Just A Few Things That Make Me Want To...

...shove my own head up my own skinny ass.

• When did Halloween become a national holiday? I still have to get up and wipe my ass, which I never do on holidays. I have to go to work. I have to deal with people all day. Never on holidays. When those roll around I get up, put a wine IV in my arm and act like a monkey. Jumping and screaming throughout the land, searching for ripe bananas in neighbors cupboards, screeching as I startle an unsuspecting female as I yank down her blouse. Tonight we have a city close to me that has an average turnout of 50,000 people roaming one street. I think our sense of the world has become so jaded that the only thing we can fall back on is to go out, spend lots of money and indulge ourselves in idiocy. Of course, perhaps we do that everyday. My grandma would shit herself if she had to deal with this. But sounds like a good place for a drunken monkey.
  
  
• This Malaki motherfucker in Iraq has to go. Since when did he get to call the shots? I realize they are now a "sovereign" nation, but we supply all the money and all the other stuff. Take this motherfucker out now. He's in the sheets with al Sadr and they have been shit on.
  
  
• WTF?? I try to eat healthy. I stay away from the fast food places where certain local governments are outlawing transfats. And I eat alot of veggies. Now those damned things are showing up with pigshit, human shit and who knows what else on them. So I can either get clogged arteries with my chicken or e-coli and salmonella with my balsamic vinegarette and whatever veggie I have it saturated with. Can one sustain oneself on cardboard?
  
  
• Why are all news anchors just sorta stately men, average looking and seem to know what the hell they are talking about. The weather people are just HOT. I don't pay attention to the men, but they are pretty. If I tended to the other direction I'd have their barometer up my butt in a heartbeat. But the weather babes? Whoa...
  
  
• Hammer informed us tonight that Bob Barker is retiring from the Price Is Right. I never liked the show, but I did have to hear it in the background when I was taking care of my Dad when he was dying. He loved that program. You ever tried to talk on a VOIP to a customer when all you hear in the background is a woman screaming. I had alot of explaining to do. What I don't get is why he's waiting until June. Surely he won't do a retirement tour. And since he's fucked almost all of the ladies on the show, isn't he worried about that coming out? And he's always advocating to get your pet spayed or neutered. Is that because he was having sex with them while you weren't looking and didn't want his progeny cascading out of a pets vagina? I've shoved my head up to my liver now and I see it isn't happy. I shall calm the beast.
  
  

So I'm Sure Most Have Heard...

...what this asshat had to say about our troops? In essence he implied that they were stupid, and since they are stupid, they ended up in Iraq. EXCUSE ME??? Why in the world would you denegrade those serving for our safety and infer that they are morons? It's fucksticks like this that make me wanna move to France. Where's a terrorist when you need one.

UPDATE: Ok, it seems that "in context" he was actually attacking the President and not the troops, although he hasn't owned up to that. The guy is still a dickweed.

If You Want To Read Something...

...powerful, go have a look at this.

I Thought This Looked Kinda Cool...

...and might help us remember those that serve. You know damned well they'd much rather be here frolicking.

Happy Halloween...

...to all the ghost fuckers out there. Click the Read More link for a trick 'r treat!!

Just Some Things Floating Around...

...in the mental soup that make me want to curl up in the fetal position and suck the thumb I just pulled outta my butthole.

• I hate political races as much as I hate bleeding hemmorhoids. If you're running for some sort of office, and YOU are in the add, then don't tell me at the end of its airing that you approved it. I can pretty much figure that out. It's as overused as the people that call Limbaugh and rattle "mega dittos, Rush".
  
  
• So Friday, the price of oil went up around 50 cents because of poor economic numbers and lower stockpiles. Today it fell $2.39 because of poor economic numbers and increased inventory. HUH? Did we hit a gusher over the weekend that I missed?
  
  
• It appears the food police have handcuffs in hand and are prowling New York City and other areas so they can corral the murderous thugs that add trans fat to your food. We all know it's not good to eat it and it'll clog up your arteries and other shit. But we need to pass laws to do this? Now KFC has decided it will eliminate all TFA's from their chicken, which is so hormone laden that the fat is the least of your worries. I can't remember the last time I had KFC, but it was always yummy to my tummy. I do, in fact, check the TRA's of the food I buy, and I look for zero. But I'm a cancer patient. But if you were to bring a breast over tonight and some mashed potato's and gravy, I'm in. Oh, and you can bring a chicken breast as well.
  
  
• As I posted earlier, the nephew got home today. I wish it could have been that way for all that served there. Unfortunately, life isn't that way. But I am getting overly troubled by the way this whole thing has been handled. It gets worse by the day, so it's time for some decisions over there. I will continue to support the soldiers over there, but I won't support the war. If I come across a site that is involved with helping those that come home, then I will post it and ask that you give. I always do. If my nephew goes back in March then I will be really pissed. We should be out by then. If you have any sons or daughters over there at the moment, my heart goes out to you. It seems to get increasingly out of control.
  
  
• I am profoundly bemused by all the recent blogs by women that confide that they have found their dream man, because the said man was able to hang in there and deal with her shit, or the others that expound what the men in their life must comply with to get to dip the wick. They are both like a job applications. "We are going through some restructuring here, but if you can hang in there for a few months, we may have a position for you." I'll have to check the books, but it's possible you might fit into the picture." "Have you ever stolen any tools? If so, what did you do to rectify the situation? Are you tidy? We don't tolerate untidy here. Do you close the restroom door when you defecate? We have a rule here that states it's mandatory. Will you sign this thirty page affadavit that says you will be solely responsible for all complaints I render against you when I tire of your ass and realize I made another mistake? What happened to spontaneity? That look in an eye. That first hello. That first stroke of the face. The fingers through the hair. It just seems all contrived now. You have to meet all these prerequisites. Romance is lost and now it's like opening a bank account. You have to be vested. Makes no sense to my ass.
  
