Brain Lame

I’ve decided to let all my knowledge go to waste because I now value social acceptance in groups of people who think being smart is stupid. I will never exude arrogance ever again by spouting out knowledge they don’t know. Right now my active knowledge is perfectly functional, unless if I have already let some of my knowledge go to waste.
I used to know how to braid hair, that one girl in fifth grade taught me during a three day span of really liking each other. I used to know how to lose weight until I got enormously fat, now it is hopeless and there is no way of ever gaining this knowledge again. This one time I learned how to be The President of the United States, but I ran out of money and soon lost interest. At one point in my life I used to know how to speak two languages, now I can’t speak any, I only know how to write English. When I was a teenager I knew everything about The Simpson’s TV show, but then I metaphorically moved to Shelbyville.
If I sit around all day and watch TV then my knowledge will gradually withdraw from my massive brain bank. Well… I will learn how to change the channel faster and my knowledge of The Simpson’s would return. What can I do that can make me a complete idiot instead of a partial idiot? I’d have to get rid of anything that gives me knowledge. I already got rid of all my books in a mass book burning celebration with a bunch of Hitler enthusiasts.
Maybe I can plug up my ears with cement, cover my eyes, nose and fill my mouth also, and plug each individual pore in my skin so neither of my senses gain knowledge. When I do this I will show the groups of people I want social acceptance from them and I am making a change in my life. An even bigger change than them and that I will not let anything make me smarter and they now have a chance of being smarter than me so they can easily manipulate me for their own personal gain.
But… this will show I have knowledge and I think for myself, there for not looking cool. I could just talk about how I don’t care. I could tell them I’m actively stupiding myself, dumbing myself and not smarting my brain anymore so I am that way now. I will figure out a way sooner or later. Sooner would be better because later I could be too stupid to figure out how to make myself be stupider.

The Best Way to Get a Woman in the Sack

The first step to getting a woman in the sack (and possibly all over your sack if she has lips that aren’t sutured together) is to find a woman you would want to be in the sack with. It is better if you find someone you are physically attracted to because if you don’t then your wiener curls up inside your body and if you can’t get it back out it’ll eventually turn into a vagina. The next step would be to find her again after you have decided that she is physically attractive because decisions like that take awhile and they are never ever instantaneous.
If your schedule permits you to, go back and find her multiple times a day. If you’re prepared to give up everything to get this woman proceed with alleviating yourself of all your responsibilities. Quit work/school, if you’re not that productive then prepare to get your ass up off the couch by doing some stretches so you don’t pull a muscle walking out the front door. Get rid of all your friendships, they are meaningless anyway after you get into a sexful in the sack relationship. Sex feels good and stopping having sex sucks so hanging out with your friends is boring and awkward when you are occupied by thinking about sexing it up when you get back home.
Go and see her every moment you can and long to be with her. Don’t let her notice that you are looking at her. Study her behavior and know when her head is about to turn your way so you can look away fast enough to check your phone for no messages and continue your solitaire game.
Dream about her whenever you can‘t find her. Put her in every single scenario you can think of. Save her life from a oncoming train that is about to hit her as she is tied down to the tracks. Imagine yourself typing up this pimp ass detailed ownership contract and get her to sign it before you save her life so you can own her and you’ll never have to get another chick again and she’ll have to do whatever you want because it is in your contract. You can imagine all levels of heroism from just ripping the ropes to breaking the tracks and carrying her off with a Hollywood-like explosion behind you when the train derails into another train. Dream about stuff like this because the odds of this happening is never, unless if you are filming a silent movie.
Once you have spent enough time looking at her and you notice she is going in a house and coming out of the house with different clothes on she is probably living there. Now you know her address and now you can send her sonnets or letters telling her how beautiful she is, but don’t build up her confidence too much. If you only tell her how beautiful she is then you are building up her confidence and if she is on the brink of asking someone else out then she is going to attempt it now. You have to point out some other things about her like how her breasts are already sagging a little bit and her nose looks a little like a pigs or her feet resemble a hobbits and she should probably shave them when she is shaving her legs.
You can continue to do this for years. The longer you do this the more she wants to jump your bones. When you finally do talk to her timing is crucial. Make sure you show your superior intelligence and strength by humiliating any other man that is around her. You can do this by winning a physical altercation or a political debate, or both at the same time, but remember that blows to the head deplete your level of intelligence, so if your stupid just kick his ass. If you can’t kick his ass then continue to try so you look pathetic and she takes pity on you. If you succeed then take off all your clothes on the spot and you’ll have the best sex ever, she’ll be so hot for you.
I just wanted to tell you how to get laid because it’s hard and complicated. I’ve done this three times and now I have three girlfriends. The more the merrier. They all love each other and feel lucky that they get to share me. All the guys are jealous when I walk down the street with three chicks and I’m sick of telling them how I did it so I’m telling the world in this blog, but this isn’t really me typing. It’s one of my hotties who is typing this as I speak it and the other two are naked while I’m naked in bed doing sexual acts.

