• So I bought three $25 Target gift cards for my half-brother’s three kids. Long story short: He lives in Nebraska and is a doctor. He got divorced because his ex-wife is a psycho and I rarely talk to him. Not because I hate him, but he’s a DOCTOR with THREE KIDS. There’s more important things to do in life than call your little half-brother to talk about the Steelers/Pirates/Penguins. In fact, he was a groomsman at my wedding, and he’s one of the few people in my family that graduated an educational institution other than high school. Well, the better half and I bought these gift cards about two weeks ago, but as of yesterday morning they weren’t mailed out. Why is that? Because Mrs. kkk wants to put each one of them in a f’n gift box. Like my brother’s two kids that are 7-8 years old are going to give a shit. But no, we just have to have them in boxes. Well the better half went out this past weekend to the local dollar store to get these stupid boxes. Then she discovered that these boxes, when opened, were filled with mold and this brown shit. Did she take that as an omen that maybe gift boxes might not be necessary in this instance of gift-giving? Of course not. She went to several other stores to find these gift boxes, but nobody had what she was seeking. So yesterday afternoon she began to CRY because this holiday season wasn’t going how she wanted it to be. Seemingly every day when she’s not at her second job she’s doing something with her mom/niece/etc., whether it’s holiday shopping, going to some Christmas school concert, or whatever. And what would happen if Mrs. kkk would actually turn down one of these Christmas concerts or trips to the mall? She would feel guilty. So when she goes to all these events/errands, this means she has no time to do what she really wants to do for the holidays – baking cookies, sending out cards, buying gift boxes for gift cards from Target, etc. The good news is that she finally relented about those stupid gift boxes, and I’m happy to report that I mailed an envelope with the three gift cards enclosed, and they are on their way to Omaha.
But the fun doesn’t stop there. A few days ago I made a reference to re-gifting a Blockbuster card for a co-worker at the better half’s workplace and was given a rude awakening about the policy Blockbuster has regarding gift cards. After going to a nearby Blockbuster to find out how much shelf life our gift card had left, I found out that there was only a few days remaining(!). After informing the better half of this, she went out and bought a much cheaper gift card for her co-worker. The reason she went down on the price is that she’s getting a bad vibe from this person. It’s one of those cases where this person isn’t showing up for work half the time, and in a way I’m actually proud of her because Mrs. kkk is one of those people who just want everyone to like her. Normally the better half would be bending over backwards for every co-worker, cashier clerk and nearby motorist to approve of her existence, but after her last job I think she’s starting to become a bit jaded with seeking approval from anyone not her mother. Yay, I guess. Oddly enough, I could give a rat’s ass what my family thinks of me, let alone strangers, so perhaps there is some truth to that whole “opposites attract” thing.
• The Denver Nuggets just got Allen Iverson from the 76ers.
Bob Ryan on PTI this afternoon echoed my thoughts about this transaction. Denver now has a nice little team with two great scorers, but they still aren’t going anywhere near the NBA finals. I must say that I’ve never had a problem with Iverson. The guy plays hard and never seemed to really have a strong supporting cast. Sure he likes to shoot the ball, but that’s what he’s supposed to do. I’m sure he’d be a bastard to coach and all that, but I don’t care. I remember watching some playoff games where he would get brutalized while driving the lane, yet he would get up and do it again next time down the court. Oh well, he’s financially set for life, so I really don’t give a shit where he plays.
• I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You get an adjustable rate mortgage/subprime loan and you deserve what you get. I’m supposed to feel sorry for these people? Fuck that. Go blame your woes on George W. Bush.
• Well they say Famous deaths always come in threes. First was James Brown. Next was Gerald Ford. Who will be number three? Saddam Hussein?
Then again, that Peter Boyle hippie might have been number one in this trio. Who knows. Regarding the death of Ford, I never paid much attention to his presidency. I remember hearing on Rush’s show once some sub-host (either Tony Snow or Michael Medved) said he had the most vetos of any four-year president. He pardoned Nixon and lost to that doofus Jimmy Carter. He also played football. That’s all I got.
• Interesting. We named our most recent kitty acquisition Max, and there’s a weiner dog named Max that lives across from us. Interesting note: last winter (or was it two winters ago?) I was watching my Max looking out our front-door window and he had that look whenever a cat sees something outside like a bird or a bug. I looked out the window to see what caught his eye, and it was Max romping about outside. Suddenly, this stupid dog ran in front of a moving car, and for a second I thought I was going to witness the premature end to the neighborhoods dachshund. Forturnatly, the car wasn’t speeding and was able to stop before hitting the dog. Had this vehicle killed Max, I wouldn’t have blamed the driver for this one. I let the neighbors know of what had happened and unfortunately for Max he now spends most of his outside time on a leash next to his bigger canine companion. It’s a shame, too, because it was fun to throw snowballs at him as I went to get the mail and he did his pseudo-charge at me that would switch into to a full-fledged retreat the moment I turned around to face the ravenous beast. There were also times I remember Max romping about in my yard, and even up to my front door, much to the chagrin of my three kids.
Oh, yeah. Here’s the story that prompted me to type the above paragraph:
6:30 p.m.
• Ha. Another caller on today’s show talked about how she and her fiancee had to take some written test because they were going to get married in a Catholic church. Oy, I remember completing that retarded thing. The priest was “concerned” with the answers the better half and I had. The only things we agreed on were financial matters that showed we were experienced with bill-paying and other things, thus revealing that we were living in sin. Ohs nos. I didn’t give a shit if Fr. Whatever-his-name was knew about our co-habitation, but Mrs. kkk had never told him we lived in sin and didn’t want him knowing. Whatever. The other thing we agreed on dealt with not having kids, which the priest didn’t take kindly to. After all, if we don’t reproduce, who will he sodomize? Although I have to call bullshit on this hippie test because we had three answers to choose from: “yes,” “no” and “not applicable” (or something like that). Of course, I get told after we got the results back that a “NA” answer just counted as a “no.” Half of my answers were “NA” because the questions didn’t apply to our situation because they dealt with my side of the family, and I pretty much stay away from these people. God that test was f’n retarded.
• Barbaro is now up in that big pasture up in the sky. I’m not going to make “OMG NOW THE GLUE FACTORY HAS A NEW ORDER LOL” but goddamn, ESPN, give it a rest. Stay tuned for “highlights of this magnificent creature”? I’m not going to goof on people getting emotional about the death of an animal, but ESPN doesn’t even act like this most of the time when human athletes tragically leave this planet too early. Barbaro’s owners decided to euthanize the horse after a recent surgery setback, and the decision to do this couldn’t have been an easy one. When my one cat got sick back in September of 2004, the better half and I decided against euthanizing. Did we make the right choice? I don’t know, but we decided that Shadow, who we took in as a stray back in 2001, would go out when he wanted to. And that’s what pretty much happened. One of the lasting memories I have of him was, even with several clumps of fur shaved off from him due to IV and other medical procedures, he crept up behind our female cat one evening and swatted her on her backside, much to her chagrin. Would I do this again? I don’t know. If Dessa, JJ or Max make it to double digits in years, then we’ll probably opt for euthanasia, but when the pet is only four years old, which was the case with Shadow, and is showing the will to live, that’s when I may think otherwise.
1:30 p.m.
• And now it’s time for the Dr. Laura call of the day (or whenever I feel like doing this). A woman just said that she caught her husband in the middle of a “cyber-affair” with their next-door neighbor. Are we so lazy in this country that we can’t go one house over to cheat on our spouses?
10:30 p.m.
• Esiason just said it was great that Tony Dungy gave thanks to "his" God. Esiason is a Muslim? Maybe that's why he's called "Boom"er.
10:15 p.m.
• I love Tony Dungy. When asked in the post-game segment about him being THE FIRST BLACK HEAD COACH TO WIN A SUPER BOWL, he said that was significant, but it was more significant that he and Lovie Smith were CHRISTIAN coaches. The New York Slimes is going to hate printing that.
10 p.m.
• The MVP award will probably go to Manning, but I'd vote for Colts' running backs. I think "co-" awards are gay, but Rhodes has 110+ yards rushing, and Addai has 10 catches.
9:45 p.m.
• No more "CONGRATS BLACK PEOPLE FOR HAVING TWO HEAD COACHES IN THIS GAME" ads. Please. For the love of God. Also, ain't it funny that in this game that features TWO BLACK HEAD COACHES, the most notable person in this game (unless something drastic happens in the last seven minutes of regulation) is the Jew quarterback?
• Don't blame me. I voted for Swann.
2 p.m.
