Scrub-A-Dub-Dub-Step...

 Deep in thought? Fashionably pensive?
Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Deciding between sliders and somewhere that has tacos on their all you can eat buffet?
Perhaps, but not really. More likely, I'm not thinking at all. Or trying not to...

I will preface my next insightful comments by saying this picture of Frank was taken without his permission. Can't a dirty freak take a shit in peace? So anyhoo...
What I'm trying to say is that no matter how hard I might try to look like the first picture of Mr. Thinker, I end up looking like crap taking crap.
Of course, I'm not saying Frank is crap. You know what I'm saying...
I want an island, or somewhere deep in Montana, where I can raise me a crop o' dental floss.
I will only communicate with the masses via Skype, or whatever tickles my fantasy.
Until I am no longer at odds with the rest of the world...
Then would I return to claim my throne.
The Prince of Lies...
King of Nothing...
Fool.

I often wonder if I am just that. Then delusions of grandeur kick in. That's what they feel like after awhile, but are they?
I find it hard to believe it is ME all the time.

I saw Total Recall this weekend. It was surprisingly good, just minus the awesome cheese of Arnold Schwartzenblahblah. Also surprising is that I'd recommend it, very actiony...
Also saw The Possession, which sucked balls. If you suck balls metaphorically, then this is for you.

Other than that, just hanging in there. Fighting the demons in my head; sometimes winning, sometimes not so much. All you can do is keep punching. Right now, for some reason, everything I type just isn't working for me. You ever get that feeling? Just...
Nothing. Nothing to share, nothing of worth anyway.
Writer's block!!!
Wish it was contagious, and I had a sweet DeLorean that time traveled, I'd go back in time and give Stephen King a deadly dose of it.
Sorry, I'm rereading It. I find myself skimming the silly drivel he lays on pretty thick. I bet he was a complete doof. Nobody probably liked him, and he probably talked to himself, wishing bad things on them. Maybe Carrie is a wishful autobiography, and he'd love to be the Prom Queen, or was it homecoming? I don't remember...
I'm just saying he's not even 1% of all the praise heaped on him. He just wrote alot of dirty words, threw in some wishful sex, and BOOM...
Young teens hanging on his every word. Genius, I'll admit, but in the end kind of dumbs down a few generations in the process. Clive Barker blows him away. I love Cabal.
Anyway, enough rambling. I'm watching Scrubs with my kid and we are on episode 14 of season 1, a very long way to go. I will keep up the tally as I post later. We might even eventually get all the way through them.
It's an ok show, I'm not enthralled by it, but it's decently watchable so far...

RAWR...

Howdy folks...
Saw Resident Evil movie, can't remember the complete title, just that it's the fifth piece of shit so far.
The last one actually had some redeeming qualities, but this one is more than a slap in the face. It has disemboweled RE, bled it dry, buried it, dug it back up and pissed on it, then buried it upside down...
The only way you could see it was in 3D, which is total bullshit, but a good way to get serious bucks before word gets out how shitty it actually is/was.
Please reboot with a new director/writer/no Mila Jahovah's Whatever-the-fuck-it-is. Give it to someone who truly loves this enough to be able to balance being true to the material without cheesing it out. When I saw their Leon, I was immediately repulsed. Flabbergasted. Livid. Fucking pissed.
I still play RE4 on a regular basis, and would play RE2 if I could find the disc. Leon is the king.
PLEASE REBOOT NOW.
I would be completely happy with an animated film in 3D. Do it up like RE4's creepy look.
Give it to Romero, but make him stick to the source material and not try to put some "message" in there.
I'd love to see it all done properly. But then again, I'd love someone to redo Battlefield Earth the way it should be: as a trilogy, with oodles of moolah to pour into it. Love that book. Too bad that Scientology is a bunch of hokey crap.
Not much is going on. Work, sleep. Wishing the zombie apocalypse would hurry up and pop. One more month until Walking Dead. Andale.
Anyway, nothing clever to say today. Going to watch Scrubs and make a sandwich.
That is all.

