I had a thought the other day that some might still be checking this site looking for updates. Well, ain't gonna happen. I've moved on to greener pastures. www.myspace.com/pimpyfish is the new source of entertainment. Please, drop by and read sometime. When you're done, you can see other people's far inferior blogs. Also, listen to Mama Cass. You'll be glad you did. Bye!

posted by Todd 11/19/2005 05:16:00 PM

. . .

You may be driving down the road, maybe picking up a loaf of bread from the grocery store, maybe running over squirrels just for the sport of it, but you will realize that something you just thought of would be ideal for blogging topics. That's usually the way it works. But not for me. My brain has been dry lately. I bet that would feel weird, were my brain actually dry, and not moist and chocolatey like good brains are. The funny thing, or painfully unfunny, as in this case, is that the last few weeks heading up to your graduation are some of the most insane chaotic moments that a life could ever hold. Unfortunately, these days are not really interesting to anyone but yourself. Thems the berries, I guess. But far be it from me to go too long without blogging. So here are numerous items, all under the topic of food. Why food? Because I got nothing. You think you're tough. You can all eat a dick!

FOOD
1) The other day, my friend Niki and I grabbed a bite to eat at the local Arby's, which I had not eaten at in quite some time. I ordered a beef n' cheddar combo, with those curly fries. Niki had two beef n' cheddars. When we entered the fast food emporium, it was mildly cool. When we left, it was below freezing. I tried to explain to Niki that her extra sandwich was somehow responsible for this. Somehow it was twisted into me telling her that she eats too much. Women. Can't talk to them when they're cute, can't maintain an erection when they're not.

2) The Meximelt is the hidden treasure on the Taco Bell menu. They should change the name to "The Sin Melt." Because it's a lot like sin. It's the most pleasurable thing you can think of doing at the time, but you know that you'll regret it later and ask Jesus to forgive you. But the Lord ain't too forgiving when it comes to the meximelt.

3) I ordered a pizza online from Dominos the other day. I possibly misspelled dominos, I'm not sure. But isn't technology grand. This is the same machine that can show us up to 15 minutes of Paris Hilton awkwardly performing oral sex, plus pizza. I ordered my pizza with large chunks of tomato, which I had not previously known was available. I will now order all Dominos pizzas like this. And it will be good.

4) When in Nashville, visit Prince's Hot Chicken Shack.

5) Apparently poor people eat a lot of mac n'cheese. I think this will come in handy when I am a struggling writer on the Los Angeles scene, as I have always been quite fond of macaroni and cheese. Something about obstructing bowels. I've always been a fan.

6)My mother purchased me a 10 lb. bag of rice sometime ago. There are still roughly 9 and 3/4 pounds of rice still available. My thought that I could just live off of various rice dishes ran out of steam very quickly.

7) If cds could be metaphorically changed into food, I would select Tom Petty's Wildflowers as my meal. It seems to have everything that I could possibly hunger for, and nothing is quite as satisfying as life lessons, which this album has in spades. What does that mean exactly? Your guess is as good as mine, but it would be delicious.

8) So these wacky Mexicans sell this corn on the cob when the weather gets warmer. I've never tried it before, as there seems to be something slightly shady about door to door corn. But he bought me one yesterday, and it was easily the corn achievement of my entire existence. It's this corn, you see, but they cover it with butter, sprinkle it with cheese, and cover it with herbs and spices. Two minutes after eating one, I demanded that Shawn chase down the vendor and buy me another. Shawn, not willing to raise his pulse above 30, decided to wait for another salesman to come by. It never happened. I was still glancing out the window at midnight. If anyone visits me over the summer, you too will feast on this. It will change your life, for the corn better.

9) I don't really eat much anymore. I go to school, go to work, come home, sit down, and then realize that I haven't eaten all day. Sometimes my day consists of a box of Chicken in a Biscuit crackers. They were supposed to be Nick's, but he never picked them up, so my momma gave them to me. Spite food always tastes so much better than that of non spite food.

10) Nick used to think the last line in the "In LIving Color" theme song was, "and that faggot was safe to walk down the street." If asked about it now, he will either deny it, or try to explain himself. But Heavy D was never a hate monger. What does this have to with food. Nothing. Corn dogs. There, quota met.

oot

posted by Todd 5/17/2005 12:44:00 AM

. . .