• Hey, did I mention I went two-for-two in my Conference Championship picks? Yay, and stuff. Now it’s time to pick the Super Bowl. How will this game go? Who knows. I can see this contest going a number of ways. Will the Colts light up the scoreboard like the 49ers did against the Chargers back in XXIX, or will the Bears grind it out against a much more potent offense than their own, like the Giants did against the Bills in XXV? Will a big special teams play turn the course of the game, like the Packers had in Desmond Howard against the Patriots in XXXI? all of these scenarios are possible; all you have to do is just pick one and hope it works out. When looking at Super Bowls, particularly ones more recent, two things come to mind.
A great defense tends to best a great offense.
With all the hype leading up to this game, many times it seems it takes a quarter or so for one team (or both) to get situated.
Another thing I look at is the secondary matchup. Sure the marquee contest is Indy’s offense against Chicago’s defense. However, the game will probably be determined when the other units are on the field. If the Colts defense stuffs the Bears offense, it’s over and vice versa. Because of everything I have mentioned above, I’m going with the Bears 23, Colts 20. I’m now expecting a 49-0 blowout of the Bears in a few hours.
• One sorta tradition I have done off and on during this time of the year is watching highlights from previous Super Bowls. I just watched a few hours’ worth this afternoon, and I have to say that I don’t like the seemingly recent trend of mentioning what the halftime show was about. The Eagles/Pats recap talked about Paul McCartney, and the Seahawks/Steelers show mentioned the Rolling Stones. Odd how the Panthers/Patriots mid-game entertainment wasn’t mentioned. I have to say I don’t like the “newer” Super Bowl recaps of the 90s-00s, but whatever. NFL Films knows more than me about the subject of video production.
7:45 p.m.
• Of course, I haven’t talked about the most important thing regarding this year’s Super Bowl: How were the ads? Not good, I’m afraid. Below are my opinions regarding this year's batch.
“Reception” by Bud. Whatever.
“Class Mencia” by Bud. I knew where this was going five seconds into this ad, and I like Carlos Mencia so I’m probably a bit biased with this one. One of my preferred ads, but that’s not saying much with this year's crop.
“Live the Flavor” by Doritos. Was this the homemade ad that aired? If so, it wasn’t half bad. Hell, if that chick would have been on all fours for the entire 30 seconds, this would be my favorite commercial of the night.
“Snickers Super Bowl Ad.” Retarded. And no, it’s not because I’m a homophobe. I’m all about making fun of rednecks, those with mullets or other semblances of white trash, but it just wasn’t all that humorous.
“Rock Paper Scissors” by Bud. Eh.
“But He has Bud Light.” This one was so-so up until the end when the Ax guy comments on Chainsaw Man. That got a laugh out of me.
“Fist Bump” by Bud. Fist bump in the face the people that came up with this one.
“Coca-Cola Videogame.” I thought the ad was dumb, but I did like the animation, if that makes any sense.
“RollinVIP” by Nationwide. Fuck the fast-food haters, I liked this one. A lot. And until this ad I had never heard the former Mr. Spears talk.
“Comb-Over” by Sierra Mist. And that Ian Black guy goofs on other people from decades past?
“We’re Obsessed with Quality” by GM. The only thing that made me laugh is knowing that union workers are “obsessed with quality.” Otherwise, awful.
“Dalmation” by Bud. I’m sure a lot of people liked this one, but not me. Nothing wrong with having dogs in your ads, though.
“Boogeyman” by Emerald Nuts. “Robert Goulet appears and messes with your stuff.” What the hell? I’m saying “what the hell” in a good way, mind you.
“Check Out Girl” by Doritos. I guess this won that hippie contest, too. I liked the first one better. Much better. Get this chick down on all fours and you can put a saddle on her. ... After getting that image into my head, I think I might have to amend my previous sentence.
“New Steak Grilled Taquitos” by Taco Bell. Similar to the Dalmatian ad, I’m sure people liked this one; I just didn’t.
“Promotion Pit” By Career Builder. I don’t really care for this ad, but having gone through the experiences I have in the past three years at my place of employment, I think I like these kinds of ads more than I normally would if I were working at some place not headed up by fucking idiots. The “delivery guy” earned a chuckle.
“Generic Ad Name” by Garmin. Was over-the-top and dumb, but that’s a good thing. I approve.
“King Crab” by Bud. Didn’t care for it. Then again, I’m not a beer drinker so my opinion on these Bud ads may be tainted.
“Not What it Seems” by FedEx. There have been some funny FedEx ads like this in the past, but this ain’t one of them.
“Happiness Factory" By Coca-Cola. The fuck? People spent money making this shit?
“Darts & Jungle” by Career Builder. Not as well-liked as the above Career Builder. The “lemming shot” was good, though.
“Great Apes” by Bud. Stupid.
“Moon Office” by FedEx. Ugh. Stick to the “office-type” ads.
“Finger” by E-Trade. Wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great. I was waiting for the "middle finger" reference.
“Go Daddy.” I’ve never liked these Go Daddy ads. Hey, let’s put a chick with big tits in front of a camera wearing one of our shirts! See, with the Doritos ad I mentioned above dealing with the chick on all fours, that image was only on for a second, leaving much to the imagination. If you’re going to exploit big-chested women with nothing in-between their ears and an inferno in-between their legs, at least make it somewhat amusing.
“Hard to Say Goodbye” by the NFL. The Radier scenes were cute.
“Car Wash” by Chevy. Dreadful.
“Connectile Dysfunction” by Sprint. This is one of my favorite ads of the lot, if only because it’s goofing on all those four-hour boner ads. Or at least that’s my opinion of what they were trying to get across.
“Performance Evaluation” by Career Builder. I didn’t see this one during the game; I think this is my favorite Career Builder ad so far.
“Tundra Ramp” by Toyota. Those ads didn’t do it for me. Then again, I don’t beat off to vehicles that have oodles of horsepower and all that other shit.
“Karate” by Sierra Mist. They thought it was a good idea to make more than one Ian Black ad? I'm going to pretend that guy who makes fun of Hot Pockets weren't in these ads, too.
“Black History Timeline” by Coca-Cola. Do I really need to comment on this one?
“Autograph” by Foot Locker. No.
“JayZ vs. Shula” by Bud. Didn’t see this one during the game. Eh.
“Wild Hogs Movie.” The “But all I could think of was black jokes” line was amusing, but otherwise, ugh.
“Bank Robbery” by E-Trade. I feel for what they were trying to do, so I’m not going to hate on it…
“Meet the Robinsons Movie.” … But I WILL hate on this. What the fuck?!
“Green Tea” by Snapple. “It’s on the back of the bottle.” I knew it was coming, but the Jap's delivery was solid.
“See Saw” by Toyota. See my previous Toyota comment.
“Ain’t We Got Love” by Chevy. I really liked this one. Way, way more better than “This is Our Country.” I marked out when I heard LL.
“Orange County Choppers” by HP. So Orange County Choppers is a motorcycle business? I always wondered what those clothing items were pimping.
“Beat Your Heart Risk” by some hippie organization. Who made this shit?
“A Man’s Walk” by Van Heusen. The old “re-wind the ad” trick. Sorry, but I liked it better when alcohol companies did it with ads showing who the designated driver would be in a group of friends.
“Pride Movie.” First there was the football movie “Remember the Titans” that showed us the evils of RACISM. Then there was “Glory Road,” taking us through the struggles of black people playing college basketball. Now there’s a SWIMMING movie about this subject?
“Fuel Efficient Cars are the Shizzle,” by Honda. Oh boy, another ad showing a bunch of cars driving across barren land in pretty patterns. Click.
“Hannibal Rising.” I’m not a huge Hannibal fan, but I’ll watch these movies. I won’t watch them in a theater though. This will be a DVD’er.
“Men of the Year” by the United Way. Fuck this commie organization and their sexist hiring practices.
“Sales Genie.” Retarded. Simply retarded.
“Sheryl Crow Ad” by Revlon. I hate Sheryl Crow. Really, really, really hate her. Almost as much as I hate nl-asshole. That’s all I’m going to say about this one.
“Honda CR-V.” At least it had that “Hunka Burning Love” song. That’s about all I can say about this one.
“Flomax Ad.” Oh for Christ’s sake. Another one of these “Here’s to men” ads with them doing gay things like biking and boating. And they’re drinking WATER! I hate these ads. You know when the cameras stop rolling they’re all BUTT-fucking each other. “Real men” go out in the woods drinking bear, hunting defenseless animals and don’t care about having to go to the bathroom because they just piss in the bushes. Then again, I really wouldn’t know because I don’t hunt. But I bet that's what they do. And BUTT-fuck each other, of course.
OK, now let me scan through this list and come up with my insta-top five ads.
5) “Boogeyman,” by Emerald Nuts.
4) “Green Tea,” by Snapple.
3) “RollinVIP” by Nationwide.
2) “Connectile Dysfunction,” by Sprint.
1) “Ain’t We Got Love,” by Chevy.
