Drunken Post

I don't noramally rigte posts when i'm drunk ubt its about time for a new post so here I am. I try to updsdate my blog at least twice a week but sometims its hard cuss of my job and shit. God i hate my job i wish i coiuld just blog all fucking day long and tell those fuckers to kissoff. I staretgd the is blog like two.5 yuears ago so i could get some poon but so far i haven't gotten shit form you poelple. that babble chik is kinda cute but all she dos is have babies with some other guy. Then theres revee who got me unbanned form medialien forum by having intercrourse with the moderator. She's really sweat nad shit but shes datting a candy bar. sissy bloned sounds hot and her avatar looks lick maralyn manson, did you no she was discovered in a drug store having amilkshake/ drug stores don't have milkshakes anymore maybe if they did more poelple would be discoverd. PEPO;LEE PPEPLE PEOPLE fuck tahts a hard workd to spell when your drunk.

Time for a new paragraphy. So i went down town to thsi bar hopping to score some poon, their wawas a cute watress wtih a black halter top thing i tried to show her my weewee but she sparyed me with mace damn btcih. The bartender made me a rum and coke and i drank it but didnt even taste lany alcohol which is wiered cause i usualy taste that shit real easy. I thought he jsut gaeve me a awated down cola so i asked for another and then another. bY the tird i was feeling real good so i decided to get he fuck outta there and gol home.

ON my a way to hte car i had to piss like a moituehrfucker so i foudn a cobblsstone alley and pissed in it I hoep they don't mnind. I know you'res nots uppoped to drink drukn but i had to get home and paint my dormers befrore the homos associatastion gets mad at me agian. I past dead bird on the sidewalk i swear to you it smeelleed just like cherry koolaid, isn't that cdrazy? Or amybe koolaid smeels like dead birds, i don't know for sure. When i amd runk, I like to eat Taco bell food and i dont knwo why that is but i think everybody eats taco bell when they're durnk. So i went there next and ordered something and ate it all up.

Then i realised it was tood ark to paint my dormers plus i couldt' find my latter so i decided ot take a fuckign shower. I cleaned my bathroom today which if cuking hate to do mbut it needed it cause mold was growing on the tile groute. i filled an empty spary bototle with bleach and water to spray on the mold but fuck if the spray bottle didnt want otw ork so i just pourd the fucking bealch driectly on the mold and guess waht it's gone! i'm like martha fucking steward, bitches. Thend i had to piss real bad again so i got aoiutta the shower and piseed all over the fucking gfloor that i jsut cleaned tdoay, usually i hafe pretty good aim but notu when im' drunk. sonfoabtich i hate toilets.

YOuw ever wahtch that ER show? ica n't stand it except for thaot hot blond chidkc waht ever her name is. Otherwsiek its sucks as far as im' concerned. When in was driving home tonight i was swerving all over the place but damn if i didn't know all the words to hotel california and vcitim of love by the eagles. I swear i know all their lyricds so good i could sing them if i was dead. Thye has a enww album comign out next month you should check it ouit lots of news ongs. i already heard one new song thats actually an old song by jd souther they used todo in concernt not many poeleple know that but i do bc i'm a big fan. ms. babble hates the eagles but shes a bichtc so whoo cares.


goodamit im' hunry agian lucky i have some fuckign doritos in my caibnet. honestly I could eat doritos the rest of my life and neve get tiredk of them. They havfe lots of flaovors now but noacho will alwas be my favorite i think. Try the smokin cheddar sometime tho it really is smoking but not really. anybody nkow owhere i can get some quality poon i woiuld apprefdiate it. Fuck its cold outsdie tonigt i guess fall is here. I never licked fall when iwa s in school becase fall meants chool was starting agin and i fuciking hated school. Now i ckinda like fall becdause the weather is coolrer and i have to work anyaway so wahts the fucking dirfference.

Mona Lisas and Red Hatters

Mother Dyckerson is really losing it. She has always been a little goofy...like the time she asked me to look at her TV remote because it wasn't working. Turns out she was trying to change channels with a calculator. Or the time I asked for a Dustbuster for Christmas, and she got me a Shop-Vac with a 10 gallon tank.

