My Youtube video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODGT4ILLPUs

The Chubawatts

Alright so I`m sure you all know these people. They sit next (on) to you on the bus, they always have to use the handy stalls or have their feet extended into other stalls when usuing a normal one (I just want to stomp on their foot and say hey keep your shit in your own stall), they take up the entire hall or isle and move at extremly slow speeds. I swear these people have no clue how much room they require. (It`s like when an old person is trying to park a RV they take forever and are always bumping into shit and when they finally get parked it`s pretty much on the curb) so once the Chub has parked themselves onto the Curb a.k.a. you, they act like the seat is their`s and their`s alone even if you were there first, and finally when they get up to leave you can finally breath again. Just in time for another one to sit on you.

I hate those Greenpeace Fuckers!!!!

Ok so I`m walking home last night an I encounter these Greenpeace reps on the street (I`ve also seen Red Cross ones doing the same thing and I swear they work double duty cause It was the same guy that hit me up last week for Red Cross). Now here is my problem with these cheerful Hippy freaks, first I`m leaving work so i`m getting myself into a good mood cause i`m done for the day and I get to head home. Then I encounter these fuckers and they are standing in the middle of the sidewalk just after 5pm when they are filled with people trying to get to the bus. Sir, Sir, can we have a moment of your time the guy says as he steps in front of me and blocks my straight path to the bus AKA the Sidewalk. I`m like sorry I have to catch my bus (cause we all know OC is only late when your already at the stop otherwise they are early). So now I`ve got to walk around this guy and the 2 other hippies he`s on shift with. As I walk past them he says with a cheery smile ok maybe next time. Like what drugs are these people on to be so flippin happy all the time. Like come on how many people can you actually sign up when everyone`s in a rush to catch the bus and get home. Just get off the freakin sidewalk and get out my way before I run your ass over next time and put my seal skin boot to your head.

Do You Know What Really Grinds My Gears??

So do you know what really grinds my gears today???? People who exaggerate when they sneeze. I mean come on why the hell do you need to drag out the ewwwwwwwwwwwwww on a feakin sneeze like do you have to make sure everyone around you knows you just sneezed or what???? It`s not an orgasm you don`t need to try to make it last longer. I mean are you starved for attention or what???

A Short Story

The following is a short story written by a friend of mine. They sent it to me and requested I post it on my site for all to read. After reading it over myself I thought why not. It is after all a very touching story.

The Miracle Horse

There once was a horse named Sergeant Buttercup. He was Chestnut Brown and stood 6 feet tall. He was a very handsome horse and was well liked among all the children in the neighbourhood. There was only one problem with Mr. Buttercup; he was blind. Every day his owner, Mrs. Crabtree, would go into Butters stable and rub this special lotion that the veterinarian had given her, in hopes of restoring his eyesight. But alas, after 3 years of trying, there had been no progress. And because he was blind, he was not allowed to enter horse races; he was merely a poor old pitiful show horse. Sergeant Buttercup wanted to be a race horse more than anything in the world. Poor Butters…

One spring day, along came a young lad about 16 years of age, when he noticed the horse. He knew, from the moment that he laid his baby blue eyes on that magnificent beast, they would one day become a great team and do magical things in the world. Leroy (that was the boys name) rushed into the farmhouse wishing to speak with the horses owner, Mrs. Crabtree. However, he found the house to be empty and a notice of foreclosure on the door. The boy stopped a passer-by on the street and asked the kind sir what had happened to the old lady that lived in the house. ‘’She was a victim of a horrible, horrible accident.’’ He said. Apparently (and this was strictly off the record), Mrs. Crabtree had gone to Mr. Buttercup’s stable just like she did every other day, and was lathering on the special lotion, when all of a sudden there was a loud noise that startled the mammoth beast. Because he couldn’t see what was happening, his animal instincts kicked in (no pun intended). ‘’Poor old lady was found buried under a haystack, took them 2 weeks to find all her teeth.’’ … Just tragic. ‘’So what about the horse?’’ asked Leroy with sad puppy dog eyes. ‘’He’ll suffer the same fate as his owner’’ the gentleman scoffed, ‘’He’s to be put down at dusk’’. The boy’s head was spinning, he was feeling nauseous. How could this happen? He asked himself. I have to do something. I can’t let my one true love fall from my grasps. I need a plan.

