I've made, notice of many people around me misspeaking. It's not that big of a deal, unless you are talking to Penguins or sleeping hobos. Everyone else, however will have no trouble noting your inability to convey an intelligent thought, using the correct verbage. Just now, before I wrote this I heard the following; "If it's any consequence to you...." Clearly the person meant; "if it's any consolation to you..." Substituting one big 'C' word for another isn't really a good conversation, rule o' thumb.
All over the place people are using the WRONG words. Another fantastic instance; "You and I have excellent communication..." What he meant to say was; "You and I have excellent rapport..." But alas it came out 'communication'.
I know it's a nit-picky topic...but come on...I love the English language because it has a word for everything and sometimes more than one word to say the same thing...WooHoo!
So everyone, needs to take the time to think of the right word as opposed to just blurting out whichever 'huge' word that pops into their puny little brains....
Good Luck and Happy Wording...
-WP
5.14.2007
Great New CutDown of the Moment
"Girning, Sweating, Asshat"
i.e. : "George was always a douche, but that girning, sweating, asshat, never ceases to amaze me."
Helpful Hint:
"girn (gûrn) intr.v. girned, girn·ing, girns Scots
1. To complain in a whining voice.
2. To contort one's face; grimace. "
Have Fun, Drink Black & Tan (Guinness/Yeungling) BADOW!
-WP
i.e. : "George was always a douche, but that girning, sweating, asshat, never ceases to amaze me."
Helpful Hint:
"girn (gûrn) intr.v. girned, girn·ing, girns Scots
1. To complain in a whining voice.
2. To contort one's face; grimace. "
Have Fun, Drink Black & Tan (Guinness/Yeungling) BADOW!
-WP
A Copy Post from a Great other Blog
From the dazzling mind of Matt Wilson
http://mw.cracked.com/2007/03/i_wish_i_could_help_you_maam_b.php
Um...hello?
Is...is anyone down there?
Ah, yes, hi. I happened to be standing on the street corner when I glimpsed you walking into this open sewer. I tried to scream to you, "Watch out! You are walking into an open sewer!" but only got out the word "Watch!" before you just tumbled right in. So I just wanted to let you know that I wasn't commenting on the timepiece on your wrist, which I did notice and find very nice. It's a Timex, right?
Hmm, what's that? I can't hear you too well -- I'm trying to avoid sticking my head too far in on account of the smell of human waste, though I'm sure I don't need to tell you that.
Oh, you need help? Well, miss, I'd be more than happy to come down there and get you out from underneath what appears to be several very large dead rats, but I'm afraid I won't be much help. You see, my hands are on fire.
Pardon? Oh, you're wondering how my hands could possibly be on fire and yet I still manage maintain my cool, composed demeanor. "Why aren't you running around and screaming, 'Jesus Christ save me, my hands are on fire!'?", I'm assuming you're asking down there, because, honestly, all I'm hearing is sort of a low rumble.
Well, first off, allow me to say I've never heard that one before! Hahahaha!
But in all seriousness, the condition is genetic. My father's hands were on fire, and his father, and his father before him. But only those three generations. Really, I'm fairly sure my grandfather just pissed off some gypsies at some point, maybe during the war.
So basically, my hands have been on fire my entire life, and I'm more or less used to it. It was pretty excruciating for maybe the first five years or so, but now I barely even notice.
I can tell you're finding this hard to believe. "How did your mother carry to term and give birth to a child whose hands were on fire?" you're probably asking between mouthfuls of what I'm sure is thousands of gallons of fecal matter.
An insightful question.
I'm not exactly sure how the physics of it work, but essentially my hands weren't on fire until the amniotic fluid drained from the birth canal, I shot out of there and they got exposed to some good old American oxygen.
"So if the oxygen in the air keeps your hands from being on fire, why not keep them in sort of vacuum-sealed plastic or just a jar or something?" you're saying down there, as you undoubtedly realize that cushy spot under your left foot is a used tampon deposit.
The funny thing is I tried that a few years ago, and it did pretty much work. My hands were not on fire for a good couple months. But you know, I decided that I've just got to be me, you know, and if my hands are going to be on fire, well, by God, they're just going to have to be on fire.
