like like the the the death

I bought some more records off this woman that works in the north building yesterday. A couple of weeks ago I got fifteen LPs from her for two bucks a piece. And yesterday I got five more, including Michaal Jackson's Ben and, I never knew this, but by the looks of the record sleeve, apparently Michael Jackson is Negro.

And I'm just gonna take a little moment here to admit something to all of you eight people who read me. Something I used to think was so vile the very thought of it made me want to take a huge stinky. But now, I'm secure enough in both my manhood and my rating on the cool factor scale (1 being Potsy - 10 being the Fonz) (I'm an 8) that I'm ready to take this leap:

I REALLY LIKE EVERY SONG I'VE HEARD THUS FAR BY JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE.

Whew. That wasn't as hard as I initially feared.

One day me and Cristi were in Hastings and she looked at me all excited and said "I'm gonna go over here and look through some really crap books about, you know, vampire slaying or time travel" and I was all "Go, Buffy, go!" and I meandered over to the CDs.

Well there I was thumbing through the classic country section looking for this George Jones song when I heard this wonderful, engrossing song start to play from the in-store speakers. I was entranced. I started shaking my ass and wiggling my man-breasts and strutting around to the beat of this song. Looking back, I probably looked a lot like a fat blonde Mick Jagger, but I couldn't help myself.

I danced my way over to the counter to check out what was sitting in their now playing rack and I almost vomited on myself when I saw that the only thing in there was Justified.

I was racked with guilt. I got the vapors. I didn't know where I was. My whole world turned upside down.

Then I thought to myself, "Fuck it. If you like it, you like it." And I still do to this day, although I haven't broke down and purchased it yet. I've come close. That's just one step I'm not ready to make.

I've got two picture for today's post, one of which I'm gonna place right here, and the other at the end. They were sent to me an email today at work titled "8 reasons not to pass out in front of your friends"

I've been waking up at 5 every morning and taking a little mile and a half walk through the streets of Norman, OK cause I'm trying to lose some of what I've found over the years. It's still really dark here at 5 AM and I constantly, like every twenty steps, find myself turning around to make sure no one with a machete has decided to hunt fat early morning walkers for a change.

I haven't seen one yet.

This morning I did see a very old man in his tightey whiteys walking down his driveway with a flashlight looking for something. I scared the fucking crap out of him when I walked by. So much so that he went "Aaaarrrgh" really fast like someone stepped on his foot and then ran back inside.

I have no idea what propelled him to be in his driveway at 5:30 AM in his underwear looking for something on the ground with a flashlight. I'm just glad that he was.

So after that little incident, I had to start looking back about every five steps to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on me with a machete to threaten to cut me up if I ever told anyone about what I just saw.

Well he never was there, and I just told all eight people who read me.

August 16, 2003 | 6:31 a.m.

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