I'm Giving...Just Not The Good Stuff

  Best part about Halloween is that today the candy is going to be on sale everywhere. Hell, let those morons walk around for hours just to fill up a little plastic jack-o-lantern full of last year's crap. I'm hitting the grocery stores...Well what are your plans today?

  I'll admit that when it comes to bargain shopping, I'm about as lousy a shopper as God ever created. Hell, maybe even worse. I hate shopping even if it's for me only. If someone gave my $100 dollars and said to spend it on myself, I would bitch about having to go to some shop or store to do it. I need a surrogate shopper. 

  I enjoy buying liquor. I enjoy spending money on someone at a good restaurant and bar. I even enjoy taking someone else shopping...not for me though. Finding a good deal on candy is my kind of shopping spree. Not fancy stuff, unless it's Godiva truffles...damn Heaven! Buying just the leftover Halloween goodies at next to nothing makes me feel like I'm really some kind of hot shit shopper!

  I may not buy clothes that fit or food that's fit to eat, but I know candy! I'll buy all of the chocolate stuff I can get first. I'll give some away, and even give some of the oldest chocolate to people I don't like in an attempt to make them feel "small." I'll keep the rest for midnight snacks and bribery as needed. The same goes for the other candies too.

  They're won't be anything left to give after a couple of months, but that's what I bought the crap for. Tonight I'll be able to say that "...today was productive. I went. I looked. I bought." Yep, it is going to be one fine day.-Don.

Candy, Candy And Mo' Candy

   It used to take at least half of a grocery bag (sorry, paper only) to haul my Halloween stash home. Hell, sometimes I'd have to make a pit stop at the house just to empty my booty or get another bag. No shit, I would be gone for maybe three hours just trick or treating on a productive Halloween. Seriously, how long can a kid carry a 25 pound grocery bag full of candy?

  The first costume that I can remember wearing was when I lived on "the island" (St. Simon's). I was about 4 and it was a skeleton costume. It really smelled shitty though. It was made from some sort of papery feeling fabric, but it served the purpose. St. Simon's is not a large island and it did not even seem too large for me as a kid. Hell, I may have been back in the house in 30 minutes. Other than my first costume I don't remember what kind of candy and crap I got. Probably fruit and popcorn balls. Goddamn, as a little kid trick or treating that's the kind of "treats" that made you think, "Why is this fun?"

  Later on when we moved inland, like way inland, I began to reap a much more plentiful bounty at Halloween. I'd get a bag full of good stuff to. I mean like Boston Baked Beans (candy coated peanuts) and Mallo Cups. These looked like a Reese's on the outside but had marshmallow inside...Red Hots and Whoppers and jawbreakers were all favorites of mine. If I got gum then I wanted Bazooka for the stupid ass little comic strip inside. It was cool then. Let's see now, oh yeah there was the Bit-O-Honey's that hit the spot and Atomic Fireballs and Raisinettes were on the top of my list to.

  I did not have to have an adult (...a mom or dad back then) open and check that shit for me either. No long waits at the hospital waiting to get your Milk Duds x-rayed. I knew who gave me the homemade crap because I wanted to make certain that I never went back.

  I still have fun at Halloween hiding behind the bushes and scaring the shit out of little kids and their parents. Most of the time the adults laugh although you can tell they're really pissed! The kids just cry. I'm going to start giving out apples and bags of Jiffypop with some corn syrup next year and let them make their own shit. I'll even throw in a box of f*ucking popsicle sticks to shove up their apple. That's me though. Always trying to help and get in the spirit of the holiday!-Don.

It's The Religious Zealot's Fault

If you click on http://www.beyondleftfield.blogspot.com you stay where you are. That's my url for this blog. However, it was pointed out to me that if you click http://www.beyondleftfield.blogpsot.com, then you end up here...Bible College Online.com. That's cool. How the f*uck is that possible though. I'm not a conspiracy theorist at all, but what the f*uck does Jesus have to do with "leftfield" or "left field" or "beyond left field" unless he was a baseball fan or a complete moron that spent most of his time wondering around in the desert.

Another interesting thing that was brought to my attention concerning this vast right wing religious zealot's conspiracy is that Chica @ Lady-Sarcasm tried it substituting her blog url instead of mine and went to the same site. It's a G.T.Ministries outfit from St. Petersburg, Fla. I sure as hell don't know why lady-sarcasm would be part of a religious site's url "by mistake", but maybe I'm wrong...haha!

If you have not figured it out, the "s" and the "p" in the domain name blogspot are being reversed. That's all, but of course when you have to be exact then that's as good as a mile...

I don't know that Chica has done anything that would warrant a hack of this nature. I suppose that I have...f*ucking morons! I've hammered Jimmy Swaggert and Oral Roberts. I've come down on Jesus himself and used God's name in vain and some other stuff. I've got a post that smashes Mennonites that's ready to be published. There's probably some more shit for the mother fuckas to chew on to.

I hope that this was completely intentional though. I'd feel good to know that I could pull some asshole's chains to the point that they'd feel compelled to do this. That will just empower me more. I'd feel it was my duty to continue my mad onslaught against whomever the hell it is that I'm attacking-Have a great day-Don.

www.beyondleftfield.blogpsot.com/form.php (If you feel the need to repent, but I'll bet it's not free!)

Dammit! Time flies when you're having fun. Another week has already passed and here we meet again at my happy little f*ucking piece of the web. One would think that as many blogs that I visit daily it would be easy to pick just two to highlight every Sunday. Nothing could be further from the truth. I read only the best of the best...it's tough to say which I think are the two hottest of the week. I'm up for the task however.

Moving right along with this week's two-count them-two great sites to see in the blogasphere. I hereby declare and submit for your enjoyment Magick Sandwich and OK, Crazy. Kathcom and Ok,Crazy are the authors of these two hilarious sites.

Kathcom is the irreverent one delivering irreverent satire, irreverent humor, irreverent sarcasm, irreverent parody, etc.,etc. Get my drift? It's a great blog. While you're there check out some of her t-shirts to. I'm hoping to get a free xx-large out of this. Praying won't do any good though...Next is OKCrazy himself. I began following him right after we both joined BC. I stop by virtually every day. His blog offers a good variety of humor, satire and observational humor along with a little parody.

