I hate getting sick.
I hate allergies, fevers, clogged sinuses, headaches.
And that's how I feel right now. Sick.
I never used to care about being sick. I'd stay home from school. Read. Watch t.v. Play video games, and generally by the end of what would have been a school day I'd feel better.
Now a days being sick is scary. What if I need medicine? Surgery? A sponge bath? Well I wont get any of it because I'm not going to pay some asshole doctor that much money for any of it.
On top of it while I'm sick and missing work I'm losing the monies to pay said asshole doctor. Seriously one hour and this doctor makes like 200 dollars... for those out there making 10 dollars an hour that means that you gotta work about 24 hours to pay him for one hour. Seriously how fucked up is that? now people say , "that's what insurance is for" and I say to them, "Yeah 200 dollars a month....or 200 dollars a visit." The shaft makes it's appearance in your rectum in either scenario.
I really hope Obama gets this health care shit right. Also I hope the world rids itself of the need for lawyers. And I really, really really want a brownie right now. : it could be like that episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" where they give a christian scientist a brownie baked up with benedryl, except this would just be a none medicinally laced brownie.
I feel like a dwarven family of 8 has made my sinuses into their place of residence.
Also I feel tired and beat up.
Also I feel I should quit bitching and go back to bed.
p.s I noticed there are 33 other brave individuals who all share my occupation of Shit kicking.
I thought I was the only one. I figured I was a lone shit kicker burying the hole (inside reference from back in the day). Anyway I top the shit kicking list. And as number one shit kicker I believe it is my duty to inform you all that we have openings...Inquire within.
music
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Being bored leads to...
Odd thoughts.
Past relationships. Dead pets. Bad sex.
Forgotten friends. Old Crushes. Good sex.
You know, as a sex addict I believe I have a unique view of things. Things being life and it's encompassed. Life being my life and the story hence. Hence being a word I don't get to use often enough.
We have all come to realize either by actually knowing me or by spending a second or two reading my blog that I am no saint. I have used and hurt others in the past. I have destroyed beauty. I have avoided what I am told is due responsibility. Sometimes I care so much that it makes me weep, other times I just don't care at all. But all the hindsight in the world wont change anything that has already happened, it will only allow me the chance to avoid it all in the future.
So why oh why do I continue to fall into the bad patterns of my relationships, and why is Joe Satriani such a good guitarist?
I'll be the first to admit that I am a horny, overly sexual, semi-sleazeball. I don't honestly know what women see in me. I'm a slob,lazy,have one of the poorest work ethics anyone has ever had. I tend to withdraw from people when I'm angry and or depressed, and yet women are somehow enthralled by me (not all women....like .000006% of 1 %) . I have had women tell me they love me after a week of dating and it disgusted me even when I myself have experienced love after the first night with a woman. Leading me into the fact that I can be a gigantic hypocrite.
I dunno, I generally feel that it's best that I stay out of relationships knowing that it will most likely be a fleeting memory by the same time a year passed or that I will fall hopelessly in love and cause a toxic mass of moments for someone unfortunate enough to make the mistake of getting involved with the [financial] loser I perceive myself to be.
I find it impossible to believe that any woman would choose to stay with me if they knew the path I see for myself . I don't know too many women willing to live in a log cabin on a mountain sleeping on a hide bed and walking on a dirt floor. Or following me through the wanderlust infecting me to the core.
Fuck, fuck sums up the clusterfuck of my current thoughts; sex,violence,women,high speed chases,death, the unexplored and unclaimed adventure...I'd give up everything for adventure.
Seriously, I'd give the testes up for a years worth. I don't remember where I heard/read this but it's said that the only thing left for men in this world is money and pussy. Adventure and pussy is what I need. Life,death, a week of passion....some delicious beer.
I'm tired and random. I guess I'm lonely and anxious to discover our planet Earth...without having to deal with the rest of my species unless I choose to.
Seriously though why the fuck does a man need a passport to walk the globe? What the fuck is freedom if you aren't free to leave through your chosen door? Fuck that moronic counter-productive bullshit, it's all a form of oppression. Fucking telling me where I can and can't go, like I have some kind of chain attached. Fuck.Fuck. Fucking assholes. I'm pissed and going to start drinking.
Past relationships. Dead pets. Bad sex.
Forgotten friends. Old Crushes. Good sex.
You know, as a sex addict I believe I have a unique view of things. Things being life and it's encompassed. Life being my life and the story hence. Hence being a word I don't get to use often enough.
We have all come to realize either by actually knowing me or by spending a second or two reading my blog that I am no saint. I have used and hurt others in the past. I have destroyed beauty. I have avoided what I am told is due responsibility. Sometimes I care so much that it makes me weep, other times I just don't care at all. But all the hindsight in the world wont change anything that has already happened, it will only allow me the chance to avoid it all in the future.
So why oh why do I continue to fall into the bad patterns of my relationships, and why is Joe Satriani such a good guitarist?
I'll be the first to admit that I am a horny, overly sexual, semi-sleazeball. I don't honestly know what women see in me. I'm a slob,lazy,have one of the poorest work ethics anyone has ever had. I tend to withdraw from people when I'm angry and or depressed, and yet women are somehow enthralled by me (not all women....like .000006% of 1 %) . I have had women tell me they love me after a week of dating and it disgusted me even when I myself have experienced love after the first night with a woman. Leading me into the fact that I can be a gigantic hypocrite.
I dunno, I generally feel that it's best that I stay out of relationships knowing that it will most likely be a fleeting memory by the same time a year passed or that I will fall hopelessly in love and cause a toxic mass of moments for someone unfortunate enough to make the mistake of getting involved with the [financial] loser I perceive myself to be.
I find it impossible to believe that any woman would choose to stay with me if they knew the path I see for myself . I don't know too many women willing to live in a log cabin on a mountain sleeping on a hide bed and walking on a dirt floor. Or following me through the wanderlust infecting me to the core.
Fuck, fuck sums up the clusterfuck of my current thoughts; sex,violence,women,high speed chases,death, the unexplored and unclaimed adventure...I'd give up everything for adventure.
Seriously, I'd give the testes up for a years worth. I don't remember where I heard/read this but it's said that the only thing left for men in this world is money and pussy. Adventure and pussy is what I need. Life,death, a week of passion....some delicious beer.
I'm tired and random. I guess I'm lonely and anxious to discover our planet Earth...without having to deal with the rest of my species unless I choose to.
