Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Funeral Arrangement

To whom it may concern:

All people reading this next post are officially witnesses confirming what I want done at my funeral (very far off into the future).

Most people will tell you, "oh I'll just be cremated" or "just put me in a pine box and throw me in a hole". Others will say they'd like a solemn, peaceful church service with close relatives and friends. I say fuck that. When I die, it's gonna be done up real big. First thing's first, there will be monkeys. My wife already knows this, but now so do you. At the viewing and at the actual funeral I want a dancing monkey next to my casket. He will have to be a Capucin monkey with a little red vest and a fez hat. He will have a tin cup for people to put money into, so give the monkey some fucking money you cheap bastards. Also, the man controlling the monkey has to be an overweight, greasy Italian man with a handlebar moustache. His music will be played on an old organ grinder on top of a wooden peg.

After the actual viewing/funeral is the good stuff. I am going to try to make this happen through contract negotiations with pay per view companies. I want my corpse to be fired out of a cannon into a casket at the bottom of a grave. If I can sell this idea to a PPV channel I'm sure I'll make some bookoo dollars for my family. My suit could be covered in advertisement patches for additional revenue. How cool is that? Child: "Daddy, what was that yellow patch on the dead guys suit?" Father: "It looked like a Pennzoil logo son; oh shit, that reminds me, I've got to get an oil change on the Ford".

Finally, I would have my body removed from the grave and put to the incinerator. I don't want my ashes saved nor strewn about in some "special" place. Not at all. I want my ashes mixed with charcoal and used to grill my after funeral meal for all my family and friends. Just a little bit of me --- to you.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

New Special Edition Phoenix Area Barbies

I did not make these up, but I had to put them here on the blog. For anyone that's ever lived in the Phoenix Metro Area, you'll laugh your ass off because it's true. "Snottsdale Barbie" This Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

"Chandler Barbie"This princess Barbie is sold only at Chandler Fashion Mall. She comes with an assortment of Kate Spade Handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired foreign dog named Honey and a cookie-cutter house. Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with the augmented version.

"Gilbert Barbie"The modern day homemaker Barbie is available with Ford Windstar Minivan and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation. Traffic jamming cell phone sold separately.

"Apache Junction Barbie"This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too small, a NASCAR t-shirt and tweety bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Bud light and a Hank Williams Jr. CD set. She can spit over 5 feet and kick mullet-haired Ken's butt when she is drunk. Purchase her pickup truck separately and get a confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free.

"Maryvale/South Phoenix Barbie" This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a Ray Lewis knife, a Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a Meth Lab Kit. This model is only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills) unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you are talking about.

"Tempe Barbie"This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long straight brown hair, arch-less feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her Willow. She does not want or need a Ken doll, but if you purchase two Barbies and the optional Subaru wagon, you get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free. These barbies love to hang out with included protest banners on Arrow and Indian Hill.

"El Mirage / Cricket Pavilion Barbie"This Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories include a GED and bus pass. Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.
"Buckeye / Goodyear Barbie"This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased beer-gutted Ken out of Apache Junction Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and a see-through halter-top. Also available with a mobile home.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

OOWEEE!! I got offered a gig.

I interviewed with a certain bank today (I won't use names, but it mainly involves military members, oh and Dan - Don't say anything yet). They extended me an offer to work for them and now I am so happy I could kick the neighbors cat. I never thought about working for a bank until the last week or so. I know I'll do the best I can in that position, but I think it would be so much more fun to be an evil banker. I think I should shave my head except for the friar tuck ring and grow long finger nails, maybe walk with a slight hunch in my back, and perhaps have my nose extended. Then I could be like my favorite company CEO.Ahhh yes, to be rich and powerful and harass people that would be as poor as I am right now. Why yes Mr. Jones, I have been in your shoes, behind on bills and struggling financially, but now I have money, so I shall arrange to have you shot.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

The bill people are after me... Help!!!

