For Shirley......

I got to thinking earlier today, wondering, yet knowing a particular commentor is a relative who refuses to nut up, pun intended. My mother's birthin-day was yesterday and I phoned her to have a weird ass conversation. I'd asked what she wanted for her day and she'd replied briefly.... Lobster.

When I called I asked what restaurant she wanted and she had thought she was clear that she wanted an actual lobster flopped onto her porch. I asked live or dead, and she didnt care as long as it was wrapped and wouldn't walk off as she's been hawking prices for a while.

This was not going to happen so I asked where do you want to sup? She said she didn't want lobster after all and would rather eat shitty food served by shitty unhappy people at Olive Garden. Well ok. Done and done! Those are my words. She thinks Olive Garden rocks and the mean fuckers who serve her are tip worthy.

I mentioned that someone posted my hat fetish being genetic and that I thought it must be a relative. She said... like who? I said Ount Shirley. I heard my mother's heart stop. She said I must be mistaken, but I insisted. She reminded me Shirley died several yars ago of bone marrow or alike, no matter the familys' attempts to thrawt this painful episode. I do not remember her and it really freaked my mom out. I asked why and she said that Shirley was a hat person too, and one of her favororite people of my dad's side of the clan. It really upset her. Why I thought it was Shirl.... fuck if I know, maybe I should be freaked out too! So I did! Mom says of the entire flock, if I am most resembling any of them... it's Shirley. Who can't smile at THAT? Then cry a little. Below is my burial song, potentially reposted (yes I have one), but for Shirley and myself since I have found out we are so kindred. I have missed a great deal of my heritage and that does bother me, so hearing tonight that I resemble someone my mother beams of..... I'll take it with a wide grin. She is after all a picky bitch. I'm proud to be like Shirley.

Lyrics are gorgeous.

-DM


Alan Parsons Project Old And Wise

Hats 07

Talking to my wife today I mentioned Hatstravoganza 2007, and she went blank.... I was offended, who doesnt know about my hatstravoganzas!!! Not mad enough to take a hit out on her but annoyed enough to spend most of my evening making something. To which I expect a mother fucking comment! (wife).

I almost no fuck posted a billion photos, then thought, why not instead waste half a night and make a slideshow! This is all I can offer today. All previous Hatsravoganza's have been a fucking blast, enjoy. You will NEED sound.

2007 hat project is shaping up to be nod worthy.



URL in case above goes dick. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hROX01HMG_s
-DM

How is my driving?

"Thank you for calling Charter Communications, my name is Anthony, how can I help you."

"Well in lots of ways, but for now I'm calling because this number was listed on the back of a van asking how his driving was. I thought you should know."

"Yes maam, do you have the indentification number from the vehicle?"

"Vaguely. WW027, or something like that. I'm dyslexic, so it's hard to say."

"Uh...." sound of keyboard movement. "I would need that number to report your problem."

"Oh, no no it's not a problem."

"Maam?"

"I was behind the van for quite a while and the driver didn't once act out. I was calling to tell you that. He should get a sticker or something."

/laughter (actually pretty much laughter from him the whole time)

"Ok well um...."

"Seriously, we were stuck behind one of those buses that aren't really a bus, but the small town version of not walking.... and it stopped every two blocks for a long time. No one got on or off but it stopped. A lot. Your driver did not once ram the bus."

"That's good."

"Yes, it was quite commendable. I looked in my rearview and the fellow behind me wanted to ram me into the van, thus ramming the bus. I'm sure of it."

"Oh.... well ..."

"Ok Anthony, that's really all I needed today. Thank you."

-DM

This is what happens when I get a weird pain and convince myself into a panic attack on a scale of writing things on my hand. I think I once had appendicitis on my hand for two weeks, knowing that no one can start an IV on me without seeing it and mentioning my epiphony of self diagnosis to those who can then not let me die. I've not hand written for a couple of years, but it's a funny tidbit many people probably didn't know about me. There is no dealing with me during a panic attack freak out so I am forced to call strangers who are being paid to talk to my crazy ass. It's all rather tragic, poor people.