Here are two of the best humor bloggers in my opinion and it's not a humble one. Check them out and leave them a comment or two will ya. Give them a Stumble while you're at it. Tell them that RedRaider put you up to it. It's ok though. They won't block your access to their sites...? Enjoy my internets and No Littering!-Don.

EXTRA!-Lakeland Mom had the following link posted on her blog yesterday. Check it out. It gives you more facts about your birthday than you would ever need to know! Your Birthday Facts

NyQuil & Everclear-Good For Something

  I love NyQuil! That shit kicked my butt last night. Well, along with a triple shot of bourbon. Hell I slept so late this morning that I missed taking a friend to his bank to sign a new car loan and my roommate kept calling me to tell me I had to be home when the exterminator came. Like I really heard the f*ucking phone from a deep, sound stupor. Shit happens...I let my friend down, and I was long gone when the bug guy showed because I slept right through the phone calls that were made to inform me of his intention to knock off some ants. Raid! Tonight? Ahhh more of the same. Tomorrow I have nothing to do but to let the NyQuil hold on to me as long as it cares to, and nobody will get pissed at me.

  Now Paragoric (basically opium) was great. That crap never cured a cold but it let you experience the closest thing to an out of body experience that I think an otherwise healthy person could have. I remember the last time I bought any. It came in a four ounce bottle-the largest amount a doc could write the 'script for. I had it gone in about 2 days. Ironically and unfortunately, I can't remember just how good I felt during that period. That's the only drawback...that and complete addiction.

  I'm going to leave off the triple shot tonight. That was a little too much for me because antihistamines, even by themselves, really work on my ass as far as the sleepiness goes. I will get a single down though. Maybe NyQuil and Everclear i.e. rocket fuel. Gag! Oh well either way I'm going to get a good night's sleep if for no other reason than I'm still "hungover" from last nights mixture. It's a shame that people have to take shit to help them sleep. That's the way it goes sometimes. Now if you will excuse me I'm off to do some serious dreaming.-Dream A Little Dream For Me-Don.

  

  

To Be Or Not To Be-Fuel Pump Or Headlight

I was changing a headlight bulb (lamp now) a couple of days ago in a small car. It was the ever so common, quaint, little Nissan Altima. I had to go under the hood and between the battery and air filter box just to get to the plug attached to the damned thing. Then with only one hand I tried to twist and turn and pinch the damn plug off of the light. That's just one stinking little headlight bulb.

My old cars had huge, gas guzzling V-8's in them and still room enough I could almost crawl under the hoods with the damn engines! There was room all the way around the engine block to put both arms with tools. Everything that I needed to do or was skilled enough to do was right there in front of me and identifiable.

I could have changed the points and plugs, air filter and a radiator hose almost in the time that it took me to change that f*ucking light bulb for the Nissan. Doing your own tune-ups was a piece of cake. A simple tune-up could be done by a rank amateur such as myself in less that one lousy hour. Now it takes 10 minutes just to locate a goddamn air filter. It's like, "...what the f*uck is that? Hmmm, must be the battery. No wait it's too small."

I'd rather have my old Camaro or Mustang. I could work on them myself. It was just fun. I'd get them running as good as I could from my driveway, and then I'd blow about 10 gallons of gas through their asses in minutes with my torrid driving! I'd go from a stop in a quiet neighborhood to about 50 mph in one block...wake up f*uckers! Yep, she's running really well now. Then I'd pull them back in the driveway and park them until next time.

Those old buckets didn't last long though. They'd make about 60,000 miles. That's about it. They rusted because they were made of steel-not rubber and fiberglass or plastic. Most of the tires would only last about 25,000 miles or so. I don't think that was really because of shitty tires. The batteries in them? Hell the batteries may not last 18 months from being new, but they were identifiable. You even had to add water to them on occasion. Shit imagine that.

Oh well time moves forward and so must I. Hell if I didn't then who would replace the next goddamn burned out headlight in that f*ucking Altima? I'd still just rather put a fuel pump on a '70 Camaro-Don.

No Child Left Behind-Even Morons

  Well it was bound to happen, again. One of the local high schools here is under a federal mandate for improvement based on required test scores of 11th graders. This all falls under the "no moron left behind" bullshit. Don't tell but I think there are more punks left behind now than four years ago. Most probably deserve a job at McDonalds or a jail cell. Big deal, but the only fault lies within the kids, parents and schools. They get enough f*ucking money already.
 
  This particular high school is in downtown. There is a five-star rated (#1) school about four miles to the west and another four or five star rated high school about 4 or five miles to the east. Hmmm, this should be easy to figure out the differences. Let's see. Demographics! That's it. Go figgah will you? The principal of the retard school claims that the reason for the poor score was not the kids' fault (that's what their parents say to), but rather the district was supposed to have tested 95% instead of the 91% they actually tested. Huh? You f*ucking morons!

  So these buffoons that can't read or write on a fourth grade level yet are in the eleventh grade get a bye on the next test because they probably will have graduated. That's a goddamn joke! Maybe the teachers will brush up on their spelling and elementary math skills over the upcoming holidays, and the principal just may try to learn the difference between 91% and 95% is 4%! That's four percent that was supposed to be tested was not. Dumb asses one and all, and to think that I thought a military draft was once a bad idea.-Don.

A Blog Award From The Edge

This award was given to me by ettarose at Edge of Sanity. She said it came no strings attached and that's cool. She claims that she only gave this to me because "...he likes me." The real reason is that she loves me. She's got a big crush on me! I know, I know...gets so old dealing with this, but what's a guy to do huh? Thanks ettarose!

Better Off Dead Than Dial Up

  A friend of mine called me a couple of hours ago to ask if I could go online for her and attempt to find a specific car type she wants to buy. She moved to her hometown about forty-five minutes north of here. It's in a rural area and she no longer has high speed or dsl cable internet. She's had to go back to dial up. I don't know what speed her modem is but it's no more than a 56k. Her laptop is about 4 or 5 years old too.

  I can't remember the last time I used dial up. Five years ago maybe? I can't even f*ucking imagine having to go back to that. That would be like having to take a shit in a cold damn wooden outhouse as opposed to a warm, clean, freshly painted outhouse. Hell, that's even worse! When's the last time you used a dial up connection? Huh? She gave that up after maybe four years of high speed connections? Son of a bitch-that would hurt!