After hours of pondering, the boy had come to the only rational conclusion possible; steal the horse. Leroy went home and let his sister (Sara Beth) in on the plan as he would need her help to pull off such a heist. After dinner, the two of them snuck out of the house and went to their father’s tool shed for some supplies. Leroy and Sara Beth gathered everything they could get their little hands on: A hammer, 37 feet of chicken wire, rubber gloves, a swiss army knife, a crate of oranges (the Christmas kind), jumper cables, their dad’s shotgun, 2 cans of beans and a wheelbarrow (to carry everything in). Leroy was a boy scout; he always came prepared. And off they went into the night…

Halfway down the wooded trail, Sara Beth stopped. She had a look of fear in her eyes. ‘’I can’t do this!’’ she shouted. She turned to run back home when Leroy grabbed her arm and calmly said: ‘’you’re my sister; I would never let anything happen to you. I need you.’’ The little girl nodded her head and they continued their journey towards the old lady’s farm. After 26 minutes of trekking through the woods, they could finally see the stables where the horse was being kept. They decided that they were hungry. So they would eat first. Using the hammer, Leroy beat open the lids on the bean cans. ‘’we need fire to warm these up’’ he muttered. There just happened to be an old battery sitting by a tree with just enough juice in it. Leroy grabbed the jumper cables. He threw them aside... He took the shotgun and shot the battery which exploded in a ball of flames. ‘’There!’’ he said. After they had eaten, it was time to get down to business. It was time to execute (probably not what Sergeant Buttercup wants to hear) their plan… ;-)

Now you’re probably wondering why they brought the oranges with them if they weren’t for eating, aren’t you? Well you see, Sara Beth has a secret. She’s what you call a ‘’Spiritual Healer’’. The zest from the orange peel contains a special acid that mixed with the vets special lotion, will remove the cloudiness from the eyes of the horse and will cure his blindness forever. So they snuck into the stable. Butters was in his stall sleeping. Sara Beth went to work. After an hour of careful squirting, the deed was done. Now it was Leroy’s time to shine. He was going to ride Sergeant Buttercup into the sunset. Just then, the executioner arrived for the lethal injection. Good thing I brought all that chicken wire, Leroy thought to himself. With his sister distracting the man (we won’t go into detail into what she did), he knocked him out with one blow to the head with his dad’s shotgun and then wrapped him up tightly with the chicken wire. He left Sara Beth to watch guard (with the knife) while he rode off with the Chestnut Beauty. They galloped out of the stables and into the free world. Mr. Buttercup was alive for the first time in his life. He had never been happier and he owed it all to Leroy. A 16 year old boy with big dreams and a big heart.

The End
SS

Man I hate Wal-Mart

I hate Wal-Mart. I mean I can’t even stand to say the fucking name, so from now on I’ll refer to it as Wallyworld. Mostly because I hate to type hyphens.

So I`m at Wallyworld the other day getting something for the little one (formula or diapers or something) and I decide to head over to the electronics section to see who has a new CD out I can download I see Eminem has a new one out.

However you cannot buy an Eminem CD at Wallyworld. At least not an unedited version. ( Now, before I get started here, I need to send out a huge, WTF to Slim Shady for even allowing them (whoever the fuck THEY are) to even produce an edited version of his work. This proves yet again that it’s NOT about the art, it’s about the money, and you’re now no better than the rest of the overpaid asswipes.

Yet, I can’t buy an unedited version of his CD in Wallyworld. Nor can I purchase Maxim, Stuff, or FHM - all magazines that I enjoy and oogle every now and then. I realize that most places have already dropped the skin mags - Playboy, Penthouse, Hustler, etc., but the others are just fucking magazines with a few pin-up gals in there.

So while all ready pissed off I decided to do some more browsing in Wallyworld. I can buy a purse that looks like a pair of panties. I can buy a plastic moose that shits out fecally colored jelly beans. I can buy all kinds of greeting cards that feature pin-up girls AND guys. And I can even purchase movies that feature good old T&A.

It’s selective censorship, people. Plain and simple. Catering to all the parents out there that want someone else to do the work for them. Hey how about if for once you take responsibility yourself and actually do some parenting. If you don`t want your kids listening to offensive music don`t the CD. Cause now matter how they try the record industry can`t tell me that kids are too stupid to realize Buck Cherry say`s he`s too drunk to Fuck even though the word is missing from the song.

Next.

