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| Best of CodyTheFreak.net, 2001-2003 |
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As promised, for the following week (Wednesday to Tuesday), there'll be a guest author writing something new every day. Ah, this should really be fun.
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- Day 1: Little Ryan Chang is going to kick things off with a tale of addiction rivaled only by major Hollywood films like "Requiem for a Dream". Well, maybe that's going too far, but Subway withdrawl definetly doesn't sound good. I can't decide whether this is endearing, antagonizing, or unknowing, because I really hate Subway. With a passion.
- Day 2: Michelle Paulson opens her two-part series with a sort of Lord of the Rings meets Half Baked... in Berkeley, which is where Half Baked should've been based, anyway. Why, I have no idea what she might be alluding to with her main character, Mary Jane.
- Day 3: Psych! Actually, today it's Greg Pellam's first installment of his series "Greg Pellam's Package", which... words fail to describe. Saying it's fucking awesome would not do it justice; nonetheless, I'll try. It's fucking awesome.
- Day 4: Josh Zubkoff gives us an It's-a-Wonderful-Life-style view of what the world would be like if he had a blog. Chilling.
- Day 5: Ed Meng isn't afraid of what other people think, which is timelessly cool. In the manner of David Letterman, or the Heuristic Squelch, he writes of the Top Ten List of Why Fat is Cool.
- Day 6: The long-awaited return of Dr. Chummmmp!! The good doctor responds to another 'anonymous' submission (gee, I wonder who it could be), regarding the proper way to induce the birth of a bouncing brown baby boy. He also gives advice on proper bathroom Feng-Shui.
- Day 7: An Anonymous barb following in the footsteps of The Stone Cold Steve Austin. This whole thing is shocking... It's like my life in microcosm. Beyond that, it's packed full of inside jokes, so don't cry if you don't get it.
- Day 8: Just pretend this was posted on Wednesday. Ironically enough, the second part of "Greg Pellam's Package" is called Hymn #1 and is accompanied by a letter to the reader, which is equally funny, but much longer than the hymn. Fuck, why am I telling you this, it only takes two minutes to read, anyway.
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Also, the Best Of is still down there. Don't go forgetting about it just because you can't actually see it, now.
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Furthermore, I've decided that if you're all very good, I might extend the week by a day or two. Maybe. If you're good. |
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Oh my Lord!
There is a God!
And he resides
Within my rod!
I have acquired
The greatest Part
of the American Dream!
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| A Letter To The Reader... |
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I shall endeavor in this letter to give you some preliminary insight into the horrifying events of my childhood, and the earliest origins of this Hymn and the other Hymns forthcoming on Cody's site (he is a very nice man for allowing me to tell my story there). My 'exile and return', so to speak, in which I lost my way and allowed all of the evil in the world to turn me away from my duties to humanity, before turning it all around and putting it all out on the line for my lost brothers, begins here, on this night about which I am about to tell you.
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I awoke from The Dream. I sprang from my bed with Glory pressing me forth. I was unaware of the world around me, unaware, even, that my joy, so great, so matchless, was the result of nothing more than a dream. Indeed I was oblivious to the harsh cruelty of the inevitable epiphany about to hit me, so laden with Cartesian proto-Existentialism. Still smiling, drooling, and spasticly laughing, spewing my juvenile excretion all over the hallway, I made my way quickly down the stairs to the telephone. I picked it up and dialed my uncle.
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"This is Dick." My name is Dick.
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"Dick, your brother's son."
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"I can only guess, you had a wonderful dream?"
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"Yes, but then I masturbated."
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"What? You don't even like fishing."
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"No, no, I mas-tur-bate-ed."
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Silence, so I began again.
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"You know . . . masturbated, jerked-off, partook in the glorious art of self-pleasure. I'm not ashamed."
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"Dick, you're way too big to still be making up words. You've had another of your dreams. I want you to go upstairs and tell your mother that you've had another crazy dream, and that you need her to make you a glass of that wonderful warm milk so you can go back to sleep. Damn! Only she can make that stuff taste good!" I dropped the phone, stunned.
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And so it was that I, at the innocent age of 10 years old, discovered that masturbation, that greatest of gifts given by man to himself, had never existed. Indeed, the idea was one of my own concoction.
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More later,
Richard "Dick" Berg
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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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I have been bed-ridden for four consecutive days and now that I am out of the
hospital I realize that I have to take a massive shit. However, I'm sitting
here on the toilet trying to push out the shit but it simply won't budge.
Please help.
