February 26, 2005
Ow, ow, owowow...
Frickin' elbow.
Prolly old age-related, too.
*big-assed sigh* Oughta be fun. Also, I've just made "inquiries" into starting over with a "new" blog. If I do, who wants the new info? I've got, maybe, 5 or 6 people I KNOW would want it and that I want to have it, but who else? And, how would I know? Tell me now. What the deal is about that, is this... Frankly, I've said things in the past, in my rages, that I now do not want to be found by certain people. Wally, the asshole, was bad enough. I've done what little I can do here to prevent those things from being read, but there are still "caches", which I want to find out how to "get rid of", too, if possible. At the very least, I want a "fresh" place that can't be crawled.
If I have to go so far as to backup Xfire to disk and delete the whole thing, so be it. I want the same design next time, except for the title. I don't feel so "caught" anymore and I want the new one to reflect that. Hah. I was almost dopey enough to mention it. But... not quite. When I first considered doing this, it was mostly to hide, which was bullshit. Now, it's mostly because Xfire doesn't "fit" me like it did before, thank (Paul and) God. I am also a little uncomfortable, now, going off about some things. Yesterday, for instance, work was the kinda clusterfuck that had me in tears and where ya get home from work, remove (this goddamned fuckin', stupid, ugly-assed, aaaarrrgggghhhhh) uniform, tie it into as many knots as possible and throw it under a major appliance til ya hafta wash it to go to work the next day. But, did I get to say one word? Nope. That's sad. I know how to "fix" this problem, if it is a problem, in the future. I'll just write that kinda stuff to "draft" and keep it there. However, even though I know I can do this now, I still "can't", because all the past vitriolic shit bugs me too much to be comfortable adding to it, as it were. Xfire doesn't feel like "home" anymore. I've had some kind of fundamental change happen in me that I'm not even fully aware of yet and now I need to start over. Anyway, like I said, I've only just made an inquiry into how I might go about doing this, so don't get all freaked out. And, if anybody knows a way around or to be rid of those cached posts, by all means, speak up. Hell, if I can get past all the mean, nasty shit I've said (most of which is already back in "draft"), I'll just change the name and go on from right here. Oh, if it could only be so easy, me and my big, fat, pissed off mouth. I know. I may be jumping the gun, or reacting to something that hasn't actually happened, but isn't that supposed to be smart to do sometimes? Wouldn't trying to do this AFTER some huge problem be considered "closing the barn door after the horse was rustled", (and I use that word on purpose, Paul)? I'd like to think that, finally, after 41 freakin' years, I can learn from shit other people get put through. I'd hate to lose my job over typing, ya know? Not that it's a million dollar a year job, but I do like the place enough to keep going back, day after (friggin') day, so why lose it just because some people who work there are certifiable and I feel a compulsion to mention it? Here, too, by the way.
*rolls eyes* ("Here" as in this farm, not the blog...) Anyhow, me and my fricked up elbow are gonna go start trying to make a dent in my 14 item list o'shit I hafta do. (Smiles at Mad Wm. upon mention of the "list"...) I'll be around.
Don't hafta go back to the nuthut masquerading as a restaurant for two days.
Yeeeeeeaaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!!! Let me know if ya have any ideas about those "caches" or want the "new" info when there is any. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 12:49 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 24, 2005
If yer sure....
Ya sure?
You reeeeally want the Mexican food/shitty date part? *shakes head* Ooookay, Baby.Here it is. Poor guy.
(And by that I mean the dude in the story, you and anybody else who reads that... ahem... "shit".)
*giggles*
Posted by: Stevie at 08:29 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 23, 2005
This is neat...
Y'all gotta see this.
You don't even wanna know how I found it. It involves Craig's List, Mexican food, a "shitty" date and a guy who read the chicks blog the next day and saw what she wrote. In Googling a few choice phrases from what he said she wrote, I stumbled across an entirely unrelated site that had the link to the Eagle-cam. Still haven't found the original blog though, damn it....Posted by: Stevie at 10:42 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
lmfao...
Watching a tape of random Nick@Nite. Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
Theo, from the Cosby show, is dating Hillary. Has a fender-bender in the Banks' driveway with Will.
In court, Will has Jazz as a witness. Jazz, the 'tard, puts up BOTH hands to swear in. Phillip tells him he can put his hands down while the bailiff is still standing there, in front of him, holding the Bible.
