SMELLS LIKE BULLSHIT

It is only 12:30 and I am already so tired of being here it isn’t funny. I needed marketing materials a year ago for one of our products and I am still waiting. I needed my clients to pull the fucking trigger and make a decision and not schedule another meeting about whether or not a decision needs to be made before we all fall down and rot in the ground dead.

I took this job based on the job description which basically was I would be doing no cold calling and 95% of my work would involve creating invoices and filling orders. Yes it is….This is so not worth reading I would rather write a list of words I think are funny then to keep bitching about my stupid clients of how lame my job has become. So here is a list of words I think are funny or disgusting;

Spackle….This just sounds NASTY. “Honey? Where is the mop I just ass spackled the toilet.

Shimmy… That word makes me giggle.

Panties…This word if funny no matter what. If you don’t believe me just walk past any 3rd grade classroom and poke your head in and say “Panties” I bet you will disrupt class for a good 15 minutes.

Underpants…Same as panties…it is a hoot.

Vagina…It is weird no matter how you say it. “vuh-gina….vag-ina…cunt” see weird.

POOP…Poop is funny because poop is funny. Why do you think monkeys throw it when you go to the Zoo?

Fisting… Conjures up images of unwilling puppets. And that is funny, and just a little wrong.

Uranus…Planet or no planet that shit is funny!

Stool... Either something you sit on or something that comes out of what you use to sit with…it can be funny to mix up the meanings.

Well now I can’t think of anymore. And I really just want to go play golf.

And it is now 6:10 pm a FULL day and ½ later.


I did not play golf, I did go to work AGAIN, I made one of the partners actually do his fucking job instead of letting him force it off on someone else, namely me, and I have a head ache. I did cook me and Bouby some groovy pasta and I am sliding into a food coma.

But I wanted to write down some more stuff.

I found a website that has tips so I thought I would try one.

Nightmare W.
1967-2005
Nightmare W. passed away this week suddenly after a short battle with a big bus.
Bus 1
Nightmare 0
Nightmare leaves behind a wonderful girlfriend who loved him regardless of his slovenly sloppy ways, no children…that he knows of, and 2 step dogs. Both retarded. As a graduate from Kansas State University with a degree in advertising, he never actually used the degree for what it was intentioned for. It is believed to be in a box somewhere in his girlfriend’s house. He loved sports and being outdoors. Hunting and fishing were two of the top three things he liked to do outdoors *wink wink nudge nudge* which is fortuitous because that will be his final resting place outdoors. Nightmares wish to be canned and placed on a mantle has been denied due to unbelievable creepiness. A memorial will be held at the local pub. Any local pub will do so there is no need to look for a specific one This memorial will start precisely at 10:30 am and run until there is no one left standing.

Nightmare was a simple man he never wanted for much, he was a dreamer who knew that regardless of how many prayers he said he would never “hit” the lottery, and even if he did to do so would be the end of the dreams and start of reality. And he knew that without dreams life is basically a grind with no sparkles or happiness. His good natured “meanness” was 90% bark and 10% bite. He was quick to be loud but rarely if ever held a grudge for longer then three minutes. Loyal and extremely protective to his friends and family, he was known for his generosity and his ability to wade through the bullshit to get to the heart of the matter.

A loving friend, man ,and a cut above the rest. He will be missed by two or three people. Not including family who is by nature supposed to miss someone when they are dead.

Well that wasn’t nearly as therapeutic as I thought it was going to be. Anyone else ever write their own Obituary?

Shit. Well anyway here is a picture of a baby Min Pin just for NonGirlfriend;

I have been feeling a touch under the strain of work lately, Like as in last Friday I left 3 hours early because I just couldn’t handle dealing with my stupid fucking clients any more. I wish I could tell you who it was but I cannot. If I did that and someone found out I was bad mouthing my clients to the World Wide Web….well I could get in trouble and be forced to work at this company until I’m old and grey, or at least until I was dead.

Needless to say I am still furious at the events on Friday. It was a 2 hour session of emails that basically said “Hey I’m glad you goy your work done but we think that even though we told you all of the samples are right, we still don’t believe that what we OK’ed is what you have been sending us.”

Confused yet? I know I was. I reassured them that WHAT WE HAVE SENT THEM WAS EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANTED and that they approved, Actually I didn’t write that email I was so pissed of at these fucking asswads I had to have someone else write something that was a little less “FUCK YOU, YOUFUCKING RETARDS, BEFORE I FUCK YOU IN THE MOUTH AND ASSHOLE!!! Cocksuckers.

