May 15th!
BOSTON!
Hard Rock.
Be there, tool bags!
http://www.ticketweb.com/t3/sale/SaleEventDetail?dispatch=loadSelectionData&eventId=882434
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Mind the gap!
I totally heart the parking lawt at Exeter, DOOD!
I'm all aflutter when I see the ~SIX INCHES of solid ice sitting perched like an expansive yet proportionally wee glacier and completely obscuring the lonely, cold tarmac below.
Even more lovely are the swirls of deliciously salty, snow-cone-esque whateverthefarkyoucallit snowy shiat floating like unholy frosting (if hell had a bakery) upon the aforementioned wee glacial flow. If you squint, which you can't help but do lest your friggin' eyeballs freeze open, the butts and assorted detrius mixed into the snow-cone shiat kinda look like jimmies. Or "sprinkles" if you're not from around here. Learn to use "jimmies" so you don't get mocked incessantly.
Best of all?? The proverbial icing on the...uh...glacier? I am crazy-excited about the new hole in my hand that I scored, sort of like a bonus prize, from falling the f*@k DOWN on that (@#*&(@* wee glacier, atop which the mothertruckin' frostingy SHIAT sits.
DEAR EXETER: It's called SODIUM CHLORIDE (and sometimes Calcium Carbonate or something). TRY IT SOME TIME, DAMNIT!
Oh, pahkin' lawt in Eksettah - how I love dee, lemme count d'ways. It's not your fault you remain locked away from the world, almost completely sealed in solid ice for like 5 months of the year. I mean, you don't have hands. Or a brain. You're just a semi-solid petroleum by-product with which we pave our streets and other walky places with. I mean, you can't really be expected to shovel yourself, now, could you??? So perhaps there exists some other, secret, more sinister reason behind just why it is that you sport such an impressive mantle of nature's shiat-pops?
Perhaps a memo was circulated, and I had the misfortune to miss out? Maybe we were all admonished by the Guardian Traingels to wear shoes outfitted with cleats? Spikes? Chains? Advised to grow aberrantly long toenails to improve traction and/or odds? Surely, I must have missed out on critical information somewhere in all of this, because the last time I checked, nature did not properly equip me with the ability to run at full speed across a solid sheet of ice, while chasing a 3,000 hp diesel engine, carrying a sack of crap, drinking coffee and wearing office shoes.
WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!!!!???
parking-space hogging snowbanks make baby jesus cry....
I'm all aflutter when I see the ~SIX INCHES of solid ice sitting perched like an expansive yet proportionally wee glacier and completely obscuring the lonely, cold tarmac below.
Even more lovely are the swirls of deliciously salty, snow-cone-esque whateverthefarkyoucallit snowy shiat floating like unholy frosting (if hell had a bakery) upon the aforementioned wee glacial flow. If you squint, which you can't help but do lest your friggin' eyeballs freeze open, the butts and assorted detrius mixed into the snow-cone shiat kinda look like jimmies. Or "sprinkles" if you're not from around here. Learn to use "jimmies" so you don't get mocked incessantly.
Best of all?? The proverbial icing on the...uh...glacier? I am crazy-excited about the new hole in my hand that I scored, sort of like a bonus prize, from falling the f*@k DOWN on that (@#*&(@* wee glacier, atop which the mothertruckin' frostingy SHIAT sits.
DEAR EXETER: It's called SODIUM CHLORIDE (and sometimes Calcium Carbonate or something). TRY IT SOME TIME, DAMNIT!
Oh, pahkin' lawt in Eksettah - how I love dee, lemme count d'ways. It's not your fault you remain locked away from the world, almost completely sealed in solid ice for like 5 months of the year. I mean, you don't have hands. Or a brain. You're just a semi-solid petroleum by-product with which we pave our streets and other walky places with. I mean, you can't really be expected to shovel yourself, now, could you??? So perhaps there exists some other, secret, more sinister reason behind just why it is that you sport such an impressive mantle of nature's shiat-pops?
Perhaps a memo was circulated, and I had the misfortune to miss out? Maybe we were all admonished by the Guardian Traingels to wear shoes outfitted with cleats? Spikes? Chains? Advised to grow aberrantly long toenails to improve traction and/or odds? Surely, I must have missed out on critical information somewhere in all of this, because the last time I checked, nature did not properly equip me with the ability to run at full speed across a solid sheet of ice, while chasing a 3,000 hp diesel engine, carrying a sack of crap, drinking coffee and wearing office shoes.
WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!!!!???
parking-space hogging snowbanks make baby jesus cry....
I love Mayor Menino!
Oh, you Bostonians. How you love to villify your sweet, gentlemanly, huggy-bear of a Mayor. You should be ashamed of yourselves! The worst thing you can come up with about the dear man is that he talks funny. Let me tell yas, if I weren't from here, I'd think you folks sound pretty tahded too. Since I am a local though, I love you doods - yah dood, you from Eastie! You crazy irish bastids from Sout'ie. The chicks with the big hayah from Reveyah, and other points Nawth. But I digress.
