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November 30, 2007

Halfasleep Baloneyshoulders, Dangerous Semi-Naked Breaking and Entering Garage Picnics & BBQ the BBC (Big Brown Caddy)

Slept over at an old friends house last night. His couch was crusty as ever with nacho dust and chili stains and a few cat turds. I wandered into the kitchen in the middle of the night and ate a pile of meat ten inches high. I put some of the sliced ham on my shoulders because it felt cool and would look really great if my friend were to wander into the kitchen. Always fuck with the half asleep. I'm such a good person I plan out surprises even if they never happen. Ham shoulders.

Speaking of half asleep. The best nickname I ever gave anyone was to this kid in high school whose eyes were always puffy. I called him Halfasleep Ashby. It's not that it's that funny or anything, its more that the word Halfasleep is really pleasant to say. It's soothing. Say it over and over. Name your kid Halfasleep. No charge.

Back to my day, later, some rockstar friends of mine invited me to an awards show. I was thinking it would be some big deal like the Grammys or something but instead it was the neighborhood music awards. They have been out of the limelight for a little while but this shit was super low budget, like in a school cafeteria, even the local bands didn't show up so when my famous friends showed up everyone began whispering as if it was sad that they showed up. It was pretty awkward. Of course I told a bunch of jokes to make light of the situation. What? Merkley??? saves the day AGAIN? Ya don't say.

After my stellar performance at the awards show I walked around the neighborhood with five or six cute girls and we all dared each other to walk into random homes and backyards and just set up camp all picnic style -- the girls were of course in various states of undress because you know, breaking and entering is always forgiven if you're a hot naked woman. That was the whole point. However I will warn you, if you are having a breaking and entering picnic in someone's garage with 5 or 6 naked girls, still stay alert because a garage is still a garage and if you are getting a hand job underneath the automatic garage door and some girl accidentally presses the remote door dealie with her boob you still stand an outside chance of accidental decapitation. STAY ALERT PEOPLE! YOU CAN'T SUE IF YOU'RE DEAD AND PANTSLESS.

Speaking of back yard barbeques, that evening I heroed out the situation yet again by bringing yet another huge pile of meat along with a billion bags of picnic supplies and I was able to get it all out of the big brown Cadillac with only two hands. Too bad I parked the caddy too close to the BBQ and it caught fire. Well not really too bad, everyone enjoyed watching it explode. Explosions are crowd pleasers for sure. Plus the heat is good for meat cookery.

Now Jeniluv:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to pull off ham shoulders with baloney even though Baloneyshoulders sounds almost as pretty as Halfasleep.
Your First String Grill Master,
Fat Black Guy With Apron & Tongs

Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

hamsholders are tasty!


Anonymous Give my luv to Jeni is a gaywad.

Nearly half asleep as I am, I reckon meat in the grotty mans house is not such a good idea, not like having you fed straight to me via RSS, makes checking the mail sexy and sleepy, and your friends oughta suck your cock for all the social lubricating you give them, i know I would, after blowing your mind with the glory of nature, and how I swim through rockpools as if i were water, and then we'd eat tasty curry and watch the pretty people who flock here because it's paradise.


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November 29, 2007

Willi Wanka Helicopter Garbage Toss, Welcome to Labia Land & My Fat Mormon Pervert Lawyer Ex-Pal Solidifies His Ex Status

I took a long helicopter ride yesterday to see all the oddities up near Provo Canyon. Below all the people on the beach were waving at me and throwing things at the helicopter. I reached out and caught some of the garbage they were throwing. I caught a toaster, a shoe and a bowl made out of candy. I couldn't tell if people were happy or angry. People have very strong feelings about people in helicopters. My favorite part of the ride was the close up view of the mountain side -- turns out the entire mountain is made out of shoes. Willi Wonka certainly had a hand in all that business. Why else would the whole world be so billowey and tent like? Kinda hippie if you ask me.

Later on I was telling a really huge boobed/assed pretty girl I know that she had an absolutely beautiful face which she took to mean that I was calling her fat so she decided to punish me by taking off all of her clothes and smothering me with her puffy vagina and gigantic boobs. I pretended to be annoyed but she smelled really good and who really hates slippery jiggly things? I mean as long as you don't have to walk on it, right? Although walking on a big sheet of labia skin might be kinda fun -- I'd probably want to run and slide on it like one of those yellow plastic water slide deals. If I ran the world, sidewalks would be made out of labia skin and everyone would walk to work. See? I just saved the world AGAIN.

Later on at the awards banquet, my best friend from high school who is now super fat, super mormon and super litigious got kicked out for slapping the asses of the waitresses. I'm telling you, Mormons are fuckin pervs man.

I got my hair permed all afro style because I am a clown.

Now Robyn:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught robbing the black man of his soul and putting it on your head as a joke.
Your Most Recent Excuse To Kill Your Kids,
Post Party Depression

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November 28, 2007

Showin Off My Moped Skills To The Ladies, Dr. Merkley??? Gives Angelo His Shots By The Hipster Cookie Shop & A Special News Report From The Ghetto

I took the old moped out for a long ride up and over the summit of Pot Hole Mountain and boy were the pot holes ever HUGE, bigger than my moped even. People were trying to run me off the road as usual, because I was on a moped and all... totally acceptable. I pulled over to the side of the road to show a cute girl how easy my moped was to kick start. I'm really good at impressing the ladies.

