Jack McGeehin: Bud's Blog

Thu, 28 Jul 2005 23:06:23 GMT

RC in orange, Bud in Balmer (Bud’s blog #5)

Hey, its bud. I wus just up in Pencilvania visitning RC. Im not sup]osed to leave virgnina as part of my parole agrement, but, hell, if an ex-con cant cross state lines to visit his feeonsay in prison then I dont know what this worlds coming to. Anyway, I went up there and it was soo good to see RC. I mean I was all horny and shit. Its been like a year. Didn’t help none that RC looked so damn hot in her orange prison uniform. I asked the guard, you know, if we could have us some time alone, and she said, “sure you could do that, but youll have to leave you penis here with me.” I started to laugh, thinkin she was joking but then I saw from the way she was wigglin her toothpick in her mouth all addjitated and shit that she wasn’t what Id call “man friendly.” So I let it go.

Still, we had a nice visit, me and RC. Shes only got like two months more to serve. RC got a longer sentence than me on account of she tried to escape when they was transferring her from the courthouse back to her prison cell. And she got away, too. That girl is an escape artist if I ever knwe one. RCs been escaping from one thing or another all her life. Anyway, she was free from that sherrif lightnin quick and outta sight before he finished blinkin. They arrested her again down at the Greyhound station in Harrisburg boarding a bus for Toledo. She was that close to getting away for good. Its just as well they caught her though. I intend on marring that girl and its best to start a marriage off fresh on the right side of the law. Her and I, we don’t need all that baggage. Ha! That’s a pretty funny joke if you only knew it. And you will in time when I finish telling this story.

Oh and RC appolgized for only righting that one letter to me over all that time. She says shes never been much of a writer. Unlike me, shes got no skills for it. Besides, she could never scrape the money together for the stamps. All her spare cash went into buying art supplies. Shes been working real hard on her mushroom paintings in prison. RCs got this thing about mushrooms. She likes to paint and draw them and sew them up into cuddly little stuffed mushroom toys for kids. The girls on her cell block have been telling her that shes real good and that she should open up a store when she gets out where she can sell her stuff. An d she’s thinking that maybe she’ll do that. She wants to call her shop “The Happy Mushroom” if that names not already taken.

Okay, enough about that. Its time to do some catchin up and exp[laining about all the recent events in my life. If you haven’t read any my old posts then youll just have to figure out some shit on your own.

Lets see i think I left oft with that no good sum bithch Leroy trying to shake down my aunt up in Balmer, Maryland. Shes not my real aunt ya know but she thinks she is on account of she’s old and seenile and shit. Anyhow she kinda liked me and thought i was her nepfew and she gave me money and food and we both sorta grew on each other. It was one of them co-defendant kind of things. Problem was in my abstensia, along came Leroy and suddenly she thinks he’s her nepfew too. I told ya, shes all fucked up in the head that lady. So, anyways, I had to give Leroy the boot.

My aunt had disappeared unexepectely on a trip to the drugstore up the street, which kinda complicated shit. I stuck around her house for a couple a days more, wondering if she was comin back but I didnt think so. A weeks a pretty long time to be at the drugstore. I figured she wandered off for good. She dddint have any real relotives and seemed a shame for the city to get all her stuff so i started thinkin about selling off all her shit. i had even gathered up her jewelry and was about to go down to the pawn shop when i suddnely realized that this was probably illegal. I wasnt looking for no trouble. I rarely am, but that don’t seem to matter a lick. Trouble finds me.

