February 05, 2005

I still like Dallas better, but...

Now, I understand what the big deal is.

Thanks, Prof.

Posted by: Stevie at 12:17 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Well, what did they really expect?

World - AP Asia
"All 104 Aboard Afghan Jet Believed Dead"

Well, duh.
I mean, I've heard of pretending to fly on magic carpets and shit, but a jet made out of (what reads like) a knitted afghan?

The truly sad thing about this is that somewhere, some DOPE gets paid to write dreck like that.

And...
that I do it for free.

... afghan jet... *snort*....

Posted by: Stevie at 11:12 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

February 04, 2005

Just damn....

Lost two really good guys...

Judge Farris and Dean Vernon Wormer.

Man.

Guess I'll be watching "The Stand" and "Animal House" tomorrow.

Rest in Peace, you two.

Bad enough to lose John Vernon.
Ossie Davis is really choking me up....
*siiiigh*

Posted by: Stevie at 09:53 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

February 02, 2005

Well, dang... that was fast.

Amy got it.
Already, even...

*giggle*

Yeah, it's Da Man. My BlogFather (cue the "Godfather" music). The one who makes an offer some can't refuse.... "This is me. Like me or not. I really don't give a damn."

And, I do.
Lots.

He just made me do this weird eyebrow-thing when I read that over there. Felt like they went six directions at once...

But... that's Rob. That's what I like so much. Well, not the incongruousness so much, more the understanding I have of the guy under the bluster.

Like I said yesterday... Gotta love 'im. And, yeah, I meant Rob then, too. (I tried to make it seem like it coulda been Steve I was referring to.... *grin* And, I do really like Stephen King, but... Rob, he ain't. Know what I mean?)

Rock on, Pappy.
Rock on.

I'm gonna love ya forever no matter whatcha say or do.
Count on it.
Even if you are so wrong about cats it's almost painful.
*giggle, snort*
Well, you ARE, but that a whole 'nother post, ain't it?

By the way... I LOVE the post title two above the cat/dog post that started this...
*rolling eyes and lmao*

Gotta love him.

Posted by: Stevie at 12:28 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

A few random things before I either go to bed or get to watching "Full Metal Jacket" again...

"A guilty dog will grovel to get back into your good graces. A cat expects YOU to get over it."

See those two sentences up there? I copied and pasted them from another blogger. When I read them what struck me was, for being so anti-cat, this person sure ACTS like a cat when people get mentally constipated and (conversely) diarrhea of the keyboard over things he says.
Forget the dog vs. cat shit. Whom does that sound EXACTLY like, attitudinally?

I'm still grinning at the irony of it all...
Tell me who y'all think said it. Either when someone gets it or we get tired of waiting for someone to, I'll letcha know.
Meantime, if ya read those lines in their original post, don't blow it, okay? Be cool to see if anybody else knows or can "just tell" who it is.
Have a little irony. It's good for your blood, to quote Stephen King.

Gotta love 'im...

Next thing: Debra Winger gets on my nerves. I hate her in every movie other people whom I do like are in that I'm forced to gaze upon her toadiness.
Especially "The Urban Cowboy".
Jeezus.
My teeth are still aching from being gritted so hard the last time I watched that. However, Travolta dances so damned good, I just have to see it ever' once in a while.
Plus, I love the soundtrack....
Only thing about her in this movie is that I can't decide which drives me bugfuck more... that trashy, pointless, anybody-could-do-THAT-shit shit she pulls on the bull or the fact that she mashes the gas pedal before she shuts off her piece of shit car every fuckin' time she shuts off her piece of shit car. Idiotic, annoying, ugly little turd burgler.
And, I don't like Scott Glenn, either. He's uglier than deformed balls, too.
Those two shoulda been sterilized and left together to go to Mexico or hell... whichever.

"The Frighteners" is an odd movie. Eric got me to watch that with him tonight. I spent the first third of the movie feeling like a total DOPE because none of it made sense. BUT, Gary Busey's kid is cuuuute. Just like his Daddy... twins, just about.
Damn, now I wanna see "The Buddy Holly Story". Christ, I'm gonna be up all night just trying to get movies viewed that keep being referenced in my brain by other shit. Just from "The Frighteners", I now have the "want" to see the Buddy Holly movie, Full Metal Jacket and The Stand. Those last two are because DI Hartman is in it ("The Frighteners", I mean...) and they used "Don't Fear the Reaper" at the end, which The Stand starts with....
Same shit happens when I hear "Dude Looks Like a Lady". I immediately wanna see "Mrs. Doubtfire".
I hear the Bee Gees, I wanna see "Saturday Night Fever".
I hear "Shout", gotta see "Animal House".
"Draggin' the Line" = "Don't tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead".
"Green Onions", "American Graffiti".
Shit's endless.
And, Debra Winger irritates me as badly as a hunka glass in the eye.
Titless dipshit.

And, OH. My. Gawd. I forgot... Guess whoM I heard asking how to call in an order at work today... yesterday... whenEVER?
Yeah.
Lardass, "is she STUPID?" bitch.
HA!
Also, when she showed up today, she had no jersey. (What? Can't find one BIG enough, there Hoss?) I heard her say she'd be getting one by tomorrow.
Well.
I knew that when she commented on mine. Wasn't an hour later I heard her saying she was gonna get one, too.

Humph.

