Non-Important Entry (Random Shit To Know)

welcome word junkies, i have randomness for you's all.

whoa, was that some shitty new yorker accent? fuck me running. no good.

wow, so i read this yahoo news story about how some reporters were being "racist" because they didn't correct his grammar.

Obama He Did-Int!!!

who the fuck cares?! really?! i'm sure it wasn't that big of a deal. i think this is where we should cross the fucking line. i thought accurate reporting and journalism was based on getting the facts RIGHT not getting the facts properly spell-checked first, then reporting them.

look, if you voted for change, great, you certainly got it in a half black president. to Obama's credit, he did indeed nail OBL (Osama Bin Laden) before his first term was up. see, white people couldn't do it in two terms and Obama did it in less than one term.

yes, voting for change is now credited with an epic win.

here's the "sitch":

if you want someone to clean up your grammar during a press conference or speech, i suggest you do it your damn self because i'm sure that thousands of press cunts would've loved to have left "Dub-ya" looking as dumb in text as he sounded in speech. having heard the speech i would have to think that maybe Obama was trying to level with black people, semi-rudely, but he was trying.

if you're going to bitch about it now, remember, you voted for him then.

that goes for EVERYONE, even the mormons, who no one really gives a fuck about anyway. if you don't like it, drink the Jonestown Kool-Aid and get super dead and as far from living with reality as possible.

Spell-Checking Your Mind,

Dax.

Now A Few Words...Or More...

word junkies, the past few days have been, to say the least, lack-luster.

(sad. true. annoyingly realistic in their lack-luster-ness.)

on the plus side i have had the time of my life, in the super silence of the days, to enjoy and pick a few of my favorite songs from a spiffy cd called "Speaker Of The Dead" by Emmure.

i was digging this cd with four shovels and figured i would pass along the prizes.

"Dogs Get Put Down"

I heard you wanted to kill me, so why am I still alive?
So come on why don't you try. They put a price on my head.
I stay bangin', I stay strapped.
I know it's hard to believe but sometime's dead is better.
I'm not afraid to die. Do me a fucking favor: take my fucking life.
I'm not afraid to die so take my fucking life.

"Solar Flare Homicide"

I see a fire in the sky. Lights go out, I'm gonna finish what I started.

And now you better pray I don't know where you are.

Do you remember just like I always do? Ive been dying to remind you.

There ain't gonna be a jail sentence. No more fucking consequence.
No there will never be another sentence. Fire in sky. This is freedom.

I see fire in the sky. Now you'll suffer.

"4 Poisons 3 Words"

Now I'm walking away. I don't need this, I don't need you.
I have no interest to please or appease you.
I'm done wasting my fucking life on cowards wasting my fucking time.
And if I'm alone in this fight, then I'm walking away tonight.
Get fucked.
I'm standing on my own two feet. I don't need you, I don't need this.
I'm ready to die for my beliefs, I'm ready to kill for my beliefs
Are you with me in this fight? If not I'm walking away tonight.


 

"My Name Is Thanos"

You don't fucking know me and you never will.
I'm not from this world, I didn't ask to be here.
Look down at me you'll see a fool.
Look up at me you'll see your God.
Look straight at me and you'll see yourself.

i'm not saying you should live your life by lyrics, but sometimes, the music fits the moments.

...also...

if you think you know something, just remember, you don't know it all all of the time.

ask the questions, dig in the dirt and never be afraid to be looked at like filth.

Studying Your Moves,

Dax.

Rubber Ducky (Easter Ex Hunting)

alas no, my dear word junkies, there is no actual rubber ducky. i apologize for the tom-foolery and false advertisement. if you would like i can show you a picture of a rubber ducky.

yeah?

okay...one rubber ducky picture...

...whoa, that little shit is doing a backflip...

back to the blog.

we have all had a "bored spell" overtake us without notice, leaving us searching the internet like zombies in search of digital brain noms. yes, digital....brain....noms, i used the kawaii as fuck terminology. it's all that asian food/anime/japan-love finally seeping out of my blackened soul. ah yes, the "bored spell" sneaks into your skull and you begin using the internet to look for random shit:

#1. fucked up band names

(tony danza tapdance extravaganza, we butter the bread with butter, anal cunt, DVDA etc.)