I figured the best thing was to move on. Problem was I had spent all the money I had squeezed off that interloping Leroy and wasnt gonna get far on my good looks, as exceptional as they may be. So I went looking for a bible as I often do under extreme sircumstances like these, cause theres so much inspritation to be found in the bible and cause old people often hide money in there. Sure enough, my aunt had stashed a $100 bill. Okay, so its pretty damnable and evil to take an old womans money from her bible, but it was only a loan. I took that money with best of intentions down to the track. I was looking for a sign from up above and shitfire if I didn’t get one. In the third race, a horse called Joshua VI was running. Joshua VI is from the old testimony and the exact page where my auntie had placed that $100 bill. I bet the whole amount on Joshua VI and didn’t that horse win the race paying 2 to 1? Damn straight it did. Now I had two $100 bills. A real cad would have pocketed the whole deal and not given it a second thought, but thats not me. I put one of them $100 bills back in the bible, put the book back on the shelf and left my aunties house fur good.

I didn’t know where I was headin, except to say that it needed to get far away from Balmer. I walked for like half an hour without a thought in the world until I saw a big greyhound bus terminal sign down the block from me. I turned the corner, quickened my step, fingered that $100 bill in my pocket and walked through the front door.

More soon.

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 22:10:30 GMT

Bud's back (Bud's blog #4)

Hey, Bud here. I been awqay for a long while. And when I say away, I mean away!!! Did some time at a correzction facility in Werst Virginia. It was a trumped up charge, let me tell ya. I prbobly shoulda fought harder to get off. But i didn't even call my lawyer on account of he was alreayd in prison himself. So I decided to represent myself this time. I figured Id just throw myself on the mercy of the court. Pleaded not gulity by reason of love. But the judge was this dickless noodle who said "that aint' no god damned admissable plea n shit." Well he didn't say the "n shit" part, but the rest was a direct quote.

This was the first time i went to jail for the love of a woman. Shes this really great chick. You all woud think so too. Well maybe not. I dont know. She might freak you out. Anyway, she's just right for me. Her nickname is RC on accounta that’s the cola her mother was drinking when she conceived her. Acording to RC, her momma was drinking an RC and smoking a Lucky Strike, keeping one eye on the clock, wondering if her man was ever gonna finish up. She was hoping to catch the opening monolog on the tonight show with Johnny Carson.

So anyway, I got a prerty lenient sentence for what I done. Probably cause I showed up to court smiling and thinking about my girl RC. The jury saw me sitting there all presentable and shit with my hair combed up nice saying "yes, sir" and "no, sir" and "you got that fucking right, sir" when the prosecuter asked me questions. I think the jurors kinda liked me or pitied me or something. Cause when theyy came back with their guilty verdict - witch they had to, cause I already admitted to doing the crime - they recommended community service. The judge said, "yeah, that'd be all right...that and one year hard labor." I told y ou he was a dickless shit-kicking noodle.

Anyways, I did my time and it wasn't no hard time at all. It was the easiest time I ever done. The warden took a liking to me. I told him my whole story on my first day, you know, during the prison orienteering. He laughed out loud and said he ain't never heard nothign like it. He didn't think I needed to be in prison for what I done. So he says I can come live in his house and serve out my time there playin pool with him int he evenings and telling him more of my stories. Tom Junior Jr, that's the warden's name. I joked about there must be a Tom Junior Senior if there’s a Tom Junior Junior, but Tom Junior Jr got all teared up and said he didn’t wanna talk about that. Later on when I stumbled on the shrine Tom Junior Jr had build to his daddy, out in the back shed, complete with a framed photograph, a couple of stolen church candles, a confederate flag and various frightenin taxerdermy experiments, I figured I’d leave that topic alone for good. The other thing was that warden Tom was recently devroced and taking it kiknd of bad, which was pretty damn obvious when you walked in his kitchn and saw the effergy of his exwife hangin by the neck over by the pantry.

None of that shit really bothered me, though. All people are a little bit weird, and the really weird people, well, ya just gotta keep an eye on them is all. I moved in with Tom, slept up in the spare room and told him everything I done in life. Didn't make nothing up because its all true. My lives a pretty big mess, but people find it interesting, so what the hell, I got no problem teling my stories. Specially if it keeps me on the outside of a prison cell.