Seriously though why the fuck does a man need a passport to walk the globe? What the fuck is freedom if you aren't free to leave through your chosen door? Fuck that moronic counter-productive bullshit, it's all a form of oppression. Fucking telling me where I can and can't go, like I have some kind of chain attached. Fuck.Fuck. Fucking assholes. I'm pissed and going to start drinking.
Ode to the simple life.
When the days were long enough that fishing meant catching three meals in between cooking them.
When a man could at least think he understood the fairer sex.
When adventure was everywhere for the taking, and the thieving if you had the banjos for it.
When a man could hit another man when he stepped out of line and not have to worry about how the drunk tank would smell.
When manly men like myself were the only male sex symbols around...(you can ask the saloon girls)
When it was ok to shoot animals...because you were not going to die of starvation as long as your rifle had a bullet or your bow an arrow.
When a whiskey was cheap and gas was cheaper.
Yes I talk of the 70's.
Ode to you.
on a lighter note, I just found out that I weigh 260 pounds, and I would like to say that it's all muscle, but that would be a lie, only like 35% of that is muscle...there's a lot of water weight, bones,organs, mc donalds... it all adds up. Needless to say I need to cut a few things out of my diet, cut down on the drinking, start jogging again. Anyway just to put this into perspective if you look up kimbo on youtube...that guy is 6'2 250 ( or something like that) I am 6'1 260.
Now those who know me well know that I wish to be a warrior, but nowadays I'd have to pretty much join the military to be one and I don't do desert. So my other options are ; 1.Join a boxing gym, 2.Join an MMA (mixed martial-arts) gym, 3.pretend to be a bum and do the whole bum fights thing...and though I actually eat every day I really don't know what it feels like to be willing to do absolutely anything for 20$. Needless to say my options are limited., however I am still looking for partners for my brewing/fighting business plan. So if you'd like to help me out with either by donating to the cause you probably know where to reach me...it's called the comment link at the end of this blog.
Seriously why would you not want to pay to help me kick other people in the teeth?
When a man could at least think he understood the fairer sex.
When adventure was everywhere for the taking, and the thieving if you had the banjos for it.
When a man could hit another man when he stepped out of line and not have to worry about how the drunk tank would smell.
When manly men like myself were the only male sex symbols around...(you can ask the saloon girls)
When it was ok to shoot animals...because you were not going to die of starvation as long as your rifle had a bullet or your bow an arrow.
When a whiskey was cheap and gas was cheaper.
Yes I talk of the 70's.
Ode to you.
on a lighter note, I just found out that I weigh 260 pounds, and I would like to say that it's all muscle, but that would be a lie, only like 35% of that is muscle...there's a lot of water weight, bones,organs, mc donalds... it all adds up. Needless to say I need to cut a few things out of my diet, cut down on the drinking, start jogging again. Anyway just to put this into perspective if you look up kimbo on youtube...that guy is 6'2 250 ( or something like that) I am 6'1 260.
Now those who know me well know that I wish to be a warrior, but nowadays I'd have to pretty much join the military to be one and I don't do desert. So my other options are ; 1.Join a boxing gym, 2.Join an MMA (mixed martial-arts) gym, 3.pretend to be a bum and do the whole bum fights thing...and though I actually eat every day I really don't know what it feels like to be willing to do absolutely anything for 20$. Needless to say my options are limited., however I am still looking for partners for my brewing/fighting business plan. So if you'd like to help me out with either by donating to the cause you probably know where to reach me...it's called the comment link at the end of this blog.
Seriously why would you not want to pay to help me kick other people in the teeth?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
humbling...
Dictionary.com makes use of serveral uses of the word humbling
I chose the 8th listed (8. to make meek: to humble one's heart. )
I Feel that being humbled is not a bad thing. It creates perspective. Inward perspective that can dramaticaly change how and what is felt by a person in a very short amount of time. Much like a stunt car pulling a 180-degree turn at one-hundred twenty miles per hour. It may not be so dramatic as that, my feelings never leave the sound of screeching tires, and thick white smoke rising from slick tire marks on the ground, but I can hope it leaves an impression for me to look back at and keep the perspective it caused me to see.
Recently I feel humbled much more than I ever have. I don't know if this is based on personal changes or if the overal quality of people I have been interacting with lately could be considered more or less. I know that I have been humbled by friends and aquaintences alike , and resently my own actions have caused me to have a moment of clarity which lead to me feeling as if I had made an agreigous error that though I know wouldn't phase anyone still makes me feel as if it is a wrong that needs be righted.
My memory is probably one of the best of people I know...when I'm sober. I tend to drink a bit get tired and remember bits and pieces of those moments. And recently I thought an individual whom I actually find to be likable had said what I perceived to be some very passive aggressive comments about what I thought was myself. I made a passive aggressive comment back in the same medium and then confronted him in person. He was confused which started the synapses firing. About two hours later I had to stop in my tracks, because I knew I was in the wrong.
My feeble attempt at apology was probably taken for my normal aloof ramblings, and though I wanted to make a sincere apology ,the first one had to suffice. I don't think he was bothered by it much anyway, he let it slide right off.
So I guess, I was humbled by my own foolish behavior but also by the greater actions and mentality of an acquaintance. Perhaps this is a lesson in many things, I would say patience, forgiveness, and friendship chief amongst them.
I'm also trying to say that though I really do write this for myself, ff you can learn from my mistakes then someday you may become one wise grasshoppa.
I'm not very keen on the Holidays, but have a great Thanksgiving. And while you sit around and eat with your family, friends, and or strangers, keep in mind that though this Holiday is steeped in both betrayal and blood it is also a great time to reflect and be with the people you love or at least to give to those less fortunate than yourself. If you have extra time tommorow night donate it to a good cause.
Thanks for reading
JollyMisery
I chose the 8th listed (8. to make meek: to humble one's heart. )
I Feel that being humbled is not a bad thing. It creates perspective. Inward perspective that can dramaticaly change how and what is felt by a person in a very short amount of time. Much like a stunt car pulling a 180-degree turn at one-hundred twenty miles per hour. It may not be so dramatic as that, my feelings never leave the sound of screeching tires, and thick white smoke rising from slick tire marks on the ground, but I can hope it leaves an impression for me to look back at and keep the perspective it caused me to see.