9:15 p.m.
• OK, it's a Friday night, and I haven't had to speak to anyone at work for several days. This means it's time for a kkk LOVE FEST! That's means I'm going to say some stuff that you might not normally expect to come out of my mouth, err, through my keyboard.
Topic 1:Democrats in Congress. That's right, you heard me. I feel for you people. Look, I hate most of you fuckers, and you cater to the lazy and stupid. However, even I have to feel for you on some level.
Jesus Christ, it's only been THREE MONTHS! And Congress didn't even get back into session until JANUARY. There's plenty of time between now and '08 for these pinko commie shitwads to implement their destructive schemes. Give them some time to decorate their offices first.
Topic 2: Miss America. I can't stand Nancy Pelosi. How that dumb bitch ever got into a position of power baffles me. In fact, it is downright frightening. But this latest flap about her wanting some hippie jet to shoot herself to and from her congressional district of homos, faggots and queers is a bit too much, even for me to swallow ... ew.
I heard some bitching on RIGHT-WING RADIO about how the previous Speaker of the House didn't use that big a jet to travel around. Then again, Dennis Hastert didn't have to fly from coast to coast. I haven't been paying attention to this story, but what if you need the bigger jet for a nonstop flight from DC to California? And if she wants to bring a few politicians from her state aboard, let her. That's just less fuel that will have to be used to fly those people back and forth as well. Now if Miss America starts ordering flights for people on this aircraft without her in it, then I'll raise an eyebrow, but for now just shutup about this. And don't go bitching that this is a waste of taxpayer dollars. Jesus Christ.
OK, that's enough of the kkk Friday night LIVE FEST. I'm getting the urge to take a shower now.
5:30 p.m.
• Everything's bigger in Texas, even the people.
• I stopped reading this article after its first two paragraphs. It can't possibly get any better.
8 p.m.
• So I reserved a room for a March out-of-town excursion, and the hotel chick gave me the price, which was of course “before taxes.” For those that don’t leave their parent’s house, hotels are like cigarettes when it comes to taxing. Local governments don’t want to tax their constituents, so they jack up taxes for out-of-town visitors, and if someone is going on a business trip to that area, it’s not like they are going to sleep in their rent-a-car before the big presentation the next day. For a laugh, I like asking how much a room is “after taxes,” which often results in the hotel employee answering in a nervous tone. What the hell am I going to do? OMG WHY ARE THERE SO MANY TAXES GWAAAR! Well, actually, I’m sure there are people out there who probably do such things. I guess hotel executives figure if they quote a customer a price “before taxes,” that will make their establishment more appealing due to the “lower” rate and by the time the weary traveler arrives, they would be too exhausted to bitch about the taxes added on to their room.
12:30 p.m.
• Well this was an odd way to start out the day. First off, I woke up at 7 a.m. because the cats were walking all over the bed trying to get one of us up to feed them. They get fed twice a day – once when we wake up, once before we go to bed. During the workweek they get their food at around 5:45 a.m. and then at around 9:30 p.m. However, when it’s the weekend, we tend to wake up later, but Dessa, JJ and Max have none of that. Well, maybe not so much JJ, because all he does is mill around in the room where they get fed; Dessa and Max do the dirty work. They have pretty much learned to not even try with me because I generally don’t wake up for anything, so they focus their efforts toward the better half. Dessa either wakes her up with the old “sniffing the nose” trick, and if that doesn’t work she’ll chew on her hair. Max is less creative; all he does is go up to her face and meow, although I think he’s discovered a way to get me up. What he does is walk over on my nightstand and start knocking shit down to the floor. Now the actual knocking of objects (usually just my contact lens case and deodorant) don’t actually wake me up, but rather the long fur from his tail that is hitting my face does the trick (I sleep on my side facing my nightstand). I vaguely remember this morning. I felt Dessa and Max walking all over us, and while Dessa was doing her thing, Max was knocking my contact lens case over. All I remember is hearing Mrs. kkk say, “Alright I’ll get your food; Jesus Christ,” and me reaching for the squirt bottle to spray Max. I looked at the clock to see that it was 7 a.m. and went back to bed.
I don’t know what the hell happened to me or what I was dreaming, but I woke up at 11:30 a.m. Normally I don’t get up so late (although I used to; good times), but when I did I was sore all over. I was also dreaming, but I can’t remember what it was about. All I remembered was that I was back in high school as a senior and our one class had split into groups, and this one girl, Wendy Welsh, began reading/singing this story about one of those Chronoicles of Narnia books. She was reading this from a fill-in-the-blank test score sheets where you fill in answers to multiple-choice or true/false questions. I didn’t have one of these sheets and had no idea what the hell was going on. And the song/story she was singing? I have no clue. I’ve never read any of those hippie books, except for the “Lion, Witch and Wardrobe,” and that was when I was a kid in a Christian grade school. So this story could not even have been related to the whole Narnia thing, although that lion was involved, along with those beavers. That’s all I remember from this dream, and when I woke up, that made-up song Wendy was singing was still in my head! When I got up, I looked at the clock and it read 11:30. I went to the bathroom to do my thing, when suddenly the doorbell rang. The cats scattered, and I finished wiping. I threw on my sweatpants and shirt, both lying on the floor by my bed, and trudged toward the door, not knowing what adventures were in store for me.
I opened the door, and there it was – two Jehovah’s Witnesses. Good Lord. I could barely keep my eyes open from the bright lights and cold, biting wind going through my screen door. They asked me if I would like this literature about how “Religion is dying,” and I said … shit, I can’t remember what I said. I’ve never dealt with these people before, but I’ve heard stories. I wasn’t in the mood, or in the form, to say, “Get the fuck off my property you wackos,” either. So, due to the fact I had just minutes ago gotten up from bed and had most of my hair sticking up and that funky crap in my eyes, I had an ideal get-out-of-Jesus-Freaks-line. “I’m battling a cold and took a bunch of medication last night.” I then coughed toward their direction. They made a remark about how cold it was, gave me their pamphlets and left, but not after I shook the one’s hand. The hand I wiped my crack with just minutes ago and forgot to wash.
What has this got to do with anything? Haven’t got the slightest clue. Sorry. I’ve washed my hands since then … or at least I think I did. If not, I guess I’m typing in my own filth.
• What's do we have here?
Oh? Do go on.
How can this NOT fail? They negotiated for 16 WHOLE HOURS! But then again, I don't think Jimmy Carter was involved, so there will be no Nobel Prizes to gain.
Uh, didn't they already agree to scrap its nuclear program, like 10 years ago? Oh, yeah, it did.
This is my favorite part. Using the football analogy.
Yeah, and what's going to happen when North Korea decides to go for the long bomb?
• Wow, that didn't last long.
Then again, Arrington was hurt for much of the season. Hope he liked becoming a free agent while he was a disgruntled Redskin.
7 a.m.
• So the Dixie Terrorists won some Grammy Awards.
Big shock there. I forgot they even had an album out. Great. Now this will probably be all over cable news for the next day or so, giving me just another reason to tune out.
8 p.m.
• I almost forgot. On the drive home from work today through pseudo-hippieville, I came across a bumper sticker that got a laugh out of me. "Frodo failed -- Bush got the Ring!"
7:30 p.m.
• In response to the comments going on from yesterday’s entry, here’s some advice to SFAJack: Just accept it the blue towels. The sooner you do, the better off you'll be. Don’t try to figure out the female species. It ain’t worth it. Believe me, I know what you’re going through. My life is filled with similar eye-rolling moments. The trick is to be selective in what you want to piss her off with. Take this afternoon while we were driving to the grocery store. Remember that March 10 wedding we’re going to? Here’s what she said during our drive.
Her: “It’s only one more week before we’re going to Ohio.”
Me: “What are you talking about.“
Her: “Only one more Saturday to go.”
Me: “Huh?”
Her: “What.”
Me: “We got more than two weeks to before the wedding.”
Her: “No we don’t.”
Me: “You’re insane.”
Her: “Well, this week’s almost over…”
Me: “IT’S TUESDAY!”
Her: “Yes, and just one more week.”
Me: “But that wedding is on the SATURDAY of the following week after your ‘one more week.’”
Her: “Nevermind. You don’t understand.”
Me: “You’re right. I don’t understand. There are EIGHTEEN DAYS BEFORE MARCH 10. How do you get one week from that?”
Her: “I hate you. I really hate you.”
Me: “Shut up ho.”
3 p.m.
• Wow. There's a 5-4 ruling on the Supreme Court, but check out who sided where.
7:30 a.m.
• Damn you George W. Bush. If these gas prices weren't so damn high, then maybe these people could afford their crack, thus not having to drive off, resulting in cutting the poor dealer in half. A dealer who was just trying to make ends meet in this economy. I wonder if you can sue a tax cut?
