dark beige

Friday 26th June, 2.19pm





So, Michael Jackson is dead. I can't really believe it. Not because I was a huge fan or nothing, not one of those freaks who wears one glove and looks like a future paedophile. It's just that he was actually famous. He was famous when I was born, and even way before that too. And I've been alive for what feels like way too long already. At least he never starred in some crummy VH1 show about going to rehab or picking a wife from 20 sluts or living in a condo in Palm Beach and banging chicks and being an asshole. I think Randy said it best (for once) when he called Michael Jackson 'a talented pederast'. See you later, big guy. Hopefully there's some kids up there in heaven for you to look at and hang out with and shit. Just kidding.





As for Farah Fawcett, all I can say is, I looked up your imdb page, and I had never seen or heard of anything you did, besides Charlie's Angels (the original, not the lame remake). I don't know why I addressed that last sentence directly to her, I guess maybe she could be reading this in heaven. But anyway, I find that 70s look very boneable, so rest in peace. Enjoy yourself up there, and look after Michael Jackson. Like maybe they're two nerds partnered up on their first day of heaven. Got to make sure they don't get bullied by Elvis or something. Actually, I could easily sell that lameass idea to Jack Black.


Other stuff: Holidays still cool, getting away with doing nothing all the time, mainly by pretending to go out and look for jobs, but just hanging around the park or Jake's house and doing nothing. Like, nothing at all man. I like doing nothing, just hanging out and watching TV and eating and stuff. I guess one day I'll just suddenly stop wanting to do nothing, and get some ambition and want to do something. I think that thing just happens suddenly, you know? Like beards.