Recently I feel humbled much more than I ever have. I don't know if this is based on personal changes or if the overal quality of people I have been interacting with lately could be considered more or less. I know that I have been humbled by friends and aquaintences alike , and resently my own actions have caused me to have a moment of clarity which lead to me feeling as if I had made an agreigous error that though I know wouldn't phase anyone still makes me feel as if it is a wrong that needs be righted.
My memory is probably one of the best of people I know...when I'm sober. I tend to drink a bit get tired and remember bits and pieces of those moments. And recently I thought an individual whom I actually find to be likable had said what I perceived to be some very passive aggressive comments about what I thought was myself. I made a passive aggressive comment back in the same medium and then confronted him in person. He was confused which started the synapses firing. About two hours later I had to stop in my tracks, because I knew I was in the wrong.
My feeble attempt at apology was probably taken for my normal aloof ramblings, and though I wanted to make a sincere apology ,the first one had to suffice. I don't think he was bothered by it much anyway, he let it slide right off.
So I guess, I was humbled by my own foolish behavior but also by the greater actions and mentality of an acquaintance. Perhaps this is a lesson in many things, I would say patience, forgiveness, and friendship chief amongst them.
I'm also trying to say that though I really do write this for myself, ff you can learn from my mistakes then someday you may become one wise grasshoppa.
I'm not very keen on the Holidays, but have a great Thanksgiving. And while you sit around and eat with your family, friends, and or strangers, keep in mind that though this Holiday is steeped in both betrayal and blood it is also a great time to reflect and be with the people you love or at least to give to those less fortunate than yourself. If you have extra time tommorow night donate it to a good cause.
Thanks for reading
JollyMisery
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Becuase I'm tired and I ate WAY to fucking much at the bk
No seriously, there were 9 costumers in the d.i department the entire 4 hours I was there. 9.
None of them bought a camera.
Seeing as how my demonstrations went great but no one decided they actually need the photographic devices they came in to get their kids/wives/dogs/camels enough to purchase them today. I decided to go to Burger King and engorge on tasty fast food. Now those of you who know me well know that I can eat...a fucking shit lot of food. So, a double bacon cheeseburger,fries,8 chicken tenders,a rodeo cheese burger, onion rings, and 3 double cheeseburgers (no pickles on anything), and 15 $ later I am full and content with life...I just need a water and an explanation for why the hell I felt the need to eat so damn much.
On a lighter note I called my daughter's mom to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it to the mall in time to take my daughter to the Underwater World, and she didn't even pick up her phone, and hasn't yet called me back.
Also this may be the last cheeseburger talking, but I am tired as tits at the rodeo. So good night.
None of them bought a camera.
Seeing as how my demonstrations went great but no one decided they actually need the photographic devices they came in to get their kids/wives/dogs/camels enough to purchase them today. I decided to go to Burger King and engorge on tasty fast food. Now those of you who know me well know that I can eat...a fucking shit lot of food. So, a double bacon cheeseburger,fries,8 chicken tenders,a rodeo cheese burger, onion rings, and 3 double cheeseburgers (no pickles on anything), and 15 $ later I am full and content with life...I just need a water and an explanation for why the hell I felt the need to eat so damn much.
On a lighter note I called my daughter's mom to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it to the mall in time to take my daughter to the Underwater World, and she didn't even pick up her phone, and hasn't yet called me back.
Also this may be the last cheeseburger talking, but I am tired as tits at the rodeo. So good night.
If attending The Monday Night Comedy Show has taught me it's...
If the Gentleperson Who wrote, "The Novelization of the Movie Robo Cop ii" can captivate an audience such as the rowdy bunch at the MNCS:Then I too ,as a trog intellectual could write the greatest story of man...
MY LIFE AS I KNOW IT!
I know that you know expect something grand and entertaining with which you would laugh and marvel.
And this isn't it. This is me working on my skills.
Like writing I hear a male cat making mating calls in my house, and I laugh because he lacks the equipment that would enable him to mate. -IRONY- (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/irony . right underneath dramatic irony (.5) an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.)
See I'm not even sure if that's considered plagiarism. It would be nice to know. Also after f-bombing with that all night I'm almost fucking fed up with writing because I completely Forgot what I was going to write about.
Or that's what I want you to think, And now that you're thinking that my ten minute period of warm up writing will cease at the end of this paragraph will I reveal what I'm actually trying to write about. What I am doing, is exercising my typographical and lexiconic abilities. You see I wish to get all the little stories and ideas I have out there for my own sake, but also because if someone else can make greater good of them they can (with my permission thieves!).
One of my more prominent idea's consists of about 30 seconds of actual story. I can see the main character, in the desert. Once part of an elite fighting squad he is now alone, dehydrated, starving, his bio-mechanical stealth suit is malfunctioning, his prototype weapon full of sand and misery. And you guessed it, there are vampires.
Another story which I've already stated writing a few years ago involves a group of kids finding a random ass cabin, they break into it and then the fun starts.This one started out as a dream of mine actually, the only one that cause me actual panic and pain. I woke up scared of everything around me that's how terrifying it was, though I don't remember all of it, and am a horrible story teller so there ya go.
Anyway anyone who is good with dialogue should give me pointers, I need them.
More on these stories as I develop them.
p.s my writings are full of errors and anyone with editing experience is welcome to correct them for me. You would be doing so for the greater good so I will not pay you, but you are welcome to do it anyway.
MY LIFE AS I KNOW IT!
I know that you know expect something grand and entertaining with which you would laugh and marvel.
And this isn't it. This is me working on my skills.
Like writing I hear a male cat making mating calls in my house, and I laugh because he lacks the equipment that would enable him to mate. -IRONY- (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/irony . right underneath dramatic irony (.5) an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.)
See I'm not even sure if that's considered plagiarism. It would be nice to know. Also after f-bombing with that all night I'm almost fucking fed up with writing because I completely Forgot what I was going to write about.
Or that's what I want you to think, And now that you're thinking that my ten minute period of warm up writing will cease at the end of this paragraph will I reveal what I'm actually trying to write about. What I am doing, is exercising my typographical and lexiconic abilities. You see I wish to get all the little stories and ideas I have out there for my own sake, but also because if someone else can make greater good of them they can (with my permission thieves!).
One of my more prominent idea's consists of about 30 seconds of actual story. I can see the main character, in the desert. Once part of an elite fighting squad he is now alone, dehydrated, starving, his bio-mechanical stealth suit is malfunctioning, his prototype weapon full of sand and misery. And you guessed it, there are vampires.