When I got to Utah I quickly reported to the band house to give Angelo Moore his shots. He had the whole needle kit with him with all of his various medicines and antidotes. He was nervous about getting the shots and I was nervous to give them to him because needles freak me out, but I pretended to be in complete control and totally confident because thats what we doctors do in the face of catastrophic shot givery.

My dad's neighborhood has definitely become the hip spot to live in Utah, I totally predicted that shit when I bought him his house there. I went to the local cookie shop on the corner (cookies are HUGE in Utah) and saw every Utah hipster I ever knew including my main competitor when I was in the concert biz. He looked as shady as ever hovering over his chocolate chip cookie like everyone was trying to steal it. What a douche.

I let some sexy lady girl take my moped for a ride and she drove it in and out of shops and everyone was mad at me because I'm the one who let her ride it. Mostly they were mad because a sexy lady girl was paying attention to me instead of them. Plus I was funny and they were uptight.

Since she was having so much fun on my moped I took a cab back to SF and asked the dude to drop me off at my favorite taqueria, I had only been gone for like less than a day but I didn't recognize the neighborhood at all. Talk about sketchy, I got out of the cab and he made me hand him the money like we were doing a drug deal. i pretty sure he ripped me off five bucks. I walked around acting all confident like I was on crack and had a gun in my pocket, you know, to blend in -- but holy fuck, Crimesville USA, I just wanted to get the fuck out of that shithole so I got on the electric bus and drove through the black people mall. Yeah, I said BLACK PEOPLE and yes the neighborhood was SHIT --- NEWSFLASH - BLACK PEOPLE LIVE IN SHITTY NEIGHBORHOODS! OMG!! CUTTING EDGE REPORTING HERE.

Also, girls are crappy at riding motorcycles.

Now Raina:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught Injecting Skankers with Skank Juice,
Your Least of Your Worries,
Britney Spears' Brand New Fetus

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November 27, 2007

30 Years of Missing Gay Packed Into One Evening in Vegas, Fruit Striped Sinking Zambonis & The Reign of Fake Rolex Beard

I went to Las Vegas to visit a an old friend of mine who came out of the closet when he was 30. I suppose staying in the closet so long is why he never learned how to be a fashion homo. He was dressed as a raver circa 1995 which would be cool if he was intentionally going for that look but I think he was just doing his best to look gay and current, gay he looked, current he did not. He had big baggy rave pants and curly pink hair. I think I may have even spotted a glow stick in his pocket -- and that's a rave joke, not a homo joke. More in the overcorrection due to lost time department, he has amassed quite a gigantic shoe collection all properly displayed in tiny square box shelves in many rooms -- thousands of pairs of shoes and I could hardly find a pair I would rock.

There were some pointy denim cowboy boots I had my eye on. Yeah, gay.

Also he took forever getting ready, he tried on at least 50 outfits. I mean come on, that's TOO gay.

In the basement he had a big fire pit with a foot operated bellow system to really get the flames going -- foot operated probably to show off his shoes, bellow because something about flamer this or flamer that -- you make the joke.

When we went to the ice rink (super size the gay please), I had fun watching the Zambonis sink into the ice. they didn't have their shit together. i went out on the ice to get in the way and I pulled up huge sheets of ice to see what the trouble was -- I spotted the trouble immediately, it seems they were making the ice out of layers of super clear kool-aid -- the whole rink was a giant popsicle swimming pool. Maybe that was all part of the show, I don't know, I didn't read the program.

My beard was super huge yesterday -- like way curly like a pirates beard -- thicker than normal, curly nearly to the point of seeming dreadlocky - I put a bunch of my fake rolexes in my beard to take advantage of it's new super grippyness -- who else rocks a beard full of fake rolexes? Answer, nobody -- I am super original, which is why the girls and gays love the fuck out of me and don't you forget it young lady.

Now PStarr:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught licking the delicious fruit stripey flavored ice rink.
Your Favorite Dude Who Sounds Like a Frozen Treat and Has a Job To Match,
Frank J. Zamboni

Anonymous little southern fag hag is a gaywad.

You are SUPER original which is why I can't forget you and walk around wondering if anyone can spot my Merkley habit. Luckily for me Jobsie's new big cat has a RSS reader built into mail so I can see at a glance if you've been dreaming. It saves me sneaking a peak at ??? and feeling like a stalker if it's empty. You can read the rave and see the pic right in Mail, but have to go to the blog to comment. Which makes it easy to tell that I can't resist telling a man with watches in his beard that he rocks my ingẽnue, and would love the fuck of him.


