Well, if the average keeps up-

I should hit 20,000 visitors to this site some time tomorrow.

I realize that a lot of people come back over and over again, so I have no idea how many people have really read this thing, but fuck- 20 thousand. Since last October? Not bad for a goofy little diary about a werewolf and his dating troubles. That's pretty good I think, although I'm not really sure what constitutes a "successful" blog.

I usually average a little over a hundred a day, with spikes on those days when some big link site picks it up. Those are fun days.

You know, traditionally, you'd expect a werewolf to spend his down time prowling around, tracking down potential victims, and agonizing over how to deal with his affliction, not- you know, obsessively checking his site meter, and pondering the fact that there are dudes in Australia who are really into this thing.

But fuck it, it's a new century I guess.

That's weird too, that it's a new CENTURY.

I mean, I'm not even really fully reconciled with the fact that the 90's are over. I'm still a little pissed off that it's fucking 2005 and we haven't got our jet packs yet. I guess we did get the internet, which is awesome, but it's not a jet pack either, for crying out loud.

I mean, on New Year's day 2000, I took a dump in the middle of my living room floor and patiently waited for a robot to come clean it up.

Didn't happen.

Still, you can't help but be a little disapointed by the internet, and what it's done as opposed to what it could have been. I mean basically, it was to be a combination of all the information in the world, and also Porn! It was like- the Library of Congress, but you could fuck it! It's hard to not want to invest in something like that. And now- well, we have a newer, faster way to shop at Barnes and Noble, and you get to read the online personal journal of a werewolf, for Christ's sake. Not exactly the giant leap for mankind that was heralded, is all.

That's kind of the overriding feeling I have about the 90's, especially when contrasted to what we have right now. It seems to me that if the 60's were the rock and roll decade, the 70's were the hangover, and the 80's were the money decade, the 90's are shaping up to be remembered as the decade of wasted potential. I mean, Bill Clinton was in office, Ben Stiller and Jeananne Garafalo were funny, the internet boom took off, and when you thought about George Bush, you thought "One term President." Fuck, I mean, sure, I guess we had enemies who wanted to blow up the World Trade Center, but back then, they sucked at it.
And look where we are now- we still have all of the shittiness we used to have at the beginning of the 90's, and none of that optimisim to go along with it. We have a shithead named Bush in the White House, a war in Iraq, a splintered, wounded and completey out of touch Democratic party, and this time time around, I'm a motherfucking werewolf.

Shit.

I mean, what good has come so far from the new century?

Seriously- what good?

OK, we got Duran Duran back.

That's something, I guess.

Happy 20,000 everybody.

Slow day today.

I went into work, watched the Spongebob movie and Silent Night, Deadly Night Part two.

The spongebob movie is pretty good, but boyoboy does SNDN2 (That's what people in the industry call it) suck. And you're talking to a guy who thinks SNDN1 is something of a holiday classic. It's kind of like "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" if instead of having the Grinch steal all the Who's presents, he chops off his dog's head with an axe, and rapes and murders Cindy Lou Who.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning rape and murder, but when it happens in a Santa suit, it's a tad more compelling.

But SNDN2 honestly begins with a 40 minute marathon featuring all the murder scenes from the first one. You know how they do that sometimes in the Friday the 13th sequels, where they kinda recap some of the Jason mayhem from previous sequels? Yeah, well when they do it, it lasts about 30 seconds.

In this movie, I shit you not, it take 40 minutes before the main character does anything. And by anything, I mean putting on a Santa suit and chopping the head off a deformed nun in a wheelchair.

So you, know- the film isn't without it's merits.

In terms of the question in the comments about the new Wes Craven werewolf movie, I haven't seen it. And this is the video store clerk rather than the werewolf talking here, but apparently, it was supposed to come out last year, but it had to be almost totally rewritten and re-shot, and it was shelved for a year. Then, they dumped it theaters in February, so I have a hard time believing that it's not going to suck.

Also, I've heard rumors of CGI werewolves, which are the fucking worst. I mean, if you're gonna have CGI werewolves, you need something awesome to counterbalance that, like Julie Delpy naked.

(Julie Delpy is naked in American Werewolf in Paris.)

