Before, During and After Christmas

Mmm. Well... At least the ice age has taken a reprieve for the next couple of days. The temperature has finally reached above freezing temperatures. First time for that in almost a month. Right now we're sitting at a nice, balmy 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The ongoing monsoon we're experiencing, currently, here in the Midwestern U.S., is washing away the eight or so inches of ice and snow we got around the beginning of December. And this is the end of December. Ridiculous.

And yeah, I know people have it worse somewhere else... like in New York, for instance. It just seems like it's taken a goddamn eternity for the white shit to thaw out and for me to be able to walk five feet anywhere I go without risking slippage and neck breakage. With the advent of this current thaw out we're experiencing, I'll be treated to the sight of morons wearing shorts in these chilly, yet not sub-freezing temps. I've already seen a couple idiots wearing nothing but shorts, shoes and imbecilic grins at Wally World. This type of carefree simpleton behavior happens every year when we have even the slightest thaw out during the winter months.

For those reasons and more is why I'm not in my usual delightful mood and why I haven't been doing the blogging thing, lately. I've been too angry, depressed and seething with madness to do much on the computer except check out a few porn sites, humor sites and The Huffington Post website. It's a good thing my wife won't allow me to buy a gun, I suppose. God knows how many bodies would be lying around. Happy Holidays, everyone! And don't forget to go fuck yourselves silly! But not you, my cherished reader, not you. :)

Ah... As you can see I'm purging myself of the nasty negative thoughts in my head by sharing them with you. Isn't that nice of me? It's nice to share, they say.

Surprisingly, there was no carnage or destruction at my wife's Christmas family dinner this year. No mirrors or ceramic keepsakes were broken into a million pieces like last year. And the cat remained safe this year, unlike last year, where it was constantly being chased and whipped by a cat toy by my 3 little nieces. The reason for this is because (A) The cat ran and wisely hid under the bed when it heard my nieces menacing giggling when they entered the place and (B) Half of the time, while here, they were playing around with their little electronic gadgets or watching an insipid Nickelodeon TV show. The sound and sights of children shows drove me nuts time to time but at least everything, including the cat, remained intact.

The only bad moment happened while I was whispering to my sister about the eldest niece's boyfriend. My oldest niece is 17. Her boyfriend is 18 and weighs close to 500 pounds. I was explaining to my sister that the boyfriend has broken all the chairs, a heavy duty recliner and a coffee table with his hefty, morbidly obese ass by sitting in and on them, of course. He destroyed these fairly expensive pieces of furniture at my sister-in-law's and mother-in-law's places and nothing was said to the behemoth, as a result. I don't get that part, especially. I would have told the guy to pay for the damages, lose weight (at least for his own health) or something.

A week ago, I told my sister-in-law that the boyfriend wasn't allowed up to my place for the Christmas dinner because I was afraid he would actually go through my upstairs floor apartment and possibly land on and kill the tenants below. It sounds funny, but in his case, I think it could happen. Beside, I don't have anything he could sit on and take his weight without being crushed to molecules.

This same guy has had his picture in the local paper for entering and winning these all-you-can-gorge-on contests. One contest was for how many Twinkies you can stuff in your big fat face and the other was for pigging out on corn dogs or something like that. In other words, he not only engages in gluttony, he flaunts it, is proud of it and celebrates it by entering in these disgusting competitions.

When my mother-in-law overheard me talking to my sister, Christmas Day, about this dude, she got bent out of shape about it and started defending him. She told me how he had promised to marry my niece after he went through culinary art school and how nice he was and how he made her cry by saying all this wonderful stuff about her granddaughter and so on. With the rate he's going, I don't think he's going to live long enough to accomplish any of his goals.

I have asked my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law if anyone has ever warned him that being morbidly obese like that was a danger to his health. Both said, "No." They said that as far as they knew, not even the boy's parents have tried to talk to him about it or curb his weight with correctly portioned meals.

I said, "That makes me sick to hear that and I don't really have anything to do with him."

In fact, the boy's parents actually encourage their kid to go to my sister-in-law's place to eat all of her food when it's dinner time. And eat, he does. Everything. In. Sight. And nothing is ever said to him about that, either. Disgusting and amazing. I would have already knocked his ass out with a baseball bat, or at the very least, tell him to go graze in the back yard for nourishment. My tolerance for repetitious ignorant behavior is little to none. It's a good thing I don't have children.

Strangely enough, I've been told this enormous 18 year old kid's health is okay. For now, I'm guessing . Of course, it will be just a matter of time before he will eventually have problems with any or all of the following: Diabetes. Coronary Heart Disease. High Blood Pressure. Stroke.

To name just a few.

While I'm on the subject of diabetes and other health problems associated with that disease, another curious type of behavior has come to my attention. I know of two family members and a friend who have severe diabetes and a few of the other health conditions I mentioned and none of them seem to give a shit about it. They eat and drink whatever they want, no matter how much sugar and fat it contains. INSANITY.

Look everyone, FREE DIABETES! Come and get it!

If people want to kill themselves by ingesting whatever they want while having diabetes, they're going about it in the slowest, most torturous way possible- aside from disemboweling yourself with a small fork.

The truth is: Diabetes is synonymous with a gradual, often painful degradation of the body's parts and internal organs and ultimately- death will fuck you in the ass, as a result- with no lubricant. When you have diabetes, like I happen to have, just giving a "fuck it" attitude towards it and consuming what you want, guarantees all manner of horrible things to come your way. Like being hooked up to a kidney dialysis machine, for instance (no more caffeine for you, fucker). Or how about the lack of good blood circulation which will cause you to lose your feet and your sight. Does that sound like a good time? And healing from a wound or overcoming sickness, no matter how minor? Forget about it, baby!

Here's a funny story... As I was plunging an insulin needle into my belly a couple days ago, a friend knocked on the door. Since I knew who it was, I told him to come in. He came inside the apartment and was jabbering away about letting himself in until he noticed me slowly inserting a needle into my belly.

As I was cringing and curling my toes in discomfort, he asks, "Does that hurt?"

I didn't reply at first because (A) That's a stupid question and (B) I'm kind of busy at the moment and (C) If I don't focus on where I'm puncturing, I could bend the needle in my belly and tear open my flesh. I've done that last one a couple times, due to my wife causing me stress with inane jabber or the time when I was on the cruise ship and it lurched to the right while the needle slit my belly open. Good times!

Anyhow, my wife comes home from work and gives my friend a Christmas gift that I'm thinking he will likely take a pass on because he suffers from diabetes and has to take a couple pills for, as a result (no insulin yet, but he's working on it, I think). The gift he opens is a nearly two pound bag of gourmet chocolate caramel covered popcorn that has about a trillion (or so) grams of sugar in every piece. My wife thought he would like it because he likes sweets. I was just going to him a gift certificate at Lowe's or something but she thought of this, instead. Eh, okay.

Anyway, he opens the bag and instantly starts to gobble down the the contents of the bag with reckless abandon, diabetes be damned. I laughed, as i always do when I see someone doing something bizarre and I asked, "What about your diabetes?"

He said, almost incoherently, while munching and crunching, "My last blood sugar test result at the doctor's office turned out okay."

