Some days aren’t great, but I ain’t about to fuckin talk bout that shit, let everyone talk about that shit, Imma talk about… well, now I can’t rightly say, or maybe I can, but I don’t want to, so I might not be able to say what I was about to say before the moment where I could’ve said something about something else but now, this is just a recurring loop of broken ideas and stupid logic.
Everyone has stupid logic.
Even birds.
Yes birds, birds have stupid logic.
Not like stupid human logic, but stupid bird logic.
Squirrels are just fucking stupid, regardless of level of intelligence. But don’t discount sharks.
Fuck sharks.
And spiders.
And clowns.
Actually, fuck any and all combination of the three of those things, because any and all of them are just bad.
really bad.
So bad it makes you think that no matter what, you’re about to find out some shit that don’t make sense, but desperately need to because in a way, Earnest Hemingway did not drink enough.
But then again, stupid Squirrel logic infects everything we do on a level never before seen.
I have not zoomed out.
Not, I have zoomed out, don’t ask why I haven’t zoomed out, maybe I was zoomed in?
Maybe I wasn’t? Maybe I couldn’t be zoomed out or in to save my life, or maybe there’s a need to be more zoomed in than out in this day and age where being zoomed in has more an impact meaning than one would assume.
But you know what they say about assuming things, right?
That donkey’s shouldn’t speed.
Or drive. But they do anyways, because there asses, and they’re a danger to you and me on the road.
Ass Zooming. that’s assuming they know how to drive using those clods hoppers of a hoof on their feet.
But they only have one hoof between all four feet.
Well, they might be transformers.
Hey, we live in a day and age where anyone can be anything or any gender they choose.
I once dated a woman who identified as a ketchup bottle.
Which made sense in a weird way, a way I leave to your imagination, because that’s the kind of logic we’re dealing with here today.
Stupid squirrel spider shark clown bird logic.

I just invented Nogfee

It’s so fucking disgusting, you have no idea, but it’s just kick in the fuccking pants I needed to write this shit out. I guess, I mean, I’m not one to judge that bag of goldfish over there, but I think it’s going to kill me in my sleep. Fucking young link in smash bros is probably the weirdest sentence I’ve ever written, though right NOW I’m not trying to direct my flow, just let it go where it will, you know? But that’s the thing, as soon as I say I’m doing one thing, my mind’s like, “NOT TODAY BITCHES!” And we start all over, which is fine and dandy I suppose, since working at amazon, is kind of like working for one of those weird out of the way gas stations, and dumb asses are always ordering the weirdest shit.
Face dildos, like, really? The only possible reason to want a double sided face dildo is if your kink is deep throating yourself while you head bang into your girls crotch. and if that shit’s going down?
Listen to lamb of God, very relaxing music.
Speaking of which, I think I just set up a hookup situation with an older co-worker who’s kinda out of shape…. Like… what the fuck. I’m not comfortable with this at all, since A, she just flat out texted me, “WYD… wantafuck?” And me, not wanting to be a dick replied, sure, why not? Look, I did not sign up for amazon to get laid, I work for amazon to get paid And yes, that’s a fucking rhyme, and I don’t lie, I got the flow to make this work and fuck my life I can’t stop.
Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of rap, and the strange fucking thing is that I’m pretty good at dropping the beat myself, and it’s scary what you lose in the process of it all. For every one thing you gain, you lose something else.

Annnnd fuck my life I just gave a coworker a link to my blog. Not the one mentioned above, different one.
Welllll, meh, fuck it. Sup my man! I know, right? WE’RE FUCKING VIKINGS! Which I guess is a better statement than WE’RE VIKINGS FUCKING! Or the following:
1. Vikings, we’re fucking.
2. Vikings! We’re fucking?
3. Vikings? We’re fucking!
4. Fucking? we’re Vikings.
5. Fucking. We’re Vikings?
6. Fucking! We’re Viking!
7. We’re fucking Vikings!
8. We’re fucking Vikings?
9. We’re fucking Vikings.
10. We’re fucking, Vikings.
11. we’re fucking, Vikings!
12. We’re fucking, Vikings?
And so on, so…. yup. It sometimes gets a little deep up in this bitch, and we all know that sometimes, you just have to dress a weiner dog up in a little adorable hotdog costume and let the little fucker run around a room filled with people stoned out there mind.
It will either wind up being the funniest thing you’ve ever seen, or maybe a horrifying case why you should never call a breed of dog, that naturally looks like a hotdog, a weiner dog. Yup.
Like fucking batman.
Or even fucking Bruce Wayne on either Mother or Fathers day.
Shit’s just… y’know… fucked.

