When a 3 Year Old Attempts to Say "Pinkish Green"

The Day Before Thanksgiving

Twas the day before Thanksgiving, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, because dad was soused;
The fridge was stuffed with food for once, instead of bare,
In hopes that Thanksgiving would soon be there;

The children were all screaming and banging their heads,
While Daddy drank more and tried to hide under the bed,
And mamma with that look in her eyes threatening to bust a cap,
Had just settled down for her afternoon nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang away from the beer fridge to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew despite being trashed,
Tore open the blinds after I  threw up in the trash.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a wagon , and eight tiny Chihuahuas,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be a trick.

It was either my medicine or maybe the booze,
Either way, I took a sip and blew a fuse,
I threw open the door and started throwing bottles,
Get your ass off my yard or I will kick you in the cockles.

And he whistled, and shouted, and called me names;
I flipped him the bird, and gave him the same!
As I drew back  my hand, and was preparing to throw a bottle and knock him down,
When across the lawn he  came with a bound.

He was dressed all in velvet, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of booze he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, like he had drank grandma's sherry!
The stump of a doobie he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old stoner,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of my eye and a twist of my wrist,
Soon gave him something to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight down with a jerk,
And laying in my yard with a bleeding nose,

And giving a nod, he finally rose;
He sprang to his wagon, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all ran away like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"You are an asshole buddy, I hope you choke on a turkey bone tomorrow."

Signs of Doom

 

I am not bragging, but I overpaid for gas today. You read that right. For where I live, I over paid. 

So what does that mean?

It means that something bad is coming.

It means that asshats who put up their Christmas trees and holiday lights already have some serious shit coming down the tubes. 

So if you are jumping the gun on Christmas before the Thanksgiving Turkey is even baked, BEWARE.

There is bad shit in the air and it is coming for you.

Just wait, Doom Cake just for the asshats.

Notes to Myself

Notes to Myself

Memory Lane

I am not as elegant or verbose as Mike, but I do like the way he takes everyone done memory lane. I find it nice that people can find good things to remember about their past and or youth. Me? I was so middle class and fucked up as a teen and young adult that I am really surprised that I do not have a prison tat and several felony convictions. I was not a bad kid, just a fucking asshole.

It took me a long time to come to the grand conclusion that everyone wracks up enough points sooner or later to deserve a grand ass whooping. Me? I spent my youth saving up enough karma for a life time of ass whoopins. The only thing that kept me from getting them was the fact that back in those days it was serious stuff to be crazy. I spent a lot of time and effort fucking with dumb people and an equal amount of time and effort convincing that same dumb asses that I was crazy in a bad way.

Yeah, there were plenty of folks who wanted to take me "out behind the woodshed" and teach me the errors of my ways. I remember on instance in 7th grade when one of the class rednecks was terrorizing us in the locker room and I finally told him to leave us the fuck alone.

No one used the word "Fuck' in the 7th grade and not to a redneck bully standing there in his dingy grey briefs. His fist balled up and he turned red as an apple. Then he started talking about how bad he was going to beat my ass. That was his mistake. I was terrified and really close to pissing myself, but I knew I had him when the talking started. I waited for him to rant, rave, and warn me about the severity of my up coming beating.

Then I looked him in the eye and told him "would you just shut up and hit me? Stop waisting my time and hit me if you want to, but shut the fuck up."

He was beyond angry, but he went from angry to confused really fast.

Bully: "You want me to hit you?"

Me: "Either hit me or shut up. And if you hit me, make sure you kill me because I am getting back up and coming for you."

Bully: "Are you crazy or something? You want me to hit you?"

Me: "You heard me. Hit me or shut up."

Bully (looking around the locker room): "I ain't going to hit him. He is crazy. He wants me to hit him."


That was the end of that conversation and the beginning of a realization for me. I could get away just about anything as long as there was that nagging fear of insanity among those who knew me.

It was this reputation of "insane" that kept me safe all through high school and beyond.
My only problem now is that I have a truck load of bad Karma waiting to catch up with me from those days.  There were entire years where I fucked with people mercilessly and hid beyond my sanity issues. That shit is going to bite me in the ass some day. HARD.

This story rocks.
Lone jogging woman out for a run and is attacked by a rabid fox. So what does she do? Grab the damned evil beast and it latches onto her arm. She runs a mile back to the car with the damn monster attached to her arm. Tosses it into the trunk and goes to the vet.That is determination. That is revenge on a whole new level. It is also the sign of real dumb ass.

