In addition to talking to me about her yoga, she asked me if I though I was intuitive. I agreed that I was. But then again who says they aren't? She told me a secret about herself that she had never told another patient (I won't reveal it) so I felt like we bonded a bit. If she hadn't stuck her finger up my ass you could have said it was a great first date. Actually, come to think of it, that might make a great first date.
I'm going back in few weeks for a general physical and exam from my actual doctor. I am supposed to get my lab results back as well, I got tested for prostate cancer and other blood work.
I should mention some positive things. My ingrown toenail is feeling better. I think the antibiotics were working on it as well as the cellulitis. The swelling is down and I have stopped bleeding from my toe every day. I need to get that looked at as soon as all this other stuff calms down. I'd like to be able to go swimming or to the beach (or just wear some flip flops.)
I hope I won't need additional antibiotics for that!
Other than that I feel okay. I am still having some occasion stomach cramping and pain. But it is quite light and not so bad. The only thing left is bladder pain and some difficulty in urinating. That's been going on for some time. Since the 26th. Maybe it has something to do with the squishy things in my testicles. I am having the M.D. check them on June 1st.
Tomorrow is therapy. Looking forward to that. Someone to talk to for 50 minutes that has to listen to my shit and pretend to care. Just like you guys. Only I don't have to pay you!
Told the ex-internet girlfriend about my diagnosis of Diverticulosis and she was like, "I bet you were excited to hear that you have a real disease to talk about!"
I was like, "Oh please!" Internet GF is getting marred this week. Congrats Internet GF. Not that you read my blog anymore!
p.s.
To the doctor at the ER that misdiagnosed my rash. Go suck it. My ENTIRE ass is inflamed. My thighs have some mighty nasty looking shit on them. This is not just a fat guy rubbing his legs together. I's take a pic but I don't want to gross you guys out. If you want to see just Google psoriasis.
Love,
Romius T.
Showing posts with label today's poop watch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label today's poop watch. Show all posts
Monday, May 09, 2011
Monday, September 07, 2009
Post number 666 is Happy Labor Day
I don't want to sound like the depressed post-middle aged menopausal hypochondriac that is my audience, but...I think I am going to let the MRSA "go ahead" and kick in. The Mayo clinic says that MRSA is only fatal "sometimes."I've adjusted to the microbial infection fairly well, other than I took another forest green shit today. It was smelly. Also, the shit had a lot of nuttiness to it. I was eating a lot of sunflower seeds last night.
HAPPY LABOR DAY!
Labor day is one of my 2 religious holidays, but since I am such a fuck up I forgot to request the day off. I worked on my other religious holiday, May Day, and I compounded that error by forgetting to request off the Sunday of the opening weekend for the NFL.
You may already know how much of a fuck up I am, but did you also know how lazy I am?
It's 2 pm and I woke up less than an hour ago, so instead of getting some lengthy diatribe about how Labor Day is the ruling class' attempt to get you to make you forget about May Day (and the sacrifices of the workers before you) and instead get you to gorge yourself on 57 cent hot dogs and beer until you puke or punch your pregnant teen daughter for getting "knocked up" before school starts, all you get is my vague hint that I may have contracted something hideous because the last 8 months of pouring antibiotics and hydrogen peroxide on my infected ingrown toe nail has left me with a nail a 1/3 the size it should be surrounded by the smelly soft tissue from a Gila Monster's puncture wound.
But let's all be thankful for Capitalism!
At least some of us have jobs. Even if those jobs require you to work on holidays with no extra pay.
I love my job and I love even more knowing that if I don't like my job I could always get another, nevermind the 10% of the workforce that can't get a job or the 10% of the workforce that is underemployed.
Today is not a day for complaining.
It is a day for celebrating what a great country we live in. That's why all the music at my grocery store has been patriotic this week. And that is why I keep getting strange looks from customers every time I mention to them that Labor Day is not a patriotic holiday, but in fact is a holiday of worker rebellion which is the exact opposite of the patriotic pro-business bullshit you will get on TV today.
What you can do to make up for all this.
The best thing you could do is stay home and not give your money to any company that disrespects its workforce enough to compel them to work on a worker holiday. Maybe you should spend your time protesting that stores since they give Labor day off to executives and office staff, but not the front line workers.
The next best thing you could do is get so high and drunk and full from BBQ that you forget to leave the house. That would be awesome. It would mean I won't have to work hard and it will pay homage to the brave workers that gave their lives in protest so that you could get paid overtime for working more than 8 hours.
But you won't do that.
So instead BE prepared to listen to me wine like a bitch while I ring up your sour cream/enchilada Lay's Potato chips.
And could you please try to put on a clean undershirt? It's a fucking holiday!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Bloody Mexicans
I shat green for the 4th day in a row. I am getting sick. I ran a fever last night at work. I am stuffy headed and my nose is running a bit.
I am still going to work because I want to reinfect all my customers. I am sure I am sick because of one of them has gotten me ill.
Most of the customers at my store are from Mexico or some other Latin American country, and from every thing I have read on the internets you can get some crazy ass diseases from playing with chicken blood.
You may not know this but that Latino next to you in the cubicle goes home every night to chicken blood and Jesus candles, but because the whole thing just kinda creeps out white people Latinos keep that shit to themselves.
That is until they go to the supermarket, because every one knows that people from Third World countries never wash their hands, and that's because they've never heard of science. All they ever took from the white man was his crazy religion (even though most of the brown skinned people I know never completely gave up on their indigenous religion.) All they did was add saints and burning candles to rubbing chicken blood on themselves, and I guess that's where I get added to this equation, because Mexicans go through a lot of chicken blood if you go by how much chicken we sell to Latinos at my store.
I tell you it's a shit lot of chicken and just about none of the people buying chicken wash their hands. All they do is show up from after working digging ditches and hand me crumbled up 50 dollar bills, or blood stained 100 dollar bills. I have no idea where these damn immigrants are finding jobs where they get paid in cash, and paid in 50 dollar bills. All I know is I worked all week and all I earned was 239 dollars, and that was only because I tell Uncle Sam to kiss it and claim except, because I figure I should not have to pay taxes to the Federal Government, because it starts wars I don't believe in and it allows foreigners with all kinds of chicken blood related diseases to gain contact with me. And in my weakened AIDS related condition I can't fight off any of the exotic diseases they come over the border with.
This post is dedicated to Mexicans and all Latinos south of the border. Light a candle for me. It's the least you can do.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I Hate My Life
"God, I HATE MY LIFE."
I say that to that no one really.
"I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that when you have your penis inside me." My exgf says.
My ex gf is wondering about my penis.
"What's wrong?" She asks.
I think my ex gf is wondering why my penis is 'suddenly' soft. I try to tell her that it is nothing to worry about. "That's what happens to men my age." I tell her.
What my exgf does not realize is that my penis is always that small or soft when inside her. I think about telling her that, and I think about telling my ex-girlfriend that my impotence is all her fault.
She's had 5 babies from 4 different men. I want to tell her that all those years she spent fisting herself for men at the peep shows for 2 dollars a minute left her pussy busted and incapable of providing friction to anything smaller than a midgets arm. That my penis is only aroused initially into the sex process. I get hard and then I fuck for a while, but the longer I fuck the smaller my dick gets. Right before I cum my cock shrivels up like an 8 year old's dick in one of those kiddie play pools.
Inexplicably, right after I cum my dick gets huge again, sometimes it blows up to 4 inches or more. So I always make sure to pull out after I cum and wipe my penis all around her vagina. That way she sees what she assumes to be a normal sized dick. Because the dick now looks normal she has to assume that the dick was that size whenever it was inside her and that any lack of sensation she felt during our love making was her fault because as I explained to her, "an episiotomy does nothing about putting a woman's womb back together."
"It's all done for looks, Dear." I tell her.
She nods back at me and begins to chew on her nails. I am always trying to impress my girlfriend with how smart I am by making wise cracks about "the epistimology of episiomoties. "
My girlfriend has no idea why I think I am so smart. All she knows is that I read a lot and that I tend to make the most disgusting comments she's ever heard. She has no idea if that makes me smart. Whenever she tries to quantify anything in particular about me that is actually smart she has trouble coming up with anything.
"I know the names of all the continents." I try telling her. I don't think I am very convincing. I am also done wiping my cum on her vagina. She is holding the empty condom with pinched fingers like it is a bag of poop.
"What should I do with this?" She waves the the latex prophylactic at me.
"I guess we could reuse it." I tell her. "Since it ain't got no cum in it."
"Why do you always talk in a southern accent after fucking?"
"I got no fuckin' idea." I tell her. I decide I am going to drop my g's for the rest of the day. That'll teach her.
In the play pen next to the bed you can hear her 2 year old rustlin' around. I think the sex has woken the girl up, and that means we can't go to sleep for hours. Once her little one is awake there is no sleep. She screams and cries. I tell her mom that, "Nicki might be autistic, because I've never seen a kid rock herself so much."
My exgf tells me that she is just "soothing herself." And I tell the ex that "soothing behaviors" are "straight up Autism...yo...yo."
Ex-Gf just cranes her neck at me and then gives me a look. Nobody ever takes me seriously. I hate that. The exgf has still not disposed of the empty condom. It just lies on the cabinet, pathetic.
The air smells of shit instead of sex. Mostly because the trash can next to the bed is full of dirty diapers. The air should smell of sex, but I think that only happens when the girl has an orgasm.
I can't give my ex an orgasm. I think her pussy is too stretched out. Also, even though we have dated for 3 years she is, "not comfortable with me going down on her." Since she won't let me eat her out, all I can do is use my dick on her. I know my dick is not doing the trick, because she wants me to get some kind of piercing in it. She told me that her ex boyfriend had one and she, "used to cum a ton with that guy." She also tells me that she, "only cums with some guys."
"It's mostly a sexual chemistry thing." She tells me. Like that's supposed to comfort me. That we don't have sexual chemistry.
I assume by "we" she means "she" because I can cum as long as I don't masturbate during the week, and as long as we don't use a condom, and as long as I am not on anti-depressants. Then cumming is pretty easy. As long as we are doing it doggy style, and one of her kids is not knocking at the bedroom door.
Somewhere in the house a dog has shit on the floor.
I won't discover that fact until tomorrow. I won't step in it. But I will notice that the place smells worse than normal over a breakfast of Cheerios without bananas. It's the only breakfast food in the house, because the ex-gf has traded away all her food stamps so she can make her next car payment.
I ask the ex if she wants a little money for gas so she can get to work. She tells me she doesn't have to go to work until Thursday and if I give her gas money her sister will end up using the car and waste all the gas going to see her boyfriend who lives in Payson which is 60 miles from here.
I snort loud enough for my ex to get the point. She needs to be able to say no her family now and then. I wonder aloud "why she can always be guilt tripped by other people, but not me."
I figure it has something to do with how unsexy I look out of clothes. She once told me that I looked good until I took my shirt off. She told me not to worry that, "because looks are not that important for her" and that "men who look better than me often have shitty attitudes and end up breaking her heart."
I tell her that all that honesty sounds like emotional abuse to me. Then I tell her 5 year old to pour me a glass of chocolate milk, "If you are going to make yourself a glass of milk...make me one too."
The first time I met the 5 year old he hugged me goodnight. I got creeped out by the kid doing that. He did not know me, but he thought it was ok to hug a strange man he'd never met before. I guess he just figured I was his new daddy, and he might as well get a good start with this daddy so maybe new daddy would not run away.
