Showing posts with label random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random. Show all posts

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Thoughts Rolling Out of My Head



Sometimes the nicest people marry the total crazies and because they're nice, they'll stay with those crazies forever, which is just sad.


I wrote something over here in case you wanted to know. OK, 'write' is a strong word, but I posted a funny thing Ute send to me in an email months ago. Seriously, go leave a comment so people will think "who is this Memphis guy? He sure has a lot of friends!" I know it's a lie, but let's fool some people. C'mon, it's Christmas!


Not everyone who is hot realizes how hot they are. Take me, for instance ...


Ever notice how no one in the West ever protests when they stone men in the Middle East for adultery? More men have been stoned than women. Bet you didn't know 'cause Oprah TV didn't tell you. We need something like a male Oprah on Spike TV to yell about shit like this and demand that men march in the streets and burn stuff. I mean, we wouldn't do it because men just don't seem to get that excited about stuff, but it would still be cool to have a guy yelling on TV about it.


Antibiotics make you poop a lot, apparently.


According to the Wall Street Journal the only married women in the world are Pelosi and Clinton. All other women are called "Ms" regardless.


The truth will set you free. Or just piss you off. Sometimes you just don't want to know.


I'm freezing my ass off. Why does winter have to be so damn cold?

claire coffee
Does not belong in WalMart

Just saw a beautiful woman in Walmart. I told her "you shouldn't be here. All the attractive people shop at Target. Run! Run while you can!"


I'm the worlds laziest Jessica Biel stalker. She has to text me w where she is and what she's doing cause I won't follow her around.


I tried to love Jessica Biel but she got a restraining order to stop my loving her.


If everyone demanded peace, as John Lennon proposed, then we would fight over the definition of peace and who benefited more from it.


Didn't Pinnochio make you angry? Why couldn't he accept himself for who he truly was??


Jazz fusion is for people who are bored with music that sounds good.


In Cinderella II all the bitterness and rage poisons her marriage and the Prince becomes an alcoholic who avoids going home.


I can't believe Memphis lost the "most violent city" title to St Louis! Damn!


If Facebook suddenly ceased to exist would MySpace suddenly stop sucking?


In most US cities kids are taught to kick boys in the genitals. In Memphis kids are taught to turn their gun sideways and shoot them there.


Memphis kids get handguns and ammo for Christmas. Fuck Barbie.


There are so many things our Senate needs to be doing, yet they piss around w steroids and army sex instead.


Sitting in a doctor's waiting room is like playing Russian roulette with germs.

Monday, August 23, 2010

A Few Things


Borrowed from shamelesslysassy.com in case you can't read

To the shirtless dude walking with your back to traffic along the side of the highway, using the painted white line like a tightrope that you oddly felt the need to balance upon such that you were halfway in the road - I just wanted to let you know that if you don't value your life then don't expect the rest of us to. What we value is our cars so mostly we didn't kill you for fear of damaging the passenger sides of our own vehicles. Me, I drive an off-road 4x4 and what I value is that big side mirror which nearly removed your head from your shoulders. Clearly you weren't using it anyway, but I do use that mirror so I would have been quite annoyed if you hadn't ducked.



Didn't care then. Don't care now.
Let it go.

To our own Congress and the special prosecutor whose only job is to hunt down and burn at the stake any and all athletes who have ever been considered heroes while using steroids, growth hormone, caffeine pills, allergy medicine, pressure chambers, tampons, etc - we don't give a shit who cheated in an athletic event and we sure as hell don't want our federal government wasting our tax dollars investigating it. None of these people should have ever been called to testify before Congress in the first place. What we care about is assholes in positions of power and authority who stole billions of taxdollars from us through Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and called it "community reinvestment" and hate criminals demanding billions to promote misandry by spewing long-disproven feminist lies while under oath and RACKETS like that. Go investigate Barney Frank or Catharine MacKinnon if you need something to do. Roger Clemens was a dick on the pitcher's mound, but he's not a criminal of any significance and he's definitely not worth the tax dollars being wasted on this bullshit.


To my brother - dude, people are telling me about this crazy neighbor who takes dead squirrels and puts cigarettes in their paws before propping them up alongside the road. Seriously, I get the humor, but after one or two times it's just odd. Your neighbors think you're weird. And then I end up telling them you're my brother and they look at me horrified. What's up with that?


To my own stomach and intestines - would you please quit fucking with me? The toilet is not my favorite place, despite the photo on my blog profile. I'd like to go for a 5-mile run instead of several windsprints to the bathroom. So long as you can't keep anything puckered up properly inside there I am limited to jogs inside the gym on a boring treadmill with annoying crap on TV simply because bathrooms are close by. Cut it out.



