears a towel on his head and shits in a bucket in a cave in some god awfully sweaty and smelly land called afghanishitty hates wall street.

and it sure as hell isnt because social security is going to shit, or because of filibusters or gangsta rap or holy book toliet paper or or whatever else upon which they want to blame our nation's troubles.

the biggest problem is that bush wants america to think that its ok to be wrong.

in every political issue where liberals and neocons are split, the right side of the aisle always always invokes their best of intentions and not their worst of results. there is a saying that its easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. well the gop asks for neither. they try to convince the public that the mistakes and problems and misguided efforts of the party in power are, in fact, allowable because hey

we didnt know any better

we have to stay on the offensive

insert random double talk phrases that dont make any sense here. one of these perhaps.

notice how in each of the above options, a simple 'i fucked up' is nowhere to be found.

the last time america heard straight talk like george galloway's senate hearing asskicking was when some other guy named george was prez.

read

my

lips.

no

new

taxes.

and whaddy know? a republican lied right in the face of the american people, just to get elected. i am jack's complete lack of surprise.

for any true american, the gop's denial of political responsibility and singleminded focus on blaming the problems of the majority on the powerless minority smacks a little too hard of a funny little man named adolph and his historic uses of propaganda and political muscle to, um, kill millions of people and convince millions more that it was right. to put it lightly, the history books say he 'stayed on the offensive.' watching a moron with the iq of a baseball talk about privatizing social security feels a little too much like a dark haired dark eyed man talk about himself as the leader of the fair haired blue eyed german master race.

if that doesnt scare you, then YOU my friend, are the unpatriotic and the unamerican.

how is it that, with an ivy league educated oil tycoon and former owner of a major league baseball franchise as our president, the two smartest, most no nonsense, most passionate leaders in america are jon stewart and a rebel from the british parliament? if these two ran the country, we arent getting any body bags from iraq, our economy isnt taking a nose dive into the toilet, and shit, even i would have a fucking job.

a member of the gop simply does not have the correct mindset or approach to solving problems to be trusted with running the country.

a republican would fix the problem of lower scoring in the nba by making the ball smaller.

a republican would prevent teenage pregnancies by banning access to hotel rooms by minors on prom night.

a republican would fix america by sucking it dry and laughing at us atop a throne of dirty money while we pick up the pieces left behind.

screw you guys, im going home.

2005-05-18T22:15:00.000-05:00

the airport is the dreariest of places. how better defined is a whole class of citizens then by its modes of transportation. the model of american corporate snobbishness stands solemn and sterile above the woody plains of raleigh durham, north carolina. without a motion, without emotion, without a soul for itself.

thats not to say that the airport has no soul. the airport would be little more than the somber halls of columbine save for the throngs and throngs of soulful people passing through the doors and gates every hour of everyday. endless navy blue polyester employees work endlessly to help the people of the world keep on keeping on and get to where theyre going. on a steady diet of humanity's emotion, the airport stays alive.

at raleigh-durham, the levels in the parking decks are connected story to story by these spinning ramps. going further up the spiral whisks you away to the cubicle casablanca, complete with elevators and moving floors. further down the spiral and you leave a few dollars behind. but oh, when youre the only one in the car, at the bottom of the spiral, theres a lot more you leave behind.

today, i went with my best friend to the airport. we went to the ticket counter to check his luggage, and i watched him get on a plane heading for london, england.

with a one way ticket.

and somewhere between the first metal detector and the gate it occured to me that i very well may never see him again. he got moved up to an earlier flight to give him a full three hours to make his connection, the lady at the counter assured us. all around it was a sad affair.

life is miserable, when you're dealing with the physical form

is everything thats invisible gone?

and when it was time to walk into the sunset, we gave each other hugs and handpounds. he didnt say a word to me, and i couldnt say a word to him. all that needed saying was said and the deed was done. and for an instant, time stopped and the world stood still. to say it was an emotional moment would be two tears in an atlantic ocean of moments. it was perfect.

best of luck to you, mate.

