Not Such a Great Reception For My Last Post...Fine.

I try to enrich your lives with meaningful thoughts and witticisms. All I ask in return is a little feedback. I try to give you small, miniscule things to do, that if you do them, it will give your life and ego a little boost. I wouldn't advise you to do them if I hadn't already done them myself. I'm that confident in my abilities as a wisenhiemer and also teacher to guide you in the ways of the Smart-@$$.

I'm waiting for some pleased Bloggite to post on here that after successfully executing one of my suggestions, his/her life feels more productive. I also would like some feedback regarding my readership base. Not that I'm considering, stopping posting, (That was a lot of -ings) but I'd like to get a feel of how many people I'm touching.

So, Feel My Love and Give Me Some.

-WP

Disgusting? Yes. Relevent? I Think So.

I'm bringing it back. I'm bringing back the courtesy flush. I dislike nothing greater, than when I'm sitting down for a growler and some schmuck next to me, grinds out a nasty and let's the stench just linger there.

How hard is it to drop a log, lift up a bit and flush that offending turd down the crapper? Easy.

I'm thinking that if more people did this we'd have a better bathroom situation. I enjoy my morning constitutional...Some of my best ideas occurred while I was inserting Seal Team Brown. I look forward to getting to work, checking my email, saying hey to a few folks and retreating to the confines of stall two, which happens to be my favorite, and pitchin' a loaf. I wake up in the morning and usually while I'm shaving it will occur to me that I can't wait to get to work and pound one out. But my experience is tainted by inconsiderate 'dumpers' who enjoy their own brand and expect everyone else to enjoy it, too. I find it hard to read my magazine or paper while someone strangers' scent is offending my nostrils.

So I implore you, help me bring back the courtesy flush also it's fun to walk into a bathroom, it doesn't need to be at work it can be anywhere, Walmart is my fav. Walk in and peek under the stalls and if someone is in there, it's your job to exclaim: "Man, It Smells Like Sh*t In HERE!". That is a blast. Really. Try it out.


Have Fun and Happy Bowel Movements...

-WP

I'm Back at Work, Unexcited and Ready to go Home...

I'm Back. At work and all of the projects that I was hoping would be completed upon my return, haven't been finished. So, I left to go on vacation after working for days, staying late and working hard only to return to work late and too hard.

Nothing is really going on right now on the workfront...I'm biding my time until I can go to lunch and then I'm going to stay at work for a bit then go home...as the week progresses I'm sure that I'm going to have plenty of fantastic stories for you.

Like the one where my bosses leave me with all the work to go on a field-trip to virginia...NICE.

Until Then...

-WP

Hooray! I Went an Entire Weekend Without My Blog...

The title pretty much says it all...I'm searching for something to write about...I'm going back to work tomorrow so I should have something fantastic to write about...Right On.


-WP

I've Discovered That There Are Just Some Things That You Can't Look Cool Doing...

I know it's hard to believe that even I find it hard to look cool in certain situations, because someone you've never met, who can capture your attention has got to look cool in most situations. But I'm getting off track.

Two of the main things, and there are more but I'm going to address these particular hard-to-look-cool-in situations; a man eating an ice cream cone and anyone standing in a line.

Famous WWE wrestler Goldburg could be standing in a tank of pirahnas, wearing an acid soaked jumpsuit, with his cueball head on fire, but if was eating an ice cream cone, even the most puny guy would call him a fag or even a Douche. It just isn't man food. Guinness is man food. A triple stacker at the BK lounge is man food. An ice cream cone, just isn't manly. I'm in no way implying that ice cream cones aren't delicious because they are. They are a flavor explosion. Here are (5) rules that I've come up with, just now, to help men, like myself who enjoy a cone every once in a while.