Con Forming Conformity

I signed up for a class on conformity, just like everyone else. I here it is supposed to be pretty good. I saw a huge line the other day going around a building so I asked them what was going on. They said they didn’t know, but it has to be good because the line is huge, quite possibly a skanky drunk movie star kicking ass at some chess or free airline peanuts. I cut in line. I found out later that that was a big no-no. I also stood backwards in line and stared down the person behind me until they blinked and moved on to the next person. Half my body was in the line and half of it was outside the line. I almost didn’t get into the class because I did this. They had cameras on us to observe our behavior and told me multiple times on a megaphone to straighten up, but I had my headphones on and I was singing Stoner Hate by Scars on Broadway so the rest of the crowd could enjoy the entertainment because the wait was excruciating.
When I was signing up for the class they showed the video of me so I told them that I wasn’t aware this was a line for a conformity class and from now on all I will do is conform. When I was filling out the form I started at the bottom by signing my name and then worked my way up the page to the top. I wrote some of the words backwards. They asked if I was doing it on purpose and I told them I had no formal training in conformity. They then looked at each other and then said they thought I wasn’t a good candidate for this class because they wanted their class to go smoothly without any interruptions, but before they could finish that sentence I interrupted them.
I proceeded to use my supreme interviewing skills such as airy build-up of my intelligence with big words and custard thick charisma, but the custard turned soupy and I lost ways of connecting one big word to the next in a structured sentence format, so I ended up just saying the big words in order from what I remembered in the dictionary. They were amazed by my memorization skills and said conformity is all about memorization, so remember that. It’s also realizing when you’re supposed to initiate the conformist act in and around anti-conformity in a swift manner so you don’t look stupid by looking like your thinking and a anti-conformist doesn‘t notice and confront your conformity and changes you to a anti-conformist.

Erectable Tent Pitching

In the summer time I dust of my tent, sleeping bag and camping supplies and stuff them in my car. I head out in to the wild before anyone else takes all the good camping spots. I go really early in the morning right after the sun comes up and the rooster’s crow at 10:30 am. I buy food, worms and biodegradable toilet paper because I don’t want to make a mistake when discerning which poison ivy leaf to wipe with and just use toilet paper. I also want to make sure I eat enough to produce waste so I use the toilet paper and something to torture the worms with (do worms know the difference between shit and mud? They don’t have a nose).
It takes many years to find the perfect campsite without idiot kids laughing jovially making your ears bleed and stupid annoying elderly people smelling up the place with their decomposing flesh. Sometimes you have to go at certain times of the day like before 12 pm to avoid kids camping next to you because there still at home rotting there brains out watching cartoons. If you want to avoid old people go after 6 pm because they are already in bed by then, but there is still a chance there will be young people if they haven’t tired themselves out whining to their parents all day.
When you find the perfect campsite make sure you are far away from the all the rich yuppies because you don’t want them coming over to your tent and blocking the front of your tent forcing you to listen to all their silly bragging about shit they just bought or what new country they just conquered and their pain and struggles of keeping the savages from decolonizing.
When you pitch your tent push all of the weak pussies out of the way and find the softest piece of cement that is the closest to the ticket stand. You want to be one of the first people in line, but comfort is also important. Surety that you know you’ll get to see the movie at the first showing is comforting, but finding good seats is equally as important, so you might want to bring inconspicuous weapons. I made the mistake of bringing my chain with a spiked metal ball the first year because I wanted to be certain that I would knock the person out. People started to notice and I got kicked out of the movie, it sucked getting kicked out of the movie. I now bring blow darts laced with an array of fast acting poisons and tranquilizer solutions.