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth...

 A new computer...
A gift?
I wish, but no. Unfortunately, I had to get this for a short time from some crap rental place. It'll go back when I can afford a sweeet new desktop. Might be awhile, but it will be mein...
Oh yes, it will be mein.

Instead, the gift will be this post to you. The best part is no one can return it, you can only move on after seeing it. So I guess it could be a gift or a curse.
Question: Is it better to laugh whilst dying, or to live whilst crying?
I went to a meeting today and heard the first part and added the last. I haven't been drinking, but I still go from time to time for a little meditation time. It's an hour away from the everyday bullshit that's all for me.
Anyhoo...
Hey, where'd that horse go to...?
By the way, MU played hard against Georgia today in their SEC opener in foofoo ball. They played three great quarters, then gave up in the fourth. I'm crushed.

May the GAWDS Smile Upon Thee...

So I'm driving to pick my daughter up from school today and...
I'm waiting to make a left turn behind some moron who is too busy texting to see the green arrow. The guy opposite us wants to make a right but said moron finally decides to go. The right turn guy wants to butt in front of me, but I glare at him as I make my turn first. I've also got the dance mix to Out of Touch by Hall and Oates blaring, which they start doing a crazy dance to behind me, swerving all over the road as they continue to frug away...
I give them the finger. Now I make a right turn with them behind me, but when I do I make sure they can't immediately pass me and give me the finger. Now we are in a two lane thangie which merges into one down the road further down the road. I decide to continue not letting them pass me and deny their retaliatory naughty finger...
I'm doing 45 now in a 35 leading up to the merge. They are closing fast, but they aren't going to pull it off before the merge. And that's when I see the po po...
I'm figuring the jig is up, and I'm busted. But at the last second, the two inbreds behind me whip around me well after it's turned into a one lane dealie. They obviously did not see the fuzz, and instead of tagging me, he goes around me and immediately pulls them over...
I wave to them as I pass by, with windows open so's they can hear my guffaws of glee.
Thank you, kharma.

HA!!!

I was going through my old unposted drafts and found this.
WTF am I looking at?!?
Probably my overblown ego rising into the stratosphere...

WHAT A MAROON.

Sombrero and all...

bLOOER tHAN A sMURF'S tAINT...

 I guess I screwed the pooch, as far as posting bunches for August. I was also off last week for a week long recovery after my 40th birthday. Yay for me, right?
Sometimes I think I'm insane, sometimes methinks you are all guilty as charged instead. Sometimes I'm totally ready to shirk the comforting arm melancholia drapes round my neck, much like ye olde ever tightening noose, yet other times I'm readily spotted wallowing in that very same mire...
Doing the backstroke, and stroking my own seemingly chaotic selfdom...

I feel aimless, foolishly waiting on another random calamity, a... a...
Ehhhh, who do I think am fooling, anyway?
I wish I could pour everything inside me onto a canvas, so as to display myself as a portrait for you to peruse.
Artistically visceral...
To hone in on the principle...
Pistols at dawn...
'til the night sky is gone.

I give up. Go see Hit and Run, if you haven't. Dax and Kristen Bell are like some fairy tale love story that definitely translates into perfect onscreen chemistry. Too bad real life isn't like that. Instead it is full of dark fantasy that eats away at your soul, bit by decomposing bit...
Lolz.
How can you make yourself once again love the magic trick, even after you've seen how it is truly done and no longer amazing?
Is there CPR for the soul, or do I need those little heart paddle thingies George Clooney used to use?
This world is a sea of unfairness. The question is...
Am I a shark, or a guppy?
I look at people, and I wonder if they live in constant internal turmoil as I do.
I'm not like this all the time, by the way. It just seems like I only post/vent here when I am.
I need to start posting vlogs on here, so I can ramble easier.
Gotta lose about... ten more... pounds first. Trying to get svelte up in this bitch.
RECANIZE.

