30 April 2007

I'm Thinking Of Frosting My Tips

Right. I am not sure the name of this bitch, I think it's Eunice or some shit. I read about her a couple weeks ago. I hate her. She adopted 4 kids or was the foster mother of 4 kids or some shit. Anyway, she beat and tortured the kids until they were like 19 and shit. She made them eat their own puke. All in all I hate this woman and consider her more evil than most. I hate her. I'd like it if you killed her for me.
What kind of a coach lets little league practice turn into a 3 hour water gun fight? I suppose one might think the answer to that question is the reason we are 0-8. But the real reason is because the kids I coach suck at baseball. I mean, what kind of a baseball player brings a friggin water gun to practice for Christ sakes? Moreover, who organized it so that all 13 players all brought super soakers? I sure the hell didn't.
The Army still sucks in case you were wondering.
What the fuck? Why won't my old audio pasts load up? That's bush league. That shit was funny.
DVD You should click that link and buy me stuff for my birthday. Like Spiderman. Or the X-Men.
I get 200 readers a day. However, 180 of them only come here to look at pictures of art. My blog sucks.
Another thing that sucks is me apparently. I have thusly been rejected by 8 celebrities to be myspace friends with. What the bloody hell? These bitches are friends with everyone who sends a request but me. I must really suck if people who can't make friends being themselves so they make money being other people don't want to be my myspace friend.
It's a good thing I click that button on my blogger dashboard to remember my username and password every time I try to post. It is doing it's job very well considering it doesn't remember shit.


26 April 2007

Keep Me Immortal

Right. I can't stand this asshat. Chad McGreevy just shouted, "nuff said." Because he agrees. We all hate him. I'm the only one with balls big enough to say it. Number 36, you are Nick Cage. Asshat.
I promise you this will be the last post about this, but I have nothing else to write about today.
You know how like in 7th grade you sat in class and day dreamed of what life would be like in high school? Then in high school you sat around talking about what college was going to be like. When you were in college, in between keggers and finals, you got pretty excited thinking of job opportunities. Then, instead of taking a job you went to grad school and you sat around thinking of how great it was going to be to get on a schedule and make some money and wear a suit and have a job finally. Then instead of getting a job you joined the Army and you spent all day thinking of what to do when you got out. You remember that?
Ever since I got stop lost, I can't picture ever returning.
I don't know. Han Solo would have said he had a bad feeling. Only, I don't have any feeling. I just know that come August I will be gone for 15 months. I can't think of life after. It's weird.
I'm sure I will come back I guess. I just don't think of it. All I think of is sand and blood. And titties. But I always think of titties.
Part of my job is to think of courses of action the enemy might take. I look at the battlefield and pretend to be the enemy and tell the boss what I think the enemy might do. Today, when I was briefing everyone what I think the most likely 6 courses of actions are during our time in Iraq (and it's all based on history, man power, weapons etc.) one course of action I said made everyone shut up for once.
I simply explained that never in the history of the Army, has such a large percentage of its fighting force been concentrated in one city. So, if I were the enemy and I had it at my disposal, I'd nuke the city.
That pretty much ended the briefing.
I can't think of a word that rhymes with fifteen.
I had just gotten used to new blogger and it reverted back to this old blogger bullshit. Lame.
I think it's clear that I do not browse myspace profiles and look at hot women and keep said hot women in my secret favorites file and look at them thinking of scenarios where we meet and I end up boning or marrying an arbitrary one I pick that minute. Clearly. That does not happen. Losers do that.
So I have been wanting to get married as of late. It's because everyone I know is married and I coach all these little league sports. And my best friend here has 4 boys. And aside from constant ball kicking, kids are fun.
I still promise that if I ever win the powerball all I will do is coach little league sports. That and buy cars and a house and build a church and shit.