I think the more important question is how the hell I do my laundry! Hahahahaha!
I ususally pull out and fold my shirts with my teeth, in case you were genuinely wondering that.
Huh? What? I...I actually think I can kind of make out what you're saying. Hmm?
Oh, so what you've actually been saying this whole time is "Help! Shut up about your damn hands and help me!"
Well, I must say that I find that a little hurtful. I think of my hands as what make me me, you know what I'm saying?
Anyway, on the whole help front, you may be happy to know that there are a number of firefighters and emergency workers surrounding me now, which is something that tends to happen when I go out in public, so I'm sure they can give you all the assistance you need if you're still interested in getting your arm out of that crocodile's mouth.
And, just to say again, I wasn't commenting on or making fun of your watch, which now appears to be caught on a big tuft of pubic hair.
Hey! It is a Timex! I can see the Indiglo!
Well, thanks for listening. You know, it's not every day that I can get someone to listen to me ramble on about my hands that just happen to be on fire.
Hey, if you're not doing anything after this, would you like to go grab a cup of coffee or something?
Actually, I can see you've got your hands full with what appears to be a tiger shark. We...we can talk later. I usually hang out in the park right over here and I'm pretty hard to miss. I'm the guy with his hands on fire.
Anyway, see you around.
http://mw.cracked.com/2007/03/i_wish_i_could_help_you_maam_b.php
Um...hello?
Is...is anyone down there?
Ah, yes, hi. I happened to be standing on the street corner when I glimpsed you walking into this open sewer. I tried to scream to you, "Watch out! You are walking into an open sewer!" but only got out the word "Watch!" before you just tumbled right in. So I just wanted to let you know that I wasn't commenting on the timepiece on your wrist, which I did notice and find very nice. It's a Timex, right?
Hmm, what's that? I can't hear you too well -- I'm trying to avoid sticking my head too far in on account of the smell of human waste, though I'm sure I don't need to tell you that.
Oh, you need help? Well, miss, I'd be more than happy to come down there and get you out from underneath what appears to be several very large dead rats, but I'm afraid I won't be much help. You see, my hands are on fire.
Pardon? Oh, you're wondering how my hands could possibly be on fire and yet I still manage maintain my cool, composed demeanor. "Why aren't you running around and screaming, 'Jesus Christ save me, my hands are on fire!'?", I'm assuming you're asking down there, because, honestly, all I'm hearing is sort of a low rumble.
Well, first off, allow me to say I've never heard that one before! Hahahaha!
But in all seriousness, the condition is genetic. My father's hands were on fire, and his father, and his father before him. But only those three generations. Really, I'm fairly sure my grandfather just pissed off some gypsies at some point, maybe during the war.
So basically, my hands have been on fire my entire life, and I'm more or less used to it. It was pretty excruciating for maybe the first five years or so, but now I barely even notice.
I can tell you're finding this hard to believe. "How did your mother carry to term and give birth to a child whose hands were on fire?" you're probably asking between mouthfuls of what I'm sure is thousands of gallons of fecal matter.
An insightful question.
I'm not exactly sure how the physics of it work, but essentially my hands weren't on fire until the amniotic fluid drained from the birth canal, I shot out of there and they got exposed to some good old American oxygen.
"So if the oxygen in the air keeps your hands from being on fire, why not keep them in sort of vacuum-sealed plastic or just a jar or something?" you're saying down there, as you undoubtedly realize that cushy spot under your left foot is a used tampon deposit.
The funny thing is I tried that a few years ago, and it did pretty much work. My hands were not on fire for a good couple months. But you know, I decided that I've just got to be me, you know, and if my hands are going to be on fire, well, by God, they're just going to have to be on fire.
I think the more important question is how the hell I do my laundry! Hahahahaha!
I ususally pull out and fold my shirts with my teeth, in case you were genuinely wondering that.
Huh? What? I...I actually think I can kind of make out what you're saying. Hmm?
Oh, so what you've actually been saying this whole time is "Help! Shut up about your damn hands and help me!"
Well, I must say that I find that a little hurtful. I think of my hands as what make me me, you know what I'm saying?
