SMELLS LIKE BULLSHIT

Ok I got an early Birthday present from my overly cool younger brother. He gave me his inspiration, his will to change jobs his new lease on life…yes that’s right he gave me his used Roomba Robotic Vacuum! (Remember it was this gadget that let him remember his passion for robotics and sent him far enough to the edge so he could send them a resume and consequentially be hired by Irobot) So I get to have my very own robotic vacuum, we watched it “work” most of the night last night while I was finishing up a proposal, I have to say this so he doesn’t think I was slacking off and not helping him pack, which I hate, I don’t mind the moving heavy things I just don’t want to put other peoples shit in boxes for them. I will be back out there tomorrow morning to help load all of his shit into a pod. Should take all day…on my fucking birthday.

At least this year I will remember it. One year I was helping on the farm and completely forgot what day it was until we were in the middle of the field cutting tall stalks. Worst of all NONE of my family remembered either.

Fucking middle child syndrome.

So anyway here is an email I wrote to my brother last night after we decided to see how the dogs reacted to their new live in robot. I think we’ll call her Rosie ala Jetson’s.

7/28/06 8:46pm
1st, thank you again for the wonderful birthday gift we love it. Now I wish I had a couple of skittish dogs that were at least a little bothered by this thing...well one is..let me tell you a story.

The roomba is running in the kitchen for the second pass and this time we decided to see what the dogs were going to do with a robot vacuum milling about the area sucking and what not. Well the Jade (big dumb rotti) freaks and starts sniffing and looking like she is going to eat this thing and Cinnamon is basically indifferent. Jade then barks at it and Cinny decides it is of no danger what so ever and decides she doesn't even need to move when it comes by. So naturally it sucks up her giant fluffy tail and she just sits there with a whinny robot vacuum stuck to her ass. Unbelievable!
She was actually too lazy to get out of its way. Thank god we were still laughing at the stupid machine so we could rescue it from the stupid lazy dog ass.

How fucking funny is that? I tell you they really are the embodiment of “Dumb and Dumber”


Tonight I took a job bartending for 4 hours at a friend of mines Spa. She is the wife of a Co-Worker and I just love them to death and I would do the job for nothing, but they insist I be paid for pouring wine and handing out beers. Not unlike the job I had at the ski resort, but on a much grander scale. This spa is one of the BEST spa’s in KC and all of the wealthy old blue hairs pay 60-250.00 bucks for a haircut, and they offer a full day of beauty, massage, steam, facial, wraps, haircut, color, all of the usual shit so I might be getting product and service for a paycheck. Even though I tried to get money out for lunch this morning and I can’t even get 10 bucks out.

I fucking hate being poor.

I swear if I could Talk Bouby into moving into a shack in the woods where I could write my manifesto and live off of the land I would sell everything and become a family of hermits. Or more like a family like Swiss Family Robinson, except I would want to do this where it was warm….so maybe we should just become Mexicans.

Well if we did that we wouldn’t be poor because we would win the California lottery, I think it is a state law out there that a Mexican HAS to win the lottery. Besides I like the way my name sounds in Spanish… Pesadilla. It is almost like Quesadilla, which we all know is a tasty cheese filled tortilla sandwich.

Los olores tienen gusto de la mierda de Bull

Ok I was stumbling along on Firefox..if you know the extension cool if not get with the program people. Anyway, as I was stumbling alnog I came across this paper written by one Harry Frankfurt and I felt the need to post the first paragraph here in a forum dedicated to Bullshit, or at least the detection of Bullshit. Without further ado Mr. Harry Frankfurt on Bullshit.

