Palin, Eat a Fat One

So, you've already heard the news but I just wanted to say that I am glad this fucking waste of flesh is soon to be no longer in charge of the state. I fucking loathe Palin, so I hope she fucking chokes.

Also, during the 4th of July parade yesterday, a bunch of fucking assholes kept saying, "Enjoy your freedom." like a bunch of smug fucking shitheads. You know what motherfucker? I don't need some fucking idiot to remind me to enjoy freedom. I enjoy my freedom every time I give some anti-gay protesters the finger. I enjoy my freedom every time I tell the internet that a public official can go suck a box of dicks. I enjoy my freedom every time I watch video of a woman sucking off a horse. I enjoy my freedom every time I drop a fuck load of f-bombs in the produce section. So all you stupid motherfuckers who feel the need to remind people to enjoy freedom can go get bent, because we're probably already enjoying the fuck out of it already, without your smug fucking comment, douche.

God bless the fuck out of America.

WHOO!! Spring Break!

Hey, something is different in here.

Notice anything amiss in here?

Gavin and lightsaber

Throw me something, mister.

So, I've been slacking here. I made Felicia cut my hair last week because I wanted to have a hair cut but didn't want to shell out 20 bucks for some chain smoking Korean lady to trim my shit in 5 minutes. I think it turned out okay. I mean, my entire life I have been subjected to shitty haircuts, so who the fuck cares? No one even notices, and if they do, they never say shit, so fuck it.

Also, the last two pictures show some loot that my oldest brother sent to us from LA. That was pretty cool.

Finally, the middle pictures are of what happened today in the apartment. At about noon, some water starts trickling into the kitchen from the apartment above us. Which wasn't so surprising because I had heard the maintenance people up there working on some shit today, but a bunch of our shit got this ass water all over it. So, it sucked. However, we managed to get a system set up to catch most of the water and moved our stuff and called the office to tell them what was up. So they send someone by our place. All cool, the chick tells us that she had some water that got out but that it was no big deal and that it should stop.

The water flow starts slowing and so it's not really so big a deal and then some other dude comes by and asks us what is up and we tell him and he says that they're working on it and everything should be cool. About 15 minutes later we hear them working upstairs, and then we hear the distinct footfall of motherfuckers running. Ten seconds later a shitload of water is pouring down into the kitchen, fucking up even more stuff, getting all over, and causing me to shout, "Fucking Bullshit! This is Fucking Bullshit!" as I'm trying to move towels around and sop all the tepid darkly tinted water into our towels, and Gavin is standing at the entrance to the kitchen saying, "It's a waterfall."

The onslaught continued for about 2 minutes but seemed like forever and finally they get the shit cut off and we start to dry shit. Fucking ridiculous. Of course after this, Tiny decides he is thirsty and starts screaming his ass off about not having any water. I told Felicia, "Today is one of those days that you just want to forget ever happened."

Then I was thinking about it all, because Felicia and I were looking into how we are going to be moving back to the States after we graduate and all the shit we need to do to move somewhere, like checking housing markets, house values, employment possibilities, median incomes, travel times, education possibilities, and all that other sundry bullshit you have to do to actually move somewhere to not be homeless. I saw that in the place we were thinking about moving had, of course, many poor people and few rich people, and this got me thinking about the previous election and all the talk about socialism and all this shit about redistributing wealth, and about all the butthurt rich people talking about shit being unfair.

Fuck off. Rich people, as defined by getting more than 250k per year, can suck a fat dick. Fuck you. You don't live in shit ass living conditions. If your plumbing is fucked you call a plumber and then the clean up crew. You don't have to do shit you don't want to, except keep up with the fucking cunt-assed Joneses. And you know what else? There's a fuckton more of us poor motherfuckers than there are you rich ones. So don't mind those "tax increases" that only revert to pre-Bush era tax standards that make the U.S. "socialist". You motherfuckers pay up, because you know that in a purely Darwinian world, poor people would outbreed and exterminate your genetic line. So, fuckers, ask yourself this question: What's a tax increase compared to your genes not existing at all? Not much, fuckhole.

Book Review

The Woman in the Dunes, Kobo Abe

The Sea, John Banville

The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

A while back I wrote about how I wanted to read a new book by an author unknown to me classified alphabetically by last name, i.e., start with the A's go to the Z's. Well, I have gotten through the first three letters of the alphabet and I decided it was time for a progress report.

To start, I read The Woman in the Dunes. It ruled. I kind of had the feeling that I lost a lot in the translation from Japanese to English, but it ruled anyway. I identified more with the actual woman in the dunes than with the dude who found her but I'll leave it up to you to read it. Just google the shit and buy it already.

Then, I read The Sea. It ruled more than The Woman in the Dunes by several levels of magnitude. John Banville rules. He has a way with the language that makes you want to be him. I have the feeling that he is the reason that some people want to become writers, just so you can own as much as he does. I will say that the ending does not satisfy, but he writes such a dense landscape that you can forgive him. He almost makes you feel like you are there, the way a great writer does, especially if you have spent any time at the shore, contemplating the infinitude of the waves.

