Bankrupt.

You want to be an art
kid?
God, you’re such a smart
kid.

So you want to paint it
photograph
Show and tell, you’re so pastel
Living in the warehouse smells
Inhale paint fumes, exhale brain cells

Neon tights and duct tape shoes
sparkle shine
red, white, and blue
Overseas they’ll love you too
Seen that before, you’re nothing new.

20 like you come and leave
kill yourself
oh so naive
Flannel shirt, shit on the sleeve
Tight black pants, how can you breathe?

You want to be a smart
kid?
Got it down to an art
kid.

Wanna set yourself apart
kid?
Go back to the start
kid.

Operation: Rat Off Windshield.

I attended a Madonna vs Lady Gaga vs Britney Spears dance party a couple weeks ago. I knew this night was going to be off the wall, and it definitely was. I think I heard the phrase “I am so fucked up right now” at least 50 times from multiple people. The place was packed at 10:30pm, which is kind of insane for anywhere indoors on a Saturday night in the summer. Most people aren’t even ready to leave their houses by that time, let alone be out partying and already either buzzed or hammered. But yeah, fun party. I left that party and ended up at a house party somewhere in Charles Village. Nothing really to note about that party, except the douchebags on the way there.

I was in a car being driven to this house party by my friend, E. Turning a corner, there are a bunch of drunk college kids hanging in the street throwing beer cans all over the pavement. For what reason, I don’t know. As E makes her way through this crowd of assholes, one of them threw a dead rat on her windshield. It was quite appalling. Disturbing, even. She stopped the car in the middle of the road and turned on her wipers in (what I think was) an attempt to get this rat off of her windshield. Now I was really grossed out as I watched this dead rodent the size of a small cat slide up the glass and back down again. Operation: Rat Off Windshield was failing. She then turns to her boyfriend in the passenger seat, who we will call “Man Rock”. She says sternly “Man Rock, get that thing the fuck off my car.” Man Rock proceeds to get out of the car and the college kids disappeared quicker than Britney Spears’ hymen once she joined the MMC. I guess they were afraid that this big tattooed man was going to kick their asses, which I’m sure he would have had they not ran away like a bunch of pussies. He then grabs the dead rat by it’s tail and chucks it in the direction that we saw the college douches run. If I wasn’t drunk during these events, I’m pretty sure I would have vomited in my lap at the sight of this disgraced rat getting tossed all over Baltimore City.

In other random thoughts, I’ve been wondering: is it possible for spring fever to turn into summer fever? Or does that just make you a slut? It seems like as soon as the heat rises that most penises aren’t far behind (mine included). Is it bad to kiss somebody at a party and then 2 weeks later kiss somebody else right in front of them? Or should that make me feel desirable? Haha. This is what summer does to people. I’m choosing to blame this on summer since I didn’t do these things in the winter. The weather’s already got us all hot and sweaty. Why not just carry that theme into the bedroom? I’m officially naming this phenomenon “Summer of Slut 2010: Balls in your Jaws.” May the force (of my pounding penis) be with you.

Art Don’t Count.

Eat every meal like it’s the
last of your life, and I
can’t decide how to do it
by gun or knife.

Your rotten insides, they have
destroyed my out, so I
will suck the bones dry baby
I am the drought, yeah.

What will you do when you finally get to me?
Look through your lens but you never really see.

There’s so much salt, it’s running
right through your veins, and it
courses straight through this rough patch
my patience wanes, now.

Just ’cause you’re crazy, don’t mean
that you’re the best, here I
come crashing down on you
get off my chest, well I–

Can’t tell if it’s a bird, I’d
swear that up there’s a plane
one way flight to vengeance
just a baby, diaper stained.

What will you do when you hear the banshee scream?
Pretentious pictures, anger busting at the seams.

The astro turf, it’s always
it’s always greener, and I’m
10 times as smart as you
and a whole lot meaner.

Art don’t count I will not mount it
on my wall just watch it fall

Polaroid an instant view it
came for me I come for you

You don’t know me, Hate ‘em still
Love ‘em, leave ‘em, know the drill

Fuck you up, I’ve had my fill
dress you down it takes no skill

Don’t think you’ve won, I’m sitting back
just biding time ’til I attack

won’t come back weak, no I’m too strong
Knew it was you all along.

10 Pretty Girls (Baltiwhore).

Teach old dog the same new shit
she’s muzzled, can’t lambaste
Teach new dog the same old shit
still licking her own ass.

If what you want is what you get
you’re whoring every day
When others dry up she stays wet
A sponge in full decay.

Too cool for this
she won’t stay home
the girl’s a mutt
just wants her bone.

Up and down gets no complaint
who thinks about Plan B?
come on girl show some restraint
down south a long dead sea.

Loads and loads of desperate whores
you’re hard up, yeah you’re trashed
10 pretty girls to every boy
go get it while she’s smashed.

Too dumb for this
she’s all alone
the girl’s a slut
it’s in her bones.

You can have her, what’s one night?
she dressed up just for you
make sure to find her next time out
your best friends had her too.

Yes, your best friends had her too.

Hookup, breakup, makeup, leave
in control she’s so naive
stick it to her, best believe
give her grief, she will not grieve.