So anyway I’m still pissed and I wish I would have never landed this client. Or better still I wish our fearless leader hadn’t gave away the store to get them to play ball with us. But I hope that soon enough I will be free of these bonds and I can start doing something I like more then just this kind of shit. I don’t know what yet but I keep praying and dreaming. I know a place that is for sale that is big enough to house almost any industry, and it is in the heart of Kansas where there is still a decent work ethic and lots of bored/semi bored farm kids that are looking for something to do. And at 33K square foot for $75K it is a steal. Of course it is in a town with a population of 740 and that includes a 25 mile radius of farm country. So yeah it is small and mostly redneck, but the outdoor stuff is all there and the booze flows like water.

So if anyone knows anyone looking for a GREAT business manager, and a cool location to move a business or if you just want to give/loan me $150,000 so I can get my hunting lodge up and running with complete room and board, and a disco. If I know hunters and I do, I know there is nothing better at the end of a long hunt, then a night of relaxing disco dancing and carousing with underage big assed farm girls looking for a sugar daddy. It is what all great hunters strive for. Stalking deer and doing the Hustle…there is nothing better in life…well except What Conan says is best in life…..To crush your enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentations of the women.

Why did I have to be born so damned sexy instead of rich. I would rather be rich I think.

I’m just curious, what is the shelf life of plywood? Does anyone know? I keep wondering about this during the hurricane season. Every time I hear it on the news that the people in Florida are stocking up on bottled water and plywood for the hurricane du jour and I think to myself…”Jesus fucking Christ don’t these retards save the plywood from the last hurricane?” I mean for the love of all things living, how fucking hard is it to just keep a stack of plywood in your backyard/storage unit/basement? Living in FL without plywood is like living in Kansas without a basement. Yes you can do it but it seems pretty stupid based solely on the number of weather related disasters that occur in any given year.

Same goes for the window lickers who move into the wilderness and then bitch about their little lap dog getting eaten by a bear, or mountain lion. Or they live with the mountain lions and bears only to lose everything because they didn’t realize that FUCKING WOOD BURNS AND YOU LIVE IN A WILDFIRE AREA! Is it just me or does money make people dumb as hammered shit.

In short buy some fucking plywood and KEEP IT, don’t spend a million dollars to move into the mountains if you aren’t prepared to have your pets ate, and your house burned down, and for fucks sake use birth control! We need to start practicing some social Darwinism. Stop mudding up the gene pool with stupidity, or you will force me to get some chorine (AKA large rifle) and start weeding out the pool myself.

On a funnier note this is the best cartoon I have seen in a LOOOOOONG while!

Debra Lafave, a 24-year-old
middle school teacher in Temple Terrace, Fla., has rejected a plea
bargain agreement because it would have resulted in "significant prison
time," her lawyer says. She stands accused of multiple counts of
unlawful sex with one of her 14-year-old students, including once in
her classroom. Her attorney, John Fitzgibbons, isn't protesting her
innocence. Rather, he says, his blonde client is just too pretty for
prison. "To place an attractive young woman in that kind of hell hole,"
he says, "is like putting a piece of raw meat in with the lions." The
case will now go to trial, and she faces up to 15 years in prison on
each count. Fitzgibbons plans an insanity defense. (Tampa Tribune)
...After all, not firing her lawyer pretty much proves she's insane.

Where the hell were all of these hot naughty teachers when I was in school? For fucks sake all of my teachers were 60+ and had wrinkles on top of wrinkles!

I was also never molested by a priest! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Touch me!! for the love of christ someone please fondle me!!

Does anyone else watch "rescue me" on FX with Dennis Leary? it is really good, and you should watch it. Last night his newly found priest 1/2 brother confessed to a sexual relationship with a young boy, and when the boy confronted him, the pain was too much and the kid blew his own brains out. So Dennis kicked the shit out of his dirty priest 1/2 brother it was neato.

But the scary part about this was the during the priest's confession. He told everyone that he was molested by a priest when he was young and it really bothered the shit out of him until he realized that he liked it. He liked it because it made him feel special, a"messanger" of God had picked him to recieve all of this pleasure and took him in under his wing for "special teachings".

Made me mad just watching it. AND it cemented my beliefs that ALL organized religion is a scam and that if you aren't questioning EVERYTHING then you are a blind sheep following a blind shepard. Now this isn't a personal attack on anyone elses belief system, if you feel better and you NEED to have someone tell you flowery stories about a rosey afterlife, or doing bad things will send you to Kansas, I mean Hell, well then you go ahea and do what ever it makes you feel better. I'm just saying I can have my time with my Gods without someone else taking my money or time to do it.

