As the saying goes; house guests are like fish, they both stink after three days. I never have to worry about house guests though. No one ever stays at my place for more than a few minutes. I don't worry about anything, though. As a matter of fact, I relish in my imperfections. Who cares if the people I love the most see me as nothing more than free room and board for a day? Also, that trout in the fridge is starting to ferment. The smell permeates the house whenever the fridge is opened! I don't care. If you can't deal with a little dead fish, you're not really alive! I had something totally profound and revealing to say just now, but while I was trying to flesh it out in my mind the commotion started upstairs. Everyone is starting to wake up! @ $
The greatest thing about being an alcoholic is that you never have to worry about... well... Anything! As long as that drink is within your grasp, all is well. My wife is, as we speak, hacking up a fur ball. I don't care, though, because I have a drink! While she's busy coughing up phlegm, the little ones are running amok while I'm trying to write something profound and enlightening. That doesn't matter, because I have a drink! Of course profundity and enlightenment are the last words in the English language that I should ever expect my readers to come away with (because I have a drink). If I actually had readers, I would expect them to choke to death on their own saliva because of their brain's inability to decipher enough information to differentiate the drivel being read and the regulation of saliva dripping into their lungs that hasn't been successfully drooled! There is a certain freedom in all of this, however. As long as I know that no one reads what I write, I don't have to worry about pandering to anyone but myself. After all, isn't that what's really important in life? Pandering to oneself?
Loser Lay Off
I just got laid off today. I had this crappy job cooking for a second rate college cafeteria. In a typical day I would get cussed out by at least ten students. One time, a very attractive drama student complained about my split pea with rhubarb casserole. When I asked her what was wrong with it her face contorted into this unnatural look of disgust and confusion right before she began shrieking. Then she moved on to the sloppy joes. During the next mandatory staff meeting, we were informed of a new company policy expressly forbidding any and all employees who are me, to "directly or indirectly address a student, faculty, or staff member with either the spoken word, bodily gesture, or eye contact." When I filed a grievance with the dean of students, he told me to "stop sucking" and to kindly never look him in the eyes again as dictated by company policy. Guess I should have seen it coming.
Better Living Through Fermentation
Coping with loss is the most important life skill to master for a guy like me. Drugs and alcohol work most of the time. I'm not able to use as many drugs as I would like because the local dealers won't sell to me being that I'm such a loser. So after I got fired today, I did the only reasonable thing for a man in my position; I bought a gigantic bottle of cheap whiskey with no chaser (you know, because I'm broke and need to be more financially responsible).
The first swig of cheap booze is always the worst. Your throat burns, your nose wrinkles, and your eyes begin to water. That's why I always chug five or six shots all in a row before doing anything. Today I chugged 8, then I was good and ready for the drive home.
The Drive
The drive home sucked today. Besides losing my job, and only being able to afford cheap whiskey, traffic was terrible. Well it wasn't that bad besides the fact that I was pretty drunk by the time I got to the on ramp. I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to tell my wife when I got home. Do I just come out and tell her about getting fired or try to butter her up a little first. I should probably just come out and tell her, I thought. The last time I tried to butter her up, she immediately began throwing pots and pans at me and whatnot before I could even complete a sentence!
Man the drivers out here are bad. While I was driving home, I couldn't understand how everyone I passed managed to be spinning out of control in my rear-view! Hmph, they must've drunk more than I did! Plus, there were like 5 or 6 patrol cars with lights and sirens blazing coming up fast behind me. I remember thinking I felt sorry for the guy they were after. I figured I better get out of their way so they could catch up to the guy they were chasing, so I switched lanes in front of a gas truck who started blaring his horn! I assumed it was a friendly gesture to the police officers to go ahead and pass because the coast was clear. I felt I needed another belt of whiskey so I looked down at the floorboards and reached for my bottle. By the time I grabbed my hooch and looked back up, the gas truck was in mid jackknife barely out of my line of vision! In my rear-view, I saw the fire, and all the patrol cars were wiping out in the ditch. I didn't stop because there wasn't much I'd be able to help with in that situation. Besides, the police were already there. I hope a couple managed to get through the wreck and catch their suspect. Crazy day I thought, then took a drink.