  I would like to add more to this. You will find all sorts of men you will connect with. But if you honestly think they will satisfy the side of you that counts, you are most likely mistaken. Some have a special continence that supersedes that and can fullfil what your needs are. Just a forewarning.
  
  
• I ran across a site tonight about a woman that was diagnosed with breast cancer. I forgot to bookmark the site, but she has become my new hero. She's a single Mom and her employer fired her when she started chemo. The chemo was a nightmare and so was reconstruction. She doesn't post much, for obvious reasons, but if I can retrieve the link I'll post it and add it to the sidebar. Her courage is worthy of emulating and her sense of humor is splendid. If you know who she is, lemme know.
  
  

I Realize It's Always A Pain...

...when organizations ask for money, especially around the holidays. But this is such a worthwhile cause for the wounded that come back from Iraq and Afghanistan that even $5 would help. If it's in your heart see if you can antee up.

The Nephew...

...arrived at his base this morning, safe and sound from his second tour in Iraq. Quite drunk, I might add, but I sure don't blame him for that. There's a chance he won't have to go back in March since his four years will be up shortly after that. We'll keep our fingers crossed.

I've Been Looking For A Hobby...

...and I've decided on being a peeping tom. I like the name. If I get caught I can just say "Hey, I'm Tom, just a regular Joe, but my real name is Bob". And I get to wear black, my favorite color. Stealthy. And I get to see vajayjay's and boobies while I fertilize the nearby shrubery.

UPDATE: Seems someone beat me to it...just
damn...

My Conversation With...

...with the Neilsen surveyor that called and woke me up from my late morning nap, during which I was licking stuff off a fellow bloggers...well, whatever...

Me: Hello

SexyVoice: yada, yada...do you watch more news, drama or comedy?

Me: All three.

SexyVoice: Sir, that isn't an option. Choose one.

Me: I choose you.

SexyVoice: Sir, I'm sorry, do you watch more news, drama or comedy?

Me: News.

SexyVoice: Thank you sir. We may contact you later if we need further information.

Me: I don't get a prize?

SexyVoice: Not this time, sir. Maybe next time.

Me: Will it include a picture of your titties?

SexyVoice: No sir, it won't.

Me: Your mommas titties?

SexyVoice: buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Some people have no sense of humor.

I Know It's Not Even Halloween Yet...

...but I woke up with a Christmas carol in my head. "Here We Come A Bourboning", or something similiar. I'm not much into holidays anymore.

Nor have I been for quite some time. Some people consider Halloween a holiday. They are dumb fucks. It's just a day as is any other. It just gives them an excuse to dress up stupidly and get drunk. Hell, I do that everyday. All I have to do is look in the mirror and I scare the shit outta myself.

Thanksgiving is no better. It's just good for a four day weekend. My ass ain't heading to Grandma's cause both of them are dead. And how come Grandpa's never got included in that silly ass song? They bought the homes.

But what got me to thinking about Christmas was my chit-chat with the Mombo on Thursday. She asked me what I wanted. I replied as I usually do...NOTHING. Save your money. This year I'm lucky. I don't have to buy expensive jewelry for someone that goes through men like I go through glasses of wine.

But there is one thing I would like. A blowjob. No one in my family is a candidate for that, so I thought I'd sign up for one of those feed the hungry thingy's. Get her over here and tell her she can eat after she eats my gobbler. I love doing God's work. Send her on her way with a full belly, five bucks and the word of the Lord. I do so love Christmas.

I Don't Have My Comments Moderated...

...because I don't have enough readers, so spam is unlikely. But Holy Fuckamoly, everytime I try to post a comment on a blog that does require me to type in those asshat letters, it's as if I've been on mescaline for twelve days. My eyes spin out of their sockets and I get all damp around the armpits and genitals. Is there not a better way to do this? If not, I'm switching to qualudes.

Reading Hammer's Post...

here and then clicking on the link to Novak's post about clowns made me think of a girl I knew in high school. Her dad was a clown on one of the local TV stations. I had a crush on her since our sophmore year but she ran with the good crowd, and since I had given that up we didn't see much of one another. Until our senior year.

We were both on the school paper. I don't remember what she did, but I was the sports editor. Kind of odd for the new hippy to cover sports, but I needed the credits. I was dumb in high school. She was a perky, humorous person. Always laughing. I was the same, but more conscious of things I thought should be changed. I challenged the basketball coach one time for a story I was doing about his effort to integrate more sophomores into his lineup. I thought the varsity should only be for juniors and seniors. He flew off the handle, threw my notebook down the hall and demanded the lady that was in charge of the paper "fire" me. How in the hell does one get fired from a fucking high school class? She offered to yank the story, which they did. So I kinda coasted the rest of the year, not really giving a shit. But about three weeks before the school year ended "C's" best friend let it be known that "C" had a new boyfriend. I was shocked, since I didn't know she was dating anyone. As it turns out, it was my ass she'd set her sights on. Would have been nice if I'd known. She was skinnier than I was, but had a rack that probably made up for a 1/4 of her body weight. We spent the next three weeks together, studying, laughing and wondering about the future. I never saw her again after we graduated. Until I was at the Y one day working out after work and I spotted her doing some lat pulldowns. It had been almost 25 years, but she looked just the same. We both recognized each other, but neither had the gumption to approach. She had a kid in tow, and a young one at that. Figured it must be a second marriage mistake. I stood there for a minute, sitting on the fly machine, starring at her, wondering if I should go over and say hello. She kept glancing over, perhaps beckoning for some contact. I couldn't do it. She looked the same as she did in 25 years earlier. Except her boobs were even bigger. How does that happen? She grabbed the young child by the hand and walked away. I went to the locker room, gathered my shit and headed out to the car. She was about 20 feet ahead of me. I wanted to call out, but my voice remained silent. It always has. I regret that day. But I don't regret high school. Damn, I hated those years. If it hadn't been for the clown post I wouldn't have thought about it. Good riddance.

