AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Say goodbye to your fucking Senate seat, you are going to Federal Pound Me In The Ass Prison. This is totally fucking great. Now, get your fucking asses over and donate to Mark Begich.

Tell Your Friends Peace

Check out this comic from Toothpaste for Dinner.

So, I went out last night. It was terrible. Smoking in bars is still allowed in the stupid Mat-Su Valley, home of a bunch of stupid motherfucking rednecks. Yesterday, I saw a mud-coated truck that had the words "No bama" and "Vote McCain or die" spray painted on the tailgate and door. Of course, the truck was piloted by some mouth-breathing, fuck-tard, white kid who definitely had no idea about how government even works, much less an informed opinion about theories of governance. What a fucking douche. And to think we live in a society that actually permits this idiot a voice in how business is conducted. Un-fucking-believable.

Anyway, I went out and was promptly reminded of why I like drinking alone, in my house, the fuck away from a bunch of leathered-up Harley riders, bitches singing karaoke, and motherfuckers dressing like they just got off the cattle drive. Felicia and I were talking about how there is a vast, untapped research potential for observing human mating behavior that exists in bars all across the country. I mean, I could perpetually produce articles detailing how stupidly people behave if I could just have some audio/video feed from local bars.

Yeah, I did the whole bar, drink, talk with strangers (about sports of all things), went somewhere else, met up with some peeps, hugged a bunch of people, and yes, danced. I fucking danced, for fuck's sake. Here I am parading around like I'm some kind of adult, but stick me in the right situation and I'll be goddammed if I don't end up doing some stupid shit like dancing. Fuck, I was wasted.

One More Time Around

I don't think I'll have any pictures today. No, I fucking lied.


I made some fried chicken yesterday. I'm not talking about the shit you get at KFC or some other fucking place. I'm talking about in the kitchen, fucking up a chicken carcass, breading the motherfucker and then pan frying the bitch. I'm talking about work. And cayenne pepper, loads of that shit. This is one of the most southern of dishes you could possibly hope to eat. Healthy? Fuck no. Lots of work? Damn straight. Delicious? Hell fuck yes.

And that's what the fuck I am talking about. As a kid I had fried chicken, as described above, probably once a week. And not just the chicken either. We had mashed potatoes, or rice, and gravy, bread of some sort, iced tea/lemonade, and some kind of vegetable. And let's not forget the dessert.

What I'm saying is that my parents worked their asses off to give me some good shit that I didn't appreciate at the time. In fact, I complained to the high heavens about having to eat chicken "again". I was a fuckhole, a total ingrate motherfucker. I was everything that was wrong with the human species and I had no problem with it.

I regret that shit, like a motherfucker. Yeah, my parents weren't perfect, they did stupid things, just like everyone else, but sometimes I wish that they were still around so that I could tell them that they were right about a lot of shit and that I'm sorry for being such a dick all the time.

I Wonder How Much Pain It Would Take

Yeah, I cut my hair.

I can has table scraps?

Ahh, the bipolarity of children.

So, yeah, that's me. I cut my hair. I found myself enraged whilst trying to buckle car seats this week so I said, "Fuck it. We'll do it Live!" Now, I'm back to an almost regulation haircut. Crazy. Hell, I think it looks good, it emphasizes the fact that I've become painfully skinny. Seriously, I've lost 10 or so pounds since we moved, and that's factoring in the food poisoning losses. I've got to tell you, I feel crazy, amped up, almost unhinged, on the precipice of some unrealizable drop, completely enraged, morbidly detached. Without sounding too much like some poetry spouting loser, the other day I was staring into something so vacant it made me question my existence.

I've also been eerily quiet on the political news front. I blame Felicia. She gets to hear all my good shit and then I think that if I repost here, it gets too redundant. This, however, warrants some attention. I know that everyone and their brother has been lampooning Sarah Palin, I don't like her, I think she is incompetent, and that she is coached to say what the Party deems okay, but this is some shit that I can't fathom. She says some shit about how "Joe the Plumber" is afraid that Obama will take his money and redistribute it to people who haven't worked as hard as he has. To this I reply, "Goddamn straight."

