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December, 2008 Anti-Person PersonI have come to accept the fact that I am an anti-person person. I was born this way, like I hear gay people are.
My parents claim that my hatred for mankind began way back in babyhood, when people would try to touch me or pinch my cheeks. They say I would put out a scream and punch that rivaled Bruce Lee. I can vaguely remember hating people as a child, although not quite to the scale I do now.
I estimate that, of all the humans I've been in contact with to date, I only like about 3%. This is a terrible, terrible statistic seeing that alot of my job is dealing with other humans.
Someone asked me the other day if I liked this girl I work with. My instinct was to immediately say no, but I refrained. I got to thinking that she, along with the other 97% of people I have known are probably decent, law-abiding, perfectly acceptable human beings. People most likely love them, and even like them for that matter. They probably have friends and when they walk in a room people say, "Oh yay, so and so is here!". People like them.
I just don't.
That's when it hit me that the personality flaw lies within myself, not those other annoying mother fuckers.
This was a startling discovery! It's not everyone else who sucks! It's me! This really made me feel good, and gave me hope for the future. Before everything seemed so hopeless. I thought every earthling pretty much sucked. Now I realize that it's probably the 3%, myself included, that suck instead of the 97%. This number is much more manageable in terms of the world being worth living in. This is exciting news!
I know you probably thought you would go all day long with no good news. It turns out I'm good for something after all. November, 2008 Weekly HorrorscopeAries (March 21-April 20)
If you leave the house this week you will die. Seriously. Ok. You can't believe what horoscopes tell you, but you will die if you leave the house. Not really. REALLY.
Taurus (April 21-May 21)
Thanksgiving is quickly approaching, but your whole family hates you. Even the people at Luby's don't want you over. On a brighter note, at least you aren't an Aries.
Gemini (May 22-June 21)
God hates Geminis. That's why your life sucks. Satan is a Gemini. Maybe you and Satan, aka your other personality, can get a bite to eat and talk about how much you suck.
Cancer (June 22-July 22)
If the zodiac had a runt it would be you. And not the kind where everybody says, oh wow he's so great can you believe he was the runt of the litter? No. More like, Jimmy, leave Cancer alone, he's not right, he's the runt of the litter you know.
Leo (July 23-August 21)
You are just a run of the mill, standard bad person. Nothing good will happen to you this week or ever again. You should go out with Aries this week.
Virgo (August 22-September 23)
You're going straight to hell. Maybe not this week, but you're going.
Libra (September 24-October 23)
Your partner is cheating on you mainly because they never really loved you. What else....oh yeah. You were the reason your parents got divorced.
Scorpio (October 24-November 22)
Some people were born to be world leaders, others were born to be doctors and missionaries. No less important is the stalker, for which you were born to be. This week, own it.
Sagittarius (November 23-December 22)
Not just anyone can be as worthless as you. It takes real skill and inate depravity to reach the bottom of the barrel as you have. This week, take the family for an informative tour of your meth lab.
Capricorn (December 23-January 20)
You know what they say. Capricorns are the most unwanted sign of the zodiac. Who is they, you ask? Your mom.
Aquarius (January 21-February 19)
God is recalling all Aquarius'. It seems He forgot to put a soul in you guys. Hurry and do wrong stuff this week so it can't count against you.
Pisces (February 20-March 20)
Yes Pat, I'd like to buy a vowel please. F_CK_N P_SSY.
Thanks.I realized something interesting today at work.
Let me first start by saying that I work with almost 60 men and only 5 women. I don't have to tell you that the language can get pretty rough with a bunch of men around. It doesn't bother me, and good thing, because they don't censor themselves. My first two weeks on the job I got mooned and got the goat. For those of you who don't know what the goat is, you're a better person for it.
Anyway, this morning alone I heard:
"Suck it"
"Eat my balls"
"Mmm I like fish tacos - extra tartar sauce please"
"Blow me f*ck face"
Quality communication.
Then in came the snack guy. He handed me an invoice to sign and said these magical words along with an uncomfortable wink and nod: "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but you sure are pretty."
Disrespectful? Hell, I've seen more sets of balls in this place than I can even begin to block out. And then I wondered, have I gotten so immune to depravity that a little mild sexual harrassment seems like chivalry?
Yes.
"Thanks" I told him. And I meant it. November, 2008 Name this mental disorderI work with a creature I believe to be a psychopath.
However.
Being the logical, fairminded individual that I am, I am inclined to collect opinions from others in order to ensure my diagnosis is correct. That being said, please correct me if necessary, based on the following field data collected observing this creature:
EXHIBIT A: THE LAUGH
It is blonde and I do my best not to provoke it. By provoke, I mean say anything that the creature could construe as remotely funny.
It laughs at inappropriate times. By laugh, I mean it makes a noise something like a cross between the scream of a wild panther cat and the blow of an air horn.
For example:
It says: "Here is your folder" and "laughs". This "laugh" can and will melt your face off. And even though there is nothing funny about "here is your folder", it laughs wildly as if nothing has ever been funnier in the history of the world. I have dissected the phrase "here is your folder" and examined it from every angle. It was a standard manila folder with no special hilarious features - Benny Hill had not taken up residence in the folder. It merely contained timesheets. Nothing funny there.
Upon further observation, I find that the creature exhibits this same behavior after saying things such as, "I'll see you tomorrow" , "Going out to lunch?" , or any other standard small talk phrase that you can imagine. But it gets much worse.
