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Monthly Archives: January 2013

Alice followed the rabbit down the hole, slut.

Masturbation is a sin.

Just thought I would remind everyone.

What brought this up?

Well, I am in the Coffee Bean for starters.

There is a reason for this.

For those that don’t know, the Coffee Bean is like the retirement home of coffee houses.

When a twenty year old walks thru the front door, the average age is still above retirement age.

There are never less than 3 oxygen tanks scattered among the patrons.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

Not long after leaving the underground parking bunker I have to park in, I got behind two old women, lets call them Thelma and Louise.

Why Thelma and Louise?

You aren’t going to like the answer.

Because they are busybody annoying bitches that basically just take up space.

I have issues with that self indulgent piece of shit they called a movie.

Back to the girls.

I got stuck behind them, and while I usually pass up people on the sidewalk due to the fact that I walk faster than everyone else, (its a short guy thing.) I kept getting blocked by opposing foot traffic.

So be it.

I settle in behind them as they saunter down the road and stop trying to pass.

We were 20 feet from the Coffee Bean, I was just beginning to get a whiff of Ben Gay, when Thelma said this:

“I bought my daughter in law a rabbit and fresh batteries.”

And then she laughed.

Now, there are some of you who are wondering why that is a big deal.

Its because of masturbation.

There is a “marital aid” (Also known as a dildo) called the Rabbit, and that is EXACTLY where my mind went when Thelma said that.

(The story of why I know this is a long one, and involves a lady friend that got into the Rabbit so severely that she “Wore a hole in herself.” Direct quote.)

And it turns out I was not wrong.

Everyone always asks if you “Went dirty” on something.

I maintain that I live dirty and “Go clean” on rare occassion.

Anywho Thelma and Louise turned to go into Coffee Bean, so I did too.

There is a certain whore-like quality to my snooping.

It was in line that Thelma joined me in Dirtyville.

“It is hands down the best little device I have ever had!” She gushed. (Not dirty)
“Is it that one with the little pointy thing?” Louise made this kind of creepy gesture with her index finger.
“Just like a rabbit’s nose!” (Ok, that was dirty. And, if I understand the device correctly, incorrect.)

At this point, the smell of Ben Gay and adult diapers began to make me feel light headed, so I left.

Besides, I had gotten what I came for.

Its 12 hours later and I am still getting the occasional whiff of Ben Gay.

And for the record, while I was in the Coffee Bean, I counted the following:
3 walkers
2 oxygen tanks
2 little dogs
1 old guy, talking to himself
12 people with grey hair.
7 sets of bifocals
6 people that appeared under the age of 50 (Including 3 staff.

 
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Posted by on January 31, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Positive is great, but negative can keep you warm at night.

The negativity at times is overwhelming.

Comment from a friend.

Typically, I blow that kind of shit off, but this is one of those friends that I have known for so damned long that I have a solid baseline that tells me they are not an ignorant troll.

And they’re right.

I do go negative and cynical immediately, its part of my process of analysis.

How do you change that?

I was talking to a friend once who had gone thru a shitty divorce.

Me too, haven’t we all?

And I made the comment that one of the shitty things about relationships, good or bad, is that you take baggage with you after.

And they made a cutesy comment.

“What if you just left those bags at the curb?”

That is just so fucking cute, I may shit myself.

Its also naive.

I will stop there, mainly because I could drain half the negative words out of a thesaurus for the next 500 words and not accomplish anything more than piss off a friend.

Baggage is who we are.

So be it.

If we didn’t carry a little bit of every experience we have ever had with us, we would never change or become individuals.

Without change, we are fucked.

That being said, I am tired of being a snarky piece of shit.

For today at least.

So, here are 3 things that I find positive.

1. Writing. I have been writing since I was little. For the last 5 years, I have been writing like a man possessed. 3 fiction novels, 400 blog posts, and now part of the writing team for a weekly comedy show in Hollywood. My hope is to make some sort of a living writing.

2. Faith. I was raised Catholic and found myself struggling with that in my 20’s. I find myself having come to a peace and understanding with my personal faith now. And, no, its none of your business.

3. Comfort. I spent a long time striving to avoid uncomfortable situations. It was not the best thing. It was the safe thing. Done with that. I am hanging my ass out there a hell of a lot more now and I am learning to be ok with that.

And, in an effort to present a fair and unbiased view, here are 3 things I find negative.

