LIGHT LightBeer

Ok, several months ago (due to severe lack of money) I began buying ……well ……Natural Light. TO BE SURE, it was a last ditch effort to be able to get plowed, but still have enough money left over for dinner. For Christ sakes –it’s like $7.25 with tax for a 12pack!!

Don’t tell me you haven’t done that in a pinch –you red faced fuckers you!

But, alas, here is the problem. I sort of like it now.

???????????

Yup –I was at a bar last night (true story) and had (of all things) a Rolling Rock.

IT MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN DOUBLEBOCK WITH COFFEE THROWN IN!!!

I thought I was going to hurl.

Hi, my name is Frank. HI FRANK! I am a lighter than light beer drinker, and I hate myself now.

……I’m going to go buy a confederate flag at Wal-mart tomorrow. Anyone need a 50 pack of toilet paper?

POP! Take Two!

So, I’ve been a little………..pre-occupied the past week. Some time ago I wrote about my appendices or spleen or whatever (something mushy inside me at any rate) that was about to “pop.” Yeah –the problem came back. With a vengeance.

I was once again enjoying my idiotic display of softball skills (something to see if you are at all depressed….it will pep you right up.) I ran this way and that. I swung wildly into the air with a large stick. I drank beer. –fun for all!

Until….

Yup….I felt the fear. The fear was the pain. The pain was the POP!!

Instantly I was on the ground convulsing in agony with blood shooting out of every orifice like it was the rapture, with the ground shaking and the devil pushing up from the gates of hell AND HE LOOKS AT ME AND SAYS “YOU SHALL BE DISTROYED SMALL HUMAN!!!!!!!!”

………………………….not really. I just felt some mild discomfort. BUT THE NEXT MORNING FUCKING SUCKED! I had such a sharp pain in my right side, that I instantly set an appointment to see the doc.

It went like this:

Doc: Again?

Me: Yup.

Doc: Does this hurt?

Me: Yup

Doc: How about this?

Me: Yes!

Doc: And……..here?

Me: FUCKING YES!! ALL THAT HURTS!!! Good Christ!

Doc: CT scan.

Me: ……….huh?

Doc: You need to fast first.

Me: ……..like a Hindu?

Doc: Muslim.

Me: Who?

OK THAT’S ENOGH!!

So it seemed that I was going to ANOTHER office. I was to be subjected to some kind of torture device that wiggled its way into the world of science under a little known technicality. A CT scan. It looks like a giant donut that they slide you back and forth through. But unlike the tasty treat, this one bombards your body with x-rays and y-rays and whatever other rays you don’t fucking find at KrispyCream!

If you didn’t walk in with cancer –you sure as hell walked out with a dandy jump start.

But…..I’m jumping ahead of myself. Let’s rewind to the moment I walked in.

This lady plopped two giant bottles in front of me after I signed in. Then handed me a straw.

Lady: Here, drink these within the next ten minutes.

Me: What is it?

Lady: DRINK IT!!!!!!!

Me: HOLY SHIT! OK!!!!!! slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp.

It was sort of cold, had the consistency of wet chalk, and was supposed to taste like strawberry. Whatever.

So, there I am, slurping away in a crowded waiting room, thinking about ditching the rest of this deal. BUT NO! The straw lady called my name, and that was that. In a matter of seconds, I was in another room. I was made to strip, then given blue scrubs. NOW, everything seems to be in place for this thing to start……..nope.

I have to wait. An HOUR!

Now, this guy gets me on the slab. I call it a slab, because it is narrow and hard –and slides through the donut hole. Comfy beds do none of these things.

Then there was the needle.

Yup. A needle. Big one. About a fucking FOOT LONG! Nobody said anything about me getting stuck with no fuc- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now, I would go ahead and continue about my adventure, but I have to go piss out another half gallon of that chalky strawberry stuff. Yuck.

OH! And the doctors still OFFICIALY have no OFFICIAL answer for my pains. All that, for another bottle of little pills.

Bitches.

FU

A Little Test

Yesterday I decided to log up my day. The idea was to BE POSITIVE all day long. The following is the scientific output of said experiment.

