Saturday, August 31, 2002

Interesting images:

There's two cars driving adjacent to each other on the freeway and a baby projectile vomits from one car into the other driver's window

When a man pees off a rock on a windy mountaintop his urine is carried in a straight stream on the wind. A biker on the path below is on a straightaway, about to turn a bend, just minding his own business and admiring the scenery. When he takes a look up, he sees a stream of hot, sizzling piss flying directly at him at eye level, coming from around the bend.

An elderly Huskie dog walks up to you with a dopey expression on his face. One of it's eyes is opaque white, giving it an eccentric personality. He just stands there staring at you with a clueless expression plastered across his face, panting. After three minutes of this, you notice the dog's eyes cross slightly. Suddenly and completely inexplicably a small stream of water squirts at a juxtaposed angle from his back.
You must not give into fear. As my master once said, "penis."

Friday, August 30, 2002

Matt's worst fears in life:

-When driving through the desert, having rattlesnakes fly into the car through the windows and biting me
-Being strangled by a dog
-Being trapped in a room with the Fandango guy
-Accidentally spilling Shwarzennegar's coffee
-VW Beetles made to look like Pikachu
-Children who dress their cats up on halloween in Pokemon outfits.
Tarot is alarmingly accurate. I was at a party and had a reading done by a friend and It covered every aspect of my inner emotion toward the topic I was inquiring on. I was also testing an I-Ching like device which was also eerily true, like the gods were pointing a finger right at my head and screaming. I plan on buying both.
I was at a friend's birthday party one afternoon, and during the downtime before we got in the cars to go play laser tag, we were sitting out on the street trying to get reactions out of passing cars. After we tired of this we went inside and the doorbell abruptly rung. This woman had been staring at us through one of her windows and was convinced we were giving people the finger. She singled out a couple of girls and started bashing them in this fake little english accent that made me want to kick a chiuahua. She was sporting the usual suburban wear: a visor, hundred-dollar sunglasses, white t-shirt, shorts that don't quite fit, and for some reason they're always holding their keys.

"No one flips people off in MY neighborhood, you little pricks. I never want to see you doing that again."

Seriously folks, how dead do you have to be inside to even remotely give a shit what some kid is doing, much less feel some kind of matriarchy over an entire region occupied by people who might not even like you. The only community spirit around here is the uniting distrust of anyone under twenty.

I wish she had even looked at me.

Thursday, August 29, 2002

News flash: a Rocky video game is currently in production, and the ad made clear that there was a "clubber lang" option, which means after long last, I will finally be able to fulfill my dream of beating people up as Mr. T. Sweet Jesus in heaven!
While I'm reminiscing I was reminded of an incident on my eighth grade school trip to Washington DC/New York. My friends and I were sitting in a food court at the New York Wharf and someone brought up tampons. We goaded the only female around into buying one for us from the girls bathroom dispensing machine. Someone carried it around until one night when everyone was in the hotel swimming pool (your predictions are wrong). We unwrapped it and smothered it in Code Red Mountain Dew, leaving it in a snack machine. We came back five minutes later and it was gone. No one knows what happened to it.
I remember one time when i was in first grade my father came into class and made a massive crawlspace structure out of discarded refrigerator boxes and called it Box City. When I got bored with it I'd set defunctional traps for the other little boys and girls, like this one time I set a 2x4 upright in a corner and waited for someone to hit themselves with it. Ah for the good old days.
Just a short story I wrote for someone with the blues:

Jimmy Fran likes two things: Tylenol PM and acid. He likes Tylenol PM so that when his acid high wears off he can take it and just sleep until the morning, at which point he takes more acid. He’s been living this vicious circle now ever since his girlfriend left him three days ago, resulting in total loss of contact with himself.

Every night he has the same dream, in which he’s a lion tamer, y’know, like in the circus, only instead of having a chair and a whip he has a little girl who keeps trying to steal his head. Had he not fried his mind he might have realized what it meant in the morning, might have been able to pull himself from the loop in order so that he might continue living as a social invalid, fall in love with some nurse in a psycho ward somewhere; the kind of place they send war veterans when no one wants to look at them anymore.

But Jimmy’s tired, and needs his sleep.
Okay, let me make this very clear. Just because you watch MTV on your thirty-inch television does not make you punk. I was just talking to a guy who considers himself punk, which is dumb to begin with, and he doesn't even know who The Clash are. In fact, his musical preferences consist of Nelly and Ja Rule.

Unless you lived in LA during the late seventies, you are not a punk. You may like punk music but the fact is that most punk, besides perhaps The Clash, were specific to that place in time. Don't get me wrong, i love punk and I love what it stands for, but there's a whole spectrum of human emotion that can be conveyed in music, and punk only fills a small niche, anger.

So if you're just trying to look intense so you can get laid it won't work except for on stupid people, so have fun. (Maddie, don't worry, you're punk.)
I just spent an hour dying an old pair of contacts dark red, like the color of congealed blood. My original intention was to make them light purple, but i spilled the red. I let the contacts soak for a few minutes and when i tried them on everything was bathed in a sickly red color and I looked like the devil. I considered jumping out with red food coloring dripping from my chin with the contacts in, when my easily frightened parents came through the door, but I decided against it, based on what happened when my brother spontaneously shaved his head one morning.

The food coloring made my eyes feel all funny, so i'm letting them soak. More antics to ensue.
More details on my personal life:

Religious Orientation: Taoist by nature, though I don't like pertaining to labels
Favorite Food: you
Girlfriend Status: you
Favorite Catch-O line: Life is a prison, I am the spoon which digs you free.
DJ name: Ecto
Favorite way to piss people off: making it clear that even Jesus had a penis.

If you want to contact me, (i am also available for instant messaging, as that infernal machine occupies much of my time)
Hello world. Perhaps a word about myself to begin with. My name is Matthew Louv, I live in suburbia, and I'm a loose cannon who needs to be kept under constant surveilance so I won't hurt myself or others with sharp words. If you've ever seen what suburbia has become you'll appreciate my life more. Most social occasions as of now, (without a car) consist of lurking around the local theater while my friends and I try to convince ourselves we're the wildest, most brilliant group of jackass rebels ever to grimace and look at people funny. You can never really take yourself too seriously when you're drinking Jamba Juice and whining about "all the damn yuppies."

Oh yes yes, I do go on about Starbucks and the lot but you've all already heard it, hopefully get it, and are probably damn sick of dealing with teenage malcontents so I'll save all the drama for trying to impress girls. As long as I'm only tolerably pretentious my postings should entertain.

Fight the good fight and all...say no to drugs...