Day's Day

At the end of Mother’s Day I sat next to my phone thinking about what I could tell my mom after the scheduled day of appreciation was over that would really chap her hide. On Earth Day when the day was about to end I would drain the oil out of my car and sit right next to a storm drain. 24 hours of being nice is hard, I asked her the night before if I could spread it out during the whole year and be appreciative for almost four minutes everyday, but she told me that I couldn’t and that a whole day is what you’re supposed to do. She said I would be dubbed as disrespectful by every mother on the planet and I would only get glaring looks from them the rest of your life if I didn’t show my appreciation for her for a whole day and there wasn’t any way out of it. I asked her when I could show my appreciation for my best friend and she said I never could because there wasn’t a best friends day and if there isn’t a specified time for appreciation then you look silly like a douche bag.
I then asked her if I could do it another day because I was going to go around and help old ladies cross roads and I was going to give away some of my organs that I don’t need so people could live longer and then I was going to adopt a highway. She then started crying and told me about the day she gave birth to me and I asked her why she was doing this and she said this is what her mother taught her to do when she was a kid whenever she came across that question.
I then showed her all the times I respected her, all the times she was hard on me, and all the times she wasn’t a good mom in a It’s a Wonderful Life type of way, but not when the respectful acts were on Mother’s Day. A black & white Jimmy Stewart kept slipping in and out of our temporary alternate reality like he couldn’t quite stay in his because he even had a hard time being appreciative of his alternate reality with that goofy angel. I finally told him to get out and don’t come back and don’t worry you’re going to go back to your original fictional movie life in about 30 minutes and he peaked in one last time right as we were leaving.
When we got back to reality I said so now do you think we are even and she said no and I was just showing one side of everything and I said you’re only thinking about all the good shit you’ve done for me and there should be a day where I completely disrespect you the whole day for all the times you were human and you didn’t always do the right thing. She then told me to watch my language and I told her I always do and I said shit on purpose as a sign of disrespect. She then gave me a stern look and I said I’m not going to make my kids do Father’s Day, it seems like a silly thing to schedule out a day of gratitude instead of showing it to that person when you feel it.
Then she cried.
I gave in and said okay I’ll make you something for Mother’s Day and she said I wasn’t five years old anymore and if I respected her at all I would buy her something from a store. I then told her that I’d walk around and pick her some flowers and she said no I needed to buy her flowers. I then asked her what if there was an apocalypse and there weren’t any stores anymore and she said that I’d disrespect her the rest of her life so I better not let a apocalypse happen. I then said wow this is so unlike you is this still what your mother taught you to tell me and she said yes and she couldn’t control what she said about it so just give in and do it it’s easier that way.

Eggs Between My Leggs

Once I finish drinking all of my eggs, taking a bottle of calcium and eating the chicken bones left over from my KFC last night I’m going to pump out some whole eggs (brown probably, organic, wait scratch that my deodorant has a bunch of chemicals in it and so does the Oreos I ate last night) and incubate me a few chicks in the large nest of blankets I built up on my bed. I’ve fattened up a bit so my extremely soft fat ass wont break the eggs compared to my soft fat ass that broke the eggs last week. I should be a proud father of eight if everything works out alright and if I raise them correctly (cage free of course) they should turn out to become silly mascots for a diner or a AAA baseball team or a CEO or something. If worse comes to worse they can always become good eats if they don’t chicken out.
You’re probably thinking, and what would he gain from this? Bragging rights. Just the sheer fact that I’ve done this will get me a whole hell of a lot of attention. I’m still waiting for that watermelon to grow in my stomach and when it does channel nine news will be begging for an exclusive. My brother is an amazing person with unmatchable intelligence and when he tells me it’ll grow if you do it properly I believe him. I swallowed fertilizer for nutrients, insecticide incase there is a tape worm inside and I think that is where I went wrong last time, and a shitload more seeds incase they fall through the fertilizer.
I’ll have to mature faster than I planned. I originally planned on becoming an adult when I was 53. When it was too late for my human kids (when and if I have them in my thirties; raising chickens might suffice for making me feel like I‘ve achieved something in my life) to ever have a real father figure. Now I have to grow up in like four or five years depending on how much my chickens peck at me whining for attention. I can also stay celibate because all I want to do is abstain from having dirty unlawful sex until I never get married. I’d prefer not to get married and I don’t like doing unethical things god and Jesus wouldn’t want me to do. In the end I‘d probably get married, but I‘d sit in protest and my wife to be and her platoon of bridesmaids would carry me to the alter at gunpoint.
I like birthing chickens, but I don’t want to have sex with chickens if I can’t marry them, so artificially creating chicks through this delicate process is necessary. State, national, and planetary law prevents me from marrying animals. If a tortoise forced me to marry her she would have to suffer after she has outlived me, unless if it turns out I’m a immortal.

