I can't take my fuckin eyes off you little buggers for a fucking second, can I?
I guess one fucking Tribe birthday ain't enough
Call the fuckin sitter, we're going to be at for a while.
It's FURTHER the anniversary of the birth of our favourite Texan.
(Sorry, man, I tried to find a piccie of Jimmy Page with a fuckin candle sticking out of his head, but no dice, if you can believe it, anyways, just imagine these fuckers singin Happy Birthday to you, you know, with vodka and groupies)
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sretan Rođendan, kneginjica!
Finally, it's the Day.
Do join your commiserative yet transcendent Ruler in wishing the very Happiest of Birthdays to our very own beloved Spazazon.
(See what I did there, I got you one with all the good bits, but none of the bad parts...like, you know, the parts that talk)
So, come on and hoist a Slivoshitz or 9 to the sweetest, smartest, funniest, most adorable Goddess to ever not hold a quick downshirt against a guy, all woman, all lovin, all precious, 181 cm of pure sensual Roller Disco delight and female glory, my Best Fucking Friend, the one and only
Crown Princess of Croatia.
Hope it's the best ever, Mala.
Miss you and love you always,
XOXOXOXOXO
Raj
Do join your commiserative yet transcendent Ruler in wishing the very Happiest of Birthdays to our very own beloved Spazazon.
(See what I did there, I got you one with all the good bits, but none of the bad parts...like, you know, the parts that talk)
So, come on and hoist a Slivoshitz or 9 to the sweetest, smartest, funniest, most adorable Goddess to ever not hold a quick downshirt against a guy, all woman, all lovin, all precious, 181 cm of pure sensual Roller Disco delight and female glory, my Best Fucking Friend, the one and only
Crown Princess of Croatia.
Hope it's the best ever, Mala.
Miss you and love you always,
XOXOXOXOXO
Raj
Thursday, October 27, 2011
So there
I used to know this guy, actually we were sort of in-laws, we called him Boog.
Smartest guy I ever met, or one of them anyways.
Also one of the best pals I've ever had.
I was telling Count Helmut von Anteater about him a while ago.
He was one of those guys that had an early disappointment that kept him from achieving his lifelong dream, and then went on to just not really give a fuck.
He fuckin drove cab for a long time, sort of choosing the absolutely most dead ended thing he could find.
Anyways, he ended up, more by inertia than anything else, with this girl.
Naturally, she wasn't really built to keep up with him intellectually, and was totally outclassed in terms of his lack of ambition.
So, just to shut her up more than anything, since he was obviously going nowhere fast in his current sitch, he agreed to move out to Victoria with her.
I think she was from there.
Her plan was, I believe, that if they made a "fresh start", in a place where she had her family for support, that he would, you know, pull up his socks (as me sainted Ma would say), and they'd be able to do that thing commonly known as "make a life" for themselves.
And, at least, they'd be out of the insanely brutal Alberta fuckin winters.
Like I said, Boog's actual emotional investment in this deal was, to say the least, peripheral.
So they got there, and she got a job and they got a place and she started, you know, making plans.
You fuckin girls, you'll just never learn, will you?
So Boog, since real jobs were pretty scarce, and his resume was bereft of pretty much anything to recommend him for much except pushing a hack, did what many enterprising young Canookistanian men do in the face of a harping cohabitative FEmale, they take their still-strong back, their half a fuckin clue and this
And started doing contracting work.
You know, someone you know wants a deck built, you take it and by the time the gig's done 7 days later, between your friends telling their friends, and the neighbors seeing you working, you've got 3 or 4 more jobs lined up.
This guy needs a new sidewalk poured, and his sister wants her basement framed and drywalled, and the guy across the alley wants a new fence put up, and on it goes.
It's a pretty good deal, mostly it's under the table, the customer's happy because your price is way low because you got practically no overhead and you aren't claiming the income and you aren't filing the loathed and despised 7% GST, so everyone's happy.
It's a great Candidian tradition.
Heck, it's how I got the scratch together to get the fuck over here.
Also, as mentioned, Boog was in Victoria, where you can work outside all 12 months, so he was doing pretty good.
He was pretty personable when he could be arsed, and was a pretty exacting type of dude, so before long he had plenty steady work.
Naturally, the girl is starting to see, erm, well, whatever the Domestic Bliss equivalent of this
would be, I don't know, maybe, erm, lace curtains?
Anyways, as these things go far more often than most people would care to admit, the closer she thought they were getting to coming up with a down payment on a little bla bla bla, the further away the Boog got from wanting the exact same thing.
