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Monthly Archives: May 2013

Some men call her bitch.

It’s a sunshine day!

Several things annoy me about the line above.

The two biggest reasons it bugs me is number one, the Brady Kids sang it and number two, its stuck in my head.

I hate that fucking song.

I hated it when I heard it the first time when I was about 8 years old the first time it came on.

It embodies everything that is evil and dark about music, pop culture and television.

That being said, Marsha Brady was the poor man’s Pamela Anderson back when.

The sexuality was a little more subtle.

The show sucked as a general rule and the writing was the literary equivalent of a pity fuck.

Before I go on a rant, lets reign things in and focus.

I had someone in the past ask me if I could clean up the blog, because when I like it, it sometimes shows up on their Facebook wall and their mother or some small child might read my blog and be offended.

It never even occurred to her that it has ALWAYS been my goal to offend her mother.

Not specifically her, but anyone like her.

Anyone who can raise a mentally challenged girl child and instill her with the morals of a rampant whore and the logic of a retarded Alzheimer’s patient.

I knew this girl back in the days where her nickname was “Partyfavor” and she worked HARD to earn that nickname.

But what happened to her since then?

God only knows.

What was once only damaged is now twisted beyond all belief.

2 divorces and the only comment I ever heard the woman say about her ex’s was “I married well, they were real dumb and super rich.”

Wow.

I have spent 5 minutes trying to rewrite a sentence so it did not contain the “C” word and have found that its beyond me so I erased it.

Anyway, I had not heard from this low-brow harridan in months, when I received a message from her this morning.

Her writing is as poor as her life choices, but essentially, she asked if I could make the blog “Child friendly”.

WTF?

It seems that since she and I are FB friends, if I “Like” something, it sometimes shows up on her newsfeed.

And this is where her mother and small children might follow the link to my website and find out about quacker shits, vile people, and YES, profanity.

First off, what the hell is a small child doing roaming the internet unattended?

For God’s sake, there are sexual predators out there!

And her mother has to be retarded, that is the only thing I have to assume.

So we have unattended Pedo-bait and the retarded breeder that spawned this miserable bitch.

I am still trying to figure out how any of this is my problem.

So, when in doubt, go with what has worked in the past.

Bite me.

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Posted by on May 31, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Try remembering.

Memorial day.
A day of remembrance.
Remembering people who’s life or death provided the freedom we all enjoy, however you view it.
Thanks.
Thats all, I refuse to fuck with or make fun of this.

On other fronts, today is also one of the bigger BBQ days of the year.

Good times to be a carnivore.

I made that comment on Facebook, and had one of those “vegetarian types” that I know say that its also a good day to be a herbivore.

It isn’t, but thats not my job to point out.

Vegetarians have a huge inner conflict because, deep in there heart of hearts, they feel wrong.

The last vegetarian that ever said something like that to me had tears in her eyes not an hour later as she shared a rack of ribs with me.

One report states that 98% of all vegetarians secretly eat meat on a semi regular basis.

But that is not the funny/sad part.

The report further states that only 15% are willing to admit they cheat.

That is a whole lot of denial going on.

Very Sad.

Me? I am an unapologetic carnivore.

I do eat vegetables as a side dish, but never as the main dish.

This is not a superiority thing, its a more in line with nature thing.

Back to the BBQ.

Pork is one of the finer inventions of the Almighty.

Eating baby back ribs is one of the most primal and delicious experiences in life.

Give me a beer, some ribs, cool tunes and the right company and we have a preview of heaven in the afterlife, should I ever clean up my act enough to get there.

A large family BBQ today is exactly what I needed.

For a brief moment, all the tensions of life flow away in the noisy chaos.

Not for everyone, just some of us.

On a side note, I haven’t been reminded about how short I am in quite awhile.

But, today is evidently the day for reminders.

I have a nephew that is 16 and well over 6 foot.

Didn’t come from my side of the family, there isn’t one of us over 5’8, definitely comes from mom’s side.

Anyway, the big kid is a football player, did you see that coming?

So it follows that all of his friends are football players as well.

Not a one under 6 foot.

Including the cook of this sumptuous feast, 6’5 and has a touch with ribs.

Ahhhhh.

There has yet to be a fist fight at one of our family BBQ’s over the years.

The rare shouting match, yes, amateur “Fight Club”, no.

Which is the most bizarre thing.

I am of the personal opinion that a loud, aggressive, “In your face” way of dealing with issues defuses situations before they can build up to dangerous levels.