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Sincereley,
Stuffed with Poo
Shattown, CA
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Firstly, sorry, dude. Secondly, who has a computer by his crapper? The only
person who would conceivably do such a thing would have the initials (for
anonymity's sake) Cody Smith. And lastly, I really hope you've worked this out
before you get this reply, but in case you haven't released your feces yet and
haven't passed out as a result, I can give you some words of advice.
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I heard of this condition before; it has been popularly dubbed by the quack
medical community as Chingmengitis. Apparently some Cal student gave birth to
a 50lb terd after experiencing the same situation. Depending on what you ate
over the past four days in the hospital, will give you an idea what kind of
sucker you're dealing with in your rectum. If it was starchy like the
notorious salads in the UC Berkeley Dining Commons then you're in for a world
of hurt. However, if it was mushy and soft also like other forms of crapping
UC Berkeley Dining Commons, then beware of what I like to call a bowl
overcapacity (i.e. toilet overflow).
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First, you're going to need to find a toilet with cushioning because, trust
me, you're going to be there for a while. Next, you have to make sure there
are bars/supports by the toilet because this is going to be hard work. And
last, be sure to have several cans of Lysol around if you would like to
maintain your dignity.
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Now what you want to do is grip your supports as firmly as possible, but don't
grip them to tight because you want ample bloodflow to your rectum/ass
muscles. Picture in your head the piece of doodie wanting to come out, jeering
at you, taunting you, and making fun of your mother; this is your enemy. Take
a deep breath and push with your all your might focusing on expanding your
anal sphincter.
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If your fecal matter comes out like the runs then you should have no further
problem in releasing the rest of it. Simply put, just go with the flow. If
your toilet does overflow, just blame it on the landlord for bad plumbing and
sue his ass.
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However, remember that the anal sphincter is a limited size so prepare for a
stretch (a pretty big stretch) if your shit has clumped together to form a
log. You will now experience anal sex...from a piece of shit. If for some
reason, God does not like you and you still can not remove the crap from your
anus, I highly recommend sticking a coat hanger up your anus because you can
easily scrape your rectum tissue, cause an infection, and contract AIDS
(please note the sarcasm). What you should actually do in such a situation is
go in for a Caesarian Section to remove your precious bundle of shit unless
you want to rip your asshole so big that even prison inmates won't want
anything to do with you.
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And so, my friend, I wish you good luck in ridding yourself of your worries.
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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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Little Kimberly didn’t understand what her mommy and the other ladies were talking about, all she knew was that the video game on the lap-top computer her mommy had given her to use while her mommy was meeting with friends wasn’t working. Her mommy looked over at her and smiled and blew her a kiss. This made Kimberly feel good inside. She smiled and went back to trying to figure out her video game. After a couple of minutes she realized she wasn’t getting anywhere.
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Her mommy kept talking. Kimberly didn’t understand the important things her mommy was talking about. She didn’t understand that the words her mommy and the other ladies were saying, “chauvinism,” “oppression,” “gender discrimination,” “double standard,” “empowerment,” were all words that would depress, empower, and inspire her to action when she got big. All she knew, and all she cared to know, was that her video game wasn’t working. She pressed each key lightly with her middle finger, and then hard with her clenched fist.
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“Your mommy went to get coffee, hone.” Said one of the nice ladies.
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Kimberly’s mommy came back and blew her another kiss. Kimberly smiled. It still felt good. Her mommy went back to talking with the other ladies, but now she was talking a little louder and it sounded like she was mad. This made Kimberly scared.
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“Mommy?” Kimberly tugged on her mommy’s sleeve.
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Kimberly’s mommy pulled Kimberly’s hand off of her sleeve and handed Kimberly a lollipop without looking at her. Kimberly threw the lollipop on the ground, folded her arms like an Indian, and frowned.
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“Mommy!” She was hitting her mommy on her arm as hard as she could.
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For the first time, Kimberly’s mommy turned to her. She said:
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“Now Kimberly, Mommy is talking to her friends. Okay?”
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“Little girls should be quiet when grown-ups are talking, okay?”
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“Now, what should little girls do?”
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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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Happy birthday to CodyTheFreak.net, which celebrated it's second birthday on the 4th of February. To mark the occasion, I've totally redesigned the site, and will be offering a parade of new content from guest authors in the next week, both by new authors like Michelle, and Jay Brah, and by old school freaks like Kirk and Dr. Chummmmp.
The site now sports a new front end and a new back end. But rather than blather on about everything exactly that's new, or tell you to look around, I'm leaving you with best of CodyTheFreak.net starting from the oldest stuff, and working forward. |
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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, 21:11.
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