But if anyone in Charlotte reads this and knows someone whos Dad was a clown at WSOC, tell her to get in touch with me. That would be fun.

The Very Fact That...

the military is trying to silence some milblogs is reprehensible. I'm sure the marines, soldiers and sailors are quite capable of honoring the need to keep their ops quiet. But in what they write is truth, and in that truth is both comfort and anguish for family and friends. I am always angered when higher-ups try to squash something that is good for morale and good for those family members that suffer everyday with the anguish of knowing that they can't get a straight portrayal from the MSM. Buy the book. It's a great read.

I Haven't Had Much...

...of anything lately. And it sucks. Just one of those times. I usually have a brain full of whimsy and fun, and some otherwise profound bullshit. It just left. But I have no idea where to go look for it.

Just Some Thoughts...

...on things that have entered the ole noggin.

• Why do some bloggers threaten to block people from their blog? Some even do so, with a vengeance and delight. Isn't that kinda like a writer telling someone that read their book and didn't like it that they can't read it again? Or an MD telling a patient he doesn't like their high blood pressure so he's banning them from his office. Kinda seems like an ego thing to me.
  
  
• The reasons people give for joining certain sites fascinates me, in so far as you have to believe there are underlying motives. For example, why would someone join MySpace to stay in touch with friends? Doesn't e-mail work anymore? Something is usunder when this happens.
  
  
• It appears more and more parents are taking their babies, I repeat babies, to therapy for symptoms of anxiety and depression. I've seen alot of babies in my day, and never once did they appear anxious or depressed to my ass. They shit alot and required tons of attention, but I thought the parents were the ones that needed therapy. Me thinks the world is spinning on a different axis and no one told me.
  
  
• When someone at work says they have way too much to do, that usually means work is interrupting their porn searches. We had someone like that once. Every staff meeting would end up with him saying it was unlikely the new idea would work because he was very busy. He had a lovely wife with a body to die for. Next day he was let go because they found kiddy porn in his cache. Just a warning.
  
  
• I read alot of blogs. I have never seen nor heard of Madonna sing a song. Never seen an Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt movie. Same for George Clooney. Never saw Jessica Simpson shake her tits, nor Paris Hilton do anything. Same for the Lohan teen. But damned if they don't get more coverage than the war in Iraq. Why do people care about these airheads? Apparently all they ever do is shop, adopt babies, push babies out of their vajayjays or drink. And there are people out there that give a shit?
  
  
• Why is it that meteorologists now have to tell us it's going to be cold? I'm pretty certain that when they say it's going to be 31 I know it will be cold. I don't need directions as to what to do.
  
  
• If you're not a fan of Boston Legal then this won't make much sense to you, but we have Mad Penis. In context, one of the funniest things I've ever heard. Go find it.
  
  
• I so NEED to lick some chocolate and strawberries off some skin.
  
  
  
  

There Are Aliens...

...or evil celestial beings, perhaps even Klingons that have poked holes in my force shield. It took me a long time to build that sonofabitch, too. But they are doing it by trying to tickle my butt.

They entice me with lovely maidens only to shoot their artillery and make my ass pucker up and then explode with a spew of bile from my stupidity. It pains the porcelain. It cries out for a suspension of this evil vile that I subject it to. I cry out in anguish pleading for at least a minor suspension of this onslaught. To no avail, I am riddled relentlessly with the arrows of bad decison. I fear for my ass and my porcelain. They have also feared for their safety and have fled the ship. I am without my captains. The neighbors will not be happy.

I Always Find It Comical...

...when at this point in an election cycle everyone starts talking about the moral highground. Grab the TP cause there's gonna be alot of shit needing to be wiped, mostly from their mouths.

All you have to do is go back a year or so and see what actions all these power hungry, money grubbing morons have engaged in to come to the conclusion that they obviously cut their Ethics 101 class when they were freshman.

And it's not representative of just one party. They all do it. I doubt any of them have a clue as to the true nature of morality. They spew their ethos when they speak, but I'm pretty certain that if you'd asked them if they've read their Plato, Aristotle or Aquinas you'd get that starry eyed look in their eyes that indicated their spouse just discovered them drunk in the coat closet with their hands all over a member of the opposite sex, whom just happened to be their best friend.

One of the greatest ethical thinkers of all time, the venerable Tommy Aquinas, concluded that ethics are a muddled conundrum, but at least he studied them. With these asshats, it's as if their spouses send them to the store for a loaf of bread and they bring home a 20 ounce framing hammer and they proclaim "Look, honey, we can break bread with our moral highground bretheren."