EXHIBIT B: THE BIG EYE / LAUGH COMBO
Its eyes grow simultaneously with the volume of the "laughter". Hence, the louder the laugh gets, the bigger the eyes get. This is very scary indeed, for it is not known what amount of pressure its eyeballs can withstand before shooting right out of its head and taking someone else's eye out. It is recommended that one use proper PPE when in this situation. But it gets worse.
EXHIBIT C: THE BIG EYE / LAUGH / INVADE PERSONAL BUBBLE SUPER COMBO
Only seasoned veterans accustomed to its behavior can survive this super combo. This is the equivalent of pouring muratic acid on a snail. It is nothing to f*ck with, people. I have seen grown men sizzle into small puddles of crispy burnt human residue, unable to withstand the super combo.
What happens is the louder it laughs, and the bigger its eyes get, the closer its face gets to yours. A tree in the anus could not be more uncomfortable. In fact, it may indeed be a welcome alternative. Furthermore, it does not blink. Its unblinking big eyes stare four inches from your face whilst the "laugh" blows your face and hair back, much like that of skydiving.
I have survived much the same way as Arnold Schwarzenegger did in Predator. Upon hearing its little size 6's thumping there way over to my desk, I slather myself in mud and remain very very still. It looks closely, its tentacles searching restlessly for signs of life - it knows it is being deceived in some way, but its alien-like senses are no match for my cunning.
____________________________________________________
I have been fortunate enough to survive living amongst the creature and document its behavior, although I must say I have wept quietly at night, wondering why God could not have sent the demon from "The Grudge" to live in my bathtub instead. But we cannot dictate the hand of God. I have accepted the fact that it is my duty to educate others in the hopes that they too may live to tell of their harrowing experiences.
There are many more than three exhibits. I thought I would begin slowly, as to not overwhelm right away. It is alot to take. What I need are others like me, who have come face to face with a creature such as this and lived to tell about it. My question is, IS THERE A NAME FOR THIS? I look forward to examining your casework.
Thank you all, and be safe out there.
January, 2007 The perfect jobJust a little while ago, while searching through the paper for a decent part time job, I wondered to myself what the perfect job for me would be. *Update* I quit my job. So anyhow, not that I would be so lucky to get the perfect job for me, but if I did, what would it be?
A thought immediately came to my head, almost with no hesitation. I looked to my boyfriend, who was actually doing the job searching for me, and declared "Why can't I just get paid to pet kitties all day? 20 dollars an hour to pet kitties all day."
He smiled and replied, "Why would you do that when there's a job listed right here cutting the heads off live turkeys". He then informed me that live turkey killers were required to take counseling every three months, which I did not know. Very interesting I thought, being that all they do is kill day in and day out. I guess that would take its toll on a person. Can you imagine that particular counseling session? Hilarious. Some poor bastard is thinking, "Geez, and I thought this was the perfect job for me. How could I have ever gotten sick of this? Where did it all go wrong?!"
Ok wow I'm off the subject.
Anyway, I did bask in the kitty petting thought for a moment just to amuse myself. But then another thought occurred to me. Wouldn't even the perfect job get ho-hum after awhile? I imagine in the business of petting kitties there are quite alot of politics involved. Just imagine.....
Diary
Week 1
Wow! This is the best job ever! I am the luckiest girl alive! I can't believe they pay me 20 dollars an hour to pet these precious angels! They are so adorable. So beautiful. I could never ask for more. I will retire from here. I'm setting my 401k up today! I'm so excited. All the cats love me, and I love them. My life is so perfect.
Week 2
What a great job. I really can't believe my luck. I'm getting to know all the cats better, what they do and don't like, whose stomach you can touch and who will rip your arm off. You know, it's a learning experience for sure. But lucky me, this is great! My paycheck was amazing. They don't provide Neosporan here, but God knows I get paid enough, I'll just drop by Walmart on my way home.
Week 3
I'm so happy. Really I am. Yep. Love this place. Having some issues with this cat named Oscar, but otherwise things are going fairly well. Apparently I'm showing favoritism, or so they alleged in my review. I don't see it, but whatever. I like them all the same, and I'm sure I show no preference whatsoever. But I will just have to be more careful of it is all. Just a bad week, things will be better I'm sure. How can they not be? I have the perfect job.
Week 4
Going great still. Can an online diary get me in trouble at work? Just asking, because I'm needing to vent. That little bastard Oscar set me up. He's turned half the cats against me, and the other ones are wondering if they can trust me. I can feel it. Oscar is saying that I'm spreading ringworm, so nobody wants to come near me. I'm sure I got it from him the first week anyway. He's a nasty little man, I know that's where it came from. My insurance hasn't kicked in, so I spent $200 at the doctor trying to get this stuff cleared up. Oh, and they're docking my pay to get all the cats treated. I think it's bullshit, but this is still one of the best jobs I've ever had. Maybe if I just reach out to Oscar we can clear this whole mess up.
Week 5
Turns out Oscar's a real piece of shit. I'll tell you that much. I need a f*cking raise for all this shit I'm putting up with. I'm down to 3 cats who like me, probably only because none of the other cats like them. But it's a blessing to know who my true friends are. I'm sure Tripod, the three legged one, is my BFF to the end. We're tight. I know I shouldn't complain. No job is perfect. I'll hang in there and everything will be better! I just know it!
