Nobody knows what it is like to leave your house unlocked, not have your guns loaded incase of emergency, how a neighbor calls to tell you someone is being crazy down at your business and went and checked it out for you. People have set their ways, thanks to our government, of loading guns, locking doors, and turning this world into survival of the fittest. It's small town Nebraska where this image was all erased this past weekend.
There ain't nothing like gonna do a comedy show, having to throw out some motivational speaking, and then back to the comedy show. One thing came to my mind, they have enough fun in this town without a comic, and somewhere else they need a boost. Well, I came and delivered. I'm not saying they were the hardest crowd, they were all out of high school, but they were "good ole boy" small town USA. A place we have all forgotten about, and let corruption take over and change the way we live.
This is a town where mama can still stay home, and dad bust his ass to make ends meet. If they fall behind some, a neighbor or friend come in and help there. A place where the door locks only meet the jam once a year during the BIG Rodeo. And the only place in America where there is a bar in with the rodeo museum, and the keeper of the museum greets you with a handshake and a beer. A small town that if the weather changes, the mayor speaks up and gives you a place to stay at his house.
We as Americans have totally forgot about this, nor do we read it in books any longer because we want both parents working and make ends hard to meet so we can make it easier for the people that give up in life to find more houses to rob from. This is the small town if they had such a problem, they would shoot, and drag the body inside, and then call for help.
So I challenge you get out, learn about rural America and see how one can put the heart back into yourself to trust others, have others help believe in you, and move on in this world, not really caring about anything other than when the next BIG Rodeo is and what is going to be the entertainment. A great place to visit, but a damn good place to live. Go hit up Burwell Nebraska on your thru and come the last week of July and see the rodeo, I know you will walk out of that town with a new friend, and watch out for the ranch girls, theres only 2 things to do, and if they run out of beer, don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Gun Rights, my feelings, and mine alone
As I sit here, eating a bag of chips, sippin on sweet tea, and typing up this blog. I am watching my stats on here, and OBVIOUSLY Obama"don't"care has taken effect. I am shocked to see that 23 people right now, are either laid off, or maybe, just maybe are reading my blog and watching for their boss over their should. Chances are, laid off.
Some people in this world can think of the most off the wall ideas, and thus be one to me. I have spent 4 years in the U.S. Army, got to shoot all kinds of neat shit, blow stuff up, went to different countries, and have tried many a beers. One thing that really gets to me though, is these assault weapons. Now first off, you cannot hunt with them so don't even try to say we are taking your rights away. If you tried to take my gun rights away, or hunting, we would have a major problem. So what is the point in owning such a rifle? Well, in my world it's just like owning a pitbull. Nothing but a chest badge, making you feel more dominate.
On the other hand, if you really think a robber is going to be scare of an assault gun, you have another thing coming, your chances of knocking them down with a single little 1/4 inch piece of lead has nothing on my 12 gauge shotgun with a spread of a cheap hooker working the Vegas strip. Not only is my shotgun able to be go out and hunt with, but it's gonna rip the drywall down both sides of the hallway down to the studs and knock a robber right in their tracks. The simple sound of metal clunk loading a shotgun is more scary than some scared dude with an assault rifle trying to hit something.
So, beings we live in a nation that has gun rights, pistol rights, and hunting. Why would you buy a gun that only looks good and can't be used for anything else? For the same reason us dudes always look for the trophy wife. She sure is nice to parade around, make your friends drool, but really, who wants all that baggage too? Its not really guns that kill people, it's people that kill people, but if we as American's don't stop and smell the roses, what is the point of even walking in the rose gardens?
I am a firm believer of background checks, mental evals, and dealer determinations. We all know people can say whatever they want on paper, but to have someone actually eye to eye before a weapon sale, would greatly reduce this struggle of owning weapons for us NORMAL people. I know I may offend some, but until those lazy people who just think about themselves up in the Political World stop and figure out every people stems from a cause, they just ain't gonna get it. The blind squirrel finds a nut every once in awhile, but he finds it alot faster with help. Maybe we should all stand up, and stop and think about banning the rights to purchase guns when you are a politician, or postal worker. If we take away their rights, then we can sit around hear them cry whine and carry on. Heck, wanna own a gun, don't run for office, don't make us out to be people that we really aren't.
In the mean time, don't be silly, wrap ole willy, buy shotguns for home defense and raise cane for what you believe in. Someone somewhere will hear you eventually.
Some people in this world can think of the most off the wall ideas, and thus be one to me. I have spent 4 years in the U.S. Army, got to shoot all kinds of neat shit, blow stuff up, went to different countries, and have tried many a beers. One thing that really gets to me though, is these assault weapons. Now first off, you cannot hunt with them so don't even try to say we are taking your rights away. If you tried to take my gun rights away, or hunting, we would have a major problem. So what is the point in owning such a rifle? Well, in my world it's just like owning a pitbull. Nothing but a chest badge, making you feel more dominate.
On the other hand, if you really think a robber is going to be scare of an assault gun, you have another thing coming, your chances of knocking them down with a single little 1/4 inch piece of lead has nothing on my 12 gauge shotgun with a spread of a cheap hooker working the Vegas strip. Not only is my shotgun able to be go out and hunt with, but it's gonna rip the drywall down both sides of the hallway down to the studs and knock a robber right in their tracks. The simple sound of metal clunk loading a shotgun is more scary than some scared dude with an assault rifle trying to hit something.
So, beings we live in a nation that has gun rights, pistol rights, and hunting. Why would you buy a gun that only looks good and can't be used for anything else? For the same reason us dudes always look for the trophy wife. She sure is nice to parade around, make your friends drool, but really, who wants all that baggage too? Its not really guns that kill people, it's people that kill people, but if we as American's don't stop and smell the roses, what is the point of even walking in the rose gardens?
I am a firm believer of background checks, mental evals, and dealer determinations. We all know people can say whatever they want on paper, but to have someone actually eye to eye before a weapon sale, would greatly reduce this struggle of owning weapons for us NORMAL people. I know I may offend some, but until those lazy people who just think about themselves up in the Political World stop and figure out every people stems from a cause, they just ain't gonna get it. The blind squirrel finds a nut every once in awhile, but he finds it alot faster with help. Maybe we should all stand up, and stop and think about banning the rights to purchase guns when you are a politician, or postal worker. If we take away their rights, then we can sit around hear them cry whine and carry on. Heck, wanna own a gun, don't run for office, don't make us out to be people that we really aren't.
In the mean time, don't be silly, wrap ole willy, buy shotguns for home defense and raise cane for what you believe in. Someone somewhere will hear you eventually.
Me
It all started in April back in 1972, when I went to the party with my dad and left with my mom. I never really had a chance to ask questions, but it really got to bothering me and one day I asked my mom what happen, she said, "we ran out of beer at the party, so we had to find other entertainment." Now damn, only if I would have thought about that earlier in life.
I grew up in a small town in Kansas until my dad figured it was time to learn a second language and moved us up to Nebraska, and then we were in a packing plant town. Totally amazing, I can still remember to this day when I was about 8 years old and seen my first colored person, and asked my mom how they stay so tan. Yep, that was me. Never afraid.
The only reason I graduated from High School was because I threatened the Principle and told him he thought I was ornery the last 3 years, wait until he gives me one more. Plus I already had signed up in the Army and he figured get this little bastard out of country. And I did, graduated with about 300 people, on which all knew me, and I knew few. Still to this day I have that problem. I always wanted to make a name for myself. I knew I could move up in the world, especially after being stupid and getting married twice, the second time was my brothers fault, he came and stuck a stick up my ass and called me a sucker. Ya, that was an experience all of it's own. I went from Mr. Right to Mr. Fukinwrong in 24 hours. Didn't know they made a pill for that.
Heck I was a great husband, I worked my ass off so they could stay as materialistic as they wanted, and little did I know, they were sharing the bed with strangers. Always wondered why my pillow smelled like Old Spice and Polo. But, every husband knows, don't ask questions, just shut up and keep on keeping on.
I got me 4 kids and a vasectomy, in which I ain't gonna tell ya which one is my favorite, but, I'm sure you can figure that one out. Speaking of turning bulls into steers, some clown ask me if it changes anything, at first I thought,, then thought again. I said ya, it sure does, have ya ever taken a baby powder container and squeezed it and poof that cloud of powder gets shot in the air like the pictures of an atom bomb going off? It's just like that, poof, it's all over.
