Author: Scoutmastertoad

fucking pwned.

if i ever get convicted for my sins i don’t know…i don’t want to be hung…..saddam kinda looks like my grandfather…….it’s been weird feeling cuz i have this weird power called empathy.

yeah he might have killed a bunch of kurds in a revolution.

bush might have killed a bunch of americans in 9/11.

i like to think im anti abortion and anti death penalty but fuck.

oh well, guess we all gotta die. it’s saddam’s fault for not fighting back during his capture.

just like america is the indian’s fault because they didn’t fight back with guns.

i just need a website to tell me where to stand on stuff like this.

i’m just glad that we’ve avenged 9/11….oh wait hm ugh i don’t care anymore…got enough problems….have fun with your world people…it’s all office politics when you get down to it

i dunno why im writing about this but i find it slightly humorous.

Me and my good buddy **** were coming back from lunch today and a cop starts following us. The cop makes several turns after us so it’s obvious he’s following us. We get to the gate, quickly show are badges to the brave $10 an hour Wakennut.

The cop pulls up and the guard talks to him for a second, the cop backs up and drives off. We’re like “wtf” cuz **** didn’t break any laws or anything and it’s weird that we’re being pursued.

It got me thinking. Is our property like some foreign embassy or something? Can i go rape and pillage and then just run back to the sanctionary?

I mean i’ve heard of company perks but this is fucking great.

You can keep your company cars, i have a license to rape!

So today i found out my contract has been extended if i want it until May. I’m honestly not feeling like leaving new orleans so i think im going to stay put.

I left work today, ran 4 and a half miles at the gym, blaring the first mars volta album on my idildo. I’ve been experimenting with different music while running lately and have found that mars volta really gets the anger going. Highly reccomended.

I stop at the Savacenter to buy some dog food for marla. And by dog food i mean, 3 frozen pizzas, a handle of whiskey, a bottle of wine, a 12 pack of tecate and 4 oranges. I’m standing in line and a older gay couple looks at my collection of wonderfulness on the little conveyor belt and comments that it’s the perfect college diet. I laugh and say that the oranges cancel out the whiskey, beer and pizza.

Fucking fags. Dunno how anyone can judge my diet when they have a cart full of bread.

Carbs are the devil.

Whiskey is jesus.

hope you all had a safe and happy holiday.

actually i hope itwas hardcore, filled with drugs, sex ,violence, cutting, bleeding, fights, anger and remorse.

time to go look for leftovers

what to write about…..

so many things happening….

so many stories of recent…..so many i can’t post here…….

i think it’s time to password protect the site again….

i don’t think ive even mentioned that ashley has been living with me for 2 weeks….i feel so sorry for her. she says she doesn’t like being on crackhore. i don’t like being on crackhore either.

tomorrow i get to put on a suit and tie because someone big is coming and i have to look like im not a loser. I had to put my palm tree rug, pillow and placemats in case he walks down my aisle.

I like fitting in.

Nothing to see here. Just a little graphic designer working his heart out. Nothing out of place, no dirty secrets, no crippling addictions, no bitterness, nothing.

atari teenage riot rape

Okay so i leave the office friday, go work my little skinny ass off at the gym and come home. I iron one shirt, fuck it up, find another shirt, iron it and head to the ***** christmas party.

I pull up, feeling so clean, tie, collared shirt, etc. As soon as i walk in i realize that i need to be really careful. This is one of those christmas parties you can’t get out of control at. There are “higher ups” here so high up that i have never even seen, heard or smelled them.

But it has a open bar.

I put on 100% of my charm and talk with all my co-workers, walking around with a glass of wine in hand, trying my hardest to be “sweet and charming” instead of “drunk and angry”.

I have several conversations with several people i shouldn’t. I almsot wet myself when my boss gives me my chirstmas bonus that i wasn’t expecting. I sit next to one of my bosses towards the end of the end of the evening, trying to charm the woman he’s talking to.

This is where it gets funny. I leave the resturant and end up in my car. Im driving towards my apartment but i end up in Metarie in a parking lot. I’m so cold, confused and tired that i crawl into the backseat of my car and sleep.

I wake up at 5am like “wtf”, drive around and finally find a street i recognize. I drive home and josh finds me walking in like “wtf happened to u”.

I go back to bed.

I wake up Saturday and do freelance stuff all day, drinking beer and consuming carbs in preperation for the race sunday. I walk marla in the park, listening to boys for pele on my ipod, stumbling around singing and loving life.

A girl from hot or not asks me to come to a party. I respectfully decline. I want to go out, do things that i shouldn’t do but i don’t. Because i have changed. For the beter. *repeats into mirror*

I wake up at the crack of dawn Sunday for the race. My good friend **** from *** picks me up and we head to the race. It’s cold. Like seriously fuck off cold. I got on pants, a tshirt and a hoody and im still feeling underdressed.

The race starts and i shove my way towards the front. Running races like this is always guess work because you have to judge your ego. Am i fast enough to be this far ahead or am i just a fool?

Anyway, the first mile goes pretty well. The bisexual ipod i bought recently is kicking ass. I’m listening to the new mars volta which is making me so angry and upset that im running to try to kill the person in front of me.

Mile 2 is always the worst. I get a little water and i just keep going. The pain in my legs just makes me more angry. How did i ever i get this lazy? Come on and give it to me, come on and die. I just keep going. And going. Each step feels like a eternity and i just keep chugging along. I have this perverted angry look on my face, trying not to scream along to the music.

I get the mile 2 marker and it’s time to stop fuckign around. I look around at everyone and i feel the inner loathing of my species come full circle. Everyone around me is just as good as me and the only thing seperating me is if i finish before them.

