To be politically correct now days is a bunch of hoopla if you ask me. Call a spade a spade, a shovel a shovel and a damn ho a hoe. Nothing in life needs to be so darn serious that you can't express your feelings, heck, sometimes I run outside and just yell rape to see who all will come running. Usually nobody, but who cares, until that one time, when it does happen and I am walking like a penguin on crack for a few weeks.
I guess now days, to be politically correct, you have to say one thing, but mean another, tell people what they want to hear and do the opposite, and it never fails, no matter what you do in life, some asshole is always going to be there to take it wrong and point it out. Like the kid that use to point at the girls who had maxi pads stuck to their back going down the hall at school I put on them. That one asshole ruined alot of fun and humor. Well, he did his time, probably even narked a few friends out, cause that's how he rolled. And now he is walking around with a loose end and can't rip a fart cause he is so stretched out it just whisp out.
But, to be a mayor, and tell everyone, including media that someone has resigned, with no resignation letter in hand, and then wonder why your the jack in the box, I guess that is a trick in the How to be Obama handbook. I haven't read it, but the mayor does eat alot of chicken. So basically, what I have learned, is that to politically correct, takes balls. I think I am going to change this meaning, and start just doing whatever the hell I think needs to be done, starting by just shooting before I open the door. So if you read this, knock and step aside. People are going to think I have a teenage daughter and some dude is trying to take her out, but oh well, they need to know this politically correct dude ain't playing Washington D.C. games. The D.C. means Dummy Central in case you didn't know. Well, someone is a knocking now, time for me to knock back, don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Hot as Heck
Well, I can officially say it was so hot I had to go commando last week. Not only were birds landing on the ground out of the blue cooked, but they were crispier than BBQ chicken legs on a grill when ya got to drinking and forgot about them. Not that I ............well shit, ya I have. I seen a snake slithering past me with a canteen around his neck, now that's HOT. But a Canadian goose trying to pull out his feathers to cool off was also a site to see.
Of all the hotness I usually have in my house, with myself and all. I'm not conceded, I'm just confident, maybe little overly. But heck, all I had to do was log onto Facebook and take a gander, I got the temps from one end of the US to the other in 5 minutes. Therefore, I have decided, with the help of netflix, that I am going to just cut my cable. Facebook is the new weather channel for me.
Tonight I heard it was raining, so I stepped out of the love dungeon to sit on the porch and all be damn, there wasn't even a sparrow piss on my deck. Now does that surprise me, nah. I get to see things from people riding bicycles, in which I yell DUI, to people walking, that's when I ask if they are tired of walking,,,start running. But all in all, it's gonna simmer down some this weekend, so I might have to pull the undies back out. I sure did enjoy the breeze and the feel good flop when I walk around. But man, my socks sure are going to thank me for not allowing them to catch some sweat running down my leg.
Well, gonna take off like a prom dress and make some room out here for some birds to land, so don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Of all the hotness I usually have in my house, with myself and all. I'm not conceded, I'm just confident, maybe little overly. But heck, all I had to do was log onto Facebook and take a gander, I got the temps from one end of the US to the other in 5 minutes. Therefore, I have decided, with the help of netflix, that I am going to just cut my cable. Facebook is the new weather channel for me.
Tonight I heard it was raining, so I stepped out of the love dungeon to sit on the porch and all be damn, there wasn't even a sparrow piss on my deck. Now does that surprise me, nah. I get to see things from people riding bicycles, in which I yell DUI, to people walking, that's when I ask if they are tired of walking,,,start running. But all in all, it's gonna simmer down some this weekend, so I might have to pull the undies back out. I sure did enjoy the breeze and the feel good flop when I walk around. But man, my socks sure are going to thank me for not allowing them to catch some sweat running down my leg.
