For those board with their life can now find new ways to waste it at www.letmewatchthis.com. I spent a few minutes watching Arc II which was pretty damn terrible although the burp talking monkey may have made it worth those sixteen seconds I just threw away.

The following announcement is going to make someone out there very sad. I know this. But I feel like I have to get it off my chest anyway.

I like Lady Gaga.

There. Now you know. I'm not listening to this station because of Bobby Bones, even though that's what I'm going to tell you. I'm listening to it because they play Bad Romance 57 times a day. In fact, it's the only song I hear anymore. Even when another song is playing, all I hear is Lady Gaga. When the DJ is talking? Lady Gaga. Are you speaking to me? I'm just gonna nod in time to the beat because I'm hearing that Ra Ra-ah-ah-ah Roma Roma-ma GaGa Oh la-la.

Don't as me why. One, I don't know. Two, you wouldn't like the answer if I knew what it was, so why ask? In the same way that a fifth of bad whiskey makes me retard strong, Lady Gaga makes me retard happy (no offense meant to our handy-capable readers out there). I don't even realize I shouldn't be enjoying myself until the song stops. Then, when I finally broke down and looked LG up, I realized she sings half the other songs I hear on the radio a dozen times a day and I... well, the sad truth is I liked all those songs too. I know I shouldn't. I don't even want to.

I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore. I might even encourage it. This... disease... I have might be contagious. I would hate to suddenly realize that I've passed on my insatiable hunger for all things Gaga to a friend. And yet... I just... can't... help... but embed a Lady Gaga song right here in this very post! Gah!


EMBED-Lady GaGa - Poker Face - Watch more free videos

It pains me to say this but I hate hobos. At least those which reside in Austin proper. I have been referred to as the pied piper of the homeless, assembling a dark army to reign disease and pestilence down upon us all. Lawton hobos were for the most part known, each possessing it's very own skill or special attributes. Seattle's homeless were typically helpful and an excellent source of information. Austin's, while seemingly organized, are a scabby, untrustworthy bunch. These are a different sort of bum that takes advantage of the slightest kindness often complaining about what they are given.

Last night after another long night of work I hit up the local corner store for Slushee. I've been sick and even throwing up on the job. My shifts are a combination physically labor punctuated by the number of alleave I take. I'm forced to stick it out because with money being as tight as it is, if I don't we may not be able to pay our bills or even eat. Knowing this a Slushee is a huge luxury. As I walked towards the glass doors of the Tigermart I was approached by a local homeless man. Maybe beckoned is a better word. I was beckoned by a homeless man perched next to my parked car.
"Please don't judge me.."
"Ple.." 
"Please don't judge me for the... way. For the." 
A waft of liquor hit me like the way the scent of hot trash hits your nostrils in summer. As he asked me for something to eat I apologized and offered him a dollar. At which point he smirkily said, "Well you know what I could really use is six dollars."  In my pocket I held exactly three dollars, enough for two Slushees and no more. And while Slushees aren't nearly as important as a hungry man's appetite, Amber and I work terribly hard to starve. As soon as the words "six" escaped his lips I could feel my fist clench in a mixture anger/and disgust. When I said no he got pissed off and demanded a ride. "Then give me a ride. Everyone around here know me!"

Yeah, everyone knows you as the hobo at the corner store.

Fuck Off.