It’s Friday night and I’m home eating gummy worms and reorganizing my socks drawer… yes, another crazzzy night. People often assume I live this wild and crazy life… I don’t. Well unless eating gummy worms and reorganizing my sock drawer is wild and crazy. In that case, I’m sooo cray cray.

Yes, I tend to make erratic life changing decisions at a whim. Example:

• Quit my job in New York and fly to China.
• Skip my flight home from Israel and got to Spain with a girl I met a week before.
• Eat three jars of peanut butter and watch Julia Robert’s movies.

Okay I’m kidding about the last one. Not the peanut butter, I did that. Just the Julia Roberts… three minutes of Runaway Bride and I would go into a full on seizure. Though Pretty Woman will always have a place in my heart (only because I love prostitutes). But I’ve also made brash decisions with my career choice(s).

• Moved to New York to act in and direct movies.
• Drew all over my headshots, threw them in the garbage and tried to buy a bar in Brooklyn.
• Left bar business to travel around writing and reading books.
• Finished the books and moved back to Florida to go back to school.
• Got a job a Wendy’s so I could afford my frosty addiction.

Again the last one is a lie. I do have a frosty addiction, but it will never be bad enough to work at a job where I make less than a school bus driver. I don’t know how much school bus driver’s actually make, but their job is wayyy cooler than being Dave Thomas’s hamburger bitch. Nothing against Dave, he seems like a nice guy (I know he’s dead, but in old commercials he seemed nice).

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, but I guess that’s the point of everything. I have no idea where I’m going, but as long as I’m moving forward and making sure every minute is enjoyable, it’s all good. I think, right?

Gummy Worms In My Frosty… Oh Em Gee,

Daniel Dickey

After two weeks with my broken ribs, I was out of food, out of medication, and talking to myself. Not quick comments, but full on conversations with myself about life, insects and what I’d do if I had more cereal. I had eaten a Clif Bar and strawberry milk for breakfast for 13 days straight and was beginning to lose my mind. Lunch wasn’t there and dinner consisted of whatever my roommate left on her plate when she was done. Going to the store was impossible. I was having trouble getting off of the couch to pee, trying to carry groceries for half an hour would’ve been suicide. I posted an add on craigslist,

“Need person to care for me. Must know how to make grill cheese sandwiches and will dance on command. No pay. Great for resume.”

No one replied and I was left eating expired cheese and some wilted sunflowers that the vegan upstairs left on the fire escape. I wasn’t going to make it much longer and I had to do something drastic.

I woke up the next morning, realized I had all the symptoms for pneumonia and got on a flight back to Florida. Yep, I flew back to my parents house and it’s been a dream ever since. Do you know what it’s like to open a refrigerator and have 6 different juices to choose from? 6 different juices. I didn’t even know there was than many types of juice. If you opened the refrigerator at my house, there’s old water and spoiled milk (which after a month or so begins to look, not taste, like grape juice). Yesterday I got hungry, opened the pantry and had several options from each of the food groups. Last week I got hungry, opened my cabinet and saw a cockroach masturbating on my ramen noodles. I’m on top of the world right now. Yes my ribs still hurt, but now it’s because I’m stuffed full of jams, jellies and mother fucking pot roast. Pot roast son. Pot roast. The president eats pot roast. I’m the president.

I don’t plan on going back to New York anytime soon. I do plan on making a 8 layer turkey sandwich as soon as I’m done typing this. The hard part is going to be trying to figure out whether I want Sun Chips, Tostitos, or fresh fruit to go with it. And please don’t assume that because I’m at the top (of the world) that my life is easy. I still have real problems, like should I take my nap at 4pm or 5pm? How many muscle relaxers should I have with dinner 2 or 14? Should I keep all 4 of my fluffy pillows on my king sized bed as I watch a TBS marathon of pre-antisemitic Mel Gibson movies? Decisions are so hard.

Did I mention it’s 73 degrees outside?

Daniel Dickey

So my ribs are still broken, I have a fever and have spent the last 24 hours eating muscle relaxers out a of pez dispenser. I’d say all is well, but I feel like a bee’s bum after his stinger rips off and he dies, covered in honey and flower semen. Couch ridden with a smashed cable box, I only had 12 channels to choose from. Several were of the new speaker of the house crying like a tiny republican bitch, one was a Spanish version of Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader, and then there was the People’s Choice Awards. I’ll start by saying, if the people could choose, they’d ask for their time back. Are award shows doing that bad that product placement is the only way to produce them? I saw products sponsoring products, which sponsored other products. At first, I assumed that all of the ridiculous promotion was their way of making money without going to commercials. Nope. Just as many commercials… terrible commercials. I watched a washed up gay man, with an ugly scarf, give away 8 CVS gift bags, filled with a body wash and a cheap toothbrush. Vanessa Williams took 10 minutes to talk about her passion Proctor & Gamble. Why do that to yourself NBC? And mostly, why do that to the people?