Our fine mayor actually gives a crap. He does a fine job of running a tough city. Politics, in it's entirety, frankly sucks. You can never, ever please everyone - hell, you're lucky if you can even get one side to simmah down wit da biatching (and the other side will more than make up for the vacuum left by the decrease in biatching by biatching harder, louder, and more ahssholishly). Mayor Menino, as of yet, has been relatively free from the scumbaggery that so many of his peers have been derailed by. He's no Blagojevich (that raging ASSHAT-cum-used car salesman-looking douche). He hasn't been busted banging underage choir boys in a bathroom in South Station. We have yet to see him captured on film snorting blow off of a hooker's arse. he hasn't been the target of an FBI sting operation to stem the tide of human trafficking. He isn't on vacation 374 days a year. He's a man of the people, versus a pompus, slick-haired Ken doll whose only goal in attaining office was to use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things.
Nope - Mayor Menino is a good dude. Can't understand what he says sometimes? It's called a 'rewind' button - try it. Still no good? Read a transcript. Get off the guy's arse though, because really, would you rather have a guy at the helm whose every word you could understand, but was a dirty, corrupt, soulless asshat? No. You wouldn't. So shut it and let's give some props to THE MAN!!
RAWK ON MAYOR MENINO!
Our fine mayor actually gives a crap. He does a fine job of running a tough city. Politics, in it's entirety, frankly sucks. You can never, ever please everyone - hell, you're lucky if you can even get one side to simmah down wit da biatching (and the other side will more than make up for the vacuum left by the decrease in biatching by biatching harder, louder, and more ahssholishly). Mayor Menino, as of yet, has been relatively free from the scumbaggery that so many of his peers have been derailed by. He's no Blagojevich (that raging ASSHAT-cum-used car salesman-looking douche). He hasn't been busted banging underage choir boys in a bathroom in South Station. We have yet to see him captured on film snorting blow off of a hooker's arse. he hasn't been the target of an FBI sting operation to stem the tide of human trafficking. He isn't on vacation 374 days a year. He's a man of the people, versus a pompus, slick-haired Ken doll whose only goal in attaining office was to use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things.
Nope - Mayor Menino is a good dude. Can't understand what he says sometimes? It's called a 'rewind' button - try it. Still no good? Read a transcript. Get off the guy's arse though, because really, would you rather have a guy at the helm whose every word you could understand, but was a dirty, corrupt, soulless asshat? No. You wouldn't. So shut it and let's give some props to THE MAN!!
RAWK ON MAYOR MENINO!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Our Rail-Riding Brethren.....
Props to you unlucky bastards. I feel for you - truly, I do.
Let us have a moment of silence, TrainWrecks, and admonish the Rail Gods to spare us such a fate....
About 150 Rescued From 2 Disabled NY Trains
NEW YORK - About 150 passengers have been rescued from two disabled commuter trains coming from New York that lost heat and electricity in a nearly three-hour ordeal.
A railroad official says the passengers got stranded on the two Metro-North trains between Bridgeport and Stratford stations in Connecticut about 3:40 a.m. Thursday. Service has been suspended.
Metro-North spokesman Dan Brucker says several thousand feet of overhead wires that send power to the trains became entangled and torn, cutting off power.
He says passengers were safely helped to a rescue train by about 6:25 a.m. by emergency personnel. The rescue operation was delayed because of the need to lift wires from the tracks and secure other safety hazards.
Let us have a moment of silence, TrainWrecks, and admonish the Rail Gods to spare us such a fate....
About 150 Rescued From 2 Disabled NY Trains
NEW YORK - About 150 passengers have been rescued from two disabled commuter trains coming from New York that lost heat and electricity in a nearly three-hour ordeal.
A railroad official says the passengers got stranded on the two Metro-North trains between Bridgeport and Stratford stations in Connecticut about 3:40 a.m. Thursday. Service has been suspended.
Metro-North spokesman Dan Brucker says several thousand feet of overhead wires that send power to the trains became entangled and torn, cutting off power.
He says passengers were safely helped to a rescue train by about 6:25 a.m. by emergency personnel. The rescue operation was delayed because of the need to lift wires from the tracks and secure other safety hazards.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
And you thought YOU wuz hardcore!
Yeah, you've got your parties / martinis / drag races / hedge fund trading and all dat shiat, but don't be hatin' when I tell you about MY blazin' New Year's Eve. OMFG - you might want to sit down - you gawn be SOOOO jealous of my continent of WIN. For reals.
Oh yeah - had a day utterly RIFE with WIN. Chock FULL O'Win, if you will. Work up at 4:30am after a crazy wierd "plane crash / fire" dream. I noted the oddest characteristic of the dream was the fire. And not just the fire that ensued from the plane crash, but the fact that the fire...formed...a circle. Almost. A "ring", if you will. A ring....of fire! OMG! Johnny Cash! Maybe today is bonus day!!! (Turns out, it was, and it was good, and I felt quite warm and squishy about it all).
After my shift at the shoemakery, I thought to myself "self, let's be BAD ASSED and live a little - Let's go BUY SOCKS!!!". Oh hell yeah - knee socks baby. And not a moment too soon. it's BALLS ASSED COLD outside. Fortunately, the latest in a string of bullshit storms was winding down as I scurried to and fro from the office, er, cobblery-haus, to the Socks-R-Us and on to the trolley station, where I had just enough time to enjoy a delicious beverage before catching the Polar Express back to the Hinterlandshires. It was a tasty beverage.