Jazz says, "Uh-uh, man. That guys got a gun. I put my hands down, next thing ya know, I've got six warning shots in my back."
"Six warning shots in my back..."
Oh Gawd.... *slithers outta chair, laughing*
Posted by: Stevie at 02:52 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 20, 2005
I think, therefore I am...
I think.
By the way...Ow.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:16 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 19, 2005
By the way...
Anybody got any idea why today, suddenly, I've gotten over a hundred hits on that skeezix, Robert Oakley Marshall?
Is he dead, or something?
Did they let his murdering ass out, or what?
Anyone?
Posted by: Stevie at 10:55 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ain't gonna do that no more...
So, Tuesday afternoon at work, I saw a heads-up penny and picked it up, like I always do.
Usually, I either hand it to somebody or stick the stupid thing in my boot and go on my way.
Fucked up this time, though.
I put it in my pocket.
Got home, emptied my shit and put that penny aside, 'cause it was "lucky".
Pffft... my ASS it was "lucky".
Picked that dumbassed thing up around 1/1:30pm.
Got stuck at work til damned near 5pm.
Next day, it was semi-nice, so I put the horses out. Well, not an hour later, there was an ASSHOLE (who shall remain nameless, y'all know who I mean) beating on the door, demanding they be jammed back into their stalls from which they've not been out for any sizable amount of time since fuckin' December.
(Not to eeeeven mention the fact that I broke not one, not two, but THREE fuckin' fingernails fuckin' around with one stall door. Hurt like a mutha, too, they did.)
Dick.
He finally found Eric and THEY put 'em back in.
I was SMOKIN' pissed. I was so insanely pissed the fuck off that I actually peeled the hell outta the driveway.
I made my tires scream, driving an automatic.
Now, that's pissed.
Spent the rest of Wednesday in a black mood. Later on, went to the store. The cops had just left. Means nothing, really, just more bullshit. More bullshit I need nothin' to do with.... ever. Later the same night, I could NOT get to sleep. Well, of course not. I had to get up by 5am... Next morning, I meet a buddy of mine at the end of the driveway for a few minutes and the world's biggest dipshit hadda drive past, so I expected some shit about that, but have heard nothing. (I know why, too. That'll be cleared up in a sec...) I get back to the house and threw the penny in a trash can.
Took out the bag and tied it shut.
Eric popped in, so I asked him to throw it right into the dumpster.
I didn't even want that dumb damned thing in our cans. I come out to leave and notice the white bag, sure enough, in one of our cans, but... it didn't bug my "gut" anywhere near as much as it had been, so I left it, figuring I'd dumpster it myself when I got home. Got to work two minutes late, but I'd trimmed my hair that morning, so it was worth it and besides, nobody gave a shit.
Cool. Decent day, except I still felt like shit for having been so pissed at Eric the day before and I was still waiting for some kinda shit from the worlds biggest dipshit. So, I took a minute and called Eric by phone, not DirectConnect. I'd stepped into the bathroom to call him and didn't need the DirectConnect beeps issuing forth every ten seconds... I apologized for being a bitch, reminded him of my explanation from that morning and then asked him, if he got a chance, to dumpster that bag and explained why. **Sidenote... Before I go on, let me explain my bitchiness.
See, when I used to work on THAT FARM back in Jersey, if there was something I suggested to be done or wanted to be done, if the idiotic boss wasn't sure, he'd run it by Eric. If Eric agreed, it got done. If he didn't, it didn't.
Fuckers.
GodDAMN, I hated that bullshit.
The only reason it happened was a matter of dicks.
I didn't have one and they both were being one, so, there ya have it.
Consequently, when those two osteo-cranium TURDBURGLERS put the horses back in, I felt ganged up on, walked all over and dickless again.
And, I really, really hate that.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled drivel** Eric giggled, but he did it and I've not looked back since. I got to work on time both Thursday and Friday, made decent money, got out on time, had no trouble here or at the store or anywhere else, for that matter. Of course, I've not gone outside, either.
I have spoken my last word to the assmunch who instigated my being over-ridden the other day.
1. Dead first horse after he insisted she be taken off pasture.
2. Dead goat from him insisiting the goat be isolated, thereby forcing goat to break loose, try to walk across the crust of the manure pit, breaking through and drowning in cow shit.
Ain't gonna be no number three.
