I am back. I am a posting machine but the muse does not seem to be on speaking terms with me today. I will not complain, though y'all may. It may now be obvious to you that this is a post for the sake of a post. I hate doing this but given we are heading into a weekend, a glorious long Canada Day weekend, I just did not know what to do.
I am heading off to the Outlaws' shortly. That is the perfect way to begin a weekend, hearing a cacaphony of voices, each saying nothing. I mean it is just noise, annoying noise.What can I do? I know what I can do, but I can do hard time for that. Then again, with a good enough explanation, it could be deemed "justifiable". If I add some "voices", I may be able to present a pretty good insanity defense. In any event, I could use some of my past posts as evidence of my justification or my insanity. Either way, it works for me.
Well, that is it. I must go face the music, er boring chatter. There better be some alcohol or I may just leap the 25 floors down just to enjoy some silence. Have a great weekend one and all. Ciao!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Supreme did not save the division
I am back. I would like to continue my GM rant from yesterday. Two words...Cutlass Supreme. What made it "supreme"? If it were so "supreme", why was Oldsmobile the division that GM killed? Just a thought. Add some bacon, cheese and a side of fries and I guess you would have the Cutlass Deluxe.
Gotta love me posting for the sake of posting. Ciao!
Gotta love me posting for the sake of posting. Ciao!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Classic my ass
I am back. I have to be brief but after saying I need to post more to make it to 1000 before the decade ends, this is what you get. It ain't much but it is something.
I was thinking about my grandmother the other day. Actually, I was watching some 1970s movie on AMC, or browsing it. I noticed a Malibu. I recall that my grandmother's car through the 70s and into the 80s was a Malibu Classic. I am, to this day, unsure what the "Classic" was all about. I did get my license in a shit, er chocolate, brown Malibu. That puppy had a high tech, new fangled audio system complete with an 8 track player. It was the late 70s (I got my license in 1980 for those scoring at home). Nothing like a V-8 engine and an 8 track player.
Anyway, my grandmother had the Malibu Classic. Hers was a nicer, less basic car, but there was NOTHING classic about it. If it were so classic, when Chevrolet (GM) remodeled and re-released the Malibu, why did they not redo a Malibu Classic?
That is the question for you all to ponder until I post again. Ciao!
I was thinking about my grandmother the other day. Actually, I was watching some 1970s movie on AMC, or browsing it. I noticed a Malibu. I recall that my grandmother's car through the 70s and into the 80s was a Malibu Classic. I am, to this day, unsure what the "Classic" was all about. I did get my license in a shit, er chocolate, brown Malibu. That puppy had a high tech, new fangled audio system complete with an 8 track player. It was the late 70s (I got my license in 1980 for those scoring at home). Nothing like a V-8 engine and an 8 track player.
Anyway, my grandmother had the Malibu Classic. Hers was a nicer, less basic car, but there was NOTHING classic about it. If it were so classic, when Chevrolet (GM) remodeled and re-released the Malibu, why did they not redo a Malibu Classic?
That is the question for you all to ponder until I post again. Ciao!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
This Blog Has Been Rated for Content
I am back. I found this and tested this damn blog to see how it would be rated. There you have it. Apparently, the word "fucking" was used at least 9x (I fucking could have sworn it was higher), "shit" 8x (what the fuck is wrong with "shit"? Other than the smell, the texture is just silky smooth, unless you have been eating corn or peanuts.), "asshole" 6x (what, this rating thing does not have one? Fucking shit eating asshole!), "fuck" 5x (that is bullshit! I have used fuck more than five times in a sentence, of course, I am counting "fucking" in that fucking count), "penis" 2x (What the fuck! That is the proper name for it, I should use "dick" or "cock"?) and "semen" 1x (I do not recall using that term, but see my reaction to "penis". I guess I should say "load", "splooge" or "cum". Is that fucking better, asswipe?)
There you have it, I am a bit to profane for young ears. I feel sorry for the Lad as he gets to hear me swear like a sailor. I no longer even make the attempt to not swear in front of him. I figured he should learn it at home and see how to swear properly, instead of finding out from some pre-teen who can say "fuck" with the proper emphasis on the "ffffff" and string it out. That is about the limit of my parenting skills. I can teach a child to swear properly and with feeling. I guess my work with the Lad is done, I can move on.
I am still getting over being rated NC17. I knew that I was not family content, hell, I may not be female content, but NC17???!! Who the fuck was rating me? I want to meet that person, with teh candyass ears. I guess this person should grow a pair and listen to the full content and not the words. It is like missing the forest for the trees. I am not sure that I like people like that, they tend to miss too much in life as they cannot "see" the greater connections.
Well, on that happy note, I am about to brave this heat. Let the ball sweat begin! Ciao!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Friday Night's Alright for .......
I am back. I missed the past few days of posting as I was busy and then mentally fried. The weekend could not have come too soon for me. Yet, I did not get the rest I had hoped. Oh well. As much as I do not want to launch into the world of demented old men, I feel I must, as Friday evening was spent with the Outlaws. How can I resist?
All goes off without a hitch, meaning that my father in law is not getting in anybody's way and he is not pulling out bottles of soda to warm up by day. We eat, which was pretty uneventful, I mean I lived to tell about it, so how bad could it be? After dinner, the Lad did not broach the idea of playing basketball. I am not sure why that was, so I was content to just sit around.
