Tuesday, September 26, 2006

kids say the dumbest things

Children are not all that cute. I know this because I have eyes, and they work. Parents of non-cute children do not know this, because if the marriage of Liza Minnelli and David Gest has taught us anything, its that visualizing them actually cures all forms of premature ejaculation. It also taught us that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I work in a grocery store, where children run rampant. I see all types of children - everything from newborns, to the terrible twos, to preschoolers, to fully grown men who wear children-sized clothing with their nipples popping out. It's very much like a zoo.

The reason children are not cute is simple. They are not. Okay, maybe simplicity isn't the best approach. Let me break it down. Have you ever seen a male child pick his butt and smell his hand? Because I have. Have you ever seen a toddler barf on his mom's boobs? I have.

And they were really nice boobs too. The kind that, if you listen closely enough, actually talk to you. This particular pair was in the process of whispering sweet nothings in my ear before their speech became gargled by the massive influx of intestinal backwash that flooded down upon them. I did not masturbate once that day.

Secondly, children are by the very nature, stupid. I can only imagine what goes on in a child's mind when they see something hard, unscented, inedible and think, "hmm maybe I'll try this". Perhaps you can blame the parents for never teaching them that keys have no nutritional value, I blame the kids who find inanimate objects bigger than their esophagus appetizing. I may have eaten leaves when I was little, but that was when I was young and impressionable. I have never done any harder foods, and I swear it.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

checking in

For the past three days my body has been fucking with me by playing one of those "you're about to get sick, but sloooowly" games. On Tuesday I woke up with a feeling in the back of my throat that says I've either been smoking like a hag bag, or i'm about to be sick. On wednesday those symptoms manifested themselves into that exact same feeling, only slightly worse, with a few stomach gurgles and bad breath - and today I'm feeling all those things about the same, a bit worse, but not really, yet at the same time really, and its pretty annoying, especially the bad breath part.

The weekend is coming up and it'd be nice if my body gave me a verdict whether I'll be sick or not. Aside from someone vomiting in my mouth, being sick on the weekend is probably one of my worst fears. Ten years down the line I'll probably have different, more responsible fears, but for now those are two of my biggest. Its the prospect of sitting at home on a Saturday night, pale as an Irish Baby's ass, while my drunk friends call me asking where I'm at, although I would've already told them I was sick, but they forgot that information because they're drunk, and I'm not, thus the feelings of depression and fear. Rip off my head and poop down my neck while you're at it Geez.

Speaking of pooping down my neck, I'm taking a creative writing class at SMC. I sorta like it. My teacher is a black male with dreadlocks, and not to stereotype, but I don't find it surprising he wants the majority of the class to focus on poetry. (Just kidding to the African Americans out there. Not all black males with dreadlocks are into poetry. Most of them are homeless, anyways.) Which means I'll be exploring the depths of my emotion and the salty vicissitude of my male PMS, and probably posting whatever crap I come up with here. Cuz I rarely get serious and I haven't written or posted poetry in a while. The last poem I wrote was actually in december. It was called "Christmas". Actually, I'll post it for your pleasure.

"CHRISTMAS" By Greg Olmeda

Oh Christmas
How could you do this to me?
Oh Christmas
You're supposed to be fun but you bring me pain
Oh Christmas
Instead of presents you bring me pain
Oh Christmas
The ferns of the Christmas tree tear into my soul
Oh Christmas
Like fragrant needles of destruction
Oh Christmas
Ripping at my soul

Oh Christmas (x4)

I'm becoming a Jew.

That is some raw, ill shit. I didn't write that, it wrote itself. Moving on. Some of you may have noticed the status change. Yes its true, I'm no longer single. A pinto bean has taken me captive and she makes me happy. But she likes to snoop around my page so I will say no more, other than to send all cyber-sex requests to my inbox, rather than posting them in my comment section where they are clearly visible. I'd appreciate that.

Now I'm off to pop an airborne and sleep. Just kidding, I'm really gonna jerk it. Hopefully I'll be well by tomorrow, goodnight.