Once again I let the comments get away from me. I had no idea there were so many Starshit haters out there. Seems no one likes it except for Jay, but then again there does seem to be a new "I Hate Jay Club". So, Jay you can take the $4.00 I spent at Starbucks and use it to hire a bodyguard. That'll learn you to disagree with me.
I've been quite busy these last few days. The boys are on spring break. I'm attempting to get some work done, but it's going mighty slow. I also joined up with Mace and Ford over at TerriblyWrong.com. I wrote my first article for them and it should be published tomorrow. It's not much, just an introduction of myself and my asshole ways. If y'all feel up to it, click the link on the right and go read it. I will be submitting to them from time to time, probably about once a month.
I know these are not good excuses for ignoring y'all, but they're all I've got so they'll have to do.
I've been trying to get back on a daytime schedule, but after working nights for the last 10 years it's been really rough switching over. I'm sure y'all have noticed the strange selection of hours on my comments times. If y'all didn't notice they're all over the clock. The most unfortunate part about the whole thing is now I have trouble sleeping at all, which in turn gives me too much time to think. I don't know if y'all are aware of it or not, but I'm not a thinker. I'm more of an action type of guy. I don't want to think, I want to do. Thinking makes Trashman's head hurt.
So in order to cut down on the pain, I'm going to let y'all pick my next post. When I write, I don't think, so this is going to make my life a lot easier. I'm going to give y'all three subjects, and y'all are going to vote on the one that you want me to write about. Then I will add up all the vote's Friday sometime and post a blog on said subject Friday night. Just write your vote into the comments section. If you vote for more than one I will count only the first vote. One reader equals one vote.
The subjects:
1. Burger or Filet Mignon
2. I think she's dead
3. They love me
I realize that the titles are not very descriptive, I can only assure y'all that numbers one and three are as good as number two. That's what makes this such a fun game.
I see that Beckie used my name in the title of her latest post. I just want to say thanks for the mention.
All 11 times I used the word y'all was for Grace. I know how much she loves the word y'all.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Cup Of Mud
OK. Here's the weekend update. Last night Jack and I went to the tent revival again. Healing is a good thing. I talked to Inanna today, we're trying to hash out the plans for meeting when she makes it to Texas. I'm bound and determined to make this happen, I just hope that the new job is flexible enough.
Now, I want to talk about coffee. I have seen a lot of people in blogland talking about Starbucks. In fact some of you rave about it. I have to ask, what is wrong with you people?
Tonight the boys were at a friends birthday party, and Jen and I were sitting around doing nothing, when she came up with the idea of going to Starcraps and getting a cup of coffee. She had never been there and neither had I, so I thought what the hell, I'll try anything once, except for homosexuality.
Well we went to Starshits to get some "coffee".They had an outside seating area so we could smoke (so far so good). We went inside and the first thing I see is a CD rack with a Joni Mitchell CD right in front ( I should have run for the door, I was in Hippy Hell). Instead I looked up at the menu. This is where I almost went into cardiac arrest. $4.79 for a cup of coffee! These people are obviously smoking the coffee beans in the back room. I took a deep breath and slowed my heart rate back down to it's semi-steady beat. I looked back at the menu and saw there were three different sizes. Small, Grande, and Venti. Small I understand, Venti is a foreign word, but so is Grande. This is the confusing part. I know Grande means big, as in really fucking BIG. So how come at Stardumps, Grande is the medium? I looked up Venti, at Dictionary.com and guess what? According to the experts it ain't even a fucking word.
After staring at the menu for a while, we stepped up to place our order.
Counter Dork: "Welcome to Starturds. Can I help you?"
Jen: "I'll have the Carmel Mocha Coffee."
CD: "Small, Grande Or Venti?"
Jen: "Venti, please."
CD: "And you sir?"
Trashman: "I don't know nothing about this half caff, half decaff, low fat cream, dark roast business. I've only seen people order this stuff on TV. So I want coffee. A nice mild coffee like a breakfast blend. The biggest you've got. Oh and put some chocolate in it and make it sweet."
CD: "How about some mocha?"
Trashman: "Is that chocolate?"
CD: "Yes."
Trashman: "OK and give me a piece of that peanut butter bar and she'll have a piece of that seven layer bar(more like seven layer brick, talk about hard)."
The counter dork filled our order and we walked over to get some napkins so we could go outside and drink our alleged coffee. I took one sip, looked at Jen and said "This tastes like shit."