For now, I thought. He's very lucky in the way that he eats and doesn't exercise that his blood sugar counts haven't skyrocketed. I, on the other hand, watch what I eat and exercise and I'm forced to take insulin and pills for my diabetes. Go figure. Am I somewhat jealous? You bet. I'm not perfect by any means.

The last couple of weeks, I've been severely depressed because of mom not being here for the fifth Christmas in a row. She died in August of 2005 and I was closer to her than any other member of the family. The inner family fracturing, squabbling and accusing my father of killing my mother by my grandmother just adds heaping helpings of stress to my usual decaying mental health at this time of year. To counteract this, I would go out and take pictures of Christmas scenery in the town surrounding me. Only when I'm not around the usual negative people (family and friends) and outside, do I receive anything remotely describing peace. Sad, isn't it?

You can see these holiday pictures at my other website, Pics For Kicks. Going out and taking these pics is very therapeutic. And taking the holiday shots reminds me of the times, every Christmas, when my sister, dad, mom and I would go out, drive around at night and look at all the decorated holiday scenery in all of the neighboring towns.

To top off the near ending of the holidays, my dad slipped, fell and cracked his head wide open on the corner of a wall the day after Christmas. He's okay now but it scared the shit out of my sister and I. He fell at the assisted living place he's living in, due to taking his diabetes medicine but not eating any food with his medication. That will drop the ol' blood sugar to the basement. When I came to the emergency room, he was lying in the hospital bed, talking calmly to me, like nothing happened.

He looked fine but then...

As I sat down in a chair, he asked how he looked to me. All I could see at the moment was a tiny paper cut on his forehead. I said, " You look alright to me. Just a small cut above your nose."

I wondered silently why he had been rushed to the hospital.

But then...

I saw blood spreading on the pillow behind his head. I got up, walked over behind his bed and saw the four inch gaping gash in his scalp on the back of his head and almost fainted. Just then a nurse walked in and put a fresh bandage on his head. Five or so minutes pass and a doctor walks into the room, takes a stapler and staples the gash together with 8 staples.

Ca-Chunk... Ca- Chunk... and so on. He ended up staying overnight because his blood sugar was so low it wasn't even registering on the meter.

I remember the sound of staples going into flesh quite well since I had the same thing done to me when I was 21. Right after my double hernia surgery. I sat in a slightly leaned back chair as Dr. Frable Ca-Chunked Ca-Chunked twenty one staples between my belly and just above my crotch. He gave no warning he was about to do this. All he said beforehand was that he was going to check how the two wide incisions appeared. And then the surprise! Whoopee!

Good times.

Trying to fuck without literally busting a gut was quite the trick back then but I somehow did it. Back then I didn't have diabetes but I did have raging, horny hormones that made me do stupid things like trying to fuck not long after surgery.

Anyway, dad is back at the assisted living place. They're keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn't go out and drive while healing. He's under strict doctor's orders. I'm sure today or any of the upcoming days he will be screaming and throwing the usual verbal insults at my sister and I, thinking we had something to do with this. Business, as usual.

Yep. Happy fuckin' holidays, everyone. I'm sure the new year will be just as delightful (sarcasm intended) as 2010, minus the honestly pleasurable reprieve of the week long Caribbean cruise we went on this past summer and the times I wasn't around family. During those times, I had nothing but peace.

Below, you'll find a humorous, truthful Christmas message from Bill Maher. After watching it, remember that Oprah Winfrey will or already has debuted her private network, OWN. Which, of course, stands for the Oprah Winfrey Network.

A Christmas Message from Bill Maher - watch more funny videos

Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part 2)

Click here for Part 1 of this enchanting story. Now, where was I? Oh yes, here we go...

It wasn't long before both road weary travelers slipped beneath the sheets and fell fast asleep in each of their own beds at the Sheraton hotel. Toadie was lying on his stomach, snoring. During the first few moments of Toadie's slumber, Toadie's anus began it's symphony of sweet, melodious flatulence. This was the result of consuming massive amounts of chili earlier in the afternoon. Who could have guessed that a displeasing incident would occur after just a few hours of rest? Unfortunately, the mentally challenged man's rectum reached a gaseous frenetic crescendo, producing a geyser of diarrhea that spurted through the top bed covers over his lower torso and splattered down atop Toadie's hairy backside.

Instead of waking him, Toadie was influenced in his dreams by the spattering shit juice. Still sound asleep, Toadie cried out, "Toadie loves standing beneath the spray of the waterfall!"

Then Toadie giggled, childlike and endearingly.

Valerie and Toadie awoke the following morning, feeling refreshed but not feeling quite so clean. Valerie sat up in her bed, yawned and felt sticky. After opening her eyes, she noticed small brown blotches on her arms and in her hair. She screamed, instantly, when she realized the blotches was feces. Toadie woke up to Valerie's shriek and quickly sat on the edge of his bed. When he saw Valerie covered with spots of anal gravy, he began to laugh, heartily. Laughing, in turn, gave Toadie a rising woodie.

Valerie's scream increased in volume when she saw Toadie. The somewhat dim-witted 33 year old was completely covered in butt broth. He appeared to be a hideous, hairy, chocolate colored monster. And to make matters worse, he was beating off. When Valerie could no longer scream, she violently retched until the contents of her stomach had emptied onto the floor. Toadie, of course, spooged into the lake of vomit.

After they got cleaned up, they quickly got dressed and got back into the car before the hotel's staff could get wind, so to speak, of what had transpired during their stay. As Val and her jovial co traveler jumped in the car and made a hasty getaway, Toadie rejoiced, "Toadie thinks this is a Shit and Run."

Despite what Val had endured, she felt compelled to cackle at Toadie's pun. Maybe it was stress, she wondered.

Traveling westward, Val and Toadie stopped in the small town of Calvin, Oklahoma. Valerie turned down the radio that had been playing incessant Christmas music for the last couple states. Toadie's eyes had glazed over during half of the westerly travel and he was singing, with much exuberance, to every festive tune played. This was tearing at Valerie's patience.

She had an idea.

Valerie pulled into the driveway of an old abandoned, dilapidated farmhouse and said to Toadie, "Hey Toadie, you know what's more fun than singing to Christmas music?"

Toadie replied, "Toadie is thinking of snow and herpes."

Valerie said, "No, Toadie, this is more fun." With that said, she withdrew a bag of marijuana from her purse.

"Wow," said Toadie. Then he said, "Toadie likes oregano."

Valerie smiled and then countered, "This is the blessed herb, my friend."

Soon, after they shared a few joints, Toadie seemed to calm down and relax, which was what Valerie was shooting for. She was even able to turn to a rock station on the radio without any debate or quarrel with Toadie. Before, he had thrown a fit if she had tried doing that.

Toadie took a toke and handed the rolled ganja back to Valerie. He felt different then and began to see things quite differently. Valerie sucked on the joint, then handed it back, coughing a little. A smile soon spread across her face.

Stoned and content, Toadie turned to Valerie and said, "This shit's good."

Valerie, surprised that Toadie didn't refer to himself in the third person when he just spoke, asked, "Are you okay?"

Toadie replied, "Are any of us really okay? The term 'okay' is subjective, I believe."

Valerie thought she had smoked too much. Toadie was beginning to sound intelligent and even a bit profound to her ears and mind.

Then Toadie put his arm around her and said, "And now I have an idea... if you're game for it, Val."