Y'all can be very proud of lil ol' me. I refrained from making any snide remarks about her asking how to order. BUT, another waitress didn't. That "mean" cook's sister? Yep. She busted Lardbutt's butt for "having to ASK how to ORDER..."
*snerk*
I just kept moving.
But, GodDAMN, did I wanna do one of those "touchdown dances".
Whew.
The self-control nearly made me self-destruct.
Not only those two things, but... I was nice AND helpful to her a time or two. Frankly, I'm hoping to (help her) make her(self) feel like a smacked ass for being such a bitch and I think it's working. At least, it seems to be making everybody ELSE think she's one, even if she's tooooo... FATheaded to get it yet.
She will.
Eventually, she will.
Karma can be a royal diva cunt-bitch, sometimes. I try, myself, to keep that in mind.
It helps me to behave.
Usually.

Okay. Anything else, BRAIN?
Or, can I go to bed now?

*thiiiinking*

Well, there is one thing.... I found/got the best Teddy Bear on Sunday... Wow, ya know? He's HUGE and sooo soft. Somebody (I think it was the kid across the driveway who just recently threw his "girlfriend" out) threw him away in the dumpster. I took our trash to the dumpster with George's truck and there he was.
Just sittin' there teary-eyed and snifflin'.
Poor Bear.
I snagged his fuzzy ass outta there and he's brand new and still clean as day one, so he's now probably wedged under Eric's head, being used as a pillow, since his new home is the waterbed. (The Bear's, not Eric's new home...)

I thought that was pretty cool of God to do. To give me a Teddy Bear like that, outta the blue. I'm hoping to hell (or somewhere) that it's just to make me feel better til Normie comes home and not supposed to be a "replacement", IF ya know what I'm (not) saying....

Either way, he's beautiful and I do love 'im.

Now. Is that all, Brain o'mine?

Hmmmmm....
Seems to be.
For NOW.
*weg*

I'm sure I'll come up with even more prolific drivel after I've gotten some sleep. My mind is mush right about now.
Can ya tell?

(*mutters to self* Hell, after having had to wear an Iggles jersey all day, whadda we expect? Sanity? Pffffft.)

Yeah.
Okay.
It's almost 1:30am.
No movies now.
I want to, but my eyes feel like they've got sand in 'em and I think I'm just gonna go read "Hearts in Atlantis" til I fall asleep. I'm into my favorite "section" of that book now, anyway. Pete Reilly's college years. That's the second part. The first part is about Bobby Garfield. Then comes Pete's part. Then there are two parts that are kinda weird (what? in a King novel? Noooo.), then we end with Bobby and Carol together again for a time.
Talk about a King book that got SCREWED being made into a movie... good God, what they did to this book. Fucked it up one side, then the other, then frontwards and backwards.
I used to hope they'd make a movie out of his book "Insomnia", but now I'm just afraid they'd kill that story, too.

Alright, before I get started on how Steve makes his characters so real that when the movie dolts cast the parts with people who look and are so not like he wrote them that it makes me puke (Molly Ringworm as "Fran" in The Stand is a GREAT example of that shit), I'm going to BED (Brain).

Gonna grab some iced tea, make a "piss stop", then off to bed with my draggin' ass. (That's draggin' now, not "dragon". I ain't that bad... *grin* At least, not now I ain't. Too punchy from lack of sleep. Gee, I wonder why? I've only been up about 21 hours...)

Hope everybody is sleeping peacefully and that you all have a good day.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 01:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

February 01, 2005

Ugh...

Well, Dad... ya saved yer Birds from the post title, "Ooo, now I really hate the Iggles..."

Jeezus, whatta day.
I'm just gonna take yiz through it from morning til I finally got the hell home and then some...

First off, I didn't burst into flame upon donning ye old #81.
Amazing.

Then, Eric said I was cute. He said I looked like a chick from the 50's who was wearing her boyfriends jersey.
I said, "Okaaaay, but that makes you a gimpy black dude named Owens..." (whoever in the ever-lovin' HAIL he is.)

I got to work on time.

THAT's when it got kinda "hairy".

First thing was the chick who was in smoking with me wasn't there. I figured I had the whole area. This idea was reinforced by the hostess, who told me to get the first booth, which would usually be the other chicks. I did so, then picked up the other booth that woulda been the other chicks, THEN I find out that another waitress was covering the not-there-yet chicks station.
Oops.

I got her to take two of my tables, so that was "solved". Plus, it wasn't really my fault, because the ones who decided the station WAS covered didn't tell me til after I'd fricked up. So, Iggles jersey karma #1.

Then, I slightly screwed up the first 5 or so orders I called in. Nothing major... just stupid shit, like saying "homefries" when I meant "over" ('cause they're sooo similar, I guess *rolls eyes*), as in eggs. Annoying, but not fatal, still... Iggles jersey karma #2.

Then, some mush-mouthed dude ordered his shit and I only heard half of it. Hadda take a plate back to the window. *siiiigh* The main cook-slash-owner guy, the one ya do NOT wanna piss off too much or too often, actually was kinda cool about it. As I was walking up with the plate, he says to me, "now whatchoo do?", as if I bring plates back every 49 seconds... I grinned all embarrassed and told him what was up and he fixed it without getting mad. Iggles jersey karma #3 that I even had to go through that in the first place, though.
*Later on I was picking up another order and I told this same dude what eggs and shit I needed and said "I've got my toast.", to which he replied "Good for you", again cracking me up... (no bad karma this time, but I just wanted to mention it because it's so rare that this guy is being funny at that time of day)*

Then, at around 2pm, it died in there. BO-O-O-O-RING. Besides which, that's a tip-killer right there. In spite of getting a $7 tip on a $9 check, I barely cleared $50 all day. Iggles jersey karma #4.