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November 26, 2007

House Hunting In The City of The River Peru, Rummaging Through The Wreckage of My Childhood Toilet & Non-Stop Eye Rolling The Vacuum Dude

I went to Peru to check out the famous City of The River. If you have never heard of it, it's exactly as it suggests, an entire city built on a river, or IN a river I guess would be more correct. It's quite a hassle getting there with no roads etc. You literally have to wade upstream, waist deep, against the current to get there which is why half the city is totally abandoned. The houses are big palatial houses with garages built into the natural little wading pools. I checked out as many as I could and finally found one I think I want to buy. It was designed with all sorts of twisty turny rooms and hallways, making the whole thing quite maze like and you all know how much fun I think it is to not be able to find the bathroom when you need to pee. I tried to get information about the owners in order to make an offer on the place but all the maids inside only spoke spanish, which really wouldn't be a problem cuz I understand enough spanish, but they were all pretty shy about saying ANYTHING. Anyway, the place was a castle with the north side being surrounded by lush greenery high up on a hill with a big arching patio from which one could view the falling smoke clouds as they puffed down onto the beautiful beach below and to the west. Up on the cliffs to the east one could see The Cliff Ship People scabbing their ships onto the side of the cliffs.

Back in my old room at my moms house the entire staircase was suffering from some major structural damage, the wood had warped into driftwood looking knots and curls. Great to look at, not so great for egress in an emergency. I installed a new window in my own room complete with a paper towel dispenser. I didn't do a good job installing, I know this because at one point I used gum to hold something in place. Not sure that would be up to code.

The old man that now lives in my old room did a pretty good job cataloging all my old shit. He puled out my old TV style sunglasses and they worked as good as they did back when I was a kid. I snooped around trying to find all the other old treasures I socked away as a kid. The safe was still there but someone filled it up with ammo, no guns, just ammo, kinda pointless if you ask me.

When I went to pee my old toilet was still there and it still didn't have a hole for flushablilty. What a great joke, a toilet with no hole.

The vacuum salesman tried desperately to sell me a new vacuum even though I already have at least ten perfectly good vacuums. My mom was falling for his pitch so I rolled my eyes one billion times so far back into my head that I could see the people in my brain. They were waving.

Now Jessica:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught doing stunt pee where you deflect your pee stream off the curvy porcelain and onto a bystander's leg.
Your Top Notch Favorite Real Estate Agent,
Ricardo Montalban

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November 24, 2007

Legs Caught Up In A Wiggly Building, A PEOPLE Company & The Parable of The Black Foot Indian

I was climbing out of the window of an old building last night trying to make a fast getaway from a bunch of douchebags getting all up in my mug about non-sense. When I got halfway out my legs got stuck behind the radiator leaving me hanging there like a jerk. I tried as hard as I could to pull free, I clutched the curb with my fingers trying to get a grip to create a little leverage but it didn't work because the problem was that the building wasn't anchored to the ground making it so that every time I tugged on my legs the building would move. Made it kinda like trying to take a sock off your foot without touching it. No amount of flailing would work cuz of the stupid wobbly building. Finally an old mexican woman with three cats on a leashes came by and I asked her to hold the building still. She did, and I was on my way to my new company.

What company you might ask. Well it's my new fantastic company that is all about people, you know PEOPLE, it's a people company, lots of people everywhere doin things for all the other people everywhere else, just people doing peopley things which is really the perfect type of company for a guy like me to have because I'm such a people person. I was telling stories about people and demonstrating my over all peopleness and basically being of, by, and for the people. I really feel good about this new company. So good in fact that I gave every single person in the company a glass cube with an exact 1/5th scale likeness of their own head floating inside. The eyes blinked and everything. I love people because I FIT IN.

Later at the company play there was much confusion over the three FEET costumes we ordered. One of the feet was obviously black and nobody remembered ordering a negro foot because we don't even have any black people in the company, not that we purposely didn't hire any black people, I just don't think any black people applied for a job. Anyway, everyone was worried that if they wore the black Foot costume that A) black people would get all pissed and B) Native Americans from the Blackfoot tribe would get their loin cloths in a bunch about it. Naturally I took charge and wore the costume myself only I added a 7-11 name tag just so if anyone asked I could say I'm a Black Foot Indian so that C) Regular indians could get all shrieky about it too.

Anyway, nobody was offended by the costume. People are tougher than you fuckers give them credit for.

BTW I ended that sentence with a preposition because that's the very type of arcane grammar rule up with which I can not put.

Now Cynthia:
Cynthia - Sofa
Cynthia - Sofa

That's all for now.
Don't get caught stealing grammar jokes from your way unfunny junior high school english teacher.
Your Mom's First Boyfriend Who Never Wanted to Make Out.
Richard Simmons

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November 23, 2007

My Bullhorned Felt Recording of Endless Love, Ladder Trouble Down at The Military Art Complex & Cliff Diving With Balloon Like Brazilian Vaginas

A friend came over and I showed him how to make records out of an old wind up plastic Fisher Price record player and scraps of felt taped together. The key is having a bullhorn loud enough to impermeate the felt with your song, that way you can make a jacket out of your favorite tune. I yellsang the song "Endless Love" to demonstrate the process. Everyone except for me was amazed that I could not only do Lionel's part but that I also ruled Diana Ross like she was my bitch. Take THAT Michael J. I also threw an 8-track tape player so high into the air that it came back covered in cloud goop.