Harry Frankfurt
Princeton University

One of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit. Everyone knows this. Each of us contributes his share. But we tend to take the situation for granted. Most people are rather confident of their ability to recognize bullshit and to avoid being taken in by it. So the phenomenon has not aroused much deliberate concern, or attracted much sustained inquiry. In consequence, we have no clear understanding of what bullshit is, why there is so much of it, or what functions it serves. And we lack a conscientiously developed appreciation of what it means to us. In other words, we have no theory. I propose to begin the development of a theoretical understanding of bullshit, mainly by providing some tentative and exploratory philosophical analysis. I shall not consider the rhetorical uses and misuses of bullshit. My aim is simply to give a rough account of what bullshit is and how it differs from what it is not, or (putting it somewhat differently) to articulate, more or less sketchily, the structure of its concept. Any suggestion about what conditions are logically both necessary and sufficient for the constitution of bullshit is bound to be somewhat arbitrary. For one thing, the expression bullshit is often employed quite loosely — simply as a generic term of abuse, with no very specific literal meaning. For another, the phenomenon itself is so vast and amorphous that no crisp and perspicuous analysis of its concept can avoid being procrustean. Nonetheless it should be possible to say something helpful, even though it is not likely to be decisive. Even the most basic and preliminary questions about bullshit remain, after all, not only unanswered but unasked. So far as I am aware, very little work has been done on this subject. I have not undertaken a survey of the literature, partly because I do not know how to go about it. To be sure, there is one quite obvious place to look — the Oxford English Dictionary. The OED has an entry for bullshit in the supplementary volumes, and it also has entries for various pertinent uses of the word bull and for some related terms. I shall consider some of these entries in due course. I have not consulted dictionaries in languages other than English, because I do not know the words for bullshit or bull in any other language.

those of you who want to continue here is the website: Bullshit

Well my Dr.’s appointment was less then productive.

Ok I shouldn’t say that it was pretty good really. I found out from a specialist, also a classmate of mine who is now a professor of orthopedic surgery at KU Med. (yes I know I’m very cool and have cool friends) That my spine is really not that bad he could see all of the old fractures from when I took a long walk off of a short deck that drunken night in CA, and he pointed out all of the mid-level arthritis I have developed on those vertebra, AND he even circled the ¾” bone spur that is growing on two of the most damaged vertebra. It is weird, yet not serious and the question of surgery was never broached and basically I need to keep losing the excess poundage that I have put on due to my stupid chair jockey job and I need to do some trunk strengthening exercises not just the weights and elliptical trainer shit. So more crunches, less snacking, and I shouldn’t have to worry about this crap until I’m a ripe old man. Not that I’m not ripe now, just ask Bouby! My ass was like an open cesspool last night!

STUPID DIET!

OH!! and the best part according to their scle height thingy...yeah I have shrunk a full 1 3/4" since highschool!

STUPID FOOTBALL!!

So the back is cool, I have only had my new exercise toy for three days and I can already tell the difference in how I feel. I’m getting up at 5:20 every morning and using that silly machine while I watch the news and then go make me and Bouby’s meals for the day, shit, shower, shave, and I’m off to sit on my giant chair ass all day.!

My Younger brother has got his house sold it closes tomorrow and since they are on the fast track (they being him and his girlfriend) they have to be packed and out by Thursday night at 5pm.

Yes tomorrow Thursday.

Guess who has to help move heavy things?

That’s right the only one capable of moving a refrigerator all by himself.

Thank god there is nothing wrong with my back.

But I also will be cherry picking a bunch of his stuff that I have been coveting for years just so he won’t be burdened by moving it to Boston. I’ll call it an early Birthday present.

Remember only 2 more shopping days until Nightmare’s 20th anniversary of his 18th birthday.

BIG HAIRY PUSSY!!

I found that I get more hits if I put things like that in the title.

Thursday night:
My older brother and I went to see our oldest friend. See he is moving to Alaska. He spent some time there in the army and then he learned how to screen print and came home to Manhattan Kansas to open a business. And for 15 years his business was very successful, but he couldn’t get rid of the wander lust and the wanting to get back to Alaska, so he is packing his suitcase, and flying out there on Aug. 6th and his wife and child are driving up there in a couple weeks. We were there to say good by because who knows when we are going to be in Alaska next.

We have played a bastardized version of the classic board game “risk” that we have since re-named “Nuke Nuke” where we have introduced a set of rules and playing cards that allows us to use different weapons of mass destruction as well as mass prayer (there is an Armageddon card, where all of your troops basically pray for and if successful, get one of your opponents land to sink into the ocean…fun stuff) So we played that until the wee hours of the morning having much fun.

I had an appointment to go get some X-rays from my old chiropractor while I was there because I’m going to go see a specialist about my back problem that I have been having for the last couple of years, all caused of course by my fall while drunk at a party in college. Well he was very accommodating and of course a hell of a lot cheaper then any other Dr. who would have charged me $150+ , instead if the cool 90 that my boy did. Anyway after comparing a set of x-rays from 7 years ago from when I broke my floating rib(slipped on some ice and landed on my side on a ½ barrel planter) he showed me that my arthritis has increased drastically.

