My very first cook book.

Sgt. Dan 'Hondo' Harrelson: Dammit, Street! You've got to learn to control your fiery temper! You're a good cop, and a good man, but I need to have confidence in my team members when we're transporting dubiously-ethnic, crudely-stereotyped foreign criminals!

Jim Street: You know, you'd be a whole lot more relaxed if you cracked open a crisp, refreshing Dr. Pepper.

Hondo: Gee, what a great idea! While I'm at it, why don't I hop down to my local McDonald's and grab a few juicy, delicious hamburgers to go along with the soda?

Sanchez: I am a strong, female role model! Watch me sweat!

LL Cool J: Bluest, deepest, my hat is like a shark's fin!

The two craziest dreams ever:

1. I watch Richard Lewis brutally murder Eric Thornton on an island on a lake surrounded by forest.

2. My brother and I disguise ourselves as two of the Lawrence brothers to steal food from a supermarket, I watch El Chupacabras patrol the edge of our campground and ride go-karts in a haunted house where a woman I'm flirting with sticks a white M&M under my eyelid and tells me I'm crying.

All who want to hear a Don't Pick At It live broadcast, say "Aye."

And now, I will put my cat on the keyboard.

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How to make a sappy, drag-your-feet, lay down and cry weblog post:

Begin by relating an experience of yours, only instead of actually telling a story, convolute everything with pretentious metaphor that means nothing to anyone except you. Make it seem like you're really that thoughtful all the time. Make sure you drop lots of hints to the person you have a crush on that they have absolutely no capacity to decode. Speak in the very internet-specific dialect of half-poetry and interject long, twisting tirades about the pain of being alive with lyrics. The relevance of these lyrics to what you're half-heartedly trying to communicate is irrelevant. Think that writing many of these posts will make people want to get closer to you. Understand how laughably bad and juvenille almost everything serious you write is, but embrace it anyway, and make lots of tounge-in-cheek stabs at your own pomp and share a chuckle with your readership.

WATCH DA ALI G SHOW!!!!!!!!!

Which would your rather bone:


or

Where everything is as it should be

Tomorrow I will be flying to the top of the world.

There will be no computer. There will be no AIM. There will be no phone. There will be bears.

I will be gone for a week.

Don't get into trouble, now.

My day so far:

Some time last night, between going to sleep and waking up: dream that my family are all dinosaur hunters, except my mom, because she's a girl. In this dream, dinosaurs roam my house at night, hide in my closets and are spooky, scary etc. My dad and I bust some dinosaur ass with a large arsenal of shotguns. At some point my brother turns coat, becomes a dinosaur and tries to eat me.

11 AM: Wake up and am pleased with myself that I didn't sleep past noon. The first thing I do after getting dressed is to crack open a Sprite and watch the Daily Show. Unfortunately, there is no professional wrestling playing that early in the morning.

11:30 AM: Listen to "Straight Outta Compton" about ten times in a row. The idea dawns on me to have an Ice Cube movie marathon. My dreams are crushed when I found out he's made 21 movies. Favorite Ice Cube quote: "Shit, it ain't every day your homegirl gets to make her very own documentary about indigenous Amazonian peoples!"

12 - 3 PM: Wish the new season of Da Ali G Show was playing.

3:30 - 3:37 PM: Write in this weblog while listening to Straight Outta Compton.

For every post on this weblog, there's five more sessions of staring blankly at this "new post" form, writing a few disjointed sentences and eventually quitting.

The reason: want to express something completely inexpressable. Always. This great big truth I can't tell. Something about the complications of walking and breathing, and the humor necessary to see how pretentious the feeling is, and the good sense to know it's true.

Something like a tree with a million branches, and then a million more.

To summate, sixteen years of accumulated experience can't be summated.

"Hey, what the hell are you kids doing? You absolutely cannot be here. What do you think the fence is there for? Do you know what would happen if the Home Owner's Association got sued? Do you live in this community? If you don't live here you have to leave. If you have a problem, call the police, and if you don't leave, I'll call the police. I like smothering puppies with my ass."

Here's the deal with the radio station:

This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, and I will probably continue to pay for at least the basic plan even if only a few people listen to the station with any regularity.

Judging by the total hours of listen-time in the past thirty days (12), I infer that most of you aren't going to listen to just music for long periods of time. Many people have voiced to me that their only real interest in my project would lie in live broadcasts. Under my current payment plan, live broadcasting is not an option.

If enough of you will listen to the station, I can pay about five dollars extra a month to have a 10-listener cap on live broadcasting. If many of you tune in and want me to continue to do the live broadcasts, I can upgrade to a 25-dollar-a-month plan that will boost me to 30 live listeners. It'd be willing to pay that much if I knew people would listen and enjoy.

For now, I have about seventy megabites of songs looping on the station continuously. I plan on updating at least a good portion of the playlist on a weekly basis. If the station seems like it's stagnating, let me know.

When I was listening to the parade in my sleep, I thought the siren that kept going off was from multiple ambulances, as if some horrible mass-death had taken place.

I am proud to announce the premiere of Don't Pick At It Radio, my very own internet radio station.

MATT LOUV HAS HIS OWN INTERNET RADIO STATION, AND HE'S NOT GOING TO BE SUED FOR LICENSING INFRACTIONS!!!

For now, I'm still uploading songs and getting everything straightened out, but you can listen in any time of the day, seven days a week. Diggity checkit.

Back in the day when the main focus of this weblog was Chihuahuas and the squeezing/kicking thereof, I made a vulgar post on a message board about dogs. I was browsing through my archives and revisited said post, and to my surprise people had actually responded.

My dog sucks

Perhaps the strangest lie that we, as young people, are told, is that without school we'd have no/less friends. As evidenced by the fact that we all seem to be getting along just fine after two weeks of un-school and I have since discovered a completely new social hemisphere, I would conclude that stated lie is complete and utter bullshit. If anything, school disrupts our relationships by forcing us to deal with each other five days a week.

Another lie: without school we'd be roaming the streets, raping old ladies and selling ourselves to sailors for crack money. I see no chaos and no more or less degradation than during school.

Don't you see? We can live together without the government telling us what's best.

Anyone who has digital Time Warner cable needs to go to channel 900 and watch the Eek-a-Mouse! video "Schitzophrenic."

Guess whose new album totally rules.