Serious…for just a sec.

A really good question was posed to me yesterday.
“Why give a fuck?!” – Chris P.
It took until about midnight last night for that to fully set in. I shot up out of bed, and repeated it like a mantra…”Why give a fuck?!” It seemed so simple, and could be applied to so many things.
Don’t get me wrong –or do the damn eye rolling thing –I do care about things. But, we all seem to concentrate on the surrounding events and pressures too often. Eventually, our CORE being dies a silent, dark, uneventful death. Before you know it –empty tank bitch!
Try not to get too stuck on stupid decisions. We make them every day- deal with it.
Money is –what money does. Don’t let it rule you.
What others think of you is not as important as what YOU think of you.
If YOU don’t like you, then wash and repeat. We all get second chances.
Don’t be a dick! It only impresses the wrong people.
Never think something is out of your reach. If you do…than it is.
The above can be applied to dating. If you fear they won’t like you….than they won’t.
Friends are an honor, not a safety net. Lean on them when you need it, but no tackling.
If you don’t believe in yourself, than you become transparent. Now nobody believes in you.

So, when you are feeling dragged down by a drunken comment, or a bad situation, or lost relationships/friend….just remember:
“Why give a fuck?!” -just keep it moving people.
There are more friends in your arsenal, and many more chances for companionship, AND bigger and better jobs you will experience throughout your life. Don’t ignore them…..or “empty tank.”
I FEEL BETTER!

Oh yeah…..FU

1 hair

Ok- this is becoming obsessive! On my way driving to work, I was playing with my face (you bitches do it too) and I came across a single hair. I missed the fucker shaving. It wasn’t a patch of hair, or a line of hairs down my face like a lawn mower would do. No! it was just ONE by my bottom lip..
How did it do it? How would just that one survive? Is it a super hair?
So, I started to play with it. It seemed harder than my usual hair, and upon looking in the mirror, I realized it was blondish (I have dark brown hair) so WTF?
My OCD set in, and I tooled with it insanely all the way to the office. Once there, I was ENRAGED by this fucking hair! I started looking at what supplies I may have to detach it from my person.
ON MY DESK:
Scissors? –too big- no real good angle to catch it.
Paperclip? –what? Gouge it off?
Stapler? –come on!!
I rummaged around for ten minutes….nuthin. I even went so far as to see if two business cards, set together just so, could sheer it off. Obviously I was going nuts.
So, in the end, I realized that unless I went back home, or bought some cheapo razor at the local minimart, I was going to have to make friends with Super Hair.
We talked briefly, he seems nice. We discussed today’s agenda, and how he would promised to lay low as long as I promised to stop fucking with him. We're pals now.

-he has no clue that I’m going to decapitate him around 6 tonight. SHHHHHH….

FU

NASA.....my bad!

I just wanded to say sorry to NASA, all the astronauts, and the American people for holding up the space shuttle this morning.
You see, last night I got into a fight with my EX, and after slamming the phone against the wall, I opened the little box that holds my wedding ring in it.
I ran outside, and threw it as hard as I could into the air…..
Fuck!! I was MAD!!!!
Nice throw Mr. Upton!
FU

ILL

So- I haven’t felt too hot for the past several days. Slowly but surely, that gut-rot began to set in, and not only did I feel like I was being stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen, but I had gas that could put down a buffalo.
This morning –the nausea reared its ugly head. I tried to make it in to work, but was forced to abandon my mission when my body went on “strike.” It let me know I should have stayed in bed…..by lurching forward….sending vomit all over my windshield.
HOLY SHIT!!!
It had to be the most terrifying moment of my fucking life! As we all know, all muscle control goes bye-bye in mid puke! Yeah- try that at 65mph on the highway.
Now- fast forward to a half hour later. I am forced to patron the local “PrimaCare.” If you have not been in such a facility, it’s sort of the Radio Shack of healthcare. After being ushered into the little room, and asked to sit on the concrete table, I was left to my nausea. Until…….
Yup, round two was about to start. I went into panic mode! I jumped from the table, and headed for that tiny sink in the corner. But, upon first step I realized that I was past the point of no return. The only option left was the little steel trashcan with the foot peddle.
THE CAN WINS!
With one fluid motion, I slammed my foot down on the peddle, and grabbed each side of the rim.
BLARRRUGAHHHRUGHHHAAA!!!! (it’s a tile room, thus it was like a fucking bomb going off)
Suddenly (and this is the kicker) a nurse plows through the door. I am there, still twitching, with drool coming out of my mouth. I turn to her with watery eyes, and she says………yup, you guessed it: “ARE YOU ALRIGHT??!!!”

