Well our first venture into presenting at comic conventions went very well. SPACE Con was pretty awesome and we'll be posting pics and stuff in the next couple days hopefully.

Now for the other stuff.

I figure most of you reading this already know most of the stuff that's gone on, but a lot of you are also the people that want me to post more so here ya go!

Remember that sore tooth from a few posts back? Well a couple weeks ago it broke in half and I had to get it pulled, but never fear, my appointment to get it checked out by the oral surgeon is coming up in about a week and a half...

I'm thinking about not canceling the now worthless appointment, going in and asking the oral surgeon for a routine cleaning just to piss them off.

Unless the surgeon looks anything like the girls in the movie 'Naughty Oral Surgeons Vol 12' then she can pull a tooth of her choosing as long as I get the same kind of action the dude in the movie got.

Anyhow, I charged $10 worth of gas after the tooth extraction and forgot to make note of it when I got home, so two days later the charge comes through and bounces three other charges, so because I went in the hole by $3.72 it cost me $110.

Now I'm not bitching about the first charge. That was my fault, I admit it, I dropped the ball. What I am bitching about is I watched my account online for two full days and it didn't even appear as a pending charge till after I made a deposit that more than covered it, but they back dated the charge. what's more, they didn't back date the charge to the day it was made, they just back dated it to before I made my deposit. After that, their penalty fee (also backdated) caused two more overdrafts. I went in to ask them if they'd work with me a little and let me off with just one overdraft fee (the one I deserved) and the bank lady got kinda pissed.

So I called customer service and got them to refund one overdraft and hold the $7 a day additional charges and I think that's about as good as I'm going to get.

I hope bank lady finds out and gets furiously pissed off.

Is it just me though, or does anyone else remember the day when banking didn't cost this much money? Part of the selling point of banks used to be that they would give you this thing called 'interest'. Interest, for those of you who don't know, was a policy in which banks would give you money based on how much money you had in the bank. My having a bank account costs me an average of $200 a year or so depending on just how much they decide they want to fuck me in any given month.

The only reasons I bother having a bank account at all are A: My check direct deposits and that saves me time, B: I can use my bank card online, and C: I don't have to carry cash anymore. That's it. I don't write checks anymore, so those are worthless. I think that's why I get them for free...

Mom is insisting on deeding my car over to me. This in and of itself isn't a bad thing. I love my car more than my own life (and by extension more than any ten lives that aren't mine) I'm just worried that once I own it myself the medicaid people will say "Well you own a car now, so you can sell that and once you're out of money again we'll give you your health coverage back".

Now Medicaid says I can own a car and it won't affect my policy at all, but I'm used to dealing with West Virginia's Medicaid people and they would outright lie to me whenever it suited them, so I'm a bit nervous at the prospect.

Anyway, I need to put the car in the shop tomorrow so that I can drive it home and get it inspected before Mom will renew the license on it. Problem is, she needs to do that before the 1st and I can't get home till after the 1st. This means I'll get to drive the car home with both an expired inspection sticker AND a dead license, get it inspected (which they probably won't do with a dead license), then go to the DMV to get it re-licensed so that Mom can deed it to me and since I'm an Ohio resident the West Virginia inspection sticker will then be completely worthless.

I tried to explain this to her and she got really mad at me.

For those of you that are wondering YES my Mother is completely insane.

This means that I may have to drive home on Wednesday or Thursday to deal with this shit (IF they're done fixing the car by then) and get back up here in time for the Unitarian Con I'm attending over the weekend.

Yes, I'm going to attend a weekend-long function at a nationally recognized church. No, I'm not finding religion, I'm just hanging out with a cool group of people I know and (perhaps only marginally more important) trying to hook up with attractive young college girls.

The other reason I have to go home after the con is I need to dig through the charred remains of my old house and see if any of my stuff survived. See, someone in my old neighborhood decided it would be a lot of fun to light my goddamn house on fire the other night. I wish to god I was making that up, but no, someone goddamn set my motherfucking house on fire.

Most of the first floor is a total loss, but the majority up the second floor is reportedly ok. This, according to the fire department, is due to the unusually high percentage of asbestos in the walls and ceilings.

Umm, yay asbestos?

All in all though I'm somehow in a pretty positive state of mind, which is probably better evidence than ever there's been before that there's something very, very wrong with me...