A friend took me down to a big artist collective warehouse made from an old military complex rife with indoor helicopters and bombing lookout towers with 7 inch thick green glass windows . I generally hate that kind of place because most art and artists suck and it's no fun biting ones tongue 24/7. Luckily this place was a little different, there were less people "expressing" themselves and more people just plain inventing shit. All the people there actually had a skill to contribute ie, one was a mechanic, one a welder, machinists etc... the point was to actually do good work and make things that actually function. It wasn't so burning man as I thought it would be, thank goodness. Still, what gives with arty people and their stupid dreadlocks? Fuck your stupid dreads. You look idiotic, not to mention stinky.

I wandered up to the roof and started monkeying around with the old fire truck ladders. I raised on ladder hundreds of feet into the air then lowered it onlt the freeway where a truck smashed into it vaulting it into the air CHiPs style. I turned the other way and pretended nothing happened, I don't think anyone died or anything so whatever right? Besides, if the truck hadn't had so much duct tape hanging off the side it probably would have never gotten tangled up with my ladder/slide deal anyway.

Later on I took a walk along the rocky shore all the way out to the ancient bridge built to access hunters point. Man, they certainly did give the negroes a crappy rock to live on, and the constant beating of the waves along with all the hurricanes make it almost laughably insulting. There were a hand full og black dudes trying to keep the old stone bridge together using a mixture of potting soil and grease clay.

"Um, it'd probably be better if you used some cement or plaster or anything else that would actually HARDEN" I mentioned to one of the dumbfucks hard at work.

"This is the way we have always repaired the bridge" He muttered back.

"And how effective has it been?"

"We be fixin this shit non-stop."

"Ahhh tradition. You go ladies!"

Later I went cliff diving with a bunch of Brazillians who had vaginas that fluttered in the wind. I liked the gentle fluttery sound they made as they jumped, a little like big balloon with all the air coming out of one end. Then I thought about the air coming out and it wasn't as cool.

Now Parker:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to touch the fluttering balloon vagina with your big toe on the sly.
Your Favorite Type of Road For Poor People,
Sharp, Jagged & Dangerous as Fuck

Anonymous Jethro Piggins is a gaywad.

I really wanted to buy your book,but I spent all my cash fixing that fucking bridge and buying staplers for the Brazilian bitches so they could peg those lips to a leg for more wind resistance.


Anonymous Fantasy Fiesta is a gaywad.

I already dibbsed my copy. I'm hoping hard that Parker and Rachel will in it. And that one of the indomidable Carrie! ...What is it with Rachel's white lady V?
Glad you know mechanics are artists. I'm gunna learn how to weld, then angle grind all the rust outa my truck. I will hold an opening night for it, say in a years time, and invite you along. If you hang around after you might even get to meet a spunky dreadista, there certainly are a few around here.
Your bridge repair sounds political. I helped our Australian Greens today in the election, and for once it looks like we wont have to continue bowing our heads at the shame of Johnny licking Georges arse. ....I'm off to celebrate just in case.
I think you need to face your fears around vag breezes. As long as they are healthy it should be a beautiful thing, no?


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November 22, 2007

Pansy Ass Eyelids in The Taxi Hearse, REALLY LONG Basement Furniture & Punching Like Stephen Hawking in a Giant Bag of Snot

I pulled over my yellow Taxi Hearse because I was feeling really sleepy and thought that if I gave it a buff and a shine I might wake up a little. I went back to the back and slid out the coffin, opened it up and began dusting off all my old photo equipment inside but I was just too tired, no matter what I did my eyes were just too heavy, completely impossible to keep open. It felt as if there were cartoon fingers and glue forcing my eyes shut, I mean it's not as if eyelid muscles are anything I have ever been conscious of ever before but at that moment I was really regretting my laziness having never even attempted to work them out even once. I don't know about you but I'm gonna join the eyelid gym and get big muscley eyelids so that next time this sort of thing happens I don't fee like such a pussy.

Once I lost the eyelid battle I could feel the suction of the rushing traffic pulling my body into the street. Not wanting to become a smudge of grease on the freeway, I had the brilliant Idea to wedge my leg into the tailgate. I cut the fuck out of my leg but at least I wasn't smashed by a truck.

I got a funny hair up my bum to move down into the basement to maybe inspire me to fix it up so it's not just a dusty dungeon. To get some tips on how to go about the construction I decided to mosey through the tunnels that connect my basement with the neighbors basements. That was a mistake because all the neighbors basements were so nice it made it perfectly clear just how much work I had in front of me. The neighbor three doors down was having a sale of super super long furniture. There was a particular 30 foot long sofa that I really wanted but there wasn't really anyway to move it out of there without sawing it into pieces. They really weren't demonstrating much forethought when they built those things without anyway to get them out. Guess that's why the prices were so low. Basically all the other basements were filled with super valuable collectibles. My basement was filled with dirt and bugs. Whatever, I'll move back upstairs.

Later on the street some dumb bitch came up to me an purposely ripped off all my pockets. At first I thought she was gonna laugh or something and reveal some bigger point. Like was this some kind of joke? Some big metaphor or something? I waited but soon realized she was just being a pocket ripping cunt and it infuriated me so I punched the crap out of her, or at least I TRIED, bitch had some sort of special power force field around her that slowed my punches to about one second per minute. I may as well have been Stephen Hawking submerged in a giant bag of cold honey for how slow and weak I was punching.