I believe the highlight of my week was when, while sitting in the office at work, waiting ofr my daily assignment, I noticed my boss out of the corner of my eye, scratching his balls. It happens sometimes, so I politely averted my gaze. I looked back roughly 10 seconds later, only to see that he was still doing it. What's worse, he was very casual about it. He was sitting facing the rest of the room, the look on his face one of complete contentment. for a moment, I envied him.

So I got The Office on DVD, that British show that everyone was going batshit about a year back. Turns out that it's really that good. The NBC version is funnier, but the BBC version makes me sad. I was awake at about 4 in the morning the other day, watching the final episode, with the pledge that if Tim and Dawn didn't get together, I would throw the DVD out of the window.

In the past few days, I have proven the shittiness of two musical performers by merely singing their songs. Michael McDonald and Bob Seger. I'm sorry, but Seger can just eat a dick. When you have a song that reminds people of driving a chevy, then you are not to be taken seriously as a performer. My hatred of Seger also stems from the fact that, when I used to drive a truck for ADM, pretty much all the radio stations I listened to played one Seger song or another. And there is an unmatchable sinking feeling when you hear those first couple of saxophone notes from "Turn the page." For someone who listens to radio all the time, it's the equivalent of hearing "I only want to be with you" by Hootie back in about 1995. Since I moved to Chicago, I hardly ever listen to the radio, as I don't have a car, and purchase roughly enough cds to feed a third world country, if only those stubborn bastards would eat plastic. But the radio isn't really something I miss. Except when I'm driving for UPS, which is radioless, and I have to listen to the padlock on the door bang against the door every time I hit a seam in the concrete, of which there are roughly 37,000,000 in Chicago. Man, I get bored. I started writing songs along to the tune of the turn signal. Anywho, I think I had a point earlier, in that Seger and Michael McDonald, with the exception of his Steely Dan backing vocals, are horrendous, which is obvious anytime you sing a song of theirs without any music playing.

So Shawn and I got tickets to the midnight show of Star Wars. I'll wait for you to finish eye rolling and "Pffffftt!"-ing. I'd like to think that I will find an incredibly smart and funny and hot girl there who I can bond with over a love of things nerdy. But the fact of the matter is, that won't happen. I go outside socially on very rare occasions, but it would make sense that if I was doing something I enjoyed, I should be able to meet women of similar interests. It would appear that the cool ones have either taken the day off, or that my interests and hobbies are those of the damned, in which only ugly people and assholes enjoy them. If I had the choice to marry either an ugly person or an asshole, it's hard to say which I'd choose. I mean, I'm shallow, but I have plans to perhaps not be someday. We'll see how those work out.

Most times you can't hear them talk, other times you can
All the same old cliches, "is that a woman or a man?"
And you always seem outnumbered, so
You don't dare make a stand

oot

posted by Todd 5/09/2005 03:18:00 PM

. . .

Damn this town and all its windyness! The women. Even the ugly 300 lb. black women that stare at you while they slowly tongue an ice cream cone, and their eyes roll back in their head a little bit, and they don't seem to care that it drips down their shirt. (True story) Honest injun, (savages), there are so many amazing looking women walking around, I swear, one could not swing the AIDS infested corpse of a unicorn around without hitting a hot chick. And man, when you do, watch out! The erection and all of its forthcoming secretions can be quite the embarassing situation.

It's good to be home, ain't it master Robin?

"welcome back to shawn and todd, the hit sitcom about a bitter hate fueled and judgemental Irish man, and his hippie burnout roommate, who somehow formed a great friendship, despite nearly crippling odds. Plus, Shawn listens to a lot of Phish. And believes in The Force. Not kidding there, actually believes deeply in a plotline George Lucas hatched in his dorm room."

INT: The apartment (where else? the're both antisocial bastards)
Todd Peeks head out of bathroom door

Todd: Hey, did you steal more rolls of toilet paper from the school bathroom?
Shawn: Yep.
Todd: Yeah, I was wondering why we had two partially finished rolls of toilet paper sitting in there.

Limewire is this fantastic thing. You get to borrow all these other people's copies of songs that are great, avoiding spending money on the usually sub par album. The other day, Shawn asked me to download the theme song to WKRP in Cincinnati. I did it. I still don't know quite why

So I wrote an email to the bass player from Yo La Tengo, James. I call him James because I listen to his albums and have become spiritually connected with him. Anywho, he replied. I know, it's probably not a big deal. It's not like I wrote David Coverdale and asked him about his wife buffing his car with her ass in that video that one time, but it was awesome. He recommended I watch this DVD of the Mamas and the Papas at the Monterrey Festival. My loins will ache until I do so.

