Thursday, March 19, 2009

home invasion, thats some real deal shit son. like some next level, other other type shit. like the shit that happened to me today. yeah, really.

some days you just have to ask yourself, fuck, what could bring me down more today, ?
oh shit, i know, coming home from work, to find your ladyfriends dress hanging on your doorknob. on the outside of the door, as in, in the hallway.

so heres the scene,
i had an exceptional deep taking sort of day, with a lot of dems , a few of those, and not enough of these. it lacked stacks and cheddah, and was full to the brim with american history x scenes. so i called it a blockbuster night, loaded up with some gummi bears and headed home to lick my wounds. 
but oh, whats this, a dress, hanging from my doorknob. 
why is it there?  is this perhaps a surprise visit from the sweet sugar momma that rocks a hard pounding style like no other.
 no, maybe it was accidentally left in the laundry, and some good samaritan decided to return it on my door , ? 
so many questions, and calls later, and i still have no answers.
the dress does indeed belong to the above mentioned young lady,
but heres where the trouble starts,
it was placed safely in the wardrobe INSIDE my loft, yesterday, and i havent moved it since.
how could it possibly have made it to its new resting place?
hmmmmmmm a question for the ages, or something a little more simple?

basically, someone with a key, decided that it was in their best interest to enter my scene, 'i dont know, maybe spend some time reminiscing?, ' look through my jawns, and then upon exit, leave me a little hint that they were there.
to rupture my shit, possibly get a rise out of me , hope that the maniac eyes arent just bullshit, and id fly off the handle or something. but i didnt, instead i decided to do what any self respecting man with num nums tattooed on his fingers would do,
i called maintenance to have the locks changed, and then called to police to file a report.(oh yeah, and blog about it)
harassment ?
 yeah im pretty sure it is,
childish ? 
without a doubt

shit is ill, and had best hasten itself
and essentially that shit will not stand

today, electronic love notes and the poh poh will be my inspiration,as they have served me well.

so now for some other type shit (note, single other)
my loft is starting to feel comfortable, like it is aware of the impending domestic bliss to come.
my neighbors? still cold saucy cunts that make loving that goes to three, burn everything once edible, and stomp around like gorillas presenting themselves.

have you no shame

you might not understand a lot of what i wrote above, and thats okay, some people dont get it, fuck, some people just cant read,
the basic idea ?

get fucked, and take yer shitty neck with you , cause i sure as hell dont appreciate you looking at mine

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

...not a single fuck

when life hands you lemons.....?
you smack it in the face with the shitdick, thats what you do. and no, spellcheck does not recognize shitdick. 
i dont know if its the economy or the severe decline of moral character in individuals, but the days are giving it, strong,long and hard. 
can you feel it? the general "out for self" , "hunter/gatherer" attitude of people these days. i mean, im no fucking hippie, but come on my duders, shit where you eat, and youre gonna eat shit. me? i appreciate some good cooking.
  i definitely still blame windows 98: but for this evening im going to rock the positive, and use a glitter framed photo and neighbors that have piss poor sex as my inspiration.

i got pulled over again for speeding on the turnpike, i used the words" im sorry officer, i was trying to make it to the rest stop, i have to shit so hard" in an attempt to thwart a ticket. yes, it worked. and as a side note, the officers name was Muscle, thats a hard style.

odd as it might seem, and ive mentioned this before, the cookies speak to me.
 and i do my damnedest to listen. i mean, im not exactly saying i found the face of god in my grilled cheese, but i sure as hell get a smile out of a well timed chinese food cookie. but then again, its not going to be anything more than what i make of it right?

Im kickin it with some serious style Bowie type Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes as of late. some real deal wwII military advancement type shit. cept, personal, not military, and present day, not back in the day. yeah , not exactly going to win any analogy of the day award with that one , am i?
word,  i suppose the blank posting box, and the terror of editing another photoshop image werent enough reason for me to make sense tonight.

so on and so on,
i write shit on my hand, not the word shit necessarily ( yes it appears there sometimes) but words in general. ive been doing this on the steady for about the past 20 years. so i dont forget things, so i dont have to look in my pocket for a reminder, so i can simply look to my left, and have a kickass list of the days duties. in theory, awesome. the truth, most of the time, i forget to even look at my hand. today it says
and while i have no clue who the fuck james is, or why its written there, im just going to accept that three out of four isnt bad. my shorthand has just become a little too short. i dont know how many morons ive had tell me that i should just get a post it note tattooed on the back of my hand, cause that would be so cool.
yeah fucking cool, thats exactly what i want, a fucking yellow box on the back of my hand. i mean, theres something to be said for spontaneity , but seriously shitbird, think before you open up your mouth.

and i think thats a nice transition to my next topic,
mouth-breathers .

what the fuck.
i have my moments, but, word is bawn.
some motherfuckers were pissing in the dna pool on this one