Off the Top of My Head Navigator
Michael's Home PageGo to the home of the most twisted (and sarcastic) mind on the 'Net!
Off the Top of My Head
The home page of this Psycho-Babble.
Off the Top of My Head, Vol. V #1
Click to view the first "Rant" that ran from 6/4/98 through 7/1/98 at the top of Michael's Tripod Homepage. Witness Michael's comments about his page, a little bit about people he knows, and see him mocking that after five years his decision to relearn HTML!
Off the Top of My Head, Vol. V #2
The second rant, still "BEFORE" Michael decided to rename it the internet version of "Off the Top of My Head". Witness Michael's psycho-babble about absoultely NOTHING! WOO!
Off the Top of My Head, Vol. V #3
The current and first official "Off the Top of My Head" on the internet.
Off the Top of My Head, Vol. V #4
Next up? Who knows... just pray it doesn't suck...
Vol. V
#3
7/12/98
---------------------
Welcome to my world of mediocrity. And Hot damn... right now it blows. For those of you NEW to the thing that is Off the Top of My Head, let me run down a few things (this being the first ACTUAL edition via the webpage and shit). The format is simple. Just rambling ideas/thoughts/feelings I have at the moment, usually something sparks these. It's the look inside the mind of a 16 year old clusterfuck. Beware. Okay so here goes... Bash at the Beach was basically a piece of horse shit. Some good matches of note with Juventud Guerrera v. Kidman, Saturn v. Raven (though sloppy), Eddie Guerrero v. Chavo Guerrero, Jr. and the Bret Hart v. Booker T. match tearing the house down. The Chris Jericho and Chavo stuff was a riot and a half and damn... it was all down hill from there. A watchable World Title Match, short matches, and a WHOLE MOTHERFUCKING HALF HOUR OF MY LIFE LEFT JUST _BEGGING_ for an end to Hulk Hogan & Dennis Rodman v. Karl Malone & Diamond Dallas Page and hot damn, it came about three hours to late. Ak.... okay, the shit smokes screen that was an average PPV aside, now the fun stuff. I had a little party with two friends to split the PPV (seeing as how dropping 60 bucks a month is retarded, and 20 still seems kind of steep, but I usually spend 30 anyway... so... oh forget it) and during the preview show, I recieve a phone call. Oh my god! It's Candice! See, I have a story to tell. I guess it's partly my fault and partly not. Since the day I re-met (different story for a different time) Candice, I was enamered with her. First because well, I had _NO_ idea who the fuck she was. Turns out she was this girl I dubbed "hat-girl" because of the hat she wore in her yearbook picture and usually most of the time. Alas, we eventually talked and if I could only tell you the feeling I get when I talk to or am around her I would be a gifted man. Just the fact that this person makes me feel like I'm amazing or wonderful places me SMACK dab in awe. To say she is not amazing herself is a lie. Every new fact I had learned was just another piece of a puzzle I never wanted to complete (meaning the more pieces the better). Just a problem, I suppose. Candice is different. Yeah different. Don't read anything into that, but hot damn--- for some reason at some point I go and decided to FTW (Fuck the World) and shut myself out. Regardless of whether a conscious effort is made by ANYONE to remain in contact, when I shut and disappear behind my wrestling, writing, computer, and art.... you need to REALLY want to get me to get me. In the mindset I'm in, I still find myself in FTW mode. I mean, that feeling of being totally alone and just worthless amongst the masses. It's wonderful. Farking wonderful. This call from Candice tonight (a few days after I saw her at the Mall when I took my Cousin from Pa and my brother about town for the day) could have broken the FTW stage. Hell, the step in the right direction could have happened months ago had life not sucked my ass. Alas, I'm left two steps backwards from what I was five hours ago. I sit here again staring at my computer screen. Alone. Oh, the story? Hot damn, my babbling almost FARKING killed it, no?... okay, Candice calls during the pre-show. Her "foriegn exchange student" wants to see me and stuff. So basically I'm told (in hindsight) "I miss you, we need to start doing things again you prick!". I'm stoked for this dammit because I feel pretty damn silly going to see movies like Six Days, Seven Nights with my friend Andrew or by myself... and hell, summer ain't a time to meet girls in the shit-infested scum that is Columbus, GA. But ak! There's people over... PPV... and some stupid shit. So I ask her to call back at 10, when it's all said and done... so afterwards I'm left waiting. And god dammit! Why the fuck when someone ASKS you to call or you TELL them you'll call, 99% of the fragging time you don't?!? So, after dropping Orlich off at his house and driving home in an empty car down a dark road I come home wondering if she ever called.... she didn't. After a short internet speil I decide "God dammit, just call her..." and I do. "Is Candice there?" Quickly I'm told who I'm NOT (apparently she was awaiting a phone call from her friend Kristen which I was informed off) and I'm already left joking about feeling stupid... sadly, I'm given only a slight remourse to feel better and it's all down hill from there folks, like a WCW PPV.... undercard with potential, but you knew once the show started that the Main Event would blow unless a miracle occurred. No Miracle, sadly. Some stuff I don't even remember. Hinting by her to let her go, or something. Some Tori Amos thing on 120 Minutes [Note: She worships Tori FARKING Amos] that Kristen is taping for her and she's going to be on the phone with her during it, hence the hinting. Apparently NOW she eats meat. Some mild invite to go eat burgers with her--- and WHAT the old "We're cow friendly in this house" thing changes?!?! AK! Regardless, I relay a recent visit to McDonalds, where I feel like I'm being watched and stalked and they attempt to kill me with a three layered Big Mac (which only has TWO slabs of meat, the added third looked like it had a bite taken out of it). No reaction. Well god damn. Thanks for caring. And the ending sucked just as much "Would you like me to let you go?" "Yeah, Kristen
Next