Now she has gone and joined something called the Red Hat Society. For those of you not familiar, the Red Hat Society is an ever-growing group composed of old bats on the verge of senility who convene on a regular basis for the sole purpose of making fools of themselves. They have local chapters around the country, so chances are you've seen them out in public. They are easily identifiable by rosy-colored head coverings.


What exactly does the Red Hat Society do, you ask?? A better question might be, what don't they do? For example, they don't raise money for charity. They don't read to the blind or make quilts for the children's hospital. They don't organize bake sales to raise money for the PTA. In fact, they don't seem to do anything constructive or meaningful in any way. They just have lots and lots of spare time.


Mother D's local chapter went to lunch last weekend. They got themselves a big table at Olive Garden, ordered ridiculous amounts of pasta, and gorged themselves like they were on one of them Japanese game shows. Oh yeah, and then they had a kazoo playing contest. That's right, a kazoo playing contest. Right there in the restaurant. Mother D won second prize - some cheap piece of crap from the Dollar Hole. Yeah, that's worth making an idiot of yourself in front of people who are trying to eat their calzones. If I was the manager of that Olive Garden, I would have called the cops and had them all arrested for disturbing the pizza.


I'm thinking of starting my own club, the Blue Hat Society. We'll engage in turf wars and commit violent acts against the Red Hats. If a Red Hat tries to enter our territory or even looks at us funny, we'll shank their wrinkled old asses. Or better yet, perhaps I'll form an Ass Hat Society. We'll drive around the neighborhood and blast our train horns in front of unwitting pedestrians. Yeah, that would be awesome!

Meanwhile, I'm going to start searching for a nut farm for Mother D...

Check Out My Package!

Guess what was waiting to greet me when I came home Friday night! No, it wasn't the Hor dressed as a French chamber maid. That was Thursday night. It was THIS:


That's right, ladies and germs! It's the ONKYO TX-SR505S 7.1 Channel Home Theater Receiver!! I know what you're thinking right now: "Dyckerson, that must have set you back a pretty penny!" Well think again, Copernicus! I ordered that baby last week from the good folks at Amazon.com for a paltry $219.99. That's a savings of $79.01, or 26% off the list price! Retail is for CHUMPS!! I invested in this versatile piece of hardware to replace my aging stereo receiver, which I never even bothered to hook up when I moved last year.

Now without further adieu, behold for yourself...the TX-SR505S in all its unwrapped glory:


Isn't it beautiful?? It's also available in black, but I went with the silvery finish because it's shinier, and everybody knows shinier is better. (If you get one for yourself, just make sure you avoid the lead version from China.)

Now you're probably wondering exactly what the TX-SR505S is all about. Allow me to put it in layman's terms for you simpletons. The TX-SR505S boasts 75 Watts per Channel Minimum into 8 Ohms, 20 Hz-20 kHz, 0.08%, FTC (2 Channels Driven); 100 Watts per Channel Minimum into 6 Ohms, 1 kHz, 0.1%, FTC (2 Channels Driven), DTS-ES Discrete/Matrix, DTS Neo:6, DTS 96/24, Dolby Digital EX, Dolby Pro Logic Iix, 2 HDMI Inputs and 1 Output (1080p Pass-Thru to HD Ready Displays), and Color-Coded 7.1-Multichannel Inputs (Receive 7.1 Surround Sound from Compatible Blu-ray and HD-DVD Players).

Impressive, ain't it??! And it's a cinch to install! All you need is a few common household tools...such as scissors, a flashlight, wire cutters, needle nose pliers, a flathead screwdriver, a crimping tool, vice grips, a soldering iron, cable ties, a blowtorch, an air compressor, a hacksaw, blasting caps, adhesive tape, a staple gun, at least 10,000 feet of assorted cables, and a heating pad. Actually, the heating pad isn't required, but it sure is relaxing after you've spent three hours on your hands and knees hooking up this piece of shit.

The TX-SR505S comes with a big thick user's manual, but being a man, dependence on any kind of instructions is a sure sign of weakness. Instead, I rely solely on my gut. I mean, how hard could it be?? Here, I'll walk you through it.

