Monday, March 29, 2004

Godzilla Bowling For God

 

Friday night I was invited to go bowling with the Men's Group of my mom's church. Granted, I was brought up in a church and can recite John 3:16 like a bad mutha fucka....but as you might be able to tell, I no longer go to church and I'm not, how do you say, one to be appreciated by the typical church goer whenever I open my mouth.

So I get introduced to everyone as Kathlene's son. Great, now I have to be on my good behavior or it will reflect poorly on my mom which in turn will make my life a living hell more so than it already is. So I flash my Clark Gable smile and meet all the guys in a nice way.

"This is Kathlene's son, TJ."

TIMMY: "Hi, Nice to meet everyone." flashing my Clark Gable smile

Guys: "TJ?"

TIMMY: "Yeah, you know...... like the letters."

Guys: "Oh as in Tijuana!"

Laughter from guys....

TIMMY: "You got it!" fake laugh from me

So we all get our shoes except for about 3 guys who brought their own ball, their own shoes, gloves, basically a whole outfit ready to go to war. I get my rented shoes and start walking back to the lanes that were pre-paid for. I notice that there must be some kind of Asian tournament going on cause the place was loaded with Asians. Great....granted I'm only 6'3 but I felt like Godzilla walking around the damn Bowling Ally.

Then I felt like a slab of meat as I was gawked at by the 15 year old high school girls who can't go anywhere else except to the Bowling Ally. Which in turn caused their pimple poppin 16 year old boyfriends to stare me down. Yeah, a Godzilla who's hangin out with bible thumpin old guys is going to pull an R. Kelly on your girls....yeah, okay. Whatevah.

I toss my flip flops to the side, put my socks and my rented bowling shoes on. Then I get introduced to "my team". Aaaah, great.....

First up was a really big old guy I'll call "Mr. Action" because he knows more about movies than Steven Spielberg. This guy has not only seen every movie, he's seen them more than 3 times....so I was surprised that he was actually out and doing something besides consuming his time up with more movies. So the name Mr. Action fits him perfectly especially the irony in that the fact that he hasn't probably seen any action since Scott Baio had a career. The last time Mr. Action bowled his feet hurt for 3 days...he's a partier.

Next was my close family friend who invited me, so lets call him "Mr. Con" since he coned me into going in the first place. The last time he bowled he sprained his finger. The animal.

Then there was one of the "professional bowlers"....he had his own shoes, a ball, a spare ball, a glove, a support for his wrist, chalk, a towel and I'm sure there were tons more he had but I just didn't notice because I couldn't take my eyes off the fact that he looks exactly like Christian Slater.....So lets call him "Mr. Slater" .....Mr. Slater still has a 1993 Backstreet Boys haircut and immediately started in on how he hasn't bowled for about 5 years.

Rolling Eyes

I already know Mr. Slater was at the last mens group bowling about 2 months prior because Mr. Con informed me of same. I hate when people act like they don't do something well just so they can get compliment after compliment when they do well.

Then there was me, a Tall Mexican in flip flops trying to fit in.

Wonderful...


First up on the Dream Team was Mr. Action....he grabs a ball and slowly jogs up to the line like a rhino trying to do the ballet then flings his 12 ib ball down the lane at a 103 mph as he slides across the line. He knocks over 2 pins. He finishes his first frame at knocking down a total of 5 pins. Kudos to Mr. Action.

Next up was me....I threw a strike...."YEAH BABY!!!!! YEAH!"

Mr. Slater - "Looks like I'll have some competition" then giggles like Joe McIntyre from New Kids On The Block.

Mr. Con is up and in his first frame he knocks down a total of 3 pins.

Mr. Slater is then up and tries.....let me re-emphasize, "TRIES" to hook his ball but looks more like Anna Nicole Smith pretending to be smart. It just doesn't look pretty. Anyways he ends up knocking down a total of 7 pins and immediately begins to talk about how "wet" the lanes are and blah blah blah. Apparently Mr. Slater's average is about 190 but just hearing him complain about shit instead of just going out for fun is completely and utterly annoying.

Mr. Action doing his best impersonation of Ozzy Osbourne as he half jogs half trips while he throws the ball at a 107 mph down the lane only to knock down 3 pins is beginning to become amusing to me.