23 April 2007

Or A Can Or A Pie

Right. Dumb ass Pink. For the love of God. Hi I'm Pink and I would annoy the piss out of the baby Jesus. And him being the son of God and all, rarely uses the bathroom.
Was your life hard Pink? Did dad not love you? Did mom and dad argue? I'd sulk on that now if I were you. I mean, a mother of 4 who is on welfare because her husband just died in Iraq and she can't depend on her crack whore mother for help can simply buy your CD and see how trivial her problems really are. Because you were scared as a child. Cunt.
Unbeknowst to you, I coach little league baseball. If you can call the sport the kids play "baseball." I might be the worst coach ever. I coach the kids aged 7-9. In case you aren't a parent or a little league coach, that is the perpetual age of the devil.
This is the first year the kids are pitched to, so if they played last year it was all t-ball and shit. So this year the coaches pitch and the kids swing and fun is had by all. Except me. Because I am the coach. And I know what I coached in practice. But the goddamn kids don't remember shit.
Not a single kid on my team can stop at first. They hit the ball deep to the pitcher and try to leg out an inside the park home run. What the bloody hell? I have to pick them up in order to get them to stop running. But their feet don't fucking stop running, so my balls get kicked 800 times a second by tiny feet.
One kid I coach, and I shit you not, broke his friggin' leg on the way from the dugout to the batter's box today. We had to call an ambulance for Christ sakes. It was the funniest thing I ever saw in my life, and I couldn't laugh because "they" say it's inappropriate.
I dreamt of an Orca Whale last night. I'm not telling you the truth. I dreamt of running my fingers through her hair while she sings. She was wearing a dress. I had on a french cuff shirt. She sang and I listened. Her feet danced to the words she put forth. My mind thought of how at peace I felt. My fingers ran across her scalp and through her hair at a different tempo and melody. She smiled as she sang and I looked at her teeth and my heart stopped at she smiled as she looked up at me. She continued to sing and my hand stopped with my heart. I closed my eyes and knew it was a dream. I prayed never to wake up and as I opened my eyes, I saw that the sun rises through my window 43 minutes earlier than it did 3 weeks ago.


22 April 2007

Everything Right

Right. I can’t stand the fact that Frank Sinatra led his life and I lead mine. Ergo, number 38 is ol’ blue eyes himself. I mean sure, I really like his music. And yeah, I like his movies. And we all know I enjoy the culture he and his friends created. But I hate him because it was him and not me. In summation, I am only making sense when I say Frank can suck it, even if he is dead. Suck it dead guy. See you soon.
It’s late and I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking about things. Mainly I continue to think of lies. I estimate I’ve been lied to an average of 17 times a day since I was born. I am going to be 29 in a few months, so without the extra day for leap years, I’ve been lied to an estimated 179,945 times. Give or take.
But I also figure I’ve told, on average, 12 lies a day since I was born. So on July 6th 2007 the year of our lord, I will have told 127,020 lies. That is a difference of 52,925 lies.
I was debating, in my head of course, how to make up the lost ground. I’m getting shafted here. And the shafters seem to have a better life than the shaftee.
At first I thought I should up my lie output. You know, increase the production rate, lower the price and then profits increase. All that good shit. But then I did some math and I figured I’d have to increase the lies I tell a day to 200 in order to get even with the world in one year. I simply don’t have that much time on my hands.
Then, I thought, “How does a brother (a brother being me) tell enough lies to make up for all the shit I’ve been told and bought.” And then it hit me. It’s not the amount of lies; it’s the lies I’ve believed that angers me so much.
Most lies I see and call out. But the ones I believe are what really piss me off. Now, this placed me in a jam because I am a terrific fabricator of truth and all the lies I’ve told, I figure to have a 80-90% success rate. Meaning, the world believes more of my lies than I do of the world’s.
Well fuck. But then I realized that close to 99% of my lies are stupid lies, like what I ate for lunch, or that I think your shoes are nice. But the lies I have believed are lies like, college and grad school are worth it, the military is a good thing to be part of, if you give us only 3 years we will pay off your student loans and the harder you work at making things better the better things will be. So clearly, I have bought more big lies than I have told.
Then I decided that the best way to get even is to tell one giant lie. A lie that rocks the foundations of the universe. A HUGE lie if you will. So then I thought, “How does a brother (a brother being me) tell one huge lie to make up for the all the shit I’ve been sold and bought.”
I was going to fake my own death. This would enable my parents to pay off my student loans with my life insurance money and have a boatload left over. And I could leave the Army on time. But then I thought I’d get caught. Because you’d tell on me. Bitch.
Then I thought I did way too much math for this post.
But then it hit me, I don’t need to lie at all. I just need to piss some people off. So how do I piss people off?
I think it’s clear that once I am done in Baghdad I decided to denounce my citizenship, move to Ireland, buy some sheep and tend to them.
I need someone to come with.