Fuck it, maybe I should get in touch with Wes Craven- I guarentee you, I could transform onscreen for those sons of bitches and get some dumb patsy an Academy Award for makeup.

Also, those of you who think I'm gonna be eating kittens, well- rest easy- I've already eaten one cat, and it didn't agree with me. I think I'm gonna stick with sheep, or other livestock. It's expensive, but based on that one night when I ate Beebee, it was pretty awesome, and it kept me relatively docile, so that's cool.

I just don't want to hurt anybody.

Maybe I'll buy a pig this time.

That would be sweet.

When I woke up today-

-the nail polish was gone, but my hair was still red. Not as red as before, but still red.

From what I can figure, the hair does recede back into my body when I change back, but just the process of growing that much hair causes some replacement to take place. And, before all this shit happened, there was the onset of some male pattern baldness, but that's all gone now. It's impossible that all that hair is just ingrained in my body somewhere, so the best I can figure it, there must be some kind of enzyme or something that causes it to deteriorate as it re-enters my body. When I change, I can definately feel and hear the hair growing, it makes a kind of nasty bristling sound. I'm always asleep when I change back, so God knows what happens.
With the fingernails, I think they just expand and recede, meaning that the paint simply flakes off as the nail under it grows. I found some flakes of nail polish on the floor of the cage, so that solves that one.

Am I wrong, or is discussing this whole process more than a little nasty?

Also, you guys were right about the dog food. I like the taste of it when I'm human, but I pretty much just tore up the bag and threw it all over the room. It isn't that bad though, it's like everywhere I walk now there's a little snack waiting for me.

I think I oughta clean up a little.

I mean, peeing on stuff helps to a certain extent, but it's really just covering up. Pissing on things is sort of the "sweeping under the carpet" of lycanthropy. Also, I have a bunch of newspapers laying around that need to be recycled.

I think I'm gonna go get on that.

The hair thing.

Good call on reminding me about that.

Unfortunately, I didn't see it until I'd already transformed last night, so I didn't do anything about it. By the way, I think I'm really gonna need to get more sheep next month. I was much angrier in the cage last night and bent the shit out of the door last night, kind of raging to get out.

I did my best to fix it up today, and bought a length of chain to fortify it tonight. I also went ahead and bought a couple big bags of Alpo to leave in the cage, but I'm gonna have to go out and get another one soon, as I've already finished about half of one of the bags.

Sorry, but that shit is tasty, yo.

Also, I'm working on the hair issue. I don't have a webcam, but I had an idea. I went to the drugstore today, got some Manic Panic and dyed my hair red, both upstairs and down, (if you know what I'm saying.) The way I figure, if when I wake up tomorrow and it's not red, that means that the hair doesn't recede back into my body, but rather is replaced by new hair. Still, the question remains as to where the hell all that hair goes. I also got some nail polish and painted my fingernails.

I know that I am doing this in the name of science, but I gotta tell you, it's bizzare that in order to learn more about myself I have to dress up like a drummer in a ska band.

Christ.

I look ridiculous.

Oh, for crying out loud.

I need to take a minute for that last comment.

Dearest Kirk,

‘Twas a full moon on the night of morrow last and I could not help myself. I have for too many years now been a creature unlike the others of this world and I’m afraid it is so deeply ingrained in my nature guilt graces not even my newly bloodied and freshly fed façade.

Wow.

I mean, fucking- WOW.

I humbly disagree. There are plenty of creatures of this world that are just like you.

I believe they're called nerds.

If you were having a hard time finding them "on the night of morrow last" maybe you weren't looking in the right places. Like, I dunno- the Harry Potter fan fiction message boards?

I’ve come under cover of night and taken BeeBee from you.

Um- no you haven't.

Last night, I hopped in the cage, jerked off to a little internet porn, moved my laptop out of the cage, turned into a werewolf, ate the shit out of Beebee, and went down for a nap, fat and happy. I woke up around 10:00 this morning, had a light brunch over at S&B, and did a little record shopping. It was pretty much the best transformation I've ever had. No werewolf hunters, no trashing my apartment, no dashing through the woods and almost killing my family, no flipping over in a chinatown bus, and absolutely no waking up naked in the snow.

It pretty much rocked.

