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[Private]

Man, I think I might be goin' a li'l' bit crazy.

I didn't have great holidays. Sho', I got some good gifts, but pretty much ever'thin' after my birthday went to shit. Shit in ways I cain't even talk about. Then I ended up openin' the mail this mornin', an' there was this li'l' stuffed hyena with button eyes. I think it was a hyena or some pitbull... dalmatian mix. I dunno. But it came from that red-headed girl.

So I opened it up an' at first I dunno... you do that thing where you prolly are gonna shove it in a closet or somethin'. An' then I looked at it an' into it's button eyes.... an' I took it an' put it in the passenger's seat of my car.

I went to work, an' as usual the old man had a bunch of post Christmas shit he wanted me to do. Nothin' wierd. Like, presents he wanted me to take to diff'rnt people. Expensive stuff to bitches. Shit like that. About midway into the first drive, I start talkin' to the plushy. 'Cause the radio was playin' Christmas rap an' Christmas rap is a step below Christmas metal. It just fucks wit' you head. It was that or sit in the quiet, an' I cain't do that too well.

But then I started talkin' to it about shit that was important to me. People that was important to me an' what I expect out of 'em an' what should be expected of me. What I' done wrong an' what I did good an' things that I don't necessarily talk to nobody about 'cause I just don't feel comfortable about it. Sorta just smiled at me with these stitched in teeth an' just listened, smilin' real big an' didn't argue back.

I stopped at a stoplight an' he fell in the floorboard, an' I took a moment too long after the light turned green to put him back in the seat an' buckle him up. This one car went flyin' by through a red-light, an' if I'd been goin' it woulda hit me. So I told 'im, "Hey man, you' cool. You saved my ass." An' you know, after somebody saves you get this sorta special bond between the two of you. It's a sacred thing. That sorta trust don't come easy.

I figured he wasn't gonna judge me then. So I started tellin' him ever'thin'. Just... fuckin' ever'thin' that ever happened to me ever. Just opened the hell up to this li'l' stitch faced plushy an' said things that I ain't ever said to a livin' person.

When I got done with deliveries, I took him home. I unbuckled the car seat an' took 'im in all careful like, brushed any dirt he got on' 'im from fallin' down off. I took 'im to the hallway closet an' I stuck 'im in the back corner, an' put smaller boxes all around 'im. It's 'cause those li'l' button eyes seemed more judgmental than it had been when I got it, an' that warm grin seemed kinda forced an' grudgin' like it was just there to keep me from noticin' it wasn't pleased with me.

So I put 'im away. Just like I do with ever'body else I let get that close.

[/Private]

Thanks y'all for the gifts. I appreciate 'em. 'Specially you, Orihime. You did a real good job. What did ever'body else get?

Ladies an' gentlemen, I don't know aboutchoo, but what I saw last night was a motherfuckin' MIRACLE. You saw that other team. I mean, you saw them. THEY are the people I have heard legends about. Voices whisperin' when they go walkin' by of the amazin' shit they pulled. What we did was an impossibility, but what it did was give me faith that great things can happen.

Sho' somebody might say havin' a black president is what did it. But naw! For real. A bunch o' us dumb niggas that nobody ever gets any credit for won that motherfuckin' game! The fuckin' underdogs. The people nobody ever gets credit of.

We did it. An' I ain't gonna be a dick an' be all "Oh, so an so" did it. Nope. What we did is we went an' said, "We gettin' that motherfuckin' flage. The other team was bankin' that we' all incompetent. What I saw though was not incompetence. I saw a bunch o' motherfuckers bandin' together an' doin' what nobody thought they could do. I saw people that barely knew how to hold a goddamn gun take down the creme de le creme. The elite of the fuckin' crop.

An' it wasn't dumb luck. It was that together, nobody could stop us. We' gonna hate each other later today again, but for a couple o' hours we was fuckin' soldiers. You ain't ever been a soldier? Well that sweet taste of victory yesterday was what it was like. I miss it ever'day an' keeps me in this fuckin' pit.

There's sorta a difference between bein' somebody's friend an' bein' their brother in arms. In a way, it's a sorta intimate relationship. Yeah, this game was fake, but anyone who has really been there knows what I'm talkin' about. When you' in a tent in the fuckin' desert or hidin' in a fucked up buildin' listenin' to the rain pour outside, tryin' to pick out any noise that don't belong an' you got this other guy all leaned up against you' back. An' if you' real quiet, you can feel his heart beatin' an' you realized you've timed your breathin' with his.