Now, Boog, being a fairly self-reflective sort, really liked fishing.
And, of course, Victoria, being both a harbour town and the southern tip of an island, has great fishing, both river and ocean varieties.
So Boog was certainly not averse to booking for a few hours with a sixer and his rig and getting a little quality angling time in.
The thing was, as they went along, Boog was bookin to fish more and more and taking fewer and fewer jobs.
Of course, being a fairly normal Canookislostanivakian male reared in the 60s and 70s, he was blisteringly non-confrontational, especially where chicks were concerned.
So anyways, things continued to deteriorate and their respective motivations continued to diverge, until one day she came home from work to see his tackle and gear sitting on the table and rightly assumed that he'd been out fishing all day instead of looking for work.
And she decided to have it out.
And so she did.
And she stood there and told him she was about fed up with being the only one who seemed to be really putting out in terms of building their life together, that if they were ever going to get out of that crappy basement suite, into a home of their own, in a nice neighborhood, and maybe even start thinking about maybe starting a family, that it was high time he grew up and starting assuming a little responsibility for himself, and didn't he think that it was kind of immature to be ditching work, especially when there they were, trying to work together to make a better life for themselves, and on top of everything else, instead of working, what did he think he was doing, going fucking fishing???"
And when she finally finished, Boog looked up at her, looked her in the eye, and said
"Hey, I'm just trying to put food on the table"
Raj
Smartest guy I ever met, or one of them anyways.
Also one of the best pals I've ever had.
I was telling Count Helmut von Anteater about him a while ago.
He was one of those guys that had an early disappointment that kept him from achieving his lifelong dream, and then went on to just not really give a fuck.
He fuckin drove cab for a long time, sort of choosing the absolutely most dead ended thing he could find.
Anyways, he ended up, more by inertia than anything else, with this girl.
Naturally, she wasn't really built to keep up with him intellectually, and was totally outclassed in terms of his lack of ambition.
So, just to shut her up more than anything, since he was obviously going nowhere fast in his current sitch, he agreed to move out to Victoria with her.
I think she was from there.
Her plan was, I believe, that if they made a "fresh start", in a place where she had her family for support, that he would, you know, pull up his socks (as me sainted Ma would say), and they'd be able to do that thing commonly known as "make a life" for themselves.
And, at least, they'd be out of the insanely brutal Alberta fuckin winters.
Like I said, Boog's actual emotional investment in this deal was, to say the least, peripheral.
So they got there, and she got a job and they got a place and she started, you know, making plans.
You fuckin girls, you'll just never learn, will you?
So Boog, since real jobs were pretty scarce, and his resume was bereft of pretty much anything to recommend him for much except pushing a hack, did what many enterprising young Canookistanian men do in the face of a harping cohabitative FEmale, they take their still-strong back, their half a fuckin clue and this
And started doing contracting work.
You know, someone you know wants a deck built, you take it and by the time the gig's done 7 days later, between your friends telling their friends, and the neighbors seeing you working, you've got 3 or 4 more jobs lined up.
This guy needs a new sidewalk poured, and his sister wants her basement framed and drywalled, and the guy across the alley wants a new fence put up, and on it goes.
It's a pretty good deal, mostly it's under the table, the customer's happy because your price is way low because you got practically no overhead and you aren't claiming the income and you aren't filing the loathed and despised 7% GST, so everyone's happy.
It's a great Candidian tradition.
Heck, it's how I got the scratch together to get the fuck over here.
Also, as mentioned, Boog was in Victoria, where you can work outside all 12 months, so he was doing pretty good.
He was pretty personable when he could be arsed, and was a pretty exacting type of dude, so before long he had plenty steady work.
Naturally, the girl is starting to see, erm, well, whatever the Domestic Bliss equivalent of this
would be, I don't know, maybe, erm, lace curtains?
Anyways, as these things go far more often than most people would care to admit, the closer she thought they were getting to coming up with a down payment on a little bla bla bla, the further away the Boog got from wanting the exact same thing.
Now, Boog, being a fairly self-reflective sort, really liked fishing.
And, of course, Victoria, being both a harbour town and the southern tip of an island, has great fishing, both river and ocean varieties.
So Boog was certainly not averse to booking for a few hours with a sixer and his rig and getting a little quality angling time in.
The thing was, as they went along, Boog was bookin to fish more and more and taking fewer and fewer jobs.
Of course, being a fairly normal Canookislostanivakian male reared in the 60s and 70s, he was blisteringly non-confrontational, especially where chicks were concerned.
