So, my trip back to Old Shanty Town after the festival last week wasn't all bad. I met someone special on the way home and we seem to be hitting it off admirably. Well, mostly admirably, except for that one incident with the chainsaw and the girl guides and the latex rabbit...

I'm so very sorry about that...

Anyway, life in my Shanty (in Old Shanty Town) isn't so bad anymore, what with the addition of LOOOOVE in my life. I like love! Nay, I love love. I like like, but...Well, you get the picture. I'm starting to think that there may be a way out of this place after all. I like life.

The family that lives in the shanty next to mine fight all of the time. I hate that! When I'm trying to catch a few 'Zs' on my cot, all I hear is banging and screaming and crying and stuff. GET IT TOGETHER! I swear, if they get into it just ONE MORE TIME...well...I still have a match left over from the 4th of July last year...We'll have an "early display," mark my words...

(singing) slow down, you move too fast....You got to make the morning last just...skippin' down the cobblestones...Lookin' for fun and FEEEELIN' GROOOOVY! (feelin' groovy!)

So, back to my having met someone. I'm thinking of having her over to my shanty for dinner! I sure hope she likes mouse juice casserole, I've been dying to try that recipe out on someone. Perhaps, if all goes well, she'll "lick my bug..." Hmmm....

I REALLY feel the need to throw in here that Derek is a really awesome guy. He's never spiteful and he never hits me in the head with ANYTHING!

Well, gotta go...Mice to squeeze and all...Catch you all later!

This one weekend some time ago, I went downtown in our little burg (mostly to escape the soul-crushing depression of Old Shanty Town) and, to my shock and delight, there was some sort of "festival" going on. People were engaging in fun (and what appeared to be very gratifying mastication (RIGHT THERE ON THE STREET!) so I joined right in, never one to be a "party pooper."

Everything was cool until someone "pantsed" me. Or de-pantsed me. Either way, there I was, pantsless. Mooning God and Country, butt crack flapping in the wind. I cried out "Why would you do that to me!?" It was then explained to me that my belt broke. thoroughly embarrassed, I pulled my pantalones back up and slinked away.

There're both "bums" AND "squirrels" in Acacia park...Did you know that? They rounded up all the squirrels, char-broiled them and fed them to the bums during the "festival." Everyone was a winner. It made me feel all funny inside.

Anyway, at the corner of Platte and....Somewhere, there was a man offering free balloon rides. Man, I love to float off into space, especially when it's a controlled situation. I ponied up the 5 bucks and took my place in the basket. The line was released and off we floated, into the wild blue yonder.

Ok, so I immediately threw up, but I had 4 TURKEY LEGS and a squirrel prior to flight! They were good! Unfortunately not good coming back up, but you make do. After I hurled, though, I was fine. I sat back to enjoy the ride when I suddenly spied a very odd sight...

Another balloon operator had HIS balloon seemingly on a crash course with OURS. The other operator was swinging his fists and cursing at MY operator, shouting something about "stealing his business." I ducked down into the basket when I witnessed the other balloon pilot whip out a crossbow and begin firing arrows at OUR balloon.

My pilot laughed and told me not to worry, that OUR balloon was reinforced. He then whipped out a throwing star and scored a direct hit, sending his opponent spiraling down to certain doom.

I have never felt closer to death, nor have I witnessed more bizarre operational behavior between two commercial competitors. I have to admit, though, I chose the right pilot that day. He was prepared for ANYTHING...

Man, people suck.

Yarr, motherfuckers.

I am clearly an adventurer! Of course, being out in the adventure...um...places for a long time can be quite lonely. And sad. Also, lonely. *Sigh*

doctor,
doctor,
gimme
the
news
I
gotta
baaaaaad
case
of
lovin'
ewes...

---

Ok, see, mind you that my life of ease and leisure comes at a price! That price being "$14.99" From each of you. Look, if you want pizza and cocktails, you have to pitch in. Otherwise, there's the door. Show your broke ass out.

Actually, you can stay. Let's chat about how morosely romantic the sun is! Stare at it! You can't help but cry. At the very least, you'll be rubbing your bleary, teary eyes and moaning in pain. Emotional pain! Blissful, searing emotional pain. Ah, how I've missed it so...

Hey, on friday, lets all go out to the Go-Kart park! we can race around, run into each oth....What the Hell do you MEAN they "tore it down!?" DAMMIT!..FUCK YOU, PARKING LOT! FUCK YOU TO HELL! or something...