Anyway, on the whole help front, you may be happy to know that there are a number of firefighters and emergency workers surrounding me now, which is something that tends to happen when I go out in public, so I'm sure they can give you all the assistance you need if you're still interested in getting your arm out of that crocodile's mouth.
And, just to say again, I wasn't commenting on or making fun of your watch, which now appears to be caught on a big tuft of pubic hair.
Hey! It is a Timex! I can see the Indiglo!
Well, thanks for listening. You know, it's not every day that I can get someone to listen to me ramble on about my hands that just happen to be on fire.
Hey, if you're not doing anything after this, would you like to go grab a cup of coffee or something?
Actually, I can see you've got your hands full with what appears to be a tiger shark. We...we can talk later. I usually hang out in the park right over here and I'm pretty hard to miss. I'm the guy with his hands on fire.
Anyway, see you around.
On the road again...Just can't wait to be on the road again...
Been on the road...now I'm back.
Went to the "land of the fingery-looking state" or Michigan for you untravelled types. I was there to shoot my friends wedding. Sorry to use an industry 'buzzword'. Before you have visions of me walking into ole' boy's wedding with a sawed -off Remington 870 express magnum, sending slugs into the wedding party and various guests and family members, I say shoot because I'm a photographer. So, recap, no shotgun; "I was there to PHOTOGRAPH my friends wedding. " Better, you goon?
Anyhow, it was a fun time, Nic is a good guy and Krissy is a sweetheart. The only problem was, people rolling in without paying any attention to the proper dress code for a wedding. You've got Local Yokels arriving in untucked shirts, dirty pants, running shoes, socks and sandals. When does it stop? I 'rolled' up into the wedding as the photog, in a $1500 suit, that I own. The only folks that wore something moderately appropriate were the wedding party. They guys however were wearing rented tuxes. The women looked great in their pastel purple dresses.
Also, even thought they are only, what, four states over? They don't carry Yuengling in Michigan. Weird. or possibly Communist. or Both.
So there you have it.
-WP
Went to the "land of the fingery-looking state" or Michigan for you untravelled types. I was there to shoot my friends wedding. Sorry to use an industry 'buzzword'. Before you have visions of me walking into ole' boy's wedding with a sawed -off Remington 870 express magnum, sending slugs into the wedding party and various guests and family members, I say shoot because I'm a photographer. So, recap, no shotgun; "I was there to PHOTOGRAPH my friends wedding. " Better, you goon?
Anyhow, it was a fun time, Nic is a good guy and Krissy is a sweetheart. The only problem was, people rolling in without paying any attention to the proper dress code for a wedding. You've got Local Yokels arriving in untucked shirts, dirty pants, running shoes, socks and sandals. When does it stop? I 'rolled' up into the wedding as the photog, in a $1500 suit, that I own. The only folks that wore something moderately appropriate were the wedding party. They guys however were wearing rented tuxes. The women looked great in their pastel purple dresses.
Also, even thought they are only, what, four states over? They don't carry Yuengling in Michigan. Weird. or possibly Communist. or Both.
So there you have it.
-WP
5.10.2007
Cali is the Liberal Left, Hence Dark Side, and is also the Literal Left
I'm well aware the title has nothing to do with the post, I merely used it because I used it in an email this morning and thought it was witty.
I went to a birthday party last night for my buddy Tony's wife. It was a lovely party, hosted at one of her co-worker's houses. The house was amazing, hardwood floors, beautifully tiled kitchen...etc. We had a grand ole time, cajoling and carrying on. Enjoying a delicious black and tan with Tony, we enjoyed talking about worky type things. Mandy and I commented on how fantastic the food was and how nice the house was.
The problems arose when I made a risque` joke about an inderect compliment I paid Tony, in an effort not to come across like a fag. Unbeknowst to me, our lovely hostess was infact a lesbian. Ouch. I know. Mandy did her best to discreetly tell me, but I wasn't getting it until she gestured over to a picture on the entertainment center of the two of them and their child (Dog).
I honestly felt like a tool. But not in the damn I feel bad kinda way. It was more like the had I known I would have used my one try much better and complimented their carpets or something...ha ha BADOW!
