The Times

Well, just another lazy, hazy summer day here at the BLF headquarters.  As usual The Times staff is taking off.  I get saddled with the weekend chores around here.  However, I know that you need to treat your employees well because it pays off exponentially.  I'm even considering letting the staff have Christmas day off this year.

Let's get on with the issue at hand.  Who is a blogger worthy of recognition by The Times?  Just who do you think has crossed my mind for this week's selection, huh?  What if I said she is certainly one of the queens of rant.  Now that certainly narrows it down, but still leaves many, many thousands to choose from.

Okay, so howz about she's one of my favorite queens of rant which frankly is all that matters to me.  Crabby Blogging Lady is the type of person that can make me conjure up images of a really nasty neighbor.  You know the kind.

Crabby, er.... Mrs. Crabby seems to have a beef about a lot of issues.  Some of those issues we would probably all agree on.  Others?  Anyway, from ranting about receiving nothing but spam to a rant on one of my favorite topics--nude pics of women everywhere.  You go girl!!!

Y'all go check her out.  While you are there you may want to check on Mr. Crabby and make sure that he's okay.  Sometimes I must wonder about the mental stability of a person that has no doubt been under soooo much stress for soooo long.  Jeez, poor guy.

So Crabby Blogging Lady you shall receive 500 EC credits and a special place in my sidebar for this week in hopes that you and your blogs are blessed with plenty of nude pics of women and a truck load of spam!

Note: Don't forget to grab the RSS feed from Beyond Left Field while you're here. It's like reading the morning paper without the pulp...

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Let's Hit The Beach Or Else...

I'm grabbing my laptop and pop tops and going to the beach today.  The southern weather is true to early summer form and so are those southern girls.

While there I'll lose some coins in the slots and a few bills at the table, but it's all for a good cause.  It's my own Make-A-Wish Foundation.  Hit it big!  Ahh, that's not going to happen but the drinks are free as long as you pander those salacious slots.

Back to my little spot on the beach.  Soaking up some rays, those wonderful cancer, aging, wrinkle promoting rays... Back to nature.  There's nothing quite like it.  Oh, I know there's no air conditioner or t.v.  I may dump my laptop in the sand speaking of which does get sticky when you sweat.  There's still dead bodies in the gulf from Katrina.

Maybe I should put off that visit to the beach.  Afterall, I wouldn't want to risk getting burned.  So what if the girls are hot?  So is the sand.  Ewwww.  That sticky sand.  And the waters are still loaded with carcasses from the previously mentioned storm.  Hmmm, maybe I should take in the beach another time.  I mean they're not going anywhere.  At least until the next hurricane blows through.

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I'm Even Dumber Than A Rubik's Cube

Something that annoys me is when eating out having to watch someone chew with their mouth flying open.  Another thing that never fails to chap my white ass is a jerk that blows his nose and then inspects the snot filled hankie like he's just discovered gold.

Rear ending my car, asking me a question and when I give you an answer you say, "No, that's not right", spilling gasoline on my crotch while checking out the hottie at the next pump, and other forms of stupidity piss me off.

However, in my top five list of things that make my blood steam are smartass little kids that can solve a Rubik's Cube like it's supposed to be a challenge.  I mean they look at you like they are dumbfounded you even asked if they could solve it.

I told a neighbor's kid I'd give him 5 bucks if he could solve it in under a minute.  He had the audacity to tell me, an elder statesman of the 'hood, that for 10 bucks he'd do it in under thirty seconds.  Hell, I had this one locked up... 22 seconds later I was out 10 bucks and a whole heap of pride.  Smart ass punk.

I know that I'm probably one of the few earthlings that have yet to solve the Cube.  I don't know what it is with me and that damn thing, but I'll never get it right.  Hell, I suppose getting rear ended or spilling gas on my crotch is worse, but I'd feel a lot better if I could beat the snot out of some little kid with that thing.

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You May Be Wearing A Shark's Favorite Sunblock

Okay, so now we have gigantic predator sharks homing in on people because we piss them off, or they don't like the smell of our sunblock.  At least that's what I picked up from a show I just saw on a documentary channel.

According to this show, we the peep's nasty habits like swimming with lotion on and splashing around and pissing in the ocean, not to mention a fart or two, are causing sharks to attack us more.  Stay out of the fucking ocean then moron!!!

