We're all abuzz

Cousin Luke and I got into the hive yesterday to inspect and set it up for fall and winter. What we found was excellent: two full brood chambers, and plenty of stores for winter.

You'll notice that the top chamber is a bit forward of the bottom one. This was so that the bees didn't have to go through the bottom one to get to the top frames. At the back we put a piece of wood to cover the hole.

We removed the super from the top, the wood from the back, and put the top brood chamber back over the bottom one. This sounds easy enough, but the bees had those things sealed up tighter'n Dick's hat band. That and the fact that the top brood chamber was about fifty pounds.

you can see here where the little bitches have been working their stingers off drawing out the frames and filling the tops with honey (which we tried, and it was gooooooood).

Here's cousin Luke with the smoker next to the double-stack hive.

Neither of us were stung, but it was nerve wracking at times trying to keep my cool around the open hive as a mosquito found its way into my bonnet before I put it on.

Wecome heat

My brother Darrel and the fireman were over to the Busted Rudder last night, and they both agreed that we're going to have some nice fires this season. This stove has some serious potential for disaster, so we can't have any stupid fires.

I need to get the pipe, some more durarock and turn the stove a bit. You can see how the stove looks with the grate on the front, which is the way it will be used mostly. That's right- everyone gets the sun spot!

I put a ruler on top of the stove to show how big it is.

The top is 30'' across. I do foresee some brats being cooked on this dude.

Ole Ted may come in handy being an Emergency Medicine physician.

new heater for the pbr

My brother darrel and I went to E-town to pick up a new stove for the Square-tunda. That thing is a hoss- about 30 inches wide, 18deep, and pretty damn heavy. It took Darrel, cousin Luke and I to wrestle that thing out of the truck and up onto the porch.
I'm going to get some pictures of it to post.

The old stove looks kinda lonely out next to the curb, waiting for someone to scrap it out. I sure as hell hope that whoever picks it up doesn't try to have a large fire in the thing, or else they're going to meet the fire department.

As normal as it's ever going to get

After eating several bags of salad, pine bark and newspaper to get the fiber back into my diet after FnC, everything seems to be back to normal.

Next year, barring any natural desasters I'm need to remember to bring salad, celery, and maybe some medamucil.

In other news, I've been reading Lost Continent by Bryson, and it's pretty funny in the way that only bryson can do.

He's in Mississippi and feels this state trooper leering at him at a traffic light-

"...but I had to calm down because a state trooper pulled up alongside me at a traffic light and began looking me over with that sort of casual disdain you often get when you give a dangerously stupid person a gun and a squad car. He was sweaty and overweight and sat low in his seat. I assume he was descended from the apes like all the rest of us, but clearly in his case it had been a fairly gentle slope."

Pig nuts keep falling on my head

Cousin Luke and I went down to the U-boat on Saturday to see if we could each drink an eighteen pack and still make it up to the cabin after being in the boat all day. It turns out that we can. I caught the biggest and the smallest, while he caught the most, be he cheated. It seemed that every time I started to get a nibble, that he was moving the boat so he could get to a better hole. He's a mother fucker and I'm not going fishing with him again. At least not for two weeks when my schedule clears up.

The funny part was on Sunday when we brought the boat up the hill. I took the paddles and poles. Luke bent down to grab something, and WHACK! A big ole' hickory nut hit him squah in the back of his noodle with a sound reminiscent of Sister Francis's yardstick across my desk.(Now you know why I wake up violently) That thing must've fallen twenty feet. I started to laugh, and he looked up at me with this horrible scowl. While still laughing, I realized why he looked pissed.
Imagine that you just got walloped with something, and you look up to see me laughing and holding a boat paddle, and you know I'm an asshole.
Twernt me that hit him, but that's still funny.

Did I mention the black pot of steaming hatred?

After a beer and a good cry on the porch, it was time for the peppers to go in.
I used the pampered chef chopper to dice up the peppers, and then I put them into the smaller zip top snack bags, and then put the smaller bags into a larger one for storage in the freezer. That way I had dolable amounts frozen.

I ripped one bag open and tossed it in the pot, then stirred it around to start to thaw it. The big clump started breaking down into smaller ones, and so I tasted it.
After deciding that it wasn't as hot as I wanted it, I put in some more chili powder, and tasted it again.
Not hot enough- needs another bag of peppers.
Stir, stir, stir, taste- not bad, but not warm enough for me- 3rd round of chili powder and let it simmer for a bit.