I sat there with my thumb in my ASS til 3:30. Keep in mind I get off at (allegedly) 4pm. 3:30 I get three tables and two old farts at the counter. Iggles jersey karma #5.

My last table didn't friggin' LEAVE (damn it!!!) til 4:40pm. Iggles jersey karma #6.

Then, when I shoulda already been the hell home, I about got run off the road by a fire truck driving home. Say it with me, now... Iggles jersey karma #... what? 7? Yeah, #7.

Then, I got into the driveway and lo! and behold, the bosses idiot kid's skank girlfriend is blocking the damned driveway. Iggles jersey karma #8. 40 fuckin' acres to park in and the asshole just HAAAAS to block the skinny part of the driveway.
Braaa-vo, dork.

Then, I feed the dogs and Ziggy barfed. I'm not exactly positive that this can be blamed solely on the Iggles, but I sense a pattern here, so I'm goin' with it, okay?
Iggles jersey karma #9.

I took the stupid jersey off before we reached double digits.

Do ya's see what I'm talkin' about here? Did I not KNOW this was gonna go on? I may not have been able to pinpoint exactly which things were gonna go flooey, but I knew things would.
Two more days of this.... aawww Gawd.

Then, things started to change. Notice it's AFTER I remove the offending jersey....

First, I heard Barry White.
Then, I got the comments from "Kill me. NOW." I nearly peed myself laughing at Dad's....
Then, Eric just played part of "LowRider" to me via DirectConnect.
Plus, I'm watching "Grease".
And, I'm off tomorrow, thank the Lord.

Still no Normie cat, though.
Guess I'll be hiking around here tomorrow looking for his ass.
Where, just by the way, does one begin to look for a Tomcat on a hundred acre farm, any-damned-way?
Any ideas?
Ignernt cat, making me worry like this... all in the name of gettin' some. (Better be, anyhow. The alternative kills me... no pun intended.)

*coupla minutes later*

Man, I gotta tell ya... when you can sing nearly as deep-voiced as Barry White with ease like I can, singing "Hopelessly Devoted to You" with Olivia Newton-John is HARD. Can anyone besides DOGS even HEAR her? Jeez.
Ah well, Fuzznuts seemed to like it. (That's one of my kiddens...) In fact, he even yawned when she hit that last high note that I don't even try for as I don't wanna shatter my brass balls and all. Looked like he was singing it... *giggle*

Ya know... there is just no way to watch Travolta dance and remain "subdued" by an Iggles karma day.

Ooo, ooo... time for the dance off.
Gotta go.

I'll be back later, ya'll...

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 07:13 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 31, 2005

Kill me. NOW.

Please, and save me the trouble of spontaneously combusting tomorrow at work?
If I even make it that far...

I knew I was goin' to hell to begin with, but after what I hafta do this week, I'm convinced.

AND, I got to pay $25 for this.... *grits teeth*

Are ya ready?

I, the die-hard Dallas fan, have to wear a... no. I can't say it. I jest CAIN'T! Tom Landry'll be spinning in his grave like a lathe. Hell really is gonna freeze over.

I had to go buy a certain item that has a certain group of idiot's emblem on it and I not only hadda waste money on it, I'm expected to wear it FOR HOURS... IN PUBLIC!!!!

It's... it's.... an IGGLES JERSEY!!!!!
AAAAAGGGGHHHHHH, the humanity!!!!!!!!!

The absolutely ONLY redeeming quality this thing has is the fact that the damned number on it is the year I graduated.

Fuckin' great. *siiiigh*
So I have a $25 car waxing RAG with the number "81" on it.
Just what I aaaaalways wanted.

I'd rather have a barn fulla farting teddy bears, thanks.

Jeezus.

A frickin' Iggles jersey. This, DAD, is the REAL "dumbest thing I ever spent money on in my entire lifetime", including smokables, Dude.

I walked in the door this morning and everybody but me and the chick who reminds me of my Aunt was wearing a jersey. I looked around and said "Well, apparently I missed a memo..."
*rolls eyes*

Seems we're gonna be wearing this shit all week, til the Pats kick some Bird ass and we can all go back to dissing them in public, as usual. This week, they're potentially "golden" sooooo... I keep finding myself needing to spit out eagle ass feathers. That's NOT because I'M kissin' any ass, but there's just so much of it going on, there're feathers EVERY-freakin'-where.

For the record, the only way I could POSSIBLY care less about the (#$%@!!) Iggles is if I were DEAD!!!!!
(/Kinnison)
(maybe....)

I mean, it's not like I don't own and didn't offer to wear my DALLAS!!!!! jersey, but, noooooo. THAT'S not good enough. In fact, around here, doing that seems to be grounds for justifable "stiffing on tips" and maybe even a severe beating.
Humorless twats.

No Dallas hat, either.
Nit-pickin' dickweeds.

Maaaan, I'm never gonna see my cat again, now. Not after this. My karma is gonna suck cow toe jam after tomorrow. I just hope it doesn't last as long as breaking a mirror.
I am soooo fucked.
*strangled sob*

Me.
In an Iggles jersey.

Three damned times.
(Tomorrow, Thursday and Friday...)

