8:01 p.m. - 2004-08-31
I'm back.
Hi boys and girls.
I am back from my August hiatus. Boy, did I have a good vacation.
The only thing is, I wasn't too far away. I was with you all the time. Watching.
I was like Bastian in The Neverending Story.
And you were Atrayu and all the people of Fantasia or whatever.
I was standing back and watching from afar, all-knowing and invisible.
Like God.
Or Allah or whatever. Or Bastian.
Whatever!
The point is, I really wasn't gone too much.
Top secret: I made up a fake identity, Crock-pot, and kept right on writing over at crock-pot.diaryland.com...
Only thing is, nobody knew.
Only the true believers knew....or figured it out.
Only the loyal.
But, Crock-pot was all over the place....watching over the world of online diaries.
See, I told you I was like Bastian in The Neverending Story.
The first Neverending Story, I mean.
Not the second one.
Jonathan Brandis, who played Bastian in The Neverending Story II is now dead; he hanged himself in November 2003, although nobody cared to announce his death much when it happened.
So, I'm announcing it here, albeit late.
He dressed like a girl and played soccer in Ladybugs with Rodney Dangerfield also. And he talked to that dolphin in SeaQuest DSV, back in the early 90's, if you'll remember.
You probably know him as the kid who stuttered in Stephen King's IT.....
Anyways, he's dead. I idolized him when I was like 9 years old. I tried to get my hair to go in a wave like his. I couldn't do it.
Via con Dios, Jonathan!
Me, however....I'm not dead.
So, as Crock-pot, I was like Bastian from the first Neverending Story.
Alive.
I've now deleted crock-pot.diaryland.com....but don't be sad; if you'll notice, I have added about 4 entries right into this here diary....prior to this entry. They were entries I wrote as Crock-pot.....including an all-new Women's Lib entry, and what I refer to as the newest entry in my "Fat Women at Bus Stops" series.
So, you see, I wasn't on much of a hiatus during August at all.
Knuckleheads.
I almost got alcohol poisoning in August.
It was pretty fun.
Also, I just recently got a part in a play.
I'm an actor.
I will play a bad guy; an asshole.
I will play somebody who picks on the innocent and makes people's lives miserable.
It will be a stretch from my actual personality.
If you haven't noticed yet from my diary, I am a kind and gentle sweetheart.
Speaking of:
Here is my favorite news story of the year, so far. It just happened this past weekend:
MARIETTA, Georgia (AP) -- A drunken driver hit a telephone pole support wire that decapitated his passenger, police said.
He then drove 12 miles home and slept in his bloody clothes, police said, leaving the headless body in his truck.
A neighbor walking with his young daughter Sunday morning discovered Daniel Brohm's headless corpse in the truck in John Kemper Hutcherson's driveway and called authorities, said Cpl. Dana Pierce, county police spokesman.
Officers said they found Hutcherson asleep inside his home, visibly drunk and his clothes bloody, and later found Brohm's severed head at the crash site.
Anytime you can read the terms "visibly drunk" and "severed head" in the same paragraph, you know you are on to something good.
That is the kind of news story dreams are made of.
The passenger, incidentally, was drunk also, and "leaning out the window" at the time of the accident, according to the rest of the news story. Authorities said they did not know why, although it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was probably throwing up out the window.
Sweet! I've leaned out the side window of my friends' cars before and thrown up as they were driving drunk.
I've done it lots of times.
That means I could've gotten my head chopped off by a telephone support wire, if one of my knucklehead friends had crashed the car.
I think I've even leaned out the driver's side window and thrown up as I was driving drunk a few times.
What I was most amazed at, though, when I first read the news story was that I thought I had solved the case. I thought I knew what the problem was.
"Aren't telephone wires," I thought, "at the tops of telephone poles? Like 50 feet up in the sky?"
The problem, I deduced, was not so much that the driver was drunk, but more that his car, apparently, was flying.
I thought the drunk driver and his vomiting passenger had somehow mastered the science of making automobiles fly.
Like Harry Potter and his faggy friend.
Or, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, if you'd prefer an older reference.
I thought they were flying around in the sky, in their magical car, vomiting on the townsfolk below, when the driver crashed into the telephone wires.
I was thinking it was a miracle he was able to land the thing.
Being drunk and all.
But, I don't know, maybe a "support wire" is something different. Maybe it's on the ground. Maybe they weren't flying at all.
Which would make the news story more boring.
Although he still got his head chopped off, which spices it up a little bit.
Big deal!
At least he wasn't pissing out the window.
