May 10, 2005
Yeah, people are strange, but maybe they deserve each other...
So.
I get home from work, change outta the monkey suit, slide in Disc #1 of the first season of "The Partridge Family" and make my daily visit over t'Rob's place.
I mean, JeeZUS, man... if ya don't like how he thinks, or talks, or expresses himself, fuck off. I doubt you'd be missed. He only has 3304 readers a got-damned day. (Just peeked at his Site Meter to get the number...) It IS his blog.
He IS an American.
He DOES have the right to say anything he pleases in this country, let alone on his own webspace.
I also don't know of any "women" (read that word with as much disdain as you can muster, please) who're doing anything for him, as in taking care of him, sharing his life, his home, being there every day for him, helping him live as opposed to exist, or any of that, so WHY, for the love of all that is Holy, does any pussy with feet think it has a right to bitch him out for expressing his opinion on his own blog? If the man disturbs your weak little closed mind that badly that you feel an urge to take him to task, I think your time would be better spent talking to a professional about your control issues and your severe guilt reaction, not to mention your dying self-esteem or delusions of grandeur, whichever it is that makes you think he's always talking about YOU. Jeezus Baldheaded Fuckin' Christmas, with these bitches who can't shut the FUCK up and just LEAVE THE MAN BE. Women are such hypocritical assholes, I swear.
They spend countless hours pissing and moaning because they can't get a man to "talk" to them.
Then, when an intelligent, articulate man DOES espouse an opinion that happens to be counter to their "my shit is ROSE PETALS, Baby" veiw of the world, they go ballistic and bitch about THAT. What the flying FUCK do you douche-bags want?
Do any of you even KNOW? In my head right now, all I can hear is R. Lee Ermey. "You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit!!!" Yep.
That about sums it up.
Especially that one word... "unorganized".
Y'all are that. You stupid people send so many mixed messages.
"He won't taaaaalk to meeee.."/"Did you HEAR what that jerkoff just said?!?" "You had BETTER be kissin' my ass, boy..."/"I need a man I can respect..." "All you ever wanna do is hang in that bar..."/"You never take me out..." "I want real love...."/"Aw, he was a thumb-dick anyway and couldn't fuck for shit..." "I just want to be with you..."/"Buy me this, buy me that, spend spend spend on ME, Muthafucker!!!!!!" It's fuckin' ENDLESS. It's also beyond juvenile and ever s'much more than just stupid. It's dishonest, mean, small, petty, ugly and ultimately destructive.
It'll destroy a relationship, a man, or your own mind IF you even have one, which I tend to think people who do this shit DON'T have. Y'all whine constantly about how you want a relationship based on honesty, then when you're given a large dose of honesty, you get all huffy and your twats in knots, to quote Rob, and it's fuckin' RETARDED BEHAVIOR ON Y'ALL'S PART!!!! Then, you idiots have the unmitigated GALL to wonder why you're not taken seriously or "listened to".
Have any of you HMDs (high maintenence divas) ever listened to YOURSELVES? I doubt it, or you'd shut the fuck up in a big-assed hurry. There's a saying, that a good boss won't ask you to do something they wouldn't do themselves.
99.99999% of the women on this entire PLANET canNOT do that.
At all.
Ever. Which is why, in any relationship where a women is 51% or better "in charge" of said relationship, it's a.) doomed to failure and b.) more akin to "indentured servitude" than a relationship in the first place.
It's also why women make suckass bosses. Women act like immature dipshits, yet demand to be treated better than they'd EVER treat a man. "Do as I say, not as I do." Bullshit.
And... fuck you. Ya know? Now, alla that was my first, instantaneous reaction.
It's the honest, unvarnished truth about how I feel about this subject. And, it's not just because Eric came out of one of the most similarly abusive "relationships" I've ever witnessed. I've hated bitches who're like this since my mother. BUT...
Men.
Please.... Y'all ain't helping yourselves one little bit putting up with this shit.
Nor, seeking out the EXACT kinda bitch who does it. Y'all know the type. Big hair, big (probably FAKE) boobs, tiny waist, tiny brain and about as much real heart and soul as a family court judge. They're like piles of maggot-infested snakeshit covered in frosting and jimmies, or something. (And, if yer looking for any cherries, you're beyond hope here, fellas. But, y'all already KNEW that, din'tcha's?)
You ding-a-lings get all enraptured by the packaging and don't see the reality until it's about 10 minutes too freakin' late and boom, fucked over again. How many times y'all gotsta do do this stupidity, especially with the same chick more than once, before y'all get the oh! so obvious point? Have y'all never heard that you cannot judge a book by it's cover?
Hmmmm? Apparently not, going by how often beautiful, yet vapid, worthless women get away with screwing over decent, yet seemingly highly gullible, men. Sooooo....
My conclusion? Yeah, women (HMDs) suck, but so do men who're so easily distracted by and enamoured of women like that. Maybe they deserve each other. That said, it's also my considered opinion that Rob does NOT fall into this catagory. Granted, I've only seen one picture of Jennifer and she did look sorta pissed in it, but, still... she was no supermodel, so it's not like Rob fucked himself by falling for her shit just because she was packaged prettily.