Man the drivers out here are bad. While I was driving home, I couldn't understand how everyone I passed managed to be spinning out of control in my rear-view! Hmph, they must've drunk more than I did! Plus, there were like 5 or 6 patrol cars with lights and sirens blazing coming up fast behind me. I remember thinking I felt sorry for the guy they were after. I figured I better get out of their way so they could catch up to the guy they were chasing, so I switched lanes in front of a gas truck who started blaring his horn! I assumed it was a friendly gesture to the police officers to go ahead and pass because the coast was clear. I felt I needed another belt of whiskey so I looked down at the floorboards and reached for my bottle. By the time I grabbed my hooch and looked back up, the gas truck was in mid jackknife barely out of my line of vision! In my rear-view, I saw the fire, and all the patrol cars were wiping out in the ditch. I didn't stop because there wasn't much I'd be able to help with in that situation. Besides, the police were already there. I hope a couple managed to get through the wreck and catch their suspect. Crazy day I thought, then took a drink.
The Seathing Underbelly of the Small Town
I finally made it to the off ramp. The chaos behind me on the interstate was fading from my mind as I began contemplating the horrors that awaited me at home. I live in a small town so it is customary for motorists to wave to one another in passing. I mostly just get the finger. Today was no different.
I figured that my wife might throw fewer blunt objects at me if I stopped to get the mail before going to the house. People in small towns tend to move pretty slowly. The elderly especially. When they see me driving through town, they manage to move pretty fast though. When I turned on to Main Street on my way to the post office, Mrs. Bergen who is a resident of the local nursing home was crossing the street with her walker. As I approached, I was going to give her a friendly wave, but she hoisted her walker above her head and broke into a sprint as soon as she caught sight of my vehicle. She must've been in a hurry. No worries, I thought, the post office was less than a block away anyhow.
The scene at the local post office was typical. People coming in and out. Folks chatting on the sidewalk near the door. The busier ones would walk by and put their mail in the drop box while moms were trying to keep their children out of everybody's way. I must have shown up at just the right time because as I pulled into a parking space, I noticed that everyone was suddenly finished with their business and they began to disperse... rapidly. So I entered the post office unhindered and got my mail.
Nothing much in the mail today. Bills, pre-approved credit applications that aren't really pre-approved, a couple of shut-off notices, and a birthday card to one of my children from the refrigerator repair man. Come to think of it, that thing breaks down an awful lot. He's a nice enough guy though, he always come out to fix it for free.
I figured that my wife might throw fewer blunt objects at me if I stopped to get the mail before going to the house. People in small towns tend to move pretty slowly. The elderly especially. When they see me driving through town, they manage to move pretty fast though. When I turned on to Main Street on my way to the post office, Mrs. Bergen who is a resident of the local nursing home was crossing the street with her walker. As I approached, I was going to give her a friendly wave, but she hoisted her walker above her head and broke into a sprint as soon as she caught sight of my vehicle. She must've been in a hurry. No worries, I thought, the post office was less than a block away anyhow.
The scene at the local post office was typical. People coming in and out. Folks chatting on the sidewalk near the door. The busier ones would walk by and put their mail in the drop box while moms were trying to keep their children out of everybody's way. I must have shown up at just the right time because as I pulled into a parking space, I noticed that everyone was suddenly finished with their business and they began to disperse... rapidly. So I entered the post office unhindered and got my mail.
Nothing much in the mail today. Bills, pre-approved credit applications that aren't really pre-approved, a couple of shut-off notices, and a birthday card to one of my children from the refrigerator repair man. Come to think of it, that thing breaks down an awful lot. He's a nice enough guy though, he always come out to fix it for free.
Home Sweet Home
Coming home is always difficult for me because the driveway is normally littered with beer cans, toys, and broken appliances. Sometimes the occasional dead animal will be obscured by the knee-high weeds that grow from cracks in the concrete. These things are especially hard to avoid while under the influence! I must have been doing better than usual today because I only ran over one bicycle on the way to the garage.
The walkway leading up to the front door is equally treacherous because I never mow the lawn and the dog will only do it's business on the stone blocks. I hate that dog. Every time I come home it attacks me and I have to kick it in the rib cage two or three times before it backs off. The dog's yelp when I kick it is the only pleasure it brings to my life.
