The last two days have been a strange ride.  I received a comment on one of my blog posts with a link to another web site.  On the site, was a very long post rebutting a post that I had written on this site (and have since taken down).  The post was not only disagreeing with my post, but also making some jumps about who I am as a pastor.  I was accused of not knowing who they were as a site and as a group, even though later on in the post they comment on how I have used one of their products and did not like it.  I was actually fine with the disagreement with my words, but some of the personal jumps did hurt a bit.  The comments were not coming from a place of love or debate, but rather to use me as a whipping boy for their cause.  They took parts of posts out of context and used others saying how I had a skewed view of the Bible, even though I was using examples out of the Bible to prove a point. The point being that the definition of marriage had changed from the Old Testament to the New Testament and that even Paul had some things to say on marriage in 1st Corinthians (read 1st Corinthians 7:8-9 and 29-35 specifically) that some might read as odd and just might raise questions about what Paul is asking of Christians.  But, in their eyes, I was attacking marriage by pointing out verses in the Bible that did not fit a certain box.

The following day, I had a note, on the administrative side of this blog, that another website was linking back to my blog.  I decided to check it out.  Turns out, one of my entire posts was re-printed with some comments underneath by the blog author.  According to plagiarism.org, a website devoted to the topic of plagiarism and internet plagiarism, one of the definitions of plagiarism is “copying so many words or ideas from a source that it makes up the majority of your work, whether you give credit or not.”  Since my blog post made up the majority of his post, I asked him to remove it and stated he never asked my permission to use the post.  To this independent Lutheran pastor’s credit he did, but then started making some personal attacks about my “grasp of the English language” because I had some spelling errors on my site.  I replied to his blog with kindness, making a joke at the end with the universal symbol of a joke- namely “:-).”  Well, my comment became fodder for a new post on his website where he continued to make fun of me personally and my typos.

Both sites were accusing and judgmental in what they wrote.  I could take a little ribbing and a little harsh judgment though, after all I am a big boy and it hasn’t been the first time.  The comments on my blog then started rolling in.  Some were very kind and challenged me to read the book that I was commenting about.  I actually appreciated those because they were civil.  Others were not so kind though.  I was told that I was “ruining the church,” “a horrible pastor,” “going to burn in hell,” and other comments along those lines some I choose not to print because of the nastiness of the tone.

I minister to a lot of people who were hurt by previous churches they attended (as well as new Christians, but that is besides the point).  They often bring up that a reason they left is because of the judgment they have gotten by their fellow Christians and sometimes from their pastors.  In moments that they needed to hear a word of love from Christ through another Christian, they got the hammer of the law.  Some knew they had already sinned and were looking for that word of forgiveness from the cross of Christ, but told me how they were made to feel worse for their sins and felt hopeless and that they were unforgiven.  Here is a recent example (obviously vague with some details changed): A friend introduced a couple to me who were looking to get married.  They were not Lutheran and were part of a non-denominational church.  They lived together before they were married and asked their pastor to marry them.  They were feeling guilty about living together and had moved temporarily into separate apartments.  The pastor turned them down because they lived together and had pre-marital sex.  So, here was the couple looking to get married to “make things right,” but were told they couldn’t do this because they had already sinned.  Sadly, I have heard many stories like this one and believe me when I write that this is one of the tamer ones that I have heard.

The point is that Christians have an extremely bad stigma on their name which is transferred to Christ’s name by some people.  Through our actions and words, they feel that this is what Christ teaches Christians to be.  They look at the Bible as something that is meant to keep people down rather than to give them hope because after all they hear the Bible being used to justify hateful and hate filled actions.  They know that Christians should be about love, but rarely show it to the people sitting in front of them.

One of the many compliments I receive is that I am not like other Christians they have met.  They say that I show and live grace, I proclaim Christ, and admit that I mess up and am not perfect.  They know I get passionate about things and know that theology based on law and based on keeping others down gets me very stirred up and that I will fight for grace tooth and nail even if it comes out as a criticism towards a person’s theology (I try not to attack the person).  People thank me for bringing them back to a faith filled place, even though I will always point to the Holy Spirit rather than at myself.