A Weekend Update...

...on life in stupidville.

• Biggest surprise was a visit from the eldest. He came up for the Duke game and stopped by Sunday morning on his way home to spend a few minutes with the 'popz'. Hadn't seen him since May but he looks as good as ever. Even lost a few pounds. Then again, he's always been in shape. It's funny when you have children and don't see them very often. You always have an image in your head of what they look like but your suspicions are never confirmed until you actually do. The hugs are always the same. Guess ya never lose those.
  
  
• I'm generally not one to persue a vendetta, but this time is an exception. That's all I have to say about that.
  
  
• I think it's time for a new direction. I think all people have a hidden side to themselves. They are vaguely aware of it and try to keep it under control, or hidden from others at best. It scares the owner and would most certainly scare others were it to rear its ugly head. But I think that one has to release the hounds every once in awhile just to clear the vermin from the field.
  
  
• Hey people, quit using the word "peruse". Use a synonym or something. Every damned blog you go to uses it. It's become trite. How about the word 'READ'.
  
  
• Someone, I believe it was her opponent, called Hillary Clinton ugly. This is news how?
  
  
• I've always been curious. What's the opposite of mysogynist? Man hater? There's gotta be a better word than that. Ball buster? Nah. Anybody know? I could look it up, but I'm lazy tonight.
  
  
  
  

I Am The Hammers...

...alter ego. All disclaimers apply.

I've talked about wine before. As my grandma used to say, if it comes in a big box, it better be something you wear. Like tennis shoes and such Not wine. I bought a box of wine the other night when I had nothing better to do and wanted to see if it was worthy of my tasty buds. I ended up watching porn on the internet and spanking the monkey into a melon I found in the frig. I put it back. It ended up in my fruit cup for breakfast the next morning.

Don't try to light a fart if you have diarrhea. It gets messy.

If you see Hulk Hogan on your TV, run to church and pray for your soul to be saved from eternal damnation. You have crossed the line.

When you find your Dad's Playboy tucked under the sink in his bathroom, don't spank the monkey onto the models tits and then put it back. It's likely to get his attention.

Don't try to make sushi outta the bass you caught at the lake. It results in bad gastrointestinal outcomes. See farting above.

Spikes are for golf shoes. Not hair. If you must, wear a cleat on your head.

Don't rummage through your sister-in-laws bra drawer. It will depress you.

Your wife will close up the kitty when she finds out you rummaged through said SIL's bra drawer. I told ya.

Ask your best friend if he'd mind if you saw his wife naked. You never liked him that much anyways. You can drink him under the table. He'll ask for a loan. Tell him you'll pick up the tab. then ask about his sister.

UPDATE..

Not my best effort, but it is what it is. But if you can find the one thing that the Hammer does that I copied, you get a prize. Call Ed.

Smokey Robinson...

...and Tears Of A Clown. That song resonated for me when I was in eigth grade. I was naturally funny, not in the contrived or nervous way. It came natural to me. Somewhat impish and self-effacing.

I had the attention of the best looking girl in the class. We laughed and froliced at school and on the phone at night. Then the "star" basketball stud must have showed her his dick, because in a matter of days I was history. He was my best friend. Wasn't after that day. Fortunately there weren't but so many days left in the school year when it happened. It made me rethink how I would act. It followed me for years throughout junior high and high school. The next year in 9th grade we both made the Junior varsity basketball teams at our respective schools and when we played he was getting ready to shoot, and since he was a star on his team and we were getting beaten so badly I was put in for mercy's sake, I undercut him and got thrown out of the game. I picked him up and looked at him and he knew what it was for. Years later I discovered that having some sort of comedic talent gets your ass nailed in all sorts of situations. Some people either like to stifle it or just suck it out of you, for whatever reason. When I took the boys and a few of their friends, the X and my Mom to the beach for a week a few years ago I asked the X, in all honesty, what happened to us. She said I no longer had a sense of humor. I won't go into the details of our lives together, but suffice it to say that I work better alone. If I get involved with someone and they expect all my time and effort for their needs, then that comical part of me goes underground, in deference to the part of me that wants to take care of the other persons needs. It could happen again, but the poison is out, so hopefully it's back to normal. I think I shall do an alter-ego on the Hammer this weekend. I'm looking forward to that.

I Tried Running...

...with the "cool" crowd when I first started high school but it got tiresome so I ended up hanging with the hippies, who were "uncool". Question is, if you were cool are you still cool now? Take the test.

Bond...

...James Bond

You Are a Martini

There's no other way to say it: you're a total lush. You hold your liquor well, and you hold a lot of it!

What Mixed Drink Are You?

There Comes A Time...

...when you have to purge yourself of feelings you have for someone. You can't ever really do it for an X, especially if you have kids, but you can do it for others that have come into your life and have totally taken advantage of you. They linger. Because you filled a void in their lives. But they never take responsibility in any way to admit that their lives are what they are because they can't ever utter the words 'I fucked up'. So they ramble on their way, oblivious to what they have done to themselves and those around them, hoping that the next person will fill that void they so long for. It's all about the moment. This one doesn't fill this need, this one doesn't fill the next need. Fuck that shit. I may not talk to the X anymore, but at least she has dignity. Some people are just clueless as to how their behavior affects people. So let's give a round of applause to all the ladies out there that couldn't give a rat's ass about anything other than themselves. As long as your ass is happy the world spins accordingly. Fuck you.

I Am A Simple...

