Thursday, May 26, 2011

Grocery Shopping

Been watchin me some "Swamp People" fer bout the last 15 minutes an it been remindin me of my day...
Could blue eyeshadow be any hotter?
Bangs... need em!
Bow legged, pant saggin, cool cig smokin strut wif yo 15 year old boo... awesome!!!
Lettin everyone else in the grocery store know that you will " beat dat skank bitch's ass cause she a straight up ho"... necessary!
Representin yo ghetto on yo neck.... and it is a suburb... yep!
Havin cubic zirconia studs in yo six month old's ear lobes... good parentin!!!!
Usin the N word as if you had some color in yo pale ass... typical.
I love me some South side Pick-N-Save... it's the advantage and a whole lot more of what I was lookin for.

I Will Rapture All Over Your Face

Weather.
Webster's (The best 80's sitcom featuring a black midget and that Greek guy that played pro ball. The chick was terrible though, did you ever see the one where "Web" had the doll that was possessed and he kept finding it in his escape dumbwaiter... scary as hell!) Dictionary defines weather as " The shit that really pisses you off about being stuck inside at work or being stuck outside... at work." Today happens to be the latter rather than the former and frankly I blame all of this nonsense on this past weekends failed attempt to rapture all of the believers. It is May for Christ's sake (after all, that is who I do all of this for; the glory of the lord, obviously) and what business does the wind have rattling my single pane windows at this time of year, it's like the mailman showing up at midnight, isn't it a little late to be delivering my overdue doctor bills and Penthouse magazines buddy... well... isn't it? 
It is, so how about you check your schedule (pronounced shedule, I like my c's to be silent) and at least make an attempt to abide by the contract; you know the one where you rain all over me in April and then because you still want to do sex to me you bring me pretty flowers in May thinking that this will solve all of our problems and we will fall back into coital bliss. Wrong! They are just stupid flowers asshole and you have a lot of explaining to do! Never mind your poor timing and ill choice of expression (snow in late April, what's that about?) of care for me. I do know that you are making some sort of attempt; the problem lies herein, I have already prepared my white shoes, v-neck and dungaree shorts (which of course have been rolled up to appear shorter and are tight as hell to accentuate my man bulge) for the upcoming season. Do you have any idea how foolish you are making me look by having to wear my scarf and moon-boots with this ensemble? Well... do you?
Go ahead continue to show up unannounced. Hey it's Tuesday I think I will stop over at Randy's and be 80 degrees, no wait he is at work, sorry. 
Hey what are you doing Thursday? You want to go for a bike ride, cool. 
I forgot, so I'm going to be a tornado and blow down some hillbilly's houses.
Get your shit together you fucking hippy! 
You sucked at rapturing on Saturday, you are months behind on sunshine-bikini-time and I can't ride my bike in this damn wind!
Hey, can you bring Macho Man back? I really want a Slim Jim.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Work Work Work

I have returned!
The past two months have by no means been a sabbatical from the blogosphere, but rather a time of painstaking research and perfection of my other craft... the one that pays the bills. That having been said... lets get on with the awesome.
Work, the scourge of mankind; the draining, exasperating force that bends even the stoutest back. The reaper of youth, thief of time and equalizer of age, the bastard abuser of man. The Irish are prone to delusions of grandeur, fleeting moments of brilliant prose and fanatical loyalty to both family and employer... I am no exception. Many a great Irishman has dashed himself upon the rocks of this unrequited "loyalty" with the hopes of heavenly reward for performing their Catholic duty...  I am no Catholic.
Beer (albeit very good beer, in fact a bottle of Pere Jacques 2010 is being consumed as we speak) has been the catalyst of my written dementia and tonight is no different, so lets get back to kicking ass and banging sluts!
Much better... the work demon has been exercised, Osama Bin Laden has been drowned and some other shit also happened, but I missed all of it, because I was at work. How many hours are in a work week? Eighty or so, right? Seriously all of this working has lined my wallet with green paper and plastic cards, but at what cost? My eternal soul... no, because I traded that for a Snickers bar when I was Seven (stupid Cam Knoble that was when Snickers Bars were full sized... idiot.). Peace of mind... wrong, I learned a long time ago that there ain't no  rest for the wicked so I ain't felt guilt in years. It all boils down to two things, beer and sleep; I have been missing out on sleep and pounding awesome fucking beers in my man chair!! That being said the time has arrived to finish off this bottle of wonder elixir and join the rest of you in the slumber of decadence.
Good Night.