Week 6
F*ck this place!!! F*ck Oscar, and all the rest of the little bastards! I did not, I REPEAT DID NOT, sh*t in the litter box as accused. I know it was a big turd, but Oscars a fat ass! That thing could have come out of him. And just why would I do that anyway? Management doesn't believe me. They've installed cameras, and are saying they are monitoring alleged 'abuses'. What?! So I'm on a 90 day probation period now. They say there must be something truthful in it all with it being 30 against one. I hate them all. I would quit, but my lawyer says that would be almost like an admission of guilt. And no thanks to Tripod either. The little Benedict Arnold just licked his ass when they asked if anyone would speak on my behalf. God give me strength.
Six weeks later.....
I know it's been awhile since my last entry. I just came out of the coma, and I'm encouraged by the fact that I still have my writing arm. I don't remember much of the attack, but I hear the video has hit the internet. Friends and family insist I don't want to see it.
Apparently it all started when I slid on some cat food, and once I was down they made their move. I'm told I'll need skin graphs for the flesh on my thigh that was eaten away, but it will probably never look normal. I'm not much for shorts anyhow.
I guess I should be happy justice has finally been served. All the accused were sent to the animal shelter to be euthanized. Apparently once they get the taste of human flesh they can never be rehabilitated. They've informed me that I can sit in for Oscar's execution if I'm well enough. Do they sell popcorn at those events?
Being the optimist I am, the lawsuit will provide for me the rest of my life. And isn't the perfect job really being able to stay home? I'm so excited. I just know everything will be perfect! I get to watch soaps all day, and just do any darn thing I want. Now that, my friends is the perfect job. You'll see.
P.S. Oh, and I'm getting a dog!!! Turns out the government provides dogs for those with disabilities such as mine. He is going to pull me all over town on that skateboard the hospital issued me. We're going to be best friends!
I'm really sleepy right now. I know tomorrow when I read this I'm going to think I'm an idiot. Goodnite all.
January, 2007 Dr. Laura. What a COW.The other day I'm driving down the road and came across Dr. Laura's show on the radio. For those of you who don't know who she is, she's a self rightious psycho freak bitch with no detectable traces of human decency whatsoever.
I hate stumbling onto her program. I want to reach through the radio and bitch slap that woman. She is the most awful cruel piece of garbage since Hitler. So anyway, I'm listening to the program, and this woman calls. She says, "Yes, when I was a child I was molested and I'm having a hard time getting over it." Personally I think that's a valid thing to call about. I guess Dr. Satan didn't, because she immediately snapped, "Oh...BOOHOO! I'm gonna blame everything in my life on the fact that I was molested as a child! Give me a break. I can't help you. You don't wanna be helped."
Uh. What? YOU FREAK SLUT!!!
If you have not had the opportunity to listen to her program, here's a mock program I've created so that, number one, you get the picture, and number 2, you don't have to listen to the slut banshees voice. But this is enough information to know when you've come across Lucifer's program so you may immediately turn the station. As always, you're welcome. Doing this public service is a thankless job, but I will continue to do my duty in saving the world.
Dr. Laura: Next caller, what can I do for you?
Caller: Well, I'm having this problem with my husband...
Dr. Laura: Hold on now caller. Let's address the most obvious issue. It's 2 in afternoon. What are you doing home?
Caller: Well, my husband ran over me and my leg is broken and...
Dr. Laura: So let me get this straight. You don't work. You lay around the house and expect the head of your household to afford you respect?
Caller: Um....no...I....
Dr. Laura: You're obviously a hypocondriac. I once broke a leg and ran a marathon the next day, and won might I add. You obviously don't have remorse in your heart for the stress you've voluntarily placed on your husband, so how am I supposed to help you ma'am?
Caller: Well I...
Dr. Laura: And tell me caller. Does your husband also have the misfortune of having children with you?
Caller: We had two...he killed them...
Dr. Laura: How long do you plan on feeling sorry for yourself? I can't do a thing for you as long as you continue to wallow in self pity.
Caller: I'm not...
Dr. Laura: Ah...and denial at that. Look caller, when you grow up, feel free to call back and give us an update on your life. Until then, I can't help you. There's nothing I can do for you as long as you continue on this self destructive path of blaming others and taking no responsibility for the mess you're in.
Caller: Ppp...please....he's choking me...9...1...1....
Dr. Laura: Perhaps he's trying to assist you in vomitting, because my guess is you're probably fat and don't care about taking care of yourself and looking fresh and presentable for your husband anymore. Try to look at things from his standpoint for a change. I can see his frustration. You're obviously very selfish an self centered, and talking to you in a logical manner doesn't seem to get through either.
Caller: I...*gurgle*....*thump*...
Dr. Laura: Wow! Now see listeners, this is what I'm talking about. The woman has the audacity to hang up on me because she can't handle the truth. I'll just never understand these callers. Good luck to that husband of hers and the burden he has to bear. Next caller.
Well there you have it. A realistic reenactment of a Satanic whore they call a therapist. Callers beware.
December, 2006 Lights OutWell I guess by now you've all heard the news of Saddam's recent expiration. I came in at 4:30 this morning to the news from a very tickled and right ring father. I knew it was coming, but still I found myself in complete shock. I found myself with mixed feelings about the whole execution.
My first issue is this: Why do they have to kill all the interesting people? Now what are we gonna talk about? All this does is put the focus back on Osama and how we haven't found him yet. Not nearly as interesting to me as having an already found evil dictator and holding him captive. What a great story that is. Why ruin a good thing is what I say.