  Her computer is so old by computer standards that a cable connection probably wouldn't make a huge difference anyway. I think it's only got like 512k ram installed. That's f*ucking pitiful. After using what I use, it would be better for me just not to use the computer at all rather than dial up. I'd be so damn pissed off I couldn't enjoy my midget porn or anything...sucks. Think how long it would take to download a picture of Pamela Anderson's boobs or J'Lo's ass! T.v. shows, movies, games and shit like that would be no more.

  Since I have this high powered computer that will blow your f*ucking socks off when it's fired up I suppose it's time to do what I promised her. Finding her a car is my mission tonight. Goddamn, the  thought of ever having to resort to another dial up internet connection is downright scary...Lord help her poor carless ass. May Santa bring everyone a new 'puter this year and high speed internet.-God's Speed with DSL-Don.

  

Lower Gas Prices-Just Shut Up

I guess everyone is enjoying the "low" gas prices, right? I mean hell two months ago we were paying around five bucks a gallon! I think the last I heard crude was about seventy four dollars a barrel. How long ago was it that so many of us were bitching and complaining about 3 bucks a gallon? 2 bucks a gallon? I remember some people swearing off gasoline all together. They were going to go totally green-whatever the f*uck that means. Is that like a vegan except they don't use any form of fossil fuels?

People asked me what I intended on doing if gas prices kept rising. This was when prices were about four dollars a gallon. I told them the same goddamn thing I told people when it was three dollars and two dollars a gallon. Drive the shit out of my car! I'm not going for a damned scooter or inefficient and expensive hybrid or a horse or a f*ucking pogo stick. I'm going to drive in the same cool, dry comfort I was driving in when gas was running a dollar and a half or one stinking dollar.

I don't enjoy throwing away my money. I don't have the money to throw away, but there are clearly options to driving if you are serious about not paying that price for fuel. Take a bus and walk a few extra blocks. Ride a damn bicycle. Duh, never thought of that. Taxi's are expensive...forget it. Carpool if it's going back and forth to work. Just f*ucking walk. Everybody needs to do more of that anyway. Hitchhike! There's the answer...nothing like strangers to share a personal conversation with on a long drive.

To hell with gasoline prices. What possible difference could they make in our driving habits? I think very minimum at most. Generally speaking we will continue to drive the guts out of our cars no matter the price of fuel. It's faster, convienient, comfortable, hair doesn't get messed up and you can get that chicken bisquit from McDonald's drive-thru first thing and eat it while driving and talking on your cell phone all at one time. These are just a few of the fun things we can and will do no matter the cost of gas-Don.

Lessons From The Porch

I thought that today I would try something a little bit different as far as thinking of an entry topic. Usually I just write the first thing that comes to mind and add a picture if I want. Can't you tell? Today I thought that I would go in a reverse direction and get a picture first then take it from there. I just Googled "Sunday Afternoon" under images and came up with this (picture at right):

  This picture jumped out at me because it is totally reminiscent of the style veranda that so many of the homes in my town have. These old Victorians downtown that were built in the 1880's through about 1920 have these ornate and heavily ginger breaded porches. My grandparents house used to have a porch very similar to this one. It didn't have this many plants on it though because my grandmother couldn't keep anything alive-including my granddad-and my brother and I would knock them over constantly by running back and forth.

  My old grandfather was the station master at the train depot from the 30's to sometime in the 50's. The depot was directly across the street from their house and it was very noisy. We used to sit up on that porch an hour at a time and do what guys do. Fart and burp you know. Yeah, I was like six to eight years old. Granddad was about seventy-ish I think. He almost sounded like a train when he farted! Goddamn that man must have eaten something that wasn't passed around the table to the rest of us. My little seven year old farts might stink more than his, but no way did they have the sonic velocity his farts had. Kaaaboommmm...! My mother or grandmother would usually stick their head out of the front door to ask granddad to hold it down, but before they could say anything he'd say, "Just relax. It's only the 3:20 rolling in..."

  There's nothing like growing up with a man that teaches you all of the better things in life. Farting and belching are almost art forms. My granddad could throw out a blast from the old lambo and never break stride. He could belch in church and then look under his pew like he dropped something. Nobody ever acted as though they suspected a thing much less laughed. That's the reason that a picture of a porch hit the right spot today. That porch is long gone and so is the master farter, but shit, do those memories go on and on.-Don.

  The first blog that I'm giving a boisterous shoutout to this week is Using Humor. Dan Brantley is the site owner, author, mommy and daddy... Dan is a comedian by trade. He is a professional in the arena of funny. I've been chugging on over to Using Humor for about a month now, and I'm impressed with his writing skills (certainly not on par with mine) and his ability to see the humor in everyday mundane situations. Actually, he writes slightly above my reading level sometimes. However, I've got a handy link to Babelfish and/or Google Translator that can explain what he's talking about to me. Even when I don't understand, I laugh because I know I'm supposed to.
  Secondly but not leastily is brother Bill Libbey of I Animate You. Bill is known to most of the readers of Beyond Left Field. He's one of the original members of humorbloggers.com and "our" official animator. He's got a site that is second to none in the area of animation. If you've got a picture you want to add a little life to, Bill's the man. Although he's Canadian and gets alot of attention, I'm not at all jealous. Blech! Everybody needs to stop by I Animate You and check out Bill's labors of love, and while you're out and about, head on over to Using Humor. You'll have some laughs and may learn a thing or two. Dan and Bill aim to please, and they always do!-Don.

Taking Care Of Business

  I'm not writing a "real" entry today. Some friends of mine and myself are making our last skiing venture of the year today. The water is already too cool, but so is the beer...WTF right? So in lieu of a really f*ucking and hysterical entry I'm leaving you with a picture of my dad from Halloween '77. This was pops' favorite mug shot of all of them. He passed away in prison after being sodomized by a fellow inmate named Tyrone "The Bull" Dipinass!
  Don't forget another edition of The Sunday Suck Up Times tomorrow morning with two more "hot" picks by the janitorial staff of Beyond Left Field. Until then, have a f*ucking great Saturday!-Don.

