MAKE SURE THE HOMELESS PEOPLE ARE DEAD BEFORE YOU DIAL 911; THEY GET PISST!

This is a shred of advice I felt was somewhat important to dole out to unsuspecting do-gooders out there in the big bad world….sometimes people move into the hood and don’t understand or quite know how to resonate with the proper protocol regarding the street folk wandering aimlessly.

So let me enlighten and inform you to the proper etiquette reguarding the above-mentioned.

Now if you see a homeless man laying on the ground…DO NOT ASSUME HE IS DEAD….I tell you this to save you from an embarressing encounter with someone who could perhaps be taking a nap and/or breather from life’s downtrodden strong-hold.

I personally know a young lady who performed this misleading “good deed”…she saw a homeless man laying on the ground and just automatically assumed he was dead…without even kicking him in the head a few times or poking him with a giant sharp stick to see if in fact he was napping or merely resting after a long day’s work of holding signs on freeway ramps. 

So the cops show up (cuz there is a pretend dead body clogging up the sidewalks of the oh-so-upscale hood)….can’t have dead bodies getting in the way of tax-paying pedestrians, now can we?  The ambulance shows up too; not just one or two but a gaggle of ambulances…like I guess a gaggle definition by Webster or maybe just his step-cousin would be like ten.  So there is gaggles of authority figures looming around…(which is never good for the hood)….people scatter and disarray ensues. 

The homeless guy then awakes from his deep slumber (he might’ve been having a good dream too…I hate when that happens and some asshole wakes you up)…So he is MAD…downright pissed off.  He gets up screaming about how he was napping and how the hell can he nap with all this ruckus taking place and people clamoring around him.  Get the fuck away from me you freaks, he yells.  First of all; he’s calling us “proverbial” normal people freaks which is in and of itself somewhat ironic and funny…(considering I haven’t decided if there really truely are any normal fucks…maybe just me…I’m all alone…I guess Shirley can be one too since she’ll be reading this…and you too…you are totally normal!!)

So he is hopping mad and the police point out the person who reported the “dead body”…and now the homeless guy knows who his enemies are.  People with cell phones from the ‘burbs.  Goddamn them and their fake naive caring.  The homeless man shreiks “I don’t go to Sherman Oaks and come to your house and report burgularies and domestic violence, do I?”…”No, I don’t think so”…(mostly cuz he doesn’t have the means of transportation to get there but that doens’t make his point very well now does it?)

So after the madness dies down and it’s understood that he is napping and wants to be left alone…I feel it’s important to pass this info along to folks who aren’t schooled and/or well-versed in the lifestyle of the average everyday street person.  You see, they ususally aren’t dead…they are merely napping..just because you have a bed and a roof in which to slumber, does not mean that we all do.  So be a little more tackful and polite when you see others napping and if you are real offended by it and they are clogging up the sidewalks a little too much for your liking; perhaps you could invite them to nap at your humble abode or even in your car. 

Now on the rare occassion that you used my stick poking manuever and/or kicking in the head repeatedly…and there is no reaction.  Then perhaps save everyone a few trips and just call the undertaker…why go through all those middle men with the 911…cops…ambulance…and save the dead body a little embarressment…just go straight to the source and have em taken the fuck away by the guy who is suppose to take them away…

Or if you are so ambitious (which most aren’t)…go ahead and dispose of the dead body yourself and help clean up our fair city.  It’s easy and fun.  You simply take the dead body to the nearest dumpster and plop it in.  Done and you’ve saved lots of people lots of time and energy…and you’ve beautified the city!!  Smile and think about how you’ve done your part and galavant away….if you are really happy; you are also allowed to frollick. 

 Don’t abuse frollicking too much though; it’s only to be saved for special occasssions.       

Elevator Doors taking too long!

 

Has anyone else noticed that elevator doors sometimes cause for uncomfortable encounters upon exit?   You have a nice chat, visit, or whatever with a person…you wait for the elevator and say goodbye about 8 more times….you turn; they are still there waving and bading you good-bye.  Yeah, I get it; you think to yourself…I’m leaving and you are still waving goodbye…go back into your apartment you loser so I can leave in  peace and roll my eyes without you possibly seeing my annoyance.  Go back…

 

I turn around smile and wave again…(a big fake smile mind you; cuz I”ve already done this eight previous times)…

 

The door opens up; thank god you think…finally; I can get away from this smiling, waving mutant of a human being who doesn’t know how to end an encounter properly.  So you turn around in the elevator; they are still fucking standing there…jesus Christ, go inside your apartment….FIRE, get in there…

 

Nope still standing there with that stupid goofy ass smile and waving like a big fucking dork…goddamn, doesn’t he/she have a fucking life?  Some calls to make…anything???  What is the big fucking deal about going the fuck inside?  GO….bugular…he’s robbing you…he snuck in while you were busy waving at me…with that stupid never ending wave.

