It has just occurred to me that I am now 4 months and 15 days away from turning 60. Oh, just fuck all of you, don't you know that I can hear you laughing??? Yes. 60. Sixty. Ahem... Old...
So... Who wants to go skydiving? Bungi jumping? Concrete poisoning while skate boarding? How about hang gliding? Swimming with sharks? Perhaps a "family fiendly" cruise. Yes, I really did mean to say fiendly.
No, wait, I take that one back. I am so NOT family fiendly...
I am no longer 59 and a half. I am on the skid marks to 60. 60... FM!!!! For those of you older than me: FUCK YOU!!! For those of you younger than me: FUCK YOU TOO!!! Don't forget I know where all of you live and I am not above breaking in in the middle of the night and doing you in with a boat oar. I'm a devious little bitch and your certain to not be my first victims. Think about it. I've been buggered with a dead body in a basement in the middle of the night. Oh yeah, that was fun. That was when I finally realized that I should be on Broadway. Damn, I'm good... especially in a totally suck ass situation. Who knew...
For some unknown reason my skinny little ass is still walking around the unarmed, the unsuspecting and the unaware. You bitches need to duck and cover!!!
Sixty. I remember fifty. Sort of. Not really. Well, kind of. Not really.... I was dressed up like Sponge Bob Squarepants and I was carrying a pineapple. Trust me, I was lit getting out of the car... Hell of a party as a vaguely remember...
60. OJFMTFT!!! Sixty??? Holy shit!!! Sixty!?! Oh, just FUCK ME AND FEED ME FISH!!! christ, if I was a dog I would have had the good graces to have died when I was eleven. In my sleep... In the basement..
Sixty. Start looking for boat oars now. Trust me, you're going to need them... That's about the only way to eradicate us. We're a tough little bunch of in breds. Southern, don't you know...
SIXTY!!! FMTT!!!
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
"LORD OF THE FLIES." THE MUSICAL!!!
So, I was out drinking a late lunch with a dear friend of mine the other day and completely out of the azul he turns to me and asks "Who's the worst queen you've ever been subjected to?". After I had signaled to bartender to line up another round of Sauza shots I felt obliged to answer. What the hell. Apparently inquiring minds hungered to know.
OK, I'm anal. My mind starts to immediately Google my brain looking for the juiciest links. As my friend signals the bartender to set us up again I query, "May I ask a qualifying question?". Of course, he says yes. Silly man... "How do you want this?" I ask. "By decade? City I have lived in? Proximity at any given moment? By bar? Sheer bitchiness? Total lack of ability to accessorize? No more Gay-Dar than god gave a toothpick? In drag or out of drag? Not as pretty as they thought they were? Dead or alive? The ones who stabbed me? The ones I filed charges for assault on? 911? How far do you want me to go back? C'mon, point me in a direction!!!" He looks at me. Kind of stunned. I ordered another round just to keep us both lucid. "Oh, just spill your innards." he says. I respond with "Fasten your seat belt, cupcake."
I decided to do it by decade. Flashback.... the 70's.
They started in my hometown of San Francisco, migrated to Wisconsin for college and ended up back in San Francisco for my whore period. Sort of like Picasso's blue period only a LOT more fun. OMG, I knew some of the most incredibly bitchy clones back then. It was WAY beyond dog eat dog. And I was one of them. Oh, god... Tight 501's. Top button undone. A specially custom shrank white t-shirt. Porn 'stache. Black tennis shoes. Oh, lord,we were just too awful for words. But at least we got laid a lot. A LOT!!! I met the most devious, bottom feeding, awful SOB I had ever seen up to that point.. OMG, we're talking psychic-vampire!!! I swear, that bitch could suck the color out of wallpaper!!! I still shudder. I hope to god someone finally put a stake through it's heart!
Fast forward... the 80's.
Cool, this gives me two cities. Minneapolis and Portland, OR. In Minneapolis I met a queen so freaking evil that she actually carried poison apples around just so she wouldn't have to pay for cab fare home after she wasn't snagged up at the "sidewalk sale" when the bar closed. Hideous. Just hideous. Her name was Chi Chi La'rue. Drag don't you know. Today she CEO of Chi Chi La'rue Productions. One of the largest gay porn studios in the country. I salute you. But you're still just a fat guy in a dress, you bitch!!! Portland. Oh, my... That city was just a clusterfuck waiting to be set on fire and then flushed. I met the chart topper of emotional cannibals there. Holy shit, he was amazingly toxic. And a total and complete cunt. My apologies to the sensitive out there, but holyshit this guy just sucked rocks!!! He was a pompous fuckwad with nowhere the money he needed to have behind him to be this big of a shithead. He and I served on two Boards of Director's together and came to so many (way to many) bitch slapping smack downs for me to count. I wanted that SOB to get hit by the moon!!! This is the one instance in my life where I can honestly say I prayed for the permission to instill bodily harm. To where the end result was a funeral. Where I would attend and piss on the corpse. Yes, I HATED THAT MOTHERFUCKER!!!
