Friday, December 30, 2005

I Feel My Temperature Rising

Here's some food for thought. Spontaneous Human Combustion. Some people believe in it, some don't. I'm not sure if I do, but I'm going to die from it. I know this as sure as I know the sun is going to rise tomorrow. Flame on Trashman.

How do I know you ask. Because I'm always thirsty. That's right, thirsty. I drink all day long and not sodas or juices or anything like that. But water. Lots and lots of ice cold water. The colder the better. I'll fill a glass to the top with ice and then fill it with water. Then I'll refill it with both all day long. If I'm not at home I'll buy bottles of water. Drink, drink, drink all day. It may seem excessive but I'm trying to put out a fire.

I grew up in west Texas. The temperatures are pretty high there. I lived in Phoenix, it's hot there too. But I was most comfortable in Jersey. Cooler temperatures. Less likely to burst into flames. I keep my house cold in the summer and colder in the winter. Once again if I don't get too hot, I can't burn. I don't mind breaking a sweat, cause wet stuff don't burn. In fact I prefer sex on a hot July afternoon with the air conditioning turned off. It's sweaty, no flames. Plus it's dirty and I like dirty.

Back to burning. I remember the first time I saw a special on SHC on TV as a not so small child. I knew then and there that SHC would be my form of demise. I've been trying to put out the flames since. I drink lots of fluids and swim whenever I can. I keep as cool as my surroundings will let me. Can't stand the heat so I stay out of the kitchen. Plus that's a woman's world anyway.

I don't know what causes SHC but I'm pretty sure it's not gas. Otherwise I would have gone up in flames years ago. I don't think it's static electricity either, I don't short out small appliances. One of the theories is alcohol, but I don't touch the demon drink. Another theory is stored body fat. If that's it I'm definitely doomed.

I just refilled a 32oz glass with water for the third time since I sat down to write this. If I don't burn, I'm going to drown.

Monday, December 26, 2005

Merry Crimas

A lot of you stopped by and wished me a Merry Christmas and a few of you even gave me virtual gifts. This really means a lot to me. And I thank you. Unfortunately we don't celebrate Christmas. No. We celebrate Crimas. The difference is Christmas is all about the birth of Jesus and good will towards your fellow man and all that other good stuff. Crimas on the other hand is all about "Whadjagetme?" and "Howmuchdjaspend?". If you haven't figured it out yet I'm about to unload another one of my crackpot theories on you. The worse part is I'm pretty sure this is not even an original thought.

Let's start with Santa Claus. We all know if you rearrange the letters in Santa you have Satan. His last name is Claus and I'm pretty sure Satan has claws. Scary, huh? So Santa and Satan could be the same guy. They're both dressed in red. They're both immune to fire, otherwise Santa couldn't come down the chimney. Satan makes adults forget Jesus by promising untold wealth and material things and Santa uses the same tricks on kids with "presents".

The ninth commandment is "Thou shalt not lie." People do this every time they tell their children about Santa. I'm guilty of it myself. So now Santa has gotten millions to break one of the commandments, something Satan tries to do all the time.

Santa makes us lie to our children, he's immune to fire, he's dressed in red, he overworks the reindeer (somebody inform PETA) and he has managed to take Christ out of Christmas. Satan's gotta be loving it.

Every year Jen asks me what I want for Christmas and I always tell her nothing, because the things I do want we just can't afford. Plus the fact I'm just disgusted with the whole thing. If you want to buy something for someone, just fucking buy it. Why do we need a special day?

Why do we need a special day to climb in the car and drive several hours just to have dinner with family? Why can't we do it just because we want to? Is the long ass boring drive filled with threats to pull over and climb into the back seat and beat the shit out of everyone back there any shorter? No. We do it because we feel obligated. For once I would like to make the drive because I want to, not because I'm supposed to. There are lots of times I want to, I just don't, because a holiday is coming up and I'll have to then. So I just put it off.

There are times I see things that I would like to get for Jen or the kids, but I don't, because Christmas is coming. Why do I have to wait and lump all the crap on them in one day? Just so they can go into sensory overload and get bored with everything after 15 minutes and not appreciate a damn thing?

Well I'm putting my fucking foot down. NO MORE CRIMAS. From now on we celebrate Christmas. If you want to give someone a gift, make it with your own two hands, put some thought, love and time into it. I would rather get something from my kids that they made and put some effort into, instead of something some little Chinese kid put together for pennies a day. Fuck Walmart, fuck Target, fuck Penneys, fuck them all. Fuck anybody trying to make a quick buck on the sale of goods in the spirit of the birth of our Lord and Saviour.

Now that being said don't forget I have t-shirts and bullet earrings for sale. They make perfect Kwanza and Chanukah gifts.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Vanity, Pride, Headaches

Nightmare has made the revenge list. Not for the questions from the last post, but for tagging me with one of those fucking meme things. Here are the directions: Write 5 random facts about yourself, and then list the names of 5 people whom you in turn infect (infect is the correct word because it takes a diseased mind to come up with this shit). These things are called meme's for a reason, they're all about vanity, which I'm an expert at. So here's my fucking list. Heaven forbid I rebel and fight the system.

1) Women find me attractive.....and I know it.
2) I'm a very shallow person.
3) I prefer women with small breast and a great ass. But the right set of boobs will catch my eye. Inanna and Zelda know what I'm talking about.
4) I have a unnatural deep seated fear (I blame the Southern Baptist) of going to hell.
5) Regardless of what Jen says, everything is all about me.

Now for the list of people I'm going to infect. Nobody. If you want to do this and give me credit fine, but I refuse put anybody on the spot, at least with a list, I normally enjoy putting people on the spot, on my terms.

Side note to Michael: You were think about my "stick" and it hadn't even entered my mind.

As y'all can see I'm trying to write more often. Hope you're fucking happy.

This last weekend my boys took it upon themselves to go out and earn some money raking leaves. Between the two of them they earned about $70.00 in an afternoon. I was really proud of them. I figured if they were old enough to work for their own money they were old enough for a speech. That was a mistake.

Trash: "Boys sit down I want to talk to you."
Trash Jr & T3 (in unison): "Come on Dad. Do we have to?"
Trash: "Sit down and listen. Kick it up."
Trash Jr: "Huh?"
Trash: "You work my neighborhood. You kick it up."
T3: "Whats that mean?"
Trash: "It means you work my neighborhood, you pay me for the privilege. Tell all your friends too."
T3: "Keep your hands off my money."
Trash Jr: "I'm telling Mom."
Trash: "Tell her and I double my cut."
Trash Jr: "DAD I'm trying to save money for Christmas."
Trash: "Oh I see you're hiding your money behind Jesus. Ok. Then you just have to listen to a speech."
T3: "Can I just pay you?"
Trash: "Nope, it's speech time."
Trash Jr: "We should of just paid him."
T3: "Don't move maybe he'll just go away."
Trash: "Boys today you earned your own money and I'm happy about that. Now here's the secret to money. Save it. Don't spend it just because you have it. Hold on to it tight. Someday you'll need it. Get as much of it as you can. When you make some don't stop working just because you have a little money in your pockets. Go make more. Don't over charge people just because your cute and you can. Treat your customers right so they'll call you back and you can make more money off them. Give them a fair job for a fair price. Never be satisfied, always strive to do a better job and always bust your ass to make more money, because I don't care what people say "money does make the world go round and it can by you love ($200.00 an hour) and it will get you happiness", so if you want the world to continue to go around and you want to hang on to the love and happiness you better have more money. What I'm trying to say is work hard, treat your customers right, strive for greatness, and be frugal. Be thankful for what you have but always try to get more. Work for more. Do y'all understand me?
Trash Jr: "Uhhhhh."
T3: "Yeah?"
Trash: "Good. Do you have more yards lined up for tomorrow?"
Trash Jr: "I ain't working tomorrow. I made enough for one week."
T3: "Right. Can you take me to the store so I can rent a game?"

My head still hurts from beating it on the table.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Tuesday Tuesday

By the amount of questions you people asked I'm assuming that a lot of y'all think you know me. If you've come to the conclusion that I'm an ordinary run-of-the-mill asshole, then you're wrong. There's nothing ordinary about me. On to the questions. Questions are bold and answers are italic. New post Thursday.

Jethro asked the best. How many times have you been incarcerated? I don't know. Honestly. If you count the times I was bailed out before I made it to the jail house and how many times the charges were dropped, and how many times they decided not to charge me and all the actual arrest, I'm sure it hits the way high double digits. You have to remember I have been very lucky in my life of crime. And, what was the longest stretch of time? I believe it was 4 days waiting for bail. Once again very lucky.

Michael asked. My question is, what are you gonna get me for Crimes? As in, when you rob that bank, what's my % of the take? I'm answering a question with a question. Are you driving the getaway car?

El Sid was wondering. How do you feel about socks? Hate them. They suffocate my feet. If it was up to me we would all be nekkid.

Ford W. Maverick had a random thought. I met a G Love in Morgantown. He was in some sort of band. Wonder if it's the same guy. Nope.

Beth wants to know more about me. (I think she's hot for me.) You remember that movie, Brewster's Millions? Yes. If you were Brewster, how would you have spent all that money? Hookers and Cocaine. Just like any red blooded American male. Or would you have copped out and taken the money they offered in the beginning? Probably. I plan on dying surrounded by hookers and cocaine anyway. You have nine years to do everything you've always wanted to do. What's the first thing on that list? You. Why did you leave Jersey? I didn't know your address, or I was on the run from the law, not sure.