8:15 a.m.
• So I went into the Sports folder and read something that shook me to my very core. TOM BRADY HAD SEX OUTSIDE OF MARRIAGE?!
I can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. I thought he was saving himself for Mrs. Right, or better yet, me. Oh well, maybe he could start up a club with Matt Leinart or something.
• Uh, OMG Culture of Corruption and all that shit.
9 p.m.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 36: Vitamin X
This may seem like an odd one to some, especially considering how much he queered up this year’s TSM Poster Tournament. Sorry, but I did not dig this hippie bracketing/seeding shit; that was part of the beauty with Chave’s previous efforts. Each round you didn’t know who was matching up against whom. Which poster would you vote for – the one who posts a bunch regarding sports, or that other member who always was good for a laugh in the LSD folder? This season it just seemed, eh. However, like I said earlier, it’s his contest so it’s his rules. He has complained about the postseason process in my NFL pick ‘em league before, and there’s no way I’m changing the way my contest going to be done, so in the end we’re all even-steven. But I guess I’m supposed to say nice things about V-X; well, many of his people value freedom and opportunity. This is evident by them trying to get away from their shit hole of a country some 90 miles off the coast of Florida in the most imaginative ways possible. Ironically though, V-X would rather live in an America that resembles the commie commune many of his people risk their lives trying to flee. But I have a soft spot in my heart for Cubans. I’d take “those people” coming over on homemade rafts made out of kitchen tubs and wooden boards than those African chicks seeking asylum just because their “culture” gave them circumcisions. Oh boo-hoo, someone took out my clit -- just walk it off and get back in the kitchen. Besides, women aren’t supposed to enjoy sex anyway, and if they want to then they just become lesbians. What was I talking about again? Oh, yeah. V-X. Wait, did I say anything positive about him? Well, I’m sure someone from my panel will. At least I hope they do or else this selection would seem rather silly.
And now a word or four from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From Black Lushus:
From Carnival:
From SFA Jack:
From Cancer Marney:
8:30 p.m.
• Well, Pitt won. BOY THEY SURE SHOWED A LOT OF HEART! <{ <{ <{ <{
I'll laugh if they play UCLA in the next round, considering that guy coaching the Bruins used to be the Panthers' head coach.
8:15 p.m.
• Pitt basketball -- lol. They are playing VCU in overtime, so I don't know how this game will end, but watching the Panthers collapse in the second half (I think they were up by 19 points at one point) made me laugh. I loved how the announcers just said some guy from Pitt just made a three-pointer and commented on his "heart." This is the same player who missed two free-throws with just seconds left in regulation. Yeah. It also annoys me when sportscasters oftentimes say this about the smallest player on the court/field. "Oh, that so-and-so has got the BIGGEST HEART out there." Oh fuck that shit. So a big person can't have any "heart"? Kiss my ass. Just because God made me taller than my opponent that doesn't mean I slouch in my on-the-court efforts. OK, well maybe I did, but I'm sure there are big people out there that tired harder than their smaller opponents. That sports broadcasting line is almost as annoying as the "Oh, I sure wouldn't want to be facing THAT TEAM in the playoffs." Gag, that line makes me want to stab a person's eyes out.
4:45 p.m.
• Mrs. kkk is dealing with a cold, and I had to scoot off to the store for Dayquil and a McDonald’s two cheeseburger value meal (whenever she gets sick, some transfatty fries seem to be just the cure). As I walked into the store I saw a sight that shook me down to my very core while employed in the food-service industry.
Several tables filled with children.
Unless you served up value meals for an extended period of time, you don’t know what it’s like. Trust me. Waiting on families with young children is the worst fucking thing in this world. Not only are kid’s meals a pain in the ass to prepare but most of the time the parents have no control over their heathen spawn so you have to stand there and try to get their complete order while the soccer mom is trying to round up these little demons. I just thank my lucky stars I was out of this line of work before all those Beanie Baby promotions. Good Christ, I would have killed someone. But I digress.
So as I went to the counter I noticed that one line had no customers behind these two guys. I’m pretty good at spotting the quickest line, and I figured that I was fortunate that I entered right when one customer was leaving and I was on the tail end of a line moving up. There were no signs that there were any special orders going down, and there was only one tray by them at the counter. Then I saw two other trays being prepared with about a dozen happy meals being loaded. FUCK.
Sometimes you beat the line game. Sometimes the line game makes you its bitch. Oh well, what doesn’t kill me only makes me wiser. And besides, this extended time I spent at the Golden Arches getting the better half’s lunch was well worth it because while I was gone she got a phone call from her mother that made for some interesting meal-time conversation, which I will sum up below.
It was bound to happen. The out-of-control niece-in-law had yet another fight with her on/off boyfriend, and to “get back at him” she broke into her crackwhore mother’s Xanax supply, swallowed the stash, smoked some crack (according to her story), drove to her part-time beau’s parent’s house (which is where he was staying for spring break) and caused a ruckus. After my laughter died down from hearing this, I was told that she was eventually rushed to the emergency room due to her overdose and will be headed to the psycho ward for a mandatory 72-hour lockup, or whatever it’s called, after she comes off her high. As the better half was telling me this story, she said something I never thought I would hear in a million years from her.
“Boy am I glad I now have your family’s name.”
You got to be kidding me. The same kkk family name that I avoid like the plague? The same family that feels a night is wasted if a bar fight isn’t involved? The same family that gave me shit for not wearing a trenchcoat to my grandmother’s recent funeral? This is the family Mrs. kkk is glad to be named after? Then again, when the niece-in-law was cuffed to her hospital bed the police officers in the room took note of the niece’s last name and said that they knew her crackwhore mother. And I guess the new job she was just hired for – hostess at one of those fancy smacny chain restaurants – will be over before it even starts (she was put on this week’s schedule). Such a shame. Truly.
As I'm typing this, I got "Night of the Living Baseheads" playing. Awesome.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 34: Carnival
This might come as a surprise to some, seeing how the little pecker beat me in last year’s TSM Poster Tournament. However, he’s a cat person and a juggalo to boot. If you don’t know what a juggalo is, just be thankful and move on. He also comes to the TSM community in hopes that we can pick him a suitable mate, or at least something to stick his wang into for a while – that is before his plan went all to hell.
And now a word or five from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From Lovecraft:
From Black Lushus:
From ... Carnival:
From SFA Jack:
From Cancer Marney:
6:30 p.m.
• Well, the better half has been sick for the past week or so, and everytime this happens it's only a matter of time before it latches onto me. Today is that day.
2:30 p.m.
• This is funny.
Pesonally, I don't want to know how many people will be at my funeral -- I'm guessing two, maybe three.
10 a.m.
• First we’re killing off the polar bears by melting away their frosty homes due to global warming, and now some hippie animal rights people want to off baby bears that become too “human”?
Now that last paragraph might seem a little … odd, but otherwise, leave the zoo alone. I’m sure you’ll be able to use this bear in upcoming commie videos claiming that melting ice caps forced little Knut into the waiting arms of the Berlin Zoo.
• Well, yesterday it was Dessa’s turn to go to the vet. Out of the three we have to take every year for their annual checkup/shots, she’s the easiest to deal with. Her defense of stiffing up so as to not get into the carrier doesn’t work, and most of her commotion consists of little, pathetic meows, unlike JJ and Max, who won’t shut up. While at the vet’s I asked about the recent pet food scare.
We feed Dessa and JJ Eukanuba, although it’s dry kibble 99.9 percent of the time, so I figured they weren’t in any danger, but you never know (Max gets a special diet due to crystals in his urine). One of the symptoms I read involving this bad food is loss of appetite, which so far rules these three out. Christ, every feeding time is like disturbing rations at a refugee camp.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 33: Hawk 34
Even though we have never met, Hawk and I have an unbreakable bond that can never be broken, much like the one I have with fellow poster Gert T. What's that bond? We have all lived in or near the Middletown, Ohio, region. With its unique mix of white and ghetto trash, Middletown has this charm that other, more developed communities lack. Oh there were many a night when I saw the flashing lights of a police car racing down by my townhouse along Clark Street off to catch some hooligans. Speaking of racing, Hawk likes that NASCAR stuff. I don’t know how that’s a redeeming quality to me, seeing I don’t really care about this sport (yes, I call it a sport), but whatever. And you know what, even though he’s been suspected of being the previously banned poster Choken One, I really don’t care. I had no qualms with Choken, so even if Hawk is the “One,” thus swerving nobody on this board but me, big deal. I do have several reasons to believe Hawk isn’t Choken, and one of them is that Hawk has shown me a picture of his squeeze. Even though she is hot, I don’t believe they are cousins. Now if Hawk would have only sent me a picture of her without all those pesky clothes, he might have cracked the Top 20.