2005-05-17T00:34:00.000-05:00

the call came in from headquarters at around 4:30 in the pee em. the golden amp cackled and sparked to life. saturdays tend to be busy, but we were having a down day. the call was the first of the day. with the volume knob turned up to eleven, charlie's voice rang clear and true. the sidekick and i listened closely, the growing urgency apparent on our faces.

shit mo, did you hear what he just said.

pretty heavy shit, the sidekick. you up for it?

shit man, lets fucking do this shit man.

we took the orders from hq and got ready. the sidekick loaded up the grungemobile, our very own 1980's chevy conversion van, with three marshall amps and a few stratocasters.

and both les pauls. just in case.

the sidekick hoped behind the wheel and drove us off in a frenzied hurry. ran a few stop lights and scared a few old people on the way.

and when we pulled up to the mall, no one moved. no one made a sound. the vermin saw me and they knew who i was and they were scared shitless.

teenyboppers. everywhere. at least two dozen. maybe more. they all stared right at me. made no attempt to hide it. there were whispers from the food court and hushed nods from the gap.

fuck, there he goes. fuck, thats him. fuck, thats the one they talk about.

thats the daysleeper.

i brushed my hair out of my face and lit a cigarette. the guitar stuck out a bit from underneath my jacket. the braver ones gathered all around me, some crouched, some snarling and some with their claws out. the sunlight glinted off the instrument of rock and they hissed at the sight.

the first one lunged at me from behind, blaring lindsey lohan out of an iShit mini. it was wielding two ryan cabrera cds and swung both of them at me like knives. in an instant, i turned and threw my jacket aside, gripped my six stringed weapon and swung for the fences. the teenybopper screeched at the force of the blow and exploded in mid air, falling to the ground in a pile of smoldering ashes.

at that very moment, all hell broke loose.

the teenyboppers jumped over tables and threw chairs aside to get to me. they came from every direction. lunging leaping lashing, i judo chopped and samurai hi yaahed all over their punk asses. swinging and slashing away as one by one each beast fell, most of them with a ashlee simpson you make me wanna lala scream. with the six stringed wonder in my hands, i was unstoppable. the enemy was laid to waste in a matter of minutes.

pink shirts with flipped up collars and big bugg eyed sunglasses were scattered about among the ashes. the hordes and hordes of demonized mtv youth that invaded the mall were reduced to little more than cat litter. the last one ran off with a whimper into the haze of smoke hanging around the food court. i took one long last drag from the cig, threw it down in the ashes and stomped it out. with a clenched face i cracked a dry smile, proud of my handywork's mayhem. the survivor would go tell all its friends, no doubt. the battle may be over, but the war was just beginning.

welcome to the jungle, bitches.

2005-05-14T14:10:00.000-05:00

two years ago today:

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

One year ago today, Christopher Lee Solomon, know to most as Shorty, died in a car accident on a rainy night in Raleigh, North Carolina. He was 19 years old. Never before have I witnessed so many young men and women so devastated by the loss of a loved one. Shorty's life touched so many people, and all were completely saddened by his tragic death. For those he left behind, the immortality of youth is forever shattered. Their lives will never be the same.

I knew Shorty simply as a hockey player, but in this regard he was much more. He was a compatriot, a teammate, and ultimately, through the game of hockey, he was a friend. Every time I lace up my skates, I remember the love for the game with which he played, and it inspires me to love the game and to love life itself the same way he did. Through the sad memory of a life lost too soon, many of his comrades and teammates find the same inspiration everyday.

One year later, we do not look back with sadness or grief. We remember him fondly and celebrate his life. The sacred duty of anyone left behind is to look past the tragedy and remember the better times, the few we were able to share, and to be happy that we fortunate enough to be his friend. We are all better people for having known him.

RIP Shorty. We love you and we miss you. (1984-2003)

2005-05-13T22:19:00.000-05:00

if i told you to pack up you shit and move tonight, how many boxes would it take?

i told him four probably, plus that big ass duffle bag in my closet and my computer bag. its not an easy thing, packing up the last nine months of your life and whisking it away to a far off land like it never happened.

or like its even over.

my far away land is my parents house, a whole fortyfive minutes of bumpertobumperrushhour traffic away from chapel hill. it seems useless at best, these three weeks between leaving and coming back.

its probably best to use these weeks for quiet reflection. to look back on things that ive done and things i cannot change.

thats a load of bullshit if ive ever heard one, he said. what is this, not another teen movie eighteen and a half?

hurr hurr very funny. its the truth dumbass.

i dont like talking about myself. its not that i dont have an ego bigger than this room, but it seems to me that self importance is the worst of virtues. the bastard stepchild of arrogance and ignorance, or something like that. if i had a lot of fun this year, thats for me to know, not for me to gloat about on some sleazy bathroom wall called the blogosphere.

yeah, i stayed up many, many nights and made some memories

yeah i rolled out

yeah there were tears i knew id cry.

no matter though. it all just goes in the bank. the bank of good judgement. filled with files and files of experiences and endless boxes full of lessons learned. anyone with any sense about them wants to have the biggest good judgement bank on this side of the mississippi. alas, they would strive for it. they would make it a life goal. they would consider the great accumulation of all that life will teach you the greatest accomplishment of all.

but you dont want to hear about any of that. right?

he looked at me and gave me his little smirk.

then he got up and started for the door.

pay for lunch.