They just keep calling. I know I'm behind on bills, when I got medically seperated from the service it was quick, fast, in a hurry. I didn't have a whole lot of time to get my finances in order and it snowballed quick. So here they are saying, "Did you know that you are now in collection status?" Yes motherfucker, you just called and said you're a collector trying to collect on a debt. So I tell them things like, hey, maybe I can shoot you like, I don't know, ten bucks for now and you don't call for a week? The reply, "Oh no, that's definitely not enough." Guess what fucker, if I had the money to pay you don't you think I'd just do it and get it over with. Then they tell me about late fees. If I can't make the minimum payment, how the hell do you expect me to pay the late fees?

Saturday, February 17, 2007

One can only dream

I am happily married. Know this first. And the lovin' is good, pleezbaleevit!!! But on ocassion I think of what would I look for if I wasn't hitched. I had my answer come to me a couple of years back in a vision after watching some fucked up japanimation with my kids. I remembered that people were going into convulsions watching all the jacked up colors and switch panels on these shows. And there it was, my epiphony. I wanted to get head from an epileptic. How cool is that. An epileptic with no teeth, even better. While she's down there working the wood like a pro, I suddenly bust out a strobe light and flash it in her eyes causing her to seize and inhale my cock like a vacuum hose. If I can pull back just enough from the back of the throat to allow breathing then I prevent the young toothless lady from choking on her own tongue, thus saving her life and proving to be a true American hero. I would just have to try real hard not to pop off in her mouth. Now that's pretty cool. Yeah, Yeah, I know.... you're fucking sick, blah blah blah. But I bet every dude that just read this is going, hmmmmm... maybe????

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Watch your Fucking Kids

I'm getting tired of going out to stores or restaurants or the welfare office and people don't watch there kids. There seems to be an entire generation of "parents" that just don't give a damn what their kids do. Why in the hell are you going to walk around the grocery store and let your kid throw themselves on the floor, screaming at the top of their lungs, and tell them "behave or your on time out". Snatch that little bastard up, go to the bathroom, find an empy stall and wear his or her little ass out. Or there are the ones that just don't bother with their kids at all. While they're sitting having a talk at the restaurant Little Billy is throwing shit at people and screaming while jumping up and down on the bench seat. Let me tell you something, the last time a kid threw something at me, I threw something back. Then the parent had the nerve to get mad. Here's the scenario: I was at Wal-Mart in the shoe department with my kids (who I'd beat the shit out of if they ever did this type of stuff) and two random kids pop up out of nowhere kicking a soccer ball around. Now why the parents are letting there kids play soccer up and down a Wal Mart is beyond me, but there they were, smacking that thing up and down aisles. Then one of these little shits starts kicking it toward me. I told my wife "if those little fuckers hit me with it then it's on". It went wizzing past me right then, and I looked at them botch and told them to knock it off. Obviously they were never told about listening to adults and they went right back at it. The next time they kicked it, the damn thing smacked off my leg. Now I was pissed. I snatched that ball up and it became little shit hunting season. I ran at the first one I saw and Dodge Ball chucked that soccer ball right at his melon. It caught him right on the side of his head and he fell into a rack of shoes. His mom comes around the corner and looks at me like I'm crazy. "I can't believe you hit my boy with that ball". "You know what lady, I can't believe you let your little kid run around and act like an asshole in public." Watch your fucking kids. You are the adult, handle them or I will be forced to make a command decision. Some of you will say to yourselves "Are you nuts???" "Maybe" or "Maybe you should control your fucking kids before I beat your ass next."