Now, I don't know if they know the exact degree over Kelvin at which the oils from frozen peppers melts, but it's reached somewhere between time it takes between"not as hot as I wanted it" and "3rd round of chili pepper," because when I opened the lid and put my face down there to smell, I noticed that every pore on my face started to open up. My dumb ass then thought that tasting it again would be a good idea.
As soon as the stuff hit my lips I started tearing up again. The only way I could cry this much would be to watch a tape of Neil O'Donnel throwing the interception against Dallas while in a funeral mass. I took two spoonfuls and then a big glass of water. I took another taste, and holy mother of crap- IT WAS HOTTER!
Some got stuck in the back of my throat and I felt my uvula being cooked, so I started gargling beer, which is fine until some of it went in my nose. Sneeze fest #3 coming right up.
I then through in a pinch of ground clove , a 1/4 teaspoon of rosemary, and the spaghetti and let it simmer. About 15 minutes later I tasted it again, and somehow it seemed hotter still. I said to hell with it and took the stuff off the stove and then put some into containers for people at work. Suckers.

The next morning I got a glass of water, and used the glass that I had the night before, and burned my lips again. No fair! I'm just getting aspirin and a vitamin, no need to burn my lips! Sweet bucket of shit that stuff was hot.

Upon egress, it felt like someone had barbed wire through my pucker ring.

black pot of steaming hatred

After a few minutes of rinsing and cussing, beer was in order. This I can do with my eyes closed and blacked out, so there was little chance of The Kaiser being injured in the making of this drunk.

Next came the peppers that I had frozen just a few days prior.

Oh oh. I gotta poop. Talk at you later!

That's what burning teeth smell like

Remember the peppers I mentioned yesterday? You'll enjoy this.

Last night as I left work, I was wondering what I should eat for dinner, when my brain chimed in and said,"It's going to get colder, so how about chili?"
"Sweet," I told my brain. "good job."

I went to the market and learned two things:
1) filling the hand basket with canned tomato sauce, diced maters, tomato paste and a family pack of burger gets heavy after four aisles or so, and
2) don't go to the store on the day that the circular comes out with the sales listed.

After setting down the goods on the table and retrieving the pot from the cabinet, I began to assemble what I thought was going to be the first masterpiece of the culinary season. I thought wrong, and very wrong, but that's for later.

Never being one for following a recipe to make chili, seeing as I've been making the stuff for over a decade, I still generally follow certain steps so that I can taste it as it goes along, guaranteeing the quality. Tomato sauce; check. Brooks chili hot beans; check. Minced garlic; check.
I have never really plopped anything into the pot as it starts to simmer, as you never know how hot the freed blops of splashed chili may be when they land on your arm, or more to the point in this case, the inside of my right nostril. The garlic and chili pepper laced hot tomato sauce immediately began to auger in to my old factory. I started to cry like I had been punched in the nose while watching Roy Hobbes hit the lights-out home run at the end of The natural. It is an unnatural act to snort water, but I was willing to try anything to get that homemade napalm out of my nose.
Getting that under control, I started cutting up the onions and putting them in the pot. I don't cut them on a board. I instead hold the onions (one at a time) in my left hand and dice bit by bit down to the end. When I can no longer hold the onion, it's done and on to the next one. Well, I stripped the scrappy stuff from the outside of the first one and walked over to the pot and made the first cuts this way, then the second cuts this way, then owwwwwwwww. HOW IN THE FLYING-ASS-MOTHER-FUCK CAN THIS HAPPEN? I'M WEARING GLASSES! The onion had squirted me in the left eye and began to BUURRRRRRRRRRRRN. I started cussing like I was trying out for the part of Ralphie's dad in The Christmas Story. I was so pissed off that I grabbed the pot to throw the fucking thing out in the yard. However, the pot was spared when I missed the handles and managed to grab both sides of a scalding hot pot and burn my hands. Immediately dropping the pot, and still with one eyeful of onion juice turning it into sulfuric acid, and the other eye again full of tears, and now my nose running, I ran to the sink to cool my hands while I flooded my eyes this time with water.
Do you know how hard it is to see when you're pissed off, and teared up? Hard enough to not notice two things:
1)the tap, with the water purifier on it, is closer than i thought, and
2)I was still wearing my glasses
So, now I have an acidic eyeball, burnt hands, and a cut on the bridge of my nose where I smashed my face into the tap. Yay.
I ran upstairs to the shower, turned on the water and stood in front of the head. After drenching myself long enough to see again, I toweled off and went back to my masterpiece, this black pot of steaming hatred.

this isn't the end of the story, but I want to get home, to put on new bandages. Pt 2 tomorrow.

