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.