sometimes i just sit here and blankly stare at this white screen.

it stares back at me, but never speaks.

i'm getting to where i don't like it very much.

my niece, hannah, had her birthday party at skateland this past sunday.
uncle scott kicks ass in the roller rink.
yep.

i feel like i should be talking about something right now, but to be honest, i have no idea what i'm doing or saying or typing. it matters so little to me that scientists cannot even fathom as to how miniscule my concern for what i'm doing is. there is no measurement small enough to classify how little i care. there is no microscope that has been invented that will ever allow the human eye to see how minute my concern is. it is practically nonexistent but yet somehow exists on another plane. a plane that is bound for the bahamas. word.

(pause for a story about childhood)


when i was in the fifth grade, my family moved to fort worth. haltom city to be more precise. we lived in these apartments right on fossil creek. the first day we lived there i went exploring along the creek. it winded around and went under a bridge and had a small trail alongside of it. after i walked a half a mile or so, i heard a rustling in the trees above me. i looked up just in time to see a snake fall and land around my neck. i grabbed it and threw it in the fucking creek and ran home as fast as i could.

i never went back down there again.

(back to our regularly scheduled program which is getting fucking ridiculous)

i would like to let you know that if you would like to donate some money to help some needy people out on christmas, then we have been taking care of two evacuees from new orleans in the aftermath of hurricane katrina. their names are brandi and infinity and right now they are clothless and hungry. please send money so that we may get them some socks and shoes. and possibly more cocaine.

thank you.

send check to:

Me
0001 kickassmotherfucker drive
badassland city, badassland 000001

do the hokie pokie and turn yourself around,

scott