He's not getting any more shots at any more of my animals. In fact, I've asked Rob to keep an eye/ear peeled for someone/place I can put Storm, at least. I'm not gonna have it.
I won't be micro-managed by this person.
I couldn't do it when he paid me to put up with it and I sure as fuck ain't gonna do it no more, now. If the only way I can make him STFU and leave me be is to move or give away Storm, so be it, the fuck. That poor horse deserves better than being locked in a stall 24/7 for months on end.
And, the Over-riding Asshole isn't worth the horses well-being to me. Or my own. See how pissed off they got me doing that? It's been three days and I'm still flaming. Sure, the flame is just a pilot light, but the Over-riding Asshole could poof it into a conflagration just by looking at me, the way I feel now. Oh, and just by the way, the fact that those two nimrods were maybe right meant nothing then, nor does it now, really. Didn't help the situation one danged lil bit. The big excuse for not letting the poor horses stay out was how wet the ground is. *stare* Yeah.
Okay.
Too wet for horses to walk on a PASTURE, but not too wet for some bleedin' asshole to drive through the HAY FIELDS, eh?
Riiiight. (How fuckin' stupid do you people think I am, anyway? CHRIST!) In a way, that is right. Maybe.
In a way, it's also NOT right. At all. (Morally, at the very least.) See, I've never had a horse pasture that was HALF POND with a HONKIN' HUGE-ASSED hill in it, so I don't truly know if the damage done by hooves is so astronomical or not, really. MY pasture was flat and all grass and my horses were out every single day that they chose to be and guess what? New grass grew every frickin' year. So, except for the "hill" part, I tend to think they're both fulla shit and just a coupla "men" gettin' off fuckin' with a chick.
Or, at least one of them is.
The other poor fucker just gets drug into it because the Head Idiot What Be In Charge doesn't wanna get bitched at so he hides behind Eric so I'll leave 'im be.
Wuss. Here's an idea...
Quit doing utterly STOOPID shit and I'll quit making you so frickin' uncomfortable, ya dork.
It'll just happen naturally.
Hell, I don't even give you one tenth the shit you beg for and deserve.
90% of the discomfort you feel is coming from YOU, yourself, because you know that I know that you know what an ass you're being and you just can't handle that, can ya?
Not well, ya can't.
Again... wuss. Just quit being such a fucktard and then the waves of disdain you feel from me will cease.
And, as an added bonus, so will your fucktardedness and everybody else's weariness of dealing with your stubborn old, doesn't-know-as-much-as-it-thinks-it-does ASS. Makes sense, do it not? Well, it does to me. (Which immediately makes it suspect and causes me to ask that particular question...) As for today... ain't done shit.
Got up, got on line and here I still am. Been a while since I've done this.
Spent all day just fiddle-fartin' around, playing movies, fuckin' off.. it's great.
'Course, I have also drank about a pot and a half of coffee, not to mention three Mountain Dews and I'm about to get another, so guess who'll be up half the night? *big, toothy grin*
*waves* Hi. That'd be me.... Guess I'll do that "PITA" (Pain In The Ass) cleaning crap I always put off. I've also gotta go to the store and I have a cake mix, so I'll not be bored, at least. Easily excited (good or bad, who can know?) maybe, but not bored. Fuck Ephedra, I've got Mountain Dew. (Aw fuck me runnin'. Now, they'll probably ban THAT.) Oh, and I did get to do a totally new-to-me thing tonight.
Eric came in and I asked him what he wanted for dinner. He hemmed and hawed and asked me what I wanted, generally just not answering the question, as men are wont to do and as I'm trying to think of a new, inspirational way to ask the question, my eye happens upon the menu I brought home from work the first week to study, that I've not even looked at yet.
I handed that to him and said "Whadda ya want, Duuuude?" (Never have presented any other "Significant Other"-type person a restaurant menu in our own home and said "Pick something... (damn it)." Kinda fun...) He looked it over and said, "I guess a hamburger would be good."
Me: "Cheese?"
Him: "Yeah... *drool*"
Me: "Fries?"
Him: "Yeaaaah..."
Me: "So, whatcha want is a cheeseburger delux. Okay. Lettuce, tomato and pickle, too? I got no cole slaw, though..."
Him: *giggle* "You don't have to do alla that..."