Who Dat?

 So, after all, there was not one kind of Strife alone, but all over the earth there are two. As for the one, a man would praise her when he came to understand her; but the other is blameworthy: and they are wholly different in nature.

For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel: her no man loves; but perforce, through the will of the deathless gods, men pay harsh Strife her honour due.

Cold. Unforgiving. A perfect name for the dwarf planet that knocked Pluto from its full planetary status. Sometimes nearer, sometimes three times farther away than Pluto. Elliptical. Barren and fruitless in the end.
But still...
A tiny sparkle in our telescopes. A light at the end of the tunnel, or a wasteful expedition towards an unobtainable goal?
A one way ticket to the pipe dream of your choice more likely...
But then again, possibly...
An otherworldly peak to unfurl flags to, to stake claim and lay law upon...
And conquer, for no reason other than just that: to conquer.
To trample and maim, to darken the doorstep of...
To further corrupt the orbit of its chaotic nature...
And hasten its fatal collision with Pluto.
Seemingly on a whim, no less. But, alas, with purpose all the same.
Fervor gives way to gnashed teeth, perspiration lubricates the rusty gears to motion...
But for what?
Vaporization and existence revoked.
Better than never having been, but less than having fully blossomed into final blissful splendor.
Resentful, but beholden to the toehold that was almost achieved...
Yet is nothing but a scratch upon the illuminated countenance of a victorious maiden enamored with the lifeblood of the many corpses strewn upon the battlefield of our short time together.

The bereavement is fleeting, and the throb is dulled to a pulsing chill that drains into unnoticeable fade to black.
It was all a dream of things that never happened, things we repelled ourselves from, insulated.
A spark indeed...
A Morrison-esque ode to the spark that ignited the flame that consumed us in whole.
An ode to the strife of us that dare only to dare without the flint to ignite without an outside flint...
The daftest of the daft...
The kingliest of the fallen fool...
Your salvation, too.
An almost...
A should've been.
A casualty of wars that were beyond the grasp of what was intended, and what was hoped for.
A resurrection of a thing long thought to be dead, he was.
A light switch that was turned back on against its will, yet with total permission.
Go crazy...
Go insane...
Vault the hurdles of your inquisitively, but sheltered nature, yet succumb...
To the deep southern drawl of my...

My...
My...
My...
It is almost as if a woman wants to stifle the things a man stands for. A lucky man is the one that meets his match: a woman that speaks her mizzind...

In The Wink of a Young Girl's Eye...

 There is a time in everyone's life when they've decided it's time to call it a day.
"Goodbye, cruel world!!!" they'd say...
"Toodle-oo muthafuckas, can't stay!!!"
But when the time finally comes, to gives it your alls,
You fumble, and falter...
You coward, you have no balls.

 Unable to find the backbone to do the jerb yourself, you decide to delve into the seedy world of assisted suicide, to no avail...
What can you do? Many of us bear the Elric gene/curse to walk endlessly until the end of days...
Until the end. Why do we do this? This is not what we signed up for. We wanted nothing more than to bask in the glory of our victories, our day atop the shoulders of our peers as they slap our backs wholeheartedly...

Ahhhh, the glory days, that was all we wanted in the end. For them to never end, for them to never fade, for the newness of it to ever wear off...
To stave off the cold shroud of blackness that looms nearer and nearer, waiting for us to do the James Brown kneeldown so's he can envelop us in the chill of blinding despair. To wipe our feverish brow...
And to close our eyes for the last time. Not in death, but in prayer...
To ears that do not hear, and eyes that do not see.
In a realm that does not care for you, and definitely not for me.

Time to go watch some more ALF. I wish he was real, or that the tables were turned and it was I that lived on his planet with his peoples. I wouldn't eat cat, but I'd be down with the hunt.

Echoes of the Past...