The train. Oh, the fuckin' train that I spend WAYYYYYYY-hay-hay too much time on. How I both love and loathe thee. It's important to note, dear reader, that on any given night, you never know what mayhem / delays / freaks will ensue and particularly on holidays. It's one of the immutable truths (read: 8th circle of HELL) that if it's a holiday evening and you (as a 'regular') are sorry enough to have to be riding the train, it's going to suck BALLS. And suck em it did.
On the menu for tonight's festivities? Check it....
*the drunk lady who is quickly interacting with others in a far too familiar way (and then proceeds to go smoke in the bathroom)
* the official who isn't all that concerned with the drunk lady smoking in the bathroom on the train, since that table over there has a couple of hot 20-something "nursing students" with awesome racks and they look like they might need some assistance!
*The alarmingly regular 1/2 hour delay alongside the car wash in Wilmington or some other "drive thru" place like that. The fuckin' place at least used to have a funky statue of Jupiter or some other ancient diety, complete with shween-shaped lettuce leaf (so at least there was that....what? don't look at me with that condescending look - let me throw you in semi-solitary for three hours a day and see if you aren't like "wow, look at the fuckin orange paint chips on the corner of that wall - they're in different places than they were the other day!"). They got rid of the statue, the asshats. Probably too many old broads bitching about the nudity. Or maybe jealous wee men.
*the overly friendly mentally challenged young person, wandering about, freely giving out bear hugs and if you're really nice, perhaps even some slobber!
*the unfortunate cat that skids right on past that "stop drinking NOW!!!!" red-line and plows head-first into "oh shit - this has no shot at ending well for you, dood".
The icing on the cake? After all this, I get to pull the ride out of the pile of snow it had been plowed into and clean it off. By myself. In the freezing fuckin' cold.
So I was the sober one, the designated nanny. I'm fuckin' glad I'm home, man. Now the party is in full motherfuckin' effizzekt, complete with:
*a lame free movie on cable (it was marginal at best)
*something nearly devoid of nutritional value for dinner
*Mr. Absurd already asleep
*nothing of ANY redeeming value to zone out to on the tewb.
The one bright spot is a nice splash of a lovely single-malt (an Islay, I think). Tasty. And soon? Sleep. I loves me some sleep, oh hell yes I do.
Sadly, no one gave much of a fuck about my new socks. How do you NOT get at least a semi over cotton knee socks and live in the TUNDRA!?!??!?! -Kneesocks, OUT!
p.s. what in the fuck kind of New Year's Eve bullshit is this Kelly Pickler CRAP!?!?!?? And Lionel Ritchie? What fuckin' year is it? Was there some sort of schism in the cosmic fabric that took place when I wasn't looking? One which somehow transmuted Manhattan back through the bleak and empty space looming between nothingness and the future and head-on into the ugliest period of the 1980s? OMFG. I have yet to see the Dick Clark animatronicbot, however. that poor old bastard. Props, Mr. Clark
Here's a scene from my life, on the train...on New Year's Eve. I've mercifully left the inebriated out of the picture (cept the drunk lady who smoked in the loo -- she's on the left, sitting at a table).
.
Oh yeah - had a day utterly RIFE with WIN. Chock FULL O'Win, if you will. Work up at 4:30am after a crazy wierd "plane crash / fire" dream. I noted the oddest characteristic of the dream was the fire. And not just the fire that ensued from the plane crash, but the fact that the fire...formed...a circle. Almost. A "ring", if you will. A ring....of fire! OMG! Johnny Cash! Maybe today is bonus day!!! (Turns out, it was, and it was good, and I felt quite warm and squishy about it all).
After my shift at the shoemakery, I thought to myself "self, let's be BAD ASSED and live a little - Let's go BUY SOCKS!!!". Oh hell yeah - knee socks baby. And not a moment too soon. it's BALLS ASSED COLD outside. Fortunately, the latest in a string of bullshit storms was winding down as I scurried to and fro from the office, er, cobblery-haus, to the Socks-R-Us and on to the trolley station, where I had just enough time to enjoy a delicious beverage before catching the Polar Express back to the Hinterlandshires. It was a tasty beverage.
The train. Oh, the fuckin' train that I spend WAYYYYYYY-hay-hay too much time on. How I both love and loathe thee. It's important to note, dear reader, that on any given night, you never know what mayhem / delays / freaks will ensue and particularly on holidays. It's one of the immutable truths (read: 8th circle of HELL) that if it's a holiday evening and you (as a 'regular') are sorry enough to have to be riding the train, it's going to suck BALLS. And suck em it did.
On the menu for tonight's festivities? Check it....
*the drunk lady who is quickly interacting with others in a far too familiar way (and then proceeds to go smoke in the bathroom)
* the official who isn't all that concerned with the drunk lady smoking in the bathroom on the train, since that table over there has a couple of hot 20-something "nursing students" with awesome racks and they look like they might need some assistance!
*The alarmingly regular 1/2 hour delay alongside the car wash in Wilmington or some other "drive thru" place like that. The fuckin' place at least used to have a funky statue of Jupiter or some other ancient diety, complete with shween-shaped lettuce leaf (so at least there was that....what? don't look at me with that condescending look - let me throw you in semi-solitary for three hours a day and see if you aren't like "wow, look at the fuckin orange paint chips on the corner of that wall - they're in different places than they were the other day!"). They got rid of the statue, the asshats. Probably too many old broads bitching about the nudity. Or maybe jealous wee men.