Can't skimp on the meat

This past Saturday I chopped up several snack bagfuls of jalapeno and Cayenne peppers from the garden. We are going to have a pot of chili at fish and chips that is going to straight up cleanse a few colons.

Since my tomatoes are dying, I don't think that I'll have fresh ones for the chili, but I'll have some for burgers and sandwiches if you like.

Speaking of which, how about we start talking about the menu. If the good doctor would please send me a link to the FnC site that I lost when the old computer died, that would be great.

In other news, God-willing and the creek don't rise, Cousin Luke and I are going to go to Boston this weekend and go fishing. Any takers?

Time off for good behavior

I'm back from three full days off from work, and I think I'm more tired now than before. Trying to catch up on all the house work I missed over a month probably wasn't a good idea.

Cutting th grass will have to wait.

Drinking my weight in beer probably wasn't a smart thing either.

Here's a picture of the Church in 1901 on Derby Day.

For all of those wanting a refressher course, it was about a mile outside of city limits at the time.

this Picture is even old. The new sides dwarf the old spires.

gotta love the comics

When things get rough, go to the comics section of the paper.

Today's Speed Bump cartoon describes Fish n Chips:

the ayatollah of I'll hit your shit if you don't get out of my way

I almost waxed a ghettoite today.

I would take anger management classes, but they piss me off.

need...multiple beers...stat

It rolled over, closed its eyes, and gently passed away

Unfortunately, I'm not talking about the cat. My old laptop 86ed itself, and I no longer have e-mail addresses or the link to fish n chips trip site.

Teddeth,

Are you driving there, flying to 'Ville and riding with me, or driving to charlotte and riding with the Yooj?

Anybody want a cat?

Several weeks ago, I noticed that some of my tomato plants were dying for seemingly no reason. After consultation with the Yooj, I thought it was the soil. Well, it is the soil, but not any of my doing.

It turns out that a cat has decided to use one corner of my garden as a litter box. I found a lot of scratch marks at the base of one of the tomato plants, and evidence that it was a cat, but the biggest piece of evidence was when I came outside and the cat jumped out of the garden and out the back over the fence.

Needless to say, I can't let this stand. One suggestion someone had was to put up fliers to warn the neighbors that they need to keep their cat indoors. This individual also told me to call animal control. I didn't know that they would come out at 10:30PM to get a cat that's not harming humans. Hang on...they don't.

It's time for this cat to take the proverbial walk in the woods. I almost apologize for those reading this who put matters into more humane hands, but an animal in my yard is my animal.

As my brother Darrell says: "I won't kill some one's pet, but I'll kill a stray."

Besides; when I come home late from work like I have this last month, I'm not the most patient person.

It could be worse- I could have to do this and actually care

Glad hand. Smile and nod.

Everything will be OK.

It's in the queue, and will be up here shortly.

Copyrights are taking a bit long to come back.

How about the third day of class?

It's been just me and the secretaries in the office all summer.

I hope you enjoyed your trip to the Caymans. Now enjoy your stay at Wait the Fuck in Line Because You're Late print headquarters.

Your hurry now ain't my problem.

thanks to the Didder for the pic:

Wasting our money

Tuition assistance for people going to community colleges should not be allowed to go to people under the age of 21. That way, the person wanting to go to school has already failed at a couple different attempts at being lazy, and would want to make an effort.

I was on a nearby campus yesterday- two of the campuses of the system, actually, and it looked like a public high school just got out. Needless to say I couldn't stay quiet while I walked through the crowd.

I was entering one of the buildings, and this group of college ghetto-ites where doing the usual loud yapping shit right in front of the doorway. As I cam up the steps, this one kid with the sock on his head, his flat-brimmed hat turned to the side, and his left hand holding up his pants and his right holding one of those plastic-ended blunts looked up at me and goes: "Hey, man, what's up?" in a voice trying to get me to either back down, or make me think that I shouldn't have to worry, they're only having a little fun, even if it is right in front of the fucking doors.