My mother in law decides she wants to take the Lad, walk across the street and hit the variety store. The Wife says that the Lad will reject that notion, but he is up for it when asked. The three of them (mother in law, Wife and Lad) get set to head out. My father in law then pipes in to my mother in law "to be careful", "take it easy", and "cross at the lights". Well, thank you, Mr. fucking Obvious! What would they do without your sage fucking advice? Yeah, both the Wife and my mother in law are afraid to cross a narrow, non-busy street, so they are both going to save themselves the trouble of the 30 yard walk to the lights at the street corner.
I would not be so bothered by that obvious utterance had it been prefaced with "this is just for me because I cannot afford to lose you or I am so fucked because I do not remember anything really that has happened since 1975, so do not take any risk that may result in you getting hospitalized or dying and leaving me". That was what he was really saying.
That just got me to thinking. Fuck, what if my mother in law either dies first or worse, has an extended hospital stay? I do not want to contemplate what hell that would be....for me. I mean forget the rest of them, I would still have to live with the Wife and deal with all this shit. In that way, it is as if the Wife were an only child, because her siblings are useless.
I got to go and wipe away this cold sweat. I do not like this feeling. I may have to save us all the trouble. Anybody know Kevorkian's number, I know he is out of prison. Primed and ready to assist in suicide. Here, it would not be so much of an informed suicide as it would be euthansia, okay, it is out and out fucking homicide. It would be done selfishly and with forethought, not cruelty, though. Man, I am talking about first degree murder here. What am I, nuts? I am not going to that dark place. Besides, I prefer my homicidal fantasies to be rage based.
Forget I mentioned it. I would not do that. At least, not that you know of. Notice, I do not say "never" because I have to hold out the possibility, unlikely that it is.
I am done for now. Ciao! BTW, this is my 400th post. At this rate, I will hit my millennial post near 2010. I got to pick up the pace and post every single day.
All goes off without a hitch, meaning that my father in law is not getting in anybody's way and he is not pulling out bottles of soda to warm up by day. We eat, which was pretty uneventful, I mean I lived to tell about it, so how bad could it be? After dinner, the Lad did not broach the idea of playing basketball. I am not sure why that was, so I was content to just sit around.
My mother in law decides she wants to take the Lad, walk across the street and hit the variety store. The Wife says that the Lad will reject that notion, but he is up for it when asked. The three of them (mother in law, Wife and Lad) get set to head out. My father in law then pipes in to my mother in law "to be careful", "take it easy", and "cross at the lights". Well, thank you, Mr. fucking Obvious! What would they do without your sage fucking advice? Yeah, both the Wife and my mother in law are afraid to cross a narrow, non-busy street, so they are both going to save themselves the trouble of the 30 yard walk to the lights at the street corner.
I would not be so bothered by that obvious utterance had it been prefaced with "this is just for me because I cannot afford to lose you or I am so fucked because I do not remember anything really that has happened since 1975, so do not take any risk that may result in you getting hospitalized or dying and leaving me". That was what he was really saying.
That just got me to thinking. Fuck, what if my mother in law either dies first or worse, has an extended hospital stay? I do not want to contemplate what hell that would be....for me. I mean forget the rest of them, I would still have to live with the Wife and deal with all this shit. In that way, it is as if the Wife were an only child, because her siblings are useless.
I got to go and wipe away this cold sweat. I do not like this feeling. I may have to save us all the trouble. Anybody know Kevorkian's number, I know he is out of prison. Primed and ready to assist in suicide. Here, it would not be so much of an informed suicide as it would be euthansia, okay, it is out and out fucking homicide. It would be done selfishly and with forethought, not cruelty, though. Man, I am talking about first degree murder here. What am I, nuts? I am not going to that dark place. Besides, I prefer my homicidal fantasies to be rage based.
Forget I mentioned it. I would not do that. At least, not that you know of. Notice, I do not say "never" because I have to hold out the possibility, unlikely that it is.
I am done for now. Ciao! BTW, this is my 400th post. At this rate, I will hit my millennial post near 2010. I got to pick up the pace and post every single day.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Pity the poor trees, what did they do to us?
I am back. You would think that Toronto had become Sodom...mmmmmm....Sodom..ahhhhhhhh or Gomorrah. They, for those of you unfamiliar with the Bible, were the twin cities of sin. Anything went in Sodom and Gomorrah. What happened in Sodom or Gomorrah, stayed in Sodom or Gomorrah (I think that was their tagline, but it was so long ago who can be sure.). In the Bible, those two towns were destroyed by the Almighty for their sinful ways. You remember the story of Lot and how told to run and not look back. His wife, Mrs. Lot (Cara? Love S?), looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt. Great story and used countless times by religious types to demonize the pleasures of the flesh.
Anyway, I make that comment because of a couple of recent rain storms. I mentioned the one from about two weeks ago on the Friday (Willie's birthday for those playing the home game of this blog) and all the downed tree branches (they were huge) with streets blocked off and hydro lines downed. Well, we had another one of those storms yesterday.
Coming home was an adventure. It was not as bad as the freezing rain/snow we had in early March (the first to be exact) where a half hour drive took me an hour and a half. This one was not that bad. I did find I was backed up in traffic. I thought it was the result of traffic lights being out. I was correct, so I turned around and tried a different route. I was constantly thwarted by blacked out traffic lights and downed trees.
