jimmi;

Observances of today, the social faux pas. Why must we always be thinking about what we say to others. It's like there is this fragile veil of sensitivity infront of everyone and the slightest politically incorrect comment can lead to social suicide. Why must we adhere to these invisible rules, surely we have come to the point of social tolerance where we can speak our mind and not be looked down upon contemporary convervativism and that people actually have grown some balls and just take remarks as what they are, fucking words. Like last night i saw a fat chick try to climb over the fence at McDonald's and have an epic fall. Now whether if this was an act of laziness to not walk around the fence to the entrance or an act of desperation to eat prepacked heart attacks, it is still the epitome of fat hilarity. Yet the question is, was I in the wrong for laughing at such an occurrence? By my reasoning, I couldn't give a shit. This is life, some stuff is funny that it hurts. Some women will have a big ass and others will be big ass women, shit happens so don't play the social taboo card on me because this is life and we play motherfucking black jack!
On a side note i think i have solved McDonalds problem of causing obesity in kids. The whole whale flopping over the fence gave me the idea that they should make an obstacle course to get into the restaurants. That way those little tubbies can work off a little sweat before they devour 6 supersized family meals.




0 comments
jimmi;

Photowhores, I come across them all the time in my line of work. Yet something about them intrigues me. Out of all the social relationships i have uncovered during my very short and drawl life, I have found out that vanity between peers is an attribute found in all who consider themselves part of this new generation of "who gives a fuck just look at me!"
So what spurred the creation of such a fiend. I blame all of those new age movements with all of that bullshit that you are special in your own way, and perhaps the abundance of social networking sites such as Myspace and Facebook. All of these nuances are contributing factors of the extremely ugly persona that is the photowhore.
See all of the photos taken with their own shitty digicam or when they are being the clubrats that they are and bother photographers like me to take 2103823943123 photos of them all end up on some form of public forum. Such as a social online profile, an instant messaging display photo or a blog. Either way they use these photos to promote themselves as a special and 'different' person, as pathetic as that sounds.
So to circumvent this, maybe we should give them an incentive to take photos, such as a threat on their lives or maybe just beat them at their own game. Why dont we all start taking copious ammounts of photographs of ourselves at all times, while we are eating, while we are popping a squat, while we watch a donkey show. This way we rid of their sole motivation of taking the photos in the first place...individuality via annoyance.
But in the end these guys remind me of those people who walk by stores and look at their reflection on the window glass and when glanced at by a store worker they quickly shrug off the exposed self indulgence and try to live with themselves by taking more luvo photos of themselves. Such vanity is beyond my comprehension.

I came across a dead person a few weeks ago. He was a homeless guy who had a heart attack outside my uni. I saw him just as they put the sheet over him. Twas a month of death, considering there were the suicides previously of young men. Everytime i think im going to see a dead person i want to poke them with a stick to find out, but when you see one in real life the surrealness and morbitiy take over you like a nasty std you got from that one girl at the club. Anyways I was told this was the second time someone as died near COFA. The first time was two years ago where another homeless man carked it. This was in the afternoon and he was laying down on the path. However being the artists that cofa produces everyone thought it was a performance piece and thus ignored the poor old guy until the grounds keeper came over and actually checked his pulse. So anyways the moral of the story is if you think someone is dead, poke them with a stick to make sure.




0 comments
jimmi;

Hello bored motherfuckers, Jimwise is back with another rant about what ever crack concoction my mind comes up with.
So much to blog about, such a small attention span.
I guess I will start with this whole shit ice cream debacle. May i first say, bahahahahaha. She actually ate shit. That there my friends is ironic gold. Like you always taunt your friends or foes with that phrase, but for it to be realized in a literal context and to be publicized on national television put the proverbial cherry on this shit sundae. However as disgusting as this sounds lets back up a bit. What happened if this became an actual delicacy? Imagine you go to a restuarant and say "Yes I would like to try to Balinese excrement today please, I heard its fresh!" I reckon people would eat if it was like a celebrities, say if your shit sundae was encrusted with diamonds, then you know it would be a rich black guy's poo cause that shit is just balla.