Well I thought these were somewhat easy, but I guess as DK put it I really am a nut bar. I thought about waiting a day or but I said I would put these on today so I am. You can find them here Answers


That way if you still want to play you can or if you just want to see how you did you don’t have to wait for anyone else to play.

I kinda like playing this game.

I also realized that I missed my “Blogaversery” I didn’t think it had been a whole year since I started this nonsense but it has and I wanted to throw out some props to those beautiful people who started the writing my thoughts down fun and misery.

My first experience with blogs was when some one sent me a link to the world famous Pork Tornado. I was sent a link to his Worst Album Covers Ever and I wet myself laughing. It’s true a little pee came out.. Dusty’s ability to make his day sound like every force on the planet is out to make him it’s bitch and the unbelievable way he gets it written down so it makes me feel like I am standing there watching the drama unfold is uncanny. One of the funniest guys I have never met. But he is not the reason I started writing.

Clarity ,she is my muse. I stumbled across her writing and I spent two nights and most of one work day reading everything she wrote. Her stories about getting married, moving to Germany, and the struggles of one of the most talented people I have ever read or had the pleasure of seeing her artwork, inspired me to write about my past, present, and future. If I ever had the opportunity to meet just one person from bloggerland it would be her. Her diary is the only one out there that I have read every entry at least once, some were read twice and three times. I have been tempted to cut and paste them all into a book and ghost publish them , but I figured that she would hunt me down and kill me or worse.

Not that I wouldn’t want to meet EVERYONE I read but she started it all. So if you don’t like my stupidity blame her she caused it to be written down.

So Thanks for everyone that stops by and reads my rantings and my nonsense. Like most people I didn’t start this to find an audience but I wouldn’t want anyone to leave now that I know you’re here.

I love movies. It is no surprise I know. But I have been told that I quote too many movies in my daily life. So I am going to play a game. Here are some movie quotes and you guess the movies. I want to prove that I’m not a freak and everyone knows these things. No cheating either!! I really want to know if anyone else knows this shit of if I’m a complete nut bar. So no googleing, or movie quote websites. I made this somewhat easy, so have fun and I’ll see you Monday with the answers.

1. “Did you see the way she was looking at me eh? Yeah Like you’re some kinda freak! Now c’mon”
2. “ What in the wide wide world of sports is a goin’ on here?
3. “If I can do anything for you, or more to the point, to you let me know. ’Can you hammer a 6 inch spike through a board with your penis?’ Not right now ‘well a girl has to have her standards’
4. “69 dude!”
5. “Just digging a hole…in frigging outer space”
6. “How about you sideburns? You want some milk?” ‘I’d rather have a beer’
7. “Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Orange Whip? Three Orange Whips”
8. “I like you Betty, ‘It's Danny sir.’ Danny.”
9. “You're offering me a job?” ‘Uh huh.’ “ The waitresses hate me!” ‘You wait till you've given them crabs. Then you'll really know hatred.’
10. "Knew Him? Shit, nigga owes me twelve bucks!"
11. “Lucas, Are you in some sort of trouble? Because every minute that goes by, and I don't report you, I look like a bigger banana-head. “
’ Joe, I can categorically say that you are not a bigger banana-head’
12. "The great advantage of having a reputation for being stupid: People are less suspicious of you."
13. “Side of the eyes, side of the eyes…Don’t drive angry!”
14. “Give to Oedipus! Give to Oedipus! - Hey Josephus! ’ What's up, motherfucker! “
15. “I've fallen for you like a blind roofer."
16. “Let's bust 'em.” ’For what?’ “In this neighborhood, a Mercedes is probable cause.”
17. He's nothing but a low-down, double-dealing, backstabbing, larcenous perverted worm! Hanging's too good for him. Burning's too good for him! He should be torn into little bitsy pieces and buried alive!
18. I'd like to welcome you all to an event that's sometimes been called the Automotive counterpart to the Bay of Pigs.
19. “I congratulate you.” ‘What for?’ “Your work.” ‘I try.’ “We all try. You succeed.”
20. “How about a gross of fluorescent condoms for the the novelty machine in the men's room? I mean, those are fun even when you're alone. We're talkin' the hula hoop of the nineties.”

