Todd_Loves_Titties

I will dig a hole and label it love and trick her to fall in from above.

I'm sitting here drinking Rebel Yell whiskey that my mom uses for "cooking." Annaliese can think of lots of recipes that call for Kentucky Bourbon/Whiskey/Paint Thinner and so can I, so her story holds up. Chelsea and I got all heartbroken about missing Annaliese and went on a drinking binge in NYC together. We left late and got there late, I was tired as fuck, but we had a video camera, full bladders, balls of steel and we're from NJ so we have special powers. 11:40pm - We laughed at a group of typical NJ goombas on the streets of Hoboken. They all have big necks, listen to top 20 hits and think anal sex is for fags. 11:45pm - While withdrawing mad Hamiltons from the bank, we find a Pirate Flag -- our beacon of hope for the night. Chelsea picks it up and the magic begins. Midnight - We arrive on 9th Street, or Christopher, (I'm Rebel Yelling and may as well be unconcious.) Chelsea lays on the sidewalk so we can do a GG set on 2nd Ave, but I look at the digital image and see THIS Baby Jesus and Mary APPEAR on the shot! We opt to keep clothes on, pray and get some beer. 12:15am - A small shop sells us a beer in a small paper bag--magic is now joined by a thing called "fun" and a buzz. 12:30am - We walk into a yogurt store with a vespa and flat panel TV. Chelsea announces that its a shame they have nothing for us because we're vegan. Then he gives us VEGAN frozen desert for FREE. Chelsea is in awe. 12:35am - A limo driver refuses to give us a free ride, we tell her to kick rocks. 12:40am - We've now peed about 7 times in the street. I accidentally took a really explicit photo of Chelsea's vagina while she peed and I think I'll just not share that. 12: 56am - Have you seen Dark City? Well, Chelsea started video taping this dude who was made of black cloth, Hassidism, steel cable and a love for Satan. He got mad. And by "mad" I mean he stomped his hooves and blew smoke out his nose. Jennifer Connoly is a boobless version of Chelsea and the dude in the background is crazy devilman. We ran. 1:15am Chelsea does something in a cab she will explain in a comment to follow this journal, its best left explained by her. I can't remember what time this happened, my chronology is all fucked up. But it involved blood. 1:35am - We share our footage of satan with a few NYC kids who are fascinated by us and join our punk rock version of a Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters. Its all fun and games and sharing of alcohol until Chelsea and I pee on the sidewalk again. They suddenly stop, ask me if I'm "on something" and then walk the other way. We high five and go into a Tranny Bar where we'll be accepted for who we are. 2:00am - The Trannies love us. And by "us" I mean "me." I give off more homosexual vibes than Tom Cruise in "Top Gun." Chelsea pees on the floor many times. On the floor are her hat and mittens. I go to pee and a manthing asks me if I need a "shake." Apparently, the "East Side Shaker" will shake the leftover pee off my penis if I want. If I was parapalegic and peeing acid, I wouldn't let the "East Side Shaker" within 10 yards of my cock. 2:45am - We debate about what karaoke to sing after a very gay mans calls me out as straight and saves me from more risque offers. Rather than sing, however, we decide to find the East Side Shaker and video tape it, maybe even let it near me. Its sadly gone. I then dance on a stage for 5 minutes. I don't dance like a hardcore kid at a Throdown show. I dance like a bottom who sleeps in unicorn pajamas...naturally, this is done with as much irony as a Silver Lake hipster's vintage wardrobe, but I probably need to stop eating so much soy. 3:05am - More booze and text messages to Annaliese. I tell her that we bought Wasabi Peas for her. A man cusses out an asian store clerk. Chelsea and boost his self esteem by thanking him for having bricks of tofu in water--two for a dollar. 3:45am - We need food and walk a lot. I look like this. In retrospect, I look like a fucking shithead dressed as a Cobra henchmen for Halloween. 4:30am - Falafel sandwiches. Mine is made of pussy and Chelsea's is made of cock. We're sad when we finish them off and they roll over and go to sleep. 5:00am - Rats run around at the path station. At this point I'm so fucking tired they could be performing the Pirates of Penzanze or digging shallow graves for us just beyond the tracks and I'd still be more concerned about the 2hrs of travel ahead. Speaking of pirates, we ditch our little flag in the PATH station for a future adventurer. 5:20am - We meet some crazy NJ fools. An asian kid climbs a tree, walks on a fence, hops in a trash can and "swims" in the middle of the street. We video tape them, high five and drive home. 5:45am - If you didn't know, NJ is full of weird urban legends. Probably more than any other state because people here are a) bored b) prone to confabulation c) everything weird ever happens here. Chelsea and I decide to drive down "Heart Beat Road" where you can turn off your headlights and hear a heart beat. The road is as narrow as asian vagina and darker than my rotting liver. Its totally silent. Mostly because they tore down the pumphouse that makes the heart beat noise so many teens feared. Nevertheless, its really dark and treacherous, so I'm glad we drove it at 6am after staying out drinking all night. 7:00am - I walk into my house. My dad is in his robe. I see him and he looks like this. He asks me to get the paper. I do. The end. Merry Christmas. Miss you terribly.