Anyhow, SPACE went very well, so well in fact that we're talking about getting a table at this year's Mid-Ohio-Con. I'll let you guys know as soon as possible if we decide to do it because, unlike SPACE which was for independent comics which are a very selective taste, Mid-Ohio-Con will have a much broader appeal and I'm sure a lot more of you will want to attend and give us money.

Oh, and there will be famous people there, like my good, close, personal friend Brad Guigar, author of Evil Inc.

Ok, maybe 'close, personal friend' is overstating it a bit, but I've met him twice and he laughed at one of my comics, so bite me.

I also met Ray Park and Daniel Logan last year and they were both way cool too. I've got a funny story about meeting the two of them, but it's a little long so I'll post it later. I was going to post it some time ago, but due to some computer problems I lost most of my pictures from that con.

So that's pretty much it for now. I'll post again just as soon as some newer, fresher hell rears it's head.

By my reckoning I should spontaneously combust by Friday, so that should be noteworthy...

So I started to write about David Carradine dying and then Farrah Fawcett died.

So I started to write about her too and then Ed McMahon died.

So I started to add him too and then Michael Jackson died and everyone in the world acted like they gave a shit.

So I added Jackson to the list and then Jeff Goldblum died.

So in the middle of adding him to the list he went on the Colbert Report to say he wasn't really dead.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Jeff Goldblum Will Be Missed
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Jeff Goldblum

And after all this I heard that Billy Mays died.

Why did I hear that Billy Mays died? I have no idea. See, some of you may know Mays from a long line of annoying infomercials or from his equally annoying TV show about MAKING infomercials (dear God I wish I was creative enough to make up fiction stranger than that) and for some fucking reason he's a celebrity. All he ever did was sell cheap shit to people that don't need it and that makes him famous?

Not only famous, but in memory of him they ran an impromptu marathon of his annoying ass show that then proceeded to pre-empt one of my favorite shows in the history of ever; Mythbusters.

I mean, lets do the list here. David Carradine was a fine actor who, not too long ago, turned in one of his finest performances in the Kill Bill movies.



Not just that, but he fought Brandon Lee.



He fought Rick Springfield (you know you want to).



He even fought CHUCK NORRIS!



And he didn't just fight him, he fought him in a sweater! A COSBY SWEATER!!! Thus, he is worth of remembrance. Even though it is slightly possible that his death might have been accidental while masturbating, which is pretty fucking embarrassing.

And seriously people, the choking oneself to make masturbation better? You're not supposed to make masturbation better! It's MASTURBATING! It's fucking great already! The only thing that can make it any better at all is getting someone else to do it for you though that only works if they're good at it.

Then there was Farrah Fawcett. Yes, she used to be hot. I really can't say a whole lot more about her than that because I really don't know more about her than that. Charlies Angels was pretty awesome. There. That's like everything I know about her. No, wait, she used to be married to Lee Majors. There, that's everything. Quite frankly I was less surprised to hear that she'd died than I was to hear that she'd still been alive up to that point.



Then there's Ed McMahon. Another person who's claim to fame kind of eludes me, but he didn't annoy me and, let's face it, that takes some skill.



And then Michael Jackson. What the fuck can I say about Michael Jackson that hasn't already been said. Good stuff was said about him when he was a young, talented, black man. Then bad stuff was said about him when he was an older, rich, white woman, and now that he's dead he's practically up for sainthood.

Here's my stance on Jackson. He was a profoundly fucked up person. STUPENDOUSLY fucked up. The kind of fucked up that makes Courtney Love feel better about herself. I know I'll miss him personally if only for missing the anticipation of what fucked up thing he was going to do next. I've long had sympathy for him because he's one of the few people in Hollywood that honestly wasn't to blame for how fucked up he was and I know I'm not alone in that sympathy because it's been all over the news since he died. Problem is, people are confusing sympathy with... well, fucked if I know what they're confusing it with, but come on, Thriller was a great fucking album and then, after that (if you're an American anyway) you fucking forgot about him. None of these people mourning his death bought any more of his albums, you just openly mocked his weirdness. Yes, I did it too, but I'm admitting it you hypocritical bastards. You can't villainize him as a pedophile (which, despite a LOT of fucking evidence was never really proven) while he's alive and then go on about how great he was when he's dead.