I felt too sorry for him to tell him the truth. That I was just lonely and needed a little part time pussy, and his mom let me fuck her. Of course it took me hanging around her house for hours at a time and for days on end to ever get a little nooky, and by then the offspring would get attached to me. They would ask me to play games with them. They had a bunch of board games in the attic that must have been bought at a yard sale because all the boxes were broken and some of the pieces to the games were missing.
The ex hated playing with her kids. I hate board games too, but sometimes the ex gf smoked pot, and whenever she smoked pot she would forget she had kids and would stop looking after them. That's when I had to take care of the kids and entertain them and I would usually give in to their suggestion that we play Sorry for the millionth time.
I would play Sorry and I would look over at my ex gf smoking and getting high. She would flirt and laugh at her sisters boyfriend. She would give him looks whenever she thought her sister wasn't looking. I caught her more than once and I am sure her sister did too. I think her sister liked to pretend that it meant nothing, since her sister was 6 years older and since her sister always claimed to hate younger guys.
"That's why I hang around old fart's like him." She would point over at me and then they would all look over me. My ex, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend. They would look over at me and have a big laugh like the term "old fart" was just invented for me. Whenever they laughed at me I tended to look down at the game board and pretend to busy myself with some operation of game play like I was really into the game and missed out hearing their little inside joke.
The kids would laugh too, but they only laughed for the reason that kids always laugh whenever they hear a bunch of adults laughing. They figure something funny had just been said and even though they did not understand it they don't want to seem left out of all the fun.
I say that to that no one really.
"I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that when you have your penis inside me." My exgf says.
My ex gf is wondering about my penis.
"What's wrong?" She asks.
I think my ex gf is wondering why my penis is 'suddenly' soft. I try to tell her that it is nothing to worry about. "That's what happens to men my age." I tell her.
What my exgf does not realize is that my penis is always that small or soft when inside her. I think about telling her that, and I think about telling my ex-girlfriend that my impotence is all her fault.
She's had 5 babies from 4 different men. I want to tell her that all those years she spent fisting herself for men at the peep shows for 2 dollars a minute left her pussy busted and incapable of providing friction to anything smaller than a midgets arm. That my penis is only aroused initially into the sex process. I get hard and then I fuck for a while, but the longer I fuck the smaller my dick gets. Right before I cum my cock shrivels up like an 8 year old's dick in one of those kiddie play pools.
Inexplicably, right after I cum my dick gets huge again, sometimes it blows up to 4 inches or more. So I always make sure to pull out after I cum and wipe my penis all around her vagina. That way she sees what she assumes to be a normal sized dick. Because the dick now looks normal she has to assume that the dick was that size whenever it was inside her and that any lack of sensation she felt during our love making was her fault because as I explained to her, "an episiotomy does nothing about putting a woman's womb back together."
"It's all done for looks, Dear." I tell her.
She nods back at me and begins to chew on her nails. I am always trying to impress my girlfriend with how smart I am by making wise cracks about "the epistimology of episiomoties. "
My girlfriend has no idea why I think I am so smart. All she knows is that I read a lot and that I tend to make the most disgusting comments she's ever heard. She has no idea if that makes me smart. Whenever she tries to quantify anything in particular about me that is actually smart she has trouble coming up with anything.
"I know the names of all the continents." I try telling her. I don't think I am very convincing. I am also done wiping my cum on her vagina. She is holding the empty condom with pinched fingers like it is a bag of poop.
"What should I do with this?" She waves the the latex prophylactic at me.
"I guess we could reuse it." I tell her. "Since it ain't got no cum in it."
"Why do you always talk in a southern accent after fucking?"
"I got no fuckin' idea." I tell her. I decide I am going to drop my g's for the rest of the day. That'll teach her.
In the play pen next to the bed you can hear her 2 year old rustlin' around. I think the sex has woken the girl up, and that means we can't go to sleep for hours. Once her little one is awake there is no sleep. She screams and cries. I tell her mom that, "Nicki might be autistic, because I've never seen a kid rock herself so much."
My exgf tells me that she is just "soothing herself." And I tell the ex that "soothing behaviors" are "straight up Autism...yo...yo."
Ex-Gf just cranes her neck at me and then gives me a look. Nobody ever takes me seriously. I hate that. The exgf has still not disposed of the empty condom. It just lies on the cabinet, pathetic.
The air smells of shit instead of sex. Mostly because the trash can next to the bed is full of dirty diapers. The air should smell of sex, but I think that only happens when the girl has an orgasm.
I can't give my ex an orgasm. I think her pussy is too stretched out. Also, even though we have dated for 3 years she is, "not comfortable with me going down on her." Since she won't let me eat her out, all I can do is use my dick on her. I know my dick is not doing the trick, because she wants me to get some kind of piercing in it. She told me that her ex boyfriend had one and she, "used to cum a ton with that guy." She also tells me that she, "only cums with some guys."
"It's mostly a sexual chemistry thing." She tells me. Like that's supposed to comfort me. That we don't have sexual chemistry.
I assume by "we" she means "she" because I can cum as long as I don't masturbate during the week, and as long as we don't use a condom, and as long as I am not on anti-depressants. Then cumming is pretty easy. As long as we are doing it doggy style, and one of her kids is not knocking at the bedroom door.
Somewhere in the house a dog has shit on the floor.
I won't discover that fact until tomorrow. I won't step in it. But I will notice that the place smells worse than normal over a breakfast of Cheerios without bananas. It's the only breakfast food in the house, because the ex-gf has traded away all her food stamps so she can make her next car payment.
I ask the ex if she wants a little money for gas so she can get to work. She tells me she doesn't have to go to work until Thursday and if I give her gas money her sister will end up using the car and waste all the gas going to see her boyfriend who lives in Payson which is 60 miles from here.
I snort loud enough for my ex to get the point. She needs to be able to say no her family now and then. I wonder aloud "why she can always be guilt tripped by other people, but not me."
I figure it has something to do with how unsexy I look out of clothes. She once told me that I looked good until I took my shirt off. She told me not to worry that, "because looks are not that important for her" and that "men who look better than me often have shitty attitudes and end up breaking her heart."
I tell her that all that honesty sounds like emotional abuse to me. Then I tell her 5 year old to pour me a glass of chocolate milk, "If you are going to make yourself a glass of milk...make me one too."
The first time I met the 5 year old he hugged me goodnight. I got creeped out by the kid doing that. He did not know me, but he thought it was ok to hug a strange man he'd never met before. I guess he just figured I was his new daddy, and he might as well get a good start with this daddy so maybe new daddy would not run away.
I felt too sorry for him to tell him the truth. That I was just lonely and needed a little part time pussy, and his mom let me fuck her. Of course it took me hanging around her house for hours at a time and for days on end to ever get a little nooky, and by then the offspring would get attached to me. They would ask me to play games with them. They had a bunch of board games in the attic that must have been bought at a yard sale because all the boxes were broken and some of the pieces to the games were missing.
The ex hated playing with her kids. I hate board games too, but sometimes the ex gf smoked pot, and whenever she smoked pot she would forget she had kids and would stop looking after them. That's when I had to take care of the kids and entertain them and I would usually give in to their suggestion that we play Sorry for the millionth time.
I would play Sorry and I would look over at my ex gf smoking and getting high. She would flirt and laugh at her sisters boyfriend. She would give him looks whenever she thought her sister wasn't looking. I caught her more than once and I am sure her sister did too. I think her sister liked to pretend that it meant nothing, since her sister was 6 years older and since her sister always claimed to hate younger guys.
"That's why I hang around old fart's like him." She would point over at me and then they would all look over me. My ex, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend. They would look over at me and have a big laugh like the term "old fart" was just invented for me. Whenever they laughed at me I tended to look down at the game board and pretend to busy myself with some operation of game play like I was really into the game and missed out hearing their little inside joke.
The kids would laugh too, but they only laughed for the reason that kids always laugh whenever they hear a bunch of adults laughing. They figure something funny had just been said and even though they did not understand it they don't want to seem left out of all the fun.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I'm sorry I pooped on you
I know I shouldn't have posted a picture of my shit just to prove to you all that I really poop green. If you click on the picture it expands to huge proportions and you can see a bit of the green hue in my shit as well as some of the specs of sunflower seeds. I have to apologize for my camera's resolution under poor lighting, but I felt fishing out the bowel movements and photographing them was a bit too much.
I think I will add a poll to my blog so we can democratically determine if you guys want to track my poop in real life. I could take a new picture every day. In a few years it would qualify as science. I really think I could win a Nobel prize or something, either that or really disgust my Internet girlfriend.
By the way, I am pretty sure Golden Smacks has agreed to marry me.
Good news, eh!
I think I will add a poll to my blog so we can democratically determine if you guys want to track my poop in real life. I could take a new picture every day. In a few years it would qualify as science. I really think I could win a Nobel prize or something, either that or really disgust my Internet girlfriend.
By the way, I am pretty sure Golden Smacks has agreed to marry me.
Good news, eh!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
I shit green for two days in a row
I guess trying to eat an entire pound of M&M candies today was not a good idea. I am typing with gloves on because it is 59 degrees in my house. I ran the heater for a good 46 minutes and now the temperature gauge reads 61. I guess I will need to start using the portable heaters soon.
I know I promised I was not going to write about the wedding, but since I have disappointed so many of you with that decision I have decided to write in an upcoming blog entry the Self Help Guide to getting married. The SHG to surviving a wedding, etc. Maybe I will just milk this whole wedding thing for as much as fodder as I can.
I've had the last three days off and I am not looking forward to getting back to work.
The last two days have seen dark green shits. But I am not the kind of guy who worries about his bowel movements enough to blog about them. I need to take a second shit today and I am sure it will be green as well. Maybe McDonald's is adding green dye color to their cheeseburgers. Otherwise I am dying of something or something has invaded my colon because AIDS makes it impossible to fight off infections. As long as I can keep my bowel movements in the toilet I guess I will be ok. The day they start leaking all over my shorts is the day I will go get checked out for them. I don't have the kind of money it takes to get checked out for these sorts of things and for now I am sticking to the idea that all the antacids I am eating are preventing my stomach acid from breaking down the nutrients in my food. I know that sounds like a nutty idea, but it is no nuttier than my bowel movements. I've eaten a bucket of sunflower seeds this week.
Sunflower seeds aid in compacting my bowel movements. Normally I shit Hershey squirts but with all the fiber from the nuts I can get a pretty good chuck of shit out. Like that infomercial says my bowel movements have added girth and width and I guess that is a good thing. I am not too sure about all the scraping that goes on in my anal cavity with the nuts, but at least you can tell when to quit grunting and pushing. I would suggest that pregnant women slather their unborn fetuses with a mixture of olive oil and nuts so that the kid could just slide down and the nuts would give a subtle clue as to where the baby was without all the need for fancy equipment like sonar guns and heart monitors, but the insurance companies, doctors, and medical equipment suppliers are making out like bandits and will never give up the opportunity to charge for an unnecessary piece of equipment.
I know I promised I was not going to write about the wedding, but since I have disappointed so many of you with that decision I have decided to write in an upcoming blog entry the Self Help Guide to getting married. The SHG to surviving a wedding, etc. Maybe I will just milk this whole wedding thing for as much as fodder as I can.