Jameson's in pajamas at the Glendale Galleria and missed flights are part of the two day blur leading up to my trip to NJ--a two days thoroughly enjoyed, but best put behind me. 1. Drinks are free in first class. The stewardess kept me swimming in Old No. 7 for a good five hours, unaware of the pharmaceutical relaxants I'd already imbibed to settle the nerves from the airport, the night before and the tumult of missing my first flight. 2. As the baggage claim carousel spun a few RPMs slower than the room around me, I pulled my parka hood tight over my face to hide from the world. Naturally, of the 7 billion people in the world, my boss from LA happens to be standing next to me. As I awkwardly stumbled over words I felt an empty bottle of Jack Daniels pounding the final nails into the coffin containing my job. I booked his flight for him, I secretly knew I would probably run into him, but alas... 3. As my dad drove me home and I was instructed to call my brother to check in his progress driving to NJ from VA. As I slurred and babbled to him about how bad Clerks 2 was, my dad drove 80mph directly into the corpse of a large deer which exploded into even smaller pieces of fur and flesh. I wondered how being partner to the dessicration of venison factored into veganism. 4. When I got home my mom spoke to me like I was a guest on some National Public Radio program about what was in our fridge and where to find bedding. 5. I woke up feeling a lot like that deer's corpse my father had further paved into Rt. 80 the night before and was brought to a lunch with two stock brokers I used to work with. The restaurant was the "Riverside Palm" and was located on the side of a damp interstate freeway not far from a Rockaway Bedding and Shell Gasoline Station. It lied to me twice and I hadn't even been inside yet. 6. On the way home we took my brother's car to Jiffy Lube. There was a framed photo of Tony Soprano on the wall signed, "To Jiffy Lube, Your Pal Tony." Mr. Soprano, in NJ, is a real person. The HBO series is actually a reality show and informs Garden Stater's what fashion trends are in, how to speak and where the best place to hide a body is. 7. A large woman bumped into me at Starbucks and said, "I'm sorry sweety pie." I decided that she could have accidentally given me a vasectomy and as a long as she called me "sweety pie" and apologized I'd give her a high five and go get my soy latte. 8. Driving along 287 in the state of freeways, I explained to my brother that I was contemplating graduate school for photography. He offered a lesson, "Don't take pictures of shit like that" and pointed out a non-descript mining/factory structure pumping white smoke into the air spotted with yellow construction lights. I, however, disagreed. That's EXACTLY what I want to take pictures of. I want to shove my camera into places where it doesn't belong, show things that aren't "beautiful" but are special and noteworthy in their own way. 9. At a bar called the "Orange Lantern" -- an establishment so old that they are permitted to stay open an hour later than all the other bars in NJ -- I glanced around at my dear childhood friends and the humbling decor. In place of the Budweiser tap was a red plastic NASCAR. It looked like the afterparty for a Chernobyl Survivors Convention. A rag tag band of long haired, dishevled men played cover songs on a small stage. One had a kilt on and I asked if he could play the Pogues...he looked confused and proceeded to play Black Sabbath, which was okay too I guess. 10. As I stood outside in the rain watching my best friend smoke a cigarette the guitarist from the band stumbled outside--with guitar in tow--and began wildly strumming. From inside I could hear my other friend singing "Born To Run" on stage. I realized that this wasn't depressing, it was actually really fucking amazing. This place can be sad and lonely and feel like dead end, but it can also be really inspiring, hilarious and a tinge magical. Its for the same reason people like Elvis in his ridiculous white and gold suit. Its kitsch, over the top and seems utterly unreal. Sometimes, New Jersey.

Dear Mani, You sick son of a fucking cunt. If you ever fuck up my friends again, I'll fucking end your life. In fact, you fucked up someone I care a lot about and for that, I should put my foot so far up your ass you'll be shitting vegan addidas for a week. I'll sew your asshole closed and feed you exlax for days. I'll put fly larva in your eyeballs. I'll see how many pound of pressure it takes to tear your ears straight off. Never do that again, for reals, I'll roll straight up to you and crack you across the jaw so hard the jagged bone will peirce a hole in your cheek. I've done it before and I'll do it again. Never hurt her again or you die. Thank you.

They make goats from soysilk, its true. www.tofubear.com An email from my friend: Remember ripped fuel? My god. Not only did it make me jittery as shit and never hungry until dinner, it made my cock narrow and then expand again. Like this: [ ] [ ] [ ] \ / \ / \ / / \ / \ / \ [ ] [ ] [ ] Another friend had a dream about me. you.... were in my dreams last night well i had a really long dream.... and you were n the whole thing lets see... you had some crazy pimped out car that you drove real fast and scared me and you got stung by some bees aaaand.... your mom was getting us drunk. have you ever seen "just friends" well ryan reynolds mom was your mom hahahahah, that's sooo good! and then you coached me in pie eating contest. and yo stopped being vegan and i got mad at you cause you tricked me into eating your moms chili and i dont even like chili it was pretty ridiculi. In other news, high five for Shamu for biting his training and dragging him under water, take that fucker. I started betting on movie box offices grosses...Nativity better make over $14.5 M or its going to be a sad Christmas. There's a lot of naked girls on this site, I like to push the limits of what I can get away with at work sometimes. I work in a Lego building and magic girls do donuts in the parking lot with vegan carrot cake and try to kidnap me, then I give them presents to make them go back to Mexico. Pregnant women should not wear underwear for a few months after birth to air out their vaginas. Watch out for snail trails from women with infants. Paris does the same thing and her loose ass cooch blows in the wind like the sails on the SS Pinafore. And lastly, my dear reader--for there is likely only one... You are the best thing, in a good for nothing town.