Shit on a stick

I got new glasses this last weekend, and wound up spending 3 hours at the mall. I had a hell of a story, and when I pressed "publish post" I got an error message, and then a blank screen.

So basically I wasted fifteen minutes typing about wasting three hours at the mall.

To hell with it.

At least the 70mph wind gusts we had a couple of nights ago are allowing me to replace some shingles on my roof. It's only 25 deg outside. What can go wrong?

I fully expect to be typing with one hand tomorrow.

Hit me days are here again

Dear hip-hop youths,
Your hand is not a belt- pull your goddamned pants up. The droopy pants thing started in prison. It was a signal to show potential "lovers" that they were open for business and wanted to get a big-ole dick shoved up their assholes. Therefore, you are telling people you are gay when you imitate them.

Either get serious about school, or go on and start your career in action packed world of auto detailing. The world doesn't owe you a living- either decide you want to learn and do better, or accept that people will look down upon you for the rest of your life, and that it is your fault, not theirs.

Turn your fucking radio down. If I wanted to listen to your radio, I'd be in your car.
You don't have the right to pollute my air. It's bad enough that you're wasting my air by breathing it, but should I have to listen to you doing it?

Hurry the fuck up when you cross the road; especially since you're in the middle of the fucking block. I realize that the wind blowing by you makes it hard for you to light your blunt, but holy shit. I mean, Colonial goddamn Williamsburg has fucking sidewalks for Christ's sake. "Halteth thine tredding, young negro boy. Thou musteth walk on the sides, not in the middle of the lane, lest thee be hit by yon hasty coach."

Stop reinforcing stereotypes if you don't like hearing about it. Life is not ALL ABOUT SHOW.
Don't let your peers (bros) pressure you out of trying to do better. If they like the gutter, let them live there. There's no reason for you to be like them.

And the reason this whole rant started- I do so hate career community college students. I know that there are many who are working into a university, but there are so many just wasting every one's time and taxpayer money.

If you jinx it, I'll punch you squah in the dick

Today is the first day of classes here at Udabell, and things are progressing well. We've planned well, printed early, and GODDAMN IT, WILL MY PHONE EVER STOP RINGING!?

Well, I was at the store, and someone asked if my day was going well. I told him thing were not bad, but I've had better days. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE, I'M TRYING TO TELL A STORY HERE. QUIT FUCKING CALLING ME!

Where was I? Oh yeah- had better days. Anyway, I told him I didn't want to talk about it. He said there was nothing wrong with having a good first day of classes.

I told him the title line and then FUCKING GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS. LOSE MY PHONE NUMBER ALREADY. I USED TO LIKE MY RING TONE.

Does anyone know where I can get a ring tone that is a person that yells,"Another idiot on the line for you sir!"

Fire- It Does the Body Good

First, a disclaimer: the bottle said "don't operate heavy equipment." There was no mention of ,"do not operate wood stove to capacity while on this medication if you also have 6 or more beers."

Well let's just say that hair on the back of your hands is overrated. I wouldn't suggest the burnt fingernail unless you're have a Hitler party at your house and just want it to be Dachau-rific.


It was still a good ending to celebrating the birth of our Lord all day by stuffing ourselves full of ham and potato(e) salad. Nothings says "I love Christmas" more than getting fat.
Two of my cousins came over with their significant others, and we had a good time not forcibly being nice to others. When my brother Darrell showed up it was SRO, but warm as hell. 38 outside, 78 at the rudder.

We discussed all the important stuff like women who's nipples point in different directions, and what really makes us fart, and how hard you have to hit someone to knock them out. None of that fake shit like homeless people or global warming or world starvation.

