About Me
I'm cute as a button and twice as deadly.
We try not to die, but whatever.
DON'T LET THEM DO THAT TO YOU.
I lost my clothes in the ocean.
well, It's strange to me that I work in an economist firm since I always figured I'd be a pit fighter, but the market for pit fighting in Orlando just isn't what it used to be. I also think I'd make a pretty darn good mattress salesman but my father had a bad experience with a gang of mattress salesmen when he was a teenager and says that if I were to go into that profession I would be a disgrace to the family. If that seems odd to you, please remember that things are done a little differently up north than they are down here. Plus it seems like a lonely profession. A mattress salesman must follow the code of the road and never let himself get too close to anyone. And all those empty mattresses in the showroom without pillows. It's enough to break your heart. I thought being a gigolo might be an interesting line of work but women always got cold feet once I took them back to my place. A friend suggested it might be the 5 foot wooden crucifix hanging over my bed but I think it's because women find it intimidating to be with a celebrity such as myself. If I look familiar to you (and I should unless you've been living under a rock that doesn't get cable tv) it's probably from the Denerex anti-dandruff shampoo commercial I was in. I did all of my own stunts in it and even provided my own dandruff flakes. I'm what the average laymen would refer to as a method actor and I take my craft very seriously. Unfortunately, I haven't come across any big roles yet at my economics firm. All of the ecologists there seem a lot more concerned with bond assessments than with my musical rendition of MacBeth.
Oh and I am extremely awkward in most social situations. Because of this, I carry a magician's mini-kit with me wherever I go. If someone asks me 'So, what line of work are you in, Peter?' I frequently panic and respond by staring curiously at the side of their head and then reaching over and pulling a nice shiny quarter from behind their ear. That pretty much always results in strange looks so I then jump right into some card tricks. If those don't wow the crowd, I have the habit of escalating things too quickly and I soon find myself standing on a table above one of the stunned cocktail guests with a saw in my hand. Eventually, I just stop getting invited anywhere and spend my time at home polishing my vacuum cleaner collection (see section to the left for details --I am very proud of it. I can't wait for my 10 year high school reunion so that I can show it off. YOU DRIVE A FERRARI? WHOOPEE-FREAKIN-DOO, I HAVE 17 VACUUM CLEANERS. WHAT NOW,SON?!).
"use your bed like a trampoline -higher, HIGHER!"
Actually, I have the habit of just wandering off whenever I'm in public. I'm especially good at this during birthday parties. I have walked around and awoken to find myself on a basketball court, a backyard garden, a black convertible, both abandoned and newly-constructed houses, a green swimming pool, and on a rooftop in Pine Hills. I like pretty much all things art except most poetry and smooth jazz (a.k.a. the music they play in the dentist's office). And I would like sports if my accident hadn't made me temporarily gimp and jealous of all healthy individuals. I like being outside. I like being inside. I don't like nightclubs because they won't let me wear sandals. Oh, and I like you.
"They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world."
RIGHT NOW: I am the single greatest ping pong paddle tai fighter in all the land. Also, I've been busy finishing up the manifesto/doctrine/constitution for my Super-Secret Midnight Society. You better believe it's super-secret!! But I'm going to need to divert my resources to finishing An American Tragedy because nobody told me it was 850 pages long. The tragedy of the story is my social life while I try to read this thing. It has like three characters in it. That gives each character 283.3 pages. I'm hoping the plot quickly evolves into a Die Hard-type scenario but given that it was written in the 1920's, there's probably not going to be a lot yippie kay-ay motherfuckering going on. Today I am eating wheat bread and skim milk. It's the best way I know to purge my body of all the sin that was consumed over the weekend. And by 'sin' I of course mean gingerbread cookies. They're so evil and so delicious.
On the back of my giant box of cornflakes it has a list of things you can do instead of watching TV. Here are some of the cereal-people's suggestions: volunteer at a soup kitchen/ clean out your closets and hold a family yard sale/ work on a jigsaw puzzle with a homeless person/ plan an elaborate bank heist/ go for a 3 hour boat tour that strands you on a deserted island with a millionaire, movie star, and professor but this time kill the dope in the red shirt because he will ruin every plan of escape you have and foil any attempts you make to bed the movie star, farm girl, or even the millionaire's wife/ scream until you pass out/ sharpen the comedy routine you stylized after Kramer on Seinfeld except maybe this time you should leave out the lynching with a fork in the ass jokes/ stalk a politician/ stop wearing pants/ give yourself a mullet/ shatter a child's dreams by calling them unrealistic and therefore ensuring that his future is spent in routinely dull office jobs where he spends his days writing random junk that nobody reads and spends his nights watching obscure Italian films while curled up in a fetal position on the carpet.. Okay that last one wasn't on the cornflakes box but all the others I thought were fine alternatives to watching Fox News. Especially that one about the 3 hour tour. They should've killed Gilligan first chance they got and enjoyed their coconut radios and vibrating palm frond chairs in peace.