Mamas and the Papas are so gangsta lean, two of em are dead now! Monday, monday, indeed.

So apparently VH1 is trying to be cool again. And here's something. You think they could change the commercials for Insomniac Music Theater? We need fresh entertainment too. If that guy had actually gone this long without sleep, he'd have hijacked a special ed. bus by now and driven it into a tar pit, which are much more common than you'd think.

A lesbian told me that I was charming the other day. All she needed was a really large penis. So I found a negro to service her, and I had corned beef and hash.

BOMBSHELLS!!!
1)The American version of THE OFFICE is so much funnier than the British one.
2) Beck's new album? Kinda sucks
3) Arcade Fire? Try singing along with the album and not looking mentally handicapped.
4)Jokes about Special Ed.? Bring that shit, but don't bring it weak
5)Eva Longoria, she of the highly overrated "Desperate Housewives", is hot, but she ain't really that hot.
6)If you're not watching Lost, it's time to put your big toe on that trigger and play "paint the wall", because you're life is meaningless.
7) Ditto listening to Yo La Tengo, though you may choose your own method of self destruction on that one. James would want it that way. I choose drinking pickle juice until I become so violently ill that I die.

Nick and Warren. You ain't seen real, and you don't know Chicago, but it's coming to pay a visit. Gauntlet (and not just the Nintendo game. I was always the troll)

posted by Todd 4/29/2005 03:32:00 AM

. . .

I went and saw the Yo La Tengo this past Thursday night. They played for over two hours. Beers were $5 at the Vic Theater. Now, you may think that paying that much would mean a beer of decent size. Not true at all. I went up to the bartender and ordered a Miller Lite. He (the bartender) produced a 12 oz. can of said drink, and poured it into a plastic cup. $5. And as he slid it across to me, he glanced down at the pile of change on the counter as if to remind me that tips were not only welcome, but expected. I just paid $5 for a CAN of beer, and he wants a tip. This guy was an asshole, too. Not rude or anything, but he wore an earring and had slicked back hair, which is not to be confused with Slick backhair. No, siree, that is the sign of a true man.

While walking to get back in line after a short visit to the ATM, ($5 for a fucking can of beer!) I passed a middle aged woman with shorter blonde hair and an averting gaze. It took me all of two seconds to realize that I was walking past Georgia, YLT's drummer. I nearly shat myself. I love this woman on so many levels. But alas, I decided that I was not going to approach her, as I would be loud and most likely passive aggressive. Plus, I had nothing really original to say. "Pretty hair! Drumming good!", I would bellow before ramming my hand down the front of my pants and yelling, "i can smell your scent", as this would be the daydream that was rebroadcast on Bravo. So I didn't speak to her, and it sucked. I would have rather said something stupid than nothing at all. Such is life.

Hispanic woman are by and large the most attractive women on the planet. The ratio of pretty ones to ugly ones is pretty outstanding. Even the fat hispanics have a general cuteness to them. And the trajectory path is pretty simple to figure out. They start looking hot at about 15, and get really hot from about 18-27. Then they have several children, as the Catholic church is against birth control. The church is also against having lots of premarital sex. but they somehow manage to skim past that one. This is when the hispanic ladies bodies start to resemble Christmas trees, in that they turn green and leafy, and children enjoy hanging decorations off of them at holidays.

Sometimes a woman will walk by and she smells of incredibly sexy perfume, and I will actually sniff the air as she walks by. All dressed up and nowhere to go. Welcome to this one man show.

I'm writing a sketch called "Harry Potter and the Keg of Indifference." Hilarious. I'm like Tina Fey, but hairy and with balls.
Unicorns can get aids, and anyone who says differently is lying to themselves and you.
Oot

posted by Todd 4/25/2005 01:53:00 PM

. . .