I can not fault her because she was out jogging without a gun or knife. I do not carry either when I run (yes I am still running). What I do fault her for is letting that little rabid shitbag put the vise lock of doom on her and then running a mile back to the car. First off, why grab it by the scruff of the neck? If it already bit you, then kick the son of a bitch right between its plague carrying eyes and then stomp it really good till you feel its skull crunch. That solves a lot of problems and then you do not have to pry it off your arm.

Of course in her case, the damage was already done and the shit bag of a midget wolf wanna be had put the death bite onto her arm.

Around here if some vicious little fur bag latched onto my arm the first thing I would do is let out an insane laugh and then bash the crazed little fucktard against a rock or tree till it let goes. Crazy, diseased, pissed or a mixture of all three, but that little four legged shark is going to let go of my arm. When it finally gets the hint and lets go, then you grab it by the tail and give it a good bash or two against something. Trees and rocks work well, but the ground does a decent job as well. Bumpers work great too. At that point it is probably safe to pick up your new rabid buddy and high tail it to the vet, emergency room, or nearest bar.

No running a mile with a vicious little shitbag on your arm. No frantic race to safety.
So take my advice and be careful out there. Jogging is dangerous and watch out for those damned evil little animals. If one makes a move, end it then and there. Send it to animal heaven without remorse. There is a reason humans are at the top of the food chain. Lets stay there.

Curse - O - Thon 2008

Okay folks, I have much given up on November. The election sucked the life right out of me and as a result of this and my general malaise I have just plain ignored my blog.

Bad blogger.
I know.

I have decided to declare November the "Crap Month of 2008."
You read it here first. November 2008 is the most craptastic month of this year. It blows for so many reason.

Lets start with the Holidays. They officially kick off next week. We all know how I feel about holidays.
THEY SUCK.

Yeah they do. Mainly because the holidays always means that I have to drive miles and miles, Tolerate relatives that deserve something sharp between the ribs, and generally play nice when I would rather be drunk and abusive. In short, I freakin hate the holidays.

To make November even worse, the world is full of bastards who violate my basic rule of holidays, NO CHRISTMAS TILL AFTER THANKSGIVING.

There are already Christmas trees for sale and Christmas lights going up. The shopping malls/centers have Christmas decorations out already, not just for sale, but decorating the outside of the stores.

This is a crime of the worst sort and one reason why I think November sucks.

So to celebrate the most craptastic month of this year, I am instituting my "Curse-O-Thon 2008."

Yep, I want you faithful readers to send my your favorite dirty words and cursing phrases. I am going to humiliate myself and my family by working in at least two good curses a day until the end of November.

My personal favorites are "Asshole" and "Son of a bitch", but in deference to my sainted father and all old men in general, I know I am going to have to throw in a "God Damn" at some point.

So send me your curse words and I will let you know how I use them in every day conversation.

Notes to Myself

James Bond Called, He Wants His Car Back

Ignore the giant crack in my windshield and focus on the piece of shit car with the red arrow pointing at it.

When this turd-mobile first pulled out in front of me yesterday it was spewing a deadly black smoke screen that hid some of the driver's antics from me for a few moments. It was not enough that he whipped into traffic that was traveling at 60 mph while trying to get his car to break 25 mph, but he was spewing pure cancer fumes out of the back.

My first thought was "Hey dip shit, James Bond called and he wants his car and smoke screen back."

Of course even this humorous idea evaporated as he began to weave and swerve, almost as if he was out of control .

My logical brain came to two conclusions, only one of which could be correct;

A)He was drunk out of his mind and making a run from the cops. Not that uncommon at 6:30 am in the morning, but with no flashing lights appearing, I ruled this one out.

B)Then there was the "he is getting a great hummer from his girlfriend on the way to work" idea that I also threw out because his driving did not appear to get better in the short amount of time it probably would have taken him to reach the moment of "wind and rain."

Then of course I figured it out. The car had spewed forth a veritable fountain of foul black smoke which soon died out. The car swerved and nearly crashed.

Of COURSE, he had attached home made rockets to his shit-sled in order to get it up to legal speed. Once the rockets burned out he was roaring along at high speed and had trouble controlling his car.

No matter what he is dip shit of the worst sort. I kinda wanted him to crash and burn on the side of road so that I could post some really cool pictures here.
I guess that makes me a bad person, who cares?

He nearly got rammed by at least four cars and could have killed several of us before his joy ride was over. This bastard deserved a little crash and burn action.