So, anyway, come Saturday I was taking a leak and feeling a mite tender from all the "rubbing." Or "polishing. or "Powdering." OK, anyway... So I figured I'd hit this wonderful singles bar I'd heard about called the "Hide n' Seek." What a cute little name! Well, imagine my surprise when I get there and there ain't nothin' but DUDES there! "Where de women at!?" I thought to myself. I waited and waited and nothing. The night wasn't a total loss, though, I stank of stale beer and cigarettes when I returned home (my favorite "stink combo") and I HAD managed to get 3 or 4 phone numbers...

Sunday morning, my eyes hurt, my nose hurt, my throat was raw, I had what seemed to be an infection brewing in my left...um..."nut," I had two or three boils on my neck, my left arm was completely paralyzed and my butt itched. My tongue also had grown fur. And my hair was all wavy. And...and...

So anyways, I hobbled out of my shanty (I live in old Shanty Town!) and loped down the alleyway, screaming incoherently. It's always fun to make people cringe and run, sick with fear and loathing (self doubt, too!)...Try it the next time that YOU wake up horribly disfigured. Is fun times! Make sure what you got is REALLY repulsive though. An effed-up goiter and a distended belly just ain't gonna cut it, sparky. Slight discoloration of the skin and bad breath? bush-league. This ain't no traveling carnival, pal, this is the BIG show, you need to "take it up a notch" if you know what I mean. And I think you do...

Hey, assholes, the pizza is here and I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY FROM ANY OF YOU! Dammit, people! I can't be picking up the tab all the time! Step up or step out...Man....

So, anyway, I woke up sometime in the afternoon in a ditch about a mile from Shanty Town. I was bloodied and hungry, but otherwise alright. All of my ailments had mysteriously disappeared. Of course, I could've dreamt the whole thing. I wandered back to Shanty number 4 and had lunch, a wonderful meal made up of little mice, dirt, dust bunnies and a wonderful roux that I made with the mouse...juice...Or whatever that liquid is. I then made an appointment to see my personal psychic.

When I got to the office of "the Psychic Sidekick" I was told I'd have to wait. There were all the same magazines on the table in the waiting area, and I've read them more than once. Not wishing to bore myself to death, I stared out the window. Lucky I did, too, because I got to see someone steal a radio and all four tires from a car in the lot. Ha ha, I can't imagine the look on the face of the poor son of a bitch that owns THAT Kia...

Anyhoo, between wondering which of the numbers in my pocket to call first and watching petty theft occur, the time passed well. Eventually the Psychic was ready to see me. When I walked in, he said "I knew I'd be seeing you today." I HATE when he does that. "Fuck you, Jimmy, you're SUPPOSED to be psychic! And of course you KNEW! I MADE A GODDAMNED APPOINTMENT!" I yelled. We then scuffled and he threw me out. Eff him, fucking psychic nutcase! I'm not even gonna pay my copay! Ha, hope he saw THAT coming...

As a side note, I think I'm going to start a new career. I want to be Popeye. I don't mean, like, the MASCOT at Popeye's chicken, I mean Mother Fuckin' Popeye and shit. I'm gonna join the Navy, bulk up the SHIT outta my forearms, get tattoos, get my eye poked out, presumably in a fight, I'm gonna take up smoking a pipe, I'm going to adopt a surly and violent attitude, go awol, find a skinny chick to bang and taunt her goliath of an ex-lover with vegetables and daily ass-whuppin's. Aw Hell yeah, I'm gonna be Popeye. Olive Oyl Auditions are around back, ladies...

So anyway, I left the office of the Psychic Shithead and headed for home. When I started out, however, It felt like my car was running funny. I stopped, got out and looked and OH SHIT, my tires are gone! Where could I have lost them? I searched and searched but to no avail. In addition, it looks like I've misplaced my radio. I don't think I left it where I left the tires, but if you see either, let me know. Really, I need to get home. To my shanty. In old Shanty Town. Near the alley. You know the one. (number 4).

I want a pony! Get me a pony! I WILL ASK SANTA FOR A PONY! YOU BETTER COME THROUGH THIS TIME, YOU FAT BASTARD! I'LL LIGHT A FIRE IN THERE THIS CHRISTMAS EVE, I SWEAR TO GOD!..

So, by the by, I walked home to my shanty. I flopped on my cot to rest, but misery of miseries, it collapsed beneath my mighty weight. I decided immediately that I must diet! I weighed myself using the giant scale that I've been working on and my weight came up to (approximately) "a big thing, replete with stuff." "That's too much," I thought to myself and so I set to regimenting my eating habits. I will no longer enjoy my roux of mouse...stuff, but only eat the dirt. It's less fattening and it's availability is staggering. Heck, it's EVERYWHERE...