1) It's ok to eat a cone if you are taking a small child out for an icy treat.
2) You are sharing it with Hiedi Klum or Shakira.
3) You've constructed a bombproof and thus windowless bunker in your front yard and there's no way for your buddies to inadvertently see you munching away at an ice cream cone.
4) You or one of your family members is dying and the only way to save them is to have an ice cream cone.
5) I included this rule only to say that #4 will never happen so if I catch you eating one and you whip out rule #4 I will stab you in the throat.

If you get tricked into eating an ice cream cone by whichever hooker you've taken out to a Marble Slab or Stone Cold Creamery, and one of your buddies happens to see you, you are indebted to him and owe him a beer.

Another place it is really hard to look cool is standing in line. I mean seriously. I was standing in line at the bank of all places and I was thinking about hurting myself. I've never been or had any desire to be a cutter, until just then. Here's a sampling of the people around me in line.

Guy One: Looks like he just rolled out of bed, wearing mismatched sweat top and bottoms with boots and a parka.

Girl One: Is standing with Girl Two and they are being really loud and thinking that people want to hear what drivel is coming out of their collective MOUTH. Girl One's body was having a race with itself, her boobs were racing her stomach to see which one could get farther from her body. Her breasticles were losing.

Girl Two was also chubby and wearing a smallish shirt that was winning the battle of letting her stomach fall out over the top of her pants.

Guy Two: Thought he was doing a great job standing in line. He was making small talk with everyone and laughing and carrying on like being in line was his favorite thing ever. When all he was doing was annoying me.

Tiny Family One: A father, mother, baby, and brother. The whole time mother was telling father how adorable baby had been all day. There's one thing I really hate. Other people's children. Especially if I'm standing in line listening to how cute they are.

Guy Three: was a gansta, straight up. Doo Rag, drum major ball cap, baggy-ass jeans, huge"I'm smuggling a buick" shirt and matching parka. He was your stereotypical G. Answering his phone like it was Hov, himself, Like the Jigga was on the horn asking him how his line standing experience was going...

Girl Three: There was also a very tiny, very pregnant lady who wasn't talking to anyone, she was content to just stand there and be pregnant, but alas she would have been fine if her phone didn't ring. I was two people from the teller when I heard Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, piercing the stale bank air at Oh I don't know 9,000 decibles. NICE!

There's the setting. Here I am in the middle of this thinking, "I wonder how good I'm looking?" Then I thought probably not that great. I'm surrounded by people I don't care about and have no desire to interact with. Then it hit me! You can't look cool standing in line, unless it's the line to get into heaven. Cause at least there you're going to heaven. Everything else just seems dumb. Next time you are in line look around at how bored and boring the people around you look. It will be painful, I promise, but worth it especially if you look at the people that are behind you, because even if one of them is looking better than you, you are still in front of them in line.

I'll talk to you all later,

WP

I Found IT and IT's Amazing...Enter The Ultimate Gizmo...

I mentioned that Douche is the ultimate word a little while back and if you are one of those people who might be to timid to whip out a "Piss Off, Douche-Stick..." Then this might just be the thing for you...

Douche Cards

Check these kids out and let me know what you think. I'm a fan, even though I'm not one to be shy about calling someone a DouchCannon...ha ha....Money!

Happy hunting.

-WP

Um...Having a Hard Time Thinking of a Title...

I owe you a post because it's been a whole day since I graced you with my thoughts and ponderings.

Nothing is going on. I'm sitting in my living room watching T.V. and waiting for my laundry to get done.

Scrubs is a fantastic show. Sarah Chalke is smokin' hot. I'm also a bit distracted by her perky, hot atttitude and rockin' body.

Here you go, Um...durnit...I'm out of anything to say. I have nothing. I might have something later...Until then...

Piece Out!

Waxed...It's Not That Bad...And It Looks Sexy as Hell...

That's right, Public. I got my back waxed and it was a fantastic experience. For all of you who don't know, I'm Italian and German and thus hirsute...

So I travelled to a local community college where their cosmetology department offers at a reduced rate, various beauty enhancements. Including but not limited to, back waxing.