Time just flew by. I spent my days on a work crew picking up hiway trash with some of the other guys in the prison. I wrote RC letters every day and read the one that she sent to me over and over again. Tom and I got drunk each night sitting at his kitchen table. We got to be pretty good friends. Wasn’t much oppertunaty to get in trouble so when my parole hearing came up Tom put a good word in fer me and I even got out a coupla months early.

Just before I left I helped Tom take down that effery of his ex-wife hanging by the noose in the kitchen. We got drunk together one last time, took a couple of handguns outside and blew away all the garden gnomes his old lady left behind. I sense that he’s healing inside and is ready to move on.

Im a free man again. Shit, that’s like the sixth time I’ve said that in my life. Too damn many times. So here I am living down in Jacks basement again. I don’t know what I’d do without that guy. He's always been there for me. I promised him I'd get my act together and this time I mean to.

It occurs to me that Ive been away so long a lot of you don't even know who I am. You all need to go back and read my other stories. See, this here is like a new beginning. Im gonna tell you everything that happened since I last wrote. And I'm gonna tell you all about RC, the love of my life. Im gonna ask her to marry me. Soon as she finishes serving her sentence. A fall wedding by my thinking. Probably in Vegas. Her mom works there and can get us a good deal on stuff.

Okay, now, go on and let me be. I gotta settle in. Jack just brought me one of his home brews. He says Its been aging since before I went to prison and that its one of the best hes ever made. Tween you and me, it tastes like piss water. Tomorrow I'll get some Pabst.

It's good to be home and shit.

Fri, 17 Sep 2004 02:32:55 GMT

Bud’s Blog #3

Hey, Bud here. Damn, I ve been gone a long time. Bet most of y’all done even remeber me. For those of you who don’t, my names Bud, oh yeah, I already said that. I’m an old friend of jack’s. I’ve had kind of a hard life, you know, and I thinks jack feels like responzbillity and shit for me and hey, man, I’m not one to argue with the free rent and beer. I live in his basement and do occasional work around the house like watch the place when they’s traveling or kill the neighbor’s dog when the damn thing won’t stop barking. You know, whatever.

Tonight Jack and Cynde wanted to get out and go see a movie so I says I’d stay in and watch the kid, what’s his name, Conrad, I think. Hell, I should know this cause I’m his godfather and shit. Anyway, I told them that I’d watch the kid on account of I’ve been traveling for months and I just wanted to stay in and do a little drinking. I told Jack if the weather cleared maybe I’d take Conor, that’s his name, Conor, out in the back yard with my .45 and teach him how to shoot at fireflies. You don’t hit a damn thing, but you can have a blast trying. Jack says maybe just let him play with his toys and watch a little tv before bed on account of it’s a school night. I give the boy a wink and whisper that Uncle Bud will take him out a little later and shoot off a couple of rounds before he brushed his teeth and got into his pajamas.

I gotta tell ya before I get to far along, I been drinking mosta the evening from one of jacks scotch bottles. Glen farclas or some such thing. Who comes up with these names? Anyway, the shits great with a little Dr. Pepper. Im startin to feel p[retty damnable good, I dont mind telling you.

So anyway I was gone a good long time. I aint usually supposed to leave town you know. That’s part a my parole arrangement. And Ive been good about that on account a I don’t want to go back to prison no more. If I can just stay out of the can for two more years then I’’ll be about even, meaning I spent half my life in jail and half out. Don’t ya know theres gonna be a serious party on that day. You all are invited.

Okay, so Im beein like old Boy Scout Bud and shit when all of a sudden I get the news that my parole offcer died. Anthony Buttecelli, was his name, but everybody just called him Tush. I never really understood why. Anyhow, Tush has been my parole officer for like ever. In fact, Tush was my old man’s parole officer too. He was always around when I was growin up. Mamma said, he useta look after me and play with me and bounce me on his knee when my old man was away. I think Mamma took her turn bouncing on that lap too, you ask me. But, hey that’s how it goes sometime. The thing is I liked the guy, so naturally when it came time for me to have my own parole officer, Tush was it for me.