Hit And Run Candy Capers

  Beware the candy thieves...they're coming out in droves now. I'm talking about the kids in the grocery stores that are clearing out the candy aisles in one fell swoop. Parents are just as damned guilty to. They're not always buying--just having their fat little pukes swipe the goods for them.
  The f*ucking stores that I've shopped at lately (about 3 different ones) have all restocked their candy aisle shelves at least three times in the past week. There's not that many trick or treaters around here in a fifty mile radius. The little punks and their buddies are helping themselves to any and all candy.It's all fair game to them. What a deal! Shit, it's free until some sap like me goes to pay for mine and ends up paying for little Johnny Wadd Sucker's Tootsie Roll and his bitch momma's stash.
  One of the grocery stores that I go to once or twice a week is more of the local variety. It's not big. It's more of a "neighborhood" grocery so they have to really struggle to keep prices competitive. I was talking to the manager Tuesday about his shoplifting problems. They've had to hire an armed off duty cop to walk the store. The shoplifting situation is that bad there. He said it's 75% kids and 25% moms directing their kids.
  I do believe strongly in corporal punishment. It made me the perfect son of a bitch that I am today, and God knows that's f*ucking perfect! That's a lot of damn punishment to. Unfortunately, since parents sue the stores or the cops for humiliation or falsely accusing them of shoplifting, not much is ever done about it. Just put these little rat pukes in detention and whip the shit out of them. Five lashes for every dollars' worth of stolen goods recovered is a good start! I know it's terrible of me to say. Boo f*ucking hoo...I want blood-not restitution, and this is not Mr. Rogers' talking.-Craving free candy-Don.
 
  

Got Flu? Get Wasted

  Every year about this time I swear that I'm going to be the first in line to get a flu shot so that I don't have to fight people at the doctors' office later. I've still not done it. Down here most people start about November getting them so I'm still ok for now. Our peak season hits about February.
  It seems like every damned year that I fail to get one I get some form of the stinking ass flu. Not necessarily the severe flu but not a cold either. Goddamn that shit kicks my butt big time! When I was a senior in high school I probably had my worst case ever. I was in perfect health and physical condition. I started to have stomach cramps the night before we went home for a two week Christmas break. The next f*ucking day I was running a fever. By the time I got home I had a high fever, puking everything (including water) that I put into my stomach. I couldn't eat, drink or be merry in any way, shape or form. All I could do was shit, and I don't have a clue what there was in me to shit out of me.
  After the first week of basically just lying around on the couch and having my mom make a big deal out of it, I finally went out. I went to a good buddies' house and discovered that alcohol (Ezra Brooks to be specific) had no ill effect on me whatsoever! I'm cured! In fact, I got so cured that first night that I didn't go home. Rather I couldn't find my way home. I don't recall having one single wayward shit come flying out that night. It was great.
  I don't want the flu any more than anyone else. If, however, it should nail my butt then I'll be prepared. Just like the good Boy Scout I'll be prepared with a little liquid love in the liquor cabinet just in case the bug wants to crawl up inside of me and do his f*ucking dirty work. I know that there's no cure for flu, and that only the symptoms can possibly be minimized, but let me tell you something. Puking, shitting everywhere, extreme pounding headaches or fever cannot hold up to a bottle of Ezra Brooks-one shot at a time. You'll get dehydrated, but the buzz is worth an i.v. or two.-free medical advice from Dr. Don.

...Like A Norseman Living In Puerto Rico

I just realized last night that Monday was "Columbus Day." I was reading the blog PinkLatex in which Columbus was being hammered pretty viciously by Amy aka Rusty. Amy, er...uh, Rusty referred to Columbus' men as a "...fleet of murderers, rapist and thieves." Hell, then she/he wondered why school children aren't taught about the "...horrible henchmen of the monarchy." F*uck Russ, I don't f*ucking know, and I don't f*ucking care. He looks like Hannibal Lecter to me anyway. The only reason that dude was born was so that federal employees could have another day off! What the flying crab's ass do I care that, according to history, he took indians back to Spain as slaves(view my profile)? So? At least they've been to Europe!
If we are going to give federal employees a *Real* damned holiday "celebrating" our illustrious history or discovery, then let's celebrate the truth. Vikings! Hell, yeah! That's who discovered my people. Those heavily bearded dudes looking like a biker gang from the sixties and shit. How cool are they, huh? Piss, they ALL look like Hannibal Lecter! That manly mass of boiling testosterone raped and pillaged because that's what Vikings do. Did you ever watch them play football back in the seventies? Kick f*ucking ass good!

Now I ask you, would you claim a murdering, raping (view my profile), pillaging monster of the North Atlantic like that Viking dude in the picture to have discovered you? Or, have declared to the world that a lesbian with a dick took you slave and shipped you to Europe? In the name of a queen to say the least! He discovered Hispanola, Puerto Rico and Haiti! God help us! The Vikings discovered Maine lobster and Manhattan!
Columbus is just a European honkey dream, but Leif Ericson is real. I was discovered by the Norsemen. See even that sounds cool. Not like, "My country was discovered by Cristobal Colon de Genoa." That sounds like a f*ucking gourmet coffee.
You can raise all the hell you want with that phoney holiday and Columbus. You can talk about what a bad person he was. I'm not interested. The Vikings were true badasses. Bastards and heathens to the bitter end! I will even go out on a limb here and say that, if confronted, federal employees would even vote themselves a Viking Day too. Ya think?-Another tasty treat from Don-the Viking King.(view my profile)

My Roommate Or My Sausage

As my roommate was attempting to get my attention from the balcony of our home yesterday, my mind began drifting far away. Shit, I was having a nostalgia attack. A psychopathic response to my roommate. I turned around to look at her, but before we made eye contact, it happened again! In a flash I had another vision...f*uck me I thought. What's going on here? Then it hit me. I was looking at my roomie and thinking about something I've wanted for a while. It's something that only got worse as my time spent with her turned into months and then years. I was craving a can of barbeque vienna sausages. No shit! The plain ones that float around in that snot looking gelatin would have been fine too.
I don't know exactly how this super urge came to be, but I knew I had to act. I know what it's like to be pregnant now I thought. It's about vienna sausages and eggs--fried! Maybe it's all about the possibility of eating a meal of vienna sausages and select vegetables. That would be nothing short of hitting a jackpot. Ahhh, how sweet it is. I could dump the entire can in my hands and smash 'em until they were a vienna patty and fry that. I'd call it the viennasmash. Made with Real vienna sausage...not that green shit that comes from China or some smelly muslim country.
I remember as a little kid in school that I had an eighth grade math teacher that I had the hot's for. I guess she was one of my first crushes on an old lady. Ms. Davis was about 25 years old at the time. Had I known what I know now, I could've had her by just offering her my vienna sausages that I carried around for a snack. I'm sure an eighth grade punk with a can of vienna sausages would have compelled her to throw me down on sight. Lustful bitch!
I'm going to the store. I might even eat a can on the way home--while driving! My roommate thinks I'm such a daredevil "A" type when I do things such as that. Personally, I don't care what da roomie thinks of me as long as I get my Libby's sausages in a can. She can try to get my attention all she wants, but no fooling bitch you are wasting your time. Once I got vienna, I got it all!