She told me to"be a little louder next time someone probably didn't hear me". I peeled the lid off and added about a pound of sugar, stirred it up and tasted it. Now it was sort of drinkable. Once outside and seated, I went about my normal routine of goofing on the hippies and yuppies that frequent these kinds of places.
"Is my sweater tied around my neck straight?"
"Don't you just love my new Docker shorts."
"I got these clogs on sale."
"I love incense. Did you know that it comes in hippie girl pit hair scent now?"
"Over charge and they will come."
"Can I get a half caff cup of diarrhea and dip your nuts in it?"
"Recycled toilet water, Venti please."
"Can I get a Grande mop sludge with low fat cream?"
"A small liquid shit to go please."
Now Jen was perfectly happy with the place, but then again she is a pseudo-hippy. I however will never go back, after all I do have a reputation to keep up. That and the "coffee" was the worst thing I've ever tasted. I don't know if you people know it or not but Folgers is $3.99 for a big bucket that will last for months. Plus Folgers replaced the coffee in some of Americas finest restaurants and nobody noticed. That's good enough for me.
Now, I want to talk about coffee. I have seen a lot of people in blogland talking about Starbucks. In fact some of you rave about it. I have to ask, what is wrong with you people?
Tonight the boys were at a friends birthday party, and Jen and I were sitting around doing nothing, when she came up with the idea of going to Starcraps and getting a cup of coffee. She had never been there and neither had I, so I thought what the hell, I'll try anything once, except for homosexuality.
Well we went to Starshits to get some "coffee".They had an outside seating area so we could smoke (so far so good). We went inside and the first thing I see is a CD rack with a Joni Mitchell CD right in front ( I should have run for the door, I was in Hippy Hell). Instead I looked up at the menu. This is where I almost went into cardiac arrest. $4.79 for a cup of coffee! These people are obviously smoking the coffee beans in the back room. I took a deep breath and slowed my heart rate back down to it's semi-steady beat. I looked back at the menu and saw there were three different sizes. Small, Grande, and Venti. Small I understand, Venti is a foreign word, but so is Grande. This is the confusing part. I know Grande means big, as in really fucking BIG. So how come at Stardumps, Grande is the medium? I looked up Venti, at Dictionary.com and guess what? According to the experts it ain't even a fucking word.
After staring at the menu for a while, we stepped up to place our order.
Counter Dork: "Welcome to Starturds. Can I help you?"
Jen: "I'll have the Carmel Mocha Coffee."
CD: "Small, Grande Or Venti?"
Jen: "Venti, please."
CD: "And you sir?"
Trashman: "I don't know nothing about this half caff, half decaff, low fat cream, dark roast business. I've only seen people order this stuff on TV. So I want coffee. A nice mild coffee like a breakfast blend. The biggest you've got. Oh and put some chocolate in it and make it sweet."
CD: "How about some mocha?"
Trashman: "Is that chocolate?"
CD: "Yes."
Trashman: "OK and give me a piece of that peanut butter bar and she'll have a piece of that seven layer bar(more like seven layer brick, talk about hard)."
The counter dork filled our order and we walked over to get some napkins so we could go outside and drink our alleged coffee. I took one sip, looked at Jen and said "This tastes like shit."
She told me to"be a little louder next time someone probably didn't hear me". I peeled the lid off and added about a pound of sugar, stirred it up and tasted it. Now it was sort of drinkable. Once outside and seated, I went about my normal routine of goofing on the hippies and yuppies that frequent these kinds of places.
"Is my sweater tied around my neck straight?"
"Don't you just love my new Docker shorts."
"I got these clogs on sale."
"I love incense. Did you know that it comes in hippie girl pit hair scent now?"
"Over charge and they will come."
"Can I get a half caff cup of diarrhea and dip your nuts in it?"
"Recycled toilet water, Venti please."
"Can I get a Grande mop sludge with low fat cream?"
"A small liquid shit to go please."
Now Jen was perfectly happy with the place, but then again she is a pseudo-hippy. I however will never go back, after all I do have a reputation to keep up. That and the "coffee" was the worst thing I've ever tasted. I don't know if you people know it or not but Folgers is $3.99 for a big bucket that will last for months. Plus Folgers replaced the coffee in some of Americas finest restaurants and nobody noticed. That's good enough for me.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
BR-549
Telemarketers and wrong numbers. I love both. They bring me minutes upon minutes of entertainment.
I love getting a new phone number, this allows me to receive phone calls for the person that used to have the number. That's where the fun starts. It usually goes something like this.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Is Gloria there?"
Trashman: "Can I tell her who's calling?"
Caller: "Stan."
Moment of silence.