And while we're on the subject of peace- I met with my lawyer today. Should I be concerned that he ate two boxes of graham crackers while I was there? He didn't even leave any crumbs. Also, he kept calling me Chet. He said the police can ask the judge to castrate me for my burglary charge. That didn't sound right to me and I was starting to get a little concerned when he told me I had beautiful elbows. I modestly replied that I thought I had pretty elbows but not beautiful ones and then made mention of my nostrils. He agreed that my nostrils flared sensually and asked if he could take some pictures of them because his last nostril model quit over "creative differences". Things were going well at first and I was feeling fairly confident about myself until he asked me to pose nude for a photo of my left nostril. That didn't seem very appropriate and the doubts about his ability as a lawyer began to resurface. Actually, now that I think about it, his camera looked a lot like a toaster and every time he pressed the button, instead of a flash, two pieces of bread would pop up. But to be fair, the bread was pretty evenly toasted. And he does seem to have a good side business going selling sexually explicit shower curtains. Plus, if I'm found guilty, he says he'll throw in a couple of explicit shower curtains (complete with obscene shower curtain rings) for absolutely no extra charge. I bet those will come in handy when I get out of prison. I'm new to this whole felony thing but it sounds a lot like a win/win situation to me.
"Speak to me of your inner charm/
Of how you'll keep me safe from harm/
I don't think so, I don't see/
Just give me something I can believe"
In other news, I received a coupon courtesy of Friskies catfood for 50 cents off my next purchase. But in small letters it states "EXCLUDES ITEMS PROHIBITED BY LAW". Does this mean I can't use it when I buy my crack pipes at the local Publix? What about swords? The Publix here sells lots of medieval weaponry. I hope those aren't items prohibited by law because that 50 cents sure would come in handy the next time I get the urge to stab somebody with a broadsword. Speaking of brutality, here at the office December is flying right along. One of the secretaries was decorating the breakroom and asked me if I thought the plant pictured below was 'jewish enough'. I pointed out that it had blue and white dreidels hanging from every branch and 14 Star of Davids scattered throughout the display. I'm not sure how much more jewish it could possibly be. Maybe she was thinking of adding a photo of Woody Allen? I've also noticed that my hands are always shaking. Every time I make the trek from the breakroom to my office with a cup of coffee I end up getting burned. Now I wear oven mitts in the morning. This has not improved my coworkers' opinions of me. It's bad enough that the only thing in my briefcase is a pineapple but now I'm walking around the office with yellow oven mitts. Am I nervous? Am I cold? Am I subconsciously suppressing the urge to dance? Why can't I stop shaking? I guess I'll start dancing around and see what happens. I think I'll be alright. They need at least 25 signatures on the petition to get me fired and as I understand it they only have 17. And one of those signatures is fake because I signed it as 'Elmo McBoo-yah'.
If you don't want to get sick then stop licking so many doorknobs.
A little out of it today so I'm pretty sure this is gonna make little sense to anybody but me. But that's the way it usually goes, so: Here's an e-mail the computer tech guy at work who hates me sent out yesterday:
Colleagues,
If you receive any email from Santa and or North Pole do not be tempted to open it. There's nothing seasonal about it. Some of it is infected and/or Santa porn. Thank you.
Regards,
-XX XXXXX, Chief Technology Officer
Is 'Santa porn' a big problem in economic firms across the country? Apparently so. What about elf porn? It's become quite popular, almost mainstream, since those Lord of the Rings movies. Am I also banned from elf porn I asked him. He never e-mailed me back but he did walk by my office and give me the finger. I downloaded 'Jingle Balls: An XXX-Mas Story' onto my computer anyways. I figure if he's going to hate me I might as well give him a reason. Plus it's much better than 'Jingle Balls 2: The Little Drum Her Boys'. I think I saw reindeer porn once on the Discovery Channel.. Oh yeah, so last night was a bit of a letdown. I saw the movie 'Mother, Jugs, and Speed' was playing and I thought HBO had finally gotten into the hard-core drug porn industry. I was a little surprised to see Bill Cosby in the credits since he is a doctor, but I always pegged him as kinda a freak anyways so I didn't think too much of it. Man, was I disappointed. The whole movie was about the zany adventures of a bunch of ambulance drivers. Talk about a deceptive title! I typically don't much care for zany characters, zany situations, or zany adventures. And that movie had all three. Plus I stayed up late watching it and was dead-tired for my board meeting this morning. Fortunately I remembered my boss' advice: "always open a business meeting with a joke about not wearing pants." Amen. Everything went alright but I found myself being a little confrontational at times and I truly am sorry about clotheslining the secretary. But I have the killer instinct and you can't just be sneaking up on me like that, even if it is to offer me coffee and a mini-muffin.