Tush took up cross dressin in ladys clothes and when he was like 60 years old. He used to talk to me about that. I was the only one. You have know idea how good it feels to wear a woman’s panties, he says one day. What the hell ya telln me that shit for, you dumb ass, I said. Theres nobody else I trust as much as you, Bud, he said. Well, trust me less and shut up more, I told him. But Tush was who he was, ain’t nobody gonna change him.

One night a couple a months ago I get this call. It s ole Tush on his cell phone. He sounds reall bad and wants to know if I could come down and get him. Where ya at, I ask and he says the Two Faces of Eve or Steve or some such place, which is like this cross dressin club downtown. By the time I get down there ole Tush is dead. Nobody had called an ambulance or the police which ain’t no surprise when you think about it since nobody in a cross dressing club wants to even admit they are there. So I tell the manager I’ll take care of it and carry old Tush out to his car and drive him back to Jacks house and me and Jack get him changed back ina his clothes and prop him up on a laz-y-boy and turn on the tv to the Playboy channel and then I call the ambulance. Ain’t nothing suspicious bout an old man dying a horny death watching soft porn.

The funeral was up in Maryland where Tush lived. I went and a bunch of Tush’s parolees was there and of course a bunch of his police buddies. Tush’s widow was a pretty distrait about the death of her hubsand and she wasn’t too pleased that he was over at my place, well, you know, jack’s place, watching that filthy po^rnografy stuff as she called it. She didn’t know nothing about no cross-dressing though. I was glad about that. All the cops knew the real story. They was apprechiative. This sargaent come up to me and says, boy, I know what you did and I just want to tell you if need to leave town for a while nows the time. just don’t get in no trouble.

Hell if that wadn’t music to my ears. First thing I did was hitchhike my way up to Baltimore to see my Aunt Greta. I’ve been kinda broke and my old Aunt Greta has always come through for me with a few bucks when I need them. To be honest, Aunt Greta aint’ really my aunt, but she sure as hell thinks I’m her nephew. Some school kid named Tyler. Greta’s a sweet old lady, but nutty as a pancake. What happened was this. I was passing through Baltimore a few years ago, just walking down the street, when this lady opens her door and says, Tyler you best get in here and get your school work done if you expect me to fix you your supper. I was pretty hungry at the time. What the hell, I figured, and I went inside. She made me do about a hundred goddamned math problems and slapped my fingers with a ruler when I did em wrong. But you know what, that woman made a mean sloppy joe sandwich and I was grateful to have it, sore knuckles and all. As I was leavin she gave me $20 bill and said be sure to put that in the bank for college. I said yes ma’am and was on my way.

I went back a lot to sea my old Aunt Greta. Shed ask me about school and I’d tell her that I was getting all As and Bs and that made her happy. Then she’d reach into her purse and give me a $20. After a while I told her about how colleges was raisin their prices and shit and she upped it to $50. Yeah, I know, it don’t seem right, but I was her nephew, Tyler, the only family she had left. It made her feel good to give me the money, so give me a break, okay?

It’s been like a year since I seen my Aunt so I didn’t know what to expect when I got up to Baltimore. I rang the doorbell and nobody answered for a long while. I kept ringing and a ringing and finally somebody answered. Only it weren’t old Aunt Greta. It was a tall, skinny black kid. What the hell ya want, he says. I said where’s my Aunt, what have you done with her? He says, what are you talking about? I tell this kid that my name is Tyler and that I’m the nephew of the woman who owns the house, the white woman. He don’t know what to say to this, I can see it regerstering in his eyes that this is serious shit. Who the hell are you, I ask him. He says his name is Leroy.