*the overly friendly mentally challenged young person, wandering about, freely giving out bear hugs and if you're really nice, perhaps even some slobber!
*the unfortunate cat that skids right on past that "stop drinking NOW!!!!" red-line and plows head-first into "oh shit - this has no shot at ending well for you, dood".
The icing on the cake? After all this, I get to pull the ride out of the pile of snow it had been plowed into and clean it off. By myself. In the freezing fuckin' cold.
So I was the sober one, the designated nanny. I'm fuckin' glad I'm home, man. Now the party is in full motherfuckin' effizzekt, complete with:
*a lame free movie on cable (it was marginal at best)
*something nearly devoid of nutritional value for dinner
*Mr. Absurd already asleep
*nothing of ANY redeeming value to zone out to on the tewb.
The one bright spot is a nice splash of a lovely single-malt (an Islay, I think). Tasty. And soon? Sleep. I loves me some sleep, oh hell yes I do.
Sadly, no one gave much of a fuck about my new socks. How do you NOT get at least a semi over cotton knee socks and live in the TUNDRA!?!??!?! -Kneesocks, OUT!
p.s. what in the fuck kind of New Year's Eve bullshit is this Kelly Pickler CRAP!?!?!?? And Lionel Ritchie? What fuckin' year is it? Was there some sort of schism in the cosmic fabric that took place when I wasn't looking? One which somehow transmuted Manhattan back through the bleak and empty space looming between nothingness and the future and head-on into the ugliest period of the 1980s? OMFG. I have yet to see the Dick Clark animatronicbot, however. that poor old bastard. Props, Mr. Clark
Here's a scene from my life, on the train...on New Year's Eve. I've mercifully left the inebriated out of the picture (cept the drunk lady who smoked in the loo -- she's on the left, sitting at a table).
.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Musings...
Random thoughts. With your host, Patently Absurd...
On Palin:
You know, the Palin / "Sarkozy" fake phonecall was neither fun nor funny. She didn't come off any worse than the 90-hundred other times she came off as a total moron. I'm not entirely convinced she was fully hoodwinked, and frankly, she may have been being a good sport and just going along with the joke.
That being said, that is the one and only thing you will EVER hear me say on the subject of Palin that even remotely could be construed as less-than-bile-soaked. Because truly, that woman is a TARD, and I find virtually nothing redeeming or even likable about her. Her fake, overdone "hockey mom-cum-hillbilly" shtick made me nauseous from day one, and her ONLY saving grace with me was that she was SO retarded and SUCH an asshat that at very least she provided HOURS of angry drunken blogging. Also too, I do a MEAN impression of her, so there's that. How so, Charlie?
On America:
Thank you, America. Thank you from the bottom of my HEART for not driving us completely and totally over the precipice of utter ruin by electing McFailin'08. I heart you, nation!
On Fundies:
2008 was truly the year I came into my own as a person who LOATHES fundies. I thought maybe I just didn't like hypocrites or religious wackjobs or maybe I just didn't like ignorant people who blindly followed some failure of logic. Turns out, I hate ALL of those things, and 2008 gave my hatred a name. And it's name is FUNDIES. I pray every day that Jesus comes back. I wicked, WICKED want to meet Jesus and ask him just like maybe one or two questions. Failing being given the forum within which to pose questions to his Jesusness, I would be completely satisfied to just hear Jesus say "WOW - you people really didn't get anything I said right, didjas??". That would be heavenly. Divine, one might say!
I guess that's it for now. Probably nothing you haven't read here before, but it's been a couple of screwed up weeks and I'm pretty beat.
Here's to a marginally better 2009 for most of us.
On Palin:
You know, the Palin / "Sarkozy" fake phonecall was neither fun nor funny. She didn't come off any worse than the 90-hundred other times she came off as a total moron. I'm not entirely convinced she was fully hoodwinked, and frankly, she may have been being a good sport and just going along with the joke.
That being said, that is the one and only thing you will EVER hear me say on the subject of Palin that even remotely could be construed as less-than-bile-soaked. Because truly, that woman is a TARD, and I find virtually nothing redeeming or even likable about her. Her fake, overdone "hockey mom-cum-hillbilly" shtick made me nauseous from day one, and her ONLY saving grace with me was that she was SO retarded and SUCH an asshat that at very least she provided HOURS of angry drunken blogging. Also too, I do a MEAN impression of her, so there's that. How so, Charlie?
On America:
Thank you, America. Thank you from the bottom of my HEART for not driving us completely and totally over the precipice of utter ruin by electing McFailin'08. I heart you, nation!
On Fundies:
2008 was truly the year I came into my own as a person who LOATHES fundies. I thought maybe I just didn't like hypocrites or religious wackjobs or maybe I just didn't like ignorant people who blindly followed some failure of logic. Turns out, I hate ALL of those things, and 2008 gave my hatred a name. And it's name is FUNDIES. I pray every day that Jesus comes back. I wicked, WICKED want to meet Jesus and ask him just like maybe one or two questions. Failing being given the forum within which to pose questions to his Jesusness, I would be completely satisfied to just hear Jesus say "WOW - you people really didn't get anything I said right, didjas??". That would be heavenly. Divine, one might say!
