Why I Don't Write In The Morning

I’m laying in bed last night trying to fall asleep, and I come upon the Mel Gibson movie “Signs”. It’s not as good the second time. And I hated it the first time.

B.a.D’s Interpretation

So I’m at home cleaning this morning, washing the already-small coffee table throughout my sisters vast array of a thousand tiny miscellaneous plants (and candles, and other random, ugly, tacky, “decorative” crap that takes up half the table and is there for reasons not well explained), when one of the plants falls onto my hand. The cactus, to be exact.

Cacti = more than one cactus. Pluralism. I learned that shit in English class, bitch!

So welcome to B.a.D LiveJournal, a site that if it we’re a TV show, it’d be good enough to get picked up by FOX and cancelled after the first season and replaced by a show that has families from different walks of life switching wives for two days and a celebrity reality show with celebrities that no one has ever heard of. Get it?! It’s a joke about how FOX puts on great shows but cancels them after the first season in favor of “Wife Swap” and “Whatever that celebrity skating show was called”! It’s a smart joke! Embrace the hilarity.

Sorry FOX, I’m still smarting after the loss of Arrested Development. And FastLane. And Dark Angel. And Tidus. And That 80’s Show. And Andy Richter Controlls The Universe. And Skin. And FireFly. And Cedric The Entertainer. And The Tick. And Louie. And Greg The Bunny.

Damn it, I just realized how many shows they’ve cancelled that I like. I swear FOX, if it wasn’t for 24, I’d be one of those loonies writing you letters. (They also own FX, which produces The Shield, but we don’t call attention to that when we’re mad at FOX.)

Just kidding. It takes a mentally disturbed person to write a letter to a network executive, not only because of the time cost used to write a letter about a TV show but also because it will never, ever, in this lifetime, make a difference.

But writing on a website because you’re angry that a cactus fell on your hand? Totally normal. Totally. By the way, Heather, the next time you bring up the fact that I’m inconsiderate, I’ll bring up the fact that your little mini-shit-cactus-thing still lives after trying to 187 my ass.

Ha, 187. I’m so hood, I can’t help it. Such a hood little white Sundance kid. But on the real, I mean shiiiiiiiiiiit yo, if any other bitch plant tried to get all up in my biznatch, I’d be all “bitch please” and stomp that motha out. But the cheeky little sharp bastard lives. Be grateful, H-Diddy.


Nice weather we’re having here in Calgary. Life is always easy to plan when it starts to rain, so I go put on jeans and a sweater, then go back outside to find it at +35. That’s happened to me a whole bunch of times in the last couple weeks. Torrential downpour, the worst storm in 10 years for 10 minutes before it clears up again and is sunny and humid and muggy as all hell. This isn’t weather, its malaria. And my balls can’t take it. Apparently I can’t have kids because my sperm are gagging.


Speaking of… well, not anything, really, it’s my boy Dan’s birthday partay today.

See my chain? See it?! See how hood I am?? Embrace it!!! Embrace the bling!! Embrace the hood!!

I give that boy mad props, yo, we been tight ever since I got all up in Calgary, yo. I remember this one time this shorty was tryin' to get all up in my grill and tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty, but my homie Dan gave me the 411 on that skank and she was all about the bling bling. And I remember this one time we made a “Duplo” car for my guinea pig and drove that bitch all around my deck, yo, and… OK, I’ll stop.

Thank you.

I never write in the morning, now you know why. This is what happens when I write in the morning. Time to log off before I commit a hate crime or some shit.

So hood I can’t help it,
B.a.D


Song For Today:
Ridin’ Dirty
- Chamillionaire

(See that? See that rap song? I’m so hood. Embrace it!! Embrace the rap!! Embrace my hood!! B.a.D = hood!!!)

... you know, it's hard to be your sidekick with shit like this coming out of you.