Before we get started today… remember that November 1 deadline I set for myself, to have my “book” finished? Well, today is October 13, and the clock is ticking. So, I’m returning to the yurt colony on Wednesday, where I will attempt to write myself into a state of full dementia.
(All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.)
And that means this will most likely be the final update of the week. I apologize, but we’re nearing the end of all this. Unless I’m sucked into a street sweeper during the next few weeks, or fall victim to spontaneous combustion, or some other unlikely tragedy, I will have written a book soon. A friggin’ book.
Notice how I didn’t even put it in quotes that time? Man, I’m starting to get downright cocky…
I’m excited, in all seriousness. I’ve been carrying around the premise for years, and still believe in it. The writing has been hard, but I think it’s turning out OK. I doubt Ernest Hemingway is feeling threatened on the other side, but I’m confident it’ll be a fun read. …Reasonably confident.
I appreciate you guys sticking with me through this. If all goes well, I can move on to some other crackpot obsession soon. Maybe I’ll get into those tiny Japanese trees you have to prune with tweezers for, like 60 years? Or possibly extreme clogging? Who knows? My options are unlimited.
Please stay tuned.
Our dog Andy (Mr. McDingles) was acting weird on Sunday. He was lurking around, staying close to the ground, and yelping whenever someone would make a sudden move. Nobody was near him, mind you, he’d be all the way across the room, and cower and yelp if someone scratched their arm or reached for the remote.
He did this once before, and we rushed him to the vet. His temperature was slightly elevated that day, but it was the only thing they could find wrong with him. And he was fine the next morning, completely normal. So we’d paid two hundred bucks for a man in a lab coat to twist a lubricated thermometer into our dog’s ass… Simply fantastic.
And, just like last time, everything was back to normal on Monday. What the hell, man?
Our instincts told us to save our money, and just let it go. But I can’t do it. This is Andy we’re talking about! One of the best people I’ve ever met. So, we (Toney) will be taking him to the vet again on Thursday. It’s been almost a year since he’s been there, so it’s time, anyway.
And – get this – they want us to bring along a stool sample, AND a urine sample. How do you get a urine sample from a dog?! I’ve never even heard of such a thing.
Toney asked this very question to the woman on the phone, and she suggested we sneak up behind the hound with a soup ladle. I busted out laughing when I heard this. I can just see me chasing him around the front yard with a big spoon: “Piss on this, goddammit! Piss on this ladle!! …Hey, where are you going??”
It would probably end up on YouTube, at the HalfShirt channel.
Have you ever had to provide a veterinarian a urine sample from a dog? How did you collect it? I’d like to know, I really would. The whole thing seems… unlikely to me.
Over the weekend I added three new Smoking Fish photos to the big swollen gallery. And you can see them here, at the top of the page. Very cool! Thanks, folks. Keep ’em coming… Our logo, man, he gets around.
Here’s a “joke” I wrote while driving to work yesterday: I’m thinking about opening a store that caters to flamboyant gay men who love sports. Our first product will be a replica jersey from the New York Jetth.
What do you think? Too 1970s Shecky Greene Catskills supper club? Yeah, I sorta agree.
And a couple of quick things before we get to the Question…
I guess there’s something wrong with the RSS feed, on the email side. The folks who signed up to receive the updates via email are no longer receiving them. I haven’t had a chance to dig into it too deeply, but something is certainly askew. The feed will not validate properly, which makes me unhappy and mildly anxious. I’ll get to the bottom of it, ASAP. Sorry for the hassle.
And the t-shirts… I get sick to my stomach whenever I think about them. Not the shirts, exactly, but my half-assery as it pertains to them. They’re still boxed-up in the family room, and haven’t been mailed. I apologize, sincerely. I’ve let it go too long, and promise to pull an all-nighter after the yurt, to get everything caught-up.
I suck, God knows it’s true, but I think everyone will be happy with the finished product (eventually). They look great, both the retro and miscommunication models. I’m on it, I promise. Sweet sainted mother of Mister Creosote…
And speaking of upset stomachs, I’ll leave you with a Question we ponder once a year or so. It usually leads to some great, disgusting stories, and I’m confident this time will be no different.
