7/31/11...

Yet another reminiscence of things that've already come to not pass...

Ok, here it is. I'm just going to ramble...

There are constant reminders of my stupidity, of my weakness, of my...

Of my...

Wants and needs that are dashed upon the rocks of my addictions to the symphony of worldly clamors. And of flesh...

I will never change, I will never change. I am constant, you are all the ones who fluctuate. You ebb and flow like a river of shit that engulfs and floods my lungs with debris. I can't breathe, and so I flail. I flail...

In vain?

I can only hope not, or else I have nothing to look forward to than recording the demise of my soul in increments so minute that you need a microscope to dissect the idiocy that is me.

Wah, wahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

What happens when I become the butterfly?

Will I be pinned to the wall, or will you marvel at my beauty before smashing me upon the badminton racket of...

Justice?

"Methinks he doth whine too much."

He fucking doth.

Stop it, you two. You tear me apart. You shear me, my wool. Leave me naked, nude.

I scream for no reason, yet for all the reason in the world.

Where did I go wrong?

If you read this blog from the start, you will see a slow motion meltdown. I guess I was never right. Pride, and ill thoughts, will make the hardiest man rethink and re... re... re...

Get down to the shops and buy me a pack of fags, Storky.

I have been watching Men Behaving Badly, it is not a good role model for me. The U.S. version was great, but wow. The U.K. original is fantastic, I can't rave about it enough. A+.

"Fuck you, Ronnie."

Go easy on the sissy boy.

Really? I think I'm spritely and waspish enough. I will sting you, and the poison will spread. I will sting you, and the poison will spread. The poison will spread. The poison will... spread. It will... I mean it... I promise you that.

Don't fucking touch me, please. I really hate to be touched, or reminisced with.

This is my blog, this is my blog, and no one else's. I will say what I want here, and if you don't like it...

Leave a comment and an address so I can come over and hit you on the head with a tack hammer.

Robo Bonobo...

So it has begun. I am currently on a high fiber diet of lentils, bananas, intestine scraping cereal, etc. Trying to keep the meats to a bare minimum, going to sub with different beans and such. I need to drop a few pounds before I hit the gym, mainly the track. I should be there by next week.
I haven't drank in about... 40 days? I physically feel wayyyyyy better, mentally also.
Well...
Sometimes, at least. Other times I find myself wishing, pining...
Windows of opportunity once again on the mind.
Is it better to let them slam on your digits as you peek sheepishly into the darkness?
Or is it better to leap through, balls deep?
What if there is a pit bull waiting to chomp your silly ass?
Although you may someday find another to deaden the pain of the undearly departed, you are forced to relive realities that were never realized...
The woulda shoulda coulda beens.
They don't like to go away.
If wishes were fishes, I'd open a sushi bar.
And bask in your Glori.
I miss things like caring, and not wanting to skull fuck every idiot who dares cross my path. I want things like this back.
And I shall have them, failure is not an option.

R.I.P.
RONALD MCGRAVEH
2006-2012.

Lichy Woman...

 Wonders to behold, she'd said. Tales to be told, he'd read.
Coffers to be fed, my dear. Fortunes left for dead, I fear.
Melancholy wisps of gloom. They fail to quell our rising doom.
The risen flame was all for naught.
It sears the flesh, which hastens rot.

Pop Goes the Cheezil...

First, let me take a toke of some sticky icky before I lay it all out for you to peruse through.
Some leafage before you leaf...
Also, some music. Back in a few.
Aight.
I cut off all my hair a few days ago. I was tired of looking like an escapee from the insane asylum. It's bad enough I feel like that on the inside...
So I have no hair. Also, I haven't been drunk in a month. Yay for me. I am, however, getting sweetly baked to perfection at the mo-mo.
And then we move on from Queen's Who Needs You to Tommy Shaw's Lonely School...
I wonder if anyone who'd read this blog from start to finish could possibly ever make heads or tails of this at all.
Maybe that's all the Egyptian hieroglyphics were in the end, emotionally charged old skool blogging. Nothing of meaning to anyone beyond those who chiseled it into the stone, or painted it.
It seems I'm trying to go all deep on y'alls. Fail in all aspects.
I guess I'm just beating around the bush when I should just get down to it.
I can't see your face in my mind. Not anymore. And when your name does cross my lips, it no longer creates a pang in mein heart. I am in a netherworld of  ooey gooey dark chocolate FUNK. 
I'm covered in it, as if I'd literally murdered a man sized bar of it.
And my sanity, my serenity, my salvation, my...
Very abilty to make a final desperate stab at a future is as white as snow. Hell, it might as well be on fire or covered with scorpions. In the end it all matters little.
Why not, then, hack through haphazardly amongst the thickets and thistles?
I'm thinking I'm ready to use this emotional steam to power my thrust for lust of not being covered in rust.
Or dust...
If I must.
I no longer wonder what would be had I veered off  the beaten path.
Where does all that turmoil go? Does it dissipate out of your pores and orifices? Or does it continue to well up, ready to 'splode all over da place?
I wish I could just upload my thoughts, instead of this jumble of whatever spewing out onto keyboard, like the verbal meanderings of a... of a... uhhh...
Me.
Maybe I should write a book.
Preferably a pop up.

