Word Smash Blog

Step aside, Comrade

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 23:19:00 -0400

A tumbleweed drifts across the desert. Lightly it skips, to and fro, over the badlands of what will be Arizona. From red hills, through the sand and off the cacti, it dances it’s way into town. To it’s left, the town sheriff stands outside the jail puffing on one of his usual cigars. He barely makes notice of the tumbleweed as it intrudes upon a duel happening in the middle of the road. The tumbleweed bounces it’s way through the two cowboys frozen in stance, their right hands inches from their gun. It makes it’s way passed 4 horses parked at a watering hole, quietly drinking their hearts content before the crack of a pistol and a thud on the ground breaks their concentration.

The tumbleweed manages to pass all this, it’s stride unbroken before coming across the clean spurs upon the boot of a one Mr. Albert Farner. Confusing his foot before his step could land, the dancing dead bush caused him to trip and fall face first into the sand outside his intended destination; The building that said ”Saloon” on it.

Mr. Farner picked himself and laughed. Glancing around to see if anyone noticed. “Nusiance, those things!” he said to the two women fanning themselves outside the brothel next door. The girls rolled their eyes at him and continued what must’ve been a conversation more interesting than a bumbling stranger. Albert brushed off any remaining dirt on his clothes, made sure his shirt was tucked securely into his pants and put back on his ten gallon hat.

“Well then.” He said himself and went on with his journey. Up the three steps and throw the swinging doors, Albert came into focus with a sight he had completely expected and looked forward to for some time. A nearly empty bar, lined with various brown bottles. Two men were asleep at a table in the corner, apparently mid card-game and two others were standing at the bar talking with the bartender. Albert made his way in their direction making sure to keep his distance. He smiled to himself as he took in the sights and smells of his very first experience in a saloon.

“You want something?” The bar keep asked, while his other costumers looked on.

The question snapped Albert back. “What? Yes. Oh yes of course. I’m thirsty, what do you have?”

The bartender leered at Albert. “You ain’t from around these parts, is you?”

“I am actually. I was raised on farm just outside Borstown” Albert replied.

The bartender’s leer remained. He turned his head to spit before responding. “I thought every one from Borstown done came through here couple months back.”

The concious patrons of the saloon were at full attention now. All eyes were on Albert now, and he noticed. The smile, however, never left his face.

“Apparently not!” Albert said with his hands raises. “Please, I am terribly parched. May I purchase a beverage from you? I do have money to pay.”

like a prodigal sun (the walk of shame)

Tue, 22 May 2012 22:51:00 -0400

I haven’t blogged in a shit ton of time. I’ve been busy, when last I wrote to myself I was but a schmuck. A pathetic loser with no direction, destined to spend the rest of his life wandering lonely and aimlessly across this giant blue marble we call the United States of America. But no more! I have found meaning, I’ve found life, a purpose, more money, a cool car, a home with some room in and totally rad muscles I show off to girls.

I’ve been to rock bottom, my friends. I remember it vividly because I said to a friend of my “rock bottom”. Then we laughed for a little bit because things are funny when they’re true. But (again) no more! I have better-people-problems now like “My pool needs chemicals” and “I don’t want to hit that bump to fast, it might ding my nice rims”.

I won’t go into too many details because this is the Internet and frankly, mind your own fucking business. I will say that life’s been pretty good to me lately, hence the lack of blog posts.

Why can’t i blog when life is good?

It’s not that I can’t, and please don’t turn into Freud when I say this but it’s funnier when life sucks. You see, dear readers, to you I am someone else. It’s funny when bad things happen to someone else. If some stupid little kid comes up and hits me in the nuts with a plastic baseball bat and looks at the camera all surprised when I keel over in pain. That’s funny. Try having that shit happen to you. That shit ain’t funny then. Ya know, I’m pushing thirty here. Any trauma down there can seriously impede my ability to reproduce. Which would then in turn, hinder my ability to sic my binky-sucking kid on that first kid’s dad, thus getting revenge for my shattered testicles.

I think I’ve stumbled on to some sort of paradox here.

..I don’t want to think about it too much. it’s like if you think about Back to the Future too much. You start to realize that it probably wouldn’t work out like that and really, the space-time continuum was fucked as soon as Einstein jumped over that minute. Also, why was the time machine frozen after the first trip through time, but after subsequent trips?
I don’t want to think about it!

I don’t really have an ending to this, but i don’t want to write anymore.

And they all lived happily until they died.

The end.

Of all the times...

Thu, 08 Dec 2011 16:53:00 -0500

My head hit the side of the tree trunk forcefully with help from the night’s frosty breeze. I tried to stand, to walk at least, but the adrenalin pumping through my system must’ve ran out. Blood ran down my leg and soaked the towel my friend was using to try and sop it up. I’ll lose the leg eventually, I’m sure of it. A small price to pay if this all works out. I was more worried about losing my hand. The bullet shot clean through the palm leaving me with the use of only my index finger and thumb. I was losing blood at a rapid rate but we couldn’t stop. Our rendezvous was only 100 yards south of here and our pursuers aren’t stopping for anything. I hope we had enough of a head start to afford this unexpected rest stop, but I doubt it.

With my wound-free hand , I slap my face, hard. “Get up!” I scream to myself in thought. Resisting the urge to cry out in pain for fear of giving away our location, I punch wounded leg. My friend looks on, in stunned silence. He’s nervous but it’s working. The pain wakes me up, “only 100 more yards” I think to myself. I can make it. I push off the oak, ready to run, crawl, hop on one foot if I have to. We can’t stay here. They’re coming.