It is my turn and I throw a spare...wow, I'm doing pretty swell I think to myself, I then head off to the toilet. More glares from the 16 year old boyfriends. Walking across the bowling ally I believe I hear whispering screams of "Godzilla.....Godzilla.....Godzilla....."

I fight off the glares and the paranoia of being Godzilla to get back to the complaining Mr. Slater of how his wrist hurts now. I would really like to kick Mr. Slater in the fucking balls right now but I can't knowing how word of my behavior would get back to my mom and again, make my life an even more living hell than it already is, I decide against kicking Mr. Slater in the balls. Instead a conversation with Mr. Action is begun about the movie, "About Schmidt". I know that the only reason why Mr. Action has seen this movie 4 times is because of the nude scene with Kathy Bates.

Oh Puuuuke

As the night wore on, Mr. Slater started doing better and stopped complaining like....well, like Christian Slater himself. The urges to stick my finger in his nose to ram it up into his brain finally subsided.

I did enjoy my time with Mr. Con and at the end of the night....I had a good time.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Fountain of Pee

 

I took the 22nd off, aaaah, 22 - a magical number for me this week apparently. Anyways I took the 22nd off (Monday) and I had my 20 month old daughter with me, who will now be referred to as "Curly Top" and/or "Curly" hence forward. She woke up at the god awful hour of 6:30 in the morning and started calling out for me.

Daddy...

I stopped breathing just in case Curly Top could hear me.

Where's Daddy?

Then she starts chanting...

Dad-dy...Dad-dy....Dad-dy....Dad-dy...

Oh god....

Shala ne daddy....daddy me chickle chickle....OKAY!

What the hell did she say?

Dad-dy...Dad-dy...Dad-dy...


I push it to 7 a.m. then I finally get out of bed and go and get her. Nothing much was planned....eat breakfast watch "Follow That Bird" for the 739th time



Have her take her morning nap....get up to take a bath and get ready for our day. Then head over to the park to feed the ducks! Yay...for fun day.

So I start making some scrambled eggs while Curly was playing in the family room. She goes to the laundry room I figure to grab some books or something cause she love to read. A couple of minutes pass when I don't hear anything....parents out there know when there is silence something is wrong....SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG. Kids, especially your own, are never quiet.

So I turn off the stove, just in case Mr. Murphy is hiding out and I won't be able to get back to the stove, I go and check in the laundry room which also just so happens to be where her little toilet is. Low and behold, my little Curly Top was sitting on the pot pinchin a pipin hot loaf. The only problem to this little scenario was that she was still fully clothed.

I rushed over and quickly stripped her and put her back on the pot...half of it made it into the diaper and the other half in the pot. Not to bad cause I hate changing poopy diapers. I cleaned up and finish making breakfast. A few hours later I finally put her down for her morning nap. She woke up full of energy...if I had 1/4 of her energy I'd be happy....anyways, we get up from our nap (yes daddy napped too) to go to take a bubble bath......oh how my little Curly loves to take baths. I prepare everything and get her fully undressed and remove her diaper when the following took place.

Here's a play by play ..... or a step by step of the actual events that took place:

- I was holding Curly's hand
- Curly was chanting, "batshs....batshs....batshs...."
- With free hand I test water
- Curly was chanting
- I was not looking
- Curly stopped chanting
- I see Curly out of corner of eye not moving
- I spin around
- Curly has turned on Fountain of Pee
- My eyes bulge from my head
- Carpet getting soaked with urine
- Curly was concentrating
- I panicked
- I cupped hands under urine to catch
- Urine overflows in cupped hands
- Fountain of Pee stops
- I drop urine on carpet
- I wonder what the fuck I was thinking
- Curly turns Fountain of Pee on again
- I freeze
- Curly still concentrating
- I hold my breath
- Carpet really soaked with urine
- Fountain of Pee stops
- I start breathing again
- Curly starts chanting again, "batshs....batshs....batshs...."
- I come out of shock state
- Curly still chanting
- I put Curly in bath
- I take deep breaths
- Curly plays in bath

After I got her out of the bath and dried....I had to soak up the urine. Luckily for me it was on a bath mat and I was able to pick it up and take it immediately to be washed. Whew...what a morning.

At the end of the day, we had a great time at the Duck Pond and made some great memories.



L is for the loud way you wake me each morning
O is for the odor emanating from your pants
V is for the vomit you left on the floor
E is for the energy you always have.