She was a perfectly good example of someone using their powers for evil instead of good. Who goes around ripping off pockets? She looked like a homeless Oprah only prettier. Her boobs were sticky like snot.

Now Rachel:

That's all for now,
Don't get caught sitting at the dinner table calling the mashed potatoes "fresh liposuction ---- YUM!".
Your Favorite Parade Float.
Giant Wrinkled Balls

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November 20, 2007

The Clapping Vagina Booth, Dad Shows His Six Pack in a Soaked Suit & Short Girl With Spina Bifida Kicking Out Some Mad Moves Running Man Steeze

I went to the nerd convention down at the Crane & Swinging Cable Stadium. As usual, the dorks were in full force selling their gadgets and games in a post apocalyptic nerd circus. Apple had a pretty unorthodox set up involving some bare assed strippers clapping their vaginas in the faces of potential customers. I don't care what anybody says, vagina clapping is interesting and cool. Black ladies invented it you know, or maybe it was Snoop Dogg, anyway, point is, black people have some cool ideas when they apply themselves.

Earlier in the evening they were showing clips from some crappy old Mike Douglas movie that was never finished due to the race riots, anyway the nerds thought it would be a great idea to write the ending to the movie and complete the thing theater style on stage in the stadium while selling hard drives or some shit. It was boring as hell.

My dad showed up in a sopping wet semi transparent light blue suit and he was chuckling under his breath about how much better he'd have been in the role of the judge.

"Just go up there dad, half them nerds are improving anyway, they'd be grateful for the save."

"Psssssht, can you imagine? Gah!" my dad guffawed.

I noticed he must have been working out because he had a total six pack.

Why the fuck does my dad have a six pack?

"Dad, why do you have a six pack?"

"I don't have a six pack, why, are you thirsty?"

How does this reflect on me? Should I be concerned?

Anyway the whole nerd world tried to ssshhhh me and my dad but ssshhhhhable merkleys are NOT.

Eventually I left my dad arguing with an old woman about a vending machine and I made my way outside to snack on the crispy, peppery watercress growing in the pond by the freeway as I dodged all the falling cranes and swinging cables that gave the stadium it's name. So crunchy, so peppery, too bad I didn't have any Ranch.

Later on I hung out with a short girl with spina bifida who was really pretty good at doing the running man, I took her picture and immediately decided it was the best picture I had ever taken. It also had the best title of all time: Short Girl With Spina Bifida Kicking Out Some Mad Moves Running Man Steeze". But I guess you already read that now didn't you?

I'd show you the photo but it's too good to be shown on the internet. You'll hafta come over.


Now Erika:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught accentuating the BIFF part of spina BIFFida too much.
Your Annoying bad Habit,
Chewing Gum All Over The Fuckin House

Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

Since reading this I've been trying to learn how to do the vagina clap. Trying really hard doesn't work at all... from memory the closest I've come is while having a great big orgasm.
Your dad's six pack is a good sign for you. He gave you your genes, and must be a generous fella to offer beer as well.
I'd love to come over and see the pic of your biffy gal, but I'm all booked up for the next couple o months. Why don't you bring it when you visit?


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Drunk Sleep Driving, The BART Station Call For My Mayoral Candidacy & An Afternoon With My Best Friend Ellen DeGeneres

I woke up drunk out of my brain behind the wheel of what must have been a stolen station wagon, I don't remember even getting into it, but anyway, that's what happens I guess. I was barreling towards the Bay bridge just trying to keep my eyes open, luckily, every time I'd scrape into the guard rail or hit a construction worker the noise would wake me up, lucky me for them or I would have been SCREWED.

Instead of trying to pass through the toll booth I decided it would be best to convince the toll booth operator that even though she had not been informed, her toll booth was now a parking space and she needed to keep an eye on my car while I ran a few errands. Wasted as I was, parking that huge boat was a BITCH. I punctuated my show with a long pee in the cash register. The toll booth operator smiled then called the cops but when they got there I told a bunch of jokes and did a few robot moves and they high fived my for my radness.

"Merkley, you one funny muthafucka" the white cop said trying to sound like the black cop."

"Ok" I said, talking to the black cop while pointing at the white cop, "Now you do him!"

Now you see why they let me go. I'm hilarious. Who could hate me.

Anyway, pardon the pun but, I'm not the type that usually "blacks" out when I drink so it became my mission to remember what had transpired earlier in the evening. I remembered making some drinks out of wood shavings and sugar, I had developed a super fast fermentation technique that I wish I could remember. You haven't lived till you have tasted cedar and honey. Two of my former band mates were there basically annoying the shit out of me, that's probably why I drank so much. Hopefully the station wagon belonged to one of them. Holy shit they were boring. I think.

Oh yeah, earlier in the day I went through the turnstile at a BART station way out in the middle of nowhere, but for some reason every single person who ever thought I was awesome was there calling my name and giving me props.

"I should fucking run for Mayor" I said to one fan.


The whole BART station erupted in applause and I saw Gavin Newsom lower his head and scoot out through a side door. Awe, poor fella.