One single step and I’m on the ground, in more pain than I could ever inflict on myself. The bone must be broken, I can’t put any weight on it. My friend goes to help me up, but ducks before his hand reaches mine. I hear it too. Our pursuers are closing in. They’re whispering to each other not far off. My only option now is to stay down and hope the night sky hides me. I motion to my friend to run off, save himself. He shakes his head.

So we sit,
silent and still.

and wait.

It appeared our prayers were answered. Our pursuers voices grew faint, seeming to go eastward, out of our direction. They were, until, an unnaturally long and loud sound washed over the forest. It bounced between tree leaves and refracted off puddles and ponds. The sound scared away small animals, and seemed to still the howling wind. It was the fart heard ‘round the world.

I looked to my friend who was red faced and smiling…sheepishly, at me. “Seriously?” I managed to utter through the pain, still trying to process what he had done. ”I’m so saw-we. I bean so gaassy tonight. I tink it was the cornbreed. Do you have any Tums or a ginga ale, maybe?”. I notice our pursuers’ silhouettes standing behind Melvin, pointing at us.

I rest my head back down. The stars are.. brighter than… beautiful..

“‘Ello? You ok on the ground dere? I need some Mylanta. Tylenol won’t werk, it makes muy fingas itchy”

I never should’ve tried to break out of prison with an offensive Jewish stereotype.

There and back again....of course..

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 17:50:00 -0500

As I sit here, my fingers frozen from unnecessary cold air conditioning in December, working later I usually do making up for my 45th hour last week, making only 22 cents more an hour now than when I started my career here 2 years and 2 months ago, I start to think. Mainly cause I’ve had a five hour energy and this is the time of day when I usually zone out and stare at TheChive pictures, instead, today, I think. Ponder even.

I need a holiday. A very long holiday. I don’t expect I shall return.

But most likely I’ll take a short holiday and return begrudgingly to the same old, same old until next year when I’ll write something similar to this exact post; when I’ll be making 7 cents more an hour than I am now. Tis the dreams of the youth, they are wasted on the practicality of actually working on and accomplishing stuffs. I should’ve stayed in school…but I hated school. School sucks a dick. I don’t need that shit, I just need a way to make money. I don’t care if I’m smart. I really don’t. I’d like to know a few more words than I do so when I ramble posts on the Internet I can throw in smart words, give me a little more credibility. Fancy the ol’ blog up a wee bit, don’t cha know? Make ‘er a little not so, how you say, “pointlessly random”.

What am I talking about here…making money, that’s it, the goal in life. Everyone wants it, not everyone has it. Some people have a lot, no one has enough. You get money, it’s good, boom. You lose money, bango, it’s bad. Easy peezey. You give your money up for something, chances are you’re getting screwed. Everyone’s out for sacred nickel, the dollar of our lives. Everyone wants money, even monks want money, they’ll find something to do with it, believe you me. Money ain’t free. Just like my uncle Randy used to say “Don’t take a dollar from a stranger unless your ready to do some pretty weird stuff for it.”
He was odd tho. He wasn’t a hooker or anything (prolly), he was just one of those dummies who would take dares at the bar for next ta nothing. “Hey Randy! Piss your pants and rip out a hand full of hair!” They’d all say. He’d of course come back with “What?! Who’s saying that? Where are you?!”, Randy couldn’t see very well.
“We’ll give ya a dollar!” the crowd would cheer. “Why didn’t ya say so?!” Randy would reply and proceed to pee his jeans crazy and tear out gobs of hair from his bloody scalp.

One time someone gave uncle Randy a 5 dollar bill instead of a 1. Randy didn’t like that. He spit a green booger on it and mashed it in that lady’s face. Owned. Stupid Lady. Some men just want to see the world burn. Uncle Randy just had low self-esteem and some sadomasochistic tendencies.

We don’t talk about Randy at Thanksgivings.

What was I talking about again? Going back to school, right, yeah fuck that. I should go, but fuck that (Hehehe but fuck…), School’s too much money and stress. So what if it makes people look at you differently and helps you start a career, it’s dum, ya don’t learn notin’ and those teacher’s thinks they so goddamn smart. They sure is ain’t.
There’s lots of writing too, no one likes writing, and I think, today, I’ve likely turned a few people off to reading as well.

THE END!

From tortoise to hare

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 09:58:06 -0400

Super sleepy this morning…Coffee..chug…AND HERE. WE. GO!

I’ve said before that waking up tired and not hung over is annoying as shit since if you’re hung over you’re still kinda drunk and if you focus on the being drunk aspect rather than the hangover then it’s kinda fun you can get through it. At least I can….
Well today is one of those mornings where I am not in the least hungover and just tired as shit from not sleeping and all the working out I did last night.
I’ve been feeling a little down on myself lately and rather than getting wasted to feel a little better (and eventually a lot worse) I’m trying something new by working out a bunch and trying to lose some body fat by dieting. So far it kinda sucks. I really like pizza and I want to eat some for lunch but no! Salad, piece of fruit, fat-free yogurt, that’s all till dinner, fatty! I digress…

I figure at the rate I’m gaining muscle, I’ll look like this guy probably around Halloween:

I suppose I’ll need to get a mask too if I want to complete the look. The problem there is, it looks like an over-sized gimp mask you’d buy at Fairvilla and that’d be embarassing to in there and get. What do I say to the sales girl? “This isn’t for weird bondage sex, it’s so I can look like a Batman villain.” I don’t suppose she’d care too much since i’m crazy strong and she’d likely be distracted by rippling arm muscles and lack of a shirt. “Seriously? I need a shirt in here?” I’d ask “This entire store revolves around people taking off their clothes!”
“Sorry.” She’d say in an old timey New York accent. “No shirt, no shoes, no pornos for yous.”
Instantly enraged, I’d scream “Can’t you see how strong I am?”
She’d reply, fanning herself with her hand “Oh muy, yes!”