And, just by the way, if Rob's gonna spend any time kissing female ass or bending over backwards to please any woman EVER, it would be the cunt whose keeping his son from him, in the hope that she'd cut the shit, but he doesn't. SO, if he's not gonna eat shit from her to see Quniton, what even makes you think he wants to hear any shit from any random bitches at large?
Egomania, maybe? Gawd. You numbfuck control-freaks take shit soooo personally.
But then, the entire universe is allllll about you, isn't it?
And, if it's not, then you're gonna give it your best to make it so, aren't ya? Yes, men... they will.
So, do yourselves a favor.
I don't care how horny y'all get, if you see this bullshit in a woman, walk the FUCK away.
No. Make that RUUUUUUNNNNNN!!!!!!
Please.
Go home and fuck your hand.
It (she) is NOT worth it.
I swear. Don't believe me?
Just take a look around.
And, be looking with your eyes and BRAIN, not eyes and dick, okay? Whew.
I feel much better now, thanks.
Posted by: Stevie at 08:58 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
May 07, 2005
Oh, this is choice....
Fuckin' Yahoo headlines, man...
Who writes these things?
• Suicide blasts kill 22 in central Baghdad
• Bush: U.S. had hand in European divisions
• Nations urge N. Korea on nuclear talks
• Blasts kill 11, injure scores in Myanmar
• Japan, China to improve ties, study history
• New bridges made of bendable concrete
• Sci-Fi Hall of Fame inducts Spielberg, Dick D'ya see it? I mean, c'mon...
Like Sci-fi nerds and trekkies aren't enough of a target, they need a headline like THAT to live down?
Spielberg dick inducted into Hall of Fame? oh gawd...
that's it...
i'm gone... *slithers outta chiar, laughing ever-lovin' ass off*
Posted by: Stevie at 12:58 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
A comment on three comments...
Dad and Catfish have been making me laugh the last day or two and when I saw the comments, I meant to answer them then, buuuut...
I din't.
Shoot me, ya know? Any ol' way... The other day, when it became the day after the day Dad said he'd write by, I got a little bent and wrote, "Sooo... Dad...".
Then, we had (apparently, anyway) "Return Your Plate" day at work.
Then, last night, the whole deal with my stupid tie. So, in order of the posts, hence the coments... here we go. Dad, yeah, that was from before we did the emails thang. I was gettin' a tad annoyed there for a minute. Over with now. (Actually, it was over once you finally wrote... *rolls eyes and grins*) Cat... Aw, it ain't that bad, usually, but damn- that day was a bitch. Biggest difference between this "not s'hot" day and any other I've had was that I didn't get blamed by the cooks, which is pretty much standard no matter where ya work. It's always the same in that respect.
The customers bitch you out and stiff you if the cooks suck and if the customer sucks and is a tremendous pain in the ass, the cooks blame you, rather than admit their cooking blows or that they're taking too long getting the shit cooked, ya know?
But, this time, with "Goldi-Bacon-Locks"-man, not even our most vehement cook (Leo) was pissed at me, blessedly enough. But, oddly, the fact that they were being nice just made me wanna shut the customer up even more, sooner and with force, if necessary.
That dipshit.
*lol* And Dad... we need to flesh that out. "How tight will a waitress tie her tie and around which appendage..."
Or, we could do a "A waitress will plot yer death if" kinda thing, like Jeff Foxworthy.
Or maybe we could work out a sliding "tip" scale, based on exactly how much of an unmitigated pain in the balls a customer is during their visit. An "Aggravation Surcharge", if ya will... Ooh, I like that idea.
I'd be rich inside of about a week with that. Back soon.
Gotta go think about, plan, but not actually do the house cleaning type shit for a while. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 09:09 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
May 06, 2005
Ladies... not that y'all are gonna listen or anything....
But, I am COMPELLED to make the effort here...
A little tip for youse chicks... Men, as well as other chick-type people, may not have to struggle so hard to quell the desire to strangle the FUCK outta ya if you could POSSIBLY do what you say yer gonna do ESPECIALLY when it involves borrowing something from someone... like, for instance, a fellow chick-type person, such as MYSELF. Liiiiike... if ya can't find your own goddamned tie and ya ask to borrow mine and I'm actually brain-damaged enough to let ya use it, providing you leave it at work when you get off, LEAVE THE TIE AT WORK WHEN YOU LEAVE. How hard is that? Is it as hard as driving all the way to work, only to discover you now have to drive even further down 611 to retrieve said tie because said tie is not at said place of employment? I don't THINK so. It's not a bit of a wonder to me that men spend approximately 99.99999% of their time plotting the expungement of the female species offa the planet. Things would be much easier that way, after all. Men...anyt'ing I can do to help ya's out wit' dis, lemme know, okay?
*honk, spit and a crotch grab*
Posted by: Stevie at 11:56 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
May 05, 2005
Gawd, whatta day...
If I hadda carry one plate back to the window, I hadda carry 40.
Fuckin' people.
That one girl, though... she kept begging me to use my steel toed boots on his ass. *raised eyebrow* Yeah.
I don't think so.
Not this guy.... Call me selfish, but I like the original bone structure of my face, okay? Good kooga mooga, y'all... Then, the Rock busted me, he THOUGHT, lookin' at his ass, but I wasn't.
Then. Later, however, AFTER he'd put the idea in my head, I did happen to notice some kinda shit on his pants and even risked my whole earlier "Nuh-UH!" arguement to point it out to him. Men.
