Saturday, December 26, 2009

My Christmas

Well, I had a pretty nice Christmas. I didn't do much but drink beer and sleep my ass off. Kinda funny how those things go hand in hand, huh?
I woke up at 4 AM to head up to the lake in search of the ever elusive BAT, but really wasn't in the mood to drive for an hour and then freeze my ass off for a few hours to reel in a bunch of itty bitty 3 pound trout so I went back to bed.
I finally crawled out of bed about 7 - God, it felt SO good to sleep in! - and cleaned house for a bit, then napped for a couple of hours.
I finally got up and around for good then headed to Mom and Dad's place for a fine meal of ham, turkey, bacon, (Bacon. Mmmm...... bacon) and 47 different kinds of pie.
Dad gave me a new reloading manual which was much appreciated as my old one was so beat up and full of notes that I could barely see the loading data anymore. Thankee Pops, thankee.
I hung out as long as I dared, then hit the road before any relatives showed up. Fuck 'em, they don't want to see me any other time of the year, why should I act glad to see 'em Christmas day? Shit, I had a nice time listening to Mom tell me niece horror stories about my younger days (Fuck, I wish she'd catch that Alzhiemer's) and Dad telling war stories, I didn't need to listen to a bunch of relations dig into my business, you know what I mean? So I split early.
Anyways, I got home, loved on my Punkindog and fed him leftover pork and turkey.
Yeah, it was a good day excepting for not pissing nobody off.
But what the fuck, it was Christmas......

Thursday, December 24, 2009

I owe me!

If you have visited this blog more than once, then it you owe it to yourself to check this out.
And we ALL need to thank Woody for passing this along.

Shopping adventures

So I get off work early today and realize that I need some essentials from the store like bacon, bread, the latest issue of Handloader magazine and especially Ultra Plush 4 Ply Charmin asswipe.
Now the market I go to ain't exactly highbrow - it's the kind of place where you can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section and nobody will look twice at you. The reason I go there is because it's only a couple of blocks from my house, I've been trading there for better than 10 years and all the clerks know me and, well, I can take a dip of Copenhagen in the produce section if I want.
While I'm in the store I'm picking up some other stuff as well and let me tell you what, that fucking place is PACKED!!! Everybody's out doing their last minute shopping for the big day tomorrow. Hey, I can dig that, I myself had made a run by the bait shop on my way home from work and picked up some Rapalas.
When I'm ready I pick the shortest line which only has about 10 people in it and amuse myself by flipping items from the end-of-aisle merchandise into the cart of the guy in front of me. Anything to make the time pass, you know?
I finally get up to the belt and start unloading my stuff on it and this nicely dressed woman comes charging up past me with a jar of marshmallow creme in her hand, jumps in line in front of me and says "I'm not waiting in line. I only have this one item."
Now, had she asked nicely I would've allowed her to pass if nobody behind me had any objections. But don't be acting like your time is more valuable than mine, okay?
So I tell her "The fuck you ain't, lady. Get your ass to the back of the line."
She acts all shocked like she's never heard anybody say ain't before. C'mon now, it's a common term.
"But all I have is one item!" she says.
"Yeah, and all I got is 23 items. Now git."
Paul, the clerk, is giving the guy in front of me a refund for the 6 packs of gum, chapstick, beef jerky and pepper spray that I tossed in his cart and is trying to ignore the situation.
"Hey Paulie, make this snob go to the back of the line, man."
"Kenny, I'm getting off work in 5 minutes and I don't need this right now. Cool your heels and let her go, please. PLEASE?" he says as he rings her up.
I finally get rung up, bagged up and head for my truck. As I'm wandering along, I notice a Lexus with an Obama sticker in the back window and la-de-da, guess who's behind the wheel giving me a smug-ass smile?
She wasn't smiling for long. A big load of tobacco juice went skidding across her windshield.
And I made sure she got a good look at my Fuck Obama sticker as I was departing.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Screwed myself again, but it was fun.

"Um, hey Bro. Do you have plans for Christmas? I know you're alone and I was just wondering if um, maybe, if you don't have any plans for......."
"Well, actually, all I was planning was some fishing for Big Ass Trout" I said.
He looked a little relieved. "Well, would you like to maybe come over for dinner and maybe....."
"What?" I said. "Do I look like I need your fucking charity? I got family, man. Kiss my ass! I got people that love me!!!!"
"Oh shit, I didn't mean any offense, Brother. I just thought maybe......"
Damn, I love fucking with people.
The fishing should be good, I'll have the whole lake to myself.
And Denny's won't be too crowded.........

Monday, December 21, 2009

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Well, my day is complete

Okay, I changed my home number a month ago due to solicitors calling me up 5-6 times a night. The new number I got is almost as bad. It's not solicitors, it's creditors looking for the guy who had the number before me. But it's no big deal, they only call when I'm at work and they leave one message a day. I figure that one day they'll call when I'm home and I'll catch them and let 'em know Mr. Aaron Prasad no longer has this number.

So today I'm in the bedroom playing solitaire on the computer and my answering machine goes off. I recognize that it's the County Jail by the automated message (my brother-in-law was a professional convict) but I don't catch the name. I figure it's somebody calling to get bailed out and they must be pretty fucking desperate to be calling me. Real urgent, you know?
I play 3 or 4 more games before my curiosity gets the best of me and I wander in and listen to the message. Whattya know, it's Mr. Aaron Prasad!
Hmmmm, I wonder what he did?
I go back to my computer and pull up the County Sheriff website that I have saved to favorites (that brother-in-law thing again) and dammity damn, Mr. Aaron Prasad has a whole shitload of charges against him and not only that, he's been in the lock-up since July. So I write down the penal code charges and then pull up the California Penal Code that I have in my favorites folder (you guessed it, the brother-in-law trip again) and find that Mr. Aaron Prasad been very naughty. All the charges are related to attempted murder and elder abuse.
So I go to the Modesto Bee - give me a break, I was bored - and find out that Mr. Aaron Prasad was arrested for beating his granny and whacking her with a fucking meat cleaver! She survived (barely) and fingered him. He was still covered in her blood when they arrested him.
Well, that's fucked up.
I mean, even if you don't care for Granny, you don't whack her with a meat cleaver. That's just downright rude. You just stick her in an old folk's home if she pisses you off.
Right on cue, the phone rings again and it's Mr. Aaron Prasad. I can't resist this. It's worth the 5 or 10 bucks to twist his mind.
So I follow all the voice prompts and we're connected.
"What's up fucker? How's jailhouse life?" I'm smiling.
"Ya already said that."
"Who is this?"
"Who the fuck do you think it is?"
"What are you doing in my house?" His mind is turning fast now.
"It ain't your house anymore. Now it's mine. Why'd you whack your granny with a meat cleaver, ya little bitch?"
"Fuck you. You're a real piece of shit, you know that? Your grandma loved you, man."
Click. The line goes dead.
I hope whoever was monitoring the call was laughing as much as I was.
Sleep tight, Mr. Aaron Prasad.