Lamaze Class for the Ass

On the way to my lamaze class (it helps give me confidence to tackle those large bowel shits so they go a little bit smoother) I found an ink cartridge sitting on a branch that was attached to a tree with a root system tunneling deep down into the ground. I hesitated on picking up the ink cartridge because what if it threw the tree off balance and it fell over; tunneling root systems balance on a very tricky equilibrium. I left my measuring tape, tree book identifier, and my TI-85 calculator in my other pair of pants (I better take those out of my pockets or I’m going to find it in large soggy paper chunks when I open the washing machine, especially the TI-85) or I would have figured out mathematically if I could take the printer ink cartridge off without the tree falling over.
If I had my tree book identifier I could check and see if it was a printer ink cartridge tree. I looked around to see if a printer printed out the tree or not. I found a printer on the ground all bashed up as if the Office Space guys got a hold of it. That thing couldn’t have printed out a tree of paper, plus the ink cartridge was black ink not colored ink. I then remembered reading in my tree book identifier that a printer ink cartridge tree seeps out ink like maple syrup and hot plastic on the other side of the tree. I grabbed the expecting father and mother (me… I became so by eating gobs and globs of In Vitro Fertilization) by the coattails and walked me up to the tree and poked around in between the detailed coarse vagina-like bark trails. I didn’t find any defensive octopus juice deterrent or scorching hot magma plastic. For sure it wasn’t a printer ink cartridge tree.
I then heard a distinct sound that I couldn’t quite place and then it hit me. Well, the TV hit me on the head; I was lucky it was a small kitchen TV. The sound was a falling sound, like an acme anvil in Bugs Bunny. Its been too long since I’ve seen Bugs Bunny and if I had watched it I would have know before it was too late. I shouldn’t have to watch it for awhile this event should remind me. I looked up and saw an angry woman throwing clothes, books, and a relationship out of the window (yes she was pushing her boyfriend out the window). I would have tried to catch him, but I didn’t want to look gay holding him in my arms. I made this decision a split second before he would have landed in my arms and the expression on his face when he knew I was worried about looking gay is etched in my mind; sheer fear mixed with understanding while bracing himself for impact.
I grabbed the printer ink cartridge and went to my lamaze class, but unfortunately later on I found out that it was the wrong number ink cartridge for my printer and my printer opened itself and spit it out like our relationship was over. So I threw the printer out my window.

For Richer or For Poorer

I walked over to the collective area of very tall buildings in the downtown area earlier in this categorized and numbered 24 hour block of time we all are living in after I ate a bowl of crunchy sugar and food coloring bites. I went around and spotted a small group of young men in expensive suits and I’d sit near them and listen in on their conversations. They all talked about money and how much they had and how much they made and how they were going to make more. Then I used my clever extendable Inspector Gadget-like arm hand thing and checked their wallets to see if they were lying. If they were lying I’d keep the money. If they were truthful I’d put it back in their pocket; I probably should have just kept it; it was a pain in the ass and if I wasn’t careful a poke in their ass. I was careful not to form the hand of the extendable arm to just one pointed finger in a phallic manner. I went around and did this a couple of times until I thought I had enough money.
I then walked up to homeless people and told them I’d give them money if they did some things for me. No, not those types of things! You have a dirty mind! I told them I’d give them some money if they took my favorite pair of clothes to the cleaners, cleaned my car (some of them got into it and put on the bikinis they had stashed in their carts), had them fill up the air in my tires to the exact pounds per square inch that Barack Obama told us to fill it to, swept the street corner & threw away the trash that was littered on the ground, changed some money for quarters and filled the parking meters up properly, and shave my back & buttocks, but only if they were mostly sober.
Some of them told me to go shove that extendable Inspector Gadget-like arm hand thing up my ass. I then would raise the price of money I’d pay them and that got most of them thinking and they ‘d change their minds. A few of the more clever ones would ask for more money, but I would just get them to wax my car and get a tire autographed by a Barack Obama autographing impersonator. Some of them asked me if I could just give them the money and then passed out. The last homeless person I went up to was an undercover agent for the Division of Labor and I had to make a run for it. I was lucky he was fatter than me, my car was closer and I removed my license plates earlier that day. Actually, the guy who found out I stole his license plates confronted me earlier in this categorized and numbered 24 hour block of time when I was walking to my car and stole them back.
After I drove around for a few hours and had some time to think about the rest of the money I still had I went and got new brakes for my car, bought a few rounds at the nearest bar, bought a real license plate, bought dinner, bought some video games and movies and CD‘s that I‘ve wanted for the past couple of months, bought a few items that were on clearance that I didn’t really want but liked because they were 40% off, bought three boxes of silly straws instead of regular straws and no straws because straws are a waste of space and money, bought one of those three gallon drums of ice cream, and paid someone to write this blog.