Gotta love 'em, 'cause if ya didn't, you'd be kickin' their asses 24/7, huh? Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em, buuuut... knives are quiet.
*weg* Anyway, I'm currently baking cookies and watching a Monkees tape and I intend to get this house clean before I go to bed. Shit.
Just remembered.
Also hafta bring the damned dogs in, so "we" can fix the bathroom drain pipe under the house. They seem to have disconnected something under there. Need it reconnected, like NOW, ya know? What fun. Also wanted to mention that I haven't made nor forgotten those three phone calls I have planned. It's gonna happen.
Just not sure when.
I keep waiting for "the right time" and things won't stop long enough for it to BE the right time, so if I don't get it done tomorrow, it will be this weekend. In the meantime, I wanna go get everything I can think of done and outta the way, so I can talk to these guys.
I don't wanna be interrupted when I do, know what I mean? Okay.
Back to the cookie assembly line, then. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 06:22 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
May 04, 2005
Hey God...
What in Your name is going on lately?
Ya know, Your Dudeness, this shit with my Dad might not hurt me so much if it was ALL that was hurting me, but it's not. There's Pa. Rob, too. I talked to him by YIM a few days before the 30th and he tells me "Of COURSE I'll be by Saturday..." NOT. When he came by Friday night to go with Eric to get the stuff he wanted to get for my "Yeah, let's celebrate this goddamned day why don't we... Jeezus" day, Rob was acting like he hated it.Didn't say four words to me and didn't show up Saturday either. Except for 30 seconds ago, when I contacted him by DirectConnect, not a peep since, either. What. the. fuck. Ya know? Look, people of planet Earth... If y'all don't want anything, or any MORE, to do with me, FINE.
Just say so.
I can take it. What I can't take any more of is people saying one thing and acting some other way. Just cut the shit, howsabout. If you people want me to fuck off...
JUST SAY SO. I'm tired of guessing and gettin' it WRONG, okay? In fact, in light of everything that HASN'T happened lately, I think I will.
I'm just gonna fuck off and if y'all want me, come find me. Sick and damned tired of being a fool. It's not all bad, either.
In this world of shit I'm currently inhabiting, I AM trying to see the "good" in alla this...
Like...
Maybe these people I was "counting on" as people I could always turn to are going away because maybe God is trying in His own twisted, fucked up way, to tell me that I won't need to have them in my life, because nothing horrible is going to happen to Eric. And, just by the way, I think THAT is what's fuckin' me up the worst. The two people, besides Bill, that I, personally, figured Eric would be okay because of, Dad and Rob, are both of the ones doing this. I feel like, if anything does happen to him, I can't really call either of these guys. Hell, I was scared to hafta call Dad in the first place. Scared I'd get... turned down, or whatever.
Now? Pfft. Don't got that worry no more. As of this moment, I'll be on my own if Eric gets "in the shit". How fuckin' scary is THAT? Tremendously, that's how scary it is. It's also highly painful and hugely enraging. The only other "good" I can find in this is that Eric is even more of a miraculous hero than I first thought, loving me at all, let alone like he does. So.
THAT'S what ails me and how are ya'll? Update @ 6:50am
Rob beeped back.
Thank you, God...
It's not me, for once.
It's not me at all.
Or us.
In fact, I feel "hugged" by Rob now.
Seems he didn't really realize how much he means to us around here and is, or was, lost in his own world of shit.
(Stupid wimmen... gah.) Anyway... I can breathe better now.
Got one lung back, anyway... Thank you again, God.
Now, about Dad...
Posted by: Stevie at 06:21 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Soooo.... Dad....
You still cutting asparagus?
Or playing poker?
OR did yer friggin' computer explode, or what?
Tell ya's what.
If I'm ever born onto this earth again, I hope I die before I get here. I'm just sayin'. Well, what the hell, ya know?
I wanted the truth and I got it. It's all good.
That's fine.
Whatever. This would almost be funny, except for two things... it's not and because this is exactly what I have been saying forever. (Dad...)
Did learn one thing, though... doesn't matter who's doing it... Little Miss "Shall Remain Nameless", circumstances or YOU. It kills, no matter who or what it is. (Back to everybody and through tears...)
Any man out there have a daughter pre-decease you and you're looking for some kinda half-assed replacement?
Call me.
Please... Roger Miller, that genius, knows....
I'm a fool if I let this go on.
You can hurt me without even tryin'.
Think I'll pick up my heart and go home. I can see the first signs of autumn.
All at once all the flowers have gone.
Suddenly I feel so forgotten,
Think I'll pick up my heart and go home. Someplace where you'll never find me...
A place where I can leave your memories behind me. Once again you've got me cryin'.
I'm a fool if I let this go on.
You can hurt me without even tryin'.
Think I'll pick up my heart and go home.
We just couldn't be close though we tried.
We both reached for heavens, but ours weren't the same.
That's what happens when two worlds collide. Your world was made up of things sweet and good.
And my world could never fit in, wish it could.
Two hearts lie in shambles and oh how they've cried...
That's what happens when two worlds collide. Your world was made up of things sweet and good.
And my world could never fit in, wish it could.
Two hearts lie in shambles and oh how they've cried.
That's what happens when two worlds collide.
I've got 'em.
