My little girl

She's getting big. She turns six next week. I know that doesn't seem that old, but I already miss the cute little-girl things she used to say and do.

She used to have a lisp, couldn't pronounce the letter s when it was followed by another consonant. So the word "lisp" for instance, would have been pronounced "lip". She used to talk to us about the tars in the ky, the people walking down the treet, bee tings, tiger tripes, and melling flowers. I won't even bring up the times she wanted to play with her scooter. (hilarious)

When we startled her she'd say "You cared me out of my crap!"


She used to carry around her little kitty blanket and suck her thumb...

I miss that. I wish I hadn't had to work so much and miss out on so much.

Walking Cool

You know how sometimes you're walking with a really cool swagger? You know, just struttin'... But then you bump into something, trip or stumble? And there's that moment when you aren't sure what you should do next?

I think it's important to keep moving with the cool walk. That way anyone who turned their head at that moment and didn't see how lame you are... They would still think you're cool.

And the other people would think "Man, that's the coolest clumsy person I've ever seen."

Booger under Keys (no lock)

Just lost a booger to the keyboard. I saw it fall from my finger and attempted to rescue it, but it slipped under the 'f' key. It's a gonner now.

No time anymore

I keep wanting to write in this novel that I started forever ago. (of stones and stars). I've worked out a few changes that need to be made which will help me progress the story nicely and open a few sub plots... But i just can't seem to find the time to work on it.

Right now, for instance, i'm writing this instead because I only have twenty minutes or so before I should be in bed so that i can function at work tomorrow. Between work and family my writing has been on serious hold.

I need to get into it though, I need to get back to chasing my dream. I frustrate myself with my procrastination and my inability to follow through. Dammit.

Alright, enough venting. Off to bed with me.

New Troll

Got one for real this time.

I've decided to stop publishing Quixnote-Grey's comments as he is stuck on one topic and will not move from it. He continues to attempt to antagonize and act like a bitch and I've decided that I'm uninterested in putting up with it anymore.

I've asked him to stop with his shit, and he responded with the usual; bitching about censorship and threatening to never return... As though that were a punishment of sorts.

Begone, asshole. Go find yourself a new bridge to hide under. You have shown your true colors.

Word of advice, at least learn to admit when you are being a troll. You'll find a lot more freedom in your life when you learn to admit who you are to yourself.

I will also reiterate and reword the moral of one of my previous posts as it is clearly applicable to this cock-gobbler: The freedom of speach does not mean you get to just be an asshole all the time.

Stephen King made me crap my pants

Before you make assumptions, I wasn't frightened at all; but this evil heartless bastard still made me shit my pants.

Here's how it happened.

I was messing with the computer when I was suddenly hit with an urgent need to go to the bathroom and drop a duece. So, naturally; I went downstairs to the basement toilet, planning on reading a book which I had left down there earlier. It was one of King's books, a part of the Gunslinger series.

But the book wasn't there. I pinched my cheeks together, holding back the emmenant anal explosion that was begging to be set free. I desperately looked around for the book, but it was nowhere in sight. I had done a little laundry earlier, so I made my way over towards the washing machine in the hopes of finding the book.

And that's when it happened. The ass cannon had fired.

I gave up looking for the book and took care of business, cleaning my underwear and showering afterward. First time I have ever shit my pants. Fucking Stephen King.

And get this, after everything was over; the book appears as if by magic not far from the toilet.

You owe me a new pair of underwear, King.