I was not ready for this.

I was thinking I would be at least 50 before this kind of shit happened. I will be 38 in 5 days and I don’t want to have back surgery.

The rest of the weekend was spent at my dad’s helping him make sure the puppies in his welping shed stayed cool, and alive, so he wouldn’t lose a couple of thousand dollars worth of puppies.

Oh on a cool note My boy that is heading into Alaska had a garage full of “want it take it” items, and if you could drop a few bucks into a donation jar to help pay for gas to Alaska. I got a elliptical trainer( A really good one, worth possibly 800.00) a cordless weedeater and some hedge trimmers. I also reclaimed my cooler, two books, and a wrench set. So I threw him some cash and all is groovy in the set up of the home gym! I’m loving life! I just wish my Country club would hurry up and get that steam room built so I could play 9, take a steam and have a cocktail creating the illusion that I was extremely rich!

I don't have trhe time to update today so I am just being a lazy cocksucker and posting one of the earlier ones fom my old Diaryland account. Yes it is Tacky but I'm leaving today for a mini vacation, or as my brit co-worker calls it "Holiday" and I really wish he would stop!! ASSIMILATE GODDAMNIT!

January 25, 2005-8:09 p.m.

I was sitting here talking to one of my co-workers about fuck knows what when I had this amazing flash back to when I was about 13 and my grandmother was about to die.

I know it is off to a rocky start but stick with me it gets better.

My G-ma was 89 when she died, and she died of nothing more then old age and the stress of raising 5 kids through the depression and WWII and the Korean conflict as well as losing my Grandpa 3-4 years previously. They had been married for 75 years or something like that, I know she was married at the ripe old age of 13. And to this day and age where people aren’t even living to see 75 let alone being married to someone for that long it is kind of cool. And to think Brad and Jennifer made it a whole 6 years..WHOO HOO write that down in the record books. My G-ma lived across a drainage ditch next to some of the busiest railroad tracks north of Wichita KS.

When my dad was growing up during the depression and after it, it was a place where many men headed west looking for a better life, would stop looking for hand outs. I don’t know if many people know about life on the rails and the way the Hobos and Tramps kept track of good places to stop and catch a meal or take a nap, and the ones to avoid, else get beaten by the railroad bulls(cops). Well they would make markings on the corners of peoples houses, denoting whether or not there were friendly people inside or if they would be better off moving along. Well these markings were all over the back of her house. Not in a “I just Tagged the subway” style, but in a respectful pseudo hidden kind of way. G-ma would always put the ones to work who wanted it and feed the ones who needed it. She never turned down a soul, and was the only woman who could go from asking to eating any pie you would like in less then 30 mins. She was awesome!


Anyway fast forward to a week before G-ma’s death.

Here is the scene. G-ma is dying and everyone knows it. She is slowly slipping into dementia, she hasn’t left her bed in a week and ½ and we are all starting to worry about her more then usual.

As kids though we find humor in strange places. One day G-ma was sitting in her rocking chair and she exclaimed” Quick Alma (my eldery Aunt) grab a pan the peas are falling out of the ceiling!” Well of course she was hallucinating, but as teenagers and pre-teens we found this very amusing. She also wanted someone to clean up all of the rain water on the floor of the living room, yet another hallucination. So as you can imagine we were all quite concerned with her well being.

So 3 weeks before she dies she “drops her basket”. 1 week before she dies, my father, my aunt, and my two brothers and I were up visiting. G-ma. We were all just hanging around, kids in the front room and adults in the kitchen, probably discussing “plans for G-ma” and whether or not my Aunt could continue to care for her. When I look up from the TV and here comes G-ma walking down the hallway.

I kinda panic and yell out to dad that G-ma was walking down the hallway and he said that I should stop kidding around. Well about that time she comes into full view of the kitchen and I hear Alma and Pops get up hurriedly to see what the hell was going on. Well I just sit up straighter in my rocking chair (for some reason this was the only kind of chairs my G-ma had in her house, 4 rockers and a armless couch you could springboard off of). Well anyway she comes out and stands in front of me, all 4’ nutthing of her and looks me dead in the eye and says “ Michael, I rocked you for the first 3 years or more of your life it is your turn to rock me”

I was completely floored! Since I was a big kid, I just smiled and said “you bet G-ma, climb on up here and I’ll rock you.” That little old lady crawled up into my lap and snuggled against my neck like a baby.

