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Scout it is….
January 29th, 2007
Last Tuesday I went to the Jefferson Parish Animal Shelter and adopted a 2 month old female Black Lab puppy. Then I spent all week cleaning up piss and shit and trying to think of a name. Anyone out there thinking of getting a puppy should really decide on the name before adopting said puppy lest you should end up naming your puppy “Shit Geyser” or “Damn It”. Living in New Orleans, I thought about naming her FEMA but that just seemed like it could lead to problems.
Anyway, she seems to be doing fine. Still too young to have complete control of her, uh, facilities so it isn’t really all that upsetting. Kennel training is the best thing I’ve ever heard of and it works like a charm. Anyway, any of you that stumble across this after not seeing anything for months can rest in the knowledge that I’m going to be posting here more.
Wow, has it been that long?!?
October 17th, 2006Most of my readers have no doubt lost interest in this site and the people I actually know who had this site on their blogroll have removed it. Nice. Perfect. So in the awful quiet of no one paying attention, I pulled the failed experiment down and brought the original site back.So Tighten Up Bitches!
Why doesn’t Vagisil make a mouthwash? Seems obvious to me. It’s a natural product direction. Plus it would be unisex - er, it would have to be - so that would gain them a revenue stream from the previously untapped Male half of the population as well. I did some research and it seems that Vagisil has a few more products than I had previously thought. I was aware of the creme (nice french spelling too) I mean, really. But a foaming wash? I don’t know if I like the idea of that. To me, I’m picturing jabbing the business end of a can of Reddi-wip into the end of a Taco Bell Burrito Supreme and having at it. Messy at best.
Some of their products aren’t all that bad. I can understand Deodorant Powder - believe me. But Intimate Lubricant? As a Guy, lubricant has no other purpose than sexual be it masturbation or otherwise. But as a person, I can see where a little lubri-can’t on the ol’ meat curtains might be nice on the average Tuesday. The products that really makes my mouthwash idea fit with their advertising plan is the anti-itch stuff. Now, if it were just some creme (again with the french) then maybe not. But they have medicated anti-itch wipes, which means it’s only a matter of time before they come in a little Hello Kitty carry case like every other feminine product on the market. And at such time that you’re squirming in your seat like Baloo rubbing his bear-ass on a tree until you can get to a bathroom and wet-knap your vertical smile: I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that your breath may need a little attention as well.
And possibly for the same reason.
Calm down you bastards….
December 23rd, 2005I’m not bringing the site back up yet, I’m just working on the code and template engine. Even so, if you see me out, don’t say a fucking word about this site or I might just punch you square in the cock-holster. Make no mistake, I am perfectly willing to go to jail becuase you’re an asshole.
Damn, how drunk was I?
November 19th, 2005Everyone’s heard the stories of people getting drunk in Las Vegas and getting married. That is a respectable level of weirdness but it just seems sort of pedestrian. So, in a much more respectable fit of weirdness earlier today I got myself ordained as a minister. heh heh. Seriously. I’m not going to bother to put the certificate up here because everyone knows it would be so easy to fake one with Photoshop. Turns out actually getting ordained is even easier. The only thing left to do is get my Letter of Good Standing from the church, which I should be receiving shortly, then I just take it to City Hall and I’ll be able to do all of the following:”To perform marriages within any US state, following the rules laid out by the state in which you wish to perform said marriage. To perform funerals, baptisms, last rites or any other sort of legal ceremony or ritual you wish to perform, except circumcision. To start a church of your own, be it a bricks and mortar building or on the internet. To absolve others of their sins as you have been absolved of yours.”
Now you might be saying to yourself, ‘There’s no fucking way this guy is getting a Letter of Good Standing from any church anywhere’. No. No. You would be mistaken my flock. Look at that last thing in the list again. I’ll paraphrase for those who aren’t real good with church lingo: “I’ve been forgiven for all my sins, which pretty much puts my ass in good standing. Plus there’s the added benefit of being able to to forgive all you other bastards for the stupid shit you do”. My new motto: “Anybody wanna thrill-fuck a Reverend?”
