Talk Like a Pirate Day

Tis upon us once again, Arrgh.

My pirate name is:

Dirty James Read

You're the pirate everyone else wants to throw in the ocean -- not to get rid of you, you understand; just to get rid of the smell. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
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Heavenly Ham

Do not let their catchy advertising fool you. That is some expensive ass ham. And who, who I ask, could put a price tag on the one thing Jesus never ate?

Huh, Go Figure

Thanks to that nice lady over here for the inspiration.

You scored as Fallen Angel, You are a Fallen Angel empath. You have not found your place in this world yet and wander as a lost soul. Your wings have been clipped but you know deep inside they will grow back. You need to fly free and proud. Fallen Angels are spiritual beings who were trapped by flesh, and are now seeking to spread their wings again. (from the Book of Storms at

I guess referring to work as "going back to the third circle" really counts. Less than two months to the wedding people. I really should start looking for a tux.

In other news, the fiancee and I took a little hiking and winery jaunt down to the mystical land of Southern Illinois because it is a) cheap, and b) bizarre. I have never seen so many bikers outside of Sturgis or so many tan meth heads. Pictures will follow eventually. I have to figure out the fiance's camera.

Blogger Versus Fascism

I spent the last twenty minutes doing mundane things that have nothing to do with my job. I cleaned out the email box for my eBay empire and Wordpress blog. I noticed that I had received over 100 comments concerning such related topics as foldable bicycles and hot Asian anal. The spam is atrocious. But here, here in this little corner of cyberspace, where no one watches, where no bots come through to plaster promises of a five foot tall Asian scream queen guaranteed to love whatever I want to do to her, I feel content.

It's not that I don't like getting the occasional comment (KIM). But I also enjoy just being able to write about stupid things and stupid ideas and not have to worry about someone I know going off and telling someone else I know what I wrote. That shit will either get me into trouble at work or with the wife, then I have to delete a blog and move on, silently and scornfully, until I can't take the ricochet of my own thoughts bouncing in my skull, faster and faster, until I want to shout to the heaven's and curse God for my own monstrous and twisted ideas.

Wedding plans progress. The bride is really gung ho about the whole process and we have been working on wedding invitations all week. I have been addressing them all by hand. It took me two and a half hours on Saturday to finish my side's invites. I finished her side's last night around 8 o'clock. I understand the sheer solemnity of the sacrament of marriage, but I don't understand why every stamp on every fucking invitation must be just so. But still, she puts up with a lot of my sheer slovenliness, so I have to cut her some slack.

The book progresses. I have a grand total of 8 and a half hand written pages. The idea is still in my mind, but writing is very, very time consuming. It is difficult to find the perfect, or near perfect, words and then string them all together until is sounds like a bunch of Gregorians singing about fiction. Meh, blogging is easier and I hardly ever do that.

And now, some useless fluff to up my visitor stats:

Luke Wilson tried to kill himself because the Scientologists told him to. Nuff said.

Seriously, though. Things are very odd here. The fiancee cannot find a job she likes, I am stuck in perpetua in a dead end job, unless I want to move further away from the fiancee's family, which will never happen. Our house is tiny but livable. She joined the Church choir to deal with her stress, I polished off a bottle of Reisling and a six pack. It's going to be a hell of a wedding...

The Full Swing of Things

I think that I have pinpointed the cause of the depression and nightmares that have been plaguing me these last few weeks. I am under stress at work (which I can totally see the irony since I am sitting at work right now blogging) and things are heating up with the wedding plans.

All hell is breaking loose at the job. I spent last weekend hanging out with my Dad's side of the family to celebrate my parent's 40th wedding anniversary. The bride did not come, because she had agreed to go to a wedding in Minnesota long before the plans for the Anniversary party were made. I had to explain to fifty people where in Iowa we were going to get married and when invitations were coming out. I told them sometime next week. The package with the invitations just came today. Tomorrow, we are going to get our engagement pictures taken. The weekend after Labor Day, we go up to finalize hymns and make the last addendum's to the rest of the Church music. I need to get measured for a tux and order groomsmen presents. Everything has to be done now (at least I think so) so that we don't have to worry about a thing in October. Fuckity fuck fuck!

But wait, that's not all. We have 425 people on the invitation list, of which we know for a fact that 350 are definitely coming. The reception hall only holds 310 people. My boss is in her cubicle crying because her boss is trying to take all work away from her, basically denigrating her to the role of a servant even though she is more qualified to do her bosses' job than her boss is. I fucking hate politics and nonexpandible places. I kind of just want to take an epilady to my nethers until they are smooth and slick.

Invites have arrived. If you're not doing anything on November 3rd and want to hang out in Northeastern Iowa for the weekend, drop me a line.

The Front Has Moved In

Yesterday marked the second day of classes. It also marked the culmination of all that is wrong with putting complete retards in control of every aspect of a Law School. Who made the mistakes? One person. Who got their asses chewed? Me.

A few good things did come out of yesterday. I had a couple of professors stand up for me while I dealt with the torrent of angry students wanting nothing less than a pound of my flesh and a gallon of my blood (and to get into a class that has been closed for three weeks). I also managed to pay all the bills that I had, stacked up over the past month and a half. It is always good to go home and not have to light thirty-seven candles and a can of sterno just to cook some baked beans for dinner. But besides that, the day lasted forever. Students came in every five minutes, either completely lost or completely pissed. I battered them away, answering questions I knew the answer to but had no right answering, until around three o'clock.

It was then that something deep inside of the recesses of my brain snapped, and the world turned itself upside down. I started answering questions with the wrong answers, I started raising my voice to a louder pitch than I was getting yelled at. I almost threatened bodily harm on someone, with witnesses. Luckily, my boss stepped in and told me to cool down, but hell, I hadn't been that angry with someone since my brother pinned me down spread eagle and spit tobacco juice in my eye until it stained the carpet (oh to be eight years old again). I ended up stabbing my brother with a Swiss Army knife for that transgression, imagine what I would do now that I am an lumbering juggernaut of raw man power.

My sister sent me this email to cheer me up. It was one of those "Forward this to ten people or you will lose your left testicle to an angry swarm of militant feminist custodians" but, you know, about the love of Jesus for us but how we don't have time to pray to him because we are all way too busy looking up porn on the internets. I doctored it up and am going to hell. If you would like a copy, leave a comment and I will forward it on to you.

Sanctimonious Drivel

I was blindsided with a touch of the depression this weekend, and it is carrying over into the week. I don't know what is was, but driving back from my parent's house this weekend, "What a Wonderful World" came on the radio and I completely lost my shit. Don't know why, it just happened. My dreams are also becoming more vivid and depression.

It is a stressful time. I need to acknowledge this eventually. Also, money from the part time job is coming in.

I have had this post up at work since 8:00 this morning. It is now five. I am boring, and I am going home.