18 April 2007

Space Hoes

Right. Number 39 is Bill O'Rielly. he's a douche. Agreed? Agreed.
My name is Yossarian and I am thirsty.


16 April 2007

Whoever Told You That It Was All Good Lied

Right. Number 40 is talk radio listener guy. You know that guy? The guy who wouldn't have an opinion on pizza if he hadn't heard it on whatever right-wing propaganda radio show he habitually listens to. This person is vile. I hate you.
Ask this guy what he thinks the catalyst was for the change in the opinion of social causes between the democrats and republicans, and he will stare at you blindly. Ask the same guy how to solve problems in the Middle East and all of a sudden this guy has a Doctorate in International Relations from Oxford.
The left wingers have their bullshit they spout off from whatever equally nonsense radio show they listen to. So don't go thinking it's just a Bush supporter problem. Moranity is a problem that crosses party lines. I said that. You can quote me.
It's not the heat, it's the stupidity. Likewise, it's not the deployment, it's the fucking up my schedule. I would have done 3 straight years in Iraq if it meant I could go home when my volunteered time was up. I said it before and I meant it. But my time is going to be up, and I don't want to leave the Army at 32, having not used my education in 5 years and take an entry level job for less money. And I don't make shit. None of this is helping me pay off my student loans. None of this is helping me meet any women who aren't prostitutes. None of this will be looked upon in 50 years as time well spent. None of this is going to help me buy a boat. I won't be able to grow my hair out for a while now. To boil it down, I'm not satisfied.
But whatever.
There is nothing that can be done.
It's a thing called stop loss.
It's official. I no longer have hands. I have paws.
I need help cleaning my apartment. I am overwhelmed. I can't even function with how shitty it is. I think I have OCD and I am lazy. A deadly combination.
There are 6 sets of 8 stairs on my way to my apartment. 24 steps on my way from my car to those steps. I walk those twice a day. There are 2 sets of 11 steps to my office. I take 56 steps from my car to those steps 4 times a day. Except for days like today when someone parks in my spot. I get so heated about that shit. But then I think, "I run no less than 4 miles every morning. Who cares about an extra 42 steps to the stairs." There is one flight of 14 stairs in my mothers basement that leads upstairs. I took 17 steps from my bedroom to those steps a million times in my life. I will never take those steps again.
This past weekend I went to this obnoxious Lego theme park with Paul and his family. I fell half in love with this girl there. She is beautiful. She works there and teaches kids how to dance. First she taught this Indian (feathers not dots) dance, then a disco dance and finally a rock and roll type dance. So I talk to ol' girl because I am half in love and she's beautiful and she has a job. Only her English isn't all that good. So since I talk so fast and most things I say are jokes, and self deprecating ones at that, she called me a swindler. I felt like Han Solo, only I didn't get the girl. I am more bummed out about that than I should be. A swindler. Bitch.
The German people have this weird and unhealthy fascination with Indians of the feather variety. It's odd. My German history is a little foggy, but I don't recall any Cherokee in Bavaria. And you should see the goofy dances and clothes they do in tribute to the Native Indians of America. Christ alive it's offensive to me, and I think offensive is good.
Hadeel Al-Bayati is gorgeous and maybe I am going to Iraq to meet and marry her.