….short bus special or extra cookie special?
November 18th, 2005I’m in a particularly good mood today. Had breakfast at Slim Goodies and that always cheers me up. Got a little work done and now I’m taking a little break to get my kitchen and bathroom cleaned up. Aren’t I an endlessly exciting individual? So, T.H.G.E. had to go to some party last night with a bunch of hoity mother fuckers. Lawyers and such. So I gave her an assignment: She had to work the word Stentorian into a conversation referring to someone else at the party. Preferably said as if it were a compliment. I haven’t heard how that worked out. It may be that she doesn’t like her new moniker. Or it could be that MedicineMan has forbid her from interacting with me - I would if I were him. I am, after all, an asshole and he’s never met me.
See, T.H.G.E. is engaged to MedicineMan and the reason I named him that is because when T.H.G.E. was telling me about him she kept saying, “he’s in medicine” - said it four or five times. So I’m confused by this obviously intentional choice of words and ultimately decide what she means is that he’s actually in medicine - ya know, as a active ingredient or something. Or maybe that gel cap coating on Tylenol has a creepier origin than I previously suspected - and now that I’ve thought of it - how cool would that job be? I mean, imagine going to work and they hook your junk up to some electrodes and as the little pills come by an electric shock causes an abbreviated orgasm sending a small amount of daddy juice out and BAM - gel cap.
“How was work today, dear?”
“Well a transformer went out on the main junk zapper so the voltage was too high. Caused a couple of us to shit-mist so they had to shut down for repairs and clean up. Otherwise, not bad”.
Alright, enough of that weirdness. I’ve been listening to Big D and the Kid’s Table and I can not tell you bastards how much I like ska music. In other news I’m trying to figure out what my motto for next year is going to be. This year was “no jive in 05″ which I stole from Cartoon Network. Start the year with thievery and the next thing you know fate smacks your ass by destroying the city you live in. So this year I’ll have to come up with my own. The Hot Librarian turned the phrase “The great blowjob famine of 2005″ and I think that somehow jinxed me. So the only suggestion I’ve gotten so far was “No Sex in 06″ which just seems like an utterly worthless suggestion. Why would I want to deprive the world of my excellent monkey lovin’? Then I was thinking of going an entirely different direction and declare 06 the “year of the flying poo”. I dunno.
When you come into my apartment you have to climb this very steep set of stairs that I affectionately refer to as ‘the widow maker’. Once inside my house I found myself lulled into complacency by the false sense of security of being home. See, you actually enter my apartment onto a landing and there are 4 stairs a few feet in - these stairs are known as ‘the drunk-finder’. I tried to MacGyver something cool to prevent me from falling down the stairs, but that proved to be too difficult given how clumsy I am. So now when I go out drinking, I move the futon mattress over to the bottom of the stairs before I leave. Then I put the tv remote, a pillow, a blanket, and a glass of water there as well. Perfuct! There is the problem of having to explain the futon mattress at the bottom of the stairs on the off-chance that I bring a girl home, but at this point the odds of me falling down the stairs are exponentially higher than some girl taking an interest in me. The point of this story is that I’m very safety oriented.
Like a Cockroach
November 17th, 2005At the beginning of my last bender I got a message from some girl whod stumbled across my site. Turns out, she lives in my neighborhood cool. Turns out fans are like cockroaches: You step on one and another one quickly scurries over to eat its legs. weird.
I was going out for a drink and told her to stop by if she wanted and we could talk for a minute. This person will be referred to as T.H.G.E. The Hottest Girl Ever. This means no offense to the original hot fan, but Im reassessing that adjective since it has now been redefined as I understand it in my mind. That said, shes engaged and Im an ass anyway so it really doesnt matter in any small way at all. Still, its a nice complement that she thinks Im interesting, even if it is just in an intellectual way not because shes hot, but because shes cool. And the cool thing is what makes her T.H.G.E. There are a lot of really attractive people in the world and there are also a lot of assholes in the world; this is not a coincidence. So theres that.