I opted for the back wax or the "bax" as I'm now referring to it as. The nice girls there asked if I'd ever had a bax. I of coursed haven't so I told them no, but that I wasn't worried. I'm a tattoo guy, how bad could it be? So I pulled off my favorite, Commerce Bank, shirt and took my spot on the table. (NOTE: I don't bank with Commerce Bank, but I do enjoy advertising for them.)

So they smatter the scalding hot wax onto my back, "they" happen to be Crystal and Kathy, students at the school.

They waxed and stripped and then ripped the strips off, over and over. It was time consuming but, they did a great job and I plan on going back for touch ups to fight against my genes.

About an hour and a half later my back was hairless and I'm now sitting here writing about it.
I'm going to recommend it to anyone who has hair they don't want...waxing is the bomb. All the talk about it hurting really bad is all hype...it's a fantastic invention. Thanks for reading....

It's Random Advice Time

...hey. it's good to be back and thanks for having me. this time i've brought some friends with me, but you'll meet them later. let's get this party started. for those looking for a first-class gift for that special someone this v-day, this post is for you! i know this is a bit belated but it's actually quite useful year round. buy condoms. nothing says happy valentine's day like a good night in the sack and one solid pink line as opposed to two. i know...good call, and you're welcome.-2cool4school

As I Quickly Close in On god Status...Bask in My Glory...and Shield Your Eyes From My Halo...

I commented on Anna Nicoles' death the other day and mentioned that I told my roommate; The Alena, how cool I thought it would be if she died of an overdose of the same crap her retarded son OD'd on.

Half-assed drumroll please!

SHE DID! BADOW! Methadone. Cha Cha Ching! I should have put some money on it.

Thanks. Talk to you guys later, I'm gonna go brag and perhaps, think outside the bun and buy myself a celebration burrito.

-WP

Valentimes Day is Wicked Gay...Especially if You Were at Walmart Last Night Around Midnight-ish

So I was on the phone with ITE, while walking around Walmart, trying to figure out what I was going to get my Manda for V-day. I instantly reverted back into "People Watching for Blog Fodder" mode and saw a bunch of people walking around, zombie-like with cute little things in their hands and a look on their face that said I-Haven't-Been-With-Person-Long-Enough-To-Really-Know-What-They-Like-So-I-Hope-They-Like-This.

"This" ranged from tiny red plush bears with pink hearts sewn into them, to Walmart flowers, to enourmous cardboard heart boxes full of Russell Stover's chocolate candies. For the descerning man or woman Walmart flowers are the ones that you pick up on our way to your mother's house on Sunday afternoon for brunch or for your buddies' wife when she invites you over for dinner.
Walmart flowers given as Valentines' flowers, scream; I totally forgot that Valentines' Day was going to be on the 14th of February this year, becuase it was on the 9th of April last year and everytime they change the date I never get the memo. I'm not sure who "they" are but they like throwing a wrench into the works of confused men who constantly ask themselves why the woman they're with are with them. Especially if she is way too hot for them and/or ridiculously out of their league.
I am guilty of being poor, right before V-day, thus I was unable to call a proper florist and get a custom bouquet of multi-colored carnations delivered to my sweeties' office. But I'm not guilty of even, remotely attempting to substitute a custom, delivered bouquet of multi-colored carnations, masterfully assembled by professionally trained flower jockey, with Walmart flowers. Women, as goofy as they look sometimes, can see the barely on the cusp of wilting, baby's breathe ridden bouquets of been-manhandled-and-been-sitting-in-water-too-long WALMART flowers. They'll act like they like them, by dropping the classic; "They're beautiful!" Followed by the infamous I-really-hate-this-guy nose crinkle and shoulder shrug. NICE!

I went the completely opposite direction and got her something that I knew we could share along with something thoughtful, then I replaced something for her, after she blatantly lost the ones I'd lent her. I bought her the movie; Madagascar, we can share that. I bought her some suger free chocolate covered peanuts, to show my support of her diet, and after she lost my brand-new Ipod earphones. I bought her some schnazzy new noise-cancelling ear buds for her workout adventures.

