Friday, November 25, 2005

happy thanksgiving n stuff

so, hopefully you, the beloved nonexistant reader, have had a wonderful thanksgiving, and hopefully, if you were able, you helped others to have a wonderful thanksgiving as well.

i am thankful for alot of stuff (not in any preferential order): porn, family and friends, levi's, bettie page, amoxicillin, jack kerouac, my wife, gibson, 409 all-purpose cleaner, tattoos, converse all stars, mt. rainier, skinny puppy, sex, captain morgan, pepper, mad max, doc martens, my health, the suicide girls (especially fanny) [and a special thanks to my wife for reminding me about this one--damn, she's fucking cool!], argentina, coffee, dickies, sesame street, fender, my kids, ebay, bauhaus, crate amps, joy division, this blog, dumb as it is, cloves, droopy, kirby, william s. burroughs, the exploited, bissel, percocet, tangueray, ridley scott, pizza, mst3k, allen ginsberg, ernie ball, the ramones, star wars, dragon tales, icy hot, piercings, dr. pepper, and the delete button on my computer.

my wife got the flu at the very tail end of her recovery from the tonsilectomy, and was only just feeling better yesterday, so we went to my friend s' house for thanksgiving instead of portland, which was our original plan. but i haven't seen s in a bit, so it was pretty nice to hang out with him.

spent today cleaning the fuck out of the house, which had fallen into a horrible state of disrepair while i was taking care of my family.

and a little later i'm sposed to be jamming with my buds, so that's pretty much it for my thanksgiving holiday. saturday, it's back to having my soul sucked on a regular basis. goody goody. it's ok though, as all the tips i had saved up are blown, and there's more crap on ebay i want.

so for now, i remain ever yours,

darth sardonic

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

you've got a great blog here...

fucking spammers. they are fucking everywhere.

"you've got a great blog here. i'm definitely going to bookmark you. meanwhile, you should check out my blog, where i sell 'arse-intruding dildoes, the latest in arse-tickling technology.'" or whatever fucking thing. get a fucking life! jesus. like anyone actually bothers to check out your dumb shit. (and a note here, the line about arse-intruding dils is not intended to be a slam to my gay friends, or anything of the sort, it's a line from lock, stock, and two smoking barrels, that i thought might be funny to include here. i might actually enjoy some sex-toy spam, as opposed to the nobody-gives-a-shit stuff that usually ends up on the web.)

then there's the fucking passel of stupid shite i receive in my email daily, nearly hourly. the subject lines are moronic and surreal, and it's not even necessary to open them to know they're spam. lines like "to encarcerate biproducts ice in drive" or some other nonsensical bit of fecal matter. at least the crap i used to get in hotmail had subject lines like, "i found your info on a singles website." that's fucking clever. i opened every single one of those to see if the girl was ho--oops, i mean, to see what the hell she was talking about, "singles website".

then there are the real people, who seem to have absolutely no life of their own, and must borrow others' to feel alive. for example, currently, on mother hoodlum's latest post, there is a comment from anonymous. what a hypocritical, two-faced, flip-flopper anonymous is, huh? s/he gives millions to worthy causes daily, then stops by a blog to chastise someone for their language. sod you, ya doss cunt! or maybe to lecture someone else (i'm not naming names) about the impeachment process, or how "americans" (which includes everyone from barrow, ak, to tierra del fuego, ar) are idiots who think that watching simpsons is the highlight of the day.

ok, i'm a crazy, voyeuristic bastard. i love people-watching. i mean, love. but i don't get caught up in those people's lives. once i leave the fair, or the airport, or the tree outside their bedroom window (heh heh, just fucking with ya there!), they're forgotten. i certainly wouldn't drop by their website to insinuate that i know more, or have a better lifestyle, than them.

that's why i have this place, i can do it here! just kidding. but i mean, c'mon, get a fucking life!!

the word you're searching for is, anywaaaays.

darth sardonic

Thursday, November 17, 2005

you know what would be fun?

i'm in the right mood (pissy) to let you, the loyal and long-suffering reader, in on a little "inside" joke i play against myself and any unwitting, unlucky passersby.

i say, "you know what would be fun?" and when the poor bastard says "what?" i follow it up with something that would most definitely not be fun for someone or someones present, but quite the opposite, would actually border on the inner circle of hell, more like.


(personal): "you know what would be fun?" "what?" "if someone came up behind me and tagged me right here [point at bony spot at back of head just above neck] with an aluminum baseball bat. that would be fun."

(group): "you know what would be fun?" "what?" "if a large meteorite came screaming through the roof of this place, scattering superheated shrapnel everywhere, and landed squarely on that guy [point at most mild-mannered, unassuming person nearby], spraying little pieces of him all over us. that would be fun."