That was just a tiny dose of it. But I miss that feelin'.

But... to have this little glimmer of a feelin' return to my li'l' hollow black heart, I got SHOT an' PINCHED an' DROPPED ON my ass! I even wore my fuckin' gun belt to try an' protect the goddamn thing? But did it help!? FUCK NO! Y'all had to make sure I took home reminders. So what do I got now? A dalmatian ass. Big purple bruises. An' it hurts to sit a li'l' bit. A'IGHT! I ADMIT IT! MY ASS IS BIG! It's a disability. You leave it alone. It don't need you pickin' on it! Gonna wear my coat fuckin' ever'where now. Why didn't y'all shoot the MiB or the Homocycle!? They got them some good girly back on them! Mine ain't that big. I mean, I'm just a bigger guy than they are!

Still, though, for that chance, it was worth it. I wouldn't have traded the experience of goin' from feelin' like I wasn't half a spit on the face o' the moon to the guy that stood up again SERIOUS fuckin' badasses an' made it that damn far! Good job, my niggas. Good job. Before we all start throwin' down again, it needs to be said.

...You ain't mad at me, are you Dawg? I know you' cool, JT.

My fuckin' GOD! What the FUCK is this wave o' the future bullshit goin' on. Ever'where I look, I see nigga technology. I look right! I see nigga technology! I look left! I see nigga technology! Ever' GODDAMN where I look.

For one thing, have you seen them touchscreen BlackBerrys? I hate those goddamn things anyway. I just plain don't see the point o' typin' with you' thumbs. The worst part is is when somebody tells you to read some message they just got. IT DON'T HOOK TO A PRINTER, THEREFORE IT DON'T COUNT AS NOTHIN' IMPORTANT. On it's own a BlackBerry is a piece o' crap. I hate 'em.

But oh no, they take another distractin' stupifyin' useless piece of technology an' give you shiny screen to be all touchin' on. I couldn't stand that shit! I'm OCD! I'd have to clean that shit ever' five seconds. Sendin' a motherfuckin' smiley face would require eight shirt rubs, so on top o' takin' five minutes to tell somebody somethin' you coulda said in five seconds on the phone, you have to shine it or else you look like you skankin' up the place with you fingerprinty sweaty smeared piece o' shit.

That, in itself, is some shit. But naw, naw, here is what really gets my goat.

If you got a shitty kid. Beat it. Just smack the shit out of it. For real. I say this because apparently consumer America has devised alarm trackin' systems for their vehicles so that they' kids'll stay in one li'l' area. I would like to know where my daughter is all the time ain't gonna justify that shit. Do you have supervillains breakin' into you' house to kidnap you' loved ones?! Do you have assassins comin' after you?! Do you have creatures of the night scopin' out you family on a regular basis?! THEN YOU DON'T NEED THIS FUCKIN' SHIT! If you' kid ain't a regular in juvie then let 'im drive that extra goddamn couple of blocks to get pizza with his homie.

Also, are you seriously gonna put time control settin's on your kid's computer? Sho'! You go ahead an' do that. This thing that they're puttin' out will make it so parents can decide exactly what hours their child's computer will work. What the parent is actually creating by doin' this is a hacker that will figure out how to get by these settin's or a child that won't fuckin' learn the difference between fuckin' off on World o' Nerdcraft an' time they should be usin' wisely on' thei' own.

What we are creatin' is a planet o' people that relies on really stupid shit to raise their kids! Naw, don't do it you'self! Let Microsoft do it. Bill Gates got real good titties to nurse on. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!

Butchoo know people gonna buy it. They' gonna buy it so they can work a million hours an' watch T.V. an' never look at thei' kids an' then cain't figure out why they fuckin' kid doesn't wanna talk to 'em no more after they' all moved out an' livin' on they own an' makin' decent money WITH NO HELP FROM THEM I MIGHT ADD!!!

...Not that... I'm bitter or nothin'.

Damn, I just woke up from what must o' been the best sleep o' my life. Trippy dreams. But good sleep.

Does anybody know what the male version of a giggle would be called? I mean, it ain't a chuckle. A chuckle is somethin' deep down in you chest. An' it ain't a laugh. It's that sorta, "huhuhuh" sound a nigga makes when one o' his dumbass buddies just clothes-lined himself one a bike with a tree limb when he did somethin' you warned 'im not to do. You know. That thing.