Flash forward... The 90's. Pretty boring really. I moved back to Wisconsin. I divorced husband number 3. I isolated. I drank. Heavily. I was happy. And then I moved to Madison. I had the next door neighbor from hell. Her name was Todd. FMTT!!! He had emotional canines! Talk about a great white in a pod of baby seals!!! I kept threatening her with a cattle prod... hooked up to Sears DieHard battery. Just get TFAFM!!! Thank god, she's dead. Poisoned, I've heard. Then there's John.. Dead body in the basement. At 2:00 in the morning. Oh yeah, instant freak-out. Don't ask questions. It was sort of a private moment for me. Thank god for a liquor cabinet full of Scotch and the good sense to "sanitize" the house!!! OJFMTTT!!! TOTAL homo-hands!!!
Flash forward... The 'Oughts.
Again, pretty boring. Unless you want to count the cranial hemorrhage, the "paper clip" in my brain, Lyme Disease and the building fire that I was rescued from. Out of window. Over the back of a VERY burly fireman. Had I been conscience I would have been in heaven!!! My car, my dog, me and everything I owned smelled like a bbq at Twelve Oaks. OJFM!!!
Flash forward... the 'teens...
I have a stalker. He's a strange dude. Actually, he used to be a friend. Now, he's just a fiend. I have never had someone that I know go this ballistic on me. Overnight. He used to be a good friend. Now, I look over my shoulder. Just way TOO weird!!! WTF do you think I did to you dude???
As the next round of shots magically appear before us, I ask my friend, "Does that answer your question?".
He immediately orders two more rounds of shots.!
And then we ask for the dinner menu.
OK, I'm anal. My mind starts to immediately Google my brain looking for the juiciest links. As my friend signals the bartender to set us up again I query, "May I ask a qualifying question?". Of course, he says yes. Silly man... "How do you want this?" I ask. "By decade? City I have lived in? Proximity at any given moment? By bar? Sheer bitchiness? Total lack of ability to accessorize? No more Gay-Dar than god gave a toothpick? In drag or out of drag? Not as pretty as they thought they were? Dead or alive? The ones who stabbed me? The ones I filed charges for assault on? 911? How far do you want me to go back? C'mon, point me in a direction!!!" He looks at me. Kind of stunned. I ordered another round just to keep us both lucid. "Oh, just spill your innards." he says. I respond with "Fasten your seat belt, cupcake."
I decided to do it by decade. Flashback.... the 70's.
They started in my hometown of San Francisco, migrated to Wisconsin for college and ended up back in San Francisco for my whore period. Sort of like Picasso's blue period only a LOT more fun. OMG, I knew some of the most incredibly bitchy clones back then. It was WAY beyond dog eat dog. And I was one of them. Oh, god... Tight 501's. Top button undone. A specially custom shrank white t-shirt. Porn 'stache. Black tennis shoes. Oh, lord,we were just too awful for words. But at least we got laid a lot. A LOT!!! I met the most devious, bottom feeding, awful SOB I had ever seen up to that point.. OMG, we're talking psychic-vampire!!! I swear, that bitch could suck the color out of wallpaper!!! I still shudder. I hope to god someone finally put a stake through it's heart!
Fast forward... the 80's.
Cool, this gives me two cities. Minneapolis and Portland, OR. In Minneapolis I met a queen so freaking evil that she actually carried poison apples around just so she wouldn't have to pay for cab fare home after she wasn't snagged up at the "sidewalk sale" when the bar closed. Hideous. Just hideous. Her name was Chi Chi La'rue. Drag don't you know. Today she CEO of Chi Chi La'rue Productions. One of the largest gay porn studios in the country. I salute you. But you're still just a fat guy in a dress, you bitch!!! Portland. Oh, my... That city was just a clusterfuck waiting to be set on fire and then flushed. I met the chart topper of emotional cannibals there. Holy shit, he was amazingly toxic. And a total and complete cunt. My apologies to the sensitive out there, but holyshit this guy just sucked rocks!!! He was a pompous fuckwad with nowhere the money he needed to have behind him to be this big of a shithead. He and I served on two Boards of Director's together and came to so many (way to many) bitch slapping smack downs for me to count. I wanted that SOB to get hit by the moon!!! This is the one instance in my life where I can honestly say I prayed for the permission to instill bodily harm. To where the end result was a funeral. Where I would attend and piss on the corpse. Yes, I HATED THAT MOTHERFUCKER!!!
Flash forward... The 90's. Pretty boring really. I moved back to Wisconsin. I divorced husband number 3. I isolated. I drank. Heavily. I was happy. And then I moved to Madison. I had the next door neighbor from hell. Her name was Todd. FMTT!!! He had emotional canines! Talk about a great white in a pod of baby seals!!! I kept threatening her with a cattle prod... hooked up to Sears DieHard battery. Just get TFAFM!!! Thank god, she's dead. Poisoned, I've heard. Then there's John.. Dead body in the basement. At 2:00 in the morning. Oh yeah, instant freak-out. Don't ask questions. It was sort of a private moment for me. Thank god for a liquor cabinet full of Scotch and the good sense to "sanitize" the house!!! OJFMTTT!!! TOTAL homo-hands!!!
