I present to you the party in power:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the ‘no shit’ files. Question is, do they have their heads up their asses, or are they going down on their own junk? Doesn’t really matter, cause they are fucking it up by the numbers.

Shamelessly stolen from Grouchy Old Cripple.

Friday Chuckle: 10-30-09

Huh?!

You know how you have an impression of an athlete based on their on court/field/track performance? You generate a preconceived notion about that person, and then are totally shocked when something is said or done that totally shakes that notion. Take for instance this morning. I am listening to Colin Cowherd’s radio show (normally I listen to Rome, but he had an asshole caller on and I had to change channels), and he had Bill Romanowski on. Colin introduced him and asked him a question and then HOLY SHIT, this incredibly gay sounding guy started speaking! My brain screamed, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!” There is no way in hell that one of the meanest sons of  bitches to ever play in the NFL sounds like a ’sissy la-la boy’.  Sure as shit, it was Bill. Now, I never was, nor will I ever be, a fan of the 49′ers, Eagles, Broncos or Raiders, but I respected the man’s meanness on the football field. He was one brutal mean son of a bitch. I loved to watch him play, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at NFL films with him in it without shaking my head and thinking to myself, “yeah, but he sounds like a fag.” And no, I would not say that to his face without a bazooka or a couple of hand grenades handy.

Hallway meetings and other office shit that pisses me off.

Everyone who has worked in an office has developed a pet peeve, or multiple pet peeves. One of the ones that wears me out is the dumbasses that will stand outside of your office door conducting business. Seriously, both of you jerks have an office you could go to and close the door and conduct your conference. And even if you don’t have an office, find a fucking conference room!

Then there is the jerk-off that thinks it is perfectly acceptable office etiquette to microwave fish in the office kitchen. Fish stinks when you cook it the first time at home, and some magical fucking thing happens to it when you nuke it;  IT STINKS MORE!! Leave that shit at home or risk getting shot by an angry IT guy. Then there is popcorn chick.  Invariably some gal in the office will nuke a bag of popcorn and stink up the whole office making everyone hungry, AND will do it when you can’t get away from your desk to go get your own snack because you are too busy, or stuck on the phone or some other such crap. Quit that shit damnit!

Hell, the more I type this post, the more I realize I’ll never be finished with it, cause there is all kinds of idiocy that takes place in an office.

Shit!!!

Grandma!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ahhhh, the joys of being a grandparent. Several months back my granddaughter Bella got a happy meal, or some such shit, that had a toy in it. That toy was ‘Sid’ from Ice Age. Being the smart ass that I am, I started telling Bella that Sid was grandma. Well, it took awhile, but she finally bought into it. So now every time Bella sees ‘Sid’, she shouts out GRANDMA!!!

The blonde rented Ice Age 3 to watch with Bella last night (we have her on Wednesdays), and I shit you not, as soon as ‘Sid’ popped up on the ‘ol hd flat panel, little miss monkeybutt, one of the loves of my life, yelled as loud as she could GRANDMA!!!! I laughed so hard I think a few drops of pee leaked out. THAT is some funny fucking shit!

Seriously cool shit

Ya think?!?

From the ‘no shit’ files.

Hat tip to Yankee.

Monday Madness

I don’t get why people have to put their idiot hats on first thing Monday morning. It is so annoying. Driving to work this morning, my car nestled into a group of cars that just exited I-5 to OR34, and lo and behold, a fucking double tanker truck, just randomly decides to pull out in front of all of us. What the fuck?!?!!? I just thought that instead of what I normally do, which is yell at the driver. Didn’t want to hurt my voice anymore than it already is. Cowboys game yesterday, don’t ya know! I digress. Anyway, this jackass just finished dumping a load of gas at a gas station, and apparently had his head up his ass and decided it was a good idea to pull into oncoming traffic and risk a major pile-up/explosion. Congratulations fuckface, you just added your name to the Highway34 idiot squad roster.

I finally get to work, and on time for a change (I’m sure my employer didn’t even notice), and walk promptly into a shit storm. One of my remote (L)users has had a virus. So I had to log in remotely to correct that, and she kept trying to take control of the mouse. Look shitbird, do you want my help or not?! Go cook some breakfast, or take a shit, or anything at all that will get your ass away from the computer! Sheesh!!

And if all of that shit wasn’t enough to put this bastard in a rotten mood, it is raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock. Fuck I hate Mondays.

Friday Chuckle, 10-23-09

Dear Sir,

I’m in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this. How is it that Radio Shack has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a t.v. cable from them back in 1997, and yet, the Federal Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date. For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand? My birth date you have on my social security card, and it is  on all the income tax forms I’ve filed for the past 30 years. It is on my health insurance card, my driver’s license, on the last eight goddamn passports I’ve had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I’ve had to fill out before being allowed off the planes over the last 30 years, and all those insufferable census forms that are done at election times.

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother’s  name is Maryanne, my father’s name is Robert and I’d be absolutely astounded if that ever changed between now and when I die!!!!!! SHIT!

I apologize, I’m really pissed off this morning.. Between you and me, I’ve had enough of this bullshit! You send the application to my house, then you ask me for my fucking address. What is going on? You have a gang of Neanderthal assholes working there???  Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don’t want to dig up Yasser Arafat, for shit sakes. I just want to go and park my ass on a sandy beach. And would someone please tell me, why would you give a shit whether I plan on visiting a farm in the next 15 days? If I ever got the urge to do something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I’d sure as hell not want to tell anyone!

Well, I have to go now, ’cause I have to go to the other end of the city and get another fucking copy of my birth certificate, to the tune of $60. Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day?? Nooooo, that’d be too damn easy and maybe makes sense. You’d rather have us running all over the fuckin’ place like chickens with our heads cut off, then find some asshole to confirm that it’s really me on the goddamn picture – you know, the one where we’re not allowed to smile?! (fuckin’ morons) Hey, you know why we can’t smile? We’re totally pissed off!

Signed –
An Irate fucking Citizen.

P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone to confirm that it’s me? Well, my family has been in this country since 1776. I have served in the military for something over 30 years and have had security clearances up the yingyang. However, I have to get someone ‘important’ to verify who I am – you know, someone like my doctor WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN COMMUNIST FUCKING CHINA !

Hat tip to Hippy Joe.

Blah

Good Lord do I hate winter time in Oregon. Rain, followed by more rain, which, interestingly enough, is followed by even more fucking rain. GACK!!! I have spent almost 13 years of my life in this state. One would think that I would have adapted to this shit. Not so much. The rain can suck my balls. I fucking hate it, and by extension, I hate Oregon because of it. At least down home in Texas you get to see the sun every once in awhile. Up here you can just send the sun a “I miss you, please come back soon” Hallmark card. You ain’t gonna see the son of a bitch for at least 8 months. Oh, and make sure your rain gear doesn’t have any holes in it, cause you will be needing it.