Ahhh...The Good Old Narcissistic Persona...

...is alive and well. And traveling down the lonesome road. But dead, in some instances.

Friday bullets early...

• Seems the self absorbed Ms. Smith has bitten the big one. Good riddance.
  
  
• If you say you're going to end a discussion and quit talking about it, and then talk about it on your blog, what's the point? You write, I will respond. If you pontificate about how life should be, I will tell you it ain't so. You call me childish for whatever reason, I will counter with you are even more so because you are the child on the playground that spews you either play by my rules or you don't play at all. So easily pegged. Before you try to become the teacher, try to get out of first grade.
  
  
• So they have relieved the diaper astronut of flight duty. What a fucking surprise. Should have done it years ago. Women weren't meant to be in space. They think the world revolves around them. Hardly good for space navigation.
  
  
• I love being called a misogynist. Gives me warm snugglies. Hard to be declared that if you haven't met me, but what the hell. It's a good word. We can educate the blogosphere with something other than "peruse".
  

Soooo, The Big-Breasted Weather Babe...

...was standing in front of her fake map this morning, shaking her sultry titties and ass and telling me of my impending doom if I were to risk driving. It was all a ruse, I'm sure, as I knew she was enticing me to dive through the TV screen to suckle on her pokie nipples.

Alas, I had coffee to drink and my mortality to ponder. The first got shitcanned when I realized I had no beans. The second was more than I could handle for such an early time of day, so I went and got the pet and tried to relax before I made such a fateful decision. After some calls to the gods to save me from total demise at the hands of heavy metal and icy roads, and some hot monkey sex, I sent myself out into the wilderness, as did the Baptist, to purge my soul of its demons and make myself pure as the driven snow.

Of course, being the prayerful man I am, I raised my arms heavenwards and beseached the almighty for the scourge to end. As usual, it took his ass about 8 hours to consider it. But what the hell. My supplication was answered and I am now at home in the bosom of my surroundings, nonetheless for wear.

So, hot weather babe, show me your tits, because you sure didn't show me any weather.

The Weather Folks Are Calling For...

...another round of winter weather here for tomorrow.

It's supposed to start out as snow and then change to freezing rain. I'll determine my travel plans to and from work in the AM. Of course, these masters of meteorology can never be "specific". Which just befuckles my ass because they have all these technological instruments at their disposal, but it seems they can't make very good use of them. Maybe I'll be spending the night at work or maybe a Comfort Inn or some such. Work doesn't serve alcohol, so it's a likely guess I will risk life and limb to find some place close to work, since it's going to be worse in my neck of the woods.

I'll deal. What throws my ass into a fit of angry, gaseous rage is the amount of people that converge on the market to get "staples" to get them through the onslaught. Gallons of water, tons of bread; you know the scenario. I had to go tonight to cash my check. Bejesus, the lines were ten deep. I was out of wine so I had to get that and some tostitos and cheese sauce. Those are staples. No water, no beans, no TP, no fried chicken, no dog food, no bread, no bologna. I'm keepin' it real. If my ass is stuck in the house I'm gonna pleasure my palette and my grief-stricken liver. If I run out of TP I'll run outside and grab a leaf or two. Three if I drink too much. I'll update tomorrow.