Zelda has met me, she knows I'm full of shit anyway. Have you ever had a drink called a Spanish Fly? No. And Fuck You. You still have more readers than I do and I've been writing longer and better. (How was that for sheer balls?) Incredible. You are a more better writer than me.

Kim is getting me a Crimas present. What do you want for Crimas? A big tattoo.

Boo asked about Crimas. I do wonder though if I'm wasting my time wishing for Bionic Woman DVD's for Xmas?? The magic eight ball says "Don't hold your breath." And in answer to your earlier question....Of course I feel that strongly about you. Couldn't you tell? Yes, I felt it in my groin.

Seth insulted me, then wanted to know. When was the first time you went to jail? I think when I was 12 or 13. When was the first time you were arrested? About 15 minutes before the first time I went to jail. Ever been kicked out or banned from any other casinos, or any other establishments? Quite a few bars and pool halls.

Inanna has issues. It sounds like the apocalypse outside, sirens all over, what the hell is going on? You're imagining it. It's all in your pretty little head.

Jeanette is spying again. Real tree or fake tree this year? Same fake tree as last year. What you really wanted to know was boxers or briefs?

Brighton converted. How about I just wish you a Merry Christmas? OK. Will you be naked when you do this?

Jack has two questions (one came via email). When's the next revival? When you get here. Can I rub your naked body with chocolate pudding? Jack you're one sick twisted fucker.

Kristin wants me to make her dream come true. Oh and how's your schedule looking this week, I'm free. I dig free chicks. Call me.

Collin asked me. Are you annoyed that I still haven't drawn the zombie pimp and hos? I'm a very patient man.

Nightmare has made the revenge list (next post will explain). See what I get for not checking up on you yesterday? Yes, I do. I'm sneaking this under the radar. Here is my Query, Why the hell is it that I read Rob's blog and sometimes send him emails and I get no linky goodness, or a blessed shout out? He don't like you. Is it because I tend to be more like hemmingway, and less like cussler? I'm sure it is. Or is it a deep disdain for the midwest? Nah, Rob likes everybody especially guidos. I'm kidding I could give a rats ass less as to why I am not on his short list. I do want to know however why you chose a life of crime instead of a college career and a cube job. I don't think you're stupid. You might be but I doubt it. So why the darker shades of gray, instead of walking the short and narrow path of righteousness? Who's to say I'm not on the path of righteousness. Maybe all the cube guys are on the path to hell. Actually the rush of it all. I'm not stupid by any means, but I have played dumb so less would be expected of me. Plus I never was a corporate zombie type, not to mention when I grew up only rich kids went to college.

Cootera wants me. Where's the love, dammit? Hanging between my legs?????

Just me (not me) had a few questions. Do you like to tie up or be tied? Tie up. Ain't no woman ever tying me down. When are you going to open your restaurant? What restaurant? What was the hardest thing in your life that you've had to do? Bury a friend. He wouldn't stop trying to climb out of the grave.

tCj HAS to touch me. I'm not too late, am I? Never! CAN I EVER MEET YOU? YES! No need to bring clothes. I've met people who've met you...but that's like getting second best.......I wanna meet YOU! I wanna do you too!!!

Friday, December 09, 2005

Memories Light The Corners Of My Mind

I was at the store the other night and saw a container of Tang sitting on the shelf. I told Jen I was going to buy it. She asked me if I was supposed to drink it due to my diabetes. I figured what the hell, astronauts drink it. It must be healthy. I haven't had Tang since I was a little kid, and then I only got it when we visited my rich cousins. It was as good as I remembered. There's nothing quite like a cold glass of chemical dust mixed up in bad water. MMMMMM yummy.

Anyway that glass of orange goodness got me to thinking about other pleasant childhood memories. Who remembers the Christmas time Coca-Cola song? You know, the one that goes "I'd like to teach the world to sing..." Have you seen what the hipsters have done to one of the few good memories I have of yesteryear? What the fuck is this shit? A bunch of wanna-be hippies dressed up in retro t-shirts with out-dated hair cuts sitting on a Philadelphia roof top singing "I'd like to teach the world to chill..." all being lead by G. Love, some white guy trying to rap and sound black. It's as bad as Madonna singing "American Pie" maybe even worse. It's like all the remade movies. The Dukes of Hazzard was ruined. Is there no originality left? Can't they come up with something new? Why do they have to ruin all the good stuff? Redo some of the bad shit, maybe you'll make it better.

Speaking of making things better. I got to thinking this morning, I'm 41. It's time to make my life better. Not that it's bad, but it could be better. Statistically speaking my life is half over. That gives me 40 years to do all the things I've wanted to do (like rob a bank). Now once you subtract the last ten years because those will be spent in a nursing home, wheel chair bound, trading lies with the other old timers, shitting myself cause I think it's funny that the nurse has to wipe my ass ("pull my finger" has a whole new affect at that age). I'm left with 30 years for fun. I should probably subtract at least 7 years for incarceration. Now I'm down to 23 years. Take away the 9 years my baby boy (T3) has left in school and I've got 14 years. Need to take off about 5 years for surgery and sickness (I'll lose a leg sooner or later due to diabetes, but that's OK, I'll just get a peg) and I've got 9 years left. So 9 years to do everything I want to do.

Now I just need to figure out what exactly it is I want to do. I have a short list, but I'm greedy so I want a bigger list. I'll work on that and let y'all know.

My readership is dropping again. I have nobody to blame but y'all. I guess I'll have to speed up on the posting again. I know I keep saying that but I'm the busiest broke guy I know. All work and no pay makes Trash a dull writer. Money makes me happy. When I'm happy I write. When I write I'm happy. If I could just get paid for writing everything would be fine.

Most of my hits come from Rob's site. I'm hoping it's Harper Collins checking in on me. They better hurry up with an offer before someone else does. Anybody out there wanna publish the memoirs of a fucking freak? Maybe I should post a few more wild stories. Trouble is I want to get paid for my stories. Would y'all buy the book?

It's Christmas time again (not the holiday season). Christmas. Ninety six percent of the people in America celebrate Christmas, so stop with the PC shit and wish someone a Merry Christmas. Although I will admit sometimes I say Crimas, just cause. So in the spirit of giving I'm going to give y'all the chance to ask me anything you want and as much as you want. I will answer the questions truthfully or to the best of my ability or with humor or I just may out and out lie to you. I will at least answer your questions. I will answer on Tuesday. I promise. So let the asking begin and have a Merry Crimas.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

I Thought PETA Was Bread

I finally finished taking the bottle of pills I found. It seems that since I don't have them anymore that the paranoia has decreased. But that doesn't mean that THEY aren't out to get me.

This is one of those post where I'm going to skip around a few subjects. If you don't like those kind of post, to fuckin bad.

First subject. One of my favorites. How great is it the French are getting burned out of their own country by the same assholes they tried to protect from us. I can't think of anybody that deserves it more.

Subject B. The Texas - Mexico border. Close it. Anybody tries to cross it and we shoot them. Enough said.

Third Subject. PETA. I've owned boots made out of cow hide, bull hide, rhino, baby kangaroo, elephant, snake, and shark. I even owned a shark skin suit once but I think they ripped me off because it didn't feel like shark. I own leather jackets, belts, boots, whips, tie down straps (you freaks know what I'm talking about) and other assorted goodies made from dead animals.

I eat meat, fish and yard bird. I've hunted squirrel, snakes, rabbits, deer, javelina (wild pig) and lots of other furry little creatures. I've always tried to eat what I killed, but let me tell you there's no way to cook a opossum so that it's edible.

Some day I plan on killing a Kodiak Grizzly with a toothpick, some rubber tubing and a Frisbee. Don't ask me how, because I'm using the same technique against THEM.

PETA has seen fit to publish this shit. Be sure to read both pages, paying close attention to the last paragraph on page two. If you don't feel like reading it, fine. It says, and I quote "Until your Daddy learns that it's not fun to kill, keep your doggies and kitties away from him. He's so hooked on killing defenseless animals that they could be next." What the fuck is this. Now they're trying to turn our kids against us. Well I've got an idea. How about a PETA season. I love hunting. Let's hunt some PETA's.

Subject IV. Christmas time and Walmart. I'm calling for a nationwide boycott of Walmart. I'll admit there was a time in my life when I thought Wally World was the greatest thing. But now after the stunt they pulled this year. They'll never get another penny from me. In fact when I'm elected president, my first official act will be to order a complete study of Walmarts accounting and business practices. Anyway this year Walmart advertised a big sale from 5am until 11am on Black Friday. One of the items was a HP laptop (in limited supply). A friend of mine is in dire need of a new laptop (his exploded) and this one would suffice, plus it was only $378.00.

I put in a few calls to a distant sort of in-law (he works for Satan, also known as Walmart), to find out just what limited supply meant and how the sale would work. After threatening him with bodily harm and possibly death, he finally gave up the info. Each store would have 10 to 20 of the laptops and they would be sold on a first come first served basis.