“Arrrrg!” I’d scream and smash crazy the counter, punching down through solid oak. Then I’d raise my hands to the sky and scream “Arrg” again before barrelling my way out of the sex shop without the mask because while I may now be a super-villian, I am not a petty mask thief.

“Fine, no mask, I don’t need a mask. Superman didn’t have a mask. Well Superman’s good. I’m evil. Lex Luthor didn’t have a mask. Yeah, that makes more sense.” I think to myself as I get into my car. “Dr. Doom has a cool one tho..”.
I go to start my car and nothing happens. “Ah come on! Not today!”. I try again to no avail. “Arrrrg!” I yell again and go to bang on the dash with my fist but accidentally punch through to the car stereo “Whoops, too mighty!

Just then, the surprisingly extensive security patrol at Fairvilla comes running towards me, tasers in hand! I jump out of the car, breaking the driver’s side door completely off in the proces, and scream “Arrrg!” at all 60 (Holy crap!) of them! They shoot their tasers but the clamps won’t attach to my Rhino-like skin. I laugh a deep laugh in their fucking faces “Ho Ho Ho!” and then the destruction occurs. I hit the closest guy with a light upper-cut that sends him flying accross the street, landing on the roof of a Burger King. The next guy takes a backhand to the face that flips him over 36 times in mid-air before landing on his head in the parking lot, instant death! The other 58 were destroyed by a barrage of cartoonish assaults that include finger boxing, rib tennis (where I make one of the guards play tennis with me using ribs as rackets and vital organs as tennis balls) and helicopter darts (Where I throw guards at passing helicopters). Once they’re all dead, I go to the neighboring 7-11, grab a couple Taquitos and call myself a cab. Where am I going you ask? I have to talk to the police commisoner (with my fist punches!). This is my town now.

This may sound like a brutal account of what will likely happen, but whatevs, I’m a super villan. Plus Batman isn’t real so I don’t have to worry about him.

A little diddy in the name of stars and bars

Thu, 21 Jul 2011 14:58:00 -0400

I knew I would have a lot of time today to post on here but for the life of me I can’t think of a decent topic to start out with. Not everyday do I show up to work unexpectedly looking like a redneck piece of shit. I mean, really, that blog wrote itself. Today I’m dressed appropriately, having a decent day, well rested, not hung over, little sore from the gym last night but that’s not enough for me to vent about here.

In an attempt to remedy this plight (if you will), I went out and bought myself a 12oz can of Red Bull even though, as previously stated, I was not, in fact, tired. This is isn’t really helping me other than the fact that I can’t stop my legs from moving and even though I really have nothing to write about, I’m actually farther along than I expected to be.

Word of the day for me is “abscond” I’ve heard it twice yesterday and thought to myself, I thought “Self, that’s a smart word. You use that word in a conversation you’ll get people to think you’re smart.”. I haven’t yet been able to use it in my everyday conversations, come to think of it I really haven’t said too many words overall today. Maybe like, 300? I don’t talk that much at work.

Shit, I have to go work in another department. That’ll make the it 4th department I worked in this week. I deserve a raise! and a lot more traffic to this blog I don’t promote.

And then…..

I’m back now after I absconded for over 1 and a half hours (got it). Red Bull’s starting to wear out, better drink more! WOO! That’s some good stuff. Hope I stay awake, I got me some big plans tonight! Going places, seeing people, doing things! That’s what I’m all about! Hot chicks, working out, getting drunk, bein’ awesome, punching dorks! You got something to say, punk? Nah I didn’t think so! What was that? BAM! Fuck you up. All day! Say something about my motha? Punch you in the mouth. Say something about about friends? Punch you in the mouth. Say something derogatory about my abs? Punch you in the fucking mouth! Say something about physique, go ahead! Say IT! Guess what? PUNCH YOU IN THE MOUTH! What? You call me a fag?? I’ll beat the living hell outta you, you fucking homo queer. It’s not that I’m overly sensitive about being call a homosexual because I secretly harbour gay thoughts, it’s a respect thing. Seriously guys, stop looking at me. I will not be disrespected. In any way shape or form. I like chicks! Big tits, big hair, dark tan! Darker the better! I like a chick who smokes cause she always needs something in her mouth, I like a chick who drinks cause that means she’s easy and I like a chick who works out because I like those bodybuilder chicks cause they’re really strong and that’s admirable, cause you know, I like working out too and some of them chicks are strong and I want to be really strong too. I mean, I am really strong. I will punch someone in the face. And it will hurt them. Because I am that strong. I will do that. But I won’t punch a chick in the face, even if she’s really strong and has a dick. What? That happens! AHhhhhh…Jager-bombs.

Well that was fun.

I noticed that the title of this blog kind of refers to a song about America. I did not mean it in that way. I meant tonight I hope to see a celebrity in a bar while a P. Diddy song plays, but not too loudly.

And I’m out till tomorrow! Or probably Monday! Maybe Tuesday! Cut me some fucking slack!