Ah.  The truth comes out.  The reason behind the show?  Yep, global warming has now forced sharks to zero in on humans because sharks are smart enough to know we fuck up their ocean by too many oil platforms and carbon emissions.  Kind of like we fucked up the caribou grounds with the Trans-Alaska oil pipline.  Dumb fucking reindeer have flourished since the line went in.

I'm not sure whether to take this post in the direction of the wiley, ever clever shark--the Einstein of the sea.  Or, get sucked into the global "fuck me I don't give a rat's ass" warming debate.  I think I'll just take a pass on both.  But I hate watching something only to discover that there was a cause or an agenda behind the entire show.  I'm slow...

Now, If you will excuse me.  I'm going to go and put my carbon footprint up someone's ass.  When I get through I think I'll sit and watch my car idle... Have a nice day, and don't fart in the ocean!

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Observations And A Thought Or Two

I only recently noticed that Oreos come in a reduced fat version.  Great!  Now I can eat much more of my favorite not homemade cookie.  I've yet to notice that Ducan Hines or Betty Crocker is selling a reduced fat version of their fudge brownie mixes.  Now that's just not right, but the full fat version will suffice for now.

I saw my first 80 lb. bag of dog food the other day.  Must be one helluva fucking dog to eat all of that before it dies of old age.  Scarier still was the fact that I saw a young female loading it into the bed of a pickup truck.  Now I'm not sure who the food is for.  Jeez!

There was a hit and run here recently.  Witnesses said that a Mercedes clipped a motorcycle causing the bike to flip before the car sped away.  The Mercedes was described as a 90's silver four door with high chrome wheels and curb feelers.  Police began pulling over Mexicans and raiding all area landscape services looking for suspects.

Never, ever use dishwashing detergent in place of dishwasher detergent in your dishwasher, and gasoline is not a good fuel to use when lighting a grill.  Oh it burns okay and the charcoal lights fine too, but the meat has a distinct unleaded flavor to it.

Just a few thoughts and observations to get your minds back in working order after the long weekend.  Hope it helps.  That's what I'm all about...

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Mean Joe Green And The Kid? It Came Close...

The closet thing that I've ever experienced to a real "Mean Joe Green and The Kid" moment was when a friend and I...

...were walking along in downtown New Orleans a day or two before Memorial Day.  My buddy always wore some form of worn out, raggedy utilities or his cover from his days "in country".  He was one of those guys that carried a chip on his shoulder for being in Nam.

A little kid about 10 was coming towards us.  He walked with a lady I assumed was his mom.  When they got to us he stopped and looked at my buddy, who was covered in various veteran's organization patches and pins, and here's what I remember being said.

Kid:  Hey mister, thanks.

Buddy:  For what kid?

Kid:  You are in the army?

Buddy:  Was kid.

Kid:  You were in that war?

Buddy:  Yep.

Kid:  Then thanks sir...

Buddy:  Didn't want to be there you know?

Kid:  Did they (meaning NVA and Charles) know that?

Buddy:  *laughs* Nah.

Kid:  Then thanks sir.

My friend was a hero to this little kid who knew nothing of war and nothing of my friend.  All he knew was my buddy had done something good...in his eyes.

Thanks kid...

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The Times

Okay, today is not the ordinary, fun filled edtion of The Times.  Today I have a bone to pick, and I can pick them clean.  Here's my beef in short.  Hey moron!  Your blog takes forever to fucking load!  See ya later...

Look sometimes I'll add something or move something on my blog that slows it down.  Or maybe it's just a bad server day.  However, when I attempt to go to the same blogs daily for weeks and 30, 40 or 60 seconds later I'm still waiting to see something besides the header... I'm outta there.

I've noticed too that on many blogs I like to visit but skip because they won't load that it's a couple of different advertising services they are signed up with that seem to be the major culprits.  No matter.  It's really annoying as hell.  I skip you and carry my happy little ass elswhere.

So having said that, I'm giving 500 EC credits to Pregnant With Cancer and A New Beginning: First... each- because I can, and these two bloggers have more to say than whine about waiting on a slow blog.  One more thing, if my blog is slow to load, tell me!  That is all.  Carry on.