I grew up with two brothers all of us close in age and about as far away from each other in personality. But we seemed to get into a ton of mischief even though we were so different. My older brother is a planner, and my younger brother is the engineer, I on the other hand was the personality. When in high school, it was said that where my older brother could talk his way into a better grade I could always talk my way out of a bad grade, the younger one was smarter then most of his teachers. We weren’t often in on something together, since we all three are Leos and the embodiment of that astrological sign, so there is a lot of tales of wrongdoing and weirdness that are only shared between two of us at a time. But growing up with a divorcee and 3 brothers all in the same house…well that was a caldron of excitement.

As a prepubescent group of boys who were a generation before home video game systems, we had to play with what ever we could find, and generally make up games to keep us occupied. For instance One time my older brother and I figured out the power of reflected sunlight.

How might you ask did we accomplish this? We climbed out on to the 2nd floor roof of our porch and held a 3’ circular mirror directing the ray of light into the eyes of oncoming traffic. It was kind of funny watching the cars swerve all over the road. Dangerous, yes, fun kid stuff? YES!

Then there was the weird stuff we would occasionally find in the bathroom trash. For about a week every month we would find a bunch of little white paper telescope tubes in the trashcan. We had no idea what they were but they were fun to play with, and with our Mom working 8-10 hours a day, as well as us being boys we didn’t have a clue what they were just that they were fun to play with. Yes it’s true we played with Mom’s discarded tampon applicators.

I know most people would find this gross and question Mom’s parenting but hey we were latch key kids before the term “latch key” was invented. Some people would say that we were neglected but I think since we all are college educated, not in jail, and all in relationships she did just fine. Besides as I have said before we WERE the worst kids ever.

Those tubes were also very useful. My younger brother taped one to the left side of his wrist rocket (high powered sling shot for those of you who don’t know) and made a unbelievably accurate sight for this weapon of neighborhood terror. When he first came out of the house with this contraption I was very skeptical, right up until he knocked 5 beer cans over with 5 shots.

We had been trying to achieve this kind of accuracy for over a year. Naturally the soon to be engineer was the one to figure this out. Well since I am the hunter of the family and have been since I was old enough to bird dog for my G-pa, I immediately wanted him to shoot a bird with it. I know mean and uncalled for but I was a kid just learning my “hunter’s etiquette” . So we go out in search of a bird, not too much longer a blue jay landed about 15 yards in front of us, I prompted him to shoot, he drew back and let loose a rock. At that moment the bird “jumped the string” which is what it is called when you are bow hunting and the game hears the string before the arrow gets to it, and he starts to try and fly away.

The rock smacked him right in the head! I was elated! I couldn’t believe that my younger brother had shot and killed a bird. I rushed over to it and stood looking down at this blue jay’s body, and it was then I noticed that Younger wasn’t next to me nor was he enjoying this incredible shot like I was. I looked back and he was still standing in the same spot, wrist rocket hanging loosely from his left hand.

“Is it dead”? he asked in a small voice.

I replied “hell yeah! That was the best shot I have ever seen!”

“I didn’t mean to kill it, I fired over his head, I tried to miss on purpose” he muttered, as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“Well, either way he is still dead” As I finally noticed his tears.

“I’m so sorry” he wailed.

I told him that it was ok and that we would do the right thing and give him a proper burial and that God would understand because there was no evil intent in his heart and that you were just trying to scare it.

We had a quick, yet meaningful funeral for the bird and the younger one didn’t shoot his wrist rocket ever again And the only time he ever picks up a weapon is at our family reunions where there is a trap range. AND!! He is so good at it last year he hit 44 out of 45 blue rocks for the family championship.

So ladies, please keep you applicators well disposed of and out of reach, for you know not the damage they can do, especially in the hands of unsupervised prepubescent boys who are too smart for their age.

Things that happened this weekend:

1) It rained.
2) My Uncle and Aunt blew through town for a quick lunch.
3) It rained
4) I hit myself in the shin with a hatchet
5) It rained
6) Lost $100.00 at the casino

Overall it was a pretty good weekend.

My Uncle and Aunt are homeless. It is weird but only in a good way. See Uncle was a computer guy from the stone ages. Do you remember that scene in “Apollo 13” where they say “Houston we have a problem” and in the next few minutes they say “go wake up 1300 people” to try and effort a way to get the astronauts back home safely…well uncle was one of those smart guys that was rudely awakened back in the day.

Neat huh? Well anyway since that they have become homeless. But only to eliminate the hassles of homeownership, and so they could travel, and that is what they do, they are constantly on the move it is really pretty cool. Last year alone they went to New Zealand, Borneo, Thailand, and a couple of other places I can’t remember. Not to mention all over the US. I can’t wait until I’m old so I can piss off all of my relatives and friends buy cruising around not working and sleeping on their couches and shit.