...minded man. More prone to booger eating than to discussing the relevance of string theory and whether or not it displaces Einstein's model. But when I came across this little noogy I couldn't contain the river of bile that had gotten the green flag to start flooding my intestines in hopes of clearing out the contamination that had turned the whites of my eyes brown.

The most powerfull and complex fighting machine is actually a myth? I remain beleagured yet again as I try to find my place amongst the fuckyins that continue to take up perfectly good space for no apparently good reason.

23 Years Ago Tomorrow...

...numero uno son was born. Since I try not to post during the day I shall wish him Happy Birthday now. Love ya bud.

The birth of both my sons has been the crowning acheivement of a life that has otherwise been somewhat disappointing, through no fault of my own, I should add. Be that as it may, since I'm not into pity parties, I shall proceed. The X went into labor about 5:30 in the morning so I called work and told them of the situation. At 8 AM we made a trip to the OB_GYN and she was about 4 centimeters dilated so they said go ahead to the hospital. Well, lemme tell ya, that was the beginning of a 36 hour marathon. We had originally decided to go with the in vogue Lamaze thing, but after a few meetings we culled that. I definately planned on being in the delivery room, but the X was having nothing to do with that 'natural' shit. She wanted drugs, and plenty of them. And if they'd let her have some chardonnay, well by god that would have been included as well. Things moved slowly, and I mean kinda like Livey's bowels. Initially she would dilate about an 1/8 of a centimeter, then spike up, then go back down. I asked how that was possible, and of course they said they had never seen that before. I could only think to myself 'here we go again with the I've never seen this before' shit. This want on for about 18 hours, during which time we had her twin sister there, her Mom and my folks. Back then you could sit in a small waiting area they had that had drink and snack machines and ASHTRAYS. Yeah baby. Everytime they wanted to send her home the pain would increase so they started her on pain meds and kept working their way up the chain of the 'OH YEAH, more of those, please'. So after about 12 hours of this merry-go-round the troops decided to go home since the X was in a state of drug-induced nirvana. I walked down the street to an all-night diner to grab a beer and a pack of smokes. When I got back things were escalating so they gave her an epidural and a few hours later he popped his head out and said 'GOOD MORNING WORLD'. All total it took 36 hours. Of course everyone immediately came back to the hospital to have a look at the greatest miracle I've ever witnessed. If you've never seen a birth, in person, put it on your calendar. It's amazing. I left about two hours later, worn to the hilt, but prouder than punch. I picked up a six-pack on the way home and sat at the kitchen table contemplating how our lives had suddenly changed for the better. Every year on his birthday we would go to the Ocean Isle. Second time down all we heard was 'More cake please'. Still a picture of that around somewhere.

I think I've been a good Dad over the past 23 years. I hope I have. I will do this again on May 31 of next year when the youngest turns 21.

I love ya son. Have a great B'Day and I'll call ya. So will Mamaw.

Friday Is National Mammogram Day...

...which was introduced in 1993 by Senator Joe Biden. For anyone that has been diagnosed with cancer you know how scary that word is. So use due diligence and go get them mammaries x-rayed. Me thinks it will be crowded at the clinic so I'm offering my services in case you don't want to wait in line. Hey, I'm just trying to do my part.

Just Got A Call...

...from the eldest and he was walking into the Charlotte Bobcats stadium in downtown Charlotte with a $75 ticket to the Eric Clapton concert. That's just too good. Saw him one time way back when. He's looking forward to it. I turned him onto Clapton when he was a teenager. We used to listen to 'My Father's Eye's' when I drove him to the Y in the morning. He saw Toby on Sunday. Ahhhh, the good old days. I wish I had a dollar for everytime I was told I looked like him (Clapton, that is). I'd be there myself tonight.

I Wasn't Going To Post...

...for awhile because I feel myself spinning off into the netherlands where weird bitches and goblins want to castrate me and place my balls in a cornicopia for the holidays. Surrounded by fall leaves that have chiggers on them, which will chew into my scrotum and set up living quarters where they feast on some of my manhood. I'll have to pour motor oil on them like my uncle did when I was young and render me sterile and impotent. Oh, wait, I've already been through that. Anyways, some things got up my ire so I shall render them henceforth because they made me want to shit out my cerebral cortex...

• Some troll looking woman lawyer got sentenced to four years in prison for treason while trying to defend the asshat that tried to blow up the trade center buildings first time around. She should have offered herself up for execution based on the fact that she looks like her parents were some sort of life form we are not familiar with.
  
  
• Some suit held a press confrence late today informing us that this ex-congressman that liked to put his hand down Capital Hill page's briefs and feel for hernias and testicles that hadn't dropped has decided to name the cleric that decided he needed his rectum cleaned with wine and holy water. Of course, as usual, I didn't pay much attention, but I think he said it happened when Foley was a teenager. He's gotta be in his sixties now, so, having had some experience in the catholic church, I know that when I was that age the priests were all in their fifties. So this ass bumping homo priest has got to be dead my know. And if he isn't, he can't possibly do anything to anyone anymore. Just let this shit go.
  
  
• So we've reached 300 million people in the US of A. One woman is claiming her child is the one because he was born at 7:47 AM, or whatever the time was when some yahoos that have nothing better to do decide that's when it should happen. WHO GIVES A SHIT?? Be grateful the fucker came out in one piece. And no prize comes with this event, sugar tits, so just go in the corner and give little Charley the nipples he yearns for.
  