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Tea Time With T. Sam

After searching diligently for a guest writer, someone I can rely on, I have finally found my man.  His name is T. Sam Lefort from southern Louisiana originally.  So without further adieu, and hopefully no regrets, I will allow T. Sam to introduce himself to you.


Welcome, welcome to all and everybody here.  I'm from the island way back when I was a boug, but for many the past years or so I moved to the north not so far from Lafayette.  My mamere and papere still down on the island there yeah.

 Mais, I moved even more north here in Mississippi.  We got the bayous here and a canal cuts through the city too.  It still way different from down south.  Most my people like papere don't speak one bit of English.  Many of my podnas don't speak it too good themselves.  But them negs family.

Raider say he not gonna help me spell or type on this project.  Sometime he got that hard head.  So I ain't keep y'all no more here yeah.  Mais, y'all make sure to have the good holiday weekend.  I got the biere and some them mashwarohn and gumbo ready to chow down on. Cho!Co! Hoooeee yeah!

T.Sam will be posting from time to time.  Hopefully once a week anyway.  He's got some outrageous stories.  Now, me and boo going to pass some time.  Have a good one!-r.r.





 

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Clanks, Clinks, Pings And Lucky Strikes.

I made a brief stop at the grocery this morning while the shelves were being "over" stocked for the holiday weekend.  Something I noticed missing was the clanks and pings of soft drink and milk bottles being brought in by the vendors.

Normally, I would not give it a second thought, but I guess with Memorial Day and cookouts I thought about dad grilling steaks in the back yard and drinking ice cold Cokes from a real bottle when I was just an annoying little tyke.

I miss hearing the bottles clanging in the store.  They even made a neat sound when you busted one on the floor because you jumped when you got caught trying to lift a pack of candy while swiggin' a NuGrape straight from the cooler.

I used to watch my dad buy a pack of Lucky Strikes at the checkout.  That's a joke now.  Even I am stared down when buying some, and I don't even smoke!  Piss, I even miss seeing the little, lowly T.V.Guide at the checkouts too.  Even the bread is not the same.  It takes a week or more for it to get stale!  That's not bread!

No more sawdust on the meat department's floor because some bastard said it was too unhealthy.  Ever heard of cooking your meat first?  Poultry and fish are "fresh frozen" whatever the fuck that means.  All I know is that the crap has ice in it when I buy it from the "fresh" meats section!

The biggest change of all I think is now even small, local groceries have security walking around.  The only security I can remember seeing at the grocery store when I was a kid was the manager, Mr. Lewis. He was fast for an old man.  He'd rip the shirt right off of your back too when he grabbed you.

Shit happens though.  That's the sort of thing that goes on in my mind when I have too much free time on my hands.  See, I did some yard work yesterday, and now it's raining again.  Hehehe... what can I say?  Oh, by the way, did I ever tell you the story about used condoms and dirt roads?  Well, you see...uh, never mind.

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Time For Another Drink. Rain Is On The Way.

Life can be so cruel, so harsh at times.  Today is one of those times.  Today I was only going to mind my own business.  Nothing more than to relax at the house all day.  Chillin' is all...

After a couple of "relaxants" chased with a couple of drinks, after all of that, my eyes zeroed in on the deck.  The solitary, quiet deck.  To my dismay God must have had a brain fart.  He put my ass to work in the yard!

I couldn't believe that thoughts of relaxation would soon turn into physical activity, and the kind that's no fun anyway.  How could this happen to me?  Well, it's simple....

I fuck off to the point I either forget (not likely) or put off doing the things I need to do when I need to do them.  What a moron!  I think the word is 'procrastinate', I can't bother looking it up.  See what I mean?  I'm a lost soul in a sea of procrastination and shit!

If I hadn't forced myself to put down the drink and do the yard work, then I may have never done it.  Especially with rain on the way.  God I love rain.  I have about 101 excuses for not doing things because of rain.  Working in the yard is one of them.

I'm a damn procrastinator and I'm well aware of it.  I've always been one, and I hope to die one.  So far I've been putting that part off too.  The beauty of procrastination is a wonderful thing.  It allows you to believe your own bullshit without the guilt.  Oh well it looks like rain!  Where's my drink?

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Don't Shoot! I Fart!