So, it saddens me to see this other side of Christianity (and Christians) come to my doorstep from strangers who state that they know the love of Christ, but then send hate filled words my way or make fun of me because I make mistakes.  It saddens me that there are many people who have been hurt by words spoken from pastors and members of congregations.  It saddens me that there is another side to Christians that is unloving and harshly judgmental.  Can we rid ourselves of this other side?  Are we willing to?

This is why the West is losing to islamism.  We let our tolerance go too far.  We allow a fanatic to come to our shores and preach a religion created by a war-mongering, pedophilic illiterate, a religion that preaches hate, murder, domination, submission to islam with the only alternative being death, yet if we were to go to a muslim country and preach a TRUE religion of peace, they would not tolerate us for an instant.  We would be imprisoned, and in many cases stoned or executed in some other way.

Qaddafi to Italian Women: Convert

November 16, 2009 – 2:42 PM | by: Greg Burke

‘Birther’ stories led to Lou Dobbs’ resignation
Sources say CNN dispute over Obama’s eligibility was ‘beginning of the end’

Article: WorldNetDaily

Lou Dobbs’ refusal to drop “birther” stories about challenges to President Obama’s constitutional eligibility to hold office was a major source of contention with CNN management, leading the unconventional anchor to walk away from the network and more than $9 million, according to the New York Post.

Dobbs, known for his strong stand against illegal immigration, surprised his loyal viewers Wednesday night by announcing his resignation and offering no indication of his next move.

The Post, citing anonymous sources, said the beginning of the end of a long-simmering dispute came in July, when CNN President Jonathan Klein told Dobbs’ staff in a memo to stop reporting on lawsuits that demand Obama produce evidence he’s a natural-born American citizen, as required by the Constitution.

“It seems this story is dead because anyone who still is not convinced doesn’t really have a legitimate beef,“ Klein’s memo said.

Oh yeah? How about someone who spends hundreds of thousands dollars to cover up the truth of their past… is that legitimate beef’? Just because the libtards refuse to accept and acknowledge that there IS a difference between a short form and a long form birth certificate, and the fact that Hawai’i will issue birth certificates to children who were NOT born in Hawai’i doesn’t make the concerns of anyone questioning BHussein, the half-breed Muslim, and his eligibility. What’s so difficult and unrealistic about providing actual proof? I even heard one moron say that “high resolution photographs” of a document should be proof enough. Typical libtard thinking.

A source told the Post Klein’s move incensed Dobbs.

“They have been talking pretty regularly since then,” the source said. “And it’s been pretty bad.”

Dobbs, who also hosts a nationally syndicated radio show, told his radio audience in July that “even though I said I believe the president is a citizen of the United States, I don’t understand why he shouldn’t produce a birth certificate. My God, you’re talking about the third rail of American journalism, baby! That’s it. I’m not going to back off.”

The Post said CNN had long been asking Dobbs to “tone down his harsh rhetoric” on issues such as immigration.

Selective journalism. Pick and choose. Liberal media bias at it’s finest. The way I see it; if it’s an issue that touches ANYONE – it’s newsworthy. But, again. CNN caters to the liberals; therefore they have to dumb their “reports” down and only talk about whatever they think will bring in the ratings. (which aren’t so hot to begin with…)

Sources said CNN likely would not have renewed Dobbs’ contract in 2011, and the newsman’s agent told Klein that since both parties were unhappy, it would be best to release him now.

A television insider told the Post Dobbs was “polluting” the brand of the oldest cable news network, which is trying to position itself between the left-leaning MSNBC and conservative Fox News Channel.

A Fox News Channel spokeswoman told the Post her network wasn’t interested in hiring Dobbs.

Veteran Washington political correspondent John King will take over Dobbs’ 7 p.m. slot, CNN announced.

As WND reported, Dobbs told his radio audience Oct. 26 a gunshot was fired into his home after a series of threatening phone calls.

Dobbs said advocacy groups that support illegal aliens and have pressed for him to be fired “have created an atmosphere and have been unrelenting in their propaganda.”

Outspoken opponents of Dobbs include the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Anti-Defamation League, the National Council of La Raza, Internet media watchdog Media Matters and Geraldo Rivera of Fox News.

In his daily column today, WND CEO and Editor Joseph Farah calls Dobbs a “real newsman” whose departure from CNN after 30 years “leaves the network in a state of programming irrelevancy.”