Trashman: "She says she'll have to call you back. She's busy."
Caller: "What's she doing. This is important."
Trashman: "Hold on."
Moment of silence (Isn't it golden?)
Trashman: "She says she'll have to call you back, she wants to finish blowing me first."
Or this classic.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Could I speak to Joe please?"
Trashman: "Joe's not here."
Caller: "When do expect him back?"
Trashman: "In 10 to 20."
Caller: "10 to 20 minutes?"
Trashman: "No. Years."
Caller: "Huh?"
Trashman: "He's in prison."
Caller: "Holy shit. What for?"
Trashman: "Child porn. You're not the guy I'm holding the package for, are you?"
The telemarketers are just as much fun.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hey, how are you doing?"
Trashman: "Fine, and you?"
Caller: "Great. I'm calling because I work for ABC home repairs and will be in your neighborhood this week doing some work. I was wondering if you would be interested in a free carpet cleaning?"
Trashman: "I ain't got no carpets."
Caller: "Well it just so happens that we do hardwood floors also."
Trashman: "I ain't got no hardwood floors."
Caller: "Well that is unusual. What do you have, tile or concrete?"
Trashman: "Dirt."
Caller: "Dirt?"
Trashman: "Cept when it rains. Then I got a mud floor."
Caller: "How's that."
Trashman: "No winders."
Caller: "You don't have any windows?"
Trashman: "Nope. Just four walls and this here phone."
Caller: "We do all kinds of home repairs, we could put windows in for you."
Trashman: "No sense in that, the rain will just come in through where the roof used to be."
Caller: "OK sir. Have a good day."
Trashman: "I'll be fine as long as the sun keeps shining."
Wait there's more.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello, Mr. Trashman. I'm Suzy and I work for the phone company. I would like to make you a special offer for caller ID."
Trashman: "Not interested."
Caller: "Well for $29.95 I can set you up with a caller ID unit and 3 months of caller ID service."
Trashman: "I don't need it."
Caller: "If you don't have caller ID, how do you know when to answer the phone?"
Trashman: "The same way I knew this time. It was ringing."
The pain continues.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello sir. I'm with XYZ charity and we'll be in your neighborhood tomorrow picking up old clothes for the poor."
Trashman: "Sorry. I can't help you."
Caller: "Oh, did you already make a donation?"
Trashman: "Nope. I just don't have any clothes."
Caller: "You don't have any old clothes?"
Trashman: "I don't have ANY clothes. I'm a nudist."
Caller: "Oh, I see. Well we pick up old furniture and appliances also."
Trashman: "I don't have any furniture either. I'm also a minimalist."
Caller: "What do you have?"
Trashman: "My phone and my big screen TV and you can't have either one."
OH the agony. Last one I promise. This one took place tonight. I consider it my masterpiece.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: " Hello sir. My name is Sally. I'm with Verizon Travel. Can I ask you a few questions?"
Trashman: "Sure. I didn't have anything else to do, except bang my head on the wall. I guess that can wait."
Caller: "Thank you. Sir have you ever taken a vacation?"
Trashman: "I vacation all the time."
Caller: "Good. Where was you last vacation?"
Trashman: "San Quentin."
Caller: "Great. Have you ever taken a cruise?"
Trashman: "Yeah. I took a cruise to Devil's Island once. Stayed for 5 years."
Caller: "That's nice. Have you and your lovely bride ever flown anywhere?"
Trashman: "I have a lovely husband."
Caller: "Oh. OH. Well That's nice that you found someone. So have you two ever flown together?"
Trashman: "Not together. I flew to Folsom, that's where I met him."
Caller: "What's Folsom?"
Trashman: "A prison."
Caller: "Are you a member of the prison ministries?"
Trashman: "No. I'm an ex-convict. We used to be cell mates. Seven years together and we just fell in love."
Caller: "One more question sir. How do you think we should advertise? Radio, TV, newspaper, magazines?"
Trashman: "Gay magazines."
Caller: "OK. Thank you sir and you have a blessed evening."
Trashman: "You too. Now if I could just find that man of mine, I would give him a big kiss."
Why do they keep hanging up on me?
I love getting a new phone number, this allows me to receive phone calls for the person that used to have the number. That's where the fun starts. It usually goes something like this.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Is Gloria there?"
Trashman: "Can I tell her who's calling?"
Caller: "Stan."
Moment of silence.
Trashman: "She says she'll have to call you back. She's busy."
Caller: "What's she doing. This is important."
Trashman: "Hold on."
Moment of silence (Isn't it golden?)