15 April 2007

I'm Regular Stormy

Right. 41. You stupid bint. Hilary can eat a dick. I think we can all agree on that. There isn't much argument on that one. I am dumb and as I get older and dumber, I stop seeing the differences between the Clinton camp and the Bush camp and only see how similar they are. I hate you Hilary. But don't fret, I hate the other folks more.
I can think of one good reason not to vote for Hilary - 20 years of the country being ruled by 2 families. With you it would be 28. I'm 28 years old. It's time to leave mom and dad's house.
Oh and your voice makes me want to shove a nail in my dick hole.
Good news. I will turn 29 this year. Better news, my Army contract ends during my tenure of my 29th year. The best news, we will deploy the month I am supposed to come home. Thus, it will be an additional 18 months before I can get my life back. That's awesome. I am so fucking happy about this. I am going to drink Draino.
Fuck this place.
It is like 8,000,000 degrees here. Global warming like a mother fucker. The German's added to their list of genius shit by refusing to air condition anything. They also refuse to wear deodorant. So not only is it unbearably hot, but it also stinks. God bless the simple peoples of Germany.
You know what man? Fuck this. I am a little pissed here. I haven't gotten shit from the Army. Does the Army pay off my student loans? No. Did the Army pay for any of my education? No. Do I find my job interesting? No. Do I even like the job? No. Will the Army send me to Law School? No. Will the Army send me to get another degree? No. I already have a Master's degree, so the Army won't give me shit. Is there anything I want to get out of the Army that I am qualified to get? No. People ask me why I want to go to SERE school again. It's because I'd rather live in a box and get beaten and pissed on than show up where I do everyday. And the thought now of going and fighting some war that either A) we will fight for 100 years, or B) we will stop fighting and have accomplished nothing makes me extra glad I decided to do this.
As I was being told I won't be getting out of the Army anytime soon, the man asked me why I joined the Army. I said, "My parents raised me to believe that when the country goes to war, if you can see anything good that can come out of that war, you should join and serve. I won't be teaching my kids the same thing."


09 April 2007

I'd Advise You Not To Trust That Ho

Right. Number 42 is none other than the Pope. Mark ass busta. I mean, I don't know. He's the Pope. The boss of the Holy See. But I mean come on here people, he's German and German people suck. He is also like 300, so he was part of the Hitler Youth. I don't know. We Catholic peeps have had enough bad dap for a while, do we really need a former Nazi as our figure head? I don't know. It's hard to hate a man for what he's not as opposed to what he is. And I hate the Pope for what he is not.
Paris ruled. I rule. I ought to be paid to travel the world, because tourist bitches love my shit. The only time a woman even looks at me is if she is on vacation. The food in France is so much better than stupid German food. Also, tourist bitches are hot. I am the tourist bitches pimp.
I spit off the Eiffel Tower. I did a pull up on the Eiffel Tower. I did a pull up in the Louvre. I spent Easter morning at mass in Notre Dame. When one considers I spent Christmas Day at the Vatican, I think it's safe to say I am the greatest catholic ever.
French people aren't as rude as I thought they'd be. Tourist bitches love my shit. And tourist bitches are hot.
The lines for the Eiffel Tower were so long it was stupid. So I just walked the lines shucking and jiving with people until I got 20 people who were tired of waiting in line, took us all over to the group tour line and bing bang biganja, got up that shit in like 1/8 of the time.
All in all I had a great time in Paris. I wanted to spend more time at the Louvre, but the people I was with were bored. Also, my favorite part of going on trips, is buying shit from the gypsy vendors on the street, and the people I was with wouldn't let me. So I have no cool Paris crap I bought from a shady Turk. Bummer.
I did however, drink a boatload of Gin and fuck a hooker. I was so drunk I didn't cum. It sucked. She didn't, which is why I didn't cum. She was from Morocco or some shit. I think she stole my 4 leaf clover. Whore.
I also came up with the greatest idea ever. Not so much an idea as a plan of action. From now on instead of calling my trips, "trips" or "vacations," I will call them "jobs." So I just finished the Paris job. I am now planning the Athens job. Then come the Cairo job. I also decided that on the Athens Job, I will carry a brief case and handcuff it to me. I've always wanted to do that.
Cocaine needs to get his ass on myspace and be my friend.
Yankees Rule.
Yossarian out.