I call it the “Irish Family Therapy” method.

Its more than a little dysfunctional, but it works, pretty well actually.

More than a few people would disagree.

But they still refuse to spend Christmas with certain members of their family.

I say invite the whole family and put your game face on.

Cause it could get ugly.

Happy Memorial Day.
And Thank You.

 
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Posted by on May 28, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Pissing yourself.

I love the beach.

A long walk along the bike path that borders the beach at sunset is incredible.

The sights are incredible, and the smells of the beach always make me feel good.

And then I met Tommy.

Actually, I smelled Tommy before I saw Tommy.

Urine.

That is what assailed my nose, the overwhelming stench of pee-pee.

To put the smell in perspective, if you pee on something and then later on you pee on it again, then give it a day and come back and pee on it a few more times, then take that something and dip it
in a vat of piss.

And then I saw Tommy.

He’s a Hermosa Beach homeless guy.

That means he’s pretty mellow, never aggressive, and smiles at people.

The person I am walking with beelines as far away as she can, her sense of smell is excellent.

I, on the other hand, have had a crappy sense of smell for a long time due to a hockey injury years ago.

“Hey buddy, hows it going?” Tommy starts off nice and friendly, he is a Hermosa Beach homeless, after all.

(The rude or aggressive homeless are run out of town petty quick. Hermosa Beach makes its money as a nightlife/tourist attraction. Anything that hurts that is dealt with.)

Tommy never asks for money, and its one of those things that is a key with me.

Plus he is incredibly articulate.

I give him more than I usually give anyone and head on.

But let me take a moment to explain the smell compared to the intellect.

Tommy was one of the most polite, rational homeless men I have ever talked to.

However, he stinks of piss so strongly, that although I am sure he has some solid BO going on, I cannot smell it over the ammonia stench of urine.

This is not one ripe day of pissing yourself, this is day in, day out, piss upon piss.

But, a surprisingly nice guy.

Moving on. It takes about 5 or so minutes to clear out the sinuses.

But, ironically, I have to pee now.

There is a cinder block building with a peeked roof by the pier, and these are the bathrooms.

Although I have never been in these buildings, I know how bathrooms work.

The toilets are girls on the north side of the building, the boys on the South side.

Each toilet is an individual room, 2 feet wide, by 3 feet long.

Bricks from floor to 10 foot high ceiling.

Only natural light filtering in from the outside.

Stainless steel toilet with no seat.

I am taking a shit in prison.

The only bonus I can see is the fact that the door is locked and I cannot be raped while my pants are down.

But thats the only bonus.

This might be the single most humbling shit I have ever taken.

My knees are together and I am feeling like I am shitting at the bottom of a well.

And Lassy is not bringing help.

 
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Posted by on May 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Who is like the beast?

The is a certain something that everyone brings to the room when they enter Starbucks.

It is a flavor of sorts and everyone is different.

Some people are like a tonic, soothing and mellow.

They don’t even have to do anything really, just be there.

I am not a big believer in auras, but I also know that I don’t know everything. (Still a hard concept for me)

However, there is another type of personality/aura.

The Tensor.

The Tensor entered the building and half of the customers asses went into full clench.

And a cell phone was involved.

I realize that cell phones are a great invention, communication and all that being a good thing.

But it turns people into different people.

Like this woman.

She is pissed.

It is rare to be able whisper harshly and have it not carry.

Yet this woman is a master at it.

From the second she enters the building, she is whispers screaming at someone on the phone.

And whoever it is they are getting a ration of shit few people ever do.

And the tension is cranking higher and higher the longer she is here. She orders, gets her coffee and leaves in under 5 minutes.

As she walked out thru the door, the guy next to me lets out a breath of air he probably didn’t even realize that he was holding.

And the room relaxed.

Like some sort of aural high colonic that cleared out the backed up waste that had collected over the last 5 minutes.

Whatever, the room is better now that she’s gone.

You have to wonder what sort of life/day/experience would you have to have or be in order to walk thru life with that sort of dead zone surrounding you.

What does she do for a living, though?

This is not someone who is a professional dog groomer.

She is the type that dogs lower their ears when they see her.

Bigger dogs would snap at her.

I am trying and the only thing I can come up with that she might do for a living is to kill small animals with her hands.

I can almost feel the complaint emails being typed as we speak.

Like I always say, don’t bother, I really don’t care and I will ridicule you in public if I can.

I am sort of a rotten child that way.

However, I am fairly harmless as far as pure evil goes so I figure I am flying under the karmic radar for the most part.