Oh, and did I mention... my little friend is here, or coming soon, too.
Figures.
Altho, technically, my lil buddy is just about as much fun as the idea of wearing anything "Eagles" that doesn't refer to the rock group, so this qualifies for "just about eeee-NUFF", no?
On toppa which, Normie is still MIA.
Damn it.

Ya know...
It's a good thing I'm giggling right now, 'cause there's a silo right over there and I know I can find a rifle around here somewhere....
Know what I'm sayin'?

G'head... look at me "wrong".
Breathe.
I dare ya.

*Nicholson grin, eyebrow included*

(Hey man... fuck Eastwood. Nicholson is SCARY.)

Anyfrickin'way... while I was *gulp*... buying the... *gag!*... Iggles jersey, I also got another Blue Collar Comedy Tour tape and I also bought "Grease". Yes, the cornball movie with Travolta and company.
That was to (attempt to) make myself feel... less nauseous, you know... better.

To try to somehow build up as much "good karma" as possible before tomorrow morning and because it's just plain "beyond me" not to feed a hungry person... I sent Eric to Pop's with chicken potpie (regular and in the crust), two flavors of ice cream, a box of assorted flavors of oatmeal for breakfasts and assorted snacks. Pop is the guy Bill ran over. Y'all remember him. He's still not back to work yet, in a cast, healing, but being left stranded by his mostly good, but highly knuckleheaded, son. Pop threatened to eat his geese and I stopped that shit. Hell, I'll feed his ass every day to spare those geese, ya know? I'm saving goose lives and Pop's too, I suppose. Man cannot live on mayonaise alone. (Though Pop was tryin'...)
*shaking head*
Poor bastard.

Ah well. Whatcha gonna do?
All I know is "feed the guy", fer fuck's sake.
Hell, I can't even eat before I feed my critters. Mostly because it just bugs me to do that, but also because THEY bug me when I do that.
Ain't no way I can sit here feeding my face, knowing there's an old man right over there (closer than the silo, even) who's hungry and can't get out to get food. (Plus, he'd be the first one I'd look to for that rifle... *giggle*)
Know what, though? Give ya an idea what kinda guy he is... he's got critter food for his critters... just nothing for himself. That might have something to do with the fact that they're "his kid's" animals and the kid is the one doing his "shopping" for him, but still... makes me feel like it's okay to worry about the human first, before his animals, because his animals are taken care of.
Now, that's a first for me... (or such a rarity as to be a "first" both times it's happened in my life.... IF it ever HAS happened before.) (Can't remember it if it has...)

Well, aaaanyway...

Eric's in here, now and I feel need coming on to visit the "library", then I think I'm gunna go to bed. I took a short walk earlier to see if I could find Norman and there were TONS of animal tracks in the snow. None human, all animal. That made me wanna go out there either very, very late or really early in the morning to see whom I can "meet" out there.
Oughta be fun.
And cold.
But-
I think I'm gonna do it.
In the early morning.

Meantime, I just started the Blue Collar tape, so I'm outta here. (Guess that Stephen King book is gonna hafta wait a bit...)

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 08:31 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 30, 2005

Okay, I am runnin' on empty now...

I'm just about outta gas.
Time to go to bed.

But first...

I want my cat back, please.
God... or whomever.

I know I have a ton of the four-legged furries, but don't think for one blasted minute I don't notice when any one of them stops showing up to eat every day. And, don't even hand me that crap about "they can feed themselves", okay? Use that energy to get his ass back here.
Thankyouverymuch.

*sigh*

Elbow is still good.
House is clean.
Wash is done, including uniform. (Just waiting for that last load to finish drying...)
Good food in the frig, means I don't hafta worry about cooking tomorrow.
(Or Eric subsisting on junk all day...)
I work in the a.m.
I get paid tomorrow.
The coolest owner comes in, in the afternoon.

My "worst" problem right now is a missing cat.

Thank you for that, God.
But, can I still have him back, please?
Not so much for me, but because I worry for him. He's got that goofy shoulder, he was sooo small and sick two years ago when Ya gave him to me, MonsterCat that he is nowdays.... I just need to know he's okay. Not freezing, not starving, not hurt... know what I mean?
Please, either bring him home or take care of him for me til he gets here in his own sweet time, okay?

Thanks.

Maybe I'll be able to sleep now.
Last time I did that was the last time I saw him.
Friday night.

What a coincidence, huh?

Be safe, Normie and please come HOME.

Peace y'all.

Posted by: Stevie at 09:33 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Guess who's still up?

*glaze-eyed grin*

I finally went to the store around 9am.
Came home, baked a cinnamon swirl cake with butter cream icing, make the pie outta the chicken potpie, like I said I was gonna, continued doing wash (last load in now, washer still just fine *crosses fingers, which makes it really, really hard to type*) and made sloppy joe's for lunch.
Oh, and did about 4 additional loads of dishes... so far.

I also stopped by CVS and got an elbow brace. I'm impressed. I wore it for a few hours and just took it off and my elbow feels all kindsa better right now.

And, I'll be able to stand wearing it at work, so God likes me today.

Right now, I'm waiting for Eric's "special dark" chocolate brownies to get done baking. Those, I made in the heart-shaped cake pan I have.

Pukin' cute, ain't I?

Anyway... goin' to bed, soon, I hope.

My eyes feel like they've got sand in 'em. My brain is mushier than usual. I am, indeed, comfortably punchy, aka "numb". Endorphins'll do that to ya...

Peace, y'all.

Posted by: Stevie at 04:32 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Helloooo...