Me: "Aw, shaddap...", as I rise to start cookin'. Like I said, it was kinda fun. I did it like the guys from the restaurant were gonna see it. Three burgers, cheese melted perfectly, fresh raw onions, tomatos, lettuce, the (Clausen) pickle and I even toasted the buns. Rolls. Whatever.
(I hear you giggling, ya perv. I know, I know... "You said "buns" and "toasted"... heh, heh, heh...")
Coulda been worse, ya know.
We coulda been talking pastries, then I'da said "sticky" and "buns", which probably woulda caused a coupla strokes... I mean CVA's!!! CVA's!!! Not "strokes". Not THOSE kind, anyway. Jesus.
How'd I get from cooking dinner to whackin' off?
Oh, that's right.
That was YOU. I'M fine.
*rolls eyes* Yeah, I reeeally need another Dew, don't I? And... I'm about to drive!!!!!
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! (Notice, however, that I'm waiting til it's so late there'll be very little traffic. As caffeined up as I am, I run across an idiot with a license, I may very well RUN ACROSS him with my car.)
(More than once, even.) Okay, on that cheery note, I'mina go make the bed.
Eric is due in here at anytime, draggin' his noxious little ass behind him, headin' for bed.
God FORBID he get into it with it unmade. No, I don't know why.
I'm just goofy.
About that, as well as innumerable other things.
Like ya didn't know that, fer piss sakes. Back later. Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 10:34 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 18, 2005
If ya can't beat 'em....
Arrange to have them beaten.
Posted by: Stevie at 05:10 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 16, 2005
Mad William...
I don't know how to make links in comments (never works when I try to do it) and I didn't see the one I was referring to at UCCU.
This is the one I wuz talkin' about. And, I quote... "We are looking for honest, intelligent New Yorkers between the ages of 26-35, who have very interesting dating stories ranging from the fun and casual to the tragic and traumatic. Strong personalities and unusual points of view are a definite plus. Nobody is going to try to change you...." I don't care (and neither will they once they see you) about the "through 35" shit.You're everything ELSE they're looking for. So.
Who's sending them your picture?
Me?
Or you? *grin* Ahhhh, Robe-o-vision...
Posted by: Stevie at 10:42 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 15, 2005
One thing leads to another...
So, I was readin' Mad William.
Got a little overwhelmed by one post.
Then, in another, he sends ya here.
So, I went.
Posted by: Stevie at 08:37 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Dear Black & Decker,
Could y'all please explain to me how it is that you guys make some of the best, most hard-core tools on the planet, yet ya's can't make a coffee carafe that pours straight?
Or is it just mine?
Posted by: Stevie at 06:09 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 13, 2005
Okay, I was going out to wash the car...
Did that.
Detailed the inside.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:16 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 12, 2005
Yo, Dave... you less than human piece of shit....
Yes, you...
IP Address: 81.218.48.41Name: clalitcall
Email Address: david12@hot.com
URL: http://www.greentable.tk Die.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:27 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 10, 2005
Yo Bush, why don't you kiss my workin' class ass?
Whatta wank-job this guy is.
Hooo-lee shit.
So, bear with me whilst I use my new classification to jeer at the Presidential Pinhead. The asshole is in the area today. He showed up at around 3:30pm, an hour late. This, after they had 611 down to one lane SINCE 10:00AM!, because of him. Well, they had one side down to one lane. Far as I could tell, the other way was blocked completely. And, which way does Dumbass go when he finally shows up? The direction they had shit shut down to one lane, which I believe was the exact OPPOSITE way he was SUPPOSED to go, hence the total shutdown in that (what was supposed to be the correct) direction. Secret Service guys in the diner, having breakfast. Think ol' Shrub would eat there, too? Nope. Not him. (Thank Gawd...) Big as a clusterfuck as he caused just to drive down the frickin' road, I'd have hated to see what the fuck they'd have put us through, had he deigned to eat at our place. *shudders at the thought* And AND, they did all this "roadblocking" BULLSHIT and the nerd came by helicopter to the base. Five hours after they shut shit down. If they shut major roads like 611 down for a helicopter, what on EARTH would they have done if the nimrod had driven?
I'm thinking handcuffs and straightjackets for everybody stuck in the same area, maybe? Does this guy suck that bad that they hafta do all this just so he's safe, or what? No, I haven't ever been around when a President has been around before and I never wanna be again, either. Buncha hyped up horseshit over NUTHIN'. Da fuck's so special about this idiot? 1.) He's a &%#@^!! politician.