I started crying like a sissy in boystown. Quietly though so not to disturb her.

We sat there gently rocking for the better part of two hours, My dad would look in on us every 5 mins or so and he would just smile and shake his head. I don’t know what made her pick me out of the three of us boys sitting there or if she even knew why she picked me, but she did and I was caught up in the moment. I just sat there and held her frail body and remembered all of the fun we used to have. I have come to realize why the old people in this world always talk about the past. It is as vivid as HDTV and more readily available. I can remember this incident complete with colors, smells, and textures, like it was yesterday. 24 years later.

G-ma slipped away peacefully in the night almost a week to the day that I was allowed to rock her in my lap. I don’t know what she was feeling, or how she was doing but I always like to think that somehow I was able to give her a little peace of mind in her waning days.

Here is a quick Bouby update.

After another LOOONNNGGG wait in the waiting room for the stupid Dr. we get her weighed and her temperature taken and then ushered into a small room to wait just as long for the damn woman to show up. And after a battery of questions we were told that she had an schil…shischicsal…she fainted. And some people are just prone to fainting. However she did give Bouby a referral to go to a cardiologist. She didn’t want to specify a test, so the cardio guy/gal will have to make that determination. But so far she is just groovy but fainty as well.

Yesterday on the way to the Dr.’s office My cell phone beeped and said I had a new voice mail. It was one of my clients and he is pissed! So I had my tech guy call and try to fix the problem. THAT was a mistake! There are reasons that the tech guys are into tech, and not sales, they have no tact or personality. I have met only a couple of people that fit that bill, and only one works here. So now my client wants a refund. Which is about 10K. I’m making him accept a fly out by one of our tech people to try and make this right.

AARRRGHGHH!

On a brighter note I did talk to a friend of mine who is the GM of a radio station in Wichita and he basically offered me a job AGAIN! To do the morning show and be a sales guy on the side to supplement my income, I would LOVE to take him up on that offer but I also would never ask Bouby to pick up and move when her G-parents are not doing as well as some old people, that and to ask her to move away from her whole family just is not cool. So until she finds out just how big of a prick I REALLY am I’m staying put. And fighting with clients. And fighting with team members. And having headaches. But when she does kick me out of her life I’m off like a prom dress!

I haven’t been in radio now for going on 5 years, and I know I still have the chops and the creativity, but I would be rusty with the board ops and the production. But I think with a little practice I could get right back in the swing of things. If only they didn’t try to pay you with concert tickets and CD’s. It isn’t bad if you are a single guy who can room with someone or live in a crappy one bedroom but when you have someone else in the mix, you really need more money.

So Bouby is Ok for now and I’m taking some Zanex I found laying in the gutter, so at least my desire to choke the living shit out of some tech dorks has the edge taken off!

LONG LIVE DRUGS!

What is it about Tits that is so damn appealing?

I mean really if we break them down to what they really are, biologically anyway, they are just skin colored food bags that are affected by gravity depending on size. A pair of fleshy masses protruding from the front of one of the most complex species on earth.

Tits, chi chi’s, boobies, fun bags, hooters, sweater bumpers, juggs, mams, bosom, bust , udders, Whatever you want to call them they really only serve to feed the young. I think it is interesting how different cultures portray the breasts. Europeans seem to just ignore them, well ok ignore is probably the wrong word, they accept them as a natural thing and that every woman has them move on. The tribes in Africa, they don’t even acknowledge that they are anything more then built in bottles for the kids. Americans seem to want them to be a separate part of their anatomy, like a doll, or a toy. We dress them up and decorate them and make them bigger and spend money on them like the boobs are a family member.

Why do you suppose we, as a sexually repressed country feels the need to create our own “Boob Culture”? I mean really, c’mon we spend so much money on boobs, that the Governor of Missouri has made it so all of the Strip clubs have to wear pasties, lap dances are illegal, there must be 10 feet between the customer and the dancer and inside of that 10 feet a rail or pole must be between the dancer and the patron. Who knew that lap dancing and Boobies had so much power over the country that we feel the need to cordon them off with rails, poles, pasties, and a parameter of 10 feet?

