Creed's Thoughts. The Office unofficial mirror.

        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 31, 2012 at 16:28
      I've had the same container of dental floss for over four years. Guess I just haven't had too many shoelace emergencies lately...I may not know how to speak Serbian, but I'm getting pretty good with keyboard shortcuts. For example, Ctrl+Alt+Tab+F6+Escape+insert a CD+F5+water on the spacebar = short out the computer's motherboard. I really want a new tattoo, but I'm having trouble deciding between an alien abduction mural on my stomach, or the words "sweet pea" on my lower back.  I've always believed that telling the truth shall set you free. Haha, I'm lying! Lying is way more fun and always will be.My personal mantra is, "Do I look fat?" Gotcha - lying again! The only other person who knows my personal mantra is dead.I feel like the biggest sucker in the world. All this time I've been paying MONEY for raisins. Come to find out, raisins are just shriveled up tomatoes.My downstairs neighbor is a real drag. I'm talking the lamest of the lame. So what if I like to hammer stuff to the floor? Big deal if I play drums with pots! That doesn't make me a "menace." It makes me spunky.I've got to figure out how I can get my hands on one of those "student loans." I have tons of yard work that needs to be done, and it's the perfect job for a student. So yeah - just need to find somebody to loan me one of them.I think the craziest thing I've ever found while grave robbing was my brother.Meredith laughed in my face when I told her I was going back to college to get my degree in exorcism, but who's laughing now that she's possessed by Gary Coleman again?It's a real shame that you can only wear one sombrero at a time.Note to self: Don't forget to send out invitations for your snake's fifth birthday party. Tell everyone it's BYOM (bring your own mice).
      I've had the same container of dental floss for over four years. Guess I just haven't had too many shoelace emergencies lately...I may not know how to speak Serbian, but I'm getting pretty good with keyboard shortcuts. For example, Ctrl+Alt+Tab+F6+Escape+insert a CD+F5+water on the spacebar = short out the computer's motherboard. I really want a new tattoo, but I'm having trouble deciding between an alien abduction mural on my stomach, or the words "sweet pea" on my lower back.  I've always believed that telling the truth shall set you free. Haha, I'm lying! Lying is way more fun and always will be.My personal mantra is, "Do I look fat?" Gotcha - lying again! The only other person who knows my personal mantra is dead.I feel like the biggest sucker in the world. All this time I've been paying MONEY for raisins. Come to find out, raisins are just shriveled up tomatoes.My downstairs neighbor is a real drag. I'm talking the lamest of the lame. So what if I like to hammer stuff to the floor? Big deal if I play drums with pots! That doesn't make me a "menace." It makes me spunky.I've got to figure out how I can get my hands on one of those "student loans." I have tons of yard work that needs to be done, and it's the perfect job for a student. So yeah - just need to find somebody to loan me one of them.I think the craziest thing I've ever found while grave robbing was my brother.Meredith laughed in my face when I told her I was going back to college to get my degree in exorcism, but who's laughing now that she's possessed by Gary Coleman again?It's a real shame that you can only wear one sombrero at a time.Note to self: Don't forget to send out invitations for your snake's fifth birthday party. Tell everyone it's BYOM (bring your own mice).
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 16, 2012 at 16:07
      One man's trash is another man's place to hide out for a while until the police helicopter is done hovering over the block.Sometimes I wish my dad could look down from Heaven and watch over me proudly. But he can't, because he's still alive.I think it's pretty offensive to call it a "lazy" eye. It wouldn't kill anybody to take a few minutes and actually figure out where it's looking... This is the '90s. It's time to be a little more courteous.I've learned that pursuing your dreams isn't always easy. But I will continue to work as hard as I can to become the first Bratton to win the World Mayonnaise Eating Championship.I had long hair once and somebody called me "ma'am." Can't say I minded it.It would be really far out if you could change your name depending on your mood.  Today I feel like "Dubstep O'Brien."My best friend Sancho from the Exxon Station is so hilarious. I walk in after work and tell him all about my day and my cat's heartworm, and he's like, "I don't know you, sir. Please leave." Gets me every time!Call me old fashioned, but this whole "going to the dentist" racket seems a little overkill. My sharpened cattle bone gets the job done just fine.Some days I hear a lot of voices in my head. But the one who's a shrink says it's pretty normal, so I haven't done anything about it yet.I've been writing my Congresswoman for years, but I know she's not getting the letters, cause who in their right mind would ignore several romantic booze cruise date offers from yours truly?  I hate being recognized in public when I'm not wearing my metallic purple suit and my scorpion necklace.I never stray from my homemade trail mix recipe, but just once I'd like to try making it with throat lozenges and Skittles...Note to self: learn to be good at something you love, get confident, THEN meet a woman.
      One man's trash is another man's place to hide out for a while until the police helicopter is done hovering over the block.Sometimes I wish my dad could look down from Heaven and watch over me proudly. But he can't, because he's still alive.I think it's pretty offensive to call it a "lazy" eye. It wouldn't kill anybody to take a few minutes and actually figure out where it's looking... This is the '90s. It's time to be a little more courteous.I've learned that pursuing your dreams isn't always easy. But I will continue to work as hard as I can to become the first Bratton to win the World Mayonnaise Eating Championship.I had long hair once and somebody called me "ma'am." Can't say I minded it.It would be really far out if you could change your name depending on your mood.  Today I feel like "Dubstep O'Brien."My best friend Sancho from the Exxon Station is so hilarious. I walk in after work and tell him all about my day and my cat's heartworm, and he's like, "I don't know you, sir. Please leave." Gets me every time!Call me old fashioned, but this whole "going to the dentist" racket seems a little overkill. My sharpened cattle bone gets the job done just fine.Some days I hear a lot of voices in my head. But the one who's a shrink says it's pretty normal, so I haven't done anything about it yet.I've been writing my Congresswoman for years, but I know she's not getting the letters, cause who in their right mind would ignore several romantic booze cruise date offers from yours truly?  I hate being recognized in public when I'm not wearing my metallic purple suit and my scorpion necklace.I never stray from my homemade trail mix recipe, but just once I'd like to try making it with throat lozenges and Skittles...Note to self: learn to be good at something you love, get confident, THEN meet a woman.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on April 19, 2012 at 12:37
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-->Pretty much everybody gets mad when you try to pay in pennies these days, and I don't get it.  So what if it takes three hours for the cashier to count it out?  It's still currency!  Not to mention they've got tons of other far out uses.For instance you can pour a bunch into a glass bottle, and boom: instant maracas.  I actually played the penny maracas with a band called Crap Kidney back in '79.  It all started one day when I was sitting on the steps of the library, shakin' some pennies around in an old A&W bottle.  Honestly I was just doing it to annoy this librarian broad who refused to go bowling with me.  The drummer of Crap Kidney just happened to be walking by and thought it sounded like heaven on earth.  He had me join the band right then and there.  My maracas brought a fun Latin flare to the group, so they renamed me Creedo Castillo.  I've never felt sexier.  I got to tour the entire state of Minnesota and some of Iowa with that band, and I owe it all to pennies.And it doesn't stop there, folks.  You can melt your pennies down and make a real groovy pair of brass knuckles.  I whipped some up for my grandson and let me tell ya, he was king of his preschool 'til he got suspended.  You also can check the tread on your tires, use them to balance an uneven table or a wobbly coffin, put them in your brassiere to enhance cup size, or even throw 'em in your breaker box instead of replacing an old fuse.  Sure it might cause a fire, but if it doesn't, you just saved yourself fifty bucks!  So think about that before you go and say pennies are useless, cause that's the biggest load of garbage I've heard since some jerk told me Atlantis "never existed."  It most certainly did, and guess what their preferred moolah was?  Actually it was squirrel pelt and feta cheese.  But if they had known about pennies, it would have been pennies.
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-->Pretty much everybody gets mad when you try to pay in pennies these days, and I don't get it.  So what if it takes three hours for the cashier to count it out?  It's still currency!  Not to mention they've got tons of other far out uses.For instance you can pour a bunch into a glass bottle, and boom: instant maracas.  I actually played the penny maracas with a band called Crap Kidney back in '79.  It all started one day when I was sitting on the steps of the library, shakin' some pennies around in an old A&W bottle.  Honestly I was just doing it to annoy this librarian broad who refused to go bowling with me.  The drummer of Crap Kidney just happened to be walking by and thought it sounded like heaven on earth.  He had me join the band right then and there.  My maracas brought a fun Latin flare to the group, so they renamed me Creedo Castillo.  I've never felt sexier.  I got to tour the entire state of Minnesota and some of Iowa with that band, and I owe it all to pennies.And it doesn't stop there, folks.  You can melt your pennies down and make a real groovy pair of brass knuckles.  I whipped some up for my grandson and let me tell ya, he was king of his preschool 'til he got suspended.  You also can check the tread on your tires, use them to balance an uneven table or a wobbly coffin, put them in your brassiere to enhance cup size, or even throw 'em in your breaker box instead of replacing an old fuse.  Sure it might cause a fire, but if it doesn't, you just saved yourself fifty bucks!  So think about that before you go and say pennies are useless, cause that's the biggest load of garbage I've heard since some jerk told me Atlantis "never existed."  It most certainly did, and guess what their preferred moolah was?  Actually it was squirrel pelt and feta cheese.  But if they had known about pennies, it would have been pennies.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on March 15, 2012 at 10:40
      I don't know about you, but I refuse to die from "natural causes." Who'd want that on their tombstone? That's boring as hell. I want mine to say something like, "Here lies Creed Bratton. He died doing what he loved - distance jumping his motorcycle and crashing through burning fuel."I think the best way to put a stop to deforestation is for scientists to develop trees with larynxes. Think about it. It'd be a lot harder to cut down a tree that's screaming in your face.It's not the homeless that scare me. It's people with the enormous homes. Maybe it's because I spent '76 - '81 as a homeless man, so I'm biased. But I honestly feel like the wealthiest are always the weirdest. Once I saw this rich guy eating raw fish eggs out of a jar. The man was completely insane! I'd much rather spend my time on the street hanging out with down to earth dudes like Dirty Rusty or One-Leg Bob.Today I started to regret that fourth string cheese I had, and most of my 50s. I have a feeling I'd regret most of my 40s too, if I could remember them.I think the vending machine in the break room should take credit cards. I prefer not to carry cash, mainly because it's dirty. I should know. Once when I was super ticked off at the government, I spent hours germing up a bunch of dollar bills and putting them back into circulation.Here's one thing I'll never understand: people who blast music in their cars, but then act all freaked out when I jump in and start dancing. In a pinch, butter also makes a great moisturizer. This is something that keeps happening to me lately - I see a "Subway" sign on just about every block. I walk into one so I can hop on the 6 express to 138th Street, but suddenly I'm in this sandwich shop being asked if I want my bun toasted. It's real strange, man. Like some kind of time train portal to hoagie town. On a side note - great B.M.T. *Reminder: breathe in, breathe out.<!--
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      I don't know about you, but I refuse to die from "natural causes." Who'd want that on their tombstone? That's boring as hell. I want mine to say something like, "Here lies Creed Bratton. He died doing what he loved - distance jumping his motorcycle and crashing through burning fuel."I think the best way to put a stop to deforestation is for scientists to develop trees with larynxes. Think about it. It'd be a lot harder to cut down a tree that's screaming in your face.It's not the homeless that scare me. It's people with the enormous homes. Maybe it's because I spent '76 - '81 as a homeless man, so I'm biased. But I honestly feel like the wealthiest are always the weirdest. Once I saw this rich guy eating raw fish eggs out of a jar. The man was completely insane! I'd much rather spend my time on the street hanging out with down to earth dudes like Dirty Rusty or One-Leg Bob.Today I started to regret that fourth string cheese I had, and most of my 50s. I have a feeling I'd regret most of my 40s too, if I could remember them.I think the vending machine in the break room should take credit cards. I prefer not to carry cash, mainly because it's dirty. I should know. Once when I was super ticked off at the government, I spent hours germing up a bunch of dollar bills and putting them back into circulation.Here's one thing I'll never understand: people who blast music in their cars, but then act all freaked out when I jump in and start dancing. In a pinch, butter also makes a great moisturizer. This is something that keeps happening to me lately - I see a "Subway" sign on just about every block. I walk into one so I can hop on the 6 express to 138th Street, but suddenly I'm in this sandwich shop being asked if I want my bun toasted. It's real strange, man. Like some kind of time train portal to hoagie town. On a side note - great B.M.T. *Reminder: breathe in, breathe out.<!--
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        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on February 16, 2012 at 12:58
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-->It's been a long time since I took a flight anywhere. Legally, that is. Usually I throw on my "aircraft mechanic" coveralls (which is just my Michael Meyer's Halloween costume), tell everybody I'm fixing the air-conditioning on an Airbus 340, head for the tarmac and hop into somebody's luggage before it's loaded into the belly of the beast. But I've been dealing with a torn ACL after joining this break-dance circle at a bar mitzvah I crashed last month, and there was no way I'd be able to stay in somebody's suitcase for hours crouched up like a giant in a Japanese apartment. So I booked a flight the old-fashioned way: I hid in the airport bathroom and waited for some chump to put his carry-on down, stole his tickets and wallet and bada bing bada boom - Ol' Creedy's got himself a business flight to San Jose.  The experience started out pretty great. At security - out of nowhere - this TSA broad says to me, "I'll be passing my hand over your backside and then come up the insides of your legs toward the private parts. Is that alright?" I said, "Hot damn, is it my birthday?!" Now I've been rendered irresistible many times before, but never publicly by an older security lady who I wasn't even sure was a woman at first. I guess maybe that was my reward for having to wait in line for 20 minutes. Though after that, things started to go downhill real fast. I was in first class, but I didn't even get a pillow. How am I supposed to lay back and have psychedelic dreams without a pillow?? I knew I'd be wide awake the whole time, so I figured I might as well stuff my pie hole, primo style. Until the flight attendant tells me the only food available is crackers and pretzels. And there wasn't even any ketchup to dip them in! I was so peeved I smoked a cigarette, which got everybody's panties in a bunch because apparently it's "illegal" these days.Before this, the last airplane cabin I was in was Elvis's Convair 880. That thing had real Graceland elegance, man. I'm talking blue shag carpet, gold faucets in the bathroom and all the peanut butter and catfish you could ever want in a lifetime. I wasn't quite expecting that level of grooviness on this flight, but I also wasn't expecting a penitentiary with wings. Not to mention the guy next to me was a real nutcase. As soon as my knee heels, I'm going back to my old ways of hiding in the cargo section. At least down there I can make my own pillow out of shirts and jeans.
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-->It's been a long time since I took a flight anywhere. Legally, that is. Usually I throw on my "aircraft mechanic" coveralls (which is just my Michael Meyer's Halloween costume), tell everybody I'm fixing the air-conditioning on an Airbus 340, head for the tarmac and hop into somebody's luggage before it's loaded into the belly of the beast. But I've been dealing with a torn ACL after joining this break-dance circle at a bar mitzvah I crashed last month, and there was no way I'd be able to stay in somebody's suitcase for hours crouched up like a giant in a Japanese apartment. So I booked a flight the old-fashioned way: I hid in the airport bathroom and waited for some chump to put his carry-on down, stole his tickets and wallet and bada bing bada boom - Ol' Creedy's got himself a business flight to San Jose.  The experience started out pretty great. At security - out of nowhere - this TSA broad says to me, "I'll be passing my hand over your backside and then come up the insides of your legs toward the private parts. Is that alright?" I said, "Hot damn, is it my birthday?!" Now I've been rendered irresistible many times before, but never publicly by an older security lady who I wasn't even sure was a woman at first. I guess maybe that was my reward for having to wait in line for 20 minutes. Though after that, things started to go downhill real fast. I was in first class, but I didn't even get a pillow. How am I supposed to lay back and have psychedelic dreams without a pillow?? I knew I'd be wide awake the whole time, so I figured I might as well stuff my pie hole, primo style. Until the flight attendant tells me the only food available is crackers and pretzels. And there wasn't even any ketchup to dip them in! I was so peeved I smoked a cigarette, which got everybody's panties in a bunch because apparently it's "illegal" these days.Before this, the last airplane cabin I was in was Elvis's Convair 880. That thing had real Graceland elegance, man. I'm talking blue shag carpet, gold faucets in the bathroom and all the peanut butter and catfish you could ever want in a lifetime. I wasn't quite expecting that level of grooviness on this flight, but I also wasn't expecting a penitentiary with wings. Not to mention the guy next to me was a real nutcase. As soon as my knee heels, I'm going back to my old ways of hiding in the cargo section. At least down there I can make my own pillow out of shirts and jeans.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January 26, 2012 at 09:00
      You may have noticed it's been many moons since I last posted.  It's not because I haven't had any thoughts.  Trust me - I've had tons.  More than normal actually, thanks to that stint on peyote.  And I'm 40-90% sure I posted them all.  The only logical explanation: government censorship.  It's a real drag, man.  But I refuse to let The Establishment keep me down.  The people have a right to Creed Thoughts!  Here's a few that have been hanging around my cranium lately:Buying a zoo in this economy is a pretty crappy idea, but it's a lot better than buying the farm.  (Cause that means you're dead).Chalk outlines are not just for tracing bodies.  They also make excellent listeners.If something's not funny, I assume that means it's for kids.  But that would mean war is for kids, so maybe I'm wrong.Lately I've been thinking about getting rid of my leather couches, and bringing in a couple of cows to sit on.  It's way more organic and would provide a real conversation piece.Today I took a long hard look in the mirror and wondered, is it too late to become a mirror salesman?I think the greatest compliment you can give to someone you first meet is, "You look way better in person than you do in binoculars."People say smoking is poison, but those people don't seem to be aware that poison can be delicious.Reminder: Move bricks from Scranton to Farmville.