So there I sat, in my shanty (in old Shanty Town) eating dirt (flavored with the occasional ant) when the door bell rang.

"Who is it?" I said...There was no answer. "WHOOOO EEEES EEEET?" I said, louder...Still no answer. "WHO IS IT!?" I shouted. Nothing. Damn, I hate those neighborhood kids.

Ha ha...Just realized I don't have a doorbell. I...um...Don't know what made the bell noise...Ah heh...um...hmm...

So anyways, I'm off to purchase some Canadian meds (and hopefully a Canadian doctor to administer treatment) off of ebay. The auction ends in 4 minutes, so wish me luck! Big money, big money no whammies...

STOP!

wah wah wahhhhhhhh.......

Hey, there's one piece of pizza left! Anyone? no? ok....

I am living one big "choose your own adventure!" In fact, I am labeled "Some Assembly Required." Would someone please Ass. me? Anybody? A little Ass. help here!..Ah, well...Hey, random word list:

doctor and the medics
old lady smell
yacking Smeernoff
internet shminternet
"I am canadian" but really not...
Seared meat
Who's got time to...oops. out of time.
fleabag
yukon Jack
eye for an eye (old school!)

It's the big switcheroo, people! I'm so devious I've developed a game that can't possibly be won! There are going to be these "Letter Strings" that have to be integrated into larger letter strings AND OH MY GOD, IT'S THE ICE CREAM MAN! ICE CREAM MAN! COME BACK! I HAVE MONEY THIS TIME! PLEEEEAAAAASSSEEEE...

*Sigh* Someday...Someday I'll get my hands on the cool, sweet treats that that bastard keeps locked away from me...Mark my words, Popsicle purveyor...THEY WILL BE MINE! Oh yes...They WILL be mine...Until then, enjoy this link!

Kitten Meat and Mary Milk (and little lambsey diseys. or whatever)...

There always HAS to be a winner AND a loser, unless there's a tie, and then there's probably someone who simply got shafted. The great thing about winning, though, is that you can look upon EVERYONE ELSE as "losers." Jenn can commence with that....now.
----
Nipples, Meat, Milk, Cows, Chicks. That pretty much sums it up, yeah?

----
Man, there ain't no room for second place! GO HARD OR GO HOME, PEOPLE! 2ND PLACE IS THE FIRST LOSER! Or so they say, I dunno, it's better than 3rd. Or even being tied for second. Man, I'm hungry...
----
Cats, Daughter, Water, KEEEEL YOUUUUU, and one big ass burlap bag. Or would it be a gunny sack? What the hell is a gunny sack, anyway? What goes in it? Gunnies? I doubt THAT...
----

Demon Spawn! Demony Demon Spawn! Demon Merengue Pie! Demonade! Demon Fresh Pledge. (hey, this is fun!)
----
Kitchen, Sadness, Baby smell, Stink of Baby, Sadness, Moroseness, Despair. Aww, man, I'm all sad now.
----

MM, enticing, yes? There will be more. OH YES, THERE WILL BE MORE! Unless there isn't, in which case...um...Forget I said that.

I'm gonna find her! I swear to God! Didya ever notice that older songs (in this case, the 1957 Coasters classic "Searchin") really have a "Stalker" slant to them? Apparently, you were allowed to get away with a lot more before people slapped you with the restraining order back then. I don't know. I'd start stalking chicks, but I'm reeeeeeal lazy. It'd be more like me calling them on the phone..."Hello?" Hey, um...could you come drive by my house a few times?" *click*

Could anyone make me a really awesome and functional custom product for, say, under $50? No? Ok, never mind.

Ungrateful bastards...

I am now in the process of figuring out the atomic weight of the essential element known as "desire." YOU GOTTA WANT IT, PEOPLE!" Now, back to the drawing board! (to draw).

Apparently, I have a problem. It seems that these "sad little skeletons" that I described in my first Casear Collin's Forum Shops® post WERE ACTUALLY PEOPLE at one time. As such, they have FAMILIES! These "families" are all protesty and weepy about my disposal plans for their "loved ones"...Little "blood is thicker than water" bastards...Until I find a way around these whiny little FREAKS, my big plans are on hold...

So, if for whatever reason, you're ABSOLUTELY JONESIN' for upscale shopping inside a crypt, may I suggest the Citadel Mall? I had a dream...Nay, A VISION, when I was younger about a horrid corpse of someone who had been murdered and buried at the Citadel. This would be downstairs, JC Penney Wing right outside of...What...The Pet Store. So that should do it.