  
• It seems the ladies of hollywood have decided they are more humanitarians than entertainers. So they've decided to go forth and adopt babies from third world countries. It's a race now. If it keeps up with these stellar parents we'll reach 300.5 million people by Christmas.
  
  
• The FDA is now saying that it's OK to eat fish again because the mercury level is not high enough to cause problems. I never worry about it because I have enough of it in my mouth to make a thermometer. And I have an implant in my prosthetic penis that relies on that technology and if I bend my head over the bed the mercury moves and I get a woody. It makes it difficult for sex with the dust bunnies on the floor, but it's science, and that's cool. Some woman they interviewed asked for some 'Monk' fish. Two pounds. She asked if it was fresh. The guy behind the counter jokingly said 'No Ma'am, it's three days old'. Need I say more. He's probably looking for a job, but it was funny as hell to see the look on her face. She had on a trendy hat and coat. I bet she pissed herself before she got home.
  
  
• My upper body has been so sore the past few days and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. It wasn't like I did 200 pushups anywhere along the way. It especially bothered me today when I coughed. Allergies and such. Then I remembered Sunday night. I ate an old Wendy's burger and when I got to the last bite my diaphram locked up. It does that. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that I woke up hungry on Monday. But why does it always take two days for the pain to show up? Nurse, it must be lactic acid or something?
  

That's it. I'm going to go plant myself on the pot and see if I can't get rid of my brain stem. It is serving no useful purpose at the moment. You'll have to enlarge the pic to get the full effect.

This Is My Post...

...today. Sometimes your psyche just shits itself.

I Will Say Nothing...

...other than go here.

I'm LL's...

...alter ego today.

All disclaimers apply.

DAMN. Not a good start to the day. The big monkey was acting all pissy this morning when I woke her up and she refused to get out of bed. I went ahead and cooked breakfast for the little monkey and went and took a shower and then tried to get the little bitch up again. Once she finally dragged her butt out from under the covers and shuffled out to eat I crawled my ass into the shower. I stayed up WAY to late last night looking at some porn and doing some "Tim The Toolman Taylor' work on my itchy-kitty. When I got out I put on my panties and bra and slid into my lowriders. Back into the bathroom to do the face and the little monkey comes crashing through the door because he has to drain the snake. WTF. Knock buddy. With an exasperated look on my face he starts peeing. Then, THEN, when I ask him what he's doing, he turns and pisses all over my right leg. DAMN!!

So Mom calls today and she informs me that she thinks I should give up the bike thing. Not womanly. Time to get a good man. Fuck. When will this woman learn that I am NOT her. I can't even express the outrage I felt from that comment. I ride to feel free. It's not a gender thing. It clears my head. Makes me feel like I'm myself. You think it's easy raising two monkeys? My bike time is mine. And yeah, I think the ex gets it. So shitcan it Mom.


Question Friday
Why do men piss you off so much?

Because, basically, they think with their cocks. I love men, I really do. They excite me. I love feeling them. I love their arms, their abs, their ass. But I'm more than a piece of meat. Treat me like I'm a lover, not a shank of beef hide. So if you need qualification, go here.

I've Never Been...

...an avid Andy Rooney reader. I like him on 60 Minutes and I've read a few of his books, but this is marvelous. Picked it up after stopping at the bank last night. He's in his eighties but still sharp as a tack, and lucid about what happens around him. Not bossy by any stretch of the imagination. And the old bastard can just flat out write. I saw an interview with him one time at his Connecticut home about thirty years ago. He was talking about writing and he had an old typewriter out in his shed where he would, finger by finger, peck out his social venom. He actually started weeping. Now there's a passionate author.

Why Is It...

...that when an ex, whether it be a wife or husband, significant other or casual plaything, invades our consciousness, we always think there is some sort of chance for a new beginning? I heard the X's laugh on the phone last night when I called the eldest. They were celebrating his B'Day at the Melting Pot. Was always one of our favorite place to go. Hearing her laugh brought back many memories. Upon reflection, it never was very good. A good night out doesn't make up for crap. So I wonder about people that try to re-kindle relationships that weren't any good to begin with, thinking that either party has changed enough to make it viable the next time around. Just Friday night thoughts. I'm off to see the wizard.

Class, Just Sit In Your Seats...

...and listen. This woman is a candidate for the Senate from the state of Florida. She determined the outcome for the 2000 Presidential campaign. Well, her and the Supreme Court. She then went and had herself all tupperwared. I still want to have sex with her just so I can see what it's like to be esconced in Saran Wrap. Kinda like a snare drum, I suspect.

But I have fooled you. This isn't about plastic containers or sex. It's about Nietzsche. I hear the drone of suspicion. So shut the hell up before I start beating you down with my ruler.

Nietzsche declared god dead back in the 1800's. Time magazine was a few decades late. Nietzsche espoused narcissism, which declares that if there is no god, then man becomes the ultimate diety, and raw power ensues from that espousal. And from that comes nothing but bad shit.

That's pretty much the way it has worked. But there's a rub in this. I'm not a particularly religious person, but I am spiritual. But I'm not going to make a statement like this lady did, when she said that if you vote democratic you are voting for sin. Hell, I like sin. Makes me feel human. My point here is that you should always be suspect of people, in whatever venue, that proclaim to be 'Christian', because chances are they are wolves in sheep clothing.

I have to run. The've issued a frost warning here and they said you should get your plants in. All I have outside are some towels I washed last night, but I don't want them to die tonight. I am, afterall, well, not much of nothing. But I know bullshit when I see it.

