Oops, my bad and shit...

**********"There's no such thing as an ugly baby..."**********
... is something that people of a few positions say:
  1. People too chickenshit to tell their family/friends that they have ugly babies.
  2. People who, for whatever reason, take a liking to believing bullshit. These people are usually female and probably believe the crap perpetuated by Disney movies.
  3. People with ugly babies.
A better approach to this might not be a lie to someone who may so happen to have given birth to a gremlin.
... or some other hideous deformity that they may be trying to pass off as an infant.
Sure, it may be less than acceptable to immediately yell "GOT DAYUM!!!" when they pull back the cover to show you the child in that stroller, but please please PLEASE don't try to sell them the dream.
Yes, people, there IS a such thing as an ugly baby.


While making my normal rounds this morning, I saw where someone wrote in to an advice column on how to handle or approach her younger sister, who moved back into their parents' basement. Her issue was not necessarily that her sister was in her parents basement, but more that her sister had taken on the approach of protesting damn near any and everything. Specifically, she had adopted some shit called "Freeganism" (yes, that is a link), wherein participants basically go dumpster diving for food that is past their display dates, but not necessarily their edible dates.
Now, while this MIGHT not be such a bad idea, one such as myself remembers our first job at Winn Dixie back in 1995. I do not recall foods passing their display dates and being trashed unless there was something wrong with them. They would be manually marked down to a very attractive price over their last couple of days in stock, then I SWEAR management would just take them home in the infrequent instances where being sold for about a third of original price. The only things I actually recall making it to the trash were recalled goods (though these were usually taking to the crusher out back to be destroyed), damaged goods (usually damaged due to our backroom shenanigans), dairy, seafood and produce items.
This is where it gets hairy...
The things that DID make it to the trash went to the SAME trash cans as things such as bathroom discards, cleaning supplies (mop heads, old broom heads, gloves, disposable smocks, etc.) and no time was spent -- or even necessary -- to discern differences between food trash and "general" trash. What this means, people, is that these filthy motherfuckers are digging food out of rusty dumpsters that reek of spoiled food, and pulling out stuff that is very frequently steeped in days-old perishables, like old seafood items, sour milk and rotting lettuce, not to mention the mops used to clean the piss from the bathroom floors that week. You know what they do with what they find after that? THEY FUCKING EAT IT!!!
Now, I cannot lay specific or any special claims to the draw in this shit, nor can I name a good reason for the commitment to the questionable legalities of digging through dumpsters after store hours (well, with the only exception being homelessness), but I can DAMNED FUCKING SURE say with conviction that I am not committed to ANY one thing that would cause me, knowing what I know, to do some stupid shit like this under my own free will.
Call me a consumer whore if you want to, but I will take my chances with paying for my food for as long as I can afford to do so.

**********On the phone Monday...**********
Talking to Katie about my ongoing bullshit with the IRS, I was talking about how I had to locate my 2003 W-2s... I'd explained how I went through the paperwork of all my tax stuffs that I could locate down through the years, including paystubs dating all the way back to my aforementioned first job back in 1995. I don't know WHY I keep all this shit, but I am thankful that I did for the sake of possibly clearing this shitty shittiness with the Government.
Anyway, I went back to the box that the W2 form HAPPENED to be at the damned top of of while I was on the phone and had one of my "­­­¿que eso?" (otherwise known as "'da fuck?!") moments, as I noticed a 1:64-Scale Datsun 510:


Thanks, IRS, for not COMPLETELY fucking up my day off.

That's my new word for things that begin in ernest and wind up becoming innuendous (another of my "new words") in nature. It is hilarious, though, how these things unfold, as they're almost always found in childrens' sections of stores like Target, or in this case Toys R Us on a rainy Saturday a couple weeks ago.

(yep, that's what I told her, hehehehe... Only difference is when I said it, she was not an infant)

(explanation none needed, come on now)

(this one is not necessarily innuendous, but what's with the child who is quite obviously of terrorist descent there talking to Jeebus?)

