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once i was walking along and saw a tree.
i stood and stared at the tree indif'rently.
it was tall and slender, not much to see,
except a long bearded man staring down at me.
he yelled, "i am a i poet, the greatest there'll ever be."
"my gift of words is greater than the sea."
i returned, "fuck off, i'm tired, i'm going home."
he said, "you're just scared, you little gnome."
so home i went and promptly did come back,
but i'd retieved my father axe from the shack.
bearded and scared, he trembled in fear,
as my anger and axe both drew near.
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chop chop chop i did with delight.
chop chop coop with all of my might.
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the tree fell down and so did the man
and what luck, still an axe in my hand!
"please don't kill me," he begged and pleaded,
from the tip om my axe, his blood beaded.
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"bitch, please," i said with some glee,
"the greatest poet around is me".
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I'm awaken by the blare of "Baby Got Back" on my alarm clock across the room. Damn, I was just in the middle of my best dream ever where Josh and I were being sodomized by Sesame Street characters. My hand locates a forlorn sneaker lurking under my bed. I hurl the sneaker toward the direction of my alarm clock, but for some reason, the sneaker veers in mid-air and manages to catch my little sister, Paige, in the head as she passes by my door. [points] It was the shoe's fault, I swear. I hide under the pile of blankets as my sister cries and then screams at the shoe for being so mean. [snicker]
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The clomping of feet on the stairs indicates the arrival of my friends. Apparently they're actually eager to go to school. I have no idea what's wrong with them. I prefer to stay in all day at home, running around naked and playing video games that I suck at. I figure, if I play each day for 15 hours, I will manage to actually excel at them by age 40. It's a noble goal I will continue to pursue. Suddenly, I feel a tugging at my feet. Despite my desperate flailing and pouting, I am dragged face first out of bed and along the rough carbet. I yell bloody murder as I feel rug burns along my chest. Did I mention that I am completely naked? It's easier for masturbation before I go to sleep (there are a pile of Playboys underneath my bed... shhhh). My mother still doesn't understand why my sheets get so dirty. I tell her that the computers I work on excrete nontoxic chemicals that project onto my bed. Anyway, back to the battle scene in my bedroom. I'm hastily dragged into the bathroom as I feel the cold tile against my face. As I'm thrust into the shower, I reward my well-deserving friends with regurgitation of Cheezits that I gorged myself on before going to sleep. As my friends take blackmail pictures, I practice drunken looks in front of the camera to pretend that I, Camy Smith, got intoxicated when I was 10.
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Class is boring. Apparently I had two tests today, but I didn't know about them earlier since this is the first time I've been in school for 3 months. Meh. I think I did 'koay.' I can't help my dyslexia. My teachers keep on deducting points for my inability to spell or tell my right from my left, but it's so damn hard. [hangs head] At least I got to correct my math teacher. What a sucker. I'm glad that all those hours of practicing math during recess when everyone else was playing finally paid off.
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Soooo hungey. [rubs tummy] Ooh, ooh! Cheese sammich! And Lemonheads! [big grin] This is the healthiest lunch ever. I mean, I have my carbs, dairy and sugar. Damn, I'm good. By this time next week, I'm going to be in the best shape ever I tell you. I'll have a six-pack, can benchpress twice my weight, and be able to walk on my hands!
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I got bored during lunch. No one wanted to go and play foosball with me. [sniff] So I started throwing plastic chairs off the school rooftop and then stole a payphone before the police caught up to my rampage. They immediately saw me and branded me as a "keeler." I am currently sitting in a jail cell cradled in the arms of a giant. My homophobic tendencies are warning me that this is not good. At all. But the more I squirm, the tighter he holds on. Apparently he's very turned on by my grimy Guinness shirt and bare feet. If I knew I was going to have to deal with this freak, I would've wore clean clothes, like those I only wore for a week straight. But digging through my hamper today, the only thing that I could pull out of the damp, sticky, smelly thing was my "Guinness for strength" shirt. I'm quite proud of it, you know. He's going to have to fight me in order to tear it off of me. And hell, he can't be tougher than a police dog, and everyone knows I can totally take on a 150-pound police dog. Those animals are wimps. [cowers as one passes by the cell and snarls]
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Home sweet home. So happy to be back. Now, sitting in a chair and rocking back-and-forth. I'll only sit here for at least 3 hours. Oooh, Simpsons rerun! Yes! I've only seen this episode 10 times. It's great I tell you. Homer's my hero. [jumps up and kisses screen passionately] Aw, what I wouldn't give to be Marge for a day. Even though I'm scared of gays, dude, I'd turn for Homer.