BOARD MEMBER- Sorry to interrupt but I had a question for you. Now please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong but..
ME- Look here guy, I'll correct you even if you're right. That's just the way I be. Yeah suckers, just act like y'know me, see what happens!
Like I said, I was a little on edge. Nobody really seemed to mind; they just called me 'quirky' and let it go. But I was pushing it near the end of the meeting. Every time someone had a criticism, even if it was just a minor one, I did what I used to do in high school and loudly denied everything.. in a German accent. "Vat is dis engineer report you speak of, acheinshweiger?!" For those of you not in the know, 'acheinschweiger' is the German equivalent to Canada's 'eh'. But it's longer and scary and I made it up.
Quick question: If somebody is raising their drinking glass and saying cheers, do I have to call it cheering? Because 'cheering' doesn't seem like the right word. Doesn't 'cheersing' sound better? Cheering is what cheerleaders do. Cheersing is what lushes do. According to Dictionary.com, cheersing is not a word and it asks me if I meant cheer sing. When I click on cheer sing it asks if I meant cheesing. And for some stupid reason cheesing really is a word.
"The hell with it! There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do. It's all part of the same thing"
"I was sentimental-- back when I was old."
"I get home from work and you're still standing in your dressing gown,
well what am I to do?
I know all the things around your head and what they do to you.
What are we coming to?
The troubled words of a troubled mind, I try to understand what is eating you.
I try to stay awake but it's 58 hours since that I last slept with you.
I get on the train and I just stand about now that I don't think of you."
BULLETIN:
1. My doctor has run out of ideas so now he's telling me that cherry juice will help heal up my shoulder. He says it's good for halloween season because it's the color of blood. He gave me a prescription for a bottle of Juicy Juice, noting that it was 100% juice, and when I pointed out that I didn't need a prescription because Juicy Juice is readily available at all fine grocery stores he muttered something about '..fuckin' socialists..' To make him feel better I told him I had a severe case of back acne due to all of the steroids and he wrote me a prescription for BenzaClin. (I don't know what it is, it's just the first thing that pops up on Yahoo! when I type in back acne prescription.) I'm not sure if he has a PhD but he sure does enjoy writing on his little prescription pad. I just wish he had an office. There's no air conditioning in his garage and it always smells like wet dog.
2. I should be working right now. But I'm not. I'm eating a peanut butter sandwich and watching Matlock reruns on YouTube. I wish Matlock and the lady from Murder She Wrote would enter into a death match. And then whoever won could get run over by Magnum P.I.'s red ferrari. I loved that show. My first son will be named Higgins. If it's a daughter I'll call her Higginsette. If you don't know who Higgins is then you need to bone up on your short shorts 80s tv shows.
3. I estimate that I use the restroom here at work once every 42.5 minutes. Afterall, that glue isn't going to huff itself. Last week I ran out of paper bags and tried to breathe in the glue fumes using a plastic one. As I took my first deep breath the bag got sucked into my throat and started choking me. I tried desperately to pull it out but it was stuck down there pretty deep. I began frantically looking around the stall for something to help me and grabbed the plunger from behind the toilet and put it around my mouth. It took a couple of tries but on the third effort the plunger yanked the plastic bag out and I could breathe again. As soon as I walked out of the stall I saw a couple of my coworkers staring at me and that's when, after some quick thinking, I revealed in a tearful confession (lie) that I am bulimic. One of my coworkers confessed that he was also bulimic, which made me feel kinda guilty, but he's also bi-polar, xenophobic, manic-depressive, and has irritable bowel syndrome (is it really a syndrome?). It's not very fair of him to hog so many disorders. Afterall, the only one I have is back acne and I'm not really sure that counts. At best it's a minor league disorder.
4. It's unlikely I will ever run for Congress.
5. I hate surveys. One of them asked if I preferred chicken noodle soup or tomato soup. What kinds of questions are these?! I might care if it was something like: "You're driving down a desolate highway and you see 2 hitchhikers on opposite sides of the road. One is an attractive young woman wearing nothing but red high heels and carrying an axe with a 3 foot handle. The other one works for the IRS and his name is Mike. Which one would you pick up and how violently would your death be?" saving face: I don't actually know any knock knock jokes.