So my friend gets up early and gets to Walmart at 4:30am. Turns out they are handing out numbers for the laptops and he's to late. On his way out the door a woman asked him if he had a number and gave him hers. Now he's number 17. WooHoo he's getting a new computer. Walmart had everybody with numbers on one side to the displays when they rolled out the laptops. This is where everything went awry. They announced the numbers were no longer valid, now it's first come first served. The laptops were on the other side of the aisle from the people with numbers and there was a rush. Nobody with a number got a laptop. Which seems kind of wrong because most of the people with numbers got there first. There was a story on the news where some guy in Florida was tackled for cutting line. I did a little research and this kind of thing went on all over the country.

More proof that Walmart is the devil. They took the Holiest of Christian holidays and made a purely commercialized hell out of it. I refuse to give the devil my money. He's already gotten enough out of me. He got my dad. He walks hand in hand with my brother. So he got two family members, he ain't getting my money.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Hiding Under A Rock

I'll bet you've all been wondering where I went. I'm in hiding from corporate America. I thought I would come out long enough to tell my faithful readers (and the rest of y'all too) Happy Thanksgiving.

Have you noticed the gas prices going down? Just like I said it would happen. I know the lower the prices go, the closer I am to death. Shouldn't be much longer now. They'll come sneaking in the middle of the night and inject me with an untraceable drug (formulated especially for me since they got my DNA from the national DNA database) and I'll have a "heart attack". So long Trashman. What they don't realize is I have an army of readers to carry on with the fight for truth, justice and the American way.

I've been listening to Conspiracy Radio a lot lately. Those people are fucked up. But I have noticed that the signal is nice and clear until I pull into my driveway then it goes dead and comes back on with a lot of static. The first time it happened I didn't pay much attention, I just figured it was weather or cloud related. It's been happening everyday for two weeks now. I must be higher on the Kook List than I figured.

I've found a new way to fund my stay off grid. I'm selling link space. If you'll look over to the right you will see a new cell block in the prison. It's for perverts and pornographers. Our newest inmate is truly sick. His link is booger green. Go visit. Join up. Pay him so he can pay me. Or don't. One way I live longer the other way I die quicker. Your choice. At least read the "How we came to be page". He's a fellow Texan so he can't be all bad.

Back to business. Have you ever seen "Enemy Of The State" starring Will Smith and Gene Hackman. If you haven't seen it, go rent it and you'll know what THEY are capable of. The way I see it, right now the government has me their Kook List, the oil companies want to shut me up, plus in the past I have sounded off about the medical profession, insurance companies, and the pharmaceutical giants. I have run my mouth about all the biggest money makers in our country. If I live long enough to be elected I'll fix it all, or take pay offs.

I'm going to my mom's for Thanksgiving. I figure the men in black have to take Thanksgiving off, after all it is a federal holiday. So I should be able to relax a little, watch some football, eat some turkey, take a nap (hopefully wake up) and then do it all over again.

I would like to apologize for the brevity (I bet y'all didn't think I had a vocabulary) of this post. Once again Happy Thanksgiving and until next time the Trashman is going off grid.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Dead Man Walking

Has anyone noticed the gas prices going down? I think it's due to my threat of exposing the gas companies of their daily fucking of the American people. I know I've already been identified by a government agency as a kook. That's right I'm on the Kook List. I made the list as soon as they finished investigating me, after I announced my presidential candidacy. And I'm cool with that, what I'm not cool with is the big gas companies screwing the average citizen.

Here's what's going to happen. They'll lower the prices for a little while, then they'll kill me (probably make it look like an accident or a heart attack) as soon as I'm forgotten about, they'll raise the prices back up. All I'm asking in return for waking you people up to what's going on is that you don't let me be forgotten. RISE UP (in a peaceful way) and let the government and the big oil companies know that The Trashman will not be forgotten. End the tyranny now, take back your country, the land our forefathers fought and died for. Don't let big business ruin us. STAND UP and be heard. Don't let me be murdered for nothing.

I think I just went up a couple of notches on the Kook List.

This is all documented. You just have to search in the right places. You won't hear about it in the media (they're bought and paid for).

A while back the OPEC nations announced they could produce another 2,000,000 barrels of oil per day. They just needed a buyer. No one wanted it so they've been stock piling it. So much more the oil shortage. If there's no shortage why the high prices? Well the oil companies claim there are not enough refineries. That's because they bought all the refineries and closed a bunch of them. Now we need the refineries to refine the oi,l but due to EPA regulations the old refineries aren't up to code and it's damn near impossible to build new refineries to the EPA regulations. It can be done but it would take about 10 years and millions of dollars, plus as long as the oil companies can't refine fast enough they can cause an artificial shortage of sorts.

Now the really juicy shit. There are two different types of crude oil. Sweet crude and sour crude. They use two different techniques to refine them. It's more expensive to refine sour crude than sweet crude. The shit selling for $60.00 a barrel is sweet crude. Sour crude prices have remained virtually unchanged. So although it cost more to process sour crude, it's cheaper to buy. There are a few big oil companies that still use sour crude. Their price per gallon of gas goes up just like everyone else's. They refine a lower grade of crude that they buy cheaply, and use the price per barrel of sweet crude as an excuse for rising gas prices. These companies have had record breaking profits for the last four quarters. Profits into the billions of dollars, and as much as I like G.Dubya, I'm sure he's getting his cut.

Here's a list of the offenders.
1. Exxon Mobil Corp.
2. Valero (Diamond Shamrock)
3. Conoco Phillips Corp.
4. Chevron

Just about every major gas company in the free world (HA) uses sour crude.

When they kill me be sure to put up white crosses and flowers at the pump.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Trash Talk, Rancid Meat, And Dead Chicks

Did you miss me? Bullshit. Don't lie to me. I can tell by the traffic thingy, that y'all haven't been around as much. Neither have I. Somethings gotta give. I'm a Rockstar. I need your attention and admiration. I guess I'm gonna have to do something to get it. I'll try to post more often, but you gotta visit more often. I still check on y'all, most of y'all get checked daily, I need to know what my flock is up to.

Speaking of flocks, I'm afraid to eat chicken anymore. Seems to me we're at war with most Asian countries (no offense Jethro) and they're bombing us with rancid yard bird. Now I realize that's not completely true but if they don't do something soon, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE. So I ain't eatin no more chicken.

Since I no longer eat chicken (or pigeon), tonight I had a t-bone. Jen marinated it for two days and cooked it four days ago. I ate it 15 minutes ago. She said it was rancid. I think the A-1 sauce will kill any germs. I figure we'll know tomorrow. If I die it was rancid, if I don't, I'll continue to torment y'all.


I'm going to be the best man (like that's unusual) at a friends wedding in two weeks. I don't like who he's marrying, this should be fun. What upsets me most, is the tuxedo shop charged me a $12.50 fat fucker fee. I'm renting the thing, not buying it. Why do I have to pay for more material? They're getting it back (with a few stains). Maybe I'll try for Vegas 2. Can I get barred from the Baptist church for life?

Still waiting for the dead chick?

Well keep waiting. In the near future I'm going to be promoting a few new web sites for a friend. I expect y'all to visit. I'll know if you do, so don't try tellin me no lies.


Back to me. As y'all know, I'm running for president. I think I have a shot. More than anything I just wanna be famous. I don't think that's too much to ask for. I'm not asking for money just fame. I'll get the money on my own. So if anybody out there has gotten a book deal recently with a company, like say, I don't know, Harper Collins or someone like that. Feel free to point them in my direction.


I wanna talk about gay marriage. I'm all for the homos hooking up. Personally I think they're born that way. I don't think they choose to be that way. Think about it. What guy in his right mind wants to suck a dick or have it crammed up his ass? Therefore it must be something in them (HA HA I said in them). Seriously, I'm not saying they're wrong or fucked up or anything like that. I just don't think it's normal (if there is such a thing). I think they should be allowed to marry each other just for the pure entertainment value. Think about it. Gay Divorce Court. Which I now claim all rights to. So all you Hollywood big wigs that read this, when they finally legalize rump ranger unions, I own all rights to the reality divorce show. I can picture it now, a couple of flamers fighting over antique furniture, oriental rugs, and a cat. Or how about two lesbians splitting up because one of them met somebody with a bigger dick. The possibilities are endless. It's all mine and it's in writing.


Still waiting for the dead chick? Ok. Get yourself a drink, load a bowl or whatever it is you do and be prepared to be shocked, amazed, dumbfounded, and entertained. I realize I'm late for Halloween, let's just say I'm early for next year.

Here it is. Trashmans Second Semi Annual Halloween Story.

It was a cold, rainy, miserable night....wait that's wrong, it was Phoenix. It was another warm night with no rain and I was working at the sex club. There was a couple that came in semi-regularly by the names of Dan and Debbi (once again, not their real names). Dan worked for some private company that picked up dead bodys to be transported for organ harvesting. I was always busting his balls about coming by with a dead body so I could see it. He always promised "next time".

On this particular night I was in the DJ booth with the mop girl Stephie. I was working my magic with the music when the door flew open and Dan ran up into the booth.

Dan: "I got that body you wanted to see."
Trashman: "Bullshit."
Stephie: "What body?"
Dan: "A dead chick in the van."
Trashman: "Bullshit."
Dan: "I'm telling you I have a body in the van."
Stephie: "I wanna see. I never saw a dead person."
Trashman: "Stephie, there's not a body."
Dan: "There's a fucking dead chick in the van. She's dead, naked, and she used to be hot before she OD'ed."
Trashman: "Naked and hot? How long has she been dead?"
Dan: "About three hours. Do you want to see or not? I have to get her to the lab so they can get her corneas."
Trashman: "Let's go."