Kids.
gotta LOVE 'em.


Quote Courtesy of Bored House Wife

Thank you!

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

An Asshole Farts

 

It has been a glorious first 22 days of bloggin so far. 22 is a magical number as it is the same number of my boy hood hero, Will Clark. Within those 22 days, I've read some pretty funny blogs and met some really cool people. I also have obtained my very first review on Blogspot! I'm very excited:

"timmy is probably the most egotistical fuck i have ever had the displeasure of reading."


I didn't even know they had people who set up reviews of blogs on here. A tear forms in my eye as I ponder at the mere thought of someone actually taking the time to write about me. He/she then proceeds to compare me to The Real World Bloggers which is totally cool since they've been around since the beginning of the year and I've only been here for 22 days. I feel like a celebrity really....I feel like Roy Horn on top of the world right before he got his horn tooted by a white bengal tiger and got dragged off stage.

So, thank you Well Known Blogger for making my day. Thank you for cheering me up on my 22nd day anniversary of bloggin. Thank you for taking the time to recognize me. Thank you for blowing my over inflated ego up even more.

I have arrived my gentle readers....


I have arrived.

I Have Arrived!

Friday, March 19, 2004

A Racist Picking His Nose

 

So I had someone leave an inappropriate comment. I won't mention any names but they are second from the top in my favorite bloggers section. Hence forward will be referred to as, "2nd Top". Because of 2nd Top's comments I had to remove EVERYONE's comments and get a whole new system up and running. Thank you very much. Of course, 2nd Top is a very close friend of mine, so what I can say? I actually expected 2nd Top to say something about it and secretly I would have been disappointed if 2nd Top didn't comment on it at all. I'm glad I removed my old comments though cause I love my new comment tag and now I can actually control my comments and everything is great. So actually, thank you 2nd Top.....Blah blah blah...blog blog blog.

So anyways as I have my new system for comments up, my very first comment posted since the make-over was some jerk calling me a racist. Now I'm not going to talk much on the subject since I don't like to argue, but let me just say that if I wanted to hear from an asshole I'd just fart.



You agree to not use the Service to:
(a) upload, post or otherwise transmit any Content that is unlawful, harmful, threatening, abusive, harassing, tortious, defamatory, vulgar, obscene, libelous, invasive of another's privacy, hateful, or racially, ethnically or otherwise objectionable;



This language right here: "...otherwise objectionable;" what the fuck does that mean? 90% of the people who read my shit think it is funny or stupid, and 10% find it objectionable, vulgar, obscene. So right there you can say I'm breaking the Terms of Service. So really, I'm screwed any way you cut or dice it.

I won't throw out any racial slurs based on the fact that I think I might get kicked off for saying them, but lets pretend I said them....

I don't believe that there are any *******, ****, ******, ******, *******, ******, ****, or any ******....to me you are all equally responsible for creating a society that has caused me to have a demented mind...being dropped on my head as an infant didn't help but that is a different story. So I have the right, no the privilege to make fun of you as an individual or as a group, and I'm not just talking about skin color....I'm talking about any group that I can stereotype that I see fit to be made fun of. If you don't like it, don't fuckin read my blog and start one of your own.




So that is that and now lets talk a little about my day.....My boss comes in to work today and walks by my office and stops. Being me and playing the part of an important busy employee, I began shifting papers around my desk and pretend to write something down on a post it. The following conversation takes place:

Boss: Good Morning

TIMMY: Morning

Boss: Got anything for me today?

TIMMY: Is Martha Stewart a bitch?

*We Both Laugh*

TIMMY: Yeah, I got some stuff you need to sign off on today.

Boss: Okay, I'm leaving about noon just so you know, and hey nice shirt.

TIMMY: I know, but thanks for confirming.

Boss: Did you forget you were straight when you bought it?

*Boss Laughs* ..... I don't

TIMMY: Don't put me down cause I'm Metro Sexual and I make the Fab 5 look like they dress Christopher Reeves.

*We both laugh*



Boss: You're awesome, keep up the good work and expect a bonus in your paycheck today of $10,000.

Okay, Okay, I made up that last line for my boss....but one's dreams can't come true if you don't dream them right?


