Sickmas Was Way Better Than Christmas

I have been feeling a bit "under the weather" lately and that has led me to an earth shattering conclusion! We are always "under the fucking weather"; there is no way to be above the weather unless flying in a fuckin' plane and then what would we say if we had the flu? What? I am feeling strato-sick? That just sounds idiotic. I am not gonna say, "I am feeling a little under the weather" ever again and whomever coined that phrase is a dumb-shit and should be dropped from 50,000 feet with no chute so he can feel "above the weather" while plummeting to his well deserved death.
And another thing (I don't care about proper sentences or punctuation this is my blog and I am sick) why can't my body figure out which way to expel the refuse that is my illness? If I am sitting on the toilet it should be pretty obvious we are choosing to go "that" way so why does it insist on choosing the other?
I spent my goddamn X-Mas on the bathroom floor (I miss the toilet way more than I ever imagined) or the bed hangin' with the blow-dryer, the hairbrush and a couple of crusty pillows that I couldn't tell if I puked on 'em or if it was just drool from my fever induced nap sessions. Being sick is for pussies and the elderly (so they know it is time to die) and I am not doin' this anymore! No Zycam, no Nyquil no Airborne for this guy I am just going to "man up" and fight this thing with two fists and we will see who is the better man.
Goddammit, I lost.
See you next year Chris Kringle you suck and I hate your stupid beard and red alcoholic's nose, go drink some more Jager and bang your reindeer, you fat fuckin' pedophile and if I ever catch you feeling up my mom again I will strap you to your sleigh and drop you off outside of the Nickel Plate Hotel for some reunion time.
Merry Sick-mas
Love AwesomeTough

Accomplishments Make the Man

Happy Birthday Buddy!
Hey I know that it is like totally your birthday 'n' shit, but I would like it if you would give me some presents so that I don't feel left out.
My birthday is quickly approaching and I am not planning on getting any of you anything, probably due to the fact that it is a celebration of me and my accomplishments.
Here are just a couple of "things" I have achieved in my lifetime.
Blew the fuck out of the Berlin Wall; I was getting tired of listening to all those Russians playing Duran Duran tapes... her name was Rio and she had AIDS (which I cured, but lost the recipe in a brothel in Thailand) bro, get over it!
Kicked a big ass hole in the Titanic; Those assholes were taunting me with the whole "ship that cannot be sunk" business, yeah I sank the fuck out of that steel tub and drowned Leonardo DiCaprio because I hated him as Luke on "Growing Pains."
Punched JFK's head off; he was bangin' my chick and that was not cool dude, watch the video it is all choppy and edited to shit. I made Lee take the rap 'cause he was acting like a pussy.
Walked on the fuckin' moon; that was a no brainer, I let Armstrong go first 'cause he beat me at poker and I would have left his ass in the Sea of Tranquility, but I still owed him twenty bucks and his wife was ironing my good pants.
Totally pleasured your mom; while your dad watched, because it was so beautiful that the sun couldn't even set 'til I was finished. I did that for you to make your life better, so remember that when you are buying me shit for my birthday.
This is only five of the million or so things I have done recently; what have you been doin' of late?

Of Mice and Man

Why the hell should I feel guilt for claiming the lives of my enemies? Especially when those lives are claimed in self defense!

I have been engaged in battle with an insurgency of the rodent variety and it has now come to all out war; no longer could I sit idly by waiting for diplomacy and concessions, lines were drawn in the sand and they have been crossed! 

It started off simply enough, a little harassment on my home's borders just a few droppings and whispers in the dark. Discussions were had, but of course as any good liberal would do I was stonewalled and told "you are being alarmist, let's just wait and see". So wait we did and the raids continued unabated. 

Frustration set in as I watched these large eared rodents set their booby traps and lull us into complacency, their invasive activities became more daring as the days wore on and still no action taken. Finally on a cold Monday morning I strode confidently into the kitchen, popped an English muffin in the toaster and set the espresso on the stove. Turning to grab a knife and the butter a chill ran down my spine and I froze in place. The butter had been brutally assaulted, large chunks had been ripped from her yellowy flesh and excretions surrounded her soft limp body! This was a declaration of war that could no longer be ignored, I quickly convened my war council and hatched a plan to ensnare my foe before this could escalate. 

Warning signs were placed around the residence declaring "No Mice Allowed" and "Fuck You Jerry", but these were ignored and the attacks continued, a bag of Snyder's found dismembered in the pantry, Starburst in the candy dish disemboweled and my beloved Cowboy Cookie ravished mere moments after I walked from the room. 

All part of the plan!

Little did my miniature quadruped foes know that this was all part of my trap and they were crawling straight into the jaws of my vice!

The sweeter the enticements became the more voracious and daring the assaults (broad daylight, houseful of guests, they appeared taunting their own doom)!

The trap had been set, kill zones defined and the steel barred mercenary employed to finish the job!

Nights turned to days and the body count began to pile up, multiple corpses pulled from the same snare, entire families wiped from the face of the earth!

The battle rages on as we speak, with no clear victor in sight, just this morning a poor innocent wedge of gouda was found with mutiple wounds; the assaults are escalating again and war ravages the landscape of my home.

I will not be deterred from my mission, I am a warrior trained to defeat mine enemy or die with no regrets. There is no shame in claiming the lives of your foe or sleeping with a blade to save those you love. I will continue to wage this battle and can only hope that the morning finds a final victory and an end to the madness that has encompassed this world.

If I am overcome and this be the end. know that I faced my enemy head on and never sounded a retreat when faced with superior numbers.

Also note that I have only used organic peanut butter in my traps, so their last meal will be "green" and not filled with chemicals that could otherwise shorten their cute little lives.

Totally About Jesus

"And then Jesus did some shit and he felt totally better than he did before Jesus stopped by to build his deck"-  The Bible Book

I'm not saying that I am Jesus, because who would want to be that fucking guy anyway? He never scored any sweet tail or partied in a hot tub with large breasted ladies; people were always trying to kill his hippie ass (even hippies hate hippies) and get free healing out of him (oh fix my legs, I have leprosy, I am dead, I don't have any money, ahhhh... total bs, was he even a dr.?)! I'm just saying that in general my existence has been far more rewarding and praise-ful than the long haired wonder from Bethlehem's was. I would much rather be regaled with tales of debauchery and drunken mishaps than being chastised for kicking ass and bangin' bar sluts.
Not once have I had to turn water into wine to impress my friends, they just feed me booze and watch what happens and without fail, magic (just like Jesus)! I also think my friends are way cooler than his, if they saw me walking on the water they would never cower in a corner and beg for forgiveness like pussies; they would throw shit at me 'til I lost my balance and drown in the waves, because that would be funny as hell and that is what real friends do!
As far as this whole dying on a cross deal goes I think it is pretty obvious that I would give up my spot for any one of them and thank the shit out of them for helpin' a "brotha" out, and besides what a waste of good firewood and hemp rope we could have had a bonfire with that stuff and invited some country girls over for my delicious wine-water.
Now if I am gonna die for some fools it'll be foiling a bank robbery or saving kids from a bus trapped in a flooded river... something a little more epic and bad ass; not basting in the sun between two toothless 'tards waiting for the crows to pick my bones clean.
I know this may sound a little far fetched and some people are totally into this guy, but try me out for a bit. I really don't ask much: No need for a big fancy building, we can hang just about anywhere. If you want to give me money I will take it, but not necessary and no need to ask me to talk to my dad for you; he only lives an hour away. I will make a great object to focus your thoughts upon and when I let you down you will know it was because I was drunk and that you should only pray to me after ten a.m. but before eight p.m. All that being said I would just like you to consider me as an option when you are choosing something to put all of your faith and irrational fears upon. I may not save you or help you in the least, but it's only because I don't like you or care!!!

That's What Friend's Are For

Would you pee your pants for me?
Would you play dress up and scamper across the bar room floor for me?
Would you fall out of my jeep at twenty five miles an hour for me?
Would you?
Would you wear nothing but a sock and make snow angels with me in the middle of town whilst your new girlfriend waits with baited breathe upstairs sulking?
Would you let me shoot your AK from a moving vehicle all the while sipping on a 40 and smiling as if the sun could never fade?
Would you drag me over the boat's prop on a balmy summer day?
Would you let me watch?
You would!
Ok, cool lets be best friends until one of us dies an untimely death that somehow involves Mike Greeley and a stupefying amount of gin!
Do you wanna hang out later and listen to Danzig?

Stove Talking

Winter is upon us, God is scratching his dandruff crusted head up above and laughing at our pathetic attempts to prepare for the inevitable. If I had a fireplace I would be throwing some logs on and hunkering down with a hot toddy and a pipe, but since I don't I am going to crank up the stove, wrap up in my Snuggie and huddle in front of the electric wamth delivery unit and pray to your god for deliverance through the night.
On second thought the snow is making me frisky and all this espresso is inspiring me to run rampant through the streets, to shuck off the constraints of this mortal body and deliver a mighty blow to the solar-plexus of the big man upstairs!
Go ahead shed your snow-druff on me I just punched you so hard that you are going to vomit out all of your innards! I have defeated you, now pee in my golden chalice so that I may drink your golden glory that we have dubbed Beer. I am now your champion, so let's have a party, I will evacuate into your raised goblets so that you may share in my essence, pour it upon one another, bath in its warmth mankind! I think sitting in front of the stove and huffing this marker is making me woozy... good night!