I put a long mix on and ran through the lobby. On the way out the door I told J and George where I was going. Walking through the parking lot I could barely contain myself. I was going to see a hot naked dead chick. We walked up to the back of the van.

Dan: "You ready?"
Trashman: "Just open the door."
Stephie: "Is this legal."
Trashman: "Who cares? Just open the door."

Dan opened the door and pulled the gurney half way out so that it was resting on the ground and the back of the van. He slowly pulled the zipper down and right as he opened the bag, a zombie, a bone fide member of the walking dead came diving through the opening, screaming like a banshee.

At this point a lot is happening and a lot of thoughts are running through my mind in a very short amount of time. Stephie is screaming and possibly crying and somehow she is running at 300 mph and not moving an inch. I'm thinking "Do I throw Stephie at the zombie or do I throw Dan at the zombie or do I just try to out run both of them?" "Running is out of the question I'm frozen in fear" "Do I try to fight the lifeless creature in a heroic attempt to save Stephie and Dan?" "That's not gonna happen, I'm petrified." "Just don't get bitten, I wont turn into a zombie if I don't get bitten." "Don't show any fear. Maybe zombies are like dogs. Maybe they smell fear." All of that happened in the blink of an eye. I looked at the zombie and realized it was Dan's wife, Debbi.

I calmly took a long drag off my cigarette looked at Dan, and blew the smoke out.
Trashman: "Can I play with her titties?"
Dan: "Fuck you."
Stephie: "I don't wanna die."
Trashman: "I gotta go back to work."

I turned and walked off. I was just hoping to get back in the club before the shit ran all the way down my legs.

UPDATE: Angi once I pulled all the skin back it tasted really good. Surprisingly there wasn't a fishy odor or taste.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Great Caesar's Ghost

Finally tally.
1. Barred from Caesar's - 25
2. Dead Chick - 18
3. Get Me Killed - 7

Some of y'all voted for all 3. That's cool. I was just surprised by the number of people that want me dead. Seems like my absence has cost me some love.

So sit back and make yourselves comfortable, mix a drink, pour a beer, take some painkillers, whatever it is you do to prepare yourself to read one of my tales. This one is a doozy, I'm about to share a story with you that has remained a secret until I told it to Zelda and Jethro. Since I told them, I'll share it with you. I'm warning you ahead of time this story is full of bodily functions and secretions, if you have a queasy stomach stop now. I'm stooping to an all time low and I hope you enjoy it.

I don't remember what year it was I just know it was about 6 or 7 years ago. Jen and I were split up due to my temporary insanity. I was still in business with WBG and things were going financially well. Six of us had gone to Vegas for the Super Bowl, it was me and Kelly, The Saint and Lori, and WBG and his wife.

Saturday night me, Lori, WBG and his wife crossed the street to Caesers Palace to get a few drinks and do a little dancing. The Saint stayed behind to play Black Jack (he was angry because Lori wasn't giving up any). I don't remember where Kelly was, I'm assuming she was visiting her Uncle Paulie in the penthouse at Harrah's.

The tequila was flowing like a river and I was tearing up the dance floor with Lori (I'm quite agile for a fat fuck and one hell of a dancer when I'm drunk). After about 7 or 8 songs and somewhere around the 11th shot of tequila, Lori and I worked our way back to the table. WBG and his wife had just ordered another round. I sat down and Lori straddled my lap looking me right in the eye. She leaned forward and sweetly whispered in my ear. "I'm not wearing any underwear." Then she reached up under her skirt, grabbed my zipper and freed Willy. We proceeded to do some some dirty dancing right at the table. We're swapping spit and other body fluids when the waitress shows up with our order. I grabbed my shot of tequila and downed it real quick. The following conversation is not verbatim, but rather from little snippets of what I remember from that night.

Trashman: "Excuse me miss. Could you bring us another round?"
Waitress: "Yes sir."
WBG: "Are you two fucking."
Trashman: "Shhhhh you'll ruin my concentration ."
Lori: "Ignore them. Just fuck me."
Trashman: "It's hard to ignore a disco full of people."
Lori: "Do what you have to do. Just fuck me."
WBG: "They're fucking."
His Wife: "Are you two crazy?"
Trashman: "She is."
Lori: "Shut and fu...."
Waitress: "That'll be $25.00."
Trashman: "Here's $50.00 keep the change."
Waitress: "Thank you sir. By the way security is watching you and if they figure out what you're doing you'll be thrown out."
Lori: "I'm done now. You can finish."
Trashman: "Give me just a second."

After I blew my load, Lori grabbed a napkin reached under her dress while we were still tongue rasslin and cleaned me up. She caged Willy and zipped me back up all the while only using one hand. I'm not sure but I think she had done this a time or two, and now I knew why she wasn't giving it up to The Saint. He was going for traditional sex and she was a fucking freak.

We drank a few (bunch) more shots of tequila and danced some more. The booze started to do it's damage and I knew it was time for a trip to the men's room, when our waitress returned I had her lead me to the facilities.

I strolled (stumbled) into the mens room and walked up to the first sink I saw, and blew chunks, I stepped down to the next sink and regurgitated, stepped over one more time and lost my lunch. I turned on the water, washed my face, rinsed my mouth and started stirring the puke with my finger. I looked up and see the mens room attendant staring at me.

Trashman: "I'll get it to drain."

I stirred a little longer when I began to feel a rumbling in my bowels. I walked (tripped) to a stall, hung my jacket on the door, dropped my pants, sat down and my ass exploded. Now I'm shitting pure liquid and I have to puke again, so I lean forward and let loose.

Recap. I've got the Hershey squirts and I'm leaned over blowing chunks, I smell like smoke, booze, puke, shit, sweat and nasty sex. Now I fall off the toilet and land in my own vomit. That's right my ass is sticking up in the air and I'm laying in puke. Isn't that how Elvis died? I heard a voice and I eventually looked up and the attendant was staring at me under the door.

attendant: "Are you alright sir?"
Trashman: "I'll be fine. I'm just gonna lay here on the cool tile for a minute."
attendant: "It can't be very cool, it's covered in puke."
Trashman: "Oh yeah. I'm done anyway. Gotta get back to my friends."

I got off the floor and cleaned as much puke and shit off as I could, stepped over to the sink and washed off a little more. I looked in the mirror and was happy with what I saw (I was drunk, really drunk) and headed out the door. No sooner than I stepped out I was grabbed by two gorillas and pushed against the wall.

Gorilla 1: "Are you a guest here sir?"
Trashman: "Nope. I'm staying at Harrahs."
Gorilla 1: "Do you have a casino card sir?"
Trashman: "Sure."
Gorilla 1: "Could we see it sir."
Trashman: "Sure."

I fished out the card and handed it to the gorilla, he stuck it in his pocket and nodded at gorilla 2, they grabbed me by both arms and started dragging me towards the cab stand.

Gorilla 1: "Sir you're barred from Caesars. For life."
Trashman: "OK"

See even I know when not to put up a fight.

They threw me in a cab and sent me across the street to Harrahs.

I don't remember the ride, just that it cost me $100.00 to cross the street. I remember getting in the cab and then I came too in the hallway being kicked in the leg by one of Harrahs finest.

Harrahs Security: "Is this your room sir?"
Trashman: "Does this key work?"
I handed him my electronic card.
Harrahs Security: "Yes sir."
Trashman: "Then it must be my room."

They opened the door and Kelly was standing there. Uh-oh we woke her up.

Harrahs Security: "Ma'am does this belong to you?"
Kelly: "Yeah?"
Harrahs Security: "Where do you want him?"
Kelly: "Just drop him in the floor."
Harrahs Security: "Sir don't leave the room tonight."
Trashman: "OK"

I passed out on the floor, when I woke up the sun was shining though the window and Kelly was gone. I gradually stood up and looked and myself in the mirror. It was horrible, and then the stink hit me, I almost puked again. My suit was encrusted with puke and shit and God knows what else. I crawled into the shower fully clothed and turned on the water. The stuff was hardened on and I knew the only way I was going to get it off was, wet. After my shower I bagged up the suit and called the front desk to pick up some dry cleaning. Kelly came back to the room and I asked where she had been. I was informed she had to leave due to the stink. Go figure.

When it was returned the next day I called the front desk and chewed some ass for the cleaners ruining my suit. They cut me a check for $650.00. I only paid $350.00 for the suit in the first place.

So now y'all know the story. I had public sex, shit on myself, fell in my own vomit, got barred from Caesars for life, and ruined a suit but I made $300.00 on the deal.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

I'm Back, Pukin' Relish

As y'all know by now, Jen and I met Zelda and Jethro for lunch last Saturday. After hanging with Jack for 20 years it was refreshing to have an intelligent conversation with someone. They are amazing people and their kids were fantastic. I don't think I've ever seen two better behaved kids. I'd like to know how they get their kids to be so good. I use fear myself.

