If you think about it potatoes don’t really get all that much credit
they’re fucking awesome
this one thing here
can be made into:
different variations of fries
It can be made into chips
you can make hashbrowns with it
even a salad
add some fuckin cheese to those potatoes
you can have it sliced and diced
you can make tater tots
hell you can even eat the skin
or just have little potato nuggets
thank u potatoes
potato appreciation post
Don’t forget about mashed potatoes, duchess potatoes, potato pancakes, potato bread or potato soup!
Oh how smart you are!
Oh how intelligence spurts
from your fingertips,
like runny shit from your asshole
or rather, your mouth.
Fuck you, and fuck off.
Fuck you, and follow me, not.
Fuck you and take your naive labeling attitude
and shove it up your ill-informed ass.
How long has it been since you’ve known me?
How long have we been friends,
and have talked to each other,
and have have hung out?
I… I guess you don’t know me,
and we aren’t fucking friends,
we do not talk or hang out,
so I guess you wouldn’t have ever known
that my uncle, the greatest guy in my life is gay,
and I do not run scared from his homosexuality.
I guess you wouldn’t have ever known
that I had a crush on a girl who is gay,
wrote a poem or two for her on here
and I did not run scared from her homosexuality.
I guess you would not have known
that I spent the day at my county fair in 2005 with my gay friend Jason
and I did not run scared from his homosexuality.
I guess you would not have known that
I have a friend in Croatia,
and a friend in Oklahoma who are both gay
who I communicate with them regularly,
and that I do not run from their homosexuality.
Dare I say again that,
you don’t know me?
Dare I acknowledge your
worthless opinion about the kind of person I am
that you based off a single post that
I took pleasure in reblogging to my dashboard.
Dare I cower away
when I am accused of being something that
I am not?
there will be no petty arguments with a person
or rather, fucking clueless dunces who are, (cue sarcasm)
on such a higher level than myself,
who have never met me and yet know me so much better
than my own goddamn self.
When you accuse me,
when you call me out,
when you go out of your way to try to sound smart,
try to feel good and give me some
"shame on you" bullshit opinion,
expect a poetic backlash,
because arguing, you see,
is not worth my time.
Sitting in the hospital lobby, I yawn. I decide to go get a cup of coffee from the little cantina/ cafe area.
cashier: cappuccino or coffee?
C: $1.09 please.
D: Okay (hand cashier my debit card)
C: Do you need a receipt?
D: Yes please.
C: Umm… (seems to struggle with printing a receipt)
D: You said 1.09?
C: Uh, yeah.
D: No problem, I can remember that. Thanks have a great day.
C: Thanks, you too.
I go back to my seat, continue shopping online for gun parts, accessories and apparel of course and the cashier comes walking up to me. This doesn’t surprise me. -An attractive male in his twenties sporting a slightly un-kept beard, masculine musk composed of yesterdays dried sweat and stale cologne, and a pair of $80.00 nike’s on my feet.- You can imagine how a man of my stature is used to such attention.
Anyway, back to reality, the cashier walks up to me.
She mumbles something with a small and nervous voice. My idea is that she wanted to give me my receipt. This interruption, taking me away from learning more about the FN Five-seven is something that at 8:38am in San Andreas is something I will forgive. I walk to the register, and she walks back to get someone who I assume has more authority, or is more qualified to get done what needs to get done.
D: Did you need me to sign a receipt or something?
Manager: No, you were accidentally charged $101.09.
D: Expensive cup of coffee…
She sighs, expressing embarrassment.
I immediately feel smug. Having worked retail and service/food service industry for over 6 years, I know how easy it is to make a mistake. No intentional harm had been done. No one went out of their way to inconvenience me.
The manager makes a phone call, goes through a short series of steps, refunds my money and gives me my receipt.
M: I’m so sorry. If there are any issues, please come back and we will take care of it.
D: Not a problem. It’s alright, things happen.
M: Thank you for your patience and understanding, the coffee is on us.
D: Of course, thank you, have a great day.
That my friends, is how you get a free cup of coffee at the hospital.
in such good company! cool!
I know right! I’ve decided to never move, stay single (or marry an old woman with lots of money) and buy lots and lots of guns and then die at the age of 387. My skin will still be tight, my health will be impeccable, and I will have learned to breathe underwater without gills. Oh and the death will be due to fighting an a two headed albino grizzly bear, bare handed. We will both die. Her because I will have been extensively trained in bear tactics, and me because I will have neglected to stretch before the fight.
