In the Food Court

I saw a wigger lesbian today. I was in the food court, not enjoying my Chik Fil-A (or however the fuck it is) when I heard what sounded like a sixteen year old kid warming up for a battle rap with his neighborhood's only black kid. That's when I saw the wigger lesbian, and I'll be goddamned if this bitch didn't try her hardest to look like a piece of shit. Du-ragged cornrows and a black t-shirt that said Game Time. She was with her black girlfriend, her giver-of-street-cred. Her black girlfriend looked like James Brown's famous mugshot. I felt so sorry for both of them that I wanted to give them my last crack rock but I had already smoked it four years ago when I decided to come to this fucking school (Go Hilltoppers!). The wigger lesbian pronounced "lids" as "leeeds." She had a booger piercing. You know, one of those ugly little silver ball studs that people stick somewhere between their upper lip and nose. It looks like shit. Like a booger.

I saw two fat rednecks in camouflage hats and high school football t-shirts today. They ordered everything from our shitty excuse for a Taco Bell. Tangent: Campus Taco Bells ARE NOT the same as real Taco Bells... end tangent. Apparently these fat redneck former high school football players still think they're playing offensive line. Therefore they're not fat; they're all muscle. I wanted to go up to one of them and ask him if he knew if Gravedigger was going to be at the monster truck rally this weekend. I wanted him tell me about his paintball league. I wanted to see his short, blonde high school sweetheart who loves to suck the dip residue from his yellowed, crooked teeth. If we were on a hunting trip I would stay behind at the camp while he went looking for deer and dump all of his Busch Light into the creek. See how much he fucking cares about hunting when he doesn't have cheap, white trash beer to fuel his adventures in mediocrity and being a stereotype.

I saw a frat mascot today. She was blonde (no fucking kidding, Jeff) and chunky and it looked like she let Michael J. Fox do her makeup for her. She wore a purple SAE shirt and I listened to her complain about all kinds of pointless Greek shit that makes her world so fucking liveable. She was with two of her "sisters." I wanted to tell her she looked like runner-up for Homecoming queen in the shitty little county she came from. She would've most likely taken it as a compliment. I was waiting for her to take out her big sunglasses and put them on so I could dislike her even more. I was waiting for her to go outside and sit down and fold her big legs over each other -- the prelude to smoking a Marlboro Light. Some Ryan Cabrera poser in a sport jacket sat down next to her. When I first saw him the chorus from the song "I'm Coming Out" by Diana Ross looped over in my head. He is what I call a Southern guido: every bit as effeminate as a Gotti boy without the tough guy persona. He buys a new pair of frayed shorts or sandals the night before so he has a reason to get up in the morning. He secretly hates black people and loves to sing Rocky Top when it comes on at a party, always perfectly timed for when everybody is pretending to be the most drunk. Southern by the grace of God. Fuck you, kid.

See, I wanted to do all of these things, but I didn't. Why? Because society doesn't work like that. Every day we want to do things we don't. That's called restraint. Restraint is a good fucking thing. The best thing about being a writer is you automatically have an outlet. I just wrote this whole blog in less than ten minutes, barely stopping for a moment to collect my thoughts. Some of you may accuse me of complaining, and that's alright. I love to complain because I come up with some beautiful thoughts when I complain. I don't complain for the wrong reasons either. Sometimes I just have to purge.

Anyway, sorry for the lack of updates. I'm currently reworking my final draft so it's ready to enter in the Slamdance Screenplay Competition. People smile politely when I tell them about it: "This fucking meathead thinks he can make a dent in the world?" Screenwriting, my friends, is not an easy thing. Unless you're writing shit. As far as the competition goes, if I do well it can be a launch pad. Bigger and better things. It's more of an indie script competition. No, I don't hope to write indie scripts, but the one I'm writing now has indie all over it because it's important. Previous winners have been The Woodsman and Maria Full of Grace. Right now you're thinking, "This fucking meathead thinks he can write movies of those caliber."

I know I can. Wish me luck and I'll update when I can.