Drinking leads to poor decisions

Wed, 20 Jul 2011 11:35:00 -0400

Drinking, itself, is generally considered to be a poor decision but usually I’m too drunk to care. Not the case last night, where, after the gym, I came home and drank myself 3 fancy Bud Lights. Not enough to get drunk off of but enough to keep me up till 2 and provide a slight hangover this morning. So, with my slight hangover, and being tired from lack of sleep, I awoke this morning a tad disoriented and a little absent minded. I go about my usual routine of immediately going to the refrigerator and finding something to eat, drink a glass of water, put some clothes on, brush my teeth, find my shit and I’m out the door in 10 minutes. For the most part, this process works for me but today I was being extra lazy. Rather than get dressed and look at myself in the mirror before bolting to work, I threw on some shorts and a wifebeater and grabbed a shirt that I would put on later.
I had a nice drive into work, enjoying the warm Florida weather and a golden sunrise over the Indian River Lagoon. I get to work and throw on my collared, short-sleeved, slightly large plaid shirt and realize it matches my slightly large, plaid shorts. I’m wearing two, differant colored, plaid articles of clothing. My inability to dress myself has hit an all time low.

I look like a redneck Eminem fan from the 90’s today. I look like I should have a Black n’ Mild in my ear while I drive my 1980’s Cadillac (with spinning hubcaps) back from a meeting with my parole officer. I look like I should walk into my house, located on a 4 lane road, and meet my fat, pregnant girlfriend who hastily puts out her cigarette. “Hey baby, how’d it go at the police station?” She’d ask. I’d just say “Shiiiiit” and sit down next to her on our torn leather couch. I would then light up a bong that’s sitting on the coffee table and we would finish watching “Maury” together. After I’m high, I would then complain about our two other roommates for a little bit and then ask “Does my baby want some Taco Bell?” (I like Taco Bell because the soft tacos are easier to chew than normal fast food which is a plus for me on account of my numerous missing teeth.). Of course my baby want Taco Bell. I grab some money from her, pretend to listen to her order then I’m back in the Caddie on my way to liquor store to grab a quart of King Cobra for the ride. I swing by Taco Bell, grab 7 soft tacos and entire bag of fire sauce. I go to head back to the house but I get distracted by the marijuana leaf tattoo on my arm and all the flexing I’m doing and I hit a school bus, an actual big yellow school bus filled with kids. I don’t bother getting out to check on the kids because I’m drunk, and high, and pretty hungry and I don’t want to go back to jail. So I speed off as fast as my car will go (35 MPH) sticking my head out of the car to yell (in a high pitched) voice “HAHA!” back at the now visibly injured children. Flick them off as I leave, quick check for cops..no cops, I’m good, then I start rapping to what I can remember of my favorite Eminem song. “I never meant to give you mushrooms girl…”

In all seriousness though, I think I’m what E! News would call “fashionable-retarded”. Luckily, I have this ESD jacket to cover it up.

Time for lunch….you know what I could go for right now? A King Cobra quart.

There's supposed to be a photo of the inside of a toilet stall here.

Tue, 19 Jul 2011 17:44:46 -0400

I was supposed to display a picture of my point of view when I take a poop at work. There’s not much in it (the photo that is), it’s just a picture of the wall in front of me. There’s a sink, a mirror, and soap and paper towel dispensers too. I just figured it’d be a good idea to share a little bit of myself with the Internet.

Hello internet, this is where I poop. What you see here in my “poop-view” photo is what I see, when I’m pooping. Imagine if this photo was like a Google street view photo where you can manipulate your view and look around. It would be like you were pooping there with me (Just don’t look down).

Anyways, the Tumblr app on my iPhone is being finicky and not letting me upload a photo. Tragic for all of you reading, just annoying for me.

In many ways, though, my “poop-view” photo would be sham and a lie. I don’t really look straight ahead when I caca, I look at my phone. Check Facebook. Play Qrank. Look at porn. Check the news. Etc.
So really, A “poop-view” photo would be a screen shot of my phone.

But that would suck cause that’s constantly changing and not as funny a picture I took while on the can. You see the funny right? Sure you do.

It’s also occurred to me, a few sentences back, that I think I’ve written a blog on this very subject a couple months ago. Well, whatever, maybe I’m a little hard up for material lately. Not a whole lot’s going on in the world of the RyGuy.

What?

You want me to write about how I went to a strip club last night, motor-boated three different girls and got uncomfortably close to a stripper’s BH? I’m not going to do that. My mom reads this thing.

…

Well, I’m out to go find some material to blog about. Strip club again tonight?! Hell no! There’s no free admission on Tuesdays! Fine! I’ll go!

I’m going delirious from lack of sleep today. Take this...

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 09:45:00 -0400

I’m going delirious from lack of sleep today. Take this picture for instance. Anyone who looks at it probably just sees a bunch of random crap strewn about on my desk. To me, however, I see what appears to be the distinct likeness of evil Bolshevic leader Dr. Paperface.

“ello. Vood you mind lyting my cigarrette? I levd my lyter vith deed boody in other vroom.”

I need to wake up! Dr Paperface is talking to me!

…

It’s a crazy dull day today. I managed to stretch 45 minutes of work out to 2 hours. Now I’m going back to surfing the internet and reading Cracked.com articles to keep myself awake. But reading makes me sleepy so I stopped and started writing this again. Then I got some coffee. Then I got back to my desk and started typing in this again.