So I got paid today which means I had to pay my bills. I love paying bills when you have money. You feel like a bad ass mother fucker and you are actually going somewhere in life. How quickly that feeling dissolves a week later when all the checks cash and you don't have any money left...

but how can that be? How can I be out of money? I still have checks!

You don't even have enough money for a tall latte from Starbucks.

Sorry to go off topic here, but this just popped in my head. Have you ever done something out of social rules in the car on purpose for someone to see you?

If you haven't, you haven't lived!!! The next time your in the car at a stop sign, check out the corner of your eye and when someone is looking at you pretend that your picking your nose! Then slowly turn to face them and once you make eye contact quickly pull your finger down and look straight ahead again! Make sure you check out the corner of your eye though so you can see them cracking up because they think they "caught" you picking your nose. Think of it like this, the person that "caught" you will get to go home and tell a really good story at dinner time and everyone will laugh and have a good time. Thus, you have made positive difference in someone else's life.

So the next time your at a stop sign, think of me and pick your nose...look to the people staring at you and know that you have made someone's day.

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Fuck Me - I'm 1/4 Irish!

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!!!

So tonight I'm going on a Party Bus to San Francisco to party it up with some friends. About 20 peeps are going right now and it will be a lot of fun. It will be the first time I've been out like this since I've been separated so it will be a really weird feeling. Only about 3 or 4 of the 20 people even know I'm separated which will be interesting how that will unfold tonight.

So if I'm making out with a really hot Irish chick...well, since I'll be drunk early in the night I'll be wearing beer goggles so she'll probably be really ugly and hairy...but who cares. I'll be making out with her and then get slapped by a co-worker cause they believe that I'm married and don't know that I'm separated.

Speaking of beer goggles and co-workers....there is such a thing as work goggles. "What do you mean Timmy? I don't get it."

Gather around my gentle readers as I explain....

We all have the ability to rate someone when we see them or get to know them based on physical appearance and whether or not we'd sleep with them. The rating system could consist of something similar:

  • 1. Unattractive
  • 2. Doable
  • 3. Decent
  • 4. Okay
  • 5, Nice
  • 6. Adorable
  • 7. Cute
  • 8. Pretty/Handsome
  • 9. Beautiful
  • 10. Gorgeous


    Using said rating system when one is drunk, you automatically add 5 points. I.E. someone who is a 2 (doable) when you first meet them sober actually becomes a 7 (cute) when one is shit faced drunk. When someone is a 7 (cute) sober, they go off the fucking charts when said person gets pissed drunk. Do you see how that works? Now, we all might know about it, but it is never explained in a kick ass way like I just did, and you are probably sitting there saying to yourself...TIMMY FUCKIN ROCKS! .....yes I know, but thanks for confirming.

    Soooooo, what the hell is Work Goggles? Well, it has the same principle as Beer Goggles only instead of adding by 5, you add by 2, I mean shit you ain't drunk and an ugly person is an ugly person. But, you do work with them so on those days that you are extremely horny you start picking attractive things out in people you would never even imagine doing anything with. Someone you consider a 1 (unattractive) all of a sudden becomes a 3 (decent) based on the fact that they have great eyes or something similar. Someone who is a 5 (nice) becomes a 7 (cute).....do you see the trend? Do you understand how dangerous sleeping with anyone while wearing goggles can be?

    This thus concludes our session for today.



  • Tuesday, March 16, 2004

    Let Me Shop Asshole

     

    Last night I had to do some shopping so I head off to Albertson's grocery store. I have my 20 month old daughter with me and I'm carrying her up to the door. I see some dude with a clip board sitting at a table outside the door. Shit I silently say to myself as I look toward the other door to find a way in to the store so I don't have to talk to this prick who I don't know and pretend to be nice for the well being of my daughter and to make a good example for her.

    I hate when people meet you at grocery stores!!! Don't fucking talk to me!!!! If I wanted companionship I'd visit E Harmony.com.

    As my eyes focus on the other door I notice it is covered by a short Hispanic looking dude with a clip board. My eyes shift back to the door in front of me and the tall white guy who is guarding that door looks like a cartoon character where his pants are to short and he's wearing velcro shoes. Shit...maybe my goatee will scare the white guy off from talking to me if I look really pissed off. So I start walking up to the door to go shopping holding my 20 month old as I walk through the parking lot. The guy is sitting down at his table writing something and doesn't see me. YES!!! I can quickly sneak by and he won't bother me. My daughter being the talkative little person that she is, says hi....my eyes grow to the size of silver dollars as she says it louder since he didn't look up the first time. The white guy looks up and makes eye contact with me. SHIT!!!! Frantically trying to think of what I should do as I approach him the decision is made for me when he gets up and says hi back to my daughter and steps directly in my path to talk to me.