By the way, check this shit out, it keeps going:

While in human form I had intended to merely steal the lamb to free him, but then the brightest romantic call of all lunar seductions shone down on me at the very moment a million hungry howls of future cubs still tucked in wolfish wombs took hold.

Holy shit.


And I was mercifully human no more.

What did you become? That Anne Rice character you so desperatley want to be?

Beebee has become a part of me. I have consumed most of him and left what I could not take for our raven cousins and the other scavengers of the forest.

What fucking forest?

I live in Brooklyn.

Dearest Wolfin, know your beloved lamb’s death was not in vain. The pack’s new cubs – come spring time when they are born – will bear the blood of your precious sacrifice inside them as he has now been reborn by nature’s hand as something new and pure and clean.

OK- I was under mind control for over a month and a half, and even THAT wasn't as full of shit as that last sentence.

Also let his death be perhaps your first lesson in the ways of our kind. It is not for us to capture our prey unless we have need of it for nourishment at that very moment. To ensnare such gentle beasts as those who sustain us before their deaths are required deprives them of their last days on earth and unbalances the workings of the forest floor.

Jesus, again with the forest? If you're so concerned about maintaining the balance of the forest floor howsabout you turn into a wolf and go eat Christo? Central Park is the closest thing we've got to a forest around here, and it's currently wrapped in saffron.

Never again so prematurely take the freedom of another unless your belly or the bellies of your cubs or pack growl empty and you have no other recourse but to stalk and kill to fill them. Let that hollow, hungry pit in the middle of your gut serve to remind you that in the forest, such greed and selfishness as is obviously rampant in your human nature is simply not allowed.

You know what else isn't allowed?

Boning in on the comments section and trying to change the story. I'm a fucking werewolf over here, I'm doing the best I can to deal with it, I finally have a good day, and this crazy bitch has to throw in a plot point.

This isn't fiction.

Sorry.

I love each and every one of my commentors, even the ones who hate hockey, say I'm a shitty writer, or are really only here from a zooskool google search, but let's keep one thing clear here- this is my life, and you don't get to add chapters.

Suggestions I love, they have even helped in the past.

But let's keep a grip on reality, 'kay?

Anyway, I gotta go, the suns coming down, and I'll be changing again tonight.

Fuck.

I shoulda bought another sheep.

Tonight's the night.

First night before the full moon.

I should be changing tonight, that is, if I've finally figured out how this works.

Beebee's in the cage, and just walked over to me and ate some grain out of my hand. He's cute. Part of me wonders if I can bring myself to eat him.

He's a pretty cool sheep.

I'll let you know what happens.

Beebee's here!

I loaded him right into the cage and he's trotting around as happy as can be.

I'm pretty tired, as I got up early to wait for the U-haul.

And to- you know- reflect on the contributions upon the country that our Presidents have had. That's sleepy work, boy- lemme tell you.

OK- I'm off to work, but first, I gotta stop by that greek place. I'm gonna have a lamb kabob. Just to get in the mood.

Hey! Hockey's cancelled again!

Well, lets hear it for blue balls.

Whatever, fool me once shame on...oh fuck it, you know what I'm saying.

Either way, I wasn't THAT much more dissapointed to hear it.

I mean, shit- you decide to ruin the sport on Wednesday, and you're going to un-ruin it on Saturday?

Let us take this opportunity to throw a huge "F- You" to Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky.

Sure, they are two of the best players in the history of the game, but what did they accomplish?

Jack shit.

Fuck 'em.

I'm guessing that for the entire negotioations, Mario was hanging out by thte red line waiting to cherry pick a breakaway for all the glory.

Fuck that guy.

I still like Wayne, but c'mon, dude.

When he moved to LA, he precipitated the most false inflation in the popularity of hockey ever.

They say we can thank Wayne for the expansion of hockey into areas where hockey was never popular. Well, thanks, dickhead- now they aren't selling tickets.

Michael Jordan was popular too, and you didn't see him trying to sell basketball in Alaska.

On the other hand, if Bobby Orr and Don Cherry headed into those negotiations- well- heads up jimmy, we're gonna see the puck dropped.

Ah well-

Screw it.

I'm from Boston- I've had a pretty good year.

Plus, Beebee shows up on Monday.

