The Demonweasel Speaks

First, a little bit of musings using the 50 most used words people put in search strings and end up here…

The Demonweasel and its Mp3 song download. Like, how you download that Simon commercial for Black Chris? The name Mechashiva make man love music, like “Fettes Vette,” “Geico song,” and “Hello, Marlboro.” Demonweasel Download: Tiny Porn House video. The Black Demonweasel Venture man …something, and its bar drawrings that star its brothers pictures. The Radiostorm Mp3 song, “Chappelle Cock,” that name cricket lyrics. How tiny, elven whore, porn star Simon Geico Chappelle Venture, pictures this wild out-back Demonweasel house.

I feel better now, in a beat poet kind of way.

So I’m in love. Love, love, love, sweet, gooey, disgusting, make everyone around me sick love. So there. It’s really, really good and I’m really, really happy. You’d think after fifteen minutes of pounding only fifty different words into something resembling cohesion I’d want to use more words but I guess not. Other words I’d use a bunch of times would be things like “wonderful,” “blissful,” and “forever.”

My Britney Box has a watcher but no bids. It ends tonight, so fingers crossed. I’m glad that of all the work eBaying I’ve busted my ass to do this week may well be the most lucrative and all I’m concerned about is a box of Britney Spears crap. What a country.

Writing chugs along. In addition to being a great girlfriend, Kenzie is also a great aide in the realm of reading things and telling my if they suck, and what I can do better and whatnot, probably the best ever in that category, so go me (and her, by association…you’d think it’d be “go her,” but I’m “go me”-ing myself because I found her and that’s a great accomplishment. And I’m a narcissistic asshole. But I’m very pretty).

I haven’t been following basketball at all lately. Dunno why, just haven’t had the urge. I’ve found that I get real excited for the star, back off a bit, the all-star game comes along, I’m still a little backed off, and then as we head towards the playoffs I dive back in. I’m really disappointed that the Atlantic region (Boston, New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia) has been such a…disappointment. But hey, I wouldn’t have any appointment, y’know?

Matt, my internet pimp connection, is setting me up with a wordpress system, which will probably be “go-live”-able in the very near future. If your computer sparks and shoots fire when you try to come here next time, that’s not why. Seek help immediately, computers aren’t supposed to do that.

Y’know what’s sick? I’ve been getting up at about 7am lately, turning on the TV and watching Buffy reruns on FX. Because it’s season five, and I love it. Even better, this morning they had a bonus episode (because some movie ran long yesterday afternoon, because they rerun the reruns they ran the day before at 3 & 4pm the next morning at 7 & 8am, and since there was only one episode yesterday, they just dropped in a different, out of sequence episode) from season 7, which while not a great season, had some real gems, and this one is one of my favorites. The one with R.J, and the jacket, and now Kenzie is going to pester me about it because she’s only watched up to the end of season five and hasn’t gotten her hot little hands on season six yet. Mmmmm, season six. Once more with feeling. I don’t own that season, but I do have that episode on my computer.

I was going to write something really snarky, but I didn’t. Well, not right now. I will at some point later, because really, I’m just that way.

“What do you think, the hospital?”, I remain…

P.S. Sometimes blog-spam is fun. Example: “Blameless, shameless. The more desperate the eroticism, the more hopelessly women show off their heavy breasts, opening their mouths and screaming out, the greater the attraction. In contrast, a promise of light awaits at the limits of the mystical outlook. I find this unbearable and soon returned to insolence and erotic vomit – which doesn’t respect anybody or anything. How sweet to enter filthy night and proudly wrap myself in it. The whore I went with was as uncomplicated as a child and she hardly talked. There was another one, who came crashing down from a tabletop – sweet, shy, heartbreakingly tender, as I watched her with drunken, unfeeling eyes.”