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[bummed] Went out to get Subway for dinner. I tried to pick up a cute girl on the corner, but she ran away after one sniff and one glance at me. I don't understand. I just asked her if she wanted to play foosball and exclaimed that she was "fuckin' gorgeous." [sigh] I guess I have to rewrite my porn skimmer script to include movies of women throwing themselves at the screen (and me). But I don't know if I can handle too much. Not used to it, you see. Would be sensory overload. It's very upsetting. I'm a horny young man who has to take his frustrations out with a computer and towel. I don't understand why girls aren't turned on my pleasant body odor and dashing clothes. I was wearing my sexy shorts, for god's sake. They show 90% of my legs, who doesn't love them? And hell, I'm all legs. I admit that my belly button is in between my nipples. Of course, I can't forget the grubby feet, dude, they are the sexiest things ever. Especially when they're bleeding from the cut glass that remains permanently entrenched in them.
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So sleepy. Last visit to my porn skimmer and then it's off to bed for me. Hmm... maybe I should get a new towel by my computer. I think I could cut myself on this one. [scratches head] Oh well. Bed time. Watch me go. Adious.
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one time, i shat a 50 pound turd. but this is not going to be about that. one time, i yelled "mush mush" at a cop, but this is not going to be about that either. one time, i pissed on south hall and cursed the moon for being the "light of satan." but this is not going to be about that either.
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this is about more pressing matters. This, damnit, is going to be about fat.
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I have constructed, through a meticulous and scientific method, a top ten
list of why being fat is cool, and without further ado, I present to you:
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| Ed's Top Ten List of Why Fat is Cool. |
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10. You can describe so many things as "fatty." (i.e. a fatty j, a fatty shit, a fatty burp) You can't describe many things as "thinny."
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9. Fat Albert exists. Skiiny Albert does not.
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8. If you're really really really fat, you could probably hide something
really cool between your rolls. Like a sandwich! Mmmmm, sandwich...
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7. Fat makes great soap (see Fight Club).
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6. Fat people get to have the arm flappies. How cool would it be to have
HUGE ASS arm flappies! Like arm flappies down to the ground! Dude, you
could probably cradle a baby in your own fat! Skinny people do not have
that option.
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5. There are tons of "Yo mama so fat" jokes, but there are NO "Yo mama so skinny" jokes.
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4. Dude, how funny is a really excessively fat dog? Puahahahaha!
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3. Fat and fart have only one letter difference. And honestly, who
doesn't love a good fart?
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2. Fat old people are way way nicer than skinny old people. And I bet you the fat old people could totally beat up the skinny old people too.
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So, I send a message to fat America: you are way cooler than skinny America!
And to skinny America, I only say: will you have sex with fat America?
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Love live fat! Love live fat! Long live fat!
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by: Josh Zubkoff |
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i've received a few requests and suggestions hinting that i should have a blog. well, for those of you who like me and want me to have a blog, i'll simply scare you away from the idea with a little sample. for those who don't like me, this sample will simply reconfirm your distaste.
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to keep this entry limited in size, i simply limit the amount of bitching i do. for doing this, the whole thing will be incomplete--that's why it's a sample.
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the first point is a version of a graph i drew up the other day during my english class. i spent all of my remaining berkeley money on rockstars to keep awake on the way home. i didn't have enough for my daily coffee. clearly, the graph shows happiness proportionally increasing with caffeine intake--and i had no caffeine. fuck.
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also, let's run over some daily topics i would run over in my average blog. like angie used to always talk about the state of her evil fish and her classes. well i'm not talking about classes and i have no fish. everytime i talk about my bunny to you folks, you remind me of how lame i am, so i skip the bunny. what else is there in the daily life of josh. relationship issues, eating, and bowel movements. the bowel movements being the only one of the three that change on a day to day basis. i eat lots of cereal with soy milk (lasts longer), chef boyardee, and soggy school pizza. so, the food journal is out, the relationship thing is iffy and not the fast-moving dramas you all love, so all that is left is bowel movements. in my blog i would keep a constant bowel movent diary, updating up to three times daily on days where i drink too much coffee. i'd even crack jokes about my log blog.
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i could discuss the entertaining pyramid of dirty dishes in my sink. soon, i'll have to stack them somewhere else. there is the vast array of unfinished canvasses lining my apartment. i could discuss my art, which would sound silly. giant mr. lemonhead. giant mr. potatohead. dr. seuss art. swirly lines sometimes transferred onto glass. this makes no sense to anyone who hasn't seen it, so i'll stick with the entertaining aspects. yesterday my roommate and i went to store with a free soft serve machine and made our cones about six inches high. after we had made our purchases and as i was preparing to drive away, she hopped out, ran in and took more--i've trained her so well.
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i've come up with a new technique for managing school, it's called: beer-a-day. like the atkins diet for your mind. simply think about how pissed you are all day, to the point were you start getting tired from it, then go home and have a beer. one beer hits the stressed, empty stomach like a fist full of love. also, keep in mind, variety is key to stress relief. like michelle, if you only drink one type of beer on a regular basis, life just seems meaningless. if i were a psychologist, i'd patent this.