1. Morons. I just this morning had a conversation about someone that I have always maintain is an idiot. Others have defended this person, but I am increasingly convinced they are like a monkey, clever enough to peel the banana and do little tricks, but certainly not intelligent.

2. Politics. You might think this is still talking about Morons. Its like that old adage, all Cretans are liars, but not all liars are from Crete. However, some are in the White house as we speak.

3. Crusades. One of the most negative things you run into these days is the Crusader. The Crusader is on a mission to save something. Dogs, the environment, dolphins, baseball…etc. The worst part about the Crusader is that they have no other presentation for their ideas other than to talk down. They don’t ask you your opinion, they simply accuse you of being wrong. Its annoying, rude and really unpleasant.

Now that thats out of the way, let me sum up this little semi rant with this.

There is a lot of good in the world, enjoy yourselves, try not to hurt each other, and for God’s sake, try to focus on something positive instead of wallowing in a “I’ve gotta save something” martyr cocoon.

That’s it, have a great day.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 29, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Good morning, we’re perfect

Time for a retro quote.

My teeth itch.

That is my phrase for extreme irritation, like a piece of mental grit that gets in there like an oyster and will eventually become a pearl.

Let me set the scene.

They are about 40.

But a well kept, healthclub/pilates 40.

They are dressed in sweats and hoodies, but practically new ones and not cheap ones at that.

The teeth are expensive and just a shade too bright, the kind of teeth you expect to glow in the dark.

She is not beautiful, but she does exude that well monied, Euro plain-ness that comes across as hot.

I have seen this couple in here several times and even sat with them at the big table when there was nothing else available.

I have listened to their conversations not once, not twice, but several times.

And it is always about the same thing.

Shit they own.

The first time I saw them, they were giggling like school kids, talking about the Mercedes they were picking up later that day.

2 brand new S-class, matching cars like bookends.

That  alone is enough to hate them.

(I have a long standing issue with Mercedes. Possibly the finest cars on the planet, but I can’t quit calling them Euro-trash. There is a story there.)

The second time I ran into them, they were discussing putting the house on the market.

His comment? “You would think that on the Strand in Manhattan Beach would be worth more than 6.9.”

It finally hit me that he meant millions.

And that is not the most shocking statement of that whole discussion.

In the end, they came to the conclusion that they should hang onto the Strand house, and just buy another one.

Then they can sell the Strand house once the economy recovers.

But, and this is the main reason I hate them.

They are dumb.

I don’t hate them for being the elitist shitheads they are, I merely find that really annoying.

I hate the ignorance in the following discussion.

They were talking about the coming inauguration, when Mr. Elitist Shithead gave this opinion.

“I am still reeling from the whole tax hike on high end incomes. I mean, I voted for him twice and them he springs this shit on me? What the hell?”

Where do I start?

I do my best not to go political here, fail at it on occasion, but I have made some effort.

But the “Springs this shit on me?” comment forced my hand.

First of all, the POTUS didn’t “Spring” anything on you here, dumbass, this was mentioned in his first campaign.

Remember Joe the plumber?

That was all about this.

Over the course of the next half hour, I listened to these two talk about their disappointment with the POTUS and how
he has somewhat recently decided to do all of this unpleasant stuff.

And none of the things they mentioned was anything that was not announced during the first election campaign.

Regardless of what party you belong to, you have a tendency to look down on people from the other side?

But these people really are worthy of the “Ignorant” title.

Winner winner, chicken dinner. (I still love that phrase.)

 
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Posted by on January 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Not enough hours in the goddam day

There is something to be said for having just too much shit to do in the day.

Perfect example, Friday.

Awaken, shower, breakfast, laundry, blog, drive to work, go to Starbucks, blog, work, work on Writing project at lunch, work, do inventory, ship product, dinner, travel to Hollywood, writers meeting, drinks with writers after, travel home, write skits, game for a bit, watch 3 episodes of a show I am watching on netflix, masturbate, write some actual fiction, sleep.

Do you see what I’m getting at?

What I need is a sugar momma thats into short chubby older Irish guys.

Someone to pay the bills and expect sexual favors in return.

The only people groaning right now are the ladies.

The guys are fine with this and the only reason they are not cheering is because the wife will want to know why.

And thats how arguments happen.

And we, guys that is, are bad at the arguing part.

Mainly because once we get pissed, our mouth runs on its own.

And if you have never accidentally said “Because your mother is a dumb bitch.” before you could stop it, you have no clue what I mean.