Another story which I've already stated writing a few years ago involves a group of kids finding a random ass cabin, they break into it and then the fun starts.This one started out as a dream of mine actually, the only one that cause me actual panic and pain. I woke up scared of everything around me that's how terrifying it was, though I don't remember all of it, and am a horrible story teller so there ya go.
Anyway anyone who is good with dialogue should give me pointers, I need them.
More on these stories as I develop them.
p.s my writings are full of errors and anyone with editing experience is welcome to correct them for me. You would be doing so for the greater good so I will not pay you, but you are welcome to do it anyway.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
With four hours to kill until I walk right into failure.
Hello ladies, I say ladies in the anticipation that women read this and like me. I leave out the gentlemen because that mix of two words makes me laugh at the irony (I don't even fully understand irony).
Today is the first day of me working an a new project for work. I am now "assisted selling" a different camera brand then I was last year. It should be much easier because it is a more popular brand. The issue with all of this is the company wants me to sell 2 of their top end DSLR's (digital slr's for those who don't know...basically it means Digital spend lots of Rare-monies. I will be in a best buy, in a time of economic hardships, in a rural area of minnesota. it will take me at least 45 minutes to drive there. And all of about 1 minute for the failure to commense. Hunters and fishermen don't buy DSLR's, they buy the cheap point and shoots that basically do the same thing with no lens changing or manual reading. They buy the simple durable camera so their wives and kids can take photos of family,friends,pets dressed as Santa's elves, and scantily clad photos of themselves in the bathroom in which they forgot to flush the toilet after squating a grumpy. I feel that this may be the end of my employment and my high wage making, and therefor Any sugar momma's in the area should submit a bid a.s.a.p so that I may continue to enjoy my chosen lifestyle without fear of having things be repo'd.
I guess the point here is.If you are looking to waste time and hear about the cameras I am helping to sell. Make your way to Rogers mn, stop in at the ebst buy, and then drop about 600$ on a fancy soul stealing device that can be used to impress all your freinds with amazing quality pictures to post on your blog.
I'd buy one...but I know I could buy a car for that price, and cars go vroom.
To all those who made it this far, read further. Also don't steal your friend's girlfriends. Unless your friends are bastard women beaters then it's ok.
Stay true to yourselves or at least to your pets. End.
update. The store in which I am assigned to work this demo until the end of December, does not carry the D-SLR's in which I am supposed to sell....am I set up for failure from the beginning?
Today is the first day of me working an a new project for work. I am now "assisted selling" a different camera brand then I was last year. It should be much easier because it is a more popular brand. The issue with all of this is the company wants me to sell 2 of their top end DSLR's (digital slr's for those who don't know...basically it means Digital spend lots of Rare-monies. I will be in a best buy, in a time of economic hardships, in a rural area of minnesota. it will take me at least 45 minutes to drive there. And all of about 1 minute for the failure to commense. Hunters and fishermen don't buy DSLR's, they buy the cheap point and shoots that basically do the same thing with no lens changing or manual reading. They buy the simple durable camera so their wives and kids can take photos of family,friends,pets dressed as Santa's elves, and scantily clad photos of themselves in the bathroom in which they forgot to flush the toilet after squating a grumpy. I feel that this may be the end of my employment and my high wage making, and therefor Any sugar momma's in the area should submit a bid a.s.a.p so that I may continue to enjoy my chosen lifestyle without fear of having things be repo'd.
I guess the point here is.If you are looking to waste time and hear about the cameras I am helping to sell. Make your way to Rogers mn, stop in at the ebst buy, and then drop about 600$ on a fancy soul stealing device that can be used to impress all your freinds with amazing quality pictures to post on your blog.
I'd buy one...but I know I could buy a car for that price, and cars go vroom.
To all those who made it this far, read further. Also don't steal your friend's girlfriends. Unless your friends are bastard women beaters then it's ok.
Stay true to yourselves or at least to your pets. End.
update. The store in which I am assigned to work this demo until the end of December, does not carry the D-SLR's in which I am supposed to sell....am I set up for failure from the beginning?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Is it wrong of me to....
Friday.
Morning.
My head hurts, I'm hungry, One job that never schedules me fired me because I have all my weekends full with work from another job. I am generally dissatisfied with the way things have been going...but that's all normal for me.
Tonight is Friday night. I don't feel like going out tonight. I am more interested in taking my daughter to the underwater aquarium at the moa. The thing I find funny about that is that it is more expensive to look at fish than it is to drink and watch a band.
How ridiculous. Fucking fish.
My mood is low moreso because of the way I was let go from the aforementioned job. By email. In what was a negative tone and manner.
But now more than ever I think I want to start my job as a martial arts brewmaster.
What better way to make money than to offer people a vigorous workout and post self-defense beer. Well besides thieving it of course but I am above that.
Seriously though, I can brew beer. I just need the equipment. It's actually pretty fun and I could brew 25 gallons of beer in about 5 hours (more beer with better equipment) The thought of being able to craft a liquid akin to what my ancestors enjoyed appeals to me, almost as much as a sword fight to the death. Anyone interestd in joining me on my fidcuciary endeavors should let me know immediately.
Morning.
My head hurts, I'm hungry, One job that never schedules me fired me because I have all my weekends full with work from another job. I am generally dissatisfied with the way things have been going...but that's all normal for me.
Tonight is Friday night. I don't feel like going out tonight. I am more interested in taking my daughter to the underwater aquarium at the moa. The thing I find funny about that is that it is more expensive to look at fish than it is to drink and watch a band.
How ridiculous. Fucking fish.
My mood is low moreso because of the way I was let go from the aforementioned job. By email. In what was a negative tone and manner.
But now more than ever I think I want to start my job as a martial arts brewmaster.
What better way to make money than to offer people a vigorous workout and post self-defense beer. Well besides thieving it of course but I am above that.
Seriously though, I can brew beer. I just need the equipment. It's actually pretty fun and I could brew 25 gallons of beer in about 5 hours (more beer with better equipment) The thought of being able to craft a liquid akin to what my ancestors enjoyed appeals to me, almost as much as a sword fight to the death. Anyone interestd in joining me on my fidcuciary endeavors should let me know immediately.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
How am I?
Well here we go, the initial post. Make it grand or, no one will return right?
Fuck that.
I don't really know how to tell anyone about me. I'm; loud, eccentric, perceived as rude, quite possibly sexist, chronically depressed, apathetic, lazy, I over-analyze everything which tends to make me irritated at my options and random in my responses, I offend people regularly even if I like them and vice versa, I enjoy a good run on sentence, I have no qualities which I feel make me an adequate member of American society.
