I was walking down the street the other day and I realized that 9 minutes isn't all that long of a time if yer listening to something good. Anyway, it was a good 3 days after Halloween, and being on my way to work, I was dreading the next 5 hours in general. I thought about silly things, and tried not to look too foolish walking along the mean, scary, busy streets. So I'm coming up to work, and there is this old guy, who has an old house, and an old yard and an old garden. During the summer, motherfucker is always out there tending to his yard and garden. Being November, it's a little colder, and I guess it isn't as fun for grandpa Al to frolic about on his piece of land. Anyway, I noticed something very strange. A dead cat was before my eyes. The poor little black cat even had it's little pink tongue out and all. Just like in the cartoons! In this old mans front yard. It's not every day you see a random dead, black cat in somebody's yard who is classically know for very fine yard up-keep. Then again, you never see a dead donkey either.

          So old Jesus-Freak fell in the toilet again today. She tries to play it off like she meant to fall in the toilet, and maybe go for a swim or something. Everybody knows though, she's just a senile old lady who can't properly keep herself perched on the toilet seat. She used to be a real heffer, but around her 69th birthday she became a Born Again Christian, and an anorexic. Did you know that there are TWO types of Born Again Christians? There's no real distinction between them, besides the fact that one says "I'm Christian, and I've been born again, I follow a more hard-core bible reading existence then most Christians, but I'm not a BORNAGAINCHRSITIAN". Those poor suckers are in some sort of denial. Not only are they so weak of people that they need follow some book to keep thier shit straight and to tell them how to live their fucking life, they still look down on others, and won't admit they are part of an extremist cult. Then there are the types who fully acknowledge that they do in fact, belong to, and are practicing members of a cult. Old lady falls into category #2. I always thought it was a bit late in her life to develop an eating disorder and join a cult, but she seems content with it, so good for her. I'd be more against it, but she keeps her religious propaganda bull-shit to herself most of the time, so it's ok.

          The other day, in Personal-Endowment-For-Yer-Right-To-Be-Forced-To-Speak-To-Small-Bodies-Of-People, the I'mNotFat,ButI'mNotTooSkinnyEither girl, who is still a beautiful, yet mis-guided creature, who reminds me of someone I know, addressed a small body of people. It was disgusting. I couldn't stop staring at her tits. It wasn't just because they were all nice, round, juicy and plump. But also, because her address to the small body of people was pure religious propaganda. It was an informative address to a small body of people on the signs that the end of the world is nearing. All I could really get out of this informative speech really though, is how amazingly patriarchy brainwashing really works. I got real depressed. Here is this girl, who is only 20 years old, and is already brainwashed... and she got brainwashed fast. Didn't find God until last year, after she left the AIRFORCE, and now that she has found god, I can honestly say I have never seen a more thoroughly douched mind. So all I had to keep from crying, and wanting to kill myself, and yell profane things to her about her silly choice in life, was to sit there and stare at her bosom. Lucky for me, they were nice.

          It's cold outside, and every time I'm outside, and it's cold, and my poor little nose is all red and dripping with snot, I get The Choir's song, "It's Cold Outside" stuck in my head. This wouldn't happen to anyone but to me, cos I live in Cleveland. The Choir were from Cleveland. It was a regional hit, a long, long time ago, when it was less cold out. Eventually The Choir became The Raspberries, and somewhere along the line uncle Terry's liver blew through the side of his person.

          If a Mexican leaves a vacuum cleaner on their patio in early November, and you are belligerently drunk, and you steal it to clean a mess up, across the way, but don't return it, can you justifiabley reason it was an ok thing to do?? Because any body, even Mexicans, who leave a vacuum cleaner of theirs on their back patio deserve to get it stolen! Things like this don't really keep me up at nite. Money does though. That's a whole other story though. Actually, this isn't really a story. It's going nowhere. Has no plot. The paper boy/girl/man/woman/whatever just came. 4:30 am it is. I was bored tonight.

          The other person in the Personal-Endowment-For-Yer-Right-To-Be-Forced-To-Speak-To-Small-Bodies-Of-People class that gets on my nerves is this older lady. A fat old woman. She's one of those people who thinks they are maybe high, and mighty, when all that is mighty about them is their girth. She's a real fuck. I hate her. She always has some stupid quip about some stupid something. She never really interjects into the conversation, the family she made, she should be ashamed of, is full of ugly people. The worst part is the fact that she spawned about 4 ugly creatures to inhabit the earth. Sometimes Wendy makes us address a small body of people every now and then, and fat bitch always goes last. Apparently she is not comfortable with addressing small bodies of people. So she always the last character to speak. The worst part is, is that she always talks about the dumbest, most sorry, fucking things in the world. 20 year old Jesus-Freak talks about God, or her fiancee. Older housewife A talks about her silly kids. Older housewife B usually speaks about something that has at least some OUNCE of thought put into it. I like housewife B. Hill-Jack boy talks about something or other, and is usually entertaining enough. I kick ass, so I always have something to entertain, if not interest the people with. Then fat bitch. Last time, she talked about her and her fat husbands favorite steak house to go to (Longhorn) and what kind of fattening foods they enjoy eating. I'm always disgusted with her. I'd like to hit her. She's lucky she doesn't have a Ronald Reagan's neck impersonator (scrotum sack, containing testicles) down south. Enough about that though... Youd think though, being a fat old woman, she would at LEAST have enough decency to go to an independently run steak house, as opposed to a national steak house chain.

          I looked all around the house for this skirts number. Couldn't find it. I just had it on Tuesday. I need it. There is a good chance the great drought could end if I could get a hold of this hole. Though that's wrong of me to say. But you gotta take what you can get. Something's got to happen somewhere, some place, sometime... why not now? I'm gonna go eat some chicken. I'm white.