Flash forward... The 'Oughts.
Again, pretty boring. Unless you want to count the cranial hemorrhage, the "paper clip" in my brain, Lyme Disease and the building fire that I was rescued from. Out of window. Over the back of a VERY burly fireman. Had I been conscience I would have been in heaven!!! My car, my dog, me and everything I owned smelled like a bbq at Twelve Oaks. OJFM!!!
Flash forward... the 'teens...
I have a stalker. He's a strange dude. Actually, he used to be a friend. Now, he's just a fiend. I have never had someone that I know go this ballistic on me. Overnight. He used to be a good friend. Now, I look over my shoulder. Just way TOO weird!!! WTF do you think I did to you dude???
As the next round of shots magically appear before us, I ask my friend, "Does that answer your question?".
He immediately orders two more rounds of shots.!
And then we ask for the dinner menu.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
EXCUSE ME, BUT HAS ANY ONE SEEN MONDAY? I SEEM TO HAVE MISPLACED IT...
Oh, lord... I swear, my mind is about as reliable as a $2.00 retreaded tire. I must have Oldtimer's Disease.
So, I get up this morning, bright and early, coffee myself into awareness and get ready to start my day. I have an appointment, don't you know. Yes, at 8 o'clock I have to go put some new tires on the car. I've got clothes laid out. My wallet and keys are ready and waiting on the kitchen counter. I was prepared. OK, I'm anal but I'm likeable.
Seasquirt is watching me. Pondering what I am doing. In amusement. He's already figured out what I'm doing and is just sitting back and seeing how far I take it until he gets the pleasure of bitch slapping my brain into reality. Finally, yes finally, he looks at me and asks "What the fuck are you doing???". I respond, "tires on the car". He cocks his head and gives me the Seasquirt "look" over the top of his glasses. Then he giggles. I hate that. For no other reason than that I know I'm about to be told I'm doing something really bloody stupid. And that I'm probably doing it with shoulders back and head held high. And all without the good sense god gave a toothpick...
Then he tells me "Honey, it's Tuesday.". ??? Huh??? Wha'??? Yeah, I'm only a day early in my quest for new designer tires. Which would be Wednesday. As in tomorrow. Where the bloody hell did Monday go??? I mean, come on, it was yesterday. I was there!!! I even remember it. I just don't remember it as being YESTERDAY!!! We got a new cell phone. We had lunch at Culver's with Andy. I pestered the shit out of Nancy at AMS by asking "cuanto es esto" about everything I could put my hands on. Hell, I even drove on the beltline and you know how much I hate that thing. I even remember stealing a brand new bottle of Cholula Sauce off of the table at Culver's. (YES, they have that there now!!! I'm in heaven!!!) Yes, I remember yesterday. Yes, I remember Monday. I just don't remember it as being yesterday. Or Monday. And I was there. Saint's on a stick, it was less than 24 hours ago. Oh just fuck me, I have the short term memory of a freaking goldfish. Hey, look! I've got a plant... Hey, look! I've got a plant... Hey, look...
I'm starting to feel like Julie Christie's character in "Leaving Her". I'm about half a nonosecond away from starting to put pots and pans in the freezer and tossing the gum out and chewing the wrapper. Hell, I already carry on conversations with myself when I'm in the kitchen. Truly scary part of that is, I'm usually doing it in several different voices... What's next, I start naming the refrigerator magnets??? The silverware??? OK, I will admit that I already have a "special" fork that I call Marco. Don't ask...
Seasquirt, fasten your seat belt, it's gonna be a bumpy ride...
So, I get up this morning, bright and early, coffee myself into awareness and get ready to start my day. I have an appointment, don't you know. Yes, at 8 o'clock I have to go put some new tires on the car. I've got clothes laid out. My wallet and keys are ready and waiting on the kitchen counter. I was prepared. OK, I'm anal but I'm likeable.
Seasquirt is watching me. Pondering what I am doing. In amusement. He's already figured out what I'm doing and is just sitting back and seeing how far I take it until he gets the pleasure of bitch slapping my brain into reality. Finally, yes finally, he looks at me and asks "What the fuck are you doing???". I respond, "tires on the car". He cocks his head and gives me the Seasquirt "look" over the top of his glasses. Then he giggles. I hate that. For no other reason than that I know I'm about to be told I'm doing something really bloody stupid. And that I'm probably doing it with shoulders back and head held high. And all without the good sense god gave a toothpick...
