It was another one of those cold nights when you decide you want some carpet for a friends garage. So Noah, Marcus, and I put on some AC/DC and went carpet pirating. Our first stop was pretty successful, we scored two big rolls of green shag from the dumpster behind a carpet store. I cannot to begin to describe their odor. Some sort of rotten dairy. Still wet. Altogether unsavory, but undeniably worth it. We set it on top of the Subaru, which isn't an automobile known for cargo hauling capabilites, particularly this individual car with a fucked up enough back that the hatch no longer opens. The back windows remained open so we could hold our arms out and help keep the rolls from falling off. It was neat because our arms were getting numb from the wind as the mystery fluid gradually poured down our sleeves. We saw a couple girls walking next to the street when we were stopped at a stop sign, so I yelled "We got the carpet here!" and gave them a thumbs up. They looked at me weird. We deposited the carpet, and on our next run we were driving though an alley behind a different furniture store. It was late at night and the town was crawling with drunks, so we were kind of weary when two big mofos walked towards the car. We couldn't keep driving on account of the brick wall in front of us, so Marcus rolled down the window. The bigger mofo asked for directions to the "219," which is arguably the skankiest bar in town. You can smell urinal cakes from the sidewalk when you walk by, which has its charm I suppose, but I always wondered how they got it to smell more like urinal cakes than beer or tobacco. Anyhow, I started giving the guy directions and he suddenly interrupted me by saying, "Wait a minute...you're not a wise guy, are you?" in a real asshole tone of voice. I thought about the question for a brief moment, then responded "No" as to avoid conflict. He paused then asked, "Well then who are you?" to which I said, "I'm Jeff." Then Marcus said "I'm Marcus" and shook the guys hand. We finished giving him directions and he was on his way. Not even any carpet in that ally.
Later that night I drove all the way to my house from like 6 miles away from the passenger side of the car while Marcus tried to nap. It ruled.
Today seemed pretty normal, but as it's now almost one in the morning and I'm listening to my dad teach his brother how to jack off our dog, I realize it actually has been kind of strange. This is the third time I've seen his brother in my life, as far as I know. He's a reverend, but apparently he's fairly open minded if he doesn't mind watching his brother beat off a perverse mutt with his foot. And he just said "cunt" pretty loud a minute ago so apparently he's not all too conservative. He and my dad are going to missoula tomorrow. (that's in montana, kids) My friend Marcus and I went to missoula a while ago. You'll notice my flawless literary skills have been broken at this point in the page, for missoula is not capitalized. This is because missoula is not worthy of capital letters. Well, actually I guess it's a pretty nice city but we hated it anyway.
I thought chimney fires were an old wives tale till about 3 a.m. this morning. When my dad sees me put too much shit in the fireplace and it starts burning too high, he would tell me things like, "Careful, don't want to start a chimney fire..." and so on. Apparently a chimney fire is when all the stuff crusted onto the inside walls of the chimney ignites and there's a lot of fire and it's bad. So yeah, I use this really huge, greasy pizza box as kindling and it goes up pretty quick, as should be expected. Only it kept going. There was this sound of all these rushing gasses going up the chimney, and I was thinking, "Hm, if chimney fires are real, this is the way to start one." I looked out the window and saw all the trees reflecting an orange glow that seemed to be coming from our roof. I walked out on the lawn, and sure enough, the chimney is spewing fire like a meth lab full of chain smokers! It was awesome, but I tried not to enjoy it too much because I'm told it's bad when parts of the house catch on fire. But jesus christ it was beautiful. So much bright orange fire just spraying around. I went back in after yelling at the sky for it to rain more, and it looked like the fire was going out, but when I got inside the stink was pretty god damn bad. It smelled kind of like burned toast only instead of toast it was soot from all the stuff we've burned in the last year or so. I watched some TV and felt pretty off kilter on account of all the weird smoke I was inhaling, So I opened a window and went to bed and everything resolved itself naturally.
Just chose this purdy yellow background for the site. That way it'll be like a ray of sunshine everytime someone visits here. I doubt it'll happen very often on account of this site will probably have little to no content, but on the rare occassions when it does occur the visitor will be overwhelmed with the serenity being radiated by their monitor and then they'll have happy dreams. Or maybe their heads will explode from joy.
Nothing interesting happened today, so I'm going to draw a picture for you to thoughtfully observe.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Oh, if he know's where I'm sleeping then he'll probably come into my room at night and when I wake up there'll be a pot of gold for me. Or he'll wake me up and grant me wishes or something. And if he tries to fuck with me, I'll just pull out his nipple rings then he'll cry like a little girl and I can kick the shit out of him and tell him to go home.
You couldn't be more wrong.
This is in fact an evil leprechaun, and if you pull out his nipple rings the skin will only regenerate itself and he will laugh at you. AT YOU, NOT WITH YOU. And the fact that he is stating that he knows where you live is not because he would like to reward you, but punish you. Those things on his phallus, or "cock" as it is referred to in Layman's terms, are not hairs but barbs to keep his prey from escaping. It is common knowledge that leprechauns need sex constantly, as it produces endorphines in the brain that leprechauns use as fuel for destruction.
Now you know.