Well it's that time of year again. This is when I regal you with one of my tales of terror. This year is going to be different. Instead of a story from the past I'm going to tell you about something frightening as hell that's going on as we speak. That's right the Presidential election and the fact that America will soon be controlled by a muslim. Before all you faggoty liberals start thinking I'm a McCain supporter let me clarify that. I'm not. I believe Palin has no business being President and she would be, if McCain were to win. He's too old to survive the presidency. So sooner or later Caribou Barbie would be in charge.
Back to the scary story. Obama is going to win. That's scary enough. But there is something I need to show y'all.
OSAMA BIN LADEN. Take the "S" in Osama and change it to a "B". All you have to do is add a straight line to the front of the "S" and complete the loop at the top and you have a "B". Now you have OBAMA BIN LADEN. I know it may seem goofy, but I ain't finished yet. Now take OBAMA BIN LADEN and lose the letters "NLA" and you're left with OBAMA BI DEN. Well just push the "BI" over to the "DEN" and now you have OBAMA BIDEN. What about the "NLA", you ask. They're still there. They stand for "No Longer America" which is what we will be after Obama takes over. I just tied Obama to the super muslim.
Face it. Obama is a fucking muslim. I don't care if you think I'm just another cracker, trailer dwelling, racist, bigot, inbred redneck. Obama is a fucking muslim. My hate for him has nothing to do with the fact that he's less than 10% black. HE'S A FUCKING MUSLIM. I'll vote for a black man. Put Judge Joe Brown on the ballot and I'll vote for him. So see it has nothing to do with skin pigmentation. It has to do with handing our country over to our enemies. Yes, all muslims are our enemies. I can prove it. Muhammad fucked goats. Now every muslim in the world wants me dead. See. Enemies.
You see what's going to happen is shortly after Obama takes over is there's going be talk of incorporating "Sharia" (Islamic religious law) into our law. Some will want our Constitution amended around it. Before you call me crazy, do some research. You will find that this is taking place in countries all over the world including Great Britain. First the muslims get one of their own into public office (President of the USA is the ultimate public office) then they slowly and methodically change things to fit their way. Before you know it we all will be running around in sandals wearing robes and turbans and bowing seven times to the east.
So if you love mom, apple pie and baseball. If you love your country. If you have any level of intelligence at all. Vote for anyone but Obama. There's lots of people to vote for (write in Trashman). Don't let white guilt determine your vote (you have nothing to feel guilty for). For my black readers, don't vote for him because he's black, he's only 10% black, you'll be voting for 90% something else. If none of that stops you from voting for Obama then there's no hope for someone with your level of stupidity.
Fuck Obama. Fuck Biden. Fuck Bin Laden. Fuck muslims. Fuck anybody voting for Obama/Biden/Bin Laden/muslims. And fuck the goat fucking Muhammad.
I am the banana nuts in Jens muffin top.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Common Not So Cold
First things first. I want to say thank you to all the people that commented, emailed, called and sent tuna cheese casseroles (it's a southern thing). Having friends like y'all helps.
Now on to the subject at hand. Anybody that knows me well, knows that I love me some COLD drinks. So cold, that my teeth hurt when I take a sip. So cold, I get instant brain freeze. As cold as something really fuckin cold. When I prepare my icy cold beverages the first thing I do is over fill the glass with ice. Then I pour in the liquid of choice and let it melt some of the ice. Now if all goes right I have a nice cold tasty beverage. Lately not all has been going right. My ice doesn't work anymore. It doesn't matter where I get the ice from either, it's not just my homemade ice it's all ice I come in contact with. My drinks ain't cold. I've been forcing Jen and the boys to taste my not so cold beverages (and I don't drink after anybody including my wife and kids). I'm trying to prove my drinks ain't cold. They think I'm crazy. I think they're part of the conspiracy. I just want something cold to drink.
Maybe I'm in hell and I want ice water.