One of these days you'll get hungry, and eat most of the words you said

Well fuck.

What an entirely weird day. I almost don't even know how to verbalize it. I'll just make random paragraphs.

1.
At lunch Bosslady's Daughter and I went for rice and alike items, on the drive back she mentioned some bald man was hawking me. Shocked, I thought about this and how shitty I look today and wondered what his level of desperation had dropped to. In the future - draw my attention to this WHILE I have a chance to see what is leering at me. Bald, fat, skinny, cancer ridden and holding an IV pole, cuban and swinging his cock, I don't care, I want to know who is taking a peek at me so I can later wonder why.

2.
This evening in an instant message I read out of the blue "so I went to the doctor and it's what I thought."

For a half second I had a highschool flashback then grinned and thought, what a great fucking way to start a conversation. Who needs hello when you can go straight to - right, just got back from the clinic - I actually applaud the direct approach.

No it's nothing catchy, just a bit of skin cootie, and certainly not down there, although it would make the story more interesting as I could have asked about itching and did he need to contact previous partners.

3.
In another computer talk with a pal, I mentioned I had recently learned the not-so-nerdy-game-person-but-REAL name, and asked if it bothered him to be named something so generic.

"No, I was named after my grandfather who has passed away. He had a farm for abandoned animals"

Open mouth insert foot. Which tastes ever so foul and I feel horrible, although Mr Generic minded not. All the same..... fuuuuuuuck. Dude I am so sorry. His name is perfectly great, but having been named something that 50 million other girls were that decade, I wondered if he felt slighted like I do. Damn. /sucks on the other foot to learn the full lesson of shutting the fuck up.

4.
"I was going to play the lottery for 255 million."
"If you won could I have some money? Is it wrong to come out of the woodwork BEFORE the actual win?"
"Lol... I'm not sure."

5.
At the end of the day, I sat in the office with Moon since her ride wasn't going to show up for a little bit and we had a smoke and chat. I saw a truck outside the curb of our parking lot sporting a thicket of crosses. For a moment I got happy, thinking action was gonna shake down. No.

No parade, no keeners, nothing to indicate a burial would be memoralized other than what dangled from the tailgate and frankly I wanted to go the fuck home and tell the dogs why I hate my job today, and who deserves the award for Sack of the Week.

Isn't the title of this entry the best fucking saying you've thought about in a while? It should be. I am still contemplating lots about self and where I am heading in this life lately. I admit to having been doing that for ten god damned years, every now and then I get serious much in the way we did when we were kids taking pot and conjuring all sorts of completely unrealistic goals. "I'll marry Tom Cruise!" I feel bad for the kid who announced THAT shit. Anyhow, bear with me in the future months, I am fairly thinky and trying to figure some shit out. As always - please comment, they mean a good deal to me. I will find my center again, right now I think it's somewhere between the closet and garbage disposal.

-DM

Solitary Man

Today sucked. I was found weeping in the parking lot today by Moon, who pryed the the handgun and icepick out of my hand to prevent the oncoming felony. I don't know when, if ever, Suffice to say a hand was put in my face rudely to "hush" me like a child (twice), my computer was altered to monitor me from another pc (because my porn addiction has gotten out of control) and my ass was insulted for being absent. I took a peek, and in fact I do still have an ass albiet one not to the standards required.

My ass apologies for it's inadeqecies. And by the way, stop looking if it's so offendishly gone JEFF! Also, stop slapping it. I will fucking charge you, ass slaps are not free and there is a 15 percent mark up for doing so in an office setting unprovoked.

Sounds trite eh? Well consider you are reading the blog of a crazy bitch, it's been a build up.

That said..... the upbeat of today was the following conversation 'tween Bosslady's Daughter and I. I post it simply because of how dirty it sounds and if overheard in speak..... wubba! Scandal!