On a more serious note alot of my friends have been experiencing theft in their lives, especially those involving the old bag and snatch. Now im thinking, why punish these people who steal our much coveted material commercialism? Sure I would beat the shit out of anyone that would rob me, but if they have the nerve to try and snatch my bag then they must have the feet of slaves, cause those motherbitches can run. So i think i am trying to propose a new kind of athleticism. One in which ones physical peakness is determined by endangering their life. To reiterate lets have a 100m sprint with someone with a shank chasing said competitor. So now the entertainment value of track sports is doubled. We get to see feats of physical epicness and we might get to see a noob get shanked, its win win yes?

enough for one day, actually no. For those who read my blog, could you please leave a note on the tagboard. I was almost about to quit this blog due to lack of responses from viewers.




0 comments



1 comments
jimmi;

My my has it been a long and eventful absence from this electronic diary. So many disturbing occurrences and ironic observances to recount in a coherent and chronological matter. Thus I have decided to adhere to my normal storytelling style. Utter word vomit.

May I first give my accolades to Barack Obama. He beat that cracked ass cracker John McCain to and his hussy vice president Senator Palin to the ground with his superior rhetoric and his genetic endowments. I only hope that he gets to live to see the oval office and not be offed by some redneck impervious to the changes in social stigma and out right common decency. I am very relieved that there will not be another 4 years of republican reign. The possibility of Palin being the president after McCain suffers from his imminent heart attack would be disastrous to everyone. I could imagine global warming be taught in schools to be the sun hugging the earth more tightly than usual or that if you try REALLY hard you can see Russia from Alaska. Republicans scare me.

Now away from politics and to other news, apparently i look like a male prostitute. A few weeks ago i was propositioned by some seedy old guy on Oxford street. Now i don't know if i should be flattered or fucking freaked out, but this leads me to a funny story for me to recall. Back in the day i knew this girl who would dress like a hoodrat. So one day on a school mufti day she decked out her usual skampy attire and when she was waiting at the bus stop another 'lady of the night' ran up to her and yelled "RUN LOVE, THE COPS ARE COMING!". The strange lady then took the girls hand and they both ran off together to the bordellos of the skies. Needless to say that this was a gross misunderstanding of identity but it is also the epitome of hilarity to the point of self urination...maybe just two drops.

Enough for one day, over and out.




0 comments

jimmi;

Observances of today, the social faux pas. Why must we always be thinking about what we say to others. It's like there is this fragile veil of sensitivity infront of everyone and the slightest politically incorrect comment can lead to social suicide. Why must we adhere to these invisible rules, surely we have come to the point of social tolerance where we can speak our mind and not be looked down upon contemporary convervativism and that people actually have grown some balls and just take remarks as what they are, fucking words. Like last night i saw a fat chick try to climb over the fence at McDonald's and have an epic fall. Now whether if this was an act of laziness to not walk around the fence to the entrance or an act of desperation to eat prepacked heart attacks, it is still the epitome of fat hilarity. Yet the question is, was I in the wrong for laughing at such an occurrence? By my reasoning, I couldn't give a shit. This is life, some stuff is funny that it hurts. Some women will have a big ass and others will be big ass women, shit happens so don't play the social taboo card on me because this is life and we play motherfucking black jack!
On a side note i think i have solved McDonalds problem of causing obesity in kids. The whole whale flopping over the fence gave me the idea that they should make an obstacle course to get into the restaurants. That way those little tubbies can work off a little sweat before they devour 6 supersized family meals.



jimmi;

Photowhores, I come across them all the time in my line of work. Yet something about them intrigues me. Out of all the social relationships i have uncovered during my very short and drawl life, I have found out that vanity between peers is an attribute found in all who consider themselves part of this new generation of "who gives a fuck just look at me!"
So what spurred the creation of such a fiend. I blame all of those new age movements with all of that bullshit that you are special in your own way, and perhaps the abundance of social networking sites such as Myspace and Facebook. All of these nuances are contributing factors of the extremely ugly persona that is the photowhore.
See all of the photos taken with their own shitty digicam or when they are being the clubrats that they are and bother photographers like me to take 2103823943123 photos of them all end up on some form of public forum. Such as a social online profile, an instant messaging display photo or a blog. Either way they use these photos to promote themselves as a special and 'different' person, as pathetic as that sounds.
So to circumvent this, maybe we should give them an incentive to take photos, such as a threat on their lives or maybe just beat them at their own game. Why dont we all start taking copious ammounts of photographs of ourselves at all times, while we are eating, while we are popping a squat, while we watch a donkey show. This way we rid of their sole motivation of taking the photos in the first place...individuality via annoyance.
But in the end these guys remind me of those people who walk by stores and look at their reflection on the window glass and when glanced at by a store worker they quickly shrug off the exposed self indulgence and try to live with themselves by taking more luvo photos of themselves. Such vanity is beyond my comprehension.