I guess that's it for now. Probably nothing you haven't read here before, but it's been a couple of screwed up weeks and I'm pretty beat.
Here's to a marginally better 2009 for most of us.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Mmmm, delish!
So, during the course of searching for a bastardized crab rangoon recipe (to include shrimp, or something along those lines), I came across this recipe, and I'm going to make it right this very minute! Very excited. Went to Wally World this afternoon to buy the neighbor boy a present (he and his folks were supposed to come over and surreptitiously blew us off, which really pisses me off and over which I'm still rather stewing....steam / steam) and I threw a sleeve of won ton wrappers into the basket (together with the Star Wars(tm) Lego (tm)* sets and the tackle box thing I figured the neighborboy would like - given that all young kids seem to go ape shiat over filling random containers with random shiat, removing said shiat and repeating endlessly). I was fixin' to make something like crab rangoon (either using shrimp or relying on the crab cake mixture I have left over from Xmas Eve). So the recipe. Looks DELISH, and I'm adding the foodie blogger to my WIN list. Said foodie is in good company, methinks.
More Xmas Shizzle
The elder, 'The Little General' as I lovingly refer to her, decorating the tree. And by decorating, I mean taking ornaments that I had already used to decorate a window and using them for her own devices.
Here's the younger demon vexing Mr. Absurd.
Here's how I feel about the 2.75 days of snow we received last weekend...
Christmas Eve 2008. Note the death grip on the wee demon. Also note the smile on my face. I cracked the wine at about 11am, and by this time, I was pretty steeped in holiday cheer of the long-chain carbon type. Being that I'm not a chemistry major, I'm uncertain that my attempt at foofing up "alcohol" was anywhere close to correct.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Fuckin' Christmas, biatches.
Ah, delicious! It's christmas - so in my house, that means:
* I'm opening the booze at like 11am. I fuckin hate christmas. However, I hate this one far less than those that have come before.
* both of my parents are here this lovely Xmas eve - now, keep in mind they got divorced when I was 11, and now....I'm wicked fucken old, and it saves me a shitload of money on therapy that they can come up, hang out, get along and chill with me. I love those old bastards.
* we're watching our first round of "A Christmas Carol" - the lesser one (1938) with Sir Reginald Owen. Up on deck is the quintessential Christmas Carol with Alastair Simm (1951) that I paid $21.95 to have delivered overnight just so my dad could revel in it's awesomeness. WTF - totally worth it - he won't be around forever. And when he's not, I'll dissolve into a hysterial ball of snot and tears. yeah, I said it.
* Did the quick and dirty shopping trip this morning, and made crab cakes, celeriac remoulade, stuffed mushrooms (that haven't been touched yet, cuz we're jrunk and full), artichoke dip, shrimp, suasage rolls (that also haven't been touched yet - ibid).
* Kids kinda BLOW - ungrateful asshats. Yeah, I SAID IT.
*I love you, my peeps - those of you I commune with / travel with / live with / chat with / identify with - I love yas. You each bring something so special and unique to my life, and I'm blessed in a wicked ghey way to know you. I appreciate you for who you are, I applaud your moxie (because that's apt. APT!) and I'm utterly fortunate to have made your acqauaintance.
* Now they're opening presents and because of the shiat assed weather and my retarded work-life schedule, I haven't wrapped my parents' presents, nor have I wrapped two of my children's presents. Sux 2 B U, people.
* My wee goober face, Natalie, is the goddamned cutest thing on two legs. She's wearing the older one's shoes and screwing around with ribbons and wrapping paper (which makes her awesome in my eyes) as opposed to the older one, who is busying herself being the EPITOMY of ungrateful bizznatch, and for which I'm resenting her. Yes, I know my english sucks - John - I'm sorry, but I've been drinking since about noon, and frankly, I'm filled with piss and vinegar, so I fail at literary. Fortunately, I suspect you will still commiserate with me, and will share alcoholic libations with me within the confines of our Shiny Metal Box (tm).
Happy Christmas and Haunukkah and shit, bitches. I send you my love / props / hugs / all that ghey shiat.
Mmmmm I also ate oysters tonight. YUM!
My parents are now bitching at me, so I fear I must close here. Frickin' parents. Hug em if you got em. They don't live forever.
* I'm opening the booze at like 11am. I fuckin hate christmas. However, I hate this one far less than those that have come before.
* both of my parents are here this lovely Xmas eve - now, keep in mind they got divorced when I was 11, and now....I'm wicked fucken old, and it saves me a shitload of money on therapy that they can come up, hang out, get along and chill with me. I love those old bastards.
* we're watching our first round of "A Christmas Carol" - the lesser one (1938) with Sir Reginald Owen. Up on deck is the quintessential Christmas Carol with Alastair Simm (1951) that I paid $21.95 to have delivered overnight just so my dad could revel in it's awesomeness. WTF - totally worth it - he won't be around forever. And when he's not, I'll dissolve into a hysterial ball of snot and tears. yeah, I said it.
* Did the quick and dirty shopping trip this morning, and made crab cakes, celeriac remoulade, stuffed mushrooms (that haven't been touched yet, cuz we're jrunk and full), artichoke dip, shrimp, suasage rolls (that also haven't been touched yet - ibid).
