Hello Again

How the time flies. Nearly two years since my past post. Not sure why I fell off the wagon with my posts, I guess I just didn't really have anything that interesting to say. Surely though, after two years I would have something interesting to tell you. Well, I moved. All the way from Dekalb to Sycamore. The mighty 4 mile journey. Word has it the settlers had the option to travel the Oregon Trail or brave Peace Road. Minus the disease, Indian attacks, cannibalism, and rolled over by wagon incidents, they probably made the right choice. My job keeps me occupied, although any free time I have at work is spent searching for that elusive higher paying, less stressful, 9-3 Tuesday thru Thursday job. I play the lottery when I remember. I spend my money like I make about 10 grand more than I do, but I have no idea where the hell it goes, because I don't own a damn thing other than the shoes on my back and the shirt on my feet (p.s. I have recently been diagnosed with early-onset dementia). Only 4 more payments and the underwear is mine! I did buy a new truck, a Ford. Replaced the old truck, a Dodge. Hmm.. Ford and Dodge...AMERICA! Taking a step back, I realize that what life becomes as you get older is something like a broken record, played really, really fast. The fact that it has been nearly two years since I have blogged, and in that time all that comes to mind is that I still hate my job, I still have no money, and I haven't left Dekalb County, makes me realize a few things. Selling drugs is the easiest and most logical solution. All kidding aside, I have made some exciting decisions lately. I decided to go back to school. Yep, I applied to NIU just last night with hopes of enrolling in a few journalism classes next spring. Unfortunately, the path between my house and the classroom is dotted with elementary schools and playgrounds, and when I factor in my court mandated 500 foot rule, it will take careful planning and mapping to make a safe and legal journey. When I graduated from college 6 years ago, I never thought I would be excited at the prospect of enrolling back in college. I for sure thought that my last day of classes at Bradley, one which I slept through in a drunken haze, would be the last day I would ever have to open a textbook again. But something changed. The broken record started to become a little stale. Why not work at something that I enjoy doing, maybe earn a few bucks along that way doing it? For now, I am content, however, I have to be, because the bills have to get paid, and the lights have to stay on. I guess I could go and Occupy Stott Street. In conclusion, I feel like things are headed in the right direction. I have a great girl, a great family, an ice cold beer, and a 25% off coupon for Apple Bottom Jeans.....don't ask.

Timeline of a beer drinker.

One Beer: Damn, that was good. What do they call this anyway?
Two Beer: I'm gonna have to pick me up a six pack of this.
Three Beer: Last one, I gotta get up early tomorrow.
Four Beer: OK, one more. It's gonna be a slow day tomorrow anyway.
Five Beer: Might as well stick around and catch the rest of the game, it's a good one.
Six Beer: I'm gonna order up some nachos, I'm getting a little hungry.
7,8, and 9th beer: Those fuckin nachos were hot.
10th beer: I need to hit the ATM, order me up another one of those tasty beers.
11th beer: I bet I can slam this beer faster then you can.
12th beer: Where is the nearest strip club.
13th beer: Let's go to the nearest strip club.
14th beer: I'm gonna change this 50 in for some dollars.
15th beer: I'm out of money, let's go home. Unless you wanna spot me a few bucks.
16,17, and 18th beer: Thanks bro, your the best, I'll totally hit you back.
19th beer: I want some White Castle.
20th beer: Sweet, I have one beer left in the fridge.

Location: CMT in Aurora,IL.

There seems to be a disturbing new trend that is gaining momentum at an uprecedented rate. Confined to the men's restroom, what may seem like a trivial matter, is in fact an indicator of how little mankind has actually advanced since the days we bashed female cavewomen with wood clubs. I'm talking about the asshole(s) who dont flush the shitter after they get done doing thier dirty deeds. Now, I understand, we have all stepped back and admired our own accomplishments from time to time, trying to remember what it was we ate/drank to create our award winners, and spent minutes, even hours, trying to connect the dots of sweet corn and tomato seeds, but that is in the confines of our own homes. We have 2 shitters in our office, and approximatley 40 male employees. Simple math would tell us thats 20 men to a shitter. It's a fragile situation, for all it takes is one renegade to ruin everyone elses day. If you look at the average, people crap about 1.5 times a day. You figure 20 people at 1.5 times a day, thats 30 craps that each toilet is assaulted which each day. It only takes 3.3% of those craps to create a most unwanted treasure for someone to discover. But history has showed that despite overwhelming odds, the stagnant duece contiunes to rear it ugly face. Which leads me to believe that our office is inflitrated with a serial crapper. I believe he has a sidekick as well. "Mr. I have no problem flushing my shit down the toilet, but I have yet to master the art of accompanying it with my shitty toilet paper." For now, I must continue to search out these villians, for our existence depends on it. Not really, but it's fuckin gross. Stay tuned.

