FOAD Thursday: Junk Food Edition

I thought that today I would aim my wondering eye to the world of junk food and single out a few that are worthy of a rant.

1. Pesico Inc: I recently bought a bag of Cracker Jacks. The good old fashioned popcorn and peanut treat coated in caramel. WTF! Is there some damned peanut shortage that I did not know about. I bought the freakin' industrial size bag and there were 10 measly damned peanuts all settled in the bottom of the damned bag nestled in the bottom with all the damned popcorn crumbs. I want some damn peanuts and I don't want to buy the bag that is labeled all peanuts just to get a few of them. And while you are at it, bring back real toys you tight assed cock-knockers. All that are in them anymore are damn stick on tattoos and jokes. Without peanuts or real toys you aren't any better than Fiddle Faddle and can Fuck Off And Die.

2. KFC: Another division of Pepsico Inc has come up with the idea of slop in a bucket. WTF is up with this bowl of crap idea. I know it all goes to one place but serving up a bowl of mashed potatoes mixed with corn, chunking some damn chicken strips on top, and pouring gravy over the whole ungodly creation is more like what would come out than go in. What in hell are your dumbasses smoking in your test kitchen and keep it away from me. FOAD!

3. In Boca Raton, Fla., one restaurant has come up with a 100 dollar hamburger. There is no way in hell that I would buy a 100 dollar hamburger even if it came with a chocolate shake, beer batter onion rings, and oral sex. Well maybe if it came with all that, but it better be a damned thick shake! So for trying to pawn off a 100 dollar burger, Fuck Off And Die!!!

Words To The Groom

My baby brother, Crazy Dan, will be getting married soon so I thought that I would share with him a few things that I have learned over the years.

1. The person that came up with the adage to never go to bed angry was either a complete moron or did not need much sleep.
2. Don't sweat the small stuff. A woman is a myriad complexity of feelings and emotions. Men think of five basic things; either you are hungry or full, horny or sated, drunk or sober, sleepy or well rested, and then there is sports. If you let your wife have her way with the other things in life then it is easier to get what you want out of those five basic things.
3. At the outset of pre-menstrual syndrome, defend yourself with pre-manstrual syndrome.
4. There is rarely an argument that is so large that it cannot be solved by make up sex or at least a good grudge fuck.
5. A big smile and a 'Yes Dear' said just the right way is better than harsh words during an argument.
6. The first year that you are married put a quarter in a big jar everytime you make love. For the next nine years take a quarter out every time that you make love. On your tenth year anniversary take a nice vacation with the money left in the jar.
7. A wife will change her mind at least five times on any task. So wait for her to ask you five times before starting any 'honey do' job. This will give her adequate time to decide just what she wants done and in fact may get you out of doing the task altogether.
8. There will be tough times in every marriage. Remember that every parade is due for a rain every now and again. That's okay though because the homecoming queen looks good in a wet tee shirt.
9. Find the one sappy love song that your wife absolutely can't stand. Memorize one line of that song. When she goes to bed and is just drifting to sleep, sing that one line softly over and over again. It's always good for a few laughs.
10. I have oft heard the expression, " A woman marries a man thinking that she can change him and a man marries a woman thinking that they will never change. They are both wrong." So just roll with the changes. You've got to keep on rolling, keep on rolling, ro-olllll with the changes.

And You Thought You Had Problems

A 68 year old Rhode Island man has just been awarded 400,000 dollars due to a faulty medical procedure. A penile implant has gave him an erection for the past ten years.

The device was supposed to allow men to turn it up for usage and down when not in use. His won't turn down. He is embarrassed by the situation and is living as a virtual recluse even scared to be with his own grandchildren.

I wonder if it was due to one of them yelling, " Ewww, Grampa's got a Chubby."

For more info. Click here for the news story.

Happy Anniversary, Baby

Angry Joyce and I found out a short time back, that when we got married 11 years ago today, her brothers made a wager on how long we would last. One gave us six months, one gave us one year, and one gave us three years. How did we last longer?

It is simple really.
1. We are both too stubborn to give up.
2. I want to keep all my shit not half of it.
3. Whoever hauls ass has to take the kids.

I am always kidding Angry Joyce that if she ever hauls ass then their will be a line of women two deep all the way around the block waiting for a chance with me and she is always kidding me that she is the only one that could put up with my shit.

I can guess who is closer to being right but I never want to know. It took almost thirty years to find her. I haven't got the stamina to hold out another thirty years to find another person who can put up with my shit for a prolonged period of time.

And that brings me to:

Happy Anniversary Baby. Got You On My Mi-ind.