There's nothing quite as relaxing and just plain fun as a good old fart!  Where did the word fart come from you ask?  Well let me see if I can help.  As many of you know, I am indeed the go to guy for questions about ancient languages and fartology.

Some claim that the word was originated in Africa around the time Magellean decided to keep sailing and go to South America instead.  It's said that an old diamond chunker from the caves of Africa decided the sound should be named after his wife whom he loved very much.  Her name was Fartekia. That's pronounced Fart-a-`kia.

Later the Fard Vikings, some of which I used to pillage with, claimed that they coined the phrase farder durn ghas or fardas meaning one who is known to be alone a lot.  However, I'm skeptical because no Vikings that I'm aware of were ever alone.  In fact, they would fart even while raping the Britons.  That's why it's said that Briton women had to chase their goats.  Even the goats wouldn't get near them.

In more modern times the French claimed that they actually coined the word fart.  In France the word fart is slang for "surrender" or "fuck this!"  The French fart a lot no doubt... I give the nod to the French for the origin of the word fart because they would have used it throughout their history.  They make good bread, good cheese and wine and nice statues, but goddamn they sure can stink up a place.  It's French for sure...

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Time For A Party. The Tow Truck Has Arrived.

There's a fellow in town that has an auto breakdown about once a week.  Everybody seems to know this guy.  "Oh hell, there's old so and so's car again.  Wonder what it is this time? Carb?"

The old guy has been driving, and "repairing" the same old piece of shit for as long as I remember.  The car is a hybrid too.  I don't mean fuel wise.  I mean parts wise.  Every fucking car manufacturer in the U.S. must have a part in that car.

Finally the coot's car saw it's final breakdown.  He had to get a tow truck to come and carry it to a scrap yard.  Normally, he'd just stick some fucking used parts on it.  He would get it to run until the next breakdown, and that was good enough for him.

This time I stopped and asked him if he needed a ride to pick up a part.  He looked like a family member had just died.  One of his too.  Sheesh!  He told me that he had to call a tow to haul it away.  He said that he couldn't afford to put any more money into it.

I'm sorry.  I don't get the silly fucking emotion over a costly, worthless, hunk of junk.  He actually missed that car.  That money pit ride was eating away at his life savings I'll bet, and he still looked like he lost his best damned friend when the tow truck came.  What's with that?  Should I feel his pain?  I don't!  

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The Times

Today's edition of The Times was to open with a message from the president.  His people contacted my people with a proposition wanting to have him interviewed for The Times.  However, this is not a political blog, and I will not pimp it as such.  Even at the behest of the Big O, the O-man, B.O. himself.

On to the real issues of the day before we get to the lucky recipient of the BLF shoutout and 500 EC credits that may be used at the EC store or simply cashed in for that Hawaiian vacation you've all been saving for.  Yes, another blogger will take his/her place among the elite in a few moments.

Local News Flash-
An 89 year old lady was killed last night two blocks away when she drove her car into a rain swollen creek.  Police said the old lady was trying to text her boyfriend, 96, when she drove into the raging waters.  Suicide is not ruled out.  An empty Everclear bottle was found in the front of the car along with a used condom.

This week's "Mr. Popular" at the BLF headquarters is someone whose blog is very, very nice to visit.  You know how some blogs just make you feel good when you visit?  Maybe it's just their appearance or only content or a mix of both... I'm not sure, but this blog is one of those.

Makes You Laugh will do just that, and in a very nice, lighthearted way.  It's a nice break for sure.  It's a combo of video, pictures and some really good writing.  We "met" via Entrecard where we still carry on our mutual relationship almost daily.  Oh my God, I'm getting wet thinking about it!

Okay, please...sorry.  It's Sunday and all, Makes You Laugh just gives me goosebumps.  Maybe that's withdrawels.  Anyhow, please stop by if you don't already.  Leave a comment and join the ninety others who have subscribed to the site.  Tell him Raider sent you.  Until next Sunday...

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Got Drugs? I Can Help

My roommate has severe neuropathy in her legs.  She's been on several different narcotic pain killers trying to find one that works.  Right now she's "experimenting" with some Fentanyl (synthetic morphine). It's commonly given to the terminally ill.

She claims that it's not doing any good for her pain either.  I decided to  try a patch for myself just to test it out.  I wanted to make sure it was safe for her to take.  I'm noble and caring like that.