My beloved ferret, Molly Echo, died between last night and this morning sometime. I really miss her right now. I feel bad because last night she was trying to get me to give her some outside time, and I was feeling too lazy to chase her down. Being ferretlike myself, it was always hard to find myself wanting to do anything other than curl up into a tight enough ball that the world's bullshit couldn't get in. She always wanted out. Everytime I'd walk by her cage, if she was awake, she'd immediately climb the rungs closest to me. She wasn't very well litterbox trained, but I'd take her out when I got home from work and put her in my room with me while I played video games. She'd always lick my feet, and my knees, and then frolic off to see what kind of treasures and mysteries she'd possibly uncover.
I know I could get another, but my heart is just not into it. I doubt I would/could get another without a much larger cage and wayyyy more free time to give them the affection they deserve. And I think it'd be better to get more than one, so they could keep each other company at other times. Molly really wasn't very social, like other ferrets. The person I got her from was neglectful in so many ways. When I first got her home, she ran loose. Then I realized that she just shit willy nilly all over the house and got her a cage. She never seemed to like it, but what else could I do?
I just wish maybe I'd taken her out more, gave her more loving squeezes than I did, anything. Everything.
Now she is gone. I will never again feel her kisses. Her licks. Even her claws in the shower, trying to climb my legs to get away from the water...
Goodbye, Molly. I did love you, and I'm going to miss the hell out of you. This is the 9/11 of all Sundays.

No, No, Not I...

Hey everybody. Here is a picture of my three cousins who belong to my aunt Margaret. I have no idea who the two tubby chicks in the white shirts are. Maybe they're in a gang, who knows?
Anyhoo, I was talking to the guy on the far left. His name is Paul, but I always knew him as Junior. He looked just like Howdy Doody. The guy in the middle is Dale, who I used to fight to the death every time we visited them. Then we stopped seeing them around... the time I got out of elementary school. Leesa, in the purple shirt, I saw when we took her with us to my grandpa's funeral.
So now I've semi reconnected with them via Facebook. Not Dale, I heard he's a partier, if'n you get my drift. Probably might not want to drink with him, but I'd share a doobie. I will probably see Junior when he comes up to see my parents.
Anyways...
Saw new Batman movie, Dark Knight Rises. Wasn't terribly impressed. I thought the new Spiderman movie was wayyyyyy better.
I was on my pain pills, to be honest, and I kept falling asleep. I will watch it again to confirm suckiness when it hits the cheap theater. I had most of last week off, and now I'm back to work. It totally sucks. I can't believe some of the people that are famous are actually famous. How? How?!?
I need to get my resume in for the promotion opening soon in my plant. I need to get off the line. And I need to be in an office, preferably reading the paper, preferably on the toilet...
Then I can jump to a plant elsewheres and where I'm the only person around. You could totally find ways to work out some with all that time on your hands. And ahhhhhhhhh, to be alone. Mostly...
I just wanted to check in. I'm fine, just kind of gimpy still in my back. Mentally hanging in there.
I will prevail.
I always do.
I will survive...
Hey, hey.

She say, methinks, and I do say said kitty doth haveth itself declawed. That, and not having a decent paw to stand, or limp, upon...
A reason...?
To satisfy my own lust for vengeance. So...
I will not do it.
I will let her decide what path she will tread. Apparently I'm a complete douche. Oh, I can remedy that. 
In a perfect world she'd just leave. Leave me and my daughter alone. I know this'll never happen unless I let her do what she thinks is the best plan of attack. It's kind of like The Walking Dead where Rick lets Shane dictate his own future. He stupidly picks the future where he gets shanked. 
Woops on him.,
And same to you, you disgusting, snoring/snoring piggeh.
Today I saw you happier in conversation with some complete tool than me. Where is my shiny thing? Where is my fucking shiny thing?
Sometimes I wonder why Cindi leaves more slack on the line for her mammy. She gives me zero.
Mini-me indeed...

Really, Dawg...?

