But we don't want the Irish

I'm going to strangle them all. Give me a proper bibliography you bunch of pathetic pin-headed Phds!

Real doctors work on animals!

Would you accept this from your students? How is it that it's MY fault if I'm late for an appointment, but THINGS weren't going well when you did?

That's it- time for the brass knuckles.

Well, isn't that just loverly

I'm getting busier here and my laptop took a monster shit on me, but luckily there was a gentleman in the company who had a three month old Thinkpad that he wasn't using.

MINE NOW!

I was here until a little after nine last night cleaning two of the binding machines seeing as we are to be getting help this morning.

fuck this shit. I'm looking forward to sneaking out and getting a beer at the fair this year.

If you come in my yard, you're dead.

I have decided that there are too many four legged things that get into my yard. Specifically, Squirrels. One of those furry tailed mother fuckers got into my garden and took a tomatoe. I stomped on the ramp, and the sonovabitch ran atop the wooden fence and started chomping away.
Well, he got the best view of me loading the pellet gun and sighting him in, followed by the realization that the pain in his side was directly related to the action he viewed just a few seconds earlier.
If it wouldn't kill a bunch of bees, catching them and tossing them at the hive would be pretty funny.

I think I'm going to build an owl box.

I need to fuck something

Thanks Al for the title.

My fuse has been shortened these last two days, as we are in the midst of it at work. The job's been getting busy, and the people are getting dumber.
A young lady at work complained about her car over heating, and went into the history of it after I asked her what some of the symptoms of the problem were. I told her I wasn't looking for chatter, and that when I get to the question of how long, then answer that one. By calendar days, not some fucking story about how you were going on a trip and it was cold out- great now we've narrowed it down to four months of the year. Big help, Irving.
Anyway, after diagnosing the difficulty, I told her to give me the keys and I'd check it out. Instead, she insisted that she come and see what was going on. Apparently she thought I cared to hear about how everything is falling apart in her life. I seriously considered telling her that if she exercised the gray shit between her ears as much as she did her vocal cords that she would give a rocket surgeon a run for his money. They really need to figure out a way to harness the power of that girl talking. She should be forced to speak into a squirrel cage attached to a generator or something.
I'm going to cut this a bit short because I feel myself getting angry, and I'm over at cousin Luke's, and he only has six beers left.
She started the car, and I filled the reservoir. I went around and held the gas down and upped the rpms. "Andy what are you doing?"
"Stepping on the gas."
"Why are you doing that? It sounds bad."
"It's because your car runs like shit."
"Then why step on the gas?"
"Because I don't have until five to wait for this fucking thing to warm up."
"Oh. Why do you need it to warm up?"
"Because it won't get hot at idle speed."
long pause, then her again, as if it won't be evident

"Well, I came to a stop earlier, and it was idling and the needle-thingy went all the way to the top!"

This is where I really started weighing options between washing my hands of it and whether ten to life would be worth it.

After it warmed up, I decided that it was the thermostat and told her so.

"How do you know that?"
"It ain't leaking from the radiator or any of the hoses."
"What about the one up there?"
"That's the overflow bleeder hose from the reservoir. It's overflowing because it's boiling over. Water's not getting to the radiator."
"So that's not bad?"
"Not unless you like to hear the boom sound under your hood."
"So it's the thermostat?"
"Either that or the water pump. Do you have ten bucks or sixty bucks on you?"
"I have twelve."
"Thermostat."

Well, I picked up a thermostat and installed it in her car. Since most of you have less than two hours to read this shit, I'll leave the install out. It involved a check engine light, me asking if her boyfriend had a dollar-fifty and a TARC schedule, and giving her bull shit to do so that I didn't have to be the recipient of her chattering gums.

And to think- the only reason I did this for her was that she has a baby girl, no money, and her boyfriend can't fix a drink. I helped an idiot who's already procreated. Damn me anyway.

There's more that's been irking my lately, but I'll let it go, as I have to get home and start the crock pot for tomorrow. I hope they like their chili hot.

No picture today.

Spaghetti Sauce? Now, that's either kinky or disgusting

I bought an indoor cornhole set last Freitag, and damn if that thing's not addictive. It was raining last night, and my brother Darrell and I were drinking beer and throwing corn bags until one in the morning.

He took me about seven games to three, but what the hell. The beer was cold, the weather was perfect inside, and we didn't have to worry about kids getting in the way.

Let's raze the roof!

Tomorrow is Beans and more beans soup for Croc-pot Wednesday. I'm thinking about putting a plate of Whities out on the table to go along with the soup. I want this place to smell like an out-house in direct sunlight on an August afternoon. I want the health department to show up because someone called about smelling a dead animal. I want so much gas coming from this building that they'd have to shut down McD's next door

Next Wednesday is national hotdog day. Maybe I'll form the hotdogs into the shape of peckers and see how they'd eat them.

Because you're psychotic, and I hate you as a human.

I was assured today that anything I put on here will not be viewed or talked about at work. So, I'm back. If you don't want to be written about, then don't do stupid shit. Actually, go ahead and do stupid shit, because at least you will have had enough gumption to do what you were planning, no matter how dumb (we exclude anything King George and Pricky Dick do or plan, especially war). Just don't say stupid shit. That means your brain doesn't even have enough gumption to make your mouth do what it's supposed to.