So honey you just go look for the rest of your swimsuit. I've got more important things to do today....know what I mean? God, I could stop and get some good ice cold wine to go with them. Only expensive wine though. Nothing cheap for that good shit. Maybe the kind of wine that has the screw on cap for convienience. I'm all about the easy way. I'm outta here kiddo. Good luck with the bathing suit. Think I saw the neigbor's dog chewing on it a little while ago. Guess he thought you were still in it. Later. I'm on my way to hog heaven!-Sharing the love but not the viennas-Don.

  It's that time again already. Another fun filled adventure in la la land. Where I kiss so much ass that it can make a shitcicle taste good. I love doing this though. It's sort of like rehab. I'm kind of like doing one of those "12 step" programs where you keep doing weirder and weirder shit until you're normal.
  I'm going to go with a couple authors this time that are perfect examples of what it must be like to be loved, adored, fantasized about and called all manner of hotness. I've been checking both of these girls out on a very regular basis. In fact, it's the only time I truly feel regular at all. They're both eager to pick a fight if need be or just lay back and take it--then fight! Either way you can't go wrong with Chat Blanc@Wit's Bitch and ettarose@edgeofsanity...whew!
  The first few times that I read ettarose I thought, "Damn, she must be da shit!" I mean with all of the badass trashmouthing and attitude. "Damn girl give me a drink and keep going with your shit! You rock my world!"
Then there's cute and cuddly (?) Chat B. Cuddly like an alligator I'll bet. I first saw a picture of her in one of her post. She appeared to be in a tourist town where you can get your photo taken in some sort of costume. She was the "saloon" girl sitting on the bar. Looked pretty damned good too. She can talk the shit just as well as anybody though. Don't be fooled by either one of their looks. They're a couple of tough cookies not to be messed with. Only to be read! So a couple of bewildered shoutouts to Chat and ERose...thanks ladies for all of the fun that you provide to little people like me.-Don

Thanks Angie!

  Thanks to AngieSS and Cup of Snarky for the Arte y Pico award. I really like getting these so that I have something other than good genes to pass down the family sperm line. Thanks Angie. I will proudly display this in my trophy case...
  There are 4 rules that apply if you accept this award. Although I forgot every f*ucking one. Hold on...[*digging through shit*].

1. You have to pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

3. Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.

4. Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award. http://arteypico.blogspot.com/ (Ah, a little link love).

  My choices to receive the Arte y Pico are:
*The Soccer Mom Files--Authored by Kirsten. She put me on her blogroll without accepting a bribe.
*Out of the Mouth of Dave--Dave (duh!). Now maybe he WILL put me on his blogroll.
*The Jannaverse--By Janna. Her avatar looks like she's caressing a plastic banana. Cool!
*Amy at Amy Oops--I assume her name is Amy.
*Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder--Anna. She has a better mustache than me.

 *Each of the above recipients will receive either a months supply of canned corn (you can Kandy this shit yourself for Halloween) or a 25 lb. box of semi-fresh Gulf shrimp that were collected directly after Hurricane Ike.(only thawed once for about 3 hours).-Don.                                                  

Ode To Fife And Alan

  I'm a big Barney Fife fan. My ex-father in law was the spitting image of him too. His daughter, thankfully, looked more like Thelma Lou. This guy wasn't as nearly as damn jumpy and high strung as ole Barn, but his thought processes were very similar. He once walked back and forth in front of his house with a rifle in case the neighbors' dog came prancing across the lawn. Then Bang! I don't know why. The dog wasn't mean. Must have been a neighbor vs. neighbor issue.
  He was suspicious of everyone he didn't know and didn't trust those he did know. Whacko and paranoid. When his eyes got wide I'd laugh 'cause it'd be like, "Yep, that's my man. Ole Barney poo!" He would sit in his swing in the back yard and talk about "going to town" to get something to drink. Town was about .25 of a mile away and consisted of only two places to buy something to drink--a liquor store and a conveinience store next door. He'd never make it down there though.
  Even my ex would lean over and whisper sometimes, "Doesn't daddy look like Barney?" I mean, hell what could I do but laugh right in front of him when his own daughter saw it too? Shit! Sometimes I would see him looking through his tool box. He was a mechanic. He had this really nice tool box with a gazillion different tools in it. He'd fumble around a little bit with a tool, put it back, close the lid and lock it. That's it. Then he'd say, "Don, you wanna grab a glass of tea and go sit in the swing?" Swinging is not my gig, but I'd do it.
  He was a nice guy but easily upset about the most insignificant things. I used to string him along by saying things that just weren't true at all, but I knew that he'd get really into them as if they were real. He was a clown and didn't even know it. I miss talking to him sometimes, but I'm not about to risk running into my ex by seeing him again. Hell, I don't like anyone that f*ucking much! Oh well dear Barney poo it was nice knowing ya. I'm only sorry we didn't meet under different circumstances!-Don from Mayberry.

Free Tee, That's Me

  About a week ago I did something that I normally wouldn't do. I cleaned out a closet in which I keep my valuables. "Valuables" being tennis shoes and my tee shirts. I've got some old tennis shoes that I still wear. In fact everything I own is old yet it's all I ever wear. My tee shirts date back to the damned 70's in some cases! I've never bought a tee shirt myself, and I could only guess at how many I have. Some of them I haven't seen in 30 years until last week.