I should have posted this as a warning post because then it would have been longer and full of advice that men everywhere would print out, laminate and stick in their wallets. Sheep, you are all Sheep. Until tomorrow or later on today, Farewell.

Piece Out!

Step Up...Another Repeat...I'm Consolidating...Chill the Eff OUT.....

I've come to the conclusion that most of my blog posts are birthed from revelations that I've had about friends of mine who at random times in my life, simply come through for me. Coming through for me doesn't mean that they loaned me money, saved me from a burning house, but they were there when I needed someone.

I went back through my posts and there they were. The majority of my posts are me realizing how much certain people mean to me and me feeling that I might not be able to go visit them and tell them to their faces or give them a hug for just being keen folk, but I feel that my Blog is a fine place to say Thank You for being a fantastic individual and YOU make my life a rosier place to be.

One such friend of mine is my fine, friend Beth from the Washington area. I've never met Beth from the Washington area. Though we met through a work phone call, we instantly appreciated each others' ability to understand. Whether we are telling dirty jokes, laughing at each other, or sharing epiphanies we've had; we 'get' each other.

There are people that we come across in our daily lives that if we, in a spirit of sincerity, made inquiry into each other's lives we'd find that everytime we learn something new about the other we find our lives are enriched and strengthened.
There isn't a cosmic rule book that dictates that we must show an interest in anybody's life but our own, but if we look at the basic make up of people, we'll find that everyone enjoys meeting people who are genuinely interested in them...
Everyday we come into contact with people who have something going on. The checkstand girl, the guy you bought coffee from this morning, or just some stranger you sit next to on the bus...
We must be vigilant and not let our routine allow the people in our lives become 'faceless' and fade into the background of our lives.
Beth and I could have merely conducted our business and never spoken again. But we didn't and both of us have gained a dear friend.

Another perk to becoming aquainted with the people in our lives is that the relationships will be much more pure than us 'scoping-out' the people around us and'filtering' people in and out of our live. We have nothing to hide from the unassuming people that populate our lives.

Another such individual is my new girlfriend, Manda. She works at the local branch of an insurance company who I won't mention their name bacause they aren't going to pay me for this small bit of free advertising. I will however say that "...they aren't 100% in love with your tone right now." But I called her about three weeks after I returned from fighting our War on Terror, to ensure that my coverage was still good and to make sure that, that damn gecko hadn't pooped all over my policy. Gecko poop, never comes out. Not with a Tide pen or Mom spit or anything. (DISCLAIMER** Tide is getting a letter from me demanding $0.05 every time I mention them in this particular post.) But anyway what should have been a 6.5 minute transaction turned into a 25min conversation about why a hot sounding chick was in J-ville and wasn't married. I know what you are thinking..."Just cause she sounds hot doesn't mean she is..." (Thanks, Ass.) So we had a delightful conversation and proceed to have them for the following week and a half...we didn't actually meet each other until she invited me to a Christmas party with her folks. Who does that though? Really! Hey yeah we've never met but come hang out with me and my folks...But enjoying the challenge of winning over said wholesome, well-reared, socially adjusted, intelligent, woman of phenomenal breeding and her Patriachal, hierarchy was just what this Kid needed. So we've been seeing each other for the last almost two months and so far, so good....
I told all of you that so you would see that I practice what I preach...So go out there and make some friends....

I love you all and God Bless...

I Stole This From My Old Blog...If Its a Repeat For You...Sorry...