I lasted about one hour before I began to sleepwalk, drool, laugh at the floor for being down there and practically falling asleep while eating a bowl of cereal.  That's some ass kicking stuff for sure!  Again, she claims it does her no good.

I don't think she can get much stronger stuff and still function at work.  So far I've managed to test out two different strengths for her.  I'll continue to help her use hers up so they don't go to waste.  I don't want her insurance company to waste their money by her not using them either.  I'm generous like that too.

I hope that I can test a stronger patch next week in the name of her well being.  If not then maybe I'll be able to try another opiate for her.  I like helping people with problems like this.  It makes me feel really good... Whoohoo!

I only have some Percocet for tonight.  That's mine though and I can't give her any.  She says it doesn't do her any good either which is fine with me.  She's not getting my narcotics.  I have to work hard to sustain enough injuries to get those things prescribed for me.  I don't abuse drugs.  I take damned good care of them!

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Big Brats And Small Brats And Not A Sausage In Sight

Brats! Damn sniveling, snot nosed, little bastards and bastardettes!  I truly hate all kids below the age of 20 something!  What a bunch of whining, complaining, selfish little assholes.  Check this shit out.

Earlier today I paid a visit to a local retailer that sells computer stuff and office supplies.  I was looking for a particular type of dvd, and so I'm checking out their selections.

Up walks this young girl, maybe 18, towing this little puss filled puke of a  kid.  The kid had green snot running to his one shoe and screaming at the top of his little fucking worthless, congested lungs.

The girl who I assume was the very young mom was basically ignoring the little crack baby bastard.  I probably would have to, but finally I gave her a really big "go to hell with the kid" look.  She did manage to jerk the jerk by the arm a couple of times and tell it to shut up.  Her words-not mine.

Screaming kids and parents who cannot control their brats should be drawn and fucking quartered.  The world is fucked up enough without all of the trash that has to be taken care of on top of trying to manage your own affairs.  Not to mention they didn't have my dvd's.  I hate people today...

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My New Guest Author, And Why Susan Quit

Well, Ms. Susan Boyle has already decided not to guest author BLF.  She apologized profusely, but she said that her eyebrows were beginning to cover her eyes again and that she simply could not type.  Apparently, it's an ongoing problem with her.

She also stated that she has chronic sore throats that make her feel totally miserable.  She claims that she seems to always have a "frog" in her throat although she says she chews them well before attempting to swallow them.  I don't know... 

Anyway, I've found another guest author that will write about every two weeks.  I was torn between Perez Hilton, I'd love to just pinch his cheeks to bloody pulps, and the lesser known Murray "Skunk" Morris.  I chose to ask Skunk Morris, and he has accepted.  He's the more stable of the two.

Skunk is a former professional bungee jumper and sheetmetal worker.  He's very talented and will really make your anus tighten with laughter.  He's also a lay preacher and only says "goddammit" when he wants some money, goddammit!

Skunk is a bit camera shy, but I promise to have his official staff photo next to his posts when he comes on board.  I believe he'll be writing here very soon.  He only has to come up with $500 bucks for bail and he'll be good to go.  He didn't do anything serious.  He groped an 86 year old lady-second offense.

-Later

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My New Guest Staffer Says Hello

Today is a special day for the staff at BLF.  For the first time in it's storied, brilliant history Beyond Left Field has a guest author.  Most of you will recognize her face.  Many of you will wish that you didn't, and even some will experience nausea and nightmares.

However, with all of the hoopla surrounding her sudden rise to fame and popularity she remains a humble, modest person.  Ladies and gentlemen I present you the newest member of the BLF staff and soon to be poster pinup for Pepto-Bismol, Ms. Susan Boyle!

Oooooh, hello, hello!  So terribly glad to be here with you...  Yes, yes I am.  I swear I'm happy to be here.  I'm happy to be anywhere to tell you the truth.  Ahh haa. Well since this is my first attempt at actually writing something, I shall be rather brief.  Not brief as in underwear, although I wish I could find some to fit properly.  Better yet I'd like to jump down that cutie Simon Cowell's briefs.


Laaaa-la-di-daaaa-da.  Mmmm, laaaa-la-da-dum... Oh, I'm so very sorry.  I hum when I get nervous.  Could you tell what I was humming?  I'll give you a hint.  Airplane!  That's right!  I was singing the song White Rabbit by Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane.  Oh you are too smart for my fat, ugly Scottish ass.  Feed your head...