The Smurfs

I was watching the Smurfs this morning, it was one of those shitty episodes where they were hanging with Johan and Peewit and the Smurfs are merely supporting characters; this has brought up certain questions...
In what universe could Johan possibly be tough? Look at this pussy with his cape, bob haircut and English accent! No way would we see this guy punching out baddies on the mean streets of Manchester (he would be hanging at the coffee shop and playing in his Indie Folk band "Sword of Love") he can certainly strum a guitar, but chopping mofo's heads off with a sword, doubtful? Then there is Johan's buddy Pee-wit (pronounced Pee-wee) this kid sucks! His best friend is Clumsy Smurf he rides a goat backwards and always gets into some sort of hi-jinx where Johan and Poppa Smurf have to concoct a magical scheme to save his mongoloid ass; only in the eighties could this pair possibly be lead characters on a Saturday morning cartoon. I completely forgot how weak cartoons were when I was a young buck. We all know that there was some kinky shit going on in the Smurf village with only Smurfette to bang (do you think Poppa Smurf had firsts?), but Johan and Pee-wit have ruined my memories of jamming Peanut Butter Crunch into my face and parking my Spider Man Underoos wearing ass in front of the Zenith every Saturday morning.
If I do ever sire some crappy progeny they will not be watching cartoons or reading "Harry Potter" like your pussy ass kids, my little bastards are going to be doing karate chops and practicing their kill moves in the back yard while dad swills Old Crow and throws rocks at them to improve their concentration.
Maybe the "Snorks" won't let me down since they are on next.

!!!MUY IMPORTANTE!!!!

Stop the fuckin' presses!
This is a very important announcement from your local service provider.
It is cold as balls outside so you should probably bundle up with clothes and shit!
Layers are super important this time of year so let's talk about proper layering. Okay, you are gonna wanna get layered up for work first; so go in the kitchen and break out the Saran Wrap and start rolling dumb-ass! This layer of plastic wrap is definitely goin' to seal in all that good body sweat you need to make it through a tough winter's day at the office. Science tells us that the more you sweat the better your brain works so you may want to double up for maximum efficiency. As soon as you are covered (leave a mouth hole so you can drink soda pop at lunch, pop keeps you hydrated and on your toes) take a break to "make bathroom" and phone calls; time for wool. Wool is the most important layer at this level of warming and you are goin' to want some thick ass wool to fill your suit out as much as possible. This will lead to mega efficiency and probably get you a promotion. If wool is hard to find in your area go to the nearest farm and slaughter some sheep (fresh wool is the best at guarding against cold-hand-fall-off-syndrome, since the warm blood adheres to the Saran Wrap forming a layer of Gore-tex) I strongly recommend having sex with the farmers wife right away (this will test the strength of your sheep-skin before you venture out to the mini van to warm it up).
Plastic wrap, wool... time for layer three; wetsuit: cold is made up of snow, which is made up of wet, which is made up of sky-juice, sky juice attacks like a rabid wolf and can break through the next twenty layers. but cannot penetrate your wetsuit so wear two. Since it is the dead of winter you have to have mesh! If you can find a mesh half top with plasticy numbers you are golden, if not use a rayon disco jumpsuit, this forms an impenetrable layer (except against rabies) that retards the cold and impregnates the warm (if you get pregnant use the coat hanger that you keep in your coat layer to do a self abort on yourself). These are the inner layers that you do not remove 'til May.
It would seem like warmth would be a by-product of these basic dressing tips, but that is where you would be wrong If you choose to not properly assemble the "skin" layers of your winter office work wear. Just like your real "skin" your clothes "skin" consists of twenty or so layers of "dermis" and contrary to popular mythos the coat layer is way under the cutting layers. Make sure your coat has enough room for a knife, a coat hanger, a compass and a pudding cup on the right side (most people are right handed and these are vital to survival) and just enough room on that other side (most people are fatter on their left side... fact) for finger nail clippers. Go to Value Village and by clothes in descending sizes to install over your coat layer make sure to shred the shit out of them so they can deflect a "Noreaster" the more slashes and shreds the more efficient they are in the winds of whiteness! As long as all of the layers you install are cotton you will have no problems in the snow and now you are ready for layer twenty!! This is called the "DB Topical Application Level" and it is the simplest of all the layers applied to the body! This is so easy a Mormon could do it! Buy a flight to New York City and then take a cab to the East Village. Have the cabby take you to 3rd and St. Marks, stop and eat a slice of pizza to regenerate some layers (pizza grease works as an anti-whatever cream on your shreddings). Now start looking for David Byrne; he is the "Keymaster" to Winter and without his assistance you will perish assuredly. When you find DB you must beat him and remove his oversized leprechaun suit ("This Must Be the Place") as soon as you button up you are finally ready for the frigid depths of madness. Easy as shit amigos! You are finally ready and activated for the office this coming winter and you have also joined the DIY craze.
THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

On Wisconsin!!!

Dear Wisconsin,
Just a couple of questions that need answering buddy, I know you are busy drinking and watching Channel 12 news right now, but I have to get this off my chest. Why do we drink Miller Lite and swear by it! If you have never downed one of these vomit lagers just envision a fat chick slowly sensually running a sponge down her sweaty ass crack and then repeatedly squeezing it into that twelve ounce taste receptacle 'til full (it has a vortex for faster delivery). Man that is hot and tastes even better, I don't know how I got through that without making a pleasure run on myself. Mmm now close your eyes and picture a massive factory floor with 10,000 nude wonder-lumps sponging and squeezing round the clock; I have just taken you on a tour of the Miller factory (please send the $5.00 in the mail, no personal checks please) and you are very welcome.
What's with this, we don't have an accent business? In the past week alone I have heard the statement, "we ain't got no accent, dem people on da TV try to do talkin just like us." Oh really, then why have I never heard anyone on CSI say, "so I says to the guy you betcha" or "a body was found down der by da highway a hunerd." Seriously every time I hear a recording of my voice I wanna kick the living shit out of myself. Not only do we have an accent we sound like Canadians trying hard to get their Grade Ten. Try to go on a little vaca' to New York or Uganda, those bush fuckers speak bird-robot and even they know you are from "the Sconnie!"
However we do have some redeeming qualities, we are slow to anger (unless drinking or watching da Pack), helpful to the point of being naive (they never have candy in the car, I always fall for that one), we love to kick back on the lounger and drink a frosty one (which is why we are fat) and fashionable to boot (Carhartts, camouflage hats and cell phones clipped to our belts).
Wisconsin I love you!

Love, Randall James Sharpe Esq.

P.S. Lake Michigan smells, just thought you would like to know.

"World's Greatest Dad"

As most of you know I can beat you up, so why argue with me when you are dangling over a precipice of pain; why do you insist upon swimming in a pool of your own blood that I have forced from your now tooth less gape; the shame and self loathing you are about to endure will induce thoughts of suicide, but I won't let you, because I am not done using your arm as a pogo stick. Clearly I am your intellectual and physical superior; this could all be over if you would just admit that you have no clue what you are talking about.
What was that?
I know you are seven, what the fuck does that have to do with anything? Spiderman was never a member of X-Men so deal with it. If you can't handle your liquor just go back to school and drink; in fact you are cut off! Get the fuck out!
Tell your mom I said Hello.
There's a reason my shirt says "World's Greatest Dad!"
Not only am I the "World's Greatest Dad" I am pretty much the best at everything. I could out birth the shit out of you and knit you a blanket better than any Indian has ever made. Have you ever seen me eat Mexican food? I use chopsticks because I am that good! Instead of questioning me you should just start to believe and since I can read minds I know you totally want to blow me and that's cool, but I blew myself at lunch and probably did a better job anyways. Since we are on the subject of me I can jump really really high.

Cavity Fun

Dammit!! I have been suffering from an acute case of writer's block lately and I fear the only way to jump start my slow moving mind-head is to jam copious amounts of booze in my face, but I have been trying to lay off the sauce so there must be an alternative... right?
 In totally unrelated news, I broke a fucking filling in one of my molars and am in some serious pain here. What I love most about not having dental insurance is realizing I get to pay to have this stupid tooth fixed; either by a real dentist for thousands of dollars or go to the dental school, wait in line and have some undergrad yank it out with a pair of shitty pliers or if I am super lucky a string attached to the door knob.
This is all slightly frustrating as it is fucking up my cool. The left side of my face is swollen up so I look like a retarded chipmunk, it's awesome when everyone walks up and says "you look like shit!"
"NO, you are the one who looks like shit!" you shitty looking, shit-tard from shit... place that you are from! go F yourself in your A with your own D.
Now I didn't really mean any of that, you no belt wearing, tucking your t-shirt in dickwad.
"Sure I will give ya a pack of dem punkin seeds, dem are a quarter and a bag a dose porkies too, those are 75 cents Sling Blade."
"Thanks for the exact change you dirty ass, no brushing your teeth (and do you ever wash your hands, christ), white trash, drunk."
Thanks for not tipping me, I really appreciate spending time with you every afternoon and listening to your "tales of a factory worker," how exciting your life has been... idiot.
My tooth hurts.

Thanksgiving from me and Danzig

What kind of person would I be if I were not to give some shout outs and thanks for all of my blessings on this upcoming holiday dedicated to some white people fucking up some brown people (they did bring us corn and it was most likely poisoned so... duh!).
Lets clarify though that shout outs are not thanks they are more like "good job dude" so a shout out would be, "hey good job gettin' some dad.. high five" but if I said "thanks for bangin' mom" that would be fucked up and gross.
Since Danzig is helping me write this (thanks Danzig, wrong spot... fuck) I should probably send some shout outs first.
Good job Satan... I love rock n roll, but I won't thank you just in case I was all wrong about this god shit.
Whoopi Goldberg, braids can be sexy as hell... not on you, but somebody.
Dear Tesla, Electricity rules "and the sign says you got to have a membership card to get inside", fuck you Edison!
"Knowing is half the battle" GI J.O.E. taught me the other half was smokin' dudes with blue lasers (bad guys use red lasers... of course)!
I didn't really learn shit from Hunter S. Thompson, but he was scared and hated everything just like me so, cool.
I really could go on giving shout outs for days, but Danzig says I am not thankful enough?
On with the thanking?
Thank You computers for giving me a dystopian future of mechanical warfare and death to look forward to!
Tipping me at work is acceptable, but leaving strange pills on the bar is much cooler dirty guy!
Thanks Marcos for reminding me that I needed to fix that thermostat in the $600.00 wonder car... might have blown that thing up otherwise. Dammit that was a shout out (Danzig says call you)!
Just want to thank the guy who blew a red light, hit me while riding my bike, then flipped me off, called me cracker and fled the scene. I wish your entire family all the best and hope Turkey Day finds you well; if anything horrific were to happen to you I would be devastated.
Monsterous super ultra thank you to beer, without you I might have actually accomplished something! (just kidding, that is Oliver North's fault... I believed you man.)
Danzig says that we got some shit to go do (he's not the boss of me) so I should get back to sacrificing... my night.
One last thank you for Thanksgiving. Turkeys... learn how to fly dummies, we could be eating eagles if you would get your shit together!