One day, I knew if I kept my hopes, pushed, believed in myself, I could one day, move on. Move onto something I always wanted to do, entertain the world with a sense of humor, and have fun doing it. I know deep inside I could rock television, but the way that our kids are going, and us parents buying them video games to preserve their virginity, I also need to become a good voice over for some PS3 games. So, heck, why not, the moral of the story is, you never get younger, and do everything possible to make it where your ex's turn on their TV and have to watch you. Make them think, cuss, swear, want more money from you, and all that neat stuff, while your out explaining how the poof works, and make people love ya for who you are.
If you don't believe in yourself, who's gonna believe in ya? Never be afraid, and dang sure, don't be silly wrap ole willy or one day you yourself will be sitting writing a blog just like this.
I grew up in a small town in Kansas until my dad figured it was time to learn a second language and moved us up to Nebraska, and then we were in a packing plant town. Totally amazing, I can still remember to this day when I was about 8 years old and seen my first colored person, and asked my mom how they stay so tan. Yep, that was me. Never afraid.
The only reason I graduated from High School was because I threatened the Principle and told him he thought I was ornery the last 3 years, wait until he gives me one more. Plus I already had signed up in the Army and he figured get this little bastard out of country. And I did, graduated with about 300 people, on which all knew me, and I knew few. Still to this day I have that problem. I always wanted to make a name for myself. I knew I could move up in the world, especially after being stupid and getting married twice, the second time was my brothers fault, he came and stuck a stick up my ass and called me a sucker. Ya, that was an experience all of it's own. I went from Mr. Right to Mr. Fukinwrong in 24 hours. Didn't know they made a pill for that.
Heck I was a great husband, I worked my ass off so they could stay as materialistic as they wanted, and little did I know, they were sharing the bed with strangers. Always wondered why my pillow smelled like Old Spice and Polo. But, every husband knows, don't ask questions, just shut up and keep on keeping on.
I got me 4 kids and a vasectomy, in which I ain't gonna tell ya which one is my favorite, but, I'm sure you can figure that one out. Speaking of turning bulls into steers, some clown ask me if it changes anything, at first I thought,, then thought again. I said ya, it sure does, have ya ever taken a baby powder container and squeezed it and poof that cloud of powder gets shot in the air like the pictures of an atom bomb going off? It's just like that, poof, it's all over.
One day, I knew if I kept my hopes, pushed, believed in myself, I could one day, move on. Move onto something I always wanted to do, entertain the world with a sense of humor, and have fun doing it. I know deep inside I could rock television, but the way that our kids are going, and us parents buying them video games to preserve their virginity, I also need to become a good voice over for some PS3 games. So, heck, why not, the moral of the story is, you never get younger, and do everything possible to make it where your ex's turn on their TV and have to watch you. Make them think, cuss, swear, want more money from you, and all that neat stuff, while your out explaining how the poof works, and make people love ya for who you are.
If you don't believe in yourself, who's gonna believe in ya? Never be afraid, and dang sure, don't be silly wrap ole willy or one day you yourself will be sitting writing a blog just like this.
Summer Time
It coming about that time of year when flip flops, corns, bunyans, and all the other nice things come out. Not to forget, warmer weather, no frost, panting dogs, and armpit sweat. It's it just lovely to think of summer around the corner? Oh must I forget, Walmart, the time we see daisy dukes on golf ball dimpled legs, Frito toenails, half shirts, and droopy stomachs. And the best time of year, the line up for the fairs. Nothing gets me more excited than the fair coming to town, where else in America can we run down and wait in line to have some toothless Jane or Joe make us a funnel cake?
The weather is getting warmer, incase you haven't noticed, and the days are getting longer, hints to why your ass is being pulled in a wagon behind you every morning. But we as Americans stand up, sweat loud and be proud. Talk about some strange happenings, I was abducted by aliens the other night, oddest thing that ever did happen to me. Thank God they let me go when they found out I didn't speak English.
But on the other hand, living in central Nebraska, not only do we have the County Fair that brings in all the Walmart shopper look-a-likes, we also have the State Fair. That's right, our metropolis, the only place the mayor can get a DUI and stay in office, but the Lt. Governor calls a chick on his phone and gets the boot, we are proud to host such an event. We can attract some of the strangest ducks, from a 60 year old with perfect circular boobs and winkled up like a scrotum on a 90 year old, but wearing that bikini top. God bless us, or help us, either way we are upside down.
Ole Large Marge is straining the grease from last year, and getting her permits ready, charging up her golf cart, and saving money by cutting off the arms on her t-shirts. But, we all know she makes killer fried foods, and we can't wait to lubricate our intestines with her delights. You all know me, I say toss on some strawberries or cherries and call it healthy. Dang skippy. Dig in, grab some paper towels to help stop the grease from running down your elbow, beings we can't lick our elbows, or maybe Celo Green can, humm, that should be on Mythbusters.
But when it starts warming up, don't forget, bathe, mow the yard, do all the honey do crap you have put off all winter, and find a good beach with scenery that is good on a mans eyes. Not looking for the chick that goes in the tanning bed smoking a cig, trying to just put on a front, but I'm talking a sharp dressed swimsuit wearing hottie. And when ya find it, let your balls drop, start off a chat, and then don't be silly wrap ole willy.
The weather is getting warmer, incase you haven't noticed, and the days are getting longer, hints to why your ass is being pulled in a wagon behind you every morning. But we as Americans stand up, sweat loud and be proud. Talk about some strange happenings, I was abducted by aliens the other night, oddest thing that ever did happen to me. Thank God they let me go when they found out I didn't speak English.
But on the other hand, living in central Nebraska, not only do we have the County Fair that brings in all the Walmart shopper look-a-likes, we also have the State Fair. That's right, our metropolis, the only place the mayor can get a DUI and stay in office, but the Lt. Governor calls a chick on his phone and gets the boot, we are proud to host such an event. We can attract some of the strangest ducks, from a 60 year old with perfect circular boobs and winkled up like a scrotum on a 90 year old, but wearing that bikini top. God bless us, or help us, either way we are upside down.
Ole Large Marge is straining the grease from last year, and getting her permits ready, charging up her golf cart, and saving money by cutting off the arms on her t-shirts. But, we all know she makes killer fried foods, and we can't wait to lubricate our intestines with her delights. You all know me, I say toss on some strawberries or cherries and call it healthy. Dang skippy. Dig in, grab some paper towels to help stop the grease from running down your elbow, beings we can't lick our elbows, or maybe Celo Green can, humm, that should be on Mythbusters.
But when it starts warming up, don't forget, bathe, mow the yard, do all the honey do crap you have put off all winter, and find a good beach with scenery that is good on a mans eyes. Not looking for the chick that goes in the tanning bed smoking a cig, trying to just put on a front, but I'm talking a sharp dressed swimsuit wearing hottie. And when ya find it, let your balls drop, start off a chat, and then don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Eventful Weekend
The successful weekend is one that should always be remembered. This was one of them. One of my boys was talking to his friend and what their parents do. Oddly enough, mine says his dad is a stand up funny man unless he eats to much, then he sits. The kid said his mom worked at the bowling alley, and that's when I piped up, oh she can wax a hardwood and polish balls? Is she single and have big boobs? Obviously not the material a 7 year old knows. Right over his head.
I did learn Girl Scout cookies are awesome meal replacements and only $3.50 a box compared to a $7.99 happy meal with cold fries. But, who's counting? So, we went to Walmart, hungry, real damn hungry I guess, we only bought food that had a preparation time of less that 5 minutes, and we know we were hungry cause we don't live in Colorado. Got to meet a bike gang dude, long hair, braided with Ponch off CHIPS glasses, rolled up cigs in his sleeve, leather jacket and pants. I started to talk to him, I always really wanted to know why bikers try to be the crypts and bloods. He said it is a brotherhood, family, like a marriage. All I said was sounds like Arkansas or West Virginia. And obviously, that wasn't the thing to say to him.