And fuck all that.
My I.q tends to climb every time I take a damn test...I just wanted you to know.
I am phony-tough and crazy-brave.
I don't find it to be a sign of intelligence to punctuate properly, or maintain perfect spelling...I think it's just anally-retentive and borderline O.C.D, but I got dictionary.com at the ready just incase I doubt myself. And also I write this for me. So everyone else is free to feel anyway about it and I am free to hate or like you for it.
I don't really know why I'm starting a blog. For the most part I am boring and obtuse, some would argue insane, and plenty would mistake me for dangerous. I guess I just want to have a record of my goings on. Whether it's public or not didn't really matter to me but I figure if I can get people to laugh at my when I tell of my dumbassery then it may just motivate me to write a best selling memoirs (I don't really care to check dDOTc to see if that's plural or not...fuck it).
So if you got this far here is the story from the night preceding tonight. A winter night of commentable not-so-coldness. A November night involving legal booze and locking my keys in the car. A night consisting of laughs, feats of strength, and just being in my own little world as people try to talk to me...people being turbo hot women, and a person mumbling at the lcd tv's.
It all started out innocuously , the plans were to bring a party of heathens to my local Wednesday hotspot, The Mainstreet Bar and Grille. Wednesdays are karaoke, and birthday night. your birthday happens one week a year, and Mainstreets congratulates you on this yearly achievement by offering you a plastic mug, a t-shirt, and free drinks (all so long as you remember to bring your party of four) so as best to allow you to enjoy people singing karaoke on stage before your very eyes...also you get a free appetizer but not the sampler.
Anyway I can see your a.d.h.d based attention spans wandering away with the quickness as I tend to be long in the tooth so I will continue on with the tales of bravery,song, and women, but mostly bravery.
The plans changed ever so quickly as they invariably do. There was to be no party Just the good son of Brynild and I were to dazzle the fine patrons with our presence's* and good humor. So with a quick question and ever so quick response it is decided that an outside bottle of Windsor should be purchased to offset the use of over-priced under-tasty rail whiskey ( we are so cheeky).
So it is settled I am taxi, I am drinking, I am going to do stupid things.**
I still however want this shindig to be big, I like being around my friends and I feel the more the merrier. I call a few more friends; one answers and is already drunk and going to drive to someone else's place, amidst my objections he brakes into racing terms and decides it's time to go so that conversation is over. ***
I leave my domicile, purchase the dark nectarlicious liquor known as whiskey and traverse through our fine city by highway to the Hacienda la Friendship. When I arrive Andy Brynildson greets me with a smile and drinks are poured, drinks are drank,ghost hunters is watched and by me talked of poorly, more phone calls are made, against odds another friend is reached, Chris or as I remember him from Junior High "shaggy". Chris is a Wednesday night regular, a lover of Karaoke, and obviously a long time friend, he says he may show up (generally indicative of one thing). I inquire about our good friend "The Popular Nate Bash" and the answer is not positive. The night is starting to look negative. Is there something afoul running it's course through the luck of this Irish?
Well I'm kind of bored of typing this all out so long paragraph shortened I find out that Nate is less than a mile away from the Haunted Mansion and this taxi picks up another fare and also Chris decides to show up as well. (Someday I'll get this long-winded shit out of my system.)
The night as it happens at the bar.
I didn't have a strong drink (according to Andy) at the mansion so when Andy suggested that He, Nate, and Myself take a swig of our fine Canadian whiskey from the trunk of the car, a unanimous agreement is voiced and we all partake. And we all regret this choice as Windsor should never go without it's bff "The Chaser". We jostle our way through the parking lot and by the amount of cars sitting in silence between the old painted white lines I knew it to be busy inside...There would be women...and I would probably not talk to them very much...but that is ok as my sex drive has been in park recently.
We go inside and it is packed (for a Wednesday night) I sense Andy's disgruntled feelings of his previous visit in which he only got to sing one song, Nate swiftly makes his way around and Andy sidles on up to the bar to order what I thought was just dark carbonated soda. He ordered two and gave me one. I make haste to the trunk where my friend from north of our border waited to greet me with a sharktoothed grin...I am driving tonight so I decide not to pour much of W into my coke. I try to finagle the bottle into my jacket in such a way as not to be conspicuous. This doesn't prove to be difficult...all my jacket's pockets have holes in them some are quite large and they all lead into the middle of my jacket were it is sparsely filled with a fabric...possible woven gold because that jacket is ever so warm....and the bottle indeed fit...but it also made a bottle shape in my jacket.
I decide to remove my jacket and carry it in as to be sly and stealthy...it is then that I realize; 1. it is a very nice night out without the wind blowing, 2. It was already a whiskey coke and therefor I poured way too much whiskey into my whiskey. Well the gods smile upon me with teeth of brilliant white, or they laugh at me with black-toothed grins. I care not as I make my way back inside, thinking to myself ,"Fuck salt!" and I giggle . Inside it is warm...too warm to be anywhere near the green ball of woven uranium they call a military parka so it makes a few trips in and out of the trunk of the car...in the process of these trips I earn the nicknames "Badger" and "Wolverine" . Chris shows up around the first time out...The conversations normal people don't have start as soon as chris Nate and I get together ...I immensely enjoy the comfort levels I share with both Nate and Chris...verbal buffers are no longer necessary. The three of us have an interesting talk about exactly what you would expect three heterosexual unfiltered men would;women and std's. Chris decides to go inside where Kumari (sp?) is waiting for him, and Nate talks to Lisa (another Wednesday regular) I feel as if I am in the way of everyone who happens to be around the heat...mushroom (I'll take a picture this weekend so you know what I'm talking about.) because as an already large man wearing the jacket makes me have the perceived bulk of a man 40 pounds heavier (that would make me appear to be damn near 300 pounds for those keeping track at home) so I take off the jacket and on my way inside, Lyndsey shows up, she made her way from the front of the bar to where I was at the back and completely missed Andy. I find humor in this as I have done the same thing involving different people. I accompany her inside and to the table (I don't make introductions as at this point I am hyper,cold,and hot from carrying the parka around. I sit down in an uncomfortable position between the two tables we have together for the gathered group of regulars and the booths...I have the foresight to know that it will be a problem for me later but for the next 3 minutes I am ok with it. I am right next to a table full of attractive women...there are four of them, I've never seen them before, It must be someone's birthday, but for now I ignore them I have too much whiskey in my system from my whiskey whiskey soda, I get water, I drink water, I sit back down and realize that Andy is in a bad mood...I missed him sing but I don't think that's the issue the issue is the crowd is lack-luster, not including the table full of beauties directly behind me. They have a full view of my hairy ass thanks to the shirt that apparently shrunk in the wash (I feel bad for them, because it is painfully obvious since they are shorter than the back of the booths that the only thing they really can see is my plumbers crack...I fidget with my shirt for about 5 minutes and then give up).