“Yoor bloog leeves somesing to be des-ired tooday, I tinks”

Shut up, Paperface! I’m working here! You think funny magic just spills out of my fingertips? Sometimes you gotta work through the crap to get to the chewy center of a bloggy joke.

“Yoo… amake noo senz”

You make no sense!! I’m through talking to you, nobody wants to read what a talking piece of paper has to say anyways!

Ahem, sorry about that. As I was saying, I’m so tired. I’m on my third cup of coffee and let me tell you..

“Zay, ‘ave yoo evar reed zees boook “Zee Prince”? Ees vedy good..”

What did I tell you!? Shut up! And get outta here with that Communist crap, Paperface!

“at’s vedy rood uf yoo. I tells yoo of de boook I eenjoy and yoo yells at me. Aye sees ‘ow et es.”

…I’m sorry Paperface.

“No, No, I go now”

…stupid Paperface.

I rarely ever do this, seriously ever

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 02:19:33 -0400

What the hell am I doing awake right now? For some reason, during the early part of the week. (i.e Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday) I can’t sleep for shit. The dumb thing about that is this is also the time of the week when I think I should be “acting like an adult” and “not drinking heavily”. Really though, I could be getting good and wasted right now and instead of going into work tired and likely still drunk, I’ll be going in as tired as an overworked Panda bear.

I think a Panda would be really tired after getting off work, even more so if it’s a hard labor job. He walks into his bamboo hut home, throws his hardhat with ear holes cut out on sofa, grabs a twig and starts gnawing. Mrs. Panda comes in and is all pissed off because she just had the sofa cleaned and he didn’t even notice. At first Panda doesn’t want an argument so he slowly walks over and grabs his sweaty hat off the sofa. Mrs. Panda, almost satisfied, turns towards to the kitchen but as she goes to leave she mutters something under her breath.
Panda had a rough day. Earlier at work, he was excited about a possible promotion he thought he was a shoe in for. Little did he know that his supposed friend Jerry was spying on him and reporting every little error or grip he had to Mr. Sweeny. Panda was so caught off guard when he was pulled into Mr. Sweeny’s office that he openly wept at the accusations. Panda was demoted from his current position, while Jerry was given a cozy desk job up front in the A/C offices. So when Mrs. Panda opened her mouth, even just a little bit, to get the last word in, like she always fucking did, Panda lost it.
The hardhat found it’s way swiftly from Panda’s hand to the front of the flat screen tv, shattering it and taking out pictures of Mrs. Panda’s parents and sisters in it’s aftermath.

Down the jungle path, laying in it’s nest of twigs and leaves, a young Koala bear hears yelling and crashing off in the distance. Nervous and a little scared, he wanders down the hall to his parents room and knocks quietly. “Mom? Dad? Do you think everything’s ok?”
“Yes dear. ” The little Koala’s mother answers “Just listen to your iPod for a little bit and try to go to sleep.”
“Ok. Night” the little Koala says and scurrys back to his room.
The Mother Koala sighs to herself. She puts her book down, turns to her husband and says “Jerry, we really need to move to a better neighborhood. This isn’t a good environment to raise a child in.”

Jerry smirks to himself. “Yes dear, I’m working on it”

I’m going to be that tired tomorrow. I need to take some Ambien or Tylenol PM or something.

I meant to put something in here yesterday but never got around...

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 13:53:00 -0400

I meant to put something in here yesterday but never got around to it. I had an idea to write some serious blog about a journey I was going. It was going to be incredibly detailed and seem very important but in the end it was just a drive to get a fruit and yogurt parfait from Mcdonald’s. By the time I actually had to time to write it up I was just kinda over it. It happens sometimes.

The only thing now is that I’m really swamped at work, so I doubt I’ll write anything in here today, other than what I’m currently writing here, of course. A shame because I only have 7 minutes left on my lunch break to write a witty post. Hm

I was driving today and this guy cut me off and I was like “Whoa dude!” and I put my hand up in a what-were-you-thinking fashion. He didn’t even see me. Some people I swear….

Still five minutes to go.

Alright I give up see everyone on Wednesday.

Ant infestation day 2: These little fuckers are crawling all...

Tue, 28 Jun 2011 10:41:00 -0400

Ant infestation day 2:

These little fuckers are crawling all over my desk, inside my computer, on my coffee cup, and more than likely…inside my brain. I moved my drink glasses and trashcan, perhaps that will help stop a further invasion, but the ones I’ve already ingested are growing stronger with time. It’s up to my immune system to fight them off and burn them alive in my disgestive fluids, I pray its not too late.

On a side note,

I’ve heard a few complaints from the readers of this blog that I’m a tad too negative,that I should maybe try writing something a little more uplifting. (And when I say “readers of this blog”, I mean “writers of this blog”, which is me, AKA my more positive side that I consistently berate but have recently been trying to embrace but really only putting forth a half-assed effort to do so because making fun of stuff is a lot easier than trying to be positive and shit.). So this is my attempt to write a happy blog.

Hm, let’s see now, what things made me smile today?

I saw a turtle on the side of the road during my lunch break. ”Hello Mr. Turtle! Just out for a stroll, getting some sun on the ol’ shell today, are we?” Hahaha, he’s a funny little turtle. He’s walking pretty fast now! I bet he could beat nastly hare in a race right now! He’s so determined, look at him go! I’m glad I didn’t look back as I drove by because I likely would’ve see ol’ Mr.turtle make the mistake of trying to cross the road where Mr. SUV probably put a nice big crack in Mr. Turtle’s shell, paralyzing… Ok, this was a bad idea.