My other issue is of more practical matters. Personally, I think his death only martyrs him and creates new violence. With the financial strain the war has created in not only this country but several others, why not use Saddam as a money making enterprise instead? All along I've thought we should have put him in a cage and charged admission to see him. You could charge 1000 dollars a head, which people would certainly pay, and help rebuild with the proceeds. Maybe only a dent in the overall debt, but a dent no less.
I must say, he was dressed quite nice for his hanging. Again, am I wrong, but what a waste of a good suit. So many things here just aren't right. I mean, he wears this expensive nice suit, but doesn't bother to trim his beard or mustach. I personally don't understand the reasoning, but whatever.
And did you hear his last words? "God is great and Palestine is Arab."
Huh?
I'd be saying, "Criss Angel, if you're listening, from one evil bastard to another, I'll give you all my daughters if you just wiggle your nose!"
Anyway, all jokes aside, Saddam is dead. Ok so anyway, I'm a little hungry. Catch ya later. December, 2006 Never Kill Yourself on an Empty Stomach.With the holiday season at hand and families joining together to celebrate all the love they have for one another, I think suicide is an important issue to discuss today. Holidays tend to bring out the worst in people. It's a proven fact that suicides and violent crimes increase during this time of year. A damn shame really, because it ruins Christmas for everybody else. Who wants to be reminded of the dead guy every time they see a pine tree?
I got to thinking, when I am hungry I tend to get kinda mean. Ok, I'll be honest - I'm a big bitch when I'm hungry. Angry thoughts go through my head, but once I've eaten, the beast in me subsides and I'm back to being a precious angel all over again. So I'm sitting thinking, you know - everything looks better after a double bacon cheeseburger. Life before the cheeseburger may have sucked, but in my personal experience, a cheeseburger has never made anything worse.
I wonder if before these people chose to blow their head off, if they might consider a bite to eat first. After all, what can it hurt? If after a big slice of pepporoni pizza you still want to kill yourself, then by all means carry on. I just think all bases should be covered before such a decision is made.
Another important point to cover is this: If you are the guy who just ordered the pizza, ate, and still killed yourself, have the decency to put the remaining pizza in the refrigerator for grieving family members, you selfish bastard.
I think all the times I've acted irrationally, hunger was to blame. Because Lord knows I am not capable of such behavior without a reason. I think if potential suicided victims ( why do they call them suicide victims? ) would just eat first, we'd see alot fewer dead people. And most the time it's a stupid reason anyway. Like Melissa ran off with some other guy or something stupid like that. There are 900 chicks better than Melissa buddy. But you can't meet them if you're dead, now can you?
The moral of this story is, please never kill yourself on an empty stomach. If you don't see anything in the pantry that you want, or if you don't feel like cooking, reach out to someone and say "Hey, I'm thinking about killing myself in a minute. A cheeseburger might change my mind. Can you spare a buck?" I promise you, no one can say no to that, and if they do, rest assured you will see them in hell someday.
Have a good day and God bless! December, 2006 It's Aliiive...Well let's see...where to begin. Well as you guys know I've been in school, which keeps me really busy and unfortunately, away from the computer. I really expected to have alot of material to write about from school, but turns out not so much. But I would appreciate a standing ovation for my A in math. Yes yes, thank you thank you. I will be signing autographs at the door.
I did go on a date awhile back. There was no second date. The record screeched and halted when he stated..."It's a hard lesson, but I know that no means no. Period. That's what I learned in that class they made me take." Hm. How exactly does one go about continuing to behave normally after that? All I could come up with was, "I sincerely hope you made an A".
I had a very terrifying dream the other night. I was sitting on the toilet, and the stalls were divided by curtains. Suddenly, this old lady on the pot next to me flings my curtain open and stares at me. I scream, jump up and ask her, "What the hell is wrong with you lady?!" She looks me dead in the eye and says "Menopause I guess".
Holy shit...was this dream a sign? Afterall, I have been uncharacteristically hot lately. I woke up right as she said those words and immediately looked in the mirror. I was happy to see I was still 33. Perhaps a premenopausal 33, but 33 no less. I just hate dreams like that. I always have weird ass things like that, as I'm sure you all do. For once, I'd just like to have a nice sex dream. Is that so much to ask? I never get those! Watch, I'll have one tonight. It'll be me and the old lady.
Which reminds me, an old lady hit on me at work the other night. She was a truck driver. She was a hefty little mama too. She told me in her gruffest voice, "Giiirrlllll, where you been all my life! HEH HEH HEHHHHEEE!" It was truly mortifying. What was worse though, is that all the regulars were there at that time, so I am yet to live it down.
Working at the bar is fun. Actually, entirely more fun than hanging out there. Plus, I can drink for next to nothing and get paid. What a deal. But you sure do run across some interesting people, and by interesting I mean fucking weird. But I'll save that for my next blog or two so I don't waste all my energy on this one and not blog for another month!
Ok then, see you tomorrow! December, 2006 My peeps, I missed youWell hello there all you beautiful people!!!
It's been a crazy last couple months. Sorry I haven't updated a little more regularly. I suck, I know.
But I have finals tomorrow and then I'm off for a month! School has been really fun so far, and really hard too. I found that math makes me want to hurl my body into oncoming traffic. But that's just me. Some people prefer drowning, others burning alive. It's a personal preference really.