Now on to the subject at hand. Anybody that knows me well, knows that I love me some COLD drinks. So cold, that my teeth hurt when I take a sip. So cold, I get instant brain freeze. As cold as something really fuckin cold. When I prepare my icy cold beverages the first thing I do is over fill the glass with ice. Then I pour in the liquid of choice and let it melt some of the ice. Now if all goes right I have a nice cold tasty beverage. Lately not all has been going right. My ice doesn't work anymore. It doesn't matter where I get the ice from either, it's not just my homemade ice it's all ice I come in contact with. My drinks ain't cold. I've been forcing Jen and the boys to taste my not so cold beverages (and I don't drink after anybody including my wife and kids). I'm trying to prove my drinks ain't cold. They think I'm crazy. I think they're part of the conspiracy. I just want something cold to drink.
Maybe I'm in hell and I want ice water.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Heaven Or Hell?
Y'all know I'm not a secrets kind of guy. I'm not looking for sympathy either. I'm writing this more for me than anything else. I'm hoping by saying some things out loud it will help me to get past some things and accept others. So here goes.
I've sat down several times to write this post but I've never been able to finish it. I'm not sure you'll even read this. I'm really surprised at how hard I've taken this whole thing. My mother and I have always had a different outlook on death. We both always considered it as a part of live. There's no used in getting upset, life goes on, blah, blah, blah. Yet here I sit, torn up beyond belief.
Right now she's in the top of my closet. The plan is to spread her over a blue bonnet field next spring. She loved blue bonnets. She loved gardening, bird watching, reading, and eating. She gave up each one of these things one by one. We should have seen it coming, but nobody noticed. That's part of my guilt. I didn't notice. That, and I didn't visit as often as I could and should have.
I find it hard to leave the house. I have panic attacks when I do. I want to be alone but when Jen and the boys are gone the panic sets in. I've been having weird chest pains, not the heart attack kind, just a strange kind of I'm gonna start crying kind of thing. Don't worry I'm not gonna cry. It just feels like I am. I have had some moisture in my eyes, but I think it's from the cigarettes.
Right now I have a garage full of memories. I sold some of them this weekend, I need to get them out of here. It's funny what reminds me of her. Water for instance. She always had a bottle of water with her every where she went, Now when I see one, I think of her. I'm not trying to forget her. I just don't want to be bombarded with memories. It's already hard enough.
I thought she lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try anything. She did it all when I was a kid. We spent a lot of time on the river. She went tubing, canoeing, dam sliding and even swung on a rope into the water, all after the age of 50. She continued to enjoy these activities with her grand children when she was in her 60's. I always thought she should wear a giant "S" on her chest. She was super in my eyes.
I just found out this last week that she had a weakness. It seems that when she was a small child a Southern Baptist preacher got into her head and filled it with hell fire and brimstone. According to a reliable source she thought her life was one big sin and the older she got the more she worried about it. She was afraid of going to hell. The reliable source also disclosed the fact that her arthritis was far worse than anyone knew. She said that the pain in her neck was so bad that if it wasn't for the fact that she would go to hell, she would take a handful of pills and end it all. This coming from the most anti-drug individual on the planet. She suffered severely for the last three years. She suffered so bad she wanted to die. She wanted to die but she couldn't end the pain because she didn't want to go to hell (I guess she didn't want to see my dad again).
I guess when food got boring, a deeply buried part of her brain saw a way out. She slowly starved her self to death. She went out one of the most painful ways possible. Even at the end when the nurses tried to feed her she would grit her teeth. My last phone call to her, the nurse told me she was calling my name and when she wasn't doing that she was crying. I didn't want to talk to her but the nurse poured on the guilt so I did. She begged me to come get her, but for once in my life I was helpless to do what she asked. Sooner or later I'll pay for that, she'll see to it. At the very end she was calling for her sister and her mother and father to come take her home. I'm glad I wasn't there.
The part that confuse me is that all my life she told me she wasn't to sure there was a God, because if there was and He was the loving God that He claims to be then He wouldn't let the bad things that happen, happen. So I wonder since she questioned the existence of God is that why she suffered so bad, or does shit just happen, or is she right about God not existing. Where is she now? Or is she? I believe in God, after all I have seen the devil. If there is a devil then there is a God. I just wonder why she had to suffer to the point that she wanted to take her own life.