Mr. Randy's Awesome Tips for Traveling: Part One

As most of you know I have been out on a little adventure to the Souther parts of this wonderful nation and since I am the number one traveler in the world... I will share some of my secrets with you for a guaranteed great-cation!
First of all lets pick the exact destination: Go South, no place in particular because the South is all the same and this is your adventure; don't try to copy me as all my trips have been copy-written and I will sue you.
Make a vacation budget: Now double it and add twenty bucks then factor it by three for moonshine and hookers, that is your budget.
Take strides to learn the local language: In the South they speak Shit-mouth; the best way to familiarize yourself with it is to watch "The Dukes of Hazzard" and the show where they hunt alligators. Always speak with the local accent it's flattering to them; so practice!!
Buy a flight: The ones with the most layovers are the best and will prevent frustration. I am a seasoned traveler and always fly standby, but you can't do that.
Ready to go, but pack lightly because you are going to buy most of your clothes at souvenir shops at your destination, make sure they have the name of the city on it and a sweet slogan about partying or grannies or trucks. You are going to need this to camouflage yourself from robbers.
Flying is easy, tell the person sitting next to you your life story and all about your work and kids, do not let them fall asleep as nearly 2.1 million people die from flight sleep annually.
When you depart the plane don't bother following the signs or instructions, just keep asking where the baggage carousel is and start purchasing shit you have a budget to spend!!
My years of traveling experience have given me a wealth of knowledge about every single place on the globe, even if I haven't been there physically; I have mind-traveled there (this is an advanced traveler technique that only Rod Stewart, Billy Joel and I can perform). So as not to overwhelm you this will be a three part advice bible. Follow what I have given you and there is absolutely no way that your adventure will let you down, also buy all of your drugs locally, usually drug dealers from the region can give you the best tips on where to get seafood.
Coming Soon... Hotel Check In

Southern Fried Speakin

Savannah, GA I think it's 2010, but could be 1984
Picture this being written with a slow Southern drawl, you know the kind that makes you sound more smarter.
Damn I ain't even seen no alligators yet.
They sure is lotta zombies down this here way.
Hey man, ya'll talk funny... where you from?
The boat leaves round three or five o'clock.
I'd appreciate it if ya'll wouldn't curse in front o my wife.
Oh, you know how them coon dawgs'll get ta howlin!
You see the titties on that one, woo wee lawd!
Ya'll want grits wit them?
That boy crazier than a shine on Sunday!
That beer gonna be more sweeter, cause it's from Atlanta.

What the hell are these people talking about? I may be from Wisconsin where we speak like Canadians on meth, but come on! I can't understand a god damn thing these people say, but the more they drink the more I understand; their drunk is my sober (that's what happens when you cross the Mason Dixon Line). What's even crazier is the more I drink the better they understand me? I don't even understand what the fuck I am saying when I'm blasted and these backwoods sister fuckers are waxing eloquent about moonshinen and noodlin! This chick just told me the special of the day and I think she mentioned something about poop and corn bread?

Alligators are Stupid

Hey Ya'll, well looks like I'm headin South for a few and I couldn't be more excited about the exploratory possibilities of this little trip. Gonna do some investigating in the deepest darkest swamplands of Georgia and I bet there will be alligators in attendance. Have I told you how much I fucking hate alligators? It's really more of a fear than a hatred and it is completely irrational; sure they could tear me limb from limb after they drag me into the murky depths or they could launch themselves out of the water and snag me while taking a nice jog at dusk. All of this is common knowledge and probably no big deal to most of the world, but are you not aware of the true conspiracy they have been hatching... those assholes can read minds and shit! I have heard they can fly and even shoot lasers out of their gaping mouths. All of that other shit is just for t.v. so we get lulled into a false sense of security and then... Steve Irwin!
 I am on to these guys, there is nothing good living in the swamps of the deep south. Snakes... fuck those guys, possums... ugly and stupid, alligators... ancient dinosaur aliens from hell and owls are complete bullshit. I guess I am not really sure why I am hiking to certain death but as we learned from the movie Predator "everybody gotta die sometime" and I for one "ain't goin out like dat" (Cypress Hill was awesome), so while you are resting comfortably in your sleep number bed, sipping chamomile and being entranced by "Dancing with the Stars", remember that I will be fighting off gators with my bare hands, strangling snakes and trying to survive in order to protect you from a certain bleak alligator future. See, thanks to alligators I completely forgot why I am going down south... fucking assholes.

Randy Got Invited to a Play?

Tonight I have the privilege of attending a play.
Lets preface this with how much I enjoy watching shitty actors fumble uncomfortably through some contrived dialogue and hanging with theatre people is one of my all time favorite activities. The privileged part is what gets me about this, if it was such a privilege, then why aren't people clamoring to get seats, why haven't I heard of any of these actors (could be because they are so up and coming?) let alone this play and why do I feel more obligated than privileged. I don't even want to go to real plays and this is going to be "intimate" (maybe it's a sex show?) not gonna lie this is going to get uncomfortable for everyone involved. The chances that I accidentally get destroyed on Bombay Sapphire (from the flask I forgot was in my pocket) beforehand are about one million percent and if past performance is any indication of future results...
Why would anyone who has ever spent even a moment in public with this guy be willing to sacrifice their happiness for the disaster that is about to ensue?
Due to the circumstances unfolding before us it would be in everyone's best interest for me to write a drunken review this evening. Wish my hosts good luck and stay tuned.

Mother Nature Done Me So Wrong

There is nothing I like better than going for a leisurely afternoon stroll in late Fall, the cool crisp Autumn air nipping at my face, the heavy overcast skies blacking out the sun and the realization that precipitation is about to drop from the heavens upon little old me. The other part that makes it so worth while is when I am struck with the notion that I have no wallet (therefore no coffee shop), am a couple of miles from home and our lovely wet friend is hail. Ah yes natures favorite special delivery hail, who doesn't love being pelted in the fucking face with little globules of ice from heaven? I loved every second of it, the part where it was blasting me in the hands, awesome!  When my ears were getting destroyed by the bastards, great and the way it was collecting in the collar of my jacket, cooling my neck and keeping me moist, fabulous!
All I can say is... fuck you mother nature, you are an asshole and I hate your guts. After all of the sacrifices I have made to you, you treat me like a red headed step child, there are bruises, bruises for fucks sake! It's cool though because I have been poisoning you with my White Rain Hairspray so take that bitch!!!

When Technology Failed

Technology has failed me again dammit!
 So last week I was just minding my own business and perusing some adult oriented material (for research) on the old Compaq (oh man the coolest looking biker butch just strolled in with her feathered greaser do and shade changer glasses; she is totally hitting on the barista!) when low and behold...BOOM!! The plastic info box blew itself to fucking smithereens!
If I didn't have cat like ninja reflexes I easily could have been killed, but I am awesome and did a dive roll and finished it off with a roundhouse kick to save both my life and the kittens that were trapped in the tree outside my window.
My laptop was a piece of shit anyways, but I still feel betrayed. The doors of technology were being opened to me and I thought we had a bond that could not be severed.
Betrayal is a double edged scimitar though and with the loss of the M2000 I may now step into technology 2010 style. Windows XP was pretty sweet and kept me warm at night, but Vista is like a hot new girlfriend to do sex stuff with!
Admittedly I am a bit overwhelmed by all the features at my disposal and I am not the smartest retard in retard school so there is going to be a little bit of that giddy nervousness (and vomiting… definitely vomiting) every time I fire up HP 6730s. Thankfully technology has dumbed itself down and even Randall J can partake in this brave new world!
Compaq Presario M2000 you will be missed, we shared many beers (probably why you chose to end it all, you did seem a bit depressed of late) and tag teamed a lot of naked ladies, but all good things must come to an end (proven fact)… adios.
Hello HP6730s.
Would you like to go sex up some naughties with me?
You would!
I love you new laptop!
If you ever try to leave me I will spill beer all over you and drop you on the floor…

Stuff That We Should Probably Do

Enough is enough!!
The time has come to take back the night!
Know when to say when!
No means no!
etc,etc,etc...
These are some of the most powerful and recognizable statements used in our everyday speech, but they have been over worked, bastardized and taken for granted. I say the time has come to give them a new lease on life and use them in the ways they were intended (before they were so greedily exploited, without representation... like immigrants)! With this dialogue now open, who knows what we can accomplish, it starts with words, but who knows maybe we could even put a man on the moon!
Without further ado, here are some ways we can still throw these bombastic statements around and not bury them in the English graveyard.

The next time I'm chillin' at the old cafe and the waitress comes around to see if I could use some more black stimulant juice I will look at her sternly and say, "Enough is Enough" and then make a slicing motion across my throat (to indicate the hot coffee is burning the swallowing tubes), this way she definitively knows that I have finished and would like my check when she has the time.

My new morning greeting while on my a.m. stroll will be, "The time has come to take back the night!"; and I am gonna pump my fist in the air (three times). Everyone who meets me on my walk will realize how much I enjoy going for a walk on a nice sunny day (this one will be contagious, I just know it)!