Aside from school life's been weird. I'm working at a bar now, which is very interesting. May I just say I love truck drivers, not only for their animalistic allure, but also for the hellacious tips they leave.
Thanksgiving was fun. My sister and her kids came from Denton. Food was great. Dad decided to go shoot at our new neighbors dog with his pistol. Yeah. Good way to make friends and influence people. Hoping Christmas will be as eventful.
It's just been a really really busy couple of months, but now I will have absolutely no reason not to keep up with this blog and have an opportunity to check out all I missed on you guys' spaces!
Thanks for the email Russ, you inspired me! I will be back Wednesday! Love ya! October, 2006 Your Halloween ForecastAries- March 21-April 20
Trick or treat shithead. Turn your porch light off, lay your fat ass on the couch, and stuff down as many Reese's peanut butter cups as possible to ease the pain of being such a pathetic freak.
Taurus- April 21-May 21
Good news this Halloween! You won't have to go through the irritation of dressing up this year because you've gained 30 pounds and could only fit into a hippo suit. And hippos aren't in this year. Maybe you could join Aries and cry over some Snickers.
Gemini- May 22-June 21
Superman costumes are super popular this year, and I hear they are now equipped with the ability to actually fly!. My suggestion for a fun and festive Halloween is to rent one and go jump off a building! Let us know how it turns out!
Cancer- June 22-July22
Remember when you were little, dressed as that little ghost with the sheet your mom had spent so many hours tailoring just for you? And remember how you went to school and all the kids laughed at you about your gay ghost suit? And they pulled the sheet off and you had peed your pants? Ok. Just making sure you remembered.
Leo- July 23-August 21
This year at the company party, try wearing a costume before you get drunk and do the Tootsie Roll on the boss's desk. And just a friendly reminder, no one likes you, so utilize your Halloween costume to the fullest by changing your personality as well to ensure you won't be recognized.
Virgo- August 22-September 23
Watch who your criticize this Halloween. You probably already have several death threats, and telling Jason his mask is crooked and his knife is all wrong could leave you with some very untidy and well deserved blood stains. Shut the fuck up.
Libra- September 24-October 23
Take off a day from being a whore, and perhaps dress up as Sponge Bob or something. You can resume your hooker activities tomorrow. Stay away from little children and farm animals to ensure success.
Scorpio- October 24-November 22
You will surely be safe this Halloween, seeing as you can't join in the festivities from prison. We understand why you poisoned the candy. The little bastards probably deserved it. Cheer up.
Sagittarius- November 23-December 22
You really aren't a very good person, so chances are you didn't get invited to a Halloween party. That's about it.
Capricorn- December 23-Januray 20
Nothing much on the Halloween front this year for you, but rumor has it God is discontinuing Capricorns from this point on. Apparently you are that bad. Ok. Well have a great Halloween then.
Aquarius- Januray 21- February 19
Forget about Greenpeace and PETA for a night. Get drunk, wear a fur coat, and club a seal. Live a little. Or better yet, club a trick-or-treater and take their candy. Resume tree hugging tomorrow.
Pisces- February 20- March 20
You're really boring so it's terribly hard coming up with even the most treacherous horoscope other than, in the future you will stay boring and still be a big fat pushover who gives everyone your last donut and ends up getting laughed at basically forever. Ok, well be sure to wear your reflectors and look both ways before crossing the street.
I hope you all have a very Happy and Safe Halloween! God bless!
October, 2006 So...So I'm going through my mail earlier, catching up on all I missed, when I came across an email from "Birdhurd", or Birdturd as I so affecionately refer to him. He's a disgusting Eagles fan of the worst kind. One of those who likes to smoosh it in a Cowboy fans face, which of course I would never ever do. Because it's just fundamentally wrong. And he will probably go to hell for it.
Anyhow. I wear a size 34 D bra. This is critical information you will need to retain for later in the story.
So I'm watching the Dallas-Eagles game Sunday. This matchup is never never never beneficial for Dallas. I want to come through the screen and beat them with dead chickens and kick them all in the shin. It's a very stressful thing to watch this matchup. I find myself having angry thoughts, and I imagine if they did some research they would find this is when most of the crimes happen, after a game like this. It's enough to make somebody snap.
So anyway, I don't have to tell you Dallas lost. Because this is what they do. If Dallas was a man, I am positive he would have a mullet and a barbeque stained wifebeater. He would probably work at the Piggly Wiggly.
No matter. I'm faithful to my....team. Eh hem.
But I did come to a realization while watching this game. Besides the fact that Bill Parcells is a humongous loser with no ability to draft effective players, the man's boobies are bigger than mine. And people, I mean way bigger. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't it be better to have a semi-cute woman with some football knowledge managing a team than a big boobied loser man with a muffin top like nobody's business? Come on. What a punk ass bitch he is.
So Birdturd, thanks for the reminder that my team is a bunch of fudgepackers. And the coach needs a man bra. And a new personality. And a kick in the ass. *sigh*. Bastards.
I'm changing teams. I've been liking Seattle for a couple of years. Maybe that's who I will love from now on. Either way I'm breaking up with Dallas. Who should I pick? And I don't want to hear the Eagles either. Or San Francisco. Or the Giants. Or any red team. I'm waiting to hear your thoughts on this.
By the way, just for my friend Em, a special mental picture.....
