OMFG R.E.M. broke up.

R.E.M. broke up!

Didn't they write that one song? I just found out, in the form of a joke about a guy losing his virginity, during a Conan O'Brien skit.

Anyways, I didn't have enough booze left to go to happy land. Just enough to make it to alright land.

Population: me and my annoying cats.

~Xavier R.

Drunken Hugs

I normally do not like hugging. However when I've been, well, you know. I tend to, well, you know. Then I feel gross. Not in the weird "eww, germs" sort of way, but a "hugging is for puppies and old ladies" sort of way. It's similar to the notion of crying being for little girls and drug addicts. You may know me, personally. You may think "I've seen you hug plenty of times!" Well, that would coincide with a rhetoric of me being drunk, plenty of times.

I have this special thing in my brain, called Notlikeeveryoneelseitis. The prescription from the huggle doctor was lots of hugs growing up, to prevent my Notlikeeveryoneelseitis from turning into sociopathy. Well, it is my staunch belief that I had an allergic reaction to the hugs, and I was stricken sociopathy anyways. Well, minus the occasional violence or people disregard. Maybe that's a whole other thing, then. You know what? Tits, lulz.Moving on.

A couple ughs

UGH #1 You know when you're overweight, and somehow your subconscience keeps constructing a universe around you that disallows change, or lets you be OK with your unhealthy self because it want's to keep you safe, seeing how change is dangerous, and happiness is key in connection with that? Take for example, starting to run again, then not being able to because of an ankle injury, which could heal if you didn't work on it 8-12 hours a day? Yeah, me either.

UGH #2 Hipsters. That use to be just a way to describe someone, but now its an entire thing. You know? Like, being mainstream is so lame. You know what else is mainstream? Breathing. So stop it, so us conformists can have it all to ourselves. Speaking of which, some months ago, I was at this music festival, and whilst in line for entrance, I overheard

"Yeah, but to truly be a hipster, you can't BE a hipster." In this retarded, foux upper class sort of snide accent. This was one of the very rare cases of me coming close to using violence against someone for not doing anything to me. *Glare sans ensuing strangulation*

Anyways, I'm not so good with goodbyes.

~Xavier R.

What's wrong with some color in your family tree...9-25-11

It's a fuck up world. Or, perhaps, the world isn't fucked up. Maybe we need to judge our levels of our social gauging. Calm down, everyone. All we want is peace and love, blah blah blah.

My Step Dad's girlfriend makes delicious biscuits. Not slang for vagina, I mean really. Delicious biscuits.

But yeah, the daily thing;











Do you see trees? I see them, too. Anyways, enjoy.

~Xavier R.

Is it solipsism in here, or is it just me...Playlist 9-24-11

Firstly, when your diet consists of Thai food and alcohol, wavering from such causes problems. Or solutions. Not really sure anymore. It puts the lotion on the skin or else it gets masturbatory musing from the upper echelons of the nobodies again.

Secondly, Bike Mike as inspired/convinced/cattle prodded  me into starting one of my horror stories that I've had swimming around in that depraved genius lump of goo of mine known as a brain. I may or may not put up snippets or entire chapters. We'll see how I feel.

Lastly, I've come to learn (already know) that orgasms aren't that great unless they're on someone else's face. Fact.

Behold, your playlist;











Best heard when loud, whilst naked, and with friends.

~Xavier R.

Why you should consider me for upper management.

"You sure? Are you absolutely sure?" said my rival Steven, looking really really stupid in a full hazmat suit.

"Yes!" I declare.

"You're sure your fridge is demonically possessed... because of the light?" He says with that incredulous tone he knows I hate so much.

"Yes, goddamnit! Yes!" I exclaim. "The light stays on until I open it! If that's not demonic in nature I do not know what is!"