What the fuck is with the old folks who get hired to say Hello when I walk into the store? When I get into Wallyworld, I really, really want to just get in, get my shit, and get out, all while speaking to the fewest number of dumbfuck people possible. Come to think of it, this pretty much applies to anywhere Bob E. goes. In our local Wallyworld, the greeter is often this ancient, 105 year old woman on an oxygen tank. What do you say to these people? Dead yet? Sorry? Hello? All I know is that they are employed there, and the $6 an hour that Wallyworld pays them in an effort to appear to be a friendly store, only serves to make it so that I have to pay a fucking dollar for a roll of LifeSavers. I’d much rather have granny sitting at home doing bong hits on her Oxygen Tank, and get my LifeSavers at a reasonable price. Oh and WTF is up with all the Pins they wear??? Perhaps they are there to hold these old folks together like stitches after a surgery, or so focus on reading them instead of the person`s face that looks like it`s about ready to fall off.

Same shit goes for the dumbass who checks you as you leave the store. This little highligher-wielding, power-hungry sorry excuse for a human being degenerates could not possibly make an intelligent assessment of the weather outside, let alone glance at the receipt in my hand and determine whether or not I have, in fact, paid for all my purchases. It is simply not possible. Another worthless function in life. It’s an inconvenience for me, for I have already shoved the receipt into my pocket where I choose to put it…but again Wally wants to make those choices for me…so I may only choose to stuff that little piece of cheap thermo-print paper where I like once I am OUTSIDE the store. It’s frankly insulting to me, and SHOULD be insulting to Wallyworld’s cashiers as well. If they are not insinuating that all their CUSTOMERS out to rip them off, they are insinuating that their cashiers are dishonest and not ringing up all your purchases. Either that or they are too fucking stupid to swipe products across a UPC scanner and make change.
Actually, now that I think about it, maybe they have something there. I haven’t seen too many Nobel Prize Winners behind the cash register there.

NEXT

WHAT THE FUCK is it about the parking lot at Wallyworld? It’s like whenever anyone operating a motor vehicle (or even entering/exiting the store on foot) get within 15 feet of the store, they lose all common sense and forget how things work. Perhaps they never knew. Considering MOST of the people I’ve seen shopping at Wallyworld, that’s not a bad assumption.
But PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE, people….if someone is just STANDING in front of the store, and showing no intention of walking into the parking lot whatsoever, put your fucking FOOT on the GAS and move ON. Jesus!

It’s like a goddam Mexican Standoff, the blue-haired little old lady who can’t see over the fucking dashboard anyway versus the young pants-down-around-their-ass mob who just want to stand in front of the entrance doors and get their bee-bop on….probably because it’s the single-most likely place they will BE IN THE FUCKING WAY.

I swear to God I am gonna start carrying around a can of lighter fluid and a Bic to deal with those morons the next time I have to brush by their unwashed asses to get somewhere.
In all fairness, Wallyworld is no different when it comes to the assfucks who want to hold up progress and wait for that closer parking spot. That’s fine. But do so in a manner where I can buzz around you, go to the END of the parking aisle, and be in the store before your dumb ass has the blinker on your shitty 1973 Mercury turned off. As for the morons who hold up things at the front of the aisle waiting on that coveted handicapped spot when there are spots available just two slots down, since when did being stupid become a handicap shit obviously you don`t have a wheel chair otherwise you wouldn`t be driving and if it`s cause your are too fat to park and open your doors in a regular spot then park at the end where there is always lots of room. Cause you could obviously use the fucking walk.

So the next time you actually get to Wallyworld, take a look around, especially at the exit doors. You’ll see a whole hoard of mesmerized people looking down with a dumfounded look on their face, glancing down at their highlighted receipt, trying to decipher whether or not there’s a secret code to the scrawl on it. They’re moving forward hesitantly, as if they may need to run back inside and have it checked for them again. No fucking wonder.

Reading

You know what really grinds my gears READING. Like really, why read especially if they made a movie about the book. Reading takes time where as i can watch a movie usually in under 2hrs plus i get to watch things happen, I don`t have to imagine it in my head. People that like to read are lame come on stop being a nerd. I`d rather have a story told to me by someone famous then to read it myself. Like imagine Romeo and Juliet as read to you by Sean Connery, now that`s a book i could get into or rather listen too. What about a stereo manual by Morgan Freeman, or a Cookbook by Yoda. Come on people reading is over-rated, and when you do it you`re just making fun of those who can`t. I mean i don`t sit next to a blind person and say things like would you look at that or did you see that. So don`t sit next to someone and pull out your book cause they may not be able to read.

http://www.storylineonline.net/
heheh now this is funny check out the James Earl Jones one.