One last thing. I just found out that I have a direct link to other people around me. It's called a "Telephone." WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY CLUE ME IN SOONER!? It's got buttons and this..."receiver" thing. The best part? EVERYBODY HAS A UNIQUE NUMBER I.D. THING! All I have to do is press the corresponding number with these "number buttons" AND I GET CONNECTED TO THEM! I can then actually TALK with these people. no more Post-It notes for me, baby!

Hopefully, you have a direct link to me as well...I look forward to your dialing my unique number i.d. thingy...

I have a "friend." His name is Justin. We like to go to the park and ride bikes and catch frogs and then we go to his mom's house and she gives us juice and I like juice because...What? Whaddaya mean it's time for my medication!? Stay the Hell away from me, men in white coats! I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL CRUSH YOU ALL! AAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Modesty is the best policy, especially if you look bad in a bikini.

There was a small (teeny tiny) "floater" today. I was disgusted, shocked and appalled. If I find out who left this particular little chunk, I shall surely destroy them. BEWARE, CHUNK LEAVERS! PREPARE FOR YOUR DOOOOOM!

Tampa Bay, Tampa Bay, Tampa Bay! Whooo! Dave Andreychuk wins the cup! What a moment! I LOVE YOU, SWEET WONDERFUL GAME OF HOCKEY! I LOOOOOOOOVEEEE YOUUUUUUUUUU!

Oh yeah, stories and stuff...There's these...Words...and...letters...and then you put letters together....and then there's words...with...stuff...Damn..OK! 5 random words!

Quit
Lookin
At
My
Undies.

Have fun!

(And yes, these words were chosen totally at random. "Lookin" being there is a nasty little coincidence.)

Ok, so when I started this thing here (that you're reading RIGHT NOW) I didn't have any plans of being popular. Well, it's happened, folks...At least that's what my publicist says...I'm now (for the next 4 seconds, anyway) MORE POPULAR THAN JESUS! I mean Jesus Martinez, the guy that pushes the tamale cart over on Paseo. He can be a real jerk sometimes...

I have big ideas, people, big ideas! I'm an idea man! I'm gestalt! AND NO, THAT ISN'T THE SAME AS GAUNT, YOU VOCABULARY CHALLENGED BASTARD! Ah-heh...um...

So i was kicking the dog around the other day and decided that it was high time that I became the "Las Vegas of Colorado Springs." I have opened "Caesar Collin's Forum Shops." It's meant to augment the shopping experience for locals, not replace it. Never fear, you'll still have your Citadel and your Briargate Shops...Now, you have (yet another) choice for your overpriced crapola needs...

Currently, it's a sad little skeleton of a shopping mall. Actually, it's also full of sad little skeletons, you see, it's a former mausoleum. I got a killer deal on the place! Now, all I have to do is find a place to stash the bodies and we're home free...

Tomorrow I shall begin selling space in my Forum Shops. There shall surely be a mad dash to be the first to sign up for space in my prestigious "mall of the dead," so if you plan on grabbing yourself a piece of the "action," so to speak, get there early. We'll have coffee, donuts and souvenir femurs for the first 25 in line.

I often sit and lament the current state of politics. I also kick around the idea of "voting" in an effort to influence the outcome...I hear good things! I should really look into that someday...

So there you be. As of now, Caesar Collin's Forum Shops are nothing but a fetid stinkhole, rife with death and despair BUT NEVER FEAR! We'll have a Starbucks and a Q'Doba under contract before you know it...

Lies a fortune. A fortune in GOLD and baked clams, guarded by a wily little leprechaun who will ask you riddles. Well, more like trivia questions. Someone gave him the Trivial Pursuit® Genus III edition and his little green ass can't get enough of it...Little bastard.

The first thing I had to do today, before catching up on email, was to remind my coworkers how empty my life had been without them. OH HOW I LOVE YOU, SWEET JOB OF MINE!..

Nobody has been bothering me today with ridiculous requests, but that's nothing new. I'm mostly allowed to work in peace, doing my own thing without interruption or direction. I am SO in the right place right now. Me loves it!

Also, this morning, I came in and realized that a little birdy took a poopy on my computer keyboard. Remember, flying vermin, THIS MEANS WAR! You will soom be my dinner as I use my keen hunter-killer senses to find you and grill you up to a nice medium-rare. mmmmmm.....

So, in closing, happy to be back, love my job and my coworkers and WATCH YOUR ASS, BIRD! I'm right behind you...

And they sang some songs but I'm sure they sucked since I can't remember any of them. But, I cannot sleep right now (no rest for the wicked) so I figured I would take some time and screw up my template and links so nobody can navigate anywhere with them. I tried this earlier in the week and just when I had finished it up it seems that I didn't do it wrong enough and it all still worked. Dammit, I'm oozing competence and it's driving me "batty."

