MSX3!, you sons of bitches! Ms, god Damn motherfucking X something something, X3! Damn it! Damn it!" "Tomatoes! shut up! You sound like a fucking broken record!" "You shut up. You sound like a broken record!" Now look what you've done! You broke my fucking train of thought!" "MSX3! Oh yeah, that's right! MSX3! What in the fuck was I talking about anyway, and why do I keep on repeating 'MSX3'? Can you answer me that question?" "Tomatoes!," "shut up!" "You know what I never wanna do? Kill somebody with a fire extinguisher, that's what. That's not the task a fire extinguisher was meant to perform. It seems a bit perverted if you ask me. to kill somebody with something that was meant to save lives. Nobody has any decency anymore. This wpr;d is turning to shit." At this point, you may be wondering why I kept on repeating MSX3. Allow me to explain. MSX3 is this gang that I was inducted into. At work one day, on a fifty day hangover, I was there taking a messy shit, when there on the wall, I saw that somebody had scribbled "MSX3". I thought that was so fucking cool. MS stands for Mara Salvatrucha. A Salvadoranian gang. The X3 stands for 13. The number representing the letter M thus standing for the Mexican Mafia who are the heads of the Southsiders. An umbrella gang encompassing all latino prison gangs in southern California and thus all latino gangs out on the streets in southern California. I hope I'm not boring you with all this information. Ha! I called them an umbrella gang! Can you imagine them prancing around with their little umbrellas? There's this one at my work that I'm friends with, and whenever I see him talking to anybody, I walk up and say, "You know Jose?, he acts like a real tough guy here at work, but you'ld be surprised, when we're alone together, he's quite the little snuggler." Thus, he acquired the name Snuggles by practically everyone. He went to jail for two months, and then he got out, and miraculously, they gave him his job back, but then he went back to jail. This time for a nice long hard sentence where he can indulge in some hard core snuggling with his MSX3 brethren. He was braking into people's houses. So, anyway, this blog is messy just like the shit I was taking, but that's why it's a blog and not the House of Seven Gables or some such other bullshit they force teenagers to read to teach them that books have to be boring to be "good". I have a major problem with the English teachers in this country. This country, we could be producing a million John Fantes, but instead we choose to produce a million "INSERT-BORING-AUTHOR'S-NAME-HERE". I mean, John Fante, he's kind of boring, but oh my lord, his words are like "INSERT-RANDOM-EUPHORIC-ADJECTIVE-HERE". If John Fante were alive and he was willing, I would literally give him a blowjob. That's how much I like his writing. So, somebody scratched out MSX3 on the bathroom wall, and every time I go in there to take a messy hangover shit, I write MSX3 again, and then they scratch it out. So, I write it again, and then they scratch it out again. And then whoever originally began writing MSX3 began writing it too again. Somebody put a big magic marker "X" over it, so I decided to include the "X" they wrote in my MSX3. It was nice. They made it a bit easier for me. Writing MS ,…, 3. It saves me a lot of time. Makes me a more efficient worker. And then somebody scratched that out too. And on top of that, they accused us of being "PUTAS". Well, that majorly offended me. We may be a lot of things, but if there's one thing we're not is "putas". I mean, we're tough. We kill people and shit. How could we be putas? What the fuck? The ,…, represents my moustache. So, she suggested that I take a vacation day on top of my three day weekend to make it four, uh days, god damn, why do I have to be so boring? She's back in Sweden now. So, I'm really happy we got to spend those last days in my all time favorite place on the face of the planet, the Salton Sea. We rented a car, and then came back over to my dingy apartment to pick up our Tomatoes style camping equipment i.e transporting my bed on the floor. All my blankets.. She had been house sitting for this crippled lady  with a massive pill collection. "Tomatoes, I have a surprise for you." and she put 10 Methadone pills in my hand. The all time best present for me is pharmaceutical drugs. And the company of a woman that I like. Anything that I want that costs money, I've already bought. I have zero expenses. Well, I pay rent and buy beer, food, and cigarettes. What the fuck am I talking about? Why am I bragging? I guess it's part of the story. So, she gave me a Dilaudid at my place. If you ever run into Dilaudid, please do yourself a favor, and don't swallow it. It was meant to be shot. It takes some finesse, and a lot of practice, but once you get it down, the rush is only comparable to a shot of heroin that would be so big it would probably kill you. You cook it, mix it up, crunching crunching crunching. You draw it up. There will be a lot of powder left in the spoon. Don't worry. You're not done. MSX3. Put a bunch of water on that. I know what you're thinking; you don't want to shoot too much water because it gives you a headache, but don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this. Cook it again. Mix it with the back of the plunger. Draw it up again. There will still be some residue. Rinse and repeat. If you do it right, in the end, you will only have like 40 units in the syringe, and near zero residue in the spoon. And you just