  Many of my shirts were from charitable events like walks, runs, rides and largest boner contests. Not sure how I got a shirt(s) for that one. Anyway, many of these shirts are adorned with paint, stains of some sort and just holes. There's nothing extravagant about them other than they were all free. By today's dollar, there must be $1000 or so worth of free and still wearable tee shirts there.
  I've dumpster dived for some. I've found new ones and slightly worn (?) shirts in a dumpster. Some were on hangers and others in bags or thrown away on top of old pizza boxes or beer cans and shit. The smellier ones are tossed back. It will be taken by someone with much less discriminating taste than I.
  I may bag a few and take them to the Goodwill or Salvation Army. Then again, I may not. I could just keep them and sell them at a rummage sale too. I could make a small fortune doing that! Everybody wins. I make money, and others save money...nothing wrong with that deal. What a f*ucking bargain!
  Hell, I'll just keep all of them myself for awhile longer. I'll be in my eighties in 30 more years. Shit, I can tool around the 'hood in my wheelchair while proudly wearing a Grateful Dead tee shirt I got fifty years earlier. Would an eighty year old man look cool in a Che Guevara tee? Maybe Pink Floyd or even a "F*uck Swaggert" shirt. Hell, I'd better start looking. Thirty years will pass by before you know it!-Living on the run-Don.

Witches And Pagans And Death Oh My

The Halloween decorations and costumes are everywhere. While many people are ready for the onslaught of make believe goblins I can never overlook the real onslaught that awaits, but just what is it? Every year as long as I can remember people were engaging in fun and laughter while preparing for the night of October 31st.
If only they knew what it means to live among the dead...it's when we finally have an opportunity to come out and take for ourselves. We indulge ourselves just as the living. The final harvest has been gathered and people are preparing for the cold that is to follow. I among many will be returning to take the souls of countless numbers of the living. The bowels of the earth await them.

  No slaughter or sacrifice or fire will stop us from carrying out the deeds of our ancestors. No living being is safe that night. Only the dead know that they for sure will return to their origins, and with them shall be the spirits. Children that have ventured into the night will accompany us each and every one. Their minds are no longer. Their souls are dead.

  We will oppose all efforts of the living to diminish the true meaning of this night-our night-the night of the dead...all shall become victims of their own ignorance and wonder into our grasp. Only we will win out this night. We will disappear back into the darkness, and with us will be the hopes and dreams of the living and the souls of the new dead that will forever remain with us.-Don.

Bring On The Bloomin' Onion And Don't Lose The Keys

  I rarely go to Outback Steakhouse. The food there is just ok to me and 90% of the calories you manage to choke down are fat...Having said that, I went last night. I was invited and not paying so hell why not?
  No sooner had we pulled up by the entrance than we heard some bitching and very loud talking. It wasn't quite to the screaming level but close. Me and my friend just looked at each other and starting laughing. She's got a loud laugh too, and it was enough to get the pissed off couple's attention!
  We get seated and start to look over the fine assortment of artery clogging, heart stopping food on the menu. Lo and f*ucking behold, that sweet girl that sat us was seating that fighting couple right behind us. Behind me specifically!
  I'm not one to let a complete lack of judgement just slip by without bringing it to the attention of the guilty party. I got up and walked over to where the hostess was standing-the one who seated us. I smiled at her and calmly said, "I really, really do thank you for sitting those two f*ucking morons next to us." Then I sat back down. So ok, got that out of the way. Now how to try to enjoy the meal that was coming.
  By this time mommsy and popsy had calmed down some, but you could still hear snorting or something. It wasn't the kind of snorting you do when you laugh. This was more like "blowing out" snorting. Like a really big, black pissed off bull does before he gores the shit out of you. Sure enough they fire up the attitudes again. It was loud enough at this point that people seated 15 feet away were turning to check out the excitement.
  Finally, we finished eating, got the check and headed out of the door. We left the couple still in the heat of battle too. Damn, I wish they would have just shot each other before even coming in the place! Anyway, I get to the car to unlock it for my friend, and I couldn't find the keys. I said to Kelli, "Kell, you have the keys?" She said very sarcastically, "No but I really need to get home, ok?" That remark pissed me off. It's not like I intentionally misplaced the damned keys. So I said, "F*uck you Kell...don't you think I want to take you home moron?"
  The pissed off couple that had been fighting for about 40 minutes came out of the restaurant. They were all touchy and holding hands now. Goddamn, wtf is that shit about? I finally found the keys next to another car and opened the door for myself. Kelli was still pissed, we were going at it pretty good for a few minutes-at least until I got her home. I don't know what happened at that Outback last night, but it sure was weird. Kelli and I are still friends although it'll probably be another 6 months before I go out with her again. That will be fine too. Between the arguing and the cholesterol I'd be better off going by myself to McDonalds.-Don.

Sparkey, Lose My Number

  A friend of mine called me last night. She started the conversation the usual way, and that's by saying, "What're you doing? Just thought I'd call you." My answer is something like, "Talking to you and thanks..." Then I sat there not saying anything for about 10 seconds. After all, she called me! Finally she says, "Well, I'm pregnant." My first response was exactly, "Again? So wtf is new about that? You're always pregnant Sparkey!"
  "Sparkey" has been pregnant about six times since I've known her, yet she has no kids. Goddamn good thing too-for the kids. I don't know what it is about her that she has to call me and tell me that shit. She's cute and kind of a little hottie. That's the only reason I'm into her, but then the payment is having to listen to all of her perceived problems. Like being pregnant all of the time. People says she just wants the attention. She's tapping the wrong source for much of that. Hmmm, "tapping." Now there's an interesting concept.
  We went to lunch the other day, and it's a damned friggin' good thing we went where we did for two reasons. One, they have good food so I ate. Two, they have comfortable chairs and good looking girls that work there so that made my stay more enjoyable. See Sparkey likes to talk alot, and about herself. In a way, that makes it easy on me because I don't like to talk alot. However, she can really put me to sleep or just simply irritate the hell out me with her "problematic life." We had the food and were eating within 15 minutes. We left the deli 90 minutes later! See what the f*ck I mean?
  I don't understand women that way I guess. Maybe that's one reason I'm divorced. I think I'm a decent listener, but I'm not much on talking at all. Except, of course, when I choose the subject. This girl is very emotional just like 75% of the girls that I know. I'm just the opposite. I basically could sit through my house burning if there was a good movie on t.v. I do not handle the mindless, ranting of someone half my age well at all either--even from Sparkey. Did I mention she was a hottie?
  I suppose that's about it for today...more dirty clothes await as does some tall grass and weeds. If you want to know how this episode of Sparkey's life ends I'll tell you. She "had it taken care of." That's what she'll say. She'll also call me again tonight to let me know how much she hates my guts for writing this. She reads this blog. Then she'll say that she's not feeling well and will talk to me later, at which point I'll say goodnight and the process will begin all over again. Woe is me...the troubles with being "loved."-Don.