The REAL L Word

To Hillary Clinton - we are hereby officially changing your name to Narcissa. You are without a doubt the most self-centered, unrealistic, unreasonable, hate-filled, sexist bigot the world has seen since ... well, since Nancy Pelosi. Even if the Supreme Court does shove gay marriage down America's throat I know you and Nancy-pants won't get married to each other simply because you could never decide who is the man of the relationship. I'd like to lock you both in a pilotless jet flying to Antarctica with little spy cameras mounted inside so we could all watch you beat each other to death before the jet runs out of gas and crashes. You are proof that severe personality disorders don't necessarily stand in the way of career success.



To lurkers who take my blog totally seriously - this is a blog, not a diary. People who meet me in person and call me "Naked Steve" are invariably disappointed to find that I do not go around calling people "cunt" in their faces and throwing things while farting and taking off my clothes. I began this blog as an exercise in writing, hoping my skills would improve. They didn't, but I quickly took note of all the comments and emails from people telling me how much they prefer to read "Angry Steve" ranting and raving far more than "thoughtful but boring Steve." I responded accordingly, as I prefer having readers to not. Sure, I'm the Beavis and Butthead of the blogworld, and Google barely pays me anything for the few ad clicks I get, but it beats watching TV and cursing at the idiot news reporters in order to express my thoughts and feelings on the events of the day. If you're always totally sober while reading this then you're missing the point.



Friday, January 15, 2010

Crawling Into Friday


This is a totally random posting of the various thoughts rolling around in my brain. I expect it to be very short, so of course it will be a long and rambling monstrosity when I'm done.

I've been asked to be president of the local chapter of an organization that promotes various causes and legal issues. It's not a replacement for my job, but it would eat up my spare time. I'm not going to explain any more than that, but I'm considering accepting the offer even though I have no idea what the hell I'm doing and I'm no lawyer or lobbyist. Trial by fire, I suppose. Maybe it'll be fun?

It's weird that they asked me. I just got here. It's like walking into the bank to make a deposit and instead the bank president hands you the keys and says "here, you run the bank now. I'm going to play golf."

Apparently I have passion and they liked that. Then again, I'm impressed that The Hysterical Ladies Network's own Jane Mitchell Velez has passion, even though I think she's totally wrong most of the time. So, with that in mind, I have a few reservations.


Ooh, look at that, I'm a Cherokee "native American" and I said I have a few "reservations." Funny stuff. Yeah, OK, not so much. Moving right along ...


A few weeks ago I had posted as my status on Facebook "The NAACP just called me and left a message." My friends all left snarky comments and making jokes about how I should probably run away. But I wasn't kidding. They called me to talk about something that I very much wanted to discuss. I had contacted them first, actually. I have to say, I'm really shocked at how disorganized they seem to be. I don't know how they get anything done.

I don't know if we'll talk again, but if I accept this position I should hope there might be a better flow of communication between us, as well as some other organizations I contacted. I know who used to run the NAACP and what it used to be about, but I don't know if that's still true today. If it is, we won't talk. If it isn't, I'm going to keep calling them.

I contacted several other organizations and some members of Congress. Very few ever get back to me. You have to be stubborn and annoying to get anything done.

I probably won't ever talk about this again.


What is the Tea Party Party? Are they a third political party with their own candidates or are they just a movement that is nominating candidates from the usual 2 main parties who share their views? Perhaps I knew the answer to this at some point, but I'm very tired and have begun to wonder about this.


I am beginning to realize that a huge number of people around me either never sleep or hardly ever sleep. I've had sleep problems since I was 10 years old, but I thought I was practically the only one.

Last night I ran into a guy I ran track with in high school. We hadn't spoken since those days. We ended up going to a club to listen to another old high school friend and his band play. We talked a lot about where we were today and how we'd gotten there. He was always a fun guy. Everyone likes him and always has.

He told me he has two sons. He has to pay his ex-wife $1200 every month and has been forced to do this for the past 8 years because when they were divorcing, her lawyer told her to quit her job so she would have no source of income at the time of the divorce. It's a standard trick to take as much income away from the non-custodial parent, the father 98 percent of the time, and shift it to the custodial parent, the mother, regardless of actual need. She had a perfectly good job, but she quit it anyway and has been taking this enormous monthly sum from him ever since. In addition to this money, he is paying for the boys' education separately, plus other expenses as they arise. It's funny that he said $1200, because that's the exact same amount all my other divorced male friends are paying to their exes.