It's That Time Again

Tomorrow starts the time of the year to sell fireworks in Texas. And yes I am one of those rednecks in the fireworks stands. For the past few years I have taken time off work to ply my entrepreneurial skills.

The actual reason for me selling fireworks is the same reason as a crack fiend becoming a crack dealer. I am a fireworks nut and have to support my habit somehow.

Have a great weekend everyone and hey be safe out there.

FOAD Thursday: Commercial Edition

Today I thought that I would give a big 'Fuck Off And Die' to some of the most annoying crap that comes on tv, dumbass commercials. So here are a few of the commercials that are out right now that are really annoying the piss out of me.

1. The Fruit of the Loom fruits prancing around singing that insipid song 'Blue'. I am sorry but singing fruit is the last thing I want to have covering my ass. Fuck Off And Die you annoying fucks. And that goes to the suited douchebag singing the damned Snickers ad and the ambiguously gay duo on those new Applebee's ads that make everyone want to escape to Chedders, TGIFridays, or anywhere else on the face of the damn planet.

2. The Geiko Gecko for being the most annoying piece of shit lizard on the face of the earth, Fuck off and die after you shove some free pie and chips straight up your ass.

3. Now I must speak for someone that is unable to speak for themselves. On behalf of Bigfoot, you fucktards from the Jack Link's Beef Jerkey Messing With Sasquatch Ads, Fuck Off And Die!

Bring Home A Redneck

I watched the TLC program, Take Home Chef. The premise is that a chef ambushes women in a supermarket and asks them if he can go home and cook for her and her boyfriend or husband.

This led me to think that this show needs a spin-off to cash in on the new redneck chic trend. I would gladly volunteer for the new show. My take on it would be 'Bring Home A Redneck Barbeque Guy.'

But then again it probably wouldn't work since most all men are under the misguided opinion that they are barbeque experts and would be offended at someone showing them how to do it right. Maybe I could stick to lesbian couples. I might have to rename the show though. How about ' Hey Darlin', Want Some Hot Meat Tonight'?

Hey, it's a work in progress.

25 Things That I Have Learned From Country Music

Or Two Stepping My Way Through Life

Hank Williams Jr. taught me that a country boy can survive.

Johnny Cash taught me how to walk the line.

The Bellamy Brothers taught me about redneck girls. Their hands may be calloused but their hearts are tender.

Charlie Daniels taught me that if all else fails to reach out and kick old green teeth right in the knee.

Garth Brooks taught me that some of the greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.

Merle Haggard taught me that sometimes it's best to just find a bar stool and sit right there and drink.

Kenny Rogers taught me to beware of Ruby. She'll take her love to town.

Willie Nelson taught me that nothing is sadder than blue eyes crying in the rain.

Waylon Jennings taught me about good hearted women loving good timing men.

Johnny Paycheck taught me to be able to say take this job and shove it.

Jimmy Buffet taught me that no matter how many people may say that there is a woman to blame, it's my own damn fault.

Jerry Jeff Walker taught me of being 35 and drinkin' in a honky tonk.

Toby Keith taught me that sometimes it's okay to want to talk about me.

George Jones taught me the lesson of remembering things long and lean and built to handle.

Travis Tritt taught me that sometimes you can listen to no more. Just hand them a quarter and directions to call someone that cares.

Alabama taught me that sometimes you just have to hear a fiddle in the band.

Dolly Parton taught me to watch out for Jolene.

Hank Williams Sr. taught me that sometimes it is hard to melt a cold cold heart and free a doubtful mind.

Ernest Tubbs taught me to waltz across Texas.

George Straight taught me to keep an eye out for tears on the jukebox.

Charlie Pride taught me just why I hated pickin' cotton.

Shania Twain taught me to get in touch with my feminine side and feel like a woman.

Clint Black taught me of killin' time.

Bob Wills taught me about faded love.

David Allen Coe taught me the importance of the perfect country and western song. You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'. You never even call me by my name.

Sick I Am

I was watching Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith for the umpteenth time this weekend. Listening to Yoda talk, a strange thought crossed my mind. What would it sound like if Yoda talked dirty in bed.

'Spank you on your tight little ass, I will.'

'Violate your darkside, I must.'

'Bend over and the use of the force you will learn.'

At first Angry Joyce thought that I was one sick puppy for thinking this about the Jedi Master but then everytime Yoda spoke, she busted out giggling. I guess my sickness is contagous.

Happy Fathers Day

When I was 16 years old and received my drivers license, my father gave me a condom and told me that if I wasn't in bed by midnight, then I might as well come home. That little piece of advice has served me well after I learned to accept it. But that isn't all that he taught me.