I finally make my way west and south and I am almost home. I am passing my next door neighbor's house only to find a HUGE chunk of their old green maple tree on the lawn. It looks like it was hit by lightning. I take a look around the house for damage (from other trees) and see none.
I get in and the Wife tells me the Lad heard a crash. When they go out, the branch is blocking the street. She does help the neighbor move the limb on to the lawn and he ends up sawing off some branches. Fortunately, neither he nor his wife were home or parked on the driveway. There was no damage, other than to the tree and that is "natural" so it must be good (correct me if I am wrong David Suzuki).
All these falling trees and wicked storms...what the fuck did you people do to anger the Almighty? Repent you sinners. I figure it cannot be me, I am in the good books, trying to do His good works and all that. Besides, I am trying to start my own cult remember. All the double blowjobs I can receive, it is good to be the King, er, Leader.
This leads me to two more things I came across on cruel.com. One was a tongue and cheek piece about starting your own cult, which is on some humor website. It is just that I had the same idea, which I documented, back in October. Here is the URL.
http://www.startyourowncult.com/
It was pretty funny, especially before I realized it was a humor site.
The other I may save for tomorrow. It is rather funny but sick. Then again, it is nothing, or is that really twist, on things seen at stags and fraternity initiations. I hope that whets your appetite to return. If not, fuck off then.
Ciao!
Anyway, I make that comment because of a couple of recent rain storms. I mentioned the one from about two weeks ago on the Friday (Willie's birthday for those playing the home game of this blog) and all the downed tree branches (they were huge) with streets blocked off and hydro lines downed. Well, we had another one of those storms yesterday.
Coming home was an adventure. It was not as bad as the freezing rain/snow we had in early March (the first to be exact) where a half hour drive took me an hour and a half. This one was not that bad. I did find I was backed up in traffic. I thought it was the result of traffic lights being out. I was correct, so I turned around and tried a different route. I was constantly thwarted by blacked out traffic lights and downed trees.
I finally make my way west and south and I am almost home. I am passing my next door neighbor's house only to find a HUGE chunk of their old green maple tree on the lawn. It looks like it was hit by lightning. I take a look around the house for damage (from other trees) and see none.
I get in and the Wife tells me the Lad heard a crash. When they go out, the branch is blocking the street. She does help the neighbor move the limb on to the lawn and he ends up sawing off some branches. Fortunately, neither he nor his wife were home or parked on the driveway. There was no damage, other than to the tree and that is "natural" so it must be good (correct me if I am wrong David Suzuki).
All these falling trees and wicked storms...what the fuck did you people do to anger the Almighty? Repent you sinners. I figure it cannot be me, I am in the good books, trying to do His good works and all that. Besides, I am trying to start my own cult remember. All the double blowjobs I can receive, it is good to be the King, er, Leader.
This leads me to two more things I came across on cruel.com. One was a tongue and cheek piece about starting your own cult, which is on some humor website. It is just that I had the same idea, which I documented, back in October. Here is the URL.
http://www.startyourowncult.com/
It was pretty funny, especially before I realized it was a humor site.
The other I may save for tomorrow. It is rather funny but sick. Then again, it is nothing, or is that really twist, on things seen at stags and fraternity initiations. I hope that whets your appetite to return. If not, fuck off then.
Ciao!
Monday, June 18, 2007
A day at the beach
I am back. Okay, where are the comments?!! Man does not live without feedback. Being a laugh whore, not hearing laughter, or the silence caused by a joke or quip that bombs, is a very difficult thing. I can live with ambiguity. I cannot live without feedback. I hate providing my own because it may be all in my head. Then again, as a solopsist (I have been over this before), I guess it is ALL in MY head.
That being said, it is time to get on with the show. Down in the Beaches yesterday, actually on the beach and boardwalk. It was quite lovely, though it is Lake Ontario and likes the smell of the sea. My only observation, though there were many, as there were two women doing their sunbathing topless. I have not seen tits on the beach since the Dominican Republic. I was not offended by it and the Lad did not notice. Too bad for him, though he got a look at a lot of Euro tits in the DR.
I did notice a dude walking topless with his family. I am not against nudity per se. It is just that some people should not do nudity or partial nudity. He was one of them. His skin and flab was giggling as he walked. He was also sweaty and had tufts of hair down the front (chest and such) and along the back near his ass, back and shoulders. I know it was hot, but come on, dude, I just ate and I would hate to lose my stomach contents by the beach, again.
I have not puked near the beach in over twenty years and at least it was drinking related. That makes it all okay. Well, that is all for now. I have a baseball game to get to, so that I can go coach first base. Ciao!
That being said, it is time to get on with the show. Down in the Beaches yesterday, actually on the beach and boardwalk. It was quite lovely, though it is Lake Ontario and likes the smell of the sea. My only observation, though there were many, as there were two women doing their sunbathing topless. I have not seen tits on the beach since the Dominican Republic. I was not offended by it and the Lad did not notice. Too bad for him, though he got a look at a lot of Euro tits in the DR.
I did notice a dude walking topless with his family. I am not against nudity per se. It is just that some people should not do nudity or partial nudity. He was one of them. His skin and flab was giggling as he walked. He was also sweaty and had tufts of hair down the front (chest and such) and along the back near his ass, back and shoulders. I know it was hot, but come on, dude, I just ate and I would hate to lose my stomach contents by the beach, again.