I hate to beat a dead horse here people but some of you are not getting the message. So I will attempt to explain it again to you (you know who you are) cockstomping retards.

On Sunday during our drive to Costco, I noticed an interesting phenomenon. People think that the left hand lane of traffic is the “Phone Booth” lane and that if you need to make a call on your cell phone you should pull INTO that lane and slow down to 10 miles an hour under the speed limit. Which seems to work out just fine because on this Sunday old people and immigrants occupied the other two lanes. I don’t really hate either one of these groups of people, unless they are behind the wheel of a car, on the phone, making tamales, putting their makeup on and wondering what the early bird special is at Denny’s.

The Middle lane was packed with snowheads, aimlessly driving around looking for that missing exit, or maybe just trying to find their way home, I’m not sure which but I am sure that they were doing it at 45 MPH IN A 65 ZONE! I think that we should treat the highways like a skating rink, now a lot of you might not know what the hell I’m talking about but back in the good old days we would go roller skating in a big building and it was fun. They had all kinds of different activities, but that isn’t my point.

My point is, they would have these signs hanging up that would say stuff like “If more people are passing you, then your passing, please stay to the inside” and for the lead feet, “if you are passing more people then are passing you PLEASE SLOW DOWN” And if you didn’t obey, a guy with a whistle would yell at you and sometimes make you go sit down for a few minutes.

If we could do that with drivers I would be a much happier driver, and the chances of me snapping one day and gunning down a whole slew of old people who are out wandering around with no real purpose, would be cut down drastically.

So for the sake of your Grandparents, and for the sake of my incarceration, please don’t let them on our highways and byways.

As for the immigrants, well I think that problem is universal. I know when Americans go abroad the rest of the world really doesn’t want to see us behind the wheel either.

Oh and the hatchet wound is really just a scratch.

Last night when I got home all fucking hot and sweaty because it was 1000 degrees outside and my fully UN-restored 1976 Chevy pickup has no A/C, I found Bouby on the couch and PISSED OFF!

At first I was thinking she found my stash of porn but then I remembered she already knows where that is and encourages the use of it. *Wink wink nudge nudge *, So I was the dutiful boyfriend and I ask what the dealio was. She tells me that we have some work to do tonight to make our home in compliance to city ordinances.

I was confused.

“What city ordinances are we violating? (I knew that it might be our “compost pile” in the back yard that consists of a large amount of soon to be fire wood, but fuck that shit is outta sight!)

“We have to move our trash cans”

“WHAT?”

“The trash cans cannot be in front of the line of the building. As of a law passed a year ago”

“So we have to move our trash cans, well ok…I guess. We’ll get that done this weekend I’m tired, my fucking knee is swelled up like a grapefruit, and I need to sit down”

“No”

“What do you mean no?”

“The letter says it HAS to be done by the 12th.”

“But it is the 10th, why do we not get 30 days to fix this shit like all of the other ordinances?”

She doesn’t know but now I’m PISSED. My relaxing time at home starring longingly into my Bouby’s eyes is going to be interrupted by some fucking manual labor. So we devise a plan, and she, makes me wait a couple of hours to let it cool off a little bit. We will just clean off a spot on the side of the house BEHIND the line of the building and coincidentally behind a small bush, level it off, and put down paver stones to make a “trash platform”

The part that really pisses me off is if the trashcans couldn’t have been seen that easily from the road where they sat. See we have a 8’ brick retaining wall that holds the stairs up to the front door and they sat next to that. And since we have a privacy hedge and usually my truck in the driveway they really are semi invisible. But I guess semi isn’t good enough.

Personally I think the cunt across the street from us called it in. She is a GIANT fat cow and we hate her, and her skank ass daughter, who by the way is also a fat girl who thinks it is sexy to wear the small shirts and low rise jeans so her huge-normous belly flops around over the top of her pants. AND she talks loudly on her cell phone while sitting on the front steps, loud enough for us to follow the conversation FROM ACROSS THE STREET!

Anyway we hate them.

So we went to check up on the G-parents house cause they are elsewhere right now, and stopped at Home Depot to get some fucking pavers,

The job didn’t take very long but is was so hot I thought I was going to melt. I had runnels of sweat pouring off of my back like a fire hose. I couldn’t sit on the furniture when we were done because my shorts looked like I wore them swimming. I sweat a lot. I can break a sweat standing in a walk in freezer in the middle of Greenland in winter! So 98 degrees with 80% humidity makes me look like a walking drip irrigation system.