I’d express my views of Queen Latifah job at hosting, but she seems like a ridiculously sweet person, with great energy. Now if I didn’t think that, I’d say stick with comedians when it comes to hosting award shows. Actually no. Just have the cast of Twilight host the show… any and every award show their is. Are they still winning awards? Are people really still watching that pale British guy and the wolf with muscles? How are they making two more movies? If Harry Potter shit on himself while overdosing on mushrooms, it would still produce a greater movie that the Glitter Vampire Saga. Watching their acceptance speeches could only be compared to the feeling ones goes through after a rabid dog bites you in the dick… multiple times. Die.

The upside to the show… it’s over.

Like always, I remind myself and whomever got conned into read this, I’m just a balding 24 year old, that peeked in high school and eats cereal for dinner. My views mean nothing.

Daniel Dickey

This is what it looked like in front of my apartment at 12:45am.

This is at 1:26am

This is at 2:02am

This was the car when I woke up in the morning.

Getting drunk and trying to keep warm,

Daniel Dickey

What are you doing to keep warm for the holidays?

It’s 26 degrees on December 26th 2010. There’s a blizzard Brooklyn and I’ve been walking back and forth from the laundromat for the past hour with two blue ikea bags full of clothes. See I was in my warm apartment, listening to music and playing video games when I realized I promised myself last week that I would wash my clothes before this week was up or I couldn’t eat ice cream all of next year (I get pretty lazy and forgetful at times). I’d cut off both of my thumbs before I lost the opportunity to eat ice cream, so that quickly lead me to throw on some old sweatshirts and started sorting whites and colors.

Because the laundromat is only a block away, I initially I assumed socks and sandals would be sufficient as replacements to shoes. Well after several embarrassing falls, the last one leaving me on my back, paralyzed for 30 seconds, I decided to wear sneakers on my next trek to wash socks, sweaters and some other shit. Turns out my stupid nylon-esque Pumas aren’t the best defenders of frostbite, as my toes stopped moving before I made it to the door and I had to spend an extra quarter warming my feet in the dryer. My last trip I put on my roommates rain boots, and though they were made for a small woman, they did a wonderful job sheltering my feet from the snow. The one downside, some young Spanish guys whistled at me and asked me to turn around and shake my ass. Whatever shaking my ass would keep me super warm.

I’m now back at my place. My dirty, frostbitten feet are buried in the pile of my warm, clean clothes and an ice pack is duct taped to my lower back.  The snow is falling heavier now than before. I don’t care, I’m not going anywhere.

Update: I broke my ribs. Ugh.

If only they all came like this.

Not only have they arrived, but they’ve arrived in style.

Obviously I was going for repetition in this first batch… but despite it’s minimalistic design, look how sexy it made my roommate’s titty look (please note not all titties look great in these shirts).

If you’d like a shirt just email me and I’ll send you it for free… well, you have to promise to wear it once a week, have sex in it twice, and email me a picture of you doing something cool in it.

Update: I got 24 request for shirts in 2 days… lol I might make you pay for shipping.

Daniel Dickey

Sometimes you know a girl is going to have sex with you. In my case, I know most of the time the girl is not going to have sex with me. But thankfully for my genitalia, last night I knew the girl I was bringing back to my apartment was going to have sex with me. What I didn’t know was that there would be choking, self induced spanking and a broken penis involved.

I just finished a busy day shift at work and was toying with the thought of going home and falling asleep to Will and Grace, when I got a text from a girl I recently meet in the Meat Packing District of Manhattan. She said she was in Union Square and wanted to know if we were still hanging out. I tried to remember when in the world I told her we’d hang out, but when it came down to it, I didn’t care. I hadn’t got some new poon in months and was getting sick and tired of buying my fat Russian neighbor Hot Pockets for handjobs (Whole Foods had a big sale on them last month and I bought 60).

Update: I deleted the rest of this blog because it really wasn’t that funny… and, well, also because a blond girl yelled at me for the inappropriateness of it.

If you see this nice young woman trick bitch on the street, throw a rock at her. You can’t miss her… she has fire red hair, tomato sized titties and a cock bigger than most men animals. In other news, I was deleting all the crap on my computer and stumbled upon this picture. I figured if she could take the time to comb her nappy hair and put lipstick on those cigarette holders, I could post her cute gross little face on my blog.

I’m jealous you live next to a Target,

Daniel Dickey

Anytime I step onto a subway car, I know there’s an opportunity to see 30 year old men selling candy to support their crack addiction, outrageously loud middle schoolers cursing, jumping around and using phrases like, but not limited too, “Oh no that nigga didn’t”, “Yo son that old fool smells like carrots”, and my personal favorite “You hear Jeezie just got pregnant? Isn’t she 12? Na fool, she’s 13… she’s a adult now”. What you don’t expect to see is a tranny pulling down her red cheer-leading shorts, while a drunk, white man slaps her dick around and tells her/him to shake it like a bad girl should.

Oh New York How I Love Thee,

Daniel Dickey