I've had the last three days off and I am not looking forward to getting back to work.
The last two days have seen dark green shits. But I am not the kind of guy who worries about his bowel movements enough to blog about them. I need to take a second shit today and I am sure it will be green as well. Maybe McDonald's is adding green dye color to their cheeseburgers. Otherwise I am dying of something or something has invaded my colon because AIDS makes it impossible to fight off infections. As long as I can keep my bowel movements in the toilet I guess I will be ok. The day they start leaking all over my shorts is the day I will go get checked out for them. I don't have the kind of money it takes to get checked out for these sorts of things and for now I am sticking to the idea that all the antacids I am eating are preventing my stomach acid from breaking down the nutrients in my food. I know that sounds like a nutty idea, but it is no nuttier than my bowel movements. I've eaten a bucket of sunflower seeds this week.
Sunflower seeds aid in compacting my bowel movements. Normally I shit Hershey squirts but with all the fiber from the nuts I can get a pretty good chuck of shit out. Like that infomercial says my bowel movements have added girth and width and I guess that is a good thing. I am not too sure about all the scraping that goes on in my anal cavity with the nuts, but at least you can tell when to quit grunting and pushing. I would suggest that pregnant women slather their unborn fetuses with a mixture of olive oil and nuts so that the kid could just slide down and the nuts would give a subtle clue as to where the baby was without all the need for fancy equipment like sonar guns and heart monitors, but the insurance companies, doctors, and medical equipment suppliers are making out like bandits and will never give up the opportunity to charge for an unnecessary piece of equipment.
Friday, November 14, 2008
I poop 4 times and I review the Pita Grill where I meet an ethnically ambiguous hottie who serves me feta cheese
I just took my third shit today. My first shit was kinda brown and kinda solid. The second shit was yellow or clay. It was soft and mushy. The third shit was green and runny.
Children do not develop an immune system for the first few years of life so parents are constantly seeing the kind of mess in dirty diapers I am seeing in the toilet these days so they would probably not be alarmed the way I am about the condition of my bowel movements. I worry because I assume the only reason I shit like an infant is because I have AIDS and the AIDS has so fucked my immune system that the fact that I drink a little ice tea with hibiscus makes me shit weak, runny and green. I feel like I am Kermit the frog in his last days, getting high with the King of Rock and Roll and ready to die face down in the commode.
I know every one wants to dissect what I am eating so I will use that as an excuse to give you my review of the Pita Grill.* Also I only eat chocolate gram crackers, herbal and decaf ice tea, and fast food.
*It should be noted that I shat before eating at the Pita Grill. The Pita Grill is in no way to blame for my weak or discolored bowel movements.
I loaned my truck out to a friend of Card Shark's. She needed to move furniture. She was also a good hour late getting the truck back to me at work so I had to stick around work for an additional hour waiting for her to return so I could get home.
I guess she felt guilty about taking so long to pick me up because she palmed me 10 dollars which I would not have accepted, but I was not paying attention to what she gave me, and after I took the money it felt weird to give it back, and there the whole thing about me siting around waiting on her for a good hour, and her good manners would have required her to take me to lunch or dinner, and the 10 dollars would have been about what she would have had to pay, and accepting the money was a lot easier than coming up with an hour of uncomfortable small talk at lunch which would have turned devolved into a one hour gab fest about Card Shark because he is about the only thing we have in common.
Frankly, I couldn't stomach the idea of talking about Card Shark for a full hour as the time I spend with Card Shark we spend talking about him, and if there is anything that you need to know about a guy with 4 blogs and two podcast and a u-tube channel is that this is all about me baby.
P.S.
I think I am going to shit again soon. Also, Yahoo Radio is fucking up again and not playing commercials!
Oh, yeah. I was getting to the part where I talk about the food I ate today and review the Pita Grill. I decided to eat out because I had an extra 10 dollars in my pockets.
The pita grill is in located in a strip mall next to ASU. The decor on the outside is pretty typical. Inside the place is pretty cool. There is ample seating. The furniture is shiny and black. An ethnically ambiguous girl is surfing the web and sipping a diet coke through a straw. The sound system is piping in Middle Eastern music. The "middle eastern" music sounds a lot like Indian music. But not the annoying kind of Indian music you hear in Bollywood movies. Calm, sedate stuff without all the odd vocalizations.
I stepped up to the counter to place my order. I told Ambiguously Ethnic Girl that, "This is my first time here." She pointed to pictures on the wall and told me there are pictures of the food on the wall. Now I know how really stupid foreigners think Americans are.
I tried to impress the girl with me knowledge of food by ordering a gyro pita with feta. When I ordered fries as my side she gave me a look of disgust. I guess foreigners aren't taught to hold in their contempt for the crassness of their patrons.
While my server took my order I played a game where I tried to determine the woman's ethnicity. I thought she might be a Greek, because she had long curly hair.*
*Did I mention I like long dark curly hair?
She also looked middle eastern; or moreover, the possible family members who worked with her looked middle eastern, and by middle eastern I assume Persian for no reason other than I know Persians come from Iran, and I was hoping I could somehow work that knowledge into the conversation without it looking to obvious. I never did. And I never got over the compulsion to blurt out that Persians are from Iran.
The food is quite good. I paid $4.99 for the Gyro Pita and $2.50 to make it a combo with fries and a drink. The fries are the only disappointment which is not surprising as this is not an American Diner, but a middle eastern food joint. The fries are skinny and come with a dusting of seasoning. I hate seasoned fries in general, so maybe if you like seasoned fries you would find the fries acceptable. The ice tea I drank had a hint of peach.
I was slightly irritated by the girl. She did not like to answer any of my questions, but that may have been because English was not her first language. When I first entered the store I heard her and her compatriots conversing in a language I could not determine.
She wore the strange track suit that Europeans think is appropriate for every day wear. Her lime green shoes did not match. I remember I couldn't understand anything she said unless she repeated it to me and was looking right at me so I could read her lips.
She sat down at at a table to eat a snack half way through my meal. She looked skinny behind the counter but I noticed a small pooch around her middle from my new vantage point. Nothing bad. She just wasn't super tight like a swimmer or an athlete. She had some good female fat.
My cell phone was beeping throughout the meal as I was texting the Ex IGF and Leslie. The only other diners where a nice college couple. The guy ordered food and the girl watched him eat. I liked that this guy did not pay for a meal for her.
College girl had short brown hair. She smiled at me. I think she was glad I was there because we were in on the little secret that this place served decent food. Maybe she was imagining that I could be her boyfriend, because her current boyfriend took her to places like this and she had to notice how my cell phone was blowing up, so obviously even though it was a Friday night at 10:30 and I didn't have a date, I was a guy with friends who couldn't stand to be out of touch.
The college girl looked back at me a lot during my meal. Maybe thinking I would buy her some baklava. It would be her first time trying it, and I could talk to her about all the nuts in the dessert and how they firm up her bowel movements. She would probably laugh at the inappropriateness of the conversation and marvel at how at ease I was with her. She would swear off men her age for the maturity to be found in my graying goatee.
The college boy got up and the college girl left with him. I guess all the stuff we shared meant nothing to her. Girls are like that though. I'm cool with it.
I'm at home now and I am eating cookies. I have 4 cookies left. I am going to eat them all. I have to go for a Tux fitting in the morning, and I want to be able to eat a little before the wedding.
One last thing. I just posted a new Fan Letter to Steve Nash's Wife over at Bathos for the Misanthropic. Quit making me tell you that. Add Bathos to your blog reader.
Children do not develop an immune system for the first few years of life so parents are constantly seeing the kind of mess in dirty diapers I am seeing in the toilet these days so they would probably not be alarmed the way I am about the condition of my bowel movements. I worry because I assume the only reason I shit like an infant is because I have AIDS and the AIDS has so fucked my immune system that the fact that I drink a little ice tea with hibiscus makes me shit weak, runny and green. I feel like I am Kermit the frog in his last days, getting high with the King of Rock and Roll and ready to die face down in the commode.
I know every one wants to dissect what I am eating so I will use that as an excuse to give you my review of the Pita Grill.* Also I only eat chocolate gram crackers, herbal and decaf ice tea, and fast food.
*It should be noted that I shat before eating at the Pita Grill. The Pita Grill is in no way to blame for my weak or discolored bowel movements.
I loaned my truck out to a friend of Card Shark's. She needed to move furniture. She was also a good hour late getting the truck back to me at work so I had to stick around work for an additional hour waiting for her to return so I could get home.
I guess she felt guilty about taking so long to pick me up because she palmed me 10 dollars which I would not have accepted, but I was not paying attention to what she gave me, and after I took the money it felt weird to give it back, and there the whole thing about me siting around waiting on her for a good hour, and her good manners would have required her to take me to lunch or dinner, and the 10 dollars would have been about what she would have had to pay, and accepting the money was a lot easier than coming up with an hour of uncomfortable small talk at lunch which would have turned devolved into a one hour gab fest about Card Shark because he is about the only thing we have in common.
Frankly, I couldn't stomach the idea of talking about Card Shark for a full hour as the time I spend with Card Shark we spend talking about him, and if there is anything that you need to know about a guy with 4 blogs and two podcast and a u-tube channel is that this is all about me baby.
P.S.
I think I am going to shit again soon. Also, Yahoo Radio is fucking up again and not playing commercials!
Oh, yeah. I was getting to the part where I talk about the food I ate today and review the Pita Grill. I decided to eat out because I had an extra 10 dollars in my pockets.
The pita grill is in located in a strip mall next to ASU. The decor on the outside is pretty typical. Inside the place is pretty cool. There is ample seating. The furniture is shiny and black. An ethnically ambiguous girl is surfing the web and sipping a diet coke through a straw. The sound system is piping in Middle Eastern music. The "middle eastern" music sounds a lot like Indian music. But not the annoying kind of Indian music you hear in Bollywood movies. Calm, sedate stuff without all the odd vocalizations.
I stepped up to the counter to place my order. I told Ambiguously Ethnic Girl that, "This is my first time here." She pointed to pictures on the wall and told me there are pictures of the food on the wall. Now I know how really stupid foreigners think Americans are.
I tried to impress the girl with me knowledge of food by ordering a gyro pita with feta. When I ordered fries as my side she gave me a look of disgust. I guess foreigners aren't taught to hold in their contempt for the crassness of their patrons.
While my server took my order I played a game where I tried to determine the woman's ethnicity. I thought she might be a Greek, because she had long curly hair.*
*Did I mention I like long dark curly hair?
She also looked middle eastern; or moreover, the possible family members who worked with her looked middle eastern, and by middle eastern I assume Persian for no reason other than I know Persians come from Iran, and I was hoping I could somehow work that knowledge into the conversation without it looking to obvious. I never did. And I never got over the compulsion to blurt out that Persians are from Iran.
The food is quite good. I paid $4.99 for the Gyro Pita and $2.50 to make it a combo with fries and a drink. The fries are the only disappointment which is not surprising as this is not an American Diner, but a middle eastern food joint. The fries are skinny and come with a dusting of seasoning. I hate seasoned fries in general, so maybe if you like seasoned fries you would find the fries acceptable. The ice tea I drank had a hint of peach.
The gyro was good. The lamb and beef was tender and fresh. I added the hot sauce to it and a side of feta. My server smiled at me when she packaged the food to go and then placed it in the to go bag for me even though I ordered the food to eat in.