In the comments section please tell us about the last time you, you know, vomited. What were the circumstances? How long ago did it happen? I think it was late 2000 for me (I’m an infrequent vomiter), a horrible night when it came exploding out of every hole — give or take a few.
Also, we’d like to read your all-time favorite upchuck story. So, that’s yer question. Pretty classy, huh? I’ll probably jump in and ask a new one on Thursday, so that it’s not just wall-to-wall puke around here until Monday. Heh.
Have a great week, my friends.
I’ll see you soon.
Last barf?
21 September, 2009, around noon.
I was waiting in the “recovery room” after having a colonoscopy.
Felt nauseous & asked the nurse for an emesis tray.
The nurse looked surprised and started walking towards me.
I then asked her for a bucket to barf in.
She brought me an emesis tray.
I didn’t think I had anything in my stomach, as I hadn’t eaten for 12 or so hours and the magnesium citrate I had taken the day before had worked its wonders on my intestines & colon.
I was wrong.
Felt miserable for the remainder of the day, though my colon got a clean bill of health….
“So we’d paid two hundred bucks for a man in a lab coat to twist a lubricated thermometer into our dog’s ass… Simply fantastic.”
200 bucks? Should have called me. I’d have done it for half that.
As for puking I think the last time was about two years ago. i had eaten pork rinds, a pizza and 2 or 3 quarts of grape kool-aid. Results were downright spectacular.
As for embarrassing hurlage I suppose it would be the time I was …well…performing cunnilingus in a dorm stairwell. Hell of a way to ruin a mood.
So we’re driving along on a warm summer day. My brother-in-law doesn’t take seriously the fact that I’m prone to carsickness if I sit in the backseat. I had just finished a bag of sour cream n onion chips and a tuna sandwich. He starts swerving to irritate my sister. I warned him of the consequences and my warning went unheeded. Just as we pulled up to his house, I felt my mouth start to water. I leapt from the car, raced toward the house, and just as I got to the gate, it all came shooting out. I hurled, and it shot from the gate clear up to the step twenty feet away. The dog ran out and started eating it as fast as he could. My BIL took one look, turned gray and puked out the car door on to the street.
He’s never played chicken with me in the car since.
I want a Thmoking fith T-shirt. I put a poll on my site concerning a very important matter, to wit: Does the ass release shit spores, or fart molecules? I only have two votes as my site has not yet received NIH funding to study this matter.
Since Jeff is growing his hair out and packing his bong to head off the yurt, surf over, and vote.
Jeff, can you sneak a pair of depends under Andy as he launches his stream? Dress like the Postman while Andy is near a linoleum floor?
Peace out bro.
I’d still like to know how they collect deer piss.
On TV right now- The Penguins of Madagascar- Awesome show.
Jeff…man up. Catch some dog piss? Who the hell does this?Imagine collecting a gallon of racoon piss!? Or fox piss. Soup laddle ain’t gonna work on the critters. $27.99 a gallon seems like a bargin. Imagine the fun someone could have with a gallon of raccon piss!
http://www.rpoutdoors.com/rpurine.html…and let’s not forget Bambi…http://www.rpoutdoors.com/rpurine.html
I usually gurg a bit every morning. An anxiety thing I think. Waking up and realizing I’m still alive…and realizing all the money I’ve spent over the years to slowly destroy myself…has been wasted for another day.
My most recent technicolor yawn was the second last weekend in August. I was at a party at my sister-in-law’s house and drank about 10 beers then hit the rye with my father-in-law. I’m not sure how much I drank, but it came at me in full highball glasses with no mix, so I’m guessing it was a lot. By 11ish (time is a little fuzzy) I knew I was going to puke, so I helped things along to get it over with.