I have not puked near the beach in over twenty years and at least it was drinking related. That makes it all okay. Well, that is all for now. I have a baseball game to get to, so that I can go coach first base. Ciao!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Ozzie Osborne, my father in law
I am back. I had nothing to say yesterday, nor the time to say it. That was the price of posting early on Wednesday. Enough about that shit and on with the show.
I was struck by something while watching "America's Got Talent" the other night. Brandy has been replaced on the panel by Sharon Osborne. The British dude is still an asshole, though I tend to agree with what he says and David Hasselhoff still comes across as if he is drunk, then again his daughter's video footage may have something to do with that perception. Seeing Sharon Osborne got me to thinking about "The Osbornes".
That was a funny show in a contrived sort of way. I started thinking about the way that Ozzie would come off as all confused and befuddled by the simplest of things. The cries of "Sharon!" in a slurred manner always cracked me up. My father in law is Ozzie Osborne, well without the coolness of a music career and the Prince of Darkness reputation. I know that cry. I have heard that cry, only I have heard it with my mother in law's name substituted for Sharon.
That is all folks. Ciao! Have a great weekend, I intend to. No, I will!
I was struck by something while watching "America's Got Talent" the other night. Brandy has been replaced on the panel by Sharon Osborne. The British dude is still an asshole, though I tend to agree with what he says and David Hasselhoff still comes across as if he is drunk, then again his daughter's video footage may have something to do with that perception. Seeing Sharon Osborne got me to thinking about "The Osbornes".
That was a funny show in a contrived sort of way. I started thinking about the way that Ozzie would come off as all confused and befuddled by the simplest of things. The cries of "Sharon!" in a slurred manner always cracked me up. My father in law is Ozzie Osborne, well without the coolness of a music career and the Prince of Darkness reputation. I know that cry. I have heard that cry, only I have heard it with my mother in law's name substituted for Sharon.
That is all folks. Ciao! Have a great weekend, I intend to. No, I will!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
How to beat the heat. I said "heat" not "meat".
I am back. I have to make it quick but thought I would get this thought out while I remember it. It is hot around these parts. Sunny and hot. I am complaining but only because I am wearing long pants and socks, nothing else mind you, but pants and socks. I have to say, I really dislike wearing pants and socks in the heat. I am a shorts and no socks guy at heart.
Of course, I like my white, pipe cleaner like legs and toes to be shown to the world. The problem with going sockless is that in winter, it is mother fucking cold and in the summer, it is the hot, sweaty feet. The trouble with hot, sweaty feet is foot stink and the destruction of shoe innards (melted by the foot stench and heat).
About 20 years ago, I had bought a pair of white leather slip on shoes for the summer (I have the matching belt so I figured that in 40 years I would be ready to retire to Florida--to complain about the humidity, of course). Besides, I hate to tie up laces, too much time wasted. Anyway, I recall wearing the shoes that summer and being at my girlfriend's house one evening. I had worn the shoes but was barefoot in her house. There was this stench that could best be described as the smell from a goat's ass after it had eaten Taco Bell mixed with shit curry. I could not believe that the smell was coming from my feet. I guess leather shoes and foot sweat are a lethal combination.
I was just outside recently for a short walk and could feel the sweat building, at least I think it was sweat, in underwear. The ball sweat was, and is, in full bloom. I thought of a great invention......underwear with a built in fan. It is brilliant. A cool breeze helps keep the boys dry and the underwear dry, too.
I then thought that perhaps moving blades, for that is a fan, around such a sensitive area may not be such a good idea. There is a potential for such fun as an auto-John Bobbitt (cutting off your own penis), self-castration (that's gotta hurt) and where does the exhaust blow. How would it look if your pants, crotch and ass especially, were billowing in the breeze, when there was no breeze present. You would need a pair of Hammer's pants that could fill up with air. You would look like you were farting continuously. From what I hear, chicks do not dig gassy guys, and the one's that do, you should probably stay away from because they probably like the smell of my feet after a day in a pair of white leather shoes.
I am done with this for now. Ciao!
Of course, I like my white, pipe cleaner like legs and toes to be shown to the world. The problem with going sockless is that in winter, it is mother fucking cold and in the summer, it is the hot, sweaty feet. The trouble with hot, sweaty feet is foot stink and the destruction of shoe innards (melted by the foot stench and heat).
About 20 years ago, I had bought a pair of white leather slip on shoes for the summer (I have the matching belt so I figured that in 40 years I would be ready to retire to Florida--to complain about the humidity, of course). Besides, I hate to tie up laces, too much time wasted. Anyway, I recall wearing the shoes that summer and being at my girlfriend's house one evening. I had worn the shoes but was barefoot in her house. There was this stench that could best be described as the smell from a goat's ass after it had eaten Taco Bell mixed with shit curry. I could not believe that the smell was coming from my feet. I guess leather shoes and foot sweat are a lethal combination.
I was just outside recently for a short walk and could feel the sweat building, at least I think it was sweat, in underwear. The ball sweat was, and is, in full bloom. I thought of a great invention......underwear with a built in fan. It is brilliant. A cool breeze helps keep the boys dry and the underwear dry, too.