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next i recommend music:
stiff little fingers - suspect device
meat puppets - back water
crosby, stills, young, and nash - love the one you're with
better than ezra - good
maybellines - battleship
descendants - coffee mug (best song under 60sec)
the the - this is the day
the innocense mission - bright as yellow
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Once upon a time in a queer land, there lived a plethora of curious creatures. Outwardly they appeared to cohabitate the city peacefully, banning together against Bushmen, uniting in glorified naked parades... "Swinging Together Proudly!" their handmade posters would cry. Yet left to their own devices, they applied long-ago-repealed segregation laws to their daily lives. The faeires took shelter amongst the clovers of Northside and the spotlights of Zellerbach, the trolls found sanctuary in the depths of medicinal green Soda, all four Republicans cowered at their lone table on the right side of the flyer brick road to Sather Gate. The tensions between the groups, for the most part, were kept under control by a pig-tailed little girl named Mary Jane. Of course, there were occasional disputes sponsored by popular men of the city such as Mr. Daniels, Mr. Cuervo, and the like. But Mary Jane reigned supreme.
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But one winter day, when the fog enveloped the town and the dark clouds gathering above didn't originate from Lawrence Lab, tensions were a-brewing and Mary Jane was nowhere to be found. For several months now, Feddie Al Gov-Ment, 55, had been slurping the funds of the city and the Disabled Student Program (DSP), a midget stronghold, was hit especially hard. Gov-Ment was heard saying "but they're already so close to the ground, it's actually less dangerous for us to kick them." Gov-Ment and his henchmen failed to realize, however, that DSP provided "services" for a myriad of clientele including the notorious gnomes and the elusive leprechauns. Lack of funding caused DSP to cut back services available to non-midget members. Gnomes and leprechauns, both being somewhat vertically challenged, made the assumption that they would still qualify, yet statutes and definitions being what they were, both were denied. Believing that they could win the favor of the midgets and take whatever DSP services were available if competition was eliminated, tensions brewed between the gangs. The midgets, realizing the budget cuts allowed for the perfect opportunity to get rid of both of the long troublesome affiliates, came up with a plan.
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One day, whilst buying some paper at the local school supply store, Mary Jane was kidnapped...
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I'm in love with subway, I don't know why. Is it because I can lose 200 pounds like Jared? No, If I did that I'd be in negative pounds. Is it because in hopes of losing weight I can get a girl? No, I'm skinny enough, dammit. It's because it's low fat and it tastes good dammit. I love subway, Subway fscking rocks. It does help me keep my girlish figure and I'm addicted to it. I can't live a stable life if I don't have subway at least 5 times in two weeks. (It's because I have no money, and when I do, I try to save it.) Here's a rundown if I don't have a subway in two weeks...
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I get worried, I start nibbling at my nails then start looking for subway stamps, in hope for a better day tomorrow.
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| Day 15, first day of withdrawls: |
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I'm stressed, I scrounge for money and only end up with 35 cents, not nearly enough for that drink I have to buy to get a free six-inch with a SubClub card. I beg Rickey to take me and to pay for it (now he isn't here), but he says no. It almost makes me want to get a job.
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I'm almost on my knees, talking to everyone who is not lazy enough to drive me to the subway and have subway with me. People like, Alex. Yeah, Alex likes Subway. He'll take me..if he wasn't so damn busy. *waves angry fist* This is the point where I'm asking friends to lend dollars and 2 cents. Which means I only need 3 more dollars for a footlong at the Subway.
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I'm on my knees. Begging Rickey and/or Alex for "SUBWAY! PLEASE!!!" I rub my stomach and I feel the extra weight gaining. I imagine myself in 5 years, fat and homeless...or living at my parent's house in my old room. I then proceed out to the backyard and try to run laps in circles, but it's no use..after 20 laps I am bored. I go back inside, get back online..and once again lament, "SUBWAY! PLEASE!!!"
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I give up; I give in to the withdrawl. I apologize to Rickey and Alex for the incessant begging. This is where I proceed to get addicted to a fatty food, like french fries or Carls Jr. home fries. Then when Rickey offers me subway.. I get re-addicted to Subway. Thank Cody for that.
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As you can see, I'm a bad case..after three days I just give up and get addicted to some other food, proceeding to get addicted to another food. Then back to Subway. Cody is generous. Bless Jared and the other people who have lost tremendous amounts of weight on the Subway diet.
