i’ve got some unfinished business to start

that means nothing, it is just a clever play on word that i made up. clever. me. say word.

yee-haw

when i wake up in the morning i will have had more than 10,000 hits/visits. not bad for 6 months. thanks to all of you. i wish you all the greatest 2004. i can’t tell you what it means to me that all of you come here to read all of my bullshit. im drunk at a sushi dinner party about to have chocolate fondue for dessert. it is my friend nathan’s birthday. happy birthday nathan.

i think i taught the teacher a thing or two. say word.

more holiday cheer.

uncle santa

let me first say that i think posting song lyrics on a blog is completely trife,

but every now and again a line or two will get stuck in my head and i just can’t seem to get rid of it. it is partially because it sounds so good in the song (i.e. liz phair singing “regeneration”) or because it is such a good fucking line with quite a lot of meaning in 15 words or so. these couple of lines from the long winters song new girl are the words that are presently in my head:

twice you burned your life’s work
once to start a new life
and once just to start a fire

damn fine writing. hats off.

highlights of 2003

there is so much that you, dear reader, don’t know about me. here are just a few of the things:

-i was in the band ELO
-i can’t grow a moustache and i am 30. actually i can grow one, but the color is see-through
-i don’t have a butler
-i like terms and concepts like neorealism (maybe you knew that one)
-i was once in the secret service (photoshoppedgraphic proof below)

This was one of the highlights of my year. Traveling to SARS infested somewhere with, i think, bill clinton, hank williams III, and jimmy carter. there is a story that i had written for this picture, but i just read it and it even kinda offended me. i am trying to cutback on my usage of the word “fuck”. i know, i know. everyone else is dieting, or quitting smoking, or joining a gym, or punching their spouse less; i am going to cutback on the amount of times that i say and write the word “fuck”. serious self-improvement.

anyhow this fake photoshopped trip was one of the highlights of my year. i may make a list of my highs and lows of 2003. but probably not. true love. true heartbreak. a devastating death, i learned to properly use the grammatical tool “ibid.”. fill in the blanks. all in all, despite the lows…2003 was better than 2002 which was better than 2001…etc. etc. it’s fucking good to be alive, and even better to be alive and be this good looking. say word.

kids.

i want kids. but first i need a wifey. anyone interested in living the fabulous life of wife to a criminally attractive, charming, illegally girthy, award winning, fabulous smelling internet celebrity? email me. then we will meet. then i will take you to a hotel and knock you up properly. seriously, seriously fucking romantic. i’m taking applications.

you must be:

1. pretty
2. that’s about it.

p.s. i’m kidding. unless you are real cute. then i’m not kidding anymore. yes i am. nope. yeah.

p.p.s. this post is stupid. i’m not feeling clever. and nobody reads this shit during the holidays anyway. i have seen my hitsperday decrease by 20 during these holidays. seriously people, how am i supposed to raise my children after i knock up a pretty internet girl if i can’t even count on you to leave your relatives houses and go to an internet cafe and type in www.percenterprises.com. i don’t ask much from you people. just the essentials: sex, money, exotic gifts from around the world, and diamond david lee roth concert tickets at the house of blues on new years eve. you people disgust me.

p.p.p.s. just kidding again. i love all of you. especially the cute ones with the different private parts than me who send me email about me. i should sleep now. or have scotch. toss up.

correction

a couple of weeks ago i had been saying that this girl or that girl was the most beautiful in the world. i was wrong. here she is. even her name means “beautiful”. Bella (Belle, Isabella, Bellabutton)

merry xxxmas.

i am trying to be in the holiday spirit, but christmas is really putting a damper on my hits per day. come on people. whats more important? spending the holidays face to face with your loved ones, or reading the brilliant words of an even more brilliant (and criminally attractive and girthy) single internet celebrity like myself? it’s not for me to decide. but if the hits don’t start pouring in soon, i will for one week dedicate my site to nothing else but off-season college baseball coverage. you decide.

Re: my own death

No one wants to think about their own death. I’m no different. But flying in an airplane during the color orange has forced me to consider these circumstances. I have been told that I am a bit of a control freak, so it is at this time that I will outline the details of the way that I want my death to be handled.

Music: At my viewing and/or wake I want these songs:

Bikini Kill, R.I.P- The song is about a gay friend of Kathleen Hanna’s who died of AIDS so there are some homosexual overtones in the song that must be ignored. And although it is arrogant to say while living, I think that after my death the line “there’s another boy genius who’s fucking gone” will totally get the floodgates open.

Low, Over the Ocean- I really like the song

Red House Painters, Another Song for a Blue Guitar- I really like the song.

N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton- It’s hard to explain, but I would really just like this to be playing.

I need to choose an Elliott Smith and a Sebadoh song, or you guys can just choose one for me.

Speeches: I know that most of you will be too broken up to find the words to eulogize my incredible life. For that reason, in my drawer next to my bed there are envelopes with each of your names on them. Inside you will find beautiful eulogies that I have written for each one of you to say. I should at this point thank you in advance for the beautiful sentiments and words that each of you said about me.

Also, do not bury me with cigarettes. I don’t like that. I do smoke in this world. But in whatever afterlife I choose to believe in, I don’t think that I really want to smoke. I have spent enough money on patches in this life; I really don’t wanna do that in my next one.

percenterprises must continue. my good friends can probably decode my passwords and stuff. take donations to cover the yearly hosting fees. save the extra for liquor. invite only the finest bloggers to contribute. and then when blogging is passe, turn this site into pong.

Finally, you all must go on. Take 4 or 5 years and mourn for me heavily. Then go to therapy for 5 or 6 years. And then backpack Europe searching for answers on why I have to be gone. Renounce god. Find god. And then go on.

I have one more flight during the orange color. If I make it through that, I am here for a long time, motherfuckers. Merry Christmas. Sorry I didn’t send xmas cards this year. I have been busy. I love most of you.