You start with the speakers. We're talking surround sound here, so you'll need about 50 speakers of various shapes and sizes. And make sure you get the expensive speaker wire. You know, the kind where the insulation is all ONE COLOR, so you have to trace the positive and negative leads all the way across the fucking room so you don't get the wires crossed and end up blowing up the goddamn TX-SR505S, sending shards of silvery shrapnel deep inside your flesh. Once you have your expensive speaker wire laid out, rip the insulation off the ends and jam the exposed wire into the speaker holes. If you find you have more holes than speakers, simply shove paper clips in the unused holes.

Now it's time to hook up your components. This too is a breeze. Let's start with your cable or satellite box. If you have the HDMI, you'll want to use that connection. If you don't have the HDMI (or don't know what the hell it is), you'll have to settle for component and/or composite cables. If you don't have those either, you'll need some more paper clips. Once you have your cable or satellite box hooked up, it's time to connect your VCR or DVD recording apparatus. The beauty of the TX-SR505S is that it accepts component OR composite input from your recorder, but it only provides composite output back to the recorder. And because the TX-SR505S can't convert the signal, you're pretty much forced to go composite in to your recorder. Now you're ready to hook the receiver to your TV. I hope you still have plenty of cables, 'cause you'll need a set of output cables to match every kind of cable you have going in to the TX-SR505S! Component, composite, HDMI, S-video - you got an empty hole, you better shove something in that motherfucker! How about audio? You got a CD player or DyckPod? You better stick that in there too. And unless you're a complete jackass, you'll want to use the fancy schmancy optical cables. After an hour or two of this bullshit, your living room floor will look like R2-D2 threw up on it.


Let's talk about remote controls. By now you probably have 83 of them. Each one of them is "universal," but not quite "universal" enough to control all the advanced functions of all your components. So basically you have to keep them all within reach. One time I programmed my DVR remote to send a power-off command to the TV remote. Then I programmed the TV remote to echo that command back to the DVR, which in turn sent the signal back to the TV. They've been fighting it out for two years now.

OK, so now you're ready to watch some top-quality video entertainment. Piece o' cake! First, turn on your cable or satellite box. Then turn on your TX-SR505S. Then turn on your TV. Select the channel you want to watch on your cabllite box. Then select the appropriate input on the TX-SR505S. Depending on how you connected your cabllite box, you may also have to change inputs on your TV. But then again, you may not. Now adjust your volume settings. What's that? You say you can't hear anything? Dumbass, you probably forgot to assign your audio to the proper input when you configured your components. The TX-SR505S isn't a mind reader, you know. You'll need to unhook everything and start over again.

Perhaps by now you're sorry you purchased the TX-SR505S. Perhaps you'd like to return it and get your money back. But because you bought it online to save your cheap ass few bucks, you're pretty much STUCK WITH IT. My recommendation: Take your TX-SR505S to the roof of your house and drop it on your neighbor's retarded kids when they're playing in the yard. Now THAT'S what I call entertainment.

H.O.A. Holes - Volume II

My wood is in dire need of servicing.

That's according to a sternly worded nastygram I received from my fiendly neighborhood homeowners' association. Should you have any doubt as to my opinion regarding these Nazi pricks, I direct you to my March '07 post entitled H.O.A. HOLES. As soon as I saw the return address on the envelope, I knew I was screwed. These bastards wouldn't be writing me if they didn't want something. Here's what the townhouse terrorists had to say.....

During the annual inspection of the community the item(s) listed below are in need of repair or maintenance:
1. Paint trim on shed.
2. Repair rotten wood on trim around windows above entrance.

Item #1 actually amused me because the trim is the least of the problems with my shed. Sure, I can slap some leftover paint on there in no time. Won't cost me a dime. But that's not going to do me much good when the roof caves in, which it is likely to happen any day now. (That reminds me. I better find a new place to stash my O.J. sports memorabilia.)

Item #2 is the one that had me defecating masonry. Yes, I have windows above my entrance. And yes, those windows are surrounded by wood trim. And yes, that trim could be described as rotten...although I prefer to think of it as "charming" and/or "rustic." But who do these assholes think they are telling me how to maintain my own fucking property? Why should I listen to them? What can they possibly do to me??