Upon entering the house, I was greeted with the usual tones of home. The aroma of dirty diapers and cat urine accentuated the over all haze of cigarette smoke and insecticide. The sounds of my wife shouting at the screaming children only subsided when she realized that I was home. Then she began shouting at me. The children, on the other hand, never stopped screaming. I never listen when my wife shouts at me. It's always some nonsense about bill collectors and/or foreclosure statements and blah blah blah! Today was no different. She was still shouting as I made my way over to the couch to continue drinking. I decided to hold off on letting her know about losing my job. The shouting was stressful enough, and the prospect of dodging flying kitchen utensils was too much to bear at this point. Best if I just get drunk enough to pass out until everyone goes to bed. Then I'll have the night to myself. Oh sweet night, my single solitary time of solace.
The walkway leading up to the front door is equally treacherous because I never mow the lawn and the dog will only do it's business on the stone blocks. I hate that dog. Every time I come home it attacks me and I have to kick it in the rib cage two or three times before it backs off. The dog's yelp when I kick it is the only pleasure it brings to my life.
Upon entering the house, I was greeted with the usual tones of home. The aroma of dirty diapers and cat urine accentuated the over all haze of cigarette smoke and insecticide. The sounds of my wife shouting at the screaming children only subsided when she realized that I was home. Then she began shouting at me. The children, on the other hand, never stopped screaming. I never listen when my wife shouts at me. It's always some nonsense about bill collectors and/or foreclosure statements and blah blah blah! Today was no different. She was still shouting as I made my way over to the couch to continue drinking. I decided to hold off on letting her know about losing my job. The shouting was stressful enough, and the prospect of dodging flying kitchen utensils was too much to bear at this point. Best if I just get drunk enough to pass out until everyone goes to bed. Then I'll have the night to myself. Oh sweet night, my single solitary time of solace.
Oh Sweet Night or Sleep is a Nuisance
I only manage to get a few hours of sleep a night. The only chance I get to play Guitar Hero and drink beer is after the family goes to bed. Even then I'll have my wife shouting at me from the top of the stairs. Sometimes I listen in between riffs. I think she's really into time management because whenever she calls down to me in the middle of the night it's always something about "5AM!......WORK...." That's all I ever hear because I instinctively turn the volume up after the first sign of activity upstairs. We have no doors in the house because I kick them down all the time, because playing Guitar Hero is the same as playing guitar and I'm a rock star (rock stars never open doors. They always kick them down). Every time she wants to have a discussion about what time it is, she ruins my 231,234,123 note streak because I rule so much.
I tell her to leave me alone and nail the sheet over the doorway. That's when my star power overwhelms her. 
She dives down the entire flight of stairs head first and starts to throw things at me! So I start cruising from couch to couch while doing mid-air splits and ripping solos and hammer ons! Then she gets so into it that she charges me and starts ripping out my hair and tearing my clothes! So like any rock-star worth his weight in awesome, I kick her over the couch into a simulated stage dive and toss one of my sweat bands down to her. This is when she just can't contain herself any longer. She totally submits to my singularity of awesomeness and begins weeping uncontrollably! So I give her the signal to go wait for me backstage (a.k.a. the bedroom) so she can bathe me after my always stellar performance and we can make sweet love. I usually pass out drunk on the couch before I ever make it upstairs, but she doesn't mind because I am so bad-ass that she's satisfied just thinking about me!
I always wake up with a hangover on three hours of sleep. My wife is never there because she can't wait to get to work and tell all her co-workers how much she enjoys my performances. Life would be so much better if I never had to sleep. Then maybe I'd make breakfast for my kids once in awhile rather than vomiting all morning in between cigarettes.
I tell her to leave me alone and nail the sheet over the doorway. That's when my star power overwhelms her. 