Yeah so there you have it...drink Black& Tan
-WP
I went to a birthday party last night for my buddy Tony's wife. It was a lovely party, hosted at one of her co-worker's houses. The house was amazing, hardwood floors, beautifully tiled kitchen...etc. We had a grand ole time, cajoling and carrying on. Enjoying a delicious black and tan with Tony, we enjoyed talking about worky type things. Mandy and I commented on how fantastic the food was and how nice the house was.
The problems arose when I made a risque` joke about an inderect compliment I paid Tony, in an effort not to come across like a fag. Unbeknowst to me, our lovely hostess was infact a lesbian. Ouch. I know. Mandy did her best to discreetly tell me, but I wasn't getting it until she gestured over to a picture on the entertainment center of the two of them and their child (Dog).
I honestly felt like a tool. But not in the damn I feel bad kinda way. It was more like the had I known I would have used my one try much better and complimented their carpets or something...ha ha BADOW!
Yeah so there you have it...drink Black& Tan
-WP
5.07.2007
2cool4school's song of the week segment...
Welcome back. hope you all enjoyed last week's session. If you liked last week's song prepare yourself cause this one's even better! don't be fooled by the false ending...once you think it's done keep listening.
Brand New- Jesus Christ enjoy...
...Enjoy
Brand New- Jesus Christ enjoy...
...Enjoy
2cool4school's song of the week segment...
welcome back. hope you all enjoyed last week's session. if you didnt well to bad and you can piss off. but you better like this week's release!
LCD Soundsystem- North American Scum...
...enjoy!
2cool4school's song of the week segment...
Welcome to my song of the week selection show.
It is here that I will be posting my new favorite song for the week. I will do my best to do this every weekend, leaving you with a new fave for the week. I'll
start it off with this doozy...
Plain White T's- Hey There Delilah
enjoy...
It is here that I will be posting my new favorite song for the week. I will do my best to do this every weekend, leaving you with a new fave for the week. I'll
start it off with this doozy...
Plain White T's- Hey There Delilah
enjoy...
5.03.2007
SAG, LAG, or FAG?
Ok so my fanastic friend Patrick McH and I were having a discussion about looking at people's hind-ends while they are leaning inside of vehicles or where their faces or chests are obscured...
The debate fueled a new movement that I dare say is WetJetting the nation. Here are the main players: Situational Assessment Glance or SAG: this is the cursory glance to determine the gender of the target. Lingering Assesment Glance or LAG: this is the longer more observant, hopefully you've determined the gender of your target and are drinking in the majesty of that particular strangers hind-end. FAG is self explanitory; a FAG is someone who commits a foul and finds himself inadvertently LAG-ing at what turns out to be a guy.
We decided to create this scale of measurment to prevent the ridicule that ultimately is the result of not only LAG-ing, but if you are in a car full of your buddies and you announce that out the right side of the car there is a beautiful rump-end bent into a car and it turns out to be a guy, you can have your dignity. First of all, you have exactly 7 (SEVEN) seconds to determine whether or not it's a guy or girl. This SEVEN seconds is call a SAG. Within that SEVEN seconds, if it is a guy you'd better avert your gaze, for if you continue you turn it into a LAG and are a FAG. If it is a woman you have SEVEN seconds to turn the SAG into a LAG if you fail to do so then you are a FAG.
So apply this simple formula to your ogling and you'll never be called a FAG.
Piece Out,
WP
The debate fueled a new movement that I dare say is WetJetting the nation. Here are the main players: Situational Assessment Glance or SAG: this is the cursory glance to determine the gender of the target. Lingering Assesment Glance or LAG: this is the longer more observant, hopefully you've determined the gender of your target and are drinking in the majesty of that particular strangers hind-end. FAG is self explanitory; a FAG is someone who commits a foul and finds himself inadvertently LAG-ing at what turns out to be a guy.