Yeah, I'm still awake.
Still cleaning, too.

This has been a day fulla surprises. (Keep in mind that I've been awake since 9:00am, Saturday morning. Since I haven't been to sleep yet, it's (mostly) still the same day to me, as in Saturday.)
First, George stopped over. He's leaving later today (the real today, as in Sunday) sometime.
We (me and him) used his truck to get a coupla loads of wood for the fireplace. It's my considered opinion that the more prepared I am for sn... that foul, foul white shit, the less likely it is to actually happen.
Just like everything else, pretty much.

Then, I made a whole big old pot of chicken potpie. Then, I got a good idea about using that to make real pies...

Then, I cleaned the danged house, vacuuming and all.
Still workin' on wash and the washer is making weird noises. I am ready for that, though. Let the dumb thing kill itself. I have a stacked washer/dryer right out in the car port.
'Course, I also have about 9 loads of wash to do, so "my luck" and "preparedness" are running neck and neck on that one, I suppose.
We shall see.

Okay.
Nevermind that last thing.
The washer just passed the point where it made those noises last time, without making them this time, so.... ne'ermind... bitch.

I hafta go to the store soon. I need cat litter. And, Coffeemate. Plus, I'm gonna use George's truck to take the trash down the driveway a bit to the dumpster. There's at least three bags out there, plus two trash cans that are I dunno how full, really, but I still want it all gone. And, whilst I'm using his truck for that, I may as well use it to go to the store, so I'm gunna. I already ran it by him, anyway.
(The idea, not the truck.)

Let's see... anything else?

Mmmm... not really. Not yet, anyway.

I think it's safe to assume that the dishes are drownt by now, so I guess I oughta go wash 'em, instead of sitting here cursing 'em.

Man, my freakin' elbow hurts. Didn't while I was throwing that firewood around, but it does now. Now, it's at it's worst when I straighten my arm. It aches constantly, but it makes me make pain noises when I extend my arm.
I hate this shit.

Pfft. Guess I better go on and add Aleve to my lil ol' list, huh?
(I just did...)

Gonna go bust some suds.
Talk atchas later...

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 01:34 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 29, 2005

More searches, God help us all...

how to be a fluffer- Pft. Suck dicks for a living.

bagpipes copperhead road- Excellent, aren't they? I can hear them in my head right now. Steve Earle... mmm-hmmm. I do looove that man.

here i sit broken hearted, come to shit but only farted- Dude, I can think of worse fates. Like the situation reversed, for instance?

how to handle bitchy sisters- Exsanguination?

bret hart married- Sucks, doesn't it?

oh fuck, not this shit again- In fact, in an odd coinkeydink, this was my exact reaction to the above "revelation"... *disgusted sigh*

jerkoff- Yeah. I can see where I'd get this one, seeing how I know so many of these....

ways to piss people off- Breathing, waking up alive, shit like that for most of 'em. Of course, you can also be the following person...

married but in love with someone else- Sucks to be you. Grow up. You made a committment. Honor it. Besides, doesn't the "other love" realize that if you'll dump your life for them, you'll dump them for someone else again? I do. Now, you do too. So don't.

Buford T.Pusser THE REAL (4th one down)- Jesus wept. Now, at least, I know where people are getting this "Buford T. Pusser" shit from... A YAHOO MOVIE REVIEWER!!! *rolls eyes*

what does 'gsoh' mean?- No friggin' idea. "Go shoot old ho's"? "Grab on, Sugar-Hips"? "Got some oleo, here"? "Go squat over hole"? "Got shit on happily"?-you sick basstid... Your guess is as good as mine. (Maybe, if yer stoned, or something...)

"cake with my knife" phrase meaning- Well, Parental Unit (since I just can feeeeel that this is a parent trying to figure out what the hell Junior is listening to), the lyrics are "cut your cake with my knife", which is AC/DC's weird-assed way of asking to get laid. "Cut your cake with my knife..." Get it? Hey, MALCOLM, I can be a bakin'-bitch when I wanna be... *grin* Spice cake with cream cheese icing, yellow with chocolate icing... any kind ya like, Gorgeous. (I was gonna mention carrot cake too, but that seems a tad bit too Freudian.... *raised eyebrow*)

shields and yarnell- Hoo-lee shit. Somebody besides ME remembers these two? Gawd, I thought that guy (whichever one he is) was HOT.

So, there we have it.
More of the bizarre things that I will now be linked to unto eternity.

Thanks a pantload, people.

Posted by: Stevie at 12:47 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Dear Joe Nick Patoski, Bill Crawford and Jimmie "Lee" Vaughan,

Joe and Bill,
I'm again reading your book about Stevie Ray, called "Caught in the Crossfire". I haven't read this book as often as I have some of the other ones I own, but I have read it a few times.

One thing about this book that drives me NUTS each time is your seeming "need" to apologize every other paragraph for the fact that Stevie didn't look like Jimmie. In fact, you constantly state that Jimmie looks like a matinee idol and use the word "ugly" to describe Stevie.

This bullshit is very distracting, to the degree that it surpasses and ultimately LOSES the point.

Which is this: In all brutally truthful honesty, Stevie Ray was a much more talented and much, much better guitar player than Jimmie, even to this day. Jimmie has had 16 years to improve and maybe get as good as Stevie was and... he hasn't.

Now, don't get me wrong. Jimmie is good, but he ain't his brother. Not by a looooong mile and a half.