But I also heard back from my big client in the Pacific Northwest, and we are still in the game, so even though we fucked up my client base last week there is a chance that we can still land this much more lucrative client and the bothersome asspipes who are mad at us can tongue my taint!

Anyway there is my anger angst filled yesterday capped off with a big fucking cherry.

Does anyone need a good manager/lackey/bartender who can lift heavy things and talk people out of their money? I’m available.

I know that I have posted about this magazine before and I just love it but I hadn't had an opprtunity to play around on the website since my laptop died and I took my OWN computer to work to use as a desk top there. What am I using at home? Lets just say a little thievery took place and a package didn't get delivered to the right place at the right time...Have NO fear though, it isn't little Timmy's from down the block, oh no this one is just a...well it is a...we'll call it a spare.

ANYWAY the magazine Modern Drunkard is absolutly the best thing to try and read if you find yourself in a sober state of mind.

For those of you who don't want to look for the good stuff I have taken the liberty of finding the most important peice of information produced in the early oughts. (that is the "00's" for those of you not speaking Jethro Bodine-isms)

The 86 Rules of Boozing;




1. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.

2. Always toast before doing a shot.

3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.

4. Change your toast at least once a month.

5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.

6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.

7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.

8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.

9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.

10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.

11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I’m going to get drunk. I hate shots. It’s coming back up.

12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.

13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.

14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.

15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.

16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.

17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.

18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.

19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.

20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.

21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.

22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.

23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.

24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.

25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.

26. If there is a d.j., you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.

27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.

28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.

29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.

30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.

31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.

32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.

33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.

34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.

35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.

36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender’s guide and browse through all the drinks you’ve never tried.

37. Try one new drink each week.

38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.

39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.

40. If you have ever told a bartender, “Hey, it all spends the same,” then you are a cheap ass.

41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.

42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.

43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.

44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.

45. It's okay to drink alone.

46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her “baby” or “darling”.

47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.

48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.

49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.

50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.

51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.

52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.

53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.

54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.

55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.

56. Screaming, “Someone buy me a drink!” has never worked.

57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.

58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.

59. If you are broke and a friend is “sporting you”, you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.

60. If you are broke and a friend is “making sport of you”, you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.

61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.

62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.

63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.

64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.

65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.

66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, “I'm an idiot.”

67. Never ask a bartender “what's good tonight?” They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.

68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.

69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.

70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.

71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.

72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.

73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.

74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.

75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.

76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.

77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with “I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . .”

78. When you’re in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he’s buying.

79. If you are 86’d, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.

80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.

81. If you’re going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It’s the no-tell liquor.

82. There’s nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you’re supposed to be at work.

83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.

84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there’s something in it.

85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.

86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.

--Frank Rich

Copyright 2004 Modern Drunkard Magazine

I think that this list of rules is even more comprehensive then my own "Rules of the Bar" which is very apparent since I only wrote the 8 things to avoid doing in a bar and not a life long plan, to complete and total boozery. Here is that original list, dug from deep in the archives, not to mention the now defunct Bar Bitches web site, so anyway 8 things to keep you safe and happy in a drinking situation.

1) Don't just ask the bartender for a "beer" or a "shot"--please be specific! I can't count how many times I had to ask "Can you be more specific?" I had over 50 different bottle beers and 10 on tap, and 25,000 different drinks! Know what you want!

2) If you are waiting in line at the bar and have been waiting for a while, when it is finally your turn, don't look at the bartender blankly! Tell him/her what you want! The waiting in line is to be used for deciding what you want, not to chit chat or flirt. Be quick and concise.

3) Women, do not take offense if someone accidentally steps on your feet, bumps your shoulder, or causes you to spill a little of your drink on the person near you or on yourself. It is a hazard of going out and accidents happen, especially by other women. I blame it on alcohol and high heels. If you plan on wearing the fuck-me pumps out, limit your alcohol intake to one drink per hour, unless you like getting beat up.

4) Guys, booze only enhances your personality in your own eyes. It does not make you a superman, invisible, a sex god, or a movie star. If you are an asshole to start, all you are with a few drinks in you is a super asshole.