I've heard it all. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when God answers your prayers, the answer is no. God has a plan for us. Well I don't buy any of it. I think God stuck us on this rock floating in space and He spends His spare time laughing at us. That's if He even remembers that we're here. If God were the loving God that the bible speaks of then she wouldn't have suffered. She wouldn't have had to starve herself to death. It makes me question His existence.
The really wild thing is that my older brothers checked their dad and our mom into the same nursing home on the same day. Their dad died at 5:30 am and our mom died at 6:44 pm on the same day. Checked in on the same day and checked out on the same day. Now as bad as I feel I have to wonder how bad they feel. Both parents on the same day. They have been divorced for 38 years. They haven't seen each other in at least 22 years. Now they get put into the same old people storage facility on the same day (they didn't know about each other being there). Then they die on the same day. What are the fucking odds? You got a better chance of winning the lottery.
I been writing this post for about four hours and it's beginning to look like y'all may actually get to read it. I had to stop a few times and go smoke a cigarette, funny how smoke gets in your eyes. Doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Jen's been wanting me to talk to someone about my feelings. Problem is I only have one feeling and I just talked about with y'all. Plus it didn't cost $75.00 an hour.
I've sat down several times to write this post but I've never been able to finish it. I'm not sure you'll even read this. I'm really surprised at how hard I've taken this whole thing. My mother and I have always had a different outlook on death. We both always considered it as a part of live. There's no used in getting upset, life goes on, blah, blah, blah. Yet here I sit, torn up beyond belief.
Right now she's in the top of my closet. The plan is to spread her over a blue bonnet field next spring. She loved blue bonnets. She loved gardening, bird watching, reading, and eating. She gave up each one of these things one by one. We should have seen it coming, but nobody noticed. That's part of my guilt. I didn't notice. That, and I didn't visit as often as I could and should have.
I find it hard to leave the house. I have panic attacks when I do. I want to be alone but when Jen and the boys are gone the panic sets in. I've been having weird chest pains, not the heart attack kind, just a strange kind of I'm gonna start crying kind of thing. Don't worry I'm not gonna cry. It just feels like I am. I have had some moisture in my eyes, but I think it's from the cigarettes.
Right now I have a garage full of memories. I sold some of them this weekend, I need to get them out of here. It's funny what reminds me of her. Water for instance. She always had a bottle of water with her every where she went, Now when I see one, I think of her. I'm not trying to forget her. I just don't want to be bombarded with memories. It's already hard enough.
I thought she lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try anything. She did it all when I was a kid. We spent a lot of time on the river. She went tubing, canoeing, dam sliding and even swung on a rope into the water, all after the age of 50. She continued to enjoy these activities with her grand children when she was in her 60's. I always thought she should wear a giant "S" on her chest. She was super in my eyes.
I just found out this last week that she had a weakness. It seems that when she was a small child a Southern Baptist preacher got into her head and filled it with hell fire and brimstone. According to a reliable source she thought her life was one big sin and the older she got the more she worried about it. She was afraid of going to hell. The reliable source also disclosed the fact that her arthritis was far worse than anyone knew. She said that the pain in her neck was so bad that if it wasn't for the fact that she would go to hell, she would take a handful of pills and end it all. This coming from the most anti-drug individual on the planet. She suffered severely for the last three years. She suffered so bad she wanted to die. She wanted to die but she couldn't end the pain because she didn't want to go to hell (I guess she didn't want to see my dad again).
I guess when food got boring, a deeply buried part of her brain saw a way out. She slowly starved her self to death. She went out one of the most painful ways possible. Even at the end when the nurses tried to feed her she would grit her teeth. My last phone call to her, the nurse told me she was calling my name and when she wasn't doing that she was crying. I didn't want to talk to her but the nurse poured on the guilt so I did. She begged me to come get her, but for once in my life I was helpless to do what she asked. Sooner or later I'll pay for that, she'll see to it. At the very end she was calling for her sister and her mother and father to come take her home. I'm glad I wasn't there.