Trashman: "She says she'll have to call you back, she wants to finish blowing me first."
Or this classic.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Could I speak to Joe please?"
Trashman: "Joe's not here."
Caller: "When do expect him back?"
Trashman: "In 10 to 20."
Caller: "10 to 20 minutes?"
Trashman: "No. Years."
Caller: "Huh?"
Trashman: "He's in prison."
Caller: "Holy shit. What for?"
Trashman: "Child porn. You're not the guy I'm holding the package for, are you?"
The telemarketers are just as much fun.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hey, how are you doing?"
Trashman: "Fine, and you?"
Caller: "Great. I'm calling because I work for ABC home repairs and will be in your neighborhood this week doing some work. I was wondering if you would be interested in a free carpet cleaning?"
Trashman: "I ain't got no carpets."
Caller: "Well it just so happens that we do hardwood floors also."
Trashman: "I ain't got no hardwood floors."
Caller: "Well that is unusual. What do you have, tile or concrete?"
Trashman: "Dirt."
Caller: "Dirt?"
Trashman: "Cept when it rains. Then I got a mud floor."
Caller: "How's that."
Trashman: "No winders."
Caller: "You don't have any windows?"
Trashman: "Nope. Just four walls and this here phone."
Caller: "We do all kinds of home repairs, we could put windows in for you."
Trashman: "No sense in that, the rain will just come in through where the roof used to be."
Caller: "OK sir. Have a good day."
Trashman: "I'll be fine as long as the sun keeps shining."
Wait there's more.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello, Mr. Trashman. I'm Suzy and I work for the phone company. I would like to make you a special offer for caller ID."
Trashman: "Not interested."
Caller: "Well for $29.95 I can set you up with a caller ID unit and 3 months of caller ID service."
Trashman: "I don't need it."
Caller: "If you don't have caller ID, how do you know when to answer the phone?"
Trashman: "The same way I knew this time. It was ringing."
The pain continues.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: "Hello sir. I'm with XYZ charity and we'll be in your neighborhood tomorrow picking up old clothes for the poor."
Trashman: "Sorry. I can't help you."
Caller: "Oh, did you already make a donation?"
Trashman: "Nope. I just don't have any clothes."
Caller: "You don't have any old clothes?"
Trashman: "I don't have ANY clothes. I'm a nudist."
Caller: "Oh, I see. Well we pick up old furniture and appliances also."
Trashman: "I don't have any furniture either. I'm also a minimalist."
Caller: "What do you have?"
Trashman: "My phone and my big screen TV and you can't have either one."
OH the agony. Last one I promise. This one took place tonight. I consider it my masterpiece.
Phone rings.
Trashman: "Hello?"
Caller: " Hello sir. My name is Sally. I'm with Verizon Travel. Can I ask you a few questions?"
Trashman: "Sure. I didn't have anything else to do, except bang my head on the wall. I guess that can wait."
Caller: "Thank you. Sir have you ever taken a vacation?"
Trashman: "I vacation all the time."
Caller: "Good. Where was you last vacation?"
Trashman: "San Quentin."
Caller: "Great. Have you ever taken a cruise?"
Trashman: "Yeah. I took a cruise to Devil's Island once. Stayed for 5 years."
Caller: "That's nice. Have you and your lovely bride ever flown anywhere?"
Trashman: "I have a lovely husband."
Caller: "Oh. OH. Well That's nice that you found someone. So have you two ever flown together?"
Trashman: "Not together. I flew to Folsom, that's where I met him."
Caller: "What's Folsom?"
Trashman: "A prison."
Caller: "Are you a member of the prison ministries?"
Trashman: "No. I'm an ex-convict. We used to be cell mates. Seven years together and we just fell in love."
Caller: "One more question sir. How do you think we should advertise? Radio, TV, newspaper, magazines?"
Trashman: "Gay magazines."
Caller: "OK. Thank you sir and you have a blessed evening."
Trashman: "You too. Now if I could just find that man of mine, I would give him a big kiss."
Why do they keep hanging up on me?
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Burnin' For You
Well, Easter is almost here so I guess it's time for a little Easter story. Not that this story has anything to do with Easter, or Jesus, or rabbits, or egg hunts, or new Sunday-Go-To-Meetin' clothes or anything remotely involving Easter. Nope, this story just happened on Easter weekend. So that makes it an Easter story.