 What up, dawgs? Not sure how many posts I've got this month but probably lagging behind once again.
Anyhoo, what can you do?
Just got back from seeing The Dictator, and ended up laughing my anus off. I think this is definitely a sign of good things to come. I'm truly ready to return to the fold. Something, something, something.
Blah blah blippty blah.

There are so many things I still want to do, and I isn't getting any younger.
Noooooooooo, sir.
I need a button that turns on the good chemicals in my brain at will.
Eventually, even that would become numb.
I'm sure I need to learn things like self control. Not in all areas, just a few.
Some things I just... can't say no to.
I think I've got the humble part down already, I don't plan on ever becoming the monster I became before.
Not really a monster, just totally in love with myself.
I'd love to go back to the mindset I had when I was, sayyyyy, 16-19ish. I'd probably just end up squandering it all again. Even with the knowledge I have now.
Ehhhhh, maybe, who knows?
I'd be able to get laid better, and more often methinks. I dunno what I was so scared of back then. Just learn how to treat them like unthinking fucksticks. Jizz receptacles, they seem to prefer that anyway. Don't they?
I've never been able to figure out why chicks would rather have a guy who is shitty to them than a guy who's completely in love with them, and who'd probably take a full clip of bullets for them.
I know that any and every day is one that you can start over, true. But it is extremely difficult to erase the past from your, and other's, memory.
Each individual stinging lash of missed opportunity, of personal buffoonery, brings tears which do little to wash away the betrayel of self idiocy I've ridden sidesaddle on for so long.
A childlike fool. An ass.
I do not like the future. In it I do not exist. Do I fear death still?
I did as a child, more because of my own uncertainty of where I'll be when I wake up after.
Now, I worry more about the pain and helplessness. That is, unless I die suddenly: accident or heart attack.
Today, when I was getting superhigh to go along with my hydrocodone and muscle relaxers, I took a hit and a weird feeling came over me. My mind felt like it was slipping away there for a few. I came back into focus and thought about death. Will it hurt? Will it be more a physical thing, or your mind being forced out of your meat puppet self? I think more of not seeing the few people I love anymore. But then again, will it even matter?
I know there's no happy place we go to in death where some giant reunion party just keeps playing over and over, but there's got to be somewhere that part of us that keeps a constant narrative in our head going has to end up at.
Ehhhh, probably not. Too bad, though. Some of us are worth saving.
The rest are zombie chow as far as I'm concerned.
I guess, in the end, I really had nothing interesting to say today, nor was it informative.
Self absorbed prick.
I'm 40 next month. I wonder if that's my halfway point, or if I'm being overly optimistic by a longshot.

Turn Me Loose...

 And I was here to please, I'm even on my knees, making love to whoever I please...
I gotta do it my way or no way at all.
Hey guys. How dare I quote Loverboy? I know, right? Anyhoo, just got back from seeing The Raven. Not a bad movie, I think it more of a bad timing thing as far as the release goes. Bummer for them. I give it a solid B. John Cusack's hair never ceases to amaze me either. Crazy man hair...

Watching/listening to Loverboy videos from the way back machine, also known as Youtube. It's always fun to reminisce back to the 80's, a time when the world was a safe place and I had not a care in said world.
Everything had that new car smell...
Know what I mean?
I guess most people are easily blinded by the shinyness of tomorrow's bullshit. I am not.
Let me go...
Turn me loose.
I'm tired of working for the weekend...
Because I'm definitely not loving every minute of it.

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.

Happy New Year...

I can see it. I can totally see it:

A new life that doesn't involve bullshit. I just need to not be afraid of it. I wikll do this now. I will do this now. It's not like I want to find someone new, that may, or may not, come later. I do not care anymore. I've had brushes with greatness: Lori, I'd have been lucky as shit to almost have you. As it is, I will have nothing. I guess that is fine, the way behind me is strewn with the corpses of all that i've lost and left behind.