He taught me that barbecuing wasn't just a way to cook food. It's a lifestyle.

He taught me that farting was necessary. There is more room on the outside than on the inside and a farting mule never tires.

He taught me that a beer gut can be a useful thing to have. If you have a tool that you are proud of you better build a shed for it.

He taught me that there is more to being a man than just having a penis. It is about being the best that you can be with what you have and always striving to do better. It is about being there no matter what when your family needs you. It is about standing up for what you believe in and never backing down.

Thanks Dad, You have made me the man that I am. It's all your fault.

25 Of Life's Lesson's In Rock And Roll

Or Most Everything That I Have Ever Learned Starts With A Power Chord.

David Lee Roth and Van Halen taught me that sometimes you just have to roll with the punches to get to what's real.

Disturbed taught me that I was too narrow minded and to liberate my mind.

Kiss taught me that sometimes it's best just to rock and roll all night and party every day.

AC/DC taught me the lesson of safe sex. Sometimes she's got the jack.

38 Special taught me to hold on loosely but don't let go.

Chuck Berry taught me to sing it out loud and proud and not just play with my own ding-a-ling.

Elvis taught me to do it my way.

Metallica taught me that sometimes that light at the end of the tunnel is just a freight train coming my way.

John Mellencamp taught me that it ain't half bad to come from a small town.

Judas Priest showed me that I don't need no parental guidance.

Sammy Hagar and Van Halen taught me that my tomorrow is right now.

Aerosmith taught me how to walk (this way.)

Kansas taught me to carry on and there would be peace when I was done.

Kid Rock taught me to get in the pit and try to love someone.

Megadeath taught me that sometimes life is just a symphony of destruction.

Poison showed me that every rose has a thorn.

Ratt taught me that what comes around goes around.

Ozzy taught me that sometimes you have to say goodbye to romance and goodbye to friends but you can meet in the end.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers taught me that it's okay to be with the one that is all that you got that night.

Foghat taught me to take a slow ride.

ZZ Top taught me the dangers of flying while blind.

Limp Biskit taught me that sometimes you just have to break some shit.

Motley Crue taught me to take a walk on the wild side.

The Steve Miller Band taught me to fly like an eagle until I was free.

Pantera taught me that it was all about respect.

FOAD Thursday: Vol. II

Aahh, another weekly excuse to vent rage and spew venom. I'm starting to like this. Here is the short list of a few select people who can fuck off and die this week.

1) Douchebag middle management cocksuckers who have gained their position for no other reason than their over riding ability to kiss ass and blow smoke up the ass of every superior they have ever had and treat everyone under them like pieces of shit. Fuck Off And Die.

2) Assholes who say but it's a dry heat. It's 105 degrees dumbass. Dry, wet, sticky; who gives a shit, it's too damn hot. Fuck Off And Die.

3) The chickenshit utility companies. Thanks for the 25 cent per kilowatt price hike when the thermometer reaches triple freakin' digits, you cocksmokers. Fuck Off And Die. And the chickenshit oil companies can fuckin' join you.

It's A Redneck World

It seems as if Redneck culture is gaining ground everyday. If you doubt that one has to look no farther than the success of The Blue Collar Comedy Tour, Larry The Cable Guy voicing a character in a Disney movie, and the growing sport rooted in Redneck America.

This growing sport has inked a brand new tv deal, corporate sponsors, and growing legions of fans packing in to watch these sporting events. Did you guess Nascar? If you did, you were wrong. I am speaking of Professional Bass Fishing. Bassmasters is jumping out of the water.

I personally don't know about calling fishing a sport. I kind of lump it in the same category as bowling. If the better the beer buzz is, the better you perform at the activity then it is hard to call it a sport.

Get On That Bike And Ride

Around Spanish cities this weekend, protesters delved back in history to update the protest of Lady Godiva. People protesting the dependence on fossil fuels took to the streets in bicycles butt-ass naked.

I don't know how comfortable nude cycling would be. I do know one thing. I would want one of those big wide banana seats that were popular in the 70's. A naked ass perched on some of the small seats popular today might be a bit to sexual on a bumpy road. And I damn sure wouldn't want one of those spring contraptions like on the bike above. It doesn't look very scrotum friendly for nude cycling.

Click here for the news story.

Pretty In Pink

This month is Gay and Lesbian Pride Month and the Annual Gay Pride Parade in Boston was held this weekend. With so many people donning pink, it brought back to my mind a story from early in my relationship with Angry Joyce.