I used to go to a motorcycle run every Easter weekend in London, Texas. It was called the Bluebonnet Run. The same people sponsored it every year, I don't know who they were, but they put on one hell of a party. When large groups of people would show up they would be given a pre-cooked pig. The pig would come straight out of the pit wrapped in burlap and chicken wire. After cooking underground for a couple of days, the pig would be done to perfection. Tender, moist, and oh so delicious, they could be found on tailgates of pick-ups all over the park.
This particular year we went in a group of about 20, and we had set up camp at the back of the park. There were several other large groups as well. One of the groups was a well known motorcycle "club". The "club" had brought a pit bull with them, which was not unusual since lots of people brought their dogs along on these runs all the time. What made this time different is they were going around turning this four-legged killer lose on other peoples dogs. It made for a really tense situation, since there wasn't a lot anybody could really do. If you tried to stop this "club", the very least you would get is a gang style stomping. There was also the possibility the "club" might call on a hundred or more of it's members to visit the town. Either way it wouldn't be pleasant. So the smart thing to do, would be to pack up and leave if you brought your dog or you could always sit there and wait for your dog to be torn to shreds.
One of the guys in our group, by the name of Steve brought his dog with him. To put it mildly, Steve was a fucking idiot. After four or five dogs had been mauled by the pit bull it didn't seem that the "club" was getting bored with their little game. So, Steve decided that he was going to put a stop to the shit, he grabbed his pistol and started heading towards the front of the park. A very good friend of mine (Pancho) knowing the ramifications of Steve's stupidity, jumped up and nailed Steve right in the back of the head with his pistol. Steve was out cold. A bunch of us dragged him over to a tree and tied him up. I would have left at this point, but I was way to drunk to drive and it was several hours home. Even as drunk as I was I knew nothing good could come of this.
We all continued to party for the rest of the evening, with Steve steadily bitching from his spot under the tree. Once and a while someone would give him a drink of beer or a toke on a left handed cigarette, just hopping that he would calm down at some point. He never did, so he stayed tied to the tree all night. As the party wound down people started crawling into their tents or the backs of their trucks, but the one thing I noticed is not too many went to bed without their guns. You could hear clips being checked, slides slamming forward, and shotguns being racked all over the park. The "club" was still there and nobody felt too safe. I went to sleep in the back of my truck, with a .45 under my pillow.
During the night some clown thought it would be funny to throw fire crackers into the fire in our camp site. Nobody ever confessed who it was, but I have my suspicions. I should have shot him.
I was asleep when the fire crackers started popping. They were pretty powerful, so I know they weren't your average black cats or lady fingers. This was back in the days of M-80's, so I'm going to venture a guess that, that's what they were. So, I wake up to the explosions not 20 feet from my truck, I was down inside the bed so I couldn't see a thing. I grabbed my pistol and lunged over the tailgate. Once again my left foot betrayed me. It got caught on the tailgate and I fell out of the truck, landing with my .45 under me. As soon as I hit the ground the .45 went off. I jumped up and looked down, somehow by the grace of God I managed to not shoot myself, but my shirt was torn from the bullet and is was on fire from the flash of the shot. I started slapping at the flames and I heard laughter all around me. I looked up and saw people coming out of their tents and trucks, guns in hand (I've seen less fire power in an Army platoon) but the minute they saw me they were stopping and laughing. I was Johnny Torch. "Flame On!"
Pancho came crawling out of his tent, he was on his knees with a pistol in each hand. He looked up at me and froze. He looked at the gun at my feet and then back up at me. I was looking at him while steadily beating at the flames on my shirt.
Pancho: "Who the fuck were you shooting at?"
Trashman: "Me, mother fucker. Help me put this fire out."
I used to go to a motorcycle run every Easter weekend in London, Texas. It was called the Bluebonnet Run. The same people sponsored it every year, I don't know who they were, but they put on one hell of a party. When large groups of people would show up they would be given a pre-cooked pig. The pig would come straight out of the pit wrapped in burlap and chicken wire. After cooking underground for a couple of days, the pig would be done to perfection. Tender, moist, and oh so delicious, they could be found on tailgates of pick-ups all over the park.
This particular year we went in a group of about 20, and we had set up camp at the back of the park. There were several other large groups as well. One of the groups was a well known motorcycle "club". The "club" had brought a pit bull with them, which was not unusual since lots of people brought their dogs along on these runs all the time. What made this time different is they were going around turning this four-legged killer lose on other peoples dogs. It made for a really tense situation, since there wasn't a lot anybody could really do. If you tried to stop this "club", the very least you would get is a gang style stomping. There was also the possibility the "club" might call on a hundred or more of it's members to visit the town. Either way it wouldn't be pleasant. So the smart thing to do, would be to pack up and leave if you brought your dog or you could always sit there and wait for your dog to be torn to shreds.
