Dear Palmer Candy Company,

I think there's something we should discuss. I know you're thinking what could I possibly need to say to a candy company? Besides the fact that I think it's pretty obvious if you look at any of photographs of my chin that I consume to many confections. But there is at least one that I will never taste. And that is one of your chocolate covered conglomerations you've designed for Easter and I am of course talking of the chocolate cross.

Look, I'm not a religious guy, I'm all about skipping church and only praying when I need something. I get it I'm a bad person. But that does not mean that I want to walk into Wal-Mart and see that you have decided that what kids today need in their Easter baskets is a cocoa covered crucifix. This is not okay. I mean, is nothing sacred to you people? What's next? We might as well make a chocolate topographic figure of Da Vinci's "Last Supper" or better yet what about a peanut butter filled, white chocolate representation of Jesus and his crown of thorns! You could even do the drops of blood in clotted strawberry cream! Or is that just too precious? I don't know, it's really your call guys. I mean if we have a chocolate cross in the world, where do we stop? Really? Can you tell me exactly what is going to be considered too much? Should I expect a marshmallow nativity scene in my stocking next Christmas? (On that note, if I do see any marshmallow nativity scenes in stores next Yuletide season I will find the CEO of your corporation, and cut him.)

But seriously, I'm okay with the Easter bunnies. I'm okay with the bubble gum eggs. I can even stand the hollow milk chocolate eggs with miniature chocolate bunnies inside! Which correct me if I'm wrong but aren't we just confusing children on the biology of rabbits here? Last time I checked rabbits don't lay eggs. Because I'm sure if they did we as people would try to find some way to make an omelets out of them. I'm almost positive. But I digress, stick to your guns people. Don't you dare step out of the well designated boundaries that society has marked out for you. We do want as many chocolate creations as you can produce, but do us a favor and leave Jesus Christ out of it.

P.S. I just stumbled upon your candy bar entitled "The Big Mo" now I might be wrong but isn't the abbreviation 'mo' usually used to describe a homosexual? So explain to me why your candy bar has a photo of a middle aged man on the wrapper above the words "CREAMY CARAMEL" Explain this one for me, because it's perplexing.

Your friend, Jordan

The Post Where I Use the Word "Fuck" Three Times

I hate the term "constructive criticism" because there is absolutely nothing 'constructive' about it. It doesn't help me in the slightest when you pick out all of my insecurities and lay them out in front of me. It doesn't change things for me, it just makes things worse. If you know me at all, you probably understand that I have large self esteem issues that I cover up with false increased self worth. I pretend that I'm the hottest being to ever walk the planet because I know I'm not. I act like the smartest individual in the room because deep down I know I'm probably the stupidest. I fake being the most talented, and the most creative, and funniest, because I know I'm not. There will always be someone funnier, or better looking, or smarter than I am. I will always be in last place, and I get that. I'm not trying to win any races, but you pointing all of these things out for me doesn't help. I'm really not trying to be down on myself, these are just things that I've come to accept. But you should have enough tact to not bring them up. you should have enough tact to remember that every time you make a fat joke at my expense I drown my sorrows in a hostess cupcake.

You know I typed that about an hour ago, and now I'm totally over it. Now I'm just being impatient that my illegal copy of the High School Musical 2 Soundtrack is taking so fucking long to download. Don't the people at Azureus realize that I lead a busy life? I bought a copy of "101 Dalmatians" today that is begging to be viewed.

So I guess what I'm saying is that if you don't like the way I am, you can fuck the fuck off, mother fucker.

