I'm conducting a little experiment on keywords and site traffic. Please bear with me.
There are absolutely no pics on this site of MILEY CYRUS NUDE!!*
*If you just found this post by accident, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I’m not even supposed to be here today
I know I said I wasn’t blogging from work anymore, but this is kind of a unique instance. I’m supposed to be off today.
Normally I work Sunday through Wednesday. Now before you get all uppity, it’s like 11 hour shifts and I end up having to come in most Thursdays or Fridays for one reason or another. That’s more than a 40 hour week. Hey I earn my money so fuck off!
Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to yell, but you just push my buttons sometimes. Where was I? Oh yea.
So I find myself at work tonight because the guy who normally works on Thursdays had to go to a special class during the day so he can’t work his shift tonight. I took the same class a couple weeks ago, but I was smart enough to work the schedule so I wouldn’t inconvenience anyone else. But hey, that’s just me.
I suppose I could blog about the class, but then of course I’d have to kill you. It’s THAT kind of thing.
I’m serious; I totally would. I’d have to track down each and every person who read this post and murder them. I’m super serious.
I suppose it wouldn’t be murder it was in the name of national security. Would it? You know for the good of the nation and all. Anyway just be glad I didn’t tell you. As a great American once said, “I don’t want to kill you and you don’t want to be dead.”
Well I’m assuming you don’t want to be dead. Hell, maybe you do, but that’s not my problem. You need to start taking care of yourself for a change and stop sloughing all your problems off on other people. I can’t be doing every damn thing around here. Fuck. What is it with you?
Where was I?
Oh yea, work. Here’s the thing. The guy I’m working for was training another guy and he’s also here. And he’s finished training. And he can do the job by himself. And he is doing it. And there’s no reason for me to be here. And I have nothing to do.
So I’m blogging.
UPDATE*
*I forgot the asterisk
Wrath
The new Lamb of God CD, Wrath, came out Tuesday and I gotta say it kicks ass. So far my favorite song is “Contractor”, which is basically an accusation against military contractors in Iraq like Blackwater.
I really couldn’t care less about the social message. My point is that it has a good beat and you can dance to it, Dick. Besides, how can you go wrong with a line like,
“Guaran-fucking-teed. Someone will bleed.”
That’s gold, Jerry, gold I tell ya.
I was going to imbed a video or a link or something, but I got distracted by something shiny. Then I ended up watching a bunch of You Tube videos of people falling down and getting wacked in the balls.*
* I’ve decided I’m going to mention balls in every single one of my posts from now on.**
** I’ve also decided I’m going to add an asterisk with a note to every post.
I really couldn’t care less about the social message. My point is that it has a good beat and you can dance to it, Dick. Besides, how can you go wrong with a line like,
“Guaran-fucking-teed. Someone will bleed.”
That’s gold, Jerry, gold I tell ya.
I was going to imbed a video or a link or something, but I got distracted by something shiny. Then I ended up watching a bunch of You Tube videos of people falling down and getting wacked in the balls.*
* I’ve decided I’m going to mention balls in every single one of my posts from now on.**
** I’ve also decided I’m going to add an asterisk with a note to every post.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Taxes Suck
10 things I would rather do instead of my taxes:
1. Piss on an electric fence
2. Stop a fan with my tongue
3. Take a shot in the junk from a bean bag riot gun
4. Go down on Paris Hilton
5. Chug a gallon of butter milk then run 5k
6. Babysit Nadya Suleman’s little bastard kids
7. Read Hamlet
8. Sniff Evgeni Malkin’s jockstrap after practice
9. Bite the head off a live guinea pig
10. Referee a naked bum fight
1 thing I will not do instead of doing my taxes:
1. Pay some other motherfucker to do my taxes
Monday, February 23, 2009
Update
So what the fuck’s been going on? Seeing as how you apparently can’t accept the truth, I guess I’ll just make up some shit to fill in the last six months.
When we left off back in August, I had just switched jobs. For those of you that don’t remember, I’m in the military, but for the last four years I scored a sweet training gig where I was basically put in charge of a bunch of children posing as aircraft maintenance instructors. It had its drawbacks, but also had the big advantage of being steady day-shift work, out of the weather and zero getting shot at. It was also completely unfulfilling. I usually just sat at my computer for eight hours a day thinning out the steady blogging with two or three hours of actual work. I also managed to put on twenty pounds.