I hate Radio Shack

FU

I am BORAT

I swear to GOD- Ali G is about the best thing to come down the comedy pike in a looooooong time! If there was anybody that didn’t know about him before, THEY WILL AFTER THIS PIC makes the rounds! The BALLS on this guy (no homo) to push himself to limits of such complete retardation…..and get away with it.

Shit- I bet he could pick up the hottest chick on the beach in that thing! I don’t think any of us could.

Ali G- you are my hero you funny motherfucker!!!

FU

It could be ME!

I have recently discovered the lost art of MISSED OPPORTUNATIES. It’s true, as some can attest, that I have a “dense” side, but I always thought that there were certain signals I could –home in- on. On the same coin, I would know immediately when to dump out of a situation.

Umm…..not so much…it seems.

Example:

I met this chick –I was simi interested –we hung. The best part was that we could (hold your asses) TALK about things that mattered. It was a fucking hoot! Now, we all my stance on relationships at this juncture…right?

FUCK EM’

So, at any rate, we seemed to be one the same page in that regard. We hooked up a few times…..and then…..*poof* She went the way of the Dodo. Umm, what the fuck happened? I suddenly felt like the guy in “Airplane” who waited the whole movie for the taxi driver to come back.

“Ok….I’ll give him just five more minutes! That’s it!” ----roll credits*

Some may say that I’m whining like a bitch, or that I need to just find another girl to hang with in her place. I’ll give you that- and I will…..but –this is becoming a ritual with me.

Find em- hang- *poof*

Am I unwittingly sending women to an alternate dimension of which there is no return? OR- am I just a choad?

I would go on, but I am writing this at a bar, and the next “disappearing act” is looking at me from across the room. Nice.

FU

9/11

NEVER forget this day people!!!.....that's about all I have to say......about that.

Are you anal?

Yup –that’s a CELL PHONE in the x-ray of this dude. He was caught having it…..ahem* hidden in his rectum. Apparently he was using it to make drug deals and coordinate killings from inside a Mexican prison. Nice.

What continues to amaze me is that even the most “hardened” of men are quick to put something up their poop shoot. So, let me get this straight…..if you stick something in your butt (me or you that is) it’s sexual. BUT, if you are doing ten to twenty –it’s a handbag.

Storage –without shame.

This is where the story got REALLY interesting. It went on and on about how these things are done on the regular bases in prison, and there are a whole laundry list of items that have been yanked out of the rears of the incarcerated. BUT, what has always interested me were the people themselves that are “holding.”

In my mind, there is NO WAY some top prison shot-caller (I watch Discovery) would be caught dead with something shoved up his ass! So….who does.

Here is my Hypothesis:

People: Tom (new dude) and Bubba (shot-caller).


Tom: You wanted to see me?
Bubba: You bet! We need a guy like you in our gang, I like your style.
Tom: Thanks! Whatta’ I got to do? Shank someone? Start a new drug scheme? Oh! I know! You want me to be your 2nd man –enforcing your directives to the rest of the slime!!
Bubba: Ahh….nope.
Tom: Oh. What then?
Bubba: I just need you to hold my phone.
Tom: That’s it?
Bubba: Yup. Here ya’ go.
Tom: ……….sure.
Bubba: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??!!
Tom: Putting your phone in my pocket.
Bubba: Son –you gotta take that there phone, and tuck it!
Tom: Oh…..OH! You mean…
Bubba: Your ASS -shithead.
Tom: *sigh* -ok boss.
Bubba: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING NOW??!!
Tom: Putting the phone in my ass.
Bubba: Would ya’ fucking wrap it in something!! For Christ sakes man –were you born in a BARN??!!
Tom: Sorry. Hey boss? What happens if it rings….you know….while it’s up there?
Bubba: It will make you pee your leg a little.
Tom: Oh……ok.

FU -prison folk!

Nice.....

The size of this pic is about how impressed I was with her first broadcast.

I know that we need to give our loving EX morning ray of sunshine a chance, but wheeew……that was flat. Is it just me, or did any of you feel like you were just watching a DVR recording of the TODAY show?

EXAMPLE: The fucking baby pick!!! Is that NIGHT NEWS???!!! Nope, it’s not. That story was best served with a quick run-out to AL and the fucking weather!

“Who’s that Al?”

“Well, this is Tracy, and she just turned 5!”

FU

p.s.- the new set was too expensive, and it sucks!

F*ing Myspace

A good friend of mine has decided to go forward with a little bet I made with him. To get all the details, go to his (good fucking god) Myspace site here. The two of us have been close for a long time, but recently became even closer due to the fact that we are both going through divorce shit.

****Myspace is for dipwads, but I still love ya’ Tony.

Just to reiterate my perspective on all this shit, PLEASE go here.

Happy three day weekend!!

FU