 

Then the doors take forever to close and still waving and smiling…so you gotta do it again…wave and big fake smile.  At this point; you are hitting the close door button at a rapid rate hoping to end this madness and insanity…please fucking close; you beg of the door…in god’s great name, puhleez close the fuck up….

 

It closes….almost…and then your over zealous wave obsessed friend sticks their hand in the doors way to stop it; FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK….

 

You hit close door and ride quietly down the elevator while your friends good waving hand sits quietly on the floor of the elevator; staring at you and still trying to wave…you stomp on it for good measure…that’ll teach him to ever extending the waving ritual for too long. 

 

Let that be a lesson to all over zealous, too long good-bye wavers…Next time; I rip the smile off your face…and I will feed your lips to the homeless out front masqueraded as hot dogs that are slightly mangled.

 

 

Why is Tila Tequila famous?

I’m baffled.  She is a meth-head, beat up looking stripper/hooker/escort/crack-whore who mumbles when she speaks and looks about 60 years old.  She can’t sing…her music on myspace is about the worst crap ever.  My shower acapella memoirs are more enticing than anything she has had produced.

She has a god-awful show on Vh1 or MtV or whatever station it is.  Looking for love with a bunch of idiots equally as foolish and rough looking as her.  I’m sorely disappointed at what this world has come to.  It appears that the lowest common denominator is what people want to be entertained by, not only on television but all mediums.

Okay I’m done. .No sense wasting anymore time then necessary on this topic.

 

 

All woman have eating disorders.

According to Self Magazine, almost 70 percent of women suffer from an eating disorder.  They have a list of behavior tendencies and according to their gospel;  If you’ve ever done any of the things on their extensive list; you should commit youself to the nearest eating disorder clinic immediately!

I wonder if they are in cahoots with the clinics; helping em make a few benjamins.  But seriously, a few things on the list…if you’ve ever smoked instead of ate…My defense to this; a single cigerette at the liquor store is a quarter versus a damn sandwich being around 6 bucks.  Maybe I was trying to save money.

Another one of their requirements (using the term loosely) is if you’ve ever eaten when you aren’t hungry (hasn’t everyone in the whole world done that?)  I mean, Grandmother slaves over a meal all day and you aren’t hungry but do you eat it…HELLS YES.  It’s the polite thing to do. 

Nothing to do with the wooden spoon I shove down my throat after every meal.  And really, is it an eating disorder or just a viable hobby to pass time.  And who cares if I take ex-lax all day long; maybe I like the taste.

 

Courtroom romance…er, not so much.

I went to the illustrious Los Angeles Courthouse the other day.  Just to meet new people and do some networking with future or present criminal masterminds…in case I ever need to round up some troops to fight some renegade jay-walking police.

Or maybe it was to clear up a ticket…you forget when you’re surrounded with such amorous, beautiful, charming individuals.  I sit or rather stand in the long never-ending line waiting patiently to get an extension to pay my ticket.  La la la…waiting, standing…and lo and behold…a dude trolls up on me and says; “You look like I dream of Jeanie”…hmmm, okay…thanks dude.  I look like a 60-year old…super.

He stands and stares and then adds, “I meant a young version of Barbara Eden”.  okay, thanks…now neander along little buddy…I got tickets to pay and hardened criminals to befriend.

He then feels the distinct need to let me know that he just got out of prison.  Yup, was locked up for 10 years.  And he missed a court date already.  That’s fabulous, I reply.  What a stellar pick-up line.

Let me explain how this fellow looked…bermuda shorts and thongs (that must be some god-awful courtroom theme..the last few times I’ve gone to court, way too many transplants are trolling around in this damn city wearing bermuda shorts…are you in Bermuda?  Oh your not?  Then wear some fucking normal attire)…I digress…he is 6′5 and 300 lbs…albino skin and albino hair and red beedy eyes.  Sounds pretty delicatable, right?  (ha, sarcasm)…he’s got prison tats and lepresy (or what I pressume to look like lepresy).