    I look at my daughter and say, "Thanks you traitor" as she giggles at me. The guy then proceeds to tell me how they are obtaining signatures for a petition in regards to the California State 3 strikes you're out law. Which is, commit 3 felonies and get convicted of them, you're going away 25 years to life. The petition was to change the law so you only get the 25 years to life if the 3rd strike is a violent felony. So lets say you steal a couple thousand dollars which is a felony and you already have 2 strikes, you won't get the 25 years to life since the 3rd felony wasn't a violent one. So I'm sitting there listening to this prick talk trying to get my signature on this petition while I'm standing there holding my 30 pound daughter. My arms are getting tired and I'm getting really irritated.

    Anyways, I don't want to sign the fucking petition cause I'm just really irritated and I tell him, "I don't want to sign".....he then begins to try to convince me that it is a good thing and that it isn't a law, we'd still have to vote and it is just a signature....blah ladee fucking blah....its not right for these people to get locked up for life for a minor felony....WHAT THE FUCK??????? A felony is a felony....here's some advice for you criminals out there....

    STOP BREAKING THE FUCKING LAW ASSHOLES!!!!!!!

    Now I'm really pissed off so I say, "Look, I'm tired, I have to shop still and I need to get my daughter home...so back your capri pants up and get out of my way." ....Okay I didn't say capri pants but I SHOULD HAVE!!! I came up with that line later when I was shopping. Dammit!!! I'll have to save that one for later.

    Needless to say he didn't bother me on my way out even when my daughter waved to him and said "bye".


    **Seacrest Out**




    Friday, March 12, 2004

    Nagel Me This Batman....

     

    Man!!! Its been a few days since I've been able to write, but my god, thats what I thought about every time I got on a keyboard... shit, I got to write my blog! Amazing how bloggin becomes like a friend you don't want to let down. Not like I could let my blog down, cause everything I have to say fuckin rocks!

    When my wife and I first moved to the beach, my brother's wife asked if we wanted this Nagel picture. Nothing screams 1985 like a fucking Nagel picture so I was like, "BEAT IT" with that bullshit I don't want the damn picture, but alas, my wife took the picture and hung it up at the bottom of our stairway where I got to look at it every night before I went to bed. 3 years I had to endure that piece of shit until 2 months ago I moved out. Aaaaaah, Nagel free at last!!!!

    So as my wife has been packing her stuff to move she has been packing little odds & ends here and there. I went to go pick up some stuff that she had packed up and gave me one of my posters and the Nagel. "You can have it or throw it away cause I don't want it." What the fuck? I never wanted it in the first place! It's perfectly framed and everything is okay with it, so I took it to work to see if someone at my work might like to take it. I might not like it but maybe someone else does, and because I'm such a fucking rad guy, I made a post in the Public Forum at my work:

    Nagel For Free

    Okay, I have a Nagel already framed if you want it. Why you would want it, I have no idea, but email me if you do. If there is more than one response, we'll toss the names in a hat unless I like one better over the other then I'll just give it to the person I like better.

    If I don't get any responses by Friday I'm throwing it away cause I hate the damn thing.





    Two days pass and I still have the fucking ugly thing in my office when finally.....FINALLY I get a response from the secretary that sits by me saying how she loves Nagel and she wants to take a look at it. Well, low and behold it just so happens to be her most favorite Nagel, and the same one she has is broken, so this works out great!!!!!

    Yes, here you go I say as I happily hand over the piece of art that I consider to be like taking a big fucking dump and then framing it. She then proceeds to tell me that she will put it up at work....wait, you can't do that I tell her, knowing that she sits right next to me and I'll have to look at the ugly thing every fucking day. "Well, I already have 3 at home and it is really ghetto to hang them up, so I'll hang them up here at work."

    OH MY FUCKING GOD.... Please don't do this to me. NO WAY JOSE!!!! I guess God is still getting me back for masturbating in a church bathroom while looking at cutouts from the bra/panty section in the Macy's catalog.