I did wanna just let it go.
Now, I know. So, I really don't need anything else, I guess.
And you don't need to worry about it... answering questions, I mean, or writing or whatever.
I already know. Guess I always have.
And, it was just easier on my heart to blame Kim. Kim, I'm sorry.
I was wrong.
It wasn't you keeping Dad from me. Now I know and like I suspected... the knowing doesn't help a bit. In fact, if ya wanna know the truth, it's worse and I never thought it could be, but again... I WAS WRONG. Christ, sometimes I hate being me.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:27 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 30, 2005
Didn't I just do this shit?
Feels like I just had a birthday a coupla months ago.
42. Jeezus. My Dad and Kim and Pat came over. Dad brought his chicken potpie.They didn't stay to do karaoke, because no place around here starts before 9:30p.
Think me and Eric may still go to Mike's. That's a place not too far from here that has karaoke tonight and I think I still wanna do it. They're already gone, in fact. I miss Dad already. I wish they'd stayed a little longer. But, I did get to let Dad hear Roger Miller's "River in the Rain" and see John Goodman do "Guv'mint", both from "Big River". And, I've finally got my brother in my DirectConnect. It was fun. So, why am I sitting here getting Eric all wet?
I don't know.
But, it hurts.
I just wish Dad was still here. Maybe it's cause I don't get to see him very often.
Maybe it's cause I love him so much, but... man, this is nuts.
My heart literally hurts. I did get to hug him during "River in the Rain". Know what I'd love?
To be able to just hang with Dad for, like... a whole day.
Him and Norman.
And me.
All day. For a week. God, I wish the seven hours I spend at work went as fast as these seven did. I may be 42, but I still do want to be around my Dad. You know.
Before I can't be.
Anymore.
Again. For the record, I'm also fully aware of the absense of Paul and Rob.
But, it's not Paul's fault and I also know I can call him if I wanna (and I may very well do that) and Rob? I have no idea. I mean, I know what he's doing today, I just don't know why.
He said he'd be here, then barely said two words to me yesterday and hasn't even so much as called today.
If I've pissed him off, I don't know how.
Feels like I have. I do have two other fellas I may be calling sometime tonight or tomorrow. And, not everything sucks or anything. Craig IS taking the third horse and two kittens, Eric and I may still go do karaoke, I still have the job (so far) and things are fine, I suppose, but goddamn... I do wish Dad coulda stayed longer. Hook me to a polygraph, I swear I'd pass... I believe that Kim, who was driving, was bored stiff.
Nothing personal, of course, just bored spitless. Still. Dad, come up here with Norman or by yourself.
Please. Let me just hang with you and be your kid for a day.
I know I'm an old kid, but I am still YOUR kid and I kinda need you. I try not to too much (you know what that's about), but it is more than a 7 hour thing.
And yeah, I know I can't have it all back, but any is good.
As was today. It was just way too short. Thank you for everything and I love you and I'm sorry to be such a...
whatever it is I am because I'm bawling my heart out after you were just here. GodDAMN, I love my Dad...
Posted by: Stevie at 07:52 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 29, 2005
Where to start? Hmmm...
Probably, the best place to start is not to, right now.
There's been so much cool stuff happening lately, that I barely have time to experience it, let alone write it.
Get back, bake cookies, clean, take cookies to boss-guys at work, get back, clean more, fuck around, clean more and try like hell to get the house to the "You have 900 cats?!? Wow. Can't tell..." stage.
*rolls eyes* I try. I really try. (But when I see this boy sprawled out by this big ape here and... oops. Shit. Channelling Billy Jack right this second is so NOT gonna help any...) No, I really do try, but I am just a little outnumbered. (Thank Gawd. Last thing this world needs is as many of me as I have cats... *shudder*) SHUT UP STEVIE!!!!! Yes, yes... gotta move my ass.
I'm hoping to be what?... caught up?... done?... whatever later on and I have it in mind to spill it all then. And Cat?
I think I might do "that" tomorrow. ("That" being that thang which you suggested I do, right before he posted about how much he HATES cell phones. You tryin' to git my ass kicked, by the way? *raised eyebrow and a giggle*) But, yeah... Tomorrow. It is my birthday, after all...
What cooler thing to do than that? I still have yours, too, Dude.
*grin* (Fixed stare and drumming fingertips directed right at Mad Wm. here for a second... or sixty...) Any-got-damned-way, I have got to get a move on. Hope it's sexy, at least... (my "move", I mean.)
(Whatchoo rollin' yer eyes at? So I'm corny... Been writin' my own material for 41 years, 364 days. Gimme a break... *grin*) Peace y'all... Update 20 minutes later...
Well.
That was fun.
Not. As I was finishing before, Ziggy was barkin' his balls off.
I no sooner clicked save than I heard a moo.
Really close.
Closer, in fact, than the cows even are.
Or, are supposed to be. They were out.
Again.
So, I just spent the last 20 minutes chasing cows.
And, I just loooove runnin', let me tell ya.
*goober face* (Oh fuck. One of em's back. Just mooed again.... Piss on it this time, man. I've got shit to do and running track with a frickin' cow ain't none of it, ya know? Besides which, somebody around needs to sumbitchin' realize that electric fence ain't for fuckin' cows!) Anyway... I been chasin' moo-moos.