Listen up, motherfuckers. I am one of those poor motherfuckers you hate. I am a living, breathing example of why you should support welfare. I get WIC, and childcare assistance. I go to college because I served in the military and paid my shit to have the GI Bill. I have paid taxes and while I currently don't because of school, I will have a degree soon and then be forced to get a job and pay taxes again. Without all the help we get now, I would be fucked.

So, yeah, Joe the fucking Plumber, I would not only take your earrings, but I would put you and your whole fucking family on the fucking rack and torture the shit out of you all if that's what it took for my kids to fucking eat. I would fuck your shit up. All you rich people too, you motherfuckers mean nothing to me. I'd fuck your shit up too. So be glad that we live in a society where all we do is take your money so undeserving, non-hardworking motherfuckers like me and my kids get the crumbs from the adult table so that we can live and maybe, just maybe, we can make something better for our kids than what our parents had. And don't get me wrong, I know I am one of the lucky ones.

Fuck Joe the Plumber and fuck Joe Sixpack while we're at it, the motherfucking alcoholic.

Ratfuckers

One Totally Unabashed Ratfucker.

Seriously, never eat at Red Robin restaurants. They fucking suck. They fucking gave everyone in the house food poisoning, and now instead of being passed the fuck out at 415 AM on Saturday, I'm up because I can't stop puking, Gavin can't stop puking, and Felicia can't stop puking. All the vomiting wakes up Tiny and he starts screaming his ass off. Everyone calms down, sleep is attempted again but it only lasts for an hour or so before one of us is up again, retching our fucking guts out. Seriously, never eat at that fucking place.

Do not fuck with these guys. They will fuck you up.

This Is Some Bullshit Right Here

Total Fucking Bullshit.

So, you know how I posted that it was autumn last week? Well, God decided to shit all over that one. In short, it snowed today. It fucking snowed on 05 October. What the fuck kind of place do I live in? Oh yeah, one that sucks.

I know we all hate the places in which we live, it's human nature, but this is some Grade-A bullshit. I mean, I don't even have the goddamn studded tires on yet.

Also, Gavin probably has cancer, or something. We took him to the doctor today after a night of 103 plus temperatures and vomiting and the doc said, "Ehh, I don't know." He doesn't have the flu, strep, ear infections, all the usual culprits, he just has raging fevers that are remedied by motrin and no appetite. I'm going to call the bullshit card on this one too.

Seriously, never have children. You know how everyone is all freaking out about the economy and shit? Well, have some goddamn kids, and then have them get sick and you can't do shit about it, and you have no fucking money, and they might die. That's some real motherfucking worry, right there. You realize that all the other shit you were thinking about doesn't matter and that you would kill every other being on the planet if it would make your kid feel better. I'm serious.

On the positive side, I made burritos, which totally owned.

Yo, What's Up?

Just doing some light reading.

The only thing that is missing here is a giant loaf of crusty bread.

Check out the flower that one of my plants put out. Creepy, right?

So the damn children have been sick. Of course, the children's state health insurance is being re-approved right now and we don't have any coverage, so the children see the need to have all these doctor appointments and medications and all this shit. I tell you, they better produce one hell of a return on the investment we're putting into them. I don't know what the fuck we would do if we had to pay for this shit all the time.

Hey, you know what else? I hate a lot of people. Today I found an old diary (Yeah, I called it a diary. Only homos have journals.) that I had kept from back when before I hooked up with Felicia, went through my divorce, and progressed through the time the old man died and up to past Gavin's birth. In short, I was a fucking wreck. I think that, judging from the shit I saw, I could probably have been diagnosed with depression. Not in a pussy, "Oh, I don't feel good about life" way but in a "Holy Shit. Maybe I need to make the world better and kill myself" type of situation.

Look, I've always been prone to the melancholy, but looking at that shit made me thankful for the tenacity that is built into the whole business of living. Shit. If I'd been a total douche, I would have offed myself and never found teh blogonets. And then where would all you motherfuckers be?

All I'm saying is that maybe you should go back and read some shit that you had put down in a previous time. It's kind of fun to see a keyhole view into how you thought the world was and that you thought you knew who you were. The truth is that you don't know shit, and you just delude yourself into thinking you know what is up and what is going on. The truth is that you are terrible, just like me. We are all terrible. That is our station as a species: To be terrible.

Now, get out there and be terrible. You motherfuckers!