I was slightly irritated by the girl. She did not like to answer any of my questions, but that may have been because English was not her first language. When I first entered the store I heard her and her compatriots conversing in a language I could not determine.
She wore the strange track suit that Europeans think is appropriate for every day wear. Her lime green shoes did not match. I remember I couldn't understand anything she said unless she repeated it to me and was looking right at me so I could read her lips.
She sat down at at a table to eat a snack half way through my meal. She looked skinny behind the counter but I noticed a small pooch around her middle from my new vantage point. Nothing bad. She just wasn't super tight like a swimmer or an athlete. She had some good female fat.
My cell phone was beeping throughout the meal as I was texting the Ex IGF and Leslie. The only other diners where a nice college couple. The guy ordered food and the girl watched him eat. I liked that this guy did not pay for a meal for her.
College girl had short brown hair. She smiled at me. I think she was glad I was there because we were in on the little secret that this place served decent food. Maybe she was imagining that I could be her boyfriend, because her current boyfriend took her to places like this and she had to notice how my cell phone was blowing up, so obviously even though it was a Friday night at 10:30 and I didn't have a date, I was a guy with friends who couldn't stand to be out of touch.
The college girl looked back at me a lot during my meal. Maybe thinking I would buy her some baklava. It would be her first time trying it, and I could talk to her about all the nuts in the dessert and how they firm up her bowel movements. She would probably laugh at the inappropriateness of the conversation and marvel at how at ease I was with her. She would swear off men her age for the maturity to be found in my graying goatee.
The college boy got up and the college girl left with him. I guess all the stuff we shared meant nothing to her. Girls are like that though. I'm cool with it.
I'm at home now and I am eating cookies. I have 4 cookies left. I am going to eat them all. I have to go for a Tux fitting in the morning, and I want to be able to eat a little before the wedding.
One last thing. I just posted a new Fan Letter to Steve Nash's Wife over at Bathos for the Misanthropic. Quit making me tell you that. Add Bathos to your blog reader.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Compared to a shut in I live the high life
I wish I was disabled. That way when people asked me what I do with my free time I would have a ready made excuse for them. I'm not disabled, but I sure seem to shit like one of them. I shat green again and this time I would say there is no way it was caused by dyes or the food I ate. I probably have some kind of intestinal thing that people get before they know they have AIDS.
I did not take a picture of this shit, but it was green and nasty and I kinda wished I did just to get all of you who think I am making this stuff up in my head off my case. I may have some mental problems, but hallucinations are not one of them.
I'm going to try and give up all the antacids and see if that helps. If it doesn't then I will give up and shit in a cup for a doctor and when I am diagnosed with something terrible I want a lot of sympathy.
All I did today was eat pizza with a couple of friends and run errands. I went to the bank. I got a haircut . I cleaned up around the house and did dishes. I vacuumed. I know that has nothing to do with strippers, and I know some of you only read this blog to read about strippers , but I just got told that my podcast/blog talks to much about strippers.
I did not take a picture of this shit, but it was green and nasty and I kinda wished I did just to get all of you who think I am making this stuff up in my head off my case. I may have some mental problems, but hallucinations are not one of them.
I'm going to try and give up all the antacids and see if that helps. If it doesn't then I will give up and shit in a cup for a doctor and when I am diagnosed with something terrible I want a lot of sympathy.
All I did today was eat pizza with a couple of friends and run errands. I went to the bank. I got a haircut . I cleaned up around the house and did dishes. I vacuumed. I know that has nothing to do with strippers, and I know some of you only read this blog to read about strippers , but I just got told that my podcast/blog talks to much about strippers.
Apparently he the Las Vagas Podcast better than he liked my latest man-tastic day podcast. Something about being embarrassed for me when he heard me talk about having a crush on a girl and how it was possible that the girl could find the podcast and know what a dork I am. Like she doesn't know that about me already.
It turns out that my friends feel like they get to criticize my podcast and blog because they think if they waste 20 minutes of their lives listening to the "whole" podcast they earn the right to criticise my work. I think they are wrong. The only people who get to criticize me are my loyal readers who join the community of losers we have here at this blog. My readers invest all kinds of time with me and give back feedback and add to the discussion. What would this blog be without commentors like Fawkes , Kelso, freddy, d-cup, and the cereal girls?
Either way my friend wants to think "20 minutes of effort" on a plane trip counts. Like I don't know the only other source of entertainment on a plane flight is the flight attendant spilling drinks on you, and the screaming kids in the seat behind you tapping on your head. He thinks that means he is allowed to make judgements about me and this blog. Well if you think you can make all that without a response from me you are crazy. And if you think I am going to stop talking about strippers you are even crazier.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I wonder if I could make this post more meta by adding a parenthesis (I never said I was quitting you)
I don't mean to panic people. I know you all look forward to reading my daily diary and having my brain inculcate my world view upon you. Maybe that is because unlike some people I swing for the cheap seats and use my instrument like the two ton heavy thing it is. I bash your brains in while you read me and then I leave you stunned and stultified.You sit in awe of me because I know you never make it through an entire reading of mine without having an epiphany. I bet most of you forget to feed your dogs or your children as you gobble down at the mental breakfast I lay before you.
I don't know how you manage without me. The world around you is so god damned brain dead that you have to turn off your brain just to make it through the day. Nobody challenges you and I guess that's why you keep coming here even though all I do is make fun of you and showcase my brilliance over you and give you shuddering feelings of inadequacy.
You know a lot about feeling inadequate. You can't even urinate correctly. You sit on the toilet and dribble into your panties when you sit up because your bladder doesn't like to tell you when it is done peeing. I bet sometimes you "forget" to change your underwear even though you just pissed your pants. Quit calling it dribbling. What you did was piss your pants. Quit trying to tell yourself something different like maybe the new stars of Beverly Hills 90210 really are "too skinny for TV." Cut that shit out. There is no such thing as too skinny for TV. And there is no such thing as just dribbling pee.
I guess what I am saying is that I am not giving up on all of you quite yet. I will still post. I just am not going to be pushed around like all your other toys and be bullied into posting every day. Some days writing is a chore and lately those "some days" have gotten closer together and these days the chore of writing for you is a loud, noisy six year old throwing his spaghettio's on the floor and demanding more.
I get frustrated when I can't fix a blog post because I think I have failed you and I know I am the only person looking out for you. I have several posts sitting in hiatus like an unfunny sitcom on CBS. I still feel the need to fix them and no matter what the focus groups say I still think they can be tweaked and put on the air. I just know you are going to like all the new characters I have banished into blog purgatory. And even though I know you will love all my new characters once you get to know them. I am just not sure how to introduce you to a bunch of unlovable pedophiles. I worry you may not get it. Right now all I can do is tell you that Miley Cyrus is dating a much older man and you should probably not worry about her. At least don't worry about her as much as you should worry about yourself for needing me so much. But then again your neediness is the best thing about you.
I guess I am stuck with you.
That's why I love Dr. Von Monkeystein. He can't quit me even when I quit on him even when my quitting on him isn't so much quitting as resting as even God gets to rest on the sixth day but whatever I won't quit you, dude. I just can't.
I don't know how you manage without me. The world around you is so god damned brain dead that you have to turn off your brain just to make it through the day. Nobody challenges you and I guess that's why you keep coming here even though all I do is make fun of you and showcase my brilliance over you and give you shuddering feelings of inadequacy.
You know a lot about feeling inadequate. You can't even urinate correctly. You sit on the toilet and dribble into your panties when you sit up because your bladder doesn't like to tell you when it is done peeing. I bet sometimes you "forget" to change your underwear even though you just pissed your pants. Quit calling it dribbling. What you did was piss your pants. Quit trying to tell yourself something different like maybe the new stars of Beverly Hills 90210 really are "too skinny for TV." Cut that shit out. There is no such thing as too skinny for TV. And there is no such thing as just dribbling pee.
They say the bitch on the left is skinny. I say I like a woman with an eating disorder. I know you like to say that you have an eating disorder too, but eating too much is not a disorder it's just gross. "Just like being able to count that bitches ribs." You reply. Yeah. Just keep telling yourself that. I think we all know better.
I guess what I am saying is that I am not giving up on all of you quite yet. I will still post. I just am not going to be pushed around like all your other toys and be bullied into posting every day. Some days writing is a chore and lately those "some days" have gotten closer together and these days the chore of writing for you is a loud, noisy six year old throwing his spaghettio's on the floor and demanding more.
I get frustrated when I can't fix a blog post because I think I have failed you and I know I am the only person looking out for you. I have several posts sitting in hiatus like an unfunny sitcom on CBS. I still feel the need to fix them and no matter what the focus groups say I still think they can be tweaked and put on the air. I just know you are going to like all the new characters I have banished into blog purgatory. And even though I know you will love all my new characters once you get to know them. I am just not sure how to introduce you to a bunch of unlovable pedophiles. I worry you may not get it. Right now all I can do is tell you that Miley Cyrus is dating a much older man and you should probably not worry about her. At least don't worry about her as much as you should worry about yourself for needing me so much. But then again your neediness is the best thing about you.
I guess I am stuck with you.
That's why I love Dr. Von Monkeystein. He can't quit me even when I quit on him even when my quitting on him isn't so much quitting as resting as even God gets to rest on the sixth day but whatever I won't quit you, dude. I just can't.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
I catch Asthma from work. I almost don't get paid this week.
It feels like I swallowed play dough into my chest. I think the bronchitis I caught at work has turned into asthma. Sometimes while speaking I have to cough a bit and I can't get any air to form words. I know I don't really have asthma, I just need to go to the doctor and get some anti-biotics to finish off what my lackadaisical immune system seems to be unable to finish off on its own.
Some people get sick or the flu. I get asthma. Also because I have been eating fast food again I need to report to you that the weak shitting is back. My bowel movements have been very unfirm, pasty yellow, and squirty. They have been that way for a few days or a couple of weeks I can't remember.
I still smell cancer in the hallways and my room from the carpets. Most of the paint smell is gone and by gone I mean has been absorbed into my lungs where it probably gave me asthma.
It was horrible busy at work yesterday. I did three work sheets of money orders. On slow days I might do half a sheet. We were so busy that we had all 4 mangers at check stands helping out customers so I had no help with my line that stretched out of customer service and into the main floor. None of the customers complained but I felt their heavy stares at my back whenever I turned around to type in a Western Union. I did 12 Western Unions and if each one takes 5 minutes or so you can see I spent at least an hour typing with my back to an angry and impatient crowd. I think you can imagine my anxiety about having my back turned for so long. I just know one day one of you impatient little buggers is not going to be able to take it anymore and jump up at me while I am typing away and stab me in the back. When that happens all I want you to know is that I have "super" fighting skills that rarely come out but they will if you stab me and I can't be held responsible for what happens to you next. I think a good head slam to the desk at least.
I am OK dealing with all the weirdo customers I get at the customer service desk. But yesterday I had to deal with a lot of my fellow workers who were quite angry that our checks had not come in at their normal time. By 4 pm I had taken a few dozen calls from angry baggers and mop hands asking, "when they were going to get their money?" All I could tell them was that the checks were not here and I had no idea where they were or when they were coming.