D Morgan: sorry I was in with the phone man, playing with his tool /cough
D Morgan: HAD to say it that way
D Morgan: darling little fellow he is
D Morgan: but really I did wander in there because he was being noisy
D Morgan: asked "whacha got there?"
D Morgan: he called it a something or other and I found it grappled into my hand immediately
D Morgan: I had it pointed at the wall and he said no.... that'll punch a hole if you do that. So I went for the wires
D Morgan: again denied and told not a good idea
D Morgan: I frowned and said well YOU were doing shit in here.... where can I use it?
NoxiousNan: lol
D Morgan: he demonstrated on the table I went to task
D Morgan: then it freaked me out and I fled
D Morgan: I thanked him first tho
D Morgan: blame me mother for that shit
D Morgan: but I did make it do.. whatever the fuck it does. I personally think it just makes noise.

I later set the nice man on fire. Felt bad but it wasn't on purpose. I wrote to Bosslady's Daughter, "pssst I just set the phone dude on fire."

I forget the reply but it was not one of surprise. Fuck I must seem such a mess to other people. I have hatched a new plan for a PE blog. PE would be that class you used to be requierd to take in school, but no one does anymore. I just means it's a plot involving photos, work and ... stuff. The Filet Minon of blogs. That sort of thing. Pray for my maintaining employment and free of a record.

-DM

- ps Never put your hands in people's faces. It is not only rude but could get you bit. It is highly insulting and uncalled for. In return I will never ask a question that pertains to my job, because someone else knowing it is more important until I falter, and then am yelled at more for not asking enough questions. Fucking crotch. I know I do have a great deal of those who care about me, but don't we always sometimes feel alone? Today I am Solitary.

-DM

I love me an oldie... so enjoy below..... I'll be what I am.....

If you don't like my fire... then don't come around

There has been quite a bit of cig smoking laws passed in Nevada lately. Key word - NEVADA. California, we are not you nor aspire to be like you. Below video is a bit different of an offering. Start it up.



Mr. Morgan and I were in an audience, not this one, to hear this song live and watch to the end.... the wall of smoke is visible, as was it at our concert. I don't personally partake, but in former years I can remember crisply driving down the road with my head out the window Ace Ventura style trying to sober my high ass up before I got home. Mother lost her touch on pot because she'd always say get under the light I wanna see your eyes and I'd laugh and say ... shit... right on, no problem that'll shrink em up.

In her day though, she was more than dipping into smoke, but denies it now, as if anyone even cares.

I am highly annoyed at the what I feel are tobacco sanctions. We are cool enough to have gone along with not smoking in restaurants, we do our best not to blow it directly into your faces. California just passed a law that it's illegal and punishable to smoke in your own car if a child is in it. And smokers just go along with it like cows. SPEAK up! Even if you don't smoke it is a legal, albiet nasty but LEGAL product. Why does no one make serious noise about this shit? I am aware we stink and we annoy non-smokers, but a great majority of us are quite polite and recognise this, and try to go with the nons wants, even though again it's fucking legal.

"My choice is what is what I chose do, and if I'm causing no harm it shouldn't bother you, your choice is who you chose to be and if you're causing no harm then you're alright with me. If you don't like my fire then don't come around, cause I'm gonna burn one down"

Pot isn't all that different in my head. Makes for lazy people sometimes and chills out those who need chilling at times. It makes my heart race so I don't take it but it smells very nice and there isnothing wrong with taking it in my opinion. I'll let the Catholics know to go ahead and reverse by baptism.

Sunday babble. Bosslady should be back tomorrow, and I'm sure I will wake up several times in the night with nervous thoughts. Here are supplemental Simons with Rabbit and mohawk.

-DM

Slumber Party

Slumber Party!

Right so we decided since it was the last day of the week before Bosslady returns from Mexico (hopefully bearing gifts) we would make it Pajama Day and have the first annual office slumber party. No naps or anything, it actually began quite simple with nothing more than wearing jammas to work, then it spiraled out of control in my mind and things got a taste more tricky.

I decided I’d bake cuppin-cakes, something Mr. Morgan has never seen me do and we celebrate our 4 year anniversary this year. I’m not much on baking but the box assured that even I was qualified.

I looked forward to this day all week in fact, but when I came home last night to bake, I discovered that because I do not bake often, all I had was one small muffin tray. It held a mere sixer per batch and my face fell. Give a guess how fucking long I was up cooking those god damned things.

