Friday, June 27, 2008

a short job description

rise before the sun. get eaten by mosquitos. mow the biggest patches of grass with the slowest mower. drink lots of coffee. get bitten by fire ants. snack all day on sand and grass clippings. dodge gators. shake head in frustration with coworkers. chase snakes. stay ahead of the golfers. stay ahead of the golfers. fucking stay the fuck ahead of the golfers.

darth sardonic


Monday, June 23, 2008

the 7 words...

shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, tits, fart, turd, and twat.

ty george carlin, we'll miss ya.

say heya to lenny bruce.

darth sardonic

p.s. yes, i know they are more than seven. george amended them later with the last three.

Labels: ,

Saturday, June 21, 2008

i got...

for my birthday, i got:

two retro chairs for the manroom (commonly known as the garage) and a thursday tshirt as well as a couple other things at a local thrift store that just opened for under 30 bucks. (i will be back to visit them alot!)

a stack of playboy and penthouse magazines from my barber, and not because it was my birthday, but because they have free subscriptions to both, and they don't put them out since the place is frequented by predominantly old men and they don't wanna give anyone a heart attack. or offend anyone's sensibilities. the mags on top of a killer and inexpensive haircut.

37 bday spanks via text. heh heh.

a new cam for the computer, as well as a cool tshirt that was on sale.

asked by the boss if i was ok the morning after. everyone assumed i would get drunker'n an irish wake and stumble in feeling rough and tore up the next day. but i was fresh as a spring daisy. now, sunday morning when i go in for a few hours... well, that might be a different story.

well-wishes via text from more people than i didn't even expect to remember it was my bday. even more well-wishes via this blog, facebook, suicidegirls, and other places i can't even remember now. some people texted me AND left me bday messages. some people left me bday messages in two places online (krissie).

spent a half-hour talking to the guy who will eventually repunch my industrial, and for half of what i paid for the original job that turned out to be half-fucked-up.

and, since this all happened on a thursday, which is a short day at work, i got all this while working a normal day and before i would've been off work any other day.

some bday wishes still trickle in.

overall, a damn-fine day.

more celebrating this weekend which i may or may not share here. who knows?

i surely don't.

darth sardonic

Labels: , ,

Thursday, June 19, 2008

37 today (damn i'm old)

but instead of talking about that: a rant.

my deoderant comes in three scents: they are cool mist, wooded meadow, and mountain stream (which also conjures up a tangent rant about those old brita commercials. they used to say, "what would it take to get your tap water to taste like this?" and flash up a shot of a rushing mountain stream. my reply was always: " a few tons of river rock, a smattering of algae and watercress, some trout poop, and giardia.") so apparently it is manly to smell like cold water, pine trees, and fish guts.

i never understood that. men don't wanna smell like a pine tree. i don't wanna smell like a pine tree. pine trees are pitchy and sappy. the smell of a pine tree can be downright overpowering. anything that i might put on my body that smells like pine would be like patchoulie (and oh man, is it damn near impossible to get just the right amount of patchoulie. i think i have passed maybe one or two aging hippies that had actually nailed the pleasant amount. usually i walk through a fog reminiscent of skunk class a, that continues to linger for hours after the gray ponytail and birkenstocks have moved on. i digress.), it would be virtually impossible to get a pleasant amount of it dabbed on.

it is, i guess, based on some room of suits on madison ave, manly to smell like dead cow hide and sweaty horse as well. i mean, english leather, old stetson. come on. i don't wanna smell like leather. i don't even own a leather outfit for naughty time behind closed doors with my wife. the fucking seats in my car don't smell like leather, and they are leather!

my cologne smells like alcohol. alcohol and spices. like some scent wizard combined whiskey, gin, vodka, goldschlager, and amaretto into the perfect body shot.

and that is fucking manly.

darth sardonic

Labels: , ,

Sunday, June 15, 2008

father's day

like many things that might thrust me into the spotlight and place me centerstage of which i don't necessarily feel deserving, i managed to completely forget all about father's day until about two days ago or so.

i had to work, followed by my wife having to work, so it had the feel of a mostly normal sunday.

but you know how my brain works, o my beloved non-existant readers, and so i present to you, my views on being a father:

being a father is a constant battle. you are on the frontlines for your children, protecting them from mediocrity, stupidity and ignorance, and the common cold.