I repeat. Stupid Teens piss me off.

There’s this twitter group chat I was pulled into that I wanted nothing to do with. Called The Spooky jungle 2. Three Teens, all 17, looking at me like I was a god damned hero. Well, I’m an adult, and I’m all the fucking wiser, turned out, all their praise and ‘Yay! You’re you!’ was just to get a rise out of me, just calling me babe was a fucked up way of trying to get me pissed at them. Well, ya know what? I didn’t care, I was focused on getting books written and published and I’m not the same idiot I was way back when, before I tried getting into the Navy. I’m smarter, busier, chiller. And these kids were doing their damnedest to try and piss me off, but ya know what?

I didn’t let em. there was this one idiot, I forget his name, he was a forgettable piece of shit, and mind you, all of this took place on Twitter. I hate stupid people, and more importantly, I really fucking hate stupid teens that end up pissing me off for one reason or another. You want to know why? Especially on the internet, I had spent a good couple of hours helping these little fucking idiots out with all their stupid drama and problems and how do they thank me?

They start hammering on me like I’m just some dumb ass, calling me a fuckin’ meme, like that’s supposed hurt my fucking feelings? Bitches, I’m a motherfucking Living Meme, you calling me a meme is like saying the blue shit above our fuckin’ heads is called a sky!

No fucking shit I’m a meme, ya don’t think I know that? They kept calling me their sugar daddy, which I wanted no fucking part of and to be honest, their YouTube channel was fucking shit anyways. According to them, the only way to get anywhere in life is to be an annoying shit bag filled with dicks, or at least that’s their approximation of it anyways. These motherfuckers kept pinging me on twitter like I was their lord and savior, I’m sorry.

No, No I am fucking not. If anything I’m an easily irritated man who put up with their stupid BS because hey, they called me friend! Boohoo fucking them. So, after they get all weepy eyed because I ain’t playing their game, after I gut whatever piss and shit filled pants drama they were going after, after all I fucking do for them, they turn out to be just regular fucking shit bag teens, like I said, there are smart, good teens that know their asses from a hole in the ground and then there are the fucking assholes doing the tide pod challenge as if their Social Standing on Instasmackedface needed it. These little fuckheads, were exactly the second category.

Look, I can understand wanting to get to know me, that’s cool and all, but when you go and turn ass hurt over me not talking to you over the course of a few days, that’s when I know your parents didn’t smack ya hard enough when you did something stupid in their presence.

I ain’t going soft here, if anything, I’m still very much pissed, parents need to control these little shit bags on tighter leashes and prevent this kind of bullshit from happening. I’m not going to go back to being friendly after you spend an entire four hours pinging a group chat on twitter calling me a fuck head because I’m not playing the role you assigned me ya stupid club penguin playing piece of shit!

I honestly can’t stand that type of needling shithead, I really can’t! so what? I’m not doing shout out videos for anyone anymore, but you know what? I’m a fucking human being with feelings, and if the underdeveloped logic center of your tiny, fucking, idiotic brain can’t handle the fact that I’ve got better shit to do than heed to the whiny, bitchy, ignorant, crying pants shitting that you and your stupid fucking idiot teen friends on twitter are currently crying about, so the fuck what?

Boo fucking hoo, Kim kardashian liked a photo of a former friend of yours, but didn’t like your own!? OH THE FUCKING WORLD IS ENDING BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T GET YOUR WAY! Well, lemme call Dr. Fucking Phil and we can have ourselves a fucking pow wow and get all touchy feelly with whatever Hot Topic based emo bullshit you’re going through!

Fucking ay… These stupid fucking teenagers… Yeah, I could rip on Millenia’s, but why bother? Every stupid idiot trend they set, they’re paving the way for the future. But when 16 year old Becky Whogivesafuck from Idontgiveashit creates a new design for earbuds!? OH MY GOWD, LEMME SNAPCHAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT FUCKING NEWS BECAUSE NO MATTER WHAT, THAT’S GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING HEADLINES FOR GOOD DAY LA OR WHATEVER THE SHIT NEWS PROGRAM currently has a case of the fucking happy feelly get #metoo’d right in the face!

I’m not sorry at all. I’m very much still ticked about the whole entire situation and while I can understand the irony of me bitching about stupid teens on the internet being stupid fucking teens, there’s a line I usually draw in the sand, a huge line. I don’t care for the idiotic memes, I don’t care for the reckless idiocy, I don’t fucking care about whatever fucking beef is being had by whatever two music idols that can’t fucking sing without a fucking iphone attached to whichever of a thousand genders is going down I don’t fucking care about any of it.