My all time best vomit story happened when I was 23. I was in the army reserves in those days and spent one March break as duty driver for a “General Military Training” course at Ipperwash. I was supposed to get Wednesday off, so I spent Tuesday night in the mess until they cut me off. I was informed later that I drank over 30 beers. Someone from my unit got me back to my bunk (top bunk FYI) and I vaguely remember crawling in. At some point in the night I must have puked. A lot. When I woke up the next morning the ceiling over my bunk was covered as were the sheets, floor, and the bunk under mine (empty fortunately). As an added bonus my kit bag was open and full of puke as well. Having avoided the fate of Bon Scott I was feeling pretty good until a runner found me and let me know that the other driver was AWOL and I was driving. In 20 minutes. I scraped together something resembling a uniform, sent someone to get me an ice bucket from the mess and signed out a vehicle. First order of business was driving the sentries out to their stations in the dunes, which I survived without incident. Coming back into camp however the base commander stopped me for minute and as I was talking I could feel the urge to vomit begin to rise. At the last second he let me go, I swerved around the first corner, bailed out and puked all over the lawn of the MIR. Somehow this escaped attention of anyone with enough authority to care, so I raced back to my barracks, threw my kit in the shower, bragged my linens and mattress over to the next barracks (we were in “H” huts so it was easy), cleaned the ceiling and floor, puked again, hung my kit up to dry and raced out to the rifle range where I was appointed acting Range Officer.
The rest of the day was pure hell, but the hangover was gone by dinner AND I got to hear the screams of anguish when a busload of new recruits rolled into the barracks next door and discovered the mattress and sheets that had been fermenting there all day.
Crap…that link was supposed take you right to the ‘raccoon piss’ order desk. Oh well…over there on the left you can find “baits and urine”.
The last time I barfed was last Thursday – stomach bug. And I’m not much of a puker, either.
My favorite barf story isn’t even one of my own, but a friend of mine. He and another buddy had been out drinking all night and decided to hit the Taco Bell. When my friend woke up, there was Taco Bell puke all over his bed and himself. He even found a black olive in his hair.
Jeff – I vomited a week ago Sunday. I was outside on a beautiful fall day, drinking my Woodchuck Hard Apple Cider, tossed back the last swig, and then my esophagus exploded in agony. I thought I had swallowed glass! I made it to the sink (barely), lost my lunch and the cider, then forced myself to fish through it all so I could find the chuck of glass still shredding my throat and sue the f**kers. That’s when I found the wasp. I had multiple stings to my esophagus, and my adam’s apple was bigger than Ann Coulters for a week. I’m only just now eating solid food. And yes, it hurt every bit as bad as you think it did.
I suffer from acid reflux too, so ‘shouting at Hugh and Ralph on the big white telephone’ is a fairly common occurence for me. No problem.
Unless its ‘nippy nose sick’.
Do you guys get Baileys Irish Cream over there?
If so, I do not recommend being sick on it and having it come down your nostrils. I found it not to be an especially pleasant experience.
I once tried to ‘wring’ some piss out of my dog into a cup . It did not really work, and would have been better on a Daschund type dog.
I do recommend rubber gloves however, if you do ‘mind possibly getting a little dog piss on your forearm and hand.’
I never was much of a puker, but I broke my “streak” this May. Had to have been at least 15 years since the last puke too. I had food poisoning. Sucks to puke when you’re sober.
Also, I did partake of a horrendous amount of a particular chemical a couple weeks ago and was so amped up that I took a drink of beer and it wouldn’t even go down. Blaargh…at least I was walking down the street so nothing to clean up there. Fun times. Not sure that really counts as a real puke though.
Favorite puke story: Drank 3/4 of a gallon of bottom shelf vodka when I was about 18 and puked all over the city trying to make it home. Even tried to pick a fight with some meatheads on the way. Smart, real smart.
On the turntable right now: Nick Lowe “I Knew the Bride”
Last time I chunked up my cookies. Iraq 2003. I also am an infrequent vomiter, but our entire platoon got some kind of nasty stomache bug, probably from the filthy, semi-filtered water we drank over there. For 24 hours I puke and had diahrea, sometimes both at the exact same time, and people wonder why I did my 4 and got the hell out. The good thing is that our MRE’s came with grape drink mix and the puke tasted pretty strongly of grape, which interestingly enough was not an altogether unpleasant thing. Much better than that nasty sour, stomache bile taste.