I suppose I had better go now.  I hope that you will have me back.  Perhaps I can show you photos of my Darfur vacation.  For once I felt relieved to be fat and Scottish!  They have an amazing assortment of flies there too.  Entymology is one of my many hobbies.  I've been told that I look like a brown bat.  Oh, that is sooooo cute.


Until next time my lovlies, take care. Take heart. Take notice and take a bloody bath!--S.B.  

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Why The Fuss? She's Just A 'Tard.

It may be time to change banks.  I've been going to the same bank, for several years.  You know how you get to know the people working there on a first name basis right?  I mean it's almost like family...  Well then, my "sister" is a fucking moron.

The lady that works the drive thru and has been for years must have gone retard over the weekend.  I pull up to the window, hand her one of my checks that I want to cash.  Okay.  Normally, I get my money and then go spend it on whatever the fuck I want.

This time I have my money and drive off.  Every thing goes as always.  So I run my meager errands and then go home.  Yeah I know.  Exciting so far huh?  Anyway, this nimrod bitch that I've known for several years calls me.

Bitch says "Sir, I noticed that the signature on your check didn't match your signature on file."  Huh?!
She calls me to tell me that I have forged my own check!  So I tell her in these exact words, "Oh, that's not my real signature on my check.  I faked it even though I still used my real name."

She laughed realizing she was apparently just fucking plain stupid and said she was sorry.  I immediately called her back and asked her if that was really her that called or was it an impersonator.  She said, "Sir?"  I hung up.  I'm still confused, but later today my new checks will have another bank's name on them.

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Happy Mother's Day From The Times

 Well, well... Last week was rather busy.  Busy enough for me to essentially take off last Sunday from doing anything.  I went on strike.  I usually do once every couple of days anyway.  So, I missed the publication deadline around here of The Times.  Not this week.

This will be short and sweet.  Sweet and The Times are synonymous.  Today a blogger that is well known, well read and followed constantly by the IRS is the subject of my shoutout.  I almost decided never to give him this great honor only because he's received so many already.  But then I thought, hell, he's never received this one.

If you could take the first 3 bloggers that I started reading, he is in this list.  And I visit and comment on his site daily as he does mine.  Da Old Man is a great guy/blogger that always has a lot of interesting things on his mind that he puts in his own words via Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars.

What a great site, huh?  I mean come on guys how good can it get?  Frankly, not much better.  You go Joe!  Before I go I also want to remind everyone the Da Old Man also has three other sites that everyone needs to visit.  Okay?  They are Diabetes Destroys and The Joy of Toast and BoSox Yankee Fans Forever!

So I wish Da Crotchety Old Lady and all other muddahs out there a Happy Mother's Day, and visit Joe soon will ya?  If the Yanks can't put a smile on his face, then maybe you guys will...hehehe!

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Friends Are Like a Virus-Pass The Sanitizer.

Well I basically pissed away an entire day as chauffuer to two people.  First my roommate.  I spent from 8a.m. until 12:30p.m. taking her from eye doctors to eye surgeons to a lowly optometrist.  Then my buddy who I just wrote about here had to have about four more hours of my time today to try to take care of his business.

The roommate's eye situation is all in order now and surgery is a go.  Buddy boy's car issues are pretty much resolved too.  He told me to meet him at his apartment, and he would show me his "new" car.  I go over there, and the very first thing I notice is that it's hot as hell in his place.

We were out getting his auto insurance in order, when the utility company turned his power off.  I'm no longer placating the morons of the world.  I swear I know they are friends, but even a friend can be a moron.  I charged him ten bucks and two Somas for my assistance today.  I'll sleep lovely tonight.  That's all that matters.

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If Your Doctor Farts, Just Say You Are Sorry.

When visiting your doctor and he farts what do you think you would do?  Would you totally ignore it?  Would you break out laughing?  Would you look at him and say, "Sorry to hear that doc."  My roommate has the answer.

My roomie, for those of you who don't know, is very deaf, very blind, can barely walk and has severe neuropathy.  Basically, she's a mess.  Well, yesterday she went to one of her doctors-a neurologist.  Now this doc is really funny, or perhaps just crazy. 