2005-05-12T01:17:00.000-05:00

at an old job of mine, there was a fancy restaurant down the street where they sent us to fight crime. they had the only bar in town that would serve double flaming everclear on the rocks and the bouncers needed a hand from us computer nerds every once in a while.

i hated it. it was full of snotty people and it smelled funny and the food was the incorrect goodness for its price. i never liked spending a single second in that place.

except for on those tuesday nights.

on the second tuesday of every month, the big boys would show up to the smelly restaurant. theyd come in four, five at a time and there were about 20 of them total. six pee em sharp. they always got the big room in the back, the one with the long long table surrounded by the most comfortable chairs in the place. i dont really know what they talked about, cuz i never really paid them much attention. nobody in the know ever paid them much attention. they were too busy looking outside.

the local ford pinto car club.

a good mix, this car club. the older guys had 928's, like the one in scarface when tony gets bored and wants to buy a car. some of them had 930's, the ones with the slotted shades over the rear windshields and the funny black body trim pieces. the yuppies drove the 911's, and the really rich ones had the turbos with the special ground effects. the oil tycoons and dotcom pawners rolled up in a gt2 and a carrera gt each. there were black, silver, white, yellow red, purple and blue ones and they all parked together at the far end of the lot. the bouncers and the busboys would stare and drool in longing. see you in twenty years, theyd say, just like in the commercial.

the car club was alot like high school. a buddy of mine, nate lawson, newly minted with that new job showed up one day with a boxster and they all gave him funny looks, like wtf are you doing noob and get dat shit outta here. the first few months werent fun at all for nate, but he stuck around cuz he loved those ford pintos that much.

and over time the oldest guys moved away and others moved on to the golf course and still others moved up to that big garage in the sky. and nate lawson stuck around for a few years and moved on up to the east side and eventually it came to be that he was choosen to lead the club. a very prestigious title indeed. nate lawson, humble and gracious and honorable as he is, took this honor very close to his heart and ran with it.

his first order of business was to move the monthly meetings to mcdonalds.

he hated the smelly restaurant more than i did.

but nate lawson is a smart man. his establishment of the mcdonalds conventions was unpopular at best, and he knew this. so, to appetize his constituency, he offered a compromise. the member who could eat the most chicken mcshits at the monthy meeting could choose the place of the next meeting. and the people were amused by this offer, but he was dead serious and they took him up on it with vigor.

what they didnt know is that nate lawson really, really likes chicken mcshits from mcdonalds.

almost as much as his ford pinto.

today, six years later, nate lawson is a revolutionary. the millionaires and yuppies and trust fund babies who came into the club were now average joes. instead of stocks and bonds and golf, they howl and roar over baseball and monster trucks and funny jokes about pretty girls. however, the greatest achievement above all of these is that nate lawson, my buddy of many years, took a room full of bush votes and got them over themselves. all because not a single one in the lot could eat a lousy 2394506978 chicken mcshits like nate could. driving up to a mcdonalds parking lot once a month in your vintage 911 turbo ford pinto will humble the proudest man. it took a long time to realize, but it is nate lawson's gift to them, and they are thankful.

dont tell him, but i could whoop nate lawson's ass at eating mcshits any day of the week.

