Everyone is always raving about Prince William. WHOA HE IS GOING TO BE KING. Yea, I remember another king--he ended up bloated & dead on a toliet. I guess being a king is not everything it's cracked up to be. Which brings me to my point, Prince William is sort of ugly and balding and he seems like sort of a loser-prick. Prince William is not worth fucking. That other one, the little one, the one that looks like his mother's lover--THAT KID IS RIGHT UP MY ALLEY.

Here we have a red headed fire cracker that likes to dress up like Hitler for Halloween and be like WHOA, I WAS NOT SURE THAT WAS GOING TO COME ACROSS AS OFFENSIVE. Sure. That is what people say when they knew they were going to piss people off ahead of time, but decided the best course of action would be to play undeniably stupid. THANK GOD. This is the same kid that is known for getting outrageously drunk and being like SO WHAT, I AM A FUCKING PRINCE. And this is the same guy that will never be king so he has something to prove. This is the brother I'd fuck because I'm certain he'd pass along a STD & that's the sort of brother worth fucking.

I really hate having a blog because I feel like whenever I have anything clever to write I am busy sitting in traffic and I think the idea to death or start mega dancing in my car to entertain myself beyond human comprehension. I hate having a blog even more because I think it highlights my failed writing career and the fact that it could never be failed cause I would have had to actually participate in the idea of pursing a career and not incredibly good looking guys or free drinks. Blogging is like making a toast to all the things in life that I was too lazy to work for. SOMEONE START HANDING ME SHIT FOR FREE. What I hate even more are bloggers that are like HERE IS A CRYPTIC MESSAGE. I AM PRETENDING TO SOUND DEEP BY TALKING ABOUT PAPER CUTS ON MY EYELIDS AND SMALL CHINESE BOYS WITH SEVERED INTESTINES POURING FROM THEIR ABDOMINAL REGIONS LIKE THE THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD--THE PROBLEMS IN MY LIFE. Whoa, that is so contrived I want to grow into a tree of Dr. Giggles and kill you all. Especially, because I am one of you sons of bitches.

This is what happens when you run a blog for over five years and then one day you are like GOD, I HATE EVERY LAST ONE OF MY STUPID READERS. Then you just stop writing on your blog and to show up to the star of John from Cincinnati's house and you let him tell you that he's in love with you after only being around you for less than five minutes. Then you give a lot of thought to the entire scope of your life and how you hate that people can read about what they think your life is about. THEY ALWAYS THINK YOUR LIFE IS SOME REALLY POORLY EXECUTED BRET EASTON-ELLIS NOVEL AND IT IS MAKING YOU CRAZY because it is a finely crafted Bret Easton-Ellis novel, something he has yet to write or even conceive of--your life is his magnum opus and maybe he might never get around to writing it because you are too fucking amazing to allow him to have the rights to your story. So then your love affair starts across the country via e-mail and still you save your story for yourself. The only way this could happen is killing that old, stupid blog and starting fresh. A blog where you have never gotten drunk and typed your last name 45 thousand times. A blog without your pictures and face. A blog that could get you into more trouble than anything, but without any trace of the who in you. This is the story of the Hurricane.

Sometimes you go insane at work and you stand up and look at your boss and gently, but firmly announce that you hate everything about your job, including but not limited to the size of his fucking Herman Munster head. The moment this happens you are gainfully unemployed, effective immediately. Then you go home and take some pills with your sister until you blackout, the inside of your head is static & everything else is the cling.

Later, your friend calls and she says that she got "laid off" and in a pursuit for complete and total lack of focus, you should continue this quest for chaos by coming to visit her instead of searching for work like most "competant members of society."You weigh your options and decide this is a fantastic idea and you run away to her city & state thousands of miles away because there are times in life when the only way to deal with shit is escapism and it's that time.