cut and bleed web sitescrackhore.com – None of this is really actually happening.

If shit really just completely falls apart…i can live in my fucking van. Yeah that sucks but think about all the web designers who don’t have vans. I’m technically just middle class, compared to the web developers that have places to live. Not doing great, not doing bad.

I’ll roam from town to town, setting up for a week or two at a time. I’ll tip the manager and the employees for letting me use their motel for my johns and i’ll put a little sign on my table that says “i build web sites and fix computers”.

I’ll run exes and lean crap off of machines all day long, every now and then i’ll get a small web site for my people to build and just live a nice peaceful life in my van.

The problem has been i’ve set my expectations too high. Happiness and peace of mind were never meant for me! yay thank you good night.

So tomorrow is the anniversary…the 10th, of Dave’s death. It’s been 10 fucking years. The first 3-5 years i just had nothing but self loathing. I blamed myself, it’s my fault. If i hadn’t existed he’d be out there living it up, nice job, house, wife, kids, nice car, everything you get when you are a smart, talented computer guy.

Instead it’s a grave stone, his mother and father probably divorced since most families can’t handle something as fucked up as a child dying. Elise is probably somewhere with her husband and probably not even thinking about it. I hope she is because he deserves a thought once a year.

The first 10 years of this was just a selfish self loathing feeling. With maturity i realized how stupid that was…it’s not your fault he’s dead. He would have done something stupid in a manic state whether my parents ever fucked and i was released on the earth.

I watch the 25th of June with a weird sense. I look at what my responsibilities are that day, socially, work, whatever. I know that I’m not going to feel too great about…anything on that day but i guess i’m starting early. This year it just seems to be different. I’m making it even more selfish and just thinking about where my life is and where I have failed. Pretty pathetic.

This isn’t about me, this is about him. It’s sad. It’s not my fault, it’s actually not even his fault, he didn’t mean to die. No one to blame, just sad.

Can’t believe it’s been 10 years, wonder what you’d be doing right now.

Always told you that you’d have free hosting and it’ll always be there as long as…well, who knows.

http://www.crackhore.com/dave/

hehe Barry called me yesterday and said he’s coming in town, will be in that night, wanted to meet up for drinks. My afternoons usually consist of drinking so i was already pretty loaded by 7pm when he calls and says they are eating at felix’s, one of my customer’s i was actually at 8 hours later picking up money.

so i’m pretty drunk already and i walk to the bus stop because i figured in a awesome tactical maneuver, that i could pick up some popeyes and eat it at the bus stop so i would show up downtown both drunk and not hungry.

i purchase my chicken without issue and go sit down on the curb and eat my chicken. i’m sitting there just eating chicken, no headphones on cuz you don’t want anyone to be able to sneak up with you on magazine st at 8pm, especially while eating fried chicken. It hit me how awesome it is to be alive and single again. I make a mental note to add something to my okcupid profile about eating popeyes fried chicken on magazine st waiting for a bus.

i get on the bus and i’m feeling completely awesome now. There is a big black dude sitting in the seat across from me and it’s really hazy how it started but we had this huge epic conversation about women and how to treat them. He extended his hand in a fist and i bumped it properly.

I get off the bus and head to felixs where barry and his mystery date are eating. I purchase a beer at the unique grocery and walk in. I sit with them for a minute with the beer in it’s brown paper bag between my boots because i’m not going to open that in there. I might be their web designer but i’m not royalty. So i go outside and open it.

So there is this girl outside with menus trying to hustle people into the restaurant…i already had been kinda messing with her by picking up a knife off the table and asking her to do that thing where you stab the knife in between the fingers really fast. She wouldn’t do it.

I start asking her roughly what she makes there…i realize i can pay her more. I’ve been on the hunt for a really sassy little assistant and this has potential.

I’d also like to have sex with her.

I give her a card and tell her to call me.

I took Barry and his woman to flannigans…it’s totally empty…i drank X amount of PBR and we part ways. I somehow managed to on a streetcar with a unopened 24oz pbr…i show her that it’s not open, don’t worry, just for when i get home. I sit down towards the back and as soon as the streetcar starts moving i do my patented “pretend to sneeze while opening beer can” move that is patent pending. I woke up wearing the jeans and shirt i was wearing the night before and Silas the maids handler calls. He says “the girls” can come by in 30 minutes. I tell him to add to cart. Now i’m sitting here in my work clothes, blaring tori amos and finishing the PBR that was on the coffee table.

This is your awesome life and it’s ending one pbr at a time.

i wish i could email michael in 2005 and tell him not to ever date anyone seriously ever again.

That’s right…”Patrick M” at my host helped me figure out why was going wrong with the site. Now i’m upgraded and i’m going to start writing fucking stupid tons of paragraphs on this site that no one reads because i stopped updating it…fuck you, everyone sit down, i’m only on slide 2 of this presentation.

Patrick i wanna give you props for helping me fix this because obviously no one would even help me troubleshoot this and now i’m rolling fresh. You are saving me thousands of dollars in bar tabs now that i can just update this huge database of nonsense and hate.