I came across a dead person a few weeks ago. He was a homeless guy who had a heart attack outside my uni. I saw him just as they put the sheet over him. Twas a month of death, considering there were the suicides previously of young men. Everytime i think im going to see a dead person i want to poke them with a stick to find out, but when you see one in real life the surrealness and morbitiy take over you like a nasty std you got from that one girl at the club. Anyways I was told this was the second time someone as died near COFA. The first time was two years ago where another homeless man carked it. This was in the afternoon and he was laying down on the path. However being the artists that cofa produces everyone thought it was a performance piece and thus ignored the poor old guy until the grounds keeper came over and actually checked his pulse. So anyways the moral of the story is if you think someone is dead, poke them with a stick to make sure.



jimmi;

Hello bored motherfuckers, Jimwise is back with another rant about what ever crack concoction my mind comes up with.
So much to blog about, such a small attention span.
I guess I will start with this whole shit ice cream debacle. May i first say, bahahahahaha. She actually ate shit. That there my friends is ironic gold. Like you always taunt your friends or foes with that phrase, but for it to be realized in a literal context and to be publicized on national television put the proverbial cherry on this shit sundae. However as disgusting as this sounds lets back up a bit. What happened if this became an actual delicacy? Imagine you go to a restuarant and say "Yes I would like to try to Balinese excrement today please, I heard its fresh!" I reckon people would eat if it was like a celebrities, say if your shit sundae was encrusted with diamonds, then you know it would be a rich black guy's poo cause that shit is just balla.

On a more serious note alot of my friends have been experiencing theft in their lives, especially those involving the old bag and snatch. Now im thinking, why punish these people who steal our much coveted material commercialism? Sure I would beat the shit out of anyone that would rob me, but if they have the nerve to try and snatch my bag then they must have the feet of slaves, cause those motherbitches can run. So i think i am trying to propose a new kind of athleticism. One in which ones physical peakness is determined by endangering their life. To reiterate lets have a 100m sprint with someone with a shank chasing said competitor. So now the entertainment value of track sports is doubled. We get to see feats of physical epicness and we might get to see a noob get shanked, its win win yes?

enough for one day, actually no. For those who read my blog, could you please leave a note on the tagboard. I was almost about to quit this blog due to lack of responses from viewers.





jimmi;

My my has it been a long and eventful absence from this electronic diary. So many disturbing occurrences and ironic observances to recount in a coherent and chronological matter. Thus I have decided to adhere to my normal storytelling style. Utter word vomit.

May I first give my accolades to Barack Obama. He beat that cracked ass cracker John McCain to and his hussy vice president Senator Palin to the ground with his superior rhetoric and his genetic endowments. I only hope that he gets to live to see the oval office and not be offed by some redneck impervious to the changes in social stigma and out right common decency. I am very relieved that there will not be another 4 years of republican reign. The possibility of Palin being the president after McCain suffers from his imminent heart attack would be disastrous to everyone. I could imagine global warming be taught in schools to be the sun hugging the earth more tightly than usual or that if you try REALLY hard you can see Russia from Alaska. Republicans scare me.

Now away from politics and to other news, apparently i look like a male prostitute. A few weeks ago i was propositioned by some seedy old guy on Oxford street. Now i don't know if i should be flattered or fucking freaked out, but this leads me to a funny story for me to recall. Back in the day i knew this girl who would dress like a hoodrat. So one day on a school mufti day she decked out her usual skampy attire and when she was waiting at the bus stop another 'lady of the night' ran up to her and yelled "RUN LOVE, THE COPS ARE COMING!". The strange lady then took the girls hand and they both ran off together to the bordellos of the skies. Needless to say that this was a gross misunderstanding of identity but it is also the epitome of hilarity to the point of self urination...maybe just two drops.

Enough for one day, over and out.