Hooray!

What a day!

OK- not only does it seem like a hockey season is imminent (I'll withhold offical rejoicing until after it's definate), but I'm gonna get my sheep!

I just got off the phone with the dudes at the farm, and there is a Barbados Blackbelly getting loaded on a U-haul early Monday Morning, and will arrive that afternoon!

I think I'm gonna name him Beebee.

You know, before I... well, eat him.

Well, I've done a little homework-

And it turns out that getting a sheep to Brooklyn is difficult, but not impossible.

I've had my eye on this gorgeous little beauty for a while now.

It's an American Blackbelly Sheep (aka Barbados Blackbelly), and it's looks as adorable as it does delicious.

The sheep, or as it will henceforth be called, The Barbados Blackbelly, is 125 bucks, but sadly, it looks like I won't be able to get here by the next full moon. I might just buy a couple of huge bags of Alpo and leave them in the cage. I wonder if I'd eat that when I'm all wolfed out.

By the way, if I was a professional pool player, my nickname would be Barbados Blackbelly. It's gotta nice ring, is all.

I found it on AniBid, which is a site where you can pretty much bid on almost any kind of live animal out there. One of their banner ads is a company called Wild Animal World , which is worth checking out, if just for the banner picture which should be entitled "I have the worst parents in recorded history."

All this animal shopping has me thinking though- I mean, about the power of money. I mean, if I say, wanted to have a Bobcat in my apartment, I could do that. I'm sure it's illegal, and dangerous, but shit- if I had the money, I'm pretty confident I could have a Bobcat in my apartment in less than a month. Just walking around and snarling and shit.

It kind of makes you doubt the morality of capitalism, is all.

I just looked at the Wild Animal World website, and I could get me an 8 week old male cougar for 1,500 bucks.

Damn.

I wonder what they'd pay for a real live werewolf?

Something to think about, is all.

Sorry about that last one-

I mean, yeah- I'm still mad, but, damn.

Maybe that was a bit intense.

I can always tell that I've been avoiding my own problems when I get too stressed about sports. Still, that pic in the Times today of the Stanley Cup as trash can made me die a little inside.

The full moon is 6 days away.

I think I need to get some supplies.

I wonder how much a live sheep costs?

I was upset before-

-Now I'm furious.

I know that this blog has been a place where profane language has been used and enjoyed, but I'm furious about this goddamn NHL cancellation, so for those of a delicate sensibility, I'm telling you that I'm not holding back here.

If you are less pissed off than I am, I recommend you move on before I directly address Gary Bettman and Bob Goodenow, the NHL commissioner and NHL Player's Union Head.










Ahem.









Dear Gary and Bob,



I hope you guys realize what you have done.

You have destroyed our sport.

To come so close, and to not get a deal done, to put the future of the National Hockey League in Jeopardy, to deny fans the spectacle of the winning of Lord Stanley's Cup for the first time in 86 years, especially when a deal was so close, you deserve nothing less than a vigorous throat-fucking from the dead penis of Louis Sutter.

You dispicable, moneygrubbing assholes not only deserve the violence and humilation of the act, but let's be honest here, that guy's dick has done more for hockey in the span of time it takes to shoot 6 loads than you could do in 6 lifetimes. If even a microscopic, decaying neutrino of what that man possessed were to rub off in your mouths as you choked on him, it would represent an introduction of integrity that exceeded anything you have ever possessed by several orders of magnitude.

Fuck you and your money.

And as the taste of decaying cock causes you to gag on your own rising bile, know that whatever vile acids your bodies produce to combat the sensation, they pale in comparison to the awful taste your shameful performance has left in the mouths of hockey fans everywhere.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have sports to watch, and by sports, I mean 14 straight hours of baseball steriod gossip and 87 totally useless college basketball games.

Go fuck yourselves,

Kirk Thomson

This-

-is the darkest day in the history of the NHL, and let's remember, last year, one guy broke another guy's neck.

I'd say it was one of the darkest days in my own personal history, but there was that day where I got bit by a werewolf.

That day sucked too.

I've said it before, but this is different than baseball canceling the World Series. This is different than football and basketball stoppages. What is potentially going on here is the end of professional hockey in America as we've known it over the last 30 years.