2.) He puts his friggin' pants on one leg at a time, just like every other man on Earth.
3.) He farts, he shits and acts like the same kinda dickweed that we all do, so who the fuck even cares where he is or when or why?
4.) He impacted my day on a personal level and in a not positive manner and I don't even know him, I don't like him and now... I reeeally don't.
5.) Putz. All this shit, all day long... for what amounted to not a goddamned thing. On toppa which, some jerkoff liked to tried to make me hang myself the last hour of my shift, playing the most maudlin, suicide-provoking, sucky fuckin' music... ick, man. Frank fuckin' Sinatra, Strangers in the freakin' Night, LeeAnn Barfbucket Rimes... Jeezus, man. The INSTANT that dorks shit was done weighing me down, I immediately HAD to play some Led Zepplin, some AC/DC, some Motown... good stuff, to get through the last few minutes. Cool thing was, the Jukebox guy showed up and took requests for new CD's in the thing and I got SRV's In Step and anything by Barry White comin' soon.
Wish I'd have remembered to mention the Monkees. Hell, static woulda been better than that crap today. Then, I get home FINALLY (and let me say again... thanks a pantload there, Bush, ya dickhead...) and I see that Printh Chucky is marrying that bulldog looking bitch Camilla. Ew, ew, ewewew. This is IT. I'm done defending him, done liking him, done period. He's an ass too and he deserves everything he gets. Other than that.... heh, I'm jest fiiiine.
No even in a bad mood, really.
Just sick of other people's bullshit. Especially some stupid fuckin' politician's bullshit.
Prince Charles is mostly just nauseating... or she is.
No... he is too.
He's already hit that used shit, too, ya know that.
And, what's up with that, anyway?
I thought he was supposed to have to marry a virgin.
Ain't no way that old hag is THAT anymore. Oh well. Could be worse, I suppose.
If they were any younger, they'd probably breed and make one of the goofiest looking kids ever.
Some kinda cross between Alfred E. Newman and Linda Tripp, or some damned thing. Aaaanyway.... Bush sucks, Prince Charles is retarded and I hate Frank Sinatra. Any questions?
*lmao*
(Thank God....) Be back later, when I can maybe type three words in a row without two of them being foul... Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 05:44 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 09, 2005
Okaaaay....
Remember I mentioned that I seem to be on a forwarding list belonging to Biff Rose?
Well, here's one of the multudinous thngs I get from him.
Have fun.
dear biff,And I think I'm a cause for seatbelts?
it might have been 1971. i think i was pregnant with my first baby...
i don't know if you remember this or not but i have pictures of you at my house. you actually paid for a battery for my simca so we could get you to the airport!
you came out with some friends of mine to jam at a little farm near harrison city and then stayed overnight at our apartment back in the city. it was a cold snowy day when you left and you held up a notebook and said you had written a song about me. just wondering if this is in your memory bank. anyway, i have about 4 pictures of you outside my old apartment. i've always wondered where you went. glad to have found this site.
hope all is well
karen (guberman) mckee
Dear Karen...I remember the Treadway Inn in St.David's Pennsylvania...or the St.David's Inn in Treadway, Pennsylvania...that's it/but then this IS Ash Wednesday and I AM recovering from and yet another Mardi Gras...my fiftieth I guess.being from New Orleans you only remember that one time at age nine you got hit in the head with a coconut from Zulu...I blame Louie Armstrong, King of Zulu in 1949 but he was carrying a big hambone instead of a bagful of coconuts...ah new orleans !....now ..that song i wrote about you...find it...I'm looking for material for my Spring cd...Biff and Dick....we were soldiers at Ft Knox...Dick went AWOL after the last show at the Topaz Emporium....you are now a Charter Mambo of the World Wide Web Theatre where I am taking uber die welt....oder the VURLD...I have a VYFE..not a wife...a vyfe a vyfe...she inspires me.....a "never was"and "would be has been"... named "hero' hiding his real name wrote me ( on my Message Board)...a synopsis of my life the past forty years that turns me into a barroom legend down in these parts....my vyfe Susanna said, "Biff, vy do you half anyting to DO vit doze ah souls???! She's right....fortunately....I wrote a brief song only people in new orleans will "get"....the letter to the editor published today in Gambit our undergrund paper traced the last forty years.a year on Carson....playing every Main Point and Star';s on Ninth St. in Philly....return to N.O. to sell ice cream in the square..."It's either Jesus or i scream...nutty buddies...fruit bars./.popcycles...sandwiches...."...the kids yell "Nutty Buddie ! Fruit Bars" but the parents drag them into the cargedral..that mauseleum with St.Sebastian and all those arrows....but when they come out...i let them stick their heads down in my ice cream box....a tricycle with a box full of great ( and cold for July)...stuff....charge them 25 cents a half minute...and be refreshed from the summer heat...the whole story just shows how a year on Carson and selling ice cream are all equal to me....these detractors who think I should've "stayed" in Hollywoode and become a household word.....when I am a household word...I mean a Homehold word....Gooberman ain;t chopped liver, sister....peanuts maybe...