      You may have noticed it's been many moons since I last posted.  It's not because I haven't had any thoughts.  Trust me - I've had tons.  More than normal actually, thanks to that stint on peyote.  And I'm 40-90% sure I posted them all.  The only logical explanation: government censorship.  It's a real drag, man.  But I refuse to let The Establishment keep me down.  The people have a right to Creed Thoughts!  Here's a few that have been hanging around my cranium lately:Buying a zoo in this economy is a pretty crappy idea, but it's a lot better than buying the farm.  (Cause that means you're dead).Chalk outlines are not just for tracing bodies.  They also make excellent listeners.If something's not funny, I assume that means it's for kids.  But that would mean war is for kids, so maybe I'm wrong.Lately I've been thinking about getting rid of my leather couches, and bringing in a couple of cows to sit on.  It's way more organic and would provide a real conversation piece.Today I took a long hard look in the mirror and wondered, is it too late to become a mirror salesman?I think the greatest compliment you can give to someone you first meet is, "You look way better in person than you do in binoculars."People say smoking is poison, but those people don't seem to be aware that poison can be delicious.Reminder: Move bricks from Scranton to Farmville.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 28, 2008 at 12:46
Boy do I have a story to tell.  You know how I was keeping track of Michael's safe combo?  Well it finally came in handy.  I was trolling around the office last night after hours and heard some noise coming from the boss's room.  Normally the office is real quiet at night, which is why I stick around in the first place.  Quiet is like a drug to me and if I don't get my fix every night, I start to get the shakes.
So anyway, I heard these noises and got freaked out that the bossman was using his office for a little nighttime nooky with that new chick that sits in Tony's seat every day.  Not wanting to get caught, I dropped down and started to army crawl over to investigate (I got a Private Investigator license so I'm allowed to investigate anything I want, suckers).  As luck would have it, there wasn't anybody in there.  Turns out that the noise was coming from inside Michael's big furniture cabinet thing.  So I opened the cabinet door, half expecting a cat to jump out at me.  Usually when I open cabinets or closets or anything, cats end up pouncing on me.  For some reason, cats find me very attractive.
Nothing jumped out at me, but I could hear the rustling pretty close to the ground, so I bent over and figured out that it was coming from the safe.  For a second, I just stared at it, wondering what could be inside.  Then I realized that I had been saving up Michael's safe combo for this very occasion.  Well, this occasion and whenever I needed some cash, but that's beside the point.
I went over to my computer and looked back at my previous entries of this thing.  Apparently I wasn't too good with my record keeping because the numbers were kind of off.  I ended up trying out every combo I wrote down and you know what?  I didn't get it right until the very last one I tried.  The good news is, I got it open and you'll never guess what was inside.
No, it wasn't a cat, smart ass.  It was a squirrel!  I don't know for the life of me why that guy had a squirrel in his safe, but I do know that I got me a new pet.  And I'm going to train it.  Right now I'm calling it Butthead, but I'm open to suggestions for new names if you got any.  In just a few months, I'm going to have the best trained squirrel in Pennsylvania.  I'm also going to blackmail Michael because I'm pretty sure it's against the law to lock a squirrel in a safe.  False imprisonment or something.
Everything's coming up Creed!
Boy do I have a story to tell.  You know how I was keeping track of Michael's safe combo?  Well it finally came in handy.  I was trolling around the office last night after hours and heard some noise coming from the boss's room.  Normally the office is real quiet at night, which is why I stick around in the first place.  Quiet is like a drug to me and if I don't get my fix every night, I start to get the shakes.
So anyway, I heard these noises and got freaked out that the bossman was using his office for a little nighttime nooky with that new chick that sits in Tony's seat every day.  Not wanting to get caught, I dropped down and started to army crawl over to investigate (I got a Private Investigator license so I'm allowed to investigate anything I want, suckers).  As luck would have it, there wasn't anybody in there.  Turns out that the noise was coming from inside Michael's big furniture cabinet thing.  So I opened the cabinet door, half expecting a cat to jump out at me.  Usually when I open cabinets or closets or anything, cats end up pouncing on me.  For some reason, cats find me very attractive.
Nothing jumped out at me, but I could hear the rustling pretty close to the ground, so I bent over and figured out that it was coming from the safe.  For a second, I just stared at it, wondering what could be inside.  Then I realized that I had been saving up Michael's safe combo for this very occasion.  Well, this occasion and whenever I needed some cash, but that's beside the point.
I went over to my computer and looked back at my previous entries of this thing.  Apparently I wasn't too good with my record keeping because the numbers were kind of off.  I ended up trying out every combo I wrote down and you know what?  I didn't get it right until the very last one I tried.  The good news is, I got it open and you'll never guess what was inside.
No, it wasn't a cat, smart ass.  It was a squirrel!  I don't know for the life of me why that guy had a squirrel in his safe, but I do know that I got me a new pet.  And I'm going to train it.  Right now I'm calling it Butthead, but I'm open to suggestions for new names if you got any.  In just a few months, I'm going to have the best trained squirrel in Pennsylvania.  I'm also going to blackmail Michael because I'm pretty sure it's against the law to lock a squirrel in a safe.  False imprisonment or something.
Everything's coming up Creed!
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 21, 2008 at 09:39
I want to say I was about four years old when I fell in love with music.  My memory’s not great, so it could have been anywhere between four and fourteen, but I think it was closer to four.  I was hanging out in an old abandoned car factory in South Carolina and I came across a bunch of old bumpers lying on the ground.  At that age, I used to walk around with a bunch of sticks in my back pocket in case I ever needed something to throw.  When I saw those bumpers, I don’t know what came over me, but I knew that I had to take out a pair of sticks and start banging away.
From the instant my sticks hit that metal, I was hooked.  I pounded out beat after beat, dancing and singing along.  I loved it.  The music jumped into my body like a venereal disease from a hooker.  I stayed in that factory for hours and hours just banging away.  The next day, I came back and started right up where I left off.  I made up songs about everything: jump ropes, corn, beaver skin hats.  Nothing was off limits.
About a week later, I saw an old man playing a beat-up guitar on the street.  I watched him for a while, trying to learn what he was doing as I stood there.  After about an hour, he said he had to go to the can and asked me to watch his instrument.  I gladly agreed.  When he left to go to the bathroom, I snatched the guitar and ran all the way to the factory.  It was the first thing I had ever stolen and on that day, I said to myself “Music and thieving are going to be the biggest things in your life” and you know what?  They still are.
Music has been a part of me ever since.  Not a day goes by where I don’t tap out a rhythm or pick up my axe and play a lick or two.  If you cut open my veins, I’m fairly certain that quarter notes would come tumbling out.  I can’t imagine my life without music and I don’t want to.
I want to say I was about four years old when I fell in love with music.  My memory’s not great, so it could have been anywhere between four and fourteen, but I think it was closer to four.  I was hanging out in an old abandoned car factory in South Carolina and I came across a bunch of old bumpers lying on the ground.  At that age, I used to walk around with a bunch of sticks in my back pocket in case I ever needed something to throw.  When I saw those bumpers, I don’t know what came over me, but I knew that I had to take out a pair of sticks and start banging away.
From the instant my sticks hit that metal, I was hooked.  I pounded out beat after beat, dancing and singing along.  I loved it.  The music jumped into my body like a venereal disease from a hooker.  I stayed in that factory for hours and hours just banging away.  The next day, I came back and started right up where I left off.  I made up songs about everything: jump ropes, corn, beaver skin hats.  Nothing was off limits.
About a week later, I saw an old man playing a beat-up guitar on the street.  I watched him for a while, trying to learn what he was doing as I stood there.  After about an hour, he said he had to go to the can and asked me to watch his instrument.  I gladly agreed.  When he left to go to the bathroom, I snatched the guitar and ran all the way to the factory.  It was the first thing I had ever stolen and on that day, I said to myself “Music and thieving are going to be the biggest things in your life” and you know what?  They still are.
Music has been a part of me ever since.  Not a day goes by where I don’t tap out a rhythm or pick up my axe and play a lick or two.  If you cut open my veins, I’m fairly certain that quarter notes would come tumbling out.  I can’t imagine my life without music and I don’t want to.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 14, 2008 at 09:23
I spend a lot of time in the library.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m not there for the books.  Books are for table balancing and throwing at birds.  I go for the air conditioning and the smell.  Libraries smell good.  It almost makes me want to like books, but not quite.  Anyway, there’re a lot of kids at the library -- maybe it’s summer school or something – and these kids talk like I’ve never heard before.  It’s like a secret street language and I want in.  They say stuff like “that dude got clowned” and “he got that swag when he walks.” I want to know what the hell these kids are talking about, but they won’t tell me.  I’ve tried going up to the kids to talk about the phrases, but they get kind of freaked out by me.  Just wait until they need an ID – then we’ll see who’s running away and telling the librarians.
Anyway, those jerks won’t tell me anything, so I’m making up my own words and phrases.  This is my street dictionary and I’m not even charging for it.  Just don’t tell the kids in the library, okay?
Keep it bowlin’ – Everyone likes bowling, so this is a phrase for when you want to tell someone to stay positive.  For example, if someone tells you they lost their job, you can just tell them to keep it bowlin’ and that’ll cheer them up.
Ploppers – This means bad.  “Did you see that movie last night?  It was ploppers.”
Horribly obese – I’m taking this one from the library kids.  They say things are fat all the time, so I took it a step further.  In this case, it means the most beautiful ever.  If a foxy dame comes walking in, you can call her horribly obese.  I think it might take some time before it catches on, so use this one with caution because some broads may not have heard it yet and could take it the wrong way.
Willy fingers – Perhaps the hardest to explain, but you get willy fingers when you really want to fight someone.  “When my boss was yelling at me, I really started getting willy fingers.”  Your fingers start moving real fast and itching because they want to hit something – that’s the willy fingers.
Those kids are going to regret not letting me in on their lingo.  My slang’s going to take over the nation and there’s nothing those idiots can do to stop it.  Keep it bowlin’, people.
I spend a lot of time in the library.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m not there for the books.  Books are for table balancing and throwing at birds.  I go for the air conditioning and the smell.  Libraries smell good.  It almost makes me want to like books, but not quite.  Anyway, there’re a lot of kids at the library -- maybe it’s summer school or something – and these kids talk like I’ve never heard before.  It’s like a secret street language and I want in.  They say stuff like “that dude got clowned” and “he got that swag when he walks.” I want to know what the hell these kids are talking about, but they won’t tell me.  I’ve tried going up to the kids to talk about the phrases, but they get kind of freaked out by me.  Just wait until they need an ID – then we’ll see who’s running away and telling the librarians.
Anyway, those jerks won’t tell me anything, so I’m making up my own words and phrases.  This is my street dictionary and I’m not even charging for it.  Just don’t tell the kids in the library, okay?
Keep it bowlin’ – Everyone likes bowling, so this is a phrase for when you want to tell someone to stay positive.  For example, if someone tells you they lost their job, you can just tell them to keep it bowlin’ and that’ll cheer them up.
Ploppers – This means bad.  “Did you see that movie last night?  It was ploppers.”
Horribly obese – I’m taking this one from the library kids.  They say things are fat all the time, so I took it a step further.  In this case, it means the most beautiful ever.  If a foxy dame comes walking in, you can call her horribly obese.  I think it might take some time before it catches on, so use this one with caution because some broads may not have heard it yet and could take it the wrong way.
Willy fingers – Perhaps the hardest to explain, but you get willy fingers when you really want to fight someone.  “When my boss was yelling at me, I really started getting willy fingers.”  Your fingers start moving real fast and itching because they want to hit something – that’s the willy fingers.
Those kids are going to regret not letting me in on their lingo.  My slang’s going to take over the nation and there’s nothing those idiots can do to stop it.  Keep it bowlin’, people.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August  7, 2008 at 09:33
We’re having a party at work tomorrow to celebrate “08/08/08 Day,” which is great because I’ll be able to eat enough that I won’t have to buy food for a week.  That’s my favorite part about work parties – they end up saving me a lot of moolah in the long run.  I wish they were more fun, though.  If I was in charge, we’d be rocking and rolling all night.  My parties would go down in history as the best work parties of all time.  Here’s a rundown of my perfect party:
We’d start out with a bang, and by that I mean I’d fire off a starter’s pistol so people knew the party actually started.  The very first event of the party would be Bobbing for Creed Shots.  I’d fill a large kiddie pool with Creed Juice -- a mixture of kool-aid, Pop Rocks, and grain alcohol -- and throw some shot glasses in there.  Then everyone has to lean in, grab a shot glass with their mouths, and take the shot.  It’s messy but it sure gets things started right.  If you’re not drunk after Bobbing for Creed Shots, you’re not playing right.
So after everyone’s good and sauced up, I’d break out the piñatas.  The key to piñatas at parties is naming them.  If you name them after co-workers, you know people are going to really get into it.  I’m not so great with names, so I’d let somebody else do the naming, but trust me, they would all be named.  As for filling them, that all depends on the budget.  If there’s no dinero for the piñatas, then I’d fill them with dry rice.  If there’s a little cash around, then I’d go for hard candy.  With hard candy, you get the fun of seeing the piñata burst AND the injuries that go with it.
After piñata time, we’d go straight into the eating contests.  I’m partial to deviled eggs for quantity, but I know hot dogs are pretty popular these days, too.  I’d compromise and make hot dog omelets for everyone to scarf down.  I’m pretty sure I know who’d win, but you never can tell – sometimes the smallest accountants make the biggest eaters.
When the party winds down, I’d do another round of Bobbing for Creed Shots and then send people on their way with Goody Bags.  The bags would just be filled with office supplies, but hey, everyone likes a parting gift, right?
They should really make me head of that party committee thing.  I’d be amazing.
We’re having a party at work tomorrow to celebrate “08/08/08 Day,” which is great because I’ll be able to eat enough that I won’t have to buy food for a week.  That’s my favorite part about work parties – they end up saving me a lot of moolah in the long run.  I wish they were more fun, though.  If I was in charge, we’d be rocking and rolling all night.  My parties would go down in history as the best work parties of all time.  Here’s a rundown of my perfect party:
We’d start out with a bang, and by that I mean I’d fire off a starter’s pistol so people knew the party actually started.  The very first event of the party would be Bobbing for Creed Shots.  I’d fill a large kiddie pool with Creed Juice -- a mixture of kool-aid, Pop Rocks, and grain alcohol -- and throw some shot glasses in there.  Then everyone has to lean in, grab a shot glass with their mouths, and take the shot.  It’s messy but it sure gets things started right.  If you’re not drunk after Bobbing for Creed Shots, you’re not playing right.
So after everyone’s good and sauced up, I’d break out the piñatas.  The key to piñatas at parties is naming them.  If you name them after co-workers, you know people are going to really get into it.  I’m not so great with names, so I’d let somebody else do the naming, but trust me, they would all be named.  As for filling them, that all depends on the budget.  If there’s no dinero for the piñatas, then I’d fill them with dry rice.  If there’s a little cash around, then I’d go for hard candy.  With hard candy, you get the fun of seeing the piñata burst AND the injuries that go with it.
After piñata time, we’d go straight into the eating contests.  I’m partial to deviled eggs for quantity, but I know hot dogs are pretty popular these days, too.  I’d compromise and make hot dog omelets for everyone to scarf down.  I’m pretty sure I know who’d win, but you never can tell – sometimes the smallest accountants make the biggest eaters.
When the party winds down, I’d do another round of Bobbing for Creed Shots and then send people on their way with Goody Bags.  The bags would just be filled with office supplies, but hey, everyone likes a parting gift, right?
They should really make me head of that party committee thing.  I’d be amazing.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 31, 2008 at 09:24
Why is it so impressive to sleep on a bed of nails?  There’s obviously a trick to it that makes it not hurt.  I think the real challenge is sleeping in a bed filled with needles.  You just know that’s not gonna end well.
I’ve gone for rolls in the hay and it is nothing like sex.
Sometimes I’ll do shots of mouthwash.  It gets me a little tipsy and gives me great breath.
I think baseball should introduce a longstop position, just in case the shortstop misses the ball.
Who decided that we needed both North and South Dakota.  It seems like a lot of wasted paperwork to me.
Catching flies with your hands is fun, but catching frogs with your feet is a lot more satisfying.
I like to wear two undershirts most days because you never know when you’ll walk into a strip poker game.
I want to open up a bar called “Creed’s Meads” and bring mead back to how popular it was during the American Revolution.  It’ll be right between my book store and woodwind instrument shop – Creed’s Reads and Creed’s Reeds.
Why hasn’t anyone built a live-action version of Chutes and Ladders?  I’d be first in line to play.
I’ve always thought that shopping carts are just mobile jails for food and all the prisoners are sentenced to death by ingestion.  Kind of makes you shop differently, huh?
Why is it so impressive to sleep on a bed of nails?  There’s obviously a trick to it that makes it not hurt.  I think the real challenge is sleeping in a bed filled with needles.  You just know that’s not gonna end well.
I’ve gone for rolls in the hay and it is nothing like sex.
Sometimes I’ll do shots of mouthwash.  It gets me a little tipsy and gives me great breath.
I think baseball should introduce a longstop position, just in case the shortstop misses the ball.
Who decided that we needed both North and South Dakota.  It seems like a lot of wasted paperwork to me.
Catching flies with your hands is fun, but catching frogs with your feet is a lot more satisfying.
I like to wear two undershirts most days because you never know when you’ll walk into a strip poker game.
I want to open up a bar called “Creed’s Meads” and bring mead back to how popular it was during the American Revolution.  It’ll be right between my book store and woodwind instrument shop – Creed’s Reads and Creed’s Reeds.
Why hasn’t anyone built a live-action version of Chutes and Ladders?  I’d be first in line to play.
I’ve always thought that shopping carts are just mobile jails for food and all the prisoners are sentenced to death by ingestion.  Kind of makes you shop differently, huh?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 24, 2008 at 09:33
I’m Batman.  At least that’s what I tell women in bars after a few rounds.  It’s a great pick-up line because they have no way of knowing if it’s true or not.  Sure, they have a 99% chance of knowing that you’re not Batman, but it’s that 1% that gives you the in.
What you’re really looking for is the lady that wants to argue with you about how much you’re not Batman.  Those are the broads that end up in bed with you later on yelling “Yes, Batman!  Show me your utility belt!”  It works every time.  It also helps to have a utility belt with you because up until that point, she may still not believe you’re Batman, but when you produce the utility belt, you send her head spinning.