Misheard.

I’d take you back
just to rip down your front.
Why be a dick?
You’re already a cunt.

You will be the last
but you won’t be the first.
Your best is soon vanquished
by me at my worst.

These memories will burn
oh just give me a reason.
Remember your sins
can’t forgive all your treason.

The fish will not swim,
will not swim in your water.
This handsome son
sure makes one ugly daughter.

Not angry at you
truth be told I don’t feel.
Been scratched on the heart
by it’s only meal.

Reap him and sow him
he’s living his life.
Just act like you had him
keep twisting that knife.

Your feet are your weapons
let mine be these words.
Said I would respect you
I think you misheard.

The New Jesus.

Logan attempts to put out the fire in the loins of Phoenix. (Fire pun intended.)

Below is a text conversation I had yesterday with my friend, Rose. We had been discussing earlier over lunch who the hottest characters in the Marvel Universe were. This kind of convo is what happens when two sexually deprived people look for love in all the wrong places…namely, comic books.

Rose: I want a copy of the comic where the girl gets her power thru oral sex.
Me: God, there are SO many books out about you right now haha.
Rose: Not to brag, but if that were my power I’d be stronger than everyone in the Marvel Universe combined.
Me: No way, Cyclops sucks more dick than all of us. Bow before the one eyed monster!
Rose: Don’t spread your lies about Scott! You’re just jealous he’s been inside Jean’s firecrotch and on Emma’s icy tits. You are so straight, it’s disgusting.
Me: The only fire he got from Jean was her inflammatory irritation after he fucked her up the ass. Repeatedly. And he’s been sucking Xavier’s gimp dick for years.
Rose: Jean fucked Wolverine who is so tiny that he had to physically climb into her cunt so that she could feel anything…and then his hairy unwashed ass gave her a UTI. And if anyone was sucking X’s cock it was Jean, as revealed in Onslaught.
Me: Um, hello? Superhuman healing abilities. Wolverine can’t pass diseases.
Rose: I didn’t say he passed it to her, merely that having the filthy coarse hair that covers his midget body pounded up her vajayjay caused a urinary tract infection. It’s called science, dillhole!
Me: I can’t debate this with you anymore. This can only be settled with blood. And since you’re obviously riding a massive crimson wave, I win.
Rose: Make me a milkshake, bitch!
Me: I can’t. It brings all the boys to the yard. And also, the girls. Everybody gets all excited when I put my cream in a cup. Which is why I donate sperm.
Rose: And it’s statements like that that make you the new Jesus.

“I wish I could be like Jennifer Love Hewitt.”

Sometimes I feel stuck between two worlds. A part of me wants to just write here and make people laugh. And I never thought I’d say something this ludicrous, but I wish that I could be like Jennifer Love Hewitt. Hear me out…

I saw an interview with her and she was so happy and giggly and personable. She was talking about how she went to get a bikini wax (I think?) and the woman tried to get her to bedazzle her cooter. Then she talked about dating Jamie Kennedy and how the tabloids portrayed her as being fat. And she was all smiles during the whole thing. I wish that I could be more like that on a consistent basis. I want to bedazzle my cooter. I want to date somebody who looks like Jamie Kennedy and still be able to sleep at night. And I want to not care if people think I’m fat. I want to waddle my fat bedazzled cooter ass across the screen for a crappy show on network television and still make fun of myself and laugh about it with other people (except my show would be called “The Anal Whisperer”, for reasons I’d rather not divulge.) I’m not really a fan of hers, but I find her to be likable at the very least. I wish that I could come off like her all the time.

The picture which garnered JLH the "fat" label.

But then there’s this other part of me that has some messed up shit to deal with and work through. And sometimes I want to write about it. Maybe I shouldn’t share that stuff with the world, but I’m just trying to keep it real. I’m not willing to compromise being genuine, since a lot of people my age are flaky and faker than Heidi Montag’s monster tits. I value that about myself and what I write. I would never change that. Nobody is happy all the time. And chances are that something that made you mad in the past will always make you mad to some degree. Sucks, but it’s just a part of life. I tend to draw on this past “unfinished business” with people when writing in an attempt to come to terms with it. I think that’s healthy.

So there you have it…a rare moment of clarity and thinking (typing?) out loud from me. I’m not even sure where this came from, I just thought some people would like some insight as to why I do this. I try to keep a good balance here between fun and scathing bitchiness haha. To quote a terrible movie starring a Wayans brother that’s on my TV right now, “If you don’t like it, write it on a piece of paper and stick it up your ass.”

And now, on a lighter note, Random Quotes:

“It’s the gayest thing I ever learned how to do. Besides putting a dick in my mouth.” (referring to crocheting.)

“I thought she was just a random slut, like me.”

“Your inner nerd is there, it’s locked up. I’m just the key.”

Me: “How could you not love Crystal Pepsi? It was clear!”
Rose: “Crystal Pepsi was just a cheap marketing ploy.”
Me: “You’re a cheap marketing ploy.”
Rose: “Your face is a cheap marketing ploy.”
Me: “That’s obviously not what all the other girls think.”
Rose: “I don’t want to join your fan base.”
Me: “You don’t have to join my fan base because your mouth will be joining with the base of my cock.”