#2. ridiculous pictures

(the Domo "everytime you masturbate god kills a kitten" one)

#3. dead baby jokes

(Q: what's worse than a dead baby in a trash can? A: a dead baby in seven trash cans.)

#4. tim and eric

(awesome show. great job.)

if you've done all of that, try this:

#5. easter ex hunt

(hunt for the super-win changed or epic failed)

now i know that i slice people down like crazy, it is my niche. we're not all vocabulary sluts, so let me define the context of "niche" that i was using:

Niche (n./adj./v.): the position or function of an organism in a community of plants and animals.

yes, we are humans and animals, sometimes plants. you'll get it in a second.

so even if slicing people down is my niche, i will gladly point out someone who has bettered themselves instead of turning their house into a meth lab, having CPS take their children or repeatedly procreating and filling the world with left over ovarie puke.

i had a girlfriend once...

(did'ya now? doubt it.)

...shut up!

yeah, she was a little odd, damaged goods if you will, but she was super fun to hang out with and talk to. she was just more than averagely into the earth magicks (fucking "c" and "k" in the same word again), which wasn't a bad thing it was just too cliche even for her. we weren't together for an extended period of time, which is even weirder because i wasn't nearly as cynical and hateful as i am right now. she was so adorable you thought you were getting eye cavities. seriously, more adorable than your average female anime character. she was also the first (and last) girl to ever "suggest" that i try some of her rather odd female goods.

NO! NOOOO! no two girls stuff, just...*heave*...NOOOO!

now, the "bored spell" struck me with the dire need to see if i could find her trolling around the social networking sites.

not hard, everyone is a social butterfly from behind a keyboard.

she has gotten more foxy indeed. i was unaware it was even possible, but it is. i think it hurt my brain to know that.

i guess what i'm getting to now is this simplee suggestion:

fuck all the retarded as fuck FB games that are AIDS'ing up the internet, be a little more creative and start your own game, like i did, and play the nibblets out of it and get as many friends involved as possible. use FourSquare too, while you're at it, and make it a true socially networked game.

have some fun. find an ex. FB them like GGW and hope for a 4sq badge.

enjoi word junkies.

#Mayor of CITC 4 Life,

@Daxiarose

Clocks: Not Just For Walls

hello again word junkies.

many of you may already get the idea that i have pet-peev's out the ass. yes, a great deal of things irritate the shit out of me and i think i have found one that i have yet to speak about. so here goes nothing...!

who in fuck can't tell time? anyone, any takers? i swear that it has to be one of the easiest things to learn how to do, even when factoring military time. yes, for a novice, military time seems a little challenging. here's how i explain how to grasp it better:

anything after noon is 12 + H (the hour). in reverse, take the time given H - 12.

very simple stuff, i swear, it is indeed that easy.

now, excluding that whole issue and going back to standard 12 hour time tables, who the fuck STILL can't tell time?!

when someone tells you that they will arrive, return or depart at a certain time and will do any of the mentioned at another certain time it is safe to say, in most cases, that they can't tell time and they will leave you waiting on YOUR time. this phenomenon is more than irritating, it is just a blatant display of how fucking shitty a person is in general. people for the most part will disappoint you, it is a fact, ask anyone you know. if the person calls and says, "dude, i'm so sorry but i'm running late, would you mind holding up a few minutes?" or "something serious came up and i will late, go ahead without me." or "i'm getting arrested, see you whenever.", i usually won't be pissed off. they took the time to let me know the situation (vaguely or ortherwise) and weren't just assuming that i would be okay with being semi-ditched or worse.

if the person doesn't call, text or FB message me i end up being extremely pissed off.when i find myself being left to wait i fill that void of time by thinking of several things:

#1. the person leaving me waiting has opened some of their mail and have been informed that they have AIDS. then i laugh.

#2. smoke cigarettes like a freight train and then make them buy me another pack later, as asshole tax.

#3. go ahead with my plans and, upon seeing them at another time, verbally assault them for being so selfish and cunt-ly.

#4. ignore them for awhile (length of time is determined by value of event) and eventually talk to them again, unless it was a super serious time spending affair, in which case i write them off like a tax deduction.

it is generally rude and foul to semi-ditch or completely ditch someone. it's worse if you know they have plans or have plans with you, the "wait maker".

so, word junkies: don't forget to call, text, FB message or tweet someone if you're going to be late or just not show the fuck up. it will come back to spit in your mixed drink.