We did learn that we should just swing by McDonald's instead of driving home and then getting food ready. So I got up to the speaker, they asked if they could help me like always. I gave them, "I.....nee....fri......che....arg....." In which I got a sir, we must be having problems with our speaker, can you pull up to the first window please? And errrrrr, I was there. She wanted to help, but I said, "ain't no problem with the speaker, every time I come here you fuck up my order so I thought I would start it off right from the beginning. You can bet your sweetass I got all my order that time. Oh yes I did, and a couple coupons so I can come back for them to fuck it up more.
The moral of the story is pretty good all in all. Some people think your an ass, but others think your just an asshole. Really, God loves me so much he has a picture of me in his wallet. I did receive a phone call from my kids friends dad asking about his mom's boobs. Whooops. I said oh my bad, maybe she is more like a rental shoe from the bowling alley, fill her to capacity, got her warm and smelling good, and handed her back to ya. And that, was strike 3. I didn't learn a damn thing other than I should have not been silly and wrapped ole Willy 7 years ago.
I did learn Girl Scout cookies are awesome meal replacements and only $3.50 a box compared to a $7.99 happy meal with cold fries. But, who's counting? So, we went to Walmart, hungry, real damn hungry I guess, we only bought food that had a preparation time of less that 5 minutes, and we know we were hungry cause we don't live in Colorado. Got to meet a bike gang dude, long hair, braided with Ponch off CHIPS glasses, rolled up cigs in his sleeve, leather jacket and pants. I started to talk to him, I always really wanted to know why bikers try to be the crypts and bloods. He said it is a brotherhood, family, like a marriage. All I said was sounds like Arkansas or West Virginia. And obviously, that wasn't the thing to say to him.
We did learn that we should just swing by McDonald's instead of driving home and then getting food ready. So I got up to the speaker, they asked if they could help me like always. I gave them, "I.....nee....fri......che....arg....." In which I got a sir, we must be having problems with our speaker, can you pull up to the first window please? And errrrrr, I was there. She wanted to help, but I said, "ain't no problem with the speaker, every time I come here you fuck up my order so I thought I would start it off right from the beginning. You can bet your sweetass I got all my order that time. Oh yes I did, and a couple coupons so I can come back for them to fuck it up more.
The moral of the story is pretty good all in all. Some people think your an ass, but others think your just an asshole. Really, God loves me so much he has a picture of me in his wallet. I did receive a phone call from my kids friends dad asking about his mom's boobs. Whooops. I said oh my bad, maybe she is more like a rental shoe from the bowling alley, fill her to capacity, got her warm and smelling good, and handed her back to ya. And that, was strike 3. I didn't learn a damn thing other than I should have not been silly and wrapped ole Willy 7 years ago.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Diamonds are 4eva
So, as I was out and about Christmas doing my shopping because the Mayans SUCK and didn't save me any money. I noticed how many suckers there were in the bling bling shops. Now, first off, dudes, I know alot about bling bling, and I'm now going to share with you, for what it's worth.
When you go into a store and there is a karat ring for $5,000, and one for $10,000 I always ask, why the hell. So, the little Indian, with a dot, gives me this pirate looking device to check out the clarity. Do yo see that speckle in the diamond. Absolutely NOT, but I do see a dickhead on the other side of the counter trying to screw me. Now, really, when people walk around with one of these one eye telescope ring blasters on their eyes, I will worry about it. Until then, I am getting what I want. And then he has nothing to say.
And ladies, if a dude buys you a huge ring for any occasion, he's cheating. If you don't believe me, just ask Kobe. And if you have a little ring, that is the guy that really needs you, not only because he thinks little things matter, but the fact he also could use an additional income, so keep on working.
And WTF is up with this I need to upgrade shit? Come on, every year?? Really?? How many times have us men been fooled by our ladies buying those brownie candles, and we walk in thinking she has cooked for us, only to find out we are going to be drooling on ourselves, tummy gurgling, craving brownies all night all because of a damn candle? That's pig crap if you ask me. You want to do something cool, go buy a diamond upgrade scented candle and burn that bitch all day before she get's home. Same thing. Exactly the same thing.
So, the next time you are out just wondering around, go ahead and take the cheaper diamond, it's not like she ain't gonna want a bigger one next year, so start small, REAL small and work your way up, and in the mean time, I am going to work out a fragrance for this diamond upgrade bullshit all the ladies have been tricked into believing to keep up with the Jones. If you want to do something neat and unique, knock her up, nothing say's I love you more than having her waddle around for 9 months with your "I got laid trophy".
But all leading to all, never trust the Indian with the dot on the other side of the counter trying to sell you clarity you can't see with the naked eye, burn candles, and remember, a ring don't close a hole, but a rock does. Until then, don't be silly, wrap ole willy, unless ya want a trophy!!!! Diamonds are 4 eva bullshit, diamonds are great until next year!!!
When you go into a store and there is a karat ring for $5,000, and one for $10,000 I always ask, why the hell. So, the little Indian, with a dot, gives me this pirate looking device to check out the clarity. Do yo see that speckle in the diamond. Absolutely NOT, but I do see a dickhead on the other side of the counter trying to screw me. Now, really, when people walk around with one of these one eye telescope ring blasters on their eyes, I will worry about it. Until then, I am getting what I want. And then he has nothing to say.
And ladies, if a dude buys you a huge ring for any occasion, he's cheating. If you don't believe me, just ask Kobe. And if you have a little ring, that is the guy that really needs you, not only because he thinks little things matter, but the fact he also could use an additional income, so keep on working.
And WTF is up with this I need to upgrade shit? Come on, every year?? Really?? How many times have us men been fooled by our ladies buying those brownie candles, and we walk in thinking she has cooked for us, only to find out we are going to be drooling on ourselves, tummy gurgling, craving brownies all night all because of a damn candle? That's pig crap if you ask me. You want to do something cool, go buy a diamond upgrade scented candle and burn that bitch all day before she get's home. Same thing. Exactly the same thing.
So, the next time you are out just wondering around, go ahead and take the cheaper diamond, it's not like she ain't gonna want a bigger one next year, so start small, REAL small and work your way up, and in the mean time, I am going to work out a fragrance for this diamond upgrade bullshit all the ladies have been tricked into believing to keep up with the Jones. If you want to do something neat and unique, knock her up, nothing say's I love you more than having her waddle around for 9 months with your "I got laid trophy".
But all leading to all, never trust the Indian with the dot on the other side of the counter trying to sell you clarity you can't see with the naked eye, burn candles, and remember, a ring don't close a hole, but a rock does. Until then, don't be silly, wrap ole willy, unless ya want a trophy!!!! Diamonds are 4 eva bullshit, diamonds are great until next year!!!
Monday, November 26, 2012
Potty Training
Man, it took my 5 years to get my first kid potty trained. 3 of those were trying to get him to stop peeing outside on the tree. Heck, first kid, first problem, second was diapers were going up in price, I had a solution, taught him men piss on trees. Never bought another diaper, nor did I realize the thought he was going to fall in and drown in the toilet water. I tell ya, when we finally dropped the canoe in to see if it would float or had a hole in it, aka take a shit, and for some reason ALL KIDS have to have someone wipe them. If you don't answer to the ole "I'm done, wipe please," you have shared your loss of dignity when you walk in and your son has ASSUMED THE POSITION. God, I tell you, I didn't know what to do, or what to say, so I asked the priest to step to the side, and got the job done. The priest was just a joke, sorry Baptist.
Now with my girl, this was cake walk, no princess potties in her fluffy undies. You notice the different when it comes to girl talk, so you completely understand how FREAKING HARD IT IS TO DO IT. So we had to come up with our own fairy tale language. Like "lets go have a talk to Mr. Elgin", the name on the damn toilet. Now this was pretty damn easy until I figured out not every toilet in America has Elgin on it, now that was a crock of crap if I ever seen one. When we walked in, with me closing her eyes, under my jacket, with duct tape to make sure she wasn't peeking at the stand ups, I don't want her laughing at a guy, if she goes in kicking and screaming, most guys know the drill, someones going to get their ass whipped. So having a fairy tale conversation going thru to the stall does not have the meaning of "we got shit to take care of". Plus talking fairy tale going into a men's room would probably get my ass kicked, or make me an Obama supporter, or chicken sandwich runner awayer from. So, she was the easiest, by far. Swallow my pride and say we conquered the world at age 2, and ALWAYS in an inside potty.