I am somewhat color-blind. I can see basic colors but certain shades of color can throw me off. I have a hard time with distinguishing between shades that border between blue and green and blur between blue and purple but I was fairly confident in my reds. Until the subject of a pair of my underwear forced me to re-evaluate my view of pink.

I had a pair of red underwear that I wore for luck on dates. I had noticed that if I wore this pair of drawers, they worked like magic in the getting lucky department. One day after Angry Joyce and I had moved in together, she asked me why I had a pair of hot pink underwear. I argued that they were red. But after a consultation with an impartial judge, I had to concede that they were pink.

In order to successfully pull off wearing pink underwear one must either be gay, very confident of their masculinity, or colorblind. I really can't say why these pink drawers worked such magic and success with the ladies. Maybe they made me seem sensitive, or maybe they exuded confidence, or just maybe things are truly prettier in pink.

*** I love the description in the link of the Women's Block Party, with the Ho-Down in the City. You have to admire that sort of humor.***

Another Rerun

Since if today is like any other day this past week, Blogger will blow up and no one will either be able to read or comment on this post. I didn't want to waste either your's or my time on a new post so instead I have decided to repost this little bit of fluff from fairly early in this blog's history. My brother-in-law, who is mentioned in this story, will be visiting for a couple of weeks starting Monday so if the next couple of weeks you notice that I am not around as much you might know why. (We will most likely be drunk and acting like total idiots.)

Phone-A-Friend

The last time my brother-in-law and I got together, we hoisted a few cold ones and swapped the shit. Our conversation eventually came to old stories of stupid things that we had done while drunk. It seemed to us that of all the stupid things that we had done could have been averted if we had a friend, that would have told us that this was stupid and guided us through the situation. Whenever we committed a stupid act, either there was no friend to be found or our friends encouraged us in our drunken stupidity.

My brother-in-law told the story of one Super Bowl viewing at a local bar. He won the first quarter of the squares game and proceeded to celebrate by getting drunk and buying rounds for the house. A young vixen that he was now drinking with won the second quarter and the party kept on a-rollin'. The next morning in the dark he heard a sexy voice greet him good morning. She explained to him that he had left his vehicle at the bar and he then asked if she could give him a ride to his vehicle so that he could get back to work. That is when he was hit by the tsunami waves as she arose from the waterbed. He described her as weighing 400 pounds if she was an ounce. The next day he called in to work to take a mental health day and went to the bar, where his friends who had witnessed the event bought him drinks to commiserate his misfortune.

I then related the story of one night of drinking heavily in a bar during my college days. I can distinctly remember the tequila shot drinking contest but the rest of that night are a god given blur. The next morning, I arose with the sun nude laying in the bed of my truck with the mother of all hangovers. My clothes thankfully were beside me so I dressed and went back to my dorm room. I then proceeded to ask my friends just what the hell had happened. They said that close to closing time they came to me and explained that they were ready to leave and told me so but I was having fun dancing with two rather robust women and they were going to give me a ride home. That is where my knowledge of what happened thankfully ends as I never saw the Rubinesque young ladies again (to the best of my knowledge).

We decided that most friends will go ahead and let you do something stupid just so they will have the opportunity to laugh at you and so they will have something to hold over your head when they do something stupid themselves. There should be a service for people when they are drunk and their thinking processes are askew. There should be someone who will help you when you are thinking of getting back with an ex-spouse or ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend, when you are hooking up with someone that you shouldn't, or any other of the hundreds of stupid things you can do when you are drunk.

We decided to start a new venture; a business with unlimited growth potential:Phone-A-Friend. For a nominal fee, we will enter you in a data base and issue you a pin number and our 24 hour a day hotline number. If you find yourself drunk and about to do something stupid, give us a call. We will drive to where you are and with a specially designed tool we will knock you the fuck out and drag your drunk ass home. The next morning we will call you making sure you were able to wake up and allow you to heap your gratitude, and a nominal surcharge, upon us for being a true friend and not allowing you to do something that will embarrass you for the rest of your natural born life.

We are currently producing a marketing campaign with a tv ad as the centerpiece. The commercial will feature an Average Joe with a black eye and a gash on his noggin, who says,"I could have ended up with her if it wasn't for Phone-A-Friend." Fade to a shot of a green toothed woman with a tube top on and a body that looks like a can of biscuits that has blown up in the sun. Then fade back to Average Joe saying, "Thanks Phone-A-Friend."

To sign up for this much needed service, all you need to do is dial 1-800-RUF-UKED. Operators are standing by so that we can be ready to rescue your drunk ass.