I really like what I just wrote. It’s ridiculous.
Anyway, I thought you’d appreciate the photo. :)
This is one of the more “home-hitting” posts that brings up really personal feelings, bruised emotions and lots of memories for me. WITH THE EXCEPTION OF DRESSING LIKE A WOMAN. just making that clear is all.
Every other post though was pretty much spot on with how I grew up in adolescence. I was really sheltered compared to all the other kids in town because my step father didn’t let me go anywhere or do anything. I had a terrible body image of myself, had crazy low self esteem, was physically weak, couldn’t do a single pull up until I was 17. My first time getting drunk was the day I turned 18. I never played with dolls, or did makeup. I’m straight, always have been, always will be, but I did live without a father figure for a while, and my mother taught me how to cook, clean, sew, and showed me different kinds of crafts. I used these skills to do things for people, like make gifts, or to give baked goods at holidays or to make soups for my neighbors when they were ill. And yet, later on growing up I was criticized for so much of this. My heart and mind were stuck in darkness for so long.
I’m happy now. Life treats me good because I treat life good. I’m a grown man, and if someone wants to fuck with me I either laugh or give it right back to them. I’m in great shape, and have no quarrels, really. I’ve overcome a lot of mental health issues and obstacles but I still deal with a lot of them daily. Anxiety, for one. But I’ve recognized and acknowledged my coping skills, and it gets me through each day.
So this isn’t a poor me thing.
Basically, thank you and kudos, to the artist who made this.
p.s. I don’t care how many people tell me it’s okay to play with fucking dolls and to wear dresses, that’s not me. I’m straight. Thank you for fucking understanding. (And any pictures of me wearing a woman’s top at WORK is because it makes my co workers laugh.)
In the good company of an Austrian and a Russian. This house is ethnicity friendly. This will go down as one of the richest and happiest days of my life.
When courting, dating, flirting, or getting to know someone you have an interest in, instead of asking what their “type” is, it’s better to be bold and ask if you are their type.
One of the things I hated most about going to the clinic was getting my weight checked.
I’ve literally lost over 50 pounds since May.
I was pretty shocked. It made think about what kind of shape I’d be in if I hadn’t cheated on my diet as many times as I have, and had exercised on the days I hadn’t due to laziness.
So as far as getting fit for training, I am more than confident. I’m actually incredibly excited.
Sawyer…what’s a CHIP…ooops, as CHP? :P
:) California Highway Patrol. Similar to a Colorado State Trooper, or a Texas Ranger. It’s referred to as a paramilitary department. It’s quite a different job than being a sheriff or city officer. Not to discredit those kinds of officers at all. The academy is 27 weeks long, and from what I’ve heard is very comparable to military boot camp.
But yeah, I’ve feeling pretty good about this. The officer I spoke with earlier told me that it actually took him seven years before he got a spot in the department. If it takes me that long, well, that’d just be okay. I’ve got a secure job now that I love and if it takes some time to get into the academy, i’ll still be okay! Gives me more training time anyway! :)
So I was getting tools out of my truck earlier, and I noticed a CHP driving through my condominium complex’s parking lot. I waved him down and asked him about applying. I asked him if it’d help my chances of getting accepted into the academy if I had a degree in criminal justice. He said it didn’t make a difference sooooo I will be applying on November 3rd and hopefully testing thereafter. We will see. I am being hopeful.
The highlight of my day. Poetry and guns.
A good friend came into the shop
a joke at the workplace
a short drive home from work
a walk across the street
a seat on her porch
conversations held between her, my mother, and myself
beer and wine
my mothers departure
myself staying, finishing my drink
interest and drunken curiosity
more than answers
a sunset we payed no attention to
more wine we’d share
words I cannot remember
our lips touching
our hands grasping each other
the removal of garments
walking up stairs together
mutual lust caving in on us
the both of us giving in
fires burning hotter in both of our lonely hearts
compassionate words spoken
me sleeping over
waking up next to her
her leg over my thigh
doing some of those things again
laying there with her awhile
a few questions here and there
her saying we were cool
me kissing her forehead
walking across the street to my house
admitting to myself it wouldn’t work out
being content with a great friendship
something I think might be called love
the realization that sometimes, it may only happen once.