Woodcrest kids are still shits around Halloween. For real. SOME parents should control their damn kids. Or tell 'em some trick or treatin' etiquette or some shit. I had fuckin' chocolate an' they was bitchin'! But JT was cool enough to bring me somethin' to eat... It's kinda hazy...

I uh... I made some muffins while Dawg was at work an' called Mentok. I remember that. An' I gave 'em to 'im... an' then apparently I wrote myself a bunch o' notes not to ask what happened in Germany... so I'm just gonna assume that I went to jail an' got raped by a man named Heinrich or somethin' 'cause only that or worse would be the reason that I wouldn't wanna know what happened. So I remember hangin' with JT. An' Dawg bein' nice an' some story of Pip's, but I don't remember much else. I ain't real... clear... but I'm... guessin'... I dunno? I don't even remember how I got my ass home from the party.

Anyway, yeah, I know I dropped off a coat at Mordhaus. An' at some point my roof got egged. I only think I got away without bein' egged last year was there was construction goin' on at my place while I's in Germany. But usually, yeah, some li'l' dumbass likes to tempt fate an' throw shit. An' always when I'm too far away from a gun to scare the shit out of 'em. But I should have it cleaned off tomorrow. I gotta hose it down or somethin'.

I broke my iPod at some point. I don't know how, I think it was in that giant time-hole, but I think it ended up in the dishwasher in some absentminded fit. I gotta get me a new one, so if somebody wants to go with me to Best Buy, I wanna know. I think I'm gonna drag Nathan around Woodcrest sometime this week. You should seriously bring some o' those life-size Dr. Rockso cut-outs so we can scare the shit outa people.

As if eatin' Mexican one night doesn't tear you up enough, I decided Chinese would be awesome. So this is gonna lead to an awesome night. But it tastes so good it's worth sacrificin' for the indigestion.

I went an' hung out with Nathan a li'l while back. Just shot the shit, y'know. Got a couple o' pointers on my Halloween costume or whatever. An' drank. An' shit. Prolly gonna have Skwisgaar show me how to skate, which is gonna look pretty damn fuck stupid on my part, but maybe I'll be able to stand on two feet for more than twelve seconds while on ice after that. Y'never know when bein' able to do that'll come into play.

We had a minor remote control adventure. JT was over after dinner one night an' Dawg was a little sauced watchin' "I Love Lucy". JT complained on the woman's voice which I gotta concur, is kinda teeth gratin' so Dawg turned on the nanny to get back at 'im. ....Fuck if I know how Fran Drescher looks that fuckin' smokin now that she's fifty one. Blows my motherfuckin' mind. Cover her mouth an' she don't look much older than 30 some. S'all Daaaayuuuum woman! But I digress.

Dawg decides he's gonna put on a block o' RUSH videos after that, an' leave us with that while he goes an' gets a snack. While I do respect the ability of others to be a dick, that sort of dickery? I can not abide by. So we ambush 'im when he comes back. An' the rest is sorta a blur. End table got knocked over. Hotwings all over the floor. Dorochet tried to climb JTs face. An' then I ended up havin' to convince 'im I wasn't gonna take 'im to the pound an' put 'im to sleep, 'cause he was just drunk enough that he believed it when I made the joke. Shit, worse than the time I said I was gonna pimp 'im out.

Anyway, yeah. Not a real big update or nothin'. But I suppose I oughta get done cleanin' up this cop car I have come into the temporary possession of. Gotta keep busy.

Prompt: Who do you lie to most, yourself or others?
Words: 954
Notes: Vaguely RP related (brief mentions of Jefferson Twilight and Dorochet). Strong warnings for racism, language, sexism, and some homophobia. Nobody be offended ever, pretty much. I just love writing this character for humor and social commentary.

This is a difficult question, because I've always had this problem with lyin' to myself. I guess I gotta do it to myself more than I do anybody else, just so when I'm tryin' to convince ever'body else of things I can just go with it.

There are the little white lies of course. The ones where you just make yourself out to be better than you really are. An' you say 'em to youself, too. Not just ever'body else, but to you, 'cause you don't want to think you' as bad as you are. An' I'm a baaaad motherfucker. I don't mean bad like tough. I mean bad. I've gone through little ol' ladies. Kids. Moms. Dads. Second cousins twice removed. Kindergarten teachers. I've done a li'l' bit o' ever'thin' wrong.