* Kids kinda BLOW - ungrateful asshats. Yeah, I SAID IT.
*I love you, my peeps - those of you I commune with / travel with / live with / chat with / identify with - I love yas. You each bring something so special and unique to my life, and I'm blessed in a wicked ghey way to know you. I appreciate you for who you are, I applaud your moxie (because that's apt. APT!) and I'm utterly fortunate to have made your acqauaintance.
* Now they're opening presents and because of the shiat assed weather and my retarded work-life schedule, I haven't wrapped my parents' presents, nor have I wrapped two of my children's presents. Sux 2 B U, people.
* My wee goober face, Natalie, is the goddamned cutest thing on two legs. She's wearing the older one's shoes and screwing around with ribbons and wrapping paper (which makes her awesome in my eyes) as opposed to the older one, who is busying herself being the EPITOMY of ungrateful bizznatch, and for which I'm resenting her. Yes, I know my english sucks - John - I'm sorry, but I've been drinking since about noon, and frankly, I'm filled with piss and vinegar, so I fail at literary. Fortunately, I suspect you will still commiserate with me, and will share alcoholic libations with me within the confines of our Shiny Metal Box (tm).
Happy Christmas and Haunukkah and shit, bitches. I send you my love / props / hugs / all that ghey shiat.
Mmmmm I also ate oysters tonight. YUM!
My parents are now bitching at me, so I fear I must close here. Frickin' parents. Hug em if you got em. They don't live forever.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Road Warrior: A life!
Yeah Baby! Quoted in the Globe again, for my tenure as one of the proud, the brave, the semi-sane...
http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2008/12/21/down_in_the_dumps_on_the_downeaster/
I love the reporter dude, Noah. He always picks my best material for the articles!! Props, Noah! :)
I'm available for parties, lectures, appearances, etc. Just holla!
http://www.boston.com/news/
I love the reporter dude, Noah. He always picks my best material for the articles!! Props, Noah! :)
I'm available for parties, lectures, appearances, etc. Just holla!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Don't touch the planer!!
In every high school in the universe, there resides a shop teacher upon whose hands there are(n't) missing digits. So it's funny when they growl at you "DON'T TOUCH THE PLANER!!!".
Yeah, no kidding dude. You have 3 fingers. This is me, not touching the planer!
In other news, I'm once again home bound, as the hAmTrakk once again fails the rails. Sweet Jesus on the cross is this making life....annoying. So, now I'm watching the sanitized version of the Sopranos with the 2 year old and, as I hear gunshots and screaming, I am thinking this isn't a wise choice. (Yeah, yeah, you're so cool - you're thinking "well NO SHIAT SHERLOCK!". I know. I didn't put it on. The stay-at-home Mr. Absurd did. Whatever - a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
Should I go make cookies with the children? (I cheated, and bought the "slice-n-bake" kind, which is normally wholly and completely against my nature).
The 2-year old is tiring of her high-chair, and wants to "go go!", so I suppose I should attend to her. All the while, not touching the planer.
Time to make some American Chop Suey and cookies, biatches!
Yeah, no kidding dude. You have 3 fingers. This is me, not touching the planer!
In other news, I'm once again home bound, as the hAmTrakk once again fails the rails. Sweet Jesus on the cross is this making life....annoying. So, now I'm watching the sanitized version of the Sopranos with the 2 year old and, as I hear gunshots and screaming, I am thinking this isn't a wise choice. (Yeah, yeah, you're so cool - you're thinking "well NO SHIAT SHERLOCK!". I know. I didn't put it on. The stay-at-home Mr. Absurd did. Whatever - a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
Should I go make cookies with the children? (I cheated, and bought the "slice-n-bake" kind, which is normally wholly and completely against my nature).
The 2-year old is tiring of her high-chair, and wants to "go go!", so I suppose I should attend to her. All the while, not touching the planer.
Time to make some American Chop Suey and cookies, biatches!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Ice Ice Baby!
We're gonna rawk down to Electric Avenue. And then we'll take it higher.
Lost power Thursday night at 10pm, got it back on yesterday afternoon some time, and, depending on where you were, you may have heard me outside on the deck howling like a damn crazed monkey with joy.
Depending on who you are, you also probably heard me rambling on and on in your voice mail - sorry 'bout that, heh heh. What can I say, other than that's how we roll here. When there's some sort of natural disaster (ok, not quite a disaster, but losing power tends to blow, as do blizzards n stuff), my peeps and I band together and help each other out. So, we had lots of fun, lots of people staying over (thank god for the wood stove, the generator, and the water we gathered from the river) and kind of hunkered down expecting to be without power for longer than we were. So, I pretty much called all the people I know in the area to see if anyone needed anything we had and probably sounded like a raving lunatic.
Anyway, here's some pix of the fun!
Lost power Thursday night at 10pm, got it back on yesterday afternoon some time, and, depending on where you were, you may have heard me outside on the deck howling like a damn crazed monkey with joy.
Depending on who you are, you also probably heard me rambling on and on in your voice mail - sorry 'bout that, heh heh. What can I say, other than that's how we roll here. When there's some sort of natural disaster (ok, not quite a disaster, but losing power tends to blow, as do blizzards n stuff), my peeps and I band together and help each other out. So, we had lots of fun, lots of people staying over (thank god for the wood stove, the generator, and the water we gathered from the river) and kind of hunkered down expecting to be without power for longer than we were. So, I pretty much called all the people I know in the area to see if anyone needed anything we had and probably sounded like a raving lunatic.
