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Disgruntled urbanite and New York Trash columnist C. Moody rants on the trials and tribulations of urban life!

So, two months into the new year and already I've broken every resolution I made for myself: no more throwIng stuff off the roof of the offIce buildIng I work in, no more vomiting at the bar, no more peeing into a beer can just because I'm too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom, no more eating stuff I threw away the day before...basically every darn resolution was down the drain almost within six weeks after new year's...a new personal record...

Last friday tho' I decided to turn over a new leaf - I stayed home on friday nite and a) didn't drink, b) didn't smoke any cigarettes, c) didn't watch tv, and d) didn't spy on my neighbors with my binoculars...basically I just sat on the saturday morning I woke up feeling so full of, uh, something, that I decided to do my 8 I go charging out the door with my big bag'o'clothes, whistling a tune, only to have my entire day destroyed by a sight so foul that i hesitate to describe it to anyone but my most hated enemies...

you twisted my arm...

I walk out the door, clothes in hand, hang a left at the bottom of the stairs, and run smack into this disgusting little man in a wheelchair (sort of)... his hair is full of what appears to be sticks and dirt, his face is smeared with black grime, his hands are kind of gnarled and bloody, his head is lolling back and forth like he's on acid, he smells like the inside of a goat's stomach, his fucking pants are down around his ankles AND HE IS TAKING A SHIT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK... right in front of my goddamned building...with cars and people all around...

All day long every time I closed my eyes all I envisioned was this seeping mess dribbling out from between two albino stringbean legs... I cannot live with that image burned into my brain... so I guess you may consider this a suicide note... I am going on a hunger strike until I am dead, or until I am drunk and forget why I have stopped eating...whichever comes first...


I had the opportunity to see one of the all time greatest bands recently: the SWANS...reformed for one show only...yyaaaaayy...and if it wasn't for all the goth pansies hanging around all over the place with their stupid looking lacy shirts and Marcel Marceau makeup jobs I might've said this was the best show I've seen in months... what's the matter with people that they feel the need to dress up like Morticia Addams (boys and girls) and parade around looking all pouty and depressed just because they have no musical ability whatsoever and their $25 worth of herbal ecstacy gave them cramps?...huh?...

Got to go to my friend andy's birthday party tonite, so if nobody hears from me for awhile it's probably because he locked me in his car trunk again...I'll be in touch...

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