Cain't say I didn't come by it honest, either. I did two tours in Iraq. You know what that's like? Do you have any idea? If I were ask Ed to describe it, he'd go off on a long tirade about shittin' 'imself an' makin' all kinds of sound effects. The way I remember it though was a little differ'nt. I remember this C.O. barkin' at us, tellin' us just what all he wanted us to do to make those towelheads pay. Like dippin' knives in pig's blood to cut 'em with, to make sure they knew they got nasty animal in 'em. No virgins for that shit, huh? At least that's what he said. Told us to not let 'em run. Show no mercy.

I didn't even know, had NO goddamn idea what this motherfucker had done to me 'til two months later. We was clearin' out a small town north of Al Kut. I remember this buildin' blowin' up, an' a hand landed near me an' a couple of other guys. Li'l' bitty brown hand, too. I remember this one nigga near me says, "Aw, shit, I hope that was a midget." An' I laughed! Because it was kinda funny. Didn't even occur to me until a long while afterward that that possibly might be sorta on the messed up side.

So what the hell am I supposed to do? I gotta live with myself. Sure, other people think I should die, but I'm just selfish enough that I don't give a rat's ass. All this? All this shit? It's me bein' able to live with myself. It's wakin' up in the mornin' without a bit o' proof in the world an' bein' able to say, "God, I fought for you. I put my heart into it. I need you to believe me an' make sure I gotta place for me when I die." It's bein' able to walk out an look at the nice lawns an' the pretty cars an' not have to think about the desert, or camel spiders crawlin' into you' sleepin' bag.

I gotta do it. It's how I sleep at night. An' how I convince other people that they shouldn't sleep at night.

At the same time though.... Yeah, I gotta lie a lot. There are things about myself that I accept. I fuckin' don't like 'em. I think I'm a sick motherfucker. But I have accepted them an' embraced them as part of who I am.

I don't really like to come off as a person that interested in sex. I just sorta like to let it slide. Somethin' that slips under the table. Maybe nobody'll notice. An' most of the time I think o' stuff that any legitimate ex-soldier would think about. A tough lookin' girl holdin' an RPG? Niiiice. Pretty lady with a solid smokin' figure posin' on a tank? Hell yeah. Give me that over a woman who'd rather do her nails any. Day. Love it.

But then there's these times m'mind wanders, y'know? I'm just sittin' around. Sorta let myself drift off an' think of how good a certain prickly mustache feels against my upper lip. Or how some salty, chocolate colored skin tastes when I slide my tongue over it. Oh WOOP! NAW! YOU CAIN'T KNOW THAT! That's even worse in the previous case? So what do I do? I lie. I lie like my liar's gonna fall off an' then I lie some more! Oh what? You' lyin'?! HELL YEAH, I'M LYIN'!

Cause honestly, most good god-fearin' church goin' people don't wanna hear how I strip one o' my homies down to his boots an' bracers, an' how much I fuckin' love the way his muscles slide under the scars on his abdomen or how he sings my name like he's in a choir when I'm tryin' to bang him into half past Sunday.

But you cain't really call foul on me bein' a bad guy on this one. Because by lyin' I'm not only doin' a service to myself, I'm doin' a service to you. I'm keepin' the institutions this country was founded on alive an' strong. I'm keepin' women happy to still act like fine ladies instead o' bitches or big huge dykes because they don't need to know men would want 'em any other way. I'm keepin' alternative lifestyles out of society with my little part, because really, I do not want to promote men actin' like the type of women that I just complained about.... an' they all would eventually, as soon as they admit it! I'm preservin' a way of LIFE here; just doin' my own li'l part.

I'll probably have to lie until the day I die. But there will always be the knowledge that I'm doin' the good thing. The right thing. An' I'm doin' a service to the whole motherfuckin' goddamn world through the art of a li'l' white lie.

( This is a pretty fuckin' long story, so I'm cuttin' it... )

I should prolly hang out with Toki sometime this week. He's prolly had heavy things on his mind an' he sounds like he could use the break. I ain't seen Pickles in a while, but he's been real busy with his man so... I sorta feel all third wheel an' Dawg is all uncomfortable with Dok so... I'll take it where I can get it. I can at least stop by an' make some french toast an' take Toki out somewhere.

Joan, too. I gotta shoot some hoops with her before it's too cold. Maybe go to the park, 'cause I meant to show her that.