Not surprisingly, with all of this money going to the woman who divorced him, he is forced into less than optimal living conditions himself. He has to live in an apartment. And he has to have a roommate to help pay the rent. He doesn't date and he doesn't care to ever marry again. He joined some local father's rights group that I had briefly heard of and then forgotten, but he says he's almost reached the point where he no longer has to pay her, and he plans to drop out of it once that happens.

I never got the chance to ask him, but I was wondering, "why drop out? Did you guys win and change things? If not, what about your 2 sons? If you stop fighting and you didn't win, won't it be worse when their turn comes around?"

He also told me that he never sleeps. And he never has. He said he sleeps maybe 2 or 3 hours each night and that's it. Even with my sleep problems I get more than that. I couldn't function on that. Some days, like today, I don't even function all that well on the 5-6 hours that I usually get.

I have discovered that several of my friends have prescriptions for various powerful anti-anxiety medications which help them sleep. It seems there are a lot of very anxious Americans these days. And we don't sleep much. We sit up late at night and stress and worry, often on Facebook. I discovered this late one night when a huge explosion rocked the south end of town and suddenly several Facebook statuses were updated to say "what the hell was that???" I was in the middle of writing the very same words when I saw others say it first. I found myself thinking, "good God, nobody sleeps anymore! I thought I was alone at this hour."


Everyone and their brother is on freakin' Facebook. It's turned into a veritable high school reunion. I'm making friends with people I went to school with, but never knew. And some people I did know and liked just fine hardly ever talk to me, or sometimes won't even accept my friend request. One girl I played soccer with and later ran track with emailed a mutual friend asking who I am. She said she doesn't remember me and has no idea why I'd ask to be her friend. Our mutual friend told me, laughing, that she is strange and can't seem to remember anyone.

Ah well, life goes on.

Last night in a club a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked "aren't you the guy who commented on Judy's page earlier today?"

"Yes," I replied. "You look familiar."

"I'm Jane. Judy is a mutual friend of ours, I guess. We both commented on her status about that explosion last night."

Today I got a friend request from Jane.


Meanwhile, the Obama White House is busy nationalizing everything in America, just like Chavez in Venezuela has done, and we're all so very excited about becoming the next Venezuela. Or Zimbabwe.

And while he's doing that, Hillary and the Grrlz are actively spreading their particular brand of femarxism, which is more accurately called female supremacy, across the planet. They're using American tax dollars to build schools for girls-only in communities where no schools for anyone exist. Now the girls can read and write and the boys can't. Awesome. They're also paying women in poor communities to set up women-owned businesses which compete with struggling family-owned businesses where presumably men are at least equal to their wives, but which don't have trillions of American tax dollars to prop them up. So the established businesses, the mom and pop businesses, are driven out of business altogether by the new foreign-government-owned mom-only businesses which don't have to make a dime in profit thanks to being subsidized by my forcibly redistributed taxes.

This female-first, female-only dogma, where third-world males often aren't given any educational opportunities at all and any business with a man around is driven out of business, is the goal and, in fact, the religion of many modern American Leftists. Like true sociopaths, the wide path of destruction their agendas of the past have left is of no interest to them. They never look back, never regret anything, never learn from the past, never listen to anyone, and never second guess their own dogmas. And if you or I should ever question the dogma, by God, they'll come after us both with flaming swords, strapped on bombs, and an army of lawyers to punish us infidels for our sin of disbelief.


Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!


Redistribution of wealth always seems to create an awful lot of poverty and death, doesn't it? And it always is done using someone else's money, someone else's blood, someone else's sweat, and someone else's tears. Heaven forbid that the dogmatic idealists sacrifice anything of their own for the cause. Oh no! The idealist has contributed the most important part, that is, the gift of their glorious ideas which came to mind while they were lounging at the country club smoking a joint and discussing the world's problems with their drug dealer. All of this idea-creating is an awful difficult task. If the idealist were forced to sacrifice of their own lives to actually implement their ideals, why, when would they find the time to lounge around coming up with all of their fabulous ideas?


I have a great idea. Let's redistribute your body into my belly!



I heard a joke last night. A man was getting dressed at his wedding. His best man was standing next to him and the groomsman were mingling around the room, all getting ready. The best man looks at the groom and says, "Dude, you've been smiling from ear to ear this whole time. Are you really that happy to be getting married?"

The groom looks at him and says, "I just got the best blowjob I've ever had in my whole life! And I'm about to marry the woman who gave it to me. Is that awesome or what?"

