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Monthly Archives: December 2014

Merry frickin Christmas.

Christmas always has the potential of being epic, one way or the other.

I mean that, good or bad.

It can be that twisted, screwed up kind of day that gives all involved baggage to tote around for the rest of their lives.

Or, it can be the kind of day that reminds you what Christmas can be, like when you were a kid type of good.

And that was today.

I have a few requirements to make the holidays good.

Since I could not have the #1 requirements, being with my kids, my second requirement is that the whole family gets together.

Done.

Third on that list is that I get to cook breakfast for everyone.

Done.

The unspoken is that a touch too much bacon is available for cooking and sampling by all throughout the cooking, also, coffee is involved, but I figure we all know that one. Kind of a gimme, really.

I was also given the perfect gift today.

Its a travel mug from Starbucks that has a special feature for the caffeine addicted.

Free refills for the month of January. I shit you not.

Its like a meth lab handing out unlimited free samples.

Its like Krispy Kremes handing out.. ok, bad example.

I may not make it thru the month of January. My heart may not hold out.

Just saying.

As far as gifts go, its incredibly inciteful and somewhat brutal.

Christmas as an adult is much different than when you are a kid.

When you are a child, you are told what you will be doing on Christmas.

And there is nothing that you really have to do.

When you are an adult, you balance what you want to do with what you have to do.

And there are a lot of have to’s as an adult.

And the one thing you can’t ask Santa for is to take over your responsibilities.

He will not pay your rent or make a car payment.

He will not explain your internet browser history to your wife.

He will not not even pay for the gifts you put under the tree with his name on them.

Sounds a lot like old saint Nicky is getting a butt-load of free advertising from all of us.

But, to quote Janet Jackson… (Jeez, how desperate am I?)

What have you done for me lately?

Nope, growing up means that, except in rare occasions, nobody covers your shit but you.

So, by default, this ends up being the time of the year that we are all forced to untwist our big boy (Or girl) pants and get our shit in some semblance of together.

Which is good as a general rule.

Being a kid means that you believe in stuff that is not real.

Being an adult means you have to believe in stuff that is brutally real.

The secret to keeping your shit together and still be able to laugh.

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Posted by on December 26, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Elf on the shelf.

Elf on the shelf.

I am huge on holiday tradition.

Being Irish and Catholic, its not like I have a choice.

But there is one recent tradition I have noticed that I absolutely refuse to take part in.

Elf on the shelf.

It starts out with seemingly good intent.

The elf is watching, so it compels your kids to behave in the weeks leading up to Christmas under the vague threat that the elf will shit can their gifts if they cop an attitude.

I can only assume this was invented by weak minded parents that lost sight of the “Naughty and Nice List” concept, so they jumped ship for something newer.

But the elf?

Its creepy for starters.

Elf on the shelf.

The only thing that would scare me more is a drunken clown with a hard on chasing me.

If you search Google for “Sexual Predator map” you will find a fully searchable map of anyone convicted of a sex crime in the USA.

Who is in your neighborhood?

But, the one creepy, clammy palmed, sweaty upper lipped predator that should be on that map, is not.

Elf on the shelf.

If the Buddhists believe that your behavior in this life leads to what you are in the next, what the hell kind of depraved screw-head was the Elf on the shelf in his last life?

Just up there staring at your kids all day. You get the feeling that he would be masturbating if he could. He’s not, but you know he wants to.

Have parents truly lost that much control?

Its kind of pathetic, really.

Elf on the shelf.

If your kid’s behavior is at a point that you cannot handle it and have to resort to some sort of good behavior talisman, the game is over, you are raising criminals.

And I realize I am pulling the pin and sending myself into the hate email dunking tank on this one, but I do think there is a point to be made. (A sarcastic point, but a point none the less)

The point is that the holidays are built around guilt, but don’t stray from the traditional guilt instilled in our society by our parents and grandparents.

Because tradition is important.

Elf on the shelf.

The Jews, the Muslims, and the Irish have no elf on the shelf traditions, and for that, I salute them.

The household I grew up in? Elf on the shelf would have died horribly.

Plus the Cooking Witch would never have put up with it.

For those too ignorant to know about Cooking Witches, they are a little witch looking doll that is put on a shelf overlooking your stove.

She is there to bring luck to your cooking and make sure nothing burns.

Elf on the shelf.

Same premise as Elf on the shelf, but is not the new kid on the block, trying to make a name for himself by scaring little kids.

Why is the Cooking Witch more acceptable? I mean besides the fact that she has been there since I was a kid?

One word.

Cookies.

My mothers cookies were epic when I was a kid.

Mrs. Fields is a punk ass bitch compared to my mother’s chocolate chip cookies.

And the Cooking Witch was there, she was a part of it.