    A great friend of mine, Bad Mamma Jamma had written about "sister" rules and stuff. Taking it a step further, I thought I would write some for my "brothers" and the rules we follow. Since we all know that guy friends are better friends than chick friends. Its a fact and at the end, I'll explain why.

    In no particular order:

    - If a brother introduces you to a "female friend", under no circumstance are you allowed to hit on her, even if they are not dating. The exception to the rule comes in when you get shit face drunk and any woman who is willing to sleep with you are up for grabs.

    - When giving a hug, make sure to pat the back 3 times - it is the unspoken disclaimer - "I'm Not Gay"

    - When your brother gets shit face and passes out, its a duty to kick the shit out of him, then tell him the next day he must have fallen.

    - If you are ever questioned by your brother's girlfriend/spouse of his whereabouts, he was a) with you; b) buying his love a gift; c) I don't know

    - Unless there is a wine cooler in your brother's fridge, you are not allowed to bitch like a pansy about the alcohol he has.

    - Never look at your brother when the two of you are at a urinal and make sure there is a urinal stall between the two of you.

    - You need to ask permission to date a brother's ex. There is no exception to this rule. In return, your brother is allowed to beat the shit out of you then proceed to tell you how much you will enjoy her blow jobs.

    - If a brother has a booger in his nose, it is your responsibility to make fun of him up until he is about to cry. In addition, you are not responsible to advise him if his zipper is down because you never looked down there in the first place.

    - Never have an argument with your brother, paper, rock scissors shall settle any disagreement.

    - Always help in any way you possibly can to assist your brother in getting a 3some.

    - If your brother has the opportunity to sleep with the hottest chick in the club, you are required to talk to the ugly friend, lip lock and pretend like you love it, even up to making her scream like a crazy Ethiopian One Legged Hooker in hopes that your brother will sleep with the hottest chick.

    That's all I got, but I think that about covers the major points.


    Now, back to explaining why men "brothers" make better friends than women "sisters". It comes down to one point actually....and it just so happens to be the last rule I wrote. A brother will sleep with Jabba The Fuckin Hairy Hut if it means his brother will live out the Boyhood dream of sleeping with a hot chick. We'll even suck on that hairy mole on her lip and like it if it means our brother is going to get some good poon tang.

    Women on the other hand....hah....You will not sleep with a fat greasy slob. Your sister might have the chance to get the best dick she's ever had, but you will not sleep with a disgusting sleaze piece of shit.

    So....given that little scenario, men make better friends...that is all.


    Friday, March 05, 2004

    COPS SUCK EGYPTIAN DICK

     

    Yesterday I went to go visit my dad. I left work about 3:40 p.m. and I was happy...I called my dad up and I told him I was on my way and he said, "great! drive careful!"...I turned on my salsa music and I was cruisin like a cool mother fucker down the freeway when I saw the most hated color of all time in anyone's rear view mirror....flashing red lights. Shit....CHP...they don't give breaks to no one! Not even the son of a cop who has a Clark Gable smile like myself. Double Shit.

    The cop strolls up to my car like the typical arrogant bastid pig, he takes my license, registration & proof of insurance and returns 5 minutes later with my brand new speeding ticket. I got a speeding ticket about a year ago, so now I can't even go to traffic school and get it taken off my record. How Fucking Great is that???? Its fantastic, just fantastic....I get to my dad's house and tell him that since I came to visit him and left work early he should pay for the speeding ticket. I mean, I would never have received it if I was in my normal routine. So the asshole Mexican Danny DeVito look alike finds a damn loop hole and tells me that he isn't responsible for my ticket since he told me to drive safely....DAMMIT!!!!! This is what happens when your dad is a minority strong Republican. He will fuck you in the ass and not use any lube. I don't need this in my life right now....but, thats how it works right? Mr. Murphy (murphy's law) is always along for the ride and he doesn't give a fuck what you have to say, he's doing it his way. End of story, period!

