Vote Republican, and maybe you’ll see some boobs.

29 08 2008

Now, before we get started here, let me make one thing clear: I am not a McCain supporter. I won’t be voting for him in November, and personally agree with very little he actually says. I also happen to believe that John McCain is our next President. Why? Because the American people are a slow bunch, and drastic change makes them nervous.

That being said,


Ladies and gentlemen, I give Sarah Palin, our next Vice President. Aside from being governor of Alaska, as well as being just as cute as a button, Palin is also blessed with two of the best homegrown political weapons I have ever seen.

She is also, sadly, one of those kinds of chicks. Everything fun there is about life, she hates. Maybe you could loosen her up with a couple Bacardis, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Just put Sarah Palin–and her magnificent qualifications–out of your mind.


Pimpin’ ain’t easy

27 08 2008

So I have this buddy who runs an escort service. No, uh, not that kind. It’s the kind where you accompany big trucks on long journeys, and you get paid asstons of money to do so. It’s like delivering pizza, except your pizza weighs several hundred tons and your tip comes in several-thousand-dollar form. All in all, it’s a pretty sweet-sounding gig.

Anyway, he wants me to get in on the deal. He has another car he’s preparing, and another four or five big jobs coming up. So, in other words, all I have to do to make a lewd amount of money is drive a nice car for a few thousand miles.

Did I mention that the cars are all old cop cars?

They also have big light-bars on top, GPS, emergency-band radio, and fucking sirens. If someone sees me in that thing, the next time I go visit Edna, I’ll get shot in the face. Then again, it would be exciting to just roll up on some dilapidated crack-house with all the bells and whistles going off.

Assuming I survive all that, it’s rumored that I’ll be pulling in a large amount of cash for very little manual work. All we have to do is scout routes (take pictures and record GPS coordinates), then come back and lead big trucks along them.

It’s not brain work, there’s nothing glamorous about it, but it pays well and I’ll get to travel…in a car that I have to drive, following an eighteen-wheeler for fifteen-hundred miles all the way to fucking St. Paul, MN, or some place. Anything illegal I do, because of the constant state boundary crossing, could easily become an FBI type thing. Not that I’ll be intentionally doing anything illegal, but dumb shit does indeed happen.

We’ll see how it works out.

**Edit** Also, this is my 100th post on WordPress. I might go back through them all and search for terms that could have been a little too offensive, then pool them all together for a brand-new blog update.

Surprise visits from family members

25 08 2008

So I got a phone call from my brother on Friday. He and my uncle were planning to head p here to help get my cousin–a brand-new freshman at Texas State–somewhat acclimated to San Marcos before school starts Wednesday. The addition of two other cousins and the proximity of the river made for a weekend-long drinking binge, interspersed regularly with enormous meals.

My family, such as they are, are crazy people. I don’t mean that in the “Damn nigga, y’all crazy” kind of way. I mean more like the way people who are “characters” are also called crazy. There’s just a lot of personality in each of them, and it manifests itself in outward expressions of friendliness and drunken babble.

All this revelry was facilitated by my uncle, Everett, who, like my mom and the rest of their siblings, is now moderately wealthy following the death of their father. What’s weird about Everett, though, is that he was always like that. If you were out doing something, and there was some way to make that something kick more ass, he was up for it, regardless of the cost. It was about the fun more than anything, which is always nice.

My mom, on the other hand, has not handled her windfall with anything resembling Everett’s calm reserve. Her television is as big as my couch, and her truck’s onboard computer is better than my PC. Okay, maybe not, but that’s only a slight exaggeration.

Anyhow, here I am kicking back on a cool Sunday night/Monday morning, drinking free beer and listening to what sounds like inexperienced college kids outside in their new-to-them Nissan Sentras, sliding around hopelessly on the wet roads and praying, for what it’s worth, that if they get in a wreck, please don’t let the cops find the loaded dugout in the glovebox. It’s a tough change for those kids, and some of them are going to flat lose their shit come Wednesday.

Good luck!

Rejected article ideas for The Onion

15 08 2008

Barack Obama Disses Only Black Friend with Jaunty Finger-Pointing

Kitten thinks of nothing but carpet being awesome all day.

Tangle of Jesus-shaped Christmas lights catches fire, kills 7

5,128 Things The Onion Hates About John Stewart’s Hair Going Gray

Aging Pizza Hut moves to a quieter neighborhood

5 scientifically proven ways to straight up jack a nigga

None of these are actually real, by the way. I have no idea if The Onion even has a submission system by which I can get rejected.I could look that up, but all fifteen of my open browser tabs are important stuff, and opening a new one might cause my computer to grow a pair of legs and kick the shit out of itself.

If one of you reading this gets inspired, I would really like to read your take on the article, specifically the one in which I learn to straight up jack some punk-ass sucka. I consider that inability my greatest failing in life.