I stopped and said, "Enjoy these two weeks of class before you drop out, you walking fucking stereotype- get a fucking belt."

I was in the competitor's store speaking to one of the managers, and this one girl was snootily giving one of their employees some difficulty. I could tell from experience that the way she was acting and the way she dressed that she expected people to kneel down in front of her. I looked over at the girl with an eyebrow cocked and a "what's up your ass?" look. She looked over at me, kind of shook her head and had the usual, "what're you looking at?" expression.

I said to her aloud, "You ain't hot enough to have that amount of attitude, darlin. I suggest you stow it."

She huffed and turned around.

The manager I was talking to chuckled and shook his head.

It don't seem to end

I'm still at work doing things in production so that tomorrow I can do my computer work in relative peace.

In other news, on the way home last night I almost punched some old Bosnian dude at clicky mart because he wouldn't quit fucking with the damned lottery tickets. If you don't know how you want to lose your money because you're bad at statistics, get the fucking hell out out of line and let us beer purchasers get on with life.



hubba-hubba:

I didn't get a harrumph out of that guy

Poof! No more idiots.

Go to your happy place.

No time to talk, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a picture

I'm gonna kill me some ghetto-ites.

How about something to calm me down?

How hard is it to put a package out for Next Day Air?

Today has been shitty. I'm going to go home, have a bunch of beer, and beat off.

This may help:

A few more from Fire Fly/Serenity

These are the last from this series.

Tune in tomorrow for one of Hollywood's current hotties

Found this while tracking down an author for copyright

http://www.nationalpriorities.org/costofwar_home

you can click and find your cities' costs of war.

Did you hear something? BOOM!

Today is the day that every citizen of Kokuru, Japan that was alive on 08/09/45 makes the drive to Nagasaki and says thank you.

You see, Nagasaki was the secondary target for Bock'scar, but excessive smoke clouded Kokuru and therefore sealed the fate for a town and about 70,000 people.

The TNT imploded the plutonium and caused the fission reaction.
And now for the fuzzy bunny feel good ending to the story:

All work and no beer make andy go something-something

Here is the first draft of the letter. I was told it was to be sans profanity. When I copied it to the blog, it lost most of the indentation.



Dear Mr. DooDoo head,

A couple of months ago I shipped over 200 boxes of college texts from Nashville to Louisville using your company. Upon receipt of the shipment, the count was 31 boxes short. We waited an extra day, thinking that maybe they would show, seeing that you guys are a bit busy. The boxes didn’t come in, and we started the claims process.
After jumping through all the hoops that entailed, I waited for the check that would make amends for the situation. What I received was startlingly appalling. I received $158.13 for 31 boxes of books.
Not only is that pathetic, but do you expect me to believe that you think college books are cheap? Try to stay with me here as I do some math for you, as I’m sure this can be used as educational materials for your claims department. 158.13 divided (that’s the minus sign with a dot above and below it) by 31 equals 5.10. $5.10 cents a box of college textbooks? Seriously now. A FIVER AND A DIME PER BOX? That’s not only an idiotic notion, it’s criminally retarded. You can barely buy two college texts for $158.13, much less 31 cases. The people that work for you went to college, didn’t they, or do you try to fill your diversity quota with numerically challenged dolts right out of kindergarten?
Now, I know that you’re going to cower behind the “you didn’t get the insurance” clause of the bill of lading, which, by the way, is in so small of print that I wouldn’t be able to read if I were carrying the Hubble telescope, but $158.13 for 31 boxes? Really?
I’m not asking for the world here (which you outwardly offer in the commercials), but I’m also not looking to take it in the pooper. It would almost cost me $158.13 to ship 31 boxes. Is that what you’re refunding me?
When you look at the number of 31 boxes, it seems to me that they would constitute one pallet. Are you guys in the habit of losing pallets of books? Aren’t they kind of easy to spot, being on top of those wooden things? If the books were damaged, I’d like to see pictures of the monkeys you hired trying to read those big words inside. At least then I could laugh instead of practice my sailor’s vocabulary every time I think of your company.
As UPS is a large company, I would appreciate it if you would send me some dice. If the planets align and they actually make it to me, I could at least roll the official UPS dice every time I ship something, seeing as it’s a gamble anyway.
I realize that your company had an earnings dip this last quarter, but do you think that stealing from honest customers is the way to boost your numbers? I’d hate to think that a company that can ship a killer whale would have to resort to selling books on-line in order to stay in the black.
You might want to change your ads to read, “What can brown do TO you,” seeing that if you don’t get the “buy up” option on shipping, you’re screwed if something goes wrong. All I wanted was my books, but instead you gave me the shaft.