After I sobered up a bit I cruised over to my friend Ellen DeGeneres' house in the East Bay, she films her show there you know. She was in a big fight with her roommate who is a nice gay man. I don't know what they were fighting about but I told a bunch of jokes and did my best to get them to make up. I was laying there on the floor and Ellen, who had just dyed her hair black, was running her fingers through my hair saying all kinds of funny shit and basically being the best friend a person could ever have. She asked me to return the favor and run my fingers through her hair but her gay roommate was getting really territorial over both of us. He's the one causing the troubles.

Ellen's mom came in the room and removed all her skin. She is very beautiful under all that wrinkled sagginess.

"Why do you even wear all that old skin?" I asked her.

"You can't walk around as an 80 year old woman and expect to be taken seriously without serious sags."

I have to admit she made complete sense. But fuck, she was HAWT. ha ha -- I just said "butt fuck".

After that Ellen showed me one of her many talents by texting me a perfectly written message without even looking at her phone.

"Yeah, I learned how to do this so that when I'm in a boring conversation I can have a completely different conversation in my pocket." she said.

"That's absolute genius" I said. "But how do you understand what people text back?"

"My phone vibrates out the messages in morse code."

"You know morse code?"

"I was in the Navy"

"Oh yeah."

Not only that but Ellen, being funny till the very end, has a funny phone -- HUGE and plasticy, like it was made for a clown. Damn I'm glad she is my best friend.

But yeah, you should go to her house one day and catch the filming of her show. She always has an afternoon afterparty and every one in the audience is invited. You won't regret it.

Now Carrie:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught glamorizing drunk driving and the hypnotism of cops.
Your Favorite Hilarious Drunkard,

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November 19, 2007

Letterman & Regis Deal With The Writers Strike, Boner Feet & Spooging Penis Cartoons on The Tabernacle Ceiling

Took a quick trip to New York cuz all my writer friends are on strike. As much as I like them all and understand their cause and think they should get paid more than the actors etc, you know on account of actors being mostly douchebags, I still wanted to take the opportunity to meet a couple of their bosses cuz I knew they wouldn't have much goin on and I wanted to see how the monkeys managed without with the trainers who were out picketing on broadway.

Letterman's studio was completely empty, they even removed the set and TV show equipment. Save Letterman himself, one fat guy I assume was his best friend and a woman who appeared to be an anchorwoman from a small middle of fuck town It was nothin more than big black empty box. Lacking any kind of script, the camera man was taking liberties to do the art film he never wanted to do in college. There was a blue filter on the lens and he was getting really close up on Letterman's quivering facial features doing quick angular pans between the two as they talked about nothing. Letterman was not on his game, he needs them writers apparently -- otherwise it's straight to workin the merch table for The Blue Man group.

Regis on the other hand was killin it, better than ever, he had the whole crowd eating out of his underpants, like it was the best thing that ever happened to him being cut from loose them shackles cue cards. He punched Kelly Ripa in the balls. Just kidding, But it wouldda been cool. The audience wanted it. Nothin against Kelly Ripa of course.

Outside on the street all the writers were having a garage sale to raise money on account of not working. I bought a pair of socks from a super famous dude whose name I can't remember.

Then I bought another race car and entered in the mountain race. I really know how to drive in the mountains, there ain't a cliff on earth I won't mock with my awesome skills bro. I'm not sure what the whole point of purposely ripping big holes in the pavement is, but it was fucking up my shocks and bruising my brain. Good thing I had a Flinstones hole in the floor and could put my feet down to lift the car over the really bullshit holes.

BTW I can make my feet grow, just like how a wiener turns into a boner, but feet.

Wouldn't it be cool if you could do that with any body part?

I bet the person who wrote Pinocchio was a child molester.

I mean think of Pinocchio giving an upside down blowjob, where would his nose be?


Total homo puppet molester shit.

I drew some really really good cartoons of my brother -- I'd show them to you but they seem to have disappeared. Art thieves probs.

I developed a system to fold any given gigantic piece of paper into a manageable sized book type deal, It's kinda hard to explain the process and also a bit boring but the end result allowed me to fold the entire ceiling of the Mormon Tabernacle into a book about ten times the size of an average dictionary. Of course I flipped through it and vandalized all the paintings by drawing classic spooging penises on everything. People try too hard when it comes to vandalism, the squirting dick is a classic, why fix what ain't broke? Anyway, when I unfolded the ceiling back into place people were pissed. Mormons ain't got no humor bro.

The only person that wasn't totally pissed at me was a big huge fat dude that had apple skin for skin. Like literally his skin wasn't human, it was apple skin, apparently he's the only one, some kind of mutant. It was part red, part green with little white speckles, mostly green, like a green apple with a sunburn. It was very very cool. I wanted to bite him to see if he was crunchy because although he was shaped like a blubbery fat guy, he seemed solid and crisp like an apple. Anyway, I didn't bite him because of something called ummm -- courtesy? DUH!

Thinking of apples makes me thirsty.

Now Haley:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught speaking in Regis voice to the dogs.
Your Second Favorite Graffiti Doodle,
Spread Eagle Vagina

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November 17, 2007

Boner Etiquette at The Nudist Colony, Something I Call Presentment & A Handy Bag of Moldy Donuts

I visited a nudist colony yesterday, not on purpose, I was with someone else who knew one of the top nakeds. Like most nudist colonies, most of the patrons were not exactly eye candy, more like eye jerky or eye sack of wet toilet paper, anyway, everyone was awfully friendly. I hung out in the kitchen and remained fully dressed despite all the gentle nudging to get me out of my suit.