I then thought that perhaps moving blades, for that is a fan, around such a sensitive area may not be such a good idea. There is a potential for such fun as an auto-John Bobbitt (cutting off your own penis), self-castration (that's gotta hurt) and where does the exhaust blow. How would it look if your pants, crotch and ass especially, were billowing in the breeze, when there was no breeze present. You would need a pair of Hammer's pants that could fill up with air. You would look like you were farting continuously. From what I hear, chicks do not dig gassy guys, and the one's that do, you should probably stay away from because they probably like the smell of my feet after a day in a pair of white leather shoes.
I am done with this for now. Ciao!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A Tuesday revelation
I am back. I had some great thoughts yesterday but I am not so sure it is worthy of me sharing them. I was thinking about my father in law and my gift of being able to get inside people's heads and see how they process (fuck, I thought I was a Peter Petrelli but I am a Sylar, maybe that is not so bad. My Heroes reference for the day). I notice that I do not do that with him. I think it says more about me than him.
He has reverted to talking Yiddish, or complete jibberish. He is stuck in his own past as those are the only memories that he has and he cannot appear to make new ones. That means he cannot reason or connect events in the real world, which makes everything seem arbitrary and out of control. Actually, it is out of control in reality only he has lost the ability to believe or pretend that he is in control. I guess I won't be going there as I gave up that illusion of control many years ago. It is easier my way as it is real. Shit happens, adapt or die.
Anyway, I was thinking why I don't get inside his head and it is my own fear of getting locked in there. I think it reminds me of, and again I am just pulling this shit out of my ass, a closet with a bulb hanging with cobwebs. The closet is pretty much empty except for some wire hangers and that damn bulb. I am afraid of getting locked in there and not being able to get out. Then being really bored. So there, I have figured it out, my own sense of ennui has me disengaging from my father in law. Either that, or I never found what he says or asks interesting the first time he speaks of it.
That is that. I really want you all to click on this link. It is pretty cool in a "Dude, you've got way too much time on your hands" sort of way. Enjoy.
http://www.chilloutzone.de/files/player.swf?b=10&l=197&u=ILLUMllSOOAvIF//P_LxP92A42lCHCeeWCejXnHAS/c
Ciao!
He has reverted to talking Yiddish, or complete jibberish. He is stuck in his own past as those are the only memories that he has and he cannot appear to make new ones. That means he cannot reason or connect events in the real world, which makes everything seem arbitrary and out of control. Actually, it is out of control in reality only he has lost the ability to believe or pretend that he is in control. I guess I won't be going there as I gave up that illusion of control many years ago. It is easier my way as it is real. Shit happens, adapt or die.
Anyway, I was thinking why I don't get inside his head and it is my own fear of getting locked in there. I think it reminds me of, and again I am just pulling this shit out of my ass, a closet with a bulb hanging with cobwebs. The closet is pretty much empty except for some wire hangers and that damn bulb. I am afraid of getting locked in there and not being able to get out. Then being really bored. So there, I have figured it out, my own sense of ennui has me disengaging from my father in law. Either that, or I never found what he says or asks interesting the first time he speaks of it.
That is that. I really want you all to click on this link. It is pretty cool in a "Dude, you've got way too much time on your hands" sort of way. Enjoy.
http://www.chilloutzone.de/files/player.swf?b=10&l=197&u=ILLUMllSOOAvIF//P_LxP92A42lCHCeeWCejXnHAS/c
Ciao!
Monday, June 11, 2007
The week has begun
I am back. I did not get you an end of the week report. I apologize but we had some technical difficulties on this end late in the afternoon on Friday. I was looking to get some stuff cleaned up when we lost power. My computer shut down and I could see nothing. I do not have a window in my office.
It was funny as they were calling for a thunderstorms. I just did not think it would hit at five and wipe out the area. I am thinking it was a pretty violent storm because of all the downed tree branches I saw on the way to the Outlaws. There were plenty near our home, too. In fact, I kept trying to access a main street from a side street near our home only to find a large branch of a very mature Maple tree had fallen and was blocking the whole street. I saw it on Saturday, forgot about it and tried to access the street, with no success, on Sunday.
The funniest part is that it was the same part of the street where during another storm about 12 years ealier, we saw a branch had fallen and crushed the roof of a parked car. Mother Nature can be a real bitch. That is the only conclusion I can draw.
I was not able to send out my birthday greetings to Willie on Friday. Oddly enough, it was his birthday. Better late than never.
The Outlaws were in fine form Friday. There is a new entrant in my Outlaw rant. It is my brother in law (the Wife's brother). He is older than I but makes me look absolutely mature. I always thought that was impossible. I was wrong. He has this annoying habit of telling me things he likes or dislikes on television. As if I really give a shit!
No offense, but I do not care what you watch or what you like to watch or what you do not like. I tell you, that family, seems to have an inflated sense of their own opinions. Like there is some deep meaning to things they like or claim to like. Given that thought stops with "I like...." or "I don't like...", those likes/dislikes are pretty meaningless to me. Then again, I am an asshole, but at least I do not mooch rides off of me.
That is all I have to say for now. I have to go to baseball, so Ciao!
It was funny as they were calling for a thunderstorms. I just did not think it would hit at five and wipe out the area. I am thinking it was a pretty violent storm because of all the downed tree branches I saw on the way to the Outlaws. There were plenty near our home, too. In fact, I kept trying to access a main street from a side street near our home only to find a large branch of a very mature Maple tree had fallen and was blocking the whole street. I saw it on Saturday, forgot about it and tried to access the street, with no success, on Sunday.