But I find myself strangely fascinated by this vile woman.

You have to wonder about her partner, man or woman, that has to put up with that.

Here is a sample conversation from my head:

“Hi honey, how was your day?”
“bite me. grumble grumble grumble.”
“What would you like for dinner?”
“Eat shit! mutter mutter mutter.”
“How about we go out for Chinese?”
“I will eat your soul, motherfucker!”
At this point she sprouts fangs, claws and bat wings.
(Sorry, saw Armies of Darkness over the weekend. My head is stuck there.)

I am willing to concede that end of the day chatter doesn’t go down that way in their house.

But you never know.

 
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Posted by on May 20, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

And your kid is dumb, too.

If it seems like I am complaining a lot about other peoples kids, I guess its because I do.

But, dammit, some of these little bastards have it coming.

I have never been one to gush over babies or children, on tv or otherwise, unless I am related to them.

To be blunt, the fastest way to make my teeth itch, (Sure sign of annoyance and distaste) is to proclaim that “All babies are beautiful.”

All of them?

Let’s not go crazy here.

Let’s say we made a rating scale for baby beauty, 1 thru 10.

Then we rated all babies.

At the end of it you would have a list of all your 10’s, the pretty babies.

But at the other end of that scale are the babies that, by process of elimination, are the ugliest.

It is what it is.

And its a whole other argument about your kid being stupid.

And before you say, “How can you say a baby is stupid? They don’t know anything.”

Wrong.

There is the baby of a friend of mine that all but put his eye out by jamming something into it.

3 times.

There have also been numerous instances that they baby gouged his own flesh with various implements during his infancy.

This is a dumb baby.

And I think that is something we need to get out in the open.

There are some kids that are either dumb, or ugly.

And if your kid is both, you’re just fucked.

That is not a kind thing to say, but I am not in the “Kind” business.

Not my job.

You want bullshit or sugar coating, talk to the child’s mother or grandmother.

Now THAT is a delusional bunch.

Or at least the majority are.

Case in point: (And you just KNEW that was coming.)

There is a wharf rat in a diaper running around Starbucks this morning.

3 years old, maybe 4.

Not in a diaper, per se, but there was a suspiciously crinkly pair of little kid pants on him.

And after watching this little warg running loose for a few minutes, I would not be shocked to find out that he occasionally shits himself.

Mom is not much better.

She is the epitome of the MMF.

The Manhattan Money Frau is a species of parent that I despise as a general rule.

Usually their only contribution to parenting was laying prone at conception, beyond that, these bitches can’t be bothered.

Nothing gets in the way of texting and yoga.

And God help us all when the children of these half-tarded robo-blondes hit the world.

But lets get back to the kid.

There is obnoxious cute and then there is obnoxious bad.

Obnoxious bad is our atmosphere right now.

It all starts with a slap.

The child, let’s call him Warg, shall we?

Anyway, Warg first came to my attention when he was running and fell.

And it wasn’t like a little kid falling because he is still new to the whole walking thing.

He was running along and one leg just locked up.

Went stiff and straight and he took a header to the left.

He skidded about 3 feet, thankfully not hitting anyone.

Mom never caught it, despite that fact that the entire room stopped moving.

And then the crying began.

It was like a goat being fed into a wood chipper, the noise is disturbing and each cry is louder and scarier than the last.

And now mom is involved, but she really resents it.

“Oh god, Warg, come here.” (Ok, she said Thomas, but I heard Warg)

He stands, crinkly paints and all. (And they ARE diapers underneath. At some point he has peed himself, his pants have swelled. I am not shocked.)

Mom squats down and doesn’t really check out if he is hurt, just has a face to face with him in what appears to be simply telling him to shut up.

Great, way to go, Mom.

But the slap caught all of us watching off guard.

Warg, it seems, has had enough of her shit.

His chubby little hand smacked her squarely on the cheek.

He obviously has a future in domestic violence.

But, before she can do anything about Warg’s somewhat clumsy fistcuffs, he takes off.

What happened next was both painful to watch and an epic fail.

He runs as fast possible across the room, chubby little legs churning.

Right into the door, as full speed.

I am shocked that he didn’t go right thru it.

What followed was a lot of mayhem and shrieking.

God help the world if Warg makes it out of adolescence alive.

 
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Posted by on May 17, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

Don’t mess with Mom.

Imagine there is a fire in a house full of people.

Chaos, shouting, hysteria… and mimosas?

Right, its not a fire, it’s just Mother’s Day with the WHOLE family.