So while she tells him about her severe pain he farts!  He knows she is legally deaf and blind so he just cut one.  Let 'er rip doc!  One thing he forgot was that her sense of smell may be normal.  It is...  In fact her sense of smell is very good.  Now she may be physically handicapped, but she's not stupid.

She looks at the doctor and says, "I'm sorry to hear that doctor."  My roommate actually thought he had said something.  He just farted, but to her it sounded like he really spoke to her.  The doctor was clearly embarrased.  I busted out laughing, and my roommate asked me later what he had said that made me laugh.

Wow talk about cheap entertainment, that was it.  Today I take her to see a couple of opthomologists.  I doubt they'll fart, but perhaps one of them will do something stupid like slobber on himself or scratch his nuts while pretending it's his leg that is itching.  Either way I'm sure I'll laugh.  Ain't life great?  

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Are You A Jinx Or Just A Hard Luck Kid?

Poor dumb bastard.  Poor, poor dumb bastard.  I wrote a post awhile back about a buddy of mine who had invested in a nice used car which happened to breakdown 3 days after he bought it.  He is not so much a jinx, but rather a "hard luck kid."  This guy could touch gold, and it would turn to dog shit!  But...

We've all had bad days and bad streaks of luck.  My buddy, I'll call him Justin because that's his name, always rides a streak of lousy luck.  Sunday he managed to fortify his "how to lose the mojo when you need it most" streak.  Again, it involved his now 4 month old vehicle... Moron!

He's the fucking dummy behind the wheel (see photo).  Oops!  Crash!.  It will cost him $230 to get it out of tow.  However, it won't run.  He said today that he had just put several hundred bucks into brake repair!  Now he wrecks it and the nice policeman noticed that his insurance had expired.

The next time I get into a rut, or just have a run of shitty luck, I'll think of Justin.  He always makes me feel better.  Always.  Incidentally, driving with expired insurance when involved in an auto accident can cost as much as $1000.  Had he been injured a judge may show mercy.  Nah, no such luck.

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Red Raider And His Red Ryder. A Deadly Combo!

I was wondering earlier today what my favorite toy as a kid was.  I'm having to look for a gift for my grandaughter, and I was noticing the cool stuff available.  I had so many that I could not single out just one.  However, I would say that my top five consisted of at least two gifts that caused me a lot of grief.

A chemistry set was one gift that I played with for months.  I remember poisoning my little brother's goldfish with a concoction that I thought would be a good food for them.  They loved it, but then they croaked about two minutes later.  I finally put that toy down when my sister's bird went tits up after eating the same stuff.

I scored one of the best gifts ever!  A Red Ryder carbine with the gold band around the stock.  It wasn't the most expensive one, but I made damn certain it was the most deadly--with practice!  My first real kill was with it.  I killed a sparrow.  I just wanted to test my aim, and boy was it good!

I soon moved up to assaults.  I would shoot the other kids in the neighborhood, and they would shoot me too.  We would have a BB gun war and it went on for hours.  Nobody lost an eye, but a good buddy of mine named Skip got beaned in the old ear drum.  I never did know if he ever regained hearing in that ear.

Later I would get on the roof of my house which was a two story.  I would hide behind the chimney and pick off dogs and kids on bikes all day long.  It was quite a distance to the street from the chimney so a direct hit didn't cause any great pain.  It was more surprise to my targets than anything.

I finally had to say goodbye to the old protector when my dad bought my brother and myself horses.  I know, I know.  Wow, a Red Ryder and a real horse!  Well, I had the real horse alright, but I thought I should have a real rifle to go along with it.  Dad disagreed at first, but since I was a spoiled asshole I prevailed.

After I began to pop out street lights and tires and loud dogs with my rifle, dad decided to sell the horses.  I never did understand though.  He didn't take the rifle... He took the damn horses.  I think he was afraid to come after the rifle.  I had become quite proficient with it, and I was bigger.  I still shoot it today.

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Bikes, Butts And Busted Knees

I love riding my bicycles.  In fact I would rather ride my bicycles than have hot, steamy sex.  I think that I love riding bikes even more than eating Oreos.  That's saying a lot too!

The first bike that I can remember riding alot was a red Schwinn from the late 50's.  I think it was a Phantom, and I remember that it weighed as much as I did.  That bike was indestructible--almost.