    The night got worse when my wife, who I've been separated from since January 18th, calls me up on my cell and gets all pissy and calls me a bunch of names...I told her that the conversation wasn't getting any better and that we should end it....but no, it continued and it got worse. She was chewing me up like a gay magician and she finally screamed at me that she is filing for a divorce and I will never see our daughter...fuck that shit, so I hung up on her ass and turned my phone off. I was so fucking angry. So then she proceeds to leave me a lovely voicemail, trust me when I say it was very nice and sincere....I hope you're feeling the sarcasm here cause I'm laying it on really fucking thick. This morning I sent her an email saying that I was sorry for hanging up on her and I won't do it again. I mean, I hate getting hung up on, and I shouldn't have hung up on her. I can't control her actions, but I can control mine.

    I talked to her this afternoon and she apologized and said that she is going through a lot and has a lot on her plate...she's moving and some other stuff. So basically it comes down to her treating me the same way she did when we were living together, like a big steamy loaf of butt potatoes and then later rationalizing the way she treats me with a bunch of bullshit. So I need to be understanding of what she is going through and blah blah blah same 'ol same 'ol....well, that is just how she is and that is why we are no longer a couple. Which sucks cause I do love her....no matter what the fuck she says.

    So I'm bummed about the whole conversation with her, when I see something that completely brightens my day......

    OMG, this is just awesome!!!
    What a dumbass...I love it!


    YESSSSSS....not like I have anything personally against her or anything, but fuckin a...she just annoys the fuck out of me. Its because of her that i had to endure a stupid fucking furry hat on my toilet for the past 7 years!!!!


    So this morning I'm reading totally rad Pissed Kitty's blog laughing at her National Butt Awareness Month post when I get to the end and see a flag of Iraq. Not another fucking prick who wants to bash on everything wrong with politics for their own personal beliefs...but oh no, I was wrong, yes, tis was a little quiz. This chick is awesome....so I go to the website and take the little quiz myself....



    You're Egypt!

    Curator of ancient mystical secrets, your life on the surface is fairly
    typical these days.  Though you are in denial about more things than most people.
     Nevertheless, you're trying to convince people that you're safe despite your more
    volatile and unstable times that seem to be behind you.  You like cats a whole lot.
     You'd probably really appreciate The Blue Pyramid.

    Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid



    First all, I hate fucking cats....I'm a dog person through and through! Not that I would ever hurt a cat....but I hate cats. Cats are like women, they do what they want, when they want and expect everything to be about them....they come around when they want affection rarely giving it back and are complete picky eaters. While, guys are like dogs....yeah, we slobber, scarf our food down like we're starving Ethiopians. We pee where we want to and as soon as we get an opportunity we're humping you. Yeahhhhh....I'm a dog person....


    Well, I'm at work still typing this up. I'm going to go watch a friend of mine play softball....yay. Later though, we're getting drinks. Yay (no sarcasm). So I'm off, have a nice weekend.

    Thursday, March 04, 2004

    The Passion Of Diarrhea

     

    Okay so here I am at work, not wanting to work so I thought I would blog it. The word Bloggin it sorta reminds me of picking my nose in a weird sexual kind of way...hmmm I'm just really horny and lonely right now I guess. Which means I need to stay away from my boss since he is gay. Not that that is a bad thing, I mean I moved up my company like a midget being shot out of a cannon solely based on me bending over and picking up pencils.

    Anyways, last weekend I helped my mom baby sit 4 kids...the ages: a 5 year old, a 4 year old, a 18 month old, and a 4 month old. I feel sorry for the mom and give props to the obviously well hung dad. On top of the closely age related 4 kids, I had my 18 month old with me. So now there is a total of 5 kids. Let me just say it was hell. Made me realize that I don't want anymore kids...I don't want anymore even if it means pretending I'm a bad lover in bed....not like anyone would believe me if I told them I was a bad lover cause I'm so awesome. You can tell just by looking at me. All the talk about not judging a book by its cover, its all bullshit. Look at me....I look awesome and I am awesome.

    So anyways, I got free movie tickets to the new Mel Gibson movie The Passion for babysitting....now I heard the movie was all in subtitles so I was going to wait for the DVD to come out so I can change the audio to English so I don't have to work by reading the fucking subtitles. I mean, I go to movies to relax, not read! But I had free tickets so last night I went and saw the movie.

    Now if you don't know the story of Jesus Christ then it might be a little confusing...I was brought up in a church and at times I was a little confused. How many of you out there can honestly say that you first masturbated in the church bathroom???? HUH??? Yeah, I've spent more time sitting in a fucking pew than a priest has touched little boys, and that my gentle readers, is a lot. Back to the movie, so it can be a little confusing, especially since Gibson used a lot of symbolic evil through the movie...you seem some white guy without any fucking eyebrows and he's like "Satan". Evil. Anyways, its sorta weird at first until you figure out what is going on.