Jesus Christ No wonder we are at war with the Middle East, we have all of the boobies! That is what this war is about not oil, it is all about the breasts. They hide anything remotely female looking under a couple of layers of sheets and now I know why. They fully understand the power of the boobies! They aren’t demeaning to women or are trying to oppress them; all they are doing is trying to contain the power of the breast.

I feel that we should probably lean from them and start trying to harness the power of all the breasts. Sort of a breast containment unit/energy plant.

Ahh fuck it, I like the boobies just as they are! Just ask Bouby, I say good morning to hers everyday!

LONG LIVE THE BOOBS!

On Friday morning on the way to work I saw the funniest thing I have seen in the last oh 4-5 days.

I have to get on to I-35 north for about a mile before I get on to I-435 south to get to work. I merge into traffic behind another pick up who is following a Honda Civic and am just going about my business, no problems. Well all of a sudden the truck locks up his brakes and severs of to the left hand lane, I mean we weren’t on the highway for more then a ½ mile, my reflexes takes over and without really thinking I hit the brakes and look for what ever the hell scared the guy in front of me. I see the Honda making a bee line for the shoulder, I still see no problem.

Before I go on I need to explain my feelings on low profile ties. I think they are the dumbest thing since the invention of the car. Didn’t we just get rid of hard wagon wheels to evolve to a nice cushiony air filled ride in our vehicles? When did people decide that they would like their cars to ride more tank like? Did I miss a meeting? A memo? Was my email not working when they decided this?

Apr. 12 1999
Cool People
RE: Tires


Dear cool people,

From this day on we are all on a quest to find the smallest ratio of tire rubber and the largest amount of rim available. This will allow us to look even cooler then before and should drie the price of aluminum rims through the roof making us look even cooler because we can put them on anything! Including Aunt Bertha’s 1977 Delta 88 4 door. Add some window tint and a sub woofer and we’ll have a first class hoopty.

Not to mention the Import Market. Anyone driving a economical 4 cylinder “rice burner” This trend will surely make you the cock of the walk.

Thank you for your compliance,

Joe Cool


See I never got that. I think it is dumb as sack full of stupid carried by a retard on the way to the short bus stop.

So, anyway. As I’m braking and analyzing the shit in front of me I still don’t see the problem.

Then I see it a lone tire rolling down the middle of the highway. I glance over at the Honda and sure as shit the dumb ass has lost his back tire. NOT the whole wheel mind you just the tire. The rubber had spun off of his beloved Civic and was speeding out of control down the middle of I-35 headed to Des Moines.
It was a stupid low profile. I couldn’t stop laughing. I almost side swiped him out of principal, just to add a little insult to injury. BUY SOME FUCKING REAL TIRES DUMBASS!

Later that night/afternoon Bouby and I decide to go up north to redneck haven and watch a Outlaw sprint race.

Now if you have no idea what this is I highly recommend you going to one. It is like an un-sponsored NASCAR. EXCEPT!! The races here held good ol’ boy style. Moonshiner style, what ever you want to call it. These people are probably the biggest NASCAR fans on the planet however they don’t like what money has done to theiur beloved sport so they refuse to accept it and hold their own races. Kind of like Civil War re-enactors.

Outlaw sprints are raced on a dirt track that is very small, like a ¼ mile circle, with extremely high banks so that the cars don’t go flying out into the crowd at high rates of speed. The qualifying races are 6 cars to the track and the winners all have a race at the end to see who is the best of the best and who has the best mechanic. THIS is the way NASCAR was meant to be! Rednecks as far as the eye could see racing done at night so the man couldn’t get you and beer lots of beer.

There were people of all kinds at this race by the way. All with just enough redneck in them to enjoy each others company but not enough to make it look like the back woods of Kentucky. We were having a great time we watch some Pro-Stock races, (that is a psudeo normal car looking race) and then we got to see Bouby’s boss run his time trials to see where he was going to be in the line up. He seemed to be having some sort of trouble with his front end because it was wobbling all over the place. Then the scary part happened.

Bouby looked at me and said “ I don’t feel so good.” I asked if she was sick to her stomach and she said no, so I just kept my eye on her and let her do her thing. She has a delicate tummy and sometimes this shit just comes out of nowhere and then it passes.

Well it didn’t just pass.