Doesn't Look Good In "Holding My Breath" Blue,

Dax.

If I Was A Writer...

i know i can't keep my grubby little fingers off the keyboard, it's a blessing and curse.

fo'shame ya' self chi', fo'shame!

in the past week or so i've been battling both boredom and sleep. don't judge me, i have my reasons. anyway, i came across the work of a delightful artist that has stolen my heart. if i thought of myself as a true journalist, writer or author, i would DEFINITELY ask for the illustraions and prints created by the morbidly beauiful hands of Abigail Larson.

have any of you heard of Abigail Larson?

some of you may have, considering she killed the RVA scene with a amazing piece of art that was the poster for the Richmond Zombie Walk. to say she is talented the most under-rated statement you could possibly make...ever...end of story.

it would like saying, "you know tommy lee has the hep!" well no, super brain, i was not aware.

i've never been a fan of watercolors or artwork that was watercolord based, however, i think i can now say that i am indeed a new found fan.

i don't really want to sway you by saying that the conceptual scenes and dismal beauty of her work is worth drooling over. it would also be crass and biased of me to say that the work she pushes is brilliantly professional, stunning, gorgeous and breath-taking, to say the absolute least. i can say, without a doubt, that spewing about Abigail being a wonderful digital media nymph is way...WAY...out of the realm of things that i would say.

damn...i just said all the stuff i said i really didn't want to say.

fuck it, it's my opinion and i stand by it. so drink bleach and die.

i would highly suggest the artwork to anyone who:

 has a sense of humor

isn't a triffling hood-booger

appreciates originality

loves The Addams Family, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Emily The Strange etc.

Catastrophic Prophet of The Anarchist Alliance,

Dax Ian Rose

Quick Observation, If You Will....

hiya!

i was trolling around the internet's favorite social whoring site and i started to explore the multitude of options that pertainted to the updating of statuses and a question popped into my noggin.

"how does one define 'domestic partnership' as a status?"

i know that if you are represented by a goverment fed animal, if you will, then you may define that term in a different way depending on your life choices.

"domestic partnership (n.) - the act of two homosexuals who share a home or dwelling for extended periods of time."

now that is just the george "dubyah" way of seeing things, but i ask you, can this term also apply to two heterosexuals (involved in parenthood or otherwise) and still hold the same oppressive meaning? to speak frankly: isn't that what every couple in america is in one way or another, excluding single parents on their own, a domestic partnership?

maybe i'm losing my grip on things but what makes it a viable status in the world? can't we change it to "not being fucked on taxes", or maybe even "just not that thrilled about marriage", or better than those two: "wishing people would get the fuck over their close minded inferiority complexes".

whatever the case may be, the term "domestic partnership", to me at least, seems like a sugarc-coated way of saying "over-worded bullshit status".

Domesticly Yours,

Dax.

A Wow'za Of A Web-Adventure

welcome back, you habitual little word junkies.

recently i went back and started listening to some music i've neglected for quite some time. you know those angsty, chuggin, riffy albums of metal that just spoke to me as a teen. a couple of the artists include: Marilyn Manson, Society 1, Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, Danzig etc. upon looking into one of these artists i found a couple of websites that made me sit back and read a bunch of outrageous shit. i'm all for freedom of expression in most forms and i'm all for belief in certain lifestyles. the thing, or things i should say, that threw me for a fucking loop was the ideals and regulations of an organization that bordered on sheer comedy.

the organization, which i will not promote by naming it, has a reading list in size that it is comparable to what you would need to complete a four year college stint and earn a degree. sure, reading isn't looked down upon by yours truly, but the amoutn of stuff in this listing is fucking ridiculous. also, the terms and conditions of being a member of this organization border on the insanity and lack of sense that comes along with being a scientologist.

if anyone wants to be tom cruise or john travolta, please, do any of the following, except be a scientologist:

#1. pretend you love a woman when you know, clearly, that you're gay.

#2. name your child after a means of transportation.

#3. end your career on oprah by jumping and down on a couch like a kid with ADHD who is out of medication.