Well, gonna take off like a prom dress and make some room out here for some birds to land, so don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Zombies
I really don't understand this zombie craze, but heck, there's a lot of things I don't understand. I'm just waiting for some dumb tv network to make a chasing zombies reality program so people will really have something to talk about. We already have a "I can't find a date on my own so I'm gonna get one", a "ima teenager pregnant because I know it all", the toothless dudes wrestling gators, Billy Badass the bug killer, straight guy for a queer eye, and of course, I told you there's a dude on bathsalts dressed up as an ape in the woods.
That's all we need, to take a bunch of kids snipe hunting in a cemetery, scaring the hell out of them, making them run around going crazy because they heard something. Then, there's me, wrap me up in toilet paper and I will run around shaking tents. How do you like me now? I guess that really wouldn't be an issue as long as they don't bring flowers home for their mom. If people really woke from the dead, don't ya think Elvis would be back to slap Lisa Marie for marrying Michael Jackson? Cause I sure do. I also think my ex wife's grandma would come back and crack her in the head with an urn. Shingle that is, the one that got caught being nailed by a mexican.
And did you ever notice that zombies are white? Maybe because they lost their teeth and we can't see the black ones smile in the dark. But what if? Imagine a bunch of Pedro and Juans running around chanting Spanish being zombies. Talk about speaking in tongues, and knowing we are officially over ran in our country.
I don't get the craze, I don't know why, I guess Jesus would be a zombie since he rose from the dead. I wonder if zombie hookers are cheaper? I'll check into that. If you neat me to it, remember don't be silly wrap ole willy, we don't want any half zombies out there. But on the other hand, when a republican president gets voted in, we killed the motto "once ya go black you never go back".
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Sunday, July 15, 2012
New Trend
Well, summer is here, it's finally time for those facebook pictures of people who you didn't want to see in their bathing suits, in em. The chicks that wear daisy dukes so high they have to wear a hair net, or wax every other day, wearing cowboy boots. And the summer days of softball, with the chicks who think we are playing for a chance in a style show magazine for old softball players. And one thing I don't understand, who in the hell stole these socks off clowns that come up to your thighs, and all plastered in designs like someone was on acid with a paintbrush? That is the craziest thing I have ever seen.
If your so worried about showing your legs, drop them shorts down about 2 feet, and wear pants or something other than a rainbow of skittle colors on your calf. Some of these chicks, a farmer couldn't even corral those calfs, I had no idea socks didn't rip when they stretched out like that. Talk about a whole new design of ted hose. Now for some reason, that is not sexy. And what the hell is up with them socks with sleeping bags for your toes? Just go barefoot, some fool over in China is laughing his ass off that he is paying these 10 and 11 year old kids money to make stupid looking socks that these American girls can't spend money on fast enough.
Nothing says crazy more than spending $5 on a pair of kaleidoscope colored socks on acid, and wrapping your sweaty stinky feet in them, just to have the cheap China dye soak into your skin and making the design on your leg when you show us how an over stuffed potato looks in a swimsuit. I have seen dudes with body hair so bad in a hot tub they look like kelp took over the tub, but they have nothing on these psychedelic colored madness on your stinky feet. So, if you are crazy enough to waste money on them to keep sweat shops in existence, then obviously your not smart enough to don't be silly wrap ole willy.
If your so worried about showing your legs, drop them shorts down about 2 feet, and wear pants or something other than a rainbow of skittle colors on your calf. Some of these chicks, a farmer couldn't even corral those calfs, I had no idea socks didn't rip when they stretched out like that. Talk about a whole new design of ted hose. Now for some reason, that is not sexy. And what the hell is up with them socks with sleeping bags for your toes? Just go barefoot, some fool over in China is laughing his ass off that he is paying these 10 and 11 year old kids money to make stupid looking socks that these American girls can't spend money on fast enough.