Hamma-Lamma-Ding-Dong...

So...
Here we are again. Ups and downs once again. On my way to a meeting and my garage door comes off the track, no one until tomorrow to come and fix it. Assholes.
Them, not you guys.
So my evaluation at work is done, passed with flying colors. One of the floor guys is retiring soon, and the other is not far behind so I'm hopefully going to get that promotion.
Please, GAWD!!!
Trading physical stress for mental, but I can handle. Need money.
Anyhoo...
Adam Sandler's new movie, That's My Boy, is coming out Friday. Can't wait for it, hoping the greenage will be plentiful by then. Must self medicate...
See Jack and Jill if you haven't, it's the schnizz, yo.
The only time I haven't wanted to impale Al Pachino.
And that's saying alot. Also, SHAQ is in it.
Blah blah blah.

Incisions, Decisions...

Sorry, too lazy to recut that picture without the ad.
Anyhoo, got my evaluation finished today. It only took two days to get it done, and only about six months of worrying over it. I am now free to get my union steward duties flowing like jizz over my beloved worshipers.
So right now I'm just sitting here getting super high, listening to an Ari Shaffir podcast, and posting up in hurr.
I think I'm almost well again, finally, and ready...
For what?
Exactly. My back hurts all the time, and after seeing 50/50, I always figure that'd be my luck. Back cancer.
I'm not sure just how I'd take it. Sometimes I think death would be better for me. Sometimes I think death for others would be even better. Sometimes I just don't want to think, or feel.
I fully understand the hows and whys of the mourning process in regards to our youthful vigor. We do not want to give up the goat. It is as simple as that.
I personally like myself, probably too much. The problem, then, must lie somewhere within the rest of you.
I go to AA meetings where people talk about how much of a piece of shit they were when they drank and such. And you know what?
Other than sadfully being neglectful and distant at times with the ones who have loved me and/or continue to do so, I've kept it all pretty squeaky clean on the outside world.
Although my vengeance is a thing of wonder to behold, I do not wreak havoc upon others unless properly provoked. I can, and will, look people in the eyes. I just prefer not to when I don't have to.
Also, sadly now my older stepdaughter is here and she has a dog that will soon meet with a nasty case of the  "got thrown out of a moving vehicle at high speeds" syndrome. She will be living with us for a short time. I will end my comments about that for now.
I guess I will go, but at least I'm posting alot more again. Unfortunately I've probably run off everyone who bothered to post comments. I also probably think it'd been better if I'd not shared it with them in the first place. Ha, no one probably even hangs out on blogger anymore anyway anyhow.
That's alot of probablys to deal with.
More than I'm prepared for anyways.
By the way, I still hate you, Facebook. And people who wear patchouli, and just about the rest of the known world.
I'm lying. I don't really hate more than a handful of you. The problem is, I could live without ever seeing any of you again. If there were computers that could fool me into believing they were real human beings to interact with, then who needs real human contact?
I'd miss the poon. I've been missing it awhile already...
Ha!

Lip Dip Sip...

(Another draft from way the fuck back.)

Reality. I've grown to realise...

The drool upon my bottom lip...

Is a realization...

Of my bottom lip.

And Then the Shrooms Kicked In...

 What's the matter, clown?
Turn that frown upside down, clown.
I guess he finally realized that fun for some is work for others.
And such is life.
Do you wipe off the make up and get a real jerb?
Or do you trick the boys into putting on the handcuffs...?
And then the garrote.    

Went to eat Chizznizz with my niece and nephew and parents on Saturday but it was lame-o. Yesterday was my child's 16th birthday.

Oh, what fun we didst haveth...

Erm...

Today I showed off my skillz at work, as far as union steward goes. And yes, I do spell skillz with a Z.

Then we had rail dust problems on the chickens and we shut down for over two hours. 

That would be great if it didn't mean we'd be going home over two hours later for our troubles. 

I'm bushed and my feet hurt. 

I'm smushed into the dirt.

I'm battered and torn.

I need to be reborn.

I'm dying.

To live.

Not palms up.

But to give.

A damn about it all.

And learn how to crawl.

And stand again proud.

And brush off the shroud.

Of impending doom.

And unending gloom.

And brighten the room.

Suck it.

Don't they taste like feet?

A Fine Whine...?