Earlier, my dad came out on the porch in his underwear, socks and tennis shoes....LMAO!!! Sleep well sweety.
Peter N. suggested I go with the Redskins and celebrate their continuous, non-disappointing mediocrity. Great suggestion, however they are a RED team. Red makes me look like a raw chicken. Plus no self respecting ex-Dallas fan could stoop that low. That would be like U.S. changing its name to Germany. C'mon.
October, 2006 Once upon a time.......in a land far far away, there lived a princess named JT, who was bored off her ass. She came home after work one night with nothing to do, so she did laundry. Afterward, she sat on the back porch with her mother, the Queen, who insisted upon telling her that princesses don't smoke or drink wine, which must be why no prince was in the midst. Furthermore, princesses don't hang out at the bar and do homework.
Fine, the princess said. Because drinking and smoking and doing math homework is better than a prince any damn how, so who cares. The King agreed, stating that a good princess should drink at home and go up to her room where no prince can get to her.
The princess started thinking about things, as she wrote her blog to the republic of Web. She thought, there are all degrees of princesses, and all degrees of princes. One persons princess could be another's hag. One person's prince could be another's scrub. If it didn't truly work this way, no one on earth would ever get laid. That's my...uh...I mean the princesses belief.
I think the princess should stay just how she is until the fucked up prince on his crippled horse hobbles up with a six pack and some Marlboro Ultra Lights and a good big fat heart and says, hey sweety, how about you cook me up a squirrel and lets watch a movie.
Ahhh....romance.
By the way, If 5 X 7= 0, then fish can fly is a true statement. God Help Me*Sigh*
Well. I tell you what's worse than doing 3 hours of math homework when you suck at math, which I do. And before I get into this too much, I would like to give you a sample problem from my 'Quantitative Reasoning Math', which is the biggest load of bullshit I ever did see. This is actually one of the problems in my book. 9 million points to whoever gets it right and explains why:
If 5 X 7=0, then fish can fly. True of False?
So anyway, I'm doing my homework, stressing out. By the way, I do my homework in the bar, because I can't concentrate at home. My dad dances around with his ukelaley...(how the hell do you spell that?!) and his harmonica, and it's totally impossible to decipher if fucking fish can fly in those conditions.
So I finish the homework and come home. I come home excited by the fact that I had a brand new toothbrush, still in the package, just waiting for me. You know things are looking dismal when a new toothbrush is exciting. So I get home and go to open the toothbrush. Now in my lifetime, I have needed alcohol to cope with lots of things, but I never expected that trying to open that package would send me over the edge.
It did.
You know, maybe it's just me, but if Al Qaeda terrorists can't get in our toothbrushes, how the hell did they hijack our planes? Tell me. Enlighten me please. I spent 30 minutes trying to get in that stupid ass package, only to end up in this chair with a big ass glass of wine and a bent up toothbrush (still packaged) lying across the room where I threw it. Had I had a chainsaw nearby, this would be a non-issue. But people, it's an issue.
This whole toothbrush bullshit reminded me of so many times something is packaged in the most ridiculous way possible. Curling irons have the same packaging. I find it amazing that any non-felon can walk in any gun store and walk away with an UNPACKAGED gun and shoot people, but God forbid you let the motherfucker brush his teeth. See, this is why people shoot people. As if life isn't hard enough, all you wanna do is get home an brush your teeth, but no. Oh no. Add a cavity in the mix and see if you can't get a Lifetime movie out of it.
Wow. I feel better. I just really needed to vent. I think I will go downstairs and get a knife and....he he....(fun thought, but I'll spare you) cut the motherfucker open. Tomorrow when my mother is baffled why the knife won't cut, I'll smile, knowing that all this happened for a reason. Now she can't kill my dad with that knife for singing Tiny Tim in his underwear. How's that for perspective.
P.S. I would like a man-only opinion about something. Is it a turnoff when a woman talks to you first? Yes or no, and why?
God bless you guys September, 2006 Hey there!I've been away awhile, in case you haven't noticed, and I've really missed blogging as much as I used to. I think its a little ironic that I quit my whole career to become a writer and since then I've hardly written. I will do better.
I've been pretty busy with school, and of course having lots of fun too. Which could explain why a very strange thing happened recently. I looked in my bank account, and there's almost nothing left. Dammit. I really thought it would replenish itself. But it didn't. Which means I need a job. I really hate that. I really really really love sleeping until 11 everyday. But all good things must come to an end.
I'm working on my next entry right now. Not feeling very creative, even though the subject matter is so great. So give me a little time to work on that one. I want it to be perfect.
Went to lunch with my parents today. My dad is infamous for never ordering fries, but then eating everybody elses. Today I informed him, as he picked french fries off my plate, "Only eat the pointy ones."
"Why?" he asks.
"Because I don't like the pointy ones." I tell him.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because I don't, and if you want my fries you can only have the pointy ones."
"What kind of weirdo are you?" he asks. This is when my mom interjects, "She's yours Jim." Thanks mom.
So the conversation continues.
My dad asks, "If I pull off the points will you eat them then?"
"No." I say.
"Did you have some kind of french fry tragedy as a child you never told us about?"
"I just don't like pointy food." I explain.
"You eat chips though."
"That's different." I tell him.
So I begin to pick out all the pointy fries and put on his plate. He stares at me and says, "I don't want those pointy ones."
"Why not?" I ask.
"Because you touched them. Now I will have to eat your non-pointy ones."
