26 November 2007

The Last Time..

I saw a pussy, it was a black cat crossing my path.

::The GringO::

23 November 2007

Deja Vu

Happy Thanksgiving, bitches!

I had the same conversation with two very different people, The World's Biggest Asshole and my sister Pinky, in the last 48 hours. It went like

The World's Biggest Asshole/Pinky: “We know what Plan A stands for.”
Z: “Yup.”
“So what’s Plan B?”
“And Plan C?”
“Plan C stands for ‘crazy!’”

Enjoy today, for while we feast, it is genocide for the turkey.


22 November 2007

Naughty Thoughts

After a long hiatus from thinking dirty, I recently had several epiphanies concerning my most favored of subjects.

I can think of a lot of good reasons to date a teacher; the first on my mind is the potential pillow talk.
  • “The more you fool around, the longer we’ll be here.”
  • “You’re not going anywhere until you finish your work!”
  • “How does that make you feel?”
  • “You’ll just have to keep doing that until you get it perfected.”
  • “You’re behaving like an animal!”
  • “You did a great job!”
  • “Now, for extra credit…”
Well, it’s got to beat lawyers any day.
  • “Were you injured in an accident?”
  • “Prior bad acts are admissible in your case.”
  • “Objection!”
A little FYI for the ladies & guys with a penchant to fellate: with a cock in your mouth, your dirty talk sounds like “aaaoowwww,” like you’re romancing a sexy puppy.

It’s a good thing I like pale skin, cuz if I didn’t then my masturbating in front of the mirror would be creepy.


21 November 2007


Radiohead sucks. Why should I be interested in the music and lyrics when Thom Yorke is clearly bored with them? Seriously, the guy sounds like he’s doing all this stuff because he’s been told he can’t go back to sleep until he’s finished recording.

(Scene: some recording studio in England. Weather forecast is misery with a chance of mildewed melancholy, winds from the sad at forty tears per hour)

“Thom? Thom. Thom!” (kicks couch)
zzznnnrrrraggRRAGAgSNORT! “What, for fuck’s sake?”
“Sing the song, mate!”
“What, again?”
“Yeah; it takes more than one song to make an album.”
“All right, but one take and then I’m going back to bed.”
“Fine. Put your pants* on, Thom.”
“Jesus Christ, but you are a needy bugger, yeah?”

I just don't get the appeal of slow, offbeat musical drudgery with groggily atonal whining serving as 'singing.' Maybe I'm too American to understand. Or maybe I like to look at the sky instead of my shoelaces; maybe I live in my space instead of on MySpace; maybe I like to be entertained and not bored, especially if I am paying for it; maybe I don't confuse emotional disorders with genius; maybe I think life can actually be a lot of fun every once in a while, and that music can, and sometimes should, reflect that.

Or maybe they really do suck and a lot of people are deluding themselves for reasons that I cannot understand.

I like to give my readers options.


*Yes, I do know what ‘pants’ are in England.

17 November 2007

Use the Force, Zeep

The Light Side

  • The ‘Hawks are doing well.
  • My pull box at Dark Tower has produced nothing but amazing comic books.
    • Whedon and Cassaday’s X-Men story continues to be the best I’ve read (here’s a sample, but be cautious; this may make you like comics!), the new Thor and Atom are great, and Mouse Guard is simply stunning. If you don't like comics, check out Mouse Guard.
  • Speaking of Joss Whedon, he will have a new show soon once the networks and other idiots give the writers what they deserve. While reality TV may seem like a good idea, that’s just because most shows aren’t written by Aaron Sorkin, Thomas Schlamme, or Joss Whedon.
  • Both women I am pursuing are showing enough interest in me to keep me interested.
  • I know Kung Faux.
  • I am still working on the boats, and I am still loving it. I am the Deck Monkey!
  • My co-teachings/observations are going great, confirming that all the bullshit I have put up with from UIC’s Council on Teacher Education has so far been worth it.
  • I’ve made some friends that I really hope to have for the rest of my life. Crunk Monk Mafia holla!
    • I have spent more time with my old friends recently than I have in the previous months, so the friends front is going very well.

The Dark Side

  • I need to get serious about grocery shopping.
  • I’ve reawakened my coffee addiction.
  • Since both women are showing interest, I cannot just move on one.
    • This might not be a bad thing, since it will force me to do the friendship first thing, which I wanted to do anyway. And it's probably best to wait until the end of the semester. But now I walk a keen edge, and my balance isn't all that good…
  • The Bears are sucking like a Thai whore with a fifty spit-taped to her forehead.
  • CTE’s bullshit is still bullshit.
  • I still work in Hell.
    • The boats won't go year 'round, and since I need the cash to woo the ladies and pay bills and whatnot, I must take more hours in Hell in order to make ends meet.

The dark side will always be defeated by the light side, because bad is dumb. Shitty paraphrase, I know, but fuck it, I am in a good mood for once; let me enjoy it while it lasts.


two posts in one day! how lucky are you? very lucky, indeed. if only gringo would get off of his dead ass and write something. -z.

Pictures, With Words

In case you didn’t know, the World’s Biggest Asshole has a blog now. Yup, he’s decided that inflicting his thoughts on those of us who have proven too stupid to run away just isn’t satisfying anymore; he’s going to force his bizarre mindset and reality onto the general population as well. Luckily, there is a carrot that comes with that stick; he is going to give us beautiful images on a fairly oftenish basis. So far there’s been at least an image per entry. His photos are like pizza; even when they’re bad, they’re still good.

Something I learned from his blog is that now he drinks tea. It reminded me of something. The last line says it all. Jesus fucking Christ.


