Sunday, January 30, 2011

Terminal Preppie

"Wanna get wet, Kage?"
"Already there, Jello."

I go to college
That makes me so cool
I live in a dorm
And show off at the pool 

I join the right clubs
Just to build an impression
I block out thinking
It won't get me ahead 

No, I'm not here to learn
I just want to get drunk!
And major in business
And be taught how to fuck

Win! Win!
I always play to win
Wanna fit in like a cog
In the faceless machine 

I'm a terminal 
Terminal preppie 

~ Dead Kennedys

I’ve written a poem for all of you, on this freezing cold Sunday afternoon.

It’s a bit long, but I think it’s quite pretty.

It goes like this.

Snow. Blows.
In my face.
Fuck. You. Snow.

That’s about it, because I hate poetry. But I thought I would try my hand at a different medium today, since I am trapped indoors, and I wanted to make sure that I don’t go stir crazy.

What’s that? Hold on, everyone. Hunter S. Thompson and Elvis are talking to me from heaven.

Ha ha! Elvis says, “Jesus says Hey, and to buy shares in Enron.” Hunter says, “No, buy shares in acid. It’s going to make a huge comeback.”

But at least I’m not going stir crazy.

Because of the wretched snow, school was canceled yesterday morning, which makes the second week in a row with no classes for me. So far, my track record for this class has not been very good. Last weekend I was in jail, this weekend it’s snowing. I’m assuming next weekend I’ll be involved in a drug cartel somewhere in the South Pacific.

This teacher is going to be a hard one to win over. Especially since I can't cleavage my way to an A, what with her being a chick and all. God damn it.

And my Wednesday afternoon class isn't going so well, either. I was so distracted by Henry Rollins during my first day of classes last week, all I managed to accomplish that day was to make a complete ass of myself.

“Kage?” asked Barbara, in her lovely, mumsy British accent. “What did you write about our character, Geoffrey?”

“What?” I glanced up from my MacBook, and saw that the whole table of students was looking at me expectantly. “Oh, um. Haha! Sorry,” I bit my lip and looked blankly at my computer screen.” I, ah... I wasn’t doing the assignment,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Well, you were tapping away quite furiously there,” she exclaimed. “What were you writing?”

“I was" I couldn't think of anything clever to say; I was so busted. I sighed. "I was writing a letter to Henry Rollins, ” I finally muttered.


Then, “Okaaaaay,” from Barbara, and she moved on to the next person beside me, who gave Geoffrey a glowing background, from childhood to university.

Fucking Geoffrey. What an asshole. I mean, who is more important? Some imaginary character in my writing class? Or the imaginary relationship I'm having with a real person?


Moving on. Let’s talk about my sexy little buddy, Sugar Free, and the massive amount of work that biatch has created for me.

A few weeks ago, Sugar Free got this award, which she so richly deserves:

If you can tell me what it says after 'Award', I'll give you my first-born child.
You know, since I don't want the little git.

Just after I posted Get Your Gunn, Sugar Free passed this award onto me, after she had made this comment on my blog:

"Dammit Kage!! Stop trying to hypnotize me into being your bitch slave with your crazy MJ albino eyes!!

(I would totally be your bitch slave without the hypnotizing part... just sayin')"

Suddenly all became clear. It was a bribe!  Sugar Free was offering this award on the grounds that I make her my bitch!

Naughty girl! To abuse your power in such a way! To use this award as leverage to get something that you want! I have only one thing to say to you, you wicked, wicked child...

THAT'S MY GIRL! SO proud of you. You may have anything you want, whenever you want it. Just take it.

On a serious note, though, thank-you, Sugar Free. You are one of my favorite bloggers, and a lovely new friend. It is an honor to receive an award from you :)

Bleh. Mushy time over.

I have to give it to someone else now, and I find this very difficult to do. I think I will just draw a name from a hat, so that I am not riddled with guilt for the next however-many sleepless nights.

Coming soon to a blog near you.


  1. Great poem Kage. I agree with you about the snow, it does blow.

  2. "last weekend I was in jail" seemed to glaze over that one-I hope you are okay.

    Random question: Doesn't the guy who is in the mirror next to Jello kinda look like Patrick Swayze? And if that was true wouldn't that be hi-larious?

    PS Your captcha hates you-it was "skiing". No shit.


  3. Your poem could use some commas... I thought we went over this... hahaha...

    Snow sucks the bag, unless you're one of those wienies that skis. Ask me if I am.

    I'm not.

    You know who probably is a skiing wieny? Geoffrey.

    Man, fuck that guy.

  4. i fucking hate snow...

    and geoffrey and i don't EVEN know who he is...but i fucking hate him.

    and i hate skiing.

    but i loved acid....

    Bruce Johnson JADIP
    Evil Twin
    stupid stuff I see and hear
    The Dreamodeling Guy
    The Guy Book
    The Guy Book

  5. we're supposed to get 18 inches of snow tuesday

    i already called in sick

    Also, can I watch that whole making my bitch thing? That sounds like great fun.

