Saturday, May 10, 2008

The needle tears a hole

Sometimes it stings.

Not enough when the lemon juice hits.

Stanette planted 200 tulips in our tiny backyard.

I was reading something about wolves today. There are 1500 wolves, estimated, in the Yellowstone region. One thousand, five hundred wolves. They were re-introduced around 1995. The legislature has decided to take them off the endangered list and allow hunting.

Fifteen hunnert?!?!


Let's start shootin'! WOOOO-HOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

I think that in the future, like 2010, people are going to start hunting for other people. The deer and cows and pigs will be gone, because of global warming.

We will have to start eating...



Bringing back the guest post-

From K-Top
In my time on this planet so far I have worked in any number of jobs and liked and hated them all.

It's good to know how to do stuff.

It's good to know how to do stuff that can make you happy.

It's really good to know how to do stuff that makes you happy and you can make tons of cash doing them.

Currently, I am doing part-time work as a banquet server. The same gig Tyler Durden was doing to help finance "his" operation while finding new and disgusting ways to season lobster bisque.

I was recently fired from a job. The president of that company and his wife were attending a function at the hotel I was providing service for.

Can you guess what was on the menu ?

Since I'm no Tyler Durden and I do have professional standards, there was nothing added by me to their $41 of plate surf and turf or foo foo buttercreme desserts.

But MAN was it tempting.


Meanwhile, I feel like Cosmo Kramer.

I fall ass-backward over the coffee table and stand up smelling like roses and cash.

But mostly...


I smell like success.

For the most part.

I mean, there are some other smells... less successful smells that linger.

For instance, I farted in my car today at around 10:00 in the a.m.

I got in my car around 4 in the p.m., and it still totally smelled like ass. Not my usual pumpkin pie ass, but rather a foul, two-day old McDonald's dollar menu ass.

The kind of ass that sits in the inside of car for six hours and still smells freshly dealt when the door opens.

You nose crinkles, and you say, "Jesus."

That's right.

Nobody fucks with the Jesus.

I bet if I walked out there now, it would still stink.

Worse than Jesus.

Because you know he smelled like a Phish concert.