I'm Sure This Gentleman...

...is a good man. He seems to be trying to save Africa from the AIDS virus. So he's launched a chain of red clothing. Red, I guess, meaning 'Danger Will Robinson'. I'm not sure I'd trust someone that wears glasses like that, but what the hell, it must be a fashion statement of some kind. And I hear he's gotten the Oprah ego on board.

It seems the point of the whole project is to get AIDS drugs to Africa so the people engaging in unprotected sex won't die. Hmmm, isn't there a cheaper way to do this without preying upon those of us that know how to keep it in our pants and panties. Condoms, maybe? Education? Aren't AIDS drugs pretty expensive? Wouldn't it be easier to get all the males of the tribe together and tell them that when their weapon starts getting rigid and wants to go to war, just slip this little sheath on it. And when the women folk see said weapon heading their way, just take this pill, or put this jelly in this little plastic thing and run like hell?

But, of course, I'm not a rock star, so who's gonna listen to my ass.

Well, Well...

...lookee here. A visit from the venerable PBS nightly newscast. I'm anticipating a call anyday now to participate in a roundtable discussion about current events and such. I know about roundtables. But this raises issues. I'll have to get a new suit, some new socks. And shoes. Can't forget those. And I wonder if I can have my wine on the set. And my ruddy complexion. Will the makeup babes know that they have to use green blush. I have to go. There's much to do when you're popular.

So I Go To The Bank...

...after work today. It's located in the grocery store. Let me preface this by saying I'm a pretty patient individaul. I realize lines form because of crowds. Now, there are two tellers, both women, and each one has a female customer.

The one on the right is the teller I usually go to. The lady she's doing business with has a hairdo that looks like a sprout of broccoli. Their transaction being finished, the customer continues to ramble on about her hair. And on, and on, and on.

The customer on the left, transaction being finished, starts discussing her fake nails. She changes them everyday to another set. She has a set that looks like this, another that looks like that. She has them for holidays. By now, after ten minutes where I'm the first in line, there are now eight people behind me. Had these airheads been dealing with monies the size of the national debt I would have been alittle more understanding. This was just bullshit talk they were engaging in, with no regard for the people waiting. And to top it off, the customer on the left was wearing a skirt that had a split up the back that went to her waist. Her WAIST, goddammit. I was subjected to looking at her thong string slinking up her fat ass crack for ten minutes.

I finally got the attention of my usual teller by waving my check in the air and we got things rolling. The teller apologized for the delay by saying the customer was just lonely and was looking to talk. Fuck that. Call a 900 hotline. My Mom is 78 years old and she no more wants to talk to a teller than I want to talk to anyone. Get in there and get your business done. I have things to do. Like drink. I don't want people cutting into my drinking time. I wanted to unsheath my small knife I carry and attempt a bowel resection on both of them. And leave the blood for the two men that were soliciting money outside the store for kids with drug problems. Whom, by the way, never asked anyone for money because they were too busy jabbering with each other. Damn women and damn men that act like them.

This Is Our...

...36th President of the USA. This lady was an aide of his when she was in her twenties. She's now a presidential historian of some renown. They used to skinny dip at his ranch in Texas. There were rumors that there was some hanky-panky going on between them. I think there must have been some sort of sexual cellular exchange because she's morphed into him. This kinda stuff scares me. Because there was that one incident with the sheep.

No Friday The 13th...

...stuff here today. But ladies, don't say I don't look out for your sweet asses. And buy the calendar. It's for a worthy cause.

I Was Sitting At My Desk Today...

...thinking about multitasking. I already knew that the human brain is only capable of assimilating but so much information before some of it gets lost in the sodiom discharge of the firing neurons. So I can type, talk on the phone and fart at the same time. That's my limit. When I drive, I can guide the car and smoke. That's it. So when I see women driving, talking on a cell phone and primping their hair, I get nervous. Point? Women are stupid.

The reason I say that is because if something happens they figure some guy will make their fuck up right. So on the way home from work I pull into my left-hand turn lane. It faces North. So we have two through lanes and a left turn lane. To the East we have one through lane and a left turn lane. I learned a long time ago to keep a car's length between myself and the person in front of me. So some ditz from the East bound left-hand turn lane plows head on into the lead car in the North bound left-hand turn lane as she makes the turn to head South. BOOM. Air bags going off. Cars crashing back my way. And what do I see flying out of the bitches hand? A cell phone. I grab my sawed off shovel handle I carry in my truck in case a window needs to be broken out. Woman driving is freaking. Guy in the lead car is in shock. And I'm fucked. Guy in the next car calls 911, and we stay parked there for almost two hours.

The lady's excuse? I never saw him. DUH!! Your brain isn't capable of doing that. Drive a car or stay at home in the kitchen and talk. Don't inflict yourself on the rest of us.

I Have A Hard Time...

...blogging. This woman apparently does not. She has four or five, I can't remember. Just scroll to the bottom of the profile and chose one. I like turning people onto blogs that they may not have seen or read. This lady is prolific. She will bear my children. Via internet insemination. I'm storing up my swimmies as I write. They have donned their trunks and are ready for the mission. I have a therma-pak covering my loins to ensure optimal temperature. I so love technology.

I Come Across This...

... every few years in the course of my bouncing around the interweb. I don't pay much attention to it because I kinda like having a BP of 175/140. And what man doesn't want some noxious stuff floating around in his body.

I Need A Blogger Guru...