I love the song he did in "Tin Cup". When I first heard it, I wasn't even thinking about who it was, I was just drooling over Kevin Costner. Then, about the 47th time I watched the movie, that song started to sink in. I could hear that either Stevie had been a BIG influence on whomever it was or they were, like... related, or something.

Which led me to look into it.
Oh, wow... Stevie's brother. Okay...

I had, by that time, owned "Family Style" for a few years, but I didn't recognize Jimmie's playing from that, oddly enough. Or, maybe not so "oddly", as Jimmie has never been my focus. In fact, I did buy one of his CD's and it just kinda laid there, ya know?

Anyway, I figured out that that song in "Tin Cup" was being played by a Vaughan. That's when I started paying attention and I've come to the conclusion that Stevie was clearly superior to his "big" brother.

THAT'S the point. Stevie's talent, gift and the gifts he gave us. Not his looks.
In fact, to put it in words you two may understand, he was so "ugly", he was fuckin' adorable.
Know what I mean?

Good book.
WHEN y'all find and manage to stick to the point.
Shame it wasn't more often.

Jimmie,
I don't know what's up with you these days, but maaaan... I hope you've gotten over yourself a bit. Dude, you ain't ugly but, no way are you "all that and a bag of chips". Not even...
You look.... kinda mean. Kinda constipated. Kinda like what you are, or were, which is a bully. I'll bet dollars to doughnuts that you have a (well-hidden) mean streak a mile wide.

When I look at Stevie's photos, I feel warmth and love. Looking at yours sometimes scares me and almost always makes me uncomfortable. I'd never want to be alone with you. By the same token, I wouldn't want you behind me on the edge of Hoover Dam or any other such precipice.

I don't know why, exactly. I don't know you personally. But, that's the impression I get from your pictures and from "Caught".

You really were horrible to Stevie when he was a kid. Beat the shit outta him time and again, just because he wanted to be like you and to play your guitar.

God, what a bastard, ya know?
You really were. Admit it to yourself.

You can plainly see the truth of what I say, if you look at the "big picture". Follow me, here:
As kids, you were "it", the big dog. You were brutal to Stevie, when you didn't really have to be. You both got your "breaks" and had your careers. Stevie's was cut short, yours still soldiers on.
And... whom is the legend? Who is it people will never forget? Who's the "big dog" now?
Yeah.
Stevie is and always will be from now on.

Was it worth it, this karma you bought and paid for all those years ago?

Somehow, I doubt it.

Now, I know Stevie wasn't hard-hearted, like you and I are... he'd have never said any of this to you, even if he'd have lived and blown your doors off, like he undoubtedly would have.

If he hadn't been killed, within a year, you'd have been asking him for job.
No... actually, he'd have probably offered you a job, before you had to ask. That's the kinda guy he was.
But, you know that now, don'tcha?

Well anyway... I just wanted to say that "to you". I don't hate you or anything. In fact, I hope you're doing really well. But, I also hope you think about this once in a while and that, in thinking about it, you find a way to heal yourself, because, seriously, it hurts my heart to look at you.

"Tick, tock", Jimmie and...
Peace, man.

This has been one opinion and I'm sure there are plenty more.

Posted by: Stevie at 11:37 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 28, 2005

Yeah, I'm still around....

Even though nobody has asked.

*giggle*

Nothing too major going on, except...

That mean cook at work?
He's being nice.
To me.

One of us MUST have a brain tumor.

Know who I WISH had one?
The big-mouthed, judgemental, ignorant waitress who, naturally, is "safe from unemployment for several reasons".

Whatta bitch this one is.
Jeezus.

She was working the other day and had the nerve to ask, loudly, at one point if I'm stupid, because after "all this time" I'm still a tad shakey on understanding every nuance of the ordering shit.

And, she didn't even have the balls to be asking me. I just heard it.

First off, she proved herself to be even stupider than she accused me of being.
If she knows so fuckin' much, she'd "know" I've worked there, literally been inside the building, less than 45 days. Okay, right about 45 days.
I suppose a month and a half is enough for just EVERYBODY to crack the code of the dopey way of ordering shit.

Horseballs, it is.

What her real problem is and I'm not gonna exaggerate this... She weighs about 100 pounds more than me and she's a good foot shorter.
How the fuck she can even waitress at all is beyond me.
Well, slowly is one way.
Blocking aisles is another.

Hell, I almost wound up getting proposed to by some guy last week because of her fat ass.
She was blocking the aisle I needed to get through with a tray of food and I had a choice. Face her and slide by, or face the guy at the counters back and slide by. I chose him. I also ran my hand across his shoulders so he'd know I was there and not move til I got by.
He didn't move, but he did shudder and grin.

Later on he said "thank you" to me and that he didn't mind at all, it's just that it's been a while....
*giggle*
Poor guy. He was sweet, though.
I explained why I'd done that that way and he, I think, was hoping she'd be in the way a few more times.

Same day, Mr. Meancook was in for breakfast. He's been on vacation for a week, but he still shows up. Sits in smoking, too, but not at any of my tables, thank Gawd. I'd probably wind up dropping something...
As it was, I was zooming by his table empty-handed and saw that he had empty plates on his table, so I took 'em outta his way.

He said, "Thanks, Dear..."

I damned near walked into the wall after that one, lemme tell ya.

I worked with him yesterday and he didn't scream at anybody, even once. He gave this one chick a little shit, but he HAS to do that on a daily basis or I think he'll wither up and die, or something.

