For all I know this may just be old. At least as old as Mid-January. But I missed it. And when I need to get a good belly-laugh – this does it.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsvAj6qfmFQ)

     I came back to write a Happy New Year blog, but some dude had said if I didn’t STFU, he was gonne sue me.  Not like I didn’t STFU up already.  But, Jesus, not again, right?  Whatever.  This crap doesn’t do anything but waste my time, anyway. 
     And even if, by some miracle of Christ, I actually did something wrong and actually got a judgement against me, it’s not like they’d actually get anything outta my broke ass.  So, seriously, what’s the point?
     Even Perry Caravello didn’t sue me.  And that was ACTUALLY LIBELOUS.

     Yeah, Happy New Year.  Guess I’ll continue to keep on laughing.  

     And some people will not.

     But ya know, it’s kinda like the tagline of this blog says… if you can’t laugh at yourself, we’ll do it for you.

     Happy New Year, Mister.  Yours should be a little more prosperous for the free marketing.  Should we discuss the matter of our bill?  ROFLMAO

     Now … I’m gonna go sober up.  Because this is the first year in for-fucking-ever I’ve actually gotten smashed.  Yep … This is smashed.

     Hey, Mister.  Wanna see me sober?  NOOOOOOOO ya don’t.   lololol

     Now … The rest of you people?  Yeah, hey — HAPPY NEW YEAR!  I’ve already started it off laughing. 

     May it be profitable.  And not just for Mister. lolol

     The shining.  The birds are singing.  Money is flowing.  I have a rather reasonably sized erection.  Yes, it’s a good day. 

     I woke up on the left side of the bed, just like always, because the right side is officially taken by someone who hasn’t even been there in forever and a month.  
     Some people keep calling me a Monk… to which I reply, “Oh, bite me.  I don’t even MAKE beer…”
     And so, I intend to keep on waking up on the left side of the bed.

     I also intend to take the rest of the day off, because regardless of the fact that I’m unusually happy for no good reason, I know that if I continue to toil in the minefield of work and business, someone will manage to get under my skin and piss me off enough that my Perfectly Good Mood™ is ruined.

     And to them, I preemptively say…

     “If I wanted any shit from you, I’d squeeze your head.”

Note: Perfectly Good Mood™ is a Registered Trademark of blogitude.com

     Funerals tear me to bits, if for nothing else but the inevitable ranting and raving that always breaks out at “family” functions, so maybe it’s not such a big deal that nobody bothered to tell me that he was dying, much less already gone… But it bothers me, still.  Especially considering this is the second one I didn’t know about, and the fact that my phone number hasn’t changed in years…

     Sorry, Uncle.  I know that you hated having your picture taken.  But this is the way I always remember you…  Much the same way I remember your father… And I hope the others do, too.

     What’s more damaging: a couple of asshats who doesn’t pay you, or someone attacking your reputation?

     Today I had two asshats who didn’t pay me.  One of them was just being a typical asshat, with the same old boring excuses for being a deadbeat.  The other came up with an elaborate story about how they installed incompatible software four days after I was in the system, but because it broke the other software and they didn’t bother to notify me that it was broken, and there was nothing in the logs about it being broken, that I owed them a two hour fix for free with no explanation of the situation before I went into fixing it other than, “It’s broke.”

     No, see, that stuff doesn’t bother me… I’m used to it, as pissed as it makes me.

     It was a third one that really stuck in my craw because it’s unfathomable:

“He ran across your site and you had some stuff on there that made it sound like you were racist… said he wouldn’t give you a penny for a day’s work.”

     WTF? Exqueeze me?

     No, seriously, that’s what kept me so worked up when I lived in Kentucky those three months… I couldn’t go five minutes without some asshat making up total horse pucky, and attempting to circumvent every single good thing I tried to do.  Everything became a damn conspiracy, and I was behind every bit of it!
     So I pressed about HTF he could come up with I’m sounding “like a racist” …

“Well damn I voted wrong” … like it is some sexual reference to Kenyan women

     O.  M.  F.  G.

     So somebody claims I’m a racist, goes the extra mile to say they wouldn’t give me “a penny for a day’s work” because they’re too ignorant to know a couple of premium, dark coffee beans, instead turning it into something that even an overly-sensitive, extremely jealous girlfriend — or ex-girlfriend, wife, stalker, nutjob next door — couldn’t twist it into if she tried?

     Wow.

     Let’s just say, just to even attempt to make any logic out of such a ridiculous assertion, that even if it had been a “sexual reference to Kenyan women,” how the Hell could that possibly make me a racist?

     Unless he’s totally against racial mixing… thus making him…

     A white trash cracker!

     Oh, and there’s a meal I detest: a venison round steak (medium well), canned corn and canned green beans.

     Apparently, that makes me a racist, too.

     [ he says, as he laughs his way to the kitchen for seconds of injera, gored-gored and quince ]