Knowing "when to say when" can be truly delicate as it depends entirely upon the conversation and the speakers involved. If it happens to be a couple of old grannies at the crafting store regaling one another with some far fetched anecdote of the time they knitted a blanky for one of their beloved (and since forgotten) grand children there is a bit more lee way, because they are old and cant remember shit.
If it happens to be your number one sweet lady and she keeps nagging you and saying "when are you doing this, when are you doing that, when are you..." just turn to her and say, "honey... know when to say when" and then make that slicing motion across your throat again (to let her know the Campbell's Tomato Soup that she made for dinner... again, is too hot).

"No means no," can only be used in political context from now on; otherwise no can still mean yes or maybe a little later or after the ghb kicks in. Those are also kind of political I guess, but what the hell this is America and we are making the decisions here!

Lets retire the "etc, etc, etc..." altogether, it's annoying as hell! When someone is mid-story and then busts out the "etc, etc, etc.." its like, why did you even fucking bother, your story sucks and I probably don't want to hear that part of your shitty story about some dumbass thing you did; if this were being done to curtail the conversation, maybe it would still have validity, but you keep dragging it on and on and on.... no more please.
Etc, etc, etc... is done from now on, either make sure it is a tale worthy of being told in its entirety or stop wasting our time so we don't have to do the faked laugh and smile business... I hate that shit!

Thanks for stopping by and have a great day! (I stole that from some old lady's blog about crafting, she ends every post with that... awesome!)

Decisions and Vomit

Yeah Buddy! There are days where everything just comes together like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!
Today I realized not only is it awesome to drink good beer... it's even cooler to drink a bunch of good beer, look down at your bloated beergrancy belly and decide to do a bad ass ab workout!
This was definitely one of my better decisions of late (yelling at the chick with the pitbull who almost attacked me and walking down Vliet Street on the 1st were also pretty good).
Who could have imagined that attempting situps with a gastronomical amount of beer in ones gullet would lead to such trouble?
I for one assumed that drinking alone all evening and eating "organic" swamp weed (or whatever the fuck it was) was not only good for the bod, but also my soul (if I have one).
Prior to the "workout" there was a lot of gyration and convulsing during the big football game and maybe  that had a little something to do with my current state of fetal alcohol kneeling (get it F.A.D., cause drinking and puking, goddammit there goes the build up, are so sweet right now.)
Now that I fucked that all up... I decided I was feelin a little "thick" in the middle and should do some ab shit, turns out that was total bs and I should have sat my stupid ass back down; but no, I was reveling in victory and needed to prove to myself that I still got it. I definitely don't got it! When did this happen? I used to be super kick ass, I could get all drunk and then run sprints in the alley or be blacked out and do pushups til the sun came up! Now I drink a few beers and fall asleep in the chair like some middle aged desk jockey who is all burnt out from paper work and taking the kids to soccer practice. Fuck all this, I am thirty three years young! Is this what getting older is about? Being a pussy ass baby who can't hold his liquor? It was only a couple of situps. There are solutions to this issue, but since I probably won't do shit about the root problem (the weak stomach, not the drinking) there is really no need to discuss this any further.
In a way I still got the ab workout in and since all the beer was sent down the old porcelain shit swallower.... no need to burn those calories.

Ron Johnson Approved This Message

Hi... I'm Ron Johnson and I approved this message.
Uhmm... ok... cause I... ahh... was... what message?
Hi... I'm Ron Johnson and I approved this message.
Oh thanks for the clarity Ron, so it was the one about everything that is wrong with Russ Feingold?
I'm Ron Johnson and I approved this message.
Yep, I get it Ron. So... Russ Feingold is a baby raping murderer... liar.. yeah, he is pretty cool.
Holy shit Ronny you gotta start payin' attention to your messages, because I just saw your commercial about the things and the stuff... Fucked Up!!!
If I didn't know any better I would think you were running for Senate!
Hi... I'm Ron Johnson AND I APPROVED THIS MESSAGE!!!
Ron... NO... RON... I'M SORRY... I DIDN'T MEAN!
GODDAMIT RON JOHNSON YOU JUST MURDERED ME!!!
Don't vote for Ron Johnson he is a MURDERER.

I Wrote A Play

Hello Hello!
Lets talk about work!
It just so happens I wrote a brief play about work so... enjoy!
Typical customer in a downtown watering hole on a Tuesday night during happy hour.
Waitress: "Hi, my name is Cindy, our special today is... and you can fatten that up with... and for only three dollars more you can..."
Randy: "Cindy, you can shut the fuck up and bring me a glass of whole milk and a snickerdoodle"
Cindy: "Sir I'm sorry we don't have cookies or milk here... this is a bar, would you like to speak with my manager"?
Randy: "Yes bitch, if you want a tip!"
Manager Tard: "Hi my name is Brad and I am the manager here at sizlbeesgarchiltueslobster, what seems to be the trouble sir?"
Jesus (me): "Well Brad... all I wanted was a fucking snickerdoodle and a glass of whole milk and Cindy spit on me, kicked me in the dick, raped my butt and then called my wife a diseased whore!"
"Cindy should be fired and I would like my money back."
Brad the Manager of this Shitty Chain: " Sir, I apologize for Cindy she is new here and will be dealt with and as far as the refund goes... you never ordered."
Guy Who is the Customer (right, always): "Brad you can suck a big fat dick and go fuck yourself, give me free stuff or I will send out a complaint e-mail to your corporate website and you will all be shitcanned so fast your faux hawked little head will spin."
Angry Manager Brad: "Sir again I apologize... here is a gift card that can be used at any one of our 3.2 million locations."
Happy Customer Me: " Thanks Brad and hey Cindy here is my number shoot me a call when you get off work later... so we can have sex."
FIN
In this play I was the asshole customer and of course that is not true, because I am the hero and have nothing but respect for human dignity, but this does occur on a regular basis.
In the real world I would play the part of Brad, Cindy would be a sophomore at Marquette University just trying to make ends meet and the customer would be played by any douche wearing a cheap suit, who just got off work downtown and needs to blow off some steam before heading home to Carol and the kids out in suburbtown. That being said... it is time for advice!
Customer: Seriously you are a fucking douchebag and every time you walk in the door the servers cringe at the thought of serving you, they collect around the Aloha system and make fun of your bad suit, balding head and pathetic attempts at flirting, my advice to you is shut the fuck up, quit whining, tip properly then go home and be miserable, do not bring it into the bar; save that for the wife and the six pack of High Life chillin' in the fridge.
Server: You are pretty much screwed, this butt plug is probably a regular and has never spent one minute working in a bar. If you are rude he will complain and get you fired, if you are nice he still won't tip, but he will continue to eye fist the hell out of you and probably bring his cronies in to join the fun! Best bet is to serve aloofly and $99 suit guy will lose interest and sit in another section (next servers problem).
Manager: Poor sucker, you are taking it in the ass repeatedly, you might as well move to Tijuana and join the donkey show 'cause it aint gettin' any better buddy! You are looking forward to a lifetime of bullshit being crammed up your ass from corporate and a mile of cock being rammed down your throat from unsatisfied customers and disillusioned staff. By the way this is just over the next six months bud. You have two options. Get the hell out now (the best option) or suck down that dick and crank up that smile, your ever expanding waste-line will only be matched by your sky rocketing blood pressure and it's no big deal 'cause you probably have a great health plan at work!

You Might Not Want To Read This (unless...)

I would like to take a moment and thank all of you for following my blog, I do this for you guys you know, it's for the fans...
Ok fuck that I do this for me, because I think it is funny and I crack the fuck up when I think about what was happening when I wrote this shit.
There is so much stuff that I don't put in here.
Like last night... I am at Outpost trying to not look like a tool and as I am getting ready to check out some little kid comes running up with a loaf of bread, now this little bastard was ugly, he had those bulging blank eyes with that long dick looking nose and recessed chin and he kept saying "who is that, who is that" to his fat piece of shit mom. The little fucker threw his bread up with my shit and as I am checking out the cashier rang it up with my groceries! Now normally I would play civil and laugh it off, but the fat bitch just looked at me through her glasses and bloated ass face and whispered to the cashier "that's not his". No fucking shit mongoloid, your dumbass kid is gonna get a beat down, the moron kept running into me and the other customers while his "mother" did nothing but smile! Maybe her orange Crocs made all of that acceptable or it could have been the coupons  (which she bitched about when they told her they were expired by two months... arggh!) in her pudgy little paw of a hand; man that kid is going to get the shit kicked out of him at school and it is his complacent madres fault. I just have no patience for these people.
I am not a parent and never will be, for those who are please remember I am drunk as shit right now (on Dexters' Lab his sister just said " oh puussy you are so warm" WOW!!) and venting my frustrations. It's not that I am a bad guy I just don't believe it to be necessary to become subserviant to a generation of snot nosed undisciplined pussies who are having others arrested for cyberbullying! Cyberbullying, not even in your face make you cry and piss your pants at recess bullying! Some childrens's psychological make up will prevent them from being able to handle "cyber bullying" I have been told, but when I was a kid Davey the Baby's dad beat the shit out of him we still made fun of him and that kid has been fuckin shit up for years in the military.
Every time I open my sexy mouth and release an unending stream of profane wisdom someone reminds me that there are children present. Fine I am offensive to some, but they are offensive to me, I don't want to look at your kid, I don't think it is cute or smart or special. I am gonna start dropping f bombs and n bombs and whatever else sorta bombs I can conjure up while I try to make gold from lead fucker.
Fine I am intoxicated, fine I can't finish the article that I am supposed to be writing, fine I am totally fucking fine (holy shit the guy on Dastardly and Muttly is the voice of Garghamel, I love the Smurfs!!!)