Women have their own version of this, but thy utter the crazy shit that makes you suicidal.

Enough said.

Every now and then, I stop and look at where the blog has gone from where I started.

My goal is not to start any arguments, so lets change the subject.

Mainly because the main event has arrived.

In this corner, weighing in at a crisp 320lbs dripping wet, is the bald old guy who is scowling at the barrista.

And in the other corner, weighing in at a buck o 5, sporting blue hair and a confused look, is his wife.

And this dude is ready to rumble.

His first act that brought him to my attention was his loud   barritone guffaw at the cost of a Venti House Drip.

Two dollars is a lot of cheddar to some.

His second outburst was when his wife ordered a latte.

I was positive I was going to witness the man shit himself and have a heart attack.

His wife managed to get him under control with a Gracie Allen move that even Gracie would have been proud of.

She farted, loudly.

And blamed it on him.

I swear to you, had I not been standing right behind them in line, I would have missed it.

She handed the cashier a $10 bll and let loose.

Her husbands head spun to look, that was what tipped me off.

She spun on him and said, loudly, “Arnold! How could you?”

Her voice was shocked and pained.

It was awsome.

Arnold was fucked, with no recourse and he knew it.

He sputtered for a few seconds and then just moved down to the pick up counter, muttering to himself.

And she followed as if nothing happened.

The only way this could have been worse would have been if she had farted into her cupped hand, then slapped him in the mouth, shouting “CUP A CHEESE!”

Shades of being twelve again.

I was at a family BBQ recently, when I went out to the patio to roll the sausages and flip some burgers.

A relative was out there with his son and a cousin.

The kids are about 15 or so.

“Mind if I join you, guys?” I am social and friendly around my own blood.

“Only if your not a fag.”

And that stopped me short. I live in the same pc would we all do, so the crudity of it caught me off gaurd.

And then I remembered the ages involved.

I looked at dad.

“Is that the age we’re at?”

He nodded and smiled at me.

I laughed.

I have a son, and I remember that age.

Not something that you encourage, but funny during that period.

I wish I had thought to “CUP A CHEESE someone right then.

This was a crowd that would have truly appreciated it.

And you gotta play to the audience in front of you.

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

My lack of super powers.

I would like to apologize for my lack of super powers.

It started this morning, as I was walking towards Starbucks.

There is construction going on up the block and they have the narrow corridor construction scaffolding covering the sidewalk and forcing you to cautiously shoulder past each other as you pass.

I am not a psychic.

Sadly, that is not one of my powers.

So when the business lady with the phone glued to her ear moved to the right, straight into my path, and I didn’t slam myself to the left immediately and let your pampered elitist ass go by?

For this I apologize.

Continuing.

Hours later, after work, I was walking up the street, making my daily trek up the ridiculously steep hill to my car, parked in the underground bunker parking lot.

I can’t fly.

Unfortunately, that is not one of the powers bestowed upon me by the almighty.

So, when I was walking in the crosswalk across a 25mph max street and the arrogant dumb fuck in the shiny black SUV was cruising along at about 40mph, I was unable to fly out of the way.

My fault.

You were definitely in the right to flip me off and gun your engine while I got out of the way.

My last and final regret for the lack of super human powers comes from my visit to the local post office.

I cannot lift my car with my mind and fling it to the side.

So, when the aged, half blind, miniature geriatric driving the vintage Oldsmobuick just barely missed scrapping the parking safety pole and pulled it right in front of where my car was pulling in on the FAR RIGHT for the driveway, I could not fix the situation by throwing my car to the side.

I cannot read thoughts, so the long 15 seconds that we sat staring at me while she tried to find reverse and cast milky dagger eyes at me, I was unable to fathom your muddled thoughts.

Lastly, I did not have the power that Christopher Reeves had in the first hideous Superman movie, of flying against the flow of the Earth’s rotation and reversing time.

(Against all laws of physics, I mean, seriously? The poles should have reversed and massive death and earthquakes. I will let it go now.)

Anyway, geek rant aside, I could not turn back time and get the hell out of your way.

Sorry about that.

That day, long ago, when I was struck by lightening, bit by that radioactive spider, and found that magic ring, I was given a choice of powers.

And sadly, I chose a sarcastic wit and a vicious sense of humor.

However, I try to use my powers for good.

Or at least my own amusement.

So its all good.

 
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Posted by on January 17, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Sponge Bob

My shorts are uncomfortable.