And now a word or three from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From Black Lushus:
From SFA Jack:
From Cancer Marney:
5:45 p.m.
• So I stayed 15 minutes past my normal workday and decided to let the better half, who was home sick, know that I was going to be late. As I told her this over the phone, she then said, “Can you stop and get me a Happy Meal?” (I can already hear the “Vyce” jokes being typed.)
FUCK.
No, it’s not that I hate spending money – well, OK, it’s partly that – but it’s more that Happy Meal = McDonald’s, and the only Golden Arches that’s on the way home from work is a shithole. Well, the store itself isn’t too bad, but all their employees are ghetto trash and the service is awful. Every time I have stopped there, I swear to Christ that it takes at least 10 minutes for them to get an order done. But oh well, I’m a great good average at least I don’t cheat husband, so I went.
I pulled in and the first thing I do is make that all-important decision: Drive-thru or in-store? Generally, my rule is if the drive-thru line is a few cars deep I’ll brave this route; otherwise, just go inside. Because there were no cars in plain sight in the drive-thru I figured what the heck and made my choice. Besides, at this store it really doesn’t matter because no matter where you go – you’re going to be waiting regardless. As I pulled to the speaker and delivered my order I looked at my dashboard clock – 3:52 p.m. I had the “Who Made Who” soundtrack playing and skipped to “Chase the Ace,” my favorite track on the album. I love how that shit picks up as the song continues. As much as I like the first track, the self-titled “Who Made Who,” I can only listen to the first two verses before getting bored, and “For Those About to Rock” has the opposite effect for me; I usually fast-forward to around the 4-minute mark when the cannons start firing. “You Shook Me All Night Long” is another solid offering, but, like “Who Made Who,” I start zoning out after the first verse or two. “Sink the Pink” and “Shake Your Foundations” are good tracks to have on as background noise. I generally don’t pay attention to “Hells Bells.” Those other two tracks – eh. Have I mentioned how awful the movie to this soundtrack is?
3:55 p.m. OK, when I placed my order there were only two vehicles in front of me. And the first automobile hasn’t budged. “Chase The Ace” is over and I want more AC/DC, but no more “Maximum Overdrive” memories. I reach into my portfolio bag and pull out “Highway to Hell.” Good enough, I’ll play “Girls Got Rhythm,” which is, at the moment, my favorite track of the album. Still no movement in the drive-thru line.
3:59 p.m. Oh you got to be fucking kidding me. I waited all this time and the motorist two cars down from me got a tiny bag of food? If there were several drink carriers being handed to him I could understand for the delay, but damn. Maybe a new batch of fries needed greased up or a Fillet o’ Fish had to be made from scratch. “Girls Got Rhythm” is over – maybe there’s enough time to hear some local RIGHT-WING RADIO and listen to the idiotic callers bitch about how Pennsylvania has these gay-ass state liquor stores? Seriously, these things are so fucking retarded. No, we can’t buy booze at a grocery store or a Quickie Mart. Why, that would make all of our kids alcoholics because what if they reach for a gallon of milk and accidentally pick up a six-pack of Bud? Then again, because I’m too lazy to head off to one of these government adult beverage centers I don’t buy alcohol, which saves me a few dollars. That’s one of the things I missed about Ohio – being able to buy alcohol any time, any place (well, almost any place). Jesus Christ this line isn’t moving, and there’s only one car in front of me.
4:02 p.m. Well, the top-of-the-hour newscast is beginning, so it’s time to put in another CD. Let’s see, how about “History of the Clash: Volume I”? I’m in the mood for “The Magnificent Seven” – Ring, ring it’s 7 a.m. There we go. And there goes the motorist. Well, this person actually left during “Wave bye-bye to the boss, it’s our profit it’s his loss,” but that wouldn't have sounded as clever. Now it’s my turn to wait. You know what annoys me? When you are waiting in line for other customers that take forever and a day to get their order, and then when it’s your turn the wait is virtually nil and the cashier gets impatient because you have the nerve to double-check your order. And by double-check I mean look into the bag to make sure a burger and fries are in there. Well, that sorta happened when my order was completed, but drive-thru cashiers are more accustomed to customers doing a quick once-over. Hey, my order is here, and it’s 4:07 p.m. Just in time for “Rock the Casbah.” You know, I often defend rappers for sampling music, but what Will Smith did with that “Will 2K” abortion was too much even for me to handle. Let my memories of this song be of that cute armadillo scampering about.
Fifteen minutes, one Happy Meal, three songs and some RIGHT-WING RADIO banter. And the sad thing is, I thought I'd be waiting longer. Nevertheless, Sharif don't like it. But what am I going to do – declare a jihad? I have no children to strap with explosives, and there's no way I'd turn my kitties into martyrs. Considering they are all fixed, I doubt they would be able to do much with their 40 virgins and all.
8 a.m.
• Whenever you think you suck at your job, just read this.
• Al Gore says that the planet has a "fever."
So where do we stick the thermometer for a temperature reading?
3 p.m.
• That Karl Rove is a genius. What’s the best way to get your administration’s accusations of firing judges, or whatever that stupid “scandal” is about? Give your press spokesman cancer.
I didn't care too much for Tony when he sub-hosted for Rush all those years ago, but I didn't want him to get cancer for it.
8:15 a.m.
• OK, so I get oodles of male (and female) enhancement ads through my personal and work e-mail, along with letters from exiled African princes who offer me millions of dollars worth of inheritance loot for just a $5,000 loan. Anyway, I got this in my e-mail this morning, and, well …
11 p.m.
• I have my fair share of rap CDs in my collection, which numbers between 400-500. Most of these albums are from the 1990s, and I’ve pretty much pigeonholed myself into this era. I don’t care much for contemporary hip-hop, but I’m not going to hate on it either. It’s just I grew up with certain albums and certain styles. I listen to what’s out nowadays and I can’t get into many of these flows. But if this is what today’s youth listen to and what they like, then more power to them. I’m sure those who grew up listening to the Treacherous Three couldn’t understand why I was infatuated with some guy named Ice Cube. For me, I’ll stick with what I listened to during my high school and college days. Now I have a number of albums that I consider to be solid rap efforts, whether it’s A Tribe Called Quest, EPMD, 2Pac, Redman, or Wu-Tang and the group’s initial offering of solo projects from artists such as Raekwon and Ol’ Dirty Bastard. However, there are a number of CDs that when I see in my collection I shake my head. I’ve mentioned “Shaq Fu: the Return” before and I’ll do so again, and there are some albums that you know are going to be awful but get anyway. You can’t help doing so. If anything, you get these albums just to keep for posterity. Such was the case with this one album. I knew it was out, and I had no intention of paying full retail price for this. Hell, I wasn’t going to spend the money needed to pick it up at the used CD store. Instead, I let this one person I knew buy it and bought it off of him for $4 after he realized how awful it was. And what was this album?
After the abortion that was “It’s On," which was supposed to be a counterpunch to Dr. Dre’s “Chronic” album, anyone with half-a-brain knew this follow-up effort would be bad; nobody will mistake “Str8 Off” with NWA’s “Straight Outta Compton.” I think what made me want to own this album though was that Eazy-E was in the midst of this project when he found out he had the AIDS. This album was released after his death and for me it seemed to be my way of pouring a 40 oz. to the curb in memory of the E.
Oh no, what happened to my lover?
Bitch I bashed his head in with my Louisville Slugger.
4:30 p.m.
• Christ, I can hear the liberals already whining about how we live in a fascist regime.
Yesterday afternoon on the drive home from work the better half told me of this story and asked my opinion of the whole thing. She’s Catholic and thought it was a stupid idea to create a milk chocolate Jesus. Although I think a lesser stink would have been made had our lord and savior been sporting a loin cloth, I was more interested in knowing if any public money was spent making this piece of shit. But that’s neither here nor there. Actually, I really don’t care that there’s a sculpture of the guy who died for my sins and stuff made out of chocolate. (Jesus was a black dude – little wonder why he never had a job. Interchangeable hippie/black jokes; gotta love ‘em.)
Here's the "art" in question.
Oh, yeah. NSFW and all that.
All in all, this is nothing more than typical “edgy” New Yorker shit. “Let’s be cutting edge and do something about Christianity that is sure to piss off a bunch of people. How about putting Jesus in a jar of urine? Can’t: Already been done. Well let’s make a picture of the Virgin Mary out of elephant poop. Drat: Beaten to the punch. I guess we’ll have to make a chocolate naked Jesus.” I could make a “milk chocolate melts in your mouth and not in your hand,” joke right about now, but … well what do you know, I just did.
Interestingly enough, I had another thought upon first hearing of this evangelical-led attack on our rights to display stupid artwork, which was brought up later by someone quoted in the article I linked.