No longer will I suffer lazy-brained morons that are so selfish that they see other people's reluctance to just give them stuff as a character flaw. I give willingly, but fuck those who wish to put their stipulations on my generosity.

Maybe that's why my relationships have always ended badly.

Greedy whores anyhow.

And if you were told about this blog from someone else and something I've written offends or pisses you off, then you can always back-button the fuck out of here, or write your own about how poorly I spell, or that fact that you believe I am a chauvinist, because if I call you a needy bitch, it ain't because you've always been gracious and kind to me.

I've got an idea- leave me some hate mail. That always calms me down.

Middle's Mine, Asshole

I have a difficulty with people speeding down my street, or in parkinglots, or anywhere near me. Especially if they're coming toward me and are trying to take their half out of the middle. Whenever I see that, I like to remind people that the middle's mine.

I'll pull squah out into the middle and wait for their reaction. Yesterday I was on my way to the beverage store, and in the large parking lot there was a line of cars commin my way, obviously speeding based on how quickly the shops were being passed. I did the usual, and all of the drivers honked, worried that I was going to hit their cars.

It did get 'em to slow down.

Who's up for vehicular homicide?

that's it- I'm done with these fuckers.

*Content Deleted*

Next week- four bean soup. This place is going to smell like a well aged placenta pulled out of an old colostomy bag.

I think I made my point

I brought in about six tomatoes to the warehouse today and sat them on the table. The guy I gave the others to said, "I think they were just jealous." I replied curtly,"Yeah, and they're going to have to stay that way."



"What?, Huh?, Why?!" were their responses.

"Because I talked to my cousin, and we agreed that with my peppers coming on, most of the tomatoes will be going into making salsa," I explained in a tone that suggested mild disgust.



*content about work deleted*

You'll get bupkis and like it

I'm not sure why, but things have really been pissing my right the fuck off lately. My patience is less than it normally is, and I honestly couldn't give two shits for most of the shit I've seen people do lately.





I shooed away this guy who was sitting on the steps in front of the store today, and he started yelling at me. I wanted so badly to put my foot so far up his ass that I'd have to go through his nostrils to get a pedicure, but alas, we contrasted in the way that I'd be publicly branded, and would have my paycheck garnished in order to pay his lawyer. I simply told him to move the fuck out from in front of the store and to stop yelling at the customers, or the next person he would be talking to would pull up in Crown Vic. I got called a honky for the first time in years. He got called a mother fucker. I'm pretty sure he gets called that regularly.

These next few have to do with greedy mother fuckers:

*Content About work deleted*




Anyone want a fucking Karman-Ghia or a 22' sailboat?


Now for something completely luscious.

And I repeat- FUCK BOB REED

So, Sunday after I got back from the U-boat and took a nap, I decided to cut up the limb that's (still) hanging over the fence between beerquarters and Voldemort's house, and everything's going swimmingly. The bow saw was working its butt off doing a wonderful job all the way up to the point where the balance shifted and the opposite end of the limb settled into Gargamel's yard.

I crossed over the fence, looked at the offending remainder, and realized that I was going to have to wrestle the thing in order to free it enough of the wooden fence in order to lift it and get to cutting. All was going well until I went to lift it. I settled under the thing to where my shoulder just met it. I started the squat thrust when I suddenly felt this very sharp pain in my foot. It turns out that there was a nail with a piece of scrap metal on one end and my foot on the other.

"Owitch!" I thought, the pain now catching up with my anger.

The nail only went in about an eighth inch, but the real fun was when I made the cotton tornado cone on the end of a q-tip and reamed the hole out with Isopropl alcohol. That'll make you cry faster that a shot to the nards.

How in the royal fuck does Bob continue to find ways of pissing me off?

Speaking of my nards:

I bet on the winner!

Yesterday I saw one of the coolest fucking things ever.

This ghetto-ite decided that he was going to try to cross Broadway without looking. Unfortunately for him, he was wearing headphones and didn't hear the car that I heard.

"Get him, get him, get him!" I thought, and the driver didn't fail to please.

I hate to think that this courageous person trying to rid the city of j-walkers will be sued because the fuzzy headed-the world owes me a living-what the fuck uh'you gonna do about it saw dollar signs and not stars when he hit the pavement.

the light turned green, and I turned and went back to work.

Now to my happy place:

Scheiss, scheiss, Bruederlein scheiss...

Cousin Luke and I were at the U-boat on Sunday doing some work, and I took pictures of Yooj's tackle on the line- it's that little speck right above the cloud in the middle.

The shitey-shack, now known as Das Aus Haus, and then Rastus P. LeRoy Jr. He can work for Mr. Benny.

And finally, God bless Rachel Ray.

Rabbits

The winds have been pretty fierce here these last few days, so I've been getting my exercise by cutting up fallen tree limbs.

Remember when in conversation to anyone about the price of gasoline, there are two words that explain all. RECORD PROFITS. Not record sales, or 15 refineries not able to produce, but RECORD PROFITS.

This is the last of the Ms. Byron Pics.