I looked up at her a few minutes later, and she was ghost white and sweating like a whore in church. I ask her if she is all right and she just shook her head and said “make sure I don’t fall over” Concerned but not panicky, I scoot over and put my hand on her neck, her ice cold and clammy neck. My nerves start humming. She lays her head on her knees and tries to catch her breath, which is coming in ragged gasps, after a minute or two she slumps. Dead weight. I hold her and keep her from tipping over, and I give her just a little shake, her eyes snap open and it was lights on nobody home.

Now the panic starts to creep in.

I tell her she has to stand up and get out of the grand stands. She informs me that there is no way she can walk at this juncture. So I sit with her for about 30 more minutes we half ass watch her boss run, he finishes dead last. At the end of the race I tell her she has no choice but to come with me. I was prepared to throw her over my shoulder and carry her ass up the stairs but she finally agreed and we started our long slow ascent.

With only one stumble we make it to the top where the cost of exertion was for her to collapse on the ground out cold.

OH FUCK!

I try to catch her but she is like trying to hold on to a boneless chicken covered in motor oil.

Some guys standing at the top see this and come to help me get her up.

*Let me say now that whereas there was beer everywhere we had only had one apiece. So we weren’t drunk by any stretch of the imagination.*

So her eyes snap open again and let me and the other two guys help her up and one of the race saints let us borrow a chair to get her in. I ran off to get a bottle of water, and by the time I got back she was fine.

WTF?

I was like “What do you mean? You’re still drinking this water”

“I know” she replied. So we sat there for a few minutes when what ever had her finally let go, and we went home.

She is right as rain now but I’m encouraging her to once again go get her shit looked at. Find out what the hell that was all about.

But I still had a good time at the dirt track. I highly recommend it. Great fun and at a reasonable price. I mean hell the beer was only 2 buck a can. Yes it was all in cans. They have to recoup their losses in recycling.

Ok so as I was driving to work today I had an urge.

No not that kind of urge.

Well ok that one too

But this urge was to jerk the wheel of my 30 year old SOLID steel Chevy pickup into the path of a rapidly approaching 90 something Corvette.

Why all of the angst you ask? Well this stool pushing, mid-life crisis having bald waste of oxygen was doing 90+ in the SLOW lane. Zipping in and out of traffic, causing massive braking to accommodate his stupid Fiberglas car. I was watching this in my rear view mirror and I almost made it over before deciding to get back in my lane and give this 3 piston turbo charged asshammer a break.

HAD I not moved over it would have been a spectacular wreck. There would have been pieces of Fiberglas, and plastic all stuck in my under carriage and stuff, not to mention his airbag would have probably removed the rest of his hair.

People, it is a real easy system, please pay attention.

This is all based on the tiny 3 lane highway system we have built here in the KC metro area. HOW EVER rules one and three are the same universally, (except in England of course where you have to go from right to left.)

Lane One; (from left to right) This is the fucking fast lane! It is not the drive 3-4 miles over the speed limit lane and bitch because you think you are going fast enough and any faster you’d be REALLY breaking the law! 10-20 MPH over the speed limit please that is why they make all of those beautiful signs that read “Slower traffic please stay right” Here is a good rule of thumb; If more people are passing you then you are passing YOU’RE IN THE WRONG FUCKING LANE!!

Lane Two; This is the long haul lane. If you are not willing to travel fast enough for the fast lane and yet you drive too fast for the slow lane THIS IS WHERE YOU BELONG!! I don’t care that there are a lot of people in this lane they’re there because they are just like you! So FUCKING STAY PUT!! Or speed up, it is your choice! OTR Truck drivers LISTEN UP! If you drive in any other lane besides this middle lane, YOU ARE CAUSING THE TRAFFIC JAMS! Keep your big asses in the middle lane except to exit! And for the love of Christ please learn to downshift when going up a fucking hill. You dumb cocksucking bastards!

Lane Three; This is the slow lane if you are unable or unwilling to drive anything more then the speed limit this is your lane. Old people this is your lane. NEW drivers this is your lane until you realize that cold medicine for kicks and driving does not equal a good time for that bus load of nuns you just ran off of the road while you were looking for the roach that dropped on the floor when your stoned passenger fumbled the handoff! Foreigners, if you can’t speak the fucking language I don’t want you driving at all but if you must keep your asses out of my way!

Now in the larger metropolises like anywhere there is more then 1 million people per sq block like San Francisco, you have 4 or more lanes of freeway to play on. BUT the rules stay the same Left= Fast
Right= Slow

Now if I could just figure out how to keep women from putting on their make up in the car while driving or how to get that Yuppie off of the fucking phone call he could have waited the 10 minutes to make when he got to the office, I would be a much happier driver and would be less likely to plot against my fellow man whilst driving.]