I go outside to socialize with the smokers,Nate Jumps over the wooden fence that makes up "the smoking patio" I am impressed but decide not to try it, I ask a buddy if he has any potent smokables...and we go to smoke...I hide my keys in a coffee cup in the car in case the police decide to pull that "you had your keys, you had the intent to drive, that's a dui" bullshit. The conversation is short but the smoke is good. I am now in a realm that I prefer to be in whist in the comfort of close friends and a quiet place. I am drunk.I am high. But I enjoy it because it feels like I am in direct control of the universe...it's very hard to explain.
I go back inside conversation begins anew .Andy, Lyndsey,Logan and I have a conversation regarding I don't know what (being in control of the universe means giving up the ability to really follow what anyone says for a brief period of time) Lyndsey, Andy, and I continue talking...everything I say is so random that I don't bother to listen to myself .I am focusing on Saturn's moons , and nebulae yet undiscovered.
A woman I think is an old buddy of mine's mom is on stage...she sings horribly, she is what I determine to be ninety but she has amazing fake breasts and isn't ninety, But I think it's funny, someone's great grandma is out in a bar singing poorly and showing off ample cleavage to people...I'm astounded by this ,and her having fake breasts becomes my topic of choice for the evening.
I talk to the table of women, the birthday girl is 24,I make poor conversation and don't receive any kind of vibe that leads me to think they are able to deal with all that is me. Conversation immediately stops on my part but I think Nate takes over. This is fine I am not capable of being suave at the moment.
Andy eventually sings again... A John Cougar song, I think it's we own the night.He does remarkably wel.Sometimes I amazed that people have so much talent...considering my talents consist of pissing people off,creating uncomfortable situations for my own amusement, arguing , and every once in a blue moon I can hold a good conversation. I am now looking inwardly and realizing that I hang out with an individual who can entertain people with humor and also music. I am humbled, yet still in control of the universe.
Andy mentions our friend whiskey and we make or way out to the car. I reach into my pockets and my keys aren't there. The universe has just imploded . I freak out internally. If I had outwardly reacted the way I felt inside I probably would have screamed and run around the parking lot yelling at the top of my lungs to run way from the black hole that has sucked into it everything I've ever loved. Instead, I walked into the bar to check my jacket ,the key's are absent from the pockets. I figure they could be inside the jacket,wrong again. I get a water, I slam the water, I feel better, I remember the keys are in the coffee cup, sitting in the cup holders. I want to smart myself.
I ask Chris to borrow his car, he lends me his keys and we take the bad dogs to the pound, I get another water, I embark.
Chris's car is awkward, It has a front bench seat, the steering wheel is crushing my femurs,the anti-lock light is on. I have a bad feeling about driving the it.
Murphy, of Murphy's law fame decides to talk to me, he says , "What can go wrong will, also have you tried a lanyard?". Murphy and I laugh and I drive off.
The car drives fine but there is something funky with the brakes, I decide that If I have to stop suddenly for children of the elderly that I'd rather just not attempt it and hope for the best.
I get home, I get the spare keys, I get yelled at for smelling like booze (oddly enough at this point in time it is 11:30 I haven't had a drink in over an hour and after those two waters, I am sober, stoned...but sober. I have have a very heart felt reply to being yelled at but I don't say it. I walk away with the spare key and am told to lock the door ...I can't, my key's are in my car...in the coffee cup I left them in earlier... I just leave. I get back to the bar I get my keys and I walk back to the bar. Someone yells something to me but I cant quite hear them , I am still in my own world. I'm like a child marveling at my accomplishment ,"Did you get your keys?"
it is Andy and yes I have. The whole crew is outside Nate, Kumari,Lisa,Andy,Lyndsey,and Chris. I am in a very good mood and feeling adventurous . As I near the smomer's paradise the fence looks like child's play so I decide to try to hop it at a point where it is as tall as my nose. I decide that this is a good idea and nothing bad can come of it besides falling straight onto my face or looking stupid. I decide that I might as well try to see if working out at home has paid off. I put my hands on the top of the fence, I push down and jump up and I am airborne, I've never jumped so high from solid ground it feels awesome I am up and over the fence, I am falling, I notice the ground slants ,I land...poorly. I fall backwards and try to grip the fence with my right hand as it is still attached to the top of the fence. I hope I don't knock over the heating mushroom and cause a fire. I am swung backwards and my back goes into the corner of one of the wooden tables built into the fence. My grip holds to the fence and the table is saved.I feel like just kicked Jesus in the balls, and hard. I await my applause, I receive concern and bewilderment.Everyone thinks me to be still drunk, this is not the case. Kumari Is amazed and asks me how I did it...determination that is how. Lisa thinks the table went right into my neck, she is concerned. I tell her that the table barely pressed into my scapula, I practically crushed that table with the spade shaped bone of my shoulder. I am all that is man. The excitement is over the night plays out uneventfully I drink much water, Andy Lyndsey and I leave the bar. We go to taco bell..The window gets stuck partially up, it's done that three times this year, it's an easy but frustrating fix. The night ends with me smiling about the fact that I actually was able to jump that fence...Small victories.
I am a man, I am an animal, I live life one step at a time.
My knee is swollen today. I jumped that fucking fence,people were impressed and I'm smiling right now, because that fence is now my bitch.
by the way the cd of the night was Zihn Vo Slavu (live for the glory) by Arkona, the drink of the night was water, and the cheese of the night was not melted.
*after the immediate realization that my original spelling of this particular word, as I was checking dDOTc for the proper one It made me giggle as it reminded me of a Christmas morning long ago, before I told religion to check it's bag of tricks at the door.
** I don't drive drunk, seriously...preach to someone else or you will be eaten and inextricably destroyed through the age old process of digestion
*** my friend passed out before driving and is ok.
Fuck that.