I have the internet now. It was a long and painful process that involved me kicking things. I was a madman, bound for hell, and cackling all the way. So now that I got it, I have thoughts of reopening the blog. But it all depends on fate, my friends. For I will have this up for two weeks, and should someone respond and tell me to do it, it shall be done. If no one comes by and says anything, I might just scrap this one and start one someplace else, without announcing it to anyone. I should probably just ask my friends if they wanted me to, but they'd say yes for sure, and then I'd feel the pressure of it all. And this is a pressure I don't need in my life right now, chums. So, there we go, that's it. Boo yah
Lovey Dove

posted by Todd 4/20/2005 11:05:00 PM

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I believe that the last one that I typed was in February, but before you go get all buck wild and cheerful, I feel you should know that this is my last blog ever. True, I said that about my last blog, but upon further inspection, I realized that it was no way to go out. I'd like to think of it as my last nonsensical post ever, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see where this one goes. And now, for some odd reason, the blog won't let me hit enter. I always hated the blog in a way that a person can only hate artificial things, like sweeteners. So apparently this is going to be one really long paragraph. I apologize for the inconvenience, and in doing so, would also like to include apologies for some of the shit that I have typed over the past few years. I had the occasional witty one liner in there, but looking back, they were nowhere near as funny as I thought they were at the time. Perhaps I am a different person now, because I remember laughing out loud at some of the things that I had written. Laughing at your own material is a sign that what you are saying is generally not funny. And perhaps that's where the problem started. Who said that the blog had to be all about the comedy? In the constant pursuit of comedy, you'll start to throw out all things that remotely sound like comedy, much to the chagrin of your faithful readers. I just realized that I could use the spacebar to put distances between paragraphs, so while it will look sloppy, the various ideas and topics will remain somewhat separate, unless blogger fucks things up again and still prints them all run together, in which case, fuck it. Oh, by the way, I say "fuck" a lot now, but I swear I don't do it intentionally. It comes from frustration. When loading a semi truck full of boxes at work, nothing relieves the tension and anger like throwing a box of fluorescent lightbulbs up against the side of the truck while screaming, "motherfuckinpieceofshitcocksucker!" I actually pronounce the exclamation point as well, but it seemed foolish to type it all out. Nick says that I use curse words too much, and he's right, I'd be the first to admit on this one topic, but at least I got a big ol' wang exclamation point. Is that funny to anyone? I really don't know what's funny to anyone else, I just know that jokes about penises, masturbation and gay jokes make me smile all the time. Dave Chappelle said in an interview that their motto for the first season of Chappelle's Show was, "dance like nobody's watching." And I guess that's the way that I prefer to do comedy. I'm far more interested in making myself laugh than in making large crowds laugh, but that's from living an anti-social lifestyle, which we'll touch on later. In typing what you know to be your last blog, you tend to run into some problems. For example, the numerous things you could discuss. I haven't typed on this in nearly seven months, which one could assume would lead to hundreds upon thousands of topics to type about. Truth be told, I don't want to write about any of those things, and I doubt very much that you would want to read them either. Which brings up another point. Do I write what I want you to read or do I write what I think you'd like to read? Either way, you disappoint someone, but that shouldn't matter. I decided to do this for myself, as if the last 131 posts (according to blogger.com's count) weren't all about me. I'm not sure if it will be funny, boring, or like most prog-rock bands, a little bit of both. Do I miss home? Yes and no. There are things that happen with time. When you first move away, your mind frantically scrambles for a reason or an opportunity to come home. (Big Lots is having a sale on generic action figures? Better get that train ticket!) And there are things about Mt. Zion and Decatur that I will always miss, such as friends or places to go. But there comes a time of acceptance that creeps in, until it's completely taken over. And that's when you realize that, while you miss these people and these places, that's just the way it has to be. You can't go through life without a lot of pain, some self-inflicted, some not. And while I've had moments since I moved to Chicago that left me wanting to just collapse on the floor and sob like a kid that just saw his dog get run over, I know that I've made the right choice, and that I belong where I'm at. And, believe it or not, I'm actually a lot happier than I've been in a long time. I just can't believe that I would feel that way were I still living in Decatur. I'm not saying it's not the right choice for anyone, but it was definitely not the right choice for me. Besides, it's not like I live in Siberia. It's four hours away, and that's