I never used to be good at pick-up lines because I was too direct.  “I’d like to be your blanket” works on some chicks, but most of them just slap you and walk away.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a good slapping.  It’s good for the skin and makes you focus on the task at hand.  I’d just rather talk to the woman than get slapped, that’s all.  So I had to take a different approach.  I’ve heard of new dating advice books where you’re supposed to insult a girl to get her attention, but I think that’s the wrong approach.  If I’m not pretending to be Batman, I like to use really impressive facts to get them to talk to me.
I’ll pick out the hottest lady in the bar (or zoo or botanical garden or wherever else I might happen to be) and get her attention with a really loud whisper.  Women respond really well to whispers.  It’s because they like secrets.  So I’ll whisper, “Hey you, come over here” and I’ll look like I’ve got a real big secret to tell them.  When they come over, I reach into my bag of facts (not literally) and pull out a good one.  “Dolphins are the only animals besides humans that copulate for pleasure.”  It works like a charm.  Most of the time.  Not really.  It gets me slapped less, though, so I’m sticking with it.
I’m Batman.  At least that’s what I tell women in bars after a few rounds.  It’s a great pick-up line because they have no way of knowing if it’s true or not.  Sure, they have a 99% chance of knowing that you’re not Batman, but it’s that 1% that gives you the in.
What you’re really looking for is the lady that wants to argue with you about how much you’re not Batman.  Those are the broads that end up in bed with you later on yelling “Yes, Batman!  Show me your utility belt!”  It works every time.  It also helps to have a utility belt with you because up until that point, she may still not believe you’re Batman, but when you produce the utility belt, you send her head spinning.
I never used to be good at pick-up lines because I was too direct.  “I’d like to be your blanket” works on some chicks, but most of them just slap you and walk away.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a good slapping.  It’s good for the skin and makes you focus on the task at hand.  I’d just rather talk to the woman than get slapped, that’s all.  So I had to take a different approach.  I’ve heard of new dating advice books where you’re supposed to insult a girl to get her attention, but I think that’s the wrong approach.  If I’m not pretending to be Batman, I like to use really impressive facts to get them to talk to me.
I’ll pick out the hottest lady in the bar (or zoo or botanical garden or wherever else I might happen to be) and get her attention with a really loud whisper.  Women respond really well to whispers.  It’s because they like secrets.  So I’ll whisper, “Hey you, come over here” and I’ll look like I’ve got a real big secret to tell them.  When they come over, I reach into my bag of facts (not literally) and pull out a good one.  “Dolphins are the only animals besides humans that copulate for pleasure.”  It works like a charm.  Most of the time.  Not really.  It gets me slapped less, though, so I’m sticking with it.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 17, 2008 at 12:38
I’ve been trying something new lately and it’s really put a new spin on how I go through my days.  Instead of waking up ten minutes before work and wiping myself down with a damp paper towel, I’ve been waking up really early and going for walks all over town.  You’d be amazed at how quiet this place is without people in it.  I haven’t felt this peaceful in years.
I went over to Nay Aug Park the other day at around 4am and even the geese were still asleep when I got there.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  It’s been a dream of mine for years to see how far I could throw a goose and this was the perfect opportunity.  I’ve definitely learned that you’ve got to strike fast when dealing with sleeping animals because the element of surprise is your biggest weapon.  That old wives’ tale about letting sleeping dogs lie only applies if you don’t have a plan for after you wake up the dog.  With geese, it’s the same story.  You wake up a goose just for the fun of it, you’ll get pecked like no tomorrow.  Their beaks are painful, man.  You don’t want to find out first hand.
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I’ve been trying something new lately and it’s really put a new spin on how I go through my days.  Instead of waking up ten minutes before work and wiping myself down with a damp paper towel, I’ve been waking up really early and going for walks all over town.  You’d be amazed at how quiet this place is without people in it.  I haven’t felt this peaceful in years.
I went over to Nay Aug Park the other day at around 4am and even the geese were still asleep when I got there.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  It’s been a dream of mine for years to see how far I could throw a goose and this was the perfect opportunity.  I’ve definitely learned that you’ve got to strike fast when dealing with sleeping animals because the element of surprise is your biggest weapon.  That old wives’ tale about letting sleeping dogs lie only applies if you don’t have a plan for after you wake up the dog.  With geese, it’s the same story.  You wake up a goose just for the fun of it, you’ll get pecked like no tomorrow.  Their beaks are painful, man.  You don’t want to find out first hand.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 10, 2008 at 09:24
One of my great joys in life is going to the car wash.  Some people may think of it as a hassle, just another chore in their already over-chored lives, but not me.  The car wash for me is a wonderful place.  It’s where you go to get a new lease on life, or at least a new lease on your scooter.  I’m not talking about actual leases – I have no idea how to get a new lease on a scooter.  I won mine in a fight.  I’m talking about that feeling when you bring in your scooter all caked in mud and whatever other junk might be stuck on there and you ride off with a shiny new-looking scooterino.  That’s satisfaction.
You might not have a scooter.  You might have a car: the more “traditional” vehicle to take to a car wash.  I’m a proud scooter owner and as a proud scooter owner, I like to keep my scooter clean.  After all, dirt really shows up on red plastic, you know?  So once every month or so in the summer, I take a trip to the place on Moosic and get my wheels all soaped up.
It’s hard to describe the feeling I get at the car wash without sounding dirty (not that that’s ever stopped me before), but I’ll try.  It feels a little bit like I’m in the hospital getting a sponge bath from some real foxy nurses.  Replace hospital with car wash and real foxy nurses with real burly joes and that’s pretty much what the experience is like.  I love to see them get down and dirty with my little scooter.  Wipe it down and rinse it off and put so much care into the job.  When it comes out of there all gleaming and clean, I feel like I need a smoke.
Look, I’m not a real extravagant guy.  I pick fights with extravagant guys.  But the car wash is the one place where I can throw down eight bucks once a month and feel like a king.  A fella’s got to feel pampered once in a while, you know?
One of my great joys in life is going to the car wash.  Some people may think of it as a hassle, just another chore in their already over-chored lives, but not me.  The car wash for me is a wonderful place.  It’s where you go to get a new lease on life, or at least a new lease on your scooter.  I’m not talking about actual leases – I have no idea how to get a new lease on a scooter.  I won mine in a fight.  I’m talking about that feeling when you bring in your scooter all caked in mud and whatever other junk might be stuck on there and you ride off with a shiny new-looking scooterino.  That’s satisfaction.
You might not have a scooter.  You might have a car: the more “traditional” vehicle to take to a car wash.  I’m a proud scooter owner and as a proud scooter owner, I like to keep my scooter clean.  After all, dirt really shows up on red plastic, you know?  So once every month or so in the summer, I take a trip to the place on Moosic and get my wheels all soaped up.
It’s hard to describe the feeling I get at the car wash without sounding dirty (not that that’s ever stopped me before), but I’ll try.  It feels a little bit like I’m in the hospital getting a sponge bath from some real foxy nurses.  Replace hospital with car wash and real foxy nurses with real burly joes and that’s pretty much what the experience is like.  I love to see them get down and dirty with my little scooter.  Wipe it down and rinse it off and put so much care into the job.  When it comes out of there all gleaming and clean, I feel like I need a smoke.
Look, I’m not a real extravagant guy.  I pick fights with extravagant guys.  But the car wash is the one place where I can throw down eight bucks once a month and feel like a king.  A fella’s got to feel pampered once in a while, you know?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July  3, 2008 at 09:05
The 4th of July is tomorrow and some would say it’s the greatest American holiday.  Not me.  I think America Day beats the pants off of the 4th of July.
You may have missed America Day this year because it’s not really well-advertised.  It takes place on June 20th and it is a sight to behold.  America Day was created by a friend of mine named Samuel Che Emanuel.  He’s rail-thin with a haircut that looks oddly as if a woman had her hair cut short like a man.  It’s hard to describe, but it’s a feminine masculine haircut, if that makes sense to anyone.  He’s a real sparkplug of a guy.  Grew up in the wilderness of Colorado with a pet bear.  It was a midget bear, so he didn’t have to worry about it eating him or anything.  His parents were trappers and lived “off the grid” so to speak, so wildlife pets were nothing new to him.
Anyway, one day, Sammy Che (as we call him) was walking with Midgy (as he called his bear) and stumbled upon a rock formation that looked like an eagle soaring through the air with a flag waving behind it.  I’m guessing that Sammy Che was tripping pretty hard that day, so who knows what the rock formation actually looked like.  All we know is that Sammy Che returned home and declared that day America Day.  When I first met Sammy Che, it was the 20th anniversary of America Day and he showed me how the day is properly celebrated.
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The 4th of July is tomorrow and some would say it’s the greatest American holiday.  Not me.  I think America Day beats the pants off of the 4th of July.
You may have missed America Day this year because it’s not really well-advertised.  It takes place on June 20th and it is a sight to behold.  America Day was created by a friend of mine named Samuel Che Emanuel.  He’s rail-thin with a haircut that looks oddly as if a woman had her hair cut short like a man.  It’s hard to describe, but it’s a feminine masculine haircut, if that makes sense to anyone.  He’s a real sparkplug of a guy.  Grew up in the wilderness of Colorado with a pet bear.  It was a midget bear, so he didn’t have to worry about it eating him or anything.  His parents were trappers and lived “off the grid” so to speak, so wildlife pets were nothing new to him.
Anyway, one day, Sammy Che (as we call him) was walking with Midgy (as he called his bear) and stumbled upon a rock formation that looked like an eagle soaring through the air with a flag waving behind it.  I’m guessing that Sammy Che was tripping pretty hard that day, so who knows what the rock formation actually looked like.  All we know is that Sammy Che returned home and declared that day America Day.  When I first met Sammy Che, it was the 20th anniversary of America Day and he showed me how the day is properly celebrated.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 26, 2008 at 09:29
I’ve always liked uniforms.  When I was a kid, I wore sailor suits every day until I was eight.  People called me Captain Crapstick because of how I dressed and the fact that I would carry around a stick with me that I used for poking all sorts of crap.  I still have my sailor suit hanging proudly in my closet, but I only break it out when a special lady comes over.  It doesn’t fit so well anymore, but I still look darn cute in it.
In my opinion, every job should have a uniform.  Fast-food workers, gas station attendants, exterminators, these guys all have it covered already.  I’m pushing for the jobs that make you waste time every morning decided what to wear.  Take my job, for instance.  I know I’m not allowed to wear shorts, because every time I do, I get yelled at.  I also can’t wear vests without shirts underneath.  So I’m locked into wearing a certain combination of clothing every day, but there are just too many choices.  If it were up to me, I’d implement an office worker uniform so you could just wake up every morning, go to your uniform closet, and three seconds later you’re all set.
My uniform would consist of three items and three items only.
1. Navy blue sweatpants.  These are the first item because they’re the most important.  When I go home, the first thing I do is put on navy blue sweatpants.  You can’t find a more comfortable piece of clothing.  The color is great because you can spill all you want and nobody’s the wiser.  All in all, if the uniform doesn’t include navy blue sweatpants, I don’t want the job.
2. A vest.  No shirt required.  Vests are amazing inventions.  They cover up your nipples (which society has decided are unacceptable to see, for some reason) and they’re classy.  You want to class up a joint?  Throw on a vest.  You want to add some more class?  Make sure that vest is leather.
3. Comfy slippers.  Right after I change into my navy blue sweatpants, I slide on my sheepskin-lined slippers.  Talk about comfort!  These little puppies make it feel like you’re walking on a field of soft paralyzed sheep – I say paralyzed only so you don’t picture the sheep as moving.  If I could wear slippers to work every day, I’d probably start caring about my job.
These three items could change the workplace as we know it.  I’m serious, America.  Just think about how much more productive we would be as a country if all office-workers wore navy blue sweatpants, vests without shirts, and comfy slippers.  We’d be a comfortably dressed productivity superpower, and honestly, isn’t that what all this fighting is about anyway?
I’ve always liked uniforms.  When I was a kid, I wore sailor suits every day until I was eight.  People called me Captain Crapstick because of how I dressed and the fact that I would carry around a stick with me that I used for poking all sorts of crap.  I still have my sailor suit hanging proudly in my closet, but I only break it out when a special lady comes over.  It doesn’t fit so well anymore, but I still look darn cute in it.
In my opinion, every job should have a uniform.  Fast-food workers, gas station attendants, exterminators, these guys all have it covered already.  I’m pushing for the jobs that make you waste time every morning decided what to wear.  Take my job, for instance.  I know I’m not allowed to wear shorts, because every time I do, I get yelled at.  I also can’t wear vests without shirts underneath.  So I’m locked into wearing a certain combination of clothing every day, but there are just too many choices.  If it were up to me, I’d implement an office worker uniform so you could just wake up every morning, go to your uniform closet, and three seconds later you’re all set.
My uniform would consist of three items and three items only.
1. Navy blue sweatpants.  These are the first item because they’re the most important.  When I go home, the first thing I do is put on navy blue sweatpants.  You can’t find a more comfortable piece of clothing.  The color is great because you can spill all you want and nobody’s the wiser.  All in all, if the uniform doesn’t include navy blue sweatpants, I don’t want the job.
2. A vest.  No shirt required.  Vests are amazing inventions.  They cover up your nipples (which society has decided are unacceptable to see, for some reason) and they’re classy.  You want to class up a joint?  Throw on a vest.  You want to add some more class?  Make sure that vest is leather.
3. Comfy slippers.  Right after I change into my navy blue sweatpants, I slide on my sheepskin-lined slippers.  Talk about comfort!  These little puppies make it feel like you’re walking on a field of soft paralyzed sheep – I say paralyzed only so you don’t picture the sheep as moving.  If I could wear slippers to work every day, I’d probably start caring about my job.
These three items could change the workplace as we know it.  I’m serious, America.  Just think about how much more productive we would be as a country if all office-workers wore navy blue sweatpants, vests without shirts, and comfy slippers.  We’d be a comfortably dressed productivity superpower, and honestly, isn’t that what all this fighting is about anyway?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 19, 2008 at 09:22
I don’t know about you, but I’m known far and wide as a guy that can cut a rug.  Not literally.  I’ve never actually sliced into any rugs, but I bet I’d be pretty good at that, too, considering how handy I am with knives.
I can cut a rug in the sense that I can dance like a mofo.  Ever since I was little, I’ve had rhythm in me.  Everyone used to call me Lil’ Josephine Baker because I liked to shake it everywhere I went, plus I once made a skirt out of bananas.  My favorite place to hoof it was the market.  One time, I was dancing up a storm in the produce section and I knocked into a huge display of apples.  Those Red Delicious came tumbling down, but that didn’t stop little Creedy.  No sir.  I just kept on twirling and juking and the apples became my dance floor.  When I was finished, the whole store applauded, except for the manager, who called the police.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, especially because my horn is pretty dusty and might make everyone sick if I tooted it, but I’m pretty sure I invented break dancing.  I used to have my neighbor bang out a beat on his kick drum while I tried to spin around on my back.  At the time, I did it to get dizzy.  In retrospect, it’s pretty clear to me that I was inventing a new style of dance.
I’ve got a pair of dancing shoes that are made out of magic.  They’ve got a black and white checker pattern on them and I bought them from a Serbian flutist who needed some cash to get his flute out of hock.  From the minute I put them on, I felt like my feet had a mind of their own.  They just tap-tap-tap to their own beat and I do my best to keep up.  For a while, I thought the guy put Mexican jumping beans in the heels, but I checked and there aren’t any beans in those shoes.  Not unless I decide to put them there and, as of right now, I have no interest in doing so.
The only place I won’t dance for fun is on people’s graves.  I dance on people’s graves for disrespect purposes only and nothing more.
I don’t know about you, but I’m known far and wide as a guy that can cut a rug.  Not literally.  I’ve never actually sliced into any rugs, but I bet I’d be pretty good at that, too, considering how handy I am with knives.
I can cut a rug in the sense that I can dance like a mofo.  Ever since I was little, I’ve had rhythm in me.  Everyone used to call me Lil’ Josephine Baker because I liked to shake it everywhere I went, plus I once made a skirt out of bananas.  My favorite place to hoof it was the market.  One time, I was dancing up a storm in the produce section and I knocked into a huge display of apples.  Those Red Delicious came tumbling down, but that didn’t stop little Creedy.  No sir.  I just kept on twirling and juking and the apples became my dance floor.  When I was finished, the whole store applauded, except for the manager, who called the police.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, especially because my horn is pretty dusty and might make everyone sick if I tooted it, but I’m pretty sure I invented break dancing.  I used to have my neighbor bang out a beat on his kick drum while I tried to spin around on my back.  At the time, I did it to get dizzy.  In retrospect, it’s pretty clear to me that I was inventing a new style of dance.
I’ve got a pair of dancing shoes that are made out of magic.  They’ve got a black and white checker pattern on them and I bought them from a Serbian flutist who needed some cash to get his flute out of hock.  From the minute I put them on, I felt like my feet had a mind of their own.  They just tap-tap-tap to their own beat and I do my best to keep up.  For a while, I thought the guy put Mexican jumping beans in the heels, but I checked and there aren’t any beans in those shoes.  Not unless I decide to put them there and, as of right now, I have no interest in doing so.
The only place I won’t dance for fun is on people’s graves.  I dance on people’s graves for disrespect purposes only and nothing more.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 12, 2008 at 09:23
When something’s both good and bad, people say it’s “a double-edged sword.”  I think that’s ridiculous.  A double-edged sword is always a good thing.  You can do twice the damage with it.
I believe the children are our future.  Specifically Chinese children.
Gambling for money is fun, but gambling for livestock is so much better.  If you end up winning, you get the satisfaction of victory and a ride home.
I like to tell time using the sun.  If it’s sunny, then it’s time for work.  If it’s dark, then it’s time to make money.
Globes are great for hiding stuff.  Nobody ever bothers to look inside a globe, and if they do, they’re probably really weak anyway, so you can just beat them up and run away.
Never talk to men with red hair.  They live by different rules than you or I.  There’s a reason all the famous clowns have red hair and it’s not because red is a friendly hair color.
I’ve been running a lot lately and I’m getting into really good shape.  Of course, it really helps that I’m carrying a lot of loot while I run.
When I’m in a new situation, I tell everyone it’s my birthday.  People really treat you better when they think it’s your birthday, whether they know you or not.