The Filing of Landfilling

I can’t believe the world is barreling along full throttle as if there will be another day to live tomorrow without your own personal landfill. I ordered mine through Amazon.com, well it was through one of those shady companies under the used & new section that are three dollars cheaper but charge you an addition eight bucks for shipping and $6.50 for a guarantee that they don’t know when they’ll ship it, so it could be fifteen minutes or when your first born child doesn’t die by creeping deaths impending doom life sucking fog because you remembered to smear lambs blood on the outside of the front doorframe of your house/squat/pyramid/tent/port-o-potty.
I had a friend who owned ten acres of land. He dug up all his land and poured it in a landfill filling up the landfill with land. He then turned his land into a landfill. He wants to get ten acres of the Swiss Alps put on his landfill so he can fill his landfill to its full capacity and not waste. If that doesn’t work he’ll get a volcano and in a few hundred or thousand years it will properly turn into land. If he can’t get one he will redirect one to his land with industrial strength lava proof piping made out of the stolen bits of the Swiss Alps.
I wonder who does the filing for the general census of landfills? Has the Bureau for Ethical Filing of the General Census of Everything created a landfill full of files on landfills with a file on the landfill full of files on landfills? I know landfills are very well organized and it is nothing like my apartment which contains a whole years worth of trash in a pile in the middle of my room. The files that contain the detailed list of all the trash in my apartment and my landfills in other areas and landfills in other landfills are of course put away in a highly organized filing cabinet that is filed away in very large filing cabinet of filing cabinets. If the Bureau for Ethical Filing of the General Census of Everything loses my files I can make them copies and note in my files that I made copies for them incase they need to know if they ever received copies from me.

Blog Deprived

By the time I get to write this blog I just want to relax and watch TV or read War & Peace or organize my dishes by brand name or exercise or take a attention deprived metro male on a shopping spree or go clean my coins and iron my dollar bills. A blog is like owning a pet or having a girlfriend. Most of the time it’s awesome and it gives you pleasure, but you have to give it attention or it poops on your carpet and develops a yeast infection. It’s really weird coming home to your girlfriend pulling up her pants in the middle of your apartment right above a steaming pile. They both have a guilty face and when you interrogate them they don’t say shit about the shit. Then all of your friends come over and you try and prevent them from coming in, but they push their way through and burst out laughing when they see and smell what happened. Some of them don’t even see it and just go straight to your couch and play video games. Some of them help you clean it up and suggest ways of getting the stain out while others tell you how to handle your pet and girlfriend.
After everyone leaves your girlfriend nags you about having your friends over when you were supposed to have a nice quite romantic dinner. Other things in your relationship like shit on the carpet side tracked you and the long belly aching laughs and deep discussions with your friends helped you unwind and gave you strength to proceed with your relationship and taking care of your girlfriend, I mean pet. You talk yourself into a hole while she completely turns herself off. You ignore her at first knowing that there are other ways of seeking pleasure, but you know it isn’t as fulfilling. She looks right at you as you watch old reruns of Baywatch; her glare is unwavering. You think to yourself, ‘So what if I messed up, she shit on my carpet. I know she did. There is no way my fish can produce that large of a bowel movement. She couldn’t of had enough bowl movement circling within the bowl with a bowel movement that large inside her and jump out onto the carpet.’
Your girlfriend turns herself on again and radiates from across the room increasing your level of exposure to radiation. You both apologize for the way you acted and except each others apology even though you know she sunk to a new low to get your attention. You contemplate getting a new girlfriend, but you think about all the work you put into this relationship and how both of you have improved each other. Then you think about how disgustingly beautiful and cliché your relationship has become. So you give her a couple of tattoos, dye her hair black and dress her in dingy clothes. Then you find a lid for your fish bowl.