I get the arms going, really feeling the mars volta. I look at the guy in front of me, what he’s wearing and instantly hate him. I can’t let him beat me, he’s a dork. He’s probably listening to…something i don’t like.

When i see the cars at the parking lot and the finish line i decide it’s time to just see how hard i can push myself. I really get the arms going and just go. Passing asshole and loser by asshole and loser i lose all caring.

I know i must look like a mad man, face expressing my anger for myself and everyone, arms pumping, legs burning, soul screaming.

I cross the finish line, sit down on the sidewalk and feel every cell asking why i have done this, again.

I’m not going to tell you my time since it’s not that fast. I shaved off a minute from my last race. I felt like jesus on the cross the last mile and i have ascended and died for my own sins. Or something.

I really need to start running more often.

wow, i felt such price putting my LA license plate in the back of my undercover cop car. As i was walking out of the title place with my plate the guy said “yah i bet your surveillance vehicle has some stories to tell”.

I turn to him totally straight faced and say “yah it’s funny how the survaillancer becomes the survaillanced”. He literally laughs outloud, says “cheers” and closes the door.

I am no longer “riding durty” with my car. I have all the necessary paperwork to operate this vehicle and no i will not put my hands up and get out of the car.

This was great picking up my beautiful friend Ashley without a license plate.

Ashley came to visit me this weekend for a little vacation from her life. Her life has been pretty much wrecked because of me so i’ll give you a little character development before i dive into this update. About 2 months ago Ashley signs onto aim. We begin talking and i tell her a little about what i want to do to her if i ever see her.

The punch line is this isn’t really Ashley. It’s her mom! Anyway, Ashley has a huge fight with her mom and ends up leaving her mom’s house and moves in with her cousin. She sleeps there on a inflatable mattress(yah i know, the similarities are already glaring) for about a month or two.

She takes the train down last Friday to come see me. I text her about 7:30am when she should be on the train, tired as hell, on her way. No response.

I sit at work and think “that’s a little weird, i know cellphones get reception on the train cuz i lived on that fucking train for a few weeks of my life”. I leave work, go work out at the gym like usual and decide to go to the train station since i doubt she’s sitting with her friends laughing at the idea of my lame ass crying into my hands at the train station. But it’s probably my turn for something this depressing to happen.

I call her cellphone anyway and do not get a response. 🙁

I call Amtrak on the way there(i have their number in my phone) and they say the train got in about 15 minutes ago. Alright, here’s for great first impressions.

I pick her up and i give her a small tour of the garden district and we grab some food. She left her cellphone in Memphis and thats why she didn’t return the text message.

We then make our way into the quarter and i get completely lost trying to find our hotel. Finally my better judgment gets us there.
We do the normal Bourbon street thing with huge evil daiquiris. She is really stressed out by the street mime people who stand on milk crates and not move a inch while people lol and stare, etc. A guy that looks just like the “tin man” from the wizard of oz, and looks a lot like this, makes eye contact with us on his box.

I tell her it’s a normal french quarter thing to see, etc, etc.

About 2 hours afterwards we’re walking down a dark alley and i smell that unmistakable smell. My nipples get a little hard and i start to turn left and right to try to tell where it’s coming from.

The tinman is walking down the middle of the street smoking a joint. We both look over like “WTF” and he turns to us and says “TAH TIN MAN IS TAKIN A LIL CHRONIC BREAK” and offers me a hit. Since i fucking hate weed, the music it has inspired, the website updates it has created and the lives it has ruined, i decline.

I honestly wish i did do drugs or even drink or do anything that could get me laid off from my contract at ******** because it would have been a great story to smoke a joint with the tin man in New Orleans.

Anyway.

We do the typical New Orleans tourist things which include drinking around Jackson square, getting a really disturbing tarot card reading, river walk, steak and monsoons at port of call, hangovers, etc.

We’re watching the Saints game at a hole in the wall ball on Bourbon when i get a text message on my phone from a 901 number. I hate when this happens. NOTHING has ever been good from this.

It’s Ashley’s friend. She says “i know you don’t know me but please have her call me”. I show this to her and she calls her back. Apparently her cousin has moved out of her husband’s apartment(where Ashley was staying) and she is now staying somewhere there isn’t room for Asheley to stay.

I have now ruined Ashley’s life (squared). I offer her a place to live here and she respectively declines. I guess I’ve done enough damage.

I drop her off at the train station and head back to work Monday. Back to working 10 hours a day, working out at the gym, drinking myself to sleep and wondering why.

If you’re reading this, this was a wonderful weekend and I’m sorry i keep ruining your life. I hope I’m worth it. I seriously think it might be time for me to retire myself from everything.

It was nice living like a normal for a few days but you can’t stop whats coming and you can’t stop what is already here.

Time for a nice evening of cutting, gin and single life.

So im in a meeting the other day when i get a phone call from the car title place im getting my license plate from. I politely excuse myself and walk out to the hallway.

“Mr ***, we’ve ran across a problem with you’re car that we’ve never seen before.”

I think there is a time when that would have surprised me but i was like “okay what is it, stolen? come on, let me have it”.

Turns out that my car was used in several undercover surveillance operations and the police department that used it needs to  release some paper work on it before a civilian like me can get plates.

Guess this means another week of “ridin durty” with no license plate. 🙁

So i’m thinking today about the iraq insurgency and i came up with a wonderful little plan that i’m positive will work. We take a page from history, in honor of Thanksgiving, and give all the Sunni and Shiite rebels land for casinos and outlaw gambling in Iraq.

This will obviously work because deep down inside everyone is guilty of greed. Sure it make take a few generations and a few trail of tears but sooner or later these silly Muslims will realize that the only way to attack at the Zionist heart is to steal our money with “loose slots” and buffets.

I’ll take my Nobel peace prize now or you can just mail it to me.