I will SO ENJOY being back at work on Monday. I miss my coworkers, laying around like a lazy bum at home and spending time with my kids? Overrated to say the least...

The easiest thing for me on Monday, I know, will be waking up and leaping from bed, fully refreshed from my wonderful night's sleep. I am SOOOO a morning person. So are my kids! Why, right now, my little monkey of a daughter is snug as a bug in a rug, asleep in her little bed, probably dreaming of wonderful, family related things. Maybe even a trip to the swimming pool!

I am never forgetful or even "gestalt." Frankly, I don't even know what that last phrase means!

So, for now, That's it. I am now running to bed so I can get a good night's sleep and rejoin my faithful buddies at work tomorrow morning. OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU, WORK BUDDIES! I'll be back soon!

I've never been one to follow rules. They're just so "hard."

x1: You are allowed one bathroom break.
x2: If you use too many sentence enhancers (Hell, Damn, Mary Queen of Scots, Sally, etc.) you will be fined four dollars and one banana.
x3: Label your underwear NOT with the days of the week, but, just for fun, with specific times and dates. "This pair of briefs to be worn only for 4 hours on May 30th, 2002. Any use outdside of this designated time period shall result in a "streak" of some kind." Of course, if you have room to write all of that on your underwear, you have bigger problems to worry about.
x4: Don't waste your vote. What I mean by this is, if you're going to vote for Ralph Nader, or write-in for Krusty the Klown again, you may as well just stay home. Seriously.
x5: There's more to this voting thing. I'd like to say more but THE WALLS HAVE EARS! I dare not speak it.
x6: There is NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO rule 6
x7: no Pooftas. or however it's spelled.

If there seems to be a surge or a swell, you will be alerted via the normal channels. If you have to ask, I shouldn't be telling you.

Good luck, and God speed.

Here are the words for this round:

I
Seriously
Don't
Like
Tater-Tots.

And my cupboard on my mind..."Hi. I'm indisposed, but if you leave your name and number at the boop I'll track you down and make you wish you were never ever EVER born. Or is it 'borned?' ah Hell..."

Actually, I needed this "indisposition" like I need another hole in my head. I'm going anywhere and everywhere I can, spreading my message of peace, love, harmony and the buying of the whole world some coke. Not a coke, some...I don't like to share. That's pretty much the way all of my vacations have been since I got out of the State Pen. I use them to try to get wound up tighter than...well..a very tight thing so's I can make it to my next indisposition.

Derek really is "the man"...I really feel the need to type that right here...

I like Las Vegas, but I despise England. I'd choose to live anywhere but there (Eeengland). I'm saying this because I'm a perfectly normal American male with no obsessive tendencies whatsoever. I NEVER worry about ANYTHING because I'm well-adjusted beyond all comprehension. I am going to demonstrate this by throwing the phrase "ad nauseam" at you. This shows that I am not only well adjusted, but that I possess a higher level of intelligence than your average scummy person, filthy with their scum.

scum...

One of the things that I like to do is lie. I am going to lie RIGHT NOW!..Here we go: I have been able to take my kids to the park to play every day so far, and we went to see 'Shrek 2' today, which was a fun movie.

I am always so Goddamned happy, tonight my son inquired as to when I would become angry and, potentially, discipline him in an aggressive and inappropriate manner. I told him not to worry, that he'd be a teenager soon and I should surely have occasion to become angry with him and allow my emotions to take control of me. I assured him that I would, at that time, display rage. He seemed to be satisfied with my answer and he toddled off to bed, his belly full of warm food and his heart filled with sweet, sweet love.

I read a story today about an elderly woman who died after being bitten by a rabid squirrel. I'd wager that she taunted the poor creature! YOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED, YOU OLD, SQUIRREL MOLESTING HAG! Ah-heh...Sorry about that...

I'm thinking of becoming a lawyer. I could then make heaps of cash from countless poor slobs who have to rely on their insurance companies to pay the hefty judgements I should surely win from them, thereby ruining their potential insurability. I could sue folks for such things as "mental trauma due to unpleasant asthetics" and possibly even "Giving innocent citizens the 'stink-eye.'" Should be fun, I'll keep you all posted. STINK-EYE GIVERS BEWARE! I AM ON YOUR FILTHY, SCUM-LADEN TRAIL!..

*BOOOOP*

Welcome to the inaugural post of the official Bizarro Collin site...Now, All we have to do is wait to see what Collin's gonna do and then...Well...Do the opposite...

Wow, that should be easy...