We decided to create this scale of measurment to prevent the ridicule that ultimately is the result of not only LAG-ing, but if you are in a car full of your buddies and you announce that out the right side of the car there is a beautiful rump-end bent into a car and it turns out to be a guy, you can have your dignity. First of all, you have exactly 7 (SEVEN) seconds to determine whether or not it's a guy or girl. This SEVEN seconds is call a SAG. Within that SEVEN seconds, if it is a guy you'd better avert your gaze, for if you continue you turn it into a LAG and are a FAG. If it is a woman you have SEVEN seconds to turn the SAG into a LAG if you fail to do so then you are a FAG.
So apply this simple formula to your ogling and you'll never be called a FAG.
Piece Out,
WP
Alright You Scurvy Dogs...
Um...yeah that title meant absolutely nothing. But alas and I have returned. I'm still going throught the ringer of trying to get out of the Marine Corps and who'd a thought that it's easier to say forget it and stay in. Really. Getting out is harder than staying in, which is probably why so many people do it.
UPDATE: I'm getting out June 1st. I signed a 6 month lease on a house. I'm going to Community College for that very same 6months. I will be attending the Universal Technical Institute in Mooresville, NC. If the good Lord wills it, I will graduate and move on to a 16 week Volkswagen specific course in Pennslyvania, upon graduating from that particular course I will return to beautiful North Carolina where I will gain employment a local Volkswagen Selling Establishment as a Mechanic. WooHoo.
Also, My Manda and I are still doing great and I have another post brewing that has nothing to do with this so until next time....
Piece Out!
WP
UPDATE: I'm getting out June 1st. I signed a 6 month lease on a house. I'm going to Community College for that very same 6months. I will be attending the Universal Technical Institute in Mooresville, NC. If the good Lord wills it, I will graduate and move on to a 16 week Volkswagen specific course in Pennslyvania, upon graduating from that particular course I will return to beautiful North Carolina where I will gain employment a local Volkswagen Selling Establishment as a Mechanic. WooHoo.
Also, My Manda and I are still doing great and I have another post brewing that has nothing to do with this so until next time....
Piece Out!
WP
3.23.2007
Good Day...HA HA!
I'm having a wonderful morning. I'm also enjoying a delicious Diet Dr. Pepper, which strangely enough does taste a lot like regular Dr. Pepper.
My morning is going well because, my heavily networked self is doing an amazing amount of outsourcing, so I'm not actually doing a lot of work, but I'm accomplishing a lot of work.
Here's my shameless plug for networking. Do it. It'll save you a lot of heartache, because it's not what you know, it's who you know. Every time. If you've ever been asked, "What do you bring to the table?" The answer is your network. Not Verizon. You're personal network of personal and professional contacts that are your little gateway into getting things done quickly and efficiently. Everyone you meet knows how to do something that you don't, that maybe one day you'll need to. Instead of taking the time to learn how to do it, just take down their number or email and call or write them when you need to get it done. Either they can do it for you or they can walk you through it.
Here's my dilemma, I need about 60 photos printed. 4x6 and 5x7. Instead of sitting in my office all day printing them out one at a time or paying to take them to walmart. I called my buddy who works at a graphics shop and he's going to print them out lickety-split and cut them. So, now i don't have to do anything, just drop them off and pick them up and my work is done....
Three cheers for networking, HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY!
Lot's of love, Piece.
My morning is going well because, my heavily networked self is doing an amazing amount of outsourcing, so I'm not actually doing a lot of work, but I'm accomplishing a lot of work.
Here's my shameless plug for networking. Do it. It'll save you a lot of heartache, because it's not what you know, it's who you know. Every time. If you've ever been asked, "What do you bring to the table?" The answer is your network. Not Verizon. You're personal network of personal and professional contacts that are your little gateway into getting things done quickly and efficiently. Everyone you meet knows how to do something that you don't, that maybe one day you'll need to. Instead of taking the time to learn how to do it, just take down their number or email and call or write them when you need to get it done. Either they can do it for you or they can walk you through it.
Here's my dilemma, I need about 60 photos printed. 4x6 and 5x7. Instead of sitting in my office all day printing them out one at a time or paying to take them to walmart. I called my buddy who works at a graphics shop and he's going to print them out lickety-split and cut them. So, now i don't have to do anything, just drop them off and pick them up and my work is done....