My thing is this, you treat me nice, I treat you nice. We’re friends till you start being a shit heel towards me. “Look at your YouTube channel!” What about my YouTube channel? Are you going to point out anything specific or are you going to leave the insult half finished like whatever stupid fucking idiocy is running through your heads at the moment!?

I long suspect that no. Teens today think that a question is an insult. They think that eye rolls are insults. They think that asking questions, regular questions, or telling you to look at something, is a fucking insult. It is not. It’s just a fucking question or a direction to look at something, that’s pretty much all it fucking is! You see the Kardashiwhogivesashits point at the camera man going, “Ugh, look at your ankles, you’ve got weird ankles!” Well, I wouldn’t put it past them to try something stupid like that. Because in the age is fuck headed ass monkeys, there are no bigger fuck headed ass monkeys like some of the teens or young adults on twitter i get to put up with.

Another great example is when I tweet something that i believe in, and then you have a fucker that constantly, at every possible moment in fucking time, decides to reply with some stupid shit! Example:


Today is going well!

Reply by @fuckfacemcgregtard

Yeah, but I’m going to jail!

My initial response used to be: Well, okay then. Still a nice day.

My response now is: You did something to deserve it you stupid shit bag!

Look, the process for all forward growth is conflict. Without conflict, competition, and survival of the fittest, we wouldn’t have good people and shit heels. If you’re a good person, good for you, I already like you. If you’re a shit heel, go fuck yourself, never blemish my day with your very shadow, ya shady as fuck idiot. God damned… feels good to get this off my chest.

Stupid thought of the day.

I have too many places to write…. I feel somewhat trapped by the number of corners or interruptions that prevent me from accomplishing my goals. I don’t give a fuck about what others have to say in regards to what I post, as I’m pretty used to getting ignored on one level or another. Seems pretty sad when you think about it, but, hey, there it is. I’m like a silent voice, no one really cares what I have to say, and the only way they are able to relate to me is if someone else says something horrid first. I guess that’s what I anted to get out of the way, nothing particularly exciting, just another paste in the wind so to speak. It might sound like pure dumbassery, but that’s reality.
It’s not fun, it’s not great. It kinda sucks, and it’s filled to the brim with people who would see you torn down because of some unforeseen sadness in their own life, or because they think its funny.. Always stay strong, no matter what the odds are. don’t pay too much attention to the outside world, because once you do, you end up figuring out that it’s mostly just bullshit and lies. I’m not trying to be an idiot here, just putting my thoughts out into the void. It’s a strange bit of love here and there that makes sense most days.
But, then again, who the hell am I to say what to do with your life? go out, make mistakes, bad choices, and live life like no tomorrow. Easier said than done.

ooooooooooog. b. er. booooooooger.

i know ive said this before, and to me…. this is the pits. when you have friends that surprisingly enough… why cant i conetrate on the writing of this blog? oh yeah, im somewhat overly drunk, so much so that over at davids house, i fucking passedo ut on the floor, for a good ten or fifteen minutes, visiosly ate around two peicese of chicken to fill my apptite, threw up twice, and then tried to beat some one at halo 3…. to say the least, im not that sucsessfull when it comes to gaming or flirting. in fact, not to bag on myself… but my arms hurting a hell of a lot more since i began typing up this thing. what the hells the matter with me?

to be perfectly honest with you all, mr. plan out my revenge scheme over a period of years, pretty much scared the bejesus out of me while simultaneosly trying to get my self confedence going. way to go and bright idea mr. dude. may you go far in the mattters of self perpetuating the idealistic self.

to begin my random freak out session, which i do feel was messecary, or maybe it wasnt. my drunk mind is still trying to fit the peices together. he began about telling me a true story, which i will not relate, because i will not tell a lie, and because my mind is obviosly too wasted to try and lie at the moment. needless to say, i take too long to get to the point. i passed out on the floor… which is an interesting story in itself. being one of loud mouthed virue when ever im a bit over annoyed with myself, i predomintly flicked mike in the back of the head. who mike is, and what his relation to me is, i will never tell… mainly to save the face of that particular friend. after he made a crack about megans law andp utting me in it. which too my disliking, proceeded to do the afore mentioned flicking of the back of the head.