Thank you for your cooperation.

I am as much agnostic as probably anyone who doesn't practice religon more then a good idea on how one should lead his or her life. So whn I saw this picture I laughed my ass off! This is exactly what is going to happen to spark off armageddon. Jesus is going to come back to earth for the second comming and much like the first he will be hidden from us until he is in his 30's and then we will kill him on the spot because he will sound kooky with his "New and Imporved" teachings. And during the acension back to heaven where he will be amassing the troops to come down and give the human race a good spanking, we'll call the Ghostbusters. They will trap his ass in the containment unit and thus stopping the end of all mankind. We will eventually kill each other off and break the planet....which is all I'm really waiting for anyway. So have no fear people we will beat this Armageddon thing that has been held over our heads for the last 2000+ years.

The Landscape rolled by the windows of his beat up old car as the sun came up behind him. Once again he was moving. Always moving. It seemed that after that ordeal in the mountains he couldn't stay in one place longer then a couple of years in a row. He didn't know where this wanderlust came from but he didn't seem to mind. A new job, a new place to live and a new girl...always a new girl.

The last place was cozy. Small and warm in the winter, yet somehow light and airy in the summer, it was like he lived on a cosmic lay line where time and space had no place with reality. It gave him the illusion of happiness. Everyday he went to work and did what he had to to make the ends of that short life line meet, and on every payday he always questioned himself on why he stayed on. Every week as he made his way to the bank in his clunker of a car he wondered how long he could keep this up. Every week his pittance was deposited into a joint account and he got a glimmer of why he stayed. Her. She was why he stayed.

He would park in the drive way and look at the house. He had demolished better houses working construction during his college days, and yet he stayed. Her. He knew that he was a victim but he was also stubborn. He wanted this. He wanted this more then he had wanted anything in his life. He knew it was one sided and that it wouldn't last but he couldn't keep her out of his thoughts. Why? What made her the one? Was it because he knew it was one sided? Was it the infrequent sex romps that left him drained and panting like some old horse in the heat? What had happened to him? He used to be in control of these demons.

His past was littered with "hers" but they were always the ones who loved him more then he loved them. He had never felt the sting of a one sided love affair where he wasn't in control. This must be the karma catching up with him. Retribution for broken hearts littering his past. He saw her pull into the drive way and as always his heart skipped a beat and his stomach rolled with a passion. A passion that he knew was false but still he couldn't break it's spell. It was a sickly sweet painful experience, depraved indifference.

It hurt. I finally hurt. Maybe this was what he as needing. Maybe for the first time in a long..well first time in forever, he felt the pain For the first time he felt the pain. Pain was good, it burned the out the love. He used the pain of the one sided love affair to destroy the inferno of love that he had finally found, and that made him see what was needing to happen. He had to leave. He needed to harness the wanderlust and pack his things and move. Get on the road a new life, a new job, a new girl. A new her.

The sun was now in his eyes as the landscape rolled by the windows of his beat up old car. His thoughts continued to work. The blistering pain in his head and gut caused him to think. Now that he was on the road and headed east to a new everything, he knew he would never go back, never become the man who hurt or got hurt. Not closed up, not shut down, just cautious. He would give as good as he got, nothing more nothing less.

Fast forward 8 months.

He was with a new her. The love was instant. It was intense. It was the warm feeling of love, true love. It extinguished the burning pain, and replaced it with a flame of desire. The pain used to burn, this burn was just as hot as the pain but he liked it. It was new, it cleansed him of his bad karma. Love shared is better then....nothing seems to fit.

Love shared is better.

Testing testing 1-2-3

Well I will really have to buckle down this weekend and work on trying to figure out how to make a template for this stupid blog! I like the old one but I like how this one keeps 7 days worth of reading in one spot. (Reall I just want the layout back..Like Ruk, I miss the picture too. and I am sorta dumb so I need to do some lite reading or find a helper bee.....Queeeny? Webiztres? got any plans you naughty vixens!

Anywayfor a minute here is that famous picture.

Wow I’m retarded!