Nothing says crazy more than spending $5 on a pair of kaleidoscope colored socks on acid, and wrapping your sweaty stinky feet in them, just to have the cheap China dye soak into your skin and making the design on your leg when you show us how an over stuffed potato looks in a swimsuit. I have seen dudes with body hair so bad in a hot tub they look like kelp took over the tub, but they have nothing on these psychedelic colored madness on your stinky feet. So, if you are crazy enough to waste money on them to keep sweat shops in existence, then obviously your not smart enough to don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Trophy Girls
One thing you can never find now days, even on eHarmony, is a trophy girl. Last night, I rolled out to the dirt track races, in which when I left, I was a dust ball. There was so much dust, I seen girls taking off their bra to give them a shake out. And for us that stare, there were some dirty boobies out there. But, what I didn't see, was, some hot chick giving out trophies.
Not that I am a Jeff Gordan, and the only woman I can catch, is a materialistic chick in a drivers suit handing me a piece of hardware. But, where the heck are the ones like they have on motocross? Those hotties that leave ya drooling like a dog, wishing you were a driver, and damn sure wanting a kiss from all that woman there posing all nice and pretty.
One thing I have learned in my life, is that no matter how hot she is, and she knows it, that chick has a side to her that really let's you know why she is single. From only taking the best of the best, and wanting, waiting, bitching, nagging, making you sleep on the couch, and all that good relationship crap. They are a pain in the ass, ya it looks good taking something out that everyone wants. But this dude will buy a sweet ass Harley and watch people want. A Harley don't bitch, tell you when you can and can't do something, and just like being freshly married, it has the new car smell. When the new car smell wears off, you don't need an attorney, court date, or child support payment to trade it in. That's exactly why a bike is better than a trophy girl.
But, in the mean time, while I pay child support, my bike consist of pedals, handle bars with streamers, and reflectors under my ass so people in the big cars don't hit me. I love to just stroll down the road, making everyone think, That's what happens when you get a DUI. Nothing says I love you more than riding my bike in my BIKE shorts, the old high risers, tight, zipper fly, and a wife beater with some grease on it, and having my hat on backwards with flip flops. I ain't out to style or be in a magazine, I'm just trying to show the point, if you want a Harley, don't be silly wrap ole willy before you hit that trophy girl.
Not that I am a Jeff Gordan, and the only woman I can catch, is a materialistic chick in a drivers suit handing me a piece of hardware. But, where the heck are the ones like they have on motocross? Those hotties that leave ya drooling like a dog, wishing you were a driver, and damn sure wanting a kiss from all that woman there posing all nice and pretty.
One thing I have learned in my life, is that no matter how hot she is, and she knows it, that chick has a side to her that really let's you know why she is single. From only taking the best of the best, and wanting, waiting, bitching, nagging, making you sleep on the couch, and all that good relationship crap. They are a pain in the ass, ya it looks good taking something out that everyone wants. But this dude will buy a sweet ass Harley and watch people want. A Harley don't bitch, tell you when you can and can't do something, and just like being freshly married, it has the new car smell. When the new car smell wears off, you don't need an attorney, court date, or child support payment to trade it in. That's exactly why a bike is better than a trophy girl.
But, in the mean time, while I pay child support, my bike consist of pedals, handle bars with streamers, and reflectors under my ass so people in the big cars don't hit me. I love to just stroll down the road, making everyone think, That's what happens when you get a DUI. Nothing says I love you more than riding my bike in my BIKE shorts, the old high risers, tight, zipper fly, and a wife beater with some grease on it, and having my hat on backwards with flip flops. I ain't out to style or be in a magazine, I'm just trying to show the point, if you want a Harley, don't be silly wrap ole willy before you hit that trophy girl.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Branson MO-MO
This past week I returned to my favorite place I ever lived. And off like a prom dress I went from the ole town of Grand Island. After a good 8 hour drive, with my daughter who is more fun to take a barking dog, all she did was sleep on me. I arrived and we went back down to the old stomping grounds.