might puke from the intensity. MSX3. I'm glad it's gone now. It's a drug I could easily get addicted to. It's like heroin, but it doesn't give me pancreatitis. So, I took a methadone, and grabbed all my blankets. I was walking down Gramercy and some idiot attractive lady in big sunglasses looked at me, and started laughing hysterically. Well, I'm so glad that I was able to amuse her. I just wrote a fantasy about her and erased the whole thing because I think violence against women is wrong. It's such a shame because it was so well written. But, I'll give you a hint. It involved skateboard decks, and her dental records wouldn't've done a damn bit of good. Wow, how many women decided they would never have sex with me after that last sentence? At least, never again. Damn, I'm really suffering. MSX3 I wonder how many times a year she takes an hour to drive down to the beach and hangs out for ten minutes. Just to say, "I went to the beach". She spends 99% of her life in air conditioning, but she loves the sunshine because she's supposed to. That's why she moved to California. LA is not the beach. If you like the beach, move to San Diego. Hollywood is not the beach. And I'ld like to keep it that way. When we got to the Salton Sea, I was well into my third Methadone and slobbering like an idiot. I brought my cute butterfly sweater. I thought it would be cold at night because it's the desert. It was 103 degrees outside and pitch black. {the new moon) I was going to make some references to that that would've probably seemed both racist and sexist, but I thought I would leave that to y'all's imagination. We went out there in the dark. She would've been looking beautiful if I could've seen her. She was wearing my favorite outfit: MSX3, a little black dress, her black hair in braids tied up on top her head. Her little tiny body was driving me mad with desire. "Tomatoes, I'm not OK with this. It's freaking me out. I can't see anything." We hadn't thought to bring a flashlight. You couldn't barely see your hand in front of your face. She had no idea what she was in for. The Salton Sea ,…, it's meant to be scary. She began screeching because something out there touched her. "Yaaaaaaaaaaa! AAAAAAAH! AH! AH!" My Mecca. I took all my clothes off besides me pannies and then I put my shoes back on. It was so fucking hot, I was baking. I took our gallon of drinking water and poured it all over myself. I don't believe in drinking water when I'm on vacation. She retreated into our brand new 2009 Kia Spectra beckoning me to join her. I refused wanting to catch up on all the beers and cigararettes I had been missing on the ride down there. She refuses to let me drink in the car, and I oblige seeing as how she's driving, and I don't want to. A DWI would inhibit my job-hunting abilities for reasons that are too mind-numbingly dull to list here. Not like I'm job hunting. I have the eerie, spooky suspicion I'm going to be at my job for years for years for reasons that are too mind-numbingly dull to list here. "Stop the yelling already. Don't worry. I'm a man. I'll protect you. I'm tough, constantly prepared for violence." and then, I spontaneously fell asleep on my feet. I was so fucking high. I had no idea they made Methadone in pill form. Have you ever been observing a sleeping person on a bus, and they constantly get arisen each time their lazy neck gets a bump from the road, and then they wake up realizing the rampant run on sentence, and then they realize they thought they were being clever, but none of it really made any sense anyways, so their eyes glide shut again just to realize that they were out there in the pitch black in their male panties and some steel-toed work shoes, and it really was just the beginning of an awful horror movie, so they decided to take more drugs and chug 10 beers in a row even though a beautiful girl wanted to give them a blowjob? Has that ever happened to you? Yeah, me too. I hate it when that happens. I coaxed her out of the car after many many beers. We had bought some firewood just for light, but it was hot. Not as hot as Texas, but really fucking hot. "Let's go sit over there on the park bench. We'll light that jesus candle we got, and, it'll be nice." Much to my surprise, she agreed. You could see some lights coming from Indio. The wind was powerful. I began to mimic an "Indian" referring to the wind as the "powerful spirits of the Earth." I was hoping to lighten the mood. She didn't think it was funny. I'm sure she was right. At least, I was amusing myself ,…, and probably her too. We went over to the park bench. She brought some of my blankets and laid belly down on top of the table. "Come here, Tomatoes." She's a Texan like me. I've known her since is was in high school. And I saw a little light dipping and bopping approaching us. I blindly searched around on the ground until I found a nice sized rock. It was the size of a football. Whatver that dipping and bopping light was prepared to do, I was unconcerned. My only thought was to hit it over the head with what such intensity I could muster. "MSX3, you sons of bitches! We Are Not 'Putas'!!!!" "Tomatoes, come here." And at that, she pulled downed my panties, and gave me the blowjob to end all blowjobs. She was laying down on the park bench, and I was there standing like a high and drunk dipshit. It didn't matter the 103 weather. I was having trouble clutching the mortar football in case any monsters came. I won't insult your intelligence referring to myself as the coming monster.