Sincerely,

Lick My Balls Motherfucker

Sixty three years ago

Boom boom boom boom.

The Japanese were definitely singing the blues.

A man after my own heart

There are moments in life when true invective is called for, when it becomes an absolute necessity, out of a deep sense of justice, to denounce, mock, vituperate, lash out, in the strongest possible language.-- Charles Simic, quoted in "The argument culture", Irish Times, December 17, 1998

It just so happened that I had an opportunity for vituperation while driving today.

Big titted women don't just fall out of the sky, you know!

I was just called into the big boss’s office by my immediate boss. First thought- OH SHIT.
I sat down and my immediate boss sat down beside me. The last time that happened, the meeting started out with the line, “Andy, I’ve been hearing reports that…”
The big boss then told me, and I quote, “I want you two to write some letters for me. UPS lost 31 boxes of one of the shipments, and only gave me 158.13 for them. I’ve given you some bullet points…pathetic is the first thing I thought of.
Anyway, Andy, I thought of you first, and that this may be right up your alley.”

My immediate boss then started giving me motivation.

"Imagine a UPS truck has just cut you off in traffic. Now think of someone in a brown uniform walking against the light so that you can't turn. Imagine the parking lot full of illegally parked UPS trucks, and all their people walking over to McDonald's."

I was so angry at no one in particular, I wanted to go looking for a UPS truck. Somebody was going to get his ass kicked, and would have no earthly idea why.

Best job ever.

It's good to be loved.

And it ain't plumbing in the women's room.

Speaking of laying some pipe:

I am now the Pontius! Car part II

Hail Caesar Salad!



It was the water pump. Or should I say, it's still the water pump. I realize that money is tight, but holy shit- how about you take the bus?



A week after I warned her about cracking the head, and other ways that overheating WILL completely grenade the motor in her car, I saw the other day that she was still driving it, and just putting more water in it.

This would be somewhat decently better if the motor were leaking from the radiator, or even weeping from the water pump, but on hers the water is boiling out of the overflow hose in the reservoir, which means that the water pump is so completely fucked up that the water ain't getting around the motor at all, which means that the water in the block is overheated, which means that the oil is glazing, which means that it's not lubricating the moving parts which means...get the point?

I saw her filling up the water jug at the utility sink, and I asked,"So, you haven't had your car fixed?"

No. I don't have the money.



Well, I hope you have enough cash for a new car.



Why?



Because if you don't you'll be forced to take the bus- because you haven't been taking the bus.

I know, I know, but Andy, I can't always take the bus. I've gotta take my daughter to the doctor, and the bus makes me transfer twice.



I'm just sayin' don't come running to me when yer motor goes boom. If you keep driving your car, the motor will eventually lock up. I'll let you know what I think is going on with your car, but I'm not laying another finger on it.





I'm done being the house mechanic. At least for those who are too dense to understand what's going on.

Someone hand me the deet

'twer hot yesterday. Wore a kilt to a cookout.

The mosquitos were a bit ruthless and I now have some bites where you don't want them.

NO TEETH!

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.

For he who pees with me today will be my brother

I apologize to my loyal reader for not posting, but the Yooj has been in town for these last ten days, which meant that I spent most of my time plunging the toilet.

There really hasn't been much going on worth writing about, unless you count staying at the u-boat last weekend. We fished off the dock, drank beer, and tried to see how bad we could smell after two days.

I think between us we caught about 14 fish, of which I think maybe 5 lived after being hooked, because the mother fuckers were swallowing the hooks. Every time we tried to remove the hook they would start bleeding, so they got to keep the hook. At least the ones that we didn't cut up into bait.

We were to find that this trip's funnies belonged to Yooj.

When fishing from the dock, one must be wary of the trees surrounding the sides, as they will become fisherman Christmas trees with all the tackle hanging from them. Both of us were running two poles- one with a bobber and a worm, and another with an artificial lure, basically just to give us something to do until the next fish swallowed the next hook.