Before too long Leroy tells me how he got to be staying at my Aunt Greta’s house. Apparently, Leroy used to work on a trash truck down near Washington, but got restless and had to move on. He come up to Baltimore and met Greta at a bus stop. Leroy laughed, she thought I was you. Where you been, Tyler, she says. Very funny, I say to Leroy, but you ain’t me. I know that, Leroy says, but she offered to make me a sloppy joe sandwich and I was damn hungry. Did she make you do the math? I asked him. What math? Leroy says. Well, that just sucks, I say, you didn’t even deserve that sloppy joe sandwich.

Leroy told me that my Aunt Greta disappeared a couple of weeks ago. She said she needed to go down to the drug store cause she had a coupon for some free mouthwash only she never came back. And you didn’t even go look for her, I asked him. What the hells a matter with you? I guess I kind of forgot, Leroy says.

I put my hand out toward Leroy. What? He says. You know what I’m talking about here. Where’s the money, Leroy. Well, we go back and forth about that and I finally convince him that he either give me the money or I call the cops. This is all that’s left, he says. He hands me Aunt Greta’s purse. I reach in there and find a couple of bills in one of them bank envelopes. There’ s a total of about a hundred and fifty bucks. I give Leroy one of them you oughta be ashamed of youself looks which is a bit of a trick for me on account of I never been ashamed of nothing. I opened the door and Leroy walked out with his hands in his pockets and headed up the street and that was the last I seen of him.

This is kind of where the story really gets interesting, but I think I’ve gone on long enough for tonight. I wonder if anybody’s still reading this crap. Damnation, my drink’s empty. I’m gonna go get myself another Scotch and Dr. Pepper and check on the kid, Conrad. Maybe the boy’s ready to go out back and shoot some fireflies.

I’ll come back in a couple days and tell you the rest of this story cause it needs to be told. It involves a girl, of course. Life always gets all complicated and fucked up and shit when a girl’s involved. At least that’s how it usually goes for me.

You all have a nice evening.

Tue, 03 Feb 2004 21:43:05 GMT

Bud’s Blog #2

It’s colder outside than Janet Jacksons right tit on super bowl Sunday. That’s a pretty good line, huh? I think I’m getting the hang of this blogging stuff. Oh yeah, hey, its Bud here. How’s everybody? Jacks out in the garage with one of them shampooer machines trying to get a bloodstain out of the carpet of his car. Ill tell ya about that in little bit.

So you all catch an eyeful of Janet Jackson on the super bowl Sunday night? Man, thats not sumptin you see on tv every night. I had been out partying earlier that evening, well, since Friday actually. I was with a couple of lady freinds and we was watchin the game on the little tv set above the bar.

I know what your thinking, what happened to Kristin, right? My steady girl since getting out of jail? Well, that didn’t work out. Which is too bad. I thought we had a lot of potential. I really did. Especially as a threesome with her sister, Rachel. But she wasn’t havin none of that. So she left me. Oh, yeah, and I lost my job. I’m no longer a traffic counter. Might as well come clean on that, too. My supervisor called me into his office the other day, he says you’re late to work every friggin day. And I say well technikly you can’t call it late when a guy don’t show up at all. He said I had a bad attitude and he fired me on the spot. The little prick has no sense of humor. Anyway that’s fine by me. I’ll figure something out. A guy needs a little time to think, you know? I’m still working on some big ideas that are gonna make me rich one day. I can’t talk much about them cause there’s patents pending and shit.

Back to the girls. Their names are Shelly and Jamila. Jamila’s like this really hot Arab chick. Both the girls were starting to get into the whole super bowl thing, cause they were pretty tired of playing pool and listenin to me go one with all my stories, so anyway I figured I would shake things up a little. I said, you know the guy Im staying with has one of them big screen tvs. And so theyre like can we go watch the game over there? And I say sure, why not, you know cause the tvs down in the basemenet where Im living and I figure we can sneak dwon their and Jack wont know it and we ll have ourselves a good time and the girls will leave in the morning and hopfuly they wont steal nothing.