It turns out that the checks got delivered to another store by mistake. We found this out not thorough the quick action of our esteemed manager, but because several employees on their own called corporate and tracked down our payroll. Our manager said some something dismissive about not having the time to track them down herself. I guess when you drive three different Cadillacs to work you don't worry to much about one missing paycheck. But as part time workers who get paid a few cents over minimum wage, most of us live paycheck to paycheck. A few workers were actually stranded at work as they did not have enough money for gas to go home and then come back later whenever the checks got it. Finally around 6pm the checks came in and a lot of workers were happy. Some of them missed deadlines for rent and other bills so they will have to eat a few late fees. Our checks were already a day later than usual because of the holiday (which we all worked but corporate does not so they send the checks out a day late.)
I can't help but guffaw at the irony of corporate fat cats taking labor day off and then fucking up the actual worker paychecks after forcing labor to labor on labor day-but that is because I am closet Marxist like Barack Obama and if you did not know Barack Obama was a closet Marxist then you obviously don't get the forwarded e-mails from my Mom that link to this webpage from Investor's Business Daily (according to the e-mail's author you can't dismiss this smear against Obama because "it's from Investors Business Daily, not some right wing publication* or McCain's political camp, and it is a very revealing view of Democrat presidential candidate, Obama.")
All I know is that the e-mail starts out with this bit of unbeatable logic "this is just my opinion and we all got opinions and if you don't like my opinion then delete this e-mail, don't send me your opinion about it."
So the author is fine with labeling all events in the world as simply events that get to be interpreted and because of the importance she places on opinions she feels compelled to share hers with me, but she does not want to hear my "interpretation" of her opinion. Well. You can't fault her logic on that one.
I would like to go off on a riff on the problem with the "logic" most Americans have. But I don't really have a lot of time left today, just seven minutes. All I know is that Sarah Palin has an unwed under age daughter and that daughter is pregnant which I guess proves the case that abstinence only programs really work, ...but that's just my opinion.
p.s.
I would like to point out that the author of the e-mails was not my mother in case I did not make that clear. I don't know if my mother even reads the e-mails she has been forwarding to me lately. I have to hope she does not as that would make me wonder how much genetics has a role in determining the political attitudes of humans. Even though I am Marxist, I take quite seriously the role that non-environmental factors play in behavior and personality.
*According to Investor's Daily (a non right wing sounding publication if I ever heard one) only a Marxist can think that a living wage of 10 dollars an hour is a good idea, along with say "fair trade" and "fair labor practices," with breaks for "patriot employers" who cow-tow to unions, and sticks for "nonpatriot" companies that don't." Gosh, I hope we don't start giving tax breaks to companies that provide good jobs to Americans and continue with the right wing approach of giving away our shared wealth to individuals and companies that export jobs overseas.
Some people get sick or the flu. I get asthma. Also because I have been eating fast food again I need to report to you that the weak shitting is back. My bowel movements have been very unfirm, pasty yellow, and squirty. They have been that way for a few days or a couple of weeks I can't remember.
I still smell cancer in the hallways and my room from the carpets. Most of the paint smell is gone and by gone I mean has been absorbed into my lungs where it probably gave me asthma.
It was horrible busy at work yesterday. I did three work sheets of money orders. On slow days I might do half a sheet. We were so busy that we had all 4 mangers at check stands helping out customers so I had no help with my line that stretched out of customer service and into the main floor. None of the customers complained but I felt their heavy stares at my back whenever I turned around to type in a Western Union. I did 12 Western Unions and if each one takes 5 minutes or so you can see I spent at least an hour typing with my back to an angry and impatient crowd. I think you can imagine my anxiety about having my back turned for so long. I just know one day one of you impatient little buggers is not going to be able to take it anymore and jump up at me while I am typing away and stab me in the back. When that happens all I want you to know is that I have "super" fighting skills that rarely come out but they will if you stab me and I can't be held responsible for what happens to you next. I think a good head slam to the desk at least.
I am OK dealing with all the weirdo customers I get at the customer service desk. But yesterday I had to deal with a lot of my fellow workers who were quite angry that our checks had not come in at their normal time. By 4 pm I had taken a few dozen calls from angry baggers and mop hands asking, "when they were going to get their money?" All I could tell them was that the checks were not here and I had no idea where they were or when they were coming.
It turns out that the checks got delivered to another store by mistake. We found this out not thorough the quick action of our esteemed manager, but because several employees on their own called corporate and tracked down our payroll. Our manager said some something dismissive about not having the time to track them down herself. I guess when you drive three different Cadillacs to work you don't worry to much about one missing paycheck. But as part time workers who get paid a few cents over minimum wage, most of us live paycheck to paycheck. A few workers were actually stranded at work as they did not have enough money for gas to go home and then come back later whenever the checks got it. Finally around 6pm the checks came in and a lot of workers were happy. Some of them missed deadlines for rent and other bills so they will have to eat a few late fees. Our checks were already a day later than usual because of the holiday (which we all worked but corporate does not so they send the checks out a day late.)
I can't help but guffaw at the irony of corporate fat cats taking labor day off and then fucking up the actual worker paychecks after forcing labor to labor on labor day-but that is because I am closet Marxist like Barack Obama and if you did not know Barack Obama was a closet Marxist then you obviously don't get the forwarded e-mails from my Mom that link to this webpage from Investor's Business Daily (according to the e-mail's author you can't dismiss this smear against Obama because "it's from Investors Business Daily, not some right wing publication* or McCain's political camp, and it is a very revealing view of Democrat presidential candidate, Obama.")
All I know is that the e-mail starts out with this bit of unbeatable logic "this is just my opinion and we all got opinions and if you don't like my opinion then delete this e-mail, don't send me your opinion about it."
So the author is fine with labeling all events in the world as simply events that get to be interpreted and because of the importance she places on opinions she feels compelled to share hers with me, but she does not want to hear my "interpretation" of her opinion. Well. You can't fault her logic on that one.
I would like to go off on a riff on the problem with the "logic" most Americans have. But I don't really have a lot of time left today, just seven minutes. All I know is that Sarah Palin has an unwed under age daughter and that daughter is pregnant which I guess proves the case that abstinence only programs really work, ...but that's just my opinion.
p.s.
I would like to point out that the author of the e-mails was not my mother in case I did not make that clear. I don't know if my mother even reads the e-mails she has been forwarding to me lately. I have to hope she does not as that would make me wonder how much genetics has a role in determining the political attitudes of humans. Even though I am Marxist, I take quite seriously the role that non-environmental factors play in behavior and personality.
*According to Investor's Daily (a non right wing sounding publication if I ever heard one) only a Marxist can think that a living wage of 10 dollars an hour is a good idea, along with say "fair trade" and "fair labor practices," with breaks for "patriot employers" who cow-tow to unions, and sticks for "nonpatriot" companies that don't." Gosh, I hope we don't start giving tax breaks to companies that provide good jobs to Americans and continue with the right wing approach of giving away our shared wealth to individuals and companies that export jobs overseas.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Is it that I only blog on my days off now?
I wished I could tell you about all the drama that is going down at work. But I can't. There are things that even I feel warrant discretion about. So I am not going to blog about any of that. If I did you would so love the gossip, I promise.
I've worked the past 9 days in row. Even still I will only get half an hour of overtime this week. I picked time for 6 straight days on one pay period and 3 days straight on the next pay period. I will never do that again. I am just a little burned out on work right now. I did find out today that as of August 1st I am officially entitled to health care. Awesome! I can't wait to meet my doctor. I need a prostate exam.
I washed the truck today and it rained like an hour later. I was a little pissed about that, but I guess that is just god's way of showing he is still in charge and when you think about it that way it's kinda sad, so I hope he got his thrill on.
I am giving up soda again. I plan on having a gallon of decaf tea and a gallon of caffeinated tea in the fridge at all times so I won't be tempted to drink coke at home. The loophole is that I can drink a soda when I eat out or go to the movies.
It has been three days since I masturbated. I plan on not masturbating for at least two weeks. I hope to get some of the feeling back in my penis by then. It is time to stop masturbating when porn becomes boring. If you don't you can end up (deleted).**
I don't really have anything exciting to talk about on this blog today. I miss writing so I am just going to type and post and try and remember that nobody reads me anyway, so it doesn't matter that I am boring today because this blog is getting like 30 hits a day now and most of those are not even people looking to read anything I have written, so I think I will just stop writing like this is a destination for readers and more like a place for me to vent and collect my thoughts. If you enjoy it keep coming back.
Recently I've been talking to my ex girlfriend a lot for some strange reason. Thanks to the miracle of Google I was able to relive the last three years of our relationship. The past few years it has been all e-mail and phone calls. I think I saw her last in person 3 years ago. We had a discussion about how the last time we saw each other it was my birthday and we had a lot of fun that night.
I had a party at a local karaoke bar. We were all over each other that night. We made out in front of all my friends and we did not seem to care. She wondered aloud why after such a good time we did not see each other again. She blames some rather cold and mean e-mails that I sent to her. So I looked back at those e-mails (through the magic we call g-mail) and it turns out that for like 4 months I begged her to come see me and she promised she would and then she would flake on me.
My ex is not what you call monogamous. I knew that about her when we met. A few months after the birthday thing I finally got the e-mail that said she was seeing someone else and it had become "serious." I then sent her a few cold e-mails. I do kinda have a gift for them. I looked them over and man. I must say they were pretty awesomely detached and vicious without at all being accusing or directly insulting. I must say I have a gift there. I am pretty good at getting to understand a person emotionally. I can then really go after a persons weaknesses like a razor cutting into bar soap.
Her flailing responses I dodged effortlessly. She even mentioned in one e-mail that she thought that I was talking down to her. I was. I can't wait to talk to her so I can outline the timeline of events that let up to our break up. In our conversations we were mentioning the people we slept with after we broke up. She let it slip that she had sex with some guy from her work while she was going to math class. I did a little Google email search for school and discovered that was right around my birthday.
I will let the readers of this blog draw their own conclusions. I just know that for some reason it got me a little sad to read out old history and I am now drinking one of the the three beers I have in the fridge. Ice cold.
My Google ex girl friend is all wrong for me. But she fits the profile of women I fall for. The cool calculated distance of trashy white girls who never learned about emotions. They are abused by most of the men in their lives but sometimes find the nice guy to be a respite from the chaos and chain smoking in their lives. I am a sucker for women who don't want to give me what I need to feel secure because I guess I need to feel abandoned to feel loved and I guess I can blame my parents for that.
That a was a bit melodramatic and let me be the first to apologize. I hardly need to blame my parents for everything that goes wrong in my life. I don't like those bloggers or those people for that matter. I was just attempting a bit of self analysis in the classical Freudian tradition. I won't bother to edit any of this out.
I am not too sure why I get jealous anyway. I have all these cuckolding and pregnancy fetishes she could probably help me out with. She has two kids and she likes to have sex with men as long as they are not me.
FROM METAFILTER A RECENT POST
Cuckhold Pregnancy: the ultimate expression of a lifestyle. Being deceived into raising another man's child would be a nightmare for most men. For other's, it's the ultimate hot fantasy. Taking it to the extreme of having your wife bear another man's child is a suprising (to me) twist on the Cuckhold fantasy. Interestingly, it seems to dovetail with another sexual fetish previously discussed on Metafilter. Oh yeah, NSFW !!!!
I've been talking to my ex for about an hour a night for the last few nights which is kinda weird. We have not talked this much in a while. She used to like calling me on the way to work because she can't figure out how to install an ipod in her car and she doesn't have the patience to discover the funniness that is this the self help podcast.