  6. Oilfield Daddy,
    haha! you said blow.

    i TOTALLY glazed over that jail bit, hey? hahahaha!

    so are you?

    (i'm okay, thank-you for asking, sweet girl. just terminally stupid.)

    you, are, so, right, man, my, poem, could, use, some, commas, they, are, like, the, punctuation, mark, of, the, people,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

    and, haha, yeah, fuck, that, guy, geoffrey, haha,,,,,,,,,,,,,

    wow, the passion. the swears. the hatred. the a-

    wait. the ACID?!?!

    fuckin 'eh, bruce. respect.

    christopher allen,
    i like the preemptive strike approach - calling in two days before it even snows to beat all your colleagues to the punch. haha! and while this may not make you very popular come tuesday, i doubt this concern will penetrate the porn-watching, hot-chocolate-sipping fort you'll have built from your couch cushions long enough for you to give a shit.

    i should be there by noon, one at the latest, with the little marshmallows, the whipped cream and the bondage cuffs.

    and yes, you may watch "the making of a bitch", but only if you hold the video camera steady. otherwise, you are useless to us, and you'll be out on your ass.

  7. I'm terminally stupid? Doh!

    (I probably am...I spelled "terminally" wrong about 8 times.)


    PS what the fuck is wrong with your captcha? This time it said "couchi". It knows your secrets, Kage...

  8. Hed,
    no no no no! you're not terminally stupid, i am! oh honey, no no no

  9. You are going to be a guest on Henry's radio show. I know it.

    Try not to jump him in the first 5 minutes, ok? Wet mushy sex sounds actually don't make good radio, believe it or not.

    Do that after.

  10. I'm a little late in on this one. Your welcome Kage. I do so love bribes, don't you? Oh the things we can do together with me as your bitch.....

    Cheers, darling!

  11. I hate it when those brit professors embarrass me. I think I had one college. Though in his defense I wasn't paying attention either. BTW...I think you also wrote a haiku!!!! Good one!!! Henry would be so pumped!!

  12. I would totally visit you this weekend if you were, in fact, in the South Pacific...drug cartel or no. ;)

    I too hate snow and I hate being cold and my dumbass voluntarily moved to friggin' Michigan. *sigh* There hasn't been an above freezing (32F) temperature in over a month now. I might have to start killing people to get Mother Nature to change her mind.

  13. That poem was bloody brilliant. It made me laugh my head off, it was so shit. Inspired!

    Hey, now Sugar Free is your bitch, you should take advantage. Like get her to do your hoovering or hang out your washing.

    I wish I had a bitch.

  14. Mike
    don't you censor our love! henry and i will hump whenever and wherever, and to whatever captive audience, we want. *sob*

    Sugar Free,
    yeeeeeeees? i'm listening...

    actually, henry would read the haiku, and I would pump HIM. you were close, though.

    all you have to do to coerce mother nature is to kill people?


    Lady M,
    i am honored that my deep, soul-searching poetry has inspired you. and now that sugar free has become my bitch, i will physically force her against her will to write you some beautiful poetry, too.

  15. Just found your blog and feel the need to tell you that I love the poem!
    And I'm curious (for a change...) do you listen to Rammstein?

    - Charlotte (

  16. I hate snow, and I hate imaginary characters like Geoffrey. He already has such a nancy boy name. You just know he wears high water pants, suffers from asthma, and has a speech impediment. You're better off without him.

  17. Charlotte,
    thank-you! that poem took me AGES to write. and yes, i used to dance to a couple rammstein songs, 'du hast' and 'ich will'. warum fragst du?

    *sob* thank-you, boys. yes, you are right. i'm better off without the non-existant cad. he never treated me right anyway, did he?

    i'm well shot of his make believe ass. the pig.

    um...what are "high water pants"?

  18. Wait! You don't like snow?
    Wedding's off.
    Sorry about your luck.

  19. Just curious - my mind is pretty random like that.
    Other random thoughts include "how tall are you?" and "what is that stuff that you don't want to drink, but they make you drink when you don't eat all your food?"... Don't know where it comes from, but I generate a lot of questions sometimes.

  20. Bedrock,
    that's the straw that broke the camel's back? THAT?!?!

    and if the wedding is canceled...can we still make out to richard cheese?

    i am more than happy to oblige your random thoughts. i am 5 foot 9, and the shit they made us drink if we didn't finish all our food was Ensure. here's an extra fun fact - i used to drink it on my own all the time, but when they tried to force it on me in hop-sital, i fought them like a demented hellcat, just to be difficult.

  21. To be honest there Special K, it was the deafening snoring. I was just trying to be polite. . .

  22. Bedrock,
    you ain't heard nothing yet.

  23. Haha, your relationship to what the hop-sital makes you eat/drink sounds like my relationship to what teachers try to make me read.
    What's Ensure? I know I should jfgi, but I'm willing to bet that your description is shorter and way funnier!


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