Then comes the master blaster, the ole 7 year old, this dude could piss down a football field and never break stream. I don't know where he gets it from, it mom wasn't a squirter, and I look like a shotgun going off because ever since I got a barbell put in it,, that's another story. He can hold it for about 3 hours and then have to go and every time I hear the blast hit the splash clear in the other room. When I changed his diaper, he did have alot of me, so I know it's not cause it's small. If I could find those in a store, that nozzle would blast the paint off a car with a garden hose. So, being constructive, I taught him how to blast stains on the toilet off. His wife is going to love me someday. I just hope I don't have to teach her too. But this kid, his only problem is he is a shitting talker. He HAS to have someone to shoot the crap with when he is stinking up the bathroom. And the kid is all legs, his mom had them pretzel legs, you know, the ones you wrap around ya and tie them behind ya. He will talk about what he is doing, where he is going, what's going on tomorrow, and always what time does he have to go to bed. Now the first few days of this was no big issue, but come on, 5 years has been WAY to long. Well, now I'm wondering if his wife will like me. But, I have fixed the issue, and that's where my 3 year old comes to play.
Don't be silly wrap ole willy,,,,,sorry I ain't done a blog in so long.
Now with my girl, this was cake walk, no princess potties in her fluffy undies. You notice the different when it comes to girl talk, so you completely understand how FREAKING HARD IT IS TO DO IT. So we had to come up with our own fairy tale language. Like "lets go have a talk to Mr. Elgin", the name on the damn toilet. Now this was pretty damn easy until I figured out not every toilet in America has Elgin on it, now that was a crock of crap if I ever seen one. When we walked in, with me closing her eyes, under my jacket, with duct tape to make sure she wasn't peeking at the stand ups, I don't want her laughing at a guy, if she goes in kicking and screaming, most guys know the drill, someones going to get their ass whipped. So having a fairy tale conversation going thru to the stall does not have the meaning of "we got shit to take care of". Plus talking fairy tale going into a men's room would probably get my ass kicked, or make me an Obama supporter, or chicken sandwich runner awayer from. So, she was the easiest, by far. Swallow my pride and say we conquered the world at age 2, and ALWAYS in an inside potty.
Then comes the master blaster, the ole 7 year old, this dude could piss down a football field and never break stream. I don't know where he gets it from, it mom wasn't a squirter, and I look like a shotgun going off because ever since I got a barbell put in it,, that's another story. He can hold it for about 3 hours and then have to go and every time I hear the blast hit the splash clear in the other room. When I changed his diaper, he did have alot of me, so I know it's not cause it's small. If I could find those in a store, that nozzle would blast the paint off a car with a garden hose. So, being constructive, I taught him how to blast stains on the toilet off. His wife is going to love me someday. I just hope I don't have to teach her too. But this kid, his only problem is he is a shitting talker. He HAS to have someone to shoot the crap with when he is stinking up the bathroom. And the kid is all legs, his mom had them pretzel legs, you know, the ones you wrap around ya and tie them behind ya. He will talk about what he is doing, where he is going, what's going on tomorrow, and always what time does he have to go to bed. Now the first few days of this was no big issue, but come on, 5 years has been WAY to long. Well, now I'm wondering if his wife will like me. But, I have fixed the issue, and that's where my 3 year old comes to play.
Don't be silly wrap ole willy,,,,,sorry I ain't done a blog in so long.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
My Story
Some who know me, know the story, but most don't. So, here it is, tossing it out there, because if just ONE person reads it, and it makes sense, I have done my job.
It was a perfectly clear morning on October 30, 2006, with some wind, which is not out of the norm in Nebraska, I drove down to Red Cloud to pick up some cattle so people could have some hamburgers and steak for dinner. I was to get 36 but there were only 32 left, so I loaded them. Driving up from Red Cloud, the cows decided to play soccer or something in the back, and pulled me off the right side of the road, and I remember looking straight up in the air, and then a crash and grind. I knocked my semi and trailer onto the passenger side of the cab, and went shooting sparks down the highway. I made it 156 feet, and never crossed the center line. If I had, we would have lost a mother and 2 kids that were headed right at me.
I came to a stop and then tried to climb out, I was in alot of pain, but for some reason I thought the truck was going to blow up, beings I had just filled both tanks with 110 gallons of diesel. But I knew I was hurt. I laid in the ditch until the medics arrived, and then they toted me into the ER in Hastings. I did all I needed to do, and x-rays and all that good stuff, being I could hardly breath or walk.
They gave me 3 codeine pills and said I was bruised up and going to be sore in the morning. Well, it was sore the next morning, I couldn't even move. My parents came down and picked me up from my house in Hastings, and off we went to Grand Island, to the ER. I got me a CT Scan, and then all I knew I ended up being rushed to the VA in Omaha. Whoops, Hastings missed some important stuff and sent me home when I was hurt beyond their care. So I get to the ER at the VA, and doc comes in and says your the guy with the bruised spleen, broken back and ribs. I said, I am??? I knew I was the guy that was just going to have some bruises, but damn, did I fall out of bed last night or what??
Yep, even laying jacked up on pain meds, I can be funny. I was sent upstairs for a hospital stay. I stayed 4 days in which my wife at the time stayed one with me. Which was fine. I got me a turtle shell to wear for about 4 months while my 2 vertebra's healed from being broken, and we watched my spleen like a baby chicken in a coop with a coon. It kept getting bigger and bigger.
Finally, after about 6 months, I came to a point where it was hard to breath, and my spleen hurt. So, we decided we needed to take it out. But the problem was, my platelet count was WAY low. So I had to do some biopsy's first to make sure I didn't have cancer, which on top of everything else, about eats ya up. It all came back that my spleen was hording my platelets, and therefore causing the drop. So we take out the spleen, and I'm in ICU for I think 2 days, still to this day it is fuzzy. My spleen which was 9 inches long and weighed 10 lbs, was the largest they have ever seen, and they have no idea how it didn't burst. If it does burst, you only have seconds.
But in the mean time, my wife at the time, was telling me I needed to get back to work and get a job. While she going to school. Telling me I was worthless, and she hoped I did have cancer. She was only with me in the hospital for 1 day out of a week, and I had to get me some blood and was ONE SICK DUDE. All came out well, I was on the mend, and still getting torn down at home.
In total I was off work for 16 months. That is when it came to me, God has a direction in my life, and no matter what I try to do to avoid what it is he wants me to do, you will loose. So I stopped and took a hard look at things. First off, I needed a divorce, and when I brought it up on time, it was granted, and she tried to keep my son from me for 5 months. But, I just bit my lip, wrote jokes from it, and moved on. With family support.
I got my spleen removed, which means, my immune system SUCKS, if you sneeze anywhere near me, I will be sick the next day. But, other than that I'm just me. I do avoid hospitals. Just for my own sake.
So I got me a divorce, and one day, I was told by a friend I needed to do a show and get back on the road. Well, that is tough, especially starting out, I've been down that road before. So I accepted the challenge, and found out that people can really relate to me, I just bring out the everyday occurrences and make them funny. But in the mean time, the old bitch I got rid of, was trying to bust me down and bust me down. Then she decided to move to keep my son away from me, and moved way out west. He hates it, and isn't happy, the court system just gives me material like D.C. and I'm me, I'm a tough SOB and I know who my God is, and he is the only one going to tell me what to do and not to do. So, I am on the road, doing what I love to do, writing, selling, and working my butt off to become what I call my own superstar. My goal is to have my ex have to see me on T.V. Just to I can get the last smile and grin. Knowing it comes from deep inside. The nights I was trying to heal and she would kick my back, make me mow in my back brace, tell me I was worthless cause I wasn't working, and all along she had herself a boyfriend and that is why she couldn't stay in the hospital with me.