Say, this just inspired Mikkkhaelango to produce his latest masterpiece.
I'll expect my National Endowment for the Arts check to be mailed sometime next week.
8 p.m.
Happy birthday to me…
So, as usual, at 1 p.m., two hours before my workday ends, I get a call from a co-worker informing me that I have 500+ quarterly annuity statements/envelopes to stuff. Jesus fucking Christ, all I ask is that I get some heads up on this shit. You know, assholes, I actually have a job to do and I *gasp* plan out my schedule of when I do stuff, unlike you dumbfucks. At my job’s last quarterly board of directors meeting, which I couldn’t attend due to granny’s funeral, a shit storm was raised when I included I my report all the fucking envelopes I was told to stuff, among other stupid tasks that I should not be doing. I wish I could have been there when several directors asked my idiot bosses why someone in my position was stuffing envelopes when I'm being paid to do other projects. Of course, when I came back to work I had a meeting to discuss this matter.
“In your report you said that you were ‘told’ to stuff envelopes.”
“Was ‘stuffing envelopes’ part of my job duties when I was hired?”
“No.”
“Then how would I otherwise go about stuffing envelopes at this place unless someone told me to do so?”
*crickets chirp*
Thank God I'm two floors away from these people.
Happy birthday to me…
So I picked up the better half from her job and went about our merry way home. Then there was the accident. From what I could make out, some van crashed into a car in this sorta-residential area. Three ambulances, four cop cars and a fire truck sealed off the usual way home, so we had to improvise with an alternate route. Problem is we had no idea where the hell we were going. When I get into these situations, I just drive around until I see something familiar. Man, I thought I was in hippie hell before. The part of Shittsburgh we drive through on the way home has “Books Not Bombs” and “John Kerry” bumper stickers on the back of cars. But now we were going even deeper into the belly of the beast, where bikeways ride alongside streets where liberal soccer moms drive their SUVs with bumper stickers that read, “My other car is a PAT bus.” Of course, we ended up in some construction area where two lanes of road become one, and 1+ mile of blocked off roads precede a 20-foot area where construction workers are standing around trying to look busy. Finally, some signs pointing us in the right direction were found and in what usually is an hour’s drive turned into two. All because some dickhead was not paying attention to where he or she was driving.
Happy birthday, kkk…
During this drive o’ fun, the better half was acting like a bitch. Now this is usual because whenever she gets lost driving she tenses up. Why she does this, I stopped trying to figure out. Then again, if you have to spend any additional time with me in a confined space, you might be a little anxious as well. After asking what her problem was for the umpteenth time, she finally said…
Happy birthday to me.
“Remember that prescription cough medicine I took? The asshole pharmacist didn’t bother to tell me it would mess with my birth control pills.”
8:30 p.m.
• Why do I do this to myself? That’s right, because it’s funny as hell. So I decided to turn on “Baseball Tonight” and lo’ and behold who do I see on JACKIE ROBINSON DAY?
and
Oh yeah, this will be good.
I don’t know what I found to be funnier: the game highlights I saw where ESPN showed which players were wearing #42 on JACKIE ROBINSON DAY, or the stat they had featuring “black firsts” in baseball. What caught my eye wasn’t who was first black player, or the first black manager, or the first black general manager, or the first black umpire. It was the first all-black starting lineup, which, according to ESPN, was the 1971 Pirates. Wait a second, wasn’t Roberto Clemente, a Latino, a starter on that team? Time to go to my on-line baseball encyclopedia for an answer.
Now what’s a dirty Latino player doing on a supposedly all-black lineup? (There were probably other Latinos on this team, but I don’t care.) You mean to tell me that in this one instance in honor of JACKIE ROBINSON DAY we’re lumping in black baseball players with Latinos? But yet in recent weeks I’ve had to hear about how there are only NINE PERCENT black ballplayers in Major League Baseball while disregarding the large amount of Latinos engaged in America’s National Pastime. So grouping blacks and other minorities when gathering baseball stats for a specific political agenda is bad every other day of the year except on JACKIE ROBINSON DAY? Gotcha. Oh my God: C.C. Sabathia had a good outing today and when Berman was talking with this player ESPN was showing his stats for the day, and on the line below this information it read, “on JACKIE ROBINSON DAY.” So it looked something like this:
IP 8, H 5, R 1, ER 1, BB 3, SO 10, HR 0, ERA 2.14
On JACKIE ROBINSON DAY
There’s a headline on MLB's home page that reads: “Sabathia does Jackie proud on special day.” Berman also used a similar line when the Twins’ Torii Hunter successfully slid into home. I’m surprised ESPN didn’t target those players who DIDN’T wear #42 today.
5:30 p.m.
• In a somewhat related story to this morning's entry, the people who live to the left of the rusty mailbox pictured below had their trash out on the curb Thursday for our Friday morning pickup. When I came home from work Thursday, I noticed their garbage can was knocked over, probably due to the high winds, and being the good neighbor that I am I went over to put it right-side up. It was then that I noticed they don't tie up their garbage bags that well, if at all. Upon further review, I realized that to them "garbage bag" means "plastic bag you get at the grocery store." What the fuck is wrong with people? Half the time my cats don't cover up their poop when they use the litter, but they're cats. Actually, Dessa and JJ often try to cover up their business by either clawing on the side of the litter box or by scratching the wall next to the litter boxes. And Max will use half the litter in one of their boxes to cover up his bathroom deposit, which means half of that litter used ends up on the floor. At least he tries.
8:30 a.m.
• Long story short. There’s this old guy who lives across the street from me. His wife died a few months ago, and due to health problems he has to use a walker. Because he’s unable to go out and get mail from his mailbox down by the edge of his yard, he arranged it with the post office so that a mailman (fuck using the term "postal carrier") would deliver it to the mailbox by his front door. Well of course several times already my mailbox has had letters addressed to this guy, but that’s not a big surprise. There have been times in the past where I’ve received letters from other people on the block in my mailbox, and my neighbors have received letters addressed to me in their mailboxes. Considering the amount of mail the post office deals with on a daily basis, I try to cut this organization some slack where I can (although there are a number of things that I do like to bitch about regarding this organization).
On Wednesday I normally receive some local discount publication called a PennySaver in my mailbox. For those that don’t know, a PennySaver is like one of those "free bargain circulars" you find at a grocery story or Wal-Mart where people can pimp their used goods for free or for a nominal fee. I don’t read this thing, but it always shows up in my mailbox on Wednesdays. This past Wednesday it didn’t. No biggie, I thought. Because Easter Sunday was a holiday, perhaps the post office is working a day late or something due to the volume of mail it got (it's happened before, and it's perfectly understandable). Besides, I normally don’t get anything in the mail on Wednesdays anyway besides that PennySaver. On Thursday there was no mail. OK, this is a little odd. Thursday is also a slow mail day, but to not get any letters asking me re-finance my mortgage for TWO DAYS in a row? Something’s fishy. Friday: Yep, no mail. Now something is up. I made plans to call the post office Monday and find out what’s going on; I’m not even going to try and sort this out with a person who’s working at the post office on a Saturday. Trust me, if you have an issue with your local mail provider, DO NOT put your hopes in the staff workers who are there on a Saturday. That's like going to a Quickie Mart in order to complain to the third-shift employee about the poor customer service you received earlier that day.
This morning, I asked the better half if we got any mail and she said “nope.” Great. When I went out to get my Sunday newspaper, I pick up the same publication for my other neighbor who is also unable to get her mail. (She’s the wife of the now deceased groundhog-killing neighbor.) As I went to get her paper to put it on her doorstep I figured what the hell and looked into the mailbox of this vacant house across from my residence to see if the mailman put my mail in this piece of shit.
Oh you got to be kidding me.
Not only was my mail in there from the past few days, but there were also several letters addressed to that old guy I talked about in the first paragraph of this entry. And this is what our tax money is going toward? Hell, these people want to INCREASE postage yet again in order to pay for their employee’s bloated salaries and health benefits. Now you might be thinking to yourself, “kkk, maybe all the mailboxes on your street look alike. Maybe someone stole your mail and put it there.” I’m squashing these possibilities right now. The numerals to my street address are “239.” I have lived at this place since 2004. My mailbox’s look and its location haven't changed during this time. Also, included in this stack of mail is another flyer-thingy that I get every Friday, which gets folded up a particular way so that it surrounds my other correspondence for that day, too. If someone would have went through my mail for that day, the flyer would have been all out of whack and I could have been able to tell that someone was looking through my stuff. Finally, a while back my groundhog-killing neighbors had trouble with their mail delivery and they were finding their postal correspondence in the same dilapidated mailbox. And just to show you the difference between where the mailman is supposed to deliver my mail and where this government worker actually ended up doing so, here is a picture of my mailbox.