being a father means you know when to talk softly, and when to yell. being a father means you will fuck up the difference at least once a week. being a father means when you fuck it up, you will shuffle your happy little ass up the stairs, look your kid in the damp eyes, and say, "daddy fucked up. i'm sorry."

being a father means you can fix anything. and if you can't fix it, you will make it magically disappear when no one is looking. being a father means you will sometimes agonize at great length over the things that cannot be fixed.

being a father means you will dive unheeding into traffic to pluck your unsuspecting child from danger. it also means you may do that for someone else's child.

being a father means you will revel at the incredibly simple and beautiful things your child points out to you: the path of an ant, the magestry of a blade of grass, the grandeur of the moon. each and every day will be discovered anew and afresh through a child's eyes as if it is the first day ever of all time.

being a father means you will hurt beyond your wildest imagination. the kind of hurt that can neither be explained, described, or fixed with medications, deep breathing, or alcohol.

being a father means you will never again not be tired.

being a father means you will stand on the edge of the unending abyss, curl your lip into a sardonic snarl, and say, "fuck you. it's not time yet, motherfucker."

being a father means you will feel the deepest sadness, the greatest heighths of joy, wild elation, crippling depression, bitterness, silliness, frustration, giddiness, and open to the very gods that reside in each and every thing around you. sometimes you will feel all these things in the very space of a single day.

being a father means you will be humbled constantly. the greatest humility will come at the simple and beautiful and heartfelt and true things your child will say to you when you have reached the very bottom of your lowest pit and have abandoned all hope of ever getting out.

being a father means you will never have laughed the loudest or cried the hardest before in your life, and you will often wonder what you did to feel alive prior to having children.

being a father is realizing that your life, in and of it's tiny and insignificant self, doesn't matter so much anymore as anything but a guide to the lives that you have helped create and that god has entrusted you with.

being a father is being daily amazed that god had that much faith in you in the first fucking place.

dad: i still think about you sometimes.

darth sardonic

Labels: , , ,

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

take that jack kerouac

i have loved the beatniks since i was about sixteen and first read howl. i guess one of the things that most attracted me to the beats was their numerous friends all over, and the fact that they would pick up, haul off, buy a broke-down car, and go visit these friends.

it amazes me how easy it is to make friends online. granted, i realize that these friends are a tad two-dimensional in many cases, but as i am discovering as i do my own little beatnik revelry across the country, a small handful of these friends are worth meeting in person, and an even smaller dash of these are worth keeping in contact with forever.

since m lives about an hour away, and is one of the more drama-free characters from sg chat, and has been interested in meeting up with yours truly and my wife since we moved here, and had planned a little get-together at universal studios, we got this rare chance of getting to know one another without the buffer of a computer screen.

last week i drove down to port saint lucie to pick her up (her car is irreparably kaput) for a weekend of hanging out and come-what-may.

and what a weekend we had.

in the car on the way back up we listened to music ranging from sir mixalot's "big butts" to the buggles "video killed the radio star." we forced poor m to hang out at a cove bbq/drinking fest that night for an hour or two before coming back inside and logging into sg chat with all three of us jockying for the tiny square of camspace.

drunken philosophy discussions on the back patio whilst looking at the stars and being amazed at just how much our own personal beliefs were alike. my wife coming down from bed in her pj's and sleep-squinty eyes to ask, "wha're guys doon?"

no. 1 must've discovered his first crush, as he spent the better part of the next morning sitting on m any time she was still. making videos of me destroying cool songs written by people who should've forbad me in their contracts to ever attempt to play their stuff.

the giddy dashing about and getting ready to go out thing that we always do with friends before heading out. "how does this look?" "girl, that is cuuuute!" "how's this?" "is that what you're wearing?" "i guess not."

out to the bars, the first one to play darts (m takes her darts very fucking seriously. i thought i was gonna get shanked), the second cause we hoped they would have good dancing music (they had good drinks instead), and the third for actual dancing, whilst laughing at a few of the crazy inebriated people on the floor (we nicknamed them "jazzercise", "pole dancer", and "micheal jackson") (and m, "hot tits" does not a "cougar" make!). closed the bar down, came home, sacked out, and up again at 5 am to mow the greens for a few hours.

after a long nap, we all load up for the drive to take m back to port saint lucie, leaving behind lots of funny memories, and promises for more ice cream, a strip club, and whatever else next time.

darth sardonic

Labels: ,

Monday, June 02, 2008

just remember...

it doesn't really matter whether you think the glass is half empty or half full, it still means someone has sipping your drink!