Well, I'm not Karma, one day she will have to answer, and I know she will lie, but it was the bitter chilly morning of October 30, 2006 that changed my life, made me move on, be happier than I ever have, and if I can wake up everyday and make someone laugh, I have accepted my challenge. That is who I am, I don't have time for abuse, I don't have time to sit around and hear how you are better than me because you are getting a Dr. degree online for counseling, I am me, I'm funny, people like me, and I'm going to make it BIG TIME or atleast die trying with a smile on my face and someone elses. I'm no better than anyone, I'm just me, I have been down a dark road and figured out what I needed to do, and am doing it. So, if you come to a show and your sick cool, I'll make you smile and then run so I don't catch it. But everyone needs to stop and think in the world, what can I do to make a better place, what is it that I am really suppose to be doing? If you aren't happy, only you can change it, I can make ya laugh, but that's only temporary.
The joys of life and being tossed some bad cards, I have made the best of it, and I NEVER get real personal to just anyone, but I'm tossing it out there so everyone knows me better than they did yesterday. Crap happens, get up, dust off and move on. Ya I may be bitter about my ex, but that is my right, and it keeps me pumped to exceed my dreams!!! So, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
It was a perfectly clear morning on October 30, 2006, with some wind, which is not out of the norm in Nebraska, I drove down to Red Cloud to pick up some cattle so people could have some hamburgers and steak for dinner. I was to get 36 but there were only 32 left, so I loaded them. Driving up from Red Cloud, the cows decided to play soccer or something in the back, and pulled me off the right side of the road, and I remember looking straight up in the air, and then a crash and grind. I knocked my semi and trailer onto the passenger side of the cab, and went shooting sparks down the highway. I made it 156 feet, and never crossed the center line. If I had, we would have lost a mother and 2 kids that were headed right at me.
I came to a stop and then tried to climb out, I was in alot of pain, but for some reason I thought the truck was going to blow up, beings I had just filled both tanks with 110 gallons of diesel. But I knew I was hurt. I laid in the ditch until the medics arrived, and then they toted me into the ER in Hastings. I did all I needed to do, and x-rays and all that good stuff, being I could hardly breath or walk.
They gave me 3 codeine pills and said I was bruised up and going to be sore in the morning. Well, it was sore the next morning, I couldn't even move. My parents came down and picked me up from my house in Hastings, and off we went to Grand Island, to the ER. I got me a CT Scan, and then all I knew I ended up being rushed to the VA in Omaha. Whoops, Hastings missed some important stuff and sent me home when I was hurt beyond their care. So I get to the ER at the VA, and doc comes in and says your the guy with the bruised spleen, broken back and ribs. I said, I am??? I knew I was the guy that was just going to have some bruises, but damn, did I fall out of bed last night or what??
Yep, even laying jacked up on pain meds, I can be funny. I was sent upstairs for a hospital stay. I stayed 4 days in which my wife at the time stayed one with me. Which was fine. I got me a turtle shell to wear for about 4 months while my 2 vertebra's healed from being broken, and we watched my spleen like a baby chicken in a coop with a coon. It kept getting bigger and bigger.
Finally, after about 6 months, I came to a point where it was hard to breath, and my spleen hurt. So, we decided we needed to take it out. But the problem was, my platelet count was WAY low. So I had to do some biopsy's first to make sure I didn't have cancer, which on top of everything else, about eats ya up. It all came back that my spleen was hording my platelets, and therefore causing the drop. So we take out the spleen, and I'm in ICU for I think 2 days, still to this day it is fuzzy. My spleen which was 9 inches long and weighed 10 lbs, was the largest they have ever seen, and they have no idea how it didn't burst. If it does burst, you only have seconds.
But in the mean time, my wife at the time, was telling me I needed to get back to work and get a job. While she going to school. Telling me I was worthless, and she hoped I did have cancer. She was only with me in the hospital for 1 day out of a week, and I had to get me some blood and was ONE SICK DUDE. All came out well, I was on the mend, and still getting torn down at home.
In total I was off work for 16 months. That is when it came to me, God has a direction in my life, and no matter what I try to do to avoid what it is he wants me to do, you will loose. So I stopped and took a hard look at things. First off, I needed a divorce, and when I brought it up on time, it was granted, and she tried to keep my son from me for 5 months. But, I just bit my lip, wrote jokes from it, and moved on. With family support.
I got my spleen removed, which means, my immune system SUCKS, if you sneeze anywhere near me, I will be sick the next day. But, other than that I'm just me. I do avoid hospitals. Just for my own sake.
So I got me a divorce, and one day, I was told by a friend I needed to do a show and get back on the road. Well, that is tough, especially starting out, I've been down that road before. So I accepted the challenge, and found out that people can really relate to me, I just bring out the everyday occurrences and make them funny. But in the mean time, the old bitch I got rid of, was trying to bust me down and bust me down. Then she decided to move to keep my son away from me, and moved way out west. He hates it, and isn't happy, the court system just gives me material like D.C. and I'm me, I'm a tough SOB and I know who my God is, and he is the only one going to tell me what to do and not to do. So, I am on the road, doing what I love to do, writing, selling, and working my butt off to become what I call my own superstar. My goal is to have my ex have to see me on T.V. Just to I can get the last smile and grin. Knowing it comes from deep inside. The nights I was trying to heal and she would kick my back, make me mow in my back brace, tell me I was worthless cause I wasn't working, and all along she had herself a boyfriend and that is why she couldn't stay in the hospital with me.
Well, I'm not Karma, one day she will have to answer, and I know she will lie, but it was the bitter chilly morning of October 30, 2006 that changed my life, made me move on, be happier than I ever have, and if I can wake up everyday and make someone laugh, I have accepted my challenge. That is who I am, I don't have time for abuse, I don't have time to sit around and hear how you are better than me because you are getting a Dr. degree online for counseling, I am me, I'm funny, people like me, and I'm going to make it BIG TIME or atleast die trying with a smile on my face and someone elses. I'm no better than anyone, I'm just me, I have been down a dark road and figured out what I needed to do, and am doing it. So, if you come to a show and your sick cool, I'll make you smile and then run so I don't catch it. But everyone needs to stop and think in the world, what can I do to make a better place, what is it that I am really suppose to be doing? If you aren't happy, only you can change it, I can make ya laugh, but that's only temporary.
The joys of life and being tossed some bad cards, I have made the best of it, and I NEVER get real personal to just anyone, but I'm tossing it out there so everyone knows me better than they did yesterday. Crap happens, get up, dust off and move on. Ya I may be bitter about my ex, but that is my right, and it keeps me pumped to exceed my dreams!!! So, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Political Debate
As most of you know, this world is in much needed help for repair. It's kind of like when your so called friends gave you ex-lax and told you it was chocolate bars. There is nothing more than having over filled your britches and foaming from the ankles more than a country that has crazy ideas thrown at them by some guy that wishes he had a binder full of women. I don't know what all is going on, I know the way we are going this plane is gonna crash and shit ain't gonna be good. I mean, why do we all stand on the sidewalk and just wait for the big one, I love me some NASCAR, but dang, when it comes to D.C. and my kids having to suffer, I guess it's time we change a few things.
First off, let's make weed legal. The whole aspect of crime will come down, people will not have enough motivation to rob stores, beat people up, shoot guns at each other. Nobody has ever overdosed on weed alone, but on the bright side, it will cause little Debbie sales to increase, bring Betty crocker back economically, and help with the shortage of cops in towns. With less crime, we need less cops, tax the crap and lets do this.
Take some of the tax money and help out the fire fighters, because we all know not everyone has bong water, in which a fire can be put out with. So we may have an increase of fires, or atleast some burn marks on clothes and stuff, so we can help the dudes that can put out the big one.
We as Americans can just sit on the sidewalk and watch the cars go by, or we can get off our butts and do something so the dog don't get hit when crossing the street. Stand up, make a stand, believe in what you want, but share it, dare it, and carry thru with it. I guess it all comes back to the time my mom ran over our dog when I was a kid, I know she did it on purpose because I was holding it at the time. From that day forward, I have not held a dog around a car, because I believe I don't have 9 lives. I really don't care who gets office along as it is someone different, who won't take away my guns.
Guns don't kill people, people do, that is like saying McDonald's needs to shut down because they make people fat. Oh wait, they serve Diet Coke so that makes it all better. The crazy thing that has happen this last January is our own Veterans who gave their sacrifice for this country, and got thrown in war because of our leaders, also had their gun rights taken from them because they have mental health issues. They are the ones that will stand up to the bad guys with the guns for the people. That would be like closing all the movie theaters down because someone got shot in one, or taking all the cop cars from the cops because one cop wrecked one. Some times we have to stop, look at the real picture, and wonder,,,what were they thinking.
