Disorders & Porn Stores & Stats...Oh My.

"I wish I had a 'friend with benefits'...

but only if the the friend owned a pharmacy and the benefit was free valium." 

\m/ (O_o) \m/

I know, I know - I'm up to like, a blog a day. But you know what? I gots me some shits to say - and after all, that was the original point to this blog, remember? Because I can't ever keep my damn mouth shut? Lol, that's right - y'all don't like it, don't read it. :)

And speaking of that, I was just looking at my stats before I started writing this. The total view count for "The Chronicles of Crowens" is now up to 4,722, and there are 36 blogs posted. If you do the math, you know - divide the one by the other for the average and all that big brain stuff - that means that 131.16 people read this shit. Now, I realize that those numbers are a tad off because 1439 people saw the one about ACB Stor....ahem, ACB Destroyers. But even taking that into consideration, leaving them out of the average - my blogs are still averaging about 93.8 views. Are you kidding me?! I mean, I'm pretty lame, but if 93.8 of you regularly read this jumble that comes out of my head - you're way lamer than I am. :) Anyhow, for real...I'll quit being a chode, I'm just playing, seriously. Thanks for the support guys. As long as y'all read, I'll write. It's therapeutic. :) -----> random side note about the Crow: I can't say the word "regularly" correctly...and that's real shit right there.

And one point on to the next, my super hilarious ridiculous lawyer called me two days ago. Said that the lawyer that ACB Destroyers has called on to represent them called and asked him for the itemized list of things that were destroyed. He said that this doesn't mean that they are cooperating by any means, just that the ball is now rolling and they realize that their stubborn silence just ain't gonna fly any further. Well, good. Shoooooooow meeeeeeeee the money! :)

For the last several days I've been perplexed. That doesn't happen very often with this big brain of mine and the overabundance of uncommon sense that I carry with me. But I need some help here guys. Someone please explain this to me: How does one person tell a million lies to a million different people, be in the presence of those million people that they've lied to a million times on a million different occasions - and manage not to fuck up and tell on themselves one single time? How is it humanly possible to keep all that bullshit straight and cover your ass that thoroughly? Is that like, a fucking disorder or something? I mean, it has to be exhausting, right? I asked Christopher this very question the other day, and his reply made sense...he said that normally the negative people that always have something to say about someone else are normally the ones that are hiding something, that they do that to keep all the eyes off them...and he's totally right. But I still don't understand how it's humanly possible...and I wanna know why it is that I have to take anti-psychotic medication to keep from knocking the hell out of people who need to be taking anti-psychotic medication? I guess proper protocol here is to just bow down to the bitch that lies better than you.

Speaking of my anti-psychotic medication, my lovely new doctor prescribed me one that doesn't make me want to eat my weight in chocolate on a day-to-day basis. Which is pretty awesome because one can't very well stay under their allotted daily Weight Watcher's points when their magnesium level is shot to hell - or so I'm told. I'm excited to weigh in tomorrow though, I feel like I've done pretty well this week.:) Today, I brought in this cool fat-girl friendly breakfast sandwich that said I should wrap it in a paper towel and cook it for a minute in the microwave and this and that. Which worked out fine, except the paper towel stuck to the damn thing. And I'm not even gonna sit here and lie to you - mostly because I don't trust my personal ability to cover my ass about it at a later date - but I totally ate some paper towel this morning. I feel like that's okay though, since I still have my appendix. That's what the appendix is for, right? For digesting dumb stuff? ----> Piss, I just googled it...looks like I may or may not have PICA. 