It's come to my attention that love is something entirely missunderstood and everyone wants to be in it, without fully acknowledging the responsibilities involved with loving.My frequent use of the word has come under scrutiny because I use it to describe my relationships and feelings for a few women in my life and my best friend Patrick McH. I'll address Patrick first because it's the easiest. **EDITOR'S NOTE (The Main Difference is being IN love and just PLAIN loving.)**

My friend Patrick McH is a fine individual, one of the finest, and he and I have been through thick and thin together and we just happen to be the two baddest m*th*rf*ck*rs on the planet. Also I love his family, Brit and Haiden are just as much my family and I'd do anything for them.But the real motivation behind this post is my frequent use of it towards women with whom I've developed a relationship that didn't start out, nor has it evolved into anything romantic or sexual. It's a purely platonic relationship yet without it I fear my life would be much less colorful and much more bleak and depressing. The three main recipients of this 'love' are my dear, dear friends Sharon, Chrissy, and Lydia.


Sharon is a delight. Pure and simple. She and I have had many a fun romp together. I advised her on the purchase of her new automobile while she tirelessly listens to me rant and rave about things that aren't problems, yet having someone to talk to about the just helps clear the air. While on the flip-side she is perfectly comfortable calling, emailling or otherwise contacting me if she is finding it hard to cope with problems at hand. I find that having a friend like Sharon makes seemingly large problems dissapate. She is my devil's advocate as I am hers. It also helps that we are in the same line of work and we've been in this line of work for a combined total of close to 10years so if she hasn't seen it, I have and vice versa. This love is not a romantic love, nor sexual love, this is an unconditional, I'm here when noone else is and even if they are, kinda of love. Lova ya, Shar.


Christastic, is my dear friend because she also is in the same line of work I'm in which is Public Relations for those who don't know. She's also been able to help me during my deployment with funny anecdotes about her shenanigans back in VA and also by sending me much needed supplies to combat the boredom of being on a ship for months on end, i.e. coloring books, drink mixes, and cans of spaghetti Oh's. This love is a love that knows that we're there for each other, when she heads out on her next deployment I'm going to be right there sending her fun little trinkets and keeping her stocked up on stories about how much fun we are having without her and talking about the loads of fun we'll have upon her return. Thanx, Chris, Love ya.

Lydia, another PR folk, we have a dendancy to travel in packs, is another outstanding friend whom I've spent countless hours talking to. She stimulates my brainmush by coming up with off the wall ideas that if people weren't so self absorbed might actually work. We've spent countless weekends together when we didn't feel like trollin' for the opposite sex. It's a goodtime to hang-out with someone without having to impress them or feel like if you don't bring your A-game they're going to write you off. Love ya, Dave.

Love isn't exclusively for use between family, people you are boinkin', and boyfriends and girlfriends. While it's a good ideal and feeling to attach to any of the aforementioned arrangements, it might be more accurate to use when you realize that without a certain someone in your life, things might could be (thars some NC for ya) less good. Because let's face it who doesn't like feeling taken care of? Who hates the thought of having a relationship where you don't ever feel like you owe the other person anything? Come with me on this journey by taking stock in your 'friends'. I have. Figure out who you could never hear from again and it wouldn't even faze you. I know you've got those friends. I have them. I don't love them. They are accessories to my existance, nothing more. While I also know that you've got those chums that just hearing their voice over the phone or getting that email, floods your mind with fantastic memories of times that you and that person shared. Times that will pepper all of your stories with all of your future friends. Goodtimes. Goodtimes with Friends.That's all for now...know that I love you guys...for the others that are reading this know that I Love You, too...Piece out.

A Day Without Sunshine is Like, Night....

Right! Not much is happening, I've taken some "sick-days" for the moment and I'm going to enjoy doing nothing for a bit. The only problem with this is that I'm not in my normal work environment, thus I don't have much to write about.

I guess I could come up with something profound and ponder-worthy but you know what? I'm not going to. How about that? That's what I thought. Gym Class Heroes are a fantastic band.

I'm seriously not feeling anything to write. Thanks for stopping by. Really. It means the world to me that you are keeping up your, effortless side of our relationship. All you need to do is stop surfing porn on your work PC and navigate over to the BlockThat! domain and check out whatever's been stewing in my tiny, articulate brain, that I've decided to share with you.

It's all reading with you. You are merely a consumer. You mean the world to me, but all you do is use, use, use. Take, take,take. Only some of you give back. But the few of you, motivate me to continue mulling things over with you...This is basically this my "Thinking Out Loud Place".