I had no idea that when I switched over to Blogspot I would need to adjust things like who can comment. And why did it take everyone a week to tell me I could change this? Holy Diver!! I think of all of the bad mouthing and ass chewing I missed out on because it looked like I was being an elitist snob!! I do apologize for that I am not an elitist snob I’m just dumb as a post sometimes.

I snuck out of work early yesterday and the older brother and I went to play golf. Yes I know I really shouldn’t be out playing golf, but hey it was a nice cool day and there is nothing better then playing hooky to have some cocktails and play golf.

Ok what we do is more like drive the golf cart around and drink cocktails rather then golf, but we did hit the ball ok for a couple of dorks who don’t really play golf. We never keep score, unless you count keeping track of lost/found balls as keeping score. Because if you do count that then I won by a landslide! I found 12-16 Balls in the under brush and in the water hazards!(Thanks TEVA) and I only lost one, and I didn’t really lose it I know exactly where it is and I was just to lazy to go get it…besides I had found a full dozen by then. “T” on the other hand, welllll he lost 2 balls on the first hole and the proceeded to lose at least one per hole from then on.

I forgot to mention that we generally play multiple balls at every hole especially if there is no one behind us telling us to go faster. So that is how we get to the at least one per hole lost by my goofy brother.

So we had fun caught quite a nice buzz and bothered other golfers as we continued to drive the course while we finished off our daily requirement of the “19th Hole”.

Not a bad day at all. Today will be worse I’m sure.

PS I have fixed my comments to aloow anyone I do apologize again for not noticing that earlier. Let the chastising begin.

WhoooWeeeeee!

4th of July weekend! What is better then a nationally sanctioned holiday that allows average Americans to blow shit up?!! What could be better huh? Well unless you are the owner of a skittish dog with a nervous stomach, who’s ass turns into a shit sprinkler system and covers the living room with an even coat of doggie discharge. Then the whole weekend is pretty much just a babysitting mission.

We (Bouby and I) went down to PetCo on Saturday Afternoon and bought a kennel for Cinny. She is deathly afraid of any loud noises and tends to try and hide in the back of the closet, or under the bed. Both places she wouldn’t fit unless she was a puppy, and she’s not she is a 8 year old 65 pound ½ rottie ½ chow. So I guess if you want to risk breaking into my house just bring some fire crackers. Well with the exception of the 135 pound Rottie that also lives there and thinks fireworks are fun to play with she might eat you but with all of my buried pirate treasure hidden in the walls of the house, it might be a good haul.

On Saturday I was suckered into yet another “Watch rednecks drive in circles” contest. We have a potential new client who is the sponsor of the NASCAR Truck Series, and so we went out as a “sales team” event to show them how excited we were to have the possibility to be working with them building their new traveling exhibit. So I went out there thinking that we would be gone for just a couple of hours and that we wouldn’t actually sit through or for that matter even go into the race and sit in the blistering sun and get ours ears blown out because our seats were 4 rows up from the death and noise of souped up trucks. Nor would we be subjected to the teeming masses of sweaty rednecks who seem to think that what they’re watching is actually worth getting in fist fights and defending the honor of their favorite driver.

We even had the pleasure of sitting behind a guy who “Booed” several of the drivers during the introductions. Classy. So after being out there for 5 hours and about 10 laps of ear splitting noise in circles, I turned to my British companion and yelled in his ear “THEY ARE STILL GOING IN A CIRCLE” He understood and we left. I have now been at every style of race they hold at the Kansas Speed way. IRL, NASCAR, and NASCAR Truck series, I lost interest in watching cars go in circles when my AMF track broke when I was 11, it is more pointless then the ground acquisition games that I enjoy watching from the comfort of my living room, not to mention being subjected to the elements and the stupidity that is a NASCAR event. You want to make it more interesting for me? Take away all of the safety features and let them go at it 70’s style when the crashes were less frequent and the driving better, but when they did crash it was awesome!! Lots of explosions, people dying in the stands…a larger sense of adventure, not just the corporate money grubbing pseudo-sport it has turned into.

I should have stayed home and jerked off. Wouldn’t have lasted so long and I would have had an excellent time!

Then the weekend was pretty uneventful. Lost a couple of hundred bucks at the boats, went to Costco, got drunk, listened to our neighbors spend every last dime they had in the kids college fund on fireworks, and I started a new book. All in all it was a pretty good weekend. And to paraphrase Ice Cube “ I didn’t have to use my AK, it was a good day”….

I saw this aand squirted beer out of my ass!