So he takes a non pointy one and eats it. His eyes get big.
"You're right, these are better than the pointy ones." He tells me.
"I told you. Now who's the weirdo?"
"Still you." August, 2006 Alpha MulletI was faced with one of my biggest fears this week. Yes, I conquered a lifelong fear, and darn it I feel good about it. It all started when I walked into my little bar to meet a girlfriend of mine. She had already been there awhile and had grabbed us a table. When I spotted her I froze. I didn’t know what to do. Leave? No…she had already spotted me. Fake a seizure? Well that’s just used up. No, I would have to walk over to the table she had chosen with the two mullet humanoids and two lesbians, one with a mullet. Why had my friend sat with mullet humanoids I asked myself. No rational answer came to mind. I would just have to go find out for myself. However, this would mean I must sit down with these creatures, and have everyone see me sitting with them. Quite the conundrum. But I chose to face my fear and have a seat. Perhaps I could learn something from this species. Like how to produce meth. Could come in handy later if school doesn’t work out you know. Gotta keep an open mind. So I go sit. I get introduced. Don is one guy’s name, I forget the other. To my delight, he walked away from the table to join a poker game. So it’s me and my friend and Don the mullet humanoid and the two lesbians. Turns out there was much to learn from Don. Quite an extraordinary fellow. Don informed me that he was versed in Spanish, French, German, Russian, and Mandarin Chinese. Turns out he’s working on his 2nd associate degree at our local technical college. Now I’m no rocket scientist like Don, but the more he talked the more things just weren’t adding up. I supposed if I knew several languages and already had one degree I wouldn’t be driving a pinto and living in campus housing. But I could be wrong. I continue to listen, quite amused and almost, I said almost, glad I sat down. Free entertainment you just can’t beat. So he goes on to tell me he’s a black belt in karate. My favorite thing about this story was how he said karate. You know, he added the ‘ay’ on the end. Karatay. Freaking hilarious. And he even did a couple of moves for me. Yes, I could feel myself falling for him. Well Don sealed the deal with what he did next. Turns out as Don continues to drink, his dancing skills become quite obvious as well. I mean is there anything Don can’t do? I think not. The song ‘Bossy’ comes on, and he begins to gyrate and do some moves I think I recognize from ’89. I knew at that point I had to have him. But before I could make my move, a friend of mine named Lester comes to the table to join us. Don, needing to prove his alpha-maleness, picked a fight with my little friend. Well Don was just not so sexy that I was gonna put up with that kind of garbage, so my friend and I squashed that one pretty quick. Sad too, because I was kinda looking forward to being witness to his incredible karatay skills. Anyway, so Don got pissed and decided it was time for him to go. As I watched him walk away, a tear came to my eye knowing I’d probably never see him again. But I cherish the time I got with him, and now I believe in love again. Thank you Don. August, 2006 Something annoying
The other day I’m at my best friend’s house. Now you should know that my best friend is the most wonderful human being on the planet Earth. She is beautiful and funny and smart and just generally lovely to be around. No matter how bad I feel, when I’m around her I forget all my problems. Now in all the years I’ve known her, she’s never gotten on my nerves, and in fact I’ve never found fault in her….until now. Yes. Even the most perfect human being has a fault. It’s a bad one too. The fault? She is a….a….its really hard for me to say…..she is a….dog person. Not just any dogs either. But really bad annoying try to eat you dogs. Now I have a dog. My dog is precious. Hers are evil. See the difference? Precious – evil. Mine good, hers bad. Now when I go to visit and ring the doorbell, three evil dogs begin to bark and raise all kinds of hell, which some would say is good, but I think it’s just really annoying. Why can’t just one dog bark? Like…hey guys, I’ve got it covered, somebody’s at the door. But no, one is not sufficient. They must all bark. Upon entering, the Doberman must stick his nose in my crotch. A rare comfort indeed. Then he does the full body sniff, rubbing nose juice all over my clothes. This is when my friend yells to Dante to leave JT alone because she hates you. This is when he looks at me and says with his eyes, ‘yeah bitch it’s just a matter of time before I eat you’. I stare back and with my eyes tell him ‘I will rip your balls through your throat’. So I guess you could say we have an understanding. The understanding that one day there will be a showdown and somebody’s getting hurt. Meanwhile, the little dogs are jumping on me and scratching my legs all to hell. The friend begins to yell at them all to leave me alone. So we have 3 dogs a barking and one friend a yelling, and a partridge in a pear tree… So anyway, throughout my visit it’s much of the same. I sit and try to relax, talk to my lovely friend and have a beverage, but no…Dante won’t have it. He insists on being annoying, giving me dirty looks, sticking his slimy nose all over me, and plotting my demise. I see it in his eyes. He’s waiting for any opportunity he can get to be alone with me so that he may kill me. He’s got the little guys in on his plot too. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna be the lookouts in this operation. Once my friend has left the area, Dante will go for the throat and try to make it a swift kill. But I’ll be ready. I don’t know if he thinks I’m some kinda punk or what, but I’m not going down like that. I’ll put Visine in his dog food when he’s not looking. Who’s the punk now? Huh Dante? You. You’re the punk. The punk with the Visine shits all because you want me dead. Little word of advice Dante. Don’t mess with the superior species. The species with a little thing called ‘Wedding Crashers’ for great torture tactics. And what do you have? Oh yeah…a Frisbee. And bad breath. Why don’t you go pick on a squirrel and get up off my nuts. So in conclusion, Dante sucks and I’m great. The end. August, 2006 A Conversation With A Friend...I'm talking with a friend the other day. He's giving me all the reasons why I should not go out with a particular guy. After naming a few of them, he explains further:
Friend: Besides JT, he's a pedofile.
