Sep 27

Hmmmmm, What To Blog About Now?

I’m revamping this old post for Dude Write 7 Deadly Sins. You should check it out. I figured that I have tons of sin in my blog already, but this was my first post that dealt with religion, and my contempt for it. Basically I’m stirring the pot, and I’m sure that there’s some sort of sin here with the small bit of gayness that will qualify me.

What the hell people? I’m running out of topics, and the four of you that read this aren’t much help. I guess I’ll start by saying that I don’t believe in God. I generally capitalize it out of respect for those of you that do. I’m not saying God doesn’t exist, I just have a hard time buying into it. It’s not just God, because I don’t believe in any other deity either. I do believe in people and humanity though, and I try to follow the ten commandments as much as possible.(Well, five to ten anyhow.)

On the other hand, I don’t care what you believe in, as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody. You can have faith that Rumplestiltskin is the creator of the universe if it makes you feel happy. I know he wouldn’t be my first choice, what with all the hoarding babies and all.

That’s Jesus

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Sep 26

Maybe I did hit the sauce last night.

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I only say that because I woke up in the night with a throbbing headache and what feels like an extra set of arms and legs draped over me. Could it be? Is my lifelong dream coming true without having to pay a cent? My pulse raced with excitement at the thought of finally getting a threesome, while my mind went through the scenarios of what might have happened, and what was in my future. Man, I sure hope I was able to leave an impression, but I’m pretty sure I passed out because I’d remember something that monumental.

Okay, if I screwed up that shot, I had better make things count now. I’m going to need some food, a bunch of sugar and maybe quarter half a Cialis if I am going to prove to myself that I’m up to the task of thoroughly satisfying two (or could there be more?) women. As I slowly open my eyes to gauge my surroundings, I start to piece together the night. Wait a minute, I’ll count my drinks. One beer at nine, two diet cokes, another beer at eleven thirty, and a water. After that, we cleaned up the hall and I distinctly remember driving everyone home.

My eyes are now focusing on my beautiful fiance, limbs sprawled over me in a loving embrace, and I realize that it’s just the two of us. I can’t help but smile when I look at her face, and I realize that I really can’t wait to marry her. I forget about the fantasy of two women for a while, and I mean a very short while. Jesus, I still have balls, don’t I?

Put me in coach, I’m ready to play today,

Birdman

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Sep 25

Old horses

Well, I dragged my slightly crippled ass to the ball tournament and kept the bench as dry as I could for the real athletes on the team. I still don’t understand how we got a fourth game, but we did, and that’s all that matters. I didn’t get to see the final game, but I was there in spirit (which, incidentally, is usually better than when I show up), and I still get to go to the dance later, so yay for me. I am going to be the designated driver tonight, and try to present myself in a respectable manner. This is a new endeavour, so wish me luck. I was able to resist beer, jello shots and pregnant gummy worms, so I should be able to make it through the night nursing a beer or two.I’m actually looking forward to hanging with the gang tonight. Sure we knock back a couple after the games, but most of them were well on their way to being shitfaced when I left at 2:00 pm, I shudder to think about how fun those bastards are going to be by 8 or so.

I used to play ball a lot when I was young, and enjoyed the hell out of it, but when I started driving truck, I couldn’t commit to any specific times during the week, so I didn’t play anymore. We actually lucked out this year, by finding a very fun and cool group of people, that coincidentally, play on Sunday nights, and don’t give a shit if we win or lose. That’s our kind of crowd, and our kind of schedule. I can’t wait to barrel roll for you bastards next year.

 GO STRAY CATS GO 

Please don’t let Kenny drive,

Birdman

 

 

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Sep 24

I was expecting a little more fanfare than that.

You would think that after being off for three days, I’d at least get a bugler or a piper to announce my return to work. I mean, I am the star employee, aren’t I? I guess he did ask if I was feeling better, so that’s kinda good, and I had a pretty easy day, as far as trucking goes, but not one cartwheel, YAHOO or town crier. Hmmmmm, maybe mom was right, I may really be replaceable. Damn her and her all knowing ways.