7:45am- Nothing’s happened yet. I’m watching birds fly past my window, and a construction worker across the street is scratching his ass crack with something. It could be a pencil. That’s positive…..right?

8:30am- Everyone’s here now, and they are all moving around in a quickened pace. This is also known as work. Work is positive. I will now be positive/work.

9:45am- Our weekly sales meeting just let out. I was asked about a sale I made last week, and was unprepared to talk. I sounded like a choad. I doodled the word “positive” on my note pad……so that counts.

10:00am- I saw the hot secretary from 4 in the elevator again. She said hi to me first! Then, engaged me in……..conversation. I got a (very slight) chubby. That’s all kinds of positive.

11:30am- Finalized two pending sales, cleaned my desk, talked to my son on the phone (blah blah blah DADDY! blah blah blah TOY TRAIN!), hung up on the ex for fun, ate a big burrito. Reasonably positive.

12:00pm- Let’s hear it for NOON BITCH! I’m positive my day is half over!

1:00pm- Client lied to me, putting me in a very compromising position (think head in ass.) I have been asked into the office.

1:15pm- BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE BE POSITIVE

2:00pm- Smoked two cigarettes in a row. The sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the sounds of sirens heading for a tragic accident somewhere. I currently have mixed feelings. BUT ONE OF THEM IS POSITIVE!

3:20pm- I landed a new liquor client. I’m positive again!

4:20pm- Isn’t 4:20 always positive? Yup.

5:00pm- Spent 20 minutes talking with a friend about LOST/SOPRANOS. I was working! I just…………..peppered it in here and there. Positive.

5:30pm- Usually I work longer, but today I will not. Positive.

5:35pm- A bird shit on my arm.

WHAT THE FUCK SHIT HELL GOD DAMN SHIT IS THAT??????!!!!!!

Positive.

There you have it folks. Relatively positive all day. So FU.

The best show EVER

I don’t watch a whole lot of network television, due to a lack of time and the fact that most of it stinks up the room. But, there are a few nuggets of joy out there. In my opinion, and in the opinion of about 8 trillion people, the show LOST sits atop the great pyramid of prime time.

Never since Twin Peaks (that ages me) has a show been so multifaceted and complex. So much so, that if you missed it….well you’re screwed.

In the past this would kill a show, but not this one. I know at least 5 people who missed the band wagon on the first season, and bought the DVD with great anticipation. Even now, those same people have wet dreams of the second season DVD. It’s like every Wednesday is their personal hell.

“I can’t watch with the rest of the world……..what the hell is going on?! What the hell is that hatch thing?! Who the fuck is Mr. Eko?!..................suckers.

This post is NOT for those people.

This is for the people who are Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay on the other end of the spectrum. Those people. Websites, blogs, message boards, mass e-mails, custom analysis programs, bumper stickers, desktop wallpaper, DOLLS (yeah! Fucking dolls), forums, round table discussions, and little secrete messages you STICK UP EACH OTHERS ASSES!!!!!!

I’m as big of a fan as the next guy, but OH HELL!!! What do you fucking people do for a living?! No person with any kind of gainful employment could take this:

And make it THIS in less than 24 hours! Along with 10 pages of analysis!

There is a multitude (and that’s a modest estimate) of people out there that are writing 20 pages a day on the subject. If you wanted to know if there is corn in Kate’s shit, somebody already analyzed her dietary intake, and could tell you where she squatted. Hell, somehow that will then be related to an obscure freeze-frame shot where Jin saw Kate’s mother’s first cousin shit the same corn two years ago in Japan! WHERE DO YOU PEOPLE FIND THE TIME FOR ALL THIS SHIT?????!!!!!

The only thing that this tells me, is that it truly IS the greatest show to ever hit the small screen. That is the only explanation for such dedication and time spent on figuring out all the nuances and mysteries of LOST.

…………….but you all are still a bunch of wingnuts! Get out of the house once in a while, will ya?

FU

Freakin' Scratch

I dropped my freakin’ glasses this morning. I tend to do this a lot, but usually I’m lucky enough to do it on carpet, or desktop, or PLOP…into the bath. Yes I like a good bath, AND I wear my glasses while sponging. It makes me feel sexy.

Yet, I had no luck in the dropping department this morning. BANG! Right on the concrete.