Guess yet? About 4 hours. On shit I don’t even eat.

There was a surplus and I sent a couple dozen with Mr. Morgan to his work, pretty sure they would be greeted with enthusiasm and they were. My office mates were equally gracious and ate more cuppin-cakes than I’d thought they would. I hadn’t meant to make so many, but the batter just kept going no matter how much I bitched and filled the paper cups more and more full to get rid of the shit.

Cool, ice, sprinkle, foil and went to bed pissed that the jammas I had panned to wear were covered in cake goo and would not suffice anymore.

Here I am in the substitute gear.

We got some lunch, and yes I walked into a restaurant like that, who even cares.

For the pinnacle of the party I wanted a marshmallow roast and made everyone a name tent with a tray, a chop stick and a tea light candle. Pfft and some actually said a mallow could not be roasted by tea light proper. I myself find the personal roast most appealing, no mincing of sticks… cross mallow contamination and what nots. I thought all in all it was rather genius.

So here are a couple boring videos, nothing too remarkable, of my office mates and self enjoying our fuck off time. I’ll admit to throwing a small tantrum, but really, its was MY party and I’ll bitch if I want to. I’m not sorry for the attitude, but it chilled the mood to a cool negative 5-million for a few minutes as people exchanged glances on who should slap me first. It picked up and we had a good time.

At the end of this one when Bossladies Daughter makes a comment and my gaze goes to complete dick mode.... I tell ya I watched it and thought wow. I adore her, so it was in no way aimed that direction, it was at what she said, I have a criminal countenance without trying, it's entirely honest though, at the time I thought.... who DOES eat this shit... and it's written on my face.



-DM

The ants go marching one by one hurrah.....(sing along)

The mailbox was especially fruitful today. There are two packages I have not even opened because the one that caught my eye first read "LIVE ANTS INSIDE" and I all but shit my pants to get home and begin the anty fun!

Ants? I don’t see you….. uh……

You’re DEAD!

How could you die on me? I had plans for us! Look at the plush little loft I even have! You would have been stars under the spotlight, not many ants are afforded such luxury.

For a moment I thought of dripping warm water on them, thinking maybe they were freeze-dried but snapped out of my imaginative mindset and realized that it was a completely retarded idea. I have managed to kill my ants before I even received them. My talent knows no boundary.

The slip inside says return the envelope (clearly specifying NOT the ants, they don’t want dead fuckers back) if they show up crippled/limping/dead or otherwise unacceptable. I had already black marked out the address for the photo shoot before I opened the crypt, so I am not sure if they’ll replace them or not. Frankly I’m not sure I want more. It’s not going to be anything but ass cold here for quite some time, and while they are only 3 bucks, the feeling of repeatedly sending these troopers knowingly to their death seems kinda fucking sadistic.

I still wrote a letter. Below.

--
Dear Life Studies,

I recently ordered 24 of your Harvester Ants. I had my tank prepared, and was happilly clutching my magnifying glass. They arrived today and were not in the mood to harvest. They in fact were not in the mood to do anything but lay dead in their tidy vile of disappointment.

It has been rather cold here, and between you and I … I have suspicions on the mailman. I suspect he did not feel particularly hasty in delivering them, and perhaps even didn’t want me to get my ants. Postal workers can be very vindictive you know.

I have enclosed the envelope, as instructed, but I had already marked out my address to post photos on my educational website. I am more than happy to pay again for newer, stronger ants, the strongest of your crop if the envelope is not sufficient.

Thank you,

-DM

Two for Lunch

Bosslady is gone for the entire week. My fingers twitch with the amount of shit I intend to get into followed by a wide toothy grin while my ass wiggles in my chair to the sound of "We like to Party!"

Bosslady's Daughter and I went on a..... we'll just call it extended lunch at a local Chinese hut because I was hell bent on getting that thing where they bring you a platter of shit with a mini bbq in the middle, and she was hell bent on some Sake. The first place we tried went under, and the frown on my face formed a permanent wrinkle. I needed to cook and burn shit, nothing else would do, plain and simple.