"You sure? Like positive?" having taken off the top half of his hazard suit revealing the reverend collar he was straightening on the shirt underneath it. "You know if this shit is alien, You're gonna just have to admit you don't have any real crazy devil shit go on here. We'll have to revoke your membership to the Guild of Darkness. Put you back with those trekkies down on fifth."

"Fuck you and go check my fucking fridge" I snapped, losing my composure only temporarily.

"Okay! Okay man!" I could tell he didn't trust me. He had his reverend shirt and collar, his holy water and his cross shaped axe, sure, but he had also had his hazardous materials jumpsuit on. Tied at the waist. "But lemme warn ya, I've danced with many a haunted fridge, and this shit just aint haunted." He sneered, "It's fuckin' aliens"

He swung open the fridge door after giving his a-rhythmic knock signature onto the fridge door. It's how all full fledged Darkness Guilders access the otherworld. I've been in training for the guild of darkness for 9 months. Anyone who has any potential to be in the guild have to take an entrance exam, those who dont are in the fifth floor "Paranormal Activities Research Dept", those who fail the test gets sent back there indefinitely.

Forever known as a "Repard" or just simply "Trekkies," as Steven likes to put it.

"Just check the fridge, alright?" I was losing patience.

Steven opened the door and much to my vindication a furry rancid smelling beast whos face occupied the entire length and breadth of the fridge opening. It had huge sharp teeth and what seemed to be thousands of eyes, none of them fishlike.

A demon for sure!

"Now to the untrained eye" explained Steven, obviously sweating "This MAY SEEM Demonic in nature..."

"Just fucking call it asshole, it's got demonic written all over it" I snapped letting my victory wash over me.

"It's a goddamn hologram, you little pissant. I'll prove it!" Snapping his arm into the fridge.

The creatures teeth all turned into the blades of serrated K-bar knives, most of them now all but severing Steven's forearm from his elbow.

"Okay, I believe you. Now get me out of here... please"

"Not until you sign me over your corner office and reserved parking to me"

"Bastard! You drive a hard bargain!" He laughed heartily from his gut as he signed my shrewdly printed out terms.

Not only had I commanded a situation in a way that would benefit myself and career, but I had also commanded the respect from a more experienced Co-Worker.

Please evaluate my service to this great Guild in your selecting for Co-Chair of Darkness.

For Your Consideration,

Big Mike.

PLAYLIST NINE-TWENTYTWO-ELEVEN

Prepare to be brutalized











Thank you Satan for Bandcamp

Shitting in Mitsubishis

In 2024, scientists developed a collar like device feeding off the brainwaves of mammals and translates the signals phonetically into words and phrases

In 2033, the first commercial passenger aircraft piloted by a chimpanzee made a safe landing.

In 2045, there are no flying cars, but a population of millions of chimpanzees now hold jobs, read at a college reading level and have the right to buy alcohol and cigarettes.

 ***

"Look! I'm a fucking seal! ARF! ARF! ARF!" Screamed my roommate Reggie, atop our neighbors highly modified '35 Mitsubishi Skyline. Don't get me wrong, I hated this stupid car too: It had a ridiculously huge spoiler, it's tires were too damn big, it had tinted windows, it had spinning rims and this stupid paint job that would change colors depending on what angle you were looking at it. But still, Reggie was over reacting.

Besides, he didn't look like a seal, he looked like a pissed off chimp with a fire axe.

"Wait! Reggie! Don't do it!" I screamed to no avail. He was already in the middle of a swing.

"You..." He cut a neat 6 inch gash into the roof "Should've..." another blow to roof "Bought..." destroying the vents at the rear windshield "American..." a side mirror, gone "You..." A gash in the passenger door "Zitty..." the passenger window "Faced..." the windshield, shattering into a million little pieces. "COCKSMOKER!" screamed my roommate as he laughed maniacally and crawled right through the hole he made in the front of the car.

I went back inside the apartment, I didn't want to witness what happened next, not the ugly confrontation Reggie had with the zitty neighbor kid nor the fist fight which followed. Not even the the chimpanzee sized shit he would leave on the driver's seat.