The podcast has finally been digged by another person. I just want to thank her. YOU Rock! I hope one day to get you some gravy for all your efforts. I know you don't want the gravy, but trust me once you get a little gravy you will love it.
Like I said I was reading through the old g-mail I write the ex and I wrote her a lot of funny ass shit. I wrote her a deleted scene from A Few Good Men after she asked me to go to a movie.
"I don't have any plans as of yet for the weekend, so a movie sounds nice. But it does suspiciously sound like a date, I have not been on one in years but..."
Deleted Scene from a A FEW GOOD MEN DVD
TOM CRUISE:
"I have been asked out on a date before and it sounds a lot like that..."
Demi Moore:
"You like seafood...I know a good seafood shop...Wait a minute, your a 5 foot 3 freaky, gay, Scientologist and your telling me you've been asked on a date before?"
TOM:
Don't tell me about the History of Psychiatry, you don't know the history...I have done the research..."
Wow. I should really be writing for the onion or something. Maybe I could at least find a way to not make 10 dollars an hour less than a woman with the IQ of a small squirrel. I must be intentionally doing this to myself. I can see no logical reason why the entire world is able to earn more money than me. If I at all subscribed to theories of self sabotage I would have to label my behavior as exactly that rather than simply slackerdom or underachievement. I mean I love the girl but she really is as close to a retarded person as I feel comfortable talking to.
We should really only talk for like half an hour. I run out of things to talk about pretty quickly with her. Then she repeats stories about her kids or her life. We have known each other for 5 years so I have heard most of the good stories by now.
Ok, I am running out of thing to say and I am done with my beer.
I should mention that I find Sydney Pollack to be one of the most underrated directors of our time. I am watching the Yakuza on the Netflix. A good flick.
** His royal highness King George the Third has deleted this section from this journal. If you require access to this material and hold a stage 7 pass please press ctrl alt del ...now....
1:21 am
I am drinking the second beer. I have had three solid bowel movements in a row. I attribute this to eating Rasin Bran for breakfast.
Watch the trailer for a few good men and you will never want to watch the movie. The trailer is cut straight out of 1953.
p.s.
If anyone knows where I can find the scene I am spoofing please email it to me.
I've worked the past 9 days in row. Even still I will only get half an hour of overtime this week. I picked time for 6 straight days on one pay period and 3 days straight on the next pay period. I will never do that again. I am just a little burned out on work right now. I did find out today that as of August 1st I am officially entitled to health care. Awesome! I can't wait to meet my doctor. I need a prostate exam.
I washed the truck today and it rained like an hour later. I was a little pissed about that, but I guess that is just god's way of showing he is still in charge and when you think about it that way it's kinda sad, so I hope he got his thrill on.
I am giving up soda again. I plan on having a gallon of decaf tea and a gallon of caffeinated tea in the fridge at all times so I won't be tempted to drink coke at home. The loophole is that I can drink a soda when I eat out or go to the movies.
It has been three days since I masturbated. I plan on not masturbating for at least two weeks. I hope to get some of the feeling back in my penis by then. It is time to stop masturbating when porn becomes boring. If you don't you can end up (deleted).**
I don't really have anything exciting to talk about on this blog today. I miss writing so I am just going to type and post and try and remember that nobody reads me anyway, so it doesn't matter that I am boring today because this blog is getting like 30 hits a day now and most of those are not even people looking to read anything I have written, so I think I will just stop writing like this is a destination for readers and more like a place for me to vent and collect my thoughts. If you enjoy it keep coming back.
Recently I've been talking to my ex girlfriend a lot for some strange reason. Thanks to the miracle of Google I was able to relive the last three years of our relationship. The past few years it has been all e-mail and phone calls. I think I saw her last in person 3 years ago. We had a discussion about how the last time we saw each other it was my birthday and we had a lot of fun that night.
I had a party at a local karaoke bar. We were all over each other that night. We made out in front of all my friends and we did not seem to care. She wondered aloud why after such a good time we did not see each other again. She blames some rather cold and mean e-mails that I sent to her. So I looked back at those e-mails (through the magic we call g-mail) and it turns out that for like 4 months I begged her to come see me and she promised she would and then she would flake on me.
My ex is not what you call monogamous. I knew that about her when we met. A few months after the birthday thing I finally got the e-mail that said she was seeing someone else and it had become "serious." I then sent her a few cold e-mails. I do kinda have a gift for them. I looked them over and man. I must say they were pretty awesomely detached and vicious without at all being accusing or directly insulting. I must say I have a gift there. I am pretty good at getting to understand a person emotionally. I can then really go after a persons weaknesses like a razor cutting into bar soap.
Her flailing responses I dodged effortlessly. She even mentioned in one e-mail that she thought that I was talking down to her. I was. I can't wait to talk to her so I can outline the timeline of events that let up to our break up. In our conversations we were mentioning the people we slept with after we broke up. She let it slip that she had sex with some guy from her work while she was going to math class. I did a little Google email search for school and discovered that was right around my birthday.
I will let the readers of this blog draw their own conclusions. I just know that for some reason it got me a little sad to read out old history and I am now drinking one of the the three beers I have in the fridge. Ice cold.
My Google ex girl friend is all wrong for me. But she fits the profile of women I fall for. The cool calculated distance of trashy white girls who never learned about emotions. They are abused by most of the men in their lives but sometimes find the nice guy to be a respite from the chaos and chain smoking in their lives. I am a sucker for women who don't want to give me what I need to feel secure because I guess I need to feel abandoned to feel loved and I guess I can blame my parents for that.
That a was a bit melodramatic and let me be the first to apologize. I hardly need to blame my parents for everything that goes wrong in my life. I don't like those bloggers or those people for that matter. I was just attempting a bit of self analysis in the classical Freudian tradition. I won't bother to edit any of this out.
I am not too sure why I get jealous anyway. I have all these cuckolding and pregnancy fetishes she could probably help me out with. She has two kids and she likes to have sex with men as long as they are not me.
FROM METAFILTER A RECENT POST
Cuckhold Pregnancy: the ultimate expression of a lifestyle. Being deceived into raising another man's child would be a nightmare for most men. For other's, it's the ultimate hot fantasy. Taking it to the extreme of having your wife bear another man's child is a suprising (to me) twist on the Cuckhold fantasy. Interestingly, it seems to dovetail with another sexual fetish previously discussed on Metafilter. Oh yeah, NSFW !!!!
I've been talking to my ex for about an hour a night for the last few nights which is kinda weird. We have not talked this much in a while. She used to like calling me on the way to work because she can't figure out how to install an ipod in her car and she doesn't have the patience to discover the funniness that is this the self help podcast.
The podcast has finally been digged by another person. I just want to thank her. YOU Rock! I hope one day to get you some gravy for all your efforts. I know you don't want the gravy, but trust me once you get a little gravy you will love it.
Like I said I was reading through the old g-mail I write the ex and I wrote her a lot of funny ass shit. I wrote her a deleted scene from A Few Good Men after she asked me to go to a movie.
"I don't have any plans as of yet for the weekend, so a movie sounds nice. But it does suspiciously sound like a date, I have not been on one in years but..."
Deleted Scene from a A FEW GOOD MEN DVD
TOM CRUISE:
"I have been asked out on a date before and it sounds a lot like that..."
Demi Moore:
"You like seafood...I know a good seafood shop...Wait a minute, your a 5 foot 3 freaky, gay, Scientologist and your telling me you've been asked on a date before?"
TOM:
Don't tell me about the History of Psychiatry, you don't know the history...I have done the research..."
Wow. I should really be writing for the onion or something. Maybe I could at least find a way to not make 10 dollars an hour less than a woman with the IQ of a small squirrel. I must be intentionally doing this to myself. I can see no logical reason why the entire world is able to earn more money than me. If I at all subscribed to theories of self sabotage I would have to label my behavior as exactly that rather than simply slackerdom or underachievement. I mean I love the girl but she really is as close to a retarded person as I feel comfortable talking to.
We should really only talk for like half an hour. I run out of things to talk about pretty quickly with her. Then she repeats stories about her kids or her life. We have known each other for 5 years so I have heard most of the good stories by now.
Ok, I am running out of thing to say and I am done with my beer.
I should mention that I find Sydney Pollack to be one of the most underrated directors of our time. I am watching the Yakuza on the Netflix. A good flick.
** His royal highness King George the Third has deleted this section from this journal. If you require access to this material and hold a stage 7 pass please press ctrl alt del ...now....
1:21 am
I am drinking the second beer. I have had three solid bowel movements in a row. I attribute this to eating Rasin Bran for breakfast.
Watch the trailer for a few good men and you will never want to watch the movie. The trailer is cut straight out of 1953.
p.s.
If anyone knows where I can find the scene I am spoofing please email it to me.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
The government tells me to suck it on health care and white people are still ascared of a black man getting to be president
I pooped green today. It was the second time I pooped green in two weeks. I guess I have the AIDS. I don't eat lettuce or anything green, so I know it has nothing to do with my diet. My tummy feels crummy so maybe I just have a bug or something. I can't go to the doctor to make sure, because I don't have health insurance.
I applied to the state to get access to government run health care. I have spent the last two weeks in breathless anticipation waiting for an answer from DES to my application. In came in yesterdays mail and the answer is no. I make way too much money it seems. Anyone making more than 897 dollars a month won't get assistance in John McCain's state paying for health care.
I guess I will just have to wait for the free market to step in and do what is does best: take care of the lower class. In just a couple of months I will get health benefits from my employer. Hopefully I don't die of a bowel obstruction, or a bowel disorder before that. I stopped drinking beer and I limit myself to just a couple of cokes a day. So I have done my part as best I can. I say this because I am just wondering if anyone wants me to document my poop for them.
I know a lot of you don't believe me when I say I poop green. I can now take a picture of the poop, because I got a digital camera the other day. I could take photos and post them to the net is all I am saying. Maybe this idea won't take off, but if you still feel compelled to request proof from me I could e-mail you pictures of my poop whenever it turns green or yellow. I get no sexual satisfaction from this, if that is what you are thinking. I just want you people to take me seriously, and if e-mailing you pictures of my yellow and green poop is what it takes then so be it!
IF OBAMA THINKS WHITE PEOPLE ARE OVER SLAVERY HE NEEDS TO MEET SOME NEW WHITE PEOPLE
I get e-mails everyday from my step-parents. My step parents are the kinda people who think chain e-mails are funny. They also think I will stop being a member of the Communist Party (USA!) if I read a "fun fact" from talk radio. They think I will join the jesus lovers if I read a story about how angels rescued a puppy. They won't give up, just like my internet g/f won't give up the idea of selling me on puppies. I hate puppies more than I hate Rush Limbaugh. The only reason I visit youtube (other than all the teen girls dancing in the panties) is to watch soldiers toss puppies of cliffs. I find that sick shit funny and I won't apologize for it either. I guess you could say that makes me a dick, but not as big a dick as people who pass around those fake e-mails that claim that Obama is a Muslim who will start a race war if he gets elected.
My step parents sent me a couple of those e-mails and I finally got sick of it when the last one came with a link to scopes.com for fact checking it. So I went to Scopes at obama/muslim and the first thing I noticed was that scopes said there is a bunch of e-mails being sent around that are fake and not true.