Speaking of completely random topic changes, (and that is why we’re here, isn’t it?), why is it that it’s mostly men that pay for sex? I would think that all this talk about equality would have changed things on that front. I know all kinds of single women that are always going on about how they can’t get laid. Yeah right. Like you don’t have the time to walk into a bar and yell, “I’m horny”. You ladies can deny it all you want, but if you’re just looking for a quick romp, seven out of ten men will jump on that pony and ride it til it dies. Thankfully, I’m one of the other three guys, you know the ones that are usually drunk in the background guffawing and shouting encouragement to the others and then running home to tell their better half how they didn’t have any fun, and were only thinking of her the whole time.

I really am one of the lucky ones. After thirty eight years of searching, I found the perfect match for me in every way. Every day is something new and amazing, and I wake up each morning excited at the thought of getting off work and going home to those three beautiful ladies. I know there are a lot of dads out there that completely understand that feeling, but this is all new to me. Up until now, the greatest connection I’ve ever had, other than my mother, was with animals. No not like that, you bunch of freaks. I mean that bond, where you would do anything in your power to protect them, because you can, and they might not be able to fully protect themselves. Where you value another life more than your own, and have recurring visions of what you would do if a bear attacked them, or a car veered off the road towards them. You know every time that you will sacrifice yourself to give them the chance. Jesus, that’s pretty grim, if those are my visions, right? Should I maybe see someone about that? I truly hope it never comes down to it, but if it does, I already know that I will be riding that bear to the ground with my thumb in it’s eye and my Leatherman in it’s neck,screaming “Get them to the car, I’ll be ok”.

Don’t let the bedbugs bite,

Birdman

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Sep 23

I May Have Jumped The Gun

Birdman

I woke up this morning feeling like I had been trampled by a herd of Woodland Caribou. I guess I got feeling a little too rambunctious and invincible at the thought of finally being rid of the stone. I have slept and lounged around all day, and barely had enough energy to type this blog entry up.

I’m back to work tomorrow, so I guess it’s good to rest. What the hell am I saying? I shouldn’t be feeling this old yet. I’m not even forty for the love of Pete. Wait, am I forty now? No, I’m pretty sure I’m thirty nine still.

Holy shit, time is starting to gain ground on me, and I don’t like it. Two weeks ago I was riding my bicycle with my brother on what we thought was the longest bike ride taken by man. We got to pack a lunch, and ride to the gravel pit, where we set up camp and ate our sandwiches, hand picked apples and cookies. We had a wineskin full of Freshie and a few survival tools in the backpack (I think there was a compass and a jackknife). We were knights on our hard journey, and no one could have told us that four miles could easily be cycled in an hour or so. Okay, maybe that wasn’t two weeks ago, but it certainly couldn’t be have been thirty years, could it?

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Every once in a while I’ll notice it in the mirror. The lines, age spots, tired eyes, etc… I wonder what we do it all for? Is this what life was intended to be like for the human race? I have a hard time believing that from the dawn of existence, (I’ll let you all figure out what that means) we were meant to work our asses off, just to be able to possess some “things”. I love Thoreau’s outlook on life from the shores of Walden Pond. He realized that there is more to life than keeping up appearances and slaving your life away for someone else. He wanted to live his life deliberately, and so he did.

There is a life to live out there, and we shouldn’t go to the grave with any regrets, so call your brother up. Ask him if he wants to go for a ride or a beer and talk about how you miss those days. Maybe that gravel pit is still there, or the offspring of that apple tree. Eat a couple of apples while you throw rocks at nothing and think back to simpler times. Cherish these moments, because you can, and because you never know if you’ll get the chance.

Enjoy what life has to offer my friends,

Birdman

P.S. Don’t have too many beer when you get together. There are few things worse than staving drunk assholes, crying about how they need to spend more time together, and vomiting beer mixed with sour apple chunks.

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