Why Is Rosie O'Donnell Making News?

Where the hell did Rosie come from? Last time I saw her she was swooning over a still sane Tom Cruse. A week later America found out she was a huge dyke, and that was that. Now, she's come out of left field and is making news again. I didn't see her appeal in the first place. She made one movie, appeared in a handful of t.v. shows and made-for-tv movies, and had her own talk show. She is a walrus, has a terrible New York accent, and is a poor actress. I didn't even know she had been a host on "The View," which by the way is the single most God-awful show in the history of shows. I'd rather snip the tip of my penis with gardening shears than have to watch 5 minutes of "The View." But now Rosie has something to say about President Bush and the state of the union, so everybody perks their ears up. I think idiots who take what Rosie O'Donnell has to say to heart should be neutered and deported. If I ever saw Rosie in public, I'd take a swing at her. Now that she's back in the public eye, she's been offered a number of jobs including Bob Barker's replacement on "The Price Is Right." Barker was a stud and you're telling me a fat, pasty, lesbo is going to pull the same ratings? Buuuull-shit. Somebody throw this bitch a herring so she'll shut the fuck up.

Where Men Became Boys

Borrello's washer tournament was a big hit. The event that put it over the top though, was the intense schlitterball game that took place after much of the washer field had been eliminated.

That day began with me waking up at an early hour. I can usually sleep-in pretty good, but I guess I was too excited about the tournament. My stomach was hurting, no doubt from inhaling a whataburger at 2 a.m., and I began to feel my stomach rumble. I needed to expel a cloud of methane to relieve the pain. I did. Little did I know I had opened Pandora's Box. It was the kind of stink that would make paint peel. I was amused and amazed with it's potency...Lee was not.

We met up with Beerman a while later to grab some breakfast at the Pancake House off Midway. It was a good meal, the eggs were shitty and cold, but the bacon was good as well as the pancakes.

Afterwards, we headed out to Ft. Worth. Lee began to feel sick from what he thought were bad eggs. The entire trip consisted of one of us farting, and the other trying to get their window down quick enough not to smell it. You're beginning to see the relevance of the title.

We arrived at Borrello's a little after noon and began to drink. People were slowly arriving, so we took the opportunity to catch up with folks we hadn't seen in a while. Borrello had his house looking top notch, as top notch as a Borrello house can get anyway. His grass was a nice green St. Augustine, freshly cut, with plenty of shade provided by a number of large trees. Lawn chairs and ice chests were scattered throughout the yard, and the lesbians' house was in plain sight. Former "hardass champion" and murderer of the beloved Smokey, Coburn, greeted me with a man-hug. At the time, I was not drunk enough for man-hugs, but whatever.

Soon, the tournament was began. I had been paired with Keene, a good draw for both of us. Our first match was against the combo of Fretty/Borrello. I had my fears because Borrello had built the pits, and therefore had a good feel for their layout and tendencies. However, that thought of doubt quickly dissipated when we jumped ahead never to look back en route to a first round victory. Hands were shook and chest bumps were dealt out at the end as a sign of good sportsmanship. The second round began to get a little blurry. I had gotten drunk waiting to play the second game and had a hard time adjusting right off the bat. But before I knew it, we had built an insurmountable lead and finished the game with little effort. We were one game away from the finals, but had a rematch with the Fretty/Borrello tandem. They had clawed their way back from a humiliating loss in the first round and had made it into the semi-finals. A good deal of time passed between our second and third game, so needless to say I was in an inebriated condition. Feeling ten feet tall, I approached the pits with a swagger equal to that of Johnny Unitas, however, I did not count on Fretty Namath the giant-killer. A drunk Keene and I, handed the first game to the scrappers from the losers bracket. I didn't really know we were playing until about halfway through the game. The second and deciding final game was one for the ages. One team would take a small lead, only for the lead to change hands on the very next throw. Fretty sank one in the closing throws to put us away. We had fallen two games in a row and were now out of cash prize contention. We did make it to the third place game but we were all too drunk to give a damn, so we sent a scout party out to locate a volleyball so we could play Schlitterball.

