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Archive for the ‘Self Indulgent’ Category

Abortion rules

When I started this blog, I never intended it to be overtly political (Fuck the King of Thailand) but a recent social media donnybrook has prompted me to fire up the blog engines to make a long-form point and to clarify where I stand on a particularly contentious issue. Join me, won’t you (or don’t) across the fold for the kind of self-indulgent bullshit that is my stock in trade.

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Tapping the Hazen vault has so far paid tremendous dividends for the blog, and this new feature will pick up where previous efforts left off. I present, several days in the life of my 1st grade self. Editorial comments will appear in italics.

My Journal

Monday

Seotember 14, 1987

On the weekend I

Went swiming

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A Poem?

Last evening on the blog, we blew open the sealed archives to bring you early blogging output from my first grade trip to California. This morning, our look inside King Tut’s tomb continues with an ode to springtime. Carbon dating suggests that this was written in the Spring of 1988. I was in 1st grade. Formatting has been kept intact, where possible.

My name is Paul Hazen.

Spring Is Here

Lot’s of animals wake up from

their winter sleep. Robins and cardinals

come back from the south. People

start wearing short sleeves and

shorts. The weather is much warmer.

Cherry blossom trees are in bloom.

It rains a lot. The trees grow

new leaves. You can find pine cones.

Move over Walt Whitman. There’s a new sheriff in town.

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Bleg: to harness the brain trust of one’s blog readership to ask for a personal favor of some kind. Well brain trust, these past few days I’ve given you quite a bit. Porn. Food. Food Porn. Dogs. And book reviews. Not to mention the post right before this one, which is perhaps the greatest blog post ever written. So far in the short life of this endeavor, we’ve had the greatest comment ever made on the internet– courtesy of Katherine, as well as the greatest blog post. There’s no telling what superlatives are yet in store for the apathetically decomposing among us.

Now it is time to return the favor. Does anybody have any connections in the DC area who might be able to get me set up with a tutoring job. I would prefer SAT or English tutoring since I’m shitty at math and science. Alternatively, if anyone has any connections in the temp world, that would be great as well. OR, if anybody knows what types of writing related jobs would be suitable for a person like me. I swear that I can write without using the word fuck, if required. Help is appreciated. Don’t make me turn this blog around.

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The dream has died

You never forget your first. The anticipation. The fear mixed with excitement. What if I do it wrong? What if it’s not as good as everyone says? What if it’s over too soon? What if I never get to do it again? Or what if this is it? True love, rendered in pure aching, physical perfection? What if this is all that I ever want and need? The physical manifestation of God’s love for humanity? What if I can’t get enough, and I never think of anything else again?

My first, was the Blackened Chicken Caesar.

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I did not see The Social Network, but I have to imagine that from day 1 to day 2 of thefacebook.com (you ain’t gettin’ a live link from me) that Zuckerberg and his merry band of Harvard geeks did not increase their page views by 2 fucking percent! Suck it nerds! And thank you dear readers, for you make it all possible. Now keep on viewing, and tell your friends. Otherwise, we will never get radiohead to write a song specifically for the site. Go forth. Link back. Onwards and upwards!

More Scala & Kolacny brothers over the jump…

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Tiny blessings

Right before Christmas, some asshole smashed the tiny window in the back of my car and stole my briefcase. As it turns out, the tiny window in your car is somehow the most expensive. “If the guy had smashed out your whole windshield, it woulda been cheaper than this,” explained the helpful Safelite repair technician. The most irritating part of the whole ordeal, though, was that there was not one thing of value in that briefcase to any outside party.  There were work documents, including an insurance policy that was waiting to be delivered to a client. That’s it. No computer. No phone. No iPod. Not even a million dollars in non consecutive unmarked bills. So I hope the asshole who stole the briefcase, in addition to bleeding out from the ebola virus, also had a shitty Christmas when he saw there was no bounty to be had.

Smash cut to today.  I get a call from work that a guy found my briefcase in the back of his truck. So the idiot thief didn’t even take the time to open the case after smashing my window. The helpful stranger who found the case in his flat bed, did break the lock off, saw my card and called my office. Exactly as Christ would have done! Life is still shitty. But perhaps, with a little resolve and some elbow grease, that shit stain will start to come right out of the carpet. (Optimism!)

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