This is a bit of a jokey way to illustrate my point, but it's funny that the only way you can get ESPN to spend more than 35 seconds on hockey is when there isn't any.

But that's just it. The vast majority of sports fans in America just don't give a shit. You can blame terrible marketing, you can blame the collective bargaining agreement, you can blame clutch and grab, you can blame the trap, you can blame less scoring, or you can blame expansion into areas without a tradition of hockey.

Whatever.

It doesn't matter now.

Whichever problem you choose to blame, the answer is definitely NOT to cancel the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Whatever you think about hockey during the regular season, any sports fan with a pulse has to enjoy playoff hockey in overtime. If it's happening during the Stanley Cup finals, and you can see guys hoisting up the indisputably coolest fucking trophy in the history of sport, people are gonna come back for that.

If they would have managed to make a deal this weekend, the lengthy lockout would have provided incredible publicity for the return of the game, and the shortened season would have been a perfect place to try out new rule changes that could spark debate and passion.

What we have now is a 180 degree spin the other way.

What is going to get fans interested is hard hitting, brilliant passing, mind-blowing goaltending, and the jaw-dropping artistry in the midst of seemingly anarchic brutality that makes up the game of hockey played at it's highest level.

What is not going to help is 30 seconds of B-roll footage of Gretzky scoring his 802nd goal sandwiched by 15 minutes of lawyers talking about revenue sharing and cost certainty.

And from a fan's perspective, particularly in America, this is devastating. In addition to the tremendous loss of casual attendance that all teams will suffer, they are losing a remarkable opportunity to give some of the greats from the past 20 years their chance to skate in their final game.

Mark Messier, Steve Yzerman, Brett Hull, Scott Stevens, Mario Lemieux, and many, many more who were not only tremendously exciting to watch, but were integral in promoting or selling the game are now just going to fade away.

Additionally, the new younger superstars, who were just beginning to build real excitement are still relatively unknown, and this gap will not only rob them of a year or more of their prime production, but will make it that much harder for them to market the game in the future.

Guys like Martin St. Louis, Ilya Kovulchuck, Vincent Lecaviler, Joe Thornton, Andrew Raycroft, Jerome Iginla, and more are nowhere close to household names in this country, and they aren't going to be for more than year at least.

That said- it may not be over.

Bettman seemed to not deny a middle figure at his press conference, and I'd be stunned if the players were not flooding his office with calls in an attempt to get SOME kind of deal done.

If they don't, we could be talking about all kinds of awful things from new leagues, to replacement players, to a total shitcanning of all the tradition that has made this game as great as it is.

And if you think people don't give a shit about hockey now, wait until they are faced with a brand new hockey league with no decent TV contract, inflated XFL type "asses in seats" rules, and clashes between storied new franchises like, oh I don't know, say- the New York Urbanites vs. the Boston Ice Devils.

You gotta be kidding me.

Jesus- we have an hour.

Make a deal, Goodenow.

Please.

I'm a fucking werewolf over here, which sucks enough.

Don't force me to try to watch Nascar again.

The moon-

looked like a soup bowl tonight.

Or maybe I'm just hungry for some soup.

It was kind of hot out today, so when I was walking to work I felt like I had too many layers on. I wonder if that's what it will feel like when I'm a werewolf in the summertime.

I wonder if werewolves shed. And if they do, does the hair that gets shed out disappear once I change back, like the hair on my body does?

Come to think of it, I don't know if it dissapears, or just kinda recedes back into my body. That's kind of a nasty thought.

What the hell does happen to all that hair?

I'm gonna get on that question when I transform next. I mean, it doesn't just fall out, cause I've woken up in my apartment after a change and there wasn't hair everywhere. But still, it seems weird that it would just dissapear.

I don't know if you guys are learning anything from this post, but what I'm learning is I have no idea how to correctly spell the word "dissapear."

Maybe one "s?"

Let's see- "disapear."

Doesn't look quite right- I'm adding another "p"

"disappear."

Yeah, dude- that's it.

I think.

I may be a crappy speller, but at least I have tigerkitty beat.
I hope she's OK.

So, we find out if there is hockey tomorrow around noon. The players have to accept the owner's offer of a 42.5 million cap by 11:00. The press conference is at 1:00.