"Dude," the best man replies, "you are one lucky bastard."

Meanwhile, in the next room, the bride and all her bridesmaids are getting ready. The bride is beaming, like a radiant flower. The maid of honor looks at her and says, "you are smiling the biggest smile I think I've ever seen."

The bride smiles even brighter and says, "yeah, I am pretty happy. I just gave the last blowjob I'm ever going to have to give for the rest of my life!"

Thursday, November 12, 2009

It's Thursday

It's Thursday. And thank God I'm here to tell you all what day it is all week long, right? I mean, what would you do without me? Stating the obvious: it's a service I offer.


I think my personal trainer is trying to see if he can grind my shoulders down until there's nothing left. I mean, OK, I try to gut it out when he asks me how my shoulders are doing. I admit that maybe one of them is hurting, but hell, it's always hurting, so I just say 'to hell with it' and keep working out. Honestly, if I stopped working out when something was fucked up on my body, I would never have been able to run track or play soccer or do pretty much anything that I like. I even have injuries that relate to having sex. I shit you not. But do you think I'm going to let that stop me from having more sex? Oh hell no!

Anyway, lately my shoulder is just screaming. It says to me, "you better stop with the gazillion reps and find something else to work on or I'm going to send you back to your best friend, Mr Orthopedic Surgeon, for a new surgery." Yep, my shoulder can't remember my surgeon's name, so he just calls him "Mr. Orthopedic Surgeon." My knee, on the other hand, remembers his name perfectly. But that's another story, and it isn't particularly entertaining or anything so let's skip it.

I guess tomorrow when I'm at the gym I may have to ask my trainer to focus on legs. It's really a problem now that I have this bruise inside the ball of my foot, because it prevents me from going running. Meanwhile, the heavy leg presses and sprinting up the stairs seems to be bothering my knee. No, not the one that Mr. Orthopedic Surgeon knows so intimately. The other one. Yeah, I've had a LOT of injuries over the span of my lifetime, so this comes as no surprise to me.

There have been times when I become convinced that God made me out of plastic parts while everyone else was made of higher quality metal parts, sort of like the difference between a John Deere or Cub Cadet lawn tractor you buy at Home Depot versus one you buy from an actual authorized dealer.

So anyway, there is a very real shortage of hot girls at my gym and I think it's causing me to get hurt as a result. My body is just not feeling inspired. My brain is fully aware of how badly I need to work out, but my body is looking around and saying "what the hell, dude, there is nothing here worth going through this much pain over."


There was a study recently in which it was discovered that men actually benefit health-wise from being around hot girls. It is particularly relevant in the gym, because when men are around really hot girls and checking them out, it causes the men to produce more testosterone. Testosterone is what makes men healthy and happy. The lack of it makes us irritable and mean.

Women produce testosterone, too, just at lower levels than men do. And men's brains convert testosterone to estrogen as needed for things like verbalization and such. I realize it's considered politically incorrect to say that high levels of estrogen give women an advantage at things like writing and speaking skills, while testosterone seems to give men an edge in things like math and science and cage fighting, but listen here, God doesn't give a flying fart whether his designs are politically correct or not. He built us the way we are for a reason and our refusal to use what he's given us to the fullest instead of bitching and arguing that it's sexist to point out that men and women are different is just pure stupidity and sin.

Sin, by the way, causes death, which brings us back to testosterone and hot girls at the gym and men feeling very much alive. See, if you cut off a guy's balls and don't give him some sort of testosterone supplements, you've basically killed him. He has other, much smaller sources of testosterone, but the main source being gone is a huge problem affecting both his body and his brain. As I said, men's brains convert testosterone into estrogen as needed for speech and communication and such. Some scientists theorize that autism is simply a case of extreme maleness because much of the advantages women have are so often missing in autistic children, while the masculine traits are often intact. I don't know if there is any truth to this. It's just something I read.

Either way, when men are in the gym working out and checking out the hot babes who are also in the gym with them, all sweaty and glistening and striking oddly pornographic poses, it causes men's bodies to produce a lot more testosterone.

Did you know that every time a guy gets a boner his body is jacking up the testosterone in his bloodstream at the same time? Boners are actually good for us, like vitamins, which should be taken orally every day.

So anyway, men who work out need to find every way possible to increase their testosterone levels. It's what makes muscles grow and heal rapidly. It's why athletes who want to gain an edge, male and female alike, will inject anabolic steroids, essentially pure testosterone, into their veins while looking at naked photos of Victoria's Secret supermodel Marisa Miller. It makes you strong.