Because I have a sense of proportion, when I think of Michael, I will try to remember this:



Instead of this:



But as much as he used to be a talented artist you can't forget little social faux-pas like dangling babies from hotel balconies. Even the fucking Sex Pistols had more propriety than that. Remember, just because it's possible that someone might not be responsible for how fucked up they are (a rare thing, but it's what we're dealing with here) it doesn't excuse all the fucked up things they did after getting all fucked up.

Now Jeff Goldblum, well I really can't sum up his life as he's not dead. I mean, I like a lot of what he's done up to this point, but he might do something really fucked up to taint it before he's really dead, so I'm reserving judgment.

For now...

In the meantime, here's this thing:



So what did Billy Mays bring the world? A whole bunch of this:



And his fucking show:



You know, when he died I said on my Facebook page (YES, I got one of those fucking things now) that I wasn't glad he was dead. Now that everyone has gone on and on about what a great guy he was and how talented he was I've changed my mind.

Burn in hell you fucking schill. Nobody comes between me and a dose of sweet, sweet Kari Byron...



Oh yeah, Happy July 4th everyone. Even if you aren't American. Use it as an excuse to have a barbecue, get drunk and blow something up.

Unless we're currently blasting the shit out of your country. If that's the case then skip step three. It's probably be hard for you to find something new to blow up anyways.

I'll be out at Mom's from the 3rd till the 7th. If you've got my number, use it.

You know those 'inspirational' posters your corporate slave-masters put up in your pens in a futile effort to make you fucking wage-zombies give a fuck about whatever the hell they're barely paying you to do? Well I made a realistic one and I decided to share it with you unworthy bastards.

Enjoy, with the compliments of everyone here at the Graveyard...




By the way, you can click on it for a wallpaper sized version suitable for use at the mind-numbing hell-hole you call a job.

So I just got back in from my 8 AM appointment to have my stitch, that's right STITCH, as in SINGULAR STITCH, removed from my ankle.

I'm not sure which I'm pissed at more. Having to go there for ONE FUCKING STITCH, or having to have it done at 8 in the GODDAMN MORNING.

Fucking Daywalkers...

Anyhow, it didn't take that long so I went to my family doctor to get my speed prescription refilled since I'll be out of town when I run out of my little pals (oh, how I love them so) and then I ran to K-Mart to pick up some of that mane and tail shampoo and conditioner.

See, I've been growing my hair back out. I started doing it just so that I could get a decent haircut after the last time I butchered it trying to thin the sides out myself. I continued growing it when I saw that it was coming in really nice because of all the niacin in the drugs I've been taking. The two side benefits to this are that it really annoys my brother (who started losing his hair around age 19) and chicks really dig it.

So, despite every manly instinct in me, I got the special shampoo. I assuaged my maleness by reassuring myself that, while it may be a special shampoo (AND conditioner, which is even worse), it WAS designed for farm animals and was therefore ok.

I had to go to K-Mart for it because I only know of two places that carry it and FUCK WAL-MART.

Anyhow, while I was there I had another of those 'mortality moments' I've been going through. I was looking through the meager grocery selection while I waited for the glob of shampoo on my forearm to react with my skin.

See, my sister used the stuff a few years ago and broke out in a bright red rash everywhere it touched her skin. Given that I wasn't about to pay twelve bucks for this shit (it's two big-ass bottles, but still...) without a test.

So while killing time waiting for a rash to break out I found myself looking through the diet products when it occurred to me, why am I looking at diet products when I'm having major surgery in seven days? Given my propensity for shuffling off the mortal coil, why not enjoy myself?

So I picked up a double-feature DVD of Friday the 13th parts 1&2, seven days worth of liquor and Krispy Kreme Donuts. And not just any goddamn Krispy Kreme's, oh no, the cream-filled, chocolate-dipped motherfuckers!

I'm going out in a blaze or refined sugar!

Cause the way I see it, you gotta face death the way you lived. In my case that's jerking off while teetering on the edge of a diabetic coma.

Fuck. I just realized that I spent an awful lot on a bunch of shampoo I may never get to use.

Even worse, if I do die I know my hair's getting cut before I go into the box.

Oh well. It's booze and pills time, so very soon I won't care anymore.

See ya in hell motherfuckers!




PS: By the way, several people have asked me who I was talking about in my last post. It wasn't anyone that has commented on, been pictured on, or even read this blog. Someone that I haven't spoken to since before I even had this blog. She is, however, largely to blame for the insanity you've all been enjoying here so much, so you all owe her some thanks.

So here's another song that comes to mind when I think of her.

And I do think of her.

Far too often.