Valerie said, "Uh-oh... I created a monster." Then she looked down and saw that the man's rigid, impressively sized prick was peeping out at the top of his sweatpants. Toadie smiled at Valerie. Her face showed a look of lust and admiration of his peeping prick's length and girth.

Valerie lightly brushed her fingers along the fat head of Toadie's cock and coyly asked, "Does this idea of yours have something to do with this Yule log you're sporting?" The college student licked her lips.

Toadie chuckled and then answered his companion with a question, "Are you ready for a little Christmastime type adventure?"

Valerie nodded, not knowing what to expect, but she felt game for it- especially if it had something to do with wrapping her lips around Toadie's massive candy cane.

Earlier, on their way through the small town of Calvin, Toadie had noticed several things. One, there a guy in a snowman suit holding up a large sign in the small business area of Calvin. And two, the sign had announced that there would be a town Christmas festival, featuring a church choir of Christmas carolers that would be singing in front of the Town Hall later on that night.

Under Toadie's guidance, Toadie had Val drive them back to the business area of town and wait until the guy in the snowman suit took his lunch break. They didn't have to wait long. When the guy took off for an hour for lunch, he left his snowman suit in the hardware store he had been standing in front of most of the morning.

Toadie slipped inside the store, unnoticed and hurriedly grabbed the suit. His plan was well underway.

Later that evening, at the Town Hall, the mayor of Calvin went up on the stage and invited the St. Mary's Christmas Choir to come up and sing their extensive mix of religious and holiday numbers for the town audience.

As the choir sang "Silent Night", Toadie and Valerie were smoking a blunt in an alley nearby. They felt they needed a little inspiration for the next part of his plan. A couple minutes passed and they were thoroughly fried out of their minds and giggling.

Toadie got out of the car in the dark alley and put on the snowman suit. Valerie helped him put it on. Once that was accomplished, they ran off toward the town's tall, garishly decorated Christmas tree, which happened to stand close to the Town Hall stage. Once there, Valerie reached into Toadie's snowman suit where a hole had been strategically cut out, allowing for Toadie's jolly joystick to escape and stand up, proud and fully engorged. Valerie was increasingly getting wetter as she grappled Toadie's meaty member, stroking it and finally pulling it out of it's "escape hatch".

Valerie eyed Toadie's skin flute with unconstrained desire, turned around and hurriedly pulled down her pants, exposing her bare wet n' ready pussy and puckered asshole. Toadie squirt a little lube from a tube onto Valerie's tender piss flaps after she went down on the ground on her hands and knees. And before you could say "Santa Claus is comin' to town", Toadie repeatedly inserted his beefy bologna into Valerie's delicate dripping slit, causing Valerie to gasp, shriek and moan just as the choir sang the verse, "O come, all Ye Faithful."

The townsfolk and church choir, upon hearing Val's cries of extreme surprise and intense ecstasy, quickly ran over to see where the commotion was coming from. They gazed in awe as they witnessed a snowman savagely fucking Valerie in the cunt.

"My goodness!" cried out the priest. Secretly, however, the holy man's prick was quite hard from the sight.

The mayor, speechless at first, was finally able to ask, "What do you think you're doing with this woman?"

The snowman turned his head and said to the mayor, "I'm fucking her, you dumb ass."

Unrelenting, the snowman continued to plow the depths of Valerie's coochie while the crowd gathered and watched. Valerie's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned so loud, you could swear the sound was coming from an ambulance siren. The citizens of Calvin had never before seen such a spectacle take place in their normally uneventful municipality. Some citizens fainted. Others were outraged. More than a few were aroused, rubbing their crotches, instilled with primal cravings.

Finally, the snowman spurted jets of baby batter into Valerie's gaping twat. After moments of relieving his swollen "snowballsack", Toadie got up, leaving Valerie on her hands and knees, satisfied and dripping with jizz globs and pussy juice. Soon, several police cars were pulling up alongside the curb of Town Hall, after receiving word of a strange public disturbance.

Before the local police were able to get out of their patrol cars, Valerie pulled up her pants and quickly ran after her snowman lover to the nearby back alley where they had parked the car.

Luckily, they were able to escape the pursuing cops and were able to make it to another town without being caught. Once they were sure they were no longer being followed, Val and Toadie checked into a hotel and continued celebrating the holidays in their own special way.

Toadie and Valerie had many other wonderful adventures during their Christmas trip around the country and when they finally made their way back to Rufus' and Maggie's mansion in Chicago, they expressed that they wanted to continue seeing each other. Rufus and Maggie were thrilled that Toadie had finally found someone in his life that he could truly love and share great times with.

And now, gentle readers, our delightful Christmas story has come to an end. I hope you will all have a holly jolly, very Merry Christmas. Peace be with all you!

For previous Toadie stories, click on any of these links:

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"

Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"

Toadie in "First Love"

Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part 1)

Despite Rufus and Maggie's objection to Toadie leaving their mansion in Chicago, Toadie ventured out on a trip across the country during the Christmas season to take in the sights of all the decorated houses and winter festivals across America.

Rufus and Maggie, worried for their semi-retarded friend's safety, were at least able to convince Toadie that he should be escorted during his month long adventure. Maggie persuaded her younger cousin, Valerie, to escort and drive the 33 year old mentally impaired man wherever he wanted to go. At first, Valerie balked at the suggestion due to college priorities. Of course, it didn't take much persuasion from Rufus and Maggie since they had only recently become millionaires due to a huge inheritance and were able to offer Val a substantial amount of money for the task.

Fifty thousand dollars for playing a taxi driver for an imbecile wouldn't be a bad deal, she thought. Besides, the college freshman felt she badly needed a break from school. Val was feeling burned out.

A week into the trip, Valerie began to understand Toadie and realize, with in-depth discussions with him, that he wasn't as mindless as some assumed him to be. She could tell that he was just one of those type of people that you had to really talk to, on a one-to-one basis, for a certain amount of time, in order to get what he was honestly all about.

One night, on the way to Birmingham, Alabama, Valeria turned to Toadie and asked, "Well, are you ready to check in at a hotel?"

Toadie, staring straight ahead at the festively decorated lampposts along the street, replied, "Toadie farted." This was followed by a string of saliva dripping from his bottom lip.

Valerie countered, "Yes, Toadie, I know. I could smell it ten minutes ago and I still can."

Toadie wiped the spittle from his mouth and then said, "The smell makes Toadie hungry for the big bowl of chili Toadie ate this afternoon."

Valerie laughed and then said, "Well, it makes me want to puke my chili up on this dashboard."

Both travelers laughed together then, in effect, causing Toadie's penis to become erect, which happened quite often when he laughed. This odd reaction to laughter would sometimes make for awkward scenes at a Chicago grocery store that Maggie would sometimes take Toadie to, in the past.

Whenever Toadie would see someone or hear something he thought humorous, he would chuckle heartily and eventually sport a 14 inch raging boner which would often times peek out from the top of his sweatpants. Maggie would see his meaty manhood sticking out and tell him to think of something sad to deflate the size of his erection.

Normally, when these events occurred, at least one store patron would invariably see his lengthy piss weasel, stop dead in their tracks and point at Toadie's prick. Some people laughed. Some shrugged. One patron actually screamed and had a massive stroke. Her name was Mabel Strausfurg and she had just celebrated her 70th birthday the day before. When the elderly woman collapsed to the floor, Toadie was shocked and began to sob, uncontrollably.