I lied. I didn't disappear at all. I was going to but then I had a pretty good weekend and that killed any motivation I had for taking up the hobo lifestyle. I spent most of Saturday running real fast and then leaping in-between holes I made in the fence to simulate what it would be like to jump into a moving boxcar train. I don't know if it's genetic or what, but I missed the opening every single time and would smash my head into one of the wooden pickets. I'm ashamed to say that by the third potential concussion I gave up. I also couldn't get the hang of tying my knapsack on a wooden stick. I would do alright until I stole my third can of creamed corn from the grocery store and then the knot would come undone and it would all crash to the floor. The assistant manager over at Albertson's already has it in for me due to the whole smearing spaghetti sauce on my chest thing in aisle 6 and this only gave him more fuel for his fire. I knew I shouldn't have worn the straw hat. It made me self-conscious and as soon as the cans hit the floor I panicked and started kicking them at the other shoppers. I think I might've bruised a lady's ankle. My sister says things like this are why I don't have a lot of friends but I have a lot of friends. Oh, more than I care to count! Most of my friends don't know my name but we share that special bond. I guess technically most of my friends aren't really my friends. They're more like people whose table I sat down at without introducing myself. I just sit there in the background and steal the occasional french fry until one of them slaps my hand. Then I pretend to cry and steal some more french fries and maybe a sip of beer. It usually lasts until I start to complain about the beer being warm. Then I'm back out on the street waiting to meet up with some new friends. In high school I was voted most likely to be shanked in a dirty back alley. At least I'll live up to their expectations! I bet the kid voted most likely to succeed isn't all that successful.
"Well I might just consider this
If you don't let me down
If you can keep me happy
Well you can stick around
Now I don't care for sycophants
They drive me round the bend
But if you can't control yourself
Then let's just keep good friends
Now there's something you should know about
I'm chronically depressed
I internalize my hatred
And sacrifice my self
Now I am busy Saturday
But I am free tonight
And I might have to sort you out
If you don't do it right"
I can't cook. This was supposed to be spaghetti and meatballs.
"BLOOD & WATER
ROUND & ROUND
BENEATH MY SKIN
AND UNDERGROUND"
And now I'm in a good mood again. So here we go, a list on true friendship:
1. When I am sad -- you go down to the local costume store, buy some angel wings, sprinkle them with catsup, and put them in my bathroom. Then when I go to get another tissue for my crying eyes and see the bloodied wings, you tell me that my sadness has killed God... and then tell me I'm stupid for calling it catsup and not ketchup.
2. When I am blue -- you start telling everyone I'm Papa Smurf b/c even someone as blue as me can't hide all of that white. The nickname will stick and my tombstone will read: "HERE LIES PETER PAPA SMURF MACFARLANE.
HIS CANCER WAS THE SMURFIEST.. FOR A HONKY"
3. When I smile -- you know I finally got laid and think how it was so worth 34 bucks to pay a tranny to lick maple syrup off of my back. After all, I was a virgin and don't know any better. Except I'm pretty sure my crotch shouldn't be flaking this badly. Help me Selsun Blue!
4. When I am scared -- you show me a picture of my parents having sex while you were hiding in their closet last night (again!?) and tell me, 'I've done her.' Actually, you do that a lot so maybe it has nothing to do with me being scared.
5. When I am worried -- you tell me horrible stories about how much worse it could be and then whip out that picture of my parents having sex again. When I recoil in horror and stare at you like you're some kind of monster, you just laugh and say 'It really never gets old. I can't wait for your birthday.'
6. When I am confused -- it's usually b/c I can't figure out how you manage to continuously piss on the back of my head every time I am walking down the stairs. Your bathroom is flooded with urine in every single place BUT the toilet, yet you are dead-on the moment you see my hairline. You really are kind of a bastard.
7. When I am sick -- you always tell me to stay the hell away from you even though you're usually the one who got me sick. I don't get your unbridled passion for making out in green port-o-potties. Or why you're always making me open up those anthrax envelopes. I'm beginning to think that maybe you aren't in the band's fan club. And that white powder didn't whiten my teeth at all. Are you sure it was baking soda?
8. When I fall -- you seem disappointed that I wasn't impaled. Then you always tape a bunch of forks and knives to the floor and tell me to try again. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't, but I always make my world-famous spork joke. After I'm done with the ER we laugh and laugh, pause for the blood to stop choking me, and laugh some more.
9. This is your oath..... you pledge it to the end. "Why?" I always ask; "because you are my friend. And the end is sooner than I think with that new life insurance policy you've taken out on me in addition to my fondness for masturbating with ice skates"
'But along about the end of the show I looked up. And there, behind me, was a little hole in the canvas. And through the hole I could see the old meadowland, the wind blowing over it and the stars shining alone out there. The cold wind tugged at the tent very gently. And all of a sudden, turning back to the warm riot all around me, I was cold too.'
'we may have never met but it might be you who pulls me through.'