It would have also made me laugh

Notes to Myself

Response to a hand scrawled "NObama" sign

Teacher Porn

Folks, take a long hard look. This is just about as close to teacher porn as you will ever get. I have to keep my room locked so I do not walk in and find the math department dry humping the cart.

It is a portable computer lab. It comes with 28 lap tops, a laser printer, and a wireless access node. Basically, no wires to screw with and all I have to do is whip them out and they are ready to go. The computers are special. No hard drives. Just flash memory. That means they can run for an entire school day on one good charge.

Lets hear a great big AMEN for that one.
All day on one charge.

Best of all the kids can not mess them up unless they drop them and then do some sort of hip hop dance on them. No HD's mean no moving parts. They can not save anything to the flash memory either. So no downloading porn or games when they think I am not looking.

Even better? It is all freaking mine. I do not have to share until more teachers are trained on it. Who does the training?
ME!!!!
Guess how many training sessions I have planned?
ZERO
NONE
NADA

At least until they force me, but that is not going to happen this school year.
I am going to do all sorts of cool online projects with my kids this year because I have the coolest toy on campus.

So enjoy the pictures and relax. Teacher porn is easy.

Doom Cake The Election Edition: Part 4

Well folks, it is 10:02 pm central time and CNN just called the election for Obama. Something like 297 electoral votes and it looks like McCain and Palin can skulk off into the night.

Now admittedly I am still not doing the jiggity jig of ultimate victory, but it is pretty clear that the republitards are out and the demotards are in.

Of course the missus has ruined all my fun. First it was "No burning McCain/Palin signs" and now she just put a nix on my next plan.

It was simple.
Put on the Tigger suit and then ring the doorbell of every house with a McCain/Palin sign in the yard. When they open the door I was going to punch them in the face and then kick them in the nutsack while screaming "Die stupid bastards, you have LOST."

As I grabbed the whiskey bottle and the tigger suit, the missus let it be known that any such behavior would ruin any chance of election night victory sex.
So I put everything back in its place.
A man has to know his limitations according to Dirty Harry, and I know mine. Victory sex out weighs any pleasure I could get from beating down Republitards at this point.

Now do not get me wrong. I trust Obama just a pubic hair more than I do McCain or anyone else. He is just as liable to bend me over the sofa and give me some rough trade without an ounce of lube, but that is the chance I am willing to take. We need change and even if it takes us places we do not want to go, at least it was a shot in the dark.

Four years ago I felt doomed in a biblical way, now just feel doomed. Maybe some New Testament doom, but not the smiting, wrath of God old testament doom I felt in 2004.

As my hero HST once said, "Buy the ticket, ride the ride."
I bought this ticket and now I am going to ride this mother fucker till my eyes roll back in my skull and I projectile vomit out of my ears.

Good night faithful readers.
I am going to get lucky and get fucked all in one night.
One of them will be good and one will leave a nasty taste in my mouth.
Just remember, I chose both.
My choice.
My pain.

Doom Cake the Election Edition: Part 3

It is barely 9:30 central time and apparently McCain advisers are already admitting that he can not win.

With that said, it did not mean he will not be president.
This is America
Shit happens in the early morning hours.
It involves guns, booze, and videos that cause the Supreme Court to do anything the republitards want done.

The missus has already vetoed my idea of walking through the neighborhood and setting all the damned McCain/Palin signs on fire. Probably because I do not have that much gas on hand, but also because she has no inclination of bailing me out of jail for just such a crime in a county that is so heavily republitard that I would get the death penalty for it.

I am loading the guns just in case. They might still come for those of us who do not "BELIEVE" and if that happens, I want to be ready.

Am I a cynical son of a bitch or what? It looks like Obama has won, but I still do not believe it.
I have said it once and I will say it again, SHIT HAPPENS, this is America.

Doom Cake Election Edition: Part 2

The results have started to roll in after my second beer. Right now things look good for Obama, so what does an ass me do?

I start calling known Obama supporters and asking if they are watching election results. When they tell me "No, I can not bear to watch," I laugh like a maniac and ask them "Can you explain why McCain is crushing Obama like a bug? The end is near. We are all doomed."

Of course I hear the deep intake of breath and cursing and I laugh again.
"Stupid bastard. Turn on the television and watch the Republitards take their public flogging."

Then I hang up amid a loud round of cursing from the phone.
It only gets more fun the more I call.
By the end of the night they will be on to me, but hopefully by then it will be over and the Obama era shall begin.

HAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAAA

More later.
I am still afraid that this is going to end in four more years of Republitard abuse of my country.
I need to have more beer.

Doom Cake Election Edition: Part 1

Here we go folks. I woke up full of hope and energy. It is a great day to be an American and the only day that feels better than this would be a day when I wake up knowing that we bombed some third world shit hole back into the stone age it was trying to crawl out of. It is damn good to be an American.

Now I may not agree with all of you today, but we all have to have our own brand of hope. We definitely do not drink from the same cup of cool aid, but that is okay. We are Americans and we can handle this.

Of course by the end of the day I will probably be drunk, cursing, and attempting to pull a full tilt Elvis and shoot the fucking television set.
At this point I am riding high. This is the day that election junkies like me live for. Just wait till you see my election monitoring head quarters I have set up.

So stay tuned for the updates.
I think I am going to go punch some kid in the head who keeps whispering "Obama bin Laden" when he thinks I can not hear. Poor silly kid, I have super hearing today.
I am on edge and primed for an explosion. It is ELECTION DAY.

Stay tuned

Songs of the Doomed

This is a bit of a reprint. This was written and posted to my original blog of sorts four years ago. I know it is the night before the election, but here is where I was on election night four doomed years ago. Enjoy

Songs of the Doomed

Posted on 2004.11.02 at 21:57
Current Mood: discontent
Current Music: Johnny Cash - Man in Black

It is election night 2004 and I am sitting here drinking a beer and lamenting the death of the American dream. At this point I may be wrong, and God help me, I pray that I am wrong, but it looks like that vile swine bush is going to win four more years.

Damn him and damn the spineless fools who vote for him. He is driving this country into the ground and no one seems to care. bush has taken fear mongering to a new level and Americans are buying into his particular brand of Fear. Not fear born of a real threat, but fear born of stupidness. Vote for me or I will throw you in jail. That is his message. Love me or you are disloyal to America. Damn him again.

Does "Homeland Security" reek of Nazism to anyone but me? I doubt it, but anyone who wants to speak out against the death of our freedom is likely to wind up in a cage in Cuba. That's right folks. Join us or be tortured in cage by Marines as Rumsfield laughs hysterically at you via a giant screen television. Death to anyone who questions the new president for life of America. How long till it is the United States of bush?

Damn, I wish I were drunk enough to kill the pain of this election. Lemmings. They are all fucking lemmings rushing to a certain doom, but they are too stupid or liquored up to realize it. Oh, in the morning they will. When the glory of voting for "the winner" wears off and they wake up the 'new america', the fools will know the folly of their hubris. That's right. Vote for the winner. Wind up a slave on a plantation of a presidential crony and cry about how dumb you were to vote for the bastard. Oh yes, there is vengeance coming down for those who stand in the way of rich oil swine who rule this country.

What scares me most it that the beer is almost gone. One more, cold bottle before I have to find the medicinal whiskey. The decanter is full of smooth whiskey that is older than I am and I can only hope there is enough of it to take the edge off of my terror before the police arrive. I see no reason why those of us who voted against bush won't be rounded up in the morning and forced to work the oil fields of Iraq.

No knocks on the door, just a crash as the storm troopers knock down the front door and whip me to the ground. "Dumbass" they will scream. "How dare you vote against the emperor, I mean ?. PRESIDENT?" Believe me that I will be armed and hopefully drunk. I will defend myself and the constitution to the death and if it is necessary and in this day and age, it will take the blood of many good people to bring this insanity to and end.

Is it already November?

Damn.
Things are slow in the blogosphere.
I even forgot my nasty little personal post it notes this weekend. I promise to make up for them this week.

I think everyone here in the US is sitting still and awaiting the collective holding of our breath to be over. No matter what happens on Tuesday, I think we are all tense and expecting the worse. No reason not to in my view, but I am a vile pessimist. If I have any positive energy left, I am probably using it to signal an alien civilization some where.

Other than the waiting, I have been lazy. I need to let my inner rage out and get on the ball. I have up dated my Shelfari link with all the books I have read since (and during) the hurricane. 39 books this year to date, which is not great, but not that bad.

So thanks to all of you who have been visiting despite the drought of anything even resembling humor or real life. Yeah, I have been blah and so has the blog, BUT NO MORE!!!

A big apology to everyone on the blog roll as well. I just have not been reading blogs like I should, but I promise to get back into the swing of things this week.

Less work, more play, and more blogging.
Unless the black helicopters come for me after the election late on Tuesday night.
Then just listen for the gun shots.