The funniest part is that it was the same part of the street where during another storm about 12 years ealier, we saw a branch had fallen and crushed the roof of a parked car. Mother Nature can be a real bitch. That is the only conclusion I can draw.
I was not able to send out my birthday greetings to Willie on Friday. Oddly enough, it was his birthday. Better late than never.
The Outlaws were in fine form Friday. There is a new entrant in my Outlaw rant. It is my brother in law (the Wife's brother). He is older than I but makes me look absolutely mature. I always thought that was impossible. I was wrong. He has this annoying habit of telling me things he likes or dislikes on television. As if I really give a shit!
No offense, but I do not care what you watch or what you like to watch or what you do not like. I tell you, that family, seems to have an inflated sense of their own opinions. Like there is some deep meaning to things they like or claim to like. Given that thought stops with "I like...." or "I don't like...", those likes/dislikes are pretty meaningless to me. Then again, I am an asshole, but at least I do not mooch rides off of me.
That is all I have to say for now. I have to go to baseball, so Ciao!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Eaten alive
I am back. After dinner last night, and after taking out the recycling and the green bin (garbage) I really wanted to just chill and read the paper. But no, the Lad wants to go to nearby school to hit and throw a baseball. What could I say? It would be irresponsible of me to dissuade him from physical activity. I may end up teaching him the joys of drinking and how to have a big mouth and use it without thought, but I will be a great role model in terms of physical health and activity. Mental health, that is another matter.
As I see it, he will have to learn that for himself, like we all do. I was fortunate to be an old soul. I am not "old" nor do I think "old". I do possess the wisdom of the ages. That sense that there is very little that is new in the world. The sense that history repeats and the life trials we face have been faced numerous times by those who came before us. It is because of that, I am able to and willing to look at all of life and myself, the good, the bad and the ugly.
It remains to be seen whether he follows the path of eyes open (my way) or the path of avoidance and denial (the way of the Outlaws and the Wife). Good luck to him, though.
Anyway, the point I wanted to make about playing ball with him last night is this. I now have all these fucking bug bites on my arm and the right side of my torso. What does West Nile Virus feel like? Or is it Lyme disease? Oh shit, I am a goner, all because I played ball with my son. I always knew the Lad would be the death of me (it is an Oedipal thing only I do not want to fuck my mother, there are some mothers I would like to ......... I digress, again).
I think the cause of all this the Wife. She wants me to wear more "fitted" clothing. I do prefer that look. I am wearing Medium tee shirts, which I find fit okay in the shoulders and sleeves but I find them too short for my torso. I hate when wearing a tee shirt underneath another shirt, it becomes untucked everytime I put my arms over my head, sit or move. It drives me crazy and I hate to show my lower back and ass crack when I bend over and my tee shirt comes untucked.
Anyway, last evening, I had on just such a tee-shirt. I could feel it untucked as we played and thought that gave any biting, flying fucking insect an opening to my soft underbelly. Well, those bastards took it and bit me good. They bit the shit out of me.
I noticed the bites on my arms last night. Okay, I thought. Then this morning, before I showered, the ones on my torso made themselves known. I am so fucking itchy, it is not funny. Well, it is funny but not for me. I hate being the butt of my own jokes. Life is always better when you can make fun of somebody else and never to have to face your comeuppance.
Well, know I have to go to the Lad's school fair fund raiser. I get to be outside, being eaten alive by small, fucking insects. I guess what I am saying is that this is all out war and I will stop at nothing to get them before they get me.
Well, I hate to scratch and run, but it is time to go. Ciao!
As I see it, he will have to learn that for himself, like we all do. I was fortunate to be an old soul. I am not "old" nor do I think "old". I do possess the wisdom of the ages. That sense that there is very little that is new in the world. The sense that history repeats and the life trials we face have been faced numerous times by those who came before us. It is because of that, I am able to and willing to look at all of life and myself, the good, the bad and the ugly.
It remains to be seen whether he follows the path of eyes open (my way) or the path of avoidance and denial (the way of the Outlaws and the Wife). Good luck to him, though.
Anyway, the point I wanted to make about playing ball with him last night is this. I now have all these fucking bug bites on my arm and the right side of my torso. What does West Nile Virus feel like? Or is it Lyme disease? Oh shit, I am a goner, all because I played ball with my son. I always knew the Lad would be the death of me (it is an Oedipal thing only I do not want to fuck my mother, there are some mothers I would like to ......... I digress, again).
I think the cause of all this the Wife. She wants me to wear more "fitted" clothing. I do prefer that look. I am wearing Medium tee shirts, which I find fit okay in the shoulders and sleeves but I find them too short for my torso. I hate when wearing a tee shirt underneath another shirt, it becomes untucked everytime I put my arms over my head, sit or move. It drives me crazy and I hate to show my lower back and ass crack when I bend over and my tee shirt comes untucked.
Anyway, last evening, I had on just such a tee-shirt. I could feel it untucked as we played and thought that gave any biting, flying fucking insect an opening to my soft underbelly. Well, those bastards took it and bit me good. They bit the shit out of me.
I noticed the bites on my arms last night. Okay, I thought. Then this morning, before I showered, the ones on my torso made themselves known. I am so fucking itchy, it is not funny. Well, it is funny but not for me. I hate being the butt of my own jokes. Life is always better when you can make fun of somebody else and never to have to face your comeuppance.