You would think that would be the end of it. I mean I looked it up and showed my step units proof that the e-mail they sent was fake. But you'd be wrong. I don't normally put my real life in this blog. At least when I do I make sure to fictionalize it to protect the guilty. But I say fuck it today. * Let me just show you what the good white people really think about a black man running for president.
DAY 1 e-mail from STep DAd
DEAR ROMIUS [Not my real name, and yes the guy writes in all caps!]
HERE IS SOME INTERESTING READING. PICK ANY OF THEM AND CHECK IT OUT WITH SNOPES.COM OR WHEREVER YOU WANT.
DAY 2
my response is to email step daddy a link with this rather objective headline:
Report: Hoax Anti-Obama E-Mails Still Fool Dumb White Guys!
[haha I am funny!]
I added this commentary as well:
If you click on the link in the daily news (That liberal rag) it takes you to the snopes. com website and SNOPES ITSELF says the two different emails you sent me are fake (it quotes them and I looked over both that you sent me. )
Despite the paper being liberally biased (even biased fox news get things right on occasion)-I'm afraid that the two emails you sent are KNOWN fakes and not FROM SNOPES at all. One could tell simply from the tone of the e-mail that is would not come from Snopes as snopes writing style is more neutral and even-handed than what we read in the e-mails you passed along. HERE is the REAL link to SNOPES to OBAMA AND MUSLIMs the emails you sent me are false.
I have no doubt that you don't like OBAMA because he is a liberal and has differs in opinion on things like taxes etc., and not because of some silly e-mails you received; however, you are passing them along and must have thought they were of some importance.
I would hope after you read this you might pass the real snope.com link along.
Howver you sent me those e-mails. You did not send me refutations of his postiton. You sent me emails that are hoaxes, those hoaxes are going around the net claiming false things about Obama, which is why I sent you the the info on snopes via the daily news. I should have just sent you the original Snopes as you seem to trust them (BOTH of your previous emails contain SNOPES as a verifier of truth) I hope after you read the real snopes article your fears will be put to rest.
Regarding the Reverend Wright, I must assume that REV. HAGEE (MCCAIN"S PREACHER) and his zealous anti-semitism and racism is unknown to you. If not why would Obama's preacher's racism bother you more?
HAGEE is as bad if not worse on race (not to mention his anti-catholic stance). [This was written before the latest Hagee snafu about how god wanted Hitler to "persuade" the Jews to Isreal.]
Regarding your last email (AGAIN VERIFIED AS A HOAX AT SNOPES ) even if it were true -- politicians lie and politicians make their biography serve their desire for election. McCain has been around for a hundred years. I am sure their must be a million instances where he has misstated the truth (he can't tell the difference between Suni AL-queda and shiite Iran, but that is a different matter.)
If ethics were a concern for politicians then John McCain's involvement in the KEATING 5 would disqualify him from office. I can't see how he could get a job as a bank teller with ethical violations like that. I don't think any of those reasons are the real reasons you dislike Obama. I do not assume you are a racist either. {Very kind of me, no?}
However I think it is dangerous (I don't use that term lightly ) to send forwarded e-mails that attack the character of a person (running for office or not) in the manner that the e-mails I received from you and [redacted] did. They attack the man's patriotism and loyalty to the US. I find attacks like that highly offensive. The e-mails are hoaxes and wrong. The attacks are unwarranted and of an ethically dubious kind. In addition, I would not take the word of a forwarded emailer that snopes verified this stuff when I could check snopes myself. The email attacks were not of the kind that most politicians must face like "he supports a gas tax," but "he will give the muslim the bomb and kill all the white people" those kind of attacks should be vetted by you, because by forwarding them you have attached your good name to them. I know you would not want to be part of something like that.
DAY 3
STEP DADDY IS IN A BAD MOOD FROM MY LAST EMAIL:
I ONLY SENT IT TO YOU AND TOLD YOU THAT YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT. I DID NOT AND DON'T PUT SNOPES AS THE GOSPEL FOR ANYTHING SO I JUST THROWED IT OUT FOR YOU. I DID NOT KNOW IT WAS GOING TO CAUSE YOU TO GET YOUR DRAWERS IN A WAD. ERGO, WON'T BE SENDING MUCH YOUR WAY UNLESS IT'S FAMILY ORIENTED AND W/O POLITICS. YOU APPEAR TO BE MORE CONCERNED IN RESEARCHING THOSE THINGS THAN MAKING A DECENT CAREER FOR YOURSELF, (maybe if you stopped asking me to research stuff I would have time to get a real job!) SO HAVE AT IT AND I WISH YOU WELL.
I MEAN THAT SINCERELY. [nice touch] THAT SEEMS TO BE YOUR BAG.
WELL SAID AND I CONGRATULATE YOU, BUT I STILL DON'T TRUST THE MAN AND DISLIKE THE DEMOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY EVEN IF THEY WERE TRULY LIVING IT WHICH THEY ARE NOT. EVERYTHING ACROSS THE REP/DEM LINES ARE FOR SELF GAIN AND POWER AND NOT IN SUPPORT OF THOSE THAT VOTED THEM INTO OFFICE WHICH IS THE SCARIEST OF ALL THINGS. AT MY AGE, HAVING DONE A LOT FOR ALMOST 67 YEARS WITH A LOT OF HARD WORK, IT IS HARD TO SUPPORT ANY POLITICIAN, WHETHER IT BE DEM OR REP THAT WANTS TO GIVE A PORTION OF MY LIFE'S EARNINGS TO THOSE THAT DO NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE ANYTHING IN THEIR LIVES. RIGHT NOW, YOU FIT THAT BILL WITH YOU WILLINGNESS TO JUST "GET BY", AND MAKE NOTHING OF YOURSELF. YOU SAY I OFFENDED YOU, WELL, THE FACT THAT YOU ARE SO INTELLIGENT AND HAVE SO MUCH TO OFFER, YET DO NOTHING..............THAT OFFENDS ME. BEING WHAT YOU CALL POLITICALLY CORRECT DOES NOT EARN A PAY CHECK NOR DOES IT PROVIDE FOR THE FUTURE WHICH IS SOMETHING YOU SHOULD BE REALLY CONCERNED WITH ESPECIALLY AT YOUR AGE. WELL, THAT IS IF YOU WANT TO WORK IN MEDIOCRITY ALL YOUR LIFE, THEN I GUESS IT OK, BUT IT NEVER WAS FOR ME AND MILLIONS OF OTHERS. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU, THEN MAYBE THERE IS HOPE AND I KNOW YOU HAVE THE POTENTIAL OR I WOULD NOT HAVE OFFERED TO SEND YOU BACK TO SCHOOL.
NUFF SAID
Indeed sir.
I never responded back even though I meant to. I guess I should have pointed out to him that political correctness has nothing to do with calling a person a traitor, that it is just plain mean and libelous. But I was too busy eating ice cream.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Today's poop watch is green with a side of nuts. I avoid another dog attack. My feud with the Drunken Stepfather continues.
I make sure to write down how often I take a green shit because I am hyper paranoid about dying. Just like this site is dying, now that I have been banned in the forum by the folks at Drunken Stepfather. Not that this site was going anywhere before that. But I am down to less than a hundred hits a day and most of those look at one page before realizing they can waste their time better someplace else.
I think my poop was green because I drank a Sobe with Acerola and Hiprose at work yesterday. Acerola has lots of iron which can turn your shit green. Also I had one of those Fiber 1 bars with 9 grams of added fiber. The added fiber comes in the form of some kind of Mayan Root, and who knows maybe that gives you green bowel movements too. All I know is I topped it off with a bowl of chili so I will be constipated tomorrow I bet. I can tell you that my tummy had been hurting today, and that I had a terrible case of acid-reflux yesterday, and now I feel like a bad case of the diarrhea coming on.
I had to eat left over chili because I rode the bike down to the local Mexican eatery for a burrito, but for some reason the mexican food place only serves cars at their late night drive thru now. They used to have their diner open all night and it was a great place to meet drunk chicks. So I had to pedal back home without my beef/been combo burrito.
On the way home I saw a large black dog at the end of the block. I was hungry but not hallucinatory, so I decided I better ride all the way around the block to get home.
I can't pay the doctor bill for a rabies shot as I have no idea if I have been approved yet for government health care. I got a letter back that said they received my application and that it was being forwarded to the proper eligibility auditor to determine if I was indeed eligible. I tried calling the auditor but I was put on hold all day and I don't have a case number so I can't use the automated system to find anything out either. I guess I am just going to do what most people do when confronted by the massive red tape and tyranny of the state. I will wait and see and hope for the best.
I had hoped for the best when it comes to resloving my feud withe the drunken stepfather, but then he posted a rather sad blog entry about how wonderful his fans are on his forums. He said something like even though all the haters of his site think he is a misogynistic asshole his fans are sweet to all the girls who visit the forum.
when I asked a girl about it she said that unlike all other forums, the guys on it are actually nice to the girls. It’s funny that the site gets slated as a misogynist site that hates on and objectifies women, when in reality all I do is hate on an objectify sluts who are already objectifying themselves
when I asked a girl about it she said that unlike all other forums, the guys on it are actually nice to the girls. It’s funny that the site gets slated as a misogynist site that hates on and objectifies women, when in reality all I do is hate on an objectify sluts who are already objectifying themselves
Personally I like all the hating on girls that Jesus does. I will always be a fan of the D.S., but I thought he was kinda pathetic, sucking up to his 5 forum based fans is pretty sad. Those forum guys can't get a guy like jesus. They can't take a joke because they don't realize that they are banning me for posting the same kind of thing that their 'hero' Jesus Martinez does all day. I say this because I need to warn my readers that the forum over at Drunken Stepfather thinks this site is a pedophiles site and that is why they banned me and that is why they took down their link to my site.
So by extension you, my readers, are all chomo's too, and if you don't take that personally I will. I mean I know some of you really are pedophiles, but some of you sublimated that desire to have kids, and if your ex found out you visited this site he might try and take them away from you, which might be a good thing for the kids, but it would have a devastating impact on your psyche. And I don't like having that kind of blood on my hands, so maybe (just maybe) you need to tell the pussies who run the forum at Drunken Stepfather that this site is not a haven for child lovers, but is just a good old fashioned place where I can post totally legal pictures of jail bait you can jack off to in the darkened corner of your basement. Nobody needs to know about your dirty secrets. And you can count on me to do whatever it takes to make sure that nobody will.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I celebrate St. Patty's Day by confirming that alcohol makes me shit yellow
I am hoping that my shit being all yellow today has something to do with all the green beer I drank last night. Me and the FrO went out bar hopping because the only holiday we celebrate all year is a drinking holiday.
The FrO has gout which you would think would make him stop drinking. But this is one tuff motherfucka. Either that or he is really just one dumb muthafucka. He took a week off from work because gout said "sit the fuck down." The good news that came out of this is he was able to devote that time to reading every single post ever made on this site, including reading all the comments.
I think the rest of you should call of work and do the same. If you can provide me some kind of proof I will send you an autographed copy of the podcast on CD and a packet of gravy. Actually you have to choose, either the packet of gravy, or the signed CD. If you want I will even sign the gravy for you. You can choose brown gravy or country gravy. I recommend country gravy as it goes good with biscuits.