In other news...
The TV show "Murphy Brown" kicks ass!

I'm just finding this out, now, thanks to TVLand. I'm taping it and I'm right this second watching an episode about Murphy stealing Clinton's cat and I'm laughing so fuckin' hard, I'm literally crying....
Miles is adorable.

This seems to be one of those rare "benefits" of having spent so many years in hell. I was so freaked out, trying to survive emotionally, if not several other ways, that I didn't have the time, mind or capacity to know of things like this when it was current.

Consequently, "Murphy Brown" is new to me now. And funnier than balls.

I didn't do "Friends" when I was supposed to, either.
Tch.
Oh well.
Works for me, anyway.

What else?

Oh yeah. Heh, heh...

I is a dork.
Sorta.

(Okay, "mostly". Shaddap.)

Here's a little testament to the "new" way I've been driving since I got my license back...
(Some call it "conservative", as in "good". I think it's "old"... or I am.)

Any-friggin'-way...
About... what?... two weeks ago or so, I noticed my brakes were kinda.... soft. I thought I was having to extend my foot too far, but then again... maybe not. I wasn't sure...
Then, as the time goes by, I realize that I am having to go to the floor with 'em. Hmmm... this can't be good.
Me, the pre-Alzheimer's patient that I am, I keep fuckin' forgetting to check the fluid. Duuuh... *drool*

Jeezus. It took me forEVER to remember, but I finally did last night.

Uh yeah... all but empty well there, Chick. Other one is about half.
Uh-huh. That could have sumptin' to do with it, I think.... Even so... I didn't have one single incident of braking trouble because I DRIVE LIKE AN OLD WOMAN NOW!!!!!!
(Not that I culdn't still whip it out if need be, but damn. Ya know?)

Thank God and my car, it didn't need to be bled. I was so not in the mood for that. Especially considering that I remembered to do this shit at aboooout 10:30 last night (Wednesday night, actually) and the fact that it also needed a spot of oil and a little anti-freeze and a touch of tranny fluid.
Yes, the wiper fluid was fine.

Only other thing is my damn-blasted elbow. It my right one and it's the little knob-thingy on the joint itself. If you extend your arm palm down and feel it, it's the little knobby thing on top, facing away from you...
Well, I do NOT know what I did to it in the first place, but it hurts. It's been kinda achy and sore for a week or more and a coupla days ago, I solidly whacked it, naturally, on the edge of a booth wall. Oooh, I almost fainted.... ooooowwwwwwwwww...... ya know?

It almost feels like it wants a brace, but I can't find one, plus the idea of the brace being all bunched up in the crook of my elbow itches already. I lift trays and shit with my left arm, so that's not what ails it. I do set the plates on the tables with my right hand, but they aren't that heavy, it's just repetitious. Could that be it and if it is, how do ya fix it?
I have tried Ibuprofen, but it doesn't make it stop completely. Better than nuthin', though. Although, it'd be even better than that if it'd just stop it.

Know what I'm sayin'?

Okay.
I need to get in gear, here.
Gotta go to the store, get a shower, wash da hair.. it's endless.

But, FIRST.... off to the "library" with me.
And a cuppa coffe.
And Stephen King. (Hearts in Atlantis... again. *grin*)

Y'all have as good a day as ya's can, okay?

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 03:24 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 23, 2005

Okay, this might be nuts, but...

I keep getting hit after hit for "Deadly Relations" today. First day ever, that I know of, and yet there's been about 5 so far.

I even got one that I know of outta Louisiana, which is where it all happened. Which leads me to the "possibly nuts" part.

If you, person(s) who are getting here from that search, are related to Carol in any way, could you please let me know? If you don't want to leave a "public" comment, just send it to the email address under my picture.

I've thought about Carol and her Mom and sisters a buncha times, wondering how everybody is these days. I re-read the book fairly often, mostly because I so like Carol, the way she comes across. She reminds me of my aunt. I'm younger than her, but I still think she'd be one of those rare females who'd be ever so easy to get along with.

Carol is one of three people who's story struck such a chord with me that I still think about them, all these years later.

The other two are Darrel Buschkoetter and Richard Jahnke. Want an idea of just how much I like those two? I can spell both last names without stopping to think about it... *grin*

I can also rattle off all of Carol's last names without trying, just like my Aunt's... *another grin* Whose name is also Carol, I might add.

Anyway, if you're a member of her family, even if you don't want to initiate contact, just let her know someone remembers and admires her strength still to this day.

Sometimes, I really wish I knew her.

Peace

Posted by: Stevie at 07:00 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Well, just damn...

How much ya wanna bet Dick Clark's sphincter is clenched to the diameter of a straight pin with this news?

What?
I'm already goin' to hell.
May as well enjoy the ride, right?

Posted by: Stevie at 04:15 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 22, 2005

Oh well, there's still Drew Carey.

He's also adorable, he can dance AND he writes good song parodies.

Like this ever so appropriate one:

Horns honk, are ya listenin'?
Across three lanes I'ma spinnin'.
I caused a big fuss,
When I sideswiped a bus,
Driving in this winter wonderland.

By tomorrow they'll have filed a lawsuit.
I'll be hearing from the lawyer Brown....

This BEGS to be fleshed out and finished.
I'll work on it.

In the meantime, let me "finish" by saying to this accumulating "precipitation"...

Any questions?

Posted by: Stevie at 11:11 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Great. Both Bret's are fucked up.