Riiiight.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:02 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay, put on yer seatbelts...
(Update @ 12:30pm... If ya already read this before right now, read it again. I fixed some stuff and added a coupla things...)
Dis gonna be a wild ride, here. Got a lot of disparate subjects to cover.
Before that, though, lemme say a quick "thanks" to Dwight Yoakam for that word. Disparate. He used it once in an interview for some stupid country music mag and the idiot interviewing him didn't know the word and one, argued with him about it and two, copped a snotty attitude in the piece about it, so it stuck. I don't particularly like him much anymore, but Dwight was right.
Got a buncha comments from him. First, let's do Claude. Had no idea. You're right, I'd try to beat his ass if I found dead, trapped animals and they were his traps. At the very least, I'd do what I do to any traps I ever find, which includes mangling them and throwing them as far as I can from where they were left. I don't take them away with me, because I want the asshole to find them, but I also want it to be a huge pain right in his ass, too. Up a tree is their usual destination...
See, what I knew about Claude was the "poor guy" version, I guess. I was even told that while he was "escaped" from custody, people there (in Idaho, where he was hiding, I assume) were helping him remain free. Added to the "hero" image in my (fried) mind.
What he really sounds like is a mountain version of Ken Rex McElroy. This guy was a bastard who lived, and terrorized counties fulla people, in Missouri. In 1981, the townspeople had a huge meeting with local law enforcement to find out what the hell could be done about this guy. He'd been rustling livestock, shooting people, committing arson... just being a total prick for years. He'd been convicted of some assault charge and was waiting, not quietly either, to be sentenced and he knew he was facing jail. Well, Ken McElroy was NOT gonna go to jail for nuttin or nobody. Pfft.
So, he instead kept up his horseshit and even went into town the day of that meeting.
Meanwhile, the townspeople are learning, once again, ain't a fuckin' thing the law is gonna do about Ken, so when he showed up, the meeting broke up, the Sheriff left town and very shortly thereafter, Ken was dead in his pickup, brain matter on the dashboard.
No one was ever convicted of his murder.
Oh fuckin' well....
There was a book written and a movie made about this. They're both called "In Broad Daylight". Ever get a chance, check 'em out. If Claude was as bad as alla that, maybe Idaho could take a lesson. I don't care what this dude did to property or people, but just for the dead, trapped animals, he needs to be peeled, dunked in a huge vat of rubbing alcohol and left to live to feel it. Still, it's pretty weird to find out someone I know of got OUT of jail. Just think about that for a second and giggle, okay? But, it is true. Ya ain't gonna surprise me by telling me someone I know or just "know of" went to jail, but getting out is a novelty. About the Roger Miller site... I KNOW!!! Isn't it cool as all hell? I'm just sorry I didn't tell ya about it when I first found it. It was while I was still working for that jerkoff with the dairy farm over in Jersey. You know who I mean... Now, about the Eagles....
(First off, please note that I'm no longer callin' 'em the Iggles, even though that IS how Mommie-Dearest said that word, so it COULD be indigenous to me and not just me having been a Dallas fan/snot, okay?) (Ed. note... In "previewing" this, it's occured to me that I'd better explain now that I do, at some point, stop "speaking" to Dad and go on to Eagles "fans" in general...) Hard-core Philly fans are.... ridiculous. I mean the ones who live in South Philly and won't be acting right for the next six months. The ones who were all "WE'RE goin' to da SuperBowl..", who are now saying, "Those fuckin' dillholes. THEY lost da SuperBowl."
Pathetic.