So when I was given the opportunity to either stay on for a fifth year or bail and go back to the flight line, either guilt, sense of duty or sheer boredom got the better of me and I left.
Now I spend 10 hours a day directing and supervising ALL of the daily maintenance being performed on roughly $2 billion worth of government aircraft. The hour I get in front of a computer is wholly taken up by reading work emails and completing actual work related shit.
When I started it was way too time-consuming and stressful to keep the blog running, so I punched. Sorry.
Now that I’ve been at it for a few months, I’ve got into a pretty steady rhythm. I work from 3 in the afternoon until 1 in the morning, but Pink gets me up at 7:30 to see her off to school so I have the bulk of the day to myself. I usually just watch TV, play Xbox, clean up the house then run a few miles if it’s not too cold. I missed writing and couldn’t really come up with a good reason not to start blogging again, so here we are.
I know I won’t be able to post everyday, but I think that will just make the ones I write that much better. Believe me; I’ve got some interesting shit coming up that should make for some good stories. I’ve got a practice war in the spring, a graded practice war in the summer and then I’m probably going to Kandahar in the fall. Cross your fingers; Purple Hearts are sexy as hell.
When we left off back in August, I had just switched jobs. For those of you that don’t remember, I’m in the military, but for the last four years I scored a sweet training gig where I was basically put in charge of a bunch of children posing as aircraft maintenance instructors. It had its drawbacks, but also had the big advantage of being steady day-shift work, out of the weather and zero getting shot at. It was also completely unfulfilling. I usually just sat at my computer for eight hours a day thinning out the steady blogging with two or three hours of actual work. I also managed to put on twenty pounds.
So when I was given the opportunity to either stay on for a fifth year or bail and go back to the flight line, either guilt, sense of duty or sheer boredom got the better of me and I left.
Now I spend 10 hours a day directing and supervising ALL of the daily maintenance being performed on roughly $2 billion worth of government aircraft. The hour I get in front of a computer is wholly taken up by reading work emails and completing actual work related shit.
When I started it was way too time-consuming and stressful to keep the blog running, so I punched. Sorry.
Now that I’ve been at it for a few months, I’ve got into a pretty steady rhythm. I work from 3 in the afternoon until 1 in the morning, but Pink gets me up at 7:30 to see her off to school so I have the bulk of the day to myself. I usually just watch TV, play Xbox, clean up the house then run a few miles if it’s not too cold. I missed writing and couldn’t really come up with a good reason not to start blogging again, so here we are.
I know I won’t be able to post everyday, but I think that will just make the ones I write that much better. Believe me; I’ve got some interesting shit coming up that should make for some good stories. I’ve got a practice war in the spring, a graded practice war in the summer and then I’m probably going to Kandahar in the fall. Cross your fingers; Purple Hearts are sexy as hell.
Juno
The Wife made* me watch Juno the other night and three things became blaringly obvious to me during the course of the movie.
1. Yes Juno, you are edgy. We all get it. Now shut the fuck up.
2. J.K. Simmons had the best lines in the movie. Now I almost feel bad that Vern got shit on…almost.
3. Jennifer Garner has the biggest ears in Hollywood. I swear to God those things are like boat sails.
*and by “made” I mean she put it on the TV that I was facing.
1. Yes Juno, you are edgy. We all get it. Now shut the fuck up.
2. J.K. Simmons had the best lines in the movie. Now I almost feel bad that Vern got shit on…almost.
3. Jennifer Garner has the biggest ears in Hollywood. I swear to God those things are like boat sails.
*and by “made” I mean she put it on the TV that I was facing.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
So WTF??
So what the fuck happened, you ask?
You shine a tiny ray of hope into the dreary, humdrum void we call a life and then smack it away like a cupcake from the hands of a fat kid. You hook us in with your witty, insightful commentary on life in the good old USA and sore balls only to suddenly leave us cold and alone, too scared to ever face the cruel world again. Well fuck off, Bob!
Hey, get over yourselves people. It’s just a blog.
Besides, I have a really good reason for quitting and you’ll be sorry you bitched when you hear it.
As you may remember, shortly before I went off the air my “Mother” had found the site purely by accident. She lurked for a while, but then eventually talked to me about it. Well “talked” isn’t exactly accurate. Confronted is more like it.