Morgan Freeman Was Briefly My Father

I should pobably be famous.
When it comes to vastly untapped potential this guy is the largest repository of inert awesome stuff in the world, hands down!!
The other day when I was jabber jawing with some of my peers they were like, "whoa dude you should probably take it down a notch before your head goo comes out of your listening caves" and they were right, cause it did.
People approach me all the time and say "hey aren't you that guy?" and I am, so I say "fuck off can't you see that I am in the middle of eating with my best friend Jared from Subway and he has a marathon to run against some black guys from Africa who will probably beat him because he is fat from eating all of this Subway!"

When they make the movie of my life I would like Morgan Freeman to play the part of my father and in this scene where I am a kid and we are at the baseball card shop he looks down at me and says "this guy's a collector", but then he gets hit by a bus (which makes the movie tragic and besides it's based on a true story). The bus driver decides to raise me as his own son (out of guilt for having sex with my mom, six years before he kills my dad Morgan Freeman) and he trains me in the arts of carpentry and karate, because he knows that my life is going to be tumultuos (cause I am a bastard). It will flash forward to highschool (and I want Rob Schneider to play this part) where I (Rob Schneider) have to karate fight the jocks after school before I head to my construction job and one day they corner me outside of Subway (I like Jared) and are beating me up and this guy comes out of nowhere and takes them all out! He reaches down and helps me up and says "Are you ok... little brother!?"
This is when my long lost older brother (Mickey Rourke) returned from juvy to get a fresh start and the whole town thinks he is no good so we have to karate fight all the jocks and they almost beat us but dad shows up with the bus and crashes through the gymnasium to save us. Unfortunately he is crushed by the falling backboard (which is why I hate basketball) and his last words to me are "Sheamus, I am your....." (I think Devito should play my bus driver dad)
Greatest movie idea ever and totally original.
I have had a relatively amazing life so the movie should be made into a trilogy a prequel and a postquel, but should be left open ended for my time traveling adventures.
Sometimes when I get side tracked like this it would be best to ignore what is happening and go back to social networking so as to no longer be effected by my word juice... which tastes surprisingly like cran-apple.
Seriously though, no fuckin around I should be famous... and rich, definitely famous and rich.

Wine Time

Sometimes the typing digits are just alive with pleasure (even better than a particular brand of smokes) and the keypads just need to be struck.
I have been having a truly swell evening and was wondering, if you put ice cubes in wine does that make it a wine cooler?
Nope just makes it even nastier.
Drinking wine is lame the drunk is good, but it automatically makes you pretentious. Five minutes ago I was wearing sweats and a hoody, now an ascot... I don't even own a fucking ascot and wear did this cumber bun come from?
How droll!
I may start regaling you with tales of my conquests at Yale or my rowing prowess.
What the fuck?
What is the vintage of this Bordeaux; mmm earthy with a hint of sandalwood.
Seriously this is the wine talking.
There is a refridgerator full of that pedestrian beverage the heathens call beer.
Jazz is deliscious and I simply adore the prophetic stylings of Mr. Josh Groban.
My Love of 60's French cinema is only surpassed by my adulation of Nitzsche.
Maybe tomorrow we should go to the cafe and have cappucino, but only before ten... no one drinks cappucino after the settling of the mid morning dew.
If one were to suppose his place in the universe were merely more than a fragmentation of time would you consider him to be a visionary or your standard philosophy professor?
It is true what they say you know? our perceived role within our own peer group is a reflection of our own infantile wanton need for acceptance within the sub draconian layers of self guilt passed to us by the diffusion of said memes.
Time to let the wine breath!
 

Factual Observations Made From My Front Steps Between The Hours Of 10 and 2

Today was an enlightening day, the kind of day where all of my beliefs and built in coping mechanisms were smashed into tiny fragments and then reassembled by some blind kid in Bangladesh who doesn't realize he has worked all day and night cause he is just trying to pay the bills so his sister can get that operation she needs to live (stupid kid the label is supposed to say Made In America spelled with an A... fucking blind people).
Today's Facts:
Corn rows look really hot on overweight Caucasian girls pushing a stroller.
The Mormon kids who stopped by for a little hangin time were dynamite.
Espresso tastes like shit.
My neighbor's license plates say KRZY WMN, but she is just fat.
Sesame Street has really gone down the fucking tubes. I was watching it at some Mexican restaurant during lunch and it just didn't pack that same old learning punch it used to.
Dogs are stupid, but so are babies and babies look way cooler on leashes anyways.
The yield to pedestrians sign in front of my house means... don't slow down for me and definitely flip me off and call me a faggot so you get your point across at 65 mph.
The dude purchasing a four pack of Beast Ice at 10:00 am is gonna party.
It's cool that all the forty year old men sit on their porches when the elementary school lets out across the street.
Just because I looked at you doesn't mean I want to talk to you old lady... get some friends.
High school kids are really smart.
Teeth are overrated and get in the way of smokin sidewalk cigs.
All of the kids around here definitely have bright fucking futures.
I learned a ton of good shit today within two blocks of my house and all of it is factual information that can be used for the betterment of mankind.

Just Thinkin Bout Stuff

Can you believe America even existed before Facebook?
Huh... Can you?
Well I for one cannot envision a world where I am not privy to the knowledge of what everyone is doing at all times.
Tammy is baking cookies!? I like cookies better give it the thumbs up so she knows that I like cookies too.
Dave is gonna watch Anderson Cooper 360 tonight for an update on the miners, I watch tv, better leave a comment. "You go girl! AC360 all night... lol"
Holy Shit, Charlie updated his status to awesome. I had better update mine too, to jealous!!!
Some of my friends I haven't seen or spoken to in over ten years and never would have unless Facebook saved America from Communism and Terrorism.
Hey, do you think those miners are on facebook? I'm gonna friend request them and then share that with all of my friends.
and by the way Marcos... that isn't even you in your profile picture, how will we know what you look like now... so rude... wall to wall

Questions

Some hippies ruined my day today.
They were in the park playing hacky sack or frisbee or something.
I was going to write this piece about how we have all let Whitney Houston down because we were the children in that song about how we were going to be the future and we were going to lead the way, but the hacky sack players fucked that all up and I have spent all day trying to answer some important questions. Those hippies definitely let old Whit down, but I bet they possess a  lot of beauty inside and those stupid pussies are proud of it... pachuli.

Unanswerable Questions:
Does Summers Eve bring back freshness, every time?
How many abortions would be considered excessive?
Mormons?
When did Kobe become not a raper?
Why do ghosts always appear to fat chicks and why are all fat chicks psychics?
When are they going to make Mr. Belvedere into a musical?
How come black people can't swim and if they could, how fast?
Is Brawny really the quicker picker upper?
Is the Facebook movie the most important movie... ever?
Assfucking?
Do hairgel and Affliction equal awesome?
Why are Mexicans so good at cutting grass, do they even have grass in Mexico?
Does Masturbation cause glaucoma?

These are questions that have absolutely no answer, believe me I have spent all day on these brain busters (thank you Billy Madison) and I have come up with zilch. There were more, but I answered all of those.

Is there life after death? Totally for some people, but not for others.
Does Kotex offer the most protection. I say yes; I couldn't figure out how to get it in my butt, but it seemed legit.
Asians? Science says no.
Is there a better diet plan than doin the meth? Absolutely, heroine suppositories mixed with vodka (worked for Anna Nicole...baby)
Are Transformers more than meets the eye? Sure.
Did we really let Whitney down? Initially yes, but I think she forgot all about us after the crack rocks, pills and Bobby beatdowns, therefore the answer is no; she let me down and I may now blame all of my failures upon Ms. Houston and hippies.

The Ultimate Workout

Ok, lets see here... alright... here we go... better lube up first... goddammit why is this so fucking hard today!?
So I have this article to write for a magazine and it is due in a couple of days, sounds simple enough right?
The assignment is about new and obscure workouts that have been sweeping the nation.
I'm in shape, this should be a piece of fucking cake...
Fuck! Why can't I write about something sweet like how good I am at beating it (that's a workout) or how kick ass I am at television. I know a metric fuckton (how much would that weigh... question for later?)about that shit, but no they want me to do research and try to do these workouts! The only option left is for me to drink this crappy wine and download some shit off the internet. So of course I have discovered the greatest workout since building pyramids by hand... ULTIMATE SANDBAG WORKOUT!!!!
At first I imagined people desperately filling and piling sandbags to hold back the raging torrent of some river, but this is an actual exercise program developed by actual kinda fit people. To me it just looked like a camouflage duffel bag filled with some stupid fucking sand (sand $5.00, duffel $10.00), but this is a high tech bag of "exercise sand" with a street value more similar to cocaine than torpedo sand!
Since I have neither the time nor the money to purchase this "ultimate sandbag" I have made my own from an old duffel bag I took from some kid and sand I found down by the lake (I don't care if I look like a filthy hobo with my shovel filling a duffel... oh fuck I shoulda taken out the kid's homework). The shoveling alone was a total back and shoulder burn and since I had no scale to weigh the bag I had to just eye it up. It did look about the same as the guy in the video's bag so what could possibly go wrong?
Problem the First: the bag was too fucking heavy and I had to keep stopping to take sand out.
Dos: The kid that I "borrowed" the bag from spotted me and started to chase me, but I hit him with the shovel (the running part was pretty amazing for the quads, calves and glutes; kinda hurt the back though) and he stopped chasing me (also good for interval workout!).
Third Problem: The drawstring on my sweats is broken so they kept falling down and tripping me. I probably tore my ACL, but it did make for a great upper body workout having to push myself back up.
Problem After Third Problem: The stupid fucking duffel bag broke because it was a cheap piece of shit. I had to keep lunging down to put the sand back in it every few feet but after ten minutes of this I was so spent that I fell down with the bag on top of me and had to keep sitting up to get it off of me!
What a waste, now I will never know if the "Ultimate Sandbag Workout" is effective.
Guess I'll just write about P-90X.