It seemed like a great deal of time passed before the volleyball task force arrived back at the house. I spent the down time shoving beer and various dips in my face. I also had to make multiple bathroom stops, as the eggs were making themselves known to my digestive tract. I'm not sure what time we started playing Schlitterball, but we were all blasted out of our minds. Coburn had remained sober because he is not a fan of alcoholic beverages for one reason or another, and had subsequently won the washer tournament. None of this mattered to me because I was feeling stud and eager to whoop an ass at Schlitterball.

The game was underway, I had been selected as handman and was doing a great job. By this point everyone was drunk as shit. I mean really really drunk. There were 12-14 guys in a backyard kicking a volleyball around, screaming, swearing, running, and slamming beers. It reminded me of a kindergarten recess, however in this case the kindergartners were drunk and hairy men. I was too sloppy to be a good handman. I spent the majority of my time drinking and if a ball got close I'd punch it, usually out of bounds. Something got me stirred up and I hit a three point stance, ready to explode out of it and do some damage. But, as most stupors go, I quickly forgot why I was in the three point stance in the first place so I just returned to my station over the cup. The few women who were there (all except one were either wives or fiances) sat over in a shady corner and watched with disgust the recessing maturity level of the partygoers. All the work they had done on their respective mates had all gone down the drain in a matter of hours. I felt bad for those chumps Sunday morning and the kind of ass-chewing they would have to endure. The game continued. Every point was challenged and every beer was drank. All of a sudden a "Mystery Man" came out of the woodwork and began to tear down the nig-rig Schlitterball net. This incited a riot, as everyone started running around kicking over the cups and throwing empty beer cans at one another.

After the excitement had died down, everyone began to go their own ways. I went and got more beer, a Gatorade (to combat dehydration), and some smokes. But the party was clearly over for the day. I was slightly relieved that it was over, because I was starting to feel like shit. We had all put in a full day of work, and that was something we could all be proud of.

Indeed, it was something we could all be proud of.

Politics

I, for the most part, tend to keep my political views to myself. I don't like when people try to force certain ideaologies on one another, because all that happens is they become angry and neither one was going to listen to the other in the first place. I think people should vote based on what a canitdate has to offer them, not how much media coverage they get or if they are the "dark horse" canidate, or whatever. I vote republican because they have the most to offer me. I am a big supporter of homeland security and little government regulation on businesses. I believe the market should dictate business, not the government. Anyway, I really just made this post so I could draw another cartoon, I guess it's a political cartoon....but better.

I'm Not Chugging Anymore Big O's

If any one who wants to see me chug a Big O must now do it on YouTube. I'm done whoring myself out to amuse friends or some chick who wants to see it. I thought, at first, it would bring me some sort of minor celebrity. I did not know it would turn me into a common prostitute shamelessly turning tricks for money (or in my case free beer).

If asked to perform, the following scenario WILL take place.

Ralph the Office Dog: Smoking Inside

Last Friday I had to stay late and finish some bullshit up before I could leave. I was pissed bacause I like to make a habit of peeling out early on Fridays, not staying till 6. I was hunched over my computer wishing I had a cigarette. I wanted to take a break and go out on the roof to have one, but I wanted to get finished and leave. It was also hot as balls, especially on the roof. I thought ot myself, "why not have one inside?" We used to smoke in the break room before the building manager told us we couldn't do it anymore. So I lit one up at my desk. I felt like a private eye. I was just waiting for some dame to come in asking for my assistance to find who kidnapped her sister. As I finsihed up my work and was heading out I wondered if the weekend would clear out the smoke smell. I figured Ralph could take the blame if it didn't.

This Easy Listening Station Is Driving Me Nuts

Currently Playing: Instrumental "Do You Know The Way To Santa Fe"

No, I don't know the way to Santa Fe. Who wants to go to New Mexico anyway? The easy listening station at work is by far the laziest-ass station I've ever listened to. I hear the same damn songs every day. However, sometimes they are just instrumentals, they like to mix it up I guess.

Songs that without fail will play every damn day:
1) "All you need is love" instrumental
2) "Don't know who you are" instrumental and vocal ( Superman I soundtrack)
3) "Wichita Lineman" instrumental
4) "Tiny Dancer" instrumental (which I like, but not every day)
5) "Listen to the music" instrumental (now currently playing)
6) A multitude of other songs I don't know the name of but could recite word for word.