#4. let your kid slowly and fearfully die when you could've called tom cruise, who by scientology standards, can heal people by touch.

the un-named organization that i speak of claims itself to be THE group for transcendental satanism and esoteric being. my question is this: "who determined this to be true and viable?!" what person or people inside of this organziation felt that they could make that statement and just have people go with it? who indeed? i can give you some clear reasoning that will send their claim down in flames, much like the Spaceship Columbia.

i took the time to download and read the various PDF files that outline their belief system, rules and regulations, goals, ideas and outlook on their organized collective. while reading this mass of redundant (yes, repeated over and over and over) word stuffs it became absolutely clear to me that these people, who refer to everyone else as "mundanes", have next to no work ethic in preparing their message and texts for the world, that they themselves, wish to overthrow and recreate.

it saddened me to spend the bandwith and time to get these materials and find that the majority of them are repeats. i'm not talking snippits of stuff used here and there, but rather full sections of their doctrine being copy and pasted time after time after time with different file names.

if you're going to overthrow "mundanes", as you so feverishly and spitefully have titled them, wouldn't it make some sense to put in the work and retype and rework this stuff in order to show your dominant power?!

also, who the fuck thought in their "dark magick" glory (yeah, the "C" AND the "K") that it would be okay to 1990's style scan some graph paper and notebook entries, that remind me of shit i wrote when i was young and angsty AND back in middle school, and call it a set of reliable texts for an entire belief system?!

come the fuck on you "sinister magick" fuckwads! grow into puberty and show some fucking backbone when it comes to re-vamping your own shit from behind a keyboard. forget scanning the shit, show me the motherfucking satanic might of your "sinister magick" hands and retype the things you say you believe in. isn't it worth the time, or is it too hard to spice up your doctrines, requisites, texts and life laws?!

here is what i think on the matter:

if you are going to claim pride and dominance over ANYONE you should man up and really show it, NOT ONLY in your practices but also in the way you present your entire system of belief. do you think for one nano-second that there would be so many christians in the fucking world if the bible was some boring "all text all the time" kind of book that was shamefully thrown together like a fat girl's outfit?!

here, let me enable your already "sinister magick laziness" further:

FUCK NO!

THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN BORED SHITLESS AND LEFT IT ALL BEHIND FOR BUDDHISM, ISLAM, JUDAISM OR GOD FORBID, SCIENTOLOGY!

many of the bibles, that these pathetic shit mongrels despise, were highly decorated with beautiful pictures that depicted the stories held within the multitude of pages. i'm not going to say that i'm signing off on the christian ideals and thought process but, i have to give them the "one-up" in the sense that they knew that it is much easier to grab the attention of many with "them danged ole picture books".

what does that say about the ever rising "satanic magick" rectal warts? they desire to overtake, destroy and re-create the ENTIRE WORLD but they can't even take the time to edit, type and re-vamp their own fucking shit. how do expect anyone to take you seriously when you speak of the "re-creation" of an entire world and the people therein if you can be even be bothered to spend time fixing the infantile, poorly combined, down syndrome scan job cluster-fuck that your is your explantion of all that you are?!

it would be safe to say that your entire organization is an infantile, cluster-fuck collective of poorly combined, down syndrome infected, cum stain dumpster babies who lack the simple work ethic needed to put together PDF files.

you will never, ever, be capable of overthrowing a world, much less the abortion clinics that you call your dwellings.


boys of the organziation:

you couldn't beat your dick without your balls getting off three punches first.

ladies of the organization:

it is easy to bullshit around when you're all fucking children, specificly, angsty boys.

 

 please, do yourselves a two favors:

#1. get a battery operated hearts like Dick Cheney and stand next to industrial sized microwaves.

#2. get your leader, George W. Bush, pile into your intelligence lacking warship "Magickly Sinister Texas-Glory" and set sail for the Samali pirates who will gladly rip your colons open and make you eat that rabbit pellet sized shit that you call your brains.

"Magickal" Yours,

Dax.