Worst puke story for me was when I was 12 years old. My “wiser” best friend and I walked down to the mini mart and bought a case of Rainier beer. I drank 11, and then went out and promptly deposited the 11 beers in his back yard. It was a good lesson learned…I didn’t drink again until I was 19 years old.
I am chronic puker. All psychogical I know. Not that long ago walked into a public bathroom and saw a lugy in the sink and absolutely started heaving. Everything makes me sick, but I luckily it just comes in phases. Was watching a friend’s kid a few years back and had to change his diaper (a #2), had to make sure he was safe before I ran to the bathroom and completely lost my cookies.
Funniest puke story was in grade 2, some kid threw up a cheese sandwich all over his finger painting board. I don’t know how I remember that it was a cheese sandwich (that musta hurt) but it was the talk of the school for sometime.
For collecting dog urine, boy dogs like to pee where other boy dogs have been. Take him for a walk around lots of telephone poles and fire hydrants and try to get what you can (you might want to wear a plastic glove). I once heard that thou who pees highest on the pole is the winner.
Oh yeah, another one was that my sister and I had to share a bed when I was in grade1 or 2. She threw up raisin pie all over the bed. It has scarred me for life.
Yes Jeff…I agree with Melissa, ask your dog what’s wrong.
@clintcurtis-
Did they sell you the beer at that ripe young age? If so, kickass. I think the youngest I ever got served was 16, in a bar that was run by an 80-something year old man who was notorious for not giving a shit how old you were. A few years later he got put in a nursing home and/or died, the land got sold off and the bar met the wrecking ball. Enough to bring a tear to my eye when I drive past the site, even to this day.
I don’t remember the last time I puked, but I’m certain alcohol was involved. I would rather have pneumonia than puke. My little sister, who shared a bed with me as well as the back seat of the car, puked constantly. I think my mother was punishing me. I remember getting up in the middle of the night, walking to the side of mother’s bed and stating, “Mom, she did it again.” I hate puke.
I must’ve felt like Obama when he got the Nobel when Jeff accepted my friend request on Facebook. I feel deeply honored, as though I were invited to join Sam’s Club. It’s like my mouth took a shower!
@Jason, be careful when you rub the wound salve on your sad member. If applied too vigorously, some claim there are side effects on vision, and palm hair.
@t-storm I wrote you at the address you gave. Did you receive?
Wenn die Katze Fort ist, tanzen die Maueser! (When the cat is away, the mice will play.)
AWG-I don’t know all the mechanical aspects of the operation but nearby here there is a farm that has whitetail deer. When the females go in heat they collect their urine, I would guess they keep them in a special pen for this task.
Is this thing still on?
In the early ’70s my father had to sell the family station wagon (a Ford LTD Country Squire, green paint with fake wood siding, I believe) because one of the neighborhood kids puked a half-digested tuna sandwich in the carpeted back compartment. Dad tried everything to get rid of that stink, but nothing worked. I think he traded it in for a blue Ford LTD Country Squire, with fake wood siding.
October 14, 2009
I know this is not comedic or anything, but it is thought provoking. Analyze yourselves. Answer, if you think you have something to offer. Let’s get deep, dudes. Nothing else here like “Is soup a meal?” to keep us occupied.
Fake Dad’s Birthday, Lost Dreams and Right place at the Right Time
Happy Birthday “Dad”
Today is fake Dad’s birthday. I have to call him, since he IS fake Dad, but he raised me with an iron fist, and I cannot let my gratitude for the many ass beatings I endured go unrewarded with no phone call. So I will call. As I have mentioned before, several years ago, at age 44, I received a letter from a guy in South Carolina purporting to be my real father. I was skeptical, until he told me things that he could not have possibly known, unless my Mom told him. My Mom, of course, denied all of this when I asked her about him and pleaded with me to never have contact with him again. Fake Dad had no clue and just believed that I was born two months premature, as he married my Mom in December and I was born in July. SC Dad looks just like an old man me. Fake Dad looks like an American Indian. Therefore, he is fake Dad.