Additionally, Im having an easy week at work and am getting to spend the whole week in New Orleans instead of having to fly to Columbus, OH. Dodged that bullet.
In other random news, you can see my new home/office accessory here, but you have to look closely to see what it is. Take your time…..any questions? No? Then, consider your ass warned.
Tonight Im looking forward to seeing some people I used to work with some of which I haven’t seen in months. Should be fun. And is not in any way related to the previous paragraph.
This weekend Im going back to the Chiropractor to continue the 18 weeks of treatment for a bulging disk in my headstand thats been the cause of several weeks of some of the worst pain Ive ever felt. Hurt’n like a bastard on father’s day. Not to mention that my left arm has been asleep for about three weeks now. Also, this weekend, the landlord wants me to help him move my new refrigerator up to my second floor apartment. Nice.
Not having a fridge sucks ass. Im so spoiled to having a place to keep things cold. For example, this morning I had a conference call at 8:30 am and didnt have anything to eat but a Jumbalia MRE Id picked up from the Red Cross to sell on eBay and some left over Dominos Pizza. Pizza, you say? Why not the Dominos Chicken Kickers youre always raving about? Well, The few restaurants that are open have very limited menus. Dominos has the large cheese pizza and the large pepperoni pizza. This is confusing to me because a medium pepperoni pizza is the exact same thing but smaller. I didnt want a large because I have no way to handle the leftovers and Im the only one here. I explained that and eventually found myself talking to the manager and the argument ended when I said then just fucking cut a large in half and sell me that! It was then I realized I was not handling the situation well. So I ended up with the large pepperoni pizza and thus had leftovers this morning. It had been about 18 hours since I ordered it by the time I flipped the box open this morning. The pepperoni had all gone all red wine on me as in they’d turned dark and dry. Like little scabs on a jaundiced back. So I ate the pizza while I was on the conference call.
Later that morning, my hunger not satisfied by the pizza jerky, I went to Shoneys with a friend. Not a hot friend and certainly not T.H.G.E. - quite the opposite, hes an ugly guy with the misfortune of having a girls name which he tries to cover up with a fucked up pronunciation. I asked for a menu and the waitress said We aint got it. What? I asked. Whatever you were going to point to in the menu. I see. All we got is the salad bar. Now lets think about this last sentence. Ignore the grammar and lets think about what we know, for certain, from that sentence. Do we know they have meatloaf? No, they might, and they did, and it was good, but we dont know that from the sentence in question. The only thing we know is that they have got a salad bar as in the actual piece of equipment. But thats too abstract. We also know that being a salad bar, given its name and all, salad might be present at said salad bar; or at least this is certainly implied. I was WAY off. No salad at the salad bar. And that concludes Macaques Quantum Mechanics 101 lecture for today.
Not Yet….
November 16th, 2005I just stopped in to change my shirt (spilt beer on it) and my drawers (thought it was a fart) and then I’m going back to the bar so NOT YET BITCHES!!
Maybe tomorrow…
Hey, a fan!
November 13th, 2005So this really hot girl I’ve been introduced to a few times in the last month or so came up to me in the Balcony Bar last night professing her love of this site. Clearly, she was completely out of her mind drunk and somewhat delusional. Despite this, since I have ‘no game’, that was the extent of that particular interaction. Sometimes it sucks to be me. Women only love me for my mind - what the fuck is that about? I’m actually emailing a convict currently in prison for murder to try and get dating tips. That mother fucker gets more ass that the toilet seat of a cheap coffee shop. It turns out, though, that when we worked out the math and discounted prison sex (heh heh) he wasn’t doing as well as it first appeared. This may be the most significant proof of my theory that Bisexuals are statistical geniuses that have managed to find a way to double their target audience. If it weren’t for that pesky hangup I have about sucking dick, I’d not have a care in the world.