Sek recently reminded me that i’m pretty much a failure at the internet and that all i do is facebook and don’t work on this work of art. I hate being put in my place because normally i’m in my place chyllin and it’s cool. Everyone knows where i am and what i do. Except when i sell out and start posting on facebook instead of crackhore.

I’ll tell you honestly what it was. People go to facebook and people stopped going here when i stopped updating. Now i’m not going to point fingers but i think it might have been my fault. I’m starting up again. You are going to be so sick of content that you’ll be like “naw i don’t read crackhore everyday, i like to save it up and read it every day or two while im eating steak and getting my dick sucked”.

I want to seriously just take the gloves off tho. I want to know who is reading this. So you know what? This is it. You are all of my content couch as of now. Everything is going to required you to be logged in. I’ve gone too far into life to let me fuck it up. Unless you have a approved login then it’s gone. I know that the wayback machine will bust me out but it’s not about the old stuff. It’s the new hate fueled rage that i don’t want everyone seeing.

God i want to make love to this wordpress install. It’s all back and now i can just write here instead of annoying people on facebook.

To catch you up on where my nightmare currently exists…jennifer are taking time apart…either this is what i need to do to be okay with being with her or i’m a insensitive asshole who just wants to date other girls. It’s up for you to decide and for me to ignore.

This is what was missing from my life and what’s missing from yours.

I’m going to start a facebook profile for crackhore.com so that everything is posted here is mirrored on your social media god. So that way if you want to listen to the rantings of a functioning alcoholic mad man who happens to know everything about the internet, just like and you’re in. And you have to be approved.

Okay i’m done, wipe yourself off and get out.

i’ve got something going on in my personal life which pretty much defies anything i’ve ever done. playing for keeps as usual. only time will tell on these sorts of things and i’m really wondering what even what i need in a woman. i mean really, when you reach this age you start to realize it’s not them, it’s you. oh well, spin the wheel.

well, i kinda stopped drinking today. except for the vodka. and the beer when i woke up.

my depression levels have reached a new low. i keep thinking about what 2009 has been and am just wondering if this is just going to be it.

moving in with kelly was obviously a dumb fucking move. i mean seriously. when you’re not longer attracted to someone it’s pretty sure it’s time to, you know, stop dating them. im sure all young men learn these lessons about dating older women, etc but i’m a little ashamed of myself. dumb fucking move.

i get back out on my own and fall for michelle all over again. i got a week out of that one.

right after that i fall for tiffany. always a great idea to try to date a work person but then throw in the fact that she really doesn’t want anything to do with me emotionally is the real heart breaker. i guess i’m not used to that, just being used for certain aspects. i bring it on myself, yea i know. it was never meant to be but it’d be pretty fucking nice to meet someone who actually cared for me.

oh well. i’m starting to realize that you hit a point in your life after having your heart crushed and being loved by all the wrong people that you realize the hopelessness of it all.

i hope to be everyone’s dark corner of their mind. i say all the depressing shit you dont want to admit to yourself. unless you have a husband, wife, girlfriend or boyfriend that loves you. then i just sound bitter.

oh yeah, ash wednesday, no more drinking tomorrow…except at lynn’s party. drinking then, but not before. well maybe a beer in the morning if my chest hurts again. but definitely no more after that…until the party. goddamn it.

this was my second year to roll with my krewe. last year i really didn’t know what i was getting myself into, still had a great time.

this year i knew what was coming. the story really probably starts saturday morning. bill picks me up at 7am. i’ve been up since 5:30 for some reason, finishing the beer from the night before and getting really high. i jump in the truck and he’s got his friend and a some kids, probably 15-17ish. I’m totally completely spun and talking all kinds of nonsense about everything. Everyone loves me.

We get out to where the floats are stored. After buying wild turkey and beer for the float at some shady gas station near the 9th ward. So we get there and start loading the floats and drinking beer. There was a great moment where one of the guys in the krewe looked over and saw me sitting on the sidewalk eating a doughnut and drinking a beer at 8am. I wish i could remember people’s names because it was beautiful.

we meet up with the rest of the people at laffite’s blacksmith bar. things start getting really weird here…beer beer beer, good times and we make our way to uptown. there was a cab involved. bill’s daughters and daughter’s friends are extremely young and extremely hot. i was in no shape or position to talk to them and i stole a washcloth off a house keeper’s cart. i hope bill doesn’t get invoiced for that

so when i leave bill and his family i’m totally left to my own devices. i’m not that far from home so i start hiking it. as i was walking i noticed a huge 5th of skyy vodka just sitting by itself on a table. and honestly i feel bad about this and something bad is going to happen to me but i fucking grabbed it and kept going. i really feel bad about it and need to do something to make up for it. i might go just give it to a random stranger on st charles today.

anyway im sprinting up carondolet with my stolen bottle of vodka and call sek. it’s like when you do something that bad ass you gotta follow it up with talking to sek. he was proud of me. i think, i don’t really remember anything said.

i slept on the floor for a while and let my neighbor’s friends use my bathroom. i had my gun on me and im not sure if they saw it. i’m fucking paranoid okay?