Oh how fun it is. Not to even mention... it also changed my plans, cause now the guys (Rob, Eric and George) are already on their way back from the Farmer's Market, so now, insteada goin' to the store for cookie shit, I have to clean some shit, then go when they get here. Whatever.
Ain't chasin' no more cows. Ever. Ugh. Let me think a moment... under what circumstance, exactly, would I run and not hate it?
Hmmm...
Usta woulda been "chasing Bret Hart", but now that he's pussywhipped again, screw that.
Wouldn't run to piss on Dwight Yoakam if he was on fire... Hmmm... I would probably run after Tommy Chong for a hit, but he's too old and burnt to run, so that's a moot point. Ya know... I can't think of one damned reason to run.
Especially not after a cow. Update @ 10:14pm... Y'all wanna take a wild fuckin' guess what I just got done doin'? Aw, g'head.
Say it.
Ya know ya wanna... especially after what I said earlier.... Yes, that's right.
I hadda chase a cow again. Someone was "herding" her, with a tractor, around my house. I knew he wasn't gettin' through the yard like she had, so when he got "stuck", I ran out and took over, as she was standing in the goddamned driveway and all. We took a JOG on down to the dry cow barn.
Damn it. I have OFFICIALLY had ENOUGH of this now, OKAY? Good. I'm going. to. the. store. now. Imeanit...
rightnow... I'm so leaving RIGHT NOW that I'm already g...
Posted by: Stevie at 08:11 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 28, 2005
Anybody from Maine (or who maybe knows Stephen King) read me?
If so, I have a question.
I'm reading Pet Sematary for about the millionth time and I just noticed a phrase that I do NOT understand.At all. To give you context, in the book, Lewis is standing outside Pleasantview Cemetary just prior to digging up Gage. Here is the sentence, with the phrase I don't get in bold: "Beside him, the branches of an old elm groaned restlessly in the wind, making Lewis think of jackleg necktie parties. God, he was so scared..." Da hell is dat?
Anyone?
Bueller? In other news, yes, I'm still alive and no, I ain't been kidnap-ed (ala "Starman"...). I was called in to work yesterday and besides the money, I'm glad I went because of an omelette and that one cook. Think I'd better re-name him, sooo... I'm gonna call him.... *thinking*.... Leo.
Being around him is like being around a lion anyway, so, it fits. Anyway, thanks to an omelette and him, it was a really cool day. It was as if, instead of just being allowed to pet this lion, I actually got to hug it's neck, or something and live to tell about it. Pretty cool. So is he, but shhhh... don't tell anybody.
Wouldn't want to spoil his cover... *giggle* Awrighty then... we're goin' to Wal-Mart, then dinner. We were gonna go to Taco Bell or Mickey D's, but, God forgive me... I wanna go to the stupid restaurant... lmao. Hell man, everything they make is good and I even like the people, sooo... Shoot me.
*rolls eyes and giggles* Peace, y'all.....
Posted by: Stevie at 07:24 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 24, 2005
Holy shit, man...
This is a damned good day...
I'm here, cleaning the house and I hear the dogs barking so I holler "Ziglet, shut UP, damn it..." and hear a lady's voice say "Hellooo...." I answer the door and it's these people, looking for a kitten. Wow. Talk about answering a prayer. They were here about 45 minutes, picked out two kittens to take when they're fully weaned and I do believe they're gonna take Jessie, the third horse, too. God, that'd be wonderful. The way the guy who wants him (Craig) and the horse (Jessie) interacted, I'm completely comfortable with Craig taking him. The kittens are for the little girl, whose cat just died and the second kitten is for the little boy who was here too and just liked the kitten when he saw it. Just that these guys would come for A kitten and wind up taking TWO kittens AND a horse, proves they're cool.Does to ME anyway... Thank you yet again, God, for helpin' me out with this...
You are AWESOME, Dude....
Posted by: Stevie at 02:10 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Y'all need to go see this...
Here's the link, before I get all long-winded about the subject matter...
Hanoi Jane and that hero, Mike Smith, from KC, Mo. Ah hell... I'm not even gonna drag myself down or get myself all pissed off, going off about what a piece of garbage this cunt is.I said it in Rob's comments, anyway. Just go look.
And tell me one thing... How in thee fuck does anybody defend this bitch? How in Christ's name is that possible? Do these dickheads not realize that to defend her is exactly the same as spitting on Nam Vets all over again? Or actually, even worse?
How do they do this? Fuckin' kills me...
Posted by: Stevie at 12:03 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 23, 2005
This just in....
Like a note wrapped around a brick through the window....
It's very much okay to post that one pic.So... here tis...
Well... it's nice and all, but it's the chest hair I keep starin' at.
That and that sweet lil face of his. He reads even more than I do, if possible, and he's right in NYC. He also bakes, has a wonderfully twisted sense of humor and some kinda weird obsession with sock monkeys.
And...
proving just how retarded most women are (as if I need more proof of that)... He's single. How, I do not know, except that as usual, women are stupid.
Look right at him and don't see it.
Dumb. Ah well.
Whatcha gunna do? Me? I'm gonna go on, knowing I'm right about the stupidity level of most women and lookin' at the chest hair and smile... chest hair and smile.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:20 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Jim Morrison was wrong and I need to just stay in the house...
People aren't strange.
People are STUPID.