I don't really know how to tell anyone about me. I'm; loud, eccentric, perceived as rude, quite possibly sexist, chronically depressed, apathetic, lazy, I over-analyze everything which tends to make me irritated at my options and random in my responses, I offend people regularly even if I like them and vice versa, I enjoy a good run on sentence, I have no qualities which I feel make me an adequate member of American society.
And fuck all that.
My I.q tends to climb every time I take a damn test...I just wanted you to know.
I am phony-tough and crazy-brave.
I don't find it to be a sign of intelligence to punctuate properly, or maintain perfect spelling...I think it's just anally-retentive and borderline O.C.D, but I got dictionary.com at the ready just incase I doubt myself. And also I write this for me. So everyone else is free to feel anyway about it and I am free to hate or like you for it.
I don't really know why I'm starting a blog. For the most part I am boring and obtuse, some would argue insane, and plenty would mistake me for dangerous. I guess I just want to have a record of my goings on. Whether it's public or not didn't really matter to me but I figure if I can get people to laugh at my when I tell of my dumbassery then it may just motivate me to write a best selling memoirs (I don't really care to check dDOTc to see if that's plural or not...fuck it).
So if you got this far here is the story from the night preceding tonight. A winter night of commentable not-so-coldness. A November night involving legal booze and locking my keys in the car. A night consisting of laughs, feats of strength, and just being in my own little world as people try to talk to me...people being turbo hot women, and a person mumbling at the lcd tv's.
It all started out innocuously , the plans were to bring a party of heathens to my local Wednesday hotspot, The Mainstreet Bar and Grille. Wednesdays are karaoke, and birthday night. your birthday happens one week a year, and Mainstreets congratulates you on this yearly achievement by offering you a plastic mug, a t-shirt, and free drinks (all so long as you remember to bring your party of four) so as best to allow you to enjoy people singing karaoke on stage before your very eyes...also you get a free appetizer but not the sampler.
Anyway I can see your a.d.h.d based attention spans wandering away with the quickness as I tend to be long in the tooth so I will continue on with the tales of bravery,song, and women, but mostly bravery.
The plans changed ever so quickly as they invariably do. There was to be no party Just the good son of Brynild and I were to dazzle the fine patrons with our presence's* and good humor. So with a quick question and ever so quick response it is decided that an outside bottle of Windsor should be purchased to offset the use of over-priced under-tasty rail whiskey ( we are so cheeky).
So it is settled I am taxi, I am drinking, I am going to do stupid things.**
I still however want this shindig to be big, I like being around my friends and I feel the more the merrier. I call a few more friends; one answers and is already drunk and going to drive to someone else's place, amidst my objections he brakes into racing terms and decides it's time to go so that conversation is over. ***
I leave my domicile, purchase the dark nectarlicious liquor known as whiskey and traverse through our fine city by highway to the Hacienda la Friendship. When I arrive Andy Brynildson greets me with a smile and drinks are poured, drinks are drank,ghost hunters is watched and by me talked of poorly, more phone calls are made, against odds another friend is reached, Chris or as I remember him from Junior High "shaggy". Chris is a Wednesday night regular, a lover of Karaoke, and obviously a long time friend, he says he may show up (generally indicative of one thing). I inquire about our good friend "The Popular Nate Bash" and the answer is not positive. The night is starting to look negative. Is there something afoul running it's course through the luck of this Irish?
Well I'm kind of bored of typing this all out so long paragraph shortened I find out that Nate is less than a mile away from the Haunted Mansion and this taxi picks up another fare and also Chris decides to show up as well. (Someday I'll get this long-winded shit out of my system.)
The night as it happens at the bar.
I didn't have a strong drink (according to Andy) at the mansion so when Andy suggested that He, Nate, and Myself take a swig of our fine Canadian whiskey from the trunk of the car, a unanimous agreement is voiced and we all partake. And we all regret this choice as Windsor should never go without it's bff "The Chaser". We jostle our way through the parking lot and by the amount of cars sitting in silence between the old painted white lines I knew it to be busy inside...There would be women...and I would probably not talk to them very much...but that is ok as my sex drive has been in park recently.
We go inside and it is packed (for a Wednesday night) I sense Andy's disgruntled feelings of his previous visit in which he only got to sing one song, Nate swiftly makes his way around and Andy sidles on up to the bar to order what I thought was just dark carbonated soda. He ordered two and gave me one. I make haste to the trunk where my friend from north of our border waited to greet me with a sharktoothed grin...I am driving tonight so I decide not to pour much of W into my coke. I try to finagle the bottle into my jacket in such a way as not to be conspicuous. This doesn't prove to be difficult...all my jacket's pockets have holes in them some are quite large and they all lead into the middle of my jacket were it is sparsely filled with a fabric...possible woven gold because that jacket is ever so warm....and the bottle indeed fit...but it also made a bottle shape in my jacket.
I decide to remove my jacket and carry it in as to be sly and stealthy...it is then that I realize; 1. it is a very nice night out without the wind blowing, 2. It was already a whiskey coke and therefor I poured way too much whiskey into my whiskey. Well the gods smile upon me with teeth of brilliant white, or they laugh at me with black-toothed grins. I care not as I make my way back inside, thinking to myself ,"Fuck salt!" and I giggle . Inside it is warm...too warm to be anywhere near the green ball of woven uranium they call a military parka so it makes a few trips in and out of the trunk of the car...in the process of these trips I earn the nicknames "Badger" and "Wolverine" . Chris shows up around the first time out...The conversations normal people don't have start as soon as chris Nate and I get together ...I immensely enjoy the comfort levels I share with both Nate and Chris...verbal buffers are no longer necessary. The three of us have an interesting talk about exactly what you would expect three heterosexual unfiltered men would;women and std's. Chris decides to go inside where Kumari (sp?) is waiting for him, and Nate talks to Lisa (another Wednesday regular) I feel as if I am in the way of everyone who happens to be around the heat...mushroom (I'll take a picture this weekend so you know what I'm talking about.) because as an already large man wearing the jacket makes me have the perceived bulk of a man 40 pounds heavier (that would make me appear to be damn near 300 pounds for those keeping track at home) so I take off the jacket and on my way inside, Lyndsey shows up, she made her way from the front of the bar to where I was at the back and completely missed Andy. I find humor in this as I have done the same thing involving different people. I accompany her inside and to the table (I don't make introductions as at this point I am hyper,cold,and hot from carrying the parka around. I sit down in an uncomfortable position between the two tables we have together for the gathered group of regulars and the booths...I have the foresight to know that it will be a problem for me later but for the next 3 minutes I am ok with it. I am right next to a table full of attractive women...there are four of them, I've never seen them before, It must be someone's birthday, but for now I ignore them I have too much whiskey in my system from my whiskey whiskey soda, I get water, I drink water, I sit back down and realize that Andy is in a bad mood...I missed him sing but I don't think that's the issue the issue is the crowd is lack-luster, not including the table full of beauties directly behind me. They have a full view of my hairy ass thanks to the shirt that apparently shrunk in the wash (I feel bad for them, because it is painfully obvious since they are shorter than the back of the booths that the only thing they really can see is my plumbers crack...I fidget with my shirt for about 5 minutes and then give up).