Then he tells me "Honey, it's Tuesday.". ??? Huh??? Wha'??? Yeah, I'm only a day early in my quest for new designer tires. Which would be Wednesday. As in tomorrow. Where the bloody hell did Monday go??? I mean, come on, it was yesterday. I was there!!! I even remember it. I just don't remember it as being YESTERDAY!!! We got a new cell phone. We had lunch at Culver's with Andy. I pestered the shit out of Nancy at AMS by asking "cuanto es esto" about everything I could put my hands on. Hell, I even drove on the beltline and you know how much I hate that thing. I even remember stealing a brand new bottle of Cholula Sauce off of the table at Culver's. (YES, they have that there now!!! I'm in heaven!!!) Yes, I remember yesterday. Yes, I remember Monday. I just don't remember it as being yesterday. Or Monday. And I was there. Saint's on a stick, it was less than 24 hours ago. Oh just fuck me, I have the short term memory of a freaking goldfish. Hey, look! I've got a plant... Hey, look! I've got a plant... Hey, look...
I'm starting to feel like Julie Christie's character in "Leaving Her". I'm about half a nonosecond away from starting to put pots and pans in the freezer and tossing the gum out and chewing the wrapper. Hell, I already carry on conversations with myself when I'm in the kitchen. Truly scary part of that is, I'm usually doing it in several different voices... What's next, I start naming the refrigerator magnets??? The silverware??? OK, I will admit that I already have a "special" fork that I call Marco. Don't ask...
Seasquirt, fasten your seat belt, it's gonna be a bumpy ride...
gOD, I DO LOVE ME SOME FLASH DRIVE!!!
So, as you all know, I ride on the short bus when it comes to anything even remotely technologically advanced. Yes, my cellphone actually has rotary dial on it. I pretty much reached my technological plateau when we had things called cordless phones with big retractable whip antenna things on them. Those things were damned near the size of CB antennas. And that was in the house!!!
I'm a diehard Apple guy. Now I'm on a PC with Windows Fuckyouverymuch 2.0 Vista.... Do I need to say anymore??? But, the computer was a much needed gift from a dear friend when I was in dire straights and I thank her dearly. Butmygod, Windows. What a clusterfuck!!!
So, guess who has managed to eat up more than 70 percent of the available hard drive downloading porn on this computer in less than two weeks??? Ooops, my bad. But I make no excuses.
What can I say, I love prawns. No, wait. That should have been "I love porn." There. I've said it!!! No surprise, huh???
So, my poor computer is up to its nipples in peters (sigh...) and I was at at a loss. FMTFTYFF!!! And then precious little SeaSquirt came to my rescue and started offering me these things called flash drives. I was a bit apprehensive....
Well, an hour later and damned near 11 gigs of new memory at my disposal I am a happy camper. I am a man of acreage (not really). I had NO idea what those little puppies were capable of. OMg!!! I AM IN FUCKING HEAVEN!!!
How the hell can something half the size of a stick of gum actually manage to hold dozens of gigs of naked men doing the kind of things I like to watch??? Technology.... ahh, I'm baffled. But thankful.
I'm a diehard Apple guy. Now I'm on a PC with Windows Fuckyouverymuch 2.0 Vista.... Do I need to say anymore??? But, the computer was a much needed gift from a dear friend when I was in dire straights and I thank her dearly. Butmygod, Windows. What a clusterfuck!!!
So, guess who has managed to eat up more than 70 percent of the available hard drive downloading porn on this computer in less than two weeks??? Ooops, my bad. But I make no excuses.
What can I say, I love prawns. No, wait. That should have been "I love porn." There. I've said it!!! No surprise, huh???
So, my poor computer is up to its nipples in peters (sigh...) and I was at at a loss. FMTFTYFF!!! And then precious little SeaSquirt came to my rescue and started offering me these things called flash drives. I was a bit apprehensive....
Well, an hour later and damned near 11 gigs of new memory at my disposal I am a happy camper. I am a man of acreage (not really). I had NO idea what those little puppies were capable of. OMg!!! I AM IN FUCKING HEAVEN!!!
How the hell can something half the size of a stick of gum actually manage to hold dozens of gigs of naked men doing the kind of things I like to watch??? Technology.... ahh, I'm baffled. But thankful.
Monday, February 18, 2013
YOU'RE NEVER TOO OLD TO MAKE A SPECTACLE OF YOURSELF IN PUBLIC.
I will never pass up the opportunity to cause a scene, public or private. Preferably public. Give me the chance to sink my canines into the jugular of socially acceptable behavior and I pounce like a feral cat. Rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable is not just a saying to me, it's a freaking motto. A lifestyle if you will. Oh, come on, you know what I'm capable of!!!
Last weekend I was given a glorious opportunity to shine and I went for that bait like a hungry shark. Good friends were throwing another of their wonderful theme parties and this one had my name written ALL over it. They threw a Medieval Banquet based on The Age of Chivalry and said come dressed appropriately. Of course, I did. I dug out one of my old Renaissance Faire costumes from the storage locker and spent two weeks shopping at Hobby Lobby to get all of the accessories that I needed to make it just right. You know, you just can't have enough velvet ribbons and feathers, can you??? Let alone rabbit fur wrapped boots and tights. And an onion (Plague, don't you know) and a large wooden spoon (useful for both eating and disciplining the occasionally unruly Pope or surly peasant). Let me tell you, that spoon came in REALLY handy since I was seated at the head table next to a rather annoying Pope. I hope he still has a couple of welts on his miter.