Standing by the sink was a kid, well, maybe not a kid, he was short anyway, I think he had that disease that kids get that makes them look old, I seem to run into a lot of those, anyway, he had bright orange hair, was slightly balding and he was oogling a naked 13 year old girl in the other room wondering how he could get her attention.

"Hey, you think I should show that girl my boner?" he asked.

"Uh, maybe not, I don't think girls are really interested in boners unless they are attached to someone they already like, even then, I'm not sure they like being surprised." I said.

"Yeah but this is a nudist colony." he said.

"Hmmmm, why did I always think that boners were kinda bad game at the nude camp?"

"I'm gonna show her my boner." He said as he scooted up against the wall so that only his boner was poked out beyond the edge. He climbed up on a chair which made the floating boner appear to be attached to a 7 foot tall man. "Is she looking? Is she looking?"

"Uh yeah, and she just rolled her eyes dude, I told you it wouldn't work."

My friend completed whatever business he had so we decided to leave. When we went outside I realized I had left my bag with all my expensive photo and video gear just sitting on the curb. I was mortified that it could have been stolen. I had the urge to blame my friend but he had nothing to do with it so I just quietly resented him to make myself feel better. I threw my bag on top of the van and ran back into the house to make sure I didn't leave anything else behind. When I returned my friend was talking to a naked old woman who was pointing her long boney finger into his chest.

"Where did you park the van?" I asked.

"Oh shit, it was right there a second ago."

"You left the keys in it?"


My resentment found it's worthy target, I musta been pre-resenting or presenting or presentmenting fine, you make up the word.

We took off running down the street, every time I'd reach an intersection I'd see the van turning the next corner. I'm a fast runner. WAY FAST.

But not fast enough, I didn't find my stuff.

But I did have sex with a russian girl. So there's that. I think she knew the dude who stole the van.


Her vagina was scratchy.

Later on I found a bag of moldy donuts and I threw them at people riding weird bikes.

Now Nicole:

Nicole - Sofa
Nicole - Sofa


That's all for now.
Don't get caught calling a bike "weird" just because the wheels are made out of sausage.
Your Favorite Part About Surprise Boners,
Silly String

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November 11, 2007

111??? - The Infomercial

"Hey merkley???, What is todays date?


"What time is it?"


"I heard you're making a book of a bunch of your lady friends naked with their favorite shoes on sofas, just how many nude lady pals are in it?"


"When is it coming out?"


"You mean January 11th right? Where is the release party gonna be?

"111 minna gallery."

"What time?"


"Word is that you decided to publish the book yourself because you don't know how to read contracts and are afraid of book stores and libraries and getting porked by book business buttholes and that you'd instead rather print a super duper limited edition of them on your own so that you can make them big and heavy (11x14, 222 thick pages) and sign and number them like rare and collectable pieces of art that will most likely sell out lickety split and then you can wipe your hands of the whole deal and move forward into the sunrise while leaving your nice customers with a purchase that will certainly only grow in value from day one and within a few months each copy will be worth a million bucks OR MORE. Just how rare will they be? Exactly how many copies are you making?


"Wow, that's rare indeed. When you discount the 111 copies given to the 111 women in the book, and the free ones you'll probably hand out to cripples and political figures there will be less than 1000 for sale. That ain't SHIT, that's less than 10 copies per naked girl in the book. That'll barely covers each woman's uncles and myspace stalkers. You must be some kind of fucking SAINT. How much will each one cost?"


"That's INSANE, cruddy coffee table books at Burns and Nobble cost more that that and they aren't even SIGNED and NUMBERED MAN! What are you gonna call the book?


"Well shit damn hell, we better hurry up and make our orders pre-release style or we're gonna be sorry, how can we do that?"

"Click this paypal button."

"Great. I did it. When do I get my book, ummm I mean "valuable piece of art?"

"Orders will be shipped on 1-11-08"

"Oh yeah, who is on the cover?"

Jenny - Sofa

"Is that photoshopped in cat gonna be on the cover too?"


"May we see some more photos from the book?"

"Sure, Here's 11 more even though you can just see them in the "111???" set on my flickr."

Caitlin - Sofa


Eva - Sofa



Domini Sofa

Bryn Sofa



Sylvia Sofa





Vanessa C. - Sofa

Marina - Sofa




That's all for now.
Don't get caught pretending to be interviewed by your dog.
Your 111th Favorite Numerologist,
Miss Cleo

Anonymous shotbart is a gaywad.

Hey... nobody yet commented on this stunning news in Merkley history?!?!

Congrats, my friend... I only hope this is just the beginning... ;)


Blogger TK Kerouac is a gaywad.

These photos are very unique and its not just the nudity that is interesting to look at. love that there are domestic animals in many of the shots.
Can I post some on finderskeepers

And, I'm coming to LA in January
Can you take one of these shots of me?

P.S. Don't tell Raymi this time ok?


Blogger Jenny is a gaywad.

thats awesome. i wish i had the money to buy one


Blogger Richard is a gaywad.



Anonymous cassiefoeboe is a gaywad.