Since we had enough for a quorum, it is now decreed at the PBR that:
Fuck China- they're still communist, short and yellow.
Fuck Hoosiers- they're idiots, and too close to us. We did recognize their contribution of not letting Kentucky slide into Tennessee by sucking so bad.
Fuck the Republican party- Don't forget that the thrice divorced Newt Gingrich started the "righteous rebellion" against open democracy and pushed the country toward our parliamentary system.
Fuck Ohio- Why couldn't they have been like their sister, Indiana?
Fuck cheep beer- yes, it got us through our teens and college, but we don't have to drink it again until we retire, and since social security won't be there when we're old, we won't have to worry about that!
Hooray for boobs- We're talking women's, not the hairy man tits that are shown in the travel mags about nude beaches in Europe.
Hooray strip clubs, but fuck the new no-touch ordinance.

maybe something, maybe nothing

I was listening to J. Roddy Walston and the Business the other day, and there was a lyric in one of the songs; "There's a man who had no voice because he'd rather live without a fight than die with a choice."

work? No thanks

Taking a break from spreadsheets yesterday led me to you tube surfing.
I don't know how this was done and don't care, but it's pretty cool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ckh8bRv_IE

Why does it take so long to get bored?

It's been getting busier at work, and cold out when I get home, so there's not a lot going on. Luckily I have been able to get out of work at a reasonable time, but when I get home I am relegated to small tasks in the shop, as my brother Darrell has pretty well taken the thing over finishing some bed rails for his kids.
Don't get me started.

We had a fire last night, and it was 39deg outside, and 70 on the porch. Gotta love it. Except for the part where I tried to pick up a red hot coal that had popped out with my hand. "If I pick it up REAL FAST..."
It don't work like that.

If it weren't for beer, I'd have to do stupid stuff and have nothing to blame it on.

Fun Friday Nights

John

Last week I had the unenviable pleasure of attending traffic school due to the fact that I like to speed. It turns out that 15 over is grounds for a speeding ticket. Who knew?
Anyway, I left work at 5:30 to get to the festive gathering of vehicular malcontents that started at 6:15.
On my invitation was the sentence,"Late arrivals will not be admitted," so I figured that I best get at it and get there about 15 minutes early. This way I would have been able to eat my pizza, and calm down from the drive. Apparently all other drivers were informed of my plans and were ordered to stall me any way possible. It was so bad that I actually considered driving on the side walk, which would allow me to cut through a parking lot on the corner and miss the light. I didn't, but I did run two red lights, and speed to beat all hell when I had the chance, and arrived at 10 after 6. Not enough time to eat, and definitely not enough time to calm down.
Having no where to sit but up front, I figured I'd sit right in front of the instructor so at least I wouldn't fall asleep during my re-education. Besides, I wouldn't have anyone knocking elbows during the class. At least so I thought.
When the traffic school marm came in five minutes late, she told everyone to fill up the first four rows and leave the back row empty. She then said," Leave the door open. We always have some people showing up late."
"What the fuck?" I told the lady sitting next to me that if she heard anything that it was my tummy rumbling.
After another twenty minutes of getting everyone signed in, the lady started handing out some papers that had lists and descriptions of different driving characteristics. The object of these was to have you evaluate your driving and come to the conclusion that you're a lousy driver and decide to change your ways. I looked on them as some sort of shopping list, and began looking through trying to find out how many more bad habits I needed in order to collect the whole set.
It turns out that I pretty much have all the traits needed to open a "Do as I say, not as I do" driving school.
In class, we went over speeding, changing lanes, reaction times, alcohol, etc. When we got to the portion on road rage, the marm was looking over the class, saying that she could pick out the ragers. I was wearing a Shit Eating Grin when she look at me and said,"nah," and went on to someone others. When asked what made them rage, answers were the normal things that irk us all- people going slow in fast areas and vice-versa, cutting people off, etc. Marm made it all around the room, and then asked if anyone else raged and what set them off. I chuckled, raised my hand. When calling on me, marm looked oddly at me. I guess the collared shirt and sweater made me look more innocent.
"Pedestrians," I said. "I work downtown and they're all over. They cross in the middle of the street trying to hold their pants up 'cause they're not wearing belts. They cross against the lights and slow down in front of you when you're trying to go."
"What do you do when that happens?" she asked in an authoritative "I've seen it all" air.
"I honk, yell out the window, pull right up to them, and oh, last week I got one with the mirror"
Buckwheat has nothing on this lady's expression. Some people in the class laughed, some gasped, on one guy in the back loudly exclaimed, "oh shit!"
"That person could have gotten your license plate number!"
"Nah, he was too busy spinning around in the street. I was barely going at the time."