04 April 2007

Sleeping City Sidewalk

Right. That is a funny ass advertisement. Anywho, who is number 43 on my list of people I hate most in the world? Paris Hilton. I can't stand that bitch. Why is it I know things about her? How is it I have seen her twat more times than I have seen my cock in the past month? I hate her for all the same reasons everyone with half of a partially functioning brain hates her. She sucks and pornotube doesn't have her sucking on its website, making me hate her even more. It's not jealously you cunt, it's reality. I'm keeping it real. And for real, I hate you.
I am leaving for Paris tomorrow. I will put awesome pictures of myself on my myspace page. As if every picture of me is not awesome. I will bend my arms. Because I have been informed that I look like Frankenstein with rigor mortis. That sucks. But is still awesome because it involves me.
Megan Fox is the hottest shit ever and loves me and doesn't even know it yet. I am so going to pull a three-way with her on the first Christmas after I marry JESSICA BIEL.
I went on a run today. I am not sure how to say this, but I don't think I ever want to run with these people again. I mean sure I am trying out for the triathlon, but come on fellas, take it easy. We ran like 10 miles at like a 6 minute pace. I am so hurt right now. We started out with 30 guys and we lost all but 5 very quickly. My asshole hurts. I don't know why my asshole hurts. The only thing I can think is that the run's dick didn't lube before it violated me. My fucking eyebrows hurt. I never ran so fast in my life. I am tendering my resignation to the triathlon team effective today. No. I can't quit. I want to win. But if this is how they practice, I might die.
I need a flask.
I decided that when I am out of the Army, I would really like to write. I have a list of pros and cons about my career decision.
I can make my own hours because I am my own boss.
I can show up drunk to work and my boss is cool with it.
I can still have time to run and watch sports.
Everything I create will be completely decided upon by me.
I already have a computer.
I don't know how to get published.
I have nothing to write about.
I don't know how to write.
I won't have an excuse for not doing laundry if my office is my house.
I don't see how this job will get me laid more. (But it can't get me laid any less, so it's a moot con.)
Other jobs I have been thinking of taking are CIA agent, international rock star, brick layer, bum and baby seal clubber.
I don't know how to go about getting any of these jobs, but I really think I'd like to write because I'd really like to have a conversation like, "Showing up for work drunk again huh?" "Yeah. it couldn't be helped." "I like the attitude." I find talking to myself funny. It's good that I don't know how to get any of these jobs because I have a better chance of making the female swim team than I do of getting out of the Army.
Christ I am in pain. I was good for like the first 4 miles. Then I was thinking, "Sooner or later we have to slow down a bit." We never did. I thought I was going to die. Part of me wishes I had because having your butthole hurt sucks.