111,11 U$ on it's way from Holland (-;


Blogger kalipornia is a gaywad.

wtf? after kwristmakkah???


Blogger remy is a gaywad.

gorgeous! just ordered a copy.

thank jon solo. i caught his post about it.

the photos remind me a bit of:


Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

Mine arrived today, all the way to the UK and in perfect condition (apart from some gold scribble on the inside cover which said Mxcaeray 451/1111 or some such numerology junk).

The printing is fantastic - great quality. Good choices.

When will a book including some Sky Cam pics and some of your frozen-in-action shots with very-wordy-and-off-the-wall-eating-Fritos-and-contemplating-Herodiclus-type comments in it come out ? Ha - that's not intelligible, either :-) Put me down for the first copy :-)

(My mum will think it's p*rn, not art).

- DJK !


Blogger merkley??? is a gaywad.

that "Mxcaeray" is my signature ASSHOLE:) and you have book 451 of 1111 - like you didn't know.

anyway , glad it arrived in tact -- the UK and Canada have the SLOWEST of all international mail services (netherlands and australia are fastest) i was beginning to worry that the UK orders would end up at the bottom of the sea.

You can expect a new book every 1.5 years or so grouped in to the various themes you mentioned-- so far my publishing experience has been very well worth the effort.

thanks for being the first UK responder.


Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

Hey Merkley, any books left? can i still get one?


Blogger merkley??? is a gaywad.

YES -- there are still books available -- i will change this blog entry when they are sold out.


Anonymous AST is a gaywad.

Love your blog and your mind for that matter!

Your book looks incredible. Now I want one!

Found you on Violet Blue's Blog btw. :)


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Buy The 111??? Book or You'll Be Sorry

You are such a good CLICKER!

Click this one too and you'll be the proud owner of a book full of merkley???'s naked woman pals.

Anonymous brem is a gaywad.

It's about 100$ more than my budget will allow :(


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November 04, 2007

The Unwelcome Roommate, Bad Biking With Butterface & Taxi Cab Confrontations

An old roommate moved back in. I wasn't thrilled. He just showed up and started moving all his shit in. He was crying about some junk so I didn't make a fuss but I was definitely wanting to throw his ass out on the street. I don't need no steenking crybaby roommates.

Anyway, I got rid of him.

I don't need no steenking crybaby roommates.

I went to a party. There was a man there with a gigantic ass and very small pants.

I tattooed a drawing of a mouth on the palm of my hand with a word bubble that says --- yup "talk to the hand". Oh the lengths I go to keep the public happy. You're welcome. Please, sit down.

I took Butterface for a ride on my tricked out Schwinn chopper bicycle. We rode all the way down to Lakeshore Blvd in Lakewood which is close to Long Beach. I was trying to pay very close attention to Butterface because she was just sitting in my lap which isn't very safe and somehow I got distracted and I looked down and she wasn't there which of course sent me into a huge freaked out panic. I turned around my bike and went racing back hoping to find her on the side of the road wagging her tail and waiting for me but much to my horror I spotted her lifeless looking body in the median. Of course I was completely grief stricken and began bawling my eyes out as I picked her up. Luckily she was still breathing. I checked her for broken bones or any noticeable injuries but I couldn't find any. I massaged her and stroked her hair and whispered in her ear that she was gonna be OK and she did her best to lick my hand and give me reassuring nibbles and such. She gradually came to while I cradled her on the long drive home. I think she just konked her head really hard.

She is fine now, not even retarded or anything. No more bike rides for her.

A cab driver passed me up for someone else but I ran and climbed into his cab anyway before the other dude could. He freaked out and tried to get me out of the cab and I told him that if he so much as touched me I would kick the livin shit out of him. He of course refused to drive me home as I yelled at him about how he was just wasting valuable time when he could be making money driving me home. He stopped at the gas station where I got out of his cab and kept challenging him to a fight.

"I want to kick your ass." I said to him with my face three inches from his. "How would you like me to kick your ass? Would you like that you little fucking asshole?"

"I don't want any trouble, just leave me alone."

"You're lucky I'm not kicking your ass right now. You do realize you're lucky right?"

Anyway, I took ten steps to the corner and flagged down a town car. On the way he picked up a crying girl so I got out early and walked the rest of the way home as I drunk dialed the universe.

Now Jesse:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught going nine blocks out of your way in a cab that has no interest in taking you home just to make a point.
Your Local Tough Guy
The Angry Leprechaun

Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

It's awful feeling like you aren't looking after your loved ones. Perhaps you ought to look after your liver a bit instead. Then you won't be such an angry arsehole.


Blogger fo is a gaywad.

someday i hope my purse explodes with dill pickles. in related food news, remember that giant can of generic ravioli we both had in the pantry for times of extreme famine? i realized ours expired like over 2 years ago and i threw it out. but i still wanted to eat a little bit of it just to see.


Anonymous the contrite selkie is a gaywad.

I've decided to look after my own liver and take Merkley??? for what you gives, tough guy and all.
Can't say how much I live the pics and raves without sounding obsessed and worrysome.
Yah for talented Leprechauns!


Blogger murl is a gaywad.

this sounds like it may have actually happened but i dont know that i buy the hand tattoo.


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