I hate waiting.  It drives me nutso.  If I’m at a drive-thru window and it’s taking too long to get my food, I’ll just get out of my car and go for a walk for half an hour.  When I get back, I’m much calmer and the fast food joint gets an important message about wasting people’s time.
I carry a salt shaker in my pocket because you never know when you’ll need to teach a slug a lesson.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 86-7-53-09
When something’s both good and bad, people say it’s “a double-edged sword.”  I think that’s ridiculous.  A double-edged sword is always a good thing.  You can do twice the damage with it.
I believe the children are our future.  Specifically Chinese children.
Gambling for money is fun, but gambling for livestock is so much better.  If you end up winning, you get the satisfaction of victory and a ride home.
I like to tell time using the sun.  If it’s sunny, then it’s time for work.  If it’s dark, then it’s time to make money.
Globes are great for hiding stuff.  Nobody ever bothers to look inside a globe, and if they do, they’re probably really weak anyway, so you can just beat them up and run away.
Never talk to men with red hair.  They live by different rules than you or I.  There’s a reason all the famous clowns have red hair and it’s not because red is a friendly hair color.
I’ve been running a lot lately and I’m getting into really good shape.  Of course, it really helps that I’m carrying a lot of loot while I run.
When I’m in a new situation, I tell everyone it’s my birthday.  People really treat you better when they think it’s your birthday, whether they know you or not.
I hate waiting.  It drives me nutso.  If I’m at a drive-thru window and it’s taking too long to get my food, I’ll just get out of my car and go for a walk for half an hour.  When I get back, I’m much calmer and the fast food joint gets an important message about wasting people’s time.
I carry a salt shaker in my pocket because you never know when you’ll need to teach a slug a lesson.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 86-7-53-09
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June  5, 2008 at 09:17
Let’s talk about gas, because at this moment in history, it’s out of control.  Seriously.  I’ve had bad gas for weeks now and I don’t know what to do about it.  It’s terrible and I mean really awful.  It smells a little like a mix between very wet cats and regurgitated corn chips.  I don’t know what’s been causing it, but I need to find out because it’s making me sick.
Honestly, if I didn’t have to smell it myself, I’d be happy about it.  Gas is a powerful weapon.  You want some space to yourself?  Unload a popper and those seats next to you clear out real fast.  You want a day off of work?  Start a little seat orchestra and you’ll be sent home in no time.  I wish I were back in my twenties when I couldn’t smell anything because then I’d have some fun with these stinkbombs.  Sadly, every time I let one go, I’m my own first victim.
I end up being victim to myself a lot.  That’s what happens when you do a lot of home chemical mixing.  It started out as a hobby, but I’ve really stepped up my game in the last few years.  I’m trying to find a chemical cure for wrinkles, but it’s not going so well.  I have, however, invented quite a few potions for giving yourself rashes.  When rashes come back into “vogue,” I’ll be the king of the rash world.
Rash World sounds like a really fun theme park, don’t you think?  I’d visit, as long as the admission price wasn’t too high.  I wonder if they have funnel cakes at Rash World.  Funnel cakes are incredible.  They’re my favorite fried batter-based cake.
Other types of cakes that I enjoy: snack cakes, birthday cakes, coffee cakes, tea cakes, ice cream cakes, urinal cakes, erotic cakes, layer cakes, hot cakes, and wedding cakes.  Cakes that I do not enjoy: cupcakes.  Why waste my time on a cupcake when I can get the real deal?  Cupcakes should only be eaten in times of war or famine.  Or when they’re filled with cream.  That’s it.
Let’s talk about gas, because at this moment in history, it’s out of control.  Seriously.  I’ve had bad gas for weeks now and I don’t know what to do about it.  It’s terrible and I mean really awful.  It smells a little like a mix between very wet cats and regurgitated corn chips.  I don’t know what’s been causing it, but I need to find out because it’s making me sick.
Honestly, if I didn’t have to smell it myself, I’d be happy about it.  Gas is a powerful weapon.  You want some space to yourself?  Unload a popper and those seats next to you clear out real fast.  You want a day off of work?  Start a little seat orchestra and you’ll be sent home in no time.  I wish I were back in my twenties when I couldn’t smell anything because then I’d have some fun with these stinkbombs.  Sadly, every time I let one go, I’m my own first victim.
I end up being victim to myself a lot.  That’s what happens when you do a lot of home chemical mixing.  It started out as a hobby, but I’ve really stepped up my game in the last few years.  I’m trying to find a chemical cure for wrinkles, but it’s not going so well.  I have, however, invented quite a few potions for giving yourself rashes.  When rashes come back into “vogue,” I’ll be the king of the rash world.
Rash World sounds like a really fun theme park, don’t you think?  I’d visit, as long as the admission price wasn’t too high.  I wonder if they have funnel cakes at Rash World.  Funnel cakes are incredible.  They’re my favorite fried batter-based cake.
Other types of cakes that I enjoy: snack cakes, birthday cakes, coffee cakes, tea cakes, ice cream cakes, urinal cakes, erotic cakes, layer cakes, hot cakes, and wedding cakes.  Cakes that I do not enjoy: cupcakes.  Why waste my time on a cupcake when I can get the real deal?  Cupcakes should only be eaten in times of war or famine.  Or when they’re filled with cream.  That’s it.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 29, 2008 at 09:35
Short broads.  They’re the best.  If you’ve been keeping up with these bloggeroos, you might remember the types of women I go for: Brazilian, Ukrainian, South African, Canadian [the further North, the better], short, and Wisconsin.  I didn’t say that the list was in order, though.  Truth be told, short is at the way top of the list, while Ukrainian is actually really far down.  That being said, if I found a short Ukrainian dame, I wouldn’t kick her out of my sleeping bag (for some reason, I can’t find my bed again – if you’ve seen it, give me a call).  For me, short is where it’s at and this little entry is a tribute to short girls everywhere.  I wrote them a poem.
Short Girl
By Creed Bratton
Ooh, mama, with your tiny little legs
You’re like a dachsund
In human form
And that makes you okay
In my book
I want to throw you up into the air
Like a ball of shortness
And catch you when you fall down
And put you into my jacket pocket
That I have lined with pillows and string cheese
Yeah, mama, you’re small and nice
In those little lady clothes
That you wear so well
You could be a minus-sized fashion model
And that’s the truth
Short girl
You make my day
Short broads.  They’re the best.  If you’ve been keeping up with these bloggeroos, you might remember the types of women I go for: Brazilian, Ukrainian, South African, Canadian [the further North, the better], short, and Wisconsin.  I didn’t say that the list was in order, though.  Truth be told, short is at the way top of the list, while Ukrainian is actually really far down.  That being said, if I found a short Ukrainian dame, I wouldn’t kick her out of my sleeping bag (for some reason, I can’t find my bed again – if you’ve seen it, give me a call).  For me, short is where it’s at and this little entry is a tribute to short girls everywhere.  I wrote them a poem.
Short Girl
By Creed Bratton
Ooh, mama, with your tiny little legs
You’re like a dachsund
In human form
And that makes you okay
In my book
I want to throw you up into the air
Like a ball of shortness
And catch you when you fall down
And put you into my jacket pocket
That I have lined with pillows and string cheese
Yeah, mama, you’re small and nice
In those little lady clothes
That you wear so well
You could be a minus-sized fashion model
And that’s the truth
Short girl
You make my day
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 22, 2008 at 09:25
Back in the fall, I was drinking a lot of Red Bulls and they really made me feel like I was being shot out of a cannon.  I loved the stuff.  Problem is, that junk is expensive.  Who can afford to drink more than one a day?  Certainly not me.  My money goes to more enterprising pursuits, like laminating equipment and buying ladies drinks.  I wish I could drink six or seven cans of the stuff a day to keep me going, but until I win the lottery, that’s not happening.  When I was in the convenience store the other day, though, I saw this new energy drink called VivaMaxxPlus, so I decided to give it a shot.
Let me tell you, that stuff is amazing.  They’re half the price of the Bull and they get my heart going even faster.  It’s incredible.  I drink a whole mess of them at lunchtime and then I’m awake until the sun comes up.  It really helps me get through the workday and then my real workday, which starts at around 10pm.  It’s hard to explain the feeling I get, but it’s like someone hooked up a battery to my body and it’s in charge of making my blood flow, but the dial that controls the speed got messed up and it’s stuck on “super fast.”  That’s exactly what it feels like.  That, or stepping on an exposed wire at a construction site where you’re trying to scam some copper late at night.  I know what that feels like and VivaMaxxPlus is pretty similar.
I decided I have to limit myself to three or four a day or else I’m going to get in some real trouble.  Any more than that and I get pretty aggressive.  Last week, I drank five cans of the sauce and when this new lady started questioning me about what I did at work, I freaked out.  I started imagining me and her on a go-kart track, but she didn’t have a go-kart and my go-kart had all kinds of James Bond spy weapons on it.  Right when I started picturing myself shooting her with my dashboard missiles, I realized I needed to take it down a notch.  I’m not a violent person, but there’s something in that VivaMaxxPlus that makes me craaaaaaazy.
I wonder if they sell a decaf version…
Back in the fall, I was drinking a lot of Red Bulls and they really made me feel like I was being shot out of a cannon.  I loved the stuff.  Problem is, that junk is expensive.  Who can afford to drink more than one a day?  Certainly not me.  My money goes to more enterprising pursuits, like laminating equipment and buying ladies drinks.  I wish I could drink six or seven cans of the stuff a day to keep me going, but until I win the lottery, that’s not happening.  When I was in the convenience store the other day, though, I saw this new energy drink called VivaMaxxPlus, so I decided to give it a shot.
Let me tell you, that stuff is amazing.  They’re half the price of the Bull and they get my heart going even faster.  It’s incredible.  I drink a whole mess of them at lunchtime and then I’m awake until the sun comes up.  It really helps me get through the workday and then my real workday, which starts at around 10pm.  It’s hard to explain the feeling I get, but it’s like someone hooked up a battery to my body and it’s in charge of making my blood flow, but the dial that controls the speed got messed up and it’s stuck on “super fast.”  That’s exactly what it feels like.  That, or stepping on an exposed wire at a construction site where you’re trying to scam some copper late at night.  I know what that feels like and VivaMaxxPlus is pretty similar.
I decided I have to limit myself to three or four a day or else I’m going to get in some real trouble.  Any more than that and I get pretty aggressive.  Last week, I drank five cans of the sauce and when this new lady started questioning me about what I did at work, I freaked out.  I started imagining me and her on a go-kart track, but she didn’t have a go-kart and my go-kart had all kinds of James Bond spy weapons on it.  Right when I started picturing myself shooting her with my dashboard missiles, I realized I needed to take it down a notch.  I’m not a violent person, but there’s something in that VivaMaxxPlus that makes me craaaaaaazy.
I wonder if they sell a decaf version…
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 15, 2008 at 09:30
Between the ages of 18 and 31, I completely lost my sense of smell.  I was using this nose spray that was supposed to make me a better lover and after about a week of using the stuff, I couldn’t smell a damn thing.  It might have been all of the ground-up tiger particles that were supposed to really jump-start your manhood, but who knows?  Anyway, I didn’t get my sniffer back until a few days after my 31st birthday when I was walking past this Ukrainian deli and thought to myself “Am I smelling kovbasa?”  Indeed I was.  I launched into that sausage like there was no tomorrow because it was the first thing I could really taste in years.  Ever since then, I’ve been really aware of how important smell is to me.
That’s why I’m proud to announce the arrival of my new fragrance, “CreedScents.”  It’s a mixture of my favorite smells: gasoline, three-day-old cigarettes, cash money, pineapple, bleach, and dirt.  It smells awesome.  When you walk around, people stop and look at you as if to say “Is that you that I’m smelling?”  Well, folks, yes it is, and now, for the first time ever, you can smell like me, too.  I’m personally bottling it in 100% recycled water bottles that still have their original labels.  Just hook up a little squirt attachment to the top (sold separately) and spray away!  You can smell like Creed!  Your pet can smell like Creed!  Your home can smell like Creed!  Your car can smell like Creed!  Even your kids can smell like Creed!  Buy some CreedScents now!
Just a little legal disclaimer:  Don’t drink CreedScents.  Don’t use CreedScents as a cleaning liquid.  CreedScents is not intended to touch the human skin.  If your skin comes into contact with CreedScents, immediately scrub the infected area for roughly one hour or else your skin may begin to melt.  CreedScents should not be inhaled.  Once in the bloodstream, CreedScents can do serious damage to both your brain and most of your major organs.  CreedScents should not be used as a narcotic, although it functions as one if distilled into a gel-cap.  Please do not distill CreedScents into gel-caps, as the narcotic it becomes is equivalent to a lethal combination of absinthe, lithium, and hemlock.  You may get high for a minute, but you’ll be dead forever.  By purchasing CreedScents, you agree to release me, Creed Bratton, from any legal action whatsoever.  Also, any problems not mentioned here that arise from the use of CreedScents shall be deemed “implied risks” and cannot be used against me, Creed Bratton, in any type of lawsuit.
Stop sitting on your fat ass and buy some CreedScents today!
Between the ages of 18 and 31, I completely lost my sense of smell.  I was using this nose spray that was supposed to make me a better lover and after about a week of using the stuff, I couldn’t smell a damn thing.  It might have been all of the ground-up tiger particles that were supposed to really jump-start your manhood, but who knows?  Anyway, I didn’t get my sniffer back until a few days after my 31st birthday when I was walking past this Ukrainian deli and thought to myself “Am I smelling kovbasa?”  Indeed I was.  I launched into that sausage like there was no tomorrow because it was the first thing I could really taste in years.  Ever since then, I’ve been really aware of how important smell is to me.
That’s why I’m proud to announce the arrival of my new fragrance, “CreedScents.”  It’s a mixture of my favorite smells: gasoline, three-day-old cigarettes, cash money, pineapple, bleach, and dirt.  It smells awesome.  When you walk around, people stop and look at you as if to say “Is that you that I’m smelling?”  Well, folks, yes it is, and now, for the first time ever, you can smell like me, too.  I’m personally bottling it in 100% recycled water bottles that still have their original labels.  Just hook up a little squirt attachment to the top (sold separately) and spray away!  You can smell like Creed!  Your pet can smell like Creed!  Your home can smell like Creed!  Your car can smell like Creed!  Even your kids can smell like Creed!  Buy some CreedScents now!
Just a little legal disclaimer:  Don’t drink CreedScents.  Don’t use CreedScents as a cleaning liquid.  CreedScents is not intended to touch the human skin.  If your skin comes into contact with CreedScents, immediately scrub the infected area for roughly one hour or else your skin may begin to melt.  CreedScents should not be inhaled.  Once in the bloodstream, CreedScents can do serious damage to both your brain and most of your major organs.  CreedScents should not be used as a narcotic, although it functions as one if distilled into a gel-cap.  Please do not distill CreedScents into gel-caps, as the narcotic it becomes is equivalent to a lethal combination of absinthe, lithium, and hemlock.  You may get high for a minute, but you’ll be dead forever.  By purchasing CreedScents, you agree to release me, Creed Bratton, from any legal action whatsoever.  Also, any problems not mentioned here that arise from the use of CreedScents shall be deemed “implied risks” and cannot be used against me, Creed Bratton, in any type of lawsuit.
Stop sitting on your fat ass and buy some CreedScents today!
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May  8, 2008 at 09:15
There was a big blow-up at work last week between the boss man and the black guy.  Lots of fireworks.  I think the boss man broke out his brass knuckles because I saw a lot of blood on the carpet the next day.  Blood on the carpet means trouble – that’s a rule I live by.  I don’t like fights at work, because it’s too many parts of my life coming together in one place.  I prefer to keep fighting outside of work and my work out of fights.  This fight turned out pretty well for me, though, because everyone else got sent home so they could have a private cage match.
The first thing I did when we got sent home was head straight over to the mall for some orange chicken at the Lotus place.  That stuff is dynamite.  I could eat a shopping cart full of it.  Sadly, they don’t sell it by the shopping cart, no matter how often I ask them to, so I settled for a combo meal.  There were a few high school kids in the food court, so I tried to drum up some new customers for my novelty identification and lamination business.  They weren’t interested.  Apparently there’s some punk over at Scranton Prep who does a really good Delaware now.  Even better than my Georgia.  I’m going to track that kid down and have a “talk” with him.  When it comes to novelty identification and lamination, I need to be the only game in town.
After the mall, I was pretty riled up, so I headed over to that “Just Paint It” place where you can paint your own pottery.  That place is like a zen garden to me.  I just sit down, grab a small ceramic elephant and go to town.  I can zone out for two, three hours painting that thing.  The best part about it is that when I’m done, I get to take it with me.  You’d be surprised how much you can get for an orange and green elephant when you tell people it’s imported from Indonesia.
I spent the rest of the night over at the grocery store sampling the candy in the bulk bins.  They didn’t even hassle me about it.  Not that I really keep track, but that may have been my best day ever.
There was a big blow-up at work last week between the boss man and the black guy.  Lots of fireworks.  I think the boss man broke out his brass knuckles because I saw a lot of blood on the carpet the next day.  Blood on the carpet means trouble – that’s a rule I live by.  I don’t like fights at work, because it’s too many parts of my life coming together in one place.  I prefer to keep fighting outside of work and my work out of fights.  This fight turned out pretty well for me, though, because everyone else got sent home so they could have a private cage match.
The first thing I did when we got sent home was head straight over to the mall for some orange chicken at the Lotus place.  That stuff is dynamite.  I could eat a shopping cart full of it.  Sadly, they don’t sell it by the shopping cart, no matter how often I ask them to, so I settled for a combo meal.  There were a few high school kids in the food court, so I tried to drum up some new customers for my novelty identification and lamination business.  They weren’t interested.  Apparently there’s some punk over at Scranton Prep who does a really good Delaware now.  Even better than my Georgia.  I’m going to track that kid down and have a “talk” with him.  When it comes to novelty identification and lamination, I need to be the only game in town.
After the mall, I was pretty riled up, so I headed over to that “Just Paint It” place where you can paint your own pottery.  That place is like a zen garden to me.  I just sit down, grab a small ceramic elephant and go to town.  I can zone out for two, three hours painting that thing.  The best part about it is that when I’m done, I get to take it with me.  You’d be surprised how much you can get for an orange and green elephant when you tell people it’s imported from Indonesia.