One of the guys in our group, by the name of Steve brought his dog with him. To put it mildly, Steve was a fucking idiot. After four or five dogs had been mauled by the pit bull it didn't seem that the "club" was getting bored with their little game. So, Steve decided that he was going to put a stop to the shit, he grabbed his pistol and started heading towards the front of the park. A very good friend of mine (Pancho) knowing the ramifications of Steve's stupidity, jumped up and nailed Steve right in the back of the head with his pistol. Steve was out cold. A bunch of us dragged him over to a tree and tied him up. I would have left at this point, but I was way to drunk to drive and it was several hours home. Even as drunk as I was I knew nothing good could come of this.
We all continued to party for the rest of the evening, with Steve steadily bitching from his spot under the tree. Once and a while someone would give him a drink of beer or a toke on a left handed cigarette, just hopping that he would calm down at some point. He never did, so he stayed tied to the tree all night. As the party wound down people started crawling into their tents or the backs of their trucks, but the one thing I noticed is not too many went to bed without their guns. You could hear clips being checked, slides slamming forward, and shotguns being racked all over the park. The "club" was still there and nobody felt too safe. I went to sleep in the back of my truck, with a .45 under my pillow.
During the night some clown thought it would be funny to throw fire crackers into the fire in our camp site. Nobody ever confessed who it was, but I have my suspicions. I should have shot him.
I was asleep when the fire crackers started popping. They were pretty powerful, so I know they weren't your average black cats or lady fingers. This was back in the days of M-80's, so I'm going to venture a guess that, that's what they were. So, I wake up to the explosions not 20 feet from my truck, I was down inside the bed so I couldn't see a thing. I grabbed my pistol and lunged over the tailgate. Once again my left foot betrayed me. It got caught on the tailgate and I fell out of the truck, landing with my .45 under me. As soon as I hit the ground the .45 went off. I jumped up and looked down, somehow by the grace of God I managed to not shoot myself, but my shirt was torn from the bullet and is was on fire from the flash of the shot. I started slapping at the flames and I heard laughter all around me. I looked up and saw people coming out of their tents and trucks, guns in hand (I've seen less fire power in an Army platoon) but the minute they saw me they were stopping and laughing. I was Johnny Torch. "Flame On!"
Pancho came crawling out of his tent, he was on his knees with a pistol in each hand. He looked up at me and froze. He looked at the gun at my feet and then back up at me. I was looking at him while steadily beating at the flames on my shirt.
Pancho: "Who the fuck were you shooting at?"
Trashman: "Me, mother fucker. Help me put this fire out."
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Old Time Religion
Last night Jack drove the long distance to my house, so that he and I could go to a tent revival. Yeah we've got a little bit of religion in us. We drove around in the dark for a bit looking for the revival, finally coming around a curve in the road, we saw Mecca up ahead. We knew we were at the right place because of the pink and purple neon. We parked the car and entered, dropping off the $10.00 each at the first collection plate just inside the door. We worked our way to a pew about half way to the pulpit so that we would have a good view of the Sisters of Mercy. Let the healing begin.
Brother DJ preached one hell of a sermon while the music flowed. I'm sure Sister Cinnamon was full of the spirit because she was crawling and writhing on the floor. Next Sister Bambi and Sister Satin laid hands on one another. It was a very spiritual experience. At one point Sister Sunni was healing Jack and I was approached by Sister He-Man of Greyskull for a little one on one healing in the V.I.P. tent. I declined.
At one point Brother DJ called a man out of the audience up to the stage. The man was getting married in a few days and his friends brought him to the revival for a glorious send off. He sat in a chair at the alter while Sister's Silk, Nikki, and Kiki gave him their blessings.
Later Sister Chantelle and Jack were having a communication problem (she's Chezch) but all communication problems can be solved through the universal language, and a few dollars don't hurt either. I had my eye on Sister Dracula (I do love me a freak), unfortunately she never made it to our pew to heal me. Sister Josie (I'm sure the rest of The Pussiecats were around healing others) stopped by a few times to see if I needed any counseling.
I don't remember how many times the collection plates were passed around, but it was a lot.
The revival shut down at 4:00 am and the ushers sent everybody on their way. It was a beautiful sermon.
This morning (noon 30), Jack came in my room and opened the blinds. The sun was shining for the first time in about a week. It was a gorgeous day. Jack and I had both been healed. I think we should get a little of that old time religion more often.