Jesus, I hope they take it.

I'm not saying that living with the curse of lycanthropy is fun by any stretch of the imagination, but it will certainly bea lot more pleasant if I can turn on the TV and see Joe Thornton blasting out from behind the net like a fucking freight train.

And Sergei Samsonov- that guy has moves that can literally make defenders disappear.

That looks right, doesn't it?

I've been a little bored today.

Jesus, God.

OK- so I can deal with it being fucking cold and rainy.

I can deal with the fact that it is Valentine's Day and I am lonely.

I can deal with the fact that Bush is President.

I can deal with the fact that every month, I turn into a savage beast with a bloodlust beyond human understanding.

But on top of all that, I gotta tell you, did they have to pick today to fucking cancel hockey?

I mean, for Christ's sake!

There's only so much bullshit I can handle on any one given day.

I guess I'm gonna go watch the AHL All Star game.

Let's hear it for Andy Hilbert and Patrice Bergeron!



If you need me, I'll be over in the corner of the cage.

OK-

Well, Christ.

I guess what I'm hearing from people is that this is my own problem and I have to deal with it.

So I will.

Fuck it.

I guess I just have to live my life in a cage for 3 days a month.

I dunno, I mean- if you really think about it, there are people that live in cages for their entire lives.

I only have to do it for a couple of days.

The full moon is coming soon.

The only really big drag is that when I put the TV in front of the cage, the bars block off a lot of it.

I feel like if I keep going the way I am, TV will be the only thing I find important.

I don't want to live that way.

OK- so here's the deal:

I've been thinking more and more about the idea of biting someone, and although I have gotten some responses, I feel like people might need some more information in order to make a well informed decision.

Therefore, I have decided to present the following list of pros and cons about being a werewolf:

Pro: When transformation occurs, you get an overwhelming sense of power.
Con: You want to eat people.

Pro: Side effects when not transformed include heighted sense of smell and reversal of any hair loss.
Con: You pretty much piss all over everything you own.

Pro or Con: You like to walk around naked a lot. (this could be either pro or con depending on your thoughts vis-a-vis nakedness. I'm firmly in the "pro" camp, but God knows how you were raised.)

Pro: When transformed, you get bigger, stronger and faster.
Con: You will use this enhanced power not to fight crime or clean up around the house, but to eat people. Or animals. To date, I've eaten a cat a moose, and some pretty big chunks of a dude from New Jersey.

Pro: If you are, like I was, somewhat unmotivated and in need of some routine, you will find that needing to keep track of the cycles of the moon will add a certain amount of structure to your life.
Con: That structure revolves not around something conventional, like steady employment, or a long term relationship, but the more unconventional, AKA falling to all fours, growing a shaggy coat of hair and a tail, sprouting claws and fangs, and losing yourself in a blood orgy of pure fury. If this is the only "pro" that appeals to you, I'd say for now, get a temp job, and see if that doesn't add a little structure. Career Blazers isn't bad. Ask for Diane.

Pro: You will be different from most everybody else on this planet, which can help build identity.
Con: Your identity will be "turns into a wolf and commits murder guy" which might not be what you are looking for.

Pro: It only happens three days a month
Con: It happens EVERY month for the rest of your life. You know, like herpes. But hairier.

Pro: You will feel healthier and more athletic with every passing day.
Con: You will probably cease to enjoy time-honored pop tunes like "Fly me to the Moon" and Hollywood films like "Moonstruck" as the connotations tend to bring your mind elsewhere.

Pro: You get to write a blog from a unique perspective that no one has ever seen before.
Con: Well, actually- I guess now it wouldn't be all that unique. I mean, I kinda beat you to that one. Sorry, dude.

Pro: While transformed, you can get shot in the head and pretty much be OK the next day.
Con: You are more likely to have someone want to shoot you in the head.



OK- I guess that's a decent enough list for now.

Last call- any takers?

Or questions?

Let's hear 'em!

Jesus-

I ask who wants to be a werewolf, and I get 100 "furries" and an Episcopal priest.

C'mon people, I'm not writing a bar joke, I'm seeing who wants change in their lives.

Really?

Nobody else wants to be a werewolf?