Sunday, February 11, 2007


I wish I knew what I could do for work. I really don't care what I do as long as I don't hate it. I don't have to like it, just not hate it. I'm on the verge of a lay off for the first time since I started working in the real world again and it's freakin me out. I've placed applications all over this valley and the only thing to give me an interview was a vending machine filler. WTF??? Who in there right mind says, "hey I think I want to fill vending machines for a living." Not this guy. I want a job that my kids would think is cool, like, I don't know, maybe a pig disembowler at a slaughterhouse. Or a crack dealer. Yup, if my kids could say, "my dad is a professional gangster and if you say anything bad about me he'll kneecap you and your family", that'd be just swell. Perhaps I could start peddling monocles and pocketbikes at the flea market. What a combination, could you imagine someone trying to ride a pocketbike while holding their monocle in place; that's just a Darwin award or America's funniest home videos waiting to happen. I'll probably end up at some tedious 9-5 that's actually like a 5-3, hate my position at work and my place in the world, then end up taking my boss hostage across two states and international borders and selling him to some other professionals for 10 kilos of black tar heroin and a pistol to go out either illegally rich or in a blaze of gunfire high off my own product.

One can only hope.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Cold sores

I'm not sure why God feels the need to harass people with this horrible plague set clearly on the lip. Cold sores suck. I seem to only get them when I'm really stressing (like today). One moment I'm just moving along just fine in my shit storm of a life and then boom - a giant festering ass wart grows on my grill. I look like a fucking lepersy patient whose lip is about to fall off. I think that cold sores were not a naturally occuring issue at first. I think that corporate America conspired and thought up a freaky randomly occuring "disease" as a way to sell more petroleum jelly based products. We all know what Vaseline is for, but who would ever think of another use for it? So here's OPEC and George Bush's grand daddy thinking, "hey, let's infest the peasents with a freak herpes virus that only pops up on their faces and sell them vaseline type stuff that we claim helps get rid of it. But instead we'll call it Carmex." Wow, that little rant didn't even make any sense did it? What makes it all worse is that we all know it's a herpes simplex, so of course all my homeboys are gonna ask how my herpes is doing. Fuckers.
<- not me

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

My eyes

<- not my eye

For quite a while now I've been thinking of laser eye surgery. The problem I have with getting it is two fold. One, my glasses have become somewhat a part of my identity. Two, it's fucking expensive and my credit sucks. I was once told that to get both eyes done would be about $3,000. That equates to about $1,500 an eye for you non math types. But why would anyone bother to say "to get both eyes done". Does this mean that there is an option to do only one? Apparently not unless you only have one bad eye, and unfortunately I have two. I still have a plan though. I figure that I'll go and get one eye done for that $1,500 and then go old school to fix the problem with the other eye. It's called a monocle. You know, the thing that the monopoly man and Mr. Peanut wears. Imagine, I only pay for half the glasses, If I have to focus I just close my bad eye, and I bring back a level of classiness lost in the past 100 years. I would be so pimpin with my monocle.

straight to my heart

Valentines day is coming up real quick like. If you don't know the story of valentines it's actually pretty interesting. You see Saint Valentine was the patron saint of Hallmark and all through the land nobody could think up good rhyming cards that were also romantic, that is until Saint Valentine was hired by Hallmark to ensure the gross national product of chocolate, flowers, jewelry, and cards,was increased on a selected day of the year. That day was originally supposed to be the fifth of May but due to conflicting schedules with Saint Corona and the international economics of beer sales, it was changed to Feb. 14th.

Now that I've got that out of my system, i don't do Valentines anymore. I find it shallow and more of a guilt induced holiday. It's made to seem that if you don't buy your old lady a bunch of crap on that day then your insensitive. I personally like my wife, so I try to keep things original throughout the year, not just one day. If I'm gonna do something nice, I'll make her breakfast, clean the house, wash the dogs, or something that she sure as hell won't do. This makes her happy and gets shit done around the house as well. She in turn feeds me. This is my all year round valentine gift from her. The girl can cook!!! That's why I've gained 70 lbs in ten years of marriage. Most women will sit and say "you know, the way to a mans heart is through his stomach." My wife will tell you "that's bullshit, the way to his heart is straight through his chestplate with a sharp knife."