I go outside to socialize with the smokers,Nate Jumps over the wooden fence that makes up "the smoking patio" I am impressed but decide not to try it, I ask a buddy if he has any potent smokables...and we go to smoke...I hide my keys in a coffee cup in the car in case the police decide to pull that "you had your keys, you had the intent to drive, that's a dui" bullshit. The conversation is short but the smoke is good. I am now in a realm that I prefer to be in whist in the comfort of close friends and a quiet place. I am drunk.I am high. But I enjoy it because it feels like I am in direct control of the universe...it's very hard to explain.
I go back inside conversation begins anew .Andy, Lyndsey,Logan and I have a conversation regarding I don't know what (being in control of the universe means giving up the ability to really follow what anyone says for a brief period of time) Lyndsey, Andy, and I continue talking...everything I say is so random that I don't bother to listen to myself .I am focusing on Saturn's moons , and nebulae yet undiscovered.
A woman I think is an old buddy of mine's mom is on stage...she sings horribly, she is what I determine to be ninety but she has amazing fake breasts and isn't ninety, But I think it's funny, someone's great grandma is out in a bar singing poorly and showing off ample cleavage to people...I'm astounded by this ,and her having fake breasts becomes my topic of choice for the evening.
I talk to the table of women, the birthday girl is 24,I make poor conversation and don't receive any kind of vibe that leads me to think they are able to deal with all that is me. Conversation immediately stops on my part but I think Nate takes over. This is fine I am not capable of being suave at the moment.
Andy eventually sings again... A John Cougar song, I think it's we own the night.He does remarkably wel.Sometimes I amazed that people have so much talent...considering my talents consist of pissing people off,creating uncomfortable situations for my own amusement, arguing , and every once in a blue moon I can hold a good conversation. I am now looking inwardly and realizing that I hang out with an individual who can entertain people with humor and also music. I am humbled, yet still in control of the universe.
Andy mentions our friend whiskey and we make or way out to the car. I reach into my pockets and my keys aren't there. The universe has just imploded . I freak out internally. If I had outwardly reacted the way I felt inside I probably would have screamed and run around the parking lot yelling at the top of my lungs to run way from the black hole that has sucked into it everything I've ever loved. Instead, I walked into the bar to check my jacket ,the key's are absent from the pockets. I figure they could be inside the jacket,wrong again. I get a water, I slam the water, I feel better, I remember the keys are in the coffee cup, sitting in the cup holders. I want to smart myself.
I ask Chris to borrow his car, he lends me his keys and we take the bad dogs to the pound, I get another water, I embark.
Chris's car is awkward, It has a front bench seat, the steering wheel is crushing my femurs,the anti-lock light is on. I have a bad feeling about driving the it.
Murphy, of Murphy's law fame decides to talk to me, he says , "What can go wrong will, also have you tried a lanyard?". Murphy and I laugh and I drive off.
The car drives fine but there is something funky with the brakes, I decide that If I have to stop suddenly for children of the elderly that I'd rather just not attempt it and hope for the best.
I get home, I get the spare keys, I get yelled at for smelling like booze (oddly enough at this point in time it is 11:30 I haven't had a drink in over an hour and after those two waters, I am sober, stoned...but sober. I have have a very heart felt reply to being yelled at but I don't say it. I walk away with the spare key and am told to lock the door ...I can't, my key's are in my car...in the coffee cup I left them in earlier... I just leave. I get back to the bar I get my keys and I walk back to the bar. Someone yells something to me but I cant quite hear them , I am still in my own world. I'm like a child marveling at my accomplishment ,"Did you get your keys?"
it is Andy and yes I have. The whole crew is outside Nate, Kumari,Lisa,Andy,Lyndsey,and Chris. I am in a very good mood and feeling adventurous . As I near the smomer's paradise the fence looks like child's play so I decide to try to hop it at a point where it is as tall as my nose. I decide that this is a good idea and nothing bad can come of it besides falling straight onto my face or looking stupid. I decide that I might as well try to see if working out at home has paid off. I put my hands on the top of the fence, I push down and jump up and I am airborne, I've never jumped so high from solid ground it feels awesome I am up and over the fence, I am falling, I notice the ground slants ,I land...poorly. I fall backwards and try to grip the fence with my right hand as it is still attached to the top of the fence. I hope I don't knock over the heating mushroom and cause a fire. I am swung backwards and my back goes into the corner of one of the wooden tables built into the fence. My grip holds to the fence and the table is saved.I feel like just kicked Jesus in the balls, and hard. I await my applause, I receive concern and bewilderment.Everyone thinks me to be still drunk, this is not the case. Kumari Is amazed and asks me how I did it...determination that is how. Lisa thinks the table went right into my neck, she is concerned. I tell her that the table barely pressed into my scapula, I practically crushed that table with the spade shaped bone of my shoulder. I am all that is man. The excitement is over the night plays out uneventfully I drink much water, Andy Lyndsey and I leave the bar. We go to taco bell..The window gets stuck partially up, it's done that three times this year, it's an easy but frustrating fix. The night ends with me smiling about the fact that I actually was able to jump that fence...Small victories.
I am a man, I am an animal, I live life one step at a time.
My knee is swollen today. I jumped that fucking fence,people were impressed and I'm smiling right now, because that fence is now my bitch.
by the way the cd of the night was Zihn Vo Slavu (live for the glory) by Arkona, the drink of the night was water, and the cheese of the night was not melted.
*after the immediate realization that my original spelling of this particular word, as I was checking dDOTc for the proper one It made me giggle as it reminded me of a Christmas morning long ago, before I told religion to check it's bag of tricks at the door.
** I don't drive drunk, seriously...preach to someone else or you will be eaten and inextricably destroyed through the age old process of digestion
*** my friend passed out before driving and is ok.
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