I was thinking the other day, and as we all know, that's where the trouble starts.
Why is it that people don't know how to drive? I don't mean people can't put their hands at the ten and two position, or that they can move the little twiggy thingy sticking out of the left side of the steering column and actually inform me of the intent to turn at some point in the future.
I'm talking the subtle things like "get the fuck left if you plan on turning left," or "you can tell which lane is mine, because the green opaque thing outside your window is my car," or "we can play pedestrian-bumper-lawyer."
Are people just not looking? I was behind a guy in a minivan who was on and off his cellphone, repeatedly looking at the readout in order find the next person he was going to pester. He was going slow and swerving, but when he realized I was climbing his ass, he started going slower, and swerving more so that I couldn't get by completely. I was able to get my right quarter up on his left, and I slowly started going to the right. In order to not get rubbed, he started easing right, and when I had a bit more room to where I wouldn't lose my side mirrors, I shot between him and the cars parked to my left. I immediately got in front of him, and he started yelling(with the phone still up to his ear) and tried to climb my ass. I flipped him off as I ran the orange light, and he sat at the red. It was almost as cool as the time I passed a lady on an off ramp.
I love me.
In other news: My brother Darrel and I fixed the blast door, so it's nice and cozy on the porch.
Oct 24, 2007
Le Pew
I learned something interresting last night. I was on beer five when I decided that 53deg and rainy should mean fire in the stove.
After beer seven, I found that I couldn't untangle the bellows from the pile of wood, so I decided to blow on the fire to get it going (or at least get it aroused). Being not effective enough at first, I got closer the opening and blew harder. It went something like this:
Hey this is working, but I need to get closer.
Better, but I have to blow harder.
What's that odd smell?
OH SHIT! MY MUSTACHE IS ON FIRE!
The burning wasn't that bad (not like John's hat), and I was able to trim everything up, but all night and so far this morning I was reminded of Birkenau.
After beer seven, I found that I couldn't untangle the bellows from the pile of wood, so I decided to blow on the fire to get it going (or at least get it aroused). Being not effective enough at first, I got closer the opening and blew harder. It went something like this:
Hey this is working, but I need to get closer.
Better, but I have to blow harder.
What's that odd smell?
OH SHIT! MY MUSTACHE IS ON FIRE!
The burning wasn't that bad (not like John's hat), and I was able to trim everything up, but all night and so far this morning I was reminded of Birkenau.
Oct 17, 2007
I'm an organ donor...to the ladies
Well, this last week has started the fifth year of fire on the porch. We had an innaugural fire Saturday night.
As a small country with a very low GDP, the PBR is eligible for other nations to donate items.
I don't want troops. I want beer. The more, the better.
And hookers.
Titties and beer...
Sorry, I had a moment. Anyway, I'm always willing to entertain contengents from other states.
Book early, book often.
As a small country with a very low GDP, the PBR is eligible for other nations to donate items.
I don't want troops. I want beer. The more, the better.
And hookers.
Titties and beer...
Sorry, I had a moment. Anyway, I'm always willing to entertain contengents from other states.
Book early, book often.
Oct 15, 2007
One war wasn't enough
As I have been listening to the radio news these last few days, one thing has occurred to me: Vladamir Putin is railing against the United States purely in order to maintain power.
Going to Iran? Then who- Libya? All he's doing is trying to stay relevant in the world, and by achieving that, he can tell all the people at home that he is strong against the U.S., and that everyone who hates America should love him for it. Well, at least the ones that he hasn't had put in prison for defying him.
He's starting another cold war solely for the purpose of retaining power. This is going to get worse than Venezuela.
For anyone keeping score out there, I'm not blaming this one entirely on Georgie Jr.
I was going to call and discuss this, but I don't like you enough to be on the phone that long.
Going to Iran? Then who- Libya? All he's doing is trying to stay relevant in the world, and by achieving that, he can tell all the people at home that he is strong against the U.S., and that everyone who hates America should love him for it. Well, at least the ones that he hasn't had put in prison for defying him.