Fake Dad terrified a lot of my friends and was the main reason many of them did not come to my house when I was a kid. We did play all sports in the parking lot across the street from my house, but never in my yard. Fake Dad would insist on bullying my friends and they did not like that….not one bit. Fake Dad would also beat my ass with a wooden club when I was bad, and then, ask to see my ass, as if the swollen red welts were a trophy for him. Fake Dad never spent time with me, never taught me to drive, and asked dates that I would reluctantly bring to the house if he could pat them on the ass. Fake Dad only taught me two redeeming qualities: To work hard to support your family and how to take a punch in the face. Thanks fake Dad, and Happy Fucking Birthday. May you live in pain for the rest of your years. Anyone else have any “Dad” stories they would like to share?
Lost Opportunities
There were many dreams I had throughout childhood and early adulthood that never came to be. Some due to my fault, some due to life’s fault (which I sometimes refer to as God’s fault) and some due to untimely circumstances. When I was five, I wanted to be a doctor. My family doctor would let me mess around with the implements of examination in his office and even promised that I could work in the spare office in his building. What happened? Maybe if I had some medical books to read, instead of “Curious George and the High Tension Electrical Wire”, I might have shown more interest, but then, The Moon Landing came along. I was going to be an astronaut, y’know, when going to the moon was going to be as commonplace as taking the bus to the mall. My grandfather bought me a uniform and a helmet with a tissue paper speaker in the mouthpiece for authenticity. The moon was the shit, and I was going to wipe it. However, I discovered Johnny Unitas and the Baltimore Colts. Got the uniform for Christmas, and the helmet. Got my teeth knocked out playing football in my front yard (wasn’t wearing the helmet) and that dream was halted by Mom and fake Dad, after spending a huge sum of money to put some caps on my broken stubs.
Musician- learned to play many different musical instruments, but in Jr. High, for career day, which was supposed to be our choice of career, I was not allowed to hang out with a musician for a day, but was forced to take a tour of the newspaper building instead, as newswriter was my third choice. By my senior year, I had no fucking idea what I wanted to do with my life. I obtained a criminal justice degree from Phunky Inner City College in Institute and immediately moved to Florida and never did anything with it for years. I finally obtained a job with the city PD here, only to be dismissed after two months for drawing my weapon in a crowded bar where I felt I was being threatened. Went back to cooking in restaurants. Went back to college, got a paralegal degree, only to find that lawyers do not hire guys as paralegals. Moved to North Carolina, found work as a paralegal and did extremely well. Moved back here and have been downsized as a paralegal at two different law offices. Now I work a low paying state job for the company known widely as the “water Nazis”.
I am surely not at the point I thought I would be at at age 48. Anyone else have lost dreams that they have not fulfilled?
Turns of Events
Have you ever sat and thought about how your life may have changed if you had not made a previous decision as to where you would have gone had it not worked out the way it did? Sorry, that may have been confusing. Allow me to lead by example.
Had I not gone to Rax Roast Beef on a day their water heater exploded, they would have interviewed me. And hired me. But they did not. I went across the street to Bob Evans. They hired me. Met many friends along the way. Had I not wrecked my car in South Charleston, WV, I would have never called my friend, Rusty, who worked with me at Bob’s and was now in Floriduh, and asked him if there were any jobs there for me. I moved to Floriduh. Had I not been pissed enough to quit my job at Chili’s, I would never have applied at a retirement home, where I met my current wife. Therefore, I would not have the two young children I have now that basically are the high points of my life. See how that all worked out? Any stories that have affected your eventual path that you are at now? How would it have been if you showed up ten minutes, or an hour, or a day late for something? I know this is deep and not as thought provoking as “When was the last time you puked?”, but give it a shot. It may keep us busy for a while.