There is a story here, bear with me.

I hate doing laundry.

I do my laundry, don’t get me wrong.

Cleanliness is important.

I just don’t like doing it.

And this is where Sponge Bob comes in.

10 years ago, for Father’s Day, one of my kids gave me a pair of Sponge Bob Square Pants boxer shorts.

They are gaudy, loud, and totally unsightly.

They also itch, so I am never thrilled to be wearing them.

I have them on now.

I didn’t do my laundry.

Sponge Bob usually lives at the bottom of the underwear drawer.

And I am almost always good at making sure there is other clean underwear on top of him, hiding him, if you will.

And this morning?

Sponge Bob was looking up at me.

Crap.

So I am writing while my spin cycle is going on.

And there it is.

However, for as long as I have hated doing laundry, laundry at least, has gotten a little easier.

Enter the detergent pod.

Detergent and fabric softener in one easy, throw it in and close the lid.

And the coffee is ridiculously hot.

The coffee maker began scalding the coffee about a month ago.

It has an issue that most people would view as broken, and replace it.

I love it.

I like to think I am at my best when I am nursing a raw spot on my tongue.

Don’t judge, its mean.

Besides, as far as weird vices go, this is pretty vanilla.

Search the internet for less than 5 minutes on any given day and you will find a terrifying array of personal issues that really are freakish in nature.

Once again, I am a freaking saint in comparison.

Its like watching Jerry Springer and feeling better about yourself because you are not even close to those freaks on the screen.

Unless of course you are a secret Transexual and your partner of 10 years doesn’t know, then your shit out of luck.

That one is not made up, it was just on.

The Jerry Springer show is like eating at Denny’s at 3am.

You never planned on it, but here you are.

Kind of a suddenly erupting “Live in the moment”, type thing.

The point of this post is not Jerry Springer.

He is just a part of the story, like the troll under the bridge, threatening to eat you for some vague reason.

He is just an element of this cautionary tale of inner happiness.

(I have laughed myself silly for the last 5 minutes over that last line. If you don’t get it, you might be a little slow, and thats ok, we all love you.)

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

On the boulevard.

These are hard times, times for keeping your head down, avoiding the notice of the dark cloud of black karma that hovers over us at all times, reaching down to strike without warning.

Ok, so I got nothing to go with that, its just an angst filled emo line that came to me while I was driving.

Moving on.

I have been watching Glee on Netflix.

I am not proud of that, but it is what it is.

A friend of mine is obsessed with it and has harassed me nonstop for the last few years.

So I watched the first few episodes.

I like it.

For the record, that is not like coming out of the closet or anything like that, its just a show.

I am writing this blog at 1:30am, 3.5 hours from now it will post on the site.

Why am I up so late writing?

Because I have the time management skills of a 5 year old, combined with a Catholic/Irish guilt driven work ethic that gives me insomnia and the drive to finish this.

I would love to go to bed, but the bitch fest of emails I get when the blog is late is no fun.

And I do love fun.

I was in Hollywood earlier tonight.

I had a thing starting at 7 but got there really early, early enough to walk up Hollywood Blvd to Starbucks for a cup of coffee.

“My foots asleep.”

I looked at the little homeless woman who said that.

Under 5 feet, not over a hundred pounds, more of the hummingbird class of homeless.

And she was looking at me.

I have no idea why she would want me to know that her foot is asleep, but you play the cards you are dealt.

“No its not.” When in doubt, disagree, it gets things going.

“Its been asleep all day.” She glared at me, angry that I would dispute her claim.

“Maybe its dead.”

Ok, in retrospect, that was the wrong thing to say.

If you have never had an 80 pound enraged homeless woman come at you like a tornado made of a few teeth, broken fingernails and the scent of BO, but the adrenaline rush is stunning.

Messing with the homeless is sometimes bad mojo, I have accepted that.

And while it doesn’t make me a nice person, I am at peace with it in a shallow way.

A half block later, I slowed to a walk, the stamina of todays homeless is sorely lacking.

Ah coffee.

This is one of my rare forays into night coffee.

I am not sure its a good thing and it might explain why I am still awake at 1:30am.

In a gesture of goodwill bordering on being a pussy, I walked back on the other side of the street.

Best not to push it.

And I struck oil on this side of the street.

The guy looks like a total hippy.

But he sings like a bird.

His guitar playing is impeccable.

