Jesus I’m so fukn touchy lately.

The old fart at the office told me to fax some dogshit ass thing to somebody, and I faxed it to the insurance people instead of the accounting people by mistake and he’s like “hello! Hello!” coming in my office, “hello! Hello! This goes to bitch #1, not bitch #2!” well excuse the FUCK out of me you old FUCKBAG.

So I’m like “oh well I guess I’m a fukn idiot!” and I said fukn. I did. Yes. Fuck him.

Fuck fuk fark fuk fuck.

Cuff! Backwards fuck.

I have been reading trueboy like some kind of deranged lunatic the last three days. Not just the current shit, I mean, I started at the beginning and am up into November now. And their archives are fucked up, so I’m such a blogger dork, that I know how to type in the dates on the url to access those hidden files. Gyeah! So I’m gonna read every last word and then do some kind of fukn book report on it or something. Or maybe I’ll never mention it again until on my deathbed I’ll say “trueboy dot blogspot dot com, chiggedy check it,” and then I’ll fukn die and a little dribble of slobber will be coming out of the side of my mouth all fucked up looking.

No I don’t see that happening. By then I’ll have forgotten all about bloggerville and will be more concerned that I get my fukn medication. “get me my goddamm pills you stupid fukn jackasses!!” waiting for the next round of “Let’s make a deal” reruns on the plasma screen 20 foot hologram projection wired directly into my skull to bring hummingbirds and mickey mouse good times.

If I am an old man and I’m telling everybody and his brother about every worthless piece of crap moment of my entire laugh and then not even listening to anyone else for more than half a second because I’m a self-absorbed fukn fake ass prick fuck then please walk to your nearest firearms dealer and shoot me in the goddamm fukn head.

I can’t post this shit on my site. Fuck.

Maybe put it on blogcritics? Shit Eric is sending me e-mail every other day pimping it out. Ok here goes. Wrote a song about it, wanna hear it, here goes. This’ll give the hawks and doves something to laugh at in between reading hard-hitting reports on the war.

Oh and as for the war, uh, forget it. check the files for my opinion. Eace-pay. And dammit I didn’t say pig latin peace because I’m for peace, I’m for war dammitt. Bloody fucked up war that will result in peace in the land and lots of people loving each other. Yeah that’s the ticket. Damn I am writing a check my ass can’t cash today aren’t I? Oh fucking well. Sue me. Sue Alfred pennyworth enterprises and the kool keith express, I just don’t give a FUCK today.

Odelay.

And fuck ME for trying to sound like such a badass on that last paragraph. (are you sure you don’t just give a FUCK today? Capital letters style? Fukn clown. Step to the back and collect your punk ass welfare like a little beyatch.)

I am a coffee-addicted bastardized stepchild of a Columbian drug lord's dalmation named Oscar.



The first time that I knew I was havink one little problem with the evil bean was when a news reporter showed up at my doorstep and threw a drink in my face. I think I tasted some Jim Beam in that shit. And some coke. And you know what, I licked it up becuz I needed the caffeine in that coke. Major issues.

Mrs. P is off from school this week & drove me into work so she could have the car today and on the way in she’s like “where’s your coffee?” and I was like “Ffuucckk!!!” really pissed off, cuz I forgot it. seriously every letter of fuck was like doubly emphasized, I’m not just writing that. And my coffee was sitting on the (coffee) table at home all nice & piping hot, ready to get drank, just a couple meager sips imbibed so far. So I wuz really bummed, but then she offered to go back to the house & get it for me and I perked up like a little school boy, and she was like “you can go from mad to happy so fast,” and then I realized, that I am hooked on Juan Valdez’s evil evil recipe. Even though this is Hawaiian coffee, brought down from the slopes of Maunakea by donkeys, savorily swirled in giant handmade coffee urns by jokers named kimo and jerry. Or so I’ve heard.