Beat feet across town and the gentleman greeted Thirsty and Wrinkle Face. We asked right off if they had shit to burn at our table, explaining we were mountain men in the off-season of seal hunting and needed a cheap fix. He indicated indeed, we could procure fire and devour various forms of beast in his establishment.

I'd never tasted Sake, and I met it with much trepidation. Trying new things, especially in public, is not particularly an action I’m comfortable with. I would prefer to sneak into a closet and give it a go in case I gag or need to spit. Just a safety precaution for all involved.

It was gooooood! Different, but good. Then it began to fuck with me. Tiny little shots were very deceiving. After a bit I started seeing shit that I had to blink at. I knew that when served, my rice had not been bright red but it sure was in my peripheral vision.

Bosslady’s Daughter had been telling a story while her co-savage looked around the room paranoid and fidgety, and stopped to ask if I was ok. I said I didn’t know. So…… more Sake!!!!!!

Sake fix every-ting!

However, Sake will make a smoker want to smoke. I think Sake could make a straight person gay in the right circumstances, that was a very nice little drink! As we were waiting for the check Bosslady’s Daughter stared at me with an odd look as I busily cleaned the table of our crumbs and droppings, not entirely aware I was doing so.

"Do you work here?"
Startled, then laughing "No."

Being a nervous sort the drive back was, on my end, tense. We passed a highway patrol and I found myself wearing that look that only guilty mother fuckers wear when afraid of a bust. You know, how your posture goes rigid, eyes looking in the mirror without turning a head. Not only was my driver enjoying her belly of Sake, but her truck is all fucked up and illegal on a multitude of levels. He passed and I immediately went into the passenger role of "Is he turning around? No seriously! Is he? Oh man! Look…. For real is he?"

We survived. Good day.

-DM

The Scale of the Hopper

I've been experiencing technical difficulties with my over-priced home pc. To the lamen, it's simply giving me the finger.

I remain fairly sick, but better, which gives me hope that my immune system isn't in a coma. I've lost a few pounds on the Plague Diet, and am at 107.5. I know this only because Mr. Morgan walked into the room this morning and announced he was going to buy a scale. He came home with a rather impressive looking one, weighed himself and sauntered off to watch football.

I asked what the number roll was and he said he 229, but didn't care and had no idea why he'd purchased it at all. I would reference an entry from the blog I had to crash, but it's ... crashed. It pretty much just pointed out how powerful advertising is and how each and every one of our influential asses have come home with an item, yet no explanation why it was purchased other than it just looked purchasable.

I am occassionally going to re-post things from older years..... below is the entry on this day in 2005. Sadly, the photos reside on Franken-Puter, who has since retired with a gasp of relief.

__Hip Hop Hippity Hoppers!
2005-01-14 - 10:10 a.m.

I saw the coolest-thing-in-the-entire-WORLD yesterday.
Right, so I was on my way home from work, be-bopping so the radio when I started to pass a side street and I saw them.

A herd of deer, all huddled together looking totally freaked out. Right there in the middle of the city. One buck and about 29 does.

They were looking back and forth like “Wtf happened Frank? You TOLD us you knew the way, and now look what you’ve done! There are no god-damned bushes here, you lied!”

So what was my first thought? Pull over and take pictures!!! My journalism and breaking news capturing skills lack in every way and the photos I was getting weren’t very clear from inside the car, so I pulled into a parking lot for a better view.

With this angle the deer were about three feet from the front of my car, and I thought HOT DAMN is this going to be a good shot!

I’m a fairly stupid person, and it took me a minute to figure out that getting out of my car and shooting a bright flashing light into the eyes of already volatile wild animals might not have been all that groovy of an idea.

I got a single photo off when the one with the horns turned and looked at me like I was about to be spanked, deer style. I got back into my car like lightening.

It was then one of the does got spooked and took off like a bullet. The others, being lemmings followed suit and the entire lot of them looked like a fucking sleigh should have been in the back of group.