She warned me to be careful and that I'm 10 times more likely to get sued today than I would have been 10 years ago.
"Shit," I thought,"I didn't know I could have gotten away with that ten years ago."

Traffic purgatory lasted four hours last Friday, and when everyone got out at ten, they all rushed for the exit from the parking lot.
I yelled at someone in the parking lot as I was leaving traffic school. Life is good.

I don't know if it's the broccoli or the beer, but my shit's as green as a mossy forest floor

I don't really have too much time to post right now, but I didn't want to leave everyone hanging, so here are two jokes that I heard today:

What do you get when you cross the Atlantic with the Titanic?
About half-way.

Do you know the only part of the vegetable you can't eat?
The wheelchair.

Cheers!

I will be leaving tomorrow for the land of Px (just to the right of Oz) for T-giving, so there will be no posts for a while.


I have a terrific story that can't be told. It has it all: greed, politics, backstabbing, overprivilaged feeling underserved, and one man trying to defend himself against irrationality and small-mindedness.

later
KA I

A greek doctor? That ain't his flashlight!

There really hasn't been a whole lot going on. Since I'm not dating, married, or have kids, I live a rather peaceful life. So for all my adoring fan, Some scraps:
Last night my brother Darryl came over and we had some beers in front of the fire. While solving some of the world's problems, the conversation somehow turned toward the Greeks. "Fuck 'em," I said," Bunch of toga-wearing dick-pullers anyhow."

Today I went to one of the departments here at work and was talking to a guy who does acting on the side, and who showed me some of the dance moves the cast will be doing. This particular part involved him moving side to side, alternately jutting his left and right legs out in a motion that could be used to demonstrate the proper technique for fending off an amorous dog. You have to remember through all of this that this gentleman is not in any way svelte. His hair sweats when he moves quickly, and his earlobes have cholesterol problems. Well, after several of these "steps" he would lift his knee about half-way up his thigh. Then several more back and forth attempts at trying to be the fitness instructor at a bowling alley, then another knee lift.
"Looks like he's trying to fart," I said.
He and the two ladies in his department laughed so hard they were crying. MC-Slomo about fell over, but made it to his chair.

On the way back to my office, my brain started to wander, since we all know driving does nothing for me, and thinking about laughing at that dude dancing started my brain to play bumper-cars. In order:
Damn that was funny. If you can't take a joke, you shouldn't do stupid stuff.
If you don't like the name greasball guinny wop dago goombah, you probably shouldn't have been born Italian. Shut up you olive skinned goat fucker.
Oh yeah, you never hear any jokes about Germans.
Who do you think's writing 'em all? Do you think that Jews write jokes about Jews?
(in best Yiddish voice for this next bit, like two guys talking to each other) Two of us walk into a bar.
That's not funny, you putz.
Shut up, you hassidich schmuck. I'll nail you to a tree. Don't worry, people vill follow you for years to come.
How about this one- Two of us walk into a blonde. One says, "Wow it's dark in here." The second one says, "I didn't know your mom was Italian!"


See? I do this while I'm driving. Beware all who walk near my car, unless you're fat enough for me to mistake for a firetruck, as I might not be paying attention to the road ahead.

He would probably fuck a horse if you gave him a step ladder

That's how I was described to someone at work. I guess it has to do with some side comments made to female pedeadstrians as I passed. This certain person was starting to tell some stories out-of-school about what comments get said at the office when the machines are running, and no one can hear. I put a swift end to that.

Other than that, not a whole lot has been going on. I went to Churchill Downs on Sunday, and won every time I went to the beer booth. I actually didn't do to badly, since I went with 60, won 50, and came home with 40. That's right- I came home from the track with money! And no, I didn't leave at the fifth race.
When I got home I got some beer. I opened the box to find 18 friends in there. It was truly a good day.

Since it's been cold here lately, my car windows have been up. I yelled so loudly the other day that my ears rang afterward. This does prove that I am my own worst enemy.

the real question is, how hard would I fuck the horse.

Quarters, Quarters everywhere, drop the Jew in the Sink

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.