Oh, and here is a lot less thought provoking question for those who do not want to think. “When was the last time you shat out a turd that was extremely painful, due to it’s size? There, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?
Looking forward to the regular ten of you that reply to my questions. But I still love you all.
@Angry, My own dad was killed flying in the Military when I was 12. Mom remarried another Pilot a year later & I inherited a 40 year old bachelor who knew nothing about kids & acted pretty much like the Great Santini! In retrospect he tried to do his best! which was a hell of a lot more than I did! Thanks to his dicipline I turned out to be a half decent human being with a fairly strong moral code, a decent sense of humour!(although as you may note from my posts I only amuse myself:) and thanks to his hobbies a damned fine fly fisherman! I have to say its the guy who brings you up not the sperm donator who deserves the term Dad! Had I realized it at the time:, I’m one of the lucky ones I had two dads:)
@AngryWhiteGuy: I’ll try to answer, but some are pretty deep and VERY thought provoking in their own right.
Fake Dad: I have a real dad but lately wish he were fake. I’m 30 and I feel like his parent. He quit his steady paying job with benefits years ago, forcing my mother into the ‘bring home the bacon’ position that she didn’t mind being in for awhile, but health problems of late are making her wish she could retire. She can’t though because ‘Dad’ likes to take the money she makes and buy himself nice things, like cameras ($1200), MAC computers ($2000+), etc. He is making a ‘documentary’ so he has been travelling non-stop going wherever he pleases, while Mom, working her ass off can’t even fly to Pittsburgh, PA to visit her one grandchild (my bro’s kid). She puts up with it, but I’m going nuts watching it.
Lost Opportunities: As I said, I’m 30 and still have no fucking clue what I want to ‘be’, except I sure wouldn’t mind having money and being able to travel the world a bit. I look at asshats like the Gosselins or Heidi and Spencer Pratt & my blood boils because those douches haven’t done a damn thing except breed and get implants yet they’re set for life because of it. Meanwhile, all of us are working hard, Jeff is struggling to get his book out and we can’t get ahead. Where’s our reality show? So, I guess my lost opportunity would have been not taking career choices more seriously when I was younger. I hated school so much I vowed never to go to college and although I know I still could, something keeps me from signing the dotted line in that regard. I’m working as a glorified secretary for the city I live in & each paycheck wonder where the money has gone. I have been trying to buy a house since February, have saved up as much as I can without going insane and have watched every offer submitted go to some other loser who had the ability to pay cash, or more down, or closing costs.
Turns of Events: I often say that I am glad that in 2002 I was working a shit job at a warehouse for the Postal Service. Because of working at this shit job, with a bunch of mutants as co-workers, I noticed the one hot guy in the building who very shortly later turned out to be the guy I’m still with. He’s my best friend and I love him dearly. I don’t believe in marriage, so that ain’t happenin’ and the term ‘boyfriend’ sounds so pubescent that I’ll stick with ‘the guy’. I had been wanting to quit shit job, but I noticed the new guy, stuck around and the rest is history, or so they say.
Other than that I have a lot of regrets. I regret being such a damn skank in high school and spending too much time doing too much junk with the boys rather than doing what I should have been, like going to class and passing and stuff. I regret treating my mother like garbage especially now that I am older and can appreciate just what and why she fought as hard as she did for me. I regret not kicking my dad in the nuts the moment he quit the above job & defending my mother at that point.
As for the painful turd question, I honestly can’t remember. The puking was a hard enough subject to wrap my head around. Thanks for lightening things up from that! 😉
Pagan and Melissa, thanks for those responses, they were awesome. It’s good to put some of that shit on paper (or on screen), huh? Just typing that stuff today made me feel a little better about the three jobs and the constant feeling that the man is keeping me down. You guys are great for puttin’ it out there.
@AngryWhiteGuy: Funny you said that. After I typed it I felt better for some reason about some of it. Not all of it, but some.
I’ll have to get back to you later, the “man” is breathing down my neck and I’ll need a little time to compose a proper answer for the deeper subjects.
I’ll need a little time here…Capt. Lou died. All the flags in the trailer park are at half-staff today.