Where Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?

  A few years back while I was staying at a home in Natchez, Ms, I was walking around the grounds adjacent to the main house. Hell, I was having a good time stumbling (see link below and click) around and checking out things. Just before I walked up some back steps into the "big" house I saw about 5 or 6 headstones. There was this little iron fence around a small plot of grass where these friggin' headstones were.
  The first thing I noticed was that two of the stones had St. Bernards engraved on them. I didn't see the whiskey keg though...I was drinking a Jack and Coke anyway. Hell, these were graves of this lady's damn stinking ass dogs! I couldn't help but laugh. I'm sentimental that way ya know. Geez, I thought this was way, way overboard! Look I like pets. I've always had pets up until now, but when mine croaked it was a hole in the backyard. A tombstone or headstone? Not no, but Hell no! The money I saved by digging a hole to bury my pets in could be used to buy more important things. Like Jack and Coke. Yeah well, if I felt that damned bad about little Fido going tits up, then the drink would settle my nerves.
  When I made it inside I asked the lady w.t.f. the pet cemetary was about. I mean I was just kind of wondering whether she'd get all emotional and start crying (that would have been my signal to leave) or she'd be calm and tell me about it. She told me about it. She must have told a lot of people about it before because she had a good story and told it well. Before she finished I had made another drink, began to cry, wanted a St. Bernard to call my own and told her how much I understood.
  I should have taken some pictures of that. It was cool and unusual for sure. I think that next time I have a pet die on me I'll just dig another hole, but this time I'll try to grieve some rather than think of all the money I'll save on dog food. I'll try, but no promises.-Don.

Can You Say Road Rash?

  A few weeks ago I rode (cycling) in a time trial that I get into a few times a year. This time was really no different from any other. There were 103 entrants...most finished. A few did not.
  Most of the trials that I ride are 25 miles. That's not a long or difficult distance. However, trials at that distance are usually held on open courses i.e. public streets, etc. That can pose a *real* issue for people susceptible to pain!
I love the hell out of that sort of course as opposed to a boring, albeit faster, velodrome setting. Unfortunately, with the open courses bumps, potholes and even damned pets can be a problem.
  How many of you as kids have just busted your little asses falling off of a bicycle before? Probably everyone that has ridden a bike once has busted their butts. Remember the scraped knees and elbows? Well now if you're hitting speeds of 25 m.p.h. (faster in sprints) on a shitty street full of loose gravel and crap, you stand a good chance of busting it. That's what happened to a couple of riders this last trial. Some cyclist don't understand just what a trial is. You don't race head to head. Your race is against the clock only. You start at staggered times and shit. Damn. But you've always got some f*cking jerk(s) that want to show their asses by attempting to smoke everybody ahead of them.
  This one particular dude-I'll call him Tommy Testosterone-rode for a group from Pensacola. Why he had to try and show his ass nobody knew. Just your usual moron. He succeeded too! He lost it and flew under a parked van. He broke a collarbone in the process and broke his little bikey too. Dumb shit! Then there's always the "true" competitor. That's the f*cking whack off that comes from behind you. Then he stays with you for like 10 seconds. Then says something like, "Later dude. See ya at the finish." Geez, suck my ass you moron! It's a damned trial. This one clown did that to a rider from a Mobile club. These Mobile riders were good and played the idiot like the chump he was. One of them stayed with him for about 2 miles. Then let that dickweed take off like he had a rocket in his ass. He made it about another .25 mile before wiping out into a guardrail in a curve that he was going way to fast to make. The rest of us continued on our merry little way while the SAG (support) van was pulling up to check on him. He ended up going to the hospital with a severe case of road rash that many of us thought was well earned. [picture is representative]
  If that dude doesn't develop a severe infection and have his leg amputated, then maybe he won't be so damned cocky the next time he rides. If he ever does. Oh well, shit happens and it seems to happen to the nicest people! I just love it when the morons of the world get their due, and in such a painful way too!-We are being watched-Don.

  Ahh Sunday, my favorite damned day of the week. Why you ask? I don't have to go to church if I don't want too, and it's time for another fine, funny and insightful edition of...you guessed it! The Sunday Suck-Up Times! Today I spend a little bit of time dutifully sucking up to a couple of my favorite blogs or blogs that have a hot babe for an avatar, and I believe that's really the person writing that blog.
  Number one today is a blog that I truly enjoy and find extremely lacking in cooth, insight, useful information or proper sentence structure. It's one of my all time favorites (to date). Angry Clown is known as the "forum stalker of cheese" over at humorbloggers. He's kickass in my not so humble opinion. I mean really now, how f*cking good is a blog that I would take my valuable time every day to leave my prints at their site. Huh? While you're over there join the Spam Killers Club. It'll save your life while destroying someone else's.
   My number two choice is Krapsody authored by the immortal and insanely brilliant ~Static~.
"They wuz only teh best-est commentz evar =P" That was the last note that he ever sent me. Damn, I miss him! Then I figured out he was talking about his comments and not mine...shit happens! Most everybody knows I'm talking 'bout the dude with the hottest 'fro this side of the former planet Pluto. Come on now. Check it out! I'll guaran*friggin'*tee that there's not another blog anywhere that's pimping Krapsody and Angry Clown at one time. Shit, it's just more of a load than one regular guy should have to shoulder, but I'm up to the task. So check 'em out before they hunt you down and bite you in the ass!-With a ton of love-Don.

Before you go, check out the brief video below...true or false? Guess we'll have to see.

