I Can't Take It Anymore

I don't talk about my youngest (T3) much. He's so quite I usually forget he's here. Nothing like the rest of us (especially Jen). He's a straight A student, captain of the safety patrol, usually on Student Council, and this year he made the Who's Who of Academic Excellence. I have never been called to the school because of him and I'm pretty sure I never will be. However and there is always a however, he does have a little redneck white trash blood in him.

The kid LOVES rasslin (wrestling for you educated types). It comes on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday is reruns and Sunday is pay per views. The reason I know this is Wednesday nights is the only time he comes out of his room (usually to talk about rasslin). If he's not watching rasslin then he's playing a rasslin game on PS2. I've even seen him switch back and forth from his show to playing the game during commercials. He has enough rasslin action figures (they're not fucking dolls) to have a Royal Rumble. He wants me to build a ring to scale for his action figures (they're not fucking dolls). The kid eats, breathes and shits rasslin. I don't know how he manages to get his homework done and maintain his grade average. I swear if you were to cut his head open a bunch of little wrestlers would come running out.

The worst part is driving him to school every morning. I'm trapped in the truck with him for 20 minutes or so. It goes something like this.

T3: "Dad?"
Trash (already knows what's coming): "What?"
T3: " How come Jim Duggans name is Hacksaw, yet he carries a 2X4?"
Trash: "I don't know?"
T3: "Who's your favorite wrestler?"
Trash: "Same as yesterday. Stone Cold."
T3: "Who's your second favorite?"
Trash: "Same as yesterday. Dusty Rhodes."
T3: "What was his finishing move?"
Trash: "He didn't have one."
T3: "Who was Road Dog Jesse James?"
Trash: "Half of The New Age Outlaws."
T3: " Who are they?"
Trash: "A tag team from a long time ago."
T3: "Where are they now?"
Trash: "I don't know."
T3: "Will they ever be back?"
Trash: "I don't know."
T3: "Can Rey Mysterio really beat the Great Khali?"
Trash: "No."
T3: "Then how did he do it at the last pay per view?"
Trash: "It's all part of the show."
T3: "Who picks the winners?"
Trash: "Probably Vince. I'm not sure."
T3: "How does he decide?"
Trash (crying): "For the love of God. Please stop, no more rasslin. You're fucking killing me."
T3: "Oh. OK. I'm sorry."
Trash: "Thank you son."
T3: "Dad?"
Trash: "What son?"
T3: "Can I ask you one more rasslin question?"

I swear just as soon as he gets a little older, I'm gonna put the stunner on him.

Cranial Rectal Disorder

To the employees of McDonald's I would like to say. Pull your head out of your ass. Oh wait let me say it so you can understand. Saque la cabeza de su asno. I am sick and tired of going through the drive through and getting my order just to have to park and go inside. Where I'll ask for the manager. Like this "Is the manager-o here-o? El jefe? Does anybody speak english here? English, el speak-o english?"

Every time I go to McDonald's I have to deal with broken english at the drive up speaker. Then I pull around to pay and the english is worse. When I finally get to the window to pick up my order the fucking english is gone. What I want to know is, when my order is taken and the idiot pushes the button with a picture of what I want on it, does that then get sent to the next idiot in spanish or english? Hell, is the picture in spanish? And if it is sent in spanish how come there's no fucking sausage and cheese on my biscuit? I ordered the fucking la salchicha, galleta de huevo y queso. So where's the fucking salchicha y queso. Pendejo.

Used to be a mother fucker had to speak english to get a job. Not anymore. Because our spoiled little children think they're too good to work, let alone in the fast food industry. So they have to hire every Tomas, Ricardo y Harold that comes through the door. Come on people put your kids back to work, I want a fucking decent meal. Why should ordering my meal be harder than my work. Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us. Well here's a fucking special order. I order you to put someone at the drive through that can speak fucking english.

Back when I was a kid Mickey D's was full of asshole teenagers, but these asshole teenagers could speak english. It was a beautiful thing.

Keep on keeping on or should I say mantenga a mantener en.

As Good As I Once Was

I got in from working my ass off all day and what do I find? One lousy comment. Now I have three, one of which is mine. So I got to wondering is it me? Did I lose it? Was I gone to long? Do I suck now? Well I looked back at some of my old stuff. You know what? The new stuff is as good as the old stuff. It must be y'all. Y'all must suck. I AM A ROCKSTAR. An unappreciated rockstar but still a rockstar. If you're not taking this fucking NaBloPoMo challenge or never have then you have no idea how hard it is. So start showing some love. Leave some comments. I check the tracker, I know you're there. Say something damn it. Even if it is a big, FUCK YOU TRASHMAN. I'm cool with that'

Keep on keeping on.

NaBloPoMo Number 9: The Seinfeld Post

This post is all about nothing. I spent the day hanging drywall. Most of it under the stairs in a closet. It's not easy crawling under stairs and hanging that shit when you take up most of the closet. I'm tired and dirty and I'm going back for more fun tomorrow. This will have to do until then. I tried all day to come up with a subject and nothing. Maybe tomorrow.

Anonymous #2 they didn't switch the cup or maybe they did. But how do you explain the regurgitation down each others throats?

Keep on keeping on and reading and commenting.

I stole this from Nightmare.