She dives down the entire flight of stairs head first and starts to throw things at me! So I start cruising from couch to couch while doing mid-air splits and ripping solos and hammer ons! Then she gets so into it that she charges me and starts ripping out my hair and tearing my clothes! So like any rock-star worth his weight in awesome, I kick her over the couch into a simulated stage dive and toss one of my sweat bands down to her. This is when she just can't contain herself any longer. She totally submits to my singularity of awesomeness and begins weeping uncontrollably! So I give her the signal to go wait for me backstage (a.k.a. the bedroom) so she can bathe me after my always stellar performance and we can make sweet love. I usually pass out drunk on the couch before I ever make it upstairs, but she doesn't mind because I am so bad-ass that she's satisfied just thinking about me!I always wake up with a hangover on three hours of sleep. My wife is never there because she can't wait to get to work and tell all her co-workers how much she enjoys my performances. Life would be so much better if I never had to sleep. Then maybe I'd make breakfast for my kids once in awhile rather than vomiting all morning in between cigarettes.
Dawn of the Dead
When you're unemployed, 5pm is a reasonable time to wake up. As I made my way downstairs I was greeted with the sweet sweet smell of filthy cat litter. We rarely clean the litter box since the dog eats most of the clumps for us anyway. I guess that's one good thing about that dog.
Coffee is always a hassle in my house. The kind we buy is so nasty that it would make more financial sense to just filter hot water through shredded newspaper rather than spend the money to buy something that looks like a mixture of gravel and rodent droppings! It tastes pretty close too. Besides all that, though, it's the act of preparing the coffee that's the real challenge. Mostly because the kitchen sink always looks like this:
It takes at least ten minutes to clear a space on the counter to store the dishes from the sink just so I can fit my coffee pot under the faucet! Of course there's always left over coffee that has to be dumped first. Today I REALLY needed a cup of joe stat, so I peeled the mold off the stale coffee and nuked it while the fresh pot was brewing. Of course the microwave always trips the circuit breaker whenever it gets used, so I had to run back and forth to the basement several times just to enjoy a nice cup of stale, moldy coffee. I can't believe this is my life.
My kids know better than to come near me before I've had my morning coffee (or liquor depending on what's more readily available on any given day). Today, however, my oldest son wouldn't get off my back. He kept following me around shouting in that shrill voice that he inherited from his mother about a permission slip of some kind. Oh, and I guess I was drunk one day last week and promised to fix his bike and play ball with him or some such nonsense. Right, like that'll ever happen! By the time I made my way to the basement for the third time to flip the circuit breaker, I'd had enough and had to straighten him out a little bit:
Man, I just realized how much my house looks like Sid's room!
I can't wait to finish my coffee so I can get on to the drinking.
My kids know better than to come near me before I've had my morning coffee (or liquor depending on what's more readily available on any given day). Today, however, my oldest son wouldn't get off my back. He kept following me around shouting in that shrill voice that he inherited from his mother about a permission slip of some kind. Oh, and I guess I was drunk one day last week and promised to fix his bike and play ball with him or some such nonsense. Right, like that'll ever happen! By the time I made my way to the basement for the third time to flip the circuit breaker, I'd had enough and had to straighten him out a little bit:
Keeping busy
I decided to keep busy today. Yes! I resolved to turn over a new leaf and amend my life! First I needed a stiff drink or three for motivation. So I knocked back six or seven shots and read the news.
R.I.P. Tony Scott read the headline. Another gifted artist gone forever. Apparently he parked his car up on some bridge and casually leaped over the railing with "no hesitation." In case you were wondering, Tony Scott was a very gifted film director. His most popular film was Top Gun. Top Gun was the heartwarming story of the homosexual love triangle between Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, and that guy who was in a hospital show and a movie called:
Goose was way more awesome in Gotcha! than in Top Gun. Like, in Top Gun he was a pilot and everything, but then, in the middle of the movie he kills himself by ejecting from his fighter jet! I mean, how pathetic is that? What's the point of ejecting when you're just going to die anyway? This happens even before he has a chance to dump Meg Ryan and have hot sweaty gay homo sex with Tom Cruise and Ice! On the other hand, it was kinda cool because Tom Cruise cried. At least in Gotcha!, Duck gets wrecked on Absinthe while pissing off a snooty french waiter, gets Linda Fiorentino, and defeats the KGB with a freakin' DART GUN! Oh, and naturally, the darts were red. After all, symbolism can be very important in shitty movies.
Speaking of shitty movies, Tony Scott also directed Beverly Hills Cop 2, starring Eddie Murphy and featuring a pre-geriatric Brigitte Nielsen. He also directed a movie about lesbian vampires called The Hunger, starring Susan Sarandon's breasts.