Don't Be Fooled By The Locks That I Got

As I mentioned briefly in an earlier post today I cut my hair. I know that doesn't exactly sound monumental to most of you, and more like basic routine, but to me it was a tragic act. I woke up this morning after spending a week on the couch (more on that in a later post I'd expect) with a broken spirit and only one thought in my mind. This thought was that I would clearly look amazing if I were bald. Clearly this was true. Although I didn't end up going bald (thank God) the end results are just as horrifying, sadly. Unfortunately I look like I did when I was sixteen, which is much like this (and yes this is actually the picture that remains on my license to this day, if I had saved any other of my pictures from this era I would have them instead) if you didn't know me then. And because of this tragic event, I have made a list to remind myself why I should never ever cut my hair again. Ever as long as I live. And the list goes like this:

1. Because when my hair is short everyone I see becomes knowledgeable of the exact contours of my oddly shaped head.
2. Because I look like a sixteen year old virgin, instead of a twenty one year old one.
3.Because it makes my chins look even bigger.
4. Because I look like an angry lesbian. Not that I don't like lesbians, I do. I just don't want to look like one. Especially not an angry one, them bitches be vicious.
5.Because with the streak of blonde hair that I have had since birth, and a flat forehead I look like Frankenstein with a bad dye job.
6. Because now when I leave a room in a huff I can't make a dramatic exit with a whip of my head. Not that I have ever done this because I think it's a tad emasculating, it would be nice to still have the option.
7. Because do I really need to bring this up again? Looking like I'm sixteen with bad skin issues, and a double chin? Isn't that just a bit too much to handle?

Set Me Off

At the place where I have been getting my hair cut since I was five years old there is one of those large, yellow DHL drop off boxes right outside the door. As I was outside waiting for my father and smoking a cigarette after realizing that I look like an angry lesbian with my new shorn haircut (but more on that later) I was looking at the DHL drop off point. On the box (Which looked much like this one only bright yellow and with a signifigant increase in cigarette burns) it had a large label on the top that states "DHL DOES NOT ACCEPT DANGEROUS MATERIALS INCLUDING ANYTHING FLAMMABLE, CORROSIVE, OR EXPLOSIVE"

Well that is good news for safety I guess, but what does this mean for those thrifty terrorists who are just trying to watch their pennies? Would this mean that likely bomb senders would have to switch to the boys in brown at UPS? And would that even mean a savings or an increase in shipping charges? Well you no longer have to ponder the question because thankfully I did some research on the subject. With a little help from Google I found out that the average bomb weighs in at 6.5lbs. Now say someone was going to send a bomb (or any other package that weights roughly 6.5lbs) who would be the cheaper carrier? If you were going to send a package of that weight to anywhere in the world that wasn't thousands of mile but certainly not within walking distance who would be the more economical choice?

I chose Little Rock, Arkansas as my destination because first of all it's the title of a Reba Mcentire song, which sounded like a good enough reason for me, secondly it's in Arkansas and the only time I ever went there was some of the more boring parts of my life. So I figure if you're going to figure out the charges for an imaginary bomb it might as well go to Arkansas. So anyways if you were going to ship a package that weighs six point five pounds (which if you'll remember is the average weight of a bomb, not sure how this was assumed but it's the only figure I could find without throwing up some terrorists signals to the government. I'm willing to research but I'm not willing to be put on a list of possible suspects, bitches) to a distance from Lake Charles, LA to Little Rock, AK it would cost $43.86 for overnight shipping for DHL and nearly twice that much at $75.31 for UPS. So basically all I'm saying is that DHL is doing terrorists all over the world a disservice by not allowing them to ship their explosives via DHL. I mean are you really helping our economy if you can't even pass on the savings to possible mass murderers? I don't think so.


Editor's Note: I do not condone the bombing of Arkansas, or bombs, or violence at all actually.
Also just so you know, I am definitely not a terrorist so thank you and good night.

Stop it, right now please

If one more fucking person finds this site by searching for "Beyonce Pussy" I swear to God, I'm going to cut someone. And I know that this post only will increase the incidences of this happening, still that shit needs to be put out there.

On Being Okay

Today I realized that I might actually have a real relationship with my father. Not one of those typical Louisianian father/son relationships where we scratch ourselves and shoot wild animals. But maybe one where two people can talk about things, real things. Maybe something more like friendship I think he might even actually trust me with his secrets. And it feels okay. It makes me realize that maybe you're friends aren't the ones you pick for yourself, but maybe just maybe can be the ones you were born with. And in my unstable life where I never really know who I am, or who my friends are from day to day I know that maybe I have someone to count on anyways. And that's okay.