They took off toward a pretty major intersection where one of our local bums was chilling on a corner with a bottle of hooch. He saw this shit coming his way and his eyes went all cartoon like and bulged. Well bless the Nevada bums because he got up and started waving traffic to stop because these animals were moving at mach-one to get the hell out of town.

I was howling in my car thinking “aw shit man one of these is going to get hit and I am going to have to perform some deer CPR and stuff.”

No, I don’t know deer CPR but I was ready to give it a go if I had to.

They made it across just fine, when a cop going by saw what was shaking down. My city cops aren’t incredibly bright and he threw on his siren and flashers like the deer would pull over and say “Sorry officer we were just a little lost.” Moron.

I stopped following at that point and squealed for the rest of the day over the photos I got. I even hopped like a deer for the rest of the night because, well because I’m retarded and plus they were really cute in their frantic little way.

With the 16 feet of snow the mountains got they have been coming down from everywhere looking for food. I begged Mr. Morgan all night long…

“Lemme go feed the deer.”
“You are so not going to feed the deer.”
“I SO am.”
“You don’t even know where they went.”
“I’ll find one.”
“Have you any deer food?”
“Hm. No, what do they eat, like pellets and shit?”

He just walked away at that point.
So that was my story for the day, it was amazing.

-DM

The Stand, by DM - based on the novel by Stephen King

Contagion Level: High

Time of gestation: 1 week before symptoms.

Location: Transient, moves along the body to thwart remedy efforts.

Clinical Observations: Patients present with a desire to die. They are ansy, and often are found peeling their lips back in a snarl to other patients in a war-like bartering to get to the M.D. first.

Treatment: Aviod all occurances of this virus manifestation. Advise staff, and issue taser weapons as these patients have the potential to form mob mentality and over-run the facility, heading in hyper speed towards the pharmaceuticals.

I am SO fucking tired of this .... whatever the fuck it is making me crazy enough to accuse random people of infecting me. Shifty looks at people, sniffing and using xray vision, ready to pounce anyone caught with Kleenex and place the blame of my hell on them.

The laundry list of what wrong between myself and Mr. Morgan would give an STD Clinic a run for it's money. My nose has decided it needed a vacation and no longer functions, and my tonsils resemble large red leaches. To boot they seem quite proud of their newfound size improvement.

Then.... ya know for fun.....

"Not to scare you, but I think I have pink eye." Mr. Morgan says.

I sat for a moment, then recalled Bosslady's Daughter rolling to work yesterday looking highly pink eye suspitious and thought "filthy whore!"

I also then looked at Mr. Morgan as the potential host and thought "Surrounded! Nasty bitches all over!"

"So are you feeling better?"
"Not in the least."
"Well you look beautiful."
"Don't lie."

I have no chance of survival. I don't even know WHAT pink eye is. Mineral, vegetable? I've seen it and I know blind eye really doesn't deserve further punishment. Anyone know of the closest lepar colony? We may as well just check ourselves in, fuck a handshake from the Morgan house could give you a nice case of syphillis.

-DM

Keep your Jesus off my penis!

I have not had the best of days. He's got a creppy eye but these are the BEST anti-GW songs I've ever heard and I love every bit of them. Join in and sing along!



Clinton Got a Blow Job!


First thing this morning I start the car and go back inside, to later wander back out with all my gear, lock the front door and find the metro mocking me as it pulled a Christine and locked all the doors. While running. Also kept hostage was my house key, so I had to scale a six foot fence (which I have discovered I am NOT proficient at) and shimmy my arm through a doggy door to unlock the garage, which was greeted by ravenous licking canines. I called Mr. Morgan who works about 40 miles away and he was none too pleased to drive home and unlock me. I'd have hitched a ride but the car was - remember- actively running.

He came home I went to work and within ten minutes realized the contraption I'd use to climb the fence was the same item used to block broken boards and prevent an escape. Fuck! Drove home, in the snow, still bitching at my car for starting this whole god damned episode and procured the fence. Both dogs were still home but with shifty looks on their faces that indicated I'd foiled their plans.

There was quite a bit else that added to why I think I should call it done and go to bed, but it's too lengthy to type and too bothersome to read. More tomorrow.

-DM