Anyway, half way through this fiasco we were divided up into teams, given a bag of stuff and told to go create our family crests. Luckily, my team was fun. One was dressed as the Evil Queen from Snow White, complete with apple and another one had a purse full of pot. Fifteen minutes later, down in the basement I have somehow managed to damn near permanently adhere myself to a counter with a hot glue gun, sear off a couple of my finger prints and get drunk as hell on homemade mead. Yeah, surprise, huh??? By this time one of my other Renaissance Faire personalities has bubbled to the surface: Dirty Peter, The Rat Peddler. Trust me, he's horrid and needs to be beheaded. Or at the very least whipped into some some sort of silence. Needless to say, the Evil Queen and I joined forces and soon our family crest was laden (overrun???) with rats and bleeding onions. I LOVE that queen!!!
So, back upstairs, in between the smoked salmon and meat course we are suddenly obliged to explain our family crests. Keep in mind, I'm wildly up to my tights in mead at this point and am starting to have out of body experiences. Which, btw, was all the better because the Pope was starting to wear on my nerves. And his miter was starting to look a bit tattered at that point, thanks to my trusty spoon. So, I am urged to hall myself upright. So, there I am, teetering on a chair, flagon of mead in what was left of my fingers and launch into my rant. Lord, I am amazed at how easily I can blow smoke at mirrors out of my ass at a moments notice. Ah, yes, the Noble House of Peter. A fine family, an old line family of rat peddlers. Yes, we introduced rat in a cup, rat on a rope and rat on a stick. For the privileged few with a PayPal account we even offer the availability of the Rat Of The Month Club. Only two pieces of gold a month. With automatic renewable monthly billing. What can I say, we're literally up to our ankles in the little fuckers!!! Yes indeed you can trust the House of Peter! We're all about family. Cause nothing is more fun than a house full of Peters!!! HUZZAH!!! At this point Dirty Peter seizes what is left of my brain and I decide to introduce my family. My lovely wife, Iswalla...Peter. And our charming conjoined triplet daughters, Ineeda, Iwanta and Icrava... Peter. The Pope blanched. And I struck him once more. Ladies in waiting courtsied and counts bowed. I have no idea why. Perhaps because I was finally done and the rambling was over. My family just threw bread at me and wished a pox to descend upon the head of the Noble House of Peter. omg, who the hell wants a Peter with a pox on it???
Then as we sup'd on sweets to clear our palettes we were summoned to sing before her Majesty, Queen Iris. Of course by this point the entire House of Peter is up to their eyeballs in mead and decides to to do some Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. Do-wop style. We won!!! Thank god for alcohol!!!
Now, the kicker to this cluster is that I was actually named King of the Festival. Lord, talk about a rigged election.!!! But the crown is FAGULOUS!!! But I did get the opportunity to decide next years theme: "Spy vs Spy". Luckily, I'm good with explosives... I wonder if Hobby Lobby has detonator cord???
Last weekend I was given a glorious opportunity to shine and I went for that bait like a hungry shark. Good friends were throwing another of their wonderful theme parties and this one had my name written ALL over it. They threw a Medieval Banquet based on The Age of Chivalry and said come dressed appropriately. Of course, I did. I dug out one of my old Renaissance Faire costumes from the storage locker and spent two weeks shopping at Hobby Lobby to get all of the accessories that I needed to make it just right. You know, you just can't have enough velvet ribbons and feathers, can you??? Let alone rabbit fur wrapped boots and tights. And an onion (Plague, don't you know) and a large wooden spoon (useful for both eating and disciplining the occasionally unruly Pope or surly peasant). Let me tell you, that spoon came in REALLY handy since I was seated at the head table next to a rather annoying Pope. I hope he still has a couple of welts on his miter.
Anyway, half way through this fiasco we were divided up into teams, given a bag of stuff and told to go create our family crests. Luckily, my team was fun. One was dressed as the Evil Queen from Snow White, complete with apple and another one had a purse full of pot. Fifteen minutes later, down in the basement I have somehow managed to damn near permanently adhere myself to a counter with a hot glue gun, sear off a couple of my finger prints and get drunk as hell on homemade mead. Yeah, surprise, huh??? By this time one of my other Renaissance Faire personalities has bubbled to the surface: Dirty Peter, The Rat Peddler. Trust me, he's horrid and needs to be beheaded. Or at the very least whipped into some some sort of silence. Needless to say, the Evil Queen and I joined forces and soon our family crest was laden (overrun???) with rats and bleeding onions. I LOVE that queen!!!