He's starting another cold war solely for the purpose of retaining power. This is going to get worse than Venezuela.
For anyone keeping score out there, I'm not blaming this one entirely on Georgie Jr.
I was going to call and discuss this, but I don't like you enough to be on the phone that long.
Oct 8, 2007
hello, darkness my old friend
Things have been a bit hustle-bustle here in andyville, with work and then helping others work. I am by no means complaining, as anywhere I work will be beer, or there won't be any work done.
Yesterday I helped cousin Luke put up drywall, the day before was messing with a car and an aquarium, and this last week I put in new bathroom sinks in the ladies room at work.
I've a few wood working projects I need to get on, and you know how I like to work my wood.
Anyone heard of the St. James Art fair?
Here's how it is billed by the St. James art fair people:
"For the third time in four years, the St. James Court Art Show has been named the best fine art and design show in the country by Sunshine Artist magazine, America’s premier show and festival publication. Rankings are determined by artist’s vote, with St. James receiving nearly twice as many votes as its nearest competitor."
What the damn thing really should be called is the "let's shut down three main corridors to down town so that a bunch of east-end snobby assholes drive to old Louisville and try their once-annual attempt at parallel parking so they can go buy over-priced shit that looks like fucking kindergarteners made sale."
I'm serious. I've had nocturnal emissions that have dried and carry more artistic value than some of the shit I saw people cramming into their trunks. This one lady had, and this is no shit, a five foot pole that had a metal painted fish on the end and a colored, spiralish wire making some sort of holding basket. What the fuck was that? It looked like the "artist" went spear fishing and then tried to abort his catch.
It's not bad enough that there were Kentucky idiots and local hoosiers, but I saw way too many fifos. There were some walking across second street right in front of Fame, looking like they had no care in the world. I kept honking my horn, put my middle finger out the window, made train horn noises, and let them know that the Chattanooga Fuck You was high-balling it towards them.
I cussed so much that day that I had to turn around and miss church because I was so mad.
Yesterday I helped cousin Luke put up drywall, the day before was messing with a car and an aquarium, and this last week I put in new bathroom sinks in the ladies room at work.
I've a few wood working projects I need to get on, and you know how I like to work my wood.
Anyone heard of the St. James Art fair?
Here's how it is billed by the St. James art fair people:
"For the third time in four years, the St. James Court Art Show has been named the best fine art and design show in the country by Sunshine Artist magazine, America’s premier show and festival publication. Rankings are determined by artist’s vote, with St. James receiving nearly twice as many votes as its nearest competitor."
What the damn thing really should be called is the "let's shut down three main corridors to down town so that a bunch of east-end snobby assholes drive to old Louisville and try their once-annual attempt at parallel parking so they can go buy over-priced shit that looks like fucking kindergarteners made sale."
I'm serious. I've had nocturnal emissions that have dried and carry more artistic value than some of the shit I saw people cramming into their trunks. This one lady had, and this is no shit, a five foot pole that had a metal painted fish on the end and a colored, spiralish wire making some sort of holding basket. What the fuck was that? It looked like the "artist" went spear fishing and then tried to abort his catch.
It's not bad enough that there were Kentucky idiots and local hoosiers, but I saw way too many fifos. There were some walking across second street right in front of Fame, looking like they had no care in the world. I kept honking my horn, put my middle finger out the window, made train horn noises, and let them know that the Chattanooga Fuck You was high-balling it towards them.
I cussed so much that day that I had to turn around and miss church because I was so mad.
Oct 4, 2007
This'll make yer liver quiver
here are some numbers that may interest you fellas.
I drink Bud Light, and it currently costs 66.6 cents a 12 oz can. At five beers a day (which is generally laughable)-
One day is 60 oz (less than 2 qts) of beer and $3.33
One week is 420 oz(3.28 gal), and $23.31
One month (31d) is 1860 oz (14.53 gal) and $103.23
One year (365d) is 21,900 oz (171.09 gal) and $1,215.45
At this average, since Yankee John and I have been hanging out (about 9 years) I will have drank-
197,100 oz (1,539.84 gal) of beer at $10, 939.05
Now, before any Baptist not currently fishing or in a liquor store starts to lecture me about the money I spend on my hoppy friends, that amount equals up to 41 cents an hour that I am on the clock. Straight up, 40 hours a week.
