This is a placeholder for a picture I found.

Make it rain.

If there is one thing I can't stand, it's foreigners. And xenophobia.

So once again I've let this blog thing slide like, well, anything you try to stick to an Italian's face. It's been too long blogspot. Things they are a changin.
Not really. I think the last posts were pretty much nonsense and did little to chronicle the typical day-to-day of my awesomely ballin and flossed-out life so this one will be much more diary-esque. These will be the stories that I share with my grandchildren, and by that I mean I will show this to them so I don't actually have to talk to them. By that time I will probably not be on speaking terms with their parents anyway.
In January I got out of the SI (and based on what everyone still there says my timing was pretty good) and went to the OR. It's basically a low-level management job; I'm kind of the catch-all supervisor for various groups of people while their real bosses are at home asleep. It's ompletely different than what I was doing before but so far I like it. I could do without the 50-odd hour weeks, but then again it's cold here and I have nothing else to do anyway. At least I'll have solid vacation money should I ever find somewhere to go. Thinking about taking a few shortish-long weekend trips; maybe a few days in China, hit Tokyo or something, wha eva. Still have to use a ton of FF miles before inflation hits them again.
The car is a work in progress and it should be back from 2 months in the shop on Tuesday afternoon. What sucks is that all it really needed was about one days worth of solid work but it seemed to have been dragged (drug?) out a bit, but I figure it can be parked in their garage just as well as it can in any other. I need to get it back soon though so I can put the hood pins on and put the new seat covers, cushions and most importantly the new top on it.
I just polished off my 5th large glass of tea and a huge powerbar thing so I have to run.

Dominos Cinnastix are delicious. And free. Squat. Rip.

Everything I'm about to type is completely boring and pointless.
As someone incapable of cooking anything more complex than sloppy joes or peanut butter on toast it has been a rough few weeks for me food-wise. In a typical week I will go out to my mom's on Sunday and get loaded up with a dickload of good food that gets me though Wednesday or so, at which point I transition to ham sandwiches on one of several different kinds of artisan bread. Buying expensive bread is my way of making a sandwich into a meal, just to kick things up a notch. BAM! Muphucka. Sometimes I go so far as to buy a bag of Sunchips and some juice, but typically it's just a lame-sandwich. That pattern was recently broken when I took a new job a few weeks ago and had to move to working during the day.
Too tired to drive to mom's I was forced to comb the internet for foods that could be prepared by someone else and then brought to me while still hot (I tried to find some place that would actually send over a temporary house boy to feed me but have so far come up short). What I did find was a coupon for a $6 large pizza and some free Cinnastix. Jackpot. Not normally one to go overboard with sweets or greasy stuff in general, I find myself unable to not buy and eat cinnastix multiple times per week. They are too F ing delicious. I would eat them all day every day if I could.
What sucks about this is that the schedule change combined with this garbage cold weather has made me lazy as hell and I've put on 7 or 8 pounds, which is a lot for me. I will go to the gym today though, since it goes without saying that girls don't like fat guys and it's almost spring break time. For someone.
Also, my eyes are bloodshot as a mofo but I promise I haven't been sitting around blowing trees all day. I'm not a hippie, I just need a nap. Buy me this shirt for Christmas: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://rlv.zcache.com/terrance_phillip_blood_rage_tshirt-p235640372742657902qw9y_400.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.zazzle.com/terrance_phillip_blood_rage_tshirt-235640372742657902&usg=__rX9IoAf1FCiQVgJNsGwyX1RjnhE=&h=400&w=400&sz=33&hl=en&start=2&um=1&tbnid=48GCAnrGL8E1xM:&tbnh=124&tbnw=124&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dterrance%2Band%2Bphillip%2Bblood%2Brage%26ndsp%3D21%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1

A brief tale of my encounter with a pathetic soul. AKA God this guy is a loser.