Customers looked down at the woman breathing her last few breaths on the floor, but instead of running to get help or call for an ambulance, they stood around the old woman and twittered and private messaged their friends and relatives.

Several customers took pictures with their camera phones and other electronic gadgets.

One twenty-ish something year old girl texted this message:

Old biddy just up on dropped on the floor. lol. Most excitement I've had all day.

The bored reactions of the customers vaguely reminded Maggie of the true incident in which Bill Nye, "The Science Guy", collapsed onto the floor before reaching the podium at a college University in California. Everyone in the audience, made up of mostly college students, texted and tweeted what had just happened instead of attempting, in any degree, to help Nye.

Maggie immediately took out her cell phone and called the 911 emergency number before rushing off to alert store management. Quickly, before leaving, she turned to Toadie and said, "Put that thing away before you kill anyone else."

This made Toadie even sadder, feeling immeasurable guilt and as was often the case when he was feeling blue, Toadie would comfort himself by masturbating. This time proved to be yet another such occasion. While being so overwhelmed by emotion that he let out a long sorrowful wail, Toadie abruptly pulled down his sweatpants and urgently wanked his willy .

Toadie exclaimed, suddenly, "Toadie sad!"

With his fat, clenched fist, Toadie began pumping up on down on his love muscle until jets of plentiful semen gushed out, hitting the seemingly bored customers' faces while they tweeted. Not fazed by this in the least, a few crowd members decided to sit down on top of the dying woman and continued to text and twitter. Some of them, in fact, tweeted that they thought there could be a leak in the store ceiling.

This is the actual tweet that one of them typed out:

I think there's something leaking from the ceiling here. Something just hit the top of my head or went in my face. Whatever.

Valerie and Toadie pulled into a snow filled hotel parking lot. The area was enduring subfreezing temperatures for the last several weeks, not allowing for the snow to melt anywhere in the city. Because of this, many of the citizenry in Birmingham were angry and frustrated and took it out on each other and city property in bizarre and vicious ways. One such citizen committed the outrageous act of burning down the city's 35 foot tall Christmas tree for it's measly amount of copper. At least, that was his excuse for burning down the tree.

It seemed, during these times, people were declaring war on Christmas trees. For instance, in Germany, the police arrested a man for making a huge six foot marijuana plant his very own Christmas tree. Justification for his arrest, some had trouble figuring out. The old man wasn't hurting anyone, after all. He was just trying to have a merry Christmas the best way he knew how.

Yet another member of the Birmingham, Alabama community jumped from a bridge to his death. Curiously enough, he was a shopping mall Santa in the area. On his way to the rough waters below, he could be heard to shout, "HO HO HO!" Still alive, though taking in large quantities of river water, the man in the Santa suit thrashed about in the river current and pleaded for help, damning himself for his stupidity.

No help was given to the depressed drowning man, of course. The onlookers, instead, messaged to others on their electronic devices that they had just heard something make a splash in the water. Then they continued doing nothing.

After Valerie and Toadie checked into the hotel room, Valerie smiled at Toadie and began to undress. It wasn't long before both road weary travelers slipped beneath the sheets and....

THE NEXT POST (PART 2 of Toadie in "The Christmas Trip") WILL CONTINUE THIS STORY. MEANWHILE, YOU MAY ENJOY THESE PRECEDING ADVENTURES OF TOADIE BY CLICKING THE FOLLOWING LINKS:

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"

Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"

Toadie in "First Love"

TILL NEXT TIME, "HO HO HO AND MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!"

3 Year Blog Anniversary

It's hard to believe I've been blogging for three freakin' years but I have. It's been 3 years to this very day when I first started this site. December, 13th, 2007. During these three years, I've befriended a lot of bloggers, visited a lot of unique, quality blogs and endured a lot of bullshit and good times in my life while crankin' out posts that have involved subjects that were either funny, insane, tragic, joyous and ones that defied any of those descriptions.

In my opinion, these posts have been my personal 10 best, thus far:

There Are Other Life Forms

Crazy Bear and Volcano Butt

Couples Fighting In Public

Toxic Culture

Almost Human

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"

BP Oil Spill, Alternative Energy and Climate Change (Part 2)

End of The World Delight

A Unique Alternative

Life Lesson From Father To Son

I have no idea how much longer I'll be able to do it but I have to admit, it's been rewarding. Not just because I've been able to share my insanity with all of you but being able to get some stuff off my chest. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

Take care, folks!

Great Affordable Christmas Gifts

I don't know if you've noticed or not but we're currently living and struggling in a recession. Well, at least 98% of us are. The other 2%, the Über-wealthy (those being careful not to be in direct contact with we, the peasantry) among us believe we are no longer in a recession... but they can go fuck their self-delusional selves, of course. Is this class envy, some of you may suspect? Nope. Just simple, clear minded observation of today's reality. Join me for a tiny taste of reasoning, won't you?

Anyway, I digress...

I have put just a whole lot of thought and consideration of the current holiday and over commercialized gift giving season and have come up with some delightful gifts that are simple to make or find for both friends or family. You can bet your sweet bippy that they'll enjoy these special presents for many years to come. And best of all, none of these items will ever go out of style.

Without further ado:

BAG

This simple item can be used to put your stuff in and is especially affordable during these hard times. Think of all the fun you can have with BAG and be sure to note the look of wonder and glee in your child's eyes once they open their gift box and see BAG for themselves. One of the most impressive qualities this item has is it's ability to be taken almost anywhere... except at the airport, where your courteous airport security personnel will happily treat you like a terrorist and give you a deep cavity search just for attempting to carry your average supermarket BAG on a plane. BAG can also be handy as a container for used facial or toilet tissue.

Other uses with BAG include but are not exclusive to: placing over an insidiously ugly citizen's face, placing over one's shoes so the individual can not only keep their footwear clean and dry but they can slip, fall and break their fucking neck and last, but certainly not least, BAG can handily function as a way for suffocating an insufferable, irritating douche bag any time of the year.

TURD

This particular item can be home made by eating enough food and being able to push it out of one's butt hole. It's the kind of gift that shows to loved ones, friends and family that you truly care because it is so personal. What's more, TURD may be used in conjunction with BAG so instead of the recipient getting only one gift under the Christmas tree this holiday season, they may receive two at one time. What a delightful bonus! If you should not want to go through the effort of producing TURD yourself, due to either constipation or pure laziness (as in "I don't give a shit"), feel free to go to your neighborhood park or back yard to find a fresh or not-so-fresh cat, dog, deer, fox or Sasquatch TURD.

What co worker, friend or family member wouldn't be instilled with feelings of endearment and joy this holiday season by finding this special stocking stuffer? Special considerate additions to TURD could be: incompletely digested corn, blood, a bit of hemorrhoid or a dollop of whipped cream on top. Go ahead! Make TURD special this Christmas!

ARTWORK

This gift has a multitude of possibilities and as a bonus, it serves as a way to express yourself, creatively, whether it's handmade and or something you bought cheaply from a very starving artist or took from an orphan child while it cried. ARTWORK can be something drawn on a piece of paper. Such as: A smiley-faced stick figure. Or... A peace sign. Or... A child's handmade drawing of his or her family soaked with well spent tears after you robbed them of it.