Beer costs 5.55 cents an ounce. Where else can you find happiness that cheap?
I drink Bud Light, and it currently costs 66.6 cents a 12 oz can. At five beers a day (which is generally laughable)-
One day is 60 oz (less than 2 qts) of beer and $3.33
One week is 420 oz(3.28 gal), and $23.31
One month (31d) is 1860 oz (14.53 gal) and $103.23
One year (365d) is 21,900 oz (171.09 gal) and $1,215.45
At this average, since Yankee John and I have been hanging out (about 9 years) I will have drank-
197,100 oz (1,539.84 gal) of beer at $10, 939.05
Now, before any Baptist not currently fishing or in a liquor store starts to lecture me about the money I spend on my hoppy friends, that amount equals up to 41 cents an hour that I am on the clock. Straight up, 40 hours a week.
Beer costs 5.55 cents an ounce. Where else can you find happiness that cheap?
This sounds so gay, but who cares
For anyone in the area,
I've gotten away from prepared foods, and have been cooking more in these last few months, and am running into a problem- too much food.
I'm tired of making too much just because the recipe calls for so much of such and such. When I do the math and cut the recipe, the stuff winds up tasting like shit.
So my question to people who have lived by themselves is, "Do you have any recipes that don't involve zucchini or squash that are one-night meals?"
I'm kind of tired of eating the same thing for four nights in a row.
I've gotten away from prepared foods, and have been cooking more in these last few months, and am running into a problem- too much food.
I'm tired of making too much just because the recipe calls for so much of such and such. When I do the math and cut the recipe, the stuff winds up tasting like shit.
So my question to people who have lived by themselves is, "Do you have any recipes that don't involve zucchini or squash that are one-night meals?"
I'm kind of tired of eating the same thing for four nights in a row.
Oct 2, 2007
Avoid my mistakes and use less vocab
I realized something a couple of weeks ago, and I'm sure everyone will benefit. I noticed that I write long stories when I could just get to the funny stuff and let others fill in the nouns and verbs and the like.
So, in order to keep Ted awake enough to go fake-fight in his pajamas, I've decide to code my blogs from here on out. If you read JOHN at the top of the story, that entry will generally be longer and have bigger words like port-a-let in it. If you read TED at the top, then there will fewer sentences in order that the good doctor not accidentally learn something that kicks out some needed information that would be handy further down the line. That's all we need- Ted standing there getting ready to put a needle into someone, and instead of continuing some life saving function, he's staring out the window thinking of carrier pigeons in lederhosen. So here goes:
TED
Here are some things that I've learned this past week in particular order:
Traffic cops don't like to be called mother fuckers. Or fat-ass, or for you to loudly remind them that their years of being young and not-unattractive came to an abrupt end when they turned 60, and someone tap-danced on their face in golf shoes. What ever you do, don't honk at them- you will wait quite a while.
Football games are fun to go to. Not particularly because of the game; it's a nice side show. There are boobs everywhere! If I were a nursing infant, I'd go crazy with the multiple targets.
Remember- cleavage knows no age, however her dad walking behind her does.
Don't ever drive across the front of a store in a parking lot. This is true for any store, but most importantly, however you need to avoid it, don't drive in front of a Wal-Mart.
Some of the white-trashiest bitches I've seen in my life stroll in front of that place, wearing clothes that are fashionable enough, but have no earthly business being on them. It looked like someone had a handful of mashed potatoes and was squeezing it until it oozed bulges between their fingers.
It' like they told everyone it was trailer-park discount day. Uhh.
Don't make promises to God that you will try to be a better and calmer driver, as some damn Fifo will come by and straight fuck that one up, which makes you a liar to the almighty.