First we checked out R.T. O'Sullivans. O'Sullivans had a 10 dollar cover to get in and that is more money than I make in an hour. We bought 6 dollar Irish Killian Red beers, by that I mean I bought a Killian's red. I won't lie for my friend, he bought a bud light because he is one prissy bitch, for a guy who prefers to limp around with gout rather than take medicine or stop drinking.
I had to pee as soon as we got there and that's not just because I don't want to pay for the first round. I'll have you know I bought the first round. So I went around checking for porta potties and finally found one that wasn't locked. But it was occupied by a girl with her pants around her ankle and big wad of toilet paper around her arm who screamed at me "it's doesn't lock" or something like that. I was too flustered to make any much sense out of anything, and just ran off to quickly use the toilet inside the bar.
FrO actually talked to a girl tonight. That's a first I believe. I am sure she walked up to him. He said he talked for about 2 minutes and then ran out of things to say and so went inside to look for me. There were plenty of hotties to look at, and the new thing this Patty's Day was for girls to wear short skirts with green stockings or garter belts. I hope that tradition keeps going.
Next, we went to a bar that is owned by a famous ex basketball player in Phoenix. Dan wasn't there but I did tell the bartender that I was gay for Dan Marjele, but I don't think that makes me any gayer than any other dude as Dan Marjele is pretty cool. I also told the guy I need to get a cell phone that I can use to upskirt with, and if you want to send me one of those, I promise I will send you two packets of gravy. One brown and the other country, and then you can get your gravy on!
We left because only three people were in the bar and I wanted to make sure that my driver had no more than 1 beer at any bar we went to. We took off for the rest of the night to the FrO's favorite neighborhood bar where I kicked his ass in trivia and came in third place in the entire nation. I can't believe there really are two people out there smarter than me, but robot computers don't lie, they just plot your death.
We got picked up by the Fro's sister so no need for the Po-lice to get involved and I bought insurance today, so I am just a bus ride to the DMV away from getting my license back, and then buying a bottle of wild turkey, and then watch out you fucking homeless people I have the right-away.
The FrO has gout which you would think would make him stop drinking. But this is one tuff motherfucka. Either that or he is really just one dumb muthafucka. He took a week off from work because gout said "sit the fuck down." The good news that came out of this is he was able to devote that time to reading every single post ever made on this site, including reading all the comments.
I think the rest of you should call of work and do the same. If you can provide me some kind of proof I will send you an autographed copy of the podcast on CD and a packet of gravy. Actually you have to choose, either the packet of gravy, or the signed CD. If you want I will even sign the gravy for you. You can choose brown gravy or country gravy. I recommend country gravy as it goes good with biscuits.
First we checked out R.T. O'Sullivans. O'Sullivans had a 10 dollar cover to get in and that is more money than I make in an hour. We bought 6 dollar Irish Killian Red beers, by that I mean I bought a Killian's red. I won't lie for my friend, he bought a bud light because he is one prissy bitch, for a guy who prefers to limp around with gout rather than take medicine or stop drinking.
I had to pee as soon as we got there and that's not just because I don't want to pay for the first round. I'll have you know I bought the first round. So I went around checking for porta potties and finally found one that wasn't locked. But it was occupied by a girl with her pants around her ankle and big wad of toilet paper around her arm who screamed at me "it's doesn't lock" or something like that. I was too flustered to make any much sense out of anything, and just ran off to quickly use the toilet inside the bar.FrO actually talked to a girl tonight. That's a first I believe. I am sure she walked up to him. He said he talked for about 2 minutes and then ran out of things to say and so went inside to look for me. There were plenty of hotties to look at, and the new thing this Patty's Day was for girls to wear short skirts with green stockings or garter belts. I hope that tradition keeps going.
Next, we went to a bar that is owned by a famous ex basketball player in Phoenix. Dan wasn't there but I did tell the bartender that I was gay for Dan Marjele, but I don't think that makes me any gayer than any other dude as Dan Marjele is pretty cool. I also told the guy I need to get a cell phone that I can use to upskirt with, and if you want to send me one of those, I promise I will send you two packets of gravy. One brown and the other country, and then you can get your gravy on!
We left because only three people were in the bar and I wanted to make sure that my driver had no more than 1 beer at any bar we went to. We took off for the rest of the night to the FrO's favorite neighborhood bar where I kicked his ass in trivia and came in third place in the entire nation. I can't believe there really are two people out there smarter than me, but robot computers don't lie, they just plot your death.
We got picked up by the Fro's sister so no need for the Po-lice to get involved and I bought insurance today, so I am just a bus ride to the DMV away from getting my license back, and then buying a bottle of wild turkey, and then watch out you fucking homeless people I have the right-away.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Other people win the Big Screen Tv's I get bags of Baked Lay's Potato chips
Somebody poisoned my hamburger from Carl's Jr. last night. I figure it was probably your boyfriend, the greasy mexican behind the counter. I know how he's pissed off at me because of our secret friendship. He gets jealous of the way you think about me when you play with yourself.
All I know is that I have exploding yellow diarrhea and I can thank you for that. Which is nice, because the liquidy yellow shit I get from you, is a way better prize than you get for not showing up to my store's Steak'n Potato party Saturday. 10 am is way too early for me to wake up, and I figured that the give-aways weren't going to be real, but they were. Somebody won a 32 inch flat screen tv, and one of the mentally retarded girls who works here won a bike. I wasn't even pissed when I heard that the little retard won the bike. I could just imagine her running around screaming after she won. Who could take away that kind of joy from a person?
Speaking of joy, all the winners from this morning, went around rubbing it in my face by forcing me to look at all the prizes I could have won like suns tickets or 50 dollar gift certificates to Red Lobster. Like me, my spirit wives did not show up, so they didn't get anything. We just sat around feeling sorry for ourselves, and I became the prize patrol for night crew by giving away 10 dollars in cash to some of my spirit wives, because they all earn minimum wage and don't have enough money left over to buy lunch. I am not good looking, so I have to give away money if I want to keep getting hugs from my underaged baggers. That's ok, it's way cheaper to give teen girls lunch money for hugs and fake emotional connection than to give professional strippers money to rub on you.
After my shift ended I discovered that the company put all the left over steaks and baked potatoes in the manager's office. If I 'd been smart, I would have found the stash earlier, and treated my wives to a fine sit down fancy meal. Because I found the left overs at closing all that was left where bags of Baked Lay's Potato chips in the single serving size. I grabbed 4 of them along with 2 big cookies, so take that Corporate America.
My little victory over Corporate America is short lived because they slash our store's collective hours from 600 to 400. They are slashing hours not because our store fails to meet sales goals, we break them, but because the district is not making sales goals. What recession?
All I know is that I have exploding yellow diarrhea and I can thank you for that. Which is nice, because the liquidy yellow shit I get from you, is a way better prize than you get for not showing up to my store's Steak'n Potato party Saturday. 10 am is way too early for me to wake up, and I figured that the give-aways weren't going to be real, but they were. Somebody won a 32 inch flat screen tv, and one of the mentally retarded girls who works here won a bike. I wasn't even pissed when I heard that the little retard won the bike. I could just imagine her running around screaming after she won. Who could take away that kind of joy from a person?
Speaking of joy, all the winners from this morning, went around rubbing it in my face by forcing me to look at all the prizes I could have won like suns tickets or 50 dollar gift certificates to Red Lobster. Like me, my spirit wives did not show up, so they didn't get anything. We just sat around feeling sorry for ourselves, and I became the prize patrol for night crew by giving away 10 dollars in cash to some of my spirit wives, because they all earn minimum wage and don't have enough money left over to buy lunch. I am not good looking, so I have to give away money if I want to keep getting hugs from my underaged baggers. That's ok, it's way cheaper to give teen girls lunch money for hugs and fake emotional connection than to give professional strippers money to rub on you.
After my shift ended I discovered that the company put all the left over steaks and baked potatoes in the manager's office. If I 'd been smart, I would have found the stash earlier, and treated my wives to a fine sit down fancy meal. Because I found the left overs at closing all that was left where bags of Baked Lay's Potato chips in the single serving size. I grabbed 4 of them along with 2 big cookies, so take that Corporate America.
My little victory over Corporate America is short lived because they slash our store's collective hours from 600 to 400. They are slashing hours not because our store fails to meet sales goals, we break them, but because the district is not making sales goals. What recession?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The Drunken Mis-Adventures of Romius T.
I've been on a bit of a roll. Today, which is your yesterday, was the fourth straight day I woke up after 6 in the evening. Which is not to say that I don't get anything done during the day. It's just for me the day ends when you wake up.
I have a bad feeling about my chances of getting hired by Denny's. The manager still has not called me back to tell me I have the job. I've played phone tag all week with Denny's after two of the best interviews of my life. That's why I spent all last night applying for jobs online at a certain "prestigious" university nearby.
I better get one of these jobs soon. I owe $3.50 for an overdue book at the library. Add a total of $2.50 more on two other books. I am getting charged so much because some other asshole wants to read the God Delusion. The asshole must have placed a hold on the book because a hold won't allow me to renew the book. I'd return the book, but it is 115 degrees this week. I can't bike in that heat and the bus is 2 dollars and 50 cents round trip. Add a stop at Wendy's for lunch along the way and my bill for reading this damn book is 13 dollars. Which is like 13 cans of beer I won't be able to drink.
I was going to blog today about last nights drinking, but not a lot happened. I talked to a bartender over at Teakwoods that hates me. I had asked her for an application the last time I had gone in to that bar. That day she noticed that I looked different. "What's wrong you look a bit nervous." You see why I do so good at interviews.
I don't have a chance with this bartender because my good friend the FRO has dished quite a bit of gossip to her. And too much of the gossip is true. Not to mention that she is married. Not that that has stopped me before. Married women love me. I have to beat them off with a stick. Ask the Drug Monkey.
I got a headache last night even though I didn't drink any PBR. I don't have a headache today though. But my poop was brine yellow. I am not sure if brine yellow is even a color.
I mention my poop because it reminded me that I ate a lot of peanuts last night. Teakwoods gives peanuts away for free and you get to throw the shells on the floor. Folks in the Ghetto love to throw their peanut shells on the floor. Ask any redneck or ghetto dweller what the best part of their favorite bar is, they will nearly always respond with the "you can throw your peanut shells on the floor!"
Since I waited since to post last night's drinking story today, I will go ahead and post tonight's drinking story as well. We were at the Dollar PBR bar. Only today is not Dollar PBR. So instead we drank 4 or 6 pitchers of beer. The beer was warm and we stuck a plastic cup of full of ice in the pitcher to keep it cold. Then I would digg my hands into the cup for ice to put in my beer. I think this offended quite a few people at the bar.
The PBR Bar gets busy late at night because you can drink after closing time. It was getting busy about that time when a couple of FEMDOM girls walked in. One girl was dressed all up in pink leather spandex mini skirt. The other two girls were just bi-curious females along for the ride.
For those of you don't know about FEMDOM I'll explain. Now normally I don't like talking about my fetishes. Unless I am going to be paying $2.99 a minute to do so. But for you I will. Actually why don't I just let my master tell you.
Self Help Center Advice on Domestic Abuse:
"I bet I could end most cases of domestic violence by simply advising young poor women to allow their men to throw nut shells on the kitchen floor."
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Work Poop - Headquarters-how much does your job pay you for pooping?
Find how much you get paid yearly for pooping at work. I get about $1200 dollars. How about you? Go here to find out:Work Poop - Headquarters
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