I've got some serious bills to pay. Man. Payday tomorrow. Nice.

Snow tires. Why are snow tires so funny? Go ahead, interject "Snow Tires" into a random conversation. It's magical. i.e.:

Scene: Guy One and Two work at an insurance company and they are cubicle-mates, in this scene Guy One is obviously eating a "Handful of Emerald nuts" (In effort to keep up his energy, so Robert Goulet doesn't get him fired.) When Guy One turns to him and says;

Guy One: "Hey Bill, what's goin on, man?"
Guy Two: "Nothing, just shopping for snow tires."

HA! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! That is hilarious. It's funny cause he's actually NOT shopping for snow tires. haha, classic.

Two missions for you Bloggites: Watch out for Robert Goulet and use Snow Tires in a conversation and let me know how it goes.

Piece Out!

Death. Hooray! Death. No. No. NO! Death is Sad.

I went to the wake the other day for an old man. An old man who after years of loving his wife, family and community, couldn't bear the burden of his degenerative arthritis and took his life.

I went to the wake the other day, and met members of this kindly man's family. I hugged his wife, daughter, son, and I shook his grandsons' hands.

I went to the wake the other day, not knowing anyone but his daughter and wife. Left the wake seeing that along with raising a family, this man touched hundreds or even maybe thousands of people during his lifetime. It took literally two hours to stand in line at the funeral home waiting to pay my respects and get one last look at this fine, fine man.

I went to the wake the other day, and found myself thinking how many people would show up if I died? Have I made enough of an impact on the people that I've come into contact with that they would gladly, or rather sadly but willingly, stop what they were doing to console my family or pay last respects? I know that I've met tens of thousands of people since I've been alive and I do everything I can to make every encounter mean something. I like the idea of leaving a department store after having a conversation with the checkstand girl or guy and learning just a bit about them and them, me. Neither of us mey never think on that conversation again, but for that brief, fleeting moment, both of us knew that there was one person interested in us.

I went to the wake the other day, and the thought struck me, 'What would I have to do to ensure that people would remember me and bemoan my passing?' Then it hit me as I left the funeral home, 'I don't want anyone to bemoan my passing.' I want people to be glad that they were able to meet me, that they look back on every transaction with me as a pleasant encounter, that they can recall during my wake or funeral that I really cared about them.

I went to the wake the other day, and I planned my own wake; Kegs, Cake, and Laughs. I want people to celebrate my life, not mourn because it's over. Regardless of when I die I want everyone who's come in contact with me to rejoice that I lived well and loved every minute of it.

I went to work today with the wake I went to the other day on my mind...

MisSpeak on Your Time..Think Before you Speak...

People who frequently misspeak annoy me. What's so hard about thinking before you speak? God gave you a brain with the fantastic capability to compute thoughts into cognitive streams of knowledge that if you string them together, form complete sentences. Yet despite that, some people constantly say things that are either grossly offensive or just plain ridiculous.
That brings me to the beginning of my fantastic story:
Ready? GO!

So I was driving about with my Manda...and she noticed some grafitti on the wall that read "F*CK BLOOD" and had a Star of David spray painted next to it. Upon seeing the grafitti Mandy said,"Isn't that the Swastika Star?" I was speachless. She might have well said that the Holocast never happened. I mean, could you confuse two more opposite things? The Star of David and a Swastika.

Here we go with a little segment I'm going to call...Good Bar Knowledge with Warren:

If you reverse the Swastika you have a symbol that is beloved by the religion of Shintoism. Reversed the Swastika means Life and Good Luck and has nothing to do with the eradication of 6million Jews or the hell-bent dictator Adolf Hitler.

SHAMELESS PLUG: Mein Kampf is a fantastic book that I'll recommend to all my readers. Hitler was deranged, but a genius.

My Mandy doesn't misspeak often but when she does, she really does. Thanks for listening. Piece Out.