“What makes Lou Dobbs so special,” Farah writes, “is his independence and fearlessness. Dobbs clearly set his own agenda. He had no interest in the ‘conventional wisdom’ of his industry. Dobbs thinks like a real American newsman – a throwback to an age when journalists actually believed they were watchdogs of government and asked tough questions in the interests of the people.“

It’s been a while since I have posted, but I really need to write about the most recent, predictable outrage displayed by right-wing pundits in response to President Obama’s trip to Asia.

The first thing that I must say is, “Not this shit again.”  Earlier this year, the President visited Saudi Arabia, and while meeting King Abdullah, there is a photo of a bow.  The right-wing crazies were incensed.  They believed that it showed weakness, even though it is not customary in that culture to bow before the King.  Saudis do not even bow to their King, so it hardly makes sense that there was a conscious bow by an American President.  It doesn’t matter, though.  There was a photo at some angle that made it look as though the President was subordinating himself to the Saudi King.  That’s all the right-wing television and radio pundits need in the overt attempt to weaken and harm President Obama.  They talked about it for weeks and weeks and weeks.

This weekend has created a reawakening for outrage toward the President for bowing.  While in Japan, the President bowed to the Japanese Emperor Akihito during a meeting.  This time he clearly bowed, and rightly so.  The custom in Japan is to bow, and that is for everyone, not just civilians to Emperors or Kings.  The custom here, in the United States, is to shake hands.  But customs and protocol mean little to the President’s most vociferous critics.  They are having a panty-wetting contest about what they perceive as weakness.  Most sane individuals would call it being a respectful guest in an allied country, but sanity is not the strength of the right-wing or the Republican Party.

This is just further evidence of the Obama Derangement Syndrome.  Our President can do nothing satisfactory for these people, not because he’s a screw-up like our previous President, but because they are so bitter and petty.  Everyday, these blowhards find something insignificant to attack, but all they are doing is showing themselves for what they truly are–HATERS.  They stay up late at night, ignoring their spouses and children, thinking of the outrage du jour (yes, “du jour” is French for “of the day,” which means that I must hate America).

I really try to ignore this nonsense, but it’s becoming far too frequent.  All of this hate toward our President is becoming tiresome.  If anyone dared, during the Bush Administration, to criticize the President while he was overseas, they would be labeled by these same right-wing clowns as a traitor, or un-American.  It’s funny how those things change after a single election, but there it is, and it’s not going to end anytime soon.  That’s unfortunate.  Who will stand up, and call this b.s. for what it is–nonsense.

For those Obama-haters out there; remember this?  Where was the outrage back then?

I hate you

I really do

Nothing I ever speak could be more true

You lie to me

tear me down

I hide these pains

Only show a frown

How much more can I take

How much more before I break

All my love has been taken

My once full heart is broke from breaking

So the time has come to say goodbye

No energy left, no strength to try

If I was to die now

I would be nothing but a shell

And as the bible states

A soulless body is only welcomed by

Hell

-Anonymous

]]> http://findingwanda.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/dead-2/ Mon, 16 Nov 2009 23:27:17 +0000 girl4him http://findingwanda.wordpress.com/2009/11/17/dead-2/

Good News or Bad News? Good News? Okay.

Good News:

1. I’m dying my hair tomorrow and I’m gonna make it fucking awesome red. They’ll be peekaboo highlights, so shocks of Matt red. :score:

Edit: just heard John and Karen talking. No red. FML.

2. Um…

2. oh! Skipping school on Friday.

3. Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday (early, I know)

4. Um…

5. Yeah, that didn’t last long.

Bad News.

1. Karen, as predicted, suddenly realised she didn’t mean it.

Sidenote: how fucking mean is it to tell your kid she can go to Wembley Fucking Stadium to see the most amazing band live in one of the most famous venues ever in the ENGLAND with her two best friends and see London and everything, and then say, “Oh, well, I didn’t really mean it, I wasn’t thinking.”

I’ve just given up completely on being mad at her. The sadness I’m experiencing right now is topping so many other sad things that have ever happened to me. It’s overwhelming it’s barely hit me, like I’m standing on top of a waterfall. I don’t know.

Yeah, I can wait for Muse to come here for the US Tour, but I’ll still have missed Wembley. Wembley has a personal meaning to me, and that in addition to the fact that it’s MUSE AT WEMBLEY FUCKING STADIUM just makes it all the worse.