Well, know I have to go to the Lad's school fair fund raiser. I get to be outside, being eaten alive by small, fucking insects. I guess what I am saying is that this is all out war and I will stop at nothing to get them before they get me.
Well, I hate to scratch and run, but it is time to go. Ciao!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Some ecards, when you care enough to hit send.
I am back. I came across some of the best e-cards today in my travels. I laughed my ass off on some of them. Here are some samples. In the "Break Up" section, there were such beauts as "The good news is that she was a cunt", "I'm sorry to hear you didn't dump the prick sooner" and the ever sage advice, "Take some time to be alone with your penis."
Under the section titled "Friendship", we have great ones such as "If we were in prision, I'd help you not get raped", "I'm looking forward to your visit being over" and "It's time to stop dressing yourself". In "Thinking of You", there are the classics and soon to be classic, "I still masturbate to you", "I still dislike the taste of your semen" and "Even when we're 80, I will do you from behind".
I am telling you, these cards are classics. I do not know which ones I like best. The site to check them out is www.someecards.com. The tag line is when you care enough to hit send. Man this was funny. Unfortunately, I am not being so, but I will shamelessly plug a web site.
Ciao!
Under the section titled "Friendship", we have great ones such as "If we were in prision, I'd help you not get raped", "I'm looking forward to your visit being over" and "It's time to stop dressing yourself". In "Thinking of You", there are the classics and soon to be classic, "I still masturbate to you", "I still dislike the taste of your semen" and "Even when we're 80, I will do you from behind".
I am telling you, these cards are classics. I do not know which ones I like best. The site to check them out is www.someecards.com. The tag line is when you care enough to hit send. Man this was funny. Unfortunately, I am not being so, but I will shamelessly plug a web site.
Ciao!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Another Friday Night, another question goes unanswered
I am back. It was a glorious weekend, though it did rain yesterday. Where do I begin? Apparently, I am an asshole, or so the Wife tells me. The Outlaws were over for dinner on Friday. My mother in law was telling me something and I think she caused me to have a stroke. She said something about not being able to hear me because she did not have her glasses on. Excuse me?!! It is no wonder she does not listen, she is blind in both her ears.
My father in law decides he had enough. It was time to go, while the Wife and her mother were cleaning the dishes. He did have corn bits on his shirt which was a lovely sight, but that is what happens when I barbecue sweet corn. The Wife says what about dessert and he says he does not want or need dessert. Then he is hucking my mother in law to leave.
At that point, I ask him a direct question. "Does A (my mother in law) want to have some dessert?" I get an answer, with a smile, that "how do I know if she likes dessert. I think she likes dessert." Well, somehow, that did not answer my question and the words I used were short and simple. I said, "that is nice and you did not answer my question." I then asked it again.
That was when the Wife said to stop and implied that I was an asshole. That I may be an asshole does not concern me. It is defining an asshole as somebody who wants a simple fucking question that he posed to be answered. Is that too much to ask anybody? It is not often that I ask a question, of course I tend not to ask any question I do not already know the answer to but that is a different story, so I do expect the courtesy of an answer to my question. I get that from her whole family. They all answer questions, just not the ones posed directly to them. Yet, that is MY issue????!!!!!!
They left early enough, though it was after seven. My father in law actually got the Wife to call her brother FOR HIM as if it would make him arrive at our house any earlier (he was not home as he came straight from work). I would NEVER do that. He cannot hold his water and NEEDS to have a call made, I would have handed him the phone and tell him to do it himself. Of course, he has never had to do things for himself because of the niceness of those around him who refuse to see beyond the immediate and cultivate dependency. Then once, the dependency is created by them, they find the burden awesome and wonder how it occurred.
As I say, in the land of demented, the neurotic man is king! I am the King! It is good to be the King! All Hail the King! That does it, I now have a need to take over some land and people to create my kingdom. Wish me luck. Ciao!
My father in law decides he had enough. It was time to go, while the Wife and her mother were cleaning the dishes. He did have corn bits on his shirt which was a lovely sight, but that is what happens when I barbecue sweet corn. The Wife says what about dessert and he says he does not want or need dessert. Then he is hucking my mother in law to leave.
At that point, I ask him a direct question. "Does A (my mother in law) want to have some dessert?" I get an answer, with a smile, that "how do I know if she likes dessert. I think she likes dessert." Well, somehow, that did not answer my question and the words I used were short and simple. I said, "that is nice and you did not answer my question." I then asked it again.
That was when the Wife said to stop and implied that I was an asshole. That I may be an asshole does not concern me. It is defining an asshole as somebody who wants a simple fucking question that he posed to be answered. Is that too much to ask anybody? It is not often that I ask a question, of course I tend not to ask any question I do not already know the answer to but that is a different story, so I do expect the courtesy of an answer to my question. I get that from her whole family. They all answer questions, just not the ones posed directly to them. Yet, that is MY issue????!!!!!!
They left early enough, though it was after seven. My father in law actually got the Wife to call her brother FOR HIM as if it would make him arrive at our house any earlier (he was not home as he came straight from work). I would NEVER do that. He cannot hold his water and NEEDS to have a call made, I would have handed him the phone and tell him to do it himself. Of course, he has never had to do things for himself because of the niceness of those around him who refuse to see beyond the immediate and cultivate dependency. Then once, the dependency is created by them, they find the burden awesome and wonder how it occurred.