14 November 2007

I Blew Out My Sequitr Sequencer

I have no problem with my source of food being ugly. I wouldn’t kiss a pig, but I’d slather it in applesauce.

The first person to eat shellfish was starving.

What the fuck is wrong with a man who leaves his love when she needs him most?

“You’ll find her when you’re not looking.” I have heard this several times from several, very different women. This statement alone just proves how little women know about men, and just how differently our brains have been programmed to function. We are always looking, ladies. Always; on the train, at work, after work, in bars, in cars, with green eggs and ham. We look, we hunt, we stalk, we seek, and we track you. I can think of only two periods in my life where I wasn’t looking, and that is quite a low number amongst my peers. And only women would think that passivity is the way to solve a problem. Advice to ladies: don’t say that to a guy; don’t sit around and wait for a goddamned thing, because the only thing that is sure to come is death.

One of the best things to see is a total stranger realize that s/he has just shit his/her pants.

A cure for my sporadic insomnia: I had a brief but good conversation with Professor Hottie after class, and I slept like a baby last night. She really is pretty.

The GringO and I are working on a book. Interested? Let us know and maybe we’ll put some of it up on the bloggy-blog-thing. We will be selling it, since it’s not free, and you can’t live off of what you can kill in Chicago.

A reason it is awesome to be a guy: the world is your urinal.

If you don’t know who Taylor Mali is, just know that every English teacher in America thinks of him as their Superman. Check him out.

Professional wrestling is as gay as three guys wearing chaps blowing four guys wearing fairy wings.

Speaking of gay: the coolest thing I saw this Halloween was a couple dressed as Quicksilver and The Flash. It is most definitely my favorite couple-themed costume set EVER.

I really like the shoes I wore yesterday. They’re comfy and they make my feet look like dinner rolls. My shoes look like the shoes Bill Watterson draws.


07 November 2007

The Roulette Wheel of My Brain

Some of the thoughts I remember just before falling asleep last night:

I doubt the writer’s strike will affect “Smallville,” since it is written by retarded chimps kept on a perpetual high of marijuana and Pixie Stix, which as we all know are no longer afforded membership in the WGA unless they are working with, for, or are, Judd Apatow.

What’s funnier, a fart or a burp? I say a fart, until it is possible for people to shit themselves while burping.

The English word “army” has its root in a word similar to the German “Armen,” which means “the poor.”

Favorite “Futurama” quote I was able to sneak in while greeting in Hell: “If for any reason you're unhappy with our service, I hate you.”

The Blue Line, between Western and Austin stops, rocks and shakes like it’s being raped by Godzilla after a four-hour binge of Viagra and trucker speed.


06 November 2007

The Need for a Mic, Part I

While hanging out after work with The GringO's new crush Gun-Mol, the following conversation took place:

Mol: Yeah, I don't mind posing nude for you, but it would make me uncomfortable.
G: What would make you uncomfortable?
M: Well, working with you after you've seen me naked would be weird.
Z: Shit, Mol, it's not like you'd be the first coworker he's seen naked. I think there's a membership card and a special discount at Hell or something for y'all now.

Yeah, while the food and beer cost me $45, the opportunity to flirt with my new favorite waitress Mary Katherine and render The GringO speechless was worth so much more.

Give her credit, she took it like a champ. A wide-eyed, punch-drunk champ, but a champ none the less.


03 November 2007

In the Arms of Morpheus

I was unable to sleep for seven days. A week, from one Tuesday to the next, with less than fourteen total hours of sleep; why is what you are probably wondering. Well, it’s a simple word with an insane number of connotations.


Just as my eyes would close, I would speculate about the end of life, which I cannot avoid and live in utter and total fear of. As a man who believes in God (I will go no further, because what else I believe in is none of your damned business), I have faith in an afterlife, a place with all the answers to my questions, and a sense of peace that I have felt on Earth in only a few spare moments.

But for the last week, I have wondered if I may be wrong. What if it’s just pain and then nothing? That thought is so terrifying that I am shaking, nearly crying, just thinking about it.

And it is totally, completely unavoidable. I will find out if I am right or wrong.

I would rather live forever. “But Zeep, what about all the loved ones who will die around you?” Well, I will miss them, but I am pretty good at making friends, so I suppose I will have new ones to love. It sounds cold, but it’s not like I will get a chance to find out if I am right or not.

I will not live forever. I will die.

My brother Bob passed away when he was 35, three years after he cleaned up from years of cocaine abuse. With a natural arrhythmia to his heart, the abuse caught up with him and he died. I am the same age as my brother when he sobered up. Like others who have lost siblings, death has a sense of immediacy with me. When grandparents die, they are fulfilling their role. They’re supposed to die; they’re old and therefore the perfect first lesson in mortality. But siblings are supposed to be as immortal as trees. They aren’t supposed to die until you’re going to die.

When you lose a brother or sister, your whole timetable on death gets skewed to a much earlier wake-up call.

There were other reasons for me not sleeping: I usually have a bout of insomnia at least twice a year, but not to this extreme; I am feeling really lonely and currently have teetering prospects for a date, and I am wondering if I should even bother since student teaching is just around the corner; my body is trying to get used to the weather and the blankets on the bed. But it’s the fear of nothing that keeps me up.

I’ve been taking Tylenol PM, which is definitely doing the trick. I am trying not to become dependent upon it, but the certainty that I will sleep, and have some really awesome dreams, is too much for me to stop just yet. It keeps the ghosts in the closet, which is all I want right now.

Well, a milkshake and a backrub would be nice, too.