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Ah yes, it IS a good day! Cody is dead! I killed him, I finally killed him! Yee-hee y-ha! Im going back to Ireland! Yee-hee! Ah yes, you're probably wondering how i killed the sick bastard named Cody. After cody had finished posting the next entry of the anonymous monolouge as he calls it, I knocked him out with his own three-week old socks..the stench was so horrific the whole apartment was filled with the smell of Cody...dirty cody! So, I brought him on a plane to Ireland...and like i said i'd would make him serve guinness all day! And that i did, now all of my leprechaun friends are GAY, so i made cody serve the guiness naked. Oh yeah, i made him shave his pubes. |
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Of course my leprechaun friends were extremely arroused and started to hump his face....repeatedly. 3 leprechauns were on his face, and eventually cody sufficated. now, lets go poor some leprechaun piss and poo on his corpse! YEAH!! it is a good day! Sweet leprechaun lovin'. |
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Yee-hee, y-ho, yee-hee, y-ho! Its me, Codys Bitch! It seems that he has taken the liberty of posting the anonymous submission, what a cruel person. What could've drawn him to do this, it must've been that Paul.. Paul, with his porn, Paul with mind control of Cody! Cody hasn't fed me yet. Last i ate was his plaque. It wasn't very pleasant, i had violent diahrrea after that. It hurt much. Cody got mad at me when he had to clean it up. For punishment he made me sit out in the rain...naked. |
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if only we were in Ireland...ahh yes, he would be the leprechaun's bitch. I'd make him serve Guiness all day..and ill feed him my poo. Ill beat him with a baseball bat. Im still Codys bitch, yes, but i injured him. I embedded small rocks into his head. Now his brain is the size of a crayon. He is SICK. Since his brain is the size of a crayon, he made me clean his ear..with my finger. My finger is small, it took me forever. Ill hurt him for it. The leprechaun's anguish will not be unpunished! |
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Hey there, I'm Cody's bitch. Yes, it's true, I AM Cody's bitch. I can be your bitch too, only if you want me to. Cody makes me do nasty things, like lick his toes. I also clean his toe fungus, it's pretty nasty. Did you know I'm a leprechaun? Yes, yes i am. I'm small and Irish. |
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I don't understand my self, but it's pretty funny to hear me speak! Cody makes me massage his tounge when hes wasted. Angie wants me to be her bitch, but I'm taken. I love Cody. Greg's cool too, and so are Cody's Friends. I haven't had a bite to eat since last week. Cody is cruel, he is very cruel. I hate him on the inside, but I love him on the outside. I want to kill him. |
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Cody likes me, a lot. One time at Band Camp Cody made me stick a flute up my ass! I lie to you not, he even filmed it. Hes a sick bastard, i tell you, sick! I'm going to kill him, when hes least expecting it...Buhahahaha. Cody doesn't like leprechauns, thats why i bruises in my back from the whipping. He uses three strands from his shoelace to whip me. It hurts. One day I'm going to whip him with my poo, then eat his toenails. It will hurt much, but he deserves it. Hes been cruel to me. |
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I officially hate him. Codys a bitch, I'll make him my bitch one day though. it will be a good day. |
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the word "handicapped" in itself has so many social stigmas attached. people see the handicapped as being less fortunate than your average schmoe. being that they have less fortune than the beloved schmoe they deserve a little help here and there. |
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who came up with the idea that we should comform to their needs? every building should be handicap accessible? there are many more buildings than handicapped individuals. they ought to take care of their own needs. |
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just because i am emotionally unstable does that mean that every public institution should have a hug booth for me and people like me. no, dammit. no. i should pay for my own personal hugger to follow me wherever i go. |
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we have so many engineers in this fine nation, i'd think one could come up with wheelchair that has step-climbing abilities, like the dolly in hannibal. i'm so sure it's a feasible idea, i'd bet it's already out there. so for the four million special wheel chairs we make, we can have one hundred and fifty million building with as many damned steps as we like. |
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also, why are most people afraid of the handicap stalls in restrooms? should a handicapped person have more of a right to use the can than an able individual? no, dammit. no. if you have the choice between a normal stall and the handicapped one that is far cleaner and larger, use the handicapped stall! i'm sure everyone has a one handicap or another. worst case scenario: the guy in the wheelchair waits a minute, just like everyone has to normally. |
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next: why is one handicap considered so much worse than others? some people are more gifted than others. a gifted, wheelchair-bound man is at an advantage to a dumb-as-bricks able-bodied individual. i think mental handicaps should get more sympathy than physical handicaps. i'd rather know i can't walk than not know i am walking. |
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so next time you think about helping out someone in a wheelchair, just think about how they waste your tax money. kick over the whiney cripple and yell, "FUCK THE HANDICAPPED!" |
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This page best viewed while dangerously intoxicated.
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codythefreak.net, or c7f.net is not copyrighted, reserved, limited, restricted, or private. Information is always inherently free.
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If I don't want you to read, view, or plagarize something, I won't post it up. Courtesy appreciated 2001-2006.
Up 1 day, 21:10.
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