Nick Spacek
I'm Nick
Spacek,
Nicko to friends. I'm a baker for Great Harvest Bread Co., located in
the lovely city of Lawrence, as well as an underpaid freelance writer.
I'm 26 years of age,
married, and write for other sites in my free time, to say nothing of
raising two kids and making the sex with the wife. Hence the
lack of regular updates to this place.
I'd been dividing
my time between work and the bars. My wife was slightly
annoyed
about that, but since I drink, I forget most of what she says (aside
from referring to it as "my drinking"), so I suppose it's no longer an
issue, now is it? Remember, I'm only a drunk. Alcoholics go to
meetings. Anyhow, I'm the one who started the Nuthouse, and who does
all the work
on the damn thing that's not creative or enjoyable.
I really like
guns and knives and fire and all other implements of destruction.
Please
do not cross me or I will be forced to hunt you down and kill you. I
have
killed before and will not hesitate to do it again. Trust me, I am not
one to be fucked with, as I tend to go into this berserker rage when
annoyed. See, it's
because
of the voices in my head. Sometimes they just get really loud and tell
me to do things like kill my father's first-born son. It's bad, because
that's me. I don't want to die. I want to kill and rid the world of all
the evil people, i.e. those who aren't me or my friends.
Shit... did
I write all that down? Please forget that you read that. Do it, please.
Now. Else, I will be forced to hurt
you very badly. I can't go to jail.
I've barely avoided it a couple of time, and it makes me nervous to
think
that a guy like me might end up in amongst big guys who want me to be
their
girlfriend. I don't like burly fellas. Or guys at all. I'm not gay.
Robb,
Paul, and Craig just say that to get at my girlfriend. Thank you. Sleep
now.
Really, I'm
actually a nice guy. I swear. I used to tend to get dumped a lot. All
the girls
I asked out thought I was kidding or they had boyfriends already. This
made me go pound my head against the wall, thus causing a concussion.
Then I
had to go to the hospital, making me miss classes and fail them all.
Then I had to drop out of college, and take a job flipping burgers
until one day I snapped and went on a mindless rampage, thinning out
the weaker
part of the population with a deer rifle. This all resulted in me being
brought down by no fewer than 75 U.S. Marshals.
Nah,
what really happened was that I met this fantastically cool girl (the
one who refers to it as "my drinking") who does cool stuff like knit me
scarves and make me dinner when I'm broke from spending all my money on
cds and alcohol and cigarettes and dvds. She's also phenomenal in bed
and pretty and smart and funny. Really, the only problem with her is
that she's married me.
I grew up in
Lansing, KS. It's a podunk town filled with inbred rednecks, much like
those Jeff Foxworthy jokes. Ever see that Blue Collar Comedy Tour
movie? I worked with and went to school with all those guys for 17
years... actually, I think one of them is Sean's dad. However, now
I live in Lawrence, KS, happily ensconced in our apartment that is far
nicer than anywhere I've ever lived. My old apartment had a
kitchen that looks more like a record store. It's a cozy place, so I
spend a lot of time in here, mostly
at the computer typing away writing reviews for BadAssMofo and
Dandercroft and the Lawrencian and
slaving thanklessly on this website that nobody ever seems to read.
I smoke a lot-
if you want to be my friend forever, you'll buy me a pack of Lucky
Strikes
(the brand of choice of those here in the Nuthouse). It tends to annoy
a lot of my friends, as well as my parents. Fuck 'em. I've had it up to
here with all this anti-smoking crapola. The truth is, smoking is cool
and everyone knows it.
Well, that's
me. Hope you aren't too confused. Then again, if you're not, then I
totally
failed in what I wanted to accomplish with this little autobio. Now I'm
all confused. Dammit. Back to the drawing board again.
e-mail- skajester@yahoo.com
My LiveJournal