It Is What It Is

I'm not saying I'm a Bad Mother Fucker, but at the annual bad mother fuckers meeting, I'm referred to as "Boss".

Keep on......ah fuck it.

I Don't Get it

A blond calls her boyfriend and tells him that she's having trouble with a jigsaw puzzle.

Boyfriend: "What's the puzzle supposed to be a picture of ?"
Blond: "A rooster. I've been up for 2 days trying to put it together."
Boyfriend: "I'll be right over."

The boyfriend arrives at the blonde's house. He goes into the kitchen and finds the blond sitting at the table. He takes a look at the puzzle.

Boyfriend: "We'll never be able to put this puzzle together."
Blond: "But I've been trying so hard."
Boyfriend: "I know, but you need some sleep. I can see you're really tired."
Blond: "I haven't slept in 2 days. Maybe I'll go to bed."
Boyfriend: "That's a good idea, but before you do you should put the corn flakes back in the box."

Keep on doing whatever it is you do.

That Smell

I get assaulted everyday with stench. Whether it's the smell off the bums that come into the store. Or the smell of weed off the stoners. We've had to wash the change the bums give us because the smell was so bad. But I believe the worse yet was when I went in the men's room and came out stoned because some fucker was in there toking up. I don't smoke weed because I don't like weed. So I really don't want to come out of the men's room with the fucking munchies. And don't let me get started on personal hygiene, some of the regulars could certainly use a shower. Especially the bums. Tonight I had to smell everything from weed, body odor, day old beer, old smoke, ass breath, and some of the ladies were sporting a yeasty hot tuna odor.

My nose has been broken more than a dozen times (in fights I always lead with my face, could you imagine how pretty I would be if I didn't) so I have to wonder how bad they must really stink.

Oh and you beaners need to lay off the cheap cologne.

Keep on washing your ass.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrr

It's fucking cold out. What's worse is, it's fucking cold in. I'm gonna make a deal with the landlord about re-insulating the attic. I just hope I can squeeze my fat ass into the attic and when I do, i hope I don't make a new opening by falling through the ceiling. That's all you get tonight. It's not like anybody reads this blog on the weekend anyways.

If I had a stick in my ass I would be a Popsicle. Or queer.

Roll On Crimson Tide.

Congratulations to Alabama. New Collegiate football champions. Tonight they spanked The University of Texas's ass. U.T. sucks. I hate burnt orange. I'm sorta happy right now. The only part of the game I didn't like was the fact that Colt McCoy got hurt. It gives the UT fans an excuse. I just wonder what the excuse would have been if he had not been hurt. Oh well they lost, they suck. Alabama rules. I rule.

Go toss a salad.

In For The Long Haul

Six days in and I'm already struggling for writing material. Oh I have plenty of things to tell you, but most of it I should be paid for. It's gonna be a rough year.

Keep on blowing me.

Burn Baby Burn

Tonight I built a fire and much like my forefathers did in the caves, I sat and stared into the flames. As I watched the embers float up the chimney and the flames lick the walls of the fireplace my mind wandered to happy thoughts of the past.

Thoughts like sitting on the floor at my Grandfathers feet as he read stories from The Big Book of Fairy Tales and Other Bull Shit by firelight. Or like the time me and some buddys were on the way to see a dead body our friend Vern found and we stopped to camp in the woods and we sat around the campfire telling stories.

Sitting by the ocean with the flavor of the week hanging on me like a cheap suit and drinking beer with my friends watching the flames and listening to the waves. The best was remembering drinking wine, butt naked on a bear skin rug and making sweet love to the Swedish bikini model by the fireplace in the ski lodge in Vermont.

Hanging out with buddies deep in the woods of Alaska staying warm by the fireside waiting for the sun to come up so we could resume hunting the Kodiaks. Even better rain dancing around the fire with the Aborigines of Australia trying to rid the land of the white man.

Yep. That fire brought make all sorts of memories. To bad none of them were mine.

Keep on keeping on.