I spent the rest of the night over at the grocery store sampling the candy in the bulk bins.  They didn’t even hassle me about it.  Not that I really keep track, but that may have been my best day ever.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May  1, 2008 at 09:16
Remember when I told you about those flashbacks I was having with my old dog Bozo?  Well guess what?  He’s back, or rather, she’s back.  I found a dog that looked just like Bozo wandering around Wilkes-Barre over the weekend by herself and I immediately snatched her up.  You might think it’s cruel to snatch a dog, but I say it’s the only way.  I got a real big sack with breathing holes cut all over it and then I coaxed her to walk into it by throwing about fifteen hot dogs in there.  Once she was in the sack, I took her home with me and we’ve been best friends ever since.  I’ve been thinking about fitting her for a saddle since she’s kind of big and I’ve been meaning to start a doggy ride business for carnivals anyway.
Doggy rides were one of my favorite childhood pastimes.  Pony rides and elephant rides seem to be the most popular form of animal rides, but doggy rides are a lot more fun.  They’re like those mini-motorcycles that crazy idiots buy these days.  With a doggy ride, you never know where you’re going to end up: The dogs might take off like jack-rabbits when they see something or the dogs could just plop down and take a rest.  We used to call those Sitsies.  You could never get a refund for a Sitsie, but you’d always get a rain check.
My first step in dog ownership is training.  I’ve already trained my pooch to relax, bark at the doorbell, and drink water.  Pretty soon we’re going to work on pee in the house and growl.  She’s super smart, so she’s been picking everything up so quickly.  I really want to teach her to give me haircuts, but I’ve had bad luck giving animals hair clippers recently.
Picking a name is the most important part of getting a new dog.  With a girl dog, you’ve got a few ways to go.  You can call her a traditional feminine name, like Molly or Annabelle, you can name her something that relates to the way she looks like Blackhead or Furry Paws, or you can name her based on something you really like.  That’s why I’m calling my dog “Hot.”  I love hot dogs.  Always have, even in my vegetarian days.  Now that I have my own little hot dog running around with me, I’ll be constantly reminded of her sausage-y goodness.  If you see Hot and me taking a stroll, come on over and say hi, but watch out.  I’m in the middle of training her to bite strangers.
Remember when I told you about those flashbacks I was having with my old dog Bozo?  Well guess what?  He’s back, or rather, she’s back.  I found a dog that looked just like Bozo wandering around Wilkes-Barre over the weekend by herself and I immediately snatched her up.  You might think it’s cruel to snatch a dog, but I say it’s the only way.  I got a real big sack with breathing holes cut all over it and then I coaxed her to walk into it by throwing about fifteen hot dogs in there.  Once she was in the sack, I took her home with me and we’ve been best friends ever since.  I’ve been thinking about fitting her for a saddle since she’s kind of big and I’ve been meaning to start a doggy ride business for carnivals anyway.
Doggy rides were one of my favorite childhood pastimes.  Pony rides and elephant rides seem to be the most popular form of animal rides, but doggy rides are a lot more fun.  They’re like those mini-motorcycles that crazy idiots buy these days.  With a doggy ride, you never know where you’re going to end up: The dogs might take off like jack-rabbits when they see something or the dogs could just plop down and take a rest.  We used to call those Sitsies.  You could never get a refund for a Sitsie, but you’d always get a rain check.
My first step in dog ownership is training.  I’ve already trained my pooch to relax, bark at the doorbell, and drink water.  Pretty soon we’re going to work on pee in the house and growl.  She’s super smart, so she’s been picking everything up so quickly.  I really want to teach her to give me haircuts, but I’ve had bad luck giving animals hair clippers recently.
Picking a name is the most important part of getting a new dog.  With a girl dog, you’ve got a few ways to go.  You can call her a traditional feminine name, like Molly or Annabelle, you can name her something that relates to the way she looks like Blackhead or Furry Paws, or you can name her based on something you really like.  That’s why I’m calling my dog “Hot.”  I love hot dogs.  Always have, even in my vegetarian days.  Now that I have my own little hot dog running around with me, I’ll be constantly reminded of her sausage-y goodness.  If you see Hot and me taking a stroll, come on over and say hi, but watch out.  I’m in the middle of training her to bite strangers.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on April 24, 2008 at 09:21
A lot of blue-collar guys have toolkits to help them do their jobs.  The kits got whatever tools they need to get their jobs done – hammers, screwdrivers, jaws of life, etc.  As a guy that doesn’t build things or fix things, you might think that I don’t need a toolkit, but you’d be wrong.  I have my own kit that I carry around with me every day and I’ve pared it down over the years to just the bare essentials.
1. Nail clippers.  I don’t know about you, but my nails grow crazy fast.  That’s not even why I carry the clippers, though.  Clippers are great when you need to cut something, like a wire or a chain, and you don’t want to be seen carrying something bigger.  Sure, they’re not the strongest things in the world, but trust me, they get the job done.  Not only that, but they provide a great cover for anything you’re doing.  Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re trying to get in somewhere you’re not supposed to be and, all of a sudden, some fatso security guard comes walking through.  Do you freak out?  No way.  You just pull out your clippers and start clipping your nails.  Who are you?  Just a normal guy trying to work on his personal hygiene.  It’s perfect.
2. Gauze.  Gauze is a great accessory.  If you get hurt, put gauze on it.  If you want to make people think that you’re hurt, wrap a little gauze anywhere on your body and boom – instant sympathy.  Nobody ever bothers to look under gauze.  Ever.  If you get tired, just whip out that roll of gauze and use it as a pillow.  It’s incredibly soft.  I’m not even getting into its obvious uses as a bathroom helper.  You know what I mean.
3. Business cards.  They don’t have to say your name on them.  Mine don’t.  Mine say a bunch of other people’s names.  I just pick up a few every time I see a stack of them somewhere.  The point isn’t to tell someone who you are, it’s to tell them that you’re a professional.  When you hand someone a business card, they know you mean business.  That’s why they’re called business cards.
My toolkit comes in handy almost every day.  I don’t go anywhere with it.  Now that you know what’s in my toolkit, I’ve got to ask – what’s in your toolkit?
A lot of blue-collar guys have toolkits to help them do their jobs.  The kits got whatever tools they need to get their jobs done – hammers, screwdrivers, jaws of life, etc.  As a guy that doesn’t build things or fix things, you might think that I don’t need a toolkit, but you’d be wrong.  I have my own kit that I carry around with me every day and I’ve pared it down over the years to just the bare essentials.
1. Nail clippers.  I don’t know about you, but my nails grow crazy fast.  That’s not even why I carry the clippers, though.  Clippers are great when you need to cut something, like a wire or a chain, and you don’t want to be seen carrying something bigger.  Sure, they’re not the strongest things in the world, but trust me, they get the job done.  Not only that, but they provide a great cover for anything you’re doing.  Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re trying to get in somewhere you’re not supposed to be and, all of a sudden, some fatso security guard comes walking through.  Do you freak out?  No way.  You just pull out your clippers and start clipping your nails.  Who are you?  Just a normal guy trying to work on his personal hygiene.  It’s perfect.
2. Gauze.  Gauze is a great accessory.  If you get hurt, put gauze on it.  If you want to make people think that you’re hurt, wrap a little gauze anywhere on your body and boom – instant sympathy.  Nobody ever bothers to look under gauze.  Ever.  If you get tired, just whip out that roll of gauze and use it as a pillow.  It’s incredibly soft.  I’m not even getting into its obvious uses as a bathroom helper.  You know what I mean.
3. Business cards.  They don’t have to say your name on them.  Mine don’t.  Mine say a bunch of other people’s names.  I just pick up a few every time I see a stack of them somewhere.  The point isn’t to tell someone who you are, it’s to tell them that you’re a professional.  When you hand someone a business card, they know you mean business.  That’s why they’re called business cards.
My toolkit comes in handy almost every day.  I don’t go anywhere with it.  Now that you know what’s in my toolkit, I’ve got to ask – what’s in your toolkit?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on April 17, 2008 at 09:23
I’m sorry to say it, but I stopped writing my yeti story.  It just got to be too much of a hassle for me.  I mean, I’ve already got a job.  Who needs two jobs, you know?  I realized that I never became an adventure writer because every time I tried, I’d get bored and the whole thing would fizzle out.  In case you were wondering, young Creed was going to capture the yeti and put him in an airplane circus and become a millionaire.  It made me kind of depressed just thinking about it because I should be a millionaire, but I’ve never been able to find any yetis to capture.  I’ve still got time, though, I suppose.
Continue Reading...
I’m sorry to say it, but I stopped writing my yeti story.  It just got to be too much of a hassle for me.  I mean, I’ve already got a job.  Who needs two jobs, you know?  I realized that I never became an adventure writer because every time I tried, I’d get bored and the whole thing would fizzle out.  In case you were wondering, young Creed was going to capture the yeti and put him in an airplane circus and become a millionaire.  It made me kind of depressed just thinking about it because I should be a millionaire, but I’ve never been able to find any yetis to capture.  I’ve still got time, though, I suppose.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on April 10, 2008 at 12:17
So last week I shared the first part of my adventure story, Creed and the One-Armed Yeti Pilot, and I know I left you all wanting more.  If you missed last week’s story, go back and catch up or else none of this will make sense to you.  I’ll wait.
Now that you’re all caught up, here it is, the moment you’ve been waiting for like those Paddle Off dogs who wait for the bell to get hungry: Creed and the One-Armed Yeti Pilot Part Two: The One-Armed Yeti’s Lair.
Continue Reading...
So last week I shared the first part of my adventure story, Creed and the One-Armed Yeti Pilot, and I know I left you all wanting more.  If you missed last week’s story, go back and catch up or else none of this will make sense to you.  I’ll wait.
Now that you’re all caught up, here it is, the moment you’ve been waiting for like those Paddle Off dogs who wait for the bell to get hungry: Creed and the One-Armed Yeti Pilot Part Two: The One-Armed Yeti’s Lair.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on April  3, 2008 at 12:17
I grew up reading adventure stories in the back of comic books and my whole life I’ve wanted to write those suckers, so this weekend, I decided I was really going to do it.  I said “I’m going to follow my dreams and write adventure stories in the back of comic books!”  That is, until I found out that comic books don’t have adventure stories written in the back of them anymore.  Apparently, it’s a lost art.  Pretty sad, really.  Also, the comic books these days are racy.  They’re like pornos.  I was shocked.  I’m a pretty liberal guy, all things considered, but the stuff these cartoonguys do to robots and octopi.  Man oh man.  It’s pretty sick.  Anyway, I decided to start writing an adventure story anyway.  I hope you like it.
Continue Reading...
I grew up reading adventure stories in the back of comic books and my whole life I’ve wanted to write those suckers, so this weekend, I decided I was really going to do it.  I said “I’m going to follow my dreams and write adventure stories in the back of comic books!”  That is, until I found out that comic books don’t have adventure stories written in the back of them anymore.  Apparently, it’s a lost art.  Pretty sad, really.  Also, the comic books these days are racy.  They’re like pornos.  I was shocked.  I’m a pretty liberal guy, all things considered, but the stuff these cartoonguys do to robots and octopi.  Man oh man.  It’s pretty sick.  Anyway, I decided to start writing an adventure story anyway.  I hope you like it.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on March 27, 2008 at 12:14
When will all these crazy dreams stop?  They’ve been going on for at least a week and every night they get crazier and crazier.  Usually I try to use my dreams to figure out stuff that’s going to happen in the future like lottery numbers and horse race winners, but recently my subconscious has declared war on my brain.
A week ago Wednesday I went to sleep after drinking my nightly bedtime cocktail – triple sec, bitters, grape juice, and two bottles of Nyquil – and all of a sudden I was thrown into the strangest dream I ever had.  I was a seahorse broad living in this underground suburban housing community and I was making dinner for my little seahorse kids until my husband came home and said he was taking us all for a seahorse celebration because he got promoted at the real estate office.  We went to this fancy buffet where they only served kelp and then one of my little seaponies turned into a skyscraper and I was standing on top of him looking for my shoes (which had fallen to the ground below).  That’s when I heard a siren and woke up.  I didn’t think anything of it, but the next night, the dream continued.
Continue Reading...
When will all these crazy dreams stop?  They’ve been going on for at least a week and every night they get crazier and crazier.  Usually I try to use my dreams to figure out stuff that’s going to happen in the future like lottery numbers and horse race winners, but recently my subconscious has declared war on my brain.
A week ago Wednesday I went to sleep after drinking my nightly bedtime cocktail – triple sec, bitters, grape juice, and two bottles of Nyquil – and all of a sudden I was thrown into the strangest dream I ever had.  I was a seahorse broad living in this underground suburban housing community and I was making dinner for my little seahorse kids until my husband came home and said he was taking us all for a seahorse celebration because he got promoted at the real estate office.  We went to this fancy buffet where they only served kelp and then one of my little seaponies turned into a skyscraper and I was standing on top of him looking for my shoes (which had fallen to the ground below).  That’s when I heard a siren and woke up.  I didn’t think anything of it, but the next night, the dream continued.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on March 20, 2008 at 09:00
There are two words that make my heart beat like a giraffe approaching a highway underpass.  “Internet” and “dating.”  When you put them together, I’m likely to go into convulsions.  Up until last week, internet dating was number four on my most-current list of fears.  It’s topped only by French-Canadian clowns that don’t wear pants, bodies of water where I can’t see the bottom, and my three remaining uncles.  I’ve been on a mission to conquer these fears and that’s why I decided to give internet dating a shot.
My romance needs are real specific, so I didn’t know if these internet dating sites would be able to handle a dude like me.  As a product of the free-love generation, I’ve still got some free-love souvenirs hanging around my free-love toolkit and I need a lady who doesn’t mind a few bumps on the free-love highway, so to speak.  Lots of sites claim to help you find the perfect person for your particular needs, but I didn’t believe it until I actually tried them out.  Did you know there are actually places to go for people in my… situation?  There are.  More than you’d imagine.
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There are two words that make my heart beat like a giraffe approaching a highway underpass.  “Internet” and “dating.”  When you put them together, I’m likely to go into convulsions.  Up until last week, internet dating was number four on my most-current list of fears.  It’s topped only by French-Canadian clowns that don’t wear pants, bodies of water where I can’t see the bottom, and my three remaining uncles.  I’ve been on a mission to conquer these fears and that’s why I decided to give internet dating a shot.
My romance needs are real specific, so I didn’t know if these internet dating sites would be able to handle a dude like me.  As a product of the free-love generation, I’ve still got some free-love souvenirs hanging around my free-love toolkit and I need a lady who doesn’t mind a few bumps on the free-love highway, so to speak.  Lots of sites claim to help you find the perfect person for your particular needs, but I didn’t believe it until I actually tried them out.  Did you know there are actually places to go for people in my… situation?  There are.  More than you’d imagine.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on March 13, 2008 at 09:23
What’s better than a nice, hot bath?  Almost nothing except for a nice, hot bath with a foxy lady and some fine aged Dominican cigars.  You can get Dominican stogies almost anywhere, but I still like to smuggle them in.  It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I smoke them.  Makes me feel proud.
When I’m sitting in that tub, I light one up and enjoy it for hours.  I don’t mind the water wrinkles I get from staying in there too long, because hey, I’ve got enough wrinkles of my own so who am I to complain?  Plus, when I park my kiester in that tub long enough, I feel like I’m just another part of the water so it doesn’t even matter that I have skin in the first place.  I like to pretend I’m just a merman enjoying my aqua bounty.
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What’s better than a nice, hot bath?  Almost nothing except for a nice, hot bath with a foxy lady and some fine aged Dominican cigars.  You can get Dominican stogies almost anywhere, but I still like to smuggle them in.  It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I smoke them.  Makes me feel proud.
When I’m sitting in that tub, I light one up and enjoy it for hours.  I don’t mind the water wrinkles I get from staying in there too long, because hey, I’ve got enough wrinkles of my own so who am I to complain?  Plus, when I park my kiester in that tub long enough, I feel like I’m just another part of the water so it doesn’t even matter that I have skin in the first place.  I like to pretend I’m just a merman enjoying my aqua bounty.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on March  6, 2008 at 09:19
A lot of people say that when you get to be my age, it’s much harder to stay in shape.  What a load of poppycock.  Just look at me.  I’m a machine.  Based on my own measurements, I have roughly 2% body fat.  I’m so cut, I could model for Italian sculptors.  If the government wanted to, they could build robot soldiers in my likeness.  So don’t go telling me that it’s hard to stay fit.
My diet is pretty simple.  Mung beans for breakfast, mung beans for lunch, and then a sensible dinner – usually comprised of more mung beans.  For beverages, I only drink water or whiskey and when I’m drinking whiskey, it’s usually when I’m working out.  It gives me the courage to lift more than I can when I’m sober.
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A lot of people say that when you get to be my age, it’s much harder to stay in shape.  What a load of poppycock.  Just look at me.  I’m a machine.  Based on my own measurements, I have roughly 2% body fat.  I’m so cut, I could model for Italian sculptors.  If the government wanted to, they could build robot soldiers in my likeness.  So don’t go telling me that it’s hard to stay fit.
My diet is pretty simple.  Mung beans for breakfast, mung beans for lunch, and then a sensible dinner – usually comprised of more mung beans.  For beverages, I only drink water or whiskey and when I’m drinking whiskey, it’s usually when I’m working out.  It gives me the courage to lift more than I can when I’m sober.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on February 28, 2008 at 10:19
So guess who didn’t watch the Academy Awards last weekend?  Me.  I was too busy selling my TV for a case of hand towels.  The story’s way too long and my arthritis has been acting up so I’m not going to write about it here.  Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of hand towels now and I’m only a little bit upset that I missed the Oscars.  Doesn’t matter, though.  I’ve got my own awards to give out.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you The First Annual Bratton Awards, chosen by me.  For the record, nobody’s getting a gold statue or anything.  If I had gold statues lying around, I’d melt them down and sell them for cashola.  On to the awards!