They're the first bloggers I've ever met (Jack doesn't count, of course that's nothing new). I can't wait to hang out with them again. We talked for five hours. Five hours of puke filled conversation. The subject changed several times but it always came back to puke. I couldn't have been happier. We had to leave way to early to suit me, Jen and I had to go to my bosses wife's birthday party. I would have rather stayed at The Broken Spoke. I felt like I had known them all my life and I wasn't ready for the party to end. But like all good things, etc. etc. etc.

I would suggest that if you get a chance to meet them. Do it. You'll never meet a finer pair and Jethro ain't bad either (Sorry had to throw in some breast humor). I'm sure there's a lot more I could say about them, but I'm running on empty right now. I've worked 14 hour day's all week and I probably won't get a day off until next weekend. I won't bore you with that though.

Instead I'm giving you three choices for my next post. Y'all know how this works. Most votes wins.

1. Barred From Caesars Palace For Life
2. Dead Chick In The Van
3. The Truth About Gas Prices (This one could get me killed)

Let your conscience guide you or vote number three if you want me dead.

Sunday, September 11, 2005


WARNING: Severe craziness ahead. I've lost my mind.

Okay I've tried to remain silent, but that all ends now. I thought I would hurt my chances at the presidency, then I realized I don't stand a chance of the country coming to their senses and electing me, so I might as well say any fucking thing I want to.

Welcome to The Trashman's Neighborhood. The word of the day is sympathy. You'll find it in the dictionary between Shit and syphilis. If you New Orleans "refugees" want some, look it up cause you're not getting it from me. You had three days warning before the big bitch hit and you sat on your fat lazy welfare receiving asses and did nothing. You could have walked to safety in three days. Now you're laying around the Astrodome and the Austin Civic Center whining about "When do I get my FEMA card?" I haven't heard any whining from Mississippi or Alabama or any other place in Louisiana, just New Orleans. I know the bleeding heart hippy liberals are trying to blame George Bush for the hurricane and the lack of government response. Fact is, it all falls on the local government, that's right the local politicians of one of the most corrupt cities in the world. To think otherwise is pure hippy stupidity (don't get me wrong,, I'm not trying to offend anyone, wait a minute, yes I am).

It seems to me that the liberals have destroyed the basic things that made this country great in the first place. God, guns, guts and glory. This great nation was founded by a group of people trying to escape religious persecution. They believed in God, not allah, or budda or any other heathen deity. Therefore God had a very important role in the founding of America. Liberals have taken God out of our schools. Guns. Our founding fathers used guns to fight for and protect our way of life. Daily the liberals try to force through guns laws that will take away our right to defend ourselves. Guts. It took a lot guts for the settlers to explore uncharted territory and battle the Indians (I can say Indian because I'm part redskin)and the elements and to stand up for what they believed in. Liberals are gutless. Glory. The word itself says it all, that and I can't think of a way to describe it. Liberals are gutless therefore they will never know glory. Another thing the liberals have done is try their damnedest to turn America into a communist country. They do this through welfare. I work. You work. 80% of the citizens of New Orleans don't work and we just give them money. Liberalism at its finest.

I've read hundreds of blogs and news articles and watched all the news reports about New Orleans. Yes, it was a tragedy. Yes, it was catastrophic. Yes, it was dismal. Yes, it was a lot of things, but the thing it was not, was unexpected. You had time to get out. You didn't. Fuck you. Compassion is in the dictionary between cock(as in suck my) and crap (as in what the liberal media is feeding us). Hate me if you want, I don't give a rats ass.

More liberal bullshit. My baby boy (T3) can't hand out birthday invitations in his class unless he gives everybody one. God forbid Little Bertha feels left out. I got news for you Little Bertha. You're not little, your name is Bertha, you're 160 pounds in the 3rd grade. Nobody wants you at their party.

Which leads me to Hollywood. The movie people have become so politically correct that now when you watch a movie involving cheerleaders there's always a fat cheerleader. Don't get me wrong, I prefer my women healthy, but when I'm watching gyrating teenage girls on TV I don't want it ruined by some fat chick with a better moustache than me in a short skirt. Another example of this PC bullshit run amok is the remake of The Bad News Bears. They have a kid on the team in a wheelchair. I'm not saying the paraplegic can't do anything they want. But I will say they can't run bases, even in a souped up wheelchair. Let's not hurt anyone's self esteem.

More liberal stupidity. Some bitch is trying to outlaw dodgeball. It seems that the first kid to get thrown out of the game is in jeopardy of being traumatized for the rest of his life, because he's not good enough. Guess what, that's life. We're not all good at everything. Kids in wheelchair can't play baseball. Fat chicks shouldn't be cheerleaders. Some kids suck at dodgeball. I have my own limitations, I can't see my dick without a mirror. Do I sound like my delicate psyche is hurt. It ain't.

I'm not Caucasian, I'm white, I don't say African American, I say black. Native American, nope. Injun. Latin American. Wrong. Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, or whatever you are. French, never, just another dick sucker. Liberal is another word for spineless shitbag.

Now before y'all get all crazy calling me a racist, I just want to reassure you I'm not a racist. I'm a bigot and there is a difference.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Mysterious Ways

Religion is a subject that I'm not real comfortable with. I'm not sure that I'm what you would call a good Christian. In fact I've kind of always been pretty sure that I had front row seats in hell. I do know the difference between right and wrong and most of the time I try to do the right thing, not because I'm trying to get in God's good graces, just because it's the right thing to do. I have cheated, lied, stolen, coveted my neighbors ass and other parts of her as well. I've broken every commandment, except maybe for the one about killing (I'll never admit to that one, since there's no statute of limitations). Bottom line is God and I never really saw eye to eye. For a long time I lived my life for the dark side, but I find as I get older that I'm being a little nicer to my fellow man. I don't know if I'm just getting soft or if I'm trying to buy my way through the pearly gates or exactly what's going on. I do know, however there may be something to this whole higher power thing. Not to long ago as most of you remember I was whining about being broke and I was attempting to sell some earrings (which most of you didn't buy). Well things have taken a turn for the better since then.

Let's go back in time a little. A while back I was little better off financially and one of my fellow bloggers wasn't. So I helped where I could and I figured that was that. Then I got into my present financial shape (broke). In fact I got so broke that I was off my medication for a few weeks. Then someone very special sent me the money for a months worth of pills. I threatened to return it but I was told in no uncertain terms that would not be allowed. A couple of days later I received even more money from someone else special. This individual told me they did it in a Christian sort of way. I also know that the first person that sent me money for my pills received some very needed financial help from a unnamed source. I'm not saying God had anything to do with any of this, but it really makes me wonder and I sent thanks His way just in case. One thing I'm sure of is my meds are covered for the four months.

Not long ago I started a remodeling business with a friend of mine. I don't know much about construction. I know people. I handle the phones, the money, and the customers. He handles the work. Before the job starts, I'm in charge, after the job starts, he's in charge. We now both work for another contractor, for even more money than we were making on our own. I'm the foreman. I don't know how it happened, but I make a ridiculous amount of money making sure other people do things I don't have a clue how to do myself. Good thing I learn fast. Once again I chalk it up to the Big Guy upstairs, that or I'm a better con-man than I thought. Either way I'm getting paid. Thanks God.

I've also been questioning my purpose in life a lot lately. I figure it's to entertain y'all. That's the best I can come up with, after all I am a funny mother fucker. Maybe y'all have some idea what I'm supposed to do. Maybe I'll go into the religion business and compete with Tommy. After all much like Jimmy Swaggart I have cavorted with hookers and like Robert Tilton I have shamelessly begged for your money.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

It’s Been A Long Time Since I Rock And Rolled

A lot has happened since I last talked to y'all. For instance my baby boy (T3) got crabs from a stripper and my namesake (Trash Jr) discovered his hard on. I am however most perplexed by the lack of attention my disappearance has generated. That Kevin guy left and got 200 comments, Jay quit and got about 140. I take time off and get 38. What the fuck is that? 38 is an insult, yeah granted a bunch of y'all emailed and checked on me and I really appreciate that, but the rest of you fuckers ain't no good. Next time I disappear I expect at least 80 or 90 comments.

I called Angi and Tommy this weekend, simply because they're on my favorite people list, that and I needed Jeanettes phone number. I called Jeanette, and Inanna was there with her. That was a surprise. I knew she was going on vacation but I had no idea where. The reason I called was because I heard Jeanette was getting married and I wanted to make sure it didn't cut into her stalking time. I need at least one stalker, since the rest of y'all don't seem to care if I'm alive or dead.

Speaking of alive or dead, I didn't take my meds for about two weeks due to lack of funds. I figured I found a way out without pulling the trigger myself. Some very special people got wind of my self imposed slow torturous death plans and gave me the money for my prescription. I don't know whether to thank them or be pissed at them. Just when I thought I was out they pulled me back in. This last paragraph is meant to be taken lightly.

I'm finally wireless so I no longer have an excuse for not blogging. I guess next time disappear it's cause I just don't care. No really. I've been working 10 hour days for the last 19 days straight. I love what I'm doing. I finally found something challenging. That just means, I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing but it's lots of fun.

I bet y'all are really wondering about the crabs, stripper, hard on thing by now. Y'all are some really sick fucks.

This took place at the dinner table the other night. Trash Jr was wondering where his squishy ball was.

