So they say...

An erection doesn't count as "Personal Growth"

I say...
"Yes it does"

If you didn't already know...

From sources unkown, but I post anyway...

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the definition for each is listed below ....

GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying off somewhere?"

BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the ass, and having the balls to say: "You're next!"

Hopefully this clears up any confusion on the subject.

What the shit is this?!

I was bred and raised in a place where snow is not an issue to be dealt with but once in a blue moon, if that, and even then there might be a quarter to a half-inch at most lightly spread about the flora and fauna. So, one more time for the peanut gallery, what the shit is this?! Since my job does not allow nor have room for sick days or, apparently, SNOW days, here I be; and by the skin of my teeth to boot.

It took what is normally a five minute drive at most and turned it into a 45 minute trek against seemingly insurmountable odds at risk to not so much my life, but certainly to that of my beloved war-horse of a pick-up to make it in.
Let me clarify one thing here: though truly beloved to be sure, by warhorse I mean only that I have really just beat the crap out of it and have never had to take it in for anything other than regular maintenance or for something that I did to it. A ’97 Ford Ranger, that I bought in early ’98, just doesn’t have what it takes to forge through a foot plus of snow or, God help it, up a frickin’ hill (which it can barely do without the snow, God love it). And, AND, it’s in or below the single digits! That’s below freezing folks! Again, what the shit is this? Enough about that.

This will be my final winter in no-mans land though thank you very much. Soon it will be back to the valley and sunny days and mild winters will be enjoyed all around.

For those who can appreciate this...

From sources unkown, but I post anyway...

Marines are always taught, among other things:

1) Keep your priorities in order

and

2) Know when to act without hesitation.

A United States Marine was attending some college courses between assignments. He had recently completed missions in Iraq and Afghanistan.

One of the courses had a professor who was an avowed atheist and a member of the ACLU. One day he shocked the class when he came in, looked to the ceiling, and flatly stated, "God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I'll give you exactly 15 minutes." The lecture room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Ten minutes went by and the professor proclaimed, "Here I am God. I'm still waiting."

It got down to the last couple of minutes when the Marine got out of his chair, went up to the professor, and cold-cocked him; knocking him off the platform. The professor was out cold. The Martine went back to his seat and sat there, silently. The other students were shocked and stunned and sat there looking on in silence.

The professor eventually came to, noticeably shaken, looked at the Marine and asked, "What the hell is the matter with you? Why did you do that?"

The Marine calmly replied,

"God was too busy today protecting America's soldiers who are protecting your right to say stupid shit and act like an asshole.
So He sent me."

Band-aid time...

My wife’s mouse died, what are you gonna do. Yes, my wife had a pet mouse, and for the love of God did she love that fuzzy little rodent bastard. I had never imagined before yesterday that a person could get so crazy distraught over a frickin’-frackin’ dirty ass little mouse. Aren’t women supposed to be deathly afraid of mice, hopping up on furniture, squealing, and calling exterminators and what not? So where was the mix-up here.
Though she was nearly inconsolable, I did mange to console her. I took her out and told her that she could buy any ol’ ugly-ass pair of shoes that she likes. I hate shoe shoppin’, and she loves to buy ugly-ass shoes. That turned out to be a good start me thinks. Then I took her to her favorite little place to eat and encouraged her to have a couple of her favorite chocolate martini’s (it was about 1 o’clock in the afternoon by the way). Next, a trip to get her the latest and greatest DVD releases of Sienfeld, by far her favorite show ever. We finished off the afternoon with a lively good romp, if ya know what I mean. All in all a successful afternoon of consoling me thinks.

Gotta love the wife...

Today, my wonderful wife and I went for a walk. We chose to take our walk through this half-ass local nature reserve place that totally sucked, but we enjoyed the walk and the company none the less. Anyhow, somewhere deep in the forest, we came across this unbelievably foul oder, damn near taking us both to our knees, and my favorite person in the world says: “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Absolute brilliance. I could not love this woman more. Good night folks.

Here we go again...

If a bear had no hair, I would certainly stare.
But could it still inflict that usual bear scare?
If he stood up straight, and shook out his bear skin,
Bared his sharp teeth, and roared out to his bear kin,
Would you still cry out until your high voice wore thin?
My advice for escaping this bear with no hair,
Is to close your eyes tight –
And picture him in underwear.

Hey, if you don't like it...

Sometimes, when I’m really bored or distraught, I write things down and just have at. Now, funnily enough (yes, in this blog funnily is a word), those things often come out in the form of really horrific, very poetry-like, blather. This amuses me something awful because I generally despise poetry in any form because generally all poetry is quite god-awful and should quickly be put aside and set asunder. Now, while there are many like it, this blog is mine. So, I put what I like. And if you don’t like it, well *spoken through a megaphone* “Suck my balls.”

*scribbled down many moons ago, but it somehow amused me then, and still amuses me now.
Dawn is here the birds will sing
How does the poop know what to bring.

Silly are most fleeting thoughts
Sometimes creepy, a nightmare lost.

Beans, band-aids, and bullets,
Watch your ass from far away toilets.

Wading in sadness is the child inside
Pleasure seeking for one last time.

