D is back with a brand new invention

Different location--same witty banter, your favorite satirical satirist is back hardcore with a vengeance like Bruce Willis in Die Hard III: With A Vengeance. Only much balder. much. smooth like a baby's hiney.
let's talk politics. sleepeater is in high-pressure mode. gearing up for this summer's world tour. getting the album worked out...artwork...mixes...mastering...pressing
we have surrounded ourselves with greatness and it may just rub off. (it's also wise to put things in the hands of the wise, so as to disguise the aimlessness of idiots who I despise.) ((I just came up with that clever rhyme right here on the spot so you could see how I might be a bit arrogant with genius licks like that, right? huh?))

let's switch gears and talk sports.
In the middle of all this hullabaloo, one would think that sleepeater would be milling about, running to and fro, rehearsing the album to represent, yo. but no. one would be wrong. in the midst of this deadline time crunch, sleepeater has deeply burrowed into their studio, hard at work creating new little ditties primed to make their premiere around June 18 to be exact. Not ones to rest on their laurels, the crew has also ordered matching V-neck sweaters and those really tight emo-jeans. But, no lie, we will be dressed to kill and made up like princesses. Our Twisted Sister phase has begun. We don't care if it's trendy or whatever. We just want to be on that bandwagon, yo.

let's see what's happening in the weather...

I love you, can we be friends again?

Over and Out

I came back after all this time just to tell you that I am leaving again. I appreciate all of your letters of concern, and no, I have not been too busy to write, I just don't like you. i'm moving and no one knows when we will see each other again, but if it is ever than it will be too soon.

til never,
die.

FrankenMeg

Poor Meg looks all freaky now. She just got fixed and has got a long line of silver staples running down her belly. Plus her whole belly is shaved and she's got these weird bulges goin on...i don't know...
makes me uncomfortable...
i don't say anything to her because I don't want to hurt her feelings, but it's real awkward picking her up while trying to ignore her ghastly ignormality. And when she cries at me and prepares to jump into my arms, I sometimes pretend I don't hear/see her and walk away.
i'm pretty sure she's on to me because i'm getting the silent treatment right now.

Befriend Me Now...

while you still have a chance. For tomorrow I'll have my gorgeous little mug plastered in the local paper and it will be hard to reach me with my head ballooned to massive proportions. Don't worry current friends, I'll still throw ya a bone every now and then. You can still tell people that you know me. Be aware, however, that this considerate act of kindness on my part is not free--a small royalty fee of $4.99 is required for every instance where you try to make yourself look more important by telling someone that you know me personally, have talked with me before, have sat next to me on the bus, or have used an adjoining urinal whilst I was using the facilities. This is a standard operating cost and nothing to get overworked about. Hey, that's business.
I still like you just as much as I used to pretend that I did. It's just that now I'm a totally famous newspaper celeb who's too busy having meetings with important people to "hang out" with peasant folk.




NOTE: Before you send me hate mail telling me I'm an arrogant jerkface, I would like to state that the words written in the post above are commonly referred to as SARCASM. This is lost on many a folk so I hope this clears things up.
I Love you.

The Life of a Caveman

or an invisible man. Without my trusty cellular telephone I am a lost little boy in a field. A field of loneliness and sorrow. A harvester of sorrow. Without even a land line in my apartment, I have vanished from the earth. I can neither reach nor be reached. I've slipped through the cracks in society and now I am a transparent, shifty little lost boy in a field. A field of anxiety. Who's trying to call me right now?
Who's desparately seeking my advice on a difficult issue?
Has Timmy fallen in the well?
Do we need milk or toilet paper?
I don't know. I've dropped out.
Except for you, betty blog, you never let me down.

Dude.

dude, whoa.
like, Saturday night was like, whoa, dude.
this band Traindodge, like, whoa. Super Sweet dude.
In fact, sweet sets all round, dude. good night and all that, dude.
come to think of it, dude, the alley behind Phils makes a great place to listen to bands while being completely incapacitated. Its soothing when you're face down on the asphalt to hear the gentle push of the bass reverberating through the concrete. Ahhh, dude. And ya know, when the chips are down and ya don't remember who ya are, always count on Phils alley as a place to find a wad of chewing gum with some flavor left in it. Ahhhh, dude. Fresh breath is very important when you drive home totally wasted. That way, when you tell that fine officer the tree pulled out in front of you, he'll be totally convinced you have your wits about you and are reasonably fine and dandy, if not for a little dizzy. Dude.

don't, don't, don't throw me away,
Dude.