As I say, in the land of demented, the neurotic man is king! I am the King! It is good to be the King! All Hail the King! That does it, I now have a need to take over some land and people to create my kingdom. Wish me luck. Ciao!
Friday, June 01, 2007
It was twenty, er, forty years ago today. Sgt Pepper taught his band to play!
I am back. I just had to mention that it was 40 years ago today that the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's album was released. Which leads me to a funny story, well, it is a story. You will judge the funny.
By way of background, I loved the Beatles in my youth (still do, but it is different). I had quite the collection of Beatles albums on vinyl and those lovely compilation (Blue and Red albums) on, wait for it, 8 track. Now, how fucking 70s is that, the 8 Track! Well, I did have a portable player that I would end up using to listen to the radio while I showered as late as 1986. There may be old, as opposed to new, 8 Track cassettes floating around my mother's house.
I have an Apple pressing of the White album that my folks bought while in England. The collage poster inside was done by one of my father's favorite artists, Richard Hamilton. That was why he bought the album. In any event, I took possession of it and have never given it back and never will.
On to the story. I had a girlfriend, my first love, whose birthday is actually this weekend, for more digression. Anyway, as teenagers (14 or 15 at the time of this story) we would take any opportunity to fool around. Given it was the late 70s or very early 80s in a suburb of Toronto and teenagers were not as sexually active, the fooling around was more in the nature of making out and petting.
It could have been a Thursday after school, or weekday morning/afternoon during exams (I do not recall which). In any event, my siblings were not home and my parents were both at work. We had the house and my bed to ourselves. We are in my bed fooling around and I guess I had put on a Beatles cassette. It was Sgt Pepper's. We are doing our thing while the music plays.
It just so happens that "Fixing a Hole" is playing and I start to sing along while my lips are firmly planted on my girlfriends lips. I guess not so firmly if I am singing. Meanwhile, my hands are working and I have a finger or two in her warm, wet nether regions. I am then floored by her line, "David, you know no rain gets in there."
Say what?!! Excuse me??! Come again?! This was a girl who blushed when we spoke of things sexual saying this line in this situation. I was floored, so out of character, but in a good way.
It would be months later when I went down on her for the first time (first for either of us, really) and she asks what she should do with her hands. My reply, which was not appreciated, was "I don't know. Why don't you play with your tits or something?" I had never heard such things from where I learned about all things sexual....porn. What was a horny teenager to do?
All I know, or knew, is that I had my own pair of tits or pussy, I would have never left the house. It is kind of like being able to suck my own cock. If I could do it, I would not leave the house, nor would I have any need for human contact.
On that happy note, I am done. I get to go home to see the Outlaws. That means when I walk in the door, my father in law is going to say, "A. Let's go!" The dude cannot even remember not eating. They will be gone by 7, so it will be jam-hour of annoying chatter and responses. At least, I know where I keep the booze, so I will start when I get home.
Ciao!
By way of background, I loved the Beatles in my youth (still do, but it is different). I had quite the collection of Beatles albums on vinyl and those lovely compilation (Blue and Red albums) on, wait for it, 8 track. Now, how fucking 70s is that, the 8 Track! Well, I did have a portable player that I would end up using to listen to the radio while I showered as late as 1986. There may be old, as opposed to new, 8 Track cassettes floating around my mother's house.
I have an Apple pressing of the White album that my folks bought while in England. The collage poster inside was done by one of my father's favorite artists, Richard Hamilton. That was why he bought the album. In any event, I took possession of it and have never given it back and never will.
On to the story. I had a girlfriend, my first love, whose birthday is actually this weekend, for more digression. Anyway, as teenagers (14 or 15 at the time of this story) we would take any opportunity to fool around. Given it was the late 70s or very early 80s in a suburb of Toronto and teenagers were not as sexually active, the fooling around was more in the nature of making out and petting.
It could have been a Thursday after school, or weekday morning/afternoon during exams (I do not recall which). In any event, my siblings were not home and my parents were both at work. We had the house and my bed to ourselves. We are in my bed fooling around and I guess I had put on a Beatles cassette. It was Sgt Pepper's. We are doing our thing while the music plays.
It just so happens that "Fixing a Hole" is playing and I start to sing along while my lips are firmly planted on my girlfriends lips. I guess not so firmly if I am singing. Meanwhile, my hands are working and I have a finger or two in her warm, wet nether regions. I am then floored by her line, "David, you know no rain gets in there."
Say what?!! Excuse me??! Come again?! This was a girl who blushed when we spoke of things sexual saying this line in this situation. I was floored, so out of character, but in a good way.
It would be months later when I went down on her for the first time (first for either of us, really) and she asks what she should do with her hands. My reply, which was not appreciated, was "I don't know. Why don't you play with your tits or something?" I had never heard such things from where I learned about all things sexual....porn. What was a horny teenager to do?
All I know, or knew, is that I had my own pair of tits or pussy, I would have never left the house. It is kind of like being able to suck my own cock. If I could do it, I would not leave the house, nor would I have any need for human contact.
On that happy note, I am done. I get to go home to see the Outlaws. That means when I walk in the door, my father in law is going to say, "A. Let's go!" The dude cannot even remember not eating. They will be gone by 7, so it will be jam-hour of annoying chatter and responses. At least, I know where I keep the booze, so I will start when I get home.
Ciao!
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