Bad Service, Truths and Perceptions

There's been a lot of false starts, bad service, unwanted absence and too much of that unwanted shit and not enough of that preferable shit going on around here.

I hate to complain (actually, I quite enjoy it since complaining acts a release valve on my usually bottled up seething rage) but as I found myself on the righteous track of coming back to the wonderful world of blogging, a series of incidents preventing me from making a triumphant stay in my own neck of the bloggy woods occurred once again.

Hell, for a couple days there, I was even able to put out a couple posts without anything falling out of the sky to cave in my head. I thought I was in a utopia or paradise or an island filled with beautiful women, cheerfully sucking my meat pole for all it's worth. And it's worth a great deal, let me tell ya. At least to me. Okay, so that part about me feeling like I was on an island filled with tasty gals slobbering on my knob was an exaggeration. But I was starting to feel not tormented for a change in life and it was pretty decent, to tell ya the truth.

My friend asked me to go to his place to wait on a cable repairman (that didn't come) while the friend went to work. I owed my friend a couple favors so I did it. Besides, I'm a helluva great buddy. It's true! Believe it or not!

But the cable guy neither called or came. So my friend calls up the company support number when he gets home, listens to instructions on pushing this numbered button for this department or reason or service which connects him to more instructions for more buttons to push until he finally reaches a real human being and then proceeds to talk about how unsatisfied he is with the service.

He has a helluva lot more patience than I do. He had been without cable service for three days and the company he was dealing with had been promising to send somebody and no one called or showed up.

So instead of being at home, I was at his place, listening to the radio, reading a book and not doing anything on my blog or visiting other blogs. It sucked. And I did this on Monday and Wednesday, for my friend, waiting for the repair dude. I know. I'm a great friend. I mentioned that, right? Of course, when my friend got home from work both of those days, he fed me. Monday, it was grilled steaks for my wife and I. Wednesday, it was a dinner at a good Mexican restaurant.

By the way, the cable repair dude finally showed up Wednesday. He ended up temporarily fixing the friend's TV reception but said that the problem was actually the tuner on his TV. In other words, it wasn't the cable company's fault for his shitty reception but they are at fault for giving him the runaround and not giving him service until he finally reached an upper management type person during that last phone call he made.

Now, Tuesday, I was without Internet service. This would be the day between the days I sat at my friend's house, waiting for an idiot repair guy. I called the tech support, as I was going through some severe withdrawal symptoms from not being able to go on the Internet and after pushing several buttons to direct me to this number or that number, I was finally told a message by an automated machine. It said: There is no Internet service (with the company I have it with) for the entire state (I was living in) for an indeterminate amount of time but our experts were working on the problem.

There was no apology for this situation but at this point I was thinking:

At least the voice was clear and not heavily accented by somebody in India or Russia or BumFuck, Egypt. Usually, when you contact tech support for whatever electronic fuck-a-ma-jig you own, you usually get some asshole you can't understand.

Bad service is getting to be like a contagious disease in this country from what I've read, heard about and seen, first hand.

Don't ya just love the push button routine you have to go through with these companies? If you're lucky, they might give you a number to push to speak to a representative. But it's usually not the case. Especially when you want service within the next 24 hours.

I could go on and on about bad restaurant service but I'm sure you've had your own unfair share of that, too. Like when they don't give you a refill on your drinks. Or don't get your order right. Or bring your salad, main entree and dessert, all at once.

Since I'm back for the moment and terribly paranoid now about attempting to actually research a subject and write up a real post without something else happening, this post will have to do for now. Please enjoy the rest of these images, featuring truths and perceptions. Good day, good weekend and I'll try to catch up on all your blogs later after I get some shit done around here.

I thought I'd offer a wonderful clue at this point in the post: If you can't make out what you're ssseeeinng, use your fucking mouse to click and enlarge the image.

I'm always the Good fucking Samaritan. I tell ya.

I really liked the not-so-subtle truth that can be found in this Saturday Night Live skit. I know it's an exaggeration but there is a bit of truth and a big heaping helping of humor to be found while watching this. Heh heh.