The way ahead is hopefully not like that. I'm already emotionally not available, this just makes it worse, or better.

I want to be free to make my own mistakes, not clean up after someone else's.

Below is someone else who has crossed paths with the dreaded beast.

This would be totally worth it, if it ends the tale that was never meant to be told.

I wanted to be left alone, and now I want to be left alone.
Leave me alone. You only lie to me. You only lie. Everyone only lies to me.

Handcuffs.

"And lies..."

Once I have attained beauty again, I will not be stoppable. OK, maybe sometimes to myself, but that is it. Other than what I think, the rest of you can just go straight away and fuck off.

Grow a beard and shut it all off. I will win.

Oh, yes...

"He surely will."

Today, the other guy wins. He punches, or gets out. He's tired of punching, he's ready to get out...

The Sitter...

Did I mention my love for David Gordon Green? We saw The Sitter yesterday, and it was the bomb, yo.

Good thing I don't give a crap what the critics say, or I'd have missed this sweet gem.

A+ all the way.

Always love Jonah Hill, who did a bang up jerb, but the kids stole the show everytime they got a chance. Especially Rodrigo, pictured heeyah...

A nice young pyromaniac hailing from El Salvador, he's adopted into a well to do family with their own brand of problemos. When not blowing things up, he's prone to urinating on anything and anyone he so chooses to.

Also, Sam Rockwell as Carlos, the drug dealer chasing them throughout the film, is superb. Hell, everyone up in the heezy does a fine jerb bringing what they bring to the table.

Can't believe this movie isn't faring better, but apparently most of the moviegoers would rather see crappy kids' crap crapping up the screen.

Such is life. I will most definitely buy this on dvd, probably on the cheap.

Hoping for a Pineapple Express 2 someday.

David Gordon Green is a GAWD among amateurs.

When will the rest of you realise this?!?!?

Here's Graveh...

Hola...

Long time, no see.

Been slumming it up, with no net.

I plan on sharing. I plan on vomiting out alot of what be going on.

Get ready for it, put a bib on, this is gonna make Gallagher look like...

Uhhhh...

Gallagher.

Fuck watermelons, the sledgehammer is gonna fall once again.

My seed will spill...

"Splooge."

Splooge, indeed.

That's alot of labia...

No matter what I do wrong...

I'm happy my kid is the coolest kid on the planet. I'm wayyyy happy she has a much harder skin than I had. I cried like a bitch all the time.

"Want some ice cream, Ronnie?!?!?"

Punch you in the eye first.

The Texas judge can kiss my ass, his daughter, too.

My kid is the most in tune person to my dreams, even if they don't coincide...

She wants me to be the best, she wants me to...

"Be there?"

Love her?!?!?

That I will always do. She has no idea how many nights I stroke her hair, no matter how much my hnads/wrists always hurt.

I'm only 39 but I feel like Uncle Clyde. I capitalize out of respect.

Diamond in the Rough...

Sometimes I have moments of clarity. True, they are far and few betwixt eons of delusional delusionness...

I want. I really want.

"What does he want?"

No shit, WTF doth he want?

Shall I make a fucking list?

1. To be left the fuck alone. If you do not share blood relations with me, then you are easily replaced. Ok, not easily at times, but you CAN be replaced.

2. Don't try to control me. Sure, I do some stupid things, but I'm pretty tough. I can roll with the punches better than most.

3. I want the letter M stricken from the English language.

4. Ice cream Wednesdays. Why should Hump Day bring a guy like ME down?

5. The road belongs to me. If you happen to be on it at the same time as me, pull over and get the fuck out of my way. This is a strange request as I'm actually a slow driver, but amazingly there are people that are more slower than me.

6. While I'm still semi lucid: More hugs, especially if you're not butt ugly and have huge tig ol' bitties. Nevermind the last part, just hug me.

7. Serial killers: I want to know if they are to blame, or is it society, or is it their upbringing, or are they just bad seeds needing to be bypassed?