"Doo-de-doo-de-doo, better give this guy a little more room...HEY YOU GODDAMN FIFO, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OFF MY STREET! THERE ARE TWO FUCKING LANES, ASSHOLE, THIS AIN'T FUCKING PACKMAN, QUIT TRYING TO EAT THE DOTS, MOTHER FUCKER!
Shit. There goes that."
If you fill an old milk jug with water and put it in the fridge, mark it, or one morning you'll fill your bowl of Cheerios with H2O instead of cow's milk.
Calling a female a wimp after she backs down from cheese-wiz-ing your car window, will giver all the gumption she needs to do exactly that. It is very hard to clean up.
I hope this helps a bit.
So, in order to keep Ted awake enough to go fake-fight in his pajamas, I've decide to code my blogs from here on out. If you read JOHN at the top of the story, that entry will generally be longer and have bigger words like port-a-let in it. If you read TED at the top, then there will fewer sentences in order that the good doctor not accidentally learn something that kicks out some needed information that would be handy further down the line. That's all we need- Ted standing there getting ready to put a needle into someone, and instead of continuing some life saving function, he's staring out the window thinking of carrier pigeons in lederhosen. So here goes:
TED
Here are some things that I've learned this past week in particular order:
Traffic cops don't like to be called mother fuckers. Or fat-ass, or for you to loudly remind them that their years of being young and not-unattractive came to an abrupt end when they turned 60, and someone tap-danced on their face in golf shoes. What ever you do, don't honk at them- you will wait quite a while.
Football games are fun to go to. Not particularly because of the game; it's a nice side show. There are boobs everywhere! If I were a nursing infant, I'd go crazy with the multiple targets.
Remember- cleavage knows no age, however her dad walking behind her does.
Don't ever drive across the front of a store in a parking lot. This is true for any store, but most importantly, however you need to avoid it, don't drive in front of a Wal-Mart.
Some of the white-trashiest bitches I've seen in my life stroll in front of that place, wearing clothes that are fashionable enough, but have no earthly business being on them. It looked like someone had a handful of mashed potatoes and was squeezing it until it oozed bulges between their fingers.
It' like they told everyone it was trailer-park discount day. Uhh.
Don't make promises to God that you will try to be a better and calmer driver, as some damn Fifo will come by and straight fuck that one up, which makes you a liar to the almighty.
"Doo-de-doo-de-doo, better give this guy a little more room...HEY YOU GODDAMN FIFO, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OFF MY STREET! THERE ARE TWO FUCKING LANES, ASSHOLE, THIS AIN'T FUCKING PACKMAN, QUIT TRYING TO EAT THE DOTS, MOTHER FUCKER!
Shit. There goes that."
If you fill an old milk jug with water and put it in the fridge, mark it, or one morning you'll fill your bowl of Cheerios with H2O instead of cow's milk.
Calling a female a wimp after she backs down from cheese-wiz-ing your car window, will giver all the gumption she needs to do exactly that. It is very hard to clean up.
I hope this helps a bit.
Oct 1, 2007
This may be painful
For the two people out there that vaguely acknowledge my presence, I apologize for not writing the story of "how Andy gets bruises and makes people laugh" sooner, but it got busy last week at work, and I don't have the I-net at home.
Not because I'm a Luddite or anything, it's just that since my brother Darryl got married and moved out, I didn't need a general number and a cell phone number. I canceled my land line and my Juno account, and Viola! an extra $50 a month in my pocket. That's 75 beers to you and me. Well, mostly me.
Back to our regularly scheduled story.
You know something? I'm going to take William Buckland's advice and do a book on pigeons.
Not because I'm a Luddite or anything, it's just that since my brother Darryl got married and moved out, I didn't need a general number and a cell phone number. I canceled my land line and my Juno account, and Viola! an extra $50 a month in my pocket. That's 75 beers to you and me. Well, mostly me.
Back to our regularly scheduled story.
You know something? I'm going to take William Buckland's advice and do a book on pigeons.
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