My minor compensation is that I’ll make John and Karen pay for a minimum of five gigs on the US Tour.

God, I hate my life.

Cheers,

Wanda

If you are

a) Below the age of 5

b) A gardener, nurse, or working in a similarly fashion-desensitized environment

c) Mentally retarded

…you may wear Crocs, with my blessing.

If you are not, take them off right now.

You are not “funky.”

You are not “eschewing  conventional fashion.”

You are not “just wearing them because they’re really comfortable.”

You are a grown person wearing shoes that even Muppets would decline because they’re so lame. You have, on your feet, the footwear equivalent of the 1985 Yugo.

And let’s face it, anything that can be “accessorized” probably shouldn’t be. For example:

Cell phones. Those Sanrio charms and animal print cases just broadcast the fact that you don’t have a personality. In order to get attention, you need tiny kittens and swaravski crystals. And that’s not cute – it’s sad.

Cars. I defy you to add a bumper sticker to your car that makes it look better. Just like a tattoo, a bumper sticker on a car immediately decreases my respect for the owner, regardless of the fact that their child is an honor student and they heart their Boston terrier. See also: license plate covers and anything dangling from rear-view-mirrors (dreamcatchers, shrunken heads, graduation tassels: all tell me that you’re someone I will make fun of eventually).

Your house: Knick knacks. Picture frames. Artful displays of dried flowers. What else can we call these? “Things that piss me off when I have to dust.”

And, last but not least, Crocs. Case in point:

There are so many decent Crocs alternatives out there (flip flops, real clogs, hacking one’s feet off), it baffles me that the company actually made a profit for a while. Oh, not for long though. I hope the fact of the company’s bankruptcy bring you as much joy as it brought me.

Photos courtesy of Joe Shlabotnik, Stefan,

FUCK YOU.

(pardon me). i got so fucked up by racism to be honest. i couldn’t help to see them treating me very disrespectfully and so unfair. i don’t know how much i have said word”unfair” since the time when i got back to school in Ellon. and in almost all the place i worked. i fucked up because every time i try to fight, i’m alone and lose. oh yes i fought, and yes i lost, i got sacked. it’s like whether you fight or you die.

can you try to know me before you judge me by my skin colour? for just a little bit thought before i have all my pride to say i fucking hate you, racists. AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind, then look a bit harder
Cause we’re so uninspired, so sick and tired, of all the hatred you harbour
So you say it’s not OK to be gay, well I think you’re just evil
You’re just some racist, who can’t tie my laces
Your point of view is medieval

Do you get, do you get a little kick out of being small-minded?
You want to be like your father, it’s approval you’re after
Well that’s not how you find it
Do you, do you really enjoy living a life that’s so hateful?
Cause there’s a hole where your soul should be
You’re losing control a bit
And it’s really distasteful

You say you think we need to go to war
Well you’re already in one
Cause it’s people like you
That need to get slew
No one wants your opinion

Fuck you (fuck you)
Fuck you very very much
Cause we hate what you do and we hate your whole crew
So please don’t stay in touch
Fuck you (fuck you)
Fuck you very very much
Cause your words don’t translate and it’s getting quite late
So please don’t stay in touch

(Lily Allen-Fuck You)

With the idea of men. They honestly believe they are special … different somehow than the rest. And I test them on it. And they fail … miserably. My friend said, “sexcapades.” And I laughed. Because when it comes down to it, I’m not having sex … at all. With anyone. But men don’t believe that.

I’ve perhaps become too jaded. Or hopefully it’s just more discerning. I go out. And I drink. And so one would assume … but be careful about those assumptions.

And don’t underestimate me.

I’m always paying attention … even when you believe I’m not. And at the end of the night, I still operate under my own terms. My own bizarre sense of logic.

And I wake up in the morning … alone. And I am soooo perfectly OK with that.

Were I not, hell, I could change it. But not today … not today.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire.”

–Kurt Tucholsky

via quotewhore.

hmm…now,ive been surrounded to the feeling of insecure…
i keep on thinking i might losing my boyfie…we’ve been apart from each other more than 6 months…i love this relationship but what could i do?..maybe it juz me…but i really feel he will leave me..stupid much!…or it bcz im having my pms…shit!..m so hating this feeling…sometimes i feel i wanna cry without no reason…angry as well…n it’s a terrible mood swing…ohh…i hate uncertainties…

My grandfather, L Hawthorne.