That's also two-faced, fickle, childish and annoying. Case in point... Monday morning, Eric was watching the news (for the weather) and happened to see a live report from the Melrose Diner, in South Philly. "Everybody who knows, goes to Mel-rose..." Normally, this place is worse than where I work for having lines of people waiting to be seated. It's standard for this to be going on at the Melrose pretty much the entire time they're open. However, Monday morning, during this live report, there was not ONE soul in there.
No customers.
Just waitresses and cooks.
Jesus, ya know? The Eagles won the Division Championship (wasn't it?) and they also played a great game, with a screamingly close and constantly flip-flopping score and yet, they come home to a buncha sour-faced, pissed off people. Hell, even the NUT with the huge, plastic, inflated Eagle in his front yard down the road deflated it. Sore loser.
All those South Philly Guidos are sore losers. Here's a truth, from a Dallas fan even.... the Eagles deserveD (ain't gunna happen) a parade. They shoulda got one. They did GREAT, damn it. Out of all the "fans" I've talked to in the last coupla days, and there's been an ASSload of them, lem'me tell ya, only about three said anything even remotely nice about the Eagles. It's fuckin' stupid, the way people are behaving. First of all, it's just another football game, okay? One more, in a looooong series of games. Second, did youse South Philly people happen to catch that word "game" back there? That's all it is, is a GAME. It's nothing to commit suicide, quit yer job or beat your wives over, for fuck's sake.
No kicking of small animals, driving like pissed off jerkweeds, being nasty and all around shitty attitudes, either.
("Colors", drugs and guns are okay, though...) (Wouldn't wanna take away the rest of what makes life worth living, now would I? Sheesh...) Get.
Over.
It. Do NOT treat the Eagles players like Nam Vets, okay? Please?
And, fer the love of GAWD... quit dicking ME on tips just because NE won. What? Ya's think I had something to do with that? Ya's think I was there, in the game, fuckin' the Eagles up every step of the way?
Well, I wasn't.
So, gimme a break, will ya's?
God. Hell man, if I had had anything to do with it, it woulda been Dallas vs. the Eagles to start with. Know what I'm saying? Dallas was out of it and, for the most part, therefore so was I. Except I got drug into it and now look atcha's. A got-damned Dallas fan knows better how to treat YOUR TEAM than youse do.
Sad, ain'tchas? If you South Philly nimrods can't be proud and supportive of the Eagles, then I'm pretty sure they'd tell ya to just piss off. So... so am I. If youse people can't be nice about 'em, just shut up. I'm sick of it already. The Eagles don't suck (that much). They made it farther than they have in 25 years and besides, I'd like to see any of you fat, unhealthy eatin', outta shape armchair Quarterbacks go do better. Y'all seem to know so in depth every wrong move the Eagels made, y'all are still whining about time, running, not running, fumbling and general shitty playing. Go do it better or shut the fuck up. Or, better still, switch to a team that does go to the Bowl on a regular basis, like Dallas. I'm sure the Eagles won't miss your "fair weathered" asses.
I know I won't. One thing though... you switch to Dallas, you had BEST keep your mouth shut around me if they ain't perfect. I'll letcha live runnin' the Eagles down (though I do reserve the right to think badly of you for doing it), but ya run Dallas down, I will stomp yer ass with my steeltoed work boots.
Got that?
Good.
Whiny buncha overweight sore loser wanna-be jocks. Here's an additional little tip for "youse guys"... If your entire sense of manliness, self-worth and the will to live is based on a football team, you reeeeally need professional help.
Know what I'm sayin'?
Believe me, a lost SuperBowl is the LEAST of your "problems", Dudes. That said, let me also make it clear that I haven't "switched" my own self, by way of tellin' ya's about yesterday at work... Briefly (HA!), for the first time ever, I had a customer wearing a Dallas hat.
In public.
And... he didn't have a knife stickin' out of his head, or a buncha people hangin' offa him, gnawing on his limbs or beating his ass.
I walked up to the table with my standard "Wouldja's like coffee?", quickly followed by "oooh, I love yer hat!". He blushed and giggled (an adult man, even) and then I made him laugh out loud when I said, "Isn't it fun to see just how purple you can make some people get, just by mentioning Dallas?", with a giggle....
The guy with him just sat there, his mouth getting smaller and smaller, as if he'd been using Preperation H as a lip balm, or maybe had ingested some alum.
Typical Eagles fan...