An Award From The Minute Man's Wife and Unbridled Insanity

And by god damned it, I'm back and seething with such ungodly friggin' rage, I'm gonna park my small car after just having gone to the bar parking lot for some excitement, stick pickles up my ass, while using a sawzall on my penis head, all the while using a penis pump, beforehand, (to get my junk- Grade A- good n' hard, ya know) while having a crooked neck giraffe give me a deep anal lickin' and have it topped off with the spiritually uplifting rim job of a lifetime from an anteater at the zoo.

Woo Fucking Hoo! and pass the fucking Valium after I go really crazy and drink a cup of shitty, chemical-tasting decaffeinated coffee. What in the fuck is decaffeinated coffee for? Don't give me any of that bullshit like "It's for people who enjoy the taste of coffee but are afraid of the staying awake a couple hours past their wussy bedtime". Fuck that! Grow a set of balllllllssss or flabby pussy lips, depending on your gender! That shit ain't coffee!!! That shit defeats the goddamn purpose of drinking god damned coffee!!! Excuse me here for a split second while I chop some fucker's head off and wear it on my rigid, cheerfully erect pecker (reference to the book, American Psycho) while I pour myself a god damned fresh cup of REAL COFFEE.

So... how have you guys been? Good? Ah, that's nice.

So, yeah, I'm back one more time until something eventually falls from the sky and caves my head in. I wonder what it will be? A meteor. I can handle that. A hundred pounds of frozen waste from an airplane going overhead? That would be like a fly gently floating by my ear and cutting a fart. Hardly noticeable.

Fuck, I'm so fucking shell shocked by recent events, nothing could be a surprise. Actually, when nothing at all worrisome is happening to the wife and I and all is cool and all is right- that's when I begin to worry. If my life suddenly begins to transform into something resembling almost harmonious, take fucking cover, immediately! That will be the true sign of the Apocalypse! Fuck that old idiot, Camping and his Rapture. Buddy, I got your Rapture right here!

But things are starting to head in the right direction. If nothing else occurs, I will be 60% satisfied. That's equivalent, to some fuckers that have a hard on or wetty for that most dreaded of made up percentages, that some like to say out loud, in a sad attempt to impress- and that would be "110%". Take your 110% and shove it way up your ass with your decaffeinated coffee you superficial, motherfuckin', crooked neck, rim job lickin' stain from a rancid pussy fart!

No, not you, my friend. The guy or girl behind you.

Sorry. Where did I hide my mind again? Ohhh yeahhhh...

Did you know that Winnie The Pooh, Rabbit and Tigger violated Piglet in all of his orifices, so brutally, until his colon eventually fell out onto the ground where it was eaten by all of the rest of the crack-addicted Hundred Acre Wood critters? Well, it's true. It's says so in the bible. It's the start of the Rapture, in fact! You're welcome for the heads up.

While on a much needed sabbatical, three (and possibly a fourth one on the way) bloggers acted as guest posters.

Mrs. Pickle from the blog, Pickles In My Ass, The Wolf, from the blog, The S.N.A.F.U Report and Pickleope from the blog, Pickleope.com have all been generous enough to give of their unique talents and be my guest posters for the last couple of weeks. I thank all of you for your support, time and well-written and often, extremely hilarious, posts. In my tirade, at the beginning of this post, I think you might have noticed a little referencing to their posts in a somewhat genial way.

You guys really know how to make me laugh out loud while sticking my pecker in a pickle slicer.

I also want to thank genuine supporter and thoughtful blogger, The Minute Man's Wife, for the Good Bloggers Pay It Forward Award, while I was away. I've connected with her the last several months, at a sympathetic, supportive level in the blogging community in a way that I feel honestly appreciative for. She's one of the nicest of nicest people that you'll ever have the pleasure of interacting with. The Minute Man's Wife gave me, a crazy bastard, who has a heart of gold, filled with flesh-eating maggots, this award for being supportive. I am grateful and touched by this.

Amazed? Choking on a drink, suddenly? You shouldn't be. Not only am I swell but I'm modest as hell, too. Yep.

Take a gander at The Minute Man's Wife's blog, but please remember, no sex toys allowed while visiting.

Look to your extreme right. It's already there with the rest of my awards.

