I screamed like a woman and shut the dish, taking a moment to process what just happened. Did I do that? On some bizarre, drunken dare, did I shave my nutsack and store the hair for safekeeping in my soapdish? Surely not, my hairs are all a rich, ginger red, while these were a dark brown. Those were not mine.
On the personnel end, there is a pervasive culture of blue color politicking, good ol’ boy posturing, aggressive apathy and rampant racism that permeates every level of the work force. Seriously, outside of History Channel shows about the KKK, I have never heard so many white guys use the words “Nigger”, “Spic”, “Wetback”, or “Kike”, sometimes without even checking over both shoulders first.
To the fat, bald, obnoxious, self-aggrandizing, un-self-aware motherfuckers that I work with, feel free to complain, to bitch and moan and boot lick to our bosses, to kiss more ass that any whore’s been paid to, because you’re worthless pieces of shit, and I CAN’T HEAR YOU NOW.
Because, You see, Your Mommy LOVES poo.
Without Your poo, she wouldn’t know what to do!
She loves changing your diaper, and cleaning your poo,
No matter what she says, I promise, this is true…
Did you make it past the title? Good for you! You’re either a sick, sick fuck, a curious, curious fuck, or a fuck that knows me well enough to want to see where I might be taking this. Your reward for being a curiously sick fuck? This post has absolutely nothing to do with grudge-fucking [...]
It was a Thursday, in early March, around 9am. I was in the bedroom changing my clothes after getting home from work. While putting on my pants, I hear a sudden, clear POP-POP-POP-POP-POP, then a sixth, POP, on my otherwise quiet suburban Philly-somewhat ghetto-street. How ghetto is it? Well, on the Ghetto scale, it ranks [...]
It was still a few hours before last call when I got to Seamus’. It was just as I remembered, and so was the bartender. Old Man Bob was a big guy, not just tall, but heavy, too. Not sloppy fat, but he had a giant round beer belly, and broad shoulders, with huge arms. I don’t doubt he was a bad ass in his day, and even now he would probably be a formidable individual, but one thing held him back from being intimidating. He wore these thick, I mean THICK, glasses, you know, the kind that are so thick they make a person’s eyes look like they are trapped within the lenses, like goldfish or something. He was angry, he yelled a lot, threw people out occasionally, but it was so hard to take his threats seriously with those googly eyes blinking back at you.
We first met when I was 16 and she was 15, through a group of mutual suburban hoodlum friends. She was quirky and fun, and smoking hot as hell. Every guy in our little circle wanted her, but none got her, because she didn’t even date for several years after that. She was untouchable, but plenty tried. I was a chubby, long haired Comics nerd at the time, and had no place even being around someone so attractive (dictated by the laws of teenage angst)…
I slowly folded myself into the cruiser, trying hard to conceal the giant piss stain on my pants. It was really surreal to be in the front seat of a Police car, with all the radios and scanners and the shotgun standing at attention against the dashboard. I mumbled a low “wow” under my breath as I looked around the front, and then the back, of the cruiser.
“You’re more used to bein’ in the back of one of these, ain’t ‘cha Mr. Wrecked-Um?” he joked.
“Do you have any names in mind?” “Fuck that, we’re not naming this thing. If you give it a name, we’ll never get rid of it….have you SEEN what white babies go for on the internet? THOUSANDS…we can pay off all our debts, buy a nice new TV, and fuck, we can always make another one later…White babies are a completely renewable resource! If we could just make SUV’s that run on white babies, forget planting all that corn…”
This isn’t a house of God, it’s a Goddamn STORE of God, and I’M not cheapening him, YOU ARE!!!” I gestured towards the giant Lawn Jesus towards the front of the store. “You’re selling him for fifty fucking percent off!!! Check out Dollar Jesus, the discount Savior!!! Forgiving sins on the cheap this week only!!!
I REALLY HATE my fucking job.
OK, so…This is my first time “blogging”, or for that matter, writing this pseudo-publicly, on a site that people I don’t know may actually read….And I have been sitting here trying to figure out just how the fuck I am going to start this little story up. I even read a [...]
*Recipe for The Incapable Wrecked-Um:
One full Angry Irish Aries
1/2 shot Cynical Apathy
1/2 shot Combative Mediocrity
1/2 bottle Jameson® Irish whiskey
Sit Angry Irish Aries on couch. Crush his spirit with Combative Mediocrity and Cynical Apathy. Pour 1/2 bottle Jameson down his throat. Repeatedly kick in groin until surly, but malleable. If he cries, kick him until he stops.