Reggie came into the house with a cigarette between his lips. He was bruised up but he was grinning triumphantly as he laid a roll of twenties on the table. "I fleeced him for everything he had"

I gave Reggie that look I always give when he feels invincible. Beating the shit out of a human could slide, property damage would get him put down for sure.

"I wouldn't worry about it" Reggie pulled out a magazine from the back of his pants, a copy of human pride. "He's a Human Supremacist, he'd never admit to having his ass beat by a monkey. I mean, you read this shit? 'Monkies stealing human jobs'? 'Monkies suck off welfare teat'? 'Southern belle gang raped by monkies'? You would think that humans didn't have the largest outwards genitalia in the ape family."

"You never know, That southern belle might've only be being 'raped' because her daddy found out"

"Man, that's really tasteless" laughed Reggie, "This coming from the chimp who shits in Mitsubishis"



Fuck Mitsubishi,
Big Mike.

I like my women like I like my coffee...

Ground up and put in the freezer.

Ah! Ah! Aaah!

You're fucking swine, seriously.

Big Mike.

ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) Y U NO STAY DEAD?

To reiterate on a point Big Mike made some time ago;

All your friend's are dead. Not literally (well, not completely). But they hardly matter anymore. But some come around.

"Ol' buddy, there you are!"

No, no. Smile. Wave, call it good. Some situations are good. Some, barely bearable. Most, bad. Most, go away. Most, you weren't interested then, don't be interested now.

Perhaps the cynicism will go away. Perhaps these words will be rued. They aren't right now, though. Right now I mean them.

Cept. That one chick I had a crush on in the 6th grade. We do sex, cool? Don't worry, I have condoms. I'm a big boy now. All growed up.

~Xavier R.

The Darkness

The walls of the compound kept vibrating, and this caused anxiety among the researchers and their sporadic family members. They had no idea how to stop it, or what it was, but all had the same sneaking suspicion, of what it was. Eerily creeping past and through them, a darkness was abound.

"What?" Roy Roe was awake. He looked left and right, his wife by his side, but still asleep. Well, not asleep anymore.

"I didn't say anything, sweets." She half grumbled and half yawned. "Now go back to bed."

This would not do for Roy Roe. He knew he heard something. So half naked, half asleep, and fully intrigued, he tossed his half of the blankets on top Mrs. Roe, and slid from bed. He waved his hand passed the scanner on his door, and the door then proceeded to near instantly dissipate, leaving a wide opening for him to walk through. One he did, it then became a solid door once more. He could slightly hear his wife groan towards him as he made his way down the corridor.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..." Roy Roe heard the shout, which before it could finish what he figured would have become a very pronounced "fuck", he heard what he imagined was the exploding of meat. Or, well, a person. The steel walls, with no windows and the occasional door made him nervous, because the sound could have come from anywhere. He decided to run back to his room, to check on his wife.

When he arrived, he found blood covering the floor and sink in the kitchen, the living area, and the bed. All that remained were bits of bone, entails, and hair. He fell to his knees, with tears in his eyes.

"My wife...my beautiful wife." The lights in his room then brightened. This signaled daylight. The screaming had stopped. The clattering of a busy research station could be heard from outside his door.

"Wake him! Wake him now!" A familiar voice. What was this about? It was coming from nowhere!

"Wake him god damn it! The dosage was too high!" He shook and trembled, cracks in his skin opening, and glowing.

"Wake him..." and then darkness. Nothing. He woke, to find himself standing over half a dozen dead, mutilated bodies with white jackets. Behind him, a patient's table with the limb straps tore off. The walls. The ceiling. The equipment. All there, but all wavering information. Numbers. Numbers to be tampered with. A hole opened in front of him, in a wall he decided was there. He stepped through, to find himself in his living quarters. His wife was as he dreamed she was. Bits of bones, entails and hair. No...no...

He fell to his knees.

~Xavier R.