NEW HEADER NEW HEADER NEW HEADER

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE MY NEW HEADER? BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE WITH MY NEW HEADER! WHAT? YOU DON'T LIKE MY NEW HEADER? THEN FUCK OFF.

Extra! Extra!

I haven't written much this week, I guess there's just not that much to say. But I am writing right now to tell you that very soon something pretty cool, that I'm excited about will be happening here. So stay tuned for that.


Did i really just make a post plugging my own site? That is so self promoting of me, can you even handle it?

Fuck a Valentine

Originally I was going to post a list of the "Hot Shit of the Month" for February including a list of things to get your Valentine's holiday going. But instead I'm going to bitch and moan for a while, if you don't mind. And if you do mind, get the fuck off of my site.

So anyways, I was just watching the local news and as a special Valentine's report they were talking about love and such. They were stating some inane facts and during they said "it has been scientifically proven that those in a loving relationship, have better heart health and tend to live longer lives"

This is such fucking bullshit. You know as if there wasn't enough fucking pressure in this world for people to mate for life, now they're telling us that if we don't settle down our arteries will clog, and we'll die and finally end our loveless exsistences? Well, I won't stand for all of this propoganda. You know I used to think it was just middle aged women who felt all of this pressure to settle down and get married. But now I realize, it's everywhere, and everyone is affected by it. Biological clock, or not its as if the world is telling us that if we don't get hitched soon we might as well count ourselves out because single people DON'T MATTER.

Is it really true that you're nobody untill somebody loves you? And if that is true, what if no one ever does? What if we go our entire lives without finding true love like my aunt Peggy, and just live by ourselves and live horrible, lonely lives? Is that so bad? I mean, I'm not sure it's what I want. But really, are we really incomplete if we don't fit into this standard that the world is telling us is right? I am so enraged (sadly, not engaged) right now. It makes me sick. It really does.

And if you can't relate to any of this because you are in a relationship, well then you can suck it.

REBAPALOOZA 2008

As some of you might already know last week I attended the Bossier City date of the "Two Worlds, Two Voices Tour" featuring Reba Mcentire and Kelly Clarkson. This was my fourth time seeing Reba, and my first for Kelly. It was an amazing show, Reba always puts on a great show though, so it's to be expected.

The first time I saw her was when I was six months old, and although I don't remember it my love for her was fostered then I believe. I saw her again when I was about seven or eight when my parents surprised me with tickets on the day of the concert. I last saw her in Houston with my sister (who is now a bigger fan than I am.) It was good, but we were super far away, and Reba was wearing some bad pink pants. I hated those pants, and I'm pretty sure the general concensous after the concert was "She has an amazing voice, but what the fuck was up with those pants?" Or at least thats how it seemed to me. But this time we were pretty close, and it was just simply amazing. I'm still a little speechless. Reba has always been such a huge icon to me. I've always looked up to her. She's just a normal woman, who did amazing things. No drama, no ordeals, just a lot of talent and drive. Thats a big deal for me. But enough with my memories and inane musings. Let's get down to the dirty. Here are a lot of pictures I'm not labeling them, no further information for you. Just the pictures.

Thank you and good night.

Correspondence

To: you know who you are,

If you ever needed a friend who was there too much, I should be your first pick. If you ever needed a friend who is going to support your choices no matter how asinine they may be you should give me a call. If you ever need a friend to go along with your crazy schemes you should put me in your daily planner. If you ever needed someone to be a spring board for all your crazy dreams, and wishes you can jump on me.