Prelude To A Mini-Series

it is safe to say that, as an american whole, we have all felt the bittersweet sting of love and loss.

in the life that we have to live there are certain people that will change us, without a doubt, for either the better or the worse. it is also safe to say that this "love and loss" can do both to us. the love can bring out the best in us, turn our frowns upside down and generally build us up until we reach the clouds and high-five the shit out of the sun. the loss, however, will always bring us to tears, defile the ideals of happiness and send us crashing to the earth once more, with the flames licking at our backs where our wings once were.

so these simple truths will be the basis for a mini-series i'm currently working on for all of you, your loved ones and even your ex's. it has been decided that there will be three portions, posted in sporadic fashion and the series will be titled "Tears For Corrin". i should make some semi-prophetic statement about the perils, virtues, triumphs and complete disasters that love and loss can bring into our lives at any given moment.

sadly, there aren't enough words, phrases or wordy sentences to do so here and now.

i will, however, state this small blurb of slop:

"love is a fickle creature that has the overwhelming capacity to maul us, without a moments notice, only to heave our beaten, bloodied and near dead carcass from the dirt and into the arms of angels that will smear the salve of 'redemption' into our wounds."

thank you again, my word junkies, for turning blind eyes and deaf ears to yours truly.

Shaking It Like Fat On a Treadmill,

Dax.

Give Up Already

how many times do you have to fail before you FINALLY get the fucking picture? how many times will it take? this is a serious question one must ask when watching and listening to the simple shit that goes on in the world around them. i had such a moment today where i had to clamp my shout-hole and just think to myself:

"why hasn't this reject just given the fuck up and taken out the entire family in a house-fire?!"

it isn't bad enough that i've had the displeasure of knowing this person for quite some time, oh no, but i also know the in's and out's of their patheticly flawed existance. i don't mean flawed in the sense that they have a mole or a club foot or even a missing limb, but flawed in the sense that they set the stage for their own disappointment and downfall just by listening to their own reasoning and trying desperately to ACTUALLY think. let me put some FACTS out there so you, the word junkies, can decide if you agree or disagree.

#1. first major relationship resulted in marriage and a child being born to a half-assed lazy father who would later be accused of rape and found not guilty due to some technicality in the court system that states "if you're married in the state of @#$! you can't rape your wife". this is followed by a divorce and joint custody...or at least visitation with the child.

(i didn't make the law, so don't blame me or rant about it.)

#2. female in question met a new guy. she dated and fucked him even though he was still technically married because he was too lazy to go through with the divorce to, his then, wife. the screwing continued and behold: a second child is born.

(just because there are two baby daddies doen't mean anything)

#3. baby daddy number 2 is: a womanizer, liar, mentally abusive twat and thought that hari-kari was a suitable solution to loss of employment and being a downright failure as a person. he also pulled a Maury and said "man, that baby ain't mine", knowing good and well that it was. 

#4. baby daddy 1 and baby daddy 2 are now friends. two pussy farts in a pod, reunited at last.

the female in question speaks volumes about how she loves her kids and blah blah blah but this is what my question and reasoning is on the matter:

if you love your kids so much, you wouldn't have had the second one. you would've been dedicated to nurturing the first child with all your might, instead of fucking around with a still married guy and having his prick fill you with idiot juice, thus making yet another kid. i guess loving your kids means leaving them with someone else, for extended periods, to go out and fuck some dipshit who is still legally and religiously connected to another woman.

gosh, all this time i was mistaken as to what loving your kids is truly about? serves me right huh?

what kind of retarded, empty-headed, sperm catching, sorry-ass, unintelligent fucktard would be bold enough to state that they know what love really is?!

all of your relationships have failed.

you have become a home wrecker, even if it wasn't your fault to begin with, it is now.

you wonder off to dick around instead of being a full time parent.

i think if you spend the time to spread your legs and let someone fuck you, then you get pregnant and keep the kid, you should put your shit on hold and really take care of your kid(s). don't pawn them off on family member at every turn possible. don't make excuses because you have to work, pay bills, stop doing dumb shit AND be a parent too.

this is one of those times where i think the kids would really be better off dead than in the care of someone ignorant enough to fuck a married guy. if he's married and you let him fuck you and you get pregnant, do you really think he's going to man up and care about you or the kid?!

if the answer given was anything other than NO then you need to poison yourself and your family because that is the definition of MERCY killing.

this world is becoming a landfill of lousy, ignorant, fat, waste of space people.

someone please, sterilize us all.

i will gladly submit to mandatory sterilization, post haste.

