Sunday, March 27, 2005

hideous freak

I'm sitting here with a Bioré nose strip on and a foam tray full of caustic bleach gel in my mouth. I just got out of the bathtub where I had been grooming my genitals with safety clippers*--

And it occurs to me that all this bullshit, all these little details-- I should have just saved the money I've spent on this shit over the years and spent it on a nosejob. Because that's the real problem here-- my huge, gnarled, cracked broken nose. For those of you who haven't seen me, honestly, it's fucking cartoonish... the largest nose I have ever seen on a human being. I'm amazed that more people don't say something, or give some cue that they take pity on me. That people don't cover their children's eyes on the street.

Point being that a guy with clogged pores and yellow teeth who doesn't groom his balls but has a small nose is still much more attractive than me. I look at chicks who just aren't that good looking but are really well polished and I'll take a chick with a pretty face but who's a little chunky and unkempt every fucking time...

It's broken in such a way that on one side this angular blade of bone sticks out, poking through the skin so there's a little white spot where it's almost breaking through... it's bent so that even head on it looks like you're looking at me from an angle, like a Picasso. I used to always think that photographs were unluckily managing to capture me from some freakish parallax all the time but I finally had to admit that it's just horrendously crooked, right-angled like a Doonesbury character... and then terminating in a giant beet-red Yeltsinesque bulb, which if you look at it up close is acrawl with spidery exposed veins and greasy black pores. Between two huge gulfs of nostril the septum is twisted into an s-shape, athwart two bristly bushes of long greasy black hairs that grow back instantaneously after being trimmed. Who would ever want to be kissed by a face that has this thing on it? These huge veiny nostrils coming at you as if to swallow you...

* Despite the fact that the Queer Eye phenomenon has peaked, I still do this-- buzzing my scrotum with the clippers and praying I don't nick one of the thousand of delicate, profusely-bleeding wrinkles, which I often do. Because my goddamn nut sack can never seem to stay in the compact brain-coral shape you see in porn stars but rather distends into a Hefty lawn-and-leaf-bag-sized monstrosity even at room temperature, and my balls will drop at random directly into the path of the blades like they were fucking with me on purpose.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

every breath is a treasure

I think my foot is broken. One of the tiny little bones—some hairline fracture that will prevent me from exercising. I will turn into a disgusting fat fuck.

My car is broken. On Christmas day at the Long Beach airport I had to call and get a jump after parking it for a week—the Neo-Nazi troglodyte working the tow truck that day fucking hooked up the jumper cables backwards and killed my electrical system. I didnt know it at the time—he said m’boss says he does it all the time if ya call triple A ah’ll lose m’job shouldn’t be any damage, listen lemme know if it don’t start t’morrah ah’ll buy you a new batt’ry m’self… and since it was fucking Christmas I didn’t rat him out. Now, months later I have had to replace my battery once and alternator twice at ass-reamingly huge expense because I didn’t call triple A and thus the lurking damage that metastasized to kill my whole goddamn car can’t be proven to be their fault. I remember he had some weird midget with him like the one that used to hang out with Kid Rock… a bald wrinkly little fucker who looked prematurely old like he had Methuselah Syndrome.

My best friend’s car is also broken. While her boyfriend was kind enough to fix my car she lent me hers in a truly selfless gesture and while I was driving home on a rain-slick road these two Armenian chicks pulled out across two lanes of oncoming traffic without looking and I t-boned them. She’s been in many accidents herself and was afraid of getting fucked on her insurance; I was agitated and adrenalized by the crash and the resultant fight we got in became so horrible that while we were screaming at each other out on the fire escape I thought about jumping off and slamming into the sidewalk four floors below just to end it right then. I almost fucking did it.

A bird shat on me. The worst part was how warm it was. I have not had sex with someone whom I didn’t have to pay in over six months. My rent got jacked up. I am twenty-nine years old and I work as somebody’s assistant earning ten dollars per hour. I have a small penis and a huge, broken nose. My neighbor who is one of my only friends in town is moving out. I have conjunctivitis. Also the flu, I think. I started exercising more in order to get “ripped” but my weight has stayed the same only now if I don’t exercise I can’t sleep.

Ah, Jesus…

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

fat chick

I want to fuck a fat chick. Not an obese one, but a thick one. It stems from the fact that my last girlfriend was a severe cocaine addict prone to bouts of ghoulish anorexia. I want to cleanse the palate.

So here’s the problem. I go out, and I meet girls, and despite historical ideas that fat chicks are easy to bag, I’ll tell you: they’re every bit as stuck up as every other chick. I think there are two reasons for this:

1)Black men. And I hate to bring up ethnicity b/c I know anyone who’s reading this has surely come to see me as obsessed with race and scatology—only half true in either case. But black men are in some kind of freakish thrall to fat white women and constantly insist on hitting on them in the most vulgar and pushy way imagineable, and chicks are stuck up largely because of a very real need to be defensive in the face of shit like that.

2)All other men. The idea that guys go only go after skinny chicks has just been bullshit all along. The endlessly-repeated 80's-feminist notion that somehow women are force-fed some unattainable image of beauty through a culture of magazines, and TV etc. etc., well it may be true but it’s all coming from other women, and the opinions of men have no bearing on it at all. Sometimes guys like a small, childlike waif, sure... but sometimes a big meaty ass makes me kind of animalistically horny, and I just want to stick that piglet, mm good...

Who knows? Maybe I'm expecting too much. Maybe I want fat chicks to acknowledge their place as the untouchables of our society and just yield to me in exchange for some attention. Maybe I won't brook any coquettishness from these girls, I won't play the same kind of games with them and I come off like a prick. But I'll tell you, for a guy who's already pretty self-loathing: getting turned down by a fat chick is a sad, sad thing.

Monday, March 07, 2005

i am a racist

I am a racist. There's no getting around it, I'm a fucking racist. Not in the cross-burning I-hate-niggers kind of way but in a way where misanthropy in general channels itself through racism. Like the other day I was shopping for shirts at my local discount dept. store and the place was just aswarm with wild screaming mexican children with dirty hands and chocolately faces, just running wild all over the store. Also there but in no way engaged with these teeming hellions were the corresponding parents-- each pair a normal if somewhat squat 19-22 year old man coupled with a preposterously fat stretch-panted mamacita with high arched eyebrows drawn on in two shades of metallic paint. And I thought: at the end of the trip do these people simply take home the correct number of filthy snot-nosed children, but not necessarily the same ones they came in with? Is it part of the mexican morning toilet to make sure that your child has an appropriately filthy and chocolatey face before leaving the house? Like does the mama stand at the door with a chocolate ice cream cone covered in jimmies and marshmallows and give it a real good twist in the kids face before letting them out?

That's some reprehensible shit and I know it. But racism is a like a deep knee-jerk reaction sometimes and there's nothing you can do about it. I've been indoctrinated with good liberal values my whole life but still when a black man cuts me off on the highway I let a few slurs out good and loud. One of these days I'm going to do this in the wrong neighborhood with the windows down, and get my ass kicked. And you know what? I'll fucking deserve it.

Friday, March 04, 2005

goddamn miserable fucking bullshit.