Well, anyway, I just don’t think objectification has to be a bad thing and most of my friends agree, but then, they’re all fucked up individually and as a grope anyway. Plus most women have this thing where they expect you to not be an ass every second of every day - that hurts my chances.”I really like your writing” :says some random ass who is clearly not paying attention.”Yeah, that’s nice to hear. Now either blow me or fuck off.” :me. Last I’ll hear of that kind of thing I bet.
When I think about it, this site sucks. I don’t get anything out of it and it consumes a lot of my time trying to get this shitty software to do what it should and it’s still slower than a stoner playing chess. On the bright side, its the closest thing to a comment I’ve gotten from you bastards in months. Its almost like you fuckers don’t understand the concept we’re doing here - YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO COMMEMT!!! And if you look around, and I know you won’t, then you’ll notice no comment from this “fan” uh hu.
I’m going to the bar for a drink. Entertain yourselves by looking through the archives ya thankless bitches. I’ll be back in a few days.
That’s how I roll.
Update from the DeathStar
November 10th, 2005Before reading on, you may want to read this first (or just scroll down a little, there genius).
First, let me say that The Hot Librarian was not offline. Rather, my Firefox shit on itself and that was one of the first sites to go. I’m much better now, though she hasn’t been posting as often lately. Sorry about that THL.
My time here at the Holiday Inn Express, while still pleasant, is not as good as it was last week. There is, most notably, the problem with evil Hallibunnies roaming around. But more than that the tramps have soiled the hot tub so completely that it had to be shut down for repairs. I’ll explain: See, last week I was on the second floor with a nice view of the pool area. By the end of the week these tramps were fucking each other and everyone else in the hot tub. Turns out, they are corporate trainers for some imitation, wannabe Hooters that’s opening across the street. It’s called “Wings and BJs” or something. So these Hooters-rejects are here to train the new Hooters-rejects how to make up for being a Hooters-reject by being a big herpes-spreading, hot-tub-soiling Whore!!! Now, I don’t have a problem with any of this, except that I have a pinched nerve or something in my shoulder so my arm has been asleep for two weeks and the pain in my back is bad. So bad in fact that yesterday I reached across my desk for my soda and the shooting pain made me pee a little. So sitting in a hot tub might actually be good for me in this case. But the hot tub was closed most of the week which is a shame because my hotel room is now on the ground floor right by it. I guess they finally got all the ass-barnacle off because they opened it up again yesterday afternoon for the first time this week. And before I could even think about heading out there, those trollups had their syphilitic, crab-infested asses out there turning it into a venereal frap again.
Well, the ‘Grand Opening’ (heh heh - do I even need to say it: ‘grand opening’ - heh heh) of “Wings and BJs” is tonight at 4pm. I honestly can’t wait. After a long day of putting the final touches on the DeathStar, I like to go to the local crappy, over-seasoned chicken joint, over-pay for the crappy chicken so strippers-with-kids can be whores during the day since the late-night whoring hours are not convenient.
***Footnote: I found out that the repairs that needed to be done were because one of the tramps much abused uterus had fallen out and clogged already pubi-laden filter.***
Fiona who??
November 9th, 2005I’m going to take a beating for this entry but feel strongly about it so you can all piss off. I listened to Fiona Apple’s new album last night for the first time. I haven’t heard an album I loved so much since Rufus Wainwright: Poses. Absolutely amazing. I’ve always been fond of her music even though I knew it was immature and she’s an ass. I figured if Billy Holiday had the same exposure I’d think she was an ass too but I listen to her all the time. Fiona seems more mature in some ways and more complex musically than anything she’s done before. Don’t get me wrong, some of her themes are still there, but she’s growing and coming along nicely. Check it out and cal me on it if I’m wrong:
Favorites: Waltz (Better than fine), Parting Gift, Better Version of Me