So, back upstairs, in between the smoked salmon and meat course we are suddenly obliged to explain our family crests. Keep in mind, I'm wildly up to my tights in mead at this point and am starting to have out of body experiences. Which, btw, was all the better because the Pope was starting to wear on my nerves. And his miter was starting to look a bit tattered at that point, thanks to my trusty spoon. So, I am urged to hall myself upright. So, there I am, teetering on a chair, flagon of mead in what was left of my fingers and launch into my rant. Lord, I am amazed at how easily I can blow smoke at mirrors out of my ass at a moments notice. Ah, yes, the Noble House of Peter. A fine family, an old line family of rat peddlers. Yes, we introduced rat in a cup, rat on a rope and rat on a stick. For the privileged few with a PayPal account we even offer the availability of the Rat Of The Month Club. Only two pieces of gold a month. With automatic renewable monthly billing. What can I say, we're literally up to our ankles in the little fuckers!!! Yes indeed you can trust the House of Peter! We're all about family. Cause nothing is more fun than a house full of Peters!!! HUZZAH!!! At this point Dirty Peter seizes what is left of my brain and I decide to introduce my family. My lovely wife, Iswalla...Peter. And our charming conjoined triplet daughters, Ineeda, Iwanta and Icrava... Peter. The Pope blanched. And I struck him once more. Ladies in waiting courtsied and counts bowed. I have no idea why. Perhaps because I was finally done and the rambling was over. My family just threw bread at me and wished a pox to descend upon the head of the Noble House of Peter. omg, who the hell wants a Peter with a pox on it???
Then as we sup'd on sweets to clear our palettes we were summoned to sing before her Majesty, Queen Iris. Of course by this point the entire House of Peter is up to their eyeballs in mead and decides to to do some Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. Do-wop style. We won!!! Thank god for alcohol!!!
Now, the kicker to this cluster is that I was actually named King of the Festival. Lord, talk about a rigged election.!!! But the crown is FAGULOUS!!! But I did get the opportunity to decide next years theme: "Spy vs Spy". Luckily, I'm good with explosives... I wonder if Hobby Lobby has detonator cord???
Monday, February 11, 2013
I AM NOW USING A PC...
Oh lord, just fuck me in a dirt road until I bleed! And not in that good way that I like. A PC???
As you all know, I am a die-hard, dedicated, card carrying MAC person. I love Apple. They're FABULOUS!!! User friendly little things they are. Intuitive. Warm and fuzzy. Cuddly. Bottom line, they just make sense. PC's are scary. And stupid. They make about as much sense a a bowling ball with nipples. Or a wet paper bag full of rocks at a TSA line up. I hate PC's almost (yes, ALMOST) as much as I hate Microsoft!!! How the hell did all of you mindless cattle get sucked into the psychic vampire vacuum of Windows??? Let alone, how did you manage to get convinced it made sense? Or worked anywhere near efficiently? Or that it didn't need more bandaids and "patches" as a runaway trainwreck on the brown acid??? It's a cluster fuck in a blender on puree with too much salt!!!
OK, with that said.... My 11 year old, coal fired MAC laptop finally gave up the ghost. Died. Gone. Just gone. Dropped like a turd from a tall cows ass it did. Much the way Catherine The Second of Russia did in 1796. Right to the ground, totally off the radar and right of the throne. Not the Royal Throne, mind you, the one she was peeing on. But I digress....
So, here I set, in front of my "new" PC. A very gracious gift from a dear friend who shall remain nameless (Nancy Garcia) who was in the process of updating here system. It's a tower, I've never owned one of those before. I had now idea where to put it. It's got an enormous flat screen that's huge. I went to Staples and with the help of a fiendeshly friendly computer gamer geek actually managed to upgrade myself to a cordless keyboard and mouse. I also told him that I was looking for typewrighter ribbons. His eyes glazed over and he damn near fainted. When I asked him if there were any keyboards with a rotary dial he ran like the Siege of Leon was coming...
Now, back to my rant. Bill Gates should be hung out to dry!!! Microsoft should be outlawed by The Hague!!! This is the single most back-asswards operating system I have ever worked on in my life!!! It's draconian!!! It's hateful!!! It's stupid!!! It's convoluted!!! It's a CLUSTERFUCK!!! jesus christ!!! Everything on Microsoft is totally reversed from Mac. I have cancelled damn near everything I have attempted to do or download (porn) and lost just about everything else I have tried to save.
And what the hell is up with this left/right two click mouse thing??? DUH!!! Wuh?!? What the fuck were you thinking??? (OK, I give you credit for the roller ball thing, I'm getting used to that) But, dude, could you have possibly made a mouse more complicated??? It's a mouse, not rocket science.
Why is fucking everything on Microsoft hidden??? Where does it mysteriously go when you accidently close it? Why are there no drop down menus? GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING PORN YOU ROTTEN BITCH!!!
I am slowly going full blown bat shit crazy with this new computer. It vexes me. It disturbs me. It makes me want to grab a handgun and run to the nearest liquor store and just run totally nuts.
Beware, I'm back...