As the election get's closer, and we have the right to change what needs changed, stand up, be proud, be an American and vote. If you decide to drink first, drink, then all is well and do it then, it can't be worse than what is happening inside government housing. But if you don't care and want to stay home and do nothing, then don't be silly wrap ole willy.
First off, let's make weed legal. The whole aspect of crime will come down, people will not have enough motivation to rob stores, beat people up, shoot guns at each other. Nobody has ever overdosed on weed alone, but on the bright side, it will cause little Debbie sales to increase, bring Betty crocker back economically, and help with the shortage of cops in towns. With less crime, we need less cops, tax the crap and lets do this.
Take some of the tax money and help out the fire fighters, because we all know not everyone has bong water, in which a fire can be put out with. So we may have an increase of fires, or atleast some burn marks on clothes and stuff, so we can help the dudes that can put out the big one.
We as Americans can just sit on the sidewalk and watch the cars go by, or we can get off our butts and do something so the dog don't get hit when crossing the street. Stand up, make a stand, believe in what you want, but share it, dare it, and carry thru with it. I guess it all comes back to the time my mom ran over our dog when I was a kid, I know she did it on purpose because I was holding it at the time. From that day forward, I have not held a dog around a car, because I believe I don't have 9 lives. I really don't care who gets office along as it is someone different, who won't take away my guns.
Guns don't kill people, people do, that is like saying McDonald's needs to shut down because they make people fat. Oh wait, they serve Diet Coke so that makes it all better. The crazy thing that has happen this last January is our own Veterans who gave their sacrifice for this country, and got thrown in war because of our leaders, also had their gun rights taken from them because they have mental health issues. They are the ones that will stand up to the bad guys with the guns for the people. That would be like closing all the movie theaters down because someone got shot in one, or taking all the cop cars from the cops because one cop wrecked one. Some times we have to stop, look at the real picture, and wonder,,,what were they thinking.
As the election get's closer, and we have the right to change what needs changed, stand up, be proud, be an American and vote. If you decide to drink first, drink, then all is well and do it then, it can't be worse than what is happening inside government housing. But if you don't care and want to stay home and do nothing, then don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Life as me
As a stand up, we often run into that one special person that cannot stand to be poked on, or brought out into public humiliation. For some reason, we love to eat them up. For instance, a gay cop, a short fat cop, an old cop, see anything going on here? We love to pick on cops, why, cause they always try to be so serious, and have people look up to them, to be a leader, these were the kids that would quit playing neighborhood football when they were loosing, the one's that always wanted to pick teams, the ones who wanted to be Captain of a sports team, but were never good enough, so they said a big FU and got a badge and gun so people would HAVE to abide by them.
All in all, cops are way underpaid, I personally would not be a cop, there is no way your going to send me into a gaggle of immigrants to try to break up a fight, nor can I deal with people that hurt kids. I would have one motto, Shoot now, question later. I would be that one cop everyone knows, and laughs with while we are eating donuts everyday about 8 am.
In every crowd you have the one shut out, don't pick on me, I don't want to sit up towards the front, I'm scared I'm going to be the butt of the joke, well, guess what? We know who you are and there is NO hiding. But when ya have had enough liquid courage, we will get ya, just when you think you are all WHEW he missed me, like a fish going after a rubber worm, we set that hook and reel ya in. I strive to get that one person, and then just let everyone know how they think.
Although we are not perfect in any means, I can walk on water when I see a snake, but I love to push the envelope, I guess I have done this all my life, and nothing is better than seeing a cop, lawyer, teacher, or any other person sit in their chair and try to slip under the table and get upset. But when it is all over, most of these people are upset, but get over it, pull your pants up, just cause your you don't make you any better than any other person, so stop and think to yourself, what am I doing or how am I acting to have someone pick up on me? But sometimes, we are wrong in hitting on the wrong person, but we get the vibe, and move off quickly. That is our job, people think things about other people are funny, and nobody likes to be the butt of the joke, so your in a lose lose world when you take the stage, and if we can turn this world around to everyone having fun, laughing, joking, not caring what others think, and stop trying to be to big for our britches, maybe we can get somewhere, or go back in time's to the early 90's when we all had fun. But if you decide to have fun, and for some reason try to pick up a hooker wearing them big tall leather boots and all dressed up, remember, Lincoln Nebraska has bike cops, and they don't like being hit on. But if ya score, and not get a ticket, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
All in all, cops are way underpaid, I personally would not be a cop, there is no way your going to send me into a gaggle of immigrants to try to break up a fight, nor can I deal with people that hurt kids. I would have one motto, Shoot now, question later. I would be that one cop everyone knows, and laughs with while we are eating donuts everyday about 8 am.
In every crowd you have the one shut out, don't pick on me, I don't want to sit up towards the front, I'm scared I'm going to be the butt of the joke, well, guess what? We know who you are and there is NO hiding. But when ya have had enough liquid courage, we will get ya, just when you think you are all WHEW he missed me, like a fish going after a rubber worm, we set that hook and reel ya in. I strive to get that one person, and then just let everyone know how they think.
Although we are not perfect in any means, I can walk on water when I see a snake, but I love to push the envelope, I guess I have done this all my life, and nothing is better than seeing a cop, lawyer, teacher, or any other person sit in their chair and try to slip under the table and get upset. But when it is all over, most of these people are upset, but get over it, pull your pants up, just cause your you don't make you any better than any other person, so stop and think to yourself, what am I doing or how am I acting to have someone pick up on me? But sometimes, we are wrong in hitting on the wrong person, but we get the vibe, and move off quickly. That is our job, people think things about other people are funny, and nobody likes to be the butt of the joke, so your in a lose lose world when you take the stage, and if we can turn this world around to everyone having fun, laughing, joking, not caring what others think, and stop trying to be to big for our britches, maybe we can get somewhere, or go back in time's to the early 90's when we all had fun. But if you decide to have fun, and for some reason try to pick up a hooker wearing them big tall leather boots and all dressed up, remember, Lincoln Nebraska has bike cops, and they don't like being hit on. But if ya score, and not get a ticket, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
Can I borrow 20
All of us have that one special friend we don't hear from for days, and then all of a sudden out of the blue, or maybe red or orange, the color is all in your head, heck I'm colorblind anywho, and then we get the text,,,,,Can I borrow $20 until Friday. The first thing going thru my head is, do I have an extra 20 I can part with in my life? We all know you won't see it again.
So I got this idea, I'm going to text my friends about once a month and ask for money. If I have 5 people that will part with a 20, that is an extra 100 in my pocket. That is about like setting up a PO Box, and running an add in a paper or magazine and telling people to send a self addressed stamped envelope to me and I can tell them how to make hundreds of dollars. I will print off instructions and they will be kind of like this.
Set up a PO Box in a business name.
Run add in paper or magazine, the same add you answered.
Print off these instructions, stuff into their envelope, take your $5 you get from the sorry bastards that mailed it to you and do something with it.
Mail these instructions back to people letting them know not only are they suckers like you, but there are many more people in the world like them, and don't get any paper cuts.
Now is that an idea or what? Oh wait, you'll have that one friend that will text and ask for money to place the add, and as we all know, when you lend money to a friend, you might as well light it on fire and watch it go cause your never gonna see it again. I personally don't ask to borrow clothes, so why money? But if ya happen to find some sugar mama that can spare some dollars as change, don't be silly and wrap ole willy.
So I got this idea, I'm going to text my friends about once a month and ask for money. If I have 5 people that will part with a 20, that is an extra 100 in my pocket. That is about like setting up a PO Box, and running an add in a paper or magazine and telling people to send a self addressed stamped envelope to me and I can tell them how to make hundreds of dollars. I will print off instructions and they will be kind of like this.
Set up a PO Box in a business name.
Run add in paper or magazine, the same add you answered.
Print off these instructions, stuff into their envelope, take your $5 you get from the sorry bastards that mailed it to you and do something with it.
Mail these instructions back to people letting them know not only are they suckers like you, but there are many more people in the world like them, and don't get any paper cuts.