Douche...You're getting a bit musty....

Douche is an awesome word. I've been using it with fantastic results, lately. People can be douches. Places can be douche or douchey. i.e.: "The club is douche, let's leave..." You can use it to describe events; "This day is douche...let's leave...." Douche is not only a noun to decribe feminine hygiene products, but it's also an adjective. i.e.: "That guy is such a douche...let's leave...."

Douche is also a fun thing to use as a pre-fix. i.e. Douchebag, by far is the most common. Douchecycle, Douche-Monkey, Doucherageous, Douchetastic, Douchelicious, and the ever popular Douche-Stick.

I'm opening the forum: If you have a Doucheism feel free to post it on here...until then Adios, DoucheNuggets....

Insrt Rndm Ttl Hr....A wrld wtht vwls s fn....

No Vowels. Ha Ha, Clever.

I'm posting here as a man, who really doesn't enjoy working. Especially right now. I just got done working three days straight on the yearbook that I mentioned in the last post. I'm busting my hump over this thing and it never seems like it's going anywhere. I went to work at the normal time two days ago; 8:30 to 4:30. I left and went to dinner with Manda and her folks and by 8pm I was back at work, sitting at my desk inserting photos from every branch and division within the company. Individual photos in pure yearbook format. I got 5 of the 7 divisions done, which come to about 120 photos a piece, and left around 3:30am. I'm a tired kid.

Two days ago I recieved a call from a high school girlfriend who told me that one of our older friends from the neighborhood who suffered from degenerative arthritis, retired to his bathroom and proceeded to blow his brains out. His lovely wife found him the next morning. I will be attending his wake today and his funural tomorrow.

More death: Anna Nicole Smith is dead. She was 39 and the cause of death is still being determined. This, very soon after her 20-ish year old son died of an overdose.

I casually mentioned to my room mate that I would appreciate it if when they did the autopsy that she died of the an overdose of the same substance that killed her son. I would enjoy that. My roomie said that I was insensative. I think that would make for some great news!

I wish I had something else to write about but I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel with this. But considering that I'm going to be attending a funeral tomorrow, expect a post about death or the value of life or something along those lines....until then...Love, Piece, and Snow Tires...

Good Morning, My Fair Friends and Fiends...

I'm at work...sitting at my desk...just got done working for 24 straight hours...I'm trying to figure out when I'm going to be sent home for a bit of a nappy, nap. YAaawn...

Let's see what's new? I'm assistant coaching my little brother's basketball team, I'm tired of my job, and I'm going out to Colorado to visit my fantastic friend, Dirks California, who hasn't graced this site with his presence in a quite, long time.

I'm so tired...I'm having trouble thinking straight lines, taste good and are also good for wall-hangings about heads of lettuce, shopping for snow tires, while running away from cholesterol.

I'm working on the layout for a yearbook type project for our company...we've been working on it for the past couple of months and the publishing company is really sticking it to us. I'm tired I'm sorry for the weakness of this post but I'm seriously, very tired...I'm running on three hours of sleep...love ya'll...

Piece Out.

I Have The Power...So I'm Gonna Use It...Deal With It.

Hello. How are you doing today? I am very well. I'm thinking of a number...between 1 and 3, can you guess which one I'm thinking of? No you stupid, Douche, it's not 5. You are so stupid and you are not attractive.

That had absolutely nothing to do with this post. I posting about people. As it usually is. I'm an avid people watcher. I enjoy watching them interact with each other. I enjoy thinking about how superior I am to them. I also enjoy their missfortunes. What is funnier than watching someone fall down? Seriously. Especially if it's an adult. Kids, you expect to be a little wobbly. But adults are hilarious. My favorite thing to say when I'm in close proximity to a person who falls down, ready? Here we go: "First day on the new legs?" Ha ha Ha ha. That is never, not, funny. haha. Well I'm at work so I thought I'd share that with you. Thanks and if you use it let me know how it goes. Piece Out.