Cynical is my thing and if my “positive” side can’t understand that, then I think someone needs to stop, grab a mirror and take a good long look at the person staring back. Is it really me you’re trying to change, or is it you? I think you need to stop projecting your issues on to me, and maybe start dealing with some yourself. It’s not too late, you’re never too old to learn something new about you. After all, isn’t learning about ourselves really the only way we can grow? I’ll help you in any way I can, I even know the number of a great counselor I can give you. I think this is a great step and I support you 100% but right now you need to get the fuck out of my face because you smell bad and you’re giving me the creeps. Outta here, you.

Another successful blog!

My desk, after a knife fight. I brought a gun, bango, the desk...

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 15:44:00 -0400

My desk, after a knife fight. I brought a gun, bango, the desk lost.

I really had no idea what to take a picture of today, that’s the best I could come up with.

There’s a bunch of sugar ants invading my desk space, which I don’t really understand because except for a bottle of water and a cup of coffee, there’s no sugar to be had on my desk. What do they want? Have they developed a taste for dried pen ink or the dust in between the keys on a keyboard? If so, how long until they desire human blood? Not. Long. At all.

No longer will ants bite and leave a sting mark; a pussy (that’s pronounced PUSS-e), itchy rash that you will eventually have to pop, and be annoyed with while you’re trying to work..or blog. Soon they will bite deeper, tearing an open wound with which it can enter your flesh, guzzling on the very blood it drowns in while struggling to get out from underneath your skin! Of course, this is but a temporary hindrance to the rise of the ant. Evolution will take its course. The ants who can hold their breath the longest will survive, gorging themselves on human blood, they will become strong quickly. Soon then a rise of flesh eating, blood drinking ants will be gnawing themselves in and out of our arms, legs, torso and genitals. They will start out small, but will grow! Before we know it, they will be as large as cockroaches! If we don’t stop them by then, I fear they’re size may become that of a small wittle kitten. It won’t be holes they’ll be putting in our frail human bodies then, no, they’ll be removing limbs! We must put a stop to this!

I’m doing my part. Even as I qw type this blog out, I’m hitting a few that lp are crawling over the letters on n sthe keyboard. Die devil bugs.

It had been a good couple weeks since I got drunk on a Wednesday...

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 16:46:00 -0400

It had been a good couple weeks since I got drunk on a Wednesday night, but I did last night boy I’ll tell ya what: it was sweet. As soon as that first PBR hit my lips, that wonderful blue ribbon taste relaxing my body into a state of bliss until WHAT THE FUCK?! It’s 2 in the morning, all the beer is good and I’m drunk?! I can’t even remember what happened on Franklin and Bash! This is no good, I have to go to bed.

Flash forward to 6:38 am, I’m hustling around my house because I’m late, I have to feed the neighbors 12 cats and get to work by 7 (I didn’t). It would’ve been easier to do if my roommate didn’t hide my fucking wallet. Who does that? WHY? I don’t understand.

Since then this whole day’s just been weird. I think I saw my ex-girlfriend checking me out while she was working at Mcdonald’s. I listened to Zelda music most of the day instead regular music (odd choice I know) and when I did listen to regular music, the Yellowcard came up on Pandora 3 different times.

Also, I started writing in this thing way too late in the day, I’m burned out.

Today really felt like I was in the Matrix, and I was getting close to something. Too close. I could feel my mind separating fiction from reality. I almost see the code… stupid agents must have done something though. Now I’m back to accepting this stinky life.

I’m gonna drink tonight again, I’m really only happy when I drink. That’s not a problem I don’t think.

It smells like cat pee in the men’s room. I made sure to...

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 12:01:00 -0400

It smells like cat pee in the men’s room. I made sure to check to make sure it wasn’t me, it’s not, but it definitely smells like kitty urine in there. I can only assume there’s been cross species breeding in one of my co-workers families and a feline gene is rearing it’s ugly head. I’ve been keeping my eyes open and you’d be surprised how cat-like many people can act in their day-to-day mannerisms (Did you know “act” is just “cat” if you jumble the letters up?). I saw one guy lick his hand. I though “That’s fine, I’m sure he just had some soup or coffee spill and rather than get a paper towel like a HUMAN would do.”. He decided to bathe his hand in his own saliva. Hm. You made my list, buddy.
Later, I was leaving the bathroom, which still smelled like cat piss, I noticed that SOMEONE didn’t wash their hands as they left. Interesting. Are we…. afraid of water perhaps?! I think someone might have a dark family secret he’s trying to hide.
Those are my two main suspects. There was a couple others but all their suspicious activity could be explained away. One guy was eating a rat, but that’s cool because he’s Asian and sometimes they do that. Another was using his toes to scratch his neck but he’s a gymnast and I believe that’s how they stretch. One guy this morning got distracted by small moving light that shone on a wall and was trying to grab it for 10 minutes or so. He’s new though, he doesn’t know how things work around here.
There is this one guy up front who has hair growing on the top of his ears, an up-turned nose and cat eyes….but I think he’s from Utah and the Mormons murdered all the cats in Utah in the early 1930’s if I remember correctly. Something to do with the supporting the war efforts… but people couldn’t tell if they were supporting the war or if they were against it by their weird cat fundraisers and protests and everytime someone asked a Mormon what they were doing there, they just laughed and shook their heads so we didn’t bother pursuing it because the feral cat problem in Utah grew to be a pretty big problem for the state since nobody wanted to take a nice family vacation to the Rockies and have to avoid stepping in cat poop especially since the only thing the cats would eat are blueberries which made the cat poop really sticky and it would sticky to the bottom of hiking boots and make them smell really bad when they would go back to their cabins so the Mormons had a whole lot of kids and the ones that looked like cats a little bit they would keep and the regular looking ones they would post- birth abort in an effort the remind the world what the they did to help win world war 2. So that guy’s out. I’m planning on bringing in catnip tomorrow to see which one goes crazy. I won’t work with a smelly man cat. I won’t.