So we catch a cab over to Jack’s place. Only thing is Jacks having a super bowl party that I didnt know nothing about and I wasnt invited to now that I think about it. But anyway hes got all these guests down in the basesment and the place is cleened up real nice. And these people are all like wearing turtlenecks and khaki pants and eating little peices of bree on fancy crackers and drinking wine. The girls think this is just fucking great. They let go of my arms to introduce themselves and they’re like hi, nice to meet you and shit. I can see Jack giving me the evil eye from across the room and I figure, whoa, okay, maybe this isn’t such a good idea, maybe we should split. But Shelly and Jamila have already got there coats off and are pouring some wine and picking at the cheese. Jack says come on in, make yourselves at home, but I can tell he’s pissed off and all and I’m gonna hear about this later.

The thing is everbodys really getting in to the game cause it’s a good one for a change and the commercials are funny and we’re all laughin and having a good time and Im thinking well, all right, this is going to be okay after all. Then the halftime show comes on and Shelly and Jamila are all hot over this Justin Timberpond guy. Nobody else seems to know who he is on account of all of us being so old and shit. But we all know who Janet Jackson is and we’re all in agreement that she pretty much sucks. So we’re watching the show and then outta nowhere this Justin guy reaches over, tears off a piece of Janets costume and out falls her titty. It all happended pretty quick like and we none of us could believe what we thought we saw. After a while the talk comes around to weather she done it on purpose and one group says no way, it was an accident, and the other group says oh, yeah, then how comes she got a pasty on her nipple, girls don’t wear them unless they plan on baring their breasts. That’s when Shelly says it wasnt no pasty but nipple jewelry and lots a girls where em and, in fact, she has some on right now. And then she lifts up her top to show us. Man, she’s got some nice’ems that girl. Well, anyway, that pretty much done it for the night. Jack and his wife and their guests got all squirmy in their chairs and bristly. You know, one of your dates shows her tits at a party, there’s pretty much no coming back from that. Been down that road before. I figured I better get the girls out of there and Jack offered me his car to take them home and so off we go.

We drop Shelly off first cause she’s gotta get up early for a court appearance. So then I look over at Jamila and ask her if she was up for something cause I sure as hell was. She slides on over to me and gets all cuddly. She tells me that today is a special day for her people. I tell her, yeah, super bowl Sunday is pretty special day for my people too. I was just jokin with her and shit. Jamila tells me that today is some kind of important religious holiday for Arabs and that at the end of the day it’s a tradition to sacrifice a lamb in celebration. Then she leans over and whispers in my ear: you ever done it while watching a lamb get butchered? And I’m like yeah, babe, who hasn’t? The truth is I ain’t never done nothing like that and I’m not too keen to start now. But next thing I know we’re heading to some meat packing plant she knows of, run by an old friend of the family or something.

We go inside and the place is like all gross and smelly, but Jamila is turned on, I can tell. Look, I say, I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m into a lot of shit, but this, well, this is way outta my league. Jamila is cool about it. She says most guys she brings here wimp out. Hey, I’m no wimp, I tell her. And then I say maybe I am willing to give it a go. Nah, she says, it’s probably best if you take me home. She was definitely out of the mood now. We start to leave when this guy comes over, the family friend. I can’t understand what they’re sayin cause their talking in Arabic and shit, but apparently he’s insisting that Jamila take home some fresh lamb to her parents and since I’m with her I gotta take some too.

Only thing is he didn’t pack up the meat too good and a bunch of blood kinda leaked out in Jack’s car, which was like the last straw. Jack’s pretty mad at me. And I guess I can’t blame him. But I know he’s gonna read this here blog that I wrote and I’m hoping that once he hears the whole story he will understand. Shit happens, ya know? People make bad decisions. Seems I’m always making bad decisions. I fucked up, man. I’m sorry. But I’m gonna live up to the consequneces. I’m gonna make things right by you. You know me, man. I like to keep a positive outlook and shit. How’s that expression go? Behind every cloud there’s a sliver of lining. Hey, you got a freezer full of some pretty damn fine lamb chops, my friend. As soon as the weather breaks we’re gonna have us one hell of a barbeque.

