2002-06-27 - 10:56 a.m.
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Thank you thank you thank you. I'd like to thank the acadamy...
"Belmonaut: I win
Tish11: dfamn you
Tish11: i cant type with one hand" - The most disturbing beginning to a conversation I've ever had...with my sister (Note: according to her, she was holding up a towel. I put my sanity on the line in believing so.)
So, it appears people like it when you air out dirty laundry in the form of a mock TV show episode of Change of Heart. I got 15 emails about it yesterday, one of which was sent half an hour after I posted the damn thing.
None of which were from lawyers representing either the girl or Change of Heart. Yet.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go read yesterday's post. It's something I've been the most proud of for the longest time as a way to vent without grabbing baseball bats and smashing things.
But about the emails. This bothers me. This means that people are paying attention to this dribble, despite my cold hearted belief that no one even read this and even if people did, I don't care.
But I'm starting to care.
When you get an email from a complete stranger that applauds something you did 30 minutes after it gets done, then you begin to wonder just what the fuck is going on. Is this substantial at all? Is what I'm saying affecting people in any other way than "heheheh he said McCleavage"? I'm going to school to become a writer. A writer of what, I have no idea. I could write the instruction manual to douches for all I care.
Actually, no, I take that back. I do care if I do that. I don't think anyone wants on a resume "Knows the complete workings of a douche bag as to be able to write compotent directions for use and safety". Then again, who doesn't want to feel fresh?
Anyway.
Now a new element has been introduced into my bland life as it is now. I have eyes on me. Digital eyes. Some of these names have emailed me in the past and have either told me to go to hell or told me I'm a (and I quote with pride) "fucking riot, a real motherfucking riot. BMC all teh way, bitches."
Real fucking quote.
So, do I cave to the tastes of some random people who probably surfed in accidentally on the cyberwaves, only to crash on my shore and interrupt me talking to a digital Wilson like some kind of Diaryland CastAway, or do I kill the notion that I have to make people smile, seeing as after all this is MY diary and since I haven't cared what people think about what I say anyway and that's what people liked as it is, there shouldn't be a problem?
Well, seeing as I don't care either way, I guess I'm just going to do what I do, do what I have been doing, tell it like I do, say it like I do, be like I am, live like I am. I appreciate pats on the back and if I say anything that gets you in trouble at work because you laugh out loud ( :) ) and you let me know, I'll smile and appreciate it. But I have to do this the way I set out to do this: for me.
And there is only one true Belmo. Accept no imitations.
And for the 3 people who didn't bother to do thier homework before slandering me or praising my work, BMC stands for Bob Motherfucking Costas. It started as a joke, about how he is the coolest fucker out there because he got to be announcer at a T-ball game on the white house front yard. The game played on C-Span, providers of guaranteed entertainment devoid television for years, and to see Bob Motherfucking Costas be sportscasting this calamity (which involved a guy in a chicken suit picking up little kids and running them around the bases when they hit a homerun...ON THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN), all of which was played proudly on C-Span, the "government channel", well, it just gave me much respect for him. Who else in the world can say that they did something like that?
Anyway, it's been almost like a signature, because I feel that's when I really found a turning point in my diary's existence, that one moment. If you want to hear the whole story (or read it I should say) just go back to the archives and read it. It's pretty funny.
So, yeah. BMC. It's like a Belmo calling card for comedy. Actually, those words mean nothing. It's really more like a period, not the bloody kind but the grammar kind.
It always comes back to bathroom humor.
BMC (period)
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