8. The radical muslim world and the rest of the world's muslims that are strangely quiet about it all: notice I will NEVER capitalize that word. Sure, white dumbasses kill people, but not with the same flourish as radical muslims. Children? Children? Why? Why ever? Even barbarians were smart enough to replete thier fodder by repletiary repletionness, lol.

9. New words made up, of course by me, should be considered immediate. Fuck ebonics, call this shit RONBONICS.

10. Russell. Almost, buddy, almost. I should've been your wingman; not just to prevent your death, but to influence some of your decisions to not end up as much of a tool as you did. This is between him and I. The rest of you can just fuck off. Keith, who is forever my brother and best friend, needed us. As far as I see it, when you shake a man's hand it is a done deal. I'd never do it back, even in revenge. I'll slit your motherfucking throat, though...

11. A zombie apocalypse. Democrats made the working man wish for this. Sad, indeed...

More to come later when I shuffle some shit around. Lori, if you're still around, please don't stick around for further decomposition. You are the thing I wish. I wish I deserved the right to woo. To woo..............................

Whatever, Now Suck It Up...

So I blew off the Subway deal. I'm just too stressed to mess with it. I do still wish death upon that horrible cow who pissed/ripped me off. In the end, what is the point anyway?!?!?

"Things happening."

On the cusp?

Always hoping. Somewhere, sometime, someday I have to do more than plot and scheme your impending dooms. I'm tired of being bi polar.

I want to love all of you instead of wanting to rip your throats out with my bare teeth.

And please hurry up and pass the whole medicinal marijuana crap so I can enjoy life in peace.

I feel like when I don't have some sort of head change then I'm loathing every minute of everyone else's miserable existence.

"Phooey on all of ye!!!"

BLEEEAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!

Kidding. I'm not that full of hate. Sometimes, not always.

Do you not think I want to skip through flowers and sleep lazily in the grass while the sun bathes me in its warmth?

OK, not anything that lame, but I'd be happy with some sort of ooomphf, some sort of gusto.

By the way, movies seen lately: Our Idiot Brother, disappointing girly crap - C-.

Bucky Larson, had funny parts but lame as well - C+.

Final Destination 5, not bad and ended up a prequel nicely. Too bad they got the formula wrong for staying alive. Didn't they see the other films?

Oh yeah, twas a prequel and they didn't have a Delorean...

Solid B.

Transformers 3, not bad but missing Megan Fox, WTF?!?!?

B as well.

Now back to my life...

"Oh joy..."

Zzzzzzzzzzzz, here we go again.

Tried the new Ben & Jerry's Schwetty Balls. Had chocolate covered rum balls in it, so gross. I'd rather be teabagged by Ron Jeremy in July... in the Sahara no less!!!
That's about it for now. I need a new pc, I've been using my kid's laptop and I hate it. I have a pc but it's near dead. I need my command central, I need my magic porn box.

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Now look at my post picture and feel the love.

Blacked Out Forest...