ARTWORK need not be categorized as something only painted, drawn or tattooed above one's buttocks. Indeed, ARTWORK can be something made or used out of any one of the following: clay, Popsicle sticks, paper mache, aluminum foil, wood (careful with that knife), hardened mucous "boogers" and of course, the ol' tried and true, TURD. You may want to use gloves with that last one. With 'boogers" there's no real need because you can simply lick your fingers after you're done. No mess, no fuss.

GLASS JAR

Some may argue that this invaluable present is a bit too much like BAG and that I may be repeating myself in some fashion but I disagree. GLASS JAR is a much sturdier gift and is much more efficient for holding liquids and jelly-like substances. No real chance for leakage, especially if you have the lid screwed on nice and tight. Well, now that I've said those two words, I have a substantial boner. Who would have thought? GLASS JAR can be also used for quickly flinging into a continuously disagreeable individual's face. You know, that special someone who delights in disagreeing with you on every single goddamn thing that you say just for the fucking sake of disagreeing with you.

But I digress...

Additionally, GLASS JAR can be used for containing homemade jellies and jams, moonshine, pee, a fart or two (however many you can fit in) or an imaginary sum of cash. For that last suggestion, I suggest you print the cash value of the imaginary amount of cash that is supposedly in GLASS JAR and tape it firmly on the side of GLASS JAR. Otherwise, this unique gift just won't have as much meaning and the recipient will not be able to appreciate the real value of his or her gift and will therefore be somewhat displeased.

Well, that's all I can or care to think of at the moment. I hope I've enhanced your holiday and gift giving experiences with these festive ideas. If you wish, you may thank me for these helpful suggestions by leaving a thoughtful comment in my comment box. In conclusion, I wish all of my readers (all three of them) a very merry, joy-filled, awkward family gathering Christmas this year.

Seasons Greetings, everyone!

Life Lessons From Father To Son

Minutes after placing the plastic Santa, sleigh, reindeer, snowman in the yard and decorating the house with many festive lights in order to give Sean's residence the appearance of a typical American home during the much commercialized season, Sean placed his arm around Timmy's shoulder. The 40 year old corporate executive was proud of his accomplishment. It was important, in Sean's mind, that he keep up with the other neighbors' decorated yards in his suburb. He looked down to see if his son was taking in the grandeur of the perfectly well placed decorations and lights, as well. As usual, Timmy was preoccupied with the latest version of his iPod, texting away another irrelevant message to a friend in a long line of trivial messages.

That reminded Sean. He needed to buy himself an upgraded version of an electronic gadget he had bought only a month ago. Texting, instant messaging and twittering was such a vital part of Sean's life and he just had to have the very latest electronic gadget in order to keep up with appearances and to make himself feel just that much more special than anyone who didn't have the latest electronic gadget at the moment. Sean's cars, mansion, big screen TVs, yacht and the rest of his possessions meant everything to him. After all, Sean thought, your portfolio, your money and the material things you own is a reflection upon your true value in society. And this thought, in turn, reminded Sean that he needed to have a serious talk with his 12 year old son about the facts of life.

"Son," said Sean, demanding Timmy's attention, "I think it's time we had THE TALK."

Sean had to snap the texting device out of Timmy's hands in order to stop the boy's addictive behavior and get his attention. It seemed that everyone during this time had such an addiction to electronic gadgets. At times, it seemed as though they were mindless texting, cell phone- talking zombies, incapable of standing in front of someone and communicating directly to them. With blank stares upon their little screens, they tappity-tap-tapped upon their hand held device's buttons, pausing only if it was absolutely necessary.

Timmy whined, "Hey, I was texting something to Ricky."

Sean said, "When we're finished talking, I'll let you have it back. Don't worry."

Timmy got a pout-y look on his face, thinking it would gain him back his gadget. It didn't. It was one of the few times Timmy didn't get his way with Sean.

Sean started, "It's time for you to know just how important is to run with the pack. To conform. Be a complete team player in life. And perhaps, most importantly, never differentiate from the norm so everyone, from your classmates in school to your fellow players in an organized league to your future co-workers in the office, will accept you during life. Never rock the boat."

Timmy looked up, asked, "Office? Why do I have to work in an office? Why can't I work at the supermarket with Uncle Frank?"

Sean laughed and then continued explaining, "Your Uncle Frank is what we call a loser. A no account. A grunt who performs routine tasks. A nothing, in truth."

"Why do you say that?," inquired Timmy.

As Sean walked Timmy back to the warmth of the interior of the mansion, the father said, "Uncle Frank didn't go to college. Instead of choosing a career where he would earn an annual six figure salary, Frank decided to waste his life and opportunities to work behind a deli counter, never to achieve what you kids today call the "awesomeness" of having considerable wealth and exceptional stature." With this said, Sean winked and nodded, affirmatively. He was hoping to get through to his son the importance of appearances and the never ending goal of attaining vast wealth throughout his lifetime.

As they stepped inside, Sean instructed Timmy to sit at the table for more enlightenment. At the table, Timmy said, "I don't understand. I always thought Uncle Frank was pretty happy. He's always smiling, the couple of times I've seen him."

Sean replied, "It doesn't matter if Uncle Frank is happy. What's important is wealth and conformity. Frank, from the day he was born, hasn't followed the rules of American society and as a result, doesn't measure up to our standards, my son. It's just that simple."

Timmy seemed confused at first, but then his expression brightened.

"So that's why you never invite Uncle Frank to Christmas or Thanksgiving every year," said Timmy, pleased that his father was smiling at his sudden comprehension.

Sean patted the boy on the head and said, happily, "You betcha!"

Timmy exclaimed, "Uncle Frank isn't as good as we are!"

"Why Frank has hardly any value as a human being at all," confided Sean, proud that his boy was eagerly learning a valuable lesson.

Timmy and Sean laughed heartily. This is going to be a wonderful day, thought Sean. The boy was soaking in all the wisdom Sean had to offer like a thirsty sponge.

At that moment, Vicky, Sean's wife walked in from the living room. She asked, "Will you boys be ready to go shopping in about an hour?" Sean and Timmy nodded. "There's a new upscale department store in the city that I've wanted to go into and we have reservations at The Capital Grille later tonight. I hear the Seared Tenderloin with Butter Poached Lobster is out of this world. I"m just so looking forward to eating there."

Sean and Timmy decided to go into the living room to watch TV. A news program was playing, showing the plight of people that had lost their jobs, recently, and were having trouble keeping their homes.

Timmy giggled, pointed and then exclaimed, "Look, dad! Poor people! They're stupid!"

Sean confirmed Timmy's outburst, saying, "That's right, son!"

Sean continued, "And if you should see any people at any time like this or any other losers that ask you for a handout, just pretend that they don't exist. It's easy. And it's the American Way"

The next images were of people fighting a war in the Middle East. Sean thought he could contribute more to his son's education by explaining the reason we were at war.

Sean asked, "Do you know the reason why our young soldiers are risking their lives over in the far away country called...? Eh, I forget the name at the moment... but that's not important anyway."

Timmy said, "Nope. I never really cared. Whenever they talk about war stuff on TV, I usually turn on my PS3 and play games."

