So we, the recently undead of South Austin, converged on South Congress to walk around, moan, and promote our upcoming fundraiser and our forth coming show. We were well received by the 1st Thursday crowd, probably because we weren’t trying to eat anyone. We made sure to gorge ourselves on plenty of flesh and brains before we showed up. Our plan was to promote “Zombie Awareness.” We thought that going on an all out brain and flesh feeding frenzy would have been counter productive to our goal. Though there were many growns of protest. It wasn’t easy I tell yuh. There was a lot of healthy flesh on South Congress last night, and while we swiped at a few folks I don’t think anyone was actually eaten. I say I don’t think anyone was eaten, but Jessica and Robert looked a bit gorier after the walk then when we started. Oh well you know what they say, You can’t make a brain omelette with out breaking a few heads. In the end we passed out about 400 flyers and freaked out hundreds of Austin citizens.
Well I made it through my twenties…I gave marriage a try, divorce ended up being the way to go, an over active temper nearly led me to self-destruct, where did my hair go, I fell in love twice (the second time has proved the longer of the two falls, I’ve yet to reach the ~L bottom E~), disciplined though rarely obedient soldier-pseudo hippie independent free thinking civilian, always: just Bill, arrogance told me I knew everything, ignorance shoved a mirror in my face, the glare that blinded me was enlightenment (still seeking), I discovered the value of a Sunday afternoon (toss in a pint and a friend, the value becomes priceless), the military allowed me to travel, the military took my freedom, wasted days hung over finally taught me moderation (some times I forget), I lost myself in
I pledge allegiance to the almighty dollar of the United States of Consumers with materialism and greed for all...I had to work on Independence Day. I was listening to NPR while I ate breakfast and was treated to a reading of the Declaration of Independence, my first thought once the reading was finished was "elected officials should be required to read this daily." When I got to work the first call I took was from a guy who asked me what our store hours were for the day. I told him. His response was, "so you work for one of those places that celebrate the almighty dollar rather than independence. Sorry you have to work dude." Click. He inspired the above pledge. I felt bad for the rest of the eight hours I was at work. I wasn't the one who decided we'd be open for the 4th, some corporate exec who was probably spending the day at a barbeque decided that, but I have free will. I don't have to be a part of the problem. I decided I'd worked there long enough. Time to move on. If anyone knows of a good job out there let me know (I'm serious). We were busy that day. It was sad.
Got your attention didn't I. Well the title wasn't meant to get your attention; this entry is really about anal bleaching. Caution: This entry is what some might consider "Filthy." And the gutter words, which I use gratuitously, reflect that fact. Apparently people are bleaching their anuses. That's right; people are applying bleach to their butt holes. I first heard of this phenomenon from a close friend. She asked me if I bleached my butt. I looked at her in horror and said, "No. Why do you ask?" "Well I heard people did, just wondering if you did." said she. "Who would do such a thing?" Asked I. "Australians and Porn Stars." Said she. "Oh." said I. The conversation progressed from there, depending on how you look at it. I couldn't figure out why someone would do this, so I did a google search. Yup, it's just what I expected. Vanity run-a-muck. People are bleaching the dark brown pigmented area of their sphincters to make them appear pink or just white. Who's doing it? The "Fashion Trend" as it was dubbed in a few articles I read, appears to have started in
Martha Stewart is out of jail. Who gives a fuck? I've either seen Martha's face or heard Martha's name more times in the past three days than I've unzipped my fly. That's a lot. It started with her smiling face on Newsweek. Then as I was driving home the other day NPR decided to waste five minutes of its air time with an article about the photo on Newsweek’s cover, which isn't even a real pic of Martha. Apparently it's a "photo illustration", her face not her body. When I got to the gym this morning the TV in the locker room was tuned to CNN. The reporters were discussing "what's next for Martha?" Apparently a reality TV show. An hour later when I went back into the locker room to get my stuff, there she was again. Why is she following me!!! What the fuck did I do to Martha? I never judged her. She got busted for shady trading practices. She was just trying to make an extra buck, what other red blooded capitalist wouldn't have done the same thing. What do I care? But now she's every where. Oh wait, not every where. Martha now enters the house arrest portion of her penalty faze. For the next few months she'll be stuck at her 153 acre ranch in
login