Now is that an idea or what? Oh wait, you'll have that one friend that will text and ask for money to place the add, and as we all know, when you lend money to a friend, you might as well light it on fire and watch it go cause your never gonna see it again. I personally don't ask to borrow clothes, so why money? But if ya happen to find some sugar mama that can spare some dollars as change, don't be silly and wrap ole willy.
Some Time Off
As most of you followers have noticed, I have taken some time off. Not because I found a woman to make me a sandwich, but the holidays are coming and that always leads to having to switch some show material around, and then trying to figure out how to make it "G" rated. That's like trying to say John Holmes can be a preacher sometimes. I tell ya, I get more frustrated than a puppy locked in a kennel at times. But I think I may have thought of some bits, and so lets test them out like a cheap girl you just snagged from the bar.
Went to my ex's house the other day, and she had a door pillow knitted thing on the knob, which was very suiting beings everyone has had their turn, and the pillow said HO HO HO, so I told her nice name plate. That worked out as good as stealing gas next to a police station for me.
The ole JW's came around, for those of you that are not following, the Jehovah Witnesses, wanted to share their off-beat religion with me, I asked if they believed in Santa, and they said who, I told them to get out how the hell am I suppose to get a new TV for Christmas if I roll their way.
The new Black Ops 2 on PlayStation came out, the last time Call of Duty came out, I regained my virginity, this time I am buying the new game for my teenage son to preserve his.
I keep going to the bar and trying to find me a Santa's helper chick like I see in my DVD collection at the house, I guess I'm going to have to sell it to some Sifi collector.
The good thing about getting crappy gifts for Christmas is that leads to one less present I have to buy next year. Thanks mom.
The elections are really scaring me, have you seen how much Mitt looks like Walter from Jeff Dunham?? We are hoping to get rid of the Cabbage Patch Kid in office now, and replaced with someone with googly eyes and a stick up his ass? What are the odds.
I love snow, I may be about 40 years old, but I've got a lot wiser. When I make snow angels naked in my neighbors yard they always come out looking like a naked chick stopped by.
I love this new photo shop, I can take a picture of a lady at the bar and make her clothes come off, print the picture, and mail an I'm sorry letter with the picture to her husband.
I see you have over 50 pictures with you and your friends at the bars, and only one of your child, maybe you should stay home and pretend to be that great mother your not.
So when your mind is a racing car and your fingers are the track, sometimes lines are good and sometimes not so good. If ya would let me know which are kickers and which are shitters, that would be great. Nothing like having a HUGE audience of participation, I feel like that Bobette guy after my wife drinks slice. Well, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
Went to my ex's house the other day, and she had a door pillow knitted thing on the knob, which was very suiting beings everyone has had their turn, and the pillow said HO HO HO, so I told her nice name plate. That worked out as good as stealing gas next to a police station for me.
The ole JW's came around, for those of you that are not following, the Jehovah Witnesses, wanted to share their off-beat religion with me, I asked if they believed in Santa, and they said who, I told them to get out how the hell am I suppose to get a new TV for Christmas if I roll their way.
The new Black Ops 2 on PlayStation came out, the last time Call of Duty came out, I regained my virginity, this time I am buying the new game for my teenage son to preserve his.
I keep going to the bar and trying to find me a Santa's helper chick like I see in my DVD collection at the house, I guess I'm going to have to sell it to some Sifi collector.
The good thing about getting crappy gifts for Christmas is that leads to one less present I have to buy next year. Thanks mom.
The elections are really scaring me, have you seen how much Mitt looks like Walter from Jeff Dunham?? We are hoping to get rid of the Cabbage Patch Kid in office now, and replaced with someone with googly eyes and a stick up his ass? What are the odds.
I love snow, I may be about 40 years old, but I've got a lot wiser. When I make snow angels naked in my neighbors yard they always come out looking like a naked chick stopped by.
I love this new photo shop, I can take a picture of a lady at the bar and make her clothes come off, print the picture, and mail an I'm sorry letter with the picture to her husband.
I see you have over 50 pictures with you and your friends at the bars, and only one of your child, maybe you should stay home and pretend to be that great mother your not.
So when your mind is a racing car and your fingers are the track, sometimes lines are good and sometimes not so good. If ya would let me know which are kickers and which are shitters, that would be great. Nothing like having a HUGE audience of participation, I feel like that Bobette guy after my wife drinks slice. Well, don't be silly, wrap ole willy.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Elvis Underware
Everything in the world is for sale if the price is right, and someone has money. Since money don't grow on every tree in a backyard, they need to go global with the sale of something extraordinary. Take Elvis underware for example. First off, how we know it was really Elvis that wore them? Does it come complete with the DVD addition, remake, of Elvis Gone Wild? And then to take and add complete with stains? Really? Maybe we should take a stain, and have a DNA analysis done on it just to show the stain is really Elvis. Now that there stain would be a Hunk a Hunk a Burning britches.
If I had enough money to waste on someone elses 40 year old shit stain in their supposed undies, I would by Madonna's. Sure Elvis is probably a better bargain, or bigger piece for dollar than hers, but man, that would be the only way I would ever be allowed in them. So now in the news, we get to check out how much Elvis shit stained drawers are on auction. What is this crazy world coming to? Next will be Kim K. auctioning off a blow job, oh wait, she hasn't found out she can make money on those yet, she still don't charge.
I can see shoes, cars, his HOT ASS DAUGHTER, house, but really, we have stooped to a new low world, we are now selling shit stained drawers online and some idiot is going to pay big money for something they can't really prove. I have some awesome Oceanside property on an island down in the Bahamas for sale, comes with a boat dock, I just don't take any pictures cause I leave all my problems behind when I go there, maybe I should sell that.
If you are even putting on a bid for some dirty drawers, just hold your hat, I have some non-stained, ball sweated one's I can sell ya for half the price, and they are a heck of a lot fresher beings I'm still alive. Heck, I'll even swing by Taco Bell right quick before I ship them so you can have a stain too. In the mean time, now that you are thinking of undies, and I'm hot on Madonna's, if she even wears any, don't be silly wrap ole willy before someone finds something else wild and crazy to sell.
If I had enough money to waste on someone elses 40 year old shit stain in their supposed undies, I would by Madonna's. Sure Elvis is probably a better bargain, or bigger piece for dollar than hers, but man, that would be the only way I would ever be allowed in them. So now in the news, we get to check out how much Elvis shit stained drawers are on auction. What is this crazy world coming to? Next will be Kim K. auctioning off a blow job, oh wait, she hasn't found out she can make money on those yet, she still don't charge.
I can see shoes, cars, his HOT ASS DAUGHTER, house, but really, we have stooped to a new low world, we are now selling shit stained drawers online and some idiot is going to pay big money for something they can't really prove. I have some awesome Oceanside property on an island down in the Bahamas for sale, comes with a boat dock, I just don't take any pictures cause I leave all my problems behind when I go there, maybe I should sell that.
If you are even putting on a bid for some dirty drawers, just hold your hat, I have some non-stained, ball sweated one's I can sell ya for half the price, and they are a heck of a lot fresher beings I'm still alive. Heck, I'll even swing by Taco Bell right quick before I ship them so you can have a stain too. In the mean time, now that you are thinking of undies, and I'm hot on Madonna's, if she even wears any, don't be silly wrap ole willy before someone finds something else wild and crazy to sell.
Pre-Schooler to change name?
So much for the idea that my kids can get a good education from my hometown. I tell ya, they are busting the chops of a deaf kid in pre-school he needs to change his name because it looks like a gun when he signs it. Well, let me show you a double barreled sign language that you may understand. The ole middle finger hello. With all the news getting out about it, I just wanted to sit and let ya know what I think.
First off, we don't decided what to name our kids after they conduct the hearing test at birth. I mean, really, stop and think well if he can hear we can name him something easy and that don't look like something else. You don't be hating when the school you represent rolls out a cannon at a football game. You trying to teach our kids it's okay to roll outside and fire off a bang when someone scores. Imagine being by a whorehouse hearing all them bangs. I guess we should ask the idiots up in the main building how they decided to name their kid. Sure hope none of them have a Hunter in their family.