I hope the “239” isn’t tough for you to find. I guess the fact there isn’t another mailbox next to mine because my neighbor is supposed to have his mail delivered to him at his doorstep is throwing off the government worker. Then again, it was the POST OFFICE who told my neighbor that if he wanted his "doorstep" service, then he would have to take down his curb-side mailbox. OK, now here’s the mailbox I found my most of my recent correspondence in, along with that of my semi-shut-in neighbor.
And they want us to pay, starting in May of this year, 41 cents for sending out a first-class letter.
KKK's Top 103 Posters
Number 30: Lovecraft/Gary Floyd
He hates freedom, to be sure. But he also hates commies, which is a bigger plus than the former is a minus. He likes horror movies, too. Really likes them. Update your blog, hippie.
And now a word or two from the expert panel I've assembled to comment on the people I've listed.
From Black Lushus:
From Carnival:
6 p.m.
• Being a tireless A-Rod defender, I was a bit nervous when he popped out with the bases loaded early on in the season. However, it looks like he’s doing rather well for himself as of late.
If the Yankees reach the postseason, for his sake I hope Rodriguez can be money in October as he is in April.
• So NBC showed that Jap’s video. (Korean, Japanese, what’s the difference?)
If we really wanted to “understand” this nut, then his incoherent ramblings should have been aired uncensored (like my blog entries). But we can’t put this…
…anywhere NEAR a video camera or printing press. Whatever.
• Yeah, the story itself is dumb.
What makes me laugh is the patriotic scarf.
1 p.m.
• Remember that "pensis" ad I posted a while back? Well, this little gem paid a visit to my e-mail inbox just now.
9:30 p.m.
• This might be fun. How do I compare with the rest of the world in terms of technology use and acceptance?
I’m sure the “creatively” part could be up for debate, but due to what you’re reading now I guess I’m one of these.
I annoy people on AIM and use e-mail for work a lot, but I'd still put me in the group above over this one.
I guess, but I don't visit TSM as a job necessity. Well, I go on TSM during work hours, but I do so for different reasons.
Hmm, I guess it depends on your definition of “thrilled.” I like e-mail, AIM and the Internet in general. However, I don’t wank to the newest edition of Instant Messenger. I also have no use for text messaging and don’t own an iPod. Guess I'm an Omnivore.
Sadly, I think I may be falling into my niche due to the fact I think texting is retarded. I also don’t have a cell phone. Nobody calls me on my land-line phone, so why should I bother with another way for people I don’t want to talk to bother me? I can’t wait to see what comes down the pipeline in the years ahead, just so I can bitch and moan while saying, “Back in my day we only had cable high-speed connections … and we liked it!”
6:30 p.m.
• So there I was Sunday morning with ESPN’s “Sports Reporters” on as background noise when I heard one putz (Mitch Albom) complain about the Detroit Red Wings having to play in the Western Conference, thus making their playoff games come on late at night. As long as I can remember, the Wings have been a “Western Conference” team. Back when I was growing up they shared a division (Norris?) with teams from Chicago, St. Louis and Minnesota. So let’s see who they share a division with now.
Central Division: Nashville, St. Louis, Columbus, Chicago.
Hmm, fair enough. But why are they in the WESTERN Conference? After all, Mitch said that Detroit is a more eastern/central city. Well, let’s see how many teams are to the east of Motown in the NHL’s Eastern Conference.
New Jersey -- East
Shittsburgh -- East
New York -- East
Philadelphia -- East
Buffalo – East
Ottawa – East
Montreal – East
Toronto – East
Boston – East
Atlanta – East
Tampa Bay – East
Carolina – East
Florida – East
Washington, DC – East
Yeah, I don’t know why the Red Wings play in the West. No clue at all.
7:30 p.m.
• Well, that hippie library is still going to be around…
But fuck you Fast Eddie.
You think we’re that fucking dumb? This state may vote Democrat more times than not, but my fellow Keystone Staters aren’t retarded … or at least as much as other blue states. Tax shift? Yeah, right. More like “added tax.” You’ve been talking about slot-machine revenue gambling longer than W. has had troops in Iraq. This slots-for-property-tax idea has been an abortion since the start, and if you’re going to want to screw us over, then you’re going to have to force the sodomy. What, you expect me to fuck my own browneye?
Oh, but the real reason we didn’t vote for it was because we’re too stupid.
Although the line "The questions were not asked in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Scranton, where wage taxes are already comparatively high," made me LOL. (Scranton?) This part of the article cracked me up the most.
So even senior citizens voted against this? And in Pennsylvania, the old people control EVERYTHING, what with their en masse journey to the polls. And even though they keep dying off, there are plenty of near-blue hairs in this commonwealth to keep the Access vans busy to and from the local fire halls on Election Day.
• Back to local elections. God I love my town.
The sad thing is, when it comes to these local races, those stupid signs probably do make a difference in an election or two.
• Oh, yeah. Jerry Falwell died. I waited a few days to see what my other bloggers had to say. Wasn’t surprised. The commie goes "good riddence," and the right-winger says the extreme Left will go “see you in hell, Jerry” and all the usual stuff from the ideology of diversity and tolerance. I waited to post this because anything I say will be, as usual, so brilliant that nothing else will need to be said I’m lazy. I’m undecided as to which take I should use. Do I go with…
A) Falwell died? Wow, he must have taken Rudy Giuliani’s early presidential campaigning success hard.
or
B) Falwell died? Well, for his sake I hope all Jesus did with his disciples was preach the word of God and didn’t play a game of pitch or catch when the sun went down.
I'm hardcore. I'll take 'em both.
8:30 p.m.
• So the fat dyke is mad because the Republican on the show wouldn't defend her blathering?
I care more about making sure all the stool from my browneye is wiped off after taking a crap than I do about anything that goes on the "View," but this is hilarious. Maybe that Hasselbeck chick thinks you are a fucking loon and thus doesn't care what the RIGHT-WING pundits on cable news shows have to say about you. Now I have to go yell at EricMM for not defending me when Jobber of the Week called me a fucking idiot because I said that driving SUVs to the grocery store was great for the environment.
1:30 p.m.
• And now it’s time for the Dr. Laura Call of the Day (or whenever I feel like doing this). This guy named Pablo gets on the air with his wife and tells the following story. They went to some event that was work-related and went to a bar afterward with some of his co-workers. His wife can’t find him for an hour, and when she finally sees Pablo, he’s with some chick who gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Pablo says this lady is a client of one of his co-workers, and although he has a clear recollection of that night’s events he can’t remember why she hugged/kissed him and what he was doing for that hour when he was M.I.A. He also doesn't understand why his wife, the mother of his kid, is upset. Oh, Pablo.
8:30 a.m.
• And to think the Steelers don't even hire cheeleaders.
7 a.m.
• Uh … OMGWESTCOASTBIAS~?
Don’t care. I know Boston tanked their games at the end to get a better chance at the draft's top pick, so payback’s a bitch (not sure how Memphis, Portland and Seattle played down the home stretch). Who do I take: Oden or Durant. Christ, I don’t know. I don’t watch college basketball unless it’s in late March, I hope everyone that gets drafted makes lots of money. So there.
• I watched the first period of the Wings/Ducks game last night, and wow were there quite a few empty seats, much like there was back in Game 4. I remember a while Bill Plaschke said on Around the Horn that the L.A. Times were no longer assigning someone to a Anaheim Ducks beat, and now I understand why.
10 p.m.
• So I get the following subject line in my e-mail inbox.
You know I just have to click on this one. I do and get the following.
I'm guessing the Christian way of getting out of debt does not involve acting in gay pornos.
7 p.m.
• Yeah, shut down your pumps to show up Big Oil. Great idea.
This part I love.
Well, if you can't afford to fill your SUV up with go juice, then maybe you shouldn't have purchased the SUV. If I had a choice to pay $1/gallon or $3/gallon for gas, I'd glady take the former, but I just love all the whining people do when the price of fuel goes up. OMG I CAN'T GO ON VACATION NOW THX A LOT GEORGE W. BUSH. Want to point out that prices will go up due to the cost of gas increasing? I'm with you. But for people that have problems with their budget due to having to pay a few extra dollars per week for gas? You folks had problems way before the annual summer price spike. (For the record, whenever gas goes up by $1, that usually means the kkk household has to pay $10/week at the pump. Yet somehow we manage to go on living.)
5 p.m.
• I finally got around to watching that clip of LeBron James passing the ball to a teammate instead of trying to make the shot. James did the right thing, I don't care what anybody says.
10 a.m.