As you all know, I am a die-hard, dedicated, card carrying MAC person. I love Apple. They're FABULOUS!!! User friendly little things they are. Intuitive. Warm and fuzzy. Cuddly. Bottom line, they just make sense. PC's are scary. And stupid. They make about as much sense a a bowling ball with nipples. Or a wet paper bag full of rocks at a TSA line up. I hate PC's almost (yes, ALMOST) as much as I hate Microsoft!!! How the hell did all of you mindless cattle get sucked into the psychic vampire vacuum of Windows??? Let alone, how did you manage to get convinced it made sense? Or worked anywhere near efficiently? Or that it didn't need more bandaids and "patches" as a runaway trainwreck on the brown acid??? It's a cluster fuck in a blender on puree with too much salt!!!
OK, with that said.... My 11 year old, coal fired MAC laptop finally gave up the ghost. Died. Gone. Just gone. Dropped like a turd from a tall cows ass it did. Much the way Catherine The Second of Russia did in 1796. Right to the ground, totally off the radar and right of the throne. Not the Royal Throne, mind you, the one she was peeing on. But I digress....
So, here I set, in front of my "new" PC. A very gracious gift from a dear friend who shall remain nameless (Nancy Garcia) who was in the process of updating here system. It's a tower, I've never owned one of those before. I had now idea where to put it. It's got an enormous flat screen that's huge. I went to Staples and with the help of a fiendeshly friendly computer gamer geek actually managed to upgrade myself to a cordless keyboard and mouse. I also told him that I was looking for typewrighter ribbons. His eyes glazed over and he damn near fainted. When I asked him if there were any keyboards with a rotary dial he ran like the Siege of Leon was coming...
Now, back to my rant. Bill Gates should be hung out to dry!!! Microsoft should be outlawed by The Hague!!! This is the single most back-asswards operating system I have ever worked on in my life!!! It's draconian!!! It's hateful!!! It's stupid!!! It's convoluted!!! It's a CLUSTERFUCK!!! jesus christ!!! Everything on Microsoft is totally reversed from Mac. I have cancelled damn near everything I have attempted to do or download (porn) and lost just about everything else I have tried to save.
And what the hell is up with this left/right two click mouse thing??? DUH!!! Wuh?!? What the fuck were you thinking??? (OK, I give you credit for the roller ball thing, I'm getting used to that) But, dude, could you have possibly made a mouse more complicated??? It's a mouse, not rocket science.
Why is fucking everything on Microsoft hidden??? Where does it mysteriously go when you accidently close it? Why are there no drop down menus? GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING PORN YOU ROTTEN BITCH!!!
I am slowly going full blown bat shit crazy with this new computer. It vexes me. It disturbs me. It makes me want to grab a handgun and run to the nearest liquor store and just run totally nuts.
Beware, I'm back...
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Thar' She BLOWS!!!
OK, as you all well know, shopping is like mother's milk to me. Hell, I'll buy shit I don't even want just to keep other people from having it. Yes, I know, it's a sickness. I just hope that they never find a cure for it.
So, today I decided to go out grocery shopping at my favorite store, Woodman's. What can I say, you just gotta love a grocery store that's big enough to park a 747-800 in. I got lost in Woodman's once. They had to send out a search party with dogs to find me. They eventually located me in the ethnic aisle. Perusing the menorah candles and wondering why the kosher ones cost more. Anyway...
I was happily pondering the produce and pinching the peppers when I spy this smoking caliente little Mexican baby-daddy over by the nopalitos and was immediately smitten. He was gorgeous!!! He was swarthy, furry and built like a brick banos. Hell, he had eyes I would have sold secrets to the Russians for! SERIOUS papilito!!! Needless to say, I stalked him throughout the entire store. But I digress...
I finished off my shopping list in the pop section and was mindlessly grabbing 2-litres of Diet Pepsi off of the top shelf and tossing them into the cart when two of them decided to give up the ghost, so to speak. All of a sudden hairline cracks broke open on them and they start squirting out pop like a race horse that hasn't peed in three days. Geyser-esque is the term that comes to mind. Well, I yanked the damned things out of my cart before they could soak everything. OK, so now what, I thought to myself. There I stood, a bottle of Pepsi in each hand as they both sprayed out in opposite directions. What do I do next? Why, go brain dead, of course. I just stood there in the middle of the aisle, spinning in a circle like Blanche Hudson locked in the attic as I silently prayed for some sort of absolution to this cluster fuck. Before I realized what I had done I had not only managed to completely cover a toddler in the cart behind me with Pepsi but everything in that cart and his mother as well. I'm dripping with Pepsi. Both of our carts are dripping with Pepsi. Both sides of the aisle are dripping with Pepsi. A cascade of Pepsi is dripping off of the shelves. I'm standing in a puddle of Pepsi. The mother has a look on her face like she just found a turd in her purse. As Pepsi drips off of her nose. And then I take a look at the toddler. He's about half way into one of those 45-second inhales that can only result in one of those glass shattering shrieks that only a toddler is capable of making. You know that sound I mean. The one that starts out merely cruel and unusual and instantly shoots up to a frequency that only dogs can hear. I gotta tell ya, that little dude did his age group proud. Holy shit, the sound that came out of that little fucker was mind boggling!!! Oops, my bad...