The Fatso Award goes to…
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So guess who didn’t watch the Academy Awards last weekend?  Me.  I was too busy selling my TV for a case of hand towels.  The story’s way too long and my arthritis has been acting up so I’m not going to write about it here.  Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of hand towels now and I’m only a little bit upset that I missed the Oscars.  Doesn’t matter, though.  I’ve got my own awards to give out.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you The First Annual Bratton Awards, chosen by me.  For the record, nobody’s getting a gold statue or anything.  If I had gold statues lying around, I’d melt them down and sell them for cashola.  On to the awards!
The Fatso Award goes to…
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on February 21, 2008 at 08:40
Family gatherings are fantastic.  They’re a time for relatives to come together and enjoy each other’s company.  I don’t see my family much (for various reasons: jail, voluntary institutionalization, mercenary work), so I spend my time with other families on their happiest days.  It really brings a lot of joy to my weekends.
The Radisson in downtown Scranton has these nice banquet rooms that people rent out for weddings or baptisms or reunions or whatever else they want to celebrate with their families.  On Saturday mornings, I put on one of my work suits and head over to see what they’ve got going on.  It’s really easy to figure out because there are these signs they put up in the lobby telling you who and what is going on in each of the banquet rooms.  One week it might be the Yomimuri Family Reunion and Nathan’s Bar Mitzvah, the next week it’s Jimmy Kerry’s 40th Birthday Bash and a pancake breakfast from the Rotary Club.  I like to think of it like Banquet Hall Roulette and I look forward to it all week – especially the Bar Mitzvahs.  Those are a gas.
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Family gatherings are fantastic.  They’re a time for relatives to come together and enjoy each other’s company.  I don’t see my family much (for various reasons: jail, voluntary institutionalization, mercenary work), so I spend my time with other families on their happiest days.  It really brings a lot of joy to my weekends.
The Radisson in downtown Scranton has these nice banquet rooms that people rent out for weddings or baptisms or reunions or whatever else they want to celebrate with their families.  On Saturday mornings, I put on one of my work suits and head over to see what they’ve got going on.  It’s really easy to figure out because there are these signs they put up in the lobby telling you who and what is going on in each of the banquet rooms.  One week it might be the Yomimuri Family Reunion and Nathan’s Bar Mitzvah, the next week it’s Jimmy Kerry’s 40th Birthday Bash and a pancake breakfast from the Rotary Club.  I like to think of it like Banquet Hall Roulette and I look forward to it all week – especially the Bar Mitzvahs.  Those are a gas.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on February 14, 2008 at 08:00
Love is in the air and I’ve got to find a way to bottle it because I’d make a killing.
Most years on Valentine’s Day, I like to dress up in a little diaper and walk around with a bow and arrow shooting at happy couples.  I intentionally miss because I don’t want to go to jail or see anybody get hurt, but sometimes I’d just like to nail those nitwits in the forehead for rubbing their relationships in everybody’s faces.  Other days, I ditch the bow and arrow but I stick with the diapers because it’s a lot easier than finding a water closet every time I have to go potty.
I want to know why St. Valentine got a holiday but St. Louis just got a crappy city.
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Love is in the air and I’ve got to find a way to bottle it because I’d make a killing.
Most years on Valentine’s Day, I like to dress up in a little diaper and walk around with a bow and arrow shooting at happy couples.  I intentionally miss because I don’t want to go to jail or see anybody get hurt, but sometimes I’d just like to nail those nitwits in the forehead for rubbing their relationships in everybody’s faces.  Other days, I ditch the bow and arrow but I stick with the diapers because it’s a lot easier than finding a water closet every time I have to go potty.
I want to know why St. Valentine got a holiday but St. Louis just got a crappy city.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on February  7, 2008 at 13:23
I know I told you that I don’t vote, but it looked like it might be a good place to meet some foxes so I decided to vote on Tuesday.  Seven times.  Twice in New Jersey, once in New York, and four times in Connecticut.  That’s the beauty of being able to make your own driver’s licenses.  That machine really opens a lot of doors for me, politically and otherwise.  I didn’t meet any broads but I did find a really great burger over in Newark.  It made the whole trip worth it.
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I know I told you that I don’t vote, but it looked like it might be a good place to meet some foxes so I decided to vote on Tuesday.  Seven times.  Twice in New Jersey, once in New York, and four times in Connecticut.  That’s the beauty of being able to make your own driver’s licenses.  That machine really opens a lot of doors for me, politically and otherwise.  I didn’t meet any broads but I did find a really great burger over in Newark.  It made the whole trip worth it.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January 31, 2008 at 12:24
Being in a band is the greatest, especially if you’re into smoke machines.  You’ve got to be careful about who you put in your band, though, because if you get the wrong combination of rockers, you could be in for a lifetime of pain.  I made a little guide to help you out when you’re choosing band members.
Guitarists
These guys are the toughest to pick.  If you’re a guitar player yourself, consider yourself lucky that you don’t need to find one because these dudes have the biggest egos.  They’re the ones who want to be front and center all the time.  They’re the first ones buying the leather pants and they’re the ones spitting whiskey fireballs at everyone after shows.  When you’re finding a guitarist, look for one that says stuff like “Maybe the drummer should be the singer,” or “Sometimes I like to play with my back to the audience because I don’t really like attention.”  Trust me, he’s going to work out a lot better than picking the guy that says he wants to dress up like a sexy astronaut at every gig.
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Being in a band is the greatest, especially if you’re into smoke machines.  You’ve got to be careful about who you put in your band, though, because if you get the wrong combination of rockers, you could be in for a lifetime of pain.  I made a little guide to help you out when you’re choosing band members.
Guitarists
These guys are the toughest to pick.  If you’re a guitar player yourself, consider yourself lucky that you don’t need to find one because these dudes have the biggest egos.  They’re the ones who want to be front and center all the time.  They’re the first ones buying the leather pants and they’re the ones spitting whiskey fireballs at everyone after shows.  When you’re finding a guitarist, look for one that says stuff like “Maybe the drummer should be the singer,” or “Sometimes I like to play with my back to the audience because I don’t really like attention.”  Trust me, he’s going to work out a lot better than picking the guy that says he wants to dress up like a sexy astronaut at every gig.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January 24, 2008 at 12:33
I saw that Willy Wonka movie last weekend and I didn’t care for it one bit.  For one thing, that boat scene triggered a flashback that took a full day to get out of.  Also, I don’t like the message it sends to kids.  Chocolate should be eaten because it’s delicious, not because you want to see the place where the chocolate is made.  I’ve been to chocolate factories before and they’re okay, but they’re really nothing special.  They’ve got a tasty smell but that’s about it.  If you’re looking for a contest with a real prize, play the lottery.
Also, some things in that flick just didn’t add up.  First of all, if I was in that crowd when the little kid found the golden ticket, there’s no way I’m letting him get home with it.  I may not be as fast as I used to be, but that kid couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve years old.  I’d just trip him, snag the ticket, and that would be the end of it.  Goodbye sissy kid, hello free trip to chocolate paradise.
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I saw that Willy Wonka movie last weekend and I didn’t care for it one bit.  For one thing, that boat scene triggered a flashback that took a full day to get out of.  Also, I don’t like the message it sends to kids.  Chocolate should be eaten because it’s delicious, not because you want to see the place where the chocolate is made.  I’ve been to chocolate factories before and they’re okay, but they’re really nothing special.  They’ve got a tasty smell but that’s about it.  If you’re looking for a contest with a real prize, play the lottery.
Also, some things in that flick just didn’t add up.  First of all, if I was in that crowd when the little kid found the golden ticket, there’s no way I’m letting him get home with it.  I may not be as fast as I used to be, but that kid couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve years old.  I’d just trip him, snag the ticket, and that would be the end of it.  Goodbye sissy kid, hello free trip to chocolate paradise.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January 17, 2008 at 12:36
I don’t usually title these buggers, but today I’m going to.  I’m calling it “What I Look for in a President” because I keep hearing all kinds of buzzing about Presidents and elections and blacks and ladies and Mormons and short guys.  I don’t follow the news, but I use newspapers for lots of other purposes so it kind of just soaks in.
I’ve been through lots of Presidents in my time and after a while, you get a sense of what you want in a leader.  Here’s my list of what I look for in a President:
1.	I want a President who likes to dance.  You get a square up there and none of the other countries want to party.  The key to international relations is dancing.
2.	My President needs to get pissed.  Too many of those stiffs get to the White House and glad-hand everyone.  Somebody does something terrible to America, they sit there calmly in their football-shaped office and tell us that everything is going to be okay.  I want a dude (or dudette) who grabs a golf club and smashes things when they talk to the nation.  I want a leader who’s not afraid to tell everyone to go to hell.
3.	I want a President that looks good dressed up.  Nice cheeks bones are an added bonus.
4.	If they’re going to make bad decisions, they better make up for them spectacularly.  I’m talking personalized apology notes, public floggings, and free ice cream.  If they want to sit in a dunk tank, I’ll be the first in line to take a shot.
5.	I want at least three controversies, none of which make America look bad.  The President getting caught with an unbelievably foxy hooker is okay, but the President getting caught hitting the foxy hooker is not.  Selling weapons to Europe is fine, but selling weapons to Asia is not.  I’ll also accept some kind of unintentional foreign insult controversy, but it has to be funny and not boring.
Look, it’s not like I vote or anything.  I’m just sharing my guidelines for good leadership.  You should probably figure out what you look for in a President on your own because it’s good for democracy blah blah blah.  Hopefully next November, if I’m still in America, whoever gets voted in will hit all five of my criteria.  If not, I can always move to Saskatchewan.  I hear Regina’s nice.
I don’t usually title these buggers, but today I’m going to.  I’m calling it “What I Look for in a President” because I keep hearing all kinds of buzzing about Presidents and elections and blacks and ladies and Mormons and short guys.  I don’t follow the news, but I use newspapers for lots of other purposes so it kind of just soaks in.
I’ve been through lots of Presidents in my time and after a while, you get a sense of what you want in a leader.  Here’s my list of what I look for in a President:
1.	I want a President who likes to dance.  You get a square up there and none of the other countries want to party.  The key to international relations is dancing.
2.	My President needs to get pissed.  Too many of those stiffs get to the White House and glad-hand everyone.  Somebody does something terrible to America, they sit there calmly in their football-shaped office and tell us that everything is going to be okay.  I want a dude (or dudette) who grabs a golf club and smashes things when they talk to the nation.  I want a leader who’s not afraid to tell everyone to go to hell.
3.	I want a President that looks good dressed up.  Nice cheeks bones are an added bonus.
4.	If they’re going to make bad decisions, they better make up for them spectacularly.  I’m talking personalized apology notes, public floggings, and free ice cream.  If they want to sit in a dunk tank, I’ll be the first in line to take a shot.
5.	I want at least three controversies, none of which make America look bad.  The President getting caught with an unbelievably foxy hooker is okay, but the President getting caught hitting the foxy hooker is not.  Selling weapons to Europe is fine, but selling weapons to Asia is not.  I’ll also accept some kind of unintentional foreign insult controversy, but it has to be funny and not boring.
Look, it’s not like I vote or anything.  I’m just sharing my guidelines for good leadership.  You should probably figure out what you look for in a President on your own because it’s good for democracy blah blah blah.  Hopefully next November, if I’m still in America, whoever gets voted in will hit all five of my criteria.  If not, I can always move to Saskatchewan.  I hear Regina’s nice.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January 10, 2008 at 15:25
I want to say something about naps.  They’re great.  I can’t get enough of them.  I take as many naps as I possibly can – at home, at work, malls, public restrooms, adult movie theaters.  At work, there’s this closet downstairs that’s filled with really comfortable mops.  You bundle those mops together and you’ve got yourself an instant mattress.  Not only that, you also end up getting a pretty good cleaning, depending on how much you roll around when you sleep.  Most days I don’t even shower anymore because I know those mops will do the job for me.  Three or four times a day, I tell the redhead that I’m going to get a snack and then pop down to my closet for some shuteye.  Depending on how I feel, I’ll usually stay for thirty, forty minutes before heading back up.  I call them “closetiestas,” like the Spaniards do.
Some people like a lot of pillows but I’m not one of them.  I like one pillow at the most.  Sometimes, I’ll toss the pillow away and just use a rolled up washcloth.  No need to be greedy about your head cushions, right?
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I want to say something about naps.  They’re great.  I can’t get enough of them.  I take as many naps as I possibly can – at home, at work, malls, public restrooms, adult movie theaters.  At work, there’s this closet downstairs that’s filled with really comfortable mops.  You bundle those mops together and you’ve got yourself an instant mattress.  Not only that, you also end up getting a pretty good cleaning, depending on how much you roll around when you sleep.  Most days I don’t even shower anymore because I know those mops will do the job for me.  Three or four times a day, I tell the redhead that I’m going to get a snack and then pop down to my closet for some shuteye.  Depending on how I feel, I’ll usually stay for thirty, forty minutes before heading back up.  I call them “closetiestas,” like the Spaniards do.
Some people like a lot of pillows but I’m not one of them.  I like one pillow at the most.  Sometimes, I’ll toss the pillow away and just use a rolled up washcloth.  No need to be greedy about your head cushions, right?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on January  3, 2008 at 12:38
This is the year I’m finally going to tack on those extra fifteen pounds.  I’ve been skinny since birth (2 lbs. 8 oz.) and every year I tell myself that this is going to be my big year for bulking up.  Well guess what, body?  THIS IS THE YEAR.  I’m going to get so fat.
I better not become one of those dudes that get a fat belly and nothing else.  I hate those jerks.  From behind, they look like normal joes, but as soon as they turn around – bam! – how did that guy get pregnant?  Skinny legs and a fat tummy is no way to go through life, that’s for sure.  When I get fat, I want to be fat everywhere.  I want people to look at me and think “doughy.”  I want kids to puff out their cheeks at me and pretend there’s an earthquake every time I take a step.  I want to get so fat that I don’t even get fat-rolls when I sit down, I just get a blob.
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This is the year I’m finally going to tack on those extra fifteen pounds.  I’ve been skinny since birth (2 lbs. 8 oz.) and every year I tell myself that this is going to be my big year for bulking up.  Well guess what, body?  THIS IS THE YEAR.  I’m going to get so fat.
I better not become one of those dudes that get a fat belly and nothing else.  I hate those jerks.  From behind, they look like normal joes, but as soon as they turn around – bam! – how did that guy get pregnant?  Skinny legs and a fat tummy is no way to go through life, that’s for sure.  When I get fat, I want to be fat everywhere.  I want people to look at me and think “doughy.”  I want kids to puff out their cheeks at me and pretend there’s an earthquake every time I take a step.  I want to get so fat that I don’t even get fat-rolls when I sit down, I just get a blob.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on December 20, 2007 at 14:03
I’ve practiced a lot of religions over the years and of all of them, my favorite is still the Fraternal Order of Eternal Christmas.  It was a fairly small group that I helped put together in ’83 just outside of Lincoln, Nebraska.   The basic tenet was that, for us, Christmas was every single day.  We’d wake up every morning and open presents, then we’d all sit around and have a delicious group lunch.  At night, we’d have Christmas Eve dinner with goose and stuffing and then we’d go to bed, waiting for the whole thing to happen all over again.  I came up with this groovy creation story about Santa being a real man that arose from an elven tribe living among the polar ice caps.  People really seemed to dig it.  We got about thirty or forty followers before we got shut down by the State of Nebraska.  Apparently, people were doing a lot of stealing to keep the religion going financially.
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I’ve practiced a lot of religions over the years and of all of them, my favorite is still the Fraternal Order of Eternal Christmas.  It was a fairly small group that I helped put together in ’83 just outside of Lincoln, Nebraska.   The basic tenet was that, for us, Christmas was every single day.  We’d wake up every morning and open presents, then we’d all sit around and have a delicious group lunch.  At night, we’d have Christmas Eve dinner with goose and stuffing and then we’d go to bed, waiting for the whole thing to happen all over again.  I came up with this groovy creation story about Santa being a real man that arose from an elven tribe living among the polar ice caps.  People really seemed to dig it.  We got about thirty or forty followers before we got shut down by the State of Nebraska.  Apparently, people were doing a lot of stealing to keep the religion going financially.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on December 13, 2007 at 14:12
Man, the holidays really bum me out.  Nobody makes me ham.  Nobody bakes me cookies.  Nobody buys me presents.  I guess it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m not allowed to talk to my family anymore since the fire incident.  Before you get all up in arms, let me set the record straight – I didn’t set a fire.  I merely took everyone’s presents and threw them into the fireplace when they wouldn’t let me open one of mine early.  No big deal, right?  One present.  That’s all I wanted to open.  But no, my family has “rules” and “traditions.”  Hogwash.  Those squares always overreacted to everything anyway.  Who needs ‘em?  Not me.  I still like presents though, even though I don’t usually get any.  That’s why I put together a Holiday Wish List every year.  Now that I’m a Syber-World Astronaut, I thought I’d put my HWL (Holiday Wish List) up on the Internets.
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Man, the holidays really bum me out.  Nobody makes me ham.  Nobody bakes me cookies.  Nobody buys me presents.  I guess it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m not allowed to talk to my family anymore since the fire incident.  Before you get all up in arms, let me set the record straight – I didn’t set a fire.  I merely took everyone’s presents and threw them into the fireplace when they wouldn’t let me open one of mine early.  No big deal, right?  One present.  That’s all I wanted to open.  But no, my family has “rules” and “traditions.”  Hogwash.  Those squares always overreacted to everything anyway.  Who needs ‘em?  Not me.  I still like presents though, even though I don’t usually get any.  That’s why I put together a Holiday Wish List every year.  Now that I’m a Syber-World Astronaut, I thought I’d put my HWL (Holiday Wish List) up on the Internets.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on December  6, 2007 at 13:42
With the exception of brawling, I haven’t been much of a sports fan for a long time now.  That all changed on Monday night after work.  I was hanging out near that new Xavier Center by Scranton Prep looking for scrap building materials (the darkness gives me a better shot at scoring some of that sweet, sweet copper).  After a few minutes, I started hearing all kinds of hooting and hollering coming from inside, so I wandered over to investigate.  For a second, I hoped it was going to be a piñata festival.  I had a dream once about being in the middle of a piñata festival and I’ve been waiting for it to come true.  Lord knows I love hard candy.