She went off on this whole big thing about how I was falling apart and the blog was just more proof. She started yelling about my “raunchy” language and “life destroying” drinking and something else about “compulsive” gambling. I’m not even sure, because it seemed to go on forever. She went on and on about how I was in no condition lead my own life let alone be responsible for a family. Well “family” isn’t exactly accurate either since The Wife had already left me by this time, so it was just Pink and I at the house. But in my defense, I knew I did a pretty good job raising Pink to this point so I knew she could step up for her share of the cooking and cleaning.
Well about the end of fall, my “Mother” was already scheming with her bitch lawyer to take my little girl away from me. I guess she thought she could do a better job and you know how the courts hate a single father. I really didn’t have the money to fight them much, but as it turned out I didn’t need it anyway.
I’m heading to work one morning, late as usual and come to a red light about a mile or so from the house. Light turns green, I start out and get about halfway through the intersection when…and I shit you not…I get fucking T-boned by a fucking dump truck from some construction company that’s putting up condos down the road.
I really don’t remember much about the accident. I woke up in the hospital three days later with fourteen broken bones. I spent the next eight weeks in traction and the doc said I was lucky to be alive. What he didn’t know was that not only was I lucky to be alive, my luck was running particularly well that day my friend.
That dump truck that hit me was from the Johnson and Sons contracting which was doing pretty good, money wise, in the local area. My lawyer said just from that I should be set for life, but God bashed that eight tons of iron into the side of my car for a totally different reason. The dumbfuck that was driving the dump truck just happened to be my “Mother’s” bitch lawyer’s nephew. Do you need another “and I shit you not”?
Long story short, everything works out in the end. I get a shitload of money in the settlement. My “Mother” gets off my back and even The Wife comes back to me once she finds out my balls are lined with gold.
Which brings me to the blog. We just got back from the Virgin Islands and I thought, “I should really get Bob’s Bar and Grill back online.”
See. Aren’t you sorry you bitched?
You shine a tiny ray of hope into the dreary, humdrum void we call a life and then smack it away like a cupcake from the hands of a fat kid. You hook us in with your witty, insightful commentary on life in the good old USA and sore balls only to suddenly leave us cold and alone, too scared to ever face the cruel world again. Well fuck off, Bob!
Hey, get over yourselves people. It’s just a blog.
Besides, I have a really good reason for quitting and you’ll be sorry you bitched when you hear it.
As you may remember, shortly before I went off the air my “Mother” had found the site purely by accident. She lurked for a while, but then eventually talked to me about it. Well “talked” isn’t exactly accurate. Confronted is more like it.
She went off on this whole big thing about how I was falling apart and the blog was just more proof. She started yelling about my “raunchy” language and “life destroying” drinking and something else about “compulsive” gambling. I’m not even sure, because it seemed to go on forever. She went on and on about how I was in no condition lead my own life let alone be responsible for a family. Well “family” isn’t exactly accurate either since The Wife had already left me by this time, so it was just Pink and I at the house. But in my defense, I knew I did a pretty good job raising Pink to this point so I knew she could step up for her share of the cooking and cleaning.
Well about the end of fall, my “Mother” was already scheming with her bitch lawyer to take my little girl away from me. I guess she thought she could do a better job and you know how the courts hate a single father. I really didn’t have the money to fight them much, but as it turned out I didn’t need it anyway.
I’m heading to work one morning, late as usual and come to a red light about a mile or so from the house. Light turns green, I start out and get about halfway through the intersection when…and I shit you not…I get fucking T-boned by a fucking dump truck from some construction company that’s putting up condos down the road.
I really don’t remember much about the accident. I woke up in the hospital three days later with fourteen broken bones. I spent the next eight weeks in traction and the doc said I was lucky to be alive. What he didn’t know was that not only was I lucky to be alive, my luck was running particularly well that day my friend.
That dump truck that hit me was from the Johnson and Sons contracting which was doing pretty good, money wise, in the local area. My lawyer said just from that I should be set for life, but God bashed that eight tons of iron into the side of my car for a totally different reason. The dumbfuck that was driving the dump truck just happened to be my “Mother’s” bitch lawyer’s nephew. Do you need another “and I shit you not”?
Long story short, everything works out in the end. I get a shitload of money in the settlement. My “Mother” gets off my back and even The Wife comes back to me once she finds out my balls are lined with gold.
Which brings me to the blog. We just got back from the Virgin Islands and I thought, “I should really get Bob’s Bar and Grill back online.”
See. Aren’t you sorry you bitched?
I'm Back
Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you, you're cool, Fuck you, I'm out...no wait. I mean I'm back.
Howdy folks.
Howdy folks.
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