The Dictionary is Really Useful

Can you say boring?
I know that I can and astonishingly enough I can also spell it.
F-A-R-M-A-I-D
I have heard some people spell it without the farm or aid part, but I looked this shit up in Webster's and there it was on page 521 wedged between boredom and boron.
According to Mr. Dictionary, Neil Young is Canadian (retarded), Willie Nelson is like an old Pippy Longstocking only high as shit and John Mellencamp (aka cougs) thinks he's a fifties greaser when he is actually some sort of Hobbit or Troll like creature. There is also some guy that everyone is on a first name basis with named Dave, but I don't know the guy and I am pretty popular in some circles.
Now no one is passing judgement on this B-O-R-I-N-G (Farmaid) it is for a cause and that makes it good. There are all sorts of causes: Scientology (also spelled C-R-U-I-S-E), abortion (F-R-E-E-D-O-M), democracy (S-A-T-A-N) and of course Africa (A-I-D-S), this is just a brief glimpse into the world of causes that I found in the Dictionary and it says they are all profitable ventures and therefore good for me to feign interest in.
Due to the fact that I am an American (F-R-E-E-T-H-I-N-K-E-R); I decided to heed Pippy and troll guys' advice and go to Trader Joe's to read some labels and find a maid (cause I am a M-A-N  and that's what I need).
O-R-G-A-N-I-C?
That is on most of the labels so I had to look that up too.
Hmm? I forgot my Dictionary so I had to do the research in my copy of US weekly (T-H-E-S-A-U-R-U-S) and lo and behold there it was... the Canadian was more right than I could have foreseen.
Brad (J-E-S-U-S), Megan (H-O-T), the Jersey Shore Crew (S-C-I-E-N-T-I-S-T-S) all buying organic at Trader Joe's?
This helped me realize that the only decision left for me to make entirely on my own with no outside input from anyone besides myself or from Hollywood (C-A-M-E-L-O-T) was to change my lifestyle, go green, drive twenty miles each way in my eight cylinder truck to park in the several acre parking structure attached to the wonderfully air conditioned Trader Joe's and buy all of the organic products that have been shipped in from all over the world to the Midwest!
So what if I wasted an entire day of my life that I will never have back. I went green, saved a farm and learned a little bit about myself and that is what Farmaid (L-I-F-E  A-F-F-I-R-M-I-N-G) is all about.

God is Pretty Badass

All things are mine because I am His.
What the Fuck does that even mean?
So I have been perusing other blogs again to see how the other half lives and I keep getting stuck on all these Christian blogs! Wow, this guy wants to know the mind of God, but if I am not mistaken couldn't that get him cast out of Heaven ? I'm just saying is all, I have read "The Good Book" and with all the sexings, headchoppings and shit blowing up it is a pretty good book.
Like that time when David was peeping on his buddy's chick because he wanted to bang her and God was like "OK Dave if you wanna bang that chick with the sweet boobies you have to kill some sheep for me and get me some virgin poon so we can trade off, but I go first man" That was a good story.
Or when God was droning on about who begat who and then, BANG! He starts chopping dudes' dicks off!
How about that time when He told Abraham and his crew to "Go down to Sodom and fuck shit up, but don't bang any dudes or I will be really pissed" and Abraham's bro wasn't paying attention and thought that tranny was hot (not really his fault). So God sent in an airstrike of angels... AWESOME!!!
I do understand these people wanting to serve under the Lord and give him sweet handers and shit and I like Kirk Cameron too, but I think God might be using some of these people for his own benefit.
Remember when he told his Son (Jesus) to go to the temple and fuck up the tax collectors and take all of their dough and then build a big statue? Come on that is just a little self serving.
How about making everyone eat his Son's flesh and drink his blood, I bet he did that because vampires are all cool right now and kids will want to be Christians instead of vampires.
Well anyways this God guy is on top of his shit, he bangs all the hotties, will live forever, has bad ass flowing locks and he can fly!
Who wouldn't want to hang out with Him... I know I do

Amazing Discoveries

So I spent a good portion of this evening reading other blogs and I have made a startling discovery. Apparently I do not have any children? From this evenings explorations I have gleaned that there is an assload of goddam amazing lil fuckers out there! Almost every blog is dedicated to the exciting world of everyone's child prodigy! With the total number of unbelievable acts of brilliance, balance and some other fucking b-word that I can't think of right now it's pretty hard to believe that anything has yet to be accomplished by the human race.
Here are some mind blowing accomplishments:

"Aidan saw the most beautiful butterfly, pointed to it and said " momma ucky". Wow Aidan with your amazing sense of whatever you might knock up some cheerleader your senior year.

"Kaelyn took three steps fell over... picked herself up and and took three more steps!!" Holy shit Kaelyn you discovered the gravitational pull of Earth's molten core, now if you could just learn to walk you may be able to escape from the coyotes in the backyard.

"This morning when I went downstairs to the bathroom Devon had tried to use the big boy potty, he missed, but he was so proud of himself that he smiled!" Oh boy Devon when you get your first pair of glasses maybe you can hit the toilet dumbass. Don't worry lil buddy you will spend most of your drunken adult life doing the same, but mommy will still love you.

I just can't stop being amazed at all of these amazing children and their amazing discoveries. Isn't it amazing that all the millions of children born every single year are so much more amazing than all the other amazing children? It is hard to discern which of these wonderkids was the most amazing, but I know that If I did have children they would be way more amazing than your stupid fucking kids!!

Monday Nights Were Made for Watching...

Like most of the Upper Midwest I too was drawn into the quasi-pugilistic endeavor known as last nights American football match. The copious amounts of wheat whiskey that were used to lubricate my shout muscles additionally lubed up the old throwing and smashing things joints, but all of the pizza I shoveled into the cry hole quelled those demons and left them wimpering on the elongated throne. Now, I am not even known for partaking in such Tomfoolery (who is this Tom guy anyway) and last night a floodgate was opened that not even the Army Corp of Engineers could sandbag (can you say New Orleans). Truly this cannot be in anyone's best interest for me to be involved in any sort of sport watching thingy. Admittedly I have the self control of George Michael at a truckstop (hopefully I won't be sucking any trucker dick, I've heard they can be pretty smooth though), but that will not prevent me from enjoying the dirty fruits of my alcoholic labor.
This is going to be sweet, I already feel awesome and now I can kick the week off in a drunken stupor and be a total success. Monday Night Football may be the cause of countless 911 spousal abuse calls, but this is finally going to get me involved around the water cooler on Tuesdays.
Soon I can join in all of the witty office banter about Idol and Glee and maybe even a little The Office and it is all thanks to Monday Night Football (or whatever the fuck it is called now). If I had known that football would improve my social life this much I would have started this process years ago. There is a pretty good chance this will get me a coveted invite to happy hour at Applebee's and I have seen those commercials... talk about fun! So thank you Monday Night Football if I do ever have a spouse I will abuse the shit out of her when my team loses.
Viva America!!!!

Where Was I Going With This?

I was going to write about this old woman who had on a pair of kick ass glasses like all the cool kids are wearing now, only hers are the real deal and they are prescription because that's what glasses are for (trust me you do not look cool with those things on dumbass). They made her eyes look all huge and shit and so everytime she smiled she looked like a retarded kid dumping a load in his pants, but the internet was down at the fucking cafe so that put a stop to the process.
Now I have to sit here at my house and pretend to be inspired (do you really need inspirado to type a fucking blog) while I look at the stupid dogs sniffing their own asses (maybe cats would be less annoying, there was that poster for free ones...), even If I could sniff my own anus, I would probably do it once, get bored and start jerking off or something.
It's all fall like outside and the leaves are changing from green to shades of crimson and... wrong! I hate fall this shit blows, anyone who says fall is their favorite season should have a fucking lobotomy! Yes the leaves are changing... because they are dying, pretty sure nobody looks at a dude with jaundice and says " oh how wonderful Dave's skin is turning yellow! like all the colors of autumn".
You know that in a week or two there will be that inevitable warm spell and we will call it Indian Summer (Indians only get a week, because we needed the rest to grow some corn and shit that they lent us) and everyone will put on their flip flops and shorts again, but bitch that it's warm out and how much they love fall or how we don't even have four seasons anymore just summer and winter.
Fall is not beautiful, it's more like old people at the nursing home waiting for their foot to fall off from the diabetes, but they are the wheelchair that they push around with the good foot and they still get to hang in the day room waiting for family and friends to visit (Indian Summer) only they can't make it Sunday because the pack is on at noon.
I just started getting into this watching football and drinking beers on Sunday thing and it's actually pretty lame, the only good part is that it is totally acceptable to be fucking smashed during the day! I have tried the other days of the week and someone is always judging me or pulling me over or telling me to sleep in my own yard, but not on Sunday... now I know what Jesus was talking about.

Woman

There was a fat woman who lived in a shoe (actually next door to me),
She had so many chidren, she didn't know what to do?
So, she went to college got a nursing degree and raised all thirteen children herself and became an American success story!
Just kidding, she went to Wal Mart and bought a shit ton of Cheetos and Mountain Dew... and condoms, definitely condoms.
Just kidding, she didn't buy any condoms, but she did get a new Winnie the Pooh sweater and a Twix bar.

Happy Day/Orphan Annie

Here is a photograph that was taken of me at the County Fair, pretty sweet ain't it? That was such a lovely day, nobody even died on any rides.
Do you like my flower?
There were a lot of pertty girls there.
I will probably give this flower to one of those girls by the cow barns... or to my mom.
My shoes are dirty from all the cow pooh, but I don't mind. (I only puked once this time).