Trash Jr: "Where's my squishy?"
Trash: "I don't know where your squishy is, but I know where mine is. Ha Ha Ha."
Trash Jr: "That's sick, besides it's not squishy."
Trash: "Sure it is."
Trash Jr: "No. It's hard most of the time. I even can make it move up and down. I do that and say, Say hello to my little friend."
Trash: " Now that's funny."

Now the part all you twisted perverts have been waiting for. T3 got crabs from a stripper and I watched while it happened.

I was sent to a house to knock some walls out. I had T3 with me, he was my little helper for the day. When we got there, I walked in and found three tattooed, pierced, bleach blondes sitting at the kitchen table. One of them was in the process of moving out. It was her bedroom we were knocking the walls out of. I entered the bedroom and saw about 40 pairs of high heeled shoes and thong underwear everywhere. It was rough working conditions but some how I managed to finish up with out leaving in a fit of disgust. While T3 and I were knocking the walls out the stripper walked back and forth swaying that beautiful as....... I mean carrying load after load of sweet smelling underwea..... I mean her stuff to her car. She stopped to talk to T3 for a minute.

Stripper: "Hi."
T3: "Yo what up bitc..... "I mean he said "Hi."
For a minute I was living through him.
Stripper: "Some one gave me a gag gift last Christmas and I can't take them with me. I was wondering if you wanted them."
T3: "Wanted what?"
Stripper: "These crabs."
T3: "Dad can this lady give me crabs?"
I almost choked on my tongue.
Trash: "Sure son. Tell her thank you."
T3: "Thank you."
Stripper: "You're welcome. I hope you enjoy them."
She carried another load of lacey soft undergarmen...... stuff to her car.
Trash: "You got crabs from a stripper."
T3: "Huh?"

What did you people think I was talking about.

Here's a little something for Angi. I know how much she likes critters.
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Sunday, July 24, 2005

Busy Busy Busy

I've been real busy this last week. It's given me a lot to talk about, unfortunately it's kept me away from my one true love, this blog. I start a new job (sort of) tomorrow. It's quite a ways from here and it's 10 hour days, so I don't know when I'll get back on here.

I got a call from a guy tonight, he lost a couple of guys and he's working on a government contract, so he has to be done by the end of the week. I'll be working for him for the rest of the week, hopefully this will turn into more work.

I lost four jobs this week due to lack of respect (not mine, theirs). Two people didn't call back, one bitch didn't show up for her estimate, and one low-life mother fucker gave me the job until the next day when I showed up to start, then he told me his partner went with someone else for a higher price. I asked why he didn't call me before I drove 30 miles and his lame-ass excuse was "I lost your number." Neat fucking trick since we did business over his cell phone, which was hanging on his belt. Luckily my partner pulled me to the truck before I hit the mother fucker. The whole way he was whispering in my ear "We don't have bail money." That's why I call him JC (Jiminy Crickett) he's my conscience. I call him before I do anything I think might be the least bit ignorant. Which is at least six times a day.

So in the very near future I will be doing a post about respect, then I have one planned for education reform, and another about religion. I realize religion is a touchy subject, but I have been questioning my own mortality quite frequenting lately, what with getting old and all. Reverend Tommy has set me straight on a lot of things, but each day I come up with more and more questions. I want to be 100% about things before I croak.

I asked for a laptop or new tattoo for my birthday ( I have expensive taste for a broke fuck). I got a cake and a couple of cards, then I went down and got myself a new laptop. Well, it will be mine if I make all the payments for the next three years. Woo Hoo. I think I finally have it all set up and running right. JC is also my computer guy, he came over and fixed things as I fucked them up. What a friend.

So, that's kind of where I've been this week.

Saturday, July 16, 2005


Well, it's finally here. The day you've all been waiting for. Trash Day. Now you don't have to read anymore notes at the bottom of my posts, asking for cards, gifts and dirty underwear. Today I turn 41 and my blog is officially one year old.

Over the last year I have told you about the day I was born, my perverted neighbor, why I chose the name Trashman, and my oldest boys miraculous birth. I have shared with you stories about our move from Phoenix, my views on women, my wet dreams and scaring myself with my own tattoo. I wrote about Jen getting pregnant and losing the baby. I discussed with you the smell of ass sex, dumping my dead friends body (he really wasn't dead), being attacked by an evil ventriloquist dummy and having my life on the line (somehow I avoided getting killed). I've announced my bid for the presidency. I told you about the time an ugly woman held my dick for two hours while tattooing it, and the time my son was assaulted at school. You've read about "THAT" girl, old loves that never were, my run ins with the police and "tricks" that didn't want to pay, my wedding, and why Jack doesn't go to my mom's house. I've written stories about bear rasslin, getting caught fucking by dear old mom and getting my dick puked on by Jen, why not to date three women at the same time, the differences between men and women, and my ability to bullshit. I talked about a trip to jail, another police story and my ability to bullshit, where Jack went, when he pulled his disappearing act, my death when I came back to life, and mine and Jack's trip to the Old Time Tent Revival. I waxed poetic about the time I shot myself, my mom's cancer and the seven stages of catastrophe, telemarketers, Starshits coffee, the time I threatened my mom's doctor with a double amputation, and the time I tried to sell a half Puerto Rican-half Indian girl to some Japanese gentlemen as a white girl. I've answered your questions. Me, Jack and Jay told you three different versions of the same story. I've been on my soap box about healthcare, relationships, cops, and the greatest American alive (me). I whined about my father (Satan) and the way he treated his kids. I cried about being broke, attempted to sell you earrings and threatened to sell Rambo for cosmetic animal testing. I've answered I don't know how many of those tags you people hit me with, wanting to know the color of my underwear, favorite suppositories, etc.

Over the last year I've gotten to know a bunch of you and have become friends with some of you. I've made you laugh, cry, scream, and I'm sure I've made some of y'all hate me (right Grace). I've bared my soul to y'all. I love y'all all most as much as y'all love me. Love me or hate me, one thing is certain. I should have charged y'all to read my blog.

Note: Some of you received earrings damaged by USPS. I will be replacing these, this week. Jethro, yours will be mailed this week. I need a new shipping method. Thanks to Micki for the animation and Jeanette for my birthday card. Happy Birthday to Boo. Cards, gifts and women's underwear will still be accepted.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Two Birds, One Rock

OK, I have a couple of people to answer to. First, my vice-presidential running mate (Jenn) asked me five questions and then Nightmare asked me to list five things I just don't get. I'm a little slow in answering these and I would like to apologize for that. Let me start with Jenn. My answers will be in red.

1. When you're elected president will you be letting the vice president make most of the major decisions like how things are in this administration? I don't know if I can handle all that pressure so I need to know now so I can prepare. Jenn, as vice-president your only job will be to stop me from making an ass of myself. You will fail at this, at the inauguration. Other than that I don't know what a V.P. does, hell I don't even know if we have one now and if we do, what his name is.

2. How did you sucker Jen into staying around all these years? Charm, wit, and personality. Not to mention my large bank account, big dick and I'm fucking hot.

3. How is your mom doing? She starts her chemo soon. The operation was a success. Chemo is just to be sure. No inheritance yet.

4. In light of all your health issues have you been trying to take better care of yourself? I work out at least an hour and half every day in the pool and I'm real careful about my caloric intake. Hang on I smell cookies.

5. If you could change one thing that has happened in your past what would it be? Nothing. My past is what made me the warm, wonderful, caring, person that I am today.

Now on to Nightmares list of five things I just don't get.

1. I don't get lawyers that advertise on T.V. saying things like "Hire me now, and I'll get you a ton of money." or "Did you kill a family of 12 while driving drunk? Call me and I can get you off with a misdemeanor". Who hires these idiots?

2.I don't get depressed people. I'm short, fat, bald, broke, have a little dick, no job, too sick to work, have an area in my pants known as "The Dead Zone". Yet I'm happy. What the fuck are you people depressed about?

3. I don't get why I didn't sell more earrings.

4. I don't get today’s gas prices. Yeah crude is $60.00 a barrel, but that's sweet crude. The price of sour crude hasn't changed. There are still refineries in America that process sour crude. The companies that own these refineries have reported record breaking profits. BIG companies. Companies we all buy gas from every day. I won't mention the names of these companies, simply because I don't want to disappear in the middle of the night.

5. I don't get paranoia. There's no such thing. Big business and the government are really out to get us all. So are our neighbors, and that weird guy standing on the corner with the sign is really an agent for a government department known only by initials.

Bonus I don't get it. I don't get why anyone would vote for anybody but me in the next presidential election.

I will not pass these on to anyone. I like to make sure the buck stops here. That and I'm not as cruel as my kids think I am.

Note: One week until "Trash Day". Gifts, cards, and used underwear from you women, will be accepted.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005


This made national news. I have a lot of problems with the way our supposed public servants handled this.

Man who saved swimmer at falls hauled off to jail

(AP) - A San Marcos man was arrested after rescuing a swimmer from the swirling waters near a restaurant on the San Marcos River over the weekend.

Police say Dave Newman, 48, disobeyed repeated orders by emergency personnel to leave the water. Newman responded, "Why do I? The guy is out of the water," the report said. The police report does not mention Newman's rescue of 35-year-old Abed Duamni of Houston on Sunday afternoon.

"I was amazed," Newman said after getting out of Hays County Law Enforcement Center on $2,000 bail Monday morning. "I had a very uncomfortable night after saving that guy's life. He thanked me for it in front of the police, and then they took me to jail."