But Elf on the shelf? Its only a matter of time before he falls into the same class in society that clowns now occupy.

Once a cool thing, now just creepy and scary.

Good.

I mean, its not like he can cook.

Merry Christmas.

Elf on the shelf.

 
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Posted by on December 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Your dirty, sexy mouth.

Picture this in your head.

Picture the woman that says the following phrase.

“Finish your coffee, I’m gonna go push out a gang of tootsie rolls and then we’ll roll.”

What is the image in your head?

More specifically, what does the trailer park she lives in look like?

Is Walmart involved?

Now, here is the reality.

Mid-40’s, attractive brunette.

High end business suit, hair styled by someone that probably costs a fortune.

Mercedes smart key on the keychain.

iPhone 6 sitting on the table.

This is a high end business woman.

With the communication skills of a foul mouthed teenager before curse words come into play.

It really ruins the overall desirability of the rather expensively hot look she has put together.

For the mind, that is.

The penis could care less if she shit herself, he is still up for play time.

Very one track mind, the penis.

The woman disturbed me for a few minutes mainly because she didn’t fit the niche I had carved out for her in my head.

In my head, she was a sophisticated, flirty, wholly desirable business woman in an age range that is totally at her peak, physically and sexually.

And then, my mind made the correction and put her in the niche she belongs in, and all was better.

Salesman.

And now her phrasing made sense.

Salesman have a relationship with the spoken word much like a john with a Bangkok hooker.

Use it to do things you should be ashamed of, for money.

Sales is the type of profession that kind of removes your filters when you are not speaking to a client.

You have to be very controlled in not only what you say to a client, but also, how you say it.

When that is no longer required, the kid gloves come off.

I was a salesman for about 10 years, and this blog reminds me a lot of my mouth during that period.

Not a lot of filtering going on.

But back to the situation at hand.

My disappointment is huge.

I hate having my semi ruined mid-lust. (Anyone but me get this one?)

Eventually the hot, potty mouthed business woman returns from her presumed tootsie roll dropping, and they leave.

And the whole thing has left me slightly twisted.

I spend a lot of my time slightly twisted as it is, so when I hit something that shoves me further down that road against my will, it ruins my equilibrium.

Even coffee is not helping.

That alone tells you how disconcerting this is, because coffee usually fixes EVERYTHING.

I was so upset, I got another vente house drip.

And if you follow the news, you know that Starbucks house drip has the highest caffeine content of any national coffee house.

A vente cup has roughly 415mg of caffeine.

I have had 2 in the span of an hour.

There is a legal limit of 250mg of caffeine per hour in the state of California. (I could be wrong)

So, having ingested 830mg puts me over 3 times the legal limit.

Which explains my attraction to the hot, yet dirty, businesswoman.

I no longer question what goes on when I am under the influence.

This comes from years of morning after examinations.

At least with caffeine, you will never wake up with indelible marker writing on your face.

And sadly, with caffeine, you will never wake up after a black out evening to find yourself in bed with a hot businesswoman, dirty mouth or not.

 
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Posted by on December 12, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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That feeling of being totally screwed.

Have you ever had that feeling of being more than a little screwed?

Like totally screwed?

Like, deep in the bottom of the well of the damned type of screwed?

That was me for about 15 minutes, just now.

I write this little blog once a week for the last year.

twice a week for the week before that.

5 days a week for 2 years before that.

Plus, I write a lot of short sci fi and fantasy fiction.

Even a few novels.

All of it on Google drive.

Why Google drive? Because they are much better at backing up my stuff than I am.

And yet, somehow, I screwed up.

I sat down to write this post and suddenly, my balls were in my throat.

It was gone.

All of it.

Over 700 documents missing. 500+ of them blog posts.

Swamp ass? Thats a gimme at this point.

Making that worse is that my ass cheeks are clenched to the point that you couldn’t get a pin up my ass with a jackhammer.

There is a pressure in my chest that might be a heart attack forming.

Have I been hacked?

Some sort of North Korea/ISIS cyber attack?

FIND IT.

In pure desperation I checked the trash folder, and misread what was there.

And I was back at square one.

ITS.

ALL.

GONE.

And then I figured it out.

Had it fixed in less than a minute from there.

My ass checks remained clenched for another 10 minutes.

It was like a near death experience.

And that is not the over-exaggeration that it seems.

Pure time wise, there are months of work in there.

Not just the writing, but the planning, the figuring, daydreaming, all of it.

To me, it was like the death of a close relative.

Relief is seriously deep in your bones at that point.

And that feeling of how close it was to being a tragedy.

So I am holding the blog to my chest and sobbing at this point.

And nothing will get you stared at in a Starbucks quicker than naked emotion.

But, like most things, the moment passed quickly.

And life goes on.

 
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Posted by on December 5, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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