5) Don't feel put out when you are asked for your ID. That is the job of the doorman. The fines for this are steep and in most states come out of the paycheck of the bouncer. I know back in the day it was $500/head for underage drinkers in California. If you try and succeed in getting in, drink responsibly, and if you are denied, don't get mad. You gambled and lost. Also, if you find a place that lets you in, become a regular--less hassles and better chance of not getting caught. (Safety tip: If you use a fake ID, make sure it has the same name as the credit card you use to buy drinks/food. I busted this little kid after he was coming for a couple of weeks, because he came in during the day with his frat brothers and he bought them lunch, but when I asked whose credit card it was and he said it was his, I knew it was a different name than his ID.)

6) Don't treat someone's business as your own personal backyard party. Just because you would pee in a trash can at your house doesn't mean you should do this while in a club or a bar.

7) Tipping the doorman will ensure that he will remember you, but it does not get you an automatic in the next time you come by. This might take a lot of tipping (or if you are a constant asshole, it might mean that you are just throwing money away). If the doorman has to pull you out of a melee every time you're in the bar, don't expect favors.

8) There is a reason for every rule. Bars' rules are there to protect you from the dangers we have all seen or been through. Bartenders and bar owners know our bar better than you do!

This set of rules only scratches the surface and doesn't address the big questions, like "will I get laid more if I don't have whisky breath?" or "why don't women like guys with hairy backs?" but if I have helped just one person, my work here is done!

Yesterday really was a stress fucking filled fuck up of a day!

I walked around from 9 am until 3:30 pm feeling like someone had kicked me in the gut and was fixing to butcher my dog.

Lets just say that a year and a half worth of work could have been for nothing because of some bad communication. That and said client may sue us.

None of this was my fault, I’m in the clear, however since I was the lead salesman I might lose a BIG client.

This is the first job I have had to take drugs to perform. Zanex has become a staple of my weekly routine. Now I’m not saying I wasn’t on drugs when I was doing other jobs mind you but this is the first one that I NEEDED to take drugs, not just as a recreational way to speed up the passage of time.

I swear to Christ that if it wasn’t for the laws against murdering people, I would have went home and got strapped. I even think that the judge would see it as justifiable homicide, once I told him what happened.

“So Nightmare you shot this building full of people you are getting the death penalty”

“But Judge they fucked up a year and ½ of my time and broke contracts and all without consulting me, and one of them is very vindictive towards my client, so who’s to say he didn’t do it on purpose?”

“Nightmare, do you think they needed to die?”

“I really just meant to wing them but they wouldn’t hold still”

“Now that is a horse off a different color now isn’t it? They fucked up your whole client base, AND wouldn’t stand still for a well deserved winging?..Case dismissed!”

“Thank you judge, I also do kids parties and caterings”

But I’m better now, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine. That and golf, nothing relives stress more the getting out in the blazing hot Midwest July sun and wacking a little white ball all over creation. It really puts shit in perspective you know. That fucking game is the dumbest game ever invented, and I’m even counting tiddly winks!

If you haven’t heard Robin William’s monologue on the invention of golf you need to Google that shit. It makes me wet my pants every time I hear it.

On a side note. My pants are smaller now then they were 4 months ago.

I would first like to apologize for yesterdays post. I know the message that I wanted was thewre but there was also a shit bag of spelling errors. I tried to use the spell check so graciously provided by Blogspot but apparently I’m entirely too stupid to make it work right as it didn’t pick up ANY of my fatal spelling errors. So those of you who emailed me to complain, even though you say it doesn’t bother you, well I am sorry for my laziness. Please forgive me.

Now, BITE MY CRANK YOU ANAL RETENTIVE BASTARDS!!

I kid because I care.

Seriously I’m fine with it.

Ok I was going over my junk folder because since I had to set up a whole new fucking computer because my stupid lap top died a horrible death, I need to double check this old bitch to see if she is eating some of my important emails.

Anyway as I was looking through the deleted junk I came across a email that shouldn’t have been there. At first I had no idea who it was from because he sent it out to everyone at my high school class web page, informing us of his blog.

Now I wouldn’t go out and say this guy is a close personal friend of mine but I have done some pretty good partying with him and his wacko friends. These guys were a couple of years older (maybe 3) and were the absolute nut jobs of the school.

When they were seniors they were part of the school talent show and they preformed some extremely funny skit/ performance art piece / weirdness, that the only thing I can remember is the line “The birth of a new day……And Mother Nature has stretch marks” Also when Dr. Mingle/Gonzo graduated that spring he did it with honors, and with these honors came a bright gold rope to be worn around his neck to signify that he was indeed a honor student. He tied his around his waist ala monk style, wearing flip flops.

The man has style I tell ya!

