The Randomist

I’m going to be completely honest here, as the truth will surface eventually, or on the first date if you supply me with enough alcohol (When I drink, I tend to tell stories that are hilarious to me, but may make others that don’t know me so well feel a little awkward). I’m 23 years old. I’m unemployed. I moved back in with my parents over a year ago and the prospect of me moving back out is a dim glimmer on the horizon of my rent-free life. I live at home with my disabled mother, idiotic and often ill-tempered step-father, and a fickle beast of a cat. I am going to school for something I only have a vague interest in so that I can graduate in two years and start making decent money right off the bat… I honestly have very little interest in giving pregnant women ultrasounds, especially when many of them are done internally and resemble acts of lesbian love. I am not skinny. Given today’s standards, I am what you would call “average”. Were I to grow another six inches, I would be ...

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. What the FUCK is that NOISE?!? Oh wait, that’s right. That’s just my BIOLOGICAL CLOCK TICKING! (Side note: why does no one ever say its tocking?) But seriously. How can this be happening? I’m only TWENTY THREE!!!! There are a multitude of reasons why this shouldn’t be happening to me right now. I’m not even going to try to list them all at this point except the most obvious, which is… I’m poor. No, seriously. I really am. I’m still like a small child… that smokes, drinks, and cusses like a sailor, but the point is… As mature as I am, I am still WAY too immature to procreate right now. I can’t even afford myself the majority of the time, so what the hell would I do with an extra human lying around? Unlike me, the baby could not subsist on cigarettes, Coke, and Velveeta shells and cheese for long periods of time. They need new clothes every five and half minutes because they either A.) Soil themselves in some fashion or B.) Have grown a...

Now, don’t get me wrong, I had many fun and memorable moments at the place I used to work; a place which may or may not sell various tractor components as well as a wide array of interesting things for those who partake in the rural lifestyle. Just today, I threw a book at an elderly gentleman as he was exiting the store, which had closed an hour before due to it being New Year’s Eve. I would not have thrown my delightful non-fiction comedy at this man if he hadn’t moved with the mental speed of a stoned turtle. The doors were closed… and turned off… but not locked. Ok, question time here folks, if you walk up to a retail store and the AUTOMATIC doors don’t open, what would you do? I, personally, would walk away, but does anyone here do that? NO! They pull the doors open and walk in. “Sir!”, “We’re closed!” I say. Elderly gentleman followed by wife proceeds into the checkout area. Wife, “Oh, you’re closed?” No shit Sherlock! “Yes ma’am, we’re closed, we closed at four to...

Come Undone by Jackson Waters There are ways that I've been fallin' There are times that I've been so weak There are moments, I hear redemption call them But I'm too far down to speak So come sweet fire of mercy, cover up my skin Warm me like the sun, won't you let me in To come, come undone To come, come undone There are scars that I've been hiding There are ghosts that I do not name There are closets i do not care to open But they open all the same So come sweet fire of mercy, cover up my skin Warm me like the sun, won't you let me in To come, come undone To come, come undone

I have these lines on my hands; tons and tons of little lines all over my palms. I like to think that they’re “experience”. Sometimes, like today, I think they’re cracks. You can’t see them unless I show them to you; unless you’re looking for them. You can’t see them if you don’t get close enough. But they’re there. I have all of these scars on my arms. Only one or two that were put there intentionally. They were put there by animals, mostly. The things I loved unconditionally that hurt me; left their mark on me. A few came from things I was careless with. I was thinking about these things because I was staring at my hands today, wondering what they were capable of. What could these two hands do? They’ve made art, they’ve made music, they’ve made love, and they’ve caused pain… but could they really hurt something? Could they take a life? Could they destroy a life? Could they be used to cause irrevocable damage to a person or their mind? I’m not sure. I am sure that I have wa...

*The photo in reference is the photo currently sitting just to the left, my default picture.* Hi folks. I had one of my lovely readers post a comment in regards to my not so photogenic qualities. I decided against approving it, and went for a more courageous approach. I made it into a blog. I think that me and good ‘ole Howard could become fast friends. I think I might already be half in love with him, and half out as well, let’s see which side gains over time, shall we? I had contemplated not posting this at all, as I have a team of vicious midgets, other wise known as my bestests, who may very well launch a search party and maim or possibly kill poor Howard. But as I said, I kind of love him right now. You can make up your own minds about Mr. Heretic though. Here’s your 15 of fame my love, enjoy it. And oh yes… spell check. It is your best friend. Heather Heartless Oh what a joy your cynical take on life appears. I (you?) was hilarious … well soughtr (sort) of. Male readers (the...

Consternation. Dictionary.com defines that as “A state of paralyzing dismay”. So, I will today write about things that consternate me, perhaps even discombobulate me as well. First things first, it being Super Bowl time, I’ve been paying careful attention to all commercials. Tampons. I know that this joke is an old one, but I still feel it’s a problem that needs to be addressed. The tampons of old would apparently enable you to ride horses, participate in complicated water sports, and various other activities. But today’s tampons are super cool. With these I could be the next Mary Lou Retton. Or Mia Hamm. Maybe even Anna Kournikova. All because I use the new Sport Tampon. Uh huh. Who would have thought that what amounts to a cotton ball on a string could bring you such joy? And has anyone noticed that they all end with an X? Kotex… Playtex…Tampax? (With the exception of O.B. because frankly, that’s not really a tampon… it’s an ear plug). Is there some special ingredient or f...