After being handcuffed and put in a Texas State University police squad car, Newman was taken to jail and charged with interfering with public duties.

Abed Duamni of Houston got caught in the current while swimming Sunday afternoon and became stuck under a building. Duamni said he found an air pocket and stayed there for about 15 minutes before Newman grabbed his leg and pulled him out.

Duamni, who said he did not see any signs warning swimmers of the dangerous currents, jumped into the water several times before the current caught him. He had just finished eating at the restaurant when he decided to go for a swim. "I reached a point where I said, 'I'm dead,'" Duamni, who was visiting San Marcos, said from his Houston home Monday night. "There's was nothing I could do. I thought, 'That's it, I'm over, I'm gone."

After pulling Duamni out of the water, Newman said, he swam him under a waterfall and over to the shore opposite from the restaurant. He could hear law enforcement personnel telling him to come back to the shore by the restaurant.

According to the report, Newman smirked and seemed annoyed by officers' requests. He stood in the water for about 15 seconds before swimming downstream, to avoid the turbulence from the waterfall, and across the river to the officers, the report said.

Newman would not get out of the water, Bell said, even after Duamni was safe and talking to authorities. Bell said Newman then swam to the other side of the river and was "sitting Indian-style on a concrete wall saying, 'Why?' " when asked to come over.

Newman said he was trying to get out of the river as fast as he could.

"I was pretty tired when all that was finished, and they wanted me to hop-to," Newman said. "I came out as soon as was reasonably humanly possible."

"When he came across the river, the officer stuck out his hand like he's going to help him out of the water, and he put cuffs on him," said John Parnell, pastor of St. Augustine Old Roman Catholic Church in Fort Worth.

According to the police report and witness accounts, the crowd that had gathered to watch the rescue was upset when they saw the police arrest Newman.

Parnell and another man blocked the police officer's path to the squad car while other members of the crowd yelled at the police, telling them Newman had saved Duamni's life and should not be arrested.

University spokesman Mark Hendricks said he did not know whether Newman rescued Duamni. Hendricks said it was his understanding that Newman was uncooperative with authorities.

When Duamni got out of the water, he saw Newman in handcuffs and asked who he was. "I said, 'What's the deal,' and the police said, 'He got you out,"' Duamni said.

San Marcos resident Bob Ogletree said he understood why emergency personnel wanted to clear the water, but didn't understand why Newman had to be arrested.

Later Newman crossed the river, he was arrested on a charge of interfering with public duties and refusing a lawful order, a Class B misdemeanor punishable by up to 180 days in jail and a $2,000 fine. As he was arrested, a crowd yelled at police.

Ralph Meyer, director of the Texas State University-San Marcos Police Department said Newman probably would not serve any more jail time relating to incident. And he would not rule out the possibility of the charge being dropped altogether.

"Anything is possible," Meyer said.

Police said Newman had heard the order to leave the spillway area and said later, "I saved the guy, and there was no need for me to leave."

Newman said he heard the order to get out of the water but initially ignored it because he'd thought he felt Duamni underwater.

"The one thing I did wrong was not just jump out of the water at the first command," Newman said. "But I had already touched this fellow under there."

Now what I want to know is, how many cops got wet? How many firemen jumped in? Since when does a river have to be clear to save someone's life? How do they know he was smirking? Maybe it was a grimace from being tired from swimming. Maybe it was a smile because he thought he did something good. After all he saved someone's life. And what was his reward? He got arrested. He jumped into the river to save a life and the only life he endangered was his own, and he fucking got arrested. This is just a case of police gone crazy with power. They arrested him "because he didn't do what we told him to do". Somebody call a fucking Whhhaaaabulance. God forbid you ignore the police and save a life. Ooooo, now your a dangerous criminal. The arresting officer should be reprimanded and told to sit it out for a while. If somebody saves my life and gets arrested, then I'm suing the police officer personally for putting my life in jeopardy. I know I won't win, but he'll have some sleepless nights and a bill from a lawyer. Make them pay, just like Newman had to pay bail. I know when they drop the charges, he gets his bail back, but he doesn't get back the 10% he had to pay the bail bondsman. Why didn't the police report mention Newman saving Duamnis life? Because that would make the police look bad. I thought they were supposed to put all the facts into the report. I wonder how many other reports are slanted to make an arrest seem necessary. The police are no more there to serve and protect than I am. They are there to make you pay, one way or another, and if they can't make the charges stick they can damn sure make you spend a lot of money defending yourself. Real hero's, huh?

Note: Once again July 17th, also known as "Trash Day" is almost upon us. Letter bombs are expected. Gifts and cards will be accepted.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

A Great American

This being the 4th of July weekend, I thought I would talk about a true patriot. Me. I love this country and the other 49 states too. I bleed red, white, and blue. I would fight to the death for what this country stands for and I support all the troops that are doing that right now, in far away deserts. I stand behind the president, whether I voted for him or not. I did it for Clinton, I'll do it for Bush. Even if I don't believe in everything they do, I will support them, simply because they bought... uh, they were elected. You may not respect the man but you should respect the office. If you don't like the way that things are done, you can always work to change it in four years, instead of sitting around and whining about it.

Now a few words about The Bill of Rights. Just some of them , not all of them.

1st Amendment. Freedom of religion. This country was built by Christians to avoid religious persecution. You bleeding heart, pansy ass, panty waisted, liberals need to leave some things alone. I don't care who worships what. I believe in God, don't try and take Him out of the Pledge of Allegiance. If you don't want to say the Pledge, then don't. But don't try to tell me that my children can't. Part of the problem today is children are not taught allegiance to anything much less their country.
The other part of the 1st amendment is freedom of speech. I will defend everyone's freedom of speech even if I don't like what you're saying. Burning the flag is not speech. I don't hear words, I just see flames. I will kick your ass if you try that shit in front of me.

2nd Amendment. The right to keep and bear arms. Enough said.

4th Amendment. Deals with unlawful search and seizure. The Nazis in charge of law enforcement got rid of this one a long time ago.

5th, 6th, & 7th Amendments. All deal with trial and law and juries. Simply put they don't matter, only money can save you in our judicial system, just ask O.J. and Michael Jackson. Poor people get fucked, just ask the West Memphis 3.

OK, that's enough of that. There's more but my head hurts and I don't really care about most of it anyway. It reads like this .....blah, blah, blah, blahbity, blah, blah. There are some things you can't change or do anything about. There are some things you can. You can stand up for what's right, you can support the troops, you can vote for me in the next election, you can buy my earrings, you can teach your children to love our great country, you can help bring America back to what it once was. You can go to a parade tomorrow and wave a little flag and salute the big flag when it passes. You can be proud.

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A couple of side notes

1. Ford W. Maverick did this pic for me. He's one hell of an artist. Send him your business if you need some work done.

B. The earrings will ship Tuesday, I was down for a couple of days with some kind of weird 48 hour summertime flu, plus I had to figure out a way to ship so that the post would not get bent.

III. If I offended anyone with this post. Fuck you.

413 subsection 7. I have a new article at Go read it.

Go have some barbeque, apple pie, and an imported beer (can't get much more American than that). Have a happy and proud 4th of July. Love your country and your next president (if it's me).

Once again. July 17th is Trash Day. Be sure to mark it on your calendars. Cards and gifts are expected and will be accepted.

Friday, June 24, 2005

Broke Ass

I don't really know where to begin, so I'll start in the middle. My ass is broke; physically, financially, and emotionally broke and I've got the crack to prove it. My ass is split right down the middle. I'm so broke I can't afford to pay attention. I'm so broke I can't afford to change my mind. I'm so broke I might have to give up this free blog. I feel too shitty to work, thanks to the medications I'm taking. That covers the financial part.

I'm broke physically also. My knees hurt. I have tennis elbow. My back and neck are strained. Plus numerous other aches and pains due to working out in the pool two hours a day. I'm trying to lose weight and get my blood sugar down so I can get off the meds.

I'm broke emotionally because of the physical and money worries. All day long I wonder how I'm going to pay the bills. It's taking a toll on me.

But not to worry. I think I have devised a way out of the money problems, which in case will cure the emotional problems. The physical problems will work themselves out eventually.

Here's my plan. You're going to buy earrings from me. Not just ordinary earrings. Magic earrings. What makes these magic earrings you say. I say if you buy my magic earrings my money problems will disappear. Sounds like magic to me.

These are unique, special, magic earrings. Unique in the fact they are hand made by me and I've never seen anything else like them. Special in the fact that Jack supplied the materials (so I know you ladies will defiantly want these). Magic in the fact..... well we already covered that.

Here's what they look like.

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Fired by Jack himself. Only $10.00 a pair with free shipping. What? You want more. I will also include a certificate of authenticity (A note saying Jack shot them and I made them). Now you may be thinking "Why do I care if Trashman can't pay his bills?" To this I say, if you don't do it for me and the kids, then do it for Rambo. You remember Rambo, don't you?

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Well if I don't sell these earrings then I have to sell Rambo to Maybelline for animal cosmetic testing. Save him from this fate.

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He'll forever be in your debt.

If this doesn't work, then I'm going to do a win a date with Jack raffle (save up your money ladies, I think Jay is going to try and win that one). Also don't tell Jack, he doesn't know yet.