Sean thought, Well, I really can't blame him there. Whenever the subject of whatever war we were currently in came on the screen, he'd quickly change channels to some televised sporting event.

"Well," said Sean, "The reason we go to war with people that are different than us is due to a number of things. One, they might have something that we want. Like oil, for instance. Two, our corporations and our government may have found ways to make a profit from setting up our "democracy bases" in these countries, therefore, we should be there. And three, it's the patriotic thing to do."

Timmy said, "I thought I heard it was about terrorism or somethin'."

Sean put his hand on his son's arm while saying, "Well, son, our government and politicians have used fear mongering and terms suggesting that you're not a true patriot unless you want go to another country and kill their people who have nothing to do with terrorism, per se. In fact, a lot of innocent civilians are killed over there for really unfair reasons, I suppose, if you really want to dwell on that sort of thing. Our own soldiers die over there, as well, but hey, ya gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet."

Sean pointed up toward the air and said, triumphantly, "Heck, our country was practically taken and founded upon the massacre of people different than us. You've heard of Indians, right? Well, we had to wipe them out early on in order to spread across this land like a virus. They had our land and we took it from them. We even let a few of them live. 'Might is right', as they say."

Sean laughed a bit and then added, "But who says life has to be fair? It's the end result that counts. As Americans, we have to protect our gluttonous, selfish way of life by doing things that may seem immoral to some losers but that doesn't really matter. Money matters. Satisfying our needs is what matters. Doing what the government tells you to do and what to believe, no matter how much you think it is a lie, is what truly matters."

Timmy thought about what his father said and though a lot of it didn't make sense, he decided to go along with it. It seemed to him that if everyone else was going along with these rules, then it must be right.

Timmy said, "I guess I get it."

Sean said, "That's all I need to hear. Just remember... the majority is always right. Think and act like everyone else and you'll do just fine. In the future, you'll go to college, get a high paying career, get married, buy a big house and other expensive items, raise a couple rug-rats of your own and never question authority or the government. Don't rock the boat."

Timmy smiled and then said the words a father wants to hear the most from his son.

"I want to be just like you when I grow up, dad."

Sean said, "You betcha, son." Sean, assured of Timmy's compliance with all that was said, gave Timmy his iPod back.

Minutes later, the family gathered into the limousine and were taken into the city for a day and night of heavily commercialized Christmas shopping and fine dining. Life couldn't be better for Sean. Sean felt he had instilled valuable life lessons in his son and took exceptional pride in that accomplishment.

Kidnap The Sandy Claws by Korn

Finally, a festive little Christmas song I can not only tolerate, but can dance to, as well. What fun!

Yesterday, At a Quarter To Four...

... I furiously masturbated.

Disturbing Christmas Album Covers

What's Christmas without the festive holiday tunes? I don't know. A little more peace and quiet? Anytime I hear Christmas music, I want to strangle an elf.

Someone likes Star Wars a little too much.

Hey everyone, here's hoping you have a drunken, ghetto lovin' Christmas! Don't forget to beat your loved ones for Christmas this year during an alcoholic rage.

Yes, Daddy, is he?

It looks as though everyone is ogling Santa's hidden package this year. And Little Timmy is trying his darnedest to hold Santa's bag.

Are those ornamental balls at the end of his horn?

I barely remember this guy. Last I heard, he was dishing up fried rice behind the counter at Panda Express.

It looks like Rudy will be spreading his Christmas cheer a little thin this year with the soul sisters.

This kid needs to wish for a trip to a dentist and an ophthalmologist.

Kyle's Video

This video was created by the son of my friend, Steve. I would give you a description of it or my opinion of it, but instead, I'll just let you sit back and enjoyyyyyyyy.

How Santa's Reindeer Are Able To Fly

Many people have asked me how this can be, that reindeer are able to leave the ground and take to the air. Hopefully, after this post, you will come to understand how this is possible. Read on, my gentle readers.

Throughout history there has been much speculation on this amazing phenomena. Many historians and zoologists point to the early years of Santa's role as Father Christmas. During these harsh and formidable years as a major holiday figure, Santa seemed to relish the fact that he had been imposed with certain magical abilities by elves and was drunk with power, thus ruling with a mighty mittened thumb.

Ancient texts, found recently by archaeologists, describe numerous tales of Santa forcing his beloved reindeer to endure nights of severe whippings with the lash and brutal sessions of anal sex, or "fudgepacking", if you will, before the much anticipated eve of Christmas. He often discussed these special training techniques with his fellow brethren, the elves.

In a previously undisclosed piece of antique manuscript, Santa is quoted as saying, "I encourage these retched, foul smelling beasts to pull my colossal, bulging sack of toys and my own fat, sagging ass on a sleigh with nightly scheduled thrashings. When this part of their training has concluded, I instill in them the deep desire to take flight by ruthlessly humping them in their asses until bleeding commences."

More than a few elves would stare blankly at the jolly old fat man, in horror and disbelief, after being told of his unusual procedures. According to the same aged text, one elf among the crowd, was quoted, inquiring, "But isn't this rather harsh?"

Santa lifted his cumbersome belly, let out a jovial laugh and then pointed to the elf and exclaimed, "It's either them or you fuckers!"

The video clip below explains, partially, how Santa Claus' enslaved caribou are able to fly... and fly so high, as well. Watch the video clip to learn more.

Sickest Jokes

A man is waiting in the hospital for his wife to give labor when the doctor walks up to him, all excited.

Doctor: Sir you have to see this, your son, he is a super hero.

The man is confused by this statement

So the doctor takes him into the nursery and picks up the the mans baby

Doctor: See, he can fly...

The doctor drops the baby. The baby hits the floor and bounces a little bit.

The Man gets all pissed off..

Man: Hey, what the fuck if your problem?

Doctor: NO I ASSURE YOU!! Your baby is a super hero watch, maybe he just needs a head start.

So the doctor picks the baby back up and runs through the nursery and throws the baby. The baby slams right in to the wall head first and lays on the floor.

The man is even more mad now.

Doctor: I don't know why it isn't working maybe he needs to fall further to make his flying abilities work right.

The doctor then Grabs the baby off of the floor and takes it to the window and drops him. The baby falls and lands on the pavement.

The man is beside himself.

Man: I am going to kill you you piece of shit. Why would you do that?

Doctor: No, No, It's ok, It's ok, it was just a joke, It was just a joke... Your baby was a stillborn.

-------------

A guy walks into a whorehouse and tells one of the girls he wants a blowjob. The girl takes him to a room and proceeds suck him off without a condom. While she does so, the guy sees a half-full bucket of sperm beside the bed.

He disregards the strange site as he enjoys the best blowjob of his life. A second later, he shoots long lines of semen into her mouth. She takes every drop, but instead of swallowing, she spits the cum into that damned bucket.

The guy wonders aloud, "Don't like swallowing jizz, huh?"

She wipes her mouth and replies, "Another girl and I have a bet. Whoever fills up a bucket first gets to drink both buckets."

-----------

A teacher asks the class 'what do your fathers work as?'

Little Suzy answers 'my father is a policeman.'

Little Brian answers 'my father is a fire man.'

'What about you Johnny?' asks the teacher.

'My dad is dead miss' answers little johnny.

'I'm sorry to hear that' replies the teacher 'what did he do before he died?'

'He went purple, stopped breathing and pissed and shit himself' replied Johnny.