Jesus Christ on a cracker, AWG!
Fake Dad: Nope, love him, I even look like a female version of him-which brings me to Fake MOM-she’s not, but I wish she were, as she reminded me daily growing up that it was such a shame that I took after my father and didn’t have her own superior bone structure. Glad Dad divorced her ass and married a very delightful, pleasant fake Mom to enjoy my daughter who looks nothing like me or my mother.
Lost Opportunities: Do you think I dreamed of being a fat secretary when I was young? That would be a “no”. I have a high IQ, did extremely well on my SAT’s, but have absolutely no motivation (except for partying back then), and barely ended up with an associates degree in Fashion Merchandising (high-schoolers beware, this is code for LIFE SUCKING RETAIL MANAGEMENT CAREER). Changing careers midlife to do the stimulating phone answering and document scanning that I do (while checking my FB account and reading the WVSR) at least has provided me with nights and weekends off, plenty of paid holidays, and twice the pay for half the work. I dream of succeeding at something creative, but I fear that I have destroyed every last brain cell devoted to that achievement.
Turns of Events: Too many, and it would end up sounding like a Twilight Zone episode.
Painful Turd? I got nothin’-perhaps you should acquire a couple of “dried plums” as the marketers are now calling them!
Wow that was cheaper than therapy and possibly more effective!
Not a good day to be reading the WVSR comments while eating lunch….
Jeff please come back !!! There is a sad soap opera starting to grow in your happy sit-com blog!!
S’OK, Tom, just answer the turd question.
A.W.G. I think everyone thinks about this kind of stuff You know shoulda coulda woulda. Life is that way and how you move forward is all that matters. I went though a divorce with my high school cheerleader sweetheart who turned into someone who broke my and our sons hearts with her cheating ways. The boys saw what happened and stayed with me. They were 17 and 12 at the time. I don’t think I could ever have the very close relationship I have with them now if that didn’t occur. I have a five year old Grandson who barley knows her and that makes me sad for her loss. I’ve since remarried and my wife is loved by all who know her.
Jobs.
I went straight to the big steel mills right out of high school and did well for about 5 years then shit hit the fan and struggled for about 10 years. Right place right time I landed a job in a machine shop worked hard and was promoted along the way.
Family
My Dad was 47 when I was born my Mom was 27. My Dad (R.I.P. 1995) was everyones friend and worked his ass off to give us 3 kids all that he could. Dirtbikes horses, used cars when we were 16. Mom treated him like shit and I watched it all as the youngest. I haven’t spoke to her for 4 years and have no plans to do so.
Can’t look back man just got to keep moving forward.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from jumping off that bridge I cross everyday.
AWG: Just this past Saturday I shat out a turd that was so large and hard that it made my asshole bleed. In fact, it took about 10 minutes just for it to start peeking out, and while it was working it’s way toward the sphincter, drops of blood actually fell from by bunghole into the toilet-water.
Your other topics depress me too much, so the above’ll have to do.
AWG:
You work for SWFWMD (or ‘swift-mud’)?
AWG—not my personal turd , but that of a friend who had been the hospital for several weeks and several surgeries.The narcotic pain meds had backed him up badly and they told him he couldn’t go home untill he dropped a duece.He popped some tube lube in his ass and after much screaming and yelling came out into the hall by the nurses station and at the top of his lungs announced that he had the baby and was headed home !
Wow…!! The Pukes and the Turds. I thought we were staying away from politics and religious sects.
WVSR Haiku
Jeff is in the yurt
No Update for us today
Pass the beer nuts please.
I’ll play this!!…
Andy needs to piss
“Quick Toney, grab the ladle”.
Never mind, he pooped.
Okay now that I’m finished with that, lets see if I can come up with something good.