Ya know? So, I go to the Post Office with the cash and the envelope and shit and first off, I got there 20 minutes before they close. I go in, get in line, am next, then realize that all I had on me was the exact amount of the money order and not even enough change in my pockets or console to pay for the stupid money order.
So, I roll my eyes at me and growl and race home. I radio-ed Eric to grab some cash and just meet me in the driveway. I get there, he's there, I make a circle around him, he throws the cash in the car and off I go again.
Much like a "keyhole race" or, coincidentally, the "post office race", both of which are on horseback. Ya run up, spin and race back, more or less. Only difference between the two is in the keyhole race, there's a "keyhole" shape on the ground in lime. Ya hafta run into it, spin and run back without messing up the lines. In the other, you have to grab a mailbag off the ground and run back. It's fuckin' AWESOME when ya don't have to actually dismount to get the bag, too. I won doing that. I ran up, bent waaaay down, grabbed the bag, spun Diablo and raced back. Won by, like... 7 or 8 seconds, too. God, were those preppy bitches with the huge Quarter Horses pissed... *lmao* Anyway... I get the cash, race back, make it and get to a window.
The instant I get to said window, the retarded clerk has to go help the equally retarded clerk at the next window. This stretches into a several minute operation, duirng which time I am getting more and more annoyed. (Hadda go to the bathroom, damn it.) Finally, the moron-atron comes back and I say, and I quote: "I need a money order for three hundred thirty dollars. Here it is... (I slid a WAD of cash to her) I've counted it about sixty times, so I'm not doin' it again." To which she replies... "Okay. A money order for three hundred sixty..." "NO. Three hundred thirty. Sixty is the number of times I've counted it." "Ohhh..." ("Duuuhhh...") So, off she goes.
For six minutes!!!!, counting this shit.
My fuckin' parrot would be more adept at handling cash.
And, I thought that one kid, Christian, was stupid at the grocery store... (He's just as fumble fingered and s-l-o-w as this one, but still not quite as bad. HE only counts the shit ONCE, thank Christ.) ANYway... she counts it three fuckin' times. At the rate of one bill every three seconds, mind you. My bad that 150 of it was ones.
(I know I oughta cash in but, honestly, just looking at a wad of cash like that is still too much fun for me.) After she counts it the third time, she says... "One dollar short." I stabbed with my fingernail the one one that was laying there, on the mat, all by itself for all the fuckin' world to see and slid it to her saying, "Three hundred THIRTY." "Oh, that for money order..." "No, it's NOT. THIS (waving around two additional ones) is for the money order. THAT is three hundred THIRTY." "oh." (Trying to smile) I say, "It's really important that this thing be postmarked today, so I'm just gonna whip through the money order and hand it right back to ya, okay? I've got the envelope done already..." "Okay." Then, the money order prints out and dipshit proceeds to put the money away before she hands me the fuckin' thing so I can fill it out. GGGRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!
GOD, give me strength... Finally, she gets it and hands it to me, I fill it out in under 30 seconds, whip the shit into the envelope, almost give myself a papercut lickin' it and slappin' it shut and I watched her postmark it. Had to make sure it was the right stamp... *rolls eyes* I get home and go to pee. There's this stupid cup that matches the toothbrush holder, that sits on the lid of the toilet tank. We keep pens and miscellaneous pocketshit in it, mostly. Lately, it keeps falling over and dumping two tons of shit into the trashcan. "I don't wanna throw this shit away, or I'd do it myself, dick", I've said about forty times in the last week TO the cup as I set it up and pick all the shit back outta the trash. As you can imagine, this is getting old, right? Well.
I get back from hell... I mean the Post Office and guess what?
Mr. Lazyassed cup is layin' down on the job again.
So...
I terminated his ass with extreme prejudice and my size 7 steeltoed boot. Fuck you cup, who may just have been the victim of misdirected anger. Ya did piss me off too, but, truth be known, it was that chick's FACE I really wanted to stomp. Sorry.
(Yeah, about as sorry as Bluto after he smashes the folkies guitar... *giggle*) Anyhoo... I'm stayin' in the house now.
In fact, I'm gonna go back to what I was doing, which coincidentally, is what made me leave for the Post Office so late in the first place... goin' through my download mgr., finding cute dudes to post. There's one more I know is in there. And, I even think I was told to go ahead and post it if I want to...
We'll see...
*grin* It's a good one.
Ooohhh... I just remembered another one I wish I was allowed to post. Gawd, this guy is adorable... Well, they both are, but... you know what I mean. One I think I can (if I can gather the cajones, in case I'm wrong about it being okay), the other I know I'm not allowed. *pout* Oh well... back to it.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:14 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
My "too fulla stuff" download manager...
With Mozilla, you get this thing called "the download manager". It keeps a list of all the shit ya download.
Mine is crammed fulla stuff that, half of it, I don't even know what it is. Most of this stuff is labelled with numbers and shit. So, before I delete anything, I'm launching the file to see what it is. I've had a coupla pleasant surprises, but, when THIS came up, I literally grinned my face off and hollered "MIKEY!!!"
Such a sweetie. Whatta cool way to start yer day.
Thanks, Mikey! You gave me a dose of sunshine in here, even though it's rainy and blah outside.