Oh dear lord almighty, have I just been blessed again? Easy rules for this award! Hooray!

The rules for this particular award are, thankfully, weep-worthingly easy.

1) Tell everyone who gave you the award. (I did)

2) Put up a link to their blog. (Done)

3) Pay it Forward to five more bloggers. (Going to)

In no particular order, here are the five bloggers, in my opinion, in the past, who have exemplified support, which the award is supposed to represent:

(1) Rebecca (The Snee) from the blog, The Sometimes, Never, Eventually Express

(2) Gary, from the blog, klahanie

(3) LilPixi, from the blog, It's a Lollipop world

(4) GEM, from the blog, the modern day spinster

(5) Last but not least, Mrs. Pickle, from the blog, Pickles In My Ass

Be sure to check them out or you'll get the lash!

Now this isn't to say the rest of you have not been supportive and secretly or not so secretly wish me a slow, torturous death involving me being naked, with my nuts, honey coated and ready to be torn away by the sharp teeth of rabid rodents. Besides, I don't wash my scrotum but once every leap year. Ah Ha!

I do this to keep the rodents away and because I like the sticky, pasty feeling so much. Plus, it's for the sake of any house guests who come over every so often for my famous homemade putrid cheese dip.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

I want to thank the rest of you for your support by way of commenting on my blog while I was gone, just visiting and for all the other interactions on the Internet. You know who you are. You guys have been great. Thank you!

Don't forget to take home some of my homemade cheese dip before you leave. It's deeeeelish! But whatever you do, don't drink decaffeinated coffee.

Take care, my friends!

Saw me silly

Hey Bitches! This is Mrs. Pickle. I am back down on my knees while typing another guest post for Kelly.

So last night my husband and I were bored and surfing the web. We typed in the words “Sex toys gone wrong” and we found some great things. My favorite one though was an article we found. Allow me to explain.

Apparently some dumb Bitch who is 27 in Maryland was feeling the need to be sexually stimulated. I get it, really I do! Here is where she is different from the rest of us though. Her idea of being sexually stimulated involves a Sawzall. I know right! I was excited also when I found out!

For those of you who do not know what a Sawzall is, I included a picture. Now keep in mind this blade once plugged in goes back and forth like a jackhammer. So she probably thought she was in for a real treat.

So apparently this woman thought it would be a good idea to slide a sex toy over the Sawzall and fuck it. Because really, who doesn’t want to fuck a saw? Naturally, her masturbation session did not go as she would have hoped. And yes I would have paid money to be there and be a witness.

I would have told the doctors, “Well, she was horny! Give the woman a break okay?” The doctor would have been like “How long was she masturbating with the saw before it lacerated her vagina region?” I would have said, “ Well she was doing just fine and getting all wet, but once it got to about 7 seconds into it she started to notice this sharp pain and that is when she started screaming “ UNPLUG IT! UN PLUG THE FUCKING SAW!” I am sorry doctor, I did not unplug it as fast as she would have liked, because I had to go and grab my camera.”

The article then goes on to say that she was rushed to the hospital. The sex toy was still attached. They say she was released and is at home now recovering from being fucked by a saw her injuries.

Personally, I would love to meet this woman. If I had the choice to either see Cher naked (Because I am still not convinced she has a vagina) or to interview Mrs. Sawzall, I would have to go with the 2^nd. Because I have so many questions and I want answers damnit!

Like I said, I am Mrs. Pickle. If you like what you see come check out my blog. Picklesinmyass.blogspot.com.

How Do You Feel About Your Vote Being Uncounted?

If you plan on voting in the upcoming U.S. 2008 elections, you may want to be informed of the possiblity that your vote may not count. It has been shown that electronic voting machines are incredibly easy to manipulate.

After watching the movie, "Uncounted", I've decided that I will not be voting on one of these machines. Instead, I will be voting using the "paper method", if it is provided. I urge you to either rent this movie or see it on cable. It will change the way you think about the subject.

The following clips are from the movie, "Uncounted".





The 2nd clip concerns Clint Curtis, a computer programmer who was asked to develope software for electronic voting machines to change the election outcomes in the year 2000.




For more information on electronic voting, click this link.
http://www.blackboxvoting.org/