    The movie was supposed to be really gory, but you know, it wasn't gory at all to me. I mean, the movie Scream had more blood in it and that movie was geared towards teenagers. The difference is, is that the movie portrayed realistic violence that made it seem so much gorier...is gorier a word? Well I'm using it and fuck you if you disagree. Gibson likes to use realistic violence in his movies (Braveheart, The Patriot)...anyways, this movie is no different than those, bloody, yes, more bloody than other flicks, no.

    So I'm sitting there stuffing my face with popcorn that cost me $5.50 and drinking my large coke that I paid $3.95 for while everyone else is crying or just staring at the screen. I had this lady sitting behind me that kept talking to herself but she was doing it like she wasn't in a movie theatre annoying anyone else around her. Every now and then you would hear, "Thats horrible...." .... "I can't believe that"..... please lady, shut the fuck up. Okay back to me....So about half way through the movie all of a sudden I get a rumbling in my tummy. This isn't good I think to myself...and then the pain hits like a two ton truck. All I can think of while watching Jesus Christ carrying the cross was that I was in the middle of an Imodium anti-diarrhea commercial...."Where will you be when your diarrhea comes back?"

    Here's a picture to help you visualize the commercial if you don't already know.
    poor sap

    The pain was unbearable...I couldn't even get up it was so horrible....then the pain subsides and I figure that I can hold out until the movie is over. So I put my popcorn down and shift positions while I wipe away the sweat beads on my forehead. My eyes focus back on the film just in time to see the Romans grab a Jew from the crowd to help Jesus carry the cross since he can't do it anymore by himself. Now, this dude looks like a black guy to me. So now I'm thinking, out of all the white people in the crowd, the Romans grabbed the Jew that looks black to help a white guy carry his shit. What the fuck is up with that? Then the guy shouts to the crowd that he's only "helping" the condemned and he is innocent. Now I knew the fucker was black and I still can't believe that they pulled a black looking dude to help the white guy, I mean god damn....pun intended.

    So now I'm watching getting all pissed off at The Man when all of a sudden like a bad case of herpes the pain comes back like a Hymn Fuk....what the hell is a Hymn Fuk? Its when the pain is so severe you start singing "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" like a god damn song hymn. The pain was so bad I can't even get up as tears start forming in my eyes and if anyone looked at me they would think that I was feeling the agony that Jesus was going through and not even know that I was fucking dying.

    Jesus died, and I felt somewhat connected to Jesus to him at that very moment cause I felt like dying. But in the end I was happy the movie was over so I could rush home. The movie was very intense. Well done, I love Gibson as a director.

    Tuesday, March 02, 2004

    A Little About My Rad Self

     

    Wow, my first blog on blogger....I guess I'll start off talking about my favorite subject...me.

    I'm a 25 year old Mexican boy livin in California, born & raised here....

    I have a 1 1/2 year old daughter that doesn't look like me. I'm still trying to see if the milk man visits my house often.

    This is the first blogger that I have ever signed up for. I'll stay loyal to my bloggin like Christoper Reeves stays loyal to his wheelchair.

    I love to laugh and to make people laugh. My goal in life is to make people laugh so hard they puke. I use to run a adult comedy website before it was shutdown due to nudity...the bastids. I'll get it back up one day just as soon as I get some money...lol

    I play baseball (softball now that I'm old) and soccer. Yes soccer. Not football...I live in California so I can say soccer and I don't need to differentiate soccer/football.

    I may be wrong sometimes but that hardly happens since I'm so great and smart everything I say and do is usually correct. Anything I don't like sucks and everything I love is wonderful. If you disagree, you're wrong.

    I was never in the military but grew up with my dad & 10 year older brother in the US Marines. I have a ton of respect for ANYONE who serves their country and respectfully tip my hat to those who do.

    I'm studying to become a FireMedic....eventually anyways... I love reading Special Forces books and some general military books. My favorite author is James Patterson.

    Thats me in a nutshell...well, since I'm Mexican I'll say thats me in a bean n tortilla...

    Check out my bio for more info on myself.
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