In leau of the regular abstract photo I usually post with a blog, I’ve decided to post the lastest Youtube video from Boxxy. For those who don’t know who Boxxy is, do a fucking a google search (her story’s actually kind of interesting). There’s something very odd that happens to me while I watch her videos. I catch myself glaring at the computer not unlike Ron Swanson (from Parks and Recreation) would glare at someone who asked him where the closest Starbucks was. There is an initial hatred for Boxxy that comes with watching her videos, but after the first minute or so she starts to become a real-life version of a hyperactive anime character in my eyes. Then I start to think, what’s so wrong with this? Is she hurting anybody? No. She’s just having a good time! Look at her with her weird gestures and frantic speaking pattern. Well isn’t she… Isn’t she just the darnedest thing. I think I want to hold her hand, or give her a hug. Maybe just hang out with her for a little bit…not for too long though! That shit will get old quick. But maybe for 15 minutes or so I could handle it.
Plus she’s pretty damn cute, so that helps.
I’m told that Boxxy is just a character this girl plays, but I think it’s the other way around.

She also reminds of Alyson Hannigan (that’s probably spelled wrong) on some sort of upper.

So enjoy that, try not to get a headache and Boxxy if you’re reading this, my twitter name is @TheRyGuy, get at me girl.

No, I wasn’t abducted and probed by aliens (That’s...

Tue, 21 Jun 2011 09:05:00 -0400

No, I wasn’t abducted and probed by aliens (That’s gross by the way, get your mind outta the gutter), I had to go to the dentist this morning to get my teeth right. Turns out too that randomly picking a dentist from my insurance website worked out for the best cause she’s pretty fucking awesome. The only dentist I’ve ever had that figured out, apparently, I grind my teeth. Which would explain the minor chips in my front teeth, that she fixed. She also told ghost stories to the nurse while she was picking through my mouth, which was better than sitting there being unentertained. The only problem is that, of course, my insurance sucks and I owe 170 bucks for 500 bucks worth of work. I guess that isn’t too terrible but I have like 3 more appointments and another 1000 (give or take) dollars worth of work she wants to do. I think I may stretch these out.
Hm.
This has been a pretty straight forward blog so far. Just what I did today. A report of my dentist appointment, if you will. That’s fucking dull. I could’ve summed that whole paragraph up into a single facebook post: “Went to the dentist. She’s awesome! Didn’t expect to hear ghost stories while getting my teeth cleaned! Too bad I owe her money now :(” . Just…uninspired.
On a related note, I think writing this thing has seriously hindered my ability to put together a witty facebook status update. I was writing facebook updates before there was even a facebook. AIM anyone? Yeah, I was that guy always online with a different away message everyone couple of hours. I wrote stories on my away messages (Spiderman Jedi was a classic), now after a session of vent-typing on here I actually have to think of something to write if I want to update. What have I become?
I’m going to get coffee drunk and think of something different to write here because this facebook/dentist post is depressing me.

…

I don’t know if everyone here has seen “The Girl with the Dragon tattoo” trailer yet but it’s pretty fucking awesome. It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to go to school for video editing. For some reason, the short film/music video medium really appeals to me. I think setting a lot of things to music (basketball, roller derby, weddings) usually turns out really cool if edited together well. If I had a Macbook, or a decent computer with editing software I would do it a lot more. Instead, I have a decent camera and almost no way to splice. It saddens me.

Anyways that’s all, I’m not creative today. Go away now.

5 o’clock on a Monday is one mother fucker of a time...

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 16:48:00 -0400

5 o’clock on a Monday is one mother fucker of a time for me lately. It’s when I’m most exhausted but I still have a ton of shit to do. Basketball then gym tonight when really I just want to go home kick back 6 PBR tallboys and call it a night. Why do I put up with this crap?

I’m just grumpy, basketball is always a blast for me and I’m starting to see why people go to the gym. I’ve only been going for two weeks and I already feel….stronger…more powerful. If only I could somehow..harness.. this power. This great, strong power I hold in my grasp. Soon I will. Soon I will become so powerful no one will stand in my way! Finally! Earth will be mine and the pathetic humans will have no choice but to obey me! I will rule with an iron fist. Yes, humans will be enslaved to do my bidding but they will be cared for enough. Health care is a big issue for me. No one likes a sickly slave. Then again, if one slave is too weak, it will be put to death! Of course, life insurance will be available for the grieving family and paid time off as well. This all comes after a 90-day probationary period, of course.
The building of my castle will be the first order of business. As I am now ruler of the planet I expect a pretty large castle as well as a grand surrounding area. I’m thinking something along the lines of ”The Forbidden City” from China, but way totally bigger. I will live there alone. Alone with my 200 concubines who will serve me in Princess Leia type slave girl outfits and be at my every beckon call, willing to do whatever I tell them because if they don’t, I will murder them! Secretly though, I probably won’t murder any of them. It’s lonely being the ruler of the planet, sometimes it’s nice to just cuddle and watch a propaganda film I made Hollywood put out in support of me. I really enjoy Linda’s company, though, I get the feeling lately that she’s only being so nice to me because she’s afraid I’ll kill her. I wish she would give me her honestly opinion sometimes. Are my muscles too big? Have I gotten too good looking? These are things I need to know, Linda! If you can’t be bothered to give me a straight answer well then, off to the gallows with you! I’ll hang you till you’re dead and put you on display to show all my other women what happens when you don’t love me correctly!
I could never do that, I’m so sorry Linda. There’s just so much pressure on me being the King Tyrant of the planet, I just gotta blow off a little steam sometimes, baby. Please don’t be mad. Here, I have a meeting with the slave labor union, why don’t you go out and buy yourself something nice? You’re so pretty.