Sure, you can get too much of a good thing. You can overdose on estrogen, too. Just look at Joe Biden to see what too much estrogen does to a person. He's a giant cuntbag. Look at Rosie O'Donnell, she's batshit crazy. Look at feminism in general. It's estrogen poisoning turned into a massive religion of death and destruction and shrill screaming about a mythical "war on women" by the very same crazy people who are actively engaging in a war on men. Similarly, too much testosterone makes people ugly. It can produce a level of crazy virtually identical to feminism, except that instead of inspiring men to kill babies and their spouses and try to castrate every men alive, it inspires them to try to fight everyone they meet until someone shoots them or puts them into prison or in some sort of steel octagon.


But overall, testosterone is a good thing. It makes both men and women feel good. It makes us feel alive. And it makes us horny and happy.

That's probably why the U.S. Government has outlawed virtually anything and everything that increases testosterone in the body, because it makes men happy.

Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that I think I'm going to look into switching gyms. There's a gym much closer to my work that I need to check out. It's a local university gym. It's huge. I was in their athletic program on a scholarship when I went to school there and supposedly I have a lifetime free membership as a result. Of course, last time I asked about that no one seemed to know what I was talking about, so that may mean very little. The bottom line, though, is that the gym is filled with beautiful college girls who, even while ignoring me, will cause my body to produce higher levels of testosterone and thus heal faster. I really need to heal faster. Of course, that'll mean finding a new trainer, but in the long run I think it might be a good move. Maybe I'll find a new trainer who is a hot girl, too, and just working out with her will make me feel better and heal faster? Hey, you never know.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Death of a Smack Blog


It's a very sad thing to see a top-notch blog end. I know we all have our reasons for closing down when the time comes, but Ms. Smack is an icon out here in blogworld. She's decided to hang it up and say 'goodbye.' Even though I can still harass her on Facebook, it just isn't the same. I'm going to miss reading The Smack.

I've been trying something new here lately. I'm trying to figure out how to actually make some kind of difference for good. This is easier said than done as I have discovered that a middle class, white, male, with no media connections and no billionaire CEOs backing me, doesn't get much attention from anyone in politics. My own state governor, when asked to look into some basic human rights issues, effectively told me that he doesn't have the power to pass laws or oversee anything of that nature in the state of which he is governor. This is what is commonly known as 'passing the buck', or as I call it "begging to be impeached."

What is the deal with men's dress pants? I sat through a meeting with an attractive woman on my right, and an attractive woman on my left, and one of those weird men's pants 'pyramids' on my crotch that form whenever we sit down in dress pants. It makes it appear as if I have an erection. What am I supposed to do with this situation? Should I laugh and then just (gently) smash it flat with my hand? Should I scoot under the table, like men do with a real erection when it arises at such an inopportune time? Or should I do what I did, and just sit there ignoring it and assuming that both women knew it was just empty air and material? It's kind of embarassing. And apparently it's somewhat distracting for the women.

I've had a piece of glass stuck in the bottom of my foot for at least 6 months. It's microscopic and impossible for me to see. For a time I thought I had actually removed it, but I was wrong. I have been unable to run at all because my foot has been feeling bruised up until just recently, when I tried to solve this problem, only to make my foot hurt much, much worse. So, I'm going to see the father of a hot girl I knew in back school, a man who happens to be a foot doctor, in the hope that he can find the broken glass with some machine and then dig it out. It's in so deep that I can no longer point to exactly where the pain is and say "that's where you should cut." So, this is going to be loads of fun. Ever had a shot in the soul of your foot? I have. It's sort of like having your genitals pierce. It hurts.

It won't quit raining here in the Deep South. Atlanta, Georgia, has received so much rain that they've actually had fatalities associated with the flash floods. It's ironic because for over 10 years they've had drought and were reaching a critical water shortage. So they actually need this rain, just not quite so fast that it washes babies out of mother's arms and carries them to their deaths.

In case you're still reading this, first of all, thank you, and second, you may be wondering "where's the funny?" Well, I'm exhausted today and not feeling overly funny. I told every joke I know at the gym already and now I need some new ones. So, how about you write me a joke in the comments so I can go back to the gym and impress all the hard-bodies with my awesome sense of humor via new jokes I stole from you?

OK, so it takes more than jokes to impress women at the gym, but jokes are all I've got. I'm no Justin Timberlake, you know. Jessica Biel isn't going to give me the time of day if I'm not making her laugh.


Help! Toss me a joke before she kills me!