when we got to the house, i was over eager to get the drinking punishment out of the way. and much to my surprise… or unsurprise i decided to drink up and eat a peice of bread till i threw up. that was a punishment decided by mr. revenge me not. or regret ever typing this.. who ever that was. i was well innebriated within a good hour to two hours and proceeded to throw up again… and again… and spome what of a third time. for somereason, barfing up liqour is a pretty good sign of my being pretty damned drunk. lets see what else i can remember. oh yeah… the arguments…

then came the process of me shouting out practicly, every single thought that came to mind, from midgets tap dancing in glow in the dark sandels to something even more slightly disturbing.
then fact that i mistakenly said penis coloda… yes… read it again if you want. it wont change that fact.

penis colada. laugh it up while you can. it only gets worse… or funnier depending on which side of the experience you were on. mind you, this was around twi hours into the venture. there were questions about my sexuality, which btw, im straight, i have seen a womans…parts, and i am still a virgin. i have not had sex… and thats all im willing to point out. there were questions about a dream i had a while back, and questions about norwalk, and also questionability about my skills as a gamer. needless to say after the fourth kill of my oppenent, i proceeded to commit suicide and run towards my oppenet drunkenly while he happily decided to frag my ass. over and over and over and over… repeat that sixteen more times and there youll have my only gaming experience. laughable…aint it?

now youll have to understand that these events are out of order for a reason. that i cant really remember the order they happened in, and that my drunken stupor will add questionability to whether or not these events actualy happened. to your surprise and mine… yes… yes they did.

and each time after the throwing up outside on the front yard, which took around thirty seconds each, i proceeded to knock the crap out of both the punching bag and the punching bob. which btw, looks almost like a pissed off, over roided mr. rogers. “do ya want ta be my neighbor?” no. at this point in time, no i do not want to be your neighbor. “sir touch kids a lot.”

on that point, i was on the excorcise machine for the next ten minuts while i proceeded to argue pointlessly about what and why certain things happened. this is the fun part as sean will tell you.

then i passed out.

no really, i did, first i thought i was tired, then i leaned a little to the right, more to the right, then up to the middle again, then to the left, little more to the left, then off the machine i went, rock hard, passedo ut onto the floor. mind you, the lights were out, and someone was home. though they forgot to lock the door and someone robber the place of all sensability. but they did turn on the lights afterwards. there name?

mr. b vitamen. yep. i have had two or six different drinks. they are. conyack, vodka, conyack and vodka, conyack, vodka and cranberry concentrate. water, bread. (why that counts as a concentrate ill never know.) bread and water, cranbery concentrate and vodka with no tastable vodka in it. craberry concentrate and heavy vodka and concentrate with very tastable visual result, in my throwing up a third time. and quite possibly more embarrasingly enough …they got me on the phone.

you can tell at this point in the blog i have VERY, VERY good friends right? good thing they didnt have me call up sarah… or else shit wouldve hit the fan. instead…. they called brain up to help wake me my ass up. then… you laugh now.. as well as i… but it gets better. ha! lol.

they had me talk to brian…yep. loads of fun there. lol… not so much. sad faces all around.

hold on… need to check on something (five to ten minutes later)alll righty then, my relaible readers… cause thats what your are. shall we continue? yes… we shall.

where was i? oh yeah, then timing and perceptions of the overly drunk. me. lol. well, what can i say? damned if i do, damned if i dont right.? fivem inutes later and being teabagged with a bag of tomatoes… hopefully. and attempting to sock said bag of tomoatoes… hopefully. they proceeded to hold each of my arms and carry me out of the house… which was never succefull. they got tired and ifelt to the cold sting of time and tile on my face. i was zombie like, moaning and groaing till my hearts content of the wonder twins porwer activating. form of… a bucket of water… form of… a polar bear? who knows now a days.

other then the slightly disturbing fact that both me and his brother are walking the same path. overly angery and slightly disturbing the wolrd in our own unique ways. id say me and the bro are consiquently like luke a darth vader. father and son… only not… father and son. nor will we rule the universe together. like i said, im a pit wasted… or in the worlds of the almightly sean… fucked up. or emt.. or esl. or subcaptioned. so now you can.. if your deaf or hard of hear, read everythingthing im saying in the form of japanese subtitles.

what else happened? nothing that i CAN remember. anything thath appened tonight, i wrote down. anything that might be remembered tonight… ill write down later. till then my little bros and hoes. the farmer type. “work for my money billy- joe- tyson!” “yes mr. cornhedge!”

i bid you… a do wop. a do wop…. boop ity boop do wop. fiftyies style bitches! lol. peace and out!

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