I never did mind the little things, it’s fun for you and me
But how long must I circle here, I really have to pee.

There’s a painted man with a big red nose, always dancing at my feet
I think that I might stomp on him, a freshly reddened cleat.

Difficult to cope with all of the knowledge that I have
This world is spinning angrily, a truth that’s iron-clad.

I must lye now, like all the bears in winter
For sorely I do believe, in my left nut there’s a splinter.

I’ll end this now with one last thought
Who would win if turtles fought?

Can it be true?!

Oh happy day! I've heard through the grape-vine that Seasons of Beavis and Butthead are going to be released on DVD, and this time WITH their music video commentaries(the best part I must say)! And that this would just be a pre-cursor to possibly bringing all new episodes back to our ever brain draining television sets. Somebody pinch me.

I scribbled this down many years ago, late at night of course. I dug it out of my closet and figured, well, this would be the place for it eh?


“Hey, how’s it goin’?” What a wonderful phrase
Spoken by a young god, blonde and strange
I’ll keep these words with me the rest of my days.
These words that bring comfort, and make me feel fuzzy
Will we ever look back and say “Beavis, who was he?”

“Hey Baby.” Just do what I say
Come along quietly so I can get laid.
He’s got big gums; he’s a natural born leader
Though all of his thoughts take place in his wiener.
All he gets from the chicks is “Hey loser, drop dead!”
But what kind of world would it be, without Butthead?

They roam around aimlessly spanking their monkeys
Watching TV all day, they’re MTV junkies.
They torture small animals, teachers, and friends
But we will still love them, to the bitter end.

Imagine a world without Beavis and Butthead
I wash my hands of the notion
I would rather be dead.

Listen to my words; you know it’s all true
Life without Beavis and Butthead
What would we do?

Happy Birthday!

Though our birthday's not actually until next week, we celebrated last night. Oh how we celebrated. The extent to which my kind can consume the frothy brew never ceases to amaze me; and God Bless an open bar, what a wonderful thing it is.

Cheers.

Ever had a room-mate?

I have...

The sound of his voice makes me want to shit myself . His word choice is stupefying. The fact that he is able to hold a conversation with anyone, especially women, for more than eight seconds, or more than once for that matter, drowns out all of my hope for men and women everywhere. Ladies, please! Can you do no better?!
The wretched masticating of his food is equally revolting and horrifying. I may throw up. Really, I feel queasy.
My dear, dear, Lord; this window licking butt pirate fires me to the brink even while sleeping. Who can do that? Seriously!
This wealth of foul could only be a gift straight from hell to a man. Yes he snores, but this is no ordinary snore. Snot, mild suffocation, what makes that noise?! The myriad of sonic tragedies I am forced to endure on a daily basis is cruel and unnatural punishment. Am I strong enough? I don’t know…….maybe not.

I'm so glad that chapter has come to an end.

You know...

...the damnable misery of the whole thing is… I’ve gone cross-eyed, already I can’t remember.

It’s awful silly that it works like that don’t you think? There one minute gone the next. It’s like a seven-year-olds silly game, like we’re playing a simple Nintendo game where the kid just keeps whacking away at the buttons and regardless of your skill at the game, no matter what trick you manage to finagle from your sleeve, the little bastard still kicks your ass.
Well, all I really want anyway is some french toast. Oh yeah, with strawberry syrup, lots of bacon, oh and scrambled eggs with tons of cheese… Sorry about that. It’s true though, you know, the quickest way to a mans heart? Yeah, it’s through his stomach. His Mr. Peepers? Hey, I’m telling you ladies, if you want a man to pop the big question, he’s going to expect the sex, but a woman who can perform miracles in the kitchen, or bring him a roast beef sandwich out of the blue, you’ll be the one who starts enjoying the sweaty dance most, he’ll start being a lot more giving in the romper room. And if he doesn’t, find yourself another fish, this one’s a selfish bastard. Words of wisdom? Certainly not. If you’re considering takeing advice from me, you've got much bigger problems then trying to get some Shmuck to marry you. And yes, I don’t care who he is, or what your ‘mother’ thinks of him, he’s a Shmuck.

Well there, I’ve gone rambling. Hey, stay with me, it’ll happen again. I’ve always got so much to talk about in my head, I get here and kablooey, like some turd burglar just snuck in on me in the shower and flicked off the light. I hate that; or when other people talk, yeah, I hate that too. Well, most people anyway. Silence truly is golden. Except when people are supposed to be talking (which sadly does happen from time to time), then it sucks. It’s at that point that people start to move around like they have to pee, or they’ve been standing around for a really long time, that’s kind of funny. Still, I hold strong, people talking-that sucks.

Welcome

Let's get started.

This, as I'm sure you'll soon be able to tell, is my first bit of blogging - ever. I hope that all goes well, and I'm certainly looking forward to blathering, venting, or ranting away, whichever be called for at the time.

Just to make sure that we all get off on the right foot and in the right tone, know this: if there's a problem with my spelling, grammar, word choice, etc., and you have a problem with any of the aforementioned, fuck - off. I truly don’t care, and you will anger me.

There, now we know were we stand.

If all is still good, please feel free to stick around. Though, clearly there’s not much here yet to waste too much of your time.