i have a whole shitload of stuff i want to write about. i'm all backed up because my current life schedule is full of school, work, blatantly failing to be vegan, masturbating vigorously, and overusing the word 'muppet'. i'd like to apologize to everyone for having been born, but i would also like to point an accusing finger at god, who, if he exists, is responsible for allowing me to have access to unneeded amounts of food and artillery. oh, and also everything else that ever happens ever. there is a divine mystery that comes into play when considering why people look so fucking goofy when they're naked.

i've been working at bickfords regularly again. i am actually on the schedule, as opposed to a floating entity which occasionally wanders in to cook things for a while only to eventually dematerialize into a wall. one of the newest additions to the bickfords heirarchical order is a jovial man named mel, short, i was to find out, for 'bob melvin'. mel is very large. he is also cordial and jovial, eliciting belt after belt of rumbling laughter. he also has a beard and a glass eye. i love people with missing eyes. i've actually considered ripping out one of my own eyes so that i have an excuse to get a glass eye. small children would never talk to me again and i would finally be happy. all i need is oatmeal and solitude.

so i was working last night and sira, old-school manager, asked me to put something on the sign out in front of the building. letters. to denote something about the resaurant. the sign had previously read 'god bless america' but that had been taken down. sira suggested that i put that back up. unless of course, i could come up with something creative concerning 'the whole terrorism thing', to which i responded somewhat stupidly 'i think they already got about as creative as they could get...' all i wanted was a nap. i was not into working that night. i didn't want to put up some gay, pro-american catch phrase which defined the collective stupidity of bickfords and the nation's populace in general. but i didn't feel like arguing with anyone about anything. i didn't feel like talking to anyone, period. i did come insanely close to posting the message 'god bless muppets'. i had the letters all lined up and everything. then i knew she'd just make me take it down, so i cried. i went out to put up the letters for 'god bless america' and realized that by leaving out the 'b', i could make it say 'godless america' which is a goal we should all strive for because god makes a big mess of everything. god is not on our side. god is busy playing with ron wade's complex and mysterious soul. i came back inside feeling rather defeated and stupid about having to put that on the sign. then i thought of two catchier messages for the sign: 'ask about our anthrax vaccines!' and 'the end is nigh! try a big apple today!' and then, as god had promised, there was a 30-day rain of pancakes upon afghanistan.

my stepmother told me that it looked like a bomb went off in my room. under my breath: 'it looks like a plane crashed into it.' stepmother: 'no, if that happened then we could collect the insurance money!' you're fucking guess is as good as mine.

life is an incurable cancer.