Sadly, it wasn’t a piñata festival.  I can’t say I was surprised though.  I’ve been hoping for it for so long that I don’t even get disappointed anymore.  I just accept the fact that one day, when I least expect it, I’m going to walk into a giant auditorium and people are going to be popping colorful papier-mâché burros and swimming in delicious hard candy.
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With the exception of brawling, I haven’t been much of a sports fan for a long time now.  That all changed on Monday night after work.  I was hanging out near that new Xavier Center by Scranton Prep looking for scrap building materials (the darkness gives me a better shot at scoring some of that sweet, sweet copper).  After a few minutes, I started hearing all kinds of hooting and hollering coming from inside, so I wandered over to investigate.  For a second, I hoped it was going to be a piñata festival.  I had a dream once about being in the middle of a piñata festival and I’ve been waiting for it to come true.  Lord knows I love hard candy.
Sadly, it wasn’t a piñata festival.  I can’t say I was surprised though.  I’ve been hoping for it for so long that I don’t even get disappointed anymore.  I just accept the fact that one day, when I least expect it, I’m going to walk into a giant auditorium and people are going to be popping colorful papier-mâché burros and swimming in delicious hard candy.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on November 29, 2007 at 12:21
They say the Friday after Thanksgiving is the biggest shopping day of the year.  Not for the old Creedster.  For me, Black Friday’s when I work out all my problems.  I don’t need to waste my cash on fancy “therapists” or “court-appointed analysts.”  Instead, I just suit up and get ready for battle.  That’s how I celebrate the fourth Friday of every November.
This year, I didn’t even go to sleep after Thanksgiving.  I was so jazzed up from the massive portion of cranberry sauce that I couldn’t stop pacing.  At around 2:30am, I decided it was time to start getting ready.  I wrapped my body in newspapers and Black Friday ads until I had a good enough base to know I’d be okay if anybody had a shiv.  Then I started gathering my weapons.  Instead of brass knuckles (which I always lose), I found these really sharp plastic spider rings that were leftover from Halloween.  For poking and tripping, I grabbed a cane from one of the geezers at the soup kitchen.  [SIDE NOTE: People underestimate the value of old man weapons.  I’m allowed to walk around with a cane anywhere I damn well please and that cane comes in handy, let me tell you.  It’s just one of those social conventions that works in favor of the elderly – same goes for early bird senior specials at restaurants.]
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They say the Friday after Thanksgiving is the biggest shopping day of the year.  Not for the old Creedster.  For me, Black Friday’s when I work out all my problems.  I don’t need to waste my cash on fancy “therapists” or “court-appointed analysts.”  Instead, I just suit up and get ready for battle.  That’s how I celebrate the fourth Friday of every November.
This year, I didn’t even go to sleep after Thanksgiving.  I was so jazzed up from the massive portion of cranberry sauce that I couldn’t stop pacing.  At around 2:30am, I decided it was time to start getting ready.  I wrapped my body in newspapers and Black Friday ads until I had a good enough base to know I’d be okay if anybody had a shiv.  Then I started gathering my weapons.  Instead of brass knuckles (which I always lose), I found these really sharp plastic spider rings that were leftover from Halloween.  For poking and tripping, I grabbed a cane from one of the geezers at the soup kitchen.  [SIDE NOTE: People underestimate the value of old man weapons.  I’m allowed to walk around with a cane anywhere I damn well please and that cane comes in handy, let me tell you.  It’s just one of those social conventions that works in favor of the elderly – same goes for early bird senior specials at restaurants.]
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on November 22, 2007 at 13:30
Picked up a digital camera the other day, just in time for the holidays.  I hope the guy who owns it doesn’t miss it too much.
I took my motorized scooter out for a little ride over the weekend.  Riding that thing in the cold November air makes me feel like a champion.  It’s tiny and red and helps me get ladies better than a puppy, which reminds me that I need to get a puppy.  I rode all over town and ended up with fifteen phone numbers.  One of the broads didn’t even have most of her teeth.  I’m going to call her first.
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Picked up a digital camera the other day, just in time for the holidays.  I hope the guy who owns it doesn’t miss it too much.
I took my motorized scooter out for a little ride over the weekend.  Riding that thing in the cold November air makes me feel like a champion.  It’s tiny and red and helps me get ladies better than a puppy, which reminds me that I need to get a puppy.  I rode all over town and ended up with fifteen phone numbers.  One of the broads didn’t even have most of her teeth.  I’m going to call her first.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on November 15, 2007 at 10:36
I lose my glasses all the time.  It drives me nuts.  I’ve tried all the gadgets – neck-straps, RecSpecs, etc. – but nothing seems to work.  So this week, I’m trying something new.  I’m going to take a little crazy glue and glue the bridge of my glasses to the bridge of my nose.  That way, I’ll never lose my glasses again.  Also, they won’t slip down my nose, which is my second biggest pet peeve about glasses.  When I want to take them off for my weekly shower, I’ll jump into the sauna at the JCC and the glue will just melt away.  It’s foolproof.  Once I’ve tested it out, I’m going to start selling Creed’s Spectacle Glue all over the country.  I’ll make thousands!
Sometimes I wear my glasses to look smart in front of ladies.  Other times, I wear them to see better when those ladies bend over.
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I lose my glasses all the time.  It drives me nuts.  I’ve tried all the gadgets – neck-straps, RecSpecs, etc. – but nothing seems to work.  So this week, I’m trying something new.  I’m going to take a little crazy glue and glue the bridge of my glasses to the bridge of my nose.  That way, I’ll never lose my glasses again.  Also, they won’t slip down my nose, which is my second biggest pet peeve about glasses.  When I want to take them off for my weekly shower, I’ll jump into the sauna at the JCC and the glue will just melt away.  It’s foolproof.  Once I’ve tested it out, I’m going to start selling Creed’s Spectacle Glue all over the country.  I’ll make thousands!
Sometimes I wear my glasses to look smart in front of ladies.  Other times, I wear them to see better when those ladies bend over.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on November  8, 2007 at 09:45
I don’t know about all this green stuff.  I’m more of an indigo man myself.  I will tell you this, though: I’m all about recycling.  When I lived up in Maine for three years, recycling was my main job and the lessons that I’ve learned have stuck with me ever since.  Number one lesson: cans are not just cans.  They’re nickels, in can form.  You wouldn’t throw away a nickel, would you?  Not a chance.  So why do people throw away cans?  I have no idea.  What I do know is that I supported myself for a long time on those cans and I might even say that I owe my life to them.  If I wasn’t collecting cans, I can only imagine what I would have been collecting.  Probably infectious diseases.
Bottles and cans aren’t just free money for the opportunistic among us.  They also work as a great security system.  When I go to sleep at night, no matter where I am, I spread a circle of crushed cans and empty bottles around me.  That way, if anybody tries to mess with me or my stuff, I’ll hear those bastards coming.  I also use thumbtacks if I can afford them.
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I don’t know about all this green stuff.  I’m more of an indigo man myself.  I will tell you this, though: I’m all about recycling.  When I lived up in Maine for three years, recycling was my main job and the lessons that I’ve learned have stuck with me ever since.  Number one lesson: cans are not just cans.  They’re nickels, in can form.  You wouldn’t throw away a nickel, would you?  Not a chance.  So why do people throw away cans?  I have no idea.  What I do know is that I supported myself for a long time on those cans and I might even say that I owe my life to them.  If I wasn’t collecting cans, I can only imagine what I would have been collecting.  Probably infectious diseases.
Bottles and cans aren’t just free money for the opportunistic among us.  They also work as a great security system.  When I go to sleep at night, no matter where I am, I spread a circle of crushed cans and empty bottles around me.  That way, if anybody tries to mess with me or my stuff, I’ll hear those bastards coming.  I also use thumbtacks if I can afford them.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on November  1, 2007 at 13:03
If anyone knows how to get chocolate out of hair, let me know.  I fell asleep on top of forty Fun Size Milky Ways last night and now I’ve got nougat everywhere.  I already tried peanut butter, but that just made my hair into a different kind of candy.  I’ll make you a deal: you get it out of my hair, you get to keep it.
Parents always freak out about crazy people giving their kids apples with razorblades hidden inside for Halloween.  Those parents are idiots.  If you’re getting a free razorblade inside your apple, you shouldn’t be complaining.   And if you really want to impress me on Halloween, give me some licorice.  That stuff hits the spot.
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If anyone knows how to get chocolate out of hair, let me know.  I fell asleep on top of forty Fun Size Milky Ways last night and now I’ve got nougat everywhere.  I already tried peanut butter, but that just made my hair into a different kind of candy.  I’ll make you a deal: you get it out of my hair, you get to keep it.
Parents always freak out about crazy people giving their kids apples with razorblades hidden inside for Halloween.  Those parents are idiots.  If you’re getting a free razorblade inside your apple, you shouldn’t be complaining.   And if you really want to impress me on Halloween, give me some licorice.  That stuff hits the spot.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on October 25, 2007 at 14:05
I don’t know how, but I found myself at a concert on Saturday night.  I started out at Poor Richards with a few Long Islands, picked up some onion rings from the cafeteria over at Marywood, and out of nowhere I was grooving along to some tunes at Battle of the Bands.  It was the first time I’ve been to a concert since the turn of the century (this one) and it freaked me out.
Don’t get me wrong: I love music.  Music is the only thing I can really remember for at least half of my life and I couldn’t live without it.  Concerts, on the other hand, are like magnets for big dudes with hard fists.  I had to swear them off -- too many jagged bottle cuts will do that to you.  Concerts make me feel like a warrior and sometimes that’s not a good thing.  Especially in the eyes of the law.
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I don’t know how, but I found myself at a concert on Saturday night.  I started out at Poor Richards with a few Long Islands, picked up some onion rings from the cafeteria over at Marywood, and out of nowhere I was grooving along to some tunes at Battle of the Bands.  It was the first time I’ve been to a concert since the turn of the century (this one) and it freaked me out.
Don’t get me wrong: I love music.  Music is the only thing I can really remember for at least half of my life and I couldn’t live without it.  Concerts, on the other hand, are like magnets for big dudes with hard fists.  I had to swear them off -- too many jagged bottle cuts will do that to you.  Concerts make me feel like a warrior and sometimes that’s not a good thing.  Especially in the eyes of the law.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on October 18, 2007 at 13:29
There’s been a lot of bad mojo going on at work lately because of computers.  Some kid’s been coming around saying how he wants to replace everyone with robots and calculators and little pieces of fruit.  The Bossman listens to him, too, even though the kid’s real scrawny and has a horse face.  Don’t get me wrong, I like computers as much as the next Joe, but when they start messing with me, I’m not just going to sit there and take it.  I’ve seen the movies.  If you want to fight back against a machine, you’ve got to chuck it in acid.
Acid.  Oh man.  Just writing that word brings back some memories.  Not really memories.  Flashbacks.  Scary ones.  I get them all the time.  The other day I turned on the TV and everyone on the screen was a caveman.  Freaked my bean, man.
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There’s been a lot of bad mojo going on at work lately because of computers.  Some kid’s been coming around saying how he wants to replace everyone with robots and calculators and little pieces of fruit.  The Bossman listens to him, too, even though the kid’s real scrawny and has a horse face.  Don’t get me wrong, I like computers as much as the next Joe, but when they start messing with me, I’m not just going to sit there and take it.  I’ve seen the movies.  If you want to fight back against a machine, you’ve got to chuck it in acid.
Acid.  Oh man.  Just writing that word brings back some memories.  Not really memories.  Flashbacks.  Scary ones.  I get them all the time.  The other day I turned on the TV and everyone on the screen was a caveman.  Freaked my bean, man.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on October 11, 2007 at 16:25
I house-sat for a friend last weekend.  I guess some people wouldn’t really call it house-sitting – it was more like squat-sitting.  My buddy Gerson found this great abandoned house over in Honesdale and he’s been squatting there for the past month.  It’s one of the best squat-houses I’ve ever seen -- four bedrooms, working plumbing, only a few raccoons.  If you get the electricity turned on, that house becomes a home in an instant and on top of that, you’ve already got pets.
Squatting can go one of two ways: it can be really great or it can be horrible – truly, truly horrible.  I’ve been in both situations.  Sometime in the late seventies (or was it early eighties?), I found my way into an abandoned factory on the eastern shore of Maryland and thought I was going to have the time of my life.  I hadn’t seen a place that cool since the Playboy Club in Chicago and I was going to make it mine.  What I didn’t know was that the factory was abandoned because it was slowly sinking into the Chesapeake Bay.  I had a kegger one night and a hundred and fifty people dropped right into the water.  Nobody got injured, though.  At least I don’t think so.  As soon as I saw the ground start to give, I got the hell out of there.
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I house-sat for a friend last weekend.  I guess some people wouldn’t really call it house-sitting – it was more like squat-sitting.  My buddy Gerson found this great abandoned house over in Honesdale and he’s been squatting there for the past month.  It’s one of the best squat-houses I’ve ever seen -- four bedrooms, working plumbing, only a few raccoons.  If you get the electricity turned on, that house becomes a home in an instant and on top of that, you’ve already got pets.
Squatting can go one of two ways: it can be really great or it can be horrible – truly, truly horrible.  I’ve been in both situations.  Sometime in the late seventies (or was it early eighties?), I found my way into an abandoned factory on the eastern shore of Maryland and thought I was going to have the time of my life.  I hadn’t seen a place that cool since the Playboy Club in Chicago and I was going to make it mine.  What I didn’t know was that the factory was abandoned because it was slowly sinking into the Chesapeake Bay.  I had a kegger one night and a hundred and fifty people dropped right into the water.  Nobody got injured, though.  At least I don’t think so.  As soon as I saw the ground start to give, I got the hell out of there.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on October  4, 2007 at 14:34
When I get hungry – and I mean hungry – there are only five words that can satisfy me: All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.  They’re like libraries of food, but instead of late fees, they’ve got soft-serve.  I hit up the local buffets at least once a month, sometimes more depending on how business is going.  It really breaks up my normal routine of soup, soup, tuna, soup, microwave pasta, tuna-soup casserole.
Most people think you’ve got to eat meat to fill up at buffets.  No way, suckers.  It’s all about the sauces.  Think about it: your body is mostly made up of fluid.  Blood, water, guts.  It’s all liquid.  So does it make sense to shove a whole bunch of solids down your gullet?  Think again.  You want to stock up on the sauces because they’ll keep you full the longest.  Go for a big old glass of Alfredo sauce and you won’t eat for weeks.  Chinese buffets are great for this, too.  Kung pao might be spicy, but you drink enough of it and you won’t even be able to think about eating.
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When I get hungry – and I mean hungry – there are only five words that can satisfy me: All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.  They’re like libraries of food, but instead of late fees, they’ve got soft-serve.  I hit up the local buffets at least once a month, sometimes more depending on how business is going.  It really breaks up my normal routine of soup, soup, tuna, soup, microwave pasta, tuna-soup casserole.
Most people think you’ve got to eat meat to fill up at buffets.  No way, suckers.  It’s all about the sauces.  Think about it: your body is mostly made up of fluid.  Blood, water, guts.  It’s all liquid.  So does it make sense to shove a whole bunch of solids down your gullet?  Think again.  You want to stock up on the sauces because they’ll keep you full the longest.  Go for a big old glass of Alfredo sauce and you won’t eat for weeks.  Chinese buffets are great for this, too.  Kung pao might be spicy, but you drink enough of it and you won’t even be able to think about eating.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on September 27, 2007 at 12:37
Fall is in the air and that means seven things: Political elections, Lyle Lovett’s birthday, the holiday where ghosts make candy, April Fool’s Day, it’s too cold to play tennis, look out for skunks, and most of all, baseball.
I like winners.  That’s why I only watch baseball for the last month of the season.  Every other month is about losses teams rack up, but September is for winners.  Same goes for handball, but nobody pays attention to handball anymore.  Handball’s become soccer for people that think soccer’s too mainstream.
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Fall is in the air and that means seven things: Political elections, Lyle Lovett’s birthday, the holiday where ghosts make candy, April Fool’s Day, it’s too cold to play tennis, look out for skunks, and most of all, baseball.
I like winners.  That’s why I only watch baseball for the last month of the season.  Every other month is about losses teams rack up, but September is for winners.  Same goes for handball, but nobody pays attention to handball anymore.  Handball’s become soccer for people that think soccer’s too mainstream.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on September 20, 2007 at 15:03
Sad week for the Creedster.  My girlfriend decided to call it quits on me.  She’s been locked up over in Muncy for the past seven years on a bogus B and E with intent to commit a felony.  I can tell you with absolute certainty that LaDonna didn’t intend anything.  She never does.  Maybe that was the problem.  With only a month left on her sentence, she told me she got cold feet.  Wanted her options open when she got sprung, I guess.  If she played nice, she could’ve gotten out a few years ago, but my little devil has lots of issues with authority.  That’s one of the reasons we made such a good couple.
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Sad week for the Creedster.  My girlfriend decided to call it quits on me.  She’s been locked up over in Muncy for the past seven years on a bogus B and E with intent to commit a felony.  I can tell you with absolute certainty that LaDonna didn’t intend anything.  She never does.  Maybe that was the problem.  With only a month left on her sentence, she told me she got cold feet.  Wanted her options open when she got sprung, I guess.  If she played nice, she could’ve gotten out a few years ago, but my little devil has lots of issues with authority.  That’s one of the reasons we made such a good couple.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on September 13, 2007 at 12:52
This has been some crazy week.  On Saturday, I went over to the mini-mart to pick up a bunch of breakfast burritos and some rolling papers.  Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw all the stuff they sell there now.  Disposable cameras, fancy lighters, portable phones.  You name it, they had it.  I thought I had jumped into the future or something, which was weird because I usually think I’m back in the past.  As a joke, I asked the skinny dude behind the counter how much he wanted for the portable phone, thinking he’d say two, three hundred bucks.  When he said twenty bucks, I just about dropped a bomb in my skivvies.  I bought one immediately.  Best purchase I ever made in my life because now I don’t have to stand guard outside my phone booth at the bus station waiting for calls.  If someone needs to find me, they can just call my portable and, if I feel like it, I’ll pick up.  Technology, man.  It blows my mind.