Quick, Call Jesse Jackson

Where The Money Goes-So Goes The Neighborhood

  As our economy heads straight into the cesspool of financial
irresponsibility, I'm reminded of another organization--a gang
of thugs much like our own congress. The United F*cking Nations...wow, now there's a group of numbnuts that can make the U.S. senate and house of representatives look like grads straight from the Havard School of Economics.
  The U.N. is made up of the biggest bunch of cock sucking, ignorant, criminal, murdering third world marxist losers that ever stunk up the face of the earth! These guys steal everything they have from the air that they breath to the money that sustains them. The U.N. is worthless, and the U.S. is goddamn foolish to continue funding it. The only thing that they can do is deliver food to the very thugs that are running that f*cking whore house in the first place.
  Instead of giving away taxpayer money to the U.N. why not just give more of it to the damn investment firms that had so much to do with shaking down our economy in the first place. Hell, those sons of a bitches could steal it just as well as the U.N., and it would remain-for the most part-in this country instead of in the pockets of a genocidal maniac in the Sudan or wherever. I mean if we gotta lose all of that money forever, which we will, I'd rather one of our own get it to misspend than some third world terrorist.
  As we celebrate our busted economy, let's rejoice in the fact that while the taxpayers are once again being sodomized, we've been butt slammed before. Let's give thanks that so much money is totally pissed away by supporting the U.N. as it is pissed away by keeping the Wall St. wankers in business to f*ck us again 20 years from now. I'm proud to be an American, but not as proud as I am to be a sucker...!-Ok. That felt good. Have a nice day-Don.

  Ok readers, this is a friendly reminder to take your collective asses to humorbloggers and cast your vote for the best humor blog of '08, and you all know who that is. Just look at my header if you need a reminder.While your there take a look around and check out some of the other humorbloggers too. Most of you have already discovered some of us. It's time to discover the others as well. It's free and it's a f*cking blast!

Who Won The Debate? I Know Who Won The Game!

  I'm torn between watching the v.p. debate and the Pitt v. South Florida game on ESPN. So far the game is winning out by a long shot. I've just been flipping to the debate occasionally, and so I'm not really qualified to tell who is winning or will win or lose or what the f*ck ever they do. I will be able to tell you who won the damn game though.
  If Gov. Palin is an example of a pitbull with lipstick, I want a litter! If she's just another example of lipstick on a pig then I'll get into the hog biz. That babe is hot! What little I've seen, she looks like she's at least holding her own. Biden stumbled pretty badly a couple of times that I saw. I sure as hell can't watch the news later to see who "won." Hell, now football is easy. Just tune in later and wham! There's the score. The winner and the loser. With these stupid ass debates, you listen to Fox it's the hottie Palin. With everybody else it'll be Biden. Geez.
  The debate has ended. The game still has time left. I'll stay with the game now. These shit faced debates are all the same. Hell, they're so scripted I could just f*cking get up there, lie my ass off about everything and do as well as they do. Big f*cking deal! The football game is different. You fart around and cheat then the guys in stripes flag your ass. Then you lose shit...like real estate. That hurts to the point the coach will put your butt out of the game for a play or two or three. There's no referee in these debates. I know, the marxist commentators. Tonight's Lenin wannabe is Gwen Iffel. She's writing a pro Obama book right now, and she just happened to fail to mention that to the debate commission. The whole process is a goddamn farce.
  I wonder who God thinks won. Hmmm. Does God like pitbulls and pigs? I wonder if God would vote for Biden and Obama. Hell, I don't really give a rat's ass one way or the other at this stage. I'll bet that God is a football fan though. You can just tell by the way He handles matters. I mean you screw up what happens? You get penalized. You do good stuff then you get rewarded. You play hard then you're in. Just do as the coach says and you'll be alright. That's the way it is. Hell that sounds alot like politics too. The game just ended. Final score: Pitt-26; South Fla.-21. No news outlet can doctor that outcome...-Don.

Welcome To My Halloween

  Way back in 1966 when I was just a blossoming young punk, my friends and myself would all be really stoked this time of year. Halloween was the next most important event of the year. Opening my Christmas shit was first!
I was fourteen years old in '66 (56 to save you the trouble), and f*ck did we know how to have a "good" time on Halloween...Damn!
  What's better than riding around in a car with your 14 and 15 year old buddies (the drivers) throwing eggs at other cars? Seriously, the only thing that could happen is that the other car was either your parents' car that you didn't recognize in time, or some dude who was twice your size and speed was one of your victims. Shit! Pain!
  We did get caught a time or two. We learned well from our mistakes though. See, one year we drove around in my mom's car which was a black and red Ford Falcon rag top. The only one around like it. Mistake one. Mistake two was that we never really drove outta my neighborhood to vandalize other people's crap with eggs. That crime spree lasted about 30 minutes. I think that the first egg hurled out of the car hit a doctor's car. He knew me because I was good friends with his kid - Skip. I was good friends with his kid, Skipperoo, because they only lived 3 houses down. Poor choice of targets!
  We would go to other neighborhoods to get the goods like popcorn balls which I hated. That was ok though because they'd usually trade easily for some Milk Duds or jawbreakers. Some of the neighbors just left entire bowls of candy by their doorstep to help ourselves! No shit! I never took advantage of that though, because even at 14 I knew how to feel some guilt. I mean if they trusted me then who the hell was I to f*ck that deal up?
  As I got older the door to door begging was out and buying my own eggs became a hassle so I just slowed down a bit. I always wondered how you could get away with shit like that instead of someone just calling the cops. The answer is simple-just like the sixties themselves. I mean you'd get your ass kicked by some unsuspecting dude that you egged. Then your dad would kick your ass after the dude did. I couldn't go to the doctor either because I'd just whacked his car with an egg! Damn, life was so unjust. Why in hell would I do it all over again?-Happy Halloween pagans!-Don.

A Week Of World Domination

  Humorbloggers dot com is unveiling its' "World Domination Week" contest this week. For starters everyone needs to check it out and vote for me on the ballot located at the main page! Unfortunately, Chelle B. of the offensive The Offended Blogger has stuck my ass at the bottom of the ballot. Actually, I'm about 3rd from the bottom. I've haven't told her that's she's got a nice rack and sexy hair lately, so that probably is the reason for my position under her--on the ballot. She's that way sometimes! Anyway, get da hell over there and do this.
  One of the things that we are doing at humor bloggers this week is writing a post about a non-members' blog. I've got this one picked out of many new ones that I enjoy. I found it through a directory. It's alot of fun and updated regularly so go check it out and tell 'em Beyond Left Field said hello will ya?
  The Worse Blog is a relatively new find for me. It's funny as hell too. There's just the right amount of pictures for dumb f*cks like me and good writing. I can't tell you where people come up with the shit that they do to publish in there blog, but this homey has it together. There's no annoying f*cking popups or music that suddenly blast from the f*cking black hole of the universe either. Get over there, read it and leave a comment!-Don.