Ok I was really enjoying this little piece about the guy with the can flower, but this annoying girl sitting across from me won't shut up, from what I hear she is an amazing wedding photographer and no one is as creative as she is!
She looks like orphan fucking Annie and is wearing like a bibbed overall outfit, with this Raggedy Anne type blue, red and white plaid blouse and those converse low tops... so original!
OMG she read all the Twilight books in like a day and a half, because they were so easy.
"Did you get those images of the dusk shoot "( I bet that wasn't inspired by the Twilight books)?
Why do I even come here?
Now I completely forgot what was going on in awesome guys head, good job Orphan Raggedy Anne, you suck!
At least I have the photograph... dammit.

Beer N Shingles (the day after yesterday)

So I wrote this back when I had the shingles!

Another lovely day has come and gone in this North American home I like to call the United Stated of… Paradise! I mean where else could I be charged more than a weeks salary to see the local medicine man to have the gifts of health and wellness blown upon me from his magic elixir bottle? Mexico, Uruguay, Pakistan, maybe Mongolia? I highly doubt it; so shingles be damned this is the good ole US of P!!!!

Alright I have to admit I drank a few too many of those wonderful beers yesterday afternoon; sometimes it helps to grease the old brain sprockets, so today just one will suffice and it happens to be a fantastic little porter, it’s a little bit hoppy for my taste, but this is called Beer N Shingles not Juice N Herpes.

 Before picking up where I left off yesterday I need to tell you some exciting news; I saw the coolest kid I have ever seen in my entire fucking life and just blocks away from my house (I know, perfect day)! He was totally awesome, probably about five five or so, 140 pounds, just massive… his hair had this blonde dye job like Eminem used to sport before he sold out and it was slicked forward so you knew that if you messed with him you would get cut; there was the coolest, thin stache n beard deal growing around his face area and he had on these shades (definitely D&G) so you couldn’t tell if he was faded; his black, oversized T said, I don’t need to fill this shit out cause I’m a bad motherfucka, look at my swagger dog! The way he rolled his bony right fist into the left (black guys do that shit, you can tell he hangs out with one) hollered damn Nword(that’s how he talks)  I’m hard as shit! That’s when I crossed the street, no sense getting my ass kicked. Not to mention he had on those basketball shorts that don’t fit up over your ass cause your dick is so fucking huge (like black dudes) plus they almost hit the ground, but not quite, just to show that he uses his fists and not his feet cause he never walks away! And those  Adidas flip flops with the dirty white ankle socks, the kind that are all like look at this shit dog, you will get fucked up so look the fuck down bro! I know I know I’m gushing, but he wasn’t done being a bad ass, there was a serious piece of neck wear dangling around that boys collar bones it had to be platinum, at least a 1000 carrots. Homey listen, this kid could easily beat up twelve ninjas, and if he wasn’t faded at least thirteen. I bet he’s got a really hot girlfriend.

Do you know what the coolest part of having shingles is? No… didn’t think so, idiot. It’s probably your older brother thinking you jumped into a 70’s time machine (no, not a time machine to the 70’s, I’m quoting) so you could join in some cocaine fueled, disco orgy where even a machete can’t cut a swath large enough to stave off the VD. What a dick, I am definitely not buying him a beer when he returns from defending the motherland against the Saracen horde; he can fend for himself and drink PBR’s with all the other cool guys who wear little glasses. What kind of role model is this guy? He’s not the one sitting here with a lymph node that looks like grandma’s goiter hanging off the side of his fucking neck! That asshole would probably be whining and bitching up a storm, oh I can’t feel the left side of my face, my ear is on fire, my neck hurts, I look retarded and smell; me, me, me, me, well what about me?

Vigo Mortensen

Hey Vigo, how’s it going man?

So I rented The Road last night,

Yep, the one where you played that dirty guy and you can’t tell how old you are because life has just been so hard on you since that catastrophe happened.

What did I think?

Yep, totally man.

 Hey did you read that book?

Are you sure…

Godammit man a bird just fuckin shit on my arm!

What the fuck Vigo Mortensen now I can’t even go in the grocery store and buy my kids Cheerios and they love Cheerios asshole!

No, I can’t just wipe it off, you wipe it off!

It’s your fault.

I loved you in Eastern Promises

The Sweet Smell of...

Success

Did some work today.

It was pretty hot out though,

So didn’t do it very well,

Been thinkin bout movin down South

Changes

Baby, I think we should talk.
I know that I have been acting distant lately.
I can't imagine how that makes you feel and I am very broken up about this.
There is just so much that has happened of late and I don't think I can trust you any more.
Let me speak please. Volume down... thank you.
It's not me, It is you!
Seriously the fucking Kardashians, how could you?
Sons of Anarchy? Nobody even dies on that show, they're like the A-Team, minus the badass welded shit!
I don't care if other people like your friend Two and a Half Men, that's Ducky for fucks sake... Ducky!
What the hell happened to you TV? You used to be fun and I loved you.
You brought Brett Michaels into our home, into our bedroom and I cannot forgive you for that.
I think we need to go on a break.
No, I will stay in the spare bedroom with the VCR.
A least I can watch those old tapes of Airwolf.

Just so you know I have been with Hulu for almost a year now and I think I may love her.

Advice To Live By

People are always coming to me and saying, hey Randall James Sharpe, you are the smartest person I have ever had the pleasure of interacting with, I have heard that you can see the future and shit and was just wondering if you could give me some advice on how to live my life exactly like you do so I will be exactly as happy and successful at life as you are.
To most of us that would seem like a dream come true, but along with carrying the burden of being the most smartest person I know comes a great deal of worry. So I have decided to write a generalized advice column that can be used in any situation.

Situation: Excuse me Mr. Randy, I just accidentally ran over my sons beloved cat, he is away on a sleepover at the Catholic Church and will be back Sunday. What should I do?
Advice: This one is obvious... hide for a couple days. When your son gets back from the rapings and sees that you have left he will be so overcome with guilt that he will forget all about the cat. Upon your return tell him you were kidnapped and barely escaped, only a selfish son would bring up the missing cat now.

Situation: Mr. Randy, I had a few to many Appletinis last night and slept with my wife's really hot sister, I feel so guilty should I tell my wife?
Advice: Don't drink Appletinis dumbshit, drink whiskey straight up and then do a shit ton of blow, this will counteract the effects of the xanax; then tell your wife that her sister is a skank and on qualudes, tell the hot sister that your wife neglects you and is a meany, keep on banging the hot one and convince your wife that she is fat so she will work out and get hot again, that way it all works out.

Situation: Mr. Randy, I really dislike my job and I think my boss is incompetent. Should I start looking for a new career?
Advice: Invite your boss out for lunch and slip some rat poison in his sandwich and in his soda (better put some in the fries too), when he starts foaming at the mouth shout "call 911" and start pounding on his chest  as if you knew CPR. Make sure to cry a little bit so you don't look like a suspect. When the cops ask you what happened tell them there was a black guy in the restaurant.

Simple answers for simple problems.
Stay healthy America and keep on reaching for the stars.

Carny Insurance

Good morning America how are ya?
Don't ya know me?
I'm the Irish kid who used to beat you up in the third grade and made fun of your mangled teeth!
What you didn't know was that due to lack of peat the peat farm was failing, the potatoes were always running out and pa had a penchant for the Whiskey, so now don't you feel terrible for my 22 brothers and I? Next time you grow up America just take the beatings and verbal rapings, because that Hispanic kid down the street who keeps stealing your bicycle may just become Secretary of Transportation some day.

P.S. I am sorry that I banged your girlfriend in high school and knocked her up... My dad is still stronger than your dad; hey did you ever get braces?

So I have been looking into this Carny issue from Labor Day. It would seem like a pretty tight career choice and all with a ton of potential benefits, but get this, there is no such thing as Carny Insurance!? What kind of America are we living in where we don't have Carny Insurance. You can most assuredly guarantee that they have Gypsy Insurance in the E.U. How irresponsible we have become in this 21st of centuries, George Washington would be spinning in his grave if he knew that his beloved bearded lady (not Martha) had no prescription plan! Even though Carnies are one of our lesser recognized minorities (somewhere close to Inuipac Eskimos I believe) we cannot let them fall through the cracks of bureaucracy. The time has come to recognize the contributions made by these miscreants; sure they smell bad, are high as shit while running the tilt-o-whirl and that guy wasn't even close to guessing my age and weight (it's 33 and 170 asshole), but they are still Americans! Since every single other American has affordable, all encompassing, umbrella coverage insurance the Carny should be treated as no less a citizen.

Just some thoughts for Labor Day

Hangin in the Cafe and Watchin the World Go By

It's Labor Day and I am bored as shit, the weather sucks and I was planning on going to the County Fair to watch the demolition derby tonight, so I hope it clears up. There was a brief moment in my life (18 years) where I found the fair unbearable, but these days it just makes sense. The fair is America in all its cholesteroled glory (I think I made that word up, better look into it), it's like a circus sideshow; only like a  million times better! If I do get to attend I am going to eat the shit out of food on sticks and hang out with the old Freemasons and Knights of Columbus guys.
When the time comes I should definitely become a carny, do you have to apply for that job? What is the job description? hang out, smoke cigs, meet sweet chicks, do meth, travel the side roads of America? That all sounds great to me, better do some research tonight at the county fair so I can make a sound business decision.

All these coffe shop distractions are getting at me

Good thing I'm sitting inside right now, because it is raining cats and dogs outside and the sidewalk is a bloody mess!

Why bother drinking Diet Coke when you are eating a cinnamon roll?

Purple socks look sweet on cankles.

Martha Stewart should change the name of all of her product lines, I mean she did do hard time so drop the pretentious g and call it Martha Stewart Livin and Martha Stewart Everdyay should be called Stuff for Fat Chicks to Look at and Never Do Illustrated. Those seem pretty gangster to me.

The best part of sitting here all day is listening to the loud talker drone on about herself and her accomplishments. It's really a wonder the other people at her table haven't smashed her laptop over her stupid, glasses wearing face or shoved those damn high-liters in that flapping gape of a mouth. SHE DID GRADUATE FROM COLLEGE you know and by the way... not every statement should sound like a question???

