Get Back On That Horse

Two weeks have come and gone since my fall from grace.  I quit my job, I started working out, and I’m drinking again.  The cosmos have been set into motion and my universe has been chaotically shredded by the lawn-mower blades of fate.  The baby step I took to reclaim my life turned into a stumble that left the virtual pages of WordPress blank.  Aside from myself, the biggest losers in this mess have been all of those who look to these posts for motivation and an excuse to mock me.  I apologize to all four of you.  As for me, however, I made a mistake.  While I’ll never regret getting out of that soul-stealing, slave mill I called a job, I regret my preparation for the next step in my life.  My goals of becoming a comic/writer/chauvinist have fallen flat, but not for long.  I made another step.

I ventured out.  Money has been tight since I quit.  In an attempt to save on automobile gas, I journeyed by foot to the stable to see my sweet ponies, Success and Virtue.  Due to extremely long stretches of immobility indoors, my muscles and lungs had weakened and my tan had all but disappeared leaving my newly acquired bed sores exposed to the elements.  Regardless, I found motivation and made my way to the street.  I stepped out of my home only to feel my pasty skin bake from the torturous blazes of the autumn sun.  My heart rate surged creating a gentle sweat which, while cooling my skin from the sun’s intensity, stung my open bed sores.  The sunshine glistened off of my sweaty skin directly into my eyes.  As a result of the glare, temporary blindness caused me to see eye-worms; glowing dots in my retinas creating stabbing pain and tears.  The eye-worms took the form of Success and Virtue, the fore mentioned ponies I had started out to visit.  In all but five minutes in the real world, I had no choice but to second guess my actions.  I went back into my home.

Summoning the courage to leave my apartment after the solemn events I conjured, proved to be a difficult task.  The heavy burden of  taking on a new adventure was scary.  Attempting to find my own Success and Virtue caused blinding pain from hot flashes and sweat.  The real world’s sun is brutal.  Its warming light shines down allowing us to forge a path toward our goals.  However, the light can be intense and if a person is not prepared, his journey will be riddled with burn and eye-worms.  Ironically, the only way to prepare him is to set him on his journey in the sun’s blazes encouraging each small step forward.

My journey has just begun and there are many steps to be taken.  Although the latest action may have been a misstep, it wasn’t all bad.  My tan is back and my muscles and lungs are strong again.  The sores on my skin have healed (sans my genitalia…that’s right…Herpes).  Unfortunately, in the time it took me to build up my tolerance of the real world, my ponies died.  Oh well.  Success and Virtue don’t always take the form you first expected.  At least there will be enough meat to last through winter, thus saving money on grocery meats.  Now, I just have to go out there and retrieve it.  Ah, sh*t.

Cats And Technology

Cats can learn about technology, but do you know what it takes to teach them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey there Albert Ninestein!  Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.  So you wanna teach your cat about technology, do ya’?  Good luck.  I don’t think you have the capacity or the interpersonal skills to manipulate scientific information well enough for a cat to understand.  However, if you think that you can teach a cat, there is a way.  You’ll need to follow closely if you’re going to teach your cat anything.  First, you have to get a cat.  Got one?  Six.  Wow.  That’s a lot.  Well, pick one and get the others some tuna, they’re gonna wanna watch this.  Next, take the lucky winner and sit him down in an inexpensive, steel-framed computer chair.  You might use duct tape to keep his paws strapped down and his eye lids peeled open (don’t worry, cats can’t feel and he’s really gonna wanna see this).  Once the monster is firmly locked down, grab a burlap sack and quickly slip it over the chair.  Hurry, there isn’t much time.  Flip the chair upside down and pull the bag as far up as you can.  Get ready to close the bag, but before you do, round up the other five tuna lovers and throw them in the bag too.  Tie off the end using a twine rope.  Next, throw the cat sack in the trunk of your car.  Make sure that you throw it hard enough to silence any terrified meowers; you don’t want to have to answer any silly questions about the “cat noises coming from your trunk” should you happen to get pulled over.  Don’t worry too much if you didn’t quiet them all on the first throw, the exhaust fumes that go into the trunk when you drive off should put those little buggers out in a heartbeat.  Now, drive.  Find a secluded spot in a forest where a river runs deep.  Remove the cats from the trunk and shake the bag.  Wake them up.  Are they riled?  Good.  Now, toss the whole sack into the river.  The chair will help sink the bag as the cats try to claw their way out.  There.  That oughta teach ’em.

10 Reasons For Bus Stop Depression

Sure hope that bus gets here soon

 

 

I drive a car.  A fast car that flies.  When I’m pulled over by skycops and slow down enough to catch some of the street level action, I’m always forced to see the folks at the bus stop.  With the exception of a few retards, I’ve noticed everyone always looks miserable.  Here is a list of 10 reasons that I think fuel your bus stop depression:

 

10. It is certain that before the day is done,  you will sit in at least one piece of gum

9. No bench

8. No matter what, you are going to be late

7. People assume you’ve been hired to help the retard in the wheel chair next to you because he’s shouting profanities and smiling uncontrollably in your direction

6. Sitting at a bus stop is as frustrating as waiting for a bus.

5. An old man who has been hurling smut/needles/prophylactics at you, is taking off his shirt to show you his old wrinkly Navy tattoos

4. With all of the recent bad weather, your umbrella budget has depleted the money you’ve saved from riding the bus

3. Your clothes are soaked with foreign fluids and it stopped raining hours ago

2. You’d rather wait for the bus in your own car

1. You’re about to ride a bus

Eyes On The Road

One of these b*tches is going down

When I’m driving along the road, I have a tendency to stare down any drivers that I pass or that pass me.  Those B*tch F*cks; what gives them the rite?  Don’t look at me!  “What am I doing?” you ask…I’m looking for hot girls, that’s what!  Now, you might be thinking that’s a little reckless and immature.   You couldn’t be more wrong; the fact of the matter is that it’s extremely reckless and immature.  I am liable to hit someone…hard and often, if you know what I mean     3===) · · ·· O-:  (FYI – that graphic display represents a winker and his hot bod with all that c*ck, balls and a sh*t ton of c*m about to hit that pretty little number’s O-face).  I’m looking for two things.  The first is hot girls.  I’m just perusing the street driving public and all of their assets.  First and foremost, I am attracted to nice hair.  Shiny, yes.  Long, yes.  Slightly curly, God yes.  The best part of the hair is it often times cascades down the body inadvertently pointing to other delectable treats such as the neck, chest, breast, and sometimes abs, buns, and legs.  A great head of hair and a hot set of chest blossoms is the luxury model I want to see on the road.  It’s usually marked by something flowery hanging from the rear view mirror; usually a flower.  Oh, unless it’s hanging from a minivan.  Forget it.  Usually, it’s some chicks ugly step dad.  Which brings me to the second thing.  I’m looking for some punk dude that’s younger, older, smaller, dumber-looking, worse car, and/or smug that I could kick the sh@t out of.  I’ll tell you that I’m going to stare that @sshole down until he looks over and then I’m going to look away quickly.  If I’d stare longer we might have fisticuffs.  He does not want that.  Actually, if it ever came down to that, I’m not going to do that because I can’t fight (I’m a bit of a screamer).  But if I did fight, maybe one of those pretty little ladies with the lai in the windshield might just stop and ask if she can dissolve the conflict with her nipple tits.  This would be the point when I get out my insurance information and check book.  Lady, you can take anything you want.  People are so great.