His greatest claim to fame, (and only true classic was a little indie film called True Romance. For the first time in his career, the actual romance aspect of the story involved a heterosexual couple. Of course, in the film, Clarence and Alabama are no ordinary couple.
Besides not being gay, Clarence (portrayed by Christian Slater while he was still watchable) and Alabama (portrayed by what's her face from some tv show and Dream Warriors) are actually married! Clarence, however is a raving psychopath who receives instructions to commit murder from Elvis while urinating. Also, after accidentally coming into possession of a suitcase full of cocaine, he decides the best course of action is to drive it cross country to sell off in California. You know, as opposed to turning it over to the police, or anything. For the sake of argument, he should have at least stored it in a locker or something while securing a buyer rather than driving all around hell and creation with a trunk load of prison! To make a long story short, by the time the movie ends, Clarence is responsible (directly and indirectly) for the untimely deaths of at least ten people.
Alabama is typical Florida white trash even though she makes it a point to say otherwise during the first act. She's also a call girl who believes that the terms "call girl" and "whore" are not synonymous despite referring to her employer as her "pimp." During the course of the film, she tries too hard to be cute and sexy, and can't find a bra that fits. She also kills Tony Soprano.
So what legacy did Tony Scott leave us? Many valuable life lessons such as:
1) Only white trash rednecks and sociopaths have heterosexual relationships
2) Fighter jets hate gays
3) Susan Sarandon never looked good, even topless
4) Murder is okay as long as you only target pimps, gangsters, cops, and civilians.
5) Eddie Murphy began taking bad roles long before Daddy Day Care
Worst of all is that by perpetuating his own untimely death, Tony Scott inadvertently created an outlet for annoying people across the globe to post fake condolences on facebook for the next two days! Thanks a lot, Tony!
R.I.P. Tony Scott read the headline. Another gifted artist gone forever. Apparently he parked his car up on some bridge and casually leaped over the railing with "no hesitation." In case you were wondering, Tony Scott was a very gifted film director. His most popular film was Top Gun. Top Gun was the heartwarming story of the homosexual love triangle between Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, and that guy who was in a hospital show and a movie called:
Speaking of shitty movies, Tony Scott also directed Beverly Hills Cop 2, starring Eddie Murphy and featuring a pre-geriatric Brigitte Nielsen. He also directed a movie about lesbian vampires called The Hunger, starring Susan Sarandon's breasts.
His greatest claim to fame, (and only true classic was a little indie film called True Romance. For the first time in his career, the actual romance aspect of the story involved a heterosexual couple. Of course, in the film, Clarence and Alabama are no ordinary couple.
Besides not being gay, Clarence (portrayed by Christian Slater while he was still watchable) and Alabama (portrayed by what's her face from some tv show and Dream Warriors) are actually married! Clarence, however is a raving psychopath who receives instructions to commit murder from Elvis while urinating. Also, after accidentally coming into possession of a suitcase full of cocaine, he decides the best course of action is to drive it cross country to sell off in California. You know, as opposed to turning it over to the police, or anything. For the sake of argument, he should have at least stored it in a locker or something while securing a buyer rather than driving all around hell and creation with a trunk load of prison! To make a long story short, by the time the movie ends, Clarence is responsible (directly and indirectly) for the untimely deaths of at least ten people.
Alabama is typical Florida white trash even though she makes it a point to say otherwise during the first act. She's also a call girl who believes that the terms "call girl" and "whore" are not synonymous despite referring to her employer as her "pimp." During the course of the film, she tries too hard to be cute and sexy, and can't find a bra that fits. She also kills Tony Soprano.
So what legacy did Tony Scott leave us? Many valuable life lessons such as:
1) Only white trash rednecks and sociopaths have heterosexual relationships
2) Fighter jets hate gays
3) Susan Sarandon never looked good, even topless
4) Murder is okay as long as you only target pimps, gangsters, cops, and civilians.
5) Eddie Murphy began taking bad roles long before Daddy Day Care
Worst of all is that by perpetuating his own untimely death, Tony Scott inadvertently created an outlet for annoying people across the globe to post fake condolences on facebook for the next two days! Thanks a lot, Tony!
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