Anyway, here's some pix of the fun!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Blog about Blagojevich.
That's what I have to say about that. What a COLOSSAL ASS MUNCH. Hey BlagoBitch: DIAF, EABOD, and I hope you rot, rot, ROTSKY in some circle of Dante-esque hell for being such a MASSIVE LOSER.
You suck, sir. And p.s., you have the UGLIEST HAIR EVAR.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
NEWSFLASH!
This just in.
In case you missed the first 9,586,782 memos, Rush Limbaugh is a bloated sack of shit. Film at 11.
Jesus H. Christ. Are you watching Baba Wawa (cuz you were doing other things and left the tee vee on and whatevs)? GOD he is Such. A. Goddamned. Ass. Hat. It makes me want to f*cking STRANGLE him.
Yuck. Dickhead. For all my Hindus in the house, can I get an AMEN when I surmise that Rush is coming back as one or more of the following, next time around?
(Shit Rush Lamebag might return as, in the afterlife):
-toe jam
-traffic
-petrochemical pollutant
-chicken sponge after three days in the trash (oohhh, THAT SMELL)
-storm clouds
-auto-damaging hail
-yeast infection
-diverticulitis
-cellulite
-halitosis
-vaginosis (duh)
-leftover cooter stew you left in your car / in August / for 3 months
-tainted blood transfusion
-dental surgery
-anal fissures
-glass shard in one's eyeball
-infected wound / oozing pus
-skid mark
-stench of rotten corpse
-murder scene
-road kill
-temper tantrums
-President Jenna Bush
-Vice President Sean Hannity
-Secretary of State Bill O'The Clown
-the douche that drives wicked fast through a deep puddle, splashing the shiat out of you with stank assed, dirty city water. Cold water.
-drunken molesting uncle breath
-angry mean step mother scream
I could go on. But now Baba Wawa is talking about the pregnant man - and THIS shit I have to see. Are you farking kidding me>?!?>>!> (ok, right off the bat - THAT IS NOT A GUY - that's a broad who get a peener). DUH.
In case you missed the first 9,586,782 memos, Rush Limbaugh is a bloated sack of shit. Film at 11.
Jesus H. Christ. Are you watching Baba Wawa (cuz you were doing other things and left the tee vee on and whatevs)? GOD he is Such. A. Goddamned. Ass. Hat. It makes me want to f*cking STRANGLE him.
Yuck. Dickhead. For all my Hindus in the house, can I get an AMEN when I surmise that Rush is coming back as one or more of the following, next time around?
(Shit Rush Lamebag might return as, in the afterlife):
-toe jam
-traffic
-petrochemical pollutant
-chicken sponge after three days in the trash (oohhh, THAT SMELL)
-storm clouds
-auto-damaging hail
-yeast infection
-diverticulitis
-cellulite
-halitosis
-vaginosis (duh)
-leftover cooter stew you left in your car / in August / for 3 months
-tainted blood transfusion
-dental surgery
-anal fissures
-glass shard in one's eyeball
-infected wound / oozing pus
-skid mark
-stench of rotten corpse
-murder scene
-road kill
-temper tantrums
-President Jenna Bush
-Vice President Sean Hannity
-Secretary of State Bill O'The Clown
-the douche that drives wicked fast through a deep puddle, splashing the shiat out of you with stank assed, dirty city water. Cold water.
-drunken molesting uncle breath
-angry mean step mother scream
I could go on. But now Baba Wawa is talking about the pregnant man - and THIS shit I have to see. Are you farking kidding me>?!?>>!> (ok, right off the bat - THAT IS NOT A GUY - that's a broad who get a peener). DUH.
Oh you know it's Thursday night when...
...after a long, hard day at work and on the rails, you come home, pour a glass of wine, throw in a load of dishes and laundry and then hit the can for a few minutes peace when your two year old decides to throw the MOTHER OF ALL TEMPER TANTRUMS outside the bathroom door. And I mean, DIRECTLY OUTSIDE the bathroom door.
OMFG - normally, I would have died of an anneurism by now, but since I'm no longer PMSing, I am actually kind of finding this funny. She's farking SCREAMING at the top of her lungs, the husband and the older child are mercilessly mocking her, we're ALL laughing and I know, I just KNOW, that this moment will be relived on a shrink's couch over and over and over again, probably on MY F*CKING DIME.
I love my family. The only thing keeping those jackals out of here is well, the pervasive scent of burnt doll head / petroleum distillates / poop. There, I said it.
(yay! she's winding down!!! now you KNOW, since I put my ONE pair of jeans in the laundry a little while ago, that the moment she crashes out for real will be the very moment I need to put them in the dryer - and I will be faced with the age-old quandry of "do I enter the sleeping child's room because tomorrow is Friday and I MUST wear my jeans to work, or do I forsake my comfort for the greater good of the planet and not wake the demon?".
Jesus. She's winding up for round two. And I'm almost done. Oh help me lord jesus in your golden fleece diaper...all 6 pounds 2 ounces....