Willingly Skeeting Blanks At Your Cervix,

Dax.

Cross Sectional Sofa: A Re-Write

you must remember the original posting with this title. it was written and a link was sent to the person in question from the post. to say she didn't find it delightful is an understatement. she, for some ridiculous and unexplained reason, had a fucking hissy fit because i "wrote a monologue" about soemthing that included her and a moment that happened in past.

no shit it was a monologue! i don't have multiple personalities to help me make it a dialogue, or to help act it out. so i did what i could: i told it from MY perspective, not OUR perspective. i think she just wanted to find a situation where she could use a big word in the correct context. wow, she didn't fail to do so. should i be handing out cookies? no? splendid, i didn't think it was a cookie worthy moment either.

i tried my best to paint her in a light that was more than what she deserved to be painted in. i drew her up in tones of sensual bliss, hues of goddess-like form and splattered a little mysterious devilishness in there as well.

excuse me for thinking someone would rather be painted in a positive light, as opposed to one that soaks anyone involved in a cloak of disease and udder disgust. alas, i shall be using that second light in this post, as i re-write the situation in tones and highlights of vile, horrid, acidic lexiconal dementia.


so please, my heathen word junkies, enjoy.



it was like any other night in the dungeon that housed our teen bible study group, or whatever it is you might have called it. personally, my favorite at the time was "oprah's ultimate oppressive book club". we, the batch of teen angst ridden and hormone driven, had finished up the rousing intellectual brainwashing session and there was free time to be had. i found myself wandering around the basement of the pastor's home, which doubled as the children/teen bible school, with nothing to think except, "fuck, i really want a cigarette and some whiskey right about now." the sad part was neither were within my reach and i was forced to wait on my ride, who happened to be the youth pastor, with the hope that somewhere beyond the confines of this shit-hole i would be able to grab hold of strong drink and cancer sticks.


one thing i learned very quickly, from these simple fuckers, is that if you have the urge to fuck around and get lit up like a christmas tree there will be a gracious wait period brought on by the "dire spiritual crisis" of some half assed believer in the flock. this night was no different. it was now a sure thing that my boozing and smoking with unsavory characters would have to be put on hold. fuck my life. i found my way to the space around the oven that was so well placed in a basement. who the fuck puts an oven in a non-rented basement? jack-asses, thats who. the youth pastor was running his jab and then she found her way to me: the town weiner wench.


the broad who stood before me had been said to have had an unending need for face porking, this coming from several sources that were from different backgrounds to say the least. while i was curious as to the level and caliber of her special talent, it was safe to say that it wasn't the time or place to try my luck. she wasn't built like an asian, to say the least, but more like a fluffy cloud of well fed southern psychosis. i wouldn't have been shocked if her wall lacked the usual teenish boy band and metal band posters but, instead had a delightful collage of pictures featuring David Koresh, Jim Jones and Joseph Smith. she was a statistic in the sense that she was raised by religious people and wanted to rebel in order to counter-act the world she had been taught within.


she lumbered toward me, with i thought at the time was a limp, and made eye contact. i wasn't sure how retarded things would or could get, but i knew that i wasn't going to be taking the rap as aggressor if shit hit the fan, because if there is one thing i have never been it's a rapist. her hefty, overly stuffed body came closer and i was stuck between her and the oven. she reached out, i assume imagining me as a value meal, and grabbed onto my arm and slipped another tentacle around my waist. she pulled me into her 98.6 degrees of portly frame and kissed me. yeah, i kissed her back, that is until i felt her teeth clamp into my tongue. i pulled away and tasted the blood filling the space under my tongue. i swore and told her to fuck off and that there is a thin line between being "kinky" and being "a sorry cunt".


i'm not going to toot my own horn, but i will say this:


"you're boy isn't a model or a sandwich, but he was sure enough a hot and tastey morsel for that hog."



so thats the re-write peoples. as i said, i tried at first to be nice and paint a person in a brilliant and positive light. this was a mistake which i was made abundantly clear of. so to fix the problem, i chose to paint that unappreciative twat in the same kind of illumination that most everyone saw her in on a daily basis, which was a light of several colors. pathetic "trying too hard" tactics, dramatic emotional outbursts and slutty intentions. her life was a punchline and we all had our laugh at her.


i tried to be nice and it backfired on me, so now i say...


