blake harper.

alright, folks. just letting everyone know that if you want a bloody good time, then reefer madness: the movie musical is the way to go.
rent who? the producers what? fuck.
i just saw it the other night with my two affiliates, deena and scott. we had a rip-roaring good time, and we weren't even stoned. i can only imagine if i was... hmm. now i have something to do tomorrow.
it's fucking hilarious and the music is great and the performers are amazing, particularly ana gasteyer. i want her inside me now.
scott, can i get some consensus here?
and for all my gay-ass homoboys out there, you get to see christian campbell with little else but a potleaf covering his dingle-dangle. merry christmas to you.
for some reason i am compelled to promote this picture show whole-heartedly. probably because i don't think most people are aware. but i am. and i am in love.
if the hole in that DVD was big enough i'd fuck the shit out of it.
amen.
a recent addition to appease noland: ...the only thing that would make this movie better was if blake harper was in it. shit damn.

reefer madness: the movie musical - A
paul giving grades to things - C+
ana gasteyer - P (for perfection on a platter)
the beer in front of me - B+
blake harper - is there a grade higher than A+?

koyaanisqatsi.

this just in: a classic exchange between my father and i:

dad: oh, shit.
paul: what?
dad: just broke another ornament.
paul: good job, buddy.
dad: (throwing broken pieces into trash) ahh, well...
paul: aww, no. dad, that ornament was a classic.
dad: not anymore.
paul: i'm gonna slit my wrists with one of those shards there...
dad: no, use one of the cheaper ornaments.

finis.

can't every cake be a pillow?

so, i got me this little habit of running out of gas. seriously. it happens about once a week, and i have no good explanation or excuse for it. i suppose maybe i'm just that lazy that i would rather just drive until my car starts sputtering and hiccupping. at which point, i park in a nice parking lot, put in some kate bush, then call my friends to see who is available to rescue me. ahh, my friends. where would i be without them? probably in some strange parking lot, shivering and singing along to "hounds of love."
i'm just that kinda guy, i guess. it reminds me of when i was in high school and my friend johanna's dad would drive me home. i would get out of the car and bypass the front door, and then the sidedoor, climb over the wooden fence and go around into the backyard. johanna's dad would say "where is he going?" and she would say "oh, he lost his house-key two months ago, so he goes into the back, stands on a picnic table and shimmies in through the bathroom window."
johanna and her father are pragmatic people. i am not. he was perplexed. she was amused. i was just happy to be home.
so, i don't care if i run out of gas. i don't care if i can't get into my house. everything's all good. so i haven't been able to afford any new clothes in over a year. i'm having too much fun making crazy outfits out of what i can find around the house. so my eyes are infected and i can't wear contacts anymore. i'll just wear my friend natalie's glasses and call it a day.
a couple weeks ago, my mom told me she was afraid i might end up homeless. i think i could pull it off, though.

fingered.

well, the good news is that i am so well-liked at my job that i can just not show up for two days in a row and all they do when i come in the next day is smile and say "paul... weren't you supposed to be here?" and i get all puppy-dog and say "yeah..." and then they just shake their head and grin at me like i'm their newborn and i just won a Pulitzer, but i'm still peeing in their face as they change my shit-caked, soiled diaper.
maybe that's my problem. i must have some super power that enables me to not get in trouble. that's quite a talent. maybe the fantastic 4 should make room for me and we could be the fabulous 5. when attacked i would just pucker my lips a bit and get that wistful, innocent look in my eye, and say "please don't hurt us..."
won't anyone backhand me? how am i supposed to learn?
paul flunks out of college, he gets sympathy.
paul drives into the side of the house, he gets "oh, paul."
paul gets drunk at his cousin's birthday party, tears the toiletseat off of the toilet and flings it into the backyard, then he passes out on top of the dining room table. he gets a thank-you card for coming.
where is my comeuppance? what makes me so fucking likable?
and people wonder why i thank my family for not shooting me in the face. wouldn't you?

frank lloyd wrong.

my comrades and lovers.
please excuse my absence. although i have not been posting, i have not been far and still have been checking up on all y'all and reading your shit. love ya.
me, i've been stressing and worrying and yet, somehow, also been lazy and incomprehensible. therefore, posting was out of the question. but seeing as how this is the day of the show (y'all), i feel as though i can breathe easy.
it has been three weeks and, my, how time flies when you find yourself in a high-school musical with little time to prepare. okay, this isn't a high-school production. it just feels like it. all we need are some basketball hoops hovering, and we can call it a day. also, from the looks of it, winter is upon us. according to my dictionary that means the time of year for paul to hibernate emotionally and distance himself from anything and anyone that isn't either chocolate, alcohol, or incessantly reassuring.
again, let me reiterate: "thanks to my family for not shooting me in the face."
i do not exaggerate.
anyway, the experiment. i am dumb. that's my disclaimer. let me also add i was drunk at the time i wrote that (if you couldn't tell). be that as it may... so the day i was supposed to unveil my newfound thinness and play xylophone on my ribcage happened to fall upon the day after thanksgiving. we can thank the pilgrims and indians for bringing to this great nation a feeling of deep shame and amber waves of gluttony.
however, all is not lost. this past week, due to being ill and giving myself a mental hernia from stressing myself out, i have somehow managed to avoid eating all that much. food has been replaced with an insane dedication to hydration, so my vocal cords are glistening with mucus and ready to vibrate. water and tea have become my drink of choice. as well as whiskey, which is also good for the throat. really. it is.
anyway, my point is this, dear readers: i unintentionally lost my ten pounds, without even meaning to. i gave up about two days after i started. but wouldn't you know it, self-doubt and a bad immune system have a funny way of making everthing okay.
oh, and let me explain the title of this post. the stupidest line of the play is mine. my characacter, george, wants nothing more than to be an architect. but lately he's been not so happy. his wife says she loves him. he says "yeah, me, the celebrated architect: frank lloyd wrong!"
i think it's hilariously bad. or maybe its just because it makes me recall when my friend's credit card was stolen by a co-worker. this co-worker went shopping for clothes at A.J. Wright. so we said "oh, hell no, that's A.J. Wrong."
anyway.