Sorry I didn't post yesterday.

I know I was going to update you on the Dan conversation, but here's what happened.

I got home kinda late, and decided to reheat some soup.

It was split pea, with lentils, carrots, onions, and big chunks of leftover ham steak.

It was pretty good when I made it, so I was looking forward to it.

Last night, when I thawed it out and heated it up, I found that the soup had become a far more savory meal than it ever was in the first place. Where there once was just ham, peas and vegetables, now there was harmony. This soup was not just soup, it had become unity, it had become bliss, and as I found out 15 minutes later, it had become a rather shockingly effective laxative.


So, yeah- I was kind of busy with- well... you know- shitting.

Anyway, I did talk to Dan-

I got out the iPod, and scanned down to his name.

"Dan?"

Hey Kirk, what's up?

"I dunno, kinda bored, a little lonely. Alyssa left, and I don't have anybody to-"

-Have sex with? That's a tragedy. Did I tell you about how I haven't had a penis for the past 5 months?

"No- not just have sex with- I mean, you know, talk about things. Um- hold on. You don't have penis?"

Nope. no corporeal form at all, really- hence: zero in the way of the brass danglers. I'm over it.

"Yeah. OK."

So, you're a little mopey and you figured you'd rattle the ghost's chains, huh?

"Well- I had this idea. Oh, and by the way, thanks a lot for your help when I was..you know..."

-A total fucking vegetable?

"Well, I'd put it another way-"

Braindead recluse?

"No- not really, I think I'd say-"

Dog fucker?

"CHRIST! Lay off, would ya?"

Sorry, I still get a kick out that. So what's your idea?

"Well- what if I, you know- just for little companionship.."

Are you asking my permission for you to get a hooker?

"No! I mean- it's not that. It's just- I just, don't have anybody to talk to about this- wolf stuff. I mean, Jeff was a dick, but at least we could sort of- I dunno, talk about stuff. I mean, what we were going through and- I guess I just thought, what if I...

What?

"What if I....bit somebody?"

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!

"No- I mean, I know- it seems crazy at first-"

AT FIRST?! AT FIRST? That seems crazy at first, at last and all over the fucking planet! You get a little mopey and you want to ruin someone's life and create another murderer? If you do that, I'm gone. I don't know how I'll do it, but I guarentee you, even if I'm trapped in this F-ing thing forever, I'll never talk to you again!

"Well- look- I mean, I just-"

Conversation over. talk to me again when you're less crazy.





And then he was gone.

I mean, I know that it's a morally questionable thing to do, but that's just it. It's questionable. So why not ask the question? I mean, isn't it possible that someone WANTS to be a werewolf? I mean, I'd have to make sure they were cool with staying in a cage, and they weren't gonna go all murder-happy, but there have got to be people out there who earnestly desire radical change in their lives, and who knows, maybe we could actually create the beginnings of some kind of ACTUAL werewolf community somewhat like the one that Bruce built in my mind.

Why couldn't that be possible?

OK that's enough.

I have to go take a crap.

Again.

I talked to Dan-

I pitched him the whole "me biting somebody idea."

Needless to say, he's against it.

I'll give you the dialogue tomorrow, but now I'm off to see that awful Clint Eastwood girl boxing movie.

In other news, I watched "Resident Evil: Apocolypse" today. Or rather, I popped "Resident Evil: Apocolypse" in my DVD player, and attempted to sit still in front of it. After about 15 minutes, I was walking around, doing some dishes, and peeing on the drapes. I turned it off after an hour or so.

By the way, it's a testament to how much a movie sucks when it's chock full of zombies and scantily clad women, and I still find it boring. Normally, it would be the other way around- like, you know- if a movie gets boring, I say, add some scantily clad women and some Zombies, and I'm good to go.

For example, the movie "Portrait of a Lady" with Nicole Kidman is one of the most goddamn boring movies in the world, yet I woulda perked right up if at some point, while she was sitting in her anteroom, silently pining away for the love of a nobleman, a zombie smashed through the window and tore off her petticoat.

I'm not saying that would make a BETTER movie, but it wold be less boring is all.

Actually fuck that.

That would be better movie.

OK- I'm out-

I'll tell you what Dan said tomorrow.