OMFG - normally, I would have died of an anneurism by now, but since I'm no longer PMSing, I am actually kind of finding this funny. She's farking SCREAMING at the top of her lungs, the husband and the older child are mercilessly mocking her, we're ALL laughing and I know, I just KNOW, that this moment will be relived on a shrink's couch over and over and over again, probably on MY F*CKING DIME.
I love my family. The only thing keeping those jackals out of here is well, the pervasive scent of burnt doll head / petroleum distillates / poop. There, I said it.
(yay! she's winding down!!! now you KNOW, since I put my ONE pair of jeans in the laundry a little while ago, that the moment she crashes out for real will be the very moment I need to put them in the dryer - and I will be faced with the age-old quandry of "do I enter the sleeping child's room because tomorrow is Friday and I MUST wear my jeans to work, or do I forsake my comfort for the greater good of the planet and not wake the demon?".
Jesus. She's winding up for round two. And I'm almost done. Oh help me lord jesus in your golden fleece diaper...all 6 pounds 2 ounces....
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Ode to the Loo
Were I to tell you
you would not believe me -
But alas, tis true,
that despite it's solid composition
whiz has conquered the loo.
Even one of average intelligence
might logically surmise
that such a metal box as this,
would surely be unmolested!
Left wholly unaffected!
...yet ye would be surprised
that the plastic, glass and metal sheath'ed
watercloset for the masses
falls prey to the slings and arrows
of the urine and the gasses.
I heart you, at times, Shiny Metal Box.
you would not believe me -
But alas, tis true,
that despite it's solid composition
whiz has conquered the loo.
Even one of average intelligence
might logically surmise
that such a metal box as this,
would surely be unmolested!
Left wholly unaffected!
...yet ye would be surprised
that the plastic, glass and metal sheath'ed
watercloset for the masses
falls prey to the slings and arrows
of the urine and the gasses.
I heart you, at times, Shiny Metal Box.
WOW!!!!
Wow, do the politicians in this country disappoint the living SHIAT out of me. Just sayin'.
To the auto companies: the Gubminties should tell the auto cos, especially GM (first and foremost) to go pound some SERIOUS salt. We saw THIRTY YEARS ago how screwed up the oil crap was and was surely going to be.. THIRTY YEARS they've had to revamp / retool / rethink. And what did they do? NOTHING. They decided instead to RE-TARD. That's right, they went FULL RETARD on this crap. And now they're doing Round II (in their plebe-mobiles....WAKE UP CALL - that's the shit we drive to work / school / birth / death in EVERY DAMN DAY, you damn bag of CHUMPS), remaking Mr. Dipstick Goes to Washington. Yep, Mr. Dipstick(s) go to Washington - this time in their commoner cars (versus their private gotdamned JETS, asshats!) with their hands out, grovelling for a piece of the taxpayer pie. "Wahh, bail us out!! WAHHHHHHH".
Hey nozzles! Guess what?? We're BROKE! And why? In part, because oil went up AGAIN to psychotic levels - $4 and $5 a GALLON!?!?!?!? And it made the price of EVERYTHING go up - food, clothes, supplies, things we actually NEED. Thanks SOOOOOOOO much for gargline the petro-gawk for the last 30 years, when you COULD have been oh, I dunno, NOT BEING RETARDED and say, maybe thought about FIXING THINGS. I know that's not profitable though, so I guess I sorta understand. Or I don't. Perhaps you can infer from my tone that I'm being perhaps just a little facetious here. Oh, and DIAF.
And now on Maddow, we have this ULTRA-ASSHAT Big 3 Lobbyist Apologist piece of crap whargarbling about some shit I've already forgotten. yargh.
Bring on Uncle Pat! I'm having a existentially-political crisis.
To the auto companies: the Gubminties should tell the auto cos, especially GM (first and foremost) to go pound some SERIOUS salt. We saw THIRTY YEARS ago how screwed up the oil crap was and was surely going to be.. THIRTY YEARS they've had to revamp / retool / rethink. And what did they do? NOTHING. They decided instead to RE-TARD. That's right, they went FULL RETARD on this crap. And now they're doing Round II (in their plebe-mobiles....WAKE UP CALL - that's the shit we drive to work / school / birth / death in EVERY DAMN DAY, you damn bag of CHUMPS), remaking Mr. Dipstick Goes to Washington. Yep, Mr. Dipstick(s) go to Washington - this time in their commoner cars (versus their private gotdamned JETS, asshats!) with their hands out, grovelling for a piece of the taxpayer pie. "Wahh, bail us out!! WAHHHHHHH".
Hey nozzles! Guess what?? We're BROKE! And why? In part, because oil went up AGAIN to psychotic levels - $4 and $5 a GALLON!?!?!?!? And it made the price of EVERYTHING go up - food, clothes, supplies, things we actually NEED. Thanks SOOOOOOOO much for gargline the petro-gawk for the last 30 years, when you COULD have been oh, I dunno, NOT BEING RETARDED and say, maybe thought about FIXING THINGS. I know that's not profitable though, so I guess I sorta understand. Or I don't. Perhaps you can infer from my tone that I'm being perhaps just a little facetious here. Oh, and DIAF.
And now on Maddow, we have this ULTRA-ASSHAT Big 3 Lobbyist Apologist piece of crap whargarbling about some shit I've already forgotten. yargh.
Bring on Uncle Pat! I'm having a existentially-political crisis.
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