So I’m waiting for my coffee. My amazing super cool wife is going to grab it for me real quick. And then I get to drink it. and I get to see Mrs. P again which always brightens my morning and day and night cuz she’s the bomb, and not just cuz she’s grabbing my liquid crack for me and delivering it where it needs to be, with me. Mrs. P is the overall bomb-diggedy and if you don’t know you better ax sumbuddy.

Our house is really close by, don’t think I’m a bad man. Oh there…

Ah I have my coffee now. It is so good. I have the best wife in all the four corners of the universe and the galaxy, (if that’s bigger, I think it is).

We went for a nice adventure yesterday after she picked me up from work. We’re looking at buying a house here pretty soon, and we went up the coast to look at one in Kaneohe (a super little but in our budget house, not condo, dizam with condos you gotta pay some jacked up fees every month, and I’m not down with that, but hey you never know, we might have to, shit is expensive and a brutha and his girlie gotta eat, even if I am checkin my bank like mix-a-lot) anywizay, where wuz I?

oh yeah, our little drive up the coast and into north shore. we checked out some action in Hauula and Kaaawa but sheeeiiitt that is far for a brutha to be driving every day, but hey ya never know, if we find the superphat deal stranger things have happened. it's pretty country style, beach right there, it's crackalackin werd up. so we cruise all the way up and we're like, ya know? might as well keep going and cruise into Haleiwa and grind some Mexican food at Rosie's Cantina, cuz FUCK Cholo's, they lag on your chips and forget you're there and screw you over with their hoity toity attitude, need an adjustment over there, Cholo's, for real, this is the alf-man talkin. so anyway, Rosie's was having the full on $1.60 margaritas and dollar beers and taco-bar and it was crackalackalackin. it was on point and down with the whizbang. so we drank up on some dranks and ate up on some oh so delicioso grizinds, (ok not the best mex food on the island, go to Azteca in Kaimuki for that) but still, dollar beers and $1.60 margies, hey now, how can that be bad? it can't. it just can't. then we drove back down H-2 into Pearl City and went to Home Depot and bought a desk lamp and then hit up Jelly's and I grabbed a crip CD which I will mention below. How do I know that? because i can read the future.

Wait I gotta check something.

Ok I’m calling this place. It’s Prince Kuhio day today, which means that City & County kine shit might be closed. I wanna go take my written test for my motorcycle license at lunch break today, but because of some dead Hawaiian dude, I might not be able to. Ok wait, dammit! Shit! Don’t you hate when you call “the man” and it’s just some voice recording, and then when you find a number for a more specific “man” it’s just a busy signal? That is so fucked up. oh and for the record, i have nothing against dead Hawaiian dudes. some of my best friends and key parts of history are dead hawaiian dudes. it just so happens that this particular dead hawaiian dude is throwing a monkey wrench in my schedule. no beef. see i'm even showing you a picture of him. he was a helluva a guy, at least that's what my time-traveling great grandfather named Nebulax likes to tell me. Or is he my great grandson? that joker will never give you a straight answer.

So anyway, prince kuhio day is about some Hawaiian prince who a lot of stuff here is named after, and I think he was kamehameha’s son or grandson? I know this shit really, but c’mon, the coffee is only starting to kick in. seriously though, I feel my eyes slowly clawing their way open, and they were clamped shut when I first started typing this, I was typing on my Braille keyboard that Helen keller bought for me. Helen Keller is pretty cool except when she starts screaming and throwing shit around every where. See you would have never known that if you didn’t read a dog named clipper.

Damn work is percolatin right now, sales are coming in left and right. Good time to be the ultimate roller derby master. See I sell rollerball memorabilia, both from the old movie and the recent classic with that guy from American Pie and that Rebecca stamos broad. Jeez couldn’t she think of anyone better to marry than that guy from full house? Shit, whut a dumb beyatch. Well I guess that’s not nice. No it’s not nice. Well tough shit. Well tough shit to you. No you. No you.

Ok that’s enough for now. I’ll be bumpin the five dollar used chemical brothers cd I picked up last night if you’re interested. It’s from 95 and called exit planet dust and so far so good. I will probably be drawing an outline of a ruptured spleen on the walls of my office too, but hey nothing’s set in stone.