This is a serious post, so if you want the earrings just e-mail me at I'll be adding a PayPal button to my blog later tonight, just as soon as I figure out how that works. I will also discount multiple sets.

Dont forget July 17th is Trash Day. Be sure to mark it on your calendars. Cards and gifts are expected and will be accepted.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Comic Relief

Jack called me Sunday afternoon to remind me that I wasn't supposed to write things like my last post, he informed me that I was supposed to be comic relief for all you depressed people out there. He's right, so here goes nothing.

Sunday night Jen and I were watching television when a commercial for "The Dead Zone" came on.

Jen: "What's The Dead Zone?"
Trashman: "It's a place in my pants."
Jen: "I don't get it."
Trashman: "Neither do I, that's why there's a place in my pants called The Dead Zone."

Something else happened Sunday night. Something monumental, something really big, a mile post in the lives of my boys, a very proud moment for me.

I heard laughter coming from their bedroom, which was unusual since they are usually fighting. I decided to investigate. What I found was amazing. My boys were getting $100.00 lap dances. That's right my boys have gotten their first lap dances. I'm so proud.

Don't get me wrong, they didn't manage to sneak strippers into the house (not even I have figured out how to do that). They were playing Grand Theft Auto San Andreas. It seems that you can enter a strip cub, much like in Grand Theft Auto Vice City. The difference is, in San Andreas you can actually get a lap dance. My boys found The VIP Room and instead of being on the streets killing and robbing, they were getting lap dances. Maybe they're not the violent little monsters I thought they were.

While I was explaining that it was not really appropriate for them to be playing a game that shows cartoon characters dancing for cartoon money, so she can support her cartoon baby or her cartoon drug habit or her no account cartoon boyfriend, not to mention that is was degrading to female cartoon characters everywhere, plus the fact that they weren't really old enough to be doing this sort of thing, my oldest looked up at me:

Trash Jr: "So, you want a lap dance dad?"
Trashman: "Give me the controller and move over."

My boys gave me several thousands of dollars worth of lap dances for fathers day. I'm partial to the blond in the school girl outfit.

NOTE: July 17th is Trash Day. Be sure to mark it on your calendars. Cards and gifts are expected and will be accepted.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Dear Dad

It's been almost 12 years since you died. I remember getting the phone call. I took 30 minutes off of work to mourn your passing. I remember feeling sad, not for you being gone but for never getting to tell you a few things. So I'll say them now.

Thank you for teaching me how important your children are. Oops. You didn't teach me that, you never missed a chance to tell me what a no good, useless, son-of-a-bitch I was.

Thank you for teaching me violence was never the answer. Damn. That wasn't you either. You made me fight my twin brother while you held a 2X4, threatening to beat us if we stopped. You were serious.

Thank you for teaching me how important friends are. Wrong again. You cheated your friends out of their paychecks every Friday, in a crooked Craps game.

Thank you for teaching me to never hit a woman. Once again, not you. You beat my mother on a regular basis.

Thank you for teaching me not to cheat. Fuck, wrong again. You cheated on my mom with your best friends wife.

Thank you for teaching me not to steal. Nope. I remember you getting arrested on a regular basis for car theft, somehow the charges never stuck.

Thank you for teaching me that alcohol was never the way to go. Am I ever going to get this right? You drank from sun-up to sun-down.

Thank you for teaching me that hard work was the way to get the things that you want. Uh-oh. You killed your best friend so you could have his wife and both of his bars.

Thank you for teaching me to stand up for what I believe is right. That wasn't you. You beat and kicked me until I was damn near crippled because I wouldn't tell my mom I was lying about the red head that came to visit while she was at work.

Thank you for being a loving and supportive parent. Definitely not you. If you weren't talking to me like I was a piece of shit or beating me, then you acted like I didn't exist.

Thank you for teaching me to take responsibility for my actions. Wait, that wasn't you. You ran out on every woman and child you ever had.

They say that a man that hits women are cowards, I don't think this is true. You hit every woman you were ever with, but you weren't afraid of a damn thing. I think you were just mean. You had no problem hitting man, woman, or child.

You fathered 11 children that I'm aware of, I'm sure there were many more. That's 11 lives you had a negative impact on. Eleven fully fucked up individuals, I hope your proud of yourself. I know you gave us a lot to be proud of. Out of the 11 kids I know of, you fucked up my twin brother the most. All he ever wanted was your love and you hated him for it, and it showed.

You didn't love any of us but at least, I had your respect, even if it meant getting beat until I was almost dead. I was 10 years old and you beat and kicked me until you were too tired to move, but I stuck to the truth. You still didn't love me, but I made you respect me.

I look back at this list and I realize you may have taught me some things after all. Regardless of what you may or may not have taught me, you're still my father.

So for me, Gary, Bill, James, Marshall, Steve, Diane, Norma, Sharon, Patricia, and your son I never met. Happy Fathers Day. I hope you're burning in hell.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Saint Jen

Tonight, Jen made fettucini with meat sauce for dinner. Just as she was about to put the noodles in the water she looked at me and asked:

Jen: "You want the noodles broke in half or not?"
Trashman: "I don't care, just fix my damn dinner."
Jen: "On, Queer Eye On The Straight Guy, they say to not break the noodles."
Trashman: "Then don't break them, those homos know what they're doing."

After she served dinner, she went about the task of trying to teach my oldest to not eat like an animal. Just as soon as she turned her back he grabbed his fork like a shovel and curled his left arm around his plate, then proceeded to shovel noodles into his mouth. She turned around, saw him and screamed:

Jen: "What the hell are you doing?"
Trash Jr: "This is how they do it in prison, I'm just getting ready."

Sunday, May 29, 2005

All Day And A Night

I know a lot of you think that the name of my blog has something to do with my criminal ways, in actuality it doesn't. It has to do with the life sentence I'm serving right now. You know the one with Jen and the boys. Don't get me wrong, I love my family and always will. It's just that I've always compared a "committed" relationship to a prison sentence. As of today I have served exactly 12 years.

I worked with Jen for about six months before she quit, then I didn't see her for about a year. There was a lot of flirting going on at the office but nothing ever came of it. One day I got a call from an old roommate that was having a Memorial Day barbecue, she wanted to know if I was going to be there. It seems there were a couple of girls that were hoping to get a piece of the Trashman. I assured her I would be there but I really didn't plan on going. Two days before the get together she called to make double sure I was going to be there, once again I lied and said yes. Then she said Jen was going to be there. That's when I decided I would go.

The night of the party Jen finally worked up enough nerve to ask me out. We've been together every since. Except for that brief time I lost my mind and went into the "entertainment business".

So tomorrow I start year 13 of my sentence. The way I figure it I have about 10 years of hard labor left, then T3 moves out (even if he doesn't want to). I'm hoping to have made a few million off of book deals and my presidential campaign by then. I want to buy an RV and travel this great country of ours, and then when I'm done traveling Texas I might visit some other states.

Twelve years served and 10 to go. Freedom is so close. I'm a short timer. I going to put another mark on the wall and go out into the yard. I just hope I don't get shanked.

Friday, May 27, 2005

The Final Truth

Jack walked back to our table, but he kinda limped, twisted, skipped. I guess it was that whole "tucked" thing he had going on. We stayed at the "church" for a while, nobody really said anything, except every now and then Jack would wink at Jay and then lean in his direction and bark like a dog. This usually made Jay cry again.

I believe you should treat the crazy people a little better, but I couldn't stay at that she-male review any longer no matter how much Jack begged, so we headed of to a little bar because Jack wanted to dance. I figured this would be a good time to give Jay a "man lesson", he needed to learn how to lead when dancing instead of following.

I don't know how Jack finds the places he hangs out at when he's in my part of Texas, but we wound up at some little redneck joint called "Giddy-Ups". The place was full of guys in strange manners of dress and undress. There were dudes in chaps (no pants just chaps) and all sorts of leather wear. When we first walked in the place went silent until all at once the entire crowd shouted "Hi Jack". Jack let out a loud "WOOOOOHOOOO" and ran at some Elvis looking dude and jumped into his arms, they spent the next couple of hours tripping the light fantastic. I was really surprised at how well Jack could two step. I found the girliest looking guy in the place and told Jay to dance with him, it cost me $50.00 for the guy to let Jay lead. I spent the next few hours until closing time keeping the wolves at bay. Those dudes seem to like a real man.

At closing time, Jack finally introduced us to Jays replacement. He was some English Elvis impersonator (biggest sideburns I've ever seen). Jack asked if Jay and I would ride in the back of the drug hoopty so he and Basil could be alone. No problem. All the way back to my house I explained some of the finer points of manhood to Jay. I even gave him the name of a website to help him out. I think I really helped Jay, he seems to be butching up a little. I wish I could help Jack, but the doctors say there's no hope.

When we got back to my house the sun was coming up, Jack and Basil kicked Rambo out of his dog house and crawled inside. I heard some really disgusting sounds coming from it for the rest of the day. I gave Jay a ride to the bus station and bought his broke ass a ticket back to Houston, I told him if he needed anymore advice just e-mail me, boy was that a mistake. Now I spend half my day answering his "what would a real man do" questions. Who knows maybe someday he'll become a man and find a real Jasmine, instead of having to make her up.

Jack and Basil finally left two days later. I burned Rambos house.