03 April 2007

Sunshine Highway

Right. Sweet merciful crap how I hate Bill gates. I have a great idea. Why don't I make 1/3 of a product, then make the consumer pay for upgrades to make the original piece of shit I sold them work the way I told them it would? Wait my idea is getting better. Then, why don't I make your shit obsolete and sell what you will eventually buy to a ton of ass clowns so they can slap whatever the fuck they want on what you will buy? I'll bet I'll make billions.
Fuck. That idea was already taken by Dildo Baggins. I hate that mother fucker. Since you have more dollars than there are people on earth, why not pay my student loans off you greedy fuckstick? Because you are a douche and your lying mouth is nothing more than a lying cock holster that's why.
For the past three weeks I have been going to the gym instead of just running outside and finding a pull up bar to do obnoxious amounts of pull ups on. Let me tell you, the gym is stupid. I spend like a half hour just waiting to use whatever machine I want to use, and I have to listen to a bunch of clowns talk about how big their dicks are and blah blah blah. When the macho men finally shut up, my ears are greeted by Bon Jovi. The most bothersome part of the gym is this extra loud bitch with a whistle. She blows the goddamn thing and her lackeys follow her around and they all do whatever the fuck new bullshit there is to do.
Why the fuck does anyone need a coach to work out? And what is with these exercises? I saw a grown man playing with a fucking giant beach ball today. Embarrassing. I have a workout for you. It's called run 7 miles. Then tomorrow, run 7 miles again and try to beat your time. If you fail, you don't eat until you do. Repeat for a few months. You'll be square.
The only good part of the gym is I occasionally get to look at some one's wife and have visions of tossing salad. Except today when this rather large (and not like fat, just sort of big and mean looking) Captain is extra excited to see me. She wants to go jog with me.
Listen lady, I don't fucking jog. I don't. I run. I run fast and hard because it's the best part of my day. I just bought new running shoes and I want to melt them. I do not want to keep these shoes.
We ran. I use the term, "we" loosely. She did her best and I ran slower than I prefer. She wants to jog again tomorrow. I laughed. Can't do it. I have plans. It's a little thing called triathlon tryouts.
I have half a bag of Redman in my mouth right now. I can't even breathe.
I wish someone would tell me what's up with my hands. My veins are huge all of a sudden. I hope this is a sign they will let me leave the Army. I don't know why it would be, but I am told there are signs everywhere.
I watched a movie last night. A movie I have long wanted to see. Due to copyright laws I am not allowed to tell you the name of this movie. But allow me to give you my one sentence review of this movie: Too much pursuit and not enough happiness.
I see that girls gone wild is going to open up a themed restaurant. This is a bad idea. When I am knocking back a BLT I don't want to watch Suzy make out with her roommate. This is lunch, not a bar. A girls gone wild themed bar is a good idea. A restaurant, where I have to eat things and watch drunk girls make bad decisions is not a good idea.


01 April 2007

Every Thug Needs A Lady

Right. I hate Jay Z. Not so much for anything other than that he bones Beyonce and I don't. Regardless, you are 45 on my list there asshat. I hope your cock gets caught in your zipper and you are never able to bone her again. I hate you.
Stupid ass Jay Z. Nice suit there fucktard.
I am going to Paris next weekend. That should be fun. Only expensive. The bleeding hotel I got is around a billion dollars a second. I am going with my buddy Paul, his wife and their four kids. These people are my friends and also Mormon, so like every trip I take with them, Yossarian babysits and doesn't get to drink or make time with foreign bitches.
Also, kids are fucking loud. They also scream a lot and they whine a lot too. What the bleeding hell her kids? Oh, you didn't get to enter the car first? That needs to be cried and screamed about for the next 45 minutes. Clearly. Oh your brother ate one of your chips? Clearly you need to throw a fucking tantrum as they stopped making sun chips.
Not Paul's kids, just kids in general.
If the lead singer bitch from the Pretenders wanted to date you, would you? I mean sure she isn't hot, but she sings and writes and seems pretty smart. So, on one had you'd be all, "This is great my girlfriend sings and is smart and writes cool shit." But then you'd be thinking, "Damn. Can't this bitch like wear a dress or something? I hope my friends aren't laughing because she is not hot at all." Life is funny.
If that girl from the Whitesnake videos wanted to date you, would you? Let us suppose it is 1989, I mean sure she was the hottest shit ever, but she seems about as smart as a bag full of hair. It would be nice to be all, "My girlfriend is so fucking hot I need to wear sunscreen when we bone." But then again, you'd be all, "I can't believe that when we did a crossword yesterday she spelled 'Alfredo' with a 4." Life is perplexing.
Say Michelle Pfeiffer wanted to date you, would you? Yes. Yes. Yes. She is like the sun in that the older she gets the hotter she gets. Life is certain.
For the sake of argument, say I decided to be a CIA agent when I was done with the Army. (Which is looking like will never happen by the by.) Would you? Life is stupid.
In my heart, I hope a lot of things that make sense, but will never happen.