Then as I got older and basically couldn't handle lugging a 60+ pound bike around, I opted for a lighter model.  This is where I got interested in competitive racing.  I love beating people at things, and since I can handle losing too it works out well.

  I stuck with the competitive aspect of racing but not so much the head to head road races.  I still loved kicking ass and didn't mind losing either if it was to a better biker.  But like the orange beauty pictured above I was beginning to feel the effects of too many races and spills and thrills.

What did I do?  Quit?  Ha, bullshit!  Quitting is for quitters... er, well you know what I mean.  I went straight from outright racing to time trials and still more spills, but outright speed was the name of the game.  Once again the demands were different.  So, I needed another bicycle.  One that would enable me to fly!

Ahhh, the ultimate time trial beauty.  Now if only my knees and ankles could keep up with the progress that bikes have made, hell I could knock 'em dead.  Unfortuanately, that is not happening.  I think that I'll put an ad in the paper for a simple bike with the old drum break and big, soft, wide seat.

You know what I'm talking about right?  Something like this:

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Nature vs. The Sunday Suck-Up Times

There will be a late edition of The Sunday Suck-Up Times.  Why you ask?  Because of this:

It's just beginning to move through our area, and I intend to kick back and enjoy the hell out of it.  Later!!

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Do Not Panic! Newly Discovered...Virus!

While going through my trash this morning looking for more to eat, my hand began to shake.  Sweat began to pour out of the crack of my lily white ass into my dirty, smelly socks!  Goddamn it I just discovered the Portuguese Water Dog flu (N2U2)!

I shit you not.  I did not run a fever but the urge to go to Portugal was overwhelming.  The hair on my head started to curl just like the dogs!  My craving for Portuguese food such as the filling pine nut and yummy salted cod fish aroused my appetite.

Then I started to feel like I couldn't concentrate.  It was like I was detached from reality.  The symptoms of my new favorite illness were mind numbing.  They include lethargy, inability to reason, a drop in IQ and unexplained double vision.  My lips tingled.  It's horrible!

Don't fly, sail or take the subway to Portugal.  The Portuguese Water Dog flu (N2U2) may soon be a pandemic.  My personal pandemometer jumped from a 2 to a 5!  Now...now, a dreadful new disease strikes *crying like I fucking care*.  I only wonder what the outcome will be.  How will it effect me?

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What Do Insults And Pigs Have In Common? A Roast!

No I'm not hung up on pigs or swine or flu.  Today the Humorbloggers are having a roast.  So now I can actually hammer down on one of my fellow bloggers without them getting all pissy about it.  I guess...

Anyway, today I am "roasting" not a pig by any means, but a bloggerette who is one of my faves.  I'll try to do this in such a manner as to not be completely cruel or hostile.  Although some cold, heartless, vile words are bound to spew from my hard heart!

The first thing that I notice when I go to Debbie Does Drivel, is her header.  Enough about the header.  Secondly, however, she mentions her cheap camera.  A Sony Cybershot.  Well I just bought a damn Sony Cybershot to go with my even cheaper Nikon Coolpix.  So thanks for slamming my camera Deb.  I'll bet you like your header too don't you?

Let's be serious.  Her site is well done if you like travelogues.  Seriously, have you ever been to Maine?  It's a beautiful state.  I know because going to Deb's is like going to Maine via a travelogue.  Between mining for tourmaline and Maine's Maple Weekend who the hell ever needs to go there for the lobster or to drop some bucks at resort areas?  She does it for you...

Deb has some really funny stuff throughout her blog.  I mean really funny.  Like her series Sunday, Bloggy Sunday.  What a great idea!  How did she come up with that?!  I did notice however that while she has me listed in her blogroll which she calls Some of the Best Pee-in-Your-Pants Blogs, I was listed only second behind Cake Wrecks.  She could have at least gone the alphabetical route.

As I wrap up my critique of this travelogue humor blog, I know that you cannot always be a fucking comedian unless of course you are, well... a comedian.  Deb does try though because she did ask me once if she could use one of my ideas. (re: Sunday, Bloggy Sunday)  You have to love a blogger that has the common courtesy to ask you to use an idea.  Hell, even I don't do that, and I'm righteous!

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