The Missing Post

I lied. I going to post twice today to make up for missing the other day (fucking feds). This is going to be short and not very sweet. A while back I was listening to the Dudley and Bob show on KLBJ. They were talking about a video clip on the web called Two Girls and a Cup. It took me awhile to find it but I did. It is the vilest, sickest most disgusting thing I've ever watched (repeatedly). It is hitonious. I will not put up the link because it's Not Safe For Work. Hell it's Not Safe For Anywhere. However if you want to see it and you're OK with being mentally and emotionally scared for life, just email me at trashman64@gmail.com and I will send you the link. Keep your phone close by in case you need to call 911. Oh and a bucket too.

Back On The Gridiron

OK OK OK. So I missed yesterday. I know I said I always do what I say I'm going to do. But I had no control over yesterdays outage. My internet went down and I just managed to get back online 15 minutes ago. I think the feds were blocking my signal, so I had to figure out another way around. I'm back, but who knows for how long. I really ain't got much to say except I won't be making up the missed post. There's no fucking way I'm posting twice in the same day.Believe it or not sometimes I even run out of shit to talk about.

I'm going into the last post comments for tonight's subject. Jenn wants to know how I feel about the whole every kid gets a trophy thing. Jenn, Jenn, Jenn you poor girl. I realize your new to my blog and I'm sorry for this but here goes.

I am dead set against all kids getting trophies. When I grew up the kids in football didn't get trophies. The team got one trophy. One fucking trophy. It's a god damn team sport. We are turning our kids into a bunch of PC pussies. My kids bedrooms are lined with trophies. Football trophies. Baseball trophies. Lacrosse trophies. Trophies upon trophies and fucking ribbons and certificates and assorted other bullshit. Now since you don't know me, I'll tell you I don't pull no fucking punches. Just ask my regular readers. So every time one of the boys has their celebration pizza party (where they collect their undeserved trophy) I ask them if they've ever seen my trophies. They roll their eyes and say no. My response is. That's because I don't have any fucking trophies. I was always on a losing team just like they are. Losers don't get trophies, winners get trophies. The minute you give everybody trophies it takes away from the kids that fought and won. I realize they are exceptions on every team. Give them a fucking piece of paper that says "Good Job Fuckwad" but don't give them a trophy.

I believe that by giving everyone trophies all you're doing is telling them that they don't have to try. Little Johnny is eventually going to see that the fucking loser Little Billy got a trophy and his fat ass didn't even show up to practice. This tells Little Johnny that he doesn't have to try either. Next thing you know you got a bunch of little fat asses sitting around wanting their fucking trophy. Not only that it's detrimental to preparing them for life. First thing you know they'll want a fucking raise because they're late to work every day and they don't do anything while they're there. The only trophy given should be a team trophy, maybe give the kid a polaroid of him holding it. You don't see the pros getting a little miniature glass football. I'm assuming your brother is a liberal, this trophy thing is usually the liberals crying over the fact they lost and no body recognized their effort. even though they tried they're best. Well I want to quote John Mason (Sean Connery - The Rock) "Your "best"! Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen." Nuff said.

You also said you had to starve the kid to make the division. Your brother should have raised hell about that instead of the trophy thing. Football is a game of size. Big kids play football if, somebody's kid is small and they don't want them run over, keep them out of fucking football. That's all. Gotta go find some valium now.

Keep on keeping on.

Tuesday Night Lights

This post is number 6 in a series of 30. It's also about my namesake Trash Jr. Tonight was the last football game of the season. His team finished up with a record of 7 wins and 2 loses. I'm really gonna miss watching him play. It's the end of his middle school football carrier.

At the age of 13 he stands 5'9" and weighs 220 and he hits like a freight train (I know this from experience). He was usually the biggest kid on the field. He was always double teamed and sometimes triple teamed. Unfuckingstoppable is the best word to describe him on the field.

Trash Jr plays right defensive tackle. His main job is to open up holes for the rovers and linebackers so that they can get into the backfield. Even though the position is called tackle, they don't tackle very often unless the ball carrier comes straight up the middle. Which in 8th grade football doesn't happen very often.

His one goal this year was to get one sack on the quarterback. He sets his sights high, I told him it's most likely not to happen considering the nature of his position and the fact in middle school it's mostly a running game. So by the time he gets into the backfield the ball would be gone. He almost accomplished that goal tonight.

One of the last plays was a passing play, just as Trash Jr got to the quarterback, he threw the ball. Jr did just what he was supposed to do. He made the quarterback sorry he was ever born. He drove him into the ground and slid for about 5 yards. It was beautiful. Jr's team won 32 to 0. Once again it was beautiful. I love watching that kid play. It's like watching a locomotive dance.

Trash Jr had 12 tackles, 30 assist, and at least 2 hits on the quarterback for the season. His stats should have been at least twice that but the defensive coordinator is racist. The mexican coach put a mexican kid from his mexican language class in Jr's spot most of the time. The mexican kid is half Jr's size and spent most of the time knocked on his ass. I know I sound biased and bitter, but I never complained except to Jen and the boy. I didn't rock the boat, mainly because Jr didn't want any problems with the coaches.

He starts high school next year. New coaches. This season is over and I've got a coach in my sights.

24 more fun filled post.
Keep on keeping on.