Not only is my cat a mental case, so is Bret Hart.
Yes, the nitwit was divorced, then he turned around and got married again last September to some hooch from Italy who is about as rough looking as his first wife.

Dork.

Gorgeous dork.
(Him, I mean.)

And, the cat I named after him is pregnant, I think. I'm sure she's brain damaged, too. She does the weirdest shit....

And... it's contagious, I do believe.
Eric and I were just discussing the two Brets and when we got to the cat, he said (and I quote verbatim), "She's fuckin' a goofball..."

I looked at the cat, looked at him and heard myself say, "Soooo. You two are having sex?"

About Hart... I suppose I just oughta be glad he didn't marry any of those skeezix skank-ho's from wrestling, but still... *shudder*

He coulda done LOTS better looks-wise that that thing.

*siiiigh*
Men.

I'm gonna go pout for a while.

Oh, and Canada? You two to one, right now with me. I still love ya and all, but, you need to stop it, now.
The "two" part is, 1) this "Bret re-married" shit. Thanks a pantload. Can't y'all keep an eye on this guy? Havin' strokes, wreckin' his bike, now this. Sheesh. You'd think (or I would) that, as the 39th best Canadian, somebody'd be watching out for him, but nooooo. It's obvious no one is.
Then 2), there's all this foul white shit that will NOT stop accumulating. It came from "The Great White North". I'd rather have more of the Mackenzie Brother's, thanks.

Besides Paul (whom, by the way, I haven't talked to in ages), you're one saving grace with me right this minute is the fact that I'm surrounded by about a dozen hyacinths that I found out were grown up there.

I found that out yesterday.
Then, today... this foul precipitation and the Bret thing.

What da hell'd I do to you, anyway, CANADA?
Jeez.

Posted by: Stevie at 11:02 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Ahhh, British Humor...

I love it and with posts like this one:

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Fluff and I went to a ‘do’ the other week that Hovis had invited us to. It was in a local hall kind of place. On the wall there was a notice, it said, ‘No party popers’.

That’s a bit mean isn’t it.

We looked on as John Paul II, with a fag in one hand, a Baby Cham in the other, and wearing deely-boppers was being thrown out by the barman.

Comment | Trackback (0) - posted by stuart @ 11:12 AM , this dude is now blogrolled.

Soon as I quit giggling at the visual....
*slithers outta chair, laughing*

Posted by: Stevie at 12:54 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

I've said it before and I'm sayin' it again...

I have a nut magnet, man. It's invisible to all but the insane, but it IS there.
I attract these people with no knowledge whatsoever of how. In droves, even.

Proof.
You want proof?
Oookay.
Take a gander at these searches and you tell me....

pissing hissing pee- I'm scared to even wonder.

pasta dark lord mu online- Not a clue. Not one.

tetnus caused horse- Yo. If "tetnus" caused "horses", I'd be poked fulla rusty nails. What tetnus causes is LOCKJAW, not horses, Howdy Doody.

gia mia carangi- Yeah, caaaause THAT'S her name.

winkie -wee -willie- Now, this one is from the UK. Little too polite, aren't they? They actually did "last name first"... wow.

driving car bus games whit bitches- Playing with bitches, no matter what fucked up thing it is you're "playing", is a good way to get hurt. Ain't it? Add cars and buses and I can only assume this person has a death wish.

bad girls in atco new jersey- Dude. I know exactly ONE "girl" from Atco and that'd be Sally Starr. AND, if you mess wit' her and she's not "bad" enough to beat yer ass alone, I will help her... just know that, okay? Not one of the other "girls" I know in ANY OF Jersey are worth a tin shit.

how high a dose of ibuprofin can be taken without causing bleeding- Wellll. I dunno. Why would you ask this, anyway? If it hurts that damned bad, go to the ER. Besides which, it causes liver damage, not bleeding... unless yer shooting the shit at yer mouth with a pistol or something. Do I even wanna know? No.

asshole airpump- Must be related to my can opener and my stroke-victim coffee carafe. Orrrrr... I KNOW I don't wanna know.

sex girls pictuters- Do WHAT? Da fuck are "pictuters"?

your lips are moving but I can't hear you- Deaf, are ya? GUY, are ya? SPEAKING RIGHT TO YA, AM I????

Teenage Gerbil Bikers from Hell- What the... Who... When the HELL did I ever mention this? And, what do they call themselves? "Heck's FuzzBalls"? "The Vegans"? (Well, gerbils don't eat MEAT...) Or, maybe "The Fourjocks?" (Small gang, very athletic... They ride bicycles, not motorcycles.)

ARMY COL DISCHARGED FOR PUTTING A GUN TO AN IRAQI S HEAD- Uh-huh. They'd maybe have felt better if he'd shoved the gun up the Iraqi's ass? "Do what you're trained to do."
BANG!
"Thanks."
"Now, you're being "fired" for doing what you're trained to do."
Real nice.
NEXT!

list of adjectives and nouns describing people- *snort* I think I best wait on this one. You do NOT want any lists of words from ME describing people right now. Not after this....

hank why do ya drink- Cause he's been in my site meter and he's SCARED.

Posted by: Stevie at 12:39 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Two tiny points of information and...

no pun intended, buuuut...

I have just rediscovered the fact that while I'm driving my Firebird, the drum solo from Radar Love and singing full out with Meatloaf has the same effect on my chesticle area as cold weather does.

*big toothy grin*

Posted by: Stevie at 01:33 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

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