This all goes back to playing the cards your dealt with. The kid is 3 year's old and knows sign language, I'm 40 and don't, I know some, but nothing that he does. I'm sure more than half the administrators don't either. So, why are we paying someone to sit in a chair, read papers of how everything is going, because as long as it's good on paper that's all the counts. Obviously they were reading papers or they would have never ran across the sign language book that showed what it really was in sign. Or maybe they just ran across them at the store and said "hey, I'll have something to do at work tomorrow trying to make the kids parents change his name and look like a fool in front of America." Now that's someone I'm proud of to sit in a tax payers seat.
As a comic I have a heart, not every kid chooses to have a disability, and not all diabilities were from birth. But to think someone has the horns poking out their head to stop and want to cause something so drastic to a kid that does is outright unruly, and uncalled for. I guess while they are sitting and reading all the media, and getting slapped in the face, I hope some attorney is pounding on the door of the kids house. These people have rights, just as you have the right to work, but I guess I don't really have to go into it, because karma will come around, Hunter will have his way paid thru college, and you will have a name known by the world. Oh, maybe I can't say world because in sign language it looks like you are making fun of fat people, and hurts your feelings.
I guess when they write a book on my town, it will be titled, The Mayor and School System, the How Not to Book for Nebraskans. All I know is the Mayor is in his office wiping the sweat off his brow the media finally has something other than him to get in this town. Maybe we will be lucky and he can show his wisdom at a Fire Station in support of the schools. That would be icing on the cake, don't be silly wrap ole willy.
First off, we don't decided what to name our kids after they conduct the hearing test at birth. I mean, really, stop and think well if he can hear we can name him something easy and that don't look like something else. You don't be hating when the school you represent rolls out a cannon at a football game. You trying to teach our kids it's okay to roll outside and fire off a bang when someone scores. Imagine being by a whorehouse hearing all them bangs. I guess we should ask the idiots up in the main building how they decided to name their kid. Sure hope none of them have a Hunter in their family.
This all goes back to playing the cards your dealt with. The kid is 3 year's old and knows sign language, I'm 40 and don't, I know some, but nothing that he does. I'm sure more than half the administrators don't either. So, why are we paying someone to sit in a chair, read papers of how everything is going, because as long as it's good on paper that's all the counts. Obviously they were reading papers or they would have never ran across the sign language book that showed what it really was in sign. Or maybe they just ran across them at the store and said "hey, I'll have something to do at work tomorrow trying to make the kids parents change his name and look like a fool in front of America." Now that's someone I'm proud of to sit in a tax payers seat.
As a comic I have a heart, not every kid chooses to have a disability, and not all diabilities were from birth. But to think someone has the horns poking out their head to stop and want to cause something so drastic to a kid that does is outright unruly, and uncalled for. I guess while they are sitting and reading all the media, and getting slapped in the face, I hope some attorney is pounding on the door of the kids house. These people have rights, just as you have the right to work, but I guess I don't really have to go into it, because karma will come around, Hunter will have his way paid thru college, and you will have a name known by the world. Oh, maybe I can't say world because in sign language it looks like you are making fun of fat people, and hurts your feelings.
I guess when they write a book on my town, it will be titled, The Mayor and School System, the How Not to Book for Nebraskans. All I know is the Mayor is in his office wiping the sweat off his brow the media finally has something other than him to get in this town. Maybe we will be lucky and he can show his wisdom at a Fire Station in support of the schools. That would be icing on the cake, don't be silly wrap ole willy.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Firestorm Fest Lincoln, NE
Of all things to be part of, I'm telling ya, to help out some firemen and people who have lost everything in a wildfire has to list among the top of my performances. Not because I was a fireman for some years, and I still can't use my hose without Viagra to keep from getting my shoes wet. So these dudes, and dudettes, asked me to be part, and then we have some bands gonna come out, it sound more like a Nuthouse Fest if you ask me.
Almost 7, now who the hell would have thought of a name like that? If that was my band, it would be Almost 420, that will weedwack em. And a band for god sakes, all of us know bands don't start until about 8 or 9 at night anywho, it probably was a bass guitar player that came up with that name, had to be, unless the drummer was pounding away and thought, damn, I almost had 7 beats going on all at once. But rock on, cause it's gonna start at 8.
Idle Minds, this is a band name that scares the hell out of me. If I didn't know better, I would swear my ex wife named that one. But I know she can't play, hard to play guitar or any instrument on your back. OUCH. Hints the EX. Talk about some great music gonna come out of these non thinking pickers, hope they ain't a Greatful Dead Tribute, cause that would be in the right mind also. Wonder is there is a blonde in this band, heck, if they can remember the song lyrics I'm gonna have to drink one to them.
Ivy Garden, don't this sound like a stripper name? I can think of all kinds of gardens, but really, IVY? Must be from a bad rash they got one night down at the river naked, like some poison ivy on the ole buttcheeks, or heck, even in the garden. Where I come from, there ain't no IVY in the garden, we pull that crap. Maybe when they grow up they want to be Cypress Garden, guess we all have to start from somewhere, thank God I got my start with a pole.
And we are gonna have some popcorn at the even, Orville is coming, and gonna play some pop music to the beat of a different drum. They better pack up some extra g-strings, cause popcorn makes these Nebraska women ready to tear crap up. I guess they don't have a last or second name, I never knew an Orville all by itself, and to dig up ole popcorn daddy and take his pic for your cover was as wrong as the Dr giving you a colostomy bag when you have no arms. Talk about aggression.
Shot down in flames is gonna be the last crazy name we have here, and man can I deal with that name. One night I went out to get me a sex doll down on the corner, and not only did I get shot down like a Stinger Missile hit my ass, but I got me a free stay at the Hall County Bed and Breakfast. I better just show up with some chicken sandwiches in case they do happen to take the Flame part alittle far.
So, basically, what we have is a Redneck named Orville who grew a Ivy Garden About 7 because he had an Idol Mind, and the damn garden got Shot Down in Flames. So, don't be silly wrap ole willy, and get your ass out here and let's figure out who these kats are and what baby name book they were reading about 420 my time.
Almost 7, now who the hell would have thought of a name like that? If that was my band, it would be Almost 420, that will weedwack em. And a band for god sakes, all of us know bands don't start until about 8 or 9 at night anywho, it probably was a bass guitar player that came up with that name, had to be, unless the drummer was pounding away and thought, damn, I almost had 7 beats going on all at once. But rock on, cause it's gonna start at 8.
Idle Minds, this is a band name that scares the hell out of me. If I didn't know better, I would swear my ex wife named that one. But I know she can't play, hard to play guitar or any instrument on your back. OUCH. Hints the EX. Talk about some great music gonna come out of these non thinking pickers, hope they ain't a Greatful Dead Tribute, cause that would be in the right mind also. Wonder is there is a blonde in this band, heck, if they can remember the song lyrics I'm gonna have to drink one to them.
Ivy Garden, don't this sound like a stripper name? I can think of all kinds of gardens, but really, IVY? Must be from a bad rash they got one night down at the river naked, like some poison ivy on the ole buttcheeks, or heck, even in the garden. Where I come from, there ain't no IVY in the garden, we pull that crap. Maybe when they grow up they want to be Cypress Garden, guess we all have to start from somewhere, thank God I got my start with a pole.
And we are gonna have some popcorn at the even, Orville is coming, and gonna play some pop music to the beat of a different drum. They better pack up some extra g-strings, cause popcorn makes these Nebraska women ready to tear crap up. I guess they don't have a last or second name, I never knew an Orville all by itself, and to dig up ole popcorn daddy and take his pic for your cover was as wrong as the Dr giving you a colostomy bag when you have no arms. Talk about aggression.
Shot down in flames is gonna be the last crazy name we have here, and man can I deal with that name. One night I went out to get me a sex doll down on the corner, and not only did I get shot down like a Stinger Missile hit my ass, but I got me a free stay at the Hall County Bed and Breakfast. I better just show up with some chicken sandwiches in case they do happen to take the Flame part alittle far.
So, basically, what we have is a Redneck named Orville who grew a Ivy Garden About 7 because he had an Idol Mind, and the damn garden got Shot Down in Flames. So, don't be silly wrap ole willy, and get your ass out here and let's figure out who these kats are and what baby name book they were reading about 420 my time.
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