Drama

As if there isn't enough in real life, the wife likes to watch soap operas, just for fun, my Dad watches the same ones she does.

I know enough Drama Queens personally that all I have to do is pick up the phone and I can skip an entire season after a fifteen minute phone call, seriously.

Apparently, there is a 24 hour Soap Opera channel I was blissfully unaware of until recently.

Even worse, there are people on some of these soaps I even recognize from decades ago.

Some have aged well, some look like road kill.

Some are little punk assed kids who couldn't act their way out of a wet paper bag too.

To each their own I suppose but I would rather watch the Food Channel, or paint dry.

The wife stays up until one or later in the morning watching this crap.

Thankfully, I tend to fall asleep in my chair long before that.

The thing with Soaps is that you can quit watching them for six months and come back and not miss a fucking thing.
They drag shit out to the point of absurdity.

I remember twenty five years ago, there was a wedding on one of those sonsabitches that took a year and a half before there was a kiss and the honeymoon took another six months.

That was when I had my lower back fused in a five hour operation and was bed ridden for several months and went stir crazy with nothing to do.

Yeah, I had nothing better to do and that was all that was on all fucking day.
Even Oprah wasn't around back then.

I still hate that fucker Victor and that bastard is still around after all these years.

Some things never change.

You go dude.

Nasty Girls Box

Jewelry box, you perverts!



I finally got done with the damned thing and then I had to do something with it. I make stuff all the time for no apparent reason other than I just like makin' stuff. Usually just give it away to friends and family.

Tried sellin' stuff on-line but nobody know or cares about the difference between 5/4 western red cedar and 1/2 inch cheap Chinese pine. I'm one guy in his spare time, not a hundred million slave-laborers cranking it out ad-nauseum for twelve cents a day. On E-Bay the pictures all look the same and only the price matters. Tried a craft show or two but got tired of assholes telling wives and girlfriends "I could do that". Yawn. Then go do it and get the fuck away from me. I can't compete on the other end either, since there are a whole hell of a lot of guys out there who are better than me. There are guys out there who are doing ART and I'm just a guy who likes making shit, okay? Nothing to see here, move along.

What the hell am I gonna do with a jewelry box? I ain't got a girlfriend at the moment so might as well give it to Nasty Girl, since I finally got to meet her and all. OB can tell ya the story about how we pissed off the bartender two days in a row. Oh, yeah...this far from getting cut off and eighty-sixed, thank you very much. On the second day she actually left the building when she said she wouldn't "let me" play Irish music anymore (after day one) and I walked straight to the jukebox and played "Did It All For You" by The Tossers. Oh, she was fucking bent about that! Whatever...appropo, since the band name "Tossers" comes from an old derogatory nickname for the Irish. If I'm going then I'm going in style, baby. And I'm leaving good music in my wake. Even though I'm not Irish. We didn't actually get thrown out but there's always next time. I wouldn't bet against us if I were you.



It ain't perfect but it came out okay. Better than these pictures. The box joints are nice and tight. Hey, hey, hey...stop that! Jewelry box, remember? J-e-w-e-l-r-y box. Getcher minds outta the gutter. You don't wanna go there anyway. NG and OB will prob'ly roll over so hard they crush yer heads against the curb and keep on rollin'. I think Ted Nugent got the name of his recent tour from them two when he seen 'em running for the bedroom: "Trample The Weak And Hurdle The Dead".

So anyway, it came out alright. A few minor imperfections here and there but only the kind that I notice. Little nicks and missed sanding marks and crap like that. Shining beacons of failure to me but invisible to everybody else. Since there ain't no such thing as perfect I've learned to live with it.



Meh...not too awful bad for a 70 dollar walnut board that I had no fucking idea what I was gonna do with when I bought it. Some poplar and 1/4 inch plywood and hardware I had layin' around. No plan is that part that I like. No drawings or sketches...just a couple o' boards, a tape measure, a pencil, a table saw and a router. Completely on the fly making' it up as I went along. That tells me I'm gettin' better and that fucking rocks. Ah, but as soon as you think you're good at something then that's the best you'll ever be. There's a lot more sawdust and very expensive kindling in my future 'cause I ain't nowhere near as good I wanna be. Maybe someday.

Added bonus: from now on every time me and the Ornery Bastard clink glasses I get to go, "Uh...huh, huh...your girlfriend liked my wood".



spongebobcrackwhore

Miss Me Much?

Oh yeah, sure.
Anyways, a little something to keep you busy for a minute,
71 pictures of trashy little sluts with tattoos.

You know yer going to.

I'll find something else to rant about later when I have more time.