This past Veterans Day gave me a bit of an escape. No thinking of medical appointments or complicated medical procedures. The wonderful parades, the moving speeches and the beautiful ceremonies allowed Lisa and me to focus my attention on and remember those who have sacrificed for this great country of ours. I had the privilege of serving in the United States Air Force as a Security Policeman from 1980 to 1984. But I’ve always felt there was a special status for those who have faced battle in service of our country. They are true heroes.

And as the flags waved, I thought of my grandfather—a World War II veteran—who died in 1992. This year, my story about my grandfather’s influence on my life, titled “Well, I’ve Had A Plenty” was published in the book My Dad is My Hero: Tributes to the Men Who Gave Us Life, Love, and Driving Lessons.

When I was young, my father abandoned the family and we were left without a place to stay. My grandfather would be that all-important positive male role-model that helped salvage my childhood. My story was a tribute to him.

He was born in the small Louisiana town of Lillie in 1922 as L Hawthorne. He was the only person I’d ever known who had a single letter for a name. When I was young, I asked him where it came from.

When he was born, a man in the parish decided on his name. And even though his parents may not have liked it, the times would not allow them to object or change it. It was the segregated South. His parents were black. The man was white.

“Larry,” he said calmly, “in those days, when a white man named you, you stayed named.”

I was in my militant teen years at the time, so I found it infuriating. He, on the on the other hand, seemed devoid of anger or bitterness.

“Baby,” he said calmly, “that’s just the way things was.” Noticing his demeanor had calmed me.

During the war, he served in the United States Navy in the Pacific. When it ended, he moved to San Diego with my grandmother—Moma—and my six-month old mother. He worked a variety of odd jobs—including janitorial—to support his family.

“If you’re going to have a family,” he would say about that period, “you do whatever you have to do to take care of your family.”

Finally, he landed a job with the City of San Diego in 1947—not an easy feat back in those days. He was never late and rarely sick. He faithfully did his part to repair the worn streets of the city for thirty-one years.

When I left the Air Force, I lived with them as I transitioned back to civilian life. Not only did I get my fill of those delicious sweet potato pies he baked so well, I also got to see my grandparents’ relationship up-close. After so many decades, they still seemed to have the love and respect for one another that was as strong as any I’d seen. Even after he retired—and Moma continued to work—he would get up early in the morning and make her a pot of coffee just so it would be ready when she needed it. I was amazed at his thoughtfulness.

But my grandfather always cautioned me that he was not a perfect man. He never let me forget that he had made his share of mistakes. As a kid, I never believed him. He always seemed to me to be as square as they came.

But having lived life, I understand what he meant. No, he wasn’t perfect. Yes, he probably had made his mistakes. But that only made me admire him even more. As a writer, I know a character with flaws who overcomes adversity is much fuller than one without them. It also let me know that just because you find yourself in a tough situation doesn’t mean you just give in to the dark side. It doesn’t mean you just quit or give up. It means you have to work even harder. It amplifies the necessity for doing the right thing.

For him, his faith was his guiding light. He wasn’t one to recite scriptures or preach you sermons. His life was his sermon. Whether you needed a ride to church or the doctor, he was there. There was many a time when we had to scoot over to make room for a needy traveler. And no matter how many times they offered my grandparents money, it was politely waved off. They felt their pay would come at a later time.

He was a member of his church for over fifty years, where he eventually served on the Board of Trustees and was instrumental in helping the church acquire land in the surrounding inner city neighborhood to expand its old facilities. It became a cornerstone in the community.

In his later years, he developed heart problems. I remember him telling me during one of his many hospital stays, that he didn’t want to waste away in the bed. He said, “I want the Lord to take me at church.”

God must have of felt him worthy of such an honor because he granted him his wish. He died at the church he had served so faithfully and loved so much. It was at a church celebration. Fittingly, he was singing one of his favorite hymns.

At his funeral—which lasted almost five hours—condolences came in from all parts of the country. I heard stories that went back to childhood. Even then-Governor Pete Wilson’s office, who was mayor of San Diego when I was a kid, showed their respects. My grandfather spent the better part of his seventy years on this Earth helping folks and they traveled from all over the country to pay their respects to this simple working class man.

And of course, my grandmother was presented with the flag of this country that he so proudly defended.