Last up is Chbosky's work, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I made it through about 30 pages of this dogshit. First up, he writes the book in a "compendium of letters to some other person" format. I forgave him that shit. Then, the protagonist, a 15 year old boy, spends all his time crying and being emo and shit, even though he kicks some bully's ass. I looked the other way on that one too. Then, the straw: he writes to his "friend" that although he is 15 he has just discovered what masturbation is and decides to describe it to his "pen pal".

Fucking Total Shit. I could deal with the crying and the letter format, but this is completely fucking stupid. There is no male (I'm totally generalizing from my own experience here) who does not know what the fuck masturbation is all about by the time that he is 15 fucking years old. Bull-Motherfucking-Shit. Stephen Chbosky is a motherfucking idiot who writes "coming of age" novels for teen girls. Avoid this fucking idiot like the plague because he has no idea how to convey the absolute terror that being an adolescent male entails. He is a fucking shill. Fuck him, the fucking loser.

So, in sum, read some books and shit, make your own opinions because mine certainly suck.

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.

Yeah, Yeah

My life isn't solely existential crises and binge drinking. Sometimes, I make cobbler.

So, yeah, I've been a little more than fucked up lately. What of it? It's a very fucked up and hazy line I stumble along: mindfulness interspersed with wanton alcohol abuse, rage sitting side by side with bliss, and rampant misanthropy coupled with an unending hope for the future of humanity. What can I say? The world is a very fucked up place and while I am not an original person at least I am complicated.

There's a lot of shit on the docket so be prepared. First things first, I suppose.

Today I was at the post office with both children in tow. I'm holding Tiny and Bug has decided to fuck up his shoes so that he has to walk at half the speed he usually does. So I get inside and stoop down and begin to fix Bug's shoes with my free hand. A lady comes over to where I am, bends forward at the waist and asks in a tone reserved solely for the cognitively impaired, "Do you need some help? It looks like you have your hands full."

I think, "What the goddamn holy fuck?" But I manage to say, "No I've got it. Thanks."

Not only is it enraging to be condescended to by some random lady who is giving off the air that just because I am a man, by myself, with two children who is doing the same shit you see women doing all the time, it's baffling that she thinks she can help. What the fuck is this random stranger thinking she is going to do for me? Hold my infant? Velcro my pre-schooler's shoes? Go check my goddamn mail for me? Go pick up my fucking groceries while I am swamped at the post office?

Asshole.

Also, Felicia and I qualify for WIC, so today I go to pick up the checks for all our sweet government provided cereal, milk, and cheese. I have to sign some forms that say if I get WIC checks from any other office I am a fraud and will be prosecuted. The lady at the counter says that I have to sign three forms. It turned out that I had to sign four forms and so the lady says to me, "Oh, you poor man."

Yeah, pity me because I'm not only poor, I'm male. Hey, you know what would make me feel better? Suck my dick behind the Child Care Assistance/ WIC office, bitch.

You know the worst part is it's okay to say/do these insanely offensive things to men with children but if I were to ask some woman with four kids if she needed some help shopping at the fucking Wal-Mart I'd be, at worst, pepper sprayed, or at best, looked at like I had a goddamn dick growing out of my forehead.

Fuck all that noise. The cobbler I made was fucking delicious, and Kraft now has a Mac-n-Cheese that is 50% whole grains so there is like five times the amount of dietary fiber of regular Mac, which is good if you have kids and worry about trivial shit like, you know, their digestive and nutritional health.

Hey, Gavin at the Matanuska River, getting ready to chuck some rocks into the water. Whoo!

Kylie Minogue and Wine Swilling

So, here we are again. You know the feeling you get when you drink one bottle of wine and then make that rosy tinted decision to drink the other one you have next to you? Well, add that and an assist from Pandora and you get semi-drunken blogging.

Today at the liquor store I spent the gift card I got for my birthday. I have 6 bottles of Papio in my cart and I go to pay. In front of me is the apex of trailer-park evolution. Cut off sleeve T-shirt, shorts, backwards hat, shitty tattoos, flip flops and what else but stupid wannabe-tough-guy-lispy voice. Dip shit tries to pay with a gift card with not enough money for a pack of cigarettes and comes up short. He disputes the amount of the gift card with the teller. She proves him wrong and he decides he doesn't need the cigs. So he opts for chew. Grizzly. Clearly we have a Masterpiece Theater, wine aficionado, high class Motherfucker here.

I really thought when I was out of the clutches of the Mason-Dixon I would be away from all these pieces of shit, but NO! It seems like every time I go to get some fucking fruit I have to encounter Cletus and his non-shirt -wearing ilk. In the past two days I have seen 3 assholes in the supermarket without shirts. Sometimes I think I should move into my dead-parent's-ghost-infested house just so I can enjoy the Southern cooking whilst I look at assholes who can't be bothered to wear shirts to the Goddamn Wal-Mart.

My mother-in-law bought some ribs for my 2nd birthday and paid way too much for them. That is the only reason I bring up the last part. The ribs were good, but they weren't that good for that much money.

That, I surmise, is the message of this post. The frigid North is populated by all manner of shit heads who, willingly, call themselves the Slednecks. I really hate this kind of Dumbed Down culture that people aspire to. Purists will note that the last sentence ended with a preposition. Hey, I'm a little wasted, give me some lee way.