Three cheers for networking, HOORAY! HOORAY! HOORAY!
Lot's of love, Piece.
3.16.2007
Not Much But Kinda Neat...
So a week ago I got into a wreck. I've been drinking a lot of English Breakfast Tea and hardly ever for breakfast. I've gotten into the Sarah Silverman Program. I miss friends that I can't see everyday. And for those of you who didn't know. I'm an active duty Marine, who's just hit his 90-day mark and can't wait to get out and get back to school. Armed with this knowledge you can probably read some of my past posts and see how I've tried to adapt civilian work situation to describe what's going on in my Big Green Inconvenience.
My wreck was my fault. I rear-ended some guy who thought that turn signals were overrated, so he opted to not use one and I hit him in my 4Runner. So I filed my claim and am waiting for the Gecko to get back to me.
English Breakfast Tea is magic in a tiny glass or a large glass depending on how much Tea you feel, you need in your life right now. Or right then. But, EBT is a great, smooth Tea.
My 90-days is probably the greatest feeling I've ever had. After my deployment and 4 1/2 years of honorable service, it's time to start a new chapter. So, I'm college bound and ready to go back to being a regular dude. Not that the things that I've learned haven't made me a stronger person, because they have. I'm just anxious to re-enter the world I've been protecting for the last almost 5years. More on this to come...I need to go get my 4Runnner rebuilt.
Piece.
My wreck was my fault. I rear-ended some guy who thought that turn signals were overrated, so he opted to not use one and I hit him in my 4Runner. So I filed my claim and am waiting for the Gecko to get back to me.
English Breakfast Tea is magic in a tiny glass or a large glass depending on how much Tea you feel, you need in your life right now. Or right then. But, EBT is a great, smooth Tea.
My 90-days is probably the greatest feeling I've ever had. After my deployment and 4 1/2 years of honorable service, it's time to start a new chapter. So, I'm college bound and ready to go back to being a regular dude. Not that the things that I've learned haven't made me a stronger person, because they have. I'm just anxious to re-enter the world I've been protecting for the last almost 5years. More on this to come...I need to go get my 4Runnner rebuilt.
Piece.
3.11.2007
A Question For My Bloggites....
I am adamant about no cursing or bad language on my Blog, but how do you feel about shared sexual escapades? I've got some good stories but I'm not going to do anything about it if you all don't want to hear it. Until then...Love, Piece, and Dildongs...
3.04.2007
Flew Across The Country...For a Happy Birthday...
I'm writing this post from beautiful Fruita, Colorado, visiting Patrick McH and Co. for his son and my nephew's 2nd birthday.
Little kids are crazy especially if you've not seen them for almost a year and the job kept you from seeing their first birthday. I walked into their house and Haiden, toddled up to me and told me he wanted to show me his train set. I wasn't even sure if he rememberd me, but I was soon amazed at how mch growing he's done since I'd last seen him. He's walking, talking a mile a minute and is a wildman.
His birthday is a Sponge Bob Squarepants, extravaganza. I think we should be getting money for all of the advertising potential of Patrick's house right now.
Brittany, Patrick's more attractive half, though barely, bought so much SBSP that I'm sure that it's impossible for any other kids to have a SBSP birthday party until next year. Pinatas, table cloths, wrapping paper, cups, plates, napkins, you name it, we've got it. It's a SBSP explosion.
I'm gonna go eat breakfast, so I'll catch up with you all later...
-WP
Little kids are crazy especially if you've not seen them for almost a year and the job kept you from seeing their first birthday. I walked into their house and Haiden, toddled up to me and told me he wanted to show me his train set. I wasn't even sure if he rememberd me, but I was soon amazed at how mch growing he's done since I'd last seen him. He's walking, talking a mile a minute and is a wildman.
His birthday is a Sponge Bob Squarepants, extravaganza. I think we should be getting money for all of the advertising potential of Patrick's house right now.
Brittany, Patrick's more attractive half, though barely, bought so much SBSP that I'm sure that it's impossible for any other kids to have a SBSP birthday party until next year. Pinatas, table cloths, wrapping paper, cups, plates, napkins, you name it, we've got it. It's a SBSP explosion.