So on Veterans Day—as I do on so many other days—I thought of my grandfather. I contemplated what he might think of me. Would he be proud of what I’ve accomplished in my life? Would he be satisfied with how I’ve faced the adversities in my life? Would he be proud of how I was taking care of my wife when she can’t always take care of herself?

If I could be half the man he was, I would truly be a great man. Of course, I’d better brush up on my sweet potato pie baking skills.

Monday

PRaP 11-15-2009

“Lines In The Sand”

Where do you draw the line?  When Jesus was standing with the woman that was about to be stoned for her sin what is it that Jesus wrote in the sand?  Did He draw a line?  I know what He said to them because it is written:

John 8:7
But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”
John 8:6-8 (in Context) John 8 (Whole Chapter)

I want to believe that Jesus was writing each one of their sins in that sand and when they all realized that He was speaking to them they all began to leave one by one knowing that they had no right to be standing there with a stone in hand.

Moms and dads be very careful of your little ones because there are many out there that are ready to cast stones at your children even if they are just in play time at the play grounds.  A seemingly innocent action by your child can and will be considered evil and you will be dragged to the courts and your children will be labeled a bad kid.  Long gone are the days of innocent play on the playgrounds of America and maybe the world.  Your children are not allowed to use their imagination in the public arena unless you are a movie idol and there has been a script written.  It is even worse when there are different colors on the same playground.  We raise our children to be color blind yet they are persecuted daily for the color or lack thereof of their skin.  The great Martin Luther King must be rolling in his grave to see many of his people committing the crimes of racism that he fought and died to eliminate.  Where do we draw the line?  Well, we aren’t Jesus Christ so to draw that line would not be right.  That line can only be drawn and upheld by Christ alone.  Through Christ alone can these types of things be fixed to where our children can play and use their God given imaginations in the public arena so that they can grow and learn without fear of someone carrying them off to court because of a child’s choice.  Will Jesus Christ use us to draw that line?  Likely the answer is yes but you better be absolutely sure that you are on the side of Jesus Christ when you do because you will be in the fight of your life.

John 8

Jesus Bless you,

Pastor Steve

Well, guess i wont completely stop ranting about work until i really get the F out of here.
Since my tender, and with reference to my contract, my last day would be 18th November 2009.
Which is,in 2 days time.

BUT, my boss literally begged me to stay till Xmas until they get a replacement. And guess what? I pitied them. i ACTUALLY pitied them. This is the problem when u get too soft you know? Your future crumbled.
I’m stuck in between my own future and happiness and my dad’s workload. Yeah he is my colleague. (Whole office doesnt know though. We are like in a spy movie.) So apparently, i told him i am able to HELP them till Novemebr 30. Which is in 2 weeks. Im sure i can handle 2 weeks right? Besides, they are paying me.

Well okay. I shall start counting down.

Narrated Abu Huraira:

Allah’s Apostle said, ‘Beware of suspicion, for it is the worst of false tales and don’t look for the other’s faults and don’t spy and don’t hate each other, and don’t desert (cut your relations with) one another O Allah’s slaves, be brothers!” (See Hadith No. 90)

Zalima Yara pa ma zra oseza

Makhi la ma raza che na de venam

zama da zra hagha zaara Zakhmoona

taza she vene she che ode vinam

broken-heart (Maat Zra)

No, this blog isn’t about me polishing my helmet.

A lot of you don’t know this, but the Dirty Young Man is a big fan of do-it-yourself projects.  I enjoy occasionally watching HGTV for 6 hours every now and then, and if I can do something myself and not have to give some random day-laborer some money, I will.  And since I have some hard-earned knowledge that others don’t have (or want), I’ve decided to share some of it with all of you so that you can do-the-DYM-way-yourself.

Welcome to the Dirty Young How-To Guide.  Enjoy!

HOW TO… dominate Happy Hour!

What you’ll need: about 20 bucks; time; the ability to chug-a-lug; a friend.

Step 1:  Arrive early – get there about 5 minutes before Happy Hour actually begins so that you can mentally prepare yourself.  Sure, it’ll just be you guys and all of the drunks, but guess what – you are one of the drunks!