(again, not necessarily innuendous, just plain-assed silly)

(and here we have a small child in a full split, asking "Guess Where I am..." Sometimes these jokes write themselves)

Maybe it is me, and perhaps I am reading entirely too much into this. I mean, I know I have a fucked up sense of humor. Well, maybe my sense of humor is not quite that fucked up in that I can really find something to laugh at in anything on the planet, and nothing is off limits, not even Chris Brown and Rihanna and their escapades of dumbassity.

**********I am barely 5'8"...**********
... and when I was 18, I could dunk on a regulation goal.
Go off into the real world, then school, then back to the real world and I, um... Well, don't possess that skill anymore...
Yesterday in the gym, I was working out, Friday is back/shoulders day, so I was on set 5 of Lat pull-downs when I get a tap on the shoulder.
"We need one more for a full, you in?"
"... um, sure, lemme rack these weights, I'll be right in there"
What I was thinking, though, was "FUCK!!!" as I had planned on NOT playing ball yesterday. I was somewhere in the middle of one of scenarios.
  1. I am getting BACK good with the basketball.
  2. They were THAT desperate for a 10th.
I know my relentless approach to practice has gotten my jump shot back to respectability in the face of my increasing strength and decreasing weight, so much that people actually DEFEND it instead of daring me to pull one up.
I know my foot speed is better than it was some months ago, and I have never NOT been a great on-ball defender, people have always had a hard time getting around me on the dribble.
What led me to actually feel better about it is that I was asked to play AND I was not picked last, in fact a couple people wandered in behind me and I was not the one waiting to pick up the next game...
Ran one 3-on-3 half court and two 5-on-5 fulls, and outside that I had on a pair of undies that were too big, only obvious when moving laterally (like, on defense), I had a great set of games. My team held the court for all 3, I wound up leaving due to time constraints and all, but I am feeling very good about my gains here.

I am not wardrobally (yeah, just made that up) prepared for this shit...
I mean, I have lost 65 pounds since last spring. Yes, my shorts are fine, since I wear them all year anyway (yes, ask anyone, I DO wear shorts in 30° weather, so long as nothing is falling). Moms is the BEST seamstress that I or anyone reading this knows, so making my bottoms fit right is no issue, not to mention losing back into the wearing of shit that hadn't been out of the closet in YEARS due to my own fatassery.
I want new shirts, damn you!
I mean, my short sleeves have been relegated to workout duty, and in such are washed more than ANYTHING I have ever worn in the last 10 years out of simple necessity... I will need to go to Champs and bomb the 4-for-20 (formerly known as the "5-for-20," damn you George Herbert Walker Bush!) with about a hundred bucks for daily-duty shirts...
I hate that Steve And Barry's stores are closing, since I have actually come to LIKE their shorts down through the years, as they fit me and my odd shape (slimming waist, large thighs) better than Old Navy and the fact that I HATE Levis shorts, even though Levis Silvertabs and Girbaud Brand X are my FAVORITE jeans.
... I'm rambling...

July 1 is 14 and a half weeks out, I will be 30.
I need:
  1. Another hard drive... SATA and 500GB is preferred. If the drive is external, anything larger will be fine, internal caps at 500, please.
  2. A new camera. I do not need an SLR, but I do understand that a million megapixels are fucking useless without proper filters and such, so I just want a good point and shoot.
  3. Electronics, and gift cards/certificates are lovely. Best Buy and Amazon are naturally the places to start.
I want:
  1. Another tattoo, in fact, I plan to be in Holly's chair ON the morning of my birthday, but you can all stand down, that is lined up.
  2. A pair of basketball sneakers, Nike, size 10.5, white or black only please.
  3. Cash
  4. Alcohol, and in fact, I would LOVE a good expensive bottle of Scotch.
  5. Model cars/motorcycles/airplanes... I have a list built on 3000toys.com, please check in with me if interested in helping me fill it.
  6. Car stuff... This ranges from maintenance items to modifications... As is the norm with me, I have a list built, feel free to check in with me for how you can help.
  7. A Playstation 3

**********Holy fucking hell!!!**********
I have been sitting and looking at this blog in my drafts for days and forgot to post it...
Oops, my bad.


Wayne Edwards said…
I was wondering what the deal was.

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