The big family breakfast has become the ritual over the last few years.

Its a long story, but we are a family of either mechanics or short order cooks, and some are both.

But the house is full of people.

My people.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing.

I come from loud, in your face, people.

It is kind of like being raised in a shark tank.

It works out fine only if you are a shark.

If you aren’t, say, if you are dating or married into this clan, God help you.

I have brought women I was dating to family functions and inside of 5 minutes, their eyes are rolling like a horse in a forest fire.

Quick three examples:

1. I had an Aunt look at a hickey on my neck and then ask me if my new girlfriend (Standing next to me) was the “Little whore that tried to bite my head off.

2. I had a cousin who was meeting my new girlfriend (Different one) and decided to hump her leg by way of a hello.

3. I had an Alzheimer’s addled great uncle decide to describe, in great detail, the fun and mystery of anal sex to a girl I brought to Thanksgiving. (Happened while I was getting us desert.)

It is a bit of a crapshoot at times, you either catch the family on a good day or a bad day, but depending on your perspective, these two can be the same day.

Being raised in it, I prefer the chinese fire drill atmosphere of it all.

It is pretty brutal and in your face, but not a lot of personal shit goes unsaid.

Nothing festers for long around here.

Which is a good thing.

I have been privy to other families methods of dealing with their shit, and it boggles the mind.

I know of one family that, say the daughter is made at that mother. What does she do? Right, she makes plans to go shopping with mom, and they both pretend that everything is fine. In the meantime, she calls her mom’s sister and tells her what a rotten bitch mom is. Then she hangs up and understands that the sister is going to call mom immediately and tell her this. Mom will then inform the sister of what an ungrateful wretch the daughter is and hangs up, understanding completely that the sister will now call the daughter and relay the info.

BUT NOBODY SAYS DICK IN PERSON!!!

It is the most dysfunctional passive-aggressive bunch you will ever see.

Gives me a headache thinking about it.

Back to the house and breakfast.

I do like Mother’s day, its a fitting tribute to a woman who I have come to view as both a force of nature and one of the more powerful alpha females I have ever know.

Plus she can see the future. (Long story there, no judgement here.)

And I also like mimosas.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, from your rotten kid.

Love ya.

 
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Posted by on May 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

The arrogance of fat babies.

In a well to do neighborhood, it is an odd thing to see a fat baby.

All babies have a little chub to them, it’s necessary.

But to see a baby with a little chub, then a little more, and then a lot more, is a little un-nerving.

And the weird part is that mom seems to be one of those well monied yoga fraus that Manhattan Beach seems to produce like a cash crop.

And these girls have nothing to do but stay in shape, they sure as HELL are not working for a living.

They are decorative and utterly useless.

And one of them has a fat baby.

That sounds like the sinister plot to some novel.

Sure to be on the Oprah Book Club list.

Its only a matter of time before this poor kid is shipped off to some sort of Fat camp for well monied offspring.

Lest he embarrass mommy.

And we cannot have that.

I don’t have a lot of respect for the MMF’s. (ManHattan Money Frau’s)

It has a lot to do with how little time they seem to have to care for their kids.

The focus is never on their kids.

Its on texting, yoga, shopping, just about anything other than what it is supposed to be.

I come from traditional people.

When you have a kid, the expectation is that you will actually be involved with raising him.

Call me silly and old fashioned.

And God forbid you comment negatively about their attention starved offspring.

I once commented to a heavily texting woman who’s out of control child snatched a newspaper out of someone’s hands and knocked over their coffee.

“You’re kid is a little out of control.”

I said this quietly, so no one else would hear, and my tone and facial expression were pitched to be compassionate and understanding.

And all I got was a “Really?”

And her tone and facial expression were pitched to say “Fuck you”.

So I didn’t even feel bad when her kid ran into her at full speed, taking her out like a bowling pin.

She was engrossed in texting and never saw it coming.

It was beautiful.

I am never an advocate of personal injury on anyone.

But this bitch was due.

Back to the fat baby.

Children tend to grow into the people that their environment molds them into.

And if their parents are useless tards, they usually end up the same way.

Its an ugly cycle of entitlement and arrogance that is like a living perpetual engine that runs forever.

Consuming a lot of resources and not really producing anything of value.

Not a lot of actual artists emerge from these surroundings.

But they are convinced they are producing more than anyone else.

Sad thing to see.

And as for the kid? The die is cast and he is screwed.

He’s a cute kid, a little fat though.

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2013 in Uncategorized