But if you ever needed a door mat, I'm there for that too I guess. If you ever needed someone to stand by your side through whatever only to betray me ten years later then I guess I'm the kind of person you could do that to also. If material possessions are more important to you then loyalty and friendship, then keep me in mind. Because apparently I'm your man. I'm the one you can walk for miles with and wax poetically about your horrible lot in life with. I would listen and I think you know that. But apparently these things are not enough for you. Well, I hope it's all worth it in the end.

I hope you don't find yourself all alone. I really don't. Because even though I know you didn't make the choice for yourself, you didn't do anything to stop it either. You didn't do anything to stand up for your friend of ten years. You just sat there and took it. You just let them deny you people who are only there to support your choices, and your happiness. But you let them take that away from you. And for that I am sorry. I am sorry that you can't think for yourself apparently. I'm sorry that you don't have it in you to stand up and fight for who you believe in. I'm sorry, and I really hope that those four walls are worth all the trouble. I hope that kitchen counter listens to you in the middle of the night when you think things just can't get any worse. And I hope that bookshelf says comforting things to you about your past. I hope it does. Because I guess you know that I never will again.

Yours,
Signed Jordan

Learning Curve

Tonight I learned that it's okay to sometimes be blunt, maybe some times even too honest. I learned that it's okay to try to protect the ones you love from ever getting hurt. Sometimes its even okay to be shielded from the darker things. Especially if someone you love understands this too.

Tonight

Tonight, I'm giving uup the ghost.

No further information needed.

No fucking way.

So we got this new computer a few weeks ago right? Well my dad decided that he was going to fucking put parental controls on my fucking screen name. I can't even see my own fucking website. What the fuck?

Stop the fucking madness.

I will find a way out of this.

Did You Know?

Did you know that you can blog from Microsoft Office Vista? I didn't! Fuck right.

Beyonce Is Still Slinging That Pussy For Money

I would just like to say to whomever it was that searched on google for "Beyonce Fried Chicken" and found my site, that I think we need to discuss.

Also, I just recently found out that my site is the first thing that comes up when one searches for "Beyonce Fried Chicken" on Google. I think my work here is done.

The People I See

She comes in every other day or so to buy cigarettes. She has thick curly auburn hair, that is slowly graying at the ends. She wears tattered and neglected clothing, and large spectacles that she wears around her neck on a golden chain. She always gets the same thing, and she always says the same thing. She always sighs loudly as soon as she puts her bag down on the counter and accepts the cigarettes. She looks sad, I ask how she's doing. She always says that her husband and son died recently only a week apart. She says she's finding it to be hard to thing to cope with. I always say I'm sorry to hear that, and she always pats my hand where it's laying on the counter, and says "thank you, baby" and then she leaves. And I don't see her for a few days, and the script is the same. It's always the same. I find myself wondering what it is that she does in between buying cigarettes at my store. Does she sit at home, lighting up, inhaling and thinking of the past? Does she watch the television, and with every face she sees recognizes the features from her departed family? Does she wake up in the morning wondering how she's going to make it through one more day? I don't know any of these things. All I know is that she smokes Misty Ultra Light 100's and as many as she can get. I just hope they make her feel better.

He's shorter with darker skin, and a shuffling gait about him. He comes in every single day, sometimes more than once. Sometimes more than twice. He smells strongly of booze and stale smoke (or so I've heard, I really would have no idea). He sexually harasses every single woman who passes him by. He talks long windedly about his son, and his business. Neither of which I care very much about. But he always says these things, and I always feign interest. He somehow always manage to bring up God. I smile weakly, and hope that he'll leave soon. He always calls me Bub. I'm not sure why. He once picked a discarded pair of thong underwear that someone for some reason discarded in the parking lot. He held them to close to my face, asking me to do something with them. Not wanting to touch them, I held up the trash can underneath them and let him drop them into the waste. He says "Thanks Bub, I didn't know what I was going to do with those" and then leaves. I don't know why he felt that the needed to anything about the discarded pair. Provably the same reason he feels the need to talk about his children with me. I for one will probably never know.