Get Mrs. Mad Mikey to give ya a hug for me, wouldja? Wonder what other goodies I've got in there.... Update a coupla minutes later... THIS is what else I've got in there, among other things...
He's also gonna be "anonymous" unless he sees this and outs himself. I blab at him on YIM sometimes and he's smarter'n hell, a Navy guy and awesome. Man, I've got some dee-licious dudes downloaded, don't I?
Daaaamn. Back to the excavation... Got another one...
Now, this guy doesn't really count, because he's a celebrity and not a real guy I "know", but this is just toooo sizzlin' HOT not to post.
Ready?
Posted by: Stevie at 09:13 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 20, 2005
Fuck G.I. Joe....
THIS guy...
Bra-vo, Dude.
Posted by: Stevie at 04:51 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 19, 2005
So I haven't done either thing, yet...
I am BOUNCING, I'm so fuckin' thrilled to see this!!! Fuck you, Steve "Can't follow written directions, ya dead dumbass" Bechler and all the rest of the goombahs who TRIED to fuck this up... HA!!! Ephedra didn't kill you.YOU killed you. Gimme back my Ephedra and my 29's and piss off. YEEEEHA!!!!! Now...
WHEN?!?!?
Posted by: Stevie at 03:30 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, this warn't too smart...
I'm up.
As in: just woke up a little while ago.
Woke up at midnight-thirty or so.
*siiigh* Hafta go to work at 9, too.
See? I am a retard. I just ran to the gas station and got cigs, chew and gas.
I think I'll wash my hair and go back to bed for a while. Oh yeah.
My hair.
It worked. "It" was lightening it.
Actually, bleaching "chunks".
Looks pretty cool. I was kinda scared of looking like Jane, Daria's friend, in the episode of "Daria" called "The Lady or The Tiger", but it doesn't. I like it.
AND... (not a peep, PAUL... *june cleaver?* ewwww... *snork*) and, I wore earrings today too, for the first time in half of forever.
And... I can't say it... but, I have to... they matched my towel and ponytail scarf.
*gag* Da FUCK is happening to me? I actually caught myself wondering about nail polish during a slack moment.
I can see that now.
400 bottles of nail polish and me, trying in VAIN to change colors to "match".
Ugh.
That's not gunna happen.
I hate painting my nails.
I always get an itch in a TOTALLY inconvenient place or ten and I smear it, smudge it and wind up with it in places God never intended.
So, no.
Please, God... NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Besides, with these talons I have, it'd take a gallon a time.
Sumbitches are brand new and over a half inch long this time.
I find they help me balance trays, believe it or not.
More than once, that extra inchage has kept my tray from falling when it's gotten out of balance, while I'm stacking and unstacking shit on (or off of) it. *several minutes later* So anyway, here I sit at, what?, almost 2:30am, awake and watching a tape of the Brady Bunch. We just landed in Honolulu.... *rolls eyes* Ooohhh... just got to break up a "bitch-slap" arguement between two cats.
The one I got to pick up and remove farted on me.
Jeez, man.
Men got NUTTIN' on cats when it comes to fartin'.
What do those critters DO to that cat food between eating it and Play-Doh Fun Factory-ing it out the other end?
Whew-eeee. And, just what the hell is it with me being present for fart-fests, anyway?
That's the second time in less than 12 hours and the other time, it was a PERSON.
At least, I think it was. It was at work.
It was also a waitress, the disgusting windbag. I had to pee, so I went to do so. Not three seconds after I sat down, this fat chick who works there comes in, takes the stall next to me (and I know that bitch knew I was there, too, the cow...) and proceeds to pee, then fart, then grunt then I got the distinct gross-out of hearing the kids hit the pool.
Nasty fuck.
What if I'd have been a customer?
I coulda sued for mental duress at the very least. God got her fat ass back though. Not long after, I heard a crash and plastic cup bouncing across the floor and as I came around the corner, I saw her sitting on the floor in front of the soda dispenser, herself dispensing the sage advice that the floor was wet.
No shit?
No.
DON'T shit... near me.
In the words of the immortal Maude Findley.... "God'll get you for that." *coupla seconds later, I keep getting distracted by BRADYS*
Ya know... I don't know who this "Sam" guy is, singing in this episode with Don Ho, but he is GORGEOUS. I love his hair.... nice legs, too.
Now, if ukelele music just didn't make me wanna hurl...
Ah. Sam Kapu. That cleared that right up. Greg just fell down, went "splash".
Dork. Shit. I need to go "go splash" my own self.
I cholesterol-ed my hair after I got done screwing with it yesterday and no matter how much I rinse that stuff, I always feel like I didn't get it all out. It's good shit, too, but not left over in dry hair.
Smells like lilacs.
And, they have formulas for both white and black ladies and I like the black lady version better. It makes my hair softer and more "woofty" than the white chick kind.
("Woofty"- blows easily in breezes and when ya move. Looks great, clean and healthy. Feels lovely...)
Pantene is good for that.... Anyhoo... gonna go do that.
And, I just yawned, so...
Hmmm... maybe go to bed now, wash hair later.
Or just sit here like a coma patient, staring at Bradys... Nah.
Bed or shower.
Or, I could poke pinholes in the water bed and do both at once.... Yeah, I know...
Shaddap and go do one or the other. I'm goin'.... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:50 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 17, 2005
Well... pfft. That was easy...