The part that confuse me is that all my life she told me she wasn't to sure there was a God, because if there was and He was the loving God that He claims to be then He wouldn't let the bad things that happen, happen. So I wonder since she questioned the existence of God is that why she suffered so bad, or does shit just happen, or is she right about God not existing. Where is she now? Or is she? I believe in God, after all I have seen the devil. If there is a devil then there is a God. I just wonder why she had to suffer to the point that she wanted to take her own life.
I've heard it all. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when God answers your prayers, the answer is no. God has a plan for us. Well I don't buy any of it. I think God stuck us on this rock floating in space and He spends His spare time laughing at us. That's if He even remembers that we're here. If God were the loving God that the bible speaks of then she wouldn't have suffered. She wouldn't have had to starve herself to death. It makes me question His existence.
The really wild thing is that my older brothers checked their dad and our mom into the same nursing home on the same day. Their dad died at 5:30 am and our mom died at 6:44 pm on the same day. Checked in on the same day and checked out on the same day. Now as bad as I feel I have to wonder how bad they feel. Both parents on the same day. They have been divorced for 38 years. They haven't seen each other in at least 22 years. Now they get put into the same old people storage facility on the same day (they didn't know about each other being there). Then they die on the same day. What are the fucking odds? You got a better chance of winning the lottery.
I been writing this post for about four hours and it's beginning to look like y'all may actually get to read it. I had to stop a few times and go smoke a cigarette, funny how smoke gets in your eyes. Doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Jen's been wanting me to talk to someone about my feelings. Problem is I only have one feeling and I just talked about with y'all. Plus it didn't cost $75.00 an hour.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I'm Sorry Mama, I Cleaned Out Your Closets.
We placed Granny Grunt in a nursing home a couple of weeks ago. I cleaned out her apartment Thursday. My brother was coming from Iowa to see her, possibly for the last time. He was too slow. She died when he was about 2 hours from her. I was almost back to Austin with her belongings. He drove to Round Rock and we went back up to Ft. Worth on Friday to sign the papers for her cremation and one last look. It was the first time in 25 years that all 4 of her sons were in the same room. It will also be the last, we're not close.
Mama
Nov. 1, 1927 - Sep. 18, 2008
Mama
Nov. 1, 1927 - Sep. 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Just Some Stuff
I got an 8 ball and 3 hookers for my birthday. Not exactly the ones I was looking for but I still got them.
I dodged a bullet this week. A short time ago Jen and I got into some freaky aquatics and due to the water some necessary safety precautions were not taken. I was sweating for a couple of weeks. Until yesterday. Jen informed she could not get into the pool due to her visitor. I did the happy dance.
I was watching the boys jump from the trampoline into the pool. That shit looked like fun and since I was in a celebratory mood I decided to give it a try. Once again I have secured my title of SUPER IDIOT. I attempted a move called a preachers seat. If preformed properly it causes a better splash than a cannon ball. It was fun until I hit the water. Since the pool is only 30" deep I hit the bottom not long after breaking the surface. I landed dead on my ass (I don't really have any ass to land on).My head, back and arms still hurt. Oh and my legs are still numb. So much for maturing.
Today I stepped out the back door on the job site. The home owner is the idiot that built the back deck that I will be rebuilding at the end of the job. The door is about 2 feet above the deck, now I've stepped out this door a thousand times but this time something happened that has never happened. Due to the shitty workmanship and the complete stupidity this guy suffers from when it comes to construction when my foot hit the deck a board snapped and the step no longer was a 2 foot drop. It became a 3 foot drop. If my legs were not already numb from my attempt to fly yesterday (and the Vicodin I took) I imagine I would be in a lot more pain right now. I'm pretty sure I at least tore some ligaments in my foot. As far as the ankle goes it could be broken or sprained. Don't know and thanks to Vitamin V, I don't care.