---------

Two necrophiliacs are at work in the morgue. One of them turns to the other and says, "You should have seen this woman they brought in last week. They pulled her out of the water after she'd been there for three weeks. Man, I'm tellin' you, her clit was just like a pickle."

"What," the other asks, "green?".

"No," says the first, " a bit sour."

-----------

Why did the pervert cross the road?

Because his cock was up the chickens ass.

-----------

How do you keep a dog from humping your leg?

Pick him up and suck his dick.

-------------

There once was a vampire named Mabel

whose periods ran quite stable;

Every full moon

she'd pull out a spoon

and drink herself under the table.

-------------

Q. What does a woman's asshole do when she is having an orgasm?

A. He is usually home with the kids!

Q. Why do midgets laugh when they run?

A. Because the grass tickles their balls!

-----------

A young couple was talking about them having sex.

"We can do it at my house, oh wait, my parents are going to be home" said the guy.

"Well, my parents are going to be away all week, but I have bunk beds with my little sister" the girl said.

"Thats fine, we'll do it on Saturday, oh, and one more thing, the codes, if you want me to go faster, just say ham, if you want me to go softer, just say turkey" he said.

Saturday night happened, they were on the top bunk, doing it like crazy. The little sister could hear her sister scream out "Ham, turkey, ham, turkey".

Finally the little sister got up and said " I don't know why you guys are making sandwiches, but you're getting mayo all over me!"

----------

There once was a lady named Dot,

Who lived off pig shit and snot,

When she ran out of these, She ate the green cheese,

That she grew on the sides of her twat!

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

When I'm in one of my deepest of deepest pits of depression, it's fucking hard, if not damn near impossible, to look at the bright side of life. I fell into one of those fucking pits over the weekend. Too much shit hit the proverbial fan, while tearing away at me like I was made of third grade toilet tissue. Normally, I'm fine with one crappy event dropping down on top of me like a two ton load of elephant dung. But not too fine when a succession of things hit me from all directions.

So this is what I have to do:

I have to step back, find a quiet place and muster all of my inner strength to find peace. Once I find that peace, I can clear my mind. Once I've done that, I can put things in their proper perspective. When I've achieved this, I can take it one step at a time and eventually recover from any bad feelings and work on the problem at hand. It's either that or go on a killing spree or worse.

When a string of bad to horrible happenstances keep pummeling you to the ground, so to speak, it's best that you try to step back inside your mind, maybe laugh at the sheer insanity of life and people in this world and attempt to realize you only have this one life to live and things may not be as bad as they seem.

That is, unless you're locked up somewhere with a lunatic who is cutting off your body parts, piece by piece. Then you're pretty much screwed.

In most cases, however, it is possible to find something to give you peace of mind, no matter how bleak things seem to be. Even if you can't always look on the bright side of life, you can, with inner persistence, find a glimmer of light in the dark woods of hopelessness. And once you find it, you'll find yourself at the beginning of a path leading to a life worth living again.

This video clip and scene from Life of Brian always makes me laugh. It's always been one of my favorite scenes from any movie. I mean, here they all are, being crucified on their crosses, yet they're singing this happy little ditty of a song. It's absurd, just like life and death are, if you think about it, yet they're all just whistling and singing away.

And why the hell not? It beats dwelling in the pits of depression. Play it and sing along, won't you?

Ending scene from the Monty Python movie, Life of Brian

Black Friday Stampedes

Ah, it's that time of year again. You can smell it in the air. Could that be Holiday Cheer?, you ask, naively. No, that isn't it Holiday Cheer, friends, neighbors and virtual pals o' mine. It the smell of huge corporations like Walmart and all the rest of the huge chains exercising their stranglehold on the public's addiction to material things with their horrific onslaught of Black Friday advertisements, urging everyone to cram into their store fronts and aisles, crushing one another during the annual American Consumer event.

There will be lines aplenty of the crazy, waiting outside the doors of these stores. Some idiots will be willing to stomp on a face or four to latch onto whatever they are getting a hard on (or if you're a woman- a wet on) for. Every year, it's on the news about someone getting crushed during the Black Friday event.

I really think it's a joke when some stores say they've taken the necessary steps to ensure public safety but they don't, really. A couple security guards at either store end isn't going to cut it. People will rush like rabid bulls. When I worked at Walmart for 3 years, all I could see that they were really making, instead of safety steps, were huge Christmas tree obstacles and sprawled out "consumer-unfriendly" displays of sale items to be put in the way of customers when they rushed. It's almost a guarantee that something stupid is going to happen.

Customers, overzealous and seething with madness to get a cheaper deal, will trample each other to get what they want. This is known, at least in America, as "Getting Into The Christmas Spirit".

Tomorrow morning, it is supposed to rain and snow around four in the morning. At that time, consumers will be lined up at the doors, colder than fuck and salivating at the chance to get their monkey paws on whatever shiny object will create euphoria for the moment. Could be the latest electronic whatchamicallit gadget. Could be a cheese grater/foot massager combination thingy. Who knows?

I think I'll get up in the morning just to get in the car, go to the stores and throw buckets of cold water on the lines and throngs of people. Couldn't be any worse than the usual "Christmas Spirit' exemplified.

Happy Holidays! Happy Spine Crushing! And don't forget to sodomize your fellow consumer with a broom handle for whatever it is you want at the store! Or bash in their skulls with a pretty snow globe with Santa in the center! Your choice. Spread the Holiday Cheer!

A Typical, But Not Completely, Typical Day

I woke up, today, around 11:00, after about fours of sleep. Seems like I can't sleep any longer than that, lately, without waking up from some strange dream. They're mostly "guilt dreams". I'm only theorizing about that. But I guess I've been burying my conscious and it only escapes during my sleep. This beast has been having it's fun with me for the past month and IT is getting mighty annoying.

Pop goes the nasty shit! It's running out of my mind's door! Unfortunately, it's still in my sleepy head, where it stays trapped. Fuckin' guilt! I liked it better when I didn't dream. A decent sex dream would be welcome, for certain.

When I'm awake, I don't think about anything "I believe" I've done wrong. Normally. But, like the therapist pointed out during one session several years ago... He said I persecute myself and think I deserve punishment for things I've said or have done towards people. He also said that I seem to have the tendency to formulate it in my head like whatever I said or did- to be blown out of proportion. He based it on things I had said, when I was around this or that person, from other sessions.

Makes sense. So now the shitty goop of misplaced or unwarranted guilt is popping up in my dreams. Ah, how nice. But I'm going to confront it head on and admit that I'm not that bad a person and carry on... Even if it takes a hammer to my head to knock the evil goop out my ears. I can't afford therapy at the moment, so I'm going to do battle with my stupid brain, by myself. Like Homer Simpson, I'm going to give it a good talking to and tell it who's boss. If that doesn't work, it's HAMMER TIME, baby.

As I was saying, I woke up, made coffee, petted the cat and put two Bacon and Cheese Hot Pockets in the microwave. Soon enough, I ate them and played my messages on the answering machine. One was from the wifey, telling me she made it to work alright. Good. Next, was the receptionist from my doctor's office. She was letting me know that my insulin pens for my diabetes came in from the patient assistance program. Definitely good news. They had messed up the order of insulin last time and if I hadn't caught that it was the wrong stuff-- when I picked it up from the doctor's office, I could have taken it home, injected it into myself and.... Who knows?