...that knows something about Archives. Mine show up in a regular HTML page rather than within the template. LL and I have been through all the code and there is no reason we can see why this would be happening. And we're pretty good at this stuff. Any ideas? Not that it's a big deal. Just looking for consistency. The current month works fine. The others don't. Any help appreciated.

LL Brings Up An...

...an interesting point in this post. She's worried that her bosses cocks have been in a strippers ass. I can't comment on that, since mine comes out of the cave only for bathroom duty. Her main concern is twofold; 1)it's a communal bathroom and 2)why don't the menfolk wash their appendages.

Let me address these issues. I think we have all had to deal with the communal restroom. I particularly like the trough urinal. It's manly. None of this hiding behind a divider. Whoop that bad boy out and let the others fall to their knees in reverence. And if that thing has visited sanctoms unbeknownst to us, then we should lay prostrate.

And I have seen many a pisser leave without the slightest hint of washing off any dribble from the slinky. This doesn't surprise me when you think about it. Women don't have to hold anything in their hands when they tinky. They might get a little wet from the wipe, but that's about it. But their dominant hand was still in very close proximity of their nether regions. If she has some weird ass STD or crabs or the like, there's a chance there's some type of biologically destructive material left on their hand. Same for men. The shake that sucker for a few seconds and then stuff it back into the alcove. In either case, whether it's the result of going #1 or #2, there is going to be some touching of some clothing. Which means it's on their clothes. Even worse, as LL wants, there should be some hand washing afterwards. But aren't most people going to use the very hand they just did the deed with to dispense the soap? So aren't any germs they have on their hand going to be transferred to the dispenser? I'm just asking. Which is why I never wash my hands in the head. I wait until I get back to the office kitchen. I'm a compassionate person and if I'm going to pass along some e-coli or something I don't want it to be to a perfect stranger. I want to do in someone I don't like. As in my co-workers.

So The Overpayed Athlete...

...had some expendable income. So he buys a plane and in his overpriced, infinite, wisdom, decides to fly down the streets of New York City. How did that little venture turn out for you? Needless to say, none too well.

I may appear to be overly unsympathetic, but what numnuts in their right mind, given what happened on 9/11, goes flying down the streets of NYC? Granted, there could have been a mechanical failure, which is the only explanation I can think of. Either way, just goes to prove that having alot of money doesn't make you the sharpest knife in the drawer.

And to add to the misery, I have to sit here and watch this drivel be covered ad nauseum. And listen to the politicos pat themselves on the back on how well their anti-terror proceedures worked. Now I've seen the footage of this so called 'disaster' and when I heard one woman describe it as bad as 9/11 I just went to the loo and gave myself an enema. Because if I have to watch shit, it's gonna be mine.

I'm Being Stalked...

...by two ISP's. At least three or four times a day. I've called out the generals and the nuclear retailiatory forces. I'm hunkering down. Details later.

I Love Words...

...and phrases, and I have a fairly good grasp on a modicum of them. But some of the new phrases popping up on blogs has me twiddling my thumbs.

One I found has me particularly bemused. 'Inappropriately partnered.' I take that to mean it's not a good thing. But I'm not sure why. You obviously were appropriately partnered at some time. Otherwise the word partner wouldn't apply. So something else happened along the way. Maybe bad partner pants. Or bad partner food. Or you had good partner sex one night and the next you walked in and found said partner having good partner sex with the partner you weren't aware of. In my simple mind, which likes to break things down to the barest of levels, I'd just say we fucked up along the way. But that's just me.

And The Ruskies Continue...

...to wack off their journalists.
Now I admit I can think of a few here in the US that should befall this fate, but damn, killing them seems off the hook. Couldn't ya just impound their computer or chop off their thumbs so they can't hit the spacebar quite as easily.

I Read Alot...

...of blogs. Not just the ones on my bloglist, but others as well. Mostly to find out what's really happening in the world. There's a plethora of knowledge out there if ya know where to look. I feel an obligation to keep myself informed on as many things as I can. As most know, I have a nephew in Iraq. I want to know what's really happening over there, not just what I see in the crawls at night. I have prostate cancer. Did you know there are 35 strains of this type of cancer? And the type you have determines your outcome. You won't get that on the nightly news.

Now what really pisses me off with the MSM is that they have all these high falutin guests on their shows and as soon as they ask a question of said guest the next word out of their mouths is either "Wait", or "That's not right", or "You mean to say", when the poor mutherfucker hasn't even had a chance to say ANYTHING! They talk at such a frenetic pace and interrupt so often that when it's all said and done, you haven't gotten a damned thing out of the whole interview.

And now we have them drumming up this thing with the North Koreans. Who's to blame, Who's to blame? Which president is responsible for this outrage? Who gives a shit. Solve the problem. I'm going to go crawl in my tanning bed and get roasted. I want to do a test run, and it works better with wine.

Just Some More Liberal...

...bullshit coming down the pike. More and more schools are banning halloween and christmas celebrations and instead opting for 'fall festivals' and 'winter festivals'. Holy Fuckamoly!!

I did the trick-or-treat thing my whole prepubescent and adolescent life and all it did was teach me how to roll a tree and throw an egg. We're raising a generation of panty wearing pussies. Speaking of which, when's the last time you saw a huge oak with 50 rolls of TP spewn throughout it? Been years for me. In my day if it happened to you it was a badge of honor. I guess now you can get your ass arrested for it. Ahhh, the good ole days. When men were men and women were objects of sexual exploitation. Just Damn.