So he comes over the other day, and while I initially simply refused to open the door lest he try to come in, I was hours later dismayed upon exiting to find that he had simply taken to sitting in the bushes around my porch. Whether this was to hide or just feel more comfortable in the dirt I don't know, but anyway.
The stench of moldy teeth on his breath he approached until I, pinned into a corner, could no longer back away from this ragged husk of a man. Then it spoke: "Hey, I know we joke around about me being garbage but I think I finally realize that it wasn't a joke. I am trash and you are all good looking and popular and stuff. How can I turn my pathetic waste of a life around? All I want is to get off the meager government subsidized food rations and out of the section 8 housing the feds give me. I just want a chance to not suck so fucking badly at life. And a shower. Help me."
Now I'm always up for a challenge so I figured what the hell. I'll call it charity work and write it off I thought. I told him to come back in two days, and lacking a car or even money for the bus he returned to the bushes until he saw the mail man come twice (which considering we spoke on Friday afternoon meant he sat three days, what a dipshit). Turns out his Hello Kitty watch is analog and he couldn't read it, and it's also broken so even if he could he would always think its 2:30.
Once he brushed himself off and I turned the hose on him we took some patio furniture (which I later helped him fashion into a makeshift airplane so he could 'fly' home) into the yard and I laid out my plan for his 'future' such as it is.
"So, I've spent a solid 5 minutes thinking about your situation which I think is more than adequate given that any change for you would be an improvement. So, let's get to it. We'll start with your employment status. It's garbage. I was thinking that perhaps we could transition you from your current duty as the guy who cleans the grease traps at Capt D's into a more upwardly mobile position that better utilizes your admittedly limited skill set. Sales seems like a good fit and as it so happens while at Kroger the other day I overheard the manager talking about hiring Spanish speakers to stock the shelves at 3 am. I immediately thought of you. After reviewing your 'qualifications' with the night clerk he decided that you were perhaps under-qualified for the position but he did offer up a spot cleaning out the grease traps, even suggesting they might pay you to do so. That sounded tempting but being who I am I threw him some money and he changed his mind. The job is yours. The $11.85 I used to bribe him was just some leftover shit I was going to throw into the sewer in front of some bums anyway, but to keep you honest it is going to come out of your first 18 paychecks. I'm not a charity after all.
"Now, about your appearance. You look like a sack full of mashed-up assholes. I'm thinking we can get you into something more modern and trendy like some Gant or Knights of the Round Table; is there still a Burlington Coat Factory around here? I think that might be going a bit upscale, but considering that on the rare occasion you actually wear a shirt you only have the bottom button closed it is a step in the right direction. For the last time, this is Nashville, not Staten Island, so leave that pursed-lip fake tan wifebeater spiked hair broseph guinea daego wop I-tie spic guido shit in the landfill where it belongs. And enough with the glow in the dark wolves howling shit already. Here, take these shirts and one of the suits I had custom made for me and just keep losing weight until they fit. You fat shit.
"Of course transportation is at present an issue for you and those like you but I think I have the answer: Stop carrying that mop with you everywhere or at least allow it to dry out completely before you try and get on the bus with it. I would think that should be obvious but clearly in your case I would be thinking incorrectly. You really are rubbish. Scoria. Waste. Shit. Man, your life sucks. Here, take this prepaid phone card in case you want to call the suicide hotline. It only has $400 on it though. Also, what happened to that 86 Fiesta I bought you? Surely you didn't sell it for coke. Are you still giving dudes cocaine in exchange for letting you fellate them? God. Like I told you after your 4th DUI I can't keep buying you vehicles every 6 months. Well, I can but you'll never learn if I do.
"But, back to the mission at hand. Doing in a matter of hours what you have somehow been unable to do during the whole of your shiftless life, I have secured you employment, cleaned you up, dressed you appropriately, given you access to mental health care and solved your motility problem. Please never come to my place of residence again or I will have to call your parole officer, and bear in mind there is a middle school less than 1,000 yards from here so it would be a double whammy for you.
After my presentation he just kind of sat there for a moment taking it all in. He looked around slack-jawed and a butterfly landed on his nose. I showed him how to read a map and helped him catch the bus to the soup kitchen, but rather than say thanks his last words as he drunkenly, unsteadily climbed the bus ramp were 'hey man, can I borrow a dollar?"
Trash through and through. Garbage.

Oy vey. Tomorrow my white ass heads out in search of adventure. Or not. I mean whatever, you know?

In about 10 hours or so my friend Russ and I will be getting on a jet plane (in coach with old peolpe, sweaty people and disgusting dirtbag children, yuck) and heading to Paris for the first stop on our 12-day trip to the wilds of Western Europe. Realizing that few people have ever been brave enough to venture into the untamed depths of France and England (our third stop), we are taking it upon ourselves to go forth and document the goings-on across the pond. We will probably be the first native English speakers to ever set foot in the UK, and as such we are prepared for some difficulties in communication. My plan is to speak ever louder while waving my hands in order to get my point across. In France I will be limited in that I will only have one free hand to wave, as the other will surely be locked in place pinching my nostrils shut, lest I gag on the tender Parisian aroma of sweat mixed with cigarettes that seems to saturate the air and permeate everything around.
I suppose I should take a step back and mention that the backwards countries of France and England will be the bookends to our primary destination: Iceland. Despite it's frigid name the weather is purported to be quite mild considering its location (Lat 65 N, Long 18 W), and at some point the savages inhabiting the island have been taught God's Christian United States English of Sacrament and Redemption as used in Churches of Christ, His one true tongue. Both of these things will make our time there more tolerable.
Anyway, I am taking a computer with me and plan to use this page as journal of sorts to keep track of all the awesome shit that I do that you people back home are not doing. I also have a rough outline of the credit card/ score stuff mostly done for anyone who might care, but it is going on the back burner for now. I'll leave you with a picture of some Alabama fans.

Holy balls.

The weather here has been pretty awesome lately, so awesome in fact that I haven't messed with this shit much. Once my laptop gets here I should be able to sit on the porch and write all day. I think I'm going to try and write a book, or at least see how much I can get done in one sitting. Anyway, until I can finish Greg's story between wankings enjoy the following pic I found somewhere online.

Friday night was not everything it could have been. But it was something, and sometimes that is better than nothing.

Friday got off to a late start. We didn't get Holy crap that chicken and those brownies I ate are about to explode out my ass. Gotta run... will finish lat