He then tells me that he fell in love with me from across the crowded courtroom..hmmm, how romantic.  Across a crowded room full of felons and social derelicts.  Boy, it must be my lucky day.  He choose me instead of the hookers, meth-heads, girl gang  members, and crazed jay-walkers.  Wow, I must be living the dream, eh?

So blah blah…prison, love, we’re meant to be together…Mind you, I’m not answering (the way he likes his women…mute…otherwise he’ll back hand ya and then he’ll have to go back to the pookie…damn, I sure wouldn’t want that after I found such an irresistible catch after all these years)…He then is told to walk to the end of the line…fucking do the Rosa Parks…

So he walks back, starring at me like the big creepaZoid he is…finally I’m at least in the room so he can’t see me.  People around me feel sympathy and extend their condolenscence.  I inform them that this is an everyday occurance in the life of the dizzle…but I appreciate the sediments.

Now I’ve done my business and trying to find a way to elude this joker and nope, IT’S ME…there is no eluding nut jobs…he was waiting right outside the damn room for me, with a note in hand.  He whispers at a rather loud decibal rate; “take a chance on me baby…try it, you might like it”   EW, I felt my inerds twist and I kept walking…read the note around the corner and it said much of the same banter.  Duh, like I’m deaf now…jesus, this dude loves to insult my intelligence or rather my hearing aptitude, by repeating everything he whispered via note form.  What if I was blind…what an inconsiderate prick.

Then it says something about dinner and blah blah blah and how he hasn’t had a nice dinner since his stay in camp state penitentiary…sweet!  I glance at the area code (cuz I’m an asshole that judges people from their area code…I didn’t used to be like that but I’ve just had too many bad experience with the unsavory area codes so I just decided to eliminate them from my life)…I glance and notice the area code to be the biggest meth-head area of So Cal…which quite frankly didn’t surprise me.

I hand the note to a crack-head out front who happen to be gnawing on their own arm and said; “Hey, go get a nice meal”…I point to the guy and say; “he wants to take you to dinner”…I think he’s in love with you…

I then saunter away into the sunset, proud that I’ve been able to make yet another love connection on the mean, dirty, sinister streets of Los Angeles.         

Happy Dirt Day

It’s Earth Day.  Hmmmm, does anyone care?  Not really.  Most people run around pretending to care about this big lump of dirt we reside on just cuz it’s hip nowadays.  But they still drive their environment killing cars and probably kill trees while at work and probably even litter just to be a bit rebellious.

The only celebratory activity I could witness today was Wilshire and Western being shut down for some people to celebrate earth which was a real oxymoron considering no one could get through in order to whoop it up over the damn earth.  The second observation is; on the various television stations decide to throw up some green graphics and say they love the earth.  blah blah…what does that do?  Or the google dudes with their earth logo?  How is that really saving the earth? 

If anything it’s using up more of the earth’s energy by changing those icons over and over and the same thing with those graphics on TV…you keep using those electronic machines to change the graphics and you are just expending the earth’s energy source more by changing it for the day. 

Also, did you know that walking is actually worse for the earth that driving your car?  I’m serious…there was a study…Here is the jist of the study that your tax dollars are paying for (so I figure it is part of my duty to inform you)…if you walk a few miles, you need x amount of food to have the energy level to walk it and therefore, you are hogging up all the oxygen when you are walking and whereupon; killing plants and all kinds of wildlife for hogging their precious resources.

Do you know what this means?  If we all really wanted to go GREEN?  (seriously in a decade the rest of the world will totally be hopping on this bandwagon and catching up with my prolific thought process)…Here it goes; if you are truly worried about the environment and earth and care for it and don’t want to harm it in any way…you will just have to kill yourself.  We can’t drive, eat, walk, litter, smoke, spray aresol, chop trees down…if I can’t spray hairspray around randomly and chop down trees every now and again; I have nothing to live for anyways.  Give the earth back it’s environment…I’ll go teeter around in space in my atom form trying to kill on a bigger level.  I’m a big picture kind of person.     

Polygamy is a rip off.

So lately there has been a lot of stories about Polygamy since this Texas dude got in trouble for his wives and kids he was having multiple relations with and the like.  I totally think those sick-o’s that are having relations with the young uns are definately repulsive human beings who deserve to be punished.  That is inexcusable.

