Yeah, the Yankees got the skills...what the hell was Tampa Bay doing to beat them all season is beyond me. I'm just going to make up a reason. Lou Pinnella is a voodoo master and each game he plays against the Yankees he sticks pins in all their heads. At the end of every game, he removes the pins and decapitates the dolls so that the players never remember why they got beat so bad. Then he re-stuffs the heads with new stuffing and reattaches them to the bodies. When the Yankees play the Devil Rays again, they have no idea that they lost the last game so they figure that this will be an easy victory. This motivates them only enough so that they make Manny Ramierez look like a 'gamer'. This is why they lose to Tampa Bay.

Just got out of work and getting ready to go up to Montreal for a few days with my girlfriend (Lastexit) to go see Pearl Jam. I'm totally psyched! I hope you don't need a passport to go to Canada. I'm really kinda curious to see if all the Canadians look like Terrance and Phillip. I hear that there is an archaeology musuem up there too so hopefully we will have enough time to go check that out. I'm so glad that I have the next 3 days off. I don't like being a petroleum merchant. I found a job online today that totally kicks ass and I'm going to send out the resume tomorrow. I have a feeling that I'm going to go through like 7 jobs in my life and every one is going to get exponentially crazier. It's just a hunch. Like one year I'll work for a company that offers rope swing rides off of the arms of the giant Jesus statue in Rio De Janeiro and the next year I'll be a helicopter courier delivering goats blood to Tom Cruise's secret south Pacific island. Years later probably end up being a used car salesman...

Sometimes, when life gets me down, I like to pick up some chalk and challenge the folks at the old people's home to a game of hopscotch. I'm totally undefeated. Once, a long time ago, I lost a very close match to this spanish girl at school. After she won, she started yelling all this gibberish at me and then she kissed her fingers and beat her chest a couple times and pointed up at the sky. I think she was trying to tell me that her father had died from eating tacos without washing his hands. That's how I learned about personal hygiene.

When I come here, I don't necessarily want to 'write stuff' or 'read stuff'...I come here because its part of my parole. I just wanted to get that off my chest.

Awww right...I got a blog here! That's right, I'm gonna post some posts and say some things. You better believe it!