Fuck Off And Die

I have never had a weekly feature personally I would not have the audacity to foist any Half-Nekkid crap of me on anyone. No one needs to see that. The Thursday Thirteen bullshit would be full of a bunch of useless boring crap that not even I would want to read. But thanks to Jane, I have found a weekly Thursday thing that I can really get behind. Thanks bunches, Jane. It is Fuck Off And Die Thursdays.

So Here is my short list of a select group of individuals who can Fuck Off And Die this week.

1. In Lubbock, Texas this week, a douchebag bitch pretending to be a nurse at UMC Hospital ingratiated herself to a young newlywed couple in the hospital for the birth of their first infant. Later she stopped by with the ruse of checking on the baby and then kidnapped the infant. This trailer trash bitch can fuck off and die.

2. I don't jump on the trash Dubya bandwagon often but whatever Fucktard or Fucktards is/are yanking his chain this week can fuck off and die. With all the shit going on not just in Iraq but right here at home and all across the world, the best issue they can come up with is a fucktarded amendment outlawing gay marriage. Deal with the real problems, you homophobic assholes.

3. To the dumbass who had to talk throughout a screening of X-Man 3 in order to explain the movie to his idiot kids, I told you then that you are a rude asshole but now on second thought you can just fuck off and die.

In Shadow

I am often semi-awake before the alarm clock rings. It never fails to mesmerize me, this special time before I fully awake. The world sits in shadow and my senses are caught between reality and the edge of dream. Then the harsh buzzing of the alarm tears me from this wonderful state. I always slap the snooze at least once and many times more in order to return to the warm embrace of the shadow. The kiss of an angel, the passion of a demon, life, death, love, lust, passion; they all seem so close in this shadow land of the mind at rest.

In these boxes of times punctuated by slaps of the snooze bar, I think of her. Sometimes pirate wench, sometimes stripper, sometimes mythical creature of beauty but always with me in this land of shade. She tempts me to stay in this land between dream and the waking world.

This land is but illusion for I can not walk in these dreams. The harsh light of day beckons and I must face it as I must. But the day can not last forever and again I shall return at days end and heed the call of the shadow and once more feel her embrace.

6 6 06

I don't know how many people came here to read an important notice or an announcement due to this date. But I have no press release to issue at this time. Have a nice day!!!

Redneck Children Rejoice

When I was a kid, the brightly colored gumball machines in the front of the grocery store were like sirens tempting me to part with whatever pocket change that I had managed to accumulate. The machines have come a long way since my childhood. Now besides the ordinary gumballs, candies, and nuts, they have giant fruit gumballs, tattoos, and figures. One of the most popular of the figures are the Homie's collection. Redneck kids can now rejoice. The inventor of the Homie's has a new offering, Trailer Trash, with characters such as Betty Lou, Flea Market Fred, and Moo Moo Maw. I was going to place my 50 cents in the machine and shoot for a Betty Lou since it reminds me of the 'Mandy' drawings of Dean Yeagle but knowing my luck, I would just get Moo-Moo Ma. But on the Homies website, you can buy the whole collection saving me from an entire collection of Moo-Moo's.

Happy Birthday/Wrap That Rascal

Ranea's birthday was yesterday so in wishing her a Happy Birthday, it gives me an excuse post a Marilyn pin-up from Vargas, since she shares Marilyns birthdate. I would also like to give a little pointer to her husband and anyone else in need of a little celebration.

I had always thought that the perfect gift for that special woman in your life was to tie a bow around your pecker and to show up with nothing else but a smile and a willingness to please. But damn was I wrong. Durex has one upped themselves with custom designed penis wraps. Here is to a Super Weekend. Just click the photo below for enlargement or click here for the Durex website that has some different dickorations. Just print and enjoy. Have a great weekend everyone and hey, hey, hey, Be safe out there!

Primed For A Man

This weekend, my redneck neighbor was sunbathing in her backyard. I would like to thank her for her modesty. She pulled her car into the backyard and had it parked where it would obstruct my view. If she looked anything like the model to the left then I would have been pissed. But as she does not resemble this woman in any way, shape, form, or fashion, I was appreciative of her kindness.

Last week she started an exercise regime and died her hair blonde. It won't be long before the courting rituals begin. There is no better cure for the Summertime blues than the sight of Redneck Courtship.

I can almost picture in my mind the line of potential replacements to the mullet man pulling up next door in their pick up trucks. The love ballads of Conway Twitty filling the air. The breaking out of brand name beer. Men walking to her door with their hair slicked back wearing their cleanest tee shirts and their best overalls. Men bearing gifts such as flowers or hunks of meat.

Love is truly in the air.