Yesterday a friend and I were swimming at his house when we decided to go check out the house next door. It’s been vacant for several months now, having been a foreclosure. I thought it might be pretty cool to buy it so we could live next door to each other. I’d noticed when driving down the alley that the top panel of the garage door had been pushed in. So we took a wooden ladder over and I climbed up and over the door, dropping down on the inside.
I’m ready for a new law: one that calls for strict punishment to those who bring frivolous and insipid lawsuits into our courts. This shit is getting ridiculous in the most absurd way. We all know this is a suit-happy nation, from the woman suing over hot coffee (don’t you want your coffee hot, and if so why the hell did you put it between your legs you stupid gash) to the woman suing the city of New York for getting attacked on 9/11 (stupid city should have seen that shit coming and built a fence with a roof around the city) to the woman who is suing Ford because her dumb ass backed over her child (she claims that they didn’t tell her about the availability of cameras and backup sensors – okay, so you didn’t know you could get one, so you should drive like they don’t exist! LOOK BEHIND YOU!). Well all – wait… I see a pattern here… They’re all women! WTF?
There sure has been a lot of talk about steroid usage in the news lately. Namely pertaining to professional athletes. This bothers me only slightly. What bothers me surprisingly isn’t the fact that they are using steroids, but the fact that it is newsworthy at all. Of course we all get to hear the ‘news’ that Brad and Jennifer broke up, and the ‘news’ that woman got lost in a corn field. With no corn in it. (Isn’t that a dirt field?) So in these cases, we are shown that anything is indeed newsworthy.
Thus my complaint can’t really be that this is news so much as that it shouldn’t matter enough to ever make it into the news. Who the hell cares if they use steroids? If Jose Canseco wants to pump up so he can knock one over the fence, I say more power to him. So to speak. Why should this bother us?
I got to her house around seven. I'd come straight from work and was still in my slacks and loafers. Not those nice heavy loafers you get in the military. But the thin, soft leather loafers that feel so good on your feet. She'd called me at five or so, I guess it was, saying he was there. He had come to get his stuff. After a week's delay he'd finally arrived to collect. I said so what. “Aren't you glad he's there?” She'd broken up with him the Friday before, and told him to come get his shit out. He got back from Houston today and seemingly made it top priority. So all should have been well. She said no though. She wasn't happy he was there. Oh, he'd gotten his stuff all right. But he'd left her some things too. Some bruises. So now I was on my…
Here’s my bitch: that 43-year-old woman in the UK who wants to die is petitioning on the Internet, trying to get the law changed because assisted suicide is illegal in the UK. You can get up to 14 years in the pen for helping someone kill themselves. But here’s the funny thing… Suicide is legal. What the what? Can I hear that again? Sure thing, Space. Suicide is legal. Woooohooo!!! Whoa! Thank God for that!
Yeah, well I quoted that from this article. Here’s the syntax, for those who don’t want to leave the site. “Suicide is legal in England, but helping someone else kill themselves is a crime under the 1961 Suicide Act, punishable by up to 14 years in prison.”
I’ve told you all we’re a suit-happy nation. If someone spills coffee on her lap she wants to sue McDonald’s. If someone forgets to put on his seatbelt and goes through the windshield, he wants to sue Ford. Now the woman whose son crashed his Cessna into the empty building… She wants to sue the people who make the drug he was taking for acne.
No one wants to take the blame for anything these days. No one wants to be accountable or take responsibility for the stupid shit they do. They look ignorant in front of everyone, so they want to take a power trip to wealth to feel better. Sue, sue, sue!
I was driving home last night on this old back highway that’s not very popular. Only about 70 million people use it during the day, as opposed to the normal 140 million who clog the other highways around here. So it’s only mildly jammed, you know what I mean? Well anyway, I didn’t get out of work ’til about seven o’clock, so on this highway, I seemed to be the only person traveling. So I was running along about ninety mph over the line and I ran by a cop car.
You know that feeling you get when you fly past a cop car and you’re doubling the speed limit? My heart fell to my stomach and just utterly refused to continue beating. I had to give myself shock therapy from my battery to get it going again, but that’s another story… So I whiz past this sumbitch who’s sitting on the side of the road. He pulls out. After a couple of seconds, I was already around the bend, so I slowed way the hell down and changed lanes. I was waiting for him to come pounce on me like a duck on a june bug.
Well, it’s Mardi Gras time again, gentlemen. And you all know what that means. I think it’s the main reason most men even attend a Mardi Gras festival. Yep. Tits.
When and where else can a man stand around on the street and watch girls lift their shirts and let their boobs bounce out just to get beads? You really can’t beat it. Course, I have never gone to Mardi Gras. I have been to smaller versions of the same thing, locally. Every year in Denton is the Fry Street Fair. 
And if you have ever been there, you know there are plenty of women showing plenty of booby. A lot of them fail to wear shirts entirely.