Me: He's a pedofile? What the hell are you talking about?
Friend: He's a pedofile. He's nothing but trouble. Just stay away from him.
Me: How is he a pedofile? What do you mean?
Friend: You know, he always thinks something's wrong with him. He always thinks he's sick.
Me: Uh...that is not a pedofile.
Friend: Yes it is.
Me: That is a hypocondriac dumbass. Please don't tell anyone else that ever again.
Friend: Really?
Me: Really.
Moral of the story:
If ones IQ compares with that of a cotton ball, one should refrain from using words as a tool of communication. Chimps have gotten along just fine for thousands of years on throwing poop alone.
August, 2006 Agent OrangeWhile I was away, some very interesting things happened, but none quite like the one I'm about to tell you. It all starts while sitting in my little bar having a beer.
There is a man in the bar named Bob. He is our resident Vietnam vet and crazy m-f-er. I have always tried to keep my distance from this particular guy because to be honest, he's just scary. I have never had an actual conversation with him for this reason.
So there I'm sitting, minding my own business, when the bartender answers the phone and with a very strange expression on her face, hands me the phone and whispers..."It's for you....it's Bob..."
You can imagine my surprise.
Me: "Uh...hello?"
Bob: "I wanna TALK to you."
Me: "Uh...oook..."
Bob: "I want you to come to my house and talk to me."
Me: "Um, I'm not going to do that."
Bob: "Well one of these days I wanna talk to you."
Me: "Ok well one of these days we'll do that."
So I get off the phone with him and I'm in shock that he called me. It gets much worse though. So we're all sitting there freaking out about why the hell he called me when he walks in the door. He walks straight over to me and very sternly says, "I wanna TALK to you."
Now, this particular guy I really just don't wanna piss off, so I agree to sit with him at the table right by the bar so he can TALK to me. I have folks watching to make sure he doesn't go off on me like Jane Fonda. So the conversation goes like this:
Bob: "I've been watching you for a long time. I think you're so beautiful. I want to touch you all over your body."
Me: "Um..."
Bob: "And all you have to do is f*ck me, do dishes and vacuum. I'll put you through school. I'll buy you a new car."
Me: "Um..."
Bob: " Do you find me attractive? I need you."
Me: "Well Bob, I'm in love with someone else. This is never ever gonna happen."
Bob: "What's he got that I don't?"
Now, please do not misunderstand my position here. I respect the hell out of our soldiers who risk their lives for our country. I do not intend to make fun at all of this. Only of Bob. Now Bob was wounded in the war, mentally and physically. For this I'm sad, but scaring people is not cool. Bob has a wooden leg, and is missing fingers on both hands. Bob is 58 years old, probably hasn't shaved in a couple of years, and is just generally not someone I'd pounce on. So I answer:
Me: "Well Bob, there's nothing wrong with you except for the fact that you aren't him." (fictional character, by the way, that I made up on the spot.)
Bob: "So I don't have a chance?"
Me: "No Bob you don't."
Now at this point I have about half a beer. I turn around to the bar to grab a cigarette, and by the time I turn back my beer is foamed all the way up to the top. I realize dear ole Bob has put something in my drink. I begin to panic. He continues:
Bob: "Well if that f*cker or any other mother f*cker in this place hurts you, I have a knife in my boot and I don't mind killing and guttin a mother f*cker right here where I sit."
Me: "That's thoughtful Bob, but I don't think that'll be necessary. Now I'm going back to the bar now."
He asked a couple more times if we could have sex before I insisted that no, in fact we couldn't, and I'd see him around. I summon the bartender to the bathroom where I inform her that the sick bastard put something in my drink. I make my way back to my seat at the bar where Bob has taken up residence in the seat next to me. F*cking great, I think to myself. Certainly he's noticed I haven't touched my beer.
Turns out the bartender is not only pretty, but pretty smart too. She begins cleaning the water spots off the bar when she 'accidentally' spills my beer all over the place and quickly offers to replace it on the house. Now Bob is not stupid. He knew he'd been exposed. This is when he lets me know that as long as he's in that bar, I'll never buy myself a beer again, and no one else will either.
I wanted to let him know there's not enough beer or rufees or Agent Orange in the world to make me love up on his nubs. But I didn't say that. I smiled, said thank you, and prayed to God that he did not mistake me for a North Vietnamese soldier. Meanwhile the bartender informed him that he was cut off and probably needed to get home. As he left, cursing, "I'll never come back to this mother f*cking place again", I just thought to myself, parting is such sweet sorrow. Now where's my pepper spray... Wow!Well hello there! You guys are too great! One knows they are loved when they receive threats to be beaten to death if one doesn't return shortly! So cool. You make me feel so good!
Sorry I've been away so long. I took a vacation to Destin, Florida. I've laid in bed until 11 every day. I've gone out almost every single night with my friends and stayed out entirely too late. It's been so great. But I realize its time to calm down and get back in a more responsible routine. Plus I missed you guys and missed writing.
So I'm working on a new entry now. Hopefully will post today or tomorrow. Thanks for all your comments. You people are so cool. |
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