• It's a shame that a certain movie wasn't released a year or so later than it actually was. If so, and the film was shown in theaters after this story broke, the producers could have used the line, "based on a true story."
kkk's Top 103 Posters
Number 23: Bored
He’s got a hard-on for win shares, and a fiending for punishment, seeing how he has organized a TSM pick ‘em college football contest for the last few years. I was in on this action last season and did fairly well, even though I had no clue as to what I was doing. (But when is that ever not the case?) In the end I wound up getting sodomized by Kotz in the Meow Mix Pussy Bowl – oh, yeah, and Kotz correctly predicted more games during Bowl Week than I did. I should be sad that I didn’t win the title, not to mention the $50 grand prize, but considering Division I college football has no postseaon and thus produces no real champion, I guess we are all winners in the end. Talk about a self-esteem boost.
And now a word from the expert panel I have put together to comment on the people I’ve listed.
From SFA Jack:
• Once again, the GOP has its head up the elephant’s ass.
You want this guy out? Do everything you can to keep him in Congress! Let him parade in front of the cameras saying he did no wrong even though he has thousands upon thousands of dollars stashed away in refrigerators. OMGCULTUREOFCORRUPTION~!
• So the better half’s one friend has a kid who said that he was going to “cut her up with his saw.” He’s four. I like this chap.
• Man, this brought back one heck of a memory.
When I was doing this “driving school” shit, I was picked up one day by the instructor and this chick from another school. As we turned out onto this one road at a three-way intersection, the chick ended up in the wrong lane with a big-rig coming right at us. For some reason, I dove to the other side of the back seat (like that would have accomplished anything) while the instructor grabbed the steering wheel and put us back on course. Years later, my one friend told me that this guy said to my friend’s class that I was the worst driver he ever instructed. Was my friend serious? I don’t know. But then again why would he make this up? (He said that the instructor's biggest peeve was that I never braked when approaching stoplights and stop signs, which is odd because I've got seniors flipping me off due to my slow driving and gradual braking.) Well, it’s been 15 years since I got my license and I’m still accident-free (there’s been a few bumps, but nothing has been reported to insurance). Fuck you, Mr. Ptchak. Actually, there was one accident, but when you’re parked at a gas station, and the Silverado in front of you doesn’t want to way two minutes for her turn to fill up and suddenly peels out in reverse and smashes into your in-law’s car, there’re really nothing you can do about that.
1 p.m.
• Scooter Libby got sentenced to 30 months.
Whatever. The whole story is stupid. Didn't follow it. Don't care. This got me thinking though –– I wonder what the big OUTRAGE will be when W. makes his end-of-term pardons? Will it be someone from Halliburton? Big Tobacco? Someone from the Weekly Standard? We only have 18 more months to wait.
• While I’m on the jailbird topic, I don’t have much to say about Paris Hilton and her hard time.
I’ve defended Paris on a number of occasions. No, I’m not hoping for a hummer in return for my loyalty –– I just don’t hate her like how other people do. She’s rich and a ditz. She made her fortune with goofy reality shows and made her fame with dirty videos. Although I doubt she can name her Congressional Representative, I’m sure she’s keener than most people think she is. However, I’m not going to say, “OMG she should be set free.” This jail term stems from her driving under the influence, and I only thank God for her sake that nobody was hurt in her recklessness.
6:15 p.m.
• We got some more worst things you can do to a Muslim male/female/child. Across the pond, the Muslim Council of Britain announced its demands for banning "un-Islamic" activities in England's government schools.
The funniest thing about all this is that I wanted to single out each offense, but that would have overloaded my quote tag quota for this entry.
• You know, we got predatory lenders after old people, families taking out adjustable-rate mortgages for houses they can’t afford and act all shocked when their rates go up, and now college students unable to get decent loans for their higher learning expenses.
Maybe we are country made up of people too stupid to take care of ourselves. Lord knows we have enough registered Democrats.
• Regarding Danica Patrick’s push of that male driver.
I’ve never had a reason to say anything bad about you, but bitch you better be glad that you pushed him and not me. Great, now the PTI guys are like “Wow, this Danica/Whoever rumble is GREAT!” Yeah, too bad if the pusher and pushee roles were reversed, there would be OUTRAGE~! Hypocrites. Back in my college days, this annoying bitch gave me a push. Guess what? I pushed her back. She was SHOCKED and OFFENDED. Equal treatment my ass. I don't advocate beating the other sex but I do advocate equality.
6 p.m.
• The Michael Wilbon rimjobbing of Gary Sheffield continues today. “OMG a Latino player defended Gary in the Detroit Free Press Today/Gary Sheffield is my hero for speaking out against the Man.” You forgot to wipe some spooge from your chin there, Michael. I know he's your boy and all.
5 p.m.
• Regarding this whole Paris Hilton going back to jail thing.
What the hell is wrong with people? Jesus Christ.
OMG THE BILLIONARE HOTEL HEIRESS IS GETTING HER JUST DESSERTS JOHN EDWARDS USED HER IN A CAMPAIGN LINE NO MOM NO HELP ME I’M GOING TO HIT THE BUTTON 10000 TIMES IN JAIL BECAUSE I HAVE ANXIETY FROM BEING IN THE BIG HOUSE AND I’M COLD HUNGRY AND NOT ABLE TO WAX OMG OMG OMG OMG~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, by the way, much of our air traveling has been grinded to a halt. But wait a second, IT’S PARIS AND SHE’S IN SOME CAR DRIVING OFF TO JAIL WAIT THAT WAS A SWERVE SHE’S IN ANOTHER VEHICLE AND SHE’S IN NEED OF MEDICAL ATTENTION BECAUSE NOT BEING FREE MADE HER SICK AND THAT PARTY SHE THREW AFTER BEING BACK HOME WILL BE FOR NIL BECAUSE NOW SHE’S GOING BACK TO THE BIG HOUSE FOR REAL OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG~!
Please note I won’t be wearing any “Free Paris” gear anytime soon. She should just serve her time, shut her mouth and thank the deity upstairs that nobody was killed when she got shit-faced and decided to drive. However, the media coverage on this is more absurd than the actual story itself. Oh, and for those people saying only rich celebrities get away from jail time, meet my crack-whore sister-in-law. Not only has this woman been arrested numerous times, but even when she has outstanding warrants and gets picked up she still hasn’t spent time behind bars. One time this cop called my brother-in-law’s house asking for the crack-whore (she used her brother’s phone number for contact information on some document), and the brother-in-law said he would direct the cops to the shitty apartment she lives at and knock on the door for them. Nothing.
All that being said though, come on, Paris, using the “being hungry” line as an excuse to get out of jail? Surely you can come up with better material than that in a bid for your freedom.
1:15 p.m.
• The Amnesty bill looks to have been kicked to the curb, so the invasion has been postponed –– for now.
Well, actually, the illegals will still be pouring over the border, but at least now they won’t be giving voting rights/Social Security/etc. Oh who am I kidding? Many probably already are doing this. I’m sure this will bite me in the ass later, when a President Hitlery, along with a Commie Congress, approves an even WORSE illegal immigration bill in the next few years, but sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand.
• If you went over to read about Swift Terror stroking himself because he caught a RIGHT-WING RADIO guy in a gaffe, then you will understand this next entry. There’s a local guy in Shittsburgh named Quinn that I used to listen to. He used to be the guy I listened to until 8:30 a.m. before heading on-line to listen to Neal Boortz. However, the last few weeks I’ve been listening to archive editions of the Dennis Miller show. I must admit I’m digging this program. I’ve had a weird journey with Dennis. I LOVED his on SNL’s Weekend Update. His HBO show was OK. His opening bit was hit-or-miss, I didn’t really like the guest portion of the show, and my favorite segment was the end with him captioning images. I HATED him on Monday Night Football. When 9/11 took place and he turned into some hipster conservative, or whatever, I didn’t immediately beat off because he was saying, “Bush is the shizzle.” I gave his CNBC show a try, and I actually liked it; judging from the ratings, it seems I was the only one. There is one thing that influences my opinion of Miller, and that is we went to the same college (not at the same time mind you –– I’m not that old). The circle-jerking my alma mater did back in the mid-1990s was enough to make me vomit. Thankfully, I got the hell out of that shit hole right before NBC’s “Providence” hit it big; the lead actress on that show was a fellow alumni. Lord only knows how that place fawned all over her.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. Quinn. About once every few weeks I would e-mail him from work while listening to his show to clarify a gaffe he or a caller committed. Generally it’s little stuff like the last time I shot him a message. The last time I had his show on some caller was bitching about something-or-other and brought up the rap group Public Enemy that released the song “Fuck the Police.” I, of course, e-mailed Quinn clarifying that caller’s remarks. The rap group that produced “Fuck the Police,” was N.W.A., not Public Enemy. I also let Quinn know the meaning of N.W.A. –– No Whites Allowed.
I’m just playing, any baller in the rap game knows it’s “Niggaz Wit’ Attitudes.” Word yo.