So I flipped out on a chick that worked at Subway today...
Let me, uhhhh... set the scenerio.
I had a rough day at work. I had been forced to sit through a two hour thangie where they tought us to deal with stress. Breathing exercises, all that jazz...
Some stuff I'd actually been taught back in the 70's in elementary school, flexing individual muscles one at a time and then releasing, starting with your feet and working all the way up to your brainpan.
Sure, it's all good for short term release.
"BUT..."
Yes, even your butt.
Stuff from 1967, it even had the date at the bottom, lol. Forty four years old, if you can believe that. I'm even starting to get grey hair, how can even I expect to be taken seriously?!?!?
"Don't even think I'm even coming close to coming near the end."
Coming? Butts? Bottoms, even ENDS?!?!?
Yeah, I know. Ignore them, and they will eventually go away I tell myself. They even did, for awhile, if you can be bothered to backcheck my schnizz...
So, after a day of eating shit at work, as usual...
I go to a local Subway, to ease the pain of existence... with a footlong.
I finally decide to deviate from the norm and order the $5 footlong of the month, a turkey breast and black forest ham on wheat. I do so love wheat bread...
"He deviates further and orders bacon on top of it all."
So bold, so... decadent.
I had actually made smalltalk, and succeeded, and had won over the heart of the chick making my delicious sammich...
As she began beginning a new sammich for the next guy, she had planned toasting his as she added the scrumptuous toppings to mine, a Jabba the Hutt type girly girl waddled out in search of I-dunno-what-the-fuck began pulling on her sammich making gloves ever so slowwwwwwly...
I told her what I wanted: Everything, no pickles, no olives.
"Ew!!!"
EW!!!
Yes, I'm violently allergic to pickles, thanks mom for giving me Roladin. That, and painful stomach cramps I never told you about in the middle of the night.
I tell her that, yes, I want all the sauces. Mayo, Ranch, Chipotle, hot mustard, and vinegar and oil. She replies assholishly that I must really like my sauces.
I can feel the chip on her shoulder. She hated me before this cat and sammich game began.
Then I handed her my debit card...
"I will not continue tonight."
I actually blacked out during the whole shi-bangle...
To be fucking continued...

Capital Schmappital...

I hate today's hairdo's...

The Great Dying...

Carried by death...
Coddled, grown... born...
Buried, or not. I care not either way. Whatever you care to do with my body, do what you will. I lived in torment, I will die just the same. Unless...
I overcome, and bash the brains of the zombie zeds...
I could live in this kind of apocalypse if I had no child. I'd sacrifice myself for her. Otherwise...
I'd eat the fuck out of anyone who crossed my path, if hungry enough.
Sure, I've morals enough for the lot of you, but I'd survive, and not even care. I've eaten enough of you in mein own time alone. Metaphorically speaking.
So.......................................
I've lost my house, my mind, my pride. What is left?
To rebuild?
I'd love to, but I've lost faith in everything. Life has no flavor and all that blah blah blah. I'm tired of saying all this. Do I begin anew?
Boy, would I.
Bi Polarism is a bitch. I throw caution to the wind sometimes and just say fuck it. I want to love, yet I can't, but I have and will again... maybe. I feel like there is no flavor. There is no flavor. I want things that are already gone...
My road is paved, even travelled before upon. But it has never been conquered.
I want to conquer, but I tire of the control game. I just want to be left alone.
LEAVE ME ALONE.
Be happy to be with me, even fawn all over me and shower me with kisses. Do not berate me, do not put me back in what I grew up to come out of. I will soon be divorced, which is fine.
I only have to think of how to dig out of this hole that love/youth/idiocy puts you into.
You can be the sweetest/loving/ awesomest dood you can be...
And still take a bite of that shit sammich.
Mmmmmmmmm...
Is this what it feels like?
Are these all my posts in the future going to be? I hope not.
I want all of you to be happy, as I wish upon myself. Show me the way, show me the way. I'm a lost little boah...

No...?

Sifting through the ashes of my crash and burn kamakaze doomsday mission, I find myself numb enough not to mourn...

Not to pine.

Nor be prone to panic, and subsequent flight.

Today is/was supposed to be the day the bank takes back my house. Guess then it's off to filing bankrupt and all that jazz. I do not feel the loss of the house, or of all the crap I've thrown away, more of a cleansing, actually. A resolve...

To keep as little stuff as I can, and what I do have I box up if not needed.

Going to school in Dallas for two weeks in August, after that I'm putting in for promotions and trying to get as secluded as I can workwise. Somewhere I can go out and do my thangie and then go back to whatever I do when I'm alone and unsupervised.

Saw Everything Must Go, A+ movie. Will Ferrill can act when he wants to. Still wanting to see Green Lantern, waiting...

The Walking Dead, waiting...

NFL, waiting...

I need to turn the tide that tides me over. I need to wash that grey right outta my hair...