Well, the Yooj casted out hard in what looked like the perfect arc, with that ZZZZZZZZZ! sound the closed-faced reel makes when it pays out at extremely high speed. About a hundred feet out you see the spoon hit the water followed by the kabloop. At this point you normally wait a second or two for the line to land on the water and then set the reel.

Do you know what else eats lures? Overhead power lines.

His perfect arc was now an inverted v with the lure in the lake on one side of the power line, and Yooj on the other. He reeled in a bit, and I told him to get it within about a foot of the line and then yank pretty hard, thinking that it would act the same on a power line that it does on a tree branch. It turns out that I was wrong. His spoon twirled around the line like a fishy Olga Korbut on the parallel bars. It rested at an angle that shown the shiny side toward the dock, so that the part of the lure that was supposed to get the attention of the fish looked like it was winking at us when the sun hit.

While laughing I reached over and cut his line.



"Fire in the Hole!" was the warning that one of us had caught a tree and was getting ready to yank the shit out of the line, so get your ass down because you have no clue where the line's going.

As I was the one normally yelling this, I was surprised to find that Yooj had caught one of the largest hickory trees around and was getting ready to give the line what for. "Seeephew"! I heard the line give and then immediately get caught in the next closest tree. Knowing that the Yooj was now sufficiently angry to do something based solely on the size of his muscles and not his brain, and that in the past this has only accomplished the feat of me being injured somehow, I was was crouched so low that I saw nothing but the wooden dock.

Yooj grunted, pulled ( I know that sounds dirty, but try to stay focused here), and the lure still buzzed my head before hitting the water. I immediately leaned over to get it out of the water before Yoojie got the damn thing stuck in the dock. I pulled on the bobber, raised the line, and THERE WAS A GODDAMN FISH ON THE HOOK THAT WASN'T THERE WHEN THE LINE WAS IN THE TREE. He caught a fish in about 1/32nd of a second. The worst part was that it was the biggest fish we caught that weekend.

On Sunday we went back down on the dock to donate more tackle to the water. After about two hours of the same ole, the Yooj changed lures to a bass lure that has all the shit hanging off of it.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ! This time, you didn't see it hit water. There was no kabloop. Yoojie had inadvertently gone round two with power line and had again come out the loser. Flip,flip,flip, and Olga #2 was line bound. I was laughing so hard that I was heeping watching him chew his line apart.

In the middle of taking breaths I laughingly asked, "Why don't you just throw your fucking tacklebox at the power line?"

Restraining the urge to kill me he said, "That's God telling us we're done."

We packed all of our shit and left the u-boat for home, with our hero mimicking me a few miles down the road; "why don't you throw your tacklebox at the power line? Asshole."

Well, aint that some shit.

This is just weird.

http://wbztv.com/local/gloucester.high.school.2.751873.html

this, however, is much better.

I'll spin you around so fast you'll think you were Dorothy and Toto

All of you out there in Kaiser Andy land know that I couldn't give two rats asses for ghetto-ite members of the idiot class (it's not like I'm a fan of any of the idiot class), and that I don't make any great effort to hide that fact.

Well today there were two of them walking on a one way street. Not on the sidewalk on the one way street, but in the street. One of them pushing a stroller, and the other pushing a grocery cart (how the thing still works after leaving Kroger's parking lot is a mystery). I'll give you one guess about which one was on the outside, as they haven't walked in line since their grandfathers returned from WWII.

In a fit of rage I put the window down on the company van and set to yelling. Loudly and mother-fuckerly. I got a middle finger from one, and the other set to chicken-necking and hollerin like somebody done stoler her check. I actually started laughing at that point.

In all, a minor gain.

Take my canadians please

this is just a great picture of her. It has a JC Penny catalogue feel to it, but I dig.

Das aus Haus

I went to the U-boat yesterday since I'm not a dad, and don't have to have my family fake like they actually care for me other than for my paycheck.

I may be a bit cynical.

Rastis P. Leroy Jr. is now properly Al Jolsened, and the sawfish is on the side of the shitey-shack. More caulk is in the cracks, seeing as the ants are pretty well retarded when it comes to camouflaging their path into the building. After a little more caulk and some more paint, the U-boat will be finished, at least on the outside. I would have some pictures, but alas.

I'm so very much looking forward to staying this next weekend there with the Yooj.