I'm gonna go eat breakfast, so I'll catch up with you all later...
-WP
3.02.2007
The War, The Men, The Resolution...
The War. The War that's been going on for way too, long. I think that I might offend some people with what I'm about to suggest. But, I promise this isn't going to be a long post, but it will say what I think needs to be said.
I'm declaring Martial Law. I think this war is still going on because we haven't shown the Haj, that we are serious. I think we need to resort to barbaric, vulgar, obscene means of offense.
Including but not limited to purposely killing women and children. I think that when a man has nothing to fight for he will stop. If it's family he's fighting for we'll take his family.
I think we should demolish mosques and deface religious icons. Imprison Muslim clerics and completely remove any desire for them to continue in their backward ways. For if it's religion he's fighting for we'll take his religion.
Perhaps we should deliver total destruction to their lands and structures? Anything that is taller than the ground it's built on will be levelled. It will be an offensive led by bulldozers. For if it's land he fights for, we will take his lands.
I believe the time of calculated military advance is over, I strongly believe we must implement a purely, rage based offensive fueled by the blood of our fallen brethren. All that oppose will meet the wrath of fathers, sons, brothers, husbands, mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends who've been away from the country they love for too long. Brave men and women who are tired of sleeping in the dirt, who are tired of being afraid for their lives and the lives of their fellow countrymen. Men and women who out of a sense of duty volunteered for this noble service and who's service is being taken fore granted and who must needs be brought home into the loving arms of a grateful nation. A nation who because of their sacrifice will continue to thrive and embarrass other countries who've not accomplished a third of what we have, due to a lack of drive and motivation.
I love our country and I love our service members. I love that they are willing to do the impossible to keep our families and values, safe and secure.
Whenever I see a small child I think, that is why our military does, what it does. Our men and women fight our nation's enemies so that our children don't need to worry about anything. So that our kindergartners don't need to worry about roadside bombs, their only concern is what kind of cookies their mother's put in their lunch pail this morning. God Bless them.
I say kill their families to protect ours.
To all my friends and family, May God Bless and Keep You...For These Are Troubled Times In Which We Live...
-WP
I'm declaring Martial Law. I think this war is still going on because we haven't shown the Haj, that we are serious. I think we need to resort to barbaric, vulgar, obscene means of offense.
Including but not limited to purposely killing women and children. I think that when a man has nothing to fight for he will stop. If it's family he's fighting for we'll take his family.
I think we should demolish mosques and deface religious icons. Imprison Muslim clerics and completely remove any desire for them to continue in their backward ways. For if it's religion he's fighting for we'll take his religion.
Perhaps we should deliver total destruction to their lands and structures? Anything that is taller than the ground it's built on will be levelled. It will be an offensive led by bulldozers. For if it's land he fights for, we will take his lands.
I believe the time of calculated military advance is over, I strongly believe we must implement a purely, rage based offensive fueled by the blood of our fallen brethren. All that oppose will meet the wrath of fathers, sons, brothers, husbands, mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends who've been away from the country they love for too long. Brave men and women who are tired of sleeping in the dirt, who are tired of being afraid for their lives and the lives of their fellow countrymen. Men and women who out of a sense of duty volunteered for this noble service and who's service is being taken fore granted and who must needs be brought home into the loving arms of a grateful nation. A nation who because of their sacrifice will continue to thrive and embarrass other countries who've not accomplished a third of what we have, due to a lack of drive and motivation.
I love our country and I love our service members. I love that they are willing to do the impossible to keep our families and values, safe and secure.
Whenever I see a small child I think, that is why our military does, what it does. Our men and women fight our nation's enemies so that our children don't need to worry about anything. So that our kindergartners don't need to worry about roadside bombs, their only concern is what kind of cookies their mother's put in their lunch pail this morning. God Bless them.
I say kill their families to protect ours.
To all my friends and family, May God Bless and Keep You...For These Are Troubled Times In Which We Live...
-WP
2.28.2007
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
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
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
2.21.2007
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
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
2.20.2007
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
-WP
2.16.2007
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
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
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