The other day, I got some calls at work - imagine that, phone calls at work - but these particular calls were rightly inappropriate...you know, about your everyday porn stores and vaginas. Sounded like a grown man to me and it kinda sketched me out, honestly. Christopher called me shortly after and I was telling him about it - he had me give him the number. Upon calling the number back and a little coercion, he gathered that a little boy in an alternative middle school in Bardstown had taken a little girl's phone into the bathroom and prank called me a few times. So, yesterday - the principal of the school called me and asked exactly what was said, and then a little while later the little boy's mother called me to apologize for her son's behavior. I'm here to tell you right now, that poor woman tugged at my heart strings. She cried, and apologized over an over, told me that they'd had so many problems with him and that she just didn't understand where they had gone wrong....and she just went on and on. I told her that once I knew it was just a kid calling, it wasn't that big of a deal - because really, none of you can tell me that you never pulled a "goats in my garden" or a "refrigerator is running" bit when you were a kid, and if you do tell me that - you are lying and you better remember to cover your ass about it later! Anyhow, I felt super bad that I had brought more grief to this poor woman about something as petty as a prank call! But it really got me to thinking about how so many good mothers out there end up with shit kids, and how so many good kids out there end up with shit mothers - and really, I just don't think that anything in this damn world makes any damn sense any more. But I really do hope that things get better for that poor woman and her son - jeez. 

And I guess I'll leave you with that on a rockin' Halloween Thursday. If anything groundbreaking happens, I'll be sure to report back to all you avid (lame) readers out there....(((seriously though, I'm just joking.)))

"She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad. And that's important." 

- Marilyn Monroe

Preventative Maintenance

So, y'all know how I'm always like, "oh you know, I'm just bored here at headquarters?"  Well, check this shit out...today: we've got what the IT guys call "an outage". And you know what that means? That means the lines are down. That means my email doesn't work. That means my internet doesn't work. That means my phone isn't ringing. That means I've just been spun into a level of boredom that I've never seen before. Seems like maybe I see a pattern; it was just Friday that I was spun into a level of pissed off that I've never seen before.  But that's neither here, nor there.

Today, in this Chronicle, I want to talk about what it means to be a best friend. I even googled it because one: google knows everything; and two: I like to be educated before I open my big fat mouth - which, sadly, isn't a trait that many possess. But again, that's neither here, nor there.

According to google, this is what a best friend is:

- "Best friends are very special people in your life. They are the first people you think about when you make plans. They are the first people you go to when you need someone to talk to. You will phone them up just to talk about nothing, or to talk about the most important things in your life. When you're sad they will try their hardest to cheer you up. They give the best hugs. They are the shoulder to cry on because you know that they truly care about you. In most cases, they would take a bullet for you because it would be too painful for them to watch you get hurt.  Many people, not all, go through different best friends throughout life. However, usually a person only has one real, true best friend in all their time. A best friend is not only someone that you have a good time with, they are also someone you believe you can trust your life with. A best friend is almost like real family, a best friend gives the opinions that you usually care the most about. A best friend is the one who tells things that you absolutely need to hear, regardless of whether or not you want to hear it. A best friend is the person you can be around and never get sick of. A best friend is someone you don't envy, and is the person you are most grateful for.  Your real, true best friend is your comfort zone."

I'm pretty sure that google hit the figurative nail on its figurative little head...not like the time it told me that my itchy ankle meant that I had the gout; not like the time it told me that smelling onions meant that I had a brain tumor...this time - it's right on point. A best friend is exactly what google just told me it was.

In accordance with my plight to make the world a better place, I wanted to put this definition out there for those of you who carry the title of someone's "best friend". Please read and use this to tune yourself up a bit, you know - preventative maintenance never hurts. Truth is, sometimes best friends get rusty. Sometimes best friends start to misfire. And sometimes best friends begin to knock and eventually throw a piston rod straight the fuck through the engine block...and at that point - they've become nothing but an oily mess that needs to be cleaned up and a best friend that needs to be replaced.  So, if you are indeed someone's best friend, you owe it to your counterpart to keep yourself in good running condition. Nobody wants a piece of junk as a best friend - trust me on this one.

"The world is not fair, and often fools, cowards, liars, and the selfish hide in high places." 

- Bryant H. McGill