Now these woman that are older (of legal consent)…WTF are they thinking?  I mean, let me start off with…if you are Hugh Hefner and can afford a plethra of chicks, I say “go for it”…He can afford to support them and give them a luxurious lifestyle and everything they want.  Fine, share the dude and his wealth; I get it.  I think of him as more of a kind hearted humanitarian that likes hot chicks.  Nothing wrong with that.

Besides, all his chicks came from nothing and live better than they could ever have hoped to in their little small towns across the globe so kudos for them.  LIve it up…good job.   

Now these jokers from Utah…WTF x2.  They are often times, old, fat, hairy, bald, ugly and they have a gaggle* of wives trolling around.  In the recent article I stumbled upon, it said that most of the woman have their own homes and work jobs and raise their kids alone and the dude trolls from house to house.  Like playing musical brothels…To me, this sounds pretty damn bunk.  I mean, if you have to share some raunchy old bastard with a bunch of other hoes; this guy should AT LEAST be hooking you up financially.  Am I right?

That seems like the biggest rip off to me…hey baby, wanna be my 23rd wife…you get to work three minimum wage jobs, remain knocked up most of your life and oh yeah, good luck with that mortgage payment…I’ll be checking in every three months to make sure you haven’t been forclosed on.  And if you are lucky, you get three minutes of unabashed pleasure from my over-used, STD-infested junk.  (do you think that is what the polygamist eharmony.com ad says?)

It’s quite the deal…

The only way I think Polygamy is a good solid idea is if the dude is of Hugh Hefner stature and can afford to hook the chicks up…That way when you are lonely and not getting attention from the old coot**, you have your oogles of money to keep you entertained.  Talk among yourselves.

* A large quantity of whatever noun it is in reference to.

**  someone who is very old and of coot-like nature, meaning old and wrinkled and with one foot in the grave. 

    

The Twinkie Defense

I know a lot of people have already heard of this but I stumbled across it while enjoying some highly amusing discovery telelvision and decided to pontificate about it.  If it was before your time (like me)….hopefully you are learning something new.

In jurisprudence*, “Twinkie defense” is a derisive label for a criminal defendants’s claims that some unusual biological factor entered into the causes or motives of an alleged crime. According to this defense, the biological factor should mitigate the defendant’s responsibility, and s/he therefore should not be held criminally liable for actions which violated the law, or the criminal liability should be reduced to a lesser offense. While biological factors may certainly influence behavior, the label of “Twinkie defense” implies that the specific biological factor is one that most people would view as not being sufficient to account for criminal activity, such as the effects of stimulants, such as coffee and nicotine, sugar (Twinkies), and/or vitamins.  (sounds pretty damn good, eh?  Propaganda devised by some clever lawyers to get a guy off a couple of murder charges…)**   

In laymens terms, you can eat too many Twinkies, go beserk and start killing people…go on a killing bender cuZ you are so goddamn hopped up on the sugar.  (not sure if it’s being mainlined with dirty needles or what but it’s lethal). 

The illustrious Twinkie defense came to fruition in 1979 when some joker by the name of Dan White, decided to start killing people while on a sugar bender, assasinating San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk on November 27, 1978.   Now to semi-intelligent folks like you and I; you realize this is a defense strategy concocted by some cockamamie lawyers using the diminished capacity defense ala The Twinkie Defense. 

But the Discovery Channel depicts a very different re-enactment of the Twinkie defense.  It shows this really bad actor sitting in a dark creepy room ripping open boxes of Twinkies and shoveling them in his mouth…one after another…and then opening his desk drawer…pulling out a shiny revolver and smiling real evil-like.  He then goes to the Mayor’s office (he used to work for him so he’s got easy access…it’s best to kill the people who you have access to instead of adding another step to your murder plans by breaking into their offices and the like.)  There is nothing like getting out of a murder charge and then getting nailed for breaking and entering…you’re welcome.

