Long time, no blog.

Someone cared enough to call and see if I was dead or not, which I appreciated greatly. Very sexy phone voice—probably a hottie. I suspect she may have a 900 number. And for the record, she sounded warm, sincere and had a nice laugh.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 11:38 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Bumper sticker seen on the I-85:

I'd rather go hunting with Dick Cheney than drive home with Ted Kennedy.

Posted by: Jim at 04:42 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So the thesis thing went okay. Actually, the professor basically shredded my thesis into little bits; which she sprinkled on the floor of her office while skipping cirlces around the chair I was sitting in. I could swear she was humming a tune too. Hmm... At any rate, I'll be reworking it again this week and probably this weekend, the good news is I get to chop huge portions of it out as long as I enclose the pertinent data. Which really is nice, because when it comes to writing papers and analyses; I'm a pretty brief guy. Hate that academic mumbo-jumbo BS. Give me the info I need to make a decision, everything else can go in some appendix somewhere.

On an unrelated note, if you're petitioning for full citizenship in a country; and demonstrating hundreds of thousands strong in the streets of a major metropolis, it might aid your cause if you were to, let's say, avoid mugging photogs milling about. Oh, and even more importantly, please don't disgrace the flag: more...

Posted by: shank at 03:03 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Finished! Finished. The draft for my thesis is complete; thanks in large part to the two gallons of orange juice that were left in the refridgerator from the wedding day (we had breakfast at the church) and those Zep live bootlegs Paul sent me a while back. It was hard to get the ball rolling on this sucker, I totally wasn't into it; but I'm done now. I'm going to go sit on the porch, listen to In My Time of Dying one more time through, and wait for that pot roast to finish up. And for Duke to bring me some beer from the store.

With all due respect buddy, hurry it up.

Posted by: shank at 05:41 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I should be finishing my thesis right now, but I'd much rather drink a beer on the porch and listen to my Sublime collection. Fucking school's a waste of my time right now anyways. I could pack a shotgun with one of my turds, shoot it at a couple sheets of paper, turn it in, and still graduate. All they want is happy alumni anyways; you know, to pay dues and donate buildings and shit. Liberal academia is obviously smoking way too much homegrown if they think I'm going to be giving them any money in this life. They got my tuition, they got two years of my life; the rest is mine biotches.

I'm convinced my wife's cat is evil. And I'm not talking naturally, blamelessly, I-was-born-this-way evil. I'm talking about that 'I enjoy being a wicked cunt and I'll never go away no matter how many times you throw me over the back fence' kind of evil. Ask anyone, the goddamn beast is straight from hell. I keep hoping she'll wander out to the four lane and get insta-puréed by some fully loaded dump truck doing fifty-five.

She hates being petted. She'll actually crawl up in your shit while you're laying on the couch, shove her head in your hands to be scratched, then fifteen minutes later she'll hiss at you and scamper off. What a fucking bitch eh? And when she hisses all up in your face and shit, it smells absolutley horrible. I don't know how many of you people have been forced (by marriage or other such trickery) into living with a cat, but the food they fucking eat is nasty. It smells like a homeless crackwhore's hatchetwound, and when they hiss in your face it's like the nasty street bitch is sitting on your face. The cat did that hissing in my face thing once. ONCE.

The cat doesn't really like me. Which is fine by me, because I'm pulling for her to get fucked to death by one of the stray neighborhood tom's. You know, I don't have the heart to kill her myself, and I asked my wife how pissed she'd be if I just threw her cat in the car and drove it up the coast a few hours and tossed it out. She wasn't too enthused, so I'm relegated to wishing death upon the evil little fucker.

Die cat, die.

Posted by: shank at 04:07 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I suppose I'd rather write this than speak it, because I'm not sure if I have it in me to do so. I guess I'm not exactly the great communicator. Not like that's a secret to anyone though. HA!

more...

Posted by: shank at 07:45 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Looks like it's going to be busy around here so my blogging will be light. You can thank my work/school schedule for that. In the meantime, here's some other stuff to check out:
If you can understand this:
"Dave, you are a fucking gobshite and no mistake. My dog is as pissed a common Oliver Reed."
Then I suggest checking out Twenty's spot. He's at it again.

Also, Jen's threatening to ban me again. Every so often I do something that really ticks her off. Not on purpose mind you, it's just that I think she's as tempermental as I am insensitive. Oh well, whater ya gonna do?

Posted by: shank at 02:08 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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