FLASHBACK: I drove around Saturday morning from store to store looking for a suit to buy. I had Trash Jr and his friend Joey with me. They were there because I had to go to the toy store also. My cell phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. Jack's name was on my phone, I answered it and spent the next few minutes discussing men's fashion with him. As we were getting ready to end the conversation Jack had a wonderful idea.
Jack: "What are you doing tonight?"
Trashman: "Nothing. Why?"
Jack: "How about I come up there and we go to a tittie bar?"
Trashman: "Sounds great. Let me call Jen and make sure she doesn't have any plans for us and I'll call you right back."
I called Jen and told her the plans, she was cool with it. I made sure she knew I was going to a tittie bar. No problem. I called Jack back and told him to head this way. He said he would be here as soon as he could and I hung up the phone. During all of the excitement of making the plans I had forgotten there were two 10 year old boys in the back seat.
Joey: "Mr. Trashman?"
Oh Shit
Trashman: "Yeah?"
Joey: "Are you going to look at titties?"
Trashman: "Well I'm going out with a friend tonight."
Joey: "I saw a movie once where a man rubbed some titties and the lady had big nipples."
Trashman: "Well I won't be seeing any nipples."
Trash Jr: "Why?"
Trashman: "It's against the law in the state of Texas for a woman to show her nipples."
Joey: "But they're still titties."
Trash Jr: "Uh. I don't think titties are titties without the nipples. Not that I'm an expert or anything."
I never realized how hard it is to control a car in a rainstorm while laughing uncontrollably.
Brother DJ preached one hell of a sermon while the music flowed. I'm sure Sister Cinnamon was full of the spirit because she was crawling and writhing on the floor. Next Sister Bambi and Sister Satin laid hands on one another. It was a very spiritual experience. At one point Sister Sunni was healing Jack and I was approached by Sister He-Man of Greyskull for a little one on one healing in the V.I.P. tent. I declined.
At one point Brother DJ called a man out of the audience up to the stage. The man was getting married in a few days and his friends brought him to the revival for a glorious send off. He sat in a chair at the alter while Sister's Silk, Nikki, and Kiki gave him their blessings.
Later Sister Chantelle and Jack were having a communication problem (she's Chezch) but all communication problems can be solved through the universal language, and a few dollars don't hurt either. I had my eye on Sister Dracula (I do love me a freak), unfortunately she never made it to our pew to heal me. Sister Josie (I'm sure the rest of The Pussiecats were around healing others) stopped by a few times to see if I needed any counseling.
I don't remember how many times the collection plates were passed around, but it was a lot.
The revival shut down at 4:00 am and the ushers sent everybody on their way. It was a beautiful sermon.
This morning (noon 30), Jack came in my room and opened the blinds. The sun was shining for the first time in about a week. It was a gorgeous day. Jack and I had both been healed. I think we should get a little of that old time religion more often.
FLASHBACK: I drove around Saturday morning from store to store looking for a suit to buy. I had Trash Jr and his friend Joey with me. They were there because I had to go to the toy store also. My cell phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. Jack's name was on my phone, I answered it and spent the next few minutes discussing men's fashion with him. As we were getting ready to end the conversation Jack had a wonderful idea.
Jack: "What are you doing tonight?"
Trashman: "Nothing. Why?"
Jack: "How about I come up there and we go to a tittie bar?"
Trashman: "Sounds great. Let me call Jen and make sure she doesn't have any plans for us and I'll call you right back."
I called Jen and told her the plans, she was cool with it. I made sure she knew I was going to a tittie bar. No problem. I called Jack back and told him to head this way. He said he would be here as soon as he could and I hung up the phone. During all of the excitement of making the plans I had forgotten there were two 10 year old boys in the back seat.
Joey: "Mr. Trashman?"
Oh Shit
Trashman: "Yeah?"
Joey: "Are you going to look at titties?"
Trashman: "Well I'm going out with a friend tonight."
Joey: "I saw a movie once where a man rubbed some titties and the lady had big nipples."
Trashman: "Well I won't be seeing any nipples."
Trash Jr: "Why?"
Trashman: "It's against the law in the state of Texas for a woman to show her nipples."
Joey: "But they're still titties."
Trash Jr: "Uh. I don't think titties are titties without the nipples. Not that I'm an expert or anything."