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This has been some crazy week.  On Saturday, I went over to the mini-mart to pick up a bunch of breakfast burritos and some rolling papers.  Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw all the stuff they sell there now.  Disposable cameras, fancy lighters, portable phones.  You name it, they had it.  I thought I had jumped into the future or something, which was weird because I usually think I’m back in the past.  As a joke, I asked the skinny dude behind the counter how much he wanted for the portable phone, thinking he’d say two, three hundred bucks.  When he said twenty bucks, I just about dropped a bomb in my skivvies.  I bought one immediately.  Best purchase I ever made in my life because now I don’t have to stand guard outside my phone booth at the bus station waiting for calls.  If someone needs to find me, they can just call my portable and, if I feel like it, I’ll pick up.  Technology, man.  It blows my mind.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on September  6, 2007 at 13:18
What’s better than a good old-fashioned cookout?  Maybe a duffel bag full of unmarked twenties, but besides that, nothing.  I used to run a summer camp over on Martha’s Vineyard for a few years.  Best business I ever had.  Rich idiots would drop off their little ones at this spot I found in a state forest and then they’d pay me to babysit the kids for the day.  We had all kinds of fun activities, like Sprint Races, Instructional Walking, Move These Rocks, Singing, and Full-Contact Red Rover Red Rover.  I didn’t want to waste my profits on something stupid like food for the kids, so I had to find a way to get some grub on the cheap.  That’s when Crafty Creed got to thinking.  Why not make money off of this untapped pool of adorable labor I was sitting on?
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What’s better than a good old-fashioned cookout?  Maybe a duffel bag full of unmarked twenties, but besides that, nothing.  I used to run a summer camp over on Martha’s Vineyard for a few years.  Best business I ever had.  Rich idiots would drop off their little ones at this spot I found in a state forest and then they’d pay me to babysit the kids for the day.  We had all kinds of fun activities, like Sprint Races, Instructional Walking, Move These Rocks, Singing, and Full-Contact Red Rover Red Rover.  I didn’t want to waste my profits on something stupid like food for the kids, so I had to find a way to get some grub on the cheap.  That’s when Crafty Creed got to thinking.  Why not make money off of this untapped pool of adorable labor I was sitting on?
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 30, 2007 at 14:13
Most people have a thing against bugs, but not me.  I love the little guys.  The way I see it, there’s more of them than there are of us, so you have to respect them just in case.  If they ever got their stuff together, they could really do some serious damage.  I’m talking city destruction, livestock relocation, and political domination here.
If I had to pick my favorite bug it would have to be a spider.  They’re creepy as all hell but real smart, too.  I lived in a barn once and there was this one spider who I made friends with.  Real classy dame of a spider.  We’d talk about life and love and music.  She was really into Jefferson Airplane.  After our talks, I’d fall asleep and wake up to find little messages written in her web and that’s how I formally learned to read.
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Most people have a thing against bugs, but not me.  I love the little guys.  The way I see it, there’s more of them than there are of us, so you have to respect them just in case.  If they ever got their stuff together, they could really do some serious damage.  I’m talking city destruction, livestock relocation, and political domination here.
If I had to pick my favorite bug it would have to be a spider.  They’re creepy as all hell but real smart, too.  I lived in a barn once and there was this one spider who I made friends with.  Real classy dame of a spider.  We’d talk about life and love and music.  She was really into Jefferson Airplane.  After our talks, I’d fall asleep and wake up to find little messages written in her web and that’s how I formally learned to read.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 23, 2007 at 17:10
I’m a big fan of snacks.  Meals are great, too, but who has time to sit down and eat a whole ham these days?  That’s why I get most of my chow from the Vending Machines.  Fills me up and it doesn’t empty my wallet.  I don’t get why it’s just food in there, though.  Why can’t they throw a pair of briefs in the machine for a buck?  Sometimes mine break down and I don’t have next month’s pair with me, so vending machine skivvies would be the perfect replacement.
Here’s what I know: People buy a lot of stuff from vending machines.  Also, I know a lot of people who are really into misdemeanor crimes.  Makes them feel alive.  So I want to make a special line of vending machine snacks based on people’s favorite crimes.  They’d be delicious, exciting, and fun for kids.
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I’m a big fan of snacks.  Meals are great, too, but who has time to sit down and eat a whole ham these days?  That’s why I get most of my chow from the Vending Machines.  Fills me up and it doesn’t empty my wallet.  I don’t get why it’s just food in there, though.  Why can’t they throw a pair of briefs in the machine for a buck?  Sometimes mine break down and I don’t have next month’s pair with me, so vending machine skivvies would be the perfect replacement.
Here’s what I know: People buy a lot of stuff from vending machines.  Also, I know a lot of people who are really into misdemeanor crimes.  Makes them feel alive.  So I want to make a special line of vending machine snacks based on people’s favorite crimes.  They’d be delicious, exciting, and fun for kids.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August 16, 2007 at 13:17
I'm a romantic guy.  Always have been.  Fell in love for the first time in the fourth grade with the Truancy Officer.  Ever since then, I’ve had a thing for women with badges.  Cops, security officers, DEA -- doesn’t matter to me.  They’re all foxy.
Love is tricky.  It makes you do crazy things.  Back in ’73, I got into a love triangle.  Love pyramid, really.  Put $6,000 into a cigarette resale venture and just waited for the dough to start pouring in.  It never did.  Lost my savings for a shot with the DePalma sisters, but it was worth it.  I’ve still got some old smokes sitting in a storage shed up in Delaware.  It’s my little reminder of the price of love.
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I'm a romantic guy.  Always have been.  Fell in love for the first time in the fourth grade with the Truancy Officer.  Ever since then, I’ve had a thing for women with badges.  Cops, security officers, DEA -- doesn’t matter to me.  They’re all foxy.
Love is tricky.  It makes you do crazy things.  Back in ’73, I got into a love triangle.  Love pyramid, really.  Put $6,000 into a cigarette resale venture and just waited for the dough to start pouring in.  It never did.  Lost my savings for a shot with the DePalma sisters, but it was worth it.  I’ve still got some old smokes sitting in a storage shed up in Delaware.  It’s my little reminder of the price of love.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August  9, 2007 at 11:53
I have this computer at home.  A friend needed to get rid of it fast and he needed a vacuum, so I traded him.  Anyway, I don’t even use it that much.  Sometimes if I’m going to a coffee shop to look at women, I’ll bring it with me to look busy, but that’s about all.
The other day, I overheard some dudes at work – the fatso and the fruit – and they were talking about some internet video of water buffaloes fighting lions.   I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of thing I can build a whole night around.  I stopped at the supermarket on the way home and picked up some things to get me in the mood:  Buffalo jerky, buffalo wings, Frosted Flakes, some cupcakes, and a bottle of white wine.  (Side note: I couldn’t find any lion-related items at the store, so I settled for the Flakes because of the Tiger.  It was the best I could do.)  When I got home, I was really jazzed for a good old-fashioned jungle fight.  I turned on my computer and boom – nothing happened.  Just a weird clucking noise and a black screen, so I did what anybody would do.  I punched my computer and then I called tech support.
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I have this computer at home.  A friend needed to get rid of it fast and he needed a vacuum, so I traded him.  Anyway, I don’t even use it that much.  Sometimes if I’m going to a coffee shop to look at women, I’ll bring it with me to look busy, but that’s about all.
The other day, I overheard some dudes at work – the fatso and the fruit – and they were talking about some internet video of water buffaloes fighting lions.   I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of thing I can build a whole night around.  I stopped at the supermarket on the way home and picked up some things to get me in the mood:  Buffalo jerky, buffalo wings, Frosted Flakes, some cupcakes, and a bottle of white wine.  (Side note: I couldn’t find any lion-related items at the store, so I settled for the Flakes because of the Tiger.  It was the best I could do.)  When I got home, I was really jazzed for a good old-fashioned jungle fight.  I turned on my computer and boom – nothing happened.  Just a weird clucking noise and a black screen, so I did what anybody would do.  I punched my computer and then I called tech support.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on August  2, 2007 at 13:16
Fall is just around the corner and you know what that means: Crab Apple Season.  I’m getting hungry just thinking about them.  These little buggers pop up all over the place and nobody wants them because people are idiots.  As a result, they’re absolutely free, which is my favorite price of all.
Crab apples have a whole stinkload of benefits.  Back when I was little, my grandpa used to stick a crab apple in my mouth every time I stuttered.  And guess what?  I don’t stutter anymore.  Crap apples are tiny miracles.
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Fall is just around the corner and you know what that means: Crab Apple Season.  I’m getting hungry just thinking about them.  These little buggers pop up all over the place and nobody wants them because people are idiots.  As a result, they’re absolutely free, which is my favorite price of all.
Crab apples have a whole stinkload of benefits.  Back when I was little, my grandpa used to stick a crab apple in my mouth every time I stuttered.  And guess what?  I don’t stutter anymore.  Crap apples are tiny miracles.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 26, 2007 at 14:11
So I’ve been thinking about running for Governor.  There’re a lot of things wrong with Pennsylvania and since nobody’s answering my letters over at the Governor’s Office in Philadelphia, I think it’s time to take matters into my own hands.  I know what you’re thinking and yes, they are wrinkled, but they’re still strong.
Number One on my list of changes:  Pennsylvania should change its name to Transylvania.  Lots of idiots buy all kinds of vampire rings and vampire necklaces and garlic-flavored vampire gum.  There’s a lot of dough to be made from these suckers and I’m tired of seeing it go to foreigners.  If we change the name of the state, we can probably do away with property tax considering the amount of souvenirs we’re going to sell.  Also, vampire fans are notoriously good tippers.
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So I’ve been thinking about running for Governor.  There’re a lot of things wrong with Pennsylvania and since nobody’s answering my letters over at the Governor’s Office in Philadelphia, I think it’s time to take matters into my own hands.  I know what you’re thinking and yes, they are wrinkled, but they’re still strong.
Number One on my list of changes:  Pennsylvania should change its name to Transylvania.  Lots of idiots buy all kinds of vampire rings and vampire necklaces and garlic-flavored vampire gum.  There’s a lot of dough to be made from these suckers and I’m tired of seeing it go to foreigners.  If we change the name of the state, we can probably do away with property tax considering the amount of souvenirs we’re going to sell.  Also, vampire fans are notoriously good tippers.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 19, 2007 at 20:33
In my younger days, I spent a lot of time sleeping in a lot of places.  Some of those places were bus stations.  Everyone knows that hotels are for suckers, so why pay for lodging when you can get it for free?  The problem is, there are a lot of crazies out there, so if you’re going to sleep in the bus station you’ve got to be savvy about it.
First of all, make friends with the night watchman.  That’s the guy that can have the fuzz come and take you away.  Find out what kind of candy he likes and bring him some.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stayed in a station worry-free because of a few Bit O’Honeys.
Continue Reading...
In my younger days, I spent a lot of time sleeping in a lot of places.  Some of those places were bus stations.  Everyone knows that hotels are for suckers, so why pay for lodging when you can get it for free?  The problem is, there are a lot of crazies out there, so if you’re going to sleep in the bus station you’ve got to be savvy about it.
First of all, make friends with the night watchman.  That’s the guy that can have the fuzz come and take you away.  Find out what kind of candy he likes and bring him some.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stayed in a station worry-free because of a few Bit O’Honeys.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July 12, 2007 at 13:12
Visors are hats for people that like getting ripped off.
Here’s the thing about handcuffs: there’s only one key for all of them.  It’s not like the Tampa cops have their own special key and the Saskatchewan Mounties have a different one.  They’re all the same.  So the one true goal in any criminal’s life is to get a copy of the handcuff key.  I’ve got thirty.  If you want to buy one, you know where to find me.
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Visors are hats for people that like getting ripped off.
Here’s the thing about handcuffs: there’s only one key for all of them.  It’s not like the Tampa cops have their own special key and the Saskatchewan Mounties have a different one.  They’re all the same.  So the one true goal in any criminal’s life is to get a copy of the handcuff key.  I’ve got thirty.  If you want to buy one, you know where to find me.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on July  5, 2007 at 13:58
Toes are a luxury, not a right.
I fought in the Korean War.  For both sides.
If you ask me, the quick money’s in billiards.
I love the smell of gasoline right after you light it on fire.
Restaurants were created to take advantage of the lazy.  If you’ve got a forest and a lighter, you’ve got dinner.
I like my women LOUD.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 3-22-26
Toes are a luxury, not a right.
I fought in the Korean War.  For both sides.
If you ask me, the quick money’s in billiards.
I love the smell of gasoline right after you light it on fire.
Restaurants were created to take advantage of the lazy.  If you’ve got a forest and a lighter, you’ve got dinner.
I like my women LOUD.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 3-22-26
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 28, 2007 at 13:04
Who decided that pigs are for eating but rats get a free ride?
I’d play the lottery if they let me pick the balls.
Television hasn’t been good since “The Goldbergs.”
I’ve played Monopoly in real life and bankruptcy is a lot harder to get out of than the game makes it seem.
Music really makes me want to sing, man.
They should rename the Virgin Islands.  That was an expensive mistake.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 36-22-62
Who decided that pigs are for eating but rats get a free ride?
I’d play the lottery if they let me pick the balls.
Television hasn’t been good since “The Goldbergs.”
I’ve played Monopoly in real life and bankruptcy is a lot harder to get out of than the game makes it seem.
Music really makes me want to sing, man.
They should rename the Virgin Islands.  That was an expensive mistake.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 36-22-62
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 21, 2007 at 13:39
I turn all kinds of things into pies.
Who hasn’t lived in a cave at one point or another?  That’s what they’re for.
You say diabetes, I say diabetos.
Give me a mug and some beans and I’ll find a way to make your damn coffee.
Every time I step on a nail, I thank my shoes for doing their job the best they could.
I’d grow a beard but I don’t have the time.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 33-26-30
I turn all kinds of things into pies.
Who hasn’t lived in a cave at one point or another?  That’s what they’re for.
You say diabetes, I say diabetos.
Give me a mug and some beans and I’ll find a way to make your damn coffee.
Every time I step on a nail, I thank my shoes for doing their job the best they could.
I’d grow a beard but I don’t have the time.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 33-26-30
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June 14, 2007 at 13:43
Winning is everything when it comes to Russian Roulette.
I tore my rotator cuff.  I always hated that thing.
Screw parasailing, man.  Make the handicapped sail like the rest of us.
I’m really bad at remembering birthdays.  I think mine’s in June, but who knows?
I’ll take the moon over the sun any day of the week.
Man, what ever happened to Zaire?  That place was crazy!
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 23-26-30
Winning is everything when it comes to Russian Roulette.
I tore my rotator cuff.  I always hated that thing.
Screw parasailing, man.  Make the handicapped sail like the rest of us.
I’m really bad at remembering birthdays.  I think mine’s in June, but who knows?
I’ll take the moon over the sun any day of the week.
Man, what ever happened to Zaire?  That place was crazy!
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 23-26-30
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on June  7, 2007 at 19:39
Boxers or thiefs?  Who wants to know?
This might not be “Peacie,” but I think we should segregate the ghost population from the living.  Thoughts?
I’d chew ice cubes all day if they weren’t so sharp.
If you want to be a good hitchhiker, you’ve got to think outside of the thumb.  Don’t just stand there when you could be dancing.
Types of girls I like: Brazilian, Ukrainian, South African, Canadian [the further North, the better], short, Wisconsin.
You’d be surprised to know how many passports I’ve got.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 23-20-26
Boxers or thiefs?  Who wants to know?
This might not be “Peacie,” but I think we should segregate the ghost population from the living.  Thoughts?
I’d chew ice cubes all day if they weren’t so sharp.
If you want to be a good hitchhiker, you’ve got to think outside of the thumb.  Don’t just stand there when you could be dancing.
Types of girls I like: Brazilian, Ukrainian, South African, Canadian [the further North, the better], short, Wisconsin.
You’d be surprised to know how many passports I’ve got.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 23-20-26
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 31, 2007 at 18:06
Where’s Thousand Island?  I’ve got some vacation time saved up and it sounds like a delicious place to visit.
Root beer floats.  It does.  I’ve tested it.
There’s a fat man that sits by me.  He has some sort of jar of multi-colored power beans.  I need those beans, man.
The last thing I want to deal with at work is people.
I’m thinking about buying a horse.  Great for transportation and once you’re done with it, you’ve got about seven days worth of meals.
Never trust mailmen.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 20-22-36.
Where’s Thousand Island?  I’ve got some vacation time saved up and it sounds like a delicious place to visit.
Root beer floats.  It does.  I’ve tested it.
There’s a fat man that sits by me.  He has some sort of jar of multi-colored power beans.  I need those beans, man.
The last thing I want to deal with at work is people.
I’m thinking about buying a horse.  Great for transportation and once you’re done with it, you’ve got about seven days worth of meals.
Never trust mailmen.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 20-22-36.
        Creed Thoughts
        By Creed on May 24, 2007 at 22:45
The worst part about Raisin Bran is the bran.  Hands down.
I saw a man fishing bottles out of a garbage can yesterday and it reminded me of a funny story.
I don’t like hockey.  They should get rid of the pucks and put those shoe blades on their sticks – then you’d have a game on your hands.
To be a good pick pocket, you’ve got to look like a regular Joe.  Don’t dress up in fancy colors or jewelry.  That’s where the Gypsies have it wrong.  Pair of slacks, t-shirt, hat – that’s all you need.  And it helps to have tiny hands, too.
I’ve had enough of this LBJ character.
If I had to pick between a chimp and a spider, I’d take the chimp.  Harder to forget where you left it.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 26-22-30.
The worst part about Raisin Bran is the bran.  Hands down.
I saw a man fishing bottles out of a garbage can yesterday and it reminded me of a funny story.
I don’t like hockey.  They should get rid of the pucks and put those shoe blades on their sticks – then you’d have a game on your hands.
To be a good pick pocket, you’ve got to look like a regular Joe.  Don’t dress up in fancy colors or jewelry.  That’s where the Gypsies have it wrong.  Pair of slacks, t-shirt, hat – that’s all you need.  And it helps to have tiny hands, too.
I’ve had enough of this LBJ character.
If I had to pick between a chimp and a spider, I’d take the chimp.  Harder to forget where you left it.
Reminder: Michael’s safe combo: 26-22-30.