How come kids are still wearing skinny jeans and how are they possibly hanging off of their asses?

My mocha tastes like hot chocolate.

I like the old lady with the lipstick smears... she's not crazy, she's just a little shaky

I think those two are dating. They definitely should not have children because they would be uuuggly!

This 70's soundtrack is pretty badass no way I ever want to listen to anything else.

Love... American Style

My neighbors clothes are all over the front yard?
This dapper gentleman lives a mere two doors from me with his number one sweet lady.
I assume that he is rendering service to this beauty and is a verifiable pimp of the highest distinction.
What a surprise to my delicate sensibilities that Tyrone be cheatin!
I heard just this afternoon whilst he arrived to retrieve his wardrobe from the lawn
"You ain't even aksk me to go out wif you no more an I heard you been hangin wif dat ho! Fuck You Tyrone!"
Fuck Me, not you Tyrone?
This troubles me as I believed this man whose love for the large, fairskinned Heffers put him on an unparelleled plateau of loyalty and respect.
but, alas it would appear that even Lord Tyrone has fallen.
Pick up that flip flop Tyrone, Hang thy head in shame and remember.
"Don't nobody fuck round on me, I ain't payin dat cell bill no mo, an Ima take back them speakers an rims from the truck!"
Oh Tyrone, don't fret there will be more manatees to run your boat over and the scars that are left behind will heal in time.
Now pull up those boxers and walk on son, walk on

TV has destroyed my mindhead

Like most children of the '80s I watched a lot of televeision. I am talking countless hours a day in front of that wood grained Zenith (and it was) radioactive tube and not surprisingly all those old episodes of Macguyver, the A-Team and of course Family Ties keep crawling out of the depths of the sludge known as my thinkin box area. It would appear that the trend has continued...

Swimming… In the Amazon


I should probably never go swimming in the Amazon.

It’s true, it looks totally bad ass and everything; all those half naked Indians with the cool haircuts splashing around like little monkeys at the zoo, the sweltering heat, the mosquitoes as big as eagles.

I was kinda thinking about going… just to check it out no big deal, but then I watched this show on the Discovery Channel where this totally tough looking Mexican guy was fishing and decided to cool off. Low and behold he must have thought he was in the shower cause… he peed (clearly he doesn’t have cable or he would have known better), probably not his best move of the day, that was obviously when he was chewing on a Cuban and grinning like Hannibal (try to fix this one A-team) cause he knew a plan was coming together and he really enjoys that.

If he had attended an American university or had a solid satellite signal, this could have been avoided.

You know he was happy as shit too when he was releasing the golden glory all over those stupid fucking fish.

Vengeance comes swiftly in the Amazon my Mexican friend, just go back to your fishing and smoking while the Amazon’s invisible dick ninja settles in for a dish of hot steamy revenge… IN YOUR PENIS.

All of this set my head a spinning, I pee in the shower… like a lot! I pee in the pool, the lake, the toilet, if there is water I will pee in it. This is a serious issue here man, I have even peed in my pants cause it was raining. There are really only two ways to avoid Juan’s fate: One would be to wear a condom while swimming in the Amazon; the problem with that is… I would get all boned up because I’m thirty three and I would see one of those hot Amazon haircut chicks and then I would have to jerk off (obviously) and who wears a condom while pleasuring oneself (Mormons) next thing you know... The only other possible option is to stop peeing in the shower, which is probably not gonna happen, I am way to far into this thing, it’s a lifestyle now, no turning back. I mean Juan survived, probably because he looked totally awesome, but that thing chewed up his urethra and almost cost him his junk! I don’t look half as tough as Jerry and I don’t smoke cigars which puts me way behind in the cool guy game.

I don’t think I want to go swimming in the Amazon anymore

Beer N Shingles

Beer N Shingles: Day One (but probably like day four)


Today has been a lovely day, a great day to sit on the porch and drink an ice cold refreshing brew, watch the cars roll by, smell the sweet summer air and wince as the sun shoots its sun arrows into my shingles addled brain, while reminiscing of the better times; like a couple days ago when I wasn’t suffering from the goddamn fucking shingles ( what am I an 80 year old woman or some shit). Oh well if that is what it takes to create awesomeness…

It has taken like a shit ton of time, several pairs of loafers and numerous experiments, (using all of the scientific methods of course…) oh yeah and the shingles, to finally squat down and get to the nitty gritty, to espouse to myself and this Compaq Presario M2000 (circa 2004) my affinity for fermented grains and yeast. To tell my inner demon to fuck off, cause today I have found liberation! No more denial, I love beer and the time is now for action (man I hope this bee does not fucking sting me, I punched it but he didn’t seem to cool with that, that would really fuck up my day, not even beer could fix that shitshow, I would be all anaphylactic, stroking out and shit, should probably grab an epipen but where is the adventure in that? Less action, starting now) I shall take this proverbial bull by its horns and ram my saber (Mexicans don’t even use sabers I should probably find out what they call it, a rapier maybe?) deep into its fatty hide in victory!

Admittedly that was a little bit mellow dramatic not to mention kinda stupid, but fuck you Compaq Presario M2000 this is not about you or the oil spill in the gulf (for once) or do they really find all of that “paranormal activity” on Ghost Hunters and GHI, this is about the issues facing me.

Number one: shingles, yep I totally have shingles and they fucking suck, so fuck you if none of this makes sense, cause if you had shingles you would totally be on the same page (page one). Number the 2nd: I’m gonna get drunk on good beer and not worry about the shingles. Number three: shingles, wait that was number one, umm skip to number four we can always come back to number three. Number four: good ass Belgian style beer in all of its malty goodness, hhhmmm beer (thank you Homer Simpson and very similar to number two, weird…). I would imagine that Duff beer pretty much tastes like Budweiser and that Duffenbrau tastes like edible panties soaked in kerosene worn by a four hundred pound chick riding a motorized scooter through Wal-Mart yelling at her equally robust progeny to get the Sam’s Choice brand 100 pound bag of cheesy poofs, cause it’s on rollback… you get my point.

I could probably make a Jack and the Beanstalk sized list of issues to deal with (who couldn’t, Sarah Palin, no big deal), but right now four, I guess three, beer n shingles and… beer?

Lets discuss beer; maybe my first interaction with beer wasn’t the most positive experience. Seriously, how many two years olds are going to enjoy an Old Mil poured down their throat by their drunk ass Irish Uncle, when all they really wanted was to finish eating their fucking scrambled eggs, take a dump in their Pampers and sleep it off so they could go throw rocks at the stupid dog and run around screeching for no apparent reason?

Or that second time, in eighth grade when you looked so awesome puffin on a cig and knockin down a Red Dog at the bonfire, but you could barely stomach that cold filtered, $5.99 a case, lagered travesty of an early 90’s trend, could you. All you really wanted to do was make out with Katy… but being cool…

High school was fucking awesome… come on living in small town Wisconsin in the 90’s, NWA, Tupac and OE Ice 800, maybe even 40’s of Mickey’s, could it get any better?

Yes it could, and it did. We are talking about The Beast Ice, FUCKIN ZIMA NIGGA!!!! and let us not forget the finest malted beverage of the day… MAD DOG 20/20 These were the times that tried young men’s souls, how could there ever be anything more important than high school, there is a yearbook for Christ’s sake!! a fucking yearbook, I mean really is there a yearbook of 30 something’s who work in the service industry (losers), didn’t think so asshole.

Truly those formative years have left an indelible mark on the masterpiece that swills before you this very day (Shakespeare would be jealous, probably cause my sister isn’t typing this, notice I didn’t say writing since that is a dead art form)… like seriously there is a fat woman wearing all purple struggling to her car in front of my house, she has three or four asses good thing that white Aztec is rated for tonnage! I don’t mean to get off the subject here but she had some sort of top knot, glasses and was yelling about having to go to work to a guy that looked like he just stepped off the meth train to Intervention, did he not have enough to share? What a dick.

Let us forget about my neighbors for the time being, I’m sure they are good god fearing folk ready to smash in an infidel’s head and sup on their gooey grey matter when the time comes, but for now they can exist in their crapulence without fear of reprisal from friend or foe until 2012 at least.

This is supposed to be about beer and my battle with shingles, but does anyone truly believe that the Mayans, who strapped boards to their heads to perfect that sexy conical shape of the swingin ‘90’s (1290’s) were masters of the universe, like fucking He-man? That is some serious bullshit Holmes. I’ve been watching the History Channel and they say that aliens gave them the keys to the future and shit… right... I don’t want ratings for my show cause the world is gonna implode in two years and those half naked aborigines are our connection to the future, fuck you then Michael J. Fox! I will make a time machine out of a Toyota… and the brakes work; if anyone knows about the future it has to be Marty, did you see BTTF2, AWESOME!!! That movie was so post Docalyptic. I know Marty has tourretes and shit now, but I guess if he could have seen the future for real, he probably would have offed himself too.

Awesometough

This is fucking awesome and it makes me tough as shit so don't even think about not reading this... fuck you.
Wow that was a pretty intense intro, but it needed to be done so I apologize if you have been offended
 you stupid pussy; maybe you shouldn't read this.
This blog is about day to day life as experienced by me, Randall J. Sharpe. It would be in your best interest to follow it,  because it will probably guide your life in a new direction and teach you a life lesson, like at the end of an episode of Full House when DJ knew Kimmy Gibbler fucked her over again and Danny reassured her it was ok cause everybody makes mistakes and Uncle Jessie and Joey got into some hilarious hi-jinx in their basement bachelor pad, but in the end they all learned a little and were better for it, Awesometough is exactly like that. This isn't about the best show ever, it's about life through my eyes (please note that I am nearsighted and developing astigmatism in my right eye... I know... badass) So please sit back relax and enjoy while I blow your proverbial mind with revelations.

Note: Alcohol will be used profusely to assist in the creative process so stay tuned America!