(in general): "you know what would be fun?" "what?" "being gang-raped by angry prison guards, that would be fun."

try your own the next time you're somewhere you don't want to be, doing something you don't want to do. i love the looks i get. occasionally, i find someone (like my buddy m, from work) who plays along, and adds to the scenario, or, better still, comes up with his own scenario before i say mine.

i love that.

yes, i know i am a twisted and wicked fucker. no, i'm not getting help.

darth sardonic

Sunday, November 13, 2005

oh, yeah, i forgot...

in my catch-up post i failed to mention going to see alien ant farm at maggie o'toole's earlier this month.

q wanted to get together some people to go watch aaf, and didn't seem to be having any luck, and i had the night off, so i told him i'd go.

i only know the one song by aaf. you know, it's that micheal jackson cover of that song about the japanese girl. c'mon, you know it: annie urrokke, urrokke, urrokke annie. you've been hit by, you've been struck by, a smooth criminal! but i figured getting out to a bar and seeing a band i had actually heard of might be fun, and i like hanging out with q, so it was cool.

we ended up at a table with some of q's other friends and their friends. as the night progressed, and they got considerably drunker (i stopped after a couple of drinks, since q spilled guinness all over me doing some goofy thing and i told him i needed his keys, as his drunk ass was not driving us home), i began to feel old. the average age of everyone else at the table was 22. most of them were army airborne or army rangers. most of them were pretty full of themselves. there was only one girl at the table, a cute, petite thing with enormous breasts (which brings up a tangentiant thought that i have had: is it just me, or are smaller- and smaller-framed girls showing up with much larger boobs than i am used to seeing on ladies of their size? wonder how much the surgeon's scalpel has to do with it. in this particular case, absolutely none. i could see enough of her cleavage to know they were real.), who sat idly by while two of the guys played some game that i had never seen before: the "i've had that" game.

it goes like this, (and i offer this particular one as an example only, and let me assure you, it was the tamer of the list they went through) one says, "ever had a girl let you fuck her in the ass, then ask you to shoot your load in her mouth?" those present who had, said, "i've had that." it made me feel old. most of the stuff they said they had done (i think they were lying, frankly, but who knows?), i would never dream of doing to a lady, unless she specifically asked for it in the heat of the moment. later, i overhear the girl at our table ask one of the other guys why she was still single. i had a burning desire to tell her it's cause she hangs out with stupid fucking bastards who only think of women as receptacles for their cum. but i kept my mouth shut. in the context of the bigger conversation she was having with this guy, i think it was an invite for him to come home with her and fuck her senseless. i know, i know, written out here by itself, it looks like she was sad with the state of her life, but the whole conversation seemed to be some kind of convoluted flirting that i didn't get in any way, shape, or form. and that made me feel even older.

all this while the shitty opening bands played through their sets. then we actually got up by the stage for aaf, and they blew my goddammed mind. they were insanely good, and i spent the whole time watching the bassist, who not only was a stunningly brilliant bassist, but also had an intense amount of energy. i actually got bounced around a little by the mosh pit, which i haven't done since fucking my knee up in a mosh pit at a concert in fairbanks some 8 years ago, nearly.

to top it off, after the show, the band hung about signing autographs and talking to fans, and i spent a good five minutes talking to the bassist about playing styles, favorite basses, and other such sundry bassist shit. q grabbed a set list off the stage, and got it signed by everyone in the band, and was very pleased in his guinness-fueled haze.

overall, a fun night, though i felt like the lameass older guy who can't have any fun.

in other news, no. 1 is throw-uppy today, making it two members of my family that i am taking care of. he's had about 3 baths already today, and the floor needs to be steam-cleaned. i've also washed his blankie at least twice. right now, i'm the only person in my family that is awake, which means that later the boys will not want to go to sleep, and i will be up late, probably. but oh well. not like i have anything going on tomorrow except caring for the sick members of my family.

i may need more time off from work. heh heh.

darth sardonic

Saturday, November 12, 2005

i've been slack

"you aint been slack at all." i hear mad max say.

ok, so apparently work sucks my very soul, and i have no residual energy for almost anything, so the blog has suffered a bit. sorry. talk to my managers at work, who are soulless ghouls from the netherworld whose images would not be reflected by polished surfaces.

other than work, what's been going on lately? not a whole lot. no. 2 whines and whines. no. 1 still has too much energy for his own good, though he is much better behaved since the great dairy embargo of '05.

my wife got her tonsils out thursday. i have a few consecutive days off from work. the only catch is that i must take care of my wife. she's doing well, thanks for asking. sore, of course, and sleeping alot (percocet will do that to you), but in good enough spirits to allow some of our friends over to hang out last night. p set up his drums, and as a result, nos. 1 and 2's little minds were blown, and when they get a bit older, i will be forced to buy them a small drumkit. i mean, hey, if they're gonna twist my arm. my wife hung out as long as she could keep her eyes open to listen to me and p jam, and not long after she headed back to bed, t came over with his guitar, and we really started rocking out. q & e showed up and listened to us play, and seemed to enjoy our made-up-on-the-spot shit quite a bit. it was the closest thing to a party that i have had in several months. i even had a drink, but considering how tired i was before, all it did was make me lazy. a good time was had by all.

the house is clean. cleaner than it has been in quite some time. not that the kids won't trash it again in no time at all, but hey, for a sec there it was clean.

and if i didn't already have the coolest wife in the world for letting us jam a mere 28 hours after she came home from the hospital, she has spent every waking hour today (which really isn't that much) apologizing that she isn't able to wake up enough to watch the kids while i go to guitar center and take advantage of the sale they've got going on to buy a mic and stand and some cables. like guitar center isn't doing some kind of sale every fucking week. and like she needs to apologize, she's on fucking percocet. i understand.

and really, that's about all that's going on with me. pretty exciting guy, huh?


darth sardonic