I stood mesmerized for a good five minutes then put a buck in his open guitar case.

And then I walked away, down the block.

Awesome.

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Please beat your kids.

I first became acquainted with Meho in line at the airport.

Meho is about 2 and still doesn’t talk.

But thats ok, he screams.

And mom is ok with that.

Mom seems to work in a state of constantly ignoring Meho, who spends his spare time shrieking at the top of his lungs.

And they are 2 people behind me in line.

Awesome.

This couldn’t get any better if someone stabbed me.

Perhaps Ray Lewis has some free time. (For those Baltimore Ravens fans that are fuming right now, the man’s a criminal, deal with it.)

Sorry about that, having a text argument with a new muse about Lewis’s retirement.

Back to Meho.

Mom seems to have her phone stuck to her ear.

Every few minutes, she jiggles the stroller Meho is strapped down in, which freaks him out more.

She can’t even see him.

This is getting better and better.

I only know that his name is Meho because, when he was taking a gulp of air in between shrieks, mom interrupted her important phone call to say, “‘Sokay Meho.” before she got back on the phone.

I googled “Sokay” and came up with nothing.

Might be a foreign language known as Spanglish. (Only moderately racist, don’t get your panties in a twist.)

Luckily, the line moves up, and there is a chance that I might go to the baggage check counter about 25 feet away.

No such luck, the counter 5 feet away suddenly becomes open and the rep waves me over.

I check my bag and make small talk over the background screams of Meho.

The rep is looking more and more agitated as we go, things are not looking good.

Time to smack the hornets nest.

“My mother would have smacked my ass by now.”

The rep looks up at my comment, realizing that since I brought it up, he is semi cleared to  comment back.

“My mother would never have let it go this far, she would have beat me to death by now.”

I snort and figure thats it.

Oh no, we are not done yet, the rep is not thru yet.

“I don’t get these Mexicans and their kids.”

This would be considered racist anywhere else in the world, but the rep is black and, according to CNN, cannot be racist.  (Not my rules, that ignorant statement came from a CNN host, no bullshit.)

“Really.” I am under no obligation to defuse the situation here.

“Mexicans have all these kids and don’t know how to raise em.”

The rep hands me my boarding pass, just as two things happen.

First, from behind me, over Meho’s screams, “EXCUSE ME?!?!”

Meho’s mom caught that last comment from the rep.

Second, the rep’s supervisor happened to be walking behind him at the moment he said it.

I grab my boarding pass and scoot, i don’t want to be caught in the middle of this delightful shit storm.

With my vacating the counter, Meho’s mom reflexively pushes Meho’s stroller up to the counter.

Presumably to check her bag and rip the help a new one.

I stop at the end of the row near the door and just watch the whole scene unfold.

Rep is in the wrong here, but is not backing down. He is whisper fighting with the supervisor, who appears to be about 12 years old.

Every now and then, he angrily gestures at Meho and his mom.

It appears that rep is trying to make the case to supervisor that Mexicans do indeed have all these kids and can’t raise em.

Imagine my good fortune to be here on Rep’s last day of employment.

Time to head to the gate.

I wonder if they gave Meho’s mom free tickets before she called the police?

 
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Posted by on January 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

The dreaded new year.