2005-05-10T06:44:00.000-05:00

dear blogger,

please put my haloscan comments back the way they were.

and do the same for everyone elses too.

it would be greatly appreciated.

oh, and fix my fucking archives.

and the wysiwyg editor too,

bitches.

thanks.

love,

Mo

2005-05-08T21:44:00.000-05:00

its a funny thing, trust.

it could be that its something that you will never come understand, this thing, trust.

a thing so frail and fragile, but upon which the weight of the world was built.

if you give me yours, ill give you mine. but its not like a dollar bill and a bag of weed, this thing, trust.

you always have to lose it first.

but you have to have it to get it back.

because you might or you might not. not now not soon not ever.

and so it is. just like you said it would be.

scary to think about, this thing, trust.

there might not be enough to go around. a little some for you, a bit for you, oops! sorry not enough left. youll have to manage without any.

of this thing, trust.

paris seems to scheme her way into my thoughts more and more. sometimes in the mornings i wake up and her face pops up in a little bubble next to me on my pillow. a quick swat away and i try to go back to sleep but mr Sunshine, the biggest asshole in the world, comes creeping through the windown and through the blinds like he always does. when its 2pm and im in bed, its lecture time.

wake up jackass

no, i dont want to see paris

you should have read the stains, i mean writing, on the wall under the overpass.

i said i dont want to see her

too bad, fucker, you gotta face your fears sooner or later

he gives me a good shake and i take a mean swing at him. a big right hook, catches him right on the corner of the jaw. he slaps me back. we all fall down.

she doesnt want you

then why does she keep calling me

she doesnt miss you

she shouldnt, im not dead yet

she fucks your friend

ive fucked hers too

she never wanted you

i dont blame her

you wont ever be able to trust her

dramatic pause

how could you ever be able to trust her? after all this bullshit. sneaking around, fucking you off, rubbing him in your face. all of this.

looks away

you couldnt have anything with her, not without trust. you gave her yours a long time ago, and she went and lost it. what does that say?

mr Sunshine, youre the worst thing that ever happened to me.

thats great. what about the trust?

well, i said. you have to understand.

its a funny thing, trust.

2005-05-07T16:12:00.000-05:00

You are a Samurai.

You are full of honour and value respect. You are not really the stereotypical hero, but you do fight for good. Just in your own way.

For you, it is most certainly okay to kill an evil person, if it is for justice and peace.

You don't belive in mourning all the time and think that once you've hit a bad stage in life you just have to get up again. It's pointless to concentrate on emotional pain and better to just get on with everything.

You also are a down to earth type of person and think before you act. Impulsive people may annoy you somewhat.

Main weapon: Sword
Quote: "Always do the right thing. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest" -Mark Twain
Facial expression: Small smile

what kind of killer are you?

from ~jess~ via sex

2005-05-05T01:40:00.001-05:00

i am against the war. here is why.

goodnight. sleep well. pleasant dreams.

2005-05-04T21:01:00.000-05:00

theres a nasty storm brewing outside. its real bad. you could say that

something

wicked

this way

comes.

the slave masters have all come home to roost.

these days, people call them the commissioners.

warren sapp called paul tagliabu a slave master after he got fined for hassling a zebra. tags had no response. just a U-O-me. hes higher that responding to players. tagliabu leads the front office conspiracy of racism in the nfl. he wants nothing more than the league to be represented not by the best players, but by the prettiest white quarterback. no you cant take your helmet off, randy moss. no, you cant sell ron mexico jerseys. we wouldnt want people to think that the nfl actually likes black players, now would we?

of course not.

gary bettman is the devil in disguise. the professional sports equivalent of george dubya bush, he'd rather stand by his principles and be right than, um, have a single game be played. theres a reason why before this year, no professional sports league had every lost an entire season to a labor dispute. its because at the end of the day, every other sports league in north america cares about playing the game. bettman, the most powerful man in hockey, doesnt give a damn about the game.

kinda like a commander in chief who doesnt give a damn about the troops.

bud selig is just one big floppy cock. hes tried to keep baseball above the law for years and years. but when all of a sudden, no ones talking about barry bonds or balco anymore, he wants harsher steriods testing. john kerry pulled this same stunt when dean came out against war in iraq. he saw the polls and wanted the same thing. follow suit. become a chameleon of convictions. be what you think others want you to be because you have not the spine nor the talent to desire it yourself.

the ashlee simpson effect, if you will.

and now, they have a fourth. david stern, the most straight up, the most well liked, the most respected of Those That Control Professional Sports has gone and lost his damn mind. one hundred large for complaining about the refs? the way stern is pulling out his bollocks on good ol jeff, youd think he burned down grandma stern's house and pissed on the ashes. van gundy is posturing, like every coach does, especially ones in the playoffs. the rockets are the underdog, and he wants everyone to know it. its part of the game.

just like fighting in hockey. just like beaning in baseball. just like showboating in football. theyre part of the essence of sport, and cannot be legislated out with big fat fines or harsh words in the press.

the office of the commish: no sports, just games.