Someone's been at laptop again...
Just got home from American Reunion. A reunion of suck. F. Without Stifler and the piefucker, who bumbles into one Three's Company moment after another, this'd be a complete bust.
I'm on a four day weekend, my kid's 16th birthday being the crowning pinnacle of creamy funtime goodness.
Then it's back to Unhappyland once again, where I toil and toil. And toil...
I came here with a plan of attack. Then I felt I needed Youtube accompaniment. Yet nothing seemed to do the trick. I started with old Johnny Carson, drifted through some stand up, and winded up here in the land of comedian versus heckler. Everyone seems to think they can not only successfully perform stand up, but can own someone up proper and right. Most must live in fantasy because they just end up looking like tools. The select few who can serve it up can do so because it's like a muscle: if you keep it pumped up and limber, then it is ready and cocked to deliver the killing blow. If it's underused and flabby, then it's like holding a giant wheel of cheddar up against a machete wielding meth freak in full hallucinogenic gleeness.
I keep in shape at work. I don't give them the full R rated version, but I keep it close enough not to tiptoe into ending up in the office explaining your/myself. However that goes...
So I've not yet found something to listen to in the background. And I've already given here what little I've got left in the tank.
I'm rerererereading It. I always realize I should've left Stephen King in my childhood. He's cheese now. In the end he always was. I prefer classics anyhow. I love how your tastes change, and mature, once you've given the contents time to settle.
Like wine...
A fine one.

The Screams of a Million Tadpoles...

Ummmmmmm, randomly found picture on my son's laptop...
Sweeeeeeeeeet.
So anyway: not much of a weekend. New idiocies abound and are laid bare, against better judgement.
Now just what to do. I daily find reinforcement in the argument advocating the hermit lifestyle.
I definitely think it will be resolved in the near future.
I also realize now that immediately replacing the innards of a poorly performing machine with the guts of another yield the same results.
So why do it?
We just do, or tend to.
I guess it is all about how many times you want to put your testicles to the flames, hoping to singe off the cobwebs of sad neglect and pubes of self doubt.
Can't you hear their screams?
No, Daddy, no!!!

All Time Tithead...

I'm on an all time low, and seems the dirty work is all up to moi.
Today I hate you, and I hate me.
Do I turn?
Do I share?
Do I?
Always to be continued, until I reach an automatic save point I can't avoid...

Wunderkitteh...

I was just reading my blog back to 2010. Ha, what a maroon. It was definitely interesting to see where I've been and where I'm headed. I truly believe there is a mourning period for events in the past. Time dulls the senses to it, or m...

Ha, I found this lurking in draft form. Wonder where I was headed on this one, and why it didn't come to fruition. I love the picture, however. Mainly because it's obvious the kitty will be torn to shreds by the undead, only to return a mindless feline monstrosity...

Egg Zachary...

So anyway, this midget beaner opens the door and tries to semi eyeball me, saying WHAT a tad bit above proper room level.
I told him to move his car so I could leave. He did as he was told.
Good for him. I was in the mood to do a little midget tossin'...

Had a better telling of this story planned yesterday, but ehhhhhhhh, what're you going to do?
Just not feeling it today.
Hopefully the next two days at work are work free. I just want to flail.

I wanted to work out today, but we got off late. I hate that. Nothing saps your willpower like that shit right thurr.
So anyway, I didn't want to leave last night's post hanging. I will leave you now and get back to watching the Ronald Reagan roast of '73.
I'd like to be a fly on the wall in the company of those guys. Cool and classy.
Now people are just dicks.

I'd much rather have a Ronnie hologram than a fucking Tupac.
Ronnies totally kick ass.

Flippin' Out...

I'm hanging out, listening to the Flip Schultz podcast, and taking a few hits.
Saw Lockdown last night, with Guy Pierce. I normally dig the heck out of him.
This was not one of those times. He was trying wayyyyyyyyy too hard to be the most smart assed guy ever created. It just didn't work. Movie was decent, but nothing to write home about.
C+.
And wow at The Avengers. It was good, but not jizz worthy. Sorry, nerds.
Also, out of blood pressure medicine. Hope I can deal with tomorrow without blowing a gasket. They better get on my refills ASAP. I get overheated easily, physically and mentally.
I almost conquered some fool just less than an hour ago. I went to a friend's apartment, he shall forever forward be known as Black Ronald. 
And I went through the tapdance routine, got my schnizzle on, and walked back out to my car, to go home and partaketh in solitude, as nature intended.
Some fucking douchenozzle had me blocked in. I ask Black Ronald who would have the audacity to do such a thing.
So here I am on his neighbor's doorstep. I knock politely. I do this again. And again. And a few more times, not hearing anything on the other side. Their window was open, so it confirmed the fact that no one seemed to give a flying flipdoodle. So I start playing a nice tune on their doorbell, followed by a barrage of hearty knocks.
Because I've got shit to do...
To be continued. Kid came in. Gotta bail.