*gigglin' now, too* Also, speaking of work, I was almost ZZ Top when I went in yesterday. I had new pants and a new tie. Could NOT get that song "Sharp Dressed Man" outta my head. Except when Roger Miller showed up, singing "Little Toy Trains" and trying to make me freak out about my cat... again. Yeah, Dad... I told ya. I wore that jersey and still no Norman. I knew it. Damn it. I still haven't seen him and I've even gotten on the horse here recently and rode around looking. Gotta admit, it was more like a "recovery" mission, in my heart, than a "search and rescue". Then, yesterday morning, before work, I just fuckin' lost it. In the bathroom, reading George Carlin and suddenly, I'm gone. Over the edge, bawlin' my brains out over Norman. I think my heart finally accepted that he's not coming back and I just want God to get me over it, make it hurt less, now. I've quit begging Him to bring him home. I finally remembered that, usually, when He STEALS one of my critters, it's because He has another one somewhere that needs me, so I promised to wander around outside today and be "available" for the new one. All I asked is that He make it hurt less. Which he did, as long as I can keep Roger quiet up there.
I've been forcing myself to think-sing "LowRider" a LOT in the last 24 hours. That one and "Up in Smoke".
Then, some chick at work got a goddamned Sesame Street ditty stuck in my mind for a while yesterday, too. She's always doin' that shit with weird songs. Yesterday, it didn't drive me as nutso, because it helped keep Roger quiet.
Still... Sesame Street?
Gawd.... Who are the people in my neighborhood? Hmmmm... a buncha angry Eagles (sorry-assed excuse for) fans, mostly. Oh Gawd... here comes that stupid song again.
Thanks, Bev. Oh and Dad... speaking of work and to maybe make up for my Dallasness, I oughta tell ya while I'm thinking of it (and don't tell Kim, she'd only hate me more for this)... I've got another one of the women I work with in love with yer ass. I've been telling her your jokes (Jose-A and Jose-B and that one about "coming on to the chick across the bar") and what ya look like and how ya are and she keeps saying "oooh, I loooove your Dad..." She's cute, too. Tiny little thing, about my age (she likes Led Zepplin, fer cryin' out loud), a redheaded dynamo. Really cool lady. Just wanted to letcha know... you have FANS. Now, is that everything? Can I go to the "library", finally?
Hmmmm...
*thinking* Well, I guess it bears mentioining that I made the Mean Cook say "fuck" twice in one sentence Monday, but we're still cool. He smiled at me, later the same day, so.... It was stupid. I said "home", he heard "french" as in "fries" and I understand why he got pissed, even. He had to go out of his way to make HIS MISTAKE as it was breakfast time and there weren't fries just waiting to be used.
No biggie. (The mistake or "fuck"....) I don't hate 'im for it or anything. Didn't even piss me off when it happened. I think that's why he smiled at me later. I took it.
Whatever works, ya know? Now, I'm off to the library before Eric comes back in here, headin' for the same place....
Which reminds me... he tried to kill me earlier. Little shit farted in the kitchen and I, dumbass that I am, stood up a few minutes later, right into the funk cloud.
JEEEEZUS!!!!
I could frickin' TASTE that bad boy.
Hadda light seven incense to kill it.
Maaaan. How something as cute as his ass is could produce SUCH biological warfare weapons is beyond me. Many more like that one, my fuckin' name is gonna be beyond me, too.
Wheeee-ew. On that note (think "foghorn"), I'm outta here.
Back later, I'm sure.
(As long, that is, as Eric keeps them thangs outside.) Peace
(Or at least "clean air"...)
Posted by: Stevie at 06:50 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 06, 2005
Okay, perpetual fuck-ups, I can really identify with....
And so, as I sit here and "watch" the game on the Yahoo homepage, I'm liking the stupid Eagles more and more.
I wish they would win, buuuut... it seems they're displaying the Joey Coyle "lovable loser" side of Philly, as opposed to the Rocky Balboa "winner against the odds" aura.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:20 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Just wow...
Well, I've neither cleaned anything nor hung myself... yet. (How many loops again, is a noose supposed to have? 13 is it?)
Instead, immediately after closing the last browser window after my last post, I re-opened Moz and went here.Posted by: Stevie at 01:58 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Wow... cool.
Pretty cool, especially since he very well may not have belonged there in the first place.Posted by: Stevie at 11:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
February 05, 2005
i want...
MY CAT BACK!!!!!
damn it.Posted by: Stevie at 08:34 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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