Step 2:  Order two drinks at once.  Chug one immediately, whether it’s frozen, a shot, a quart, or tastes like camel piss.  Remember – you are on the clock, so you need to get that head swimming early or you’re gonna end up being that dumb sunnavabitch who didn’t get real drunk until 1 hour and 4 $10 drinks after the happiness ended.  Drink the other drink twice as quick.

Step 3: Repeat Step 2.

Step 4: Repeat Step 3.

Step 5: Excuse yourself to the bathroom… but not before telling your friend to buy you another drink on his tab.  No, it doesn’t make sense at all, but he should be drunk enough right now to do it – and not remember later.

Step 6: Puke and/or piss.  Do one or both, whichever you’re felt led to, whether you think you need to or not.  I promise you’ll feel better.

Step 7: Back to the table, down you’re drink, distract your friend and down his too, get the check, then bounce.  You have now dominated Happy Hour.  And no, I have no idea how you are supposed to get home.

HOW TO… “shock” a girl!

What you’ll need: a freaky and/or drunk girl (drunken freak works best); the ability to plan a sneak attack better than Japanese Emperor Hirohito; hand sanitizer.

Step 1: Find a freaky girl (easily identifiable by the craziness in their eyes that says “I want you to do something almost illegal to my cooch”) and try to get her drunk.  If she doesn’t drink, then she’s a faux-freak and you should try someone else.

Step 2: Get her home.  Or to a dark room.  Or a secluded alley. Or, hell, don’t get her anywhere if she’s a true freak.

Step 3:  Start giving her the knucklefuck.  You can obviously start with one, but for the true “shock” factor, you’re going to have to get index and bird in there.  For distraction purposes, you’re going to want and try and get vein deep in there.

Step 4: Now here’s the trick – this next parts going to have to be fast.  Get out of there, throw your pinky in your mouth and suck out like it’s literally finger-lickin’ good.  Get the two back in the pink and then get your Sonic on and throw that one in the stink quicker than the little Dutchboy in the dyke.

Step 5:  She might freak the fuck out – this is fine.  Just ride it out and guess what?  She’s gonna end up liking it.  Why?  Because if you followed Step 1 then you should be dealing with a bona fide freakaleak.

HOW TO… live with bipolar disorder!

What you’ll need: bipolar disorder; medication; alcohol; a good sense of humor.

Step 1: Be diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  It really isn’t as hard as it sounds – have some ups, have some downs, go to a therapist, be referred to a psychiatrist, take the test and pass.  Now having bipolar disorder is a little more difficult.  I had a combination of chemical brain imbalances and semi-traumatic events in my life over the course of about 4 months – VOILA, bipolar disorder.

Step 2:  Now you might feel bummed, but you really shouldn’t.  Sure, you have a mental illness, and yes, people are going to look at you like you’re a psychotic, but the jokes on them.  You just take your meds for a while, and then either mix them with lots of alcohol or stop taking them for about a week and – BAM! – you’re having more fun than a pederast at a Wiggles concert.

Step 3:  Be sure and get back on the meds sooner rather than later.  You do not want to hit a trough after such a high wave.  Suicide is never fun except for… no, actually, never fun.

HOW TO… enjoy yourself while high!

What you’ll need: some dank; some fire; whatever you need to smoke it; a Totino’s pizza; at least one season of “South Park” on Netflix Instant Queue; a beer.

Step 1: Toke it up.  Use whatever you want – who am I to judge?  Before you light it up though, go ahead and unwrap that pizza and plate it – you might find it a little difficult later.  Also might want to go ahead and turn the instant queue on and find ”South Park”.

Step 2: Cook your pizza, but don’t follow the box directions – the oven is not your friend at this point.  You do not want to end up like that witch in Hansel and Gretel.  Throw it in the microwave for exactly 5:16.  It will cook throughly, be soggy as hell from grease, and taste better than a virgin on prom night… if that were real.

Step 3:  Sit your happy ass down in front of the tube and pick an episode.  You’re gonna want to go with a Towelie episode, but don’t, that’s much too obvious.  Anything from Season 6 is gold, and anything with Butters in the starring role is platinum.

Step 4:  Crack that brewski.  Do not chugalug (this is the only time you will hear that from me).  Savor the deliciousness of it, cause even it’s a Natty Light, it will taste like Megan Fox’s vag juice, which I can only assume is good.  Chill out, watch the show, and eventually you’ll fall asleep.  Don’t spill your beer though.

HOW TO… get a girl to hate you!