So anyways, things continued to deteriorate and their respective motivations continued to diverge, until one day she came home from work to see his tackle and gear sitting on the table and rightly assumed that he'd been out fishing all day instead of looking for work.
And she decided to have it out.
And so she did.
And she stood there and told him she was about fed up with being the only one who seemed to be really putting out in terms of building their life together, that if they were ever going to get out of that crappy basement suite, into a home of their own, in a nice neighborhood, and maybe even start thinking about maybe starting a family, that it was high time he grew up and starting assuming a little responsibility for himself, and didn't he think that it was kind of immature to be ditching work, especially when there they were, trying to work together to make a better life for themselves, and on top of everything else, instead of working, what did he think he was doing, going fucking fishing???"
And when she finally finished, Boog looked up at her, looked her in the eye, and said
"Hey, I'm just trying to put food on the table"
Raj
Sorry, you're actually an idiot
So I'm having lunch yesterday with not one, not two, but THREE actual members of this here tribality.
In no particular order,
and
Pretty good time was had by all, even considering that not one of the bastards would buy into my dissertation on Max Planck's Equatorial Differential Theory of Geophysics.
Anyways, proving, as always, that no fucking horse is too dead to keep kicking, Werner fucking Turdzog is going on and on about how he shouldn't be blamed for not getting this one.
See, he contends that he made the completely forgivable mistake of thinking they go to see a matinee of a fucking movie.
In fact, he's never heard of matinees in the theatre.
In FACT, he doesn't even believe there ARE matinees in the theatre.
And then he rubbed his eye after handling the fresh-picked habaneros I had brought for him.
See, if you're trying to claim non-stupidity in your own defense, well...
Raj
In no particular order,
and
Pretty good time was had by all, even considering that not one of the bastards would buy into my dissertation on Max Planck's Equatorial Differential Theory of Geophysics.
Anyways, proving, as always, that no fucking horse is too dead to keep kicking, Werner fucking Turdzog is going on and on about how he shouldn't be blamed for not getting this one.
See, he contends that he made the completely forgivable mistake of thinking they go to see a matinee of a fucking movie.
In fact, he's never heard of matinees in the theatre.
In FACT, he doesn't even believe there ARE matinees in the theatre.
And then he rubbed his eye after handling the fresh-picked habaneros I had brought for him.
See, if you're trying to claim non-stupidity in your own defense, well...
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
This Week's Contest
So, I was talkin to Her Highness The Princess recently, and I remembered I had this one gag I ALWAYS wanted to use with her, but always forgot to.
I got a smoke and, hold on...one of those puffy Harbin-style onion cakes, the soda bread-y ones, for the first one of yiz who gets this one.
OK, there's a wee bit of prior knowledge required, but most of them what don't know it are already ass-stupid tall equatorially proximal Yanks, so knowing it probably wouldn't help you anyways.
So it goes like this.
I see her, and I go
"Call me Ishmael"
Knock yourselves out.
Raj
I got a smoke and, hold on...one of those puffy Harbin-style onion cakes, the soda bread-y ones, for the first one of yiz who gets this one.
OK, there's a wee bit of prior knowledge required, but most of them what don't know it are already ass-stupid tall equatorially proximal Yanks, so knowing it probably wouldn't help you anyways.
So it goes like this.
I see her, and I go
"Call me Ishmael"
Knock yourselves out.
Raj
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Yeah, it's them little fuckers you got to watch out for...
Oh yeah, I know what you're thinkin.
You're looking at that and you're all like, "Oh, he's so adorable" and "What a sweetheart" and all that fucking bushwah.
You're looking at that and you're all like, "Oh, he's so adorable" and "What a sweetheart" and all that fucking bushwah.
That's what the girls think.
BUT, them that knows, they look at that and a chill runs down they spine, they know them cute little bastards are the most dangerous.
You chicks look and all you see is a wee fella you'd love to pick up and cuddle baldheaded.
Me, I look and I see one of them squirrely psycho feckers, the ankle biters, the ones who'll bite off your ear and apply the business end of a fuckin pint glass to your fiz, the ones who'll blindside you with the fucking menu chalkboard when you aren't looking, and then when you try and deck the little SOB your fucking date starts fucking ranking you for picking on the little guy.
Leprechauns, my fat Hebrew ass.
Raj
Leprechauns, my fat Hebrew ass.
Raj
Dodged THAT motherfucker, anyways
Tambourines and elephants
Were playing in the band
Shit, I thought I'd missed a VERY important birthday.
Fortunately, despite my shameless self-absorption, I misremembered the date.
Raj
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