Anyway this mass emailing contained a link to his blog. I checked it out and it is a fantastic representation of his photography skills as well as his graphic arts ability. So if you feel so inclined to see some weirdness at it’s finest check out Dr. Mingle-Gonzo

I know I will.

On a side note I heard of a guy yesterday who works solely on a commission basis in an industry that has the greatest peaks and valleys of any sales job and he hasn’t collected a dime since March, and has a wife and 5 kids, and when he finally did get a couple of commissions back to back he gave the majority of his money to his church for his tithing.

Is it just me of does this strike anyone else as totally nuts?

The weekend was good...here is what went down:
Friday-bartended a private party
Saturday-Spent birthday loading a pod for younger brother to move all of his "wealth"(crap he will never need) and his Girlfriends beautiful furniture, so when they get set up in Boston, they will be surrounded by their things.
Sunday-Costco, Kohels, Home Depot, mowed grass, trimmed bushes, fixed window in truck(Bouby did this because my stupid paws don't fit inside the door, THANK YOU BOUBY!!) cut limbs away from power lines and stupid neighbors overhanging trees that could easily crush fence and houses.
Sunday Night-Slept like a rock, very tired monkey.

But during the packing and yard work I rememberd my baby brother and some of the stories of our trouble making past. The first time I took him to a high school party, and he got so drunk I had to bounce him off a garage wall to get him to pay attention, and then he puked in my car, out of my car and near my car for a good 200 feet. He had a lot of beer to drink.

Or the time that we drove back from California and stopped in Estes park to visit a friend of his. She was working at the YMCA/YWCA youth camp there and we were just going to spend the night and get drunk and see if we could pick up on some councilors, and we ended up staying until the next afternoon while she quit her job, packed her shit and jumped into the car with us to go back to Manhattan KS.

On a different trip but this time on the way to California, we stopped in Pueblo CO this time to meet another girlfriend of his....yes he was quite the whore and all of this before the advent of the internet as we know it. Anyway the un part of this trip was the motel room we destoyed. Yes for one night we WERE Ozzy Osbourne!!

It all started with a check into a nice motel, and myself writing down the wrong licsense plate number. I didn't do it on purpose, but I did take advatage of the mistake. We immediatly got a case of beer and took a quick tour of the facility. We found the bar. It had a two person band playing. They were the worst motel bar band we had ever heard, but they were still kind of fun. We bellied up to the bar and started drinking boiler makers and pitcher after pitcher of beer. It was a little while later that we both had to pee. Here is where the RZock Star partying starts.

We both went into the restroom near the bar and I took a urinal that had one of those seperating walls bolted near it, and I had one hand on the top of this wall steadying myself with it. I noticed it wasn't the most stable of seperating walls, so I folded it over onto the urinal. Now this in itself was funny to us because well we were extremly drunk and young and very stupid. Have I mentioned I was pretty big back then too? I was still playing college football and I had entirely too much testrone coursing through my feeble young mind. SO if this wan't enough when I did the folding it caused some sort of weird chain reaction and the 4'X 8'1/4" glass mirror slipped off of the wall in two peices and then proceeded to shatter on the mens room floor. I looked up just in time to see the door jerk open and the contents of the bar stood out there wondering what the fuck just happened.

As big and dumb as I was I still thought pretty quicly on my feet. I looked up at those people standing there and I started shouting about how I was just standing there taking a piss and the mirror fell right off of the wall and it could have cut my dick right off and what the fuck kind of place could this possibly be where the construction was so shoddy that a man could lose his penis in a bizzar mirror accident in the mens room by the bar! I said that I had had enough and we were out of there!!

"J" and I walked as steady as we could by the silent crowd and straight towards the door to the outside. Glancing over my shoulder I saw no one was watching so we ducked up the stairs and ran to our rooms where we sat in the dark and quiet for 1/2 an hour. We were expecting some sort of retribution, and when none came we decided the coast was clear and continued to party. we had the most of a case lefty and the room was our playground. After I broke both bed frames by jumping on them and tossing the smoke detector out the window (makeshift frisbee), and one of my shoes (also a frisbee, worked less then the smoke alarm) we finally passed out.

The next morning we were late checking out and they didn't say a word nor did they ever send us a bill.

Of course if I saw a couple of kids fucking up like that nowadays I would throw them the beating of the week and make sure their parents knew what they did. With age comes wisdom.

Anyway it is memories like that that I send my younger brother to the East coast and straight in to bean town. I love you Pugo be safe and stay in touch.