I can usually do a good job of just tuning them out, but today they are just overdoing it.

Ever since my Ipod was stolen by some sparkling wiggles I have had a difficult time finding a variety of music to listen to. My CD collection has exhausted itself, and there is nothing good on the radio. Therefore I am left with talk radio and listening to Adam Carroll and Old Crow Medicine Show Cd's. I'm not going to listen to Big&Rich on 99.9FM or Stained on 97.5FM. That's out of the question.

I have not had a good drunk story in a while it seems, or a good post for that matter. I'm going to Ft. Worth this weekend to go to a washers tournament... something good should come out of that. Maybe I'll post my first non-high school hook-up story. Hey, any thing's possible.

Fuck You Cats!

I hate and despise fucking cats. I hate them so much I would fire a weapon into a crowd if I thought there was a slim chance I might hit a cat. This picture pretty much sumd up how cats make me feel.







"fuck you, cats!"











If I meet a girl and we get married later down the road and she buys a damn cat, I'm going to murder the damn cat and every other one she gets to replace the previous one. Cat people can lick my sack as well. "ohhh, look at puss he's so precious." Puss will die before the night is over you crazy wench.





I will give you a shot of Drano













The one exception to cats is the late Smokey. Killed in her prime by the now-deceased Red, Coburn's pit bull. A fine animal, Smokey didn't come around for food, she just wanted to hang out and chill on the porch. She loved it when you blew smoke on her, hence the name. All other cats bow to the legend that is Smokey. Kittens weep.






I WILL DRINK YOU!

Super Soaker And Nerf... Where The Hell Are You?

When I was a kid, every other commercial on t.v. was for something kick-ass. Sure you had some life insurance commercials and the occasional car commercial, but right after that you were bombarded with an advertisement for some great toy that you would spend the next two weeks trying to get enough money together to buy. Be it G.I. Joe or Hot Wheels it was an intense-ass motivating ad. I think that is part of the problem with these lazy kids. I'm going to go ahead and say it. The absence of Nerf and Super Soaker have directly contributed to juvenile onset diabetes. When you saw John Elway throw that Vortex football a bugillion yards, you went out and tried to see how far you could throw it. When you saw everybody getting shot with a massive water gun, you ran outside and filled your gun up and went looking for somebody to hose down. The point is, that the youth of today do not have the same great urge to go outside and start a water fight or play a game of Nerf football. We did it because it looked like a ton of fun. Now they see a couple of fags playing some card game and they beg their parents to buy them a set. They sit in a room for hours playing a card game that is nothing more than the brainchild of a poor sad dungeons & dragons enthusiast. Next time you get a gift for a nephew or small cousin, please, buy them a big-ass water gun.

Ralph the Office Dog

I work with a Geologist in an office west of Temple. He has accrued a bunch of worthless shit over the years and has most of it in our shared office space. The bulk of this junk predates the 1980's, so it has a distinct odor of cigarettes, mothballs, and cheese fondue. There is a gem, however, amidst the scores of strange paintings and 3-d wall hangings. Ralph. Ralph is a porcelain basset hound who sits in the corner and sometimes takes the rap for slip-ups. One example was when Tim farted and said, "damn it, Ralph!" I laughed my ass off, and have since blamed Ralph for my misdeeds. Apparently, Ralph has left the front door unlocked, clogged up the commode, and spilled coffee on some maps. He wore a hardhat for a few months and looked damn good.

Fantasy Baseball: Not So Great

In my unyielding quest for Yahoo! fantasy trophies, I decided to start a fantasy baseball league. I thought it would be a fun and entertaining way to pass the time until football season gets here. I was mistaken. I put together a powerhouse fantasy team with a kick-ass name and now have nothing to show for it but a 6th place spot and a bevy of disappointment. I believe it began with deciding to do a rotisserie style of play, which I thought meant no head-to-head matchups just total points. But apparently you can lose points at will, which I think is just bogus. I went from first to 6th in a matter of days and I didn't even know how. Yahoo! does not give a clear breakdown of the points system, so I don't know what moves to make. It just pisses me off. Fuck you baseball, and fuck you Yahoo! lets move on to football season. I wonder if they could do fantasy arena football?