Random rag of the month

You know what I hate? People who don't start searching for change until they pull into the toll booth, and then sit their, rifling through gum wrappers and food stamps until they scrounge up enough nickels, dimes, and pop tabs for the fare. It's hard enough that you have been stuck behind them for the last 15 miles, because they can't understand that a Ford Festiva in the left lane should be grounds for the firing squad. Just blow the fucking thing, it's not like they are going to catch you in your unlicensed and uninsured shit box anyway, and do you even have an address they would send a ticket to? Anyways, IPASS was a great invention. I'm not generalizing all non IPASS users as welfare receiving Ford Festiva enthusiasts. I'm sure they have a good excuse, such as mental illness, general retardedness, or being born in Wisconsin. 

Makes about as much sense as an air conditioner in Antarctica!

It's been 5 months since my previous post, 150 days filled with accomplishment, accolades, achievement, and 92% stain free underwear. (My highest markings since 7th grade) But honestly, it's been a mostly uneventful 20 week stanza, with exception to a pretty fun trip to the Smoky Mountains. I also relocated my lodgings, from the ritzy suburb of Aurora, to the downtrodden dump that is Dekalb. In all honesty though, I like D-town. I guess the most significant thing that happened was I became a father in June. Not sure what she ended up having, but I made sure my fake identity and address would ensure no future child support payments or court cases. I figure I'll check back in about 18 years, rate the kids success potential, and then take it from there. I've been getting increasingly annoyed with work as the weeks go by. Im always checking my 401k account, thinking how cool it would be to cash it out, and hit the road for a drunken, mind bending [orgy] road trip, for like 2 days. (current 401k value very low) I think it's best though, with the current economy, to stick it out until things turn around. Im looking forward to the offseason though, for me that usually starts in November and runs into April. I'm saving up vacation time for something I have wanted to do for a long time. What is that you ask? Well I can tell you this, it doesn't involve me wearing pants, and I'll be blindfolded the whole time. Wanna go? 

I seem to be suffering from some sort of funk, and I can't pinpoint a reason why. But it came to fruition tonight when I decided, after waking up from a 3 hour nap, to get in my car and just drive. I didn't have any particular destination, but I felt that maybe a little ride in ol' Dakoter (my aging red beauty of a truck) would cheer me up, or at least let me have some quiet time accompanied by my friends Sean Hannity and Dan Patrick. (I am an AM radio nerd) It took about an hour and a half, and covered roughly 40 miles, most of which was spent scouting out fast food restaurants, (in which I eventually decided on White Castle, bad move) and I arrived back at my apartment not feeling any better or worse than when I left. Although physically, I felt like I had just ingested large amounts of manure, which White Castle can sometimes be mistaken for. I also realize that probably 75% of my blogs refer in some way to White Castle, which leads me to believe they should hire me as official spokesperson. If you have read any of my previous posts, you probably agree that I don't take much of anything in life serious, including, but not limited to, work, hygiene, finances, work, my health, work, and anything else that would qualify me as an adult. But I have had a hard time lately thinking of anything humorous to write about. I guess it could all be attributed to this "funk" that I seem to be in, but where it is coming from I am not sure. Nothing substantial has changed in my life, but maybe that is part of it. I seem to be spinning my wheels. It's almost like I'm driving a truck, the truck of life, and the truck is 2-wheel drive, with 4 bald tires. So maybe if I buy new tires, a.k.a. life, for my Dakota, I will feel better. Who needs Dr. Phil.

I decided to make my New Years resolution for 2009 on January 2nd, so I could ensure that I ring in '09 like I did '08, drunk, soused, smashed, trashed, bombed, shitty bombed, hammered, surly, crunked, pissing my pants, blitzed, blasted, and a virgin, anally anyway. It was good to get all that out of my system, because let me tell you, I am a changed man. A few glaring 08' incidents made me realize that it might be just about that time for me to start growing up. I'm not sure if it was the fractured hand, done while in a "shitty bombed" state, the 4 hour drive to Green Bay, completed in varying levels from "smashed", downgrading to "blitzed", transitioning into "drunk", lessening into "buzzed", and rounding out with "pissing my pants", which I still can't explain, or any other weekend where you can plug and chug with the drunk word of the day. So my resolutions are as follows. 1.) Be more professional at work, show up on time for god sakes. I'm not gonna lie, most days I showed up looking like a real shit bag. 8 a.m.? Thats when I'm supposed to be there, but a lot of times that's when I would be getting my ass out of bed. I have a better work ethic than that, I think it's just the fact that I am a bona fide renegade who doesn't take shit from no one! Or I'm just a lazy sack of crap who is well on his way to the unemployment line, but for shits, lets just pretend the renegade thing. 2.) I'm not getting any younger, now is the time to unleash the physical specimen that is trapped beneath all the flab and jiggly stuff. I am nearing 2 weeks complete of a 90 day training program, so I am off to a good start so far. I am also eating better. I did drink about 30 beers this weekend, but I have to take baby steps, and believe me, 30 is actually cutting back. 15 days into 2009 I can say that I am holding strong on my resolutions, it is just a matter of making them habit. I am sure there will be a slip up here and there along the way, which will hopefully include drunken, sloppy intercourse, and hot sizzling White Castle, but I'm just gonna have to pick myself up, dust myself off, and drive to the clinic to ensure the well being of my genitalia.