Walked into a place called the Bearded Clam, definitely not named from the chicks who where there that night, it would have been the spoiled milk club or something of that nature. Then grabbed a couple buddies and downtown we went, to the Outback Pub, where is the only Outback I have been to where I can get some fried alligator tail. That stuff is a cross between frog legs and chicken, and if you haven't ate that, then just roll with the chicken part. About the only thing that changed in my 10 years from going back, was all my buddies still have the same jobs they have just moved up the ladder a couple rungs.
In the Pub, there was this dude that had no teeth, which we refer to as a local down there by Arkansas, probably married to his cousin or another close family member, he kind of had a limp, maybe he to was an inbred cross also. Who knows, and who is counting? Not my, I was counting the number of steps it took my waitress to get to my table and back to the bar. When she brought back my alligator tail, she yelled, "he ordered some tail," and without missing a beat, I hollered, "and she takes credit cards, my kind of tail." Had a heck of a time watching that old guy, I couldn't figure out what the hell he was doing there. He just stood there, like a frog on a lillypad, but he had a shirt on. That night they were all wearing soccer uniform shirts, which was weird, cause there ain't no Mexicans down there, but they do have cable TV. On the back, most of them had their names, but this guy had SPECIAL ED on the back of his with the number 99, which I guessed was his age. Well, it didn't take me long to figure out, that he was obviously the kid and crowd greeter. They have those kind of jobs down there, and I guess, even at a bar. Shocked me like seeing a hooker being baptised.
After the time we spent at the Pub, one of our buddies dad owns the Track, all of them in Branson, so we rolled out of there like Easter Eggs down a hill, and went to ride go carts on the wooden track. Talk about 4 grown dudes laughing and giggling like little school girls,,,,well we had some influences that helped get us that way, I figured out I was a DAMN good go cart driver. It was like racing a sprint car, the back end fish tailed out like a colored mama down ordering chicken at Popeye's. You know, that big ole ghetto booty butt. And that was the just the first night there. I know I sure wasn't worried about anything other than alligator tail, so no tail for me, but I did tell the old man, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
Walked into a place called the Bearded Clam, definitely not named from the chicks who where there that night, it would have been the spoiled milk club or something of that nature. Then grabbed a couple buddies and downtown we went, to the Outback Pub, where is the only Outback I have been to where I can get some fried alligator tail. That stuff is a cross between frog legs and chicken, and if you haven't ate that, then just roll with the chicken part. About the only thing that changed in my 10 years from going back, was all my buddies still have the same jobs they have just moved up the ladder a couple rungs.
In the Pub, there was this dude that had no teeth, which we refer to as a local down there by Arkansas, probably married to his cousin or another close family member, he kind of had a limp, maybe he to was an inbred cross also. Who knows, and who is counting? Not my, I was counting the number of steps it took my waitress to get to my table and back to the bar. When she brought back my alligator tail, she yelled, "he ordered some tail," and without missing a beat, I hollered, "and she takes credit cards, my kind of tail." Had a heck of a time watching that old guy, I couldn't figure out what the hell he was doing there. He just stood there, like a frog on a lillypad, but he had a shirt on. That night they were all wearing soccer uniform shirts, which was weird, cause there ain't no Mexicans down there, but they do have cable TV. On the back, most of them had their names, but this guy had SPECIAL ED on the back of his with the number 99, which I guessed was his age. Well, it didn't take me long to figure out, that he was obviously the kid and crowd greeter. They have those kind of jobs down there, and I guess, even at a bar. Shocked me like seeing a hooker being baptised.
After the time we spent at the Pub, one of our buddies dad owns the Track, all of them in Branson, so we rolled out of there like Easter Eggs down a hill, and went to ride go carts on the wooden track. Talk about 4 grown dudes laughing and giggling like little school girls,,,,well we had some influences that helped get us that way, I figured out I was a DAMN good go cart driver. It was like racing a sprint car, the back end fish tailed out like a colored mama down ordering chicken at Popeye's. You know, that big ole ghetto booty butt. And that was the just the first night there. I know I sure wasn't worried about anything other than alligator tail, so no tail for me, but I did tell the old man, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
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