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Name: Jonny Handjob
Interests: Influences: Louis CK, Stephen Colbert, George Carlin, Maddox, Stephen Lynch, Doug Stanhope, Dick Masterson, Bill Hicks, Charles Bukowski, Jim Carrey, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
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Things That Rule Vol. 5: Living Like My Hero Charles Bukowski
I was bored of living the way I was supposed to. Working and going to school and all of that. I didn't know what to do with myself. I was broken down and depressed like any sane person would be if they had to bag groceries. I looked to my hero Charles Bukowski for answers, but all I could find was comments about beer shits. Then I realized, that's it! Life is nothing but a bunch of beer shits one after another! His wisdom became my guiding light, as I decided to ditch my life of glitz and glamour (couch and bedroom) and hit the streets in a drunken haze! Unfortunately I only wrote in this journal about 30 times or so. Seriously, what did you expect with this highly scientific experiment? Isaac fuckin' Newton?
Day 1: Got in an argument with my mom while packing up all of my stuff. She thinks I'm being ridiculous in my decision to go live on the streets and "find my own way like my benevolent hero Charles Bukowski". I keep telling her it's my dream, and that I'm finally sacking up to go and live it. Why would anyone stop their kid from living their dream? :)
Day 3: Some angry dudes beat me up and stole my suitcase which had all my clothes and money in it. Oh well :)
Day 9: The nights are cold and the rats are scary, but Jager always seems to find a way to warm my bones.
Day 15: Starting to smell like a dirty chalupa. Maybe I should take a shower, or better yet, hit up some more pubs. Tomorrow I go dumpster diving for some new clothes. Last time I found some Power Rangers underwear. A little small and tight on me. They were comfortable until I started chafing.
Day 18: Woke up outside of Ambiance on 24th St. I could have swore I smelled fishsticks, only to look down and see that I wasn't wearing any pants. That explained the smell.
Day 19: Got in my first bar fight last night after two bottles of Patron. I thought the dudes name was Shelly and I thought he was wearing womans perfume, so I kept calling him a fruitcake. After the seventh kick to the temple I realized I had just gotten my ass kicked by a chick.
Day 22: Decided to ditch all my job interviews today to hook up with a dog-faced broad. I even called her a dog-faced broad and she was turned on. Lucky me!
Day 25: Why do I have anal beads tied around my neck? And why do I have a gorilla mask? Questions that plagued my mind as I awoke from a deep sleep and noticed I was sitting on top of a toilet. Apparently I past out while taking an upper decker in the public bathroom at The Peaks.
Day 26: Owners of The Peaks finally decided that I can no longer show my face at their bar. Their words: "3 upper deckers in one week is just too much. We can't have you coming around here smelling like a dead cat and shitting all over the place."
Day 29: Haven't shaved since day 1. I'm not sure if the beard I have is all mine, or if some of it is that left-over gorilla mask I never washed off. Whatever it is, I still ain't having trouble with the ladies, that's for sure! :)
Day 32: Went to church today, but they kicked me out when I attempted to fart the alphabet in the confession booth.
Day 37: After 8 shots of whiskey, I decided that Rico was pissing me off, so I uppercutted the broad he was sleeping with. We took it outside and he bashed me over the head with a garbage can until I lost consciousness.
Day 41: Finally got enough money from betting on horse races to spend a couple of nights in a motel. Family doesn't know where I am anymore. Hell, I don't even know where I am anymore! ;)
Day 46: Wendy gave me the crabs. Instead of washing it off, I decided it was the perfect time to get back at Rico for pissing me off that one time. Even though we made up a few nights later and I bought him some drinks, I was really just blitzed out of my mind and didn't know what I was doing. I still don't like the fruitcake, so I'll just bang his broad and see what he thinks of me :)
Day 50: Job interview went real well. I told the guy I was a really hard worker and that I care a lot about being the best bagger I can possibly be. That I was so good that I'd bag the shit out of those groceries and that I'd out-bag any motherfucker that thought they could step to me. Unfortunately he didn't like my lingo, but he loved the enthusiasm. I think I might get the job!