Fake Dad-Nope I was fortunate to have a real Dad. He wasn’t always the best Dad but what are going to do. If I had listened to him when I was 17 life would have been a lot easier but we all need to burn our own path. 25 years later you realize you could have made some better decisions with money and such but as my neighbor sez, you can’t put a price on fun. My half brother might consider him a “fake” Dad but I doubt it. There was some differences in the way we were treated but that was also due to the differences in the way we acted, i.e. I didn’t steal and wreck the car when I was 14, (prolly cause I saw the beatdown he recieved and decided against it).
Turn of events or lost opportunity? After getting dumped by a girl I thought I was in love with I entered a man-whore stage of my life. At the end of this phase I had a fuck buddy. She lived 100 miles away but saw me about every other weekend. It went on for quite a while and suddenly I didn’t see her for about a month or so. When I finally ran into her (I was shit faced) we made small talk for a while when all of a sudden she informs me she had a miscarriage a week prior. Well I’m a dumbass and don’t know whether to console her or buy a round for the whole place. Needless to say that was it for the “relationship”. She eventually moved back to my hometown, married a little rich prick and now lives in a very nice home. And I ocassionally see her walking with a couple of kids in tow, still looking damn fine, I can’t help but wonder if I had been ready for a relationship at the time if I would still be single today.
My (almost) 9 year old daughter suggests that you…
well, basically make your dog a jockstrap out of a paper cup and an elastic. When he pees in it, you simply remove it.
I don’t know how realistic this is, but it sure made us snicker.
A turd that was turtle’s heading for ten minutes?! WTF do you eat – cheese, hard boiled eggs and superglue?
When my cat has to give a urine sample (and he does often – bad kidneys) they just stick a little syringe through his stomach into his bladder. Doesn’t seem to bother him much, and probably stresses him out less than being stalked by me wielding some pee-catching contraption.
‘turn of events’ not really but if I didn’t work with such dumbasses at the time, I wouldn’t have googled ‘dumb ass co-workers’ or something of the like and found you guys!
And now for something completly depressing…
My Mom is dead…my Dad’s a total prick and I’ve fucked up every aspect of my life starting in the second grade when Miss Juffer caught me moving my desk so I could get a better look up her dress.
There…I am cleansed!
My Dad…not really…but this is his general attiude without being so damn funny. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtMV44yoXZ0
Jeff, this could very well be a WVSR “Trifecta” as today’s 1) question about one’s latest purging experience actually preceded my viewing of today’s 2) “Further Evidence” link (Wanda’s Macaroni Salad). After watching those meaty hands concoct that satanic side dish, I could feel the 3) chunks rise in the back of my throat. It was sometime between watching those poor veggies take their death slide into that hot mess and the test tasting, that I felt the need to haul ass so that I wouldn’t ‘buick fondue’ on my desk. Unless anyone hurled while reading today’s post, I am hoping to take the “most recent” prize…
Oh and before I forget, I have a giant-ass great dane and collecting a urine sample is damn near impossible. We were only lucky by making her hold it, following outside after she peed, sponging it up and squeezing the sponge into some container…disgusting yes, now I may vomit again.
AWG – I don’t really see the things I haven’t done, but want to, as lost opportunities. Rather they are just things I haven’t gotten around to yet. Either Academy Award winning actress or first woman President of the United States, will be my next career. The only thing that I haven’t done, that I might not ever get to do is have kids. That is a door that might just close on me. We’ll see.
Turn of events? Plenty. I think about that a lot. For instance – had I not chosen the college I did – which I hated and was a really bad choice for me – I probably wouldn’t have decided to do my junior year abroad. If I hadn’t done my junior year abroad, my high school sweetheart would not have had the opportunity knock up some slut he worked with, which led to their marriage and our break-up (although technically he never broke up with me – but I can take a hint) and my decision to continue working in radio instead of going straight to law school, and my radio gig led me to a super cute guitar player who is now my husband.
Funnily enough, I saw the HS sweetheart over the weekend and he had their newest baby with him. That is one effin cute baby, but I have to say that even though I am sorry that I have most likely missed the opportunity to have children, and even though I am quite fond of this guy’s kids, I wouldn’t trade my husband for all the kids in China. Especially if it meant I had to be married to the douchebag ex-boyfriend.
100!