'Course, I think I got off light.
I fed the two tiny people big (two sloppy joes, mac and cheese and chips each) and after they ate, they went into their "fort" (under the pull-out sofa bed, draped with blankets) in the livingroom and weren't seen again til this morning.
I could hear 'em in there, giggling and carrying on for a bit, then... nuttin'. Fast asleep, both of 'em.
Looks loooots better, now. Even better, I found a Jeff Foxworthy VHS tape in the pile where we threw the siding. People can be soooo stupid, throwing away GOLD like that. (And yeah, once I did find (and still have) a small, very heavy, oddly shaped hunka something gold.) House is still mostly clean, I'm slogging through the wash and later, after ever'body is gone, I'm going out to get some "shit" for my hair. The same waitress who suggested my "colors" thing has also been waiting for me to do this thing to my hair.
I've never done it before, not like this anyway.
I'm not saying what it is til it's done. I don't wanna jinx myself.
(I am such a wuss about fuckin' with my hair... Gawd.)
I'm gonna do that and my nails.
If all goes even halfway well, I'll get all this shit done before dark and be able to go to bed and be ready for work. If not?
I'll still make it, somehow. Anyhoo... guess I'd better keep on it. Wash is waitin'. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 12:02 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
April 16, 2005
Okay... now, this is more like it...
"It" being the kinda "wtf moment" I'm used to, by now.
Mind you, now... I'm not complaining, just explaining. After alla this "too cool to really be my life" stuff that's been going on, I now have proof that "Yuh-huuuuh, is too my life." In aboooout an hour or so, for about 3 or 4 hours, I'm gonna be... *gulp*... alone here with... *starts to sweat*... with... *feels faint*... two... kidsssss.... *swoons*One of whom I've never even seen before.
Gawd. First, it was just George was coming up, bringing the little 'un. Then, it became "can I bring somebody?" and now... here it is. Again. Never had a kid, never even been pregnant and all of a sudden I know just how Custer felt.
I'm surrounded.
He'p! Two of 'em.
One of me.
Three or four "of" hours.... *siiigh* I'd do that whole "Why me, Lord?" thing, but I can already visualize a coupla different answers, neither of which is anything I need to actually be "told".
First, I see God grinding his thumb into a desktop while saying to me, "Because you piss me off!"
Or, He'd just give me a look like, "Oh STFU, chick, okay?" Then, He'd roll His eyes and probably mention His son.
And, I don't wanna be the cause of God taking Jesus' name in vain... ya know?
At least, not again. I do think I'll actually survive this, but, for the life of me, I do not, can not and never will understand how anybody could do this 24 hours a day forever. Or 20 years, which is about the same damned thing. Three or four hours and I'm so nerved out that both my arms are numb.
And, that's gonna make cooking sloppy joes REALLY fun, too, lemme make ya visualize... Ah hell. I've got 200 or so channels of TV, all of outdoors, it being light out later now and shit like that to keep 'em busy.
If that's not enough, there's always duct tape, right? Bet I could have both of 'em immobilized, gagged and stuck to the wall in under 7.5 seconds....
Especially if I used a horse, like in calf roping...
Hmmm... *stares off into distance with a slight grin* *several minutes later* Oh hey, hi... sorry. Daydreaming, I guess... How do you people do this shit on a daily basis and on a "volunteer" basis at that?
Y'all screw, y'all know screwin' leads to babies and y'all do it anyway, have the babies and then do this shit, 24/7 for forever. And more, even...
How? I don't get it. I try sometimes to imagine having a kid and it scares the ever-lovin' fuck outta me. HELL doesn't scare me as much.
Talk about claustrophobia... talk about trapped... Jeezus. I couldn't do it. In fact, if Eric wasn't gonna have his radio with him while he's gone, I'd not be able to do this, probably...
This is scary enough, thanks. Aw maaaan... I just found out they're taking my Firebirrrrrrd. (/whine) (maybe)
*pout,sob,frown* Poop. Aw fuckit. I don't guess it really matters, but still... I just detailed that thing. I also just put PREMIUM gas in it, too.
Both of which I just betcha's I'm gonna hafta do again tomorrow. Three men ALONE in my clean car.
*shudders* Oh, and as an added attraction, the one driving will be the one who blew it up last time.
Betcha don't think I'll mention that, huh?
Hell I won't. *raised eyebrow* Have to.
If for no other reason than to have mentioned it, therefore it won't happen.
You know how that works, I'm sure. Besides, it is having that "drive/overdrive" issue... it bears mentioning. "Blow up my car, I break yer face." That oughta do it, I think.
Maybe clutching the Pusser Club whilst I say it... We'll see.
Maybe I'll just save the Pusser Club as the bonus prize for not having listened to me, if indeed they/he don't/doesn't LISTEN to me and hence does, in fact, blow it up again. Sounds like a plan...
(Sounds like they need to sqeeeeeze into George's pickup, more like...) Actually, it sounds very fair... to me.
Anything you do to my car, I will be forced to do to your body. Twice.
This includes, but is not limited to, running it outta gas, blowing it up, denting it, wrecking it, breathing on it, allowing birds to shit on it... you get the idea.
Hope they do. Cross yer fingers for me.
PRAY for them...
*giggle* Tawk to yiz lay-tah... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 05:55 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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