I've lost about 40 pounds since I've developed this condition the doctors can't figure out. Which is a good thing. Unfortunately I believe it's all muscle mass. My strength is about half of what it used to be. I can live with it as long as I stay pretty.
On night last week I woke up with a case of night terrors. I was completely paralyzed I couldn't even scream. And I really wanted to, because the devil was standing in the corner of my bedroom. Now I ain't skeered of nothing but that dude spooks me a little bit. This isn't the first time I've dealt with him. Anyway he was standing there smiling at me and he said "Trash, I'm coming to get what's mine. Real soon." Then he was gone and I could move again. I rolled out of the bed onto the floor, got up and went to take a piss and get a drink and then I went back to bed. Three days later I woke up and a black scrawny arm with a huge hand and long skinny fingers with claws on the end was reaching across the bed, coming at me. It jerked back under the bed when I sat up. I got up, took a piss, got a drink and went back to bed. Jen says I was dreaming. I know what I saw.
I love defenseless animals, especially in gravy.
I dodged a bullet this week. A short time ago Jen and I got into some freaky aquatics and due to the water some necessary safety precautions were not taken. I was sweating for a couple of weeks. Until yesterday. Jen informed she could not get into the pool due to her visitor. I did the happy dance.
I was watching the boys jump from the trampoline into the pool. That shit looked like fun and since I was in a celebratory mood I decided to give it a try. Once again I have secured my title of SUPER IDIOT. I attempted a move called a preachers seat. If preformed properly it causes a better splash than a cannon ball. It was fun until I hit the water. Since the pool is only 30" deep I hit the bottom not long after breaking the surface. I landed dead on my ass (I don't really have any ass to land on).My head, back and arms still hurt. Oh and my legs are still numb. So much for maturing.
Today I stepped out the back door on the job site. The home owner is the idiot that built the back deck that I will be rebuilding at the end of the job. The door is about 2 feet above the deck, now I've stepped out this door a thousand times but this time something happened that has never happened. Due to the shitty workmanship and the complete stupidity this guy suffers from when it comes to construction when my foot hit the deck a board snapped and the step no longer was a 2 foot drop. It became a 3 foot drop. If my legs were not already numb from my attempt to fly yesterday (and the Vicodin I took) I imagine I would be in a lot more pain right now. I'm pretty sure I at least tore some ligaments in my foot. As far as the ankle goes it could be broken or sprained. Don't know and thanks to Vitamin V, I don't care.
I've lost about 40 pounds since I've developed this condition the doctors can't figure out. Which is a good thing. Unfortunately I believe it's all muscle mass. My strength is about half of what it used to be. I can live with it as long as I stay pretty.
On night last week I woke up with a case of night terrors. I was completely paralyzed I couldn't even scream. And I really wanted to, because the devil was standing in the corner of my bedroom. Now I ain't skeered of nothing but that dude spooks me a little bit. This isn't the first time I've dealt with him. Anyway he was standing there smiling at me and he said "Trash, I'm coming to get what's mine. Real soon." Then he was gone and I could move again. I rolled out of the bed onto the floor, got up and went to take a piss and get a drink and then I went back to bed. Three days later I woke up and a black scrawny arm with a huge hand and long skinny fingers with claws on the end was reaching across the bed, coming at me. It jerked back under the bed when I sat up. I got up, took a piss, got a drink and went back to bed. Jen says I was dreaming. I know what I saw.
I love defenseless animals, especially in gravy.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
.44 Caliber
All I want for my birthday (today) is an 8-ball and a hooker. I bet I don't get either one of 'em. This is also my blogiversary. I don't remember if it's 3 years or 4 years, either way, YAY me.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Washed Up Has Been
Yep. That's me. And like most ex-rock stars I'm writing this in a Vicodin stupified state. It didn't take me long to reach this point in my life. I was happy living in obscurity, then Jack intorduced me to the world of blogging. Overnight I became a rockstar. I liked it. But fame is fleeting. What I'm trying to say is my party is canceled due to lack of interest. That and the city of Austin wants $529.00 from me for working without a permit.
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