A Strange Bird...

Aight. I saw The Avengers this weekend. It was good, the only problem was...
I wanted a jizzfest of kickassedness. I also wanted a Hulk reboot with dood so we can keep some sort of continuity up in this piece. If I do a marathon of all the movies, which Hulk movies do I watch? The second? Both? It would be hard for me to do when the two Iron Man movies were kind of snoozefests.
I know, I know...
Not a fan of Downey Jr.
Anyhoo, all feeling kind of weird and down. Made myself go out. Did alot of outside walking, nothing interesting.
Boo frickin' hoo.
I feel fine, though. It's all good.

I Know I'll Never Love This Way Again...

But I'll keep holding on, til all the good is gone...

I know, right?

Twas walking in the rain earlier, pondering. I remember seeing 500 Days of Summer. The realization of just how very much I was like this was brutal. We live fantasy for awhile, then it crumbles back inwards upon us. And traps our legs...

And hardens our hearts to further intrusion.

And we embrace darkness once again. For awhile...

Eventually, the dull throb is drowned out by the symphony of otherworldly clamor.

Do we send out a telepathic distress signal?

Do we linger at the very door of that which has knocked us flat time and time again?

I think not as I believe a lesson has been learned. As deep as it is, the wound has been licked clean, and quite thoroughly.

I will now find my only solace: in the arms of Christopher Walken and James Lipton.

Take that revelation as you will...

Nyet, Nyet, Nyet...

Hey guys...

Sitting on the deck in the backyard, smoking a grit. I've got all week off for spring break.
Going to take my parents to eat tomorrow, but the rest of the week will be spent cleaning and such. Maybe catch a few movies...

Saw 21 Jump Street Friday, it was pretty dang sweeet. Loved Depp getting one in the neck and dying. Woops, did I spoil something?

Tonight is the last episode of The Walking Dead. I already know what happens, so it wasn't spoiled for me by the masses online. Besides, I read all about what the comics have already done, and it's all good.

Then another 7 months to wait for more. Sadness.

Despair, lol.

Plus Missouri lost in the first round to a crap team.

Dammit.

Curses!!!

Hey world, legalize Mary Jane and we'll call it even.

Hart to Hart...

The new millenium female Robert Smith vs. old skool Fred Sanford/new wave Buck Rodgers...

Can't smile just yet, can't just...

The Arch of an Eyebrow...

From the beginning of time the first story of betrayal involves a man...

And his old lady.

He does the things he thinks are right. They turn out to not be right, in fact they are wrong in every sense of the word. This is usually because some evil succubus is whispering some of the most fucked up shit in his ear. Is that even an actual sentence?

From Adam and Eve to Bonnie and Clyde...

It all ends in a gory puddle of apple cores, ribs, and bullet ridden dollar bills.

And bankruptcy, self doubt, self discovery, self doubt, self discovery...

Until the day that The Walking Dead or Night of the Living Dead becomes a living reality, then we have to continue to suck that dick, twist that nozzle...

So my wife's friend used his GAY-DAR on me and failed.

Background: he looked just like MANGO.

Should I readjust my shit or continue to roll with the punches?

I actually have perfect GAY-DAR and wouldn't peg myself as he did.

Wishful thinking?

A simple arch of an eyebrow...?

Sometime soon I will post as was done did beforehand in the beforehandville...

Until then?

Stizz tizznooneezeedizzle on the shizznizzlebeeoznatch.

This time I fucking mean it.

It Rears Its Ugly Head again...

The dreaded no picture post...

Wow, a month gone by. Not much doing here, been only checking a choice few sites or forums.

And, no, Facebook is not one of them. They have pretty much killed the internet and dulled the senses of its inhabitants.

I just digressed away from the computer to have a conversation about chicken fried steak sandwiches and the fact that white gravy on them is impractical and doesn't go with the cheddar slabs I'm going to melt on their very tiptops and squash down with mayo, freshly sliced tomato, and crisp lettuce...

Not to mention the fact that I didn't buy any to slather on.

Woops?

Maybe not. It did cross my mind, but it would be another thangie to have to babysit whilst it heated.

Saw a few movies on dvd.

Shark Night, again. Saw it at the movies, loved it.

Straw Dogs. No not a new one by the old farts on the motorcycles.

Good one, but sometimes silly.

And resaw 50/50. I need to buy it.

Been working, but not much to talk about there. Boring crap as usual with dickholes abounding.

Wanna buy a new computer, and grow my own smoke.

That would be cool. I'd be happy if they legalized it.

I know I'd get as prescription easy.

Blah blah blah.