CHOKE ON A PORK SWORD TRICK! NICE DIDN'T LOOK GOOD ON ME ANYWAY.




One of the Side Effects of Xanax,


Dax.

Store Whores, Douchies and Torso-Pants

welcome back to the side show known as Curiosity In The Curtains.

since i last left you i have seen and done a few things that just wrecked my head in such a way that i felt it was needed to pass them on to you all. let me hook your noggin up a bit...

#1. when i go to a store and i see someone coming down the aisle that i'm on, with three kids and basket in tow, i try to be kind and move out of their way because i can clearly see that they have more going on than i do at the moment. it is, to me at least, common courtesy. what i realized friday was that those two words can become detached from each other and become "common" and "courtesy". i was in the "i'll move out of your way" senario friday at the big blue, pacific islander raping, sweat shop we all know i'm referring to. i saw a guy, with his kids (3 of them) and his almost full basket which was stuffed 3/4 of the way full with school shit and microwave meals. it was my good deed for the day to move out his way, as his day was looking pretty haggard. this cum-stain and his walking ejaculations decided that it was nice of me to do so and then proceeded to match me: move to move.

THIS IS NOT A GAME OF FUCKING CHESS DICKHEAD!!!

so, i had done my good deed, now i could balance it out and be a jackass, which i did quite well. i rolled my eyes at him and kept walking. i heard from behind me the phrase "sheeet, he beht not roll him eyes ageen".

yes, that was the phrase in full phonetic glory.

i had to say something, so i did. "i tried to be nice by moving OUT of your way. you then moved INTO my way. take your 'never going to be anythings' and stay the fuck away from me. your ignorant fucking ass is the reason why white power groups still haven't given up. thanks, you almost god-like failure of a person". if you're wondering if i said this in front of his kids: yes i did. those kids needed to see that just because somone calls themself a "grown up" or "adult" doesn't mean that they can spitefully do whatever they want and get away with it. i explained my side THEN schooled this asshole in public, in front of his kids. fuck him and the basket he was pushing around like such a big fucking "man".

#2. i was taught, as a child, to value having a job and to want to do my job as well as i could. i know there are people out there like me. i also know that there are people who have been laid-off and WANT to have a job to value. i know that, so i try to help them when i see them. however, as we have all seen many times before, there are people like the over-praised pussy fart that calls himself my "co-worker" who think having a job is more like a hobby. he is a spoiled little white bitch who thinks that his part time contribution is worth as much as my full tim contribution.

wrong...fail...kill your mother-fucking-self (KYMFS).

i was talking to another employee about tomorrow being a heavy duty kind of day with a shitload of work to do, to which the pussy fart in question replied, "psshh, no work for me tomorrow. score." so, yes again, i had something to say to him and all of his manly lackings: "wow, you're so fucking gay it's pathetic".

okay, i know there is going to be a shit storm coming my way for that one, i know. the ONLY reason i said that particular phrase (which doen't make it right or kosher, then again i'm no jew) is because i KNEW FOR A FACT that those words would make him shut the fuck up and rethink his statement.

he's a spoiled rich boy who only works part time...part of the time. that is such a fucking waste of time. i know four people who would work his shift and work at my pace with my dedication. instead, our company hired the weakest cracker in the bunch so that they could mold him into a bigger waste of genetic material.

i long for his sports car in flames. yes, yes i do.

#3. if you sell t-shirts and they are back-ordered you should really put that in the "add to cart" part of the web page. seriously, where is your IT crew updating your shit?!

WHERE I ASK, WHERE?!?!

i ordered two shirts from a great band i love, via a secondary merch spot, and when i completed the novel of shit to get them i got the confirmation e-mail and it was then that it was made crystal clear that: "we had them and we could have them to you, as soon as we might be able to find more of them".

WHAT THE FUCK SHIRT SLUTS?!?!

i really want them, so i will be nice and wait the 2 to 8 weeks for them to arrive into my grubby little hand-ables. to say i am unpleased is a grave understatement. i desire these torso-pants and i desire them now. at least i should have them before halloween...maybe...6 more weeks to know for sure.

enjoy the coming fall kiddo's, it is sure to be a fun one.

Dax.