MUHAHAHAHA!!! SOON!

I’m all off kilter with this blog today. I pooped out a...

Thu, 16 Jun 2011 17:24:00 -0400

I’m all off kilter with this blog today. I pooped out a post earlier but now at the end of the day when I usually have time to write something here, I didn’t have any place to put it. So here I am, starting over again with what will likely be a shorty. 1 because I don’t have a lot of time and 2 because I don’t have anything to write about. I’m not hung over anymore and there was no coffee left this afternoon so my writing fuel is low. I just chugged down the last of my tea but let’s face it, tea to coffee is like…soda..to coffee. Its just not helpful with creativity or analogies. If you think about it, the perfect writing fuel is probably Irish coffee. Keeps me awake, gets me drunk, bingo. The problem with writing when you drink beers or liquor is that after a while you get drunk and your words stop making sense. Every once in a while you will have an insightful point, but usually you have to sift through pages of nonsense to get to it. At least that’s how it works for me. When I teach my writing class after my second novel goes platinum, I’ll be sure to include that in the curiculum (Also, excessive use of parentheses is strongly encouraged (seriously)).

That’ll be all for today, tomorrow we’ll go over plot and character development.

Tonight’s homework is to get hammered drunk, write 1500 words, don’t proof read or spell check and post to Internet for your friends and family to see.

Class dismissed.

Well, this fucking sucks. Whole blog post lost. I’ll use...

Wed, 15 Jun 2011 07:42:00 -0400

Well, this fucking sucks. Whole blog post lost. I’ll use this picture tomorrow.

…

The Next Day…

…

Let’s see, what did I have here…I did an entire paragraph about how tired I was. Then I drank two cups of coffee. I haven’t had coffee in two weeks so it was kind of a big deal. Went a little hyperactive. I wrote two paragraphs on roller derby. One was about how the practices see almost as much action as the actual bouts. Which I was surprised at, I figured they would easy on each other. But no. Lots of falling and yelling. I don’t understand the yelling. Enough with the yelling, you’re a team. There’s no I in team. There is a “Me At” though, as in “me at the center of this motha fucking team, respect that!”.

Let’s see, the other roller derby paragraph was about how it’s a female dominanted sport and that no one really wants to see male roller derby-ists. Cause they don’t.

The last paragraph was about how I stole the God of Lightening’s powers because I was so good at basketball. Then I used those powers to bang out Medusa (cause of course that would be the chick-god I would fall for) and lightening fire Lebron James’ house. I picked Baby Bron Bron because he could probably beat me at basketball and thus, take away my powers.

Then, right after I hit post, WHAPA! Error message! “WTF” I thought! If I hit back, will it still be there? Please! I can’t deny the internet the artistic genius that is my recent blog post! Alas, it was gone forever. I looked to the sky, raised my arms in anger and shouted “NOOOO!!!”. All my rage and fury was proceeded by a resounding “Meh” and a shoulder shrug. I shut my computer and didn’t think about it for 14 hours. Now that I am thinking about it though, it does kind of irk me.

Meh, whatever.

Few things in life are better than working outside on a sunny...

Tue, 14 Jun 2011 07:45:00 -0400

Few things in life are better than working outside on a sunny day. The sun on my back, the feel of fresh air through my lungs almost makes it worth getting up everyday for. Then again, I live in Florida. So working outside sucks a turd. I had to count everything on this fucking pallet today, outside, at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Sun crazy. My shirt is still damp from all the sweat I sweated so bad. I’m surprised they made me do that again, honestly. Last time I had to count a pallet and sweat this bad, we had one of our most un-productive days ever. When you’re working out in the heat like that you end up drinking a lot of water, which in turn makes you have to pee. So everytime I walked up through the plant to the bathroom all women in the place stopped working and turned to watch my sweat-glistened body as I strutted down the hall. They all fanned themselves with their hands not unlike some sort of southern harlot. “I do declare! I think I have the vapors!” I heard on more than several occasions. Which isn’t so bad compared to the sound of the cell phone cameras going off behind me. They’re so blatant about it, at least put your phones on silent, geez.
That was the day one of the girls up front fainted because a fly landed on my chest and she saw as I flexed my muscular man boob to shoo it away. Guess she never saw anyone do that before…
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. I’ve had my lunch bought for me a few times. I’ll even get some nick-knack gifts left for me on my desk in some “secret admirer” fashion. It’s really only when I find a note with a phone number on it attached to a 12 pack of condoms that I get uncomfortable. I mean, I get the point, I just wish whoever it was would stop doing it.
That’s why I keep a sweater at my desk at all times. When the cat-calling and whistling gets to be too much, I just throw on my hoodie. Sorry ladies, you’re too rowdy, no more for you today.