After that, I showered, made supper for later tonight and got my clothes on. That's right! I was cooking in the nude! Excited? No? Alrighty then. Anyway, while I was managing to cook up some Tuna Helper, the cat started going nuts when he smelled the tuna cans I was opening. He kept leaping on my legs as the cans slowly turned round and round the electric can opener. At one point, I thought he was going to strike at my lopsided nutsack and rip into it. Then my precious jelly beans would fall out! Then I would feel blue. My solution is to give him a can of Fancy Feast cat food in a can. It's something we give him as a treat, once in awhile. It says on the can that it is Whitefish and Tuna flavored. Ah ha... That will fool him, I think, patting myself on the back.

I set the bowl of juicy, succulent cat food down on the floor (are you as horny as I am?) and he eats it like a little piggy. His normal bowl of cat food is sitting there, halfway full, next to the water bowl. He's a spoiled little bastard. But then I feel sorry for him because he is our only "child" now. Mufasa, our eldest cat, died, recently. We only have Victor now. He's loving and playful and lonely. We plan on getting him a playmate after Christmas. It's too hectic these days and it takes patience to train a kitten, which is what we'll be looking for when the time comes. No pound kitties, though. We had extremely bad luck with that. That was years ago. Max the Cat was his name and shitting behind and beneath megaton furniture, for no good reason, was his game. Sometimes we didn't find his piss and shit surprises until it was too late. Almost needless to say, Max was returned before I could kill him. We gave him four weeks too many. If I wanted to clean up shit for longer than four weeks, I would have had a friggin' kid. No thanks. There's already enough breeders in this world as it is. Many of them aren't equipped with enough brains or conscious to do battle with themselves.

But, on the same token, responsible parents are just as easy to spot.

I say we give the rotten adults an abortion. Or... Any more than two kids, then you have to give up your genitals. Sorry. Rules are rules and we know how humans love their rules. Lap dog, over breeding imbeciles that don't put on their turn signal when they're changing lanes, by damned it! What was I talking about? Damn those voices in my head.

Immediately, when I finished cooking, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, put on my jacket and hat and out the door I went. I went to doctor's office to pick up the insulin pens, went to the grocery store to pick up lunch meat and bread, went to get monetarily raped at the gas station where the gas is currently at $2.85 a gallon and then I went back home. I checked to see if they got my insulin order right this time. They did! Jackpot! I get to live a couple more months. Hooray. And stuff. After putting everything away, I got back in the truck and drove to the park, with haste.

I had to get my daily park walking done in a hurry. It would be dark soon and wifey was going to be home in a half hour. I try to be there for her so I can be a good husband and not get a beating with the baseball bat. I'm so abused. OK. I might be exaggerating just a little. But she does confide in me that she would like to cut my dick off while I'm asleep. But strangely, that's not why I have trouble sleeping at night. By the way, I laugh when she says such things because I threaten to twist her nipple off now and then. It's like an ongoing comedy routine we have going on. 21 years. Quite healthy.

So off to the park I go. The first person I see is the guy by the athletics supply building. This building sits close to the tennis court that is hardly used and still looks new and the basketball court, nearby, that is the same way. The guy, I'm guessing, is the guy who takes care of supplying the athletes with enough balls and stuff to do their thing. The door was open, obviously, with a key. He looked at me, giving off a little vibe of nervousness. Maybe I imagined it.

All I've ever seen, as far as any games being played at the park, is two Pee Wee football games attended by millions of crazed parents and the other times when a couple kids were playing a few basketball games. Anybody else you see in that park are walkers, runners, people trying to fish at a lake without fish and the park employees. Maybe once a week, you'll see a cop car run through the park. If you wanted to, you could probably get away with fucking, sucking, fisting, lickin' the va-jay-jay and other horseplay down at the large gazebo by the lake without too much trouble. Party time.

Anyway, the supply guy at the building says, ""It's getting colder out here."

I say, "Yeah, it is."

Hell, I don't know what else to say. Supply Guy didn't give me much to work with. By the way, it was getting colder. It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit at the time. For the rest of you, in other countries, I have no idea what that is in Celsius. I won't check, either, because I'm American and don't give a shit. I think that's the American Way. The metric system can go fuck itself, too. The last person who tried to teach me the metric system was a nun from the parochial school I attended. I rammed a pencil in her eye. Not to worry, though. It was a No. 2 Pencil. And she cried out, "Praise da Lawd!"

After walking the usual path, I find a second person. He is walking toward me from the other direction. He looks like he could be crazy. He's wearing a grey coat with a black sock cap on his head. So I nod to him and do what most folks do in that situation. I say, "Hi.", without really looking at him. He does nothing but nod his head, not wanting to be bothered by my evil, intrusive greetings and keep his hands in his pockets. I wonder if he's hiding Barbie Doll heads in his pockets. Then I wonder if they still have the bathrooms locked or unlocked up ahead in the yellow building. I have problems with my butt. It likes to shit. Although I'm not at the stage of routine adult diaper wear, I have had an accident at the park because they will lock them when it gets closer to winter. During that accident, it was so cold... The turds froze to my leg underneath my pants. Talk about feeling blue... and brown.

When I got home, I was able to shake a leg to pop the turdcicles from the very bottoms of my pants legs.

Minutes go by during my walk now. I have to stop every five to ten minutes because of my foot conditions. I have inoperable 2 and a half inch heel spurs (my feet have been X-rayed so many times, I lost count) and equinus deformity on both feet. The heel spurs have connected to the rest of the bones in my footsies. It's like walking on railroad spikes with misshapen, unbalanced feet. I've tried everything so spare me the advice that I've heard a billion times. Thanks, anyway, stranger. I've done my time with the fancy insoles, shoes and whatever. I've had almost thirty years of experience with it. But I force myself to walk short distances, anyway, because I still need to exercise. It's called perseverance, people. I was going to the gym almost every day for a year and a half and lost thirty pounds but that routine got fucked up during the continuous moving fiasco with my dad's old place that lasted 6 weeks. Now, I'm just trying to keep up with my walking routine.

Regardless, I see a couple walking their pet dog. It has a pink outfit on. I restrain myself from killing the couple. I smile, then say, "Hi. How are you tonight?" They say something back but it doesn't matter. I'm not listening. I'm still thinking of the poor dog in the pink cowboy outfit. As I walk further, I wonder if it's too late to limp back and bash the couple in their heads, thus freeing the dog. Then I think, Well the next thing to happen, if successful, would be the dog rewarding me, with it's rescue of it, by biting a finger off from my hand and taking my nose off my face. Oh well. I keep walking. No good deed goes unpunished. This has always been especially true, in my experience.

In conclusion, I struggle through the rest of my walk, make it home in time before the wife, serve her and I supper and watch a couple shows that we pre-recorded the night before. We talk for awhile. My wife goes to bed early. She's tired. It's getting busier where she works. And now, I'm typing on this keyboard and telling you I'm about to sign off. Who knows? I may come to your blog and leave a comment. Ah, can you feel the excitement?

Behold! You are at the end of this journey I took you on, brave soldier. You must celebrate by flagellating yourself. Or by fixing yourself a hot cup of coffee. Your choice. I won't peek.