my alarm goes off and i jump out of bed, fill my flask and run out the door. i think i might have brushed my teeth too. im out the door and realize that the flask is leaking and i now have a huge puddle of vodka on my pants, jacket and hoody. the show must go on.

i miss the bus. i get a cab. nothing can stop me now.

i get there and im standing at the elevator. a guy named mike who is obviously going to the 6th floor for the krewe(based on the cooler of booze). he asks me how late i was out and i laugh and say “i was drinking at home by myself at the computer, we real alcoholics don’t go out”.

the room is full of food, mixers and a 3 piece band playing new orleans music. i choke down a sandwich. hungover isn’t probably the right word cuz i was still very drunk but my entire body just hurt. i could feel my brain. the world was rotating really slowly and i could feel it.i get a few cups of coffee in me and try to shake off the dread of depression.

i could write a fucking web site around tiffany what this whole experience has been like but im just going to leave it at we’re both at different places in our life or something of that nature. but it’s fucking mardi gras. cheer your ass up. i get the costume on, put on my little hat and start dancing in front of the band. i’m in like 20 different photos. some guy with a video camera got me too. i made a hotel staff member very uncomfortable as i danced extremely close to her.

i sit back down at our table and talk to the other riders. we have like 5 really hot women on our float, one of them a former cowboys cheerleader. one of them, named kelly(yeah heh) strikes up conversation with me, asking why im so hungover, etc. i tell her a abridged version of what my life is like women wise and she tells me i’m great and have everything to offer a woman, etc. of course she’s engaged so it’s fucking easy for her to say all this.

bill brings out a bottle of champagne. it’s the bottle that tiffany and i brought to the party 2 months ago. perfect.

finally it’s time to leave. we take the service elevator downstairs. i’m screaming WHEN THE SAINTS GO MARCHING IN along with my new best friend who’s name i can’t remember. he made jello shots. really wish i could remember names. anyway, we get out of the elevator and stroll through the lobby still singing, onto the bus.

i open the bottle of champagne and start drinking it from the bottle. i pass it around, we sing along to the awesome classic rock the bus driver puts on and we head out. police escort, bus ride, off the bus. i carry the jellow shots, half empty bottle of champagne. more singing while we walk to the floats.

to try to sum up the ride experience with stupid faggot words is just impossible. pictures don’t do it either. the weather was perfect, a parade already rolled before us so the crowds were out.  it’s just impossible to describe it.

after this i’m totally just gone. champagne, wild turkey, beer…still drunk on stolen vodka from the night before. i guess i came home. i fell asleep on the floor for a while and then walked to new york pizza and ate the best piece of pizza ever. hit up the other 2 bars and just watch the madness. back home. tiffany calls me last night and we talk for a long time.

i wake up and realize i need beer soon. i ride to rite aide, get eggs, dog food and a case of natural light. american pie is blaring over the loudspeakers which means i need to start singing along to it at the top of my lungs. the cashier is trying to ignore me as i yell along, BYE BYE MISSSS AMERICA PIEEEE swiping my saints visa card. and if the singing is hard to ignore, the dancing is just making it worse. people are backing away from the register to give me my space. out the door, home. win.

i used to love this site more then life itself and now it almost seems like a chore to update it….it honestly has been a long time since ive really updated this with anything of substance worth reading.

as mardi gras ascends on the city again, just as every holiday, i look back on everything that has happened over the last year. all of the miserable failed relationships, lost friends and just plain miserable existence. ive been very tempted to just sell everything again and go completely mobile and just leave new orleans. i’ve really been wondering what the end goal of just waking up everyday has really been.

to talk about my current relationship here would probably doom it it so i’m not going to even go there. i think i’ve gotten a a very healthy look at relationships and women again. it’s almost gotten to the point of just a zero sum. when you stomp into your 30′s the reality of never ending solitude seems to really set in.

not all mammals are meant to mate for life.

it’s really sad how great i used to feel…how great i used to be. now i’m just old, bored and pointless.

just like this update haha

my good friend boar sends me links to easynews porn pretty frequently. just what people do who work from home, we look at porn. and listen to pandora.

anyway, he sends me a link to a movie by the realitykings.com, called money talks. basically coming up to people with a video camera, a hot chick and a microphone and bribing people to do fucked up things. including like just straight up normal selling yourself for money.

i personally wouldn’t go anywhere with some chick, a microphone and and a camera. that sounds like a great way to get robbed but that’s the way i think.

so im watching them now convince people to come with her and listen to a song, on a mp3 player, that’s shoved in some girl’s ass. so they get 1 black dude and then a little white girl. so of course they have thriller on the ipod when they give it to the black guy(not sure how they change the tracks or if it’s on random). he’s singing along while the girl just kinda sits there crouched on a chair. this is all in like a alleyway too.

the girl then stands up and starts dancing with him while he still has the earbuds in.  then it shows her dancing with the earbuds in.

the white girl they actually get to take her top off and dance with the chick while listening to the music.

i think what fucks with me is that this occurred in time. this was real. what the fuck, seriously.

what’s kinda fucked up is they actually show the money trade hands after the sex. that just seems like a terrible idea…i’m taking this way too seriously, i think i’ll play some quake.