I had no choice but to exercise my only option at that point. I dropped the now pretty much empty bottles onto the floor and sloshed my way over to the nearest check-out lane for some assistance. The clerk looks up and sees me standing there, dripping with Pepsi, and her mouth drops open. Trying to make the best of a soggy situation I just looked at her casually and said "You might want to call for maintenance, I think you're in need of a wet spill clean up in Aisle W." She grabbed the intercom phone with one hand and gave me a roll of paper towels with the other. "Thank you," I said, "I'm sure that the mother over there with the turd in her purse is going to want to dry off her kid before he hardens." And then I started giggling. And Pepsi came out of my nose. What can I say? Pretty, pretty princess...
Now, just to get some closure on this nightmare I decided to check out at the aisle with the clerk that had called for the clean up. If for no other reason that to give her back what was left of her roll of paper towels. All of about 3 sheets worth. All of which were brown, wet and sticky. But at least they were sugar free and decaffeinated. She was less than amused. Especially since she needed to dry off everything in my cart before she could run it over the scanner. And of course, I'm still kind of dripping Pepsi. As I was loading my car I started attracting insects from as far away as the airport. By the time I finally got my trunk all loaded up I looked like a two week old fly strip from Indonesia, for chris'sakes!!! I swear, a couple of more flies and I could have been airborne.
It's enough to put me off of shopping. Well, maybe not...
So, today I decided to go out grocery shopping at my favorite store, Woodman's. What can I say, you just gotta love a grocery store that's big enough to park a 747-800 in. I got lost in Woodman's once. They had to send out a search party with dogs to find me. They eventually located me in the ethnic aisle. Perusing the menorah candles and wondering why the kosher ones cost more. Anyway...
I was happily pondering the produce and pinching the peppers when I spy this smoking caliente little Mexican baby-daddy over by the nopalitos and was immediately smitten. He was gorgeous!!! He was swarthy, furry and built like a brick banos. Hell, he had eyes I would have sold secrets to the Russians for! SERIOUS papilito!!! Needless to say, I stalked him throughout the entire store. But I digress...
I finished off my shopping list in the pop section and was mindlessly grabbing 2-litres of Diet Pepsi off of the top shelf and tossing them into the cart when two of them decided to give up the ghost, so to speak. All of a sudden hairline cracks broke open on them and they start squirting out pop like a race horse that hasn't peed in three days. Geyser-esque is the term that comes to mind. Well, I yanked the damned things out of my cart before they could soak everything. OK, so now what, I thought to myself. There I stood, a bottle of Pepsi in each hand as they both sprayed out in opposite directions. What do I do next? Why, go brain dead, of course. I just stood there in the middle of the aisle, spinning in a circle like Blanche Hudson locked in the attic as I silently prayed for some sort of absolution to this cluster fuck. Before I realized what I had done I had not only managed to completely cover a toddler in the cart behind me with Pepsi but everything in that cart and his mother as well. I'm dripping with Pepsi. Both of our carts are dripping with Pepsi. Both sides of the aisle are dripping with Pepsi. A cascade of Pepsi is dripping off of the shelves. I'm standing in a puddle of Pepsi. The mother has a look on her face like she just found a turd in her purse. As Pepsi drips off of her nose. And then I take a look at the toddler. He's about half way into one of those 45-second inhales that can only result in one of those glass shattering shrieks that only a toddler is capable of making. You know that sound I mean. The one that starts out merely cruel and unusual and instantly shoots up to a frequency that only dogs can hear. I gotta tell ya, that little dude did his age group proud. Holy shit, the sound that came out of that little fucker was mind boggling!!! Oops, my bad...
I had no choice but to exercise my only option at that point. I dropped the now pretty much empty bottles onto the floor and sloshed my way over to the nearest check-out lane for some assistance. The clerk looks up and sees me standing there, dripping with Pepsi, and her mouth drops open. Trying to make the best of a soggy situation I just looked at her casually and said "You might want to call for maintenance, I think you're in need of a wet spill clean up in Aisle W." She grabbed the intercom phone with one hand and gave me a roll of paper towels with the other. "Thank you," I said, "I'm sure that the mother over there with the turd in her purse is going to want to dry off her kid before he hardens." And then I started giggling. And Pepsi came out of my nose. What can I say? Pretty, pretty princess...
Now, just to get some closure on this nightmare I decided to check out at the aisle with the clerk that had called for the clean up. If for no other reason that to give her back what was left of her roll of paper towels. All of about 3 sheets worth. All of which were brown, wet and sticky. But at least they were sugar free and decaffeinated. She was less than amused. Especially since she needed to dry off everything in my cart before she could run it over the scanner. And of course, I'm still kind of dripping Pepsi. As I was loading my car I started attracting insects from as far away as the airport. By the time I finally got my trunk all loaded up I looked like a two week old fly strip from Indonesia, for chris'sakes!!! I swear, a couple of more flies and I could have been airborne.
It's enough to put me off of shopping. Well, maybe not...
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