Things That Suck Vol. 9: Failed Suicide
Part 2: Burt Reynolds and Me He saved my life.
A-list actor Burt Reynolds once said, "The best way not to fail again is to be absolutely positive that when you do it this time, you're going to do it right". Shortly after that statement, Reynolds was arrested for DUI.
That's how I measure success.
A year and a half ago, as I swam towards the river styx, I realized I was wearing a life vest. As soon as I took it off, I woke up in a police precinct. And, like Reynolds, I was handcuffed and covered in urine.
I was disappointed. I had let Burt down. When the cops found me that night, I was passed out at my job holding a bottle of vodka. There was Tylenol everywhere and a note that read, "hahahaha, now you've done it!"
After setting bail, I came back to work that Monday on suicide watch.
From that moment on, I vowed to never fail again. But, it was 9:05am and I had to work.
But, Friday would be different. I thought to myself, "after a 40 hr work week, I shall show them...again!"
I never did.
But I'm still thinking about it.
Anyway, the point is, the only good suicide is the successful suicide.
I mean, really, who wants to live with this much pain:
Who am I kidding, life isn't that bad.
To be honest, I only tried suicide because I thought it'd be easy. But, like college, and as with anything in life, it's always good to leave when things get tough. So, I think I'll go on living for a few more years and see how it goes. And, like college, maybe I'll be back, maybe I won't.
But, one thing is for sure, I'll never be back.
Things That Suck Vol. 9: Failed Suicide I need help doing this.
Part 1: Failure As An Option
I'm Rob. And, I've spent the last year and a half trying to kill myself. Really.Why? Because, I thought I'd be good at it. I mean, how hard can it be? Right? Get to the top floor of a building...jump off. get to a bridge...jump off, get to a train platform, wait for the train, and...you guessed it, jump off. But, as it turns out, suicide is not as easy as it looks. There are so many nuances that go into it. For example, what method do I go with? Sure, I can safely "jump off" anything that is relatively high, land on concrete or water, or even splat on a train window... but do I leave a suicide note or a manifesto? And, what if I survive? Would I be forced to rewrite it? Being a delinquent proofreader, this scares me. You know what else scares me? Heights, water, and trains. So, all of those methods are dead to me. I could, instead, hang myself. But, that's not something I can do alone. Who's gonna tie my hands behind my back? God? I think knot. Besides, I live in an apartment. The only place I could possibly hang myself is on the shower curtain rod. And, once it breaks, my mom will yell at me. She'd even go as far as killing me herself. But, as I constantly remind myself, homicide ≠ suicide. I mean, I admit, it'd be a lot easier to just let someone else (like some friends) do it, but what would that accomplish? Nothing. Sure, I'd be dead. But, it wouldn't be by my own hands. So, I'd be a failure. I'm not saying that I'm not one already. But, I refuse to let anyone else in on it. If I'm going to fail, it's going to be on my own.
In January of 2008, Kyle and Rob set out on a journey to become the greatest comedic writers of all-time (in their own minds). Needless to say, they didn't fail. They joked about gays. They joked about abortion. They had a jolly old time. Then all of a sudden....
Did he die? Did he find a place in the woods to jerk off quietly, and thought "aw, what the hell, I might as well live here"? Or did he just decide to stop writing on Suicidal Optimist?
If you see this man, call the police. Give them this photo and say that he stole all your underwear and ejaculated on your dead dogs corpse.
Things That Rule Vol. 4: Being Useless
The idea of being 'useful' doesn't appeal to me, atleast not by societal standards. Because societal standards demand that I have a job, and that's the biggest way to be 'useful' in this culture. It's as if I'm only useful if I'm part of the circulation of money. I'm only useful if I consume or if I lend a helping hand in consumption. Doesn't this strike you as being obnoxious?
So my goal is to be the least useful person that I can be.
A wise man (Maddox) once said, 'for every animal you don't eat, I'm going to eat three' in his tirade against vegetarianism (http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=sponsor). Well I have a very similar philosophy.
For every job that you have, I'll have three shots of whiskey and pass out on my couch watching Rocko's Modern Life.