Wed, 07 Jan 2004 02:07:10 GMT

Bud’s Blog

Hi, my names Bud. Im a freind of Jacks. He says hes tired and wants a night off from writing this blog of his so he can watch some tv. I told him maybe I should try writing a blog. Maybe that would be something Id be good at. ;he said knock yourself out. Just don’t fuck up[ the laptop. He said that. He said I could curse and shit. Hope that;s okay with youall. Jack and I go way back. Wev’ve been friends since like the second grade. Of corse once we got out of high school our lives went in difrent direrectons. He went off to college and I kinda pissed around figuring out what I might be good at. I tried working on cars but I’d no sooner rip one off and start taking it aprart so that I could undrstand how they work t;hen the cops’d show up and I’d have to give it back and you know go to jail and shit like that. I was only 19 wen I got sent up the 1^st time. I was encarsorated 5 times for caR theft alone. That was back in the days before the 3 strikes and your out laws. I mean what kind of b=ullshit is that 3 strkes and yhor out? Nowadays a guy you know knokcs off a convenhyence store 3 times and just because he done it 3 times hes gonna get locked up for fucking life. A guy robs a store 3 times hes just crying out for help if you ask me. Society don’t see it that way I guess. Judges are laying down some bigass sentences now. I know a guy who robbed a frigging toll booth for a lousy $50 and got caught. The judge gave him 10 years. He said it was because of the gun, manditory sentencing and shit like that. You know its like if he didnt have the gun the dude in the tollbooth is not gonna give him the money. So he gets penalized extra for doing the crime the way its supposed to be done. Does that make sense? Now some dude goes up to the toll booth and starts waving his finger around, pertending hes got a gun and demanding money, yeah, they should lock him up for 10 years. That guys a fucking moron. Anway, Im done with that thieving shit. I don’t wanna go to jail no more. Ive got a job I like ok. Im what you call a traffic counter. Me and my partner we have these clicker things you know and every time a car comes by we gotta count it. Transprotation planning. You know so they can figure out where to put the new roads and shit. Only I don’t actually do none of the counting. Jason does all that. Mostly I just lays back and thinks. Really that’s what id like to do all the time. Think. Id like to find a place to work where they was looking for a thinker like me. Cause you know I’d walk into the intraview and theyd know right away that this guys a big thinker. I got a lot of good ideas. I just need to get somebody to listen to me. I came up with the idea for light dimmers. You probably didn’t know that. I was in the slammer and there was this bright lite outside my cell and I was thinking to myhself woudnt it be nice if I could dim that damn lite so it didn’t shine in my eyes like that. Sure enough I get outta jail and somebody went and invented light dimmers and now there so popular everybodys got em. But hey that don’t matter, nobodys gonna hire me to do no thinking anyway. Ill just continue to do it in my spare time. Sooner or later I’/ll get lucky and invent something people cant live without and get rich and I wont have to worry about nothing no more. Itll happen. Things are starting to work out for me. I got a girlfriend Kristen. Shes smart and sweet and very kind to me. I really look up to her. She’s got big tits. We’ll probably get married one day. I can see that. I got plans. Im not gonna screw up this time. Jack sees that. He understands me. Its been great living in his basment. I don’t know where id be without my good buddy Jack. Well, listen, its been great bloggin and shit with you all. But I gotta go down to the circle k to get some smokes. “Gimme a pack of Marlboros asshole and everything that’s in the cash drawer or ill blow your fucking head off!” Hey, Im just kidding. Pretty funny huh? Damn. I gotta get my own blog.