Sunday, February 4, 2007

Combat Jacks

First off I gotta say thanx to Deez for support of the blog, and secondly thanx to Dan the driver from work for inspiring the maybe permanent but maybe temporary name of Weirdshit0-meter. But onward to the point. So once upon a time I was active duty military (for those that know me, yes, I do go back to that time alot). I was a vehicle operator in the Air Force. I did time with the Army as a combat convoy operator, did Army type stuff like fire weapons and basic ground combat manuevers. But the coolest thing I ever learned was from a Marine and that was "combat jacks". When doing convoys in Iraq a lot of bad things can happen, a lot of things go boom, and a lot of bullets are put in your direction (I like to give them the right of way though). As these things occur your body produces insane amounts of adrenaline, the fight of flight response if you will. This particular Marine explained that once a "kill zone" is cleared you still have plenty of adrenaline pulsing through you, and that is the perfect time to masturbate. And yes it is!!! Upon clearing an area where bad stuff had occured, and my adrenaline was pulsing. we quickly reached our destination, where upon I found the most private area I could, whipped out my love rocket and proceeded to beat away. Whoa!!! I probably shot that rope a good 4 feet, and that's incredible. I recently got medically retired because of stuff involving those deployments, but I really wanted to go back - this time with an empty mayonnaise jar. I figured that if I did enough missions I could probably fill it up with spunk and then on my last outing I could heave it at some insurgent, have it break, and cover him in my spooge. Oh what sweet deliverance of embarrasment would it be for that guy, "oh Ali, look at you, you didn't kill him but somehow he blew a camel sized nut on you!!! Ha ha, you should volunteer for suicide bombings now since you should just kill yourself in shame!!!" Yeah, that's how it'd go down in my mind.

Saturday, February 3, 2007

little story (true)

My brother is a very original dude. More so than me most times, and he attributes this to his past drug use. Anyways, he used to keep a big empty mayonaise jar full of quarters for his laundy, sodas, whatever else. That would be just fine but he had a room mate and this fella was fucking odd. I think he was all tweaked out or at least drunk 99% of the time. Apparently he kept stealing handfulls of quarters from my brothers jar, but it couldn't be proven since my brother doesn't have video cameras or other sophisticated means. So my brother calls me one day and says, "do you know that if you piss in a jar of change that your piss turns blue?" I asked how he'd know that and he explained that his change jar was now full of his piss along with the change in order to keep his room mate from thieving it. I asked him how he'd get his own change and he told me "it's my piss, I'll just stick my hand in and get it, I own soap." Regardless, his change still ended up disappearing. His room mate was given the boot shortly after.

Friday, February 2, 2007

Ladies, let me educate you

So, I keep hearing this question from the ladies: Why do guys want to nut in our mouths? Usually you'll get this bullshit answer: It's because it feels so good. That's a whole load of crap. I'll tell you the truth. It's because we want you to be our personal whore. It is done because it makes you look like that porn slut that we've all dreamed of nailing on tape. It has nothing to do with it feels good - physically, that is. Busting a nut feels good, plain and simple. Busting a nut in your mouth makes us feel like fucking studs because you let us do it. "But it's so gross, ewww." Fine, if you won't let us do it in your mouths then let us shoot it on your tits, or your back, or all over your ass. As long as we feel emasculated we're fine. I was once told "if you swallow your own spooge then I will too", guess what, ain't gonna happen. But I think that if I can deal with it being messy on myself then you can have it all over your body, if not in your mouth. Here's another fact, we men don't gag if it touches our hand. We all jack off (deal with it ladies) and when we pop it gets all over our hands guaranteed, and sometimes our legs, arms, belly, etc.... That's what showers and towels are for. I understand about not wanting it near your face because I thought, "hmmmm.... if I was beating off and it accidently popped off and hit me in the chin, I'd probably run out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles yelling to my wife - GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!" But that's not the point, the point is that all women should let their men at least blow there load all over them from the neck down. Be there personal sluts, it makes men happy and guarantees that they wont be out finding a tramp that will let them.