I find it so weird that people like this can walk in and out of your lives ddaily. No backstory, no subtle foreshadowing, no futher information. All I know about their lives is what happens inside the walls of the establishment. I will never know how well she sleeps, or how much booze he downs. I will never know, mabye I don't even care to know. But oddly enough, I think I do care for them. Even if only slightly. I always kind of feel that we care too much about ourselves, and our friends, and our family. Never enough about strangers. About those people who walk in and out of our lives so quickly. I know I care, because I've always thought about them. I've always tried to see things in their perspectives. I've always wondered what it would be like to be one of them. i have always wondered, but I guess I'll never know. Because I'm myself, and no one else. There is no mystery in myself. I know everything already. And that is a shame.

Then and Now

Last Week
Number of cigarettes smoked: 1,000,000 (feels like)
Number of bottles of Alchool purchased for someone else: 2
Number of dollars spent at "Books and Things": $28
Number of dollars almost spent at "Books and Things": $48 (I didn't look at any prices)
Number of times accidentally stumbled upon Hannah Montana songs on the radio: 30,000
Number of times actually found myself kind of liking Hannah Montana songs accidentally found on the radio: at least four
Number of hours spent at police station: 1 and a 1/2
Number of times gone to Sulphur: twice
Number of minutes spent fantasizing about Reba McEntire and Kelly Clarkson concert this weekend: TOO FUCKING MANY
Number of times meant to buy batteries for camera: 12
Number of Batteries actually purchased: 0

This Week;
I will try to cut back on the smoking, really. My lungs will thank me I'm sure.
Try to write more.
Finish reading the books I bought before I got and buy some more. I'm bad about that. Never finishing what I started.
Try to not like Hannah Montana, at least a little bit.
Will more than likely cry tears of joy when Reba McEntire sings "You Lie", or "Whoevers in New England"
Try not to make fat jokes about Kelly Clarkson at the concert.

Fuck Food Seriously

Sometimes I cook, you may be surprised to learn. You know easy things like pastas and roasted chickens and such. Sometimes I bake cookies, and cakes and such. It's fun. It's invigorating, I even once made a turtle cheesecake. It was delicious. So today when my father was all "I really want to try to make a chocolate souffle" I was all "Hey! I'll do it, I can totally do it!" So I looked up this recipe from the Food Network's website. This didn't look hard. Sure it said you had to be an 'intermediate' cook to fulfill the task but hey I'm twenty one years old! I can make more than a paltry ramen noodle cup! I can totally do this! Well let me just tell you; I can totally NOT do this. It is so unfunny how much I can't do this that you can't even begin to relate. So fuck you FoodNetwork for labeling your recipes "intermediate" when they should be labeled "DON'T FUCKING TRY THIS IF YOU ACTUALLY WANT THAT SHIT TO BE EDIBLE" Because trust me, it was NOT edible. So yes food network fuck you. Fuck you Rachel Ray, and Emeril Lagasse, Fuck you too Paula Deen. But not you Giada Delaurentous (or however you spell her god damned name) there is a special place in my heart for you Giada.

Also, I would have updated Daily Photos tonight, but my batteries for my camera are buck. I was going to detail a sordid sexual scandal (ALLITERATION!) on the secret lives of chocolate flavored Teddy Grams but it just wasn't in the cards I guess.

Also, has anyone noticed how my blog has had like nine food mentions in the past week? This must mean I'm getting fat again. God damn it.

Hot Shit Right Hurr

Just as a quick update, and not a full on out and out explanation of the hottest shit of the month I would like to tell you about two amazing things.

First of all, go buy or download, or steal, "Futurama: Bender's Big Score". It's amazing, and I'm not really one for cartoons, or movies. But it's the only cartoon I've ever seen that can make me laugh hysterically and then make me want to cry the next. It's some emotional shit y'all.


Also download the track "I'll Still Be Loving You" by Reba Mcentire. It's a cover of a song by a band I can't remember the name of but it's an amazing rendition. Or you can buy the EP entitled "Love Revival" at Hallmark I think.

Enjoy this shit y'all.