On a tiny sidebar, he was the ADVISOR to the Mayor…hmmmm, so instead of killing him, he could’ve saved himself all of this trial malarky and just told the guy to kill himself ala suicide, right?  I mean, he is the ADVISOR…right?  Advise then you bastard.  No wonder the Mayor fired him, he wasn’t doing his job…(Mr. Mayor…”Please give me some advise Mr. White on what I should do with this Prop?”…Dan White; “Shut the fuck up you old coot, I need my Twinkie fix; I’m shaking for christ sake and have the cold sweats”)…

But no, he saunters into the Mayors office and shovels one last Twinkie into his mouth for good luck and bang bang…Mr. Mayor is dead.  So Dan (the Twinkie fien)…goes home and eats more boxes of Twinkies in his dark room and also decides to eat some Chips Ahoy to mix things up a bit, the Twinkies  can’t be held solely responsible …(the only thing that could’ve made this documentary sweeter was if he mainlined the damn Twinkies, melted them down on a spoon and let them harden into a rock…er wait…I don’t know what I’m talking about…I saw it on Gangland, yeah, that’s it)…I could’ve really respected the actor a little more if he would’ve taken the next step with his character…but I digress…

He then goes all the way back to the Mayor’s office (couldn’t he have multi-tasked and killed the Mayor and his Supervisor at the same time…saved on gas and time.  It would’ve also given him more time to eat Twinkies in the dark room and plot more murders…some people do not plan ahead like me though. 

He goes back, shoveling in Twinkies…oh yeah, starring at the gun in the taxi cab on the way over and eating Twinkies…the cab driver is oblivious to the maniac in the backseat smiling and holding his gun up high and eye-balling it with unabandoned reckless lust.   And spilling Twinkie crumbs all over in the backseat of his cab.  Then when he stops to drop him off; he doesn’t pay…however, in the cab driver’s defense…I wouldn’t argue with a gun-toting psychopath Twinkie addict either.

So he goes in and kills the other guy and leaves…or rather skips gayly down the street and crawls into bed to doze off and have sweet dreams…(literally of Twinkies and Chips Ahoy).

In conclusion, Dan White was convicted of voluntary manslaughter (is that like being a volunteer at the soup kitchen?) The state legislatures were not pleased with this verdict and a few years later got the diminished capacity law turned over so no one else could get off easy just because they were an unabashed Twinkie addicts.  (I’m sorry, no more killing for you, join a damn twelve step program like everyone else)  So sorry sugar fiens that get the hankering for a good killing spree every once in a while; you will have to get a better vice than that to blame your aggitation and mental unstability on.

In White’s defense, I sometimes feel like killing too after eating a Twinkie.

*The theory and philosophy of law in relation to Twinkies

**Don’t lie, if you were on the jury and some lawyers were boring you with that jibberish; you’d be like, yeah, let the dude off just shut up…I can’t take it anymore.  Silence is golden mother fuckers.

 

 

        

 

Surgery is funny!

Speaking of youtube.com (see below)…sometimes it is used in the public interest which I applaud boisterously.  For instance; the Phillippines (have you noticed a lot of weird shit goes on with those crazy Phillippines?)  I digress; some doctors over there were conducting a rectal surgery…pretty fun stuff, right?

A resounding YES!  So fun that someone decided to videotape via camera phone and throw it up on youtube.  The cinamatic masterpeice included a gay man who was drunk somehow (use your imagination on this) got a deorderant spray can shoved well er, rather stuck up his keister and had to have it surgically removed. 

Just for the record; whenever you get something crammed up your keister and have to have it surgically removed; that is the surefire sign of an unforgettable not to mention; monumental weekend!  (keep for future reference) 

The doctors remove it all the while; cheering and yelling that he “had a baby”…and then the doctor proceeded to spray everyone down with the deoderant…(in his defense; surgery rooms can really stink, burning flesh smells AWFUL…don’t ask how I know)…I’m just happy to hear that he didn’t let it go to waste; I hate wasteful people. 

So the art director (um, camera phone operator) for the shoot gets all the fascinating footage and it’s only on youtube for a day before the patient (can in keister guy) files a lawsuit…what a spoil sport.  It’s all fun and games until someone files a lawsuit, that’s what I always say.  The video is removed and tossed in the vast abyss known as the camera phone archives and perhaps the judges chambers for some jovial after-court viewing along with some Vino and crumpets.  Festive!

In closing; the victim (is getting something shoved up your keister a victimless crime?  talk among yourselves…) claims he doesn’t remember how it got there?  Hmmmmm, I was getting it on with some hot twink and then we started doing what we do when we do…he started shoving fists and limbs up there so I barely noticed that a tin can full of Old Spice* was up there too…hmmmm, I wonder what else those doctors found…maybe some sort of family heirlooms?  A gerbil family?  Roman Scribes? The original declaration of Helsinki?  Sounds like a good old fashioned treasure hunt to me…nothing to bring the judicial system into unless you found some unratified amendments…then maybe just hand them over to the proper authorities and everyone is square.  (I know what your thinking; why am I not a judge?)