Now, I have “scratch resistant” glasses. BULLSHIT! This was the FIRST time they have landed on a less than nice surface, and BEHOLD –a BIG FUCKING SCRATCH! Not on the side, not along the bottom edge……right dead smack in the middle of the right lens.

BAM! These things are apparently as scratch resistant as hemophiliac.

Now when I put my glasses on, I look dead into my frustration. There it is…oh there it is….no it’s over there! DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m so concentrated on the scratch in my way, that I swear I can see tiny little construction workers kneeling by it on the glass. Just before I go completely wall-eyed I hear one of them say “Well, I think we better call someone about this……what’s for lunch?”

I am seriously considering scratching the other lens so that I don’t feel off balance. Completely fucked is the only option at this point.

I hate a job half done.

FU

VERN'S

It’s been a few days –sorry. Who the hell am I talking too?

Sorry self…..for being lazy……with myself.

Here is the kicker though –I am now googleable! That’s right! Type it up bitch, I’ll be just past the enter button at the top of the page! Yup…….ummmm….who cares. I DO!

It’s like seeing yourself in on the cover of the tabloids. You may be in the background, and they were trying to get a quick shot of Britney Spears and K-Fed sharing a lolly pop shaped like a penis, AND you just happen to be coming out of the porn shop at the same time…..fuck. BUT, there you are.

THAT’S -being googleable. Nice.

But that’s not what I really wanted to talk about. This is:

I recently turned down………………….sex* I KNOW, I KNOW! Don’t hit me! Let me first explain the situation, and then I will allow you to retort.

Ok, it was a few weeks ago, and I was going to see a friend I worked with. He is a big time spender with a lot of class and charm for the ladies to lap up. Needles to say, we ended up at a tiny little bar called VERN’S. Yup. The bathroom doubled as a utility closet, which wasn’t so bad. In a pinch, you could piss in the mop bucket to speed up the line. It had a pool table….complete with Swiss cheese felt. Sombody even saw that one rip was beginning to resemble a smiley face, so he finished the bitch off. The open grin was completed with a blurb on the exposed table that read “Put your BALLS in here!”

I smiled as I popped open my canned Lone Star –Texas’ finest.

I wanted to start the night off right, so as the first round of New Country hit the jukebox, I walked over and punched my friend square in the face.

I got a roaring “Ye-haw” in masculine celebration.

It was on my way out…..to leave….that my adventure began. I met GLORIA (this will be very short….like the 5 minutes it took to play out.)

Gloria was about 5’ 4”, big cans, and a hat just as massive. The band around the top said “Bad-ass Bitch.” -let that soak in….for just a sec.

She was drunk, and wanted a ride “jush dow thu ru- ‘HIC’- road.” She pointed into an open field, but I got the general idea. I wanted to help her, but I think it was the two cords of leather, stacked with multi colored beads coming out of her front pocket, that made me cringe. “Sha! Ya’ gib me a ride, aaaaaaaaaaand I’ll blow ya’!” Yeah! She just threw it out there like a crack whore!

A ride – A blow. I felt like…….well……dirty. Like –country dirty. Gloria had that in her drunken mental rolodex, which led me to believe that there were a few Friday night sudo-taxi drivers out there with smiles on their faces. Yuck. Country yuck.

I said, “Uh………………NO.”

She went to option B, without missing a beat.

“Ohkay buddy, ‘HIC’…how ahbouut ah fick…..ah fu—ick ya?”

A fick? Yeah….this had run written all over it.

I started for my car, as if I just assumed she was talking to the plastic cow (with VERN’S painted on its ass like a brand.) She followed me like a puppy for a second, then tripped over the cows utter. I can only assume that it had fallen off the bottom of the statue at some earlier date, and bounced into the dirt. A perfect place for our good friend Gloria to stumble over it. Over the…..utter. From a plastic cow.

This is why they put the SHIT they do on television about my state. Largely that is full of crap, but as long as you have people like Gloria, passed out on top of a plastic cow utter -in the dirt parking lot of VERN’S, it’s lassos and fucking longhorn’s for us.

Nice.

That’s my story…..feel free to retort now.

OH! And I googled VERN’S too. Ain’t shit ther’ partna’!