if you take the train. Crocodile Dundee could walk it in three days. So here's a quick rundown of where I'm at right now. I still work at UPS, and they are using union tactics to slowly but surely push me out of the position that four years of experience will get you in that place. I'm hoping to find another job shortly, but I have to wait to be eligible for the tuition reimbursement plan, so I'll be there for a few months yet. I live in a very nice, spacious yet cozy apartment with my best Chicago friend Shawn, who is a great guy that everyone loves. He also has a chemical dependency problem that we're taking steps to eliminate, in a wacky sort of way, not unlike the Sandra Bullock vehicle 28 Days, which I feel was underrated. I have one year left at Columbia, and then it is into the great wide open with me. I plan on staying in Chicago, although according to The Stereotypical Television Writer's Guidebook, I should be moving out to L.A. There have been a few small skirmishes fought on the battlefield of romance, but I remain unattached. This is the point where I'd normally make a joke about myself being single and how ladies need to jump at the opportunity, but we'll just pretend that I did it and move on. So yeah, there's that. If you want my autobiography, just ask me. (Guilty pleasure: Ashlee Simpson. Cute as a bug's ear, although she has a bit of a Popeye chin and I liked her better when she was blonde.) So I've thought about this a lot, and I decided I was going to talk about it, and let people think of me what they will. If you remember nothing else that I've ever written, remember this. God, that sounded pretentious, didn't it? Oh well. Boobs. There, now it's back to being the usual lowbrow style. Okay, I got off topic, but here it goes. I can say with utmost certainty that the majority of my life has been dominated by fear, again both self-inflicted and brought about by others. And I would encourage you to not let the same thing happen to you. It's been said a million different ways, but, in a nutshell, if you start running now, you'll never stop. Fear will keep you from the things you truly want in life, be it success, respect, or the friendship of others. Fear has kept me an anti-social asshole for many years now, and it is extremely difficult to break one's self of these habits. I convinced myself in high school that I really didn't care what others thought of me, but it was really quite the opposite. I crave acceptance from others and had built up a horrifying fear of rejection so bad that I didn't ask a girl out until I was 21. Granted, I may come off as a ladies man, but it's just appearances. Who knows what it all stems from? Maybe it's from my two older brothers criticizing everything I ever did since I was four, or how they used to make my little brother and I fight for their amusement, putting the winner up on a pedestal and making the loser feel like he didn't deserve to be alive. When I say fight for their amusement, I mean they would literally get a five year old and his four year old brother riled up at each other for no better reason than the fact that Miami Vice was a rerun that night. Maybe it's from my first few days of Mt. Zion Intermediate school, when the other kids would make fun of me for being fat and wearing generic brand clothes. Or maybe, and this one is likely, I was just a weird little kid, who really didn't identify with anyone until midway through high school. God bless the Beatles for getting me through that nightmare. Who knows? Maybe my life is really easy and simple and I'm just a pessimist and a complainer. The point is this: If you let all the shit that life dumps on you keep you from getting what you want out of life, then you'll really not have anything to look forward to. Drop the fear and go after what you want and what you dream about at night when you can't sleep. I'm going to stop this now before it turns into a Tony Robbins speech, but please keep in mind with what I've said. And despite the previous paragraph, I can assure you that I am happy now. I still have miles to go before I sleep, but I'm working on it. Trust me, I'm still quite capable of making crude jokes that are pointless, but I really felt that I'd already done enough of that. So if you don't like this one, browse the archives. Two of my favorite lines of mine? "Drown that kid in the family tub. Nobody steals my cigs!" - I really love that if only for the words "family tub." "I'm trying out this comments thing. Be nice or I'll kill your parents." If I have to explain why I like this one, you don't know me and you need to get the hell off of my blog. I wouldn't feel right if I left you on a downer, so here are ten albums that every person should own. Not necessarily my 10 favorite albums, but most of them are on there. Pick them up, ye shant be disappointed. BEATLES- ABBEY ROAD, CAEDMON'S CALL- 40 ACRES, THE NORMALS- COMING TO LIFE. BEATLES- WHITE ALBUM, PETE YORN- MUSICFORTHEMORNINGAFTER, THE STROKES- ROOM ON FIRE, IRON AND WINE- OUR ENDLESS NUMBERED DAYS, THE SHINS- CHUTES TOO NARROW, FOO FIGHTERS- THE COLOUR AND THE SHAPE, YO LA TENGO- SUMMER SUN. Well, that's it. Dry your eyes. I'll probably be back in a few months with my absolute, for sure last blog of all time. I tease, kids. This is it. If you're my friend, you'll hear from me soon. If you're not, we'll see what happens. This is Todd Griffin, the last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off exclamation point

posted by Todd 8/31/2004 03:06:00 PM

. . .