Aloha.
I have it on good authority from a Hawaiian goddess I know that the word is a friendly greeting that means both hello and goodbye.
Seems kind of appropriate seeing how its a new year and all.
I was looking back over the blogs I wrote in 2012 and, WOW, am I good.
I love my writing.
However, not everyone is a fan.
I am still getting hatemail for a blog I wrote awhile back.
Some people just can’t take a joke.
Ok, ok. In their defense, it was my mistake.
You don’t pick a fight with someone who doesn’t have their hands up, a sucker punch is considered bad form, even in a blog.
Moving on.
The new year is here and its looking pretty bleak.
The economy sucks and doesn’t look like its going to get any better.
We have just been saddled with a whole bunch of new taxes.
I have seen more gentle prison rapes.
Or heard of them at least.
For the record, I have never been in any sort of jail other than a holding cell.
So my rectal region is unsullied, as it were.
I have hopes for this year, but I need a few things to break my way.
So everybody cross those fingers and pull the pins out of the voodoo dolls that look short and vaguely Irish.
I have always wondered if that sort of thing works.
However, being Catholic, (Alter boy for an entire afternoon, WORD) I am not allowed to experiment.
The rules are pretty clear on this one.
No making zombies, either.
Voodoo is the only religion on the planet that actively believes in making zombies.
Awesome.
And before you cluck your tongue at how ignorant the Voodoo peeps are, consider the fact that everyone in the world that is not Mayan developed a wild case of anxiety driven swam ass because the Mayan calendar ran out of room.
Kind of puts it in a new perspective, doesn’t it?
I got a text earlier from someone who’s phone number I don’t know, wishing me Happy New Year.
When I asked who it was, they said guess.
So I have been showing my ass, text style for the last hour and the whole thing just finished with a final you’re an asshole.
How rude. Some peoples kids, I tell you.
Where was I?
The answer to that is all over the map.
And before I close this, let me address the newest soft-headed Facebook fad.
The “Good Memory” jar.
Here is the gist of it.
Write down something awesome about your day, every day for a year.
365 scraps of absolute shit, scribbled down, and placed in  an old pickle jar.
And even if you actually do it, which I doubt, what will you have?
365 scraps of boredom that smells like garlic and dill. (And sometime moldy ass, depending on the age of the jar.)
I am willing to bet that absolutely no one will do this faithfully, for the entire year.
And if you do, don’t call me.
With only a few exceptions of really good friends, I don’t care about other people’s lives.
Can you tell there is no caffeine in my system?
It will be a tough year, lets hope for the best.
As a general rule lets keep to the same rules as boxing.
Keep your hands up and defend yourself at all times.
 
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Posted by on January 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Time to lie some more.

The time has come to lie to ourselves, once again.

Its a yearly tradition for some.

For others, this will be their first time lying, at least in this sense.

The New Years resolution.

Here it is, as far as I know.

Because it is a new year, you will suddenly change your ways, get the willpower to do the crap you have been totally unable to do the other 364 days of the year.

Right.

I have a friend that has loudly declared that they will never smoke again.

And they haven’t.

At least not for the first week to 2 weeks in January every year for the last 10 years.

It s an amazing record of consistent failure.

I try not to delude myself with trivial crap.

I prefer to save my delusion for the really big stuff, it saves time.

I have always looked upon the New Year as a time to look back over the bitter shit that happened last year and what I could have done differently.

Top three regrets.

1. Cut back the blog to twice a week sooner. I really struggled and felt like crap the last two weeks I was writing everyday. I truly think I troweled out some honest to goodness crap.
2. Friendly fire. I certainly don’t mind hurting someones feelings in the name of a blog that I find amusing. However, it really hammers home the power of the written word when I hurt someone I never meant to, and didn’t see it till they told me to go fuck myself.
3. Hesitation. In several areas of my life, I hesitated to do something different, take a chance, trust my instincts. This has wasted a lot of time and put off things and situations that have really made me feel weak. I hate feeling week.

Top three things done right.

1. I am writing more and exploring more areas of my writing than ever before.
2. I took some chances and danced outside my comfort zone more than a few times. Not as much as I would have liked, but I did.
3. I am closer to being than I have been for a long time. This one either makes sense to you or it doesn’t.

In the long run, change was and is inevitable.

I took a lot of shit and a lot of praise for cutting the blog back to only 2 days a week.

The good news is, there is still a blog, as opposed to pushing to get out 5 days a week until I burn out so bad I can’t do anything but shut it down.

So its all good.

Back to the new year.

The one thing I have not heard so far is anyone talking about how, it being 2013, that the number 13 is bad luck.

And the bad luck thing is really a natural.

The economy sucks. The government sucks.

The most divisive prez in modern times has managed to miss-handle the children of congress on both sides of the aisle to the point that we are facing the “Fiscal cliff”.

Great.

And yet, to the layman, it looks so easy, regardless of what party you are in.

Handle tariffs, create jobs, fix the roads and schools, and don’t pooch us into debt too bad.

Dennis Miller once said, I expect the same thing out of the president that i do out of my gardner.

Do your job well and don’t stare too long at my wife.

That would be refreshing.

How about we write some New Years Resolutions for the Government.

Here are the top 3, as far as I can see.

1. Do your fucking jobs.
2. Learn how to play with others.
3. Do your best to stop being the rotten pack of thieves you have been so far for the last 4 years.

But that is just my opinion, you are free to disagree.

However, I can’t see how you could, unless you were a politician.

Or just an ignorant dumb ass.

And I am rarely wrong about these things.

 
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Posted by on January 1, 2013 in Uncategorized