* If you know anyone who is unsocialized enough to actually wear that crap Old Spice; do them a favor and buy them something else to wear…maybe bug spray or Ben Gay.  You’re Welcome little campers for the advice.  I’m here to help.

Technology and stalking…

 This wide world of technology has opened up some interesting yet repulsive doors I’ve noticed as of late.  The first one I will point out is that broad from NYC married to the Broadway fellow and announcing her divorce and then proceeding to send humiliating messages to him and his coherts via youtube.com.  People (mostly her lawyers) are saying she came off as classy.  WTF??  They are saying this merely because she has a British accent; she could be fisting leper midgets and as long as she talks in a British accent it’s classy.  I’m serious about this.

I have news; anyone (in my opinion) who posts self-serving, humiliating, baggage on a public forum is a peice of trash.  It’s about the most classless thing you can do; accent or not.  If you have any dignity and poise; you will keep it to yourself and resort to diplomacy to resonate your differences.  End of story.

That chick and anyone who posts youtube videos to talk smack or sabatage someone is garbage.  Now in the polar opposite of that.  All these jokers who also post videos on youtube, myspace wherever the fuck…telling the world how wonderful and great and witty they are…are also trash.  I’m so sick and tired of going to myspace and seeing people brag about how wonderful they are…posting pictures of themselves being “crazy” and hanging out with wash-up celebrities and the like…puhleez!  If you have to brag about yourself via some stupid forum; you obviously are lacking in all of the greatness you are hoping to exude via the internet.  I can’t even go on myspace anymore without throwing up because everyone on the planet seems to think they are “smart, witty, fun-loving, sassy, fiery, spunky…etc…(insert more cheesy adjectives if you must)…everyone also seems to think they belong on TV and all sorts of media and everyone is also in love with their lives.  (really? and you feel the need to justify that to complete strangers?)  

Who gives a rat’s rectum?  I don’t care if people think you are sweet and sassy; I think you are a big douche   I don’t care if you think you are the next Will Ferrell…you arn’t…(and let’s hope not cuz that dude is NOT funny and not even proud to be himself)…

Now on another note; I totally undertand the beauty of myspace and the like in keeping up with family members, communicating a worthwhile message to the masses.  but why oh why does everything think the entire world cares about them and wants to stare at pictures of them?  I don’t get it.  Why do I care about your really bad home youtube videos that you think are comedy? hmmmm, I don’t…and neither does anyone else.

Part 2 of this blog…another rash of trend-like nature concerning social networks.  People, drones of people have taken to stalking via myspace, facebook, youtube and google.com.  Most of my lfe; I’ve been too busy to stalk people on myspace…but alas; plenty of other people have time on their hands to do just that!  I won’t say names; but someone was telling me all about people I barely knew because they were on a late night stalking frenzy via myspace.  I was like; “are you serious?”…that is what you stayed up until 4am doing?  Don’t you have a job? life?  things to do?  hmmmmm, interesting…Here’s a hint if you are a late night stalking on myspace with nothing else to do; cancer isn’t cured yet the last time I checked, world hunger, hmmmm still a problem as well…landmines in Angola; could you hop on that?  (literally, go hop on them…you can post the pics on myspace after you lose a limb or two…it’ll be fun)

On another loftier note; when I’ve had time on my hands…I actually cracked a case…(yes, I’m a super sleuth)…four of my girlfriends were dating the same guy…now I wasn’t real concerned with this until the “perp” (that is what they call em on Law and Order and I wanna be hip…)  decided to “attempt” (key word is attempt) to include me in this stalker circle and I happen to click on this not-so-savy person’s myspace and saw all the hootchies he was chatting it up with.

I took it upon myself to make friends with them all…from there I start inviting him and all of the woman to the same places and let the fun begin.  I then sit back and watch the excitement!!  That is about the most fun I’ve had with myspace…I wish I had more time to stalk people and wreck more havoc but alas; dare to dream….someday!  Retirement!!  (I’ve got it all mapped out)

I guess the message behind this somewhat irritated blog is; if you have a myspace, youtube, facebook that is celebrating what a wonderful, great human being you are; brimming with talent that puts Leonardo Di Vinci to shame…hmmmm, you probably aren’t.