I never realized how hard it is to control a car in a rainstorm while laughing uncontrollably.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
What I Do Know
Right after I posted last nights update, Jack called me. The inconsiderate fucker called me at 2:44 am. Actually he can call anytime he wants. I'll always answer. We talked for well over an hour. This is all I know. He made a choice based on the belief that there could be trouble should his employers find out about his blog. The choice was career or blog. He chose career. He is honored and in awe of the amount of love and caring everyone has shown him. He really appreciates it. That's what I know, oh and what the subject of his next blog was going to be. I'll spell it out real quick.
Jack: Today I tried to bust a crack whore. She was a sickly, tiny, emaciated little thing. She kicked my ass. I was lying on the ground in the fetal position screaming for help. Thank God, Big Sexy finally showed up to save me.
That's pretty much the gist of it. If I knew more I would tell you.
I realize I haven't been doing a very good job lately with keeping up with the comments and new posts. I will try to do better in the future. OK Jay?
Now on to more important things. ME. The reason I'm posting this at a decent hour is due to the fact that tonight I quit my job. That's right, I no longer do the work of a retarded monkey. For only the second time in my life I quit a job. I usually get fired. I have decided to make a living off of the items in my store. So y'all need to start buying stuff. Until then I will be working at a new job. I would tell you what it is, but then I would have to kill you. This much I will say. It is underhanded-sneaky-clandestine-undercover type shit. God I feel so alive. I feel my heart pumping again. Now I know how a junkie feels, sticking that needle in their arm after a long dry spell. I haven't felt this good in a long time.
UPDATE: I was going through some comments on one of my posts. In the comment, Grace said " Everyone....relax!!! It's all good. The Jack I knew would be embarrassed by all of this." I noticed a few people were upset by her comment, and these are people that mean a lot to me, so I may be jeopardizing some friendships by saying this (probably not, because these are good people I'm talking about). But she is absolutely right. Jack is embarrassed by all the attention. In fact he said those exact words to me. I miss Jack's blog as much as anybody, but it's not the end of the world. People come and people go. It sucks. Life goes on and we have to keep on keeping on. I realize that my ties to Jack were not severed like everybody else's. I know I can pick up the phone anytime and talk to him. I know y'all miss him a lot. But he's still here. He's still reading. He'll still be commenting. He just won't be blogging. Grace may have seemed calloused by what she said but she was just speaking her mind (which was surprisingly logical for a woman). You've got to give her credit for saying what she felt, no matter how many people she pissed off. I know Jack would respect that.
Jack: Today I tried to bust a crack whore. She was a sickly, tiny, emaciated little thing. She kicked my ass. I was lying on the ground in the fetal position screaming for help. Thank God, Big Sexy finally showed up to save me.
That's pretty much the gist of it. If I knew more I would tell you.
I realize I haven't been doing a very good job lately with keeping up with the comments and new posts. I will try to do better in the future. OK Jay?
Now on to more important things. ME. The reason I'm posting this at a decent hour is due to the fact that tonight I quit my job. That's right, I no longer do the work of a retarded monkey. For only the second time in my life I quit a job. I usually get fired. I have decided to make a living off of the items in my store. So y'all need to start buying stuff. Until then I will be working at a new job. I would tell you what it is, but then I would have to kill you. This much I will say. It is underhanded-sneaky-clandestine-undercover type shit. God I feel so alive. I feel my heart pumping again. Now I know how a junkie feels, sticking that needle in their arm after a long dry spell. I haven't felt this good in a long time.
UPDATE: I was going through some comments on one of my posts. In the comment, Grace said " Everyone....relax!!! It's all good. The Jack I knew would be embarrassed by all of this." I noticed a few people were upset by her comment, and these are people that mean a lot to me, so I may be jeopardizing some friendships by saying this (probably not, because these are good people I'm talking about). But she is absolutely right. Jack is embarrassed by all the attention. In fact he said those exact words to me. I miss Jack's blog as much as anybody, but it's not the end of the world. People come and people go. It sucks. Life goes on and we have to keep on keeping on. I realize that my ties to Jack were not severed like everybody else's. I know I can pick up the phone anytime and talk to him. I know y'all miss him a lot. But he's still here. He's still reading. He'll still be commenting. He just won't be blogging. Grace may have seemed calloused by what she said but she was just speaking her mind (which was surprisingly logical for a woman). You've got to give her credit for saying what she felt, no matter how many people she pissed off. I know Jack would respect that.
I STILL Wish I Knew
Sorry it has taken so long. It is now 1:57 am Texas time. I tried to call Jack tonight, but I didn't get an answer. Please be patient. I'm doing what I can. I have to work my meaningless job at night and I sleep all day. I called him when I thought he would be free. Same time I usually call him. Hopefully he was working.
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