What you’ll need: a nice young lady; time; the absence of a soul.

Step 1: Get her to like you… a lot.  This sounds counterintuitive, but if she’s not too terribly interested, she’ll not be too terribly upset by your later actions.  So woo that bitch to begin with.

Step 2: Here’s where the fun starts.  You should have gotten her to really dig you by now.  Start setting up dates and then cancelling at the last minute.  Cite family events at first, then say you want to spend time with the guys, and finally just say you don’t feel like it anymore.  When she says, “that’s ok, I’ll come keep you company,” tell her that you’d actually like to be alone for a while – you need some you time.  In actuality, do whatever (or whoever) the fuck you want.

Step 3:  Start being nice again.  Do this for a week, and then dump her out of the blue, saying that you think you need more “experience” and that you might to like to “slay a few hood rats”.  She might cry, she’ll definitely be pissed, and you walk away.  But you are not done.

Step 4: Wait about 2 weeks.  Give old what’s-her-name a ring-a-ding and beg for her forgiveness, and ask for her back.  When you get her (cause you’ll get her) start being incredibly possessive and jealous.  Make sure you attack every time she gets a text or phone call with a “Who was that?  One of your boyfriends?”.  Keep this up until she finally dumps your sorry ass.

Step 5: Do the whole “baby come back” routine again.  It shouldn’t work unless she’s a goddamned idiot.  Wait a month.  Give her another out-of-the-blue call, asking if you can be friends, cause you need someone to talk to and she’s always been there for you.  Don’t give up til she says yes.

Step 6: Once you meet up to talk, start by bringing up any and every real or perceived slight against you by her.  When she gets mad, apologize (cry if you can) and tell her the only reason you say it is because you’re still in love with her.  Act like a complete pathetic loser, and go your separate ways again.  She hates you now.  Seriously.

HOW TO… take home a fattie.

What you’ll need: the ability to keep a straight face.

Step 1:  Tell her she’s cute.

Keep the Faith. Deuces.

You cannot even believe the long week I have had. It was a complete crazy train of chaos, anger, stress and a bitter struggle to find my voice when I am being attacked….. You know how people start talking to you and then they walk away while your still talking to them…. People do that to me a lot. It is crazy I am  like Hello I was trying to converse with you. And then there is the people that don’t really care they will act like they are listening but then they won’t respond at all. I am not socially awkward, at least not until now.

I feel like I am flung down the rabbit hole, and now Alice needs to find a best friend who actually cares. Around here though I don’t seem to find much of anyone. It annoys me cuz I am like “okay I totally listened to all the crap you just said and now you turn and walk away not caring to give me the same kind of courtesy I bestowed upon you. “
I feel beat down like chains are keeping me from holding my head high in the carefree sense that I normally have. Like I have someone right next to me that will trip me and kick me when I am down, just when I start going, taking two steps forward and six steps back.

To put it bluntly I am in a game of monopoly where everyone else is winning and I am constantly landing on the go to jail space. “Go to jail. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

Augh! I hate this feeling! Stress I hate stress!

I am, however working on my story. Eliora has almost nine pages (notebook paper at least) of story that will be added soon enough. Maybe more…

I would love to get it published, not just ebook published either. Though I have nothing against ebooks, I just have a lot of drive for paperback at least.  It is different from my normal stories, but I think with a little polish my little gem will shine.  It would be nice to have some feedback on it. I can take criticism…. I have developed a thick skin for it, and if someone doesn’t like it, it doesn’t really bother me.  Constructive criticism is something I can’t get enough of.  Be kind though. Let’s just keep in mind that what is uploaded so far is a rough draft. LOL

I now have two different versions of Caramelldansen on my mp3 player. The original Swedish version and the English version. Sadly I know the Swedish version better than the English, only because it was the first version I listened to so. I don’t know why I just love this song…. It is a song that gets me to shake off whatever is bothering me and just be a little crazy. LOL

Tired of this shit. The one on the left is bone bruising of my knee (I also managed to rip my ACL). The screen shot on the right is a lamprey eel that is living inside of me.

Asides from blowing my knee for the second time – this year – life is pretty incredible right now.

Except for the self-checkout at King Soopers, whoever invented it can go straight to hell. I need to stop using it when I’ve a basket full of produce. It makes me want to kick puppies, and I really like puppies.