Jesus, I'm tired.

I helped a friend move today.

Or, more accurately, a guy who I watched the Pats with yesterday was moving, and in the course of celebrating the win, I mistook that for friendship, and when he asked if anyone wanted to help I said "Yeah, sure!"

I am such a dumbass.

I guess I'm still lonely is all.

I wonder if it would be the worst thing in the world if the next time I transformed, I bit somebody. I mean, you know, just so I'd have somebody to hang out with.

I mean, Jeff was a dick, but, you know- at least he kinda knew what I was all about.

I'm going to bed.

My back hurts.

Damnit.

OK- let's hear it, commentors!

Seriously, bring it on!

I wanna hear from all you doubters and douchebags who made fun of me when I called DYNASTY even before the Pats sent Payton Manning home with three fucking points.

Or how about the douchebag who commented that Big Ben over in Pittsburgh "knows how to win in the NFL"

Let's hear from that guy!

Titletown, motherfuckers. Titletown.

Apologies should begin "Dear Kirk, I'm sorry I doubted you."

Oh, and I howled at the superbowl party. When McNabb through that last interception, I was up and howling like that was my dayjob, and I needed to make rent.

Got some funny looks, but it passed.

All is well.

Titletown.

Let's Go Pats!

Finally!

Today is the day- the first time in over five months I've been able to watch a Boston area sports team compete for the ultimate prize while not also turning into a monster!

I'm going to a superbowl party in Jersey to watch it, making this the best trip to New Jersey I will have had in over five months provided I can manage to keep my dick out of the host's Springer Spaniel.

Also, here's an idea- STOP CALLING THE VIDEO STORE!

I love that I'm doing an intimate blog about turning into a motherfucking werewolf for fuck's sake, and the part of the plot that has you douchebags spinning off into conspiracy theories is the implausible whimsy that I actually work at a video store.

Christ!

I watched Taxi Driver today.

You know, I kind of forgot how goddamn great that movie is.

I think I'm getting sick.

I mean, not like- werewolf sick or anything, just kind of a chest-cold kind of thing. I'm smoking too many cigarettes too. I wish I had more to report today, but it's just been a big blah.

I know, you probably want some werewolf stuff, right?

OK- here goes:



Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.



Fuck it, I got nothing.

Lessons

This has been a hard time for me.

I've been lied to. In a pretty serious way.

People that I thought I loved have lied to me.

When that happens, you start to question the power of love. And when that happens, you have no alternative but despair.

Love is the answer, love makes things possible, love, in the movies at least, brings the dead back to life.

And when that power lies to you, it can be devastating.

But other than that, I'm doing great!

I'm working at the video store tomorrow.

Stop by if you want.

Coffee with Kristen was weird.

I mean, I knew it was going to be weird, but check out this opening dialogue:


Kristen: Hi sweetie! It's so good to see you!

Kirk: Hey, Darlin!

Kristen: So what have you been up to?

Kirk: Well, lemme think. Hmm- since September? OK- well- I got bit by a werewolf, was visited by the spirit of a ghost in an iPod, transformed into a beast on the full moon, ate my cat, handcuffed myself to a bed for three days, terrified my family, and was inadvertantly responsible for a bus crash that killed a lot of people. Oh, and I beheaded one werewolf hunter, fell in love with the other one, and fought to get free from a mind control genius that falsely led me to believe I was the rogue champion of a national werewolf syndicate.

Kristen: National...national werewolf syndicate?

Kirk: No! I mean, yes- It wasn't real. I was under mind control. In reality, I was living in a basement in New Jersey having sex with dogs.

Kristen: Are you being funny?








OK- it didn't really go that way. But that's kind of what was on my mind when I was heading to the coffee shop. What happened was far more reserved:


Kristen: Hi sweetie! It's so good to see you!

Kirk: Hey, Darlin!

Kristen: So what have you been up to?

Kirk: You know- the same shit...but...

Kristen: But?

Kirk: But...

Kristen: But what?

Kirk: But more so.




I think I need to work on my communication skills.

So this is a trip-

Kristen came into the video store today.

I haven't seen her in months.

We're having coffee tomorrow.

I hope she doesn't want her handcuffs back.

This is gonna be weird.