If the above listed discrepancies are not repaired within 90 days from the date of this letter, you can be summoned before a Judicial Panel for your non-compliance and a monetary penalty can be imposed in accordance with the Virginia Property Owners Act.

Awww SHIT. I hate any sentence that contains the words "judicial" and "monetary penalty." Time for me to get an estimate...and I better hurry too. I got that letter 86 days ago.

48 HOURS LATER.....

So I called a home repair company I found in the yellow pages. They have a full page ad, so they must be good. They immediately dispatched their top sales weasel to my house to give me a free estimate. Well the free estimate turned out to be a waste of my time and an insult to my intelligence.

"Allow me to introduce myself," said the weasel. "My name is Jack Mehoff and I represent the A-1 Repair Company! Here, have a colorful pamphlet!"

He handed me a folded 8.5" x 11" piece of paper that looked like it came out of his bubble jet printer five minutes ago. He then ENTERED MY HOME and sat in MY CHAIR.

"My, what a lovely home you have! I see you're a musician," he said, pointing out my collection of dusty guitars.

"Yeah, sure," I replied. "I see you're wearing a leather belt. I guess that makes you a cow. And that pen in your hand...you must be a Pulitzer Prize winning author."

Then he starts bombarding me with personal questions. "Tell me, where are you from? How long have you lived here? What kind of work do you do? Are you willing to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?" I didn't know whether this guy was a repairman or a Jehovah's Half-Witless.

I'm no salesman, but I know when I'm being worked over...and this slimeball was buttering me up like a Sunday biscuit. He must've just finished reading Dale Carnegie's How to Con Friends and Fuck People up the Ass.

I cut him off at the pass. "Look, I just need you to patch up some rotten wood so I can get these goddamn bloodsuckers off my back. Can you do that?"

"I like a man who knows how to do business," he BS'd. "Let's go take a look."

We walked outside and I pointed out the chunks of wood falling from the side of my house. He pulled out a clipboard and scribbled something. I'm not sure, but I think he drew an airplane.

"You know, we could cover up all this wood with maintenance free vinyl siding. We do have a special going on right now," he blabbered.

"I don't want to cover it up, you dipshit. I want to FIX IT. FAST and CHEAP, like YOUR MAMA!" I screamed. As you can tell, I was starting to get a wee bit agitated.

"Very well then." He whipped out his Dollar Tree calculator and started punching in some random numbers. "Now before I give you my estimate, I want to point out that the A-1 Repair Company prides itself on doing high quality work," he said. In other words, I was about to get reamed. "The figure I came up with is $915."

"Nine HUNDRED and WHAT THE FUCK?? YOU GODDAMN MOTHER SUCKING TOAD LICKING ASS FUCKER, you come in here and sit in MY CHAIR and WASTE MY FUCKING TIME with your BULLSHIT SALES SPIEL so you can try to ROB ME BLIND??!" I asked calmly. I feel I was polite but firm.

"Ahem...Well, you have to expect to pay a little more for top quality work," he retorted.

"I DON'T WANT QUALITY WORK, YOU BLUE-COLLAR BUTT GOBBLER! I WANT CHEAP SHODDY WORK, BECAUSE THAT'S THE AMERICAN WAY," I explained patriotically. "NOW GET OFF MY PROPERTY, YOU FUCKING COMMIE PRICK!!!"

At this point, I only have two days left before the H.O.A. sends their thugs over to beat me up. Desperate times call for desperate measures...so tonight I'm sneaking over to my neighbors' house, ripping the trim off his windows, and tacking it onto mine. That's what I call thinking outside the box. I'm a problem solver, dammit. Of course I'm creating a problem for someone else, but that's none of my concern. Besides, they should have thought of that before they let me move next door to them. Stupid bastards.

There Is A God

I know I've been in a funk lately. But thanks to an incident that occurred earlier this evening, my spirits have been lifted. Life is good!

You see, I live in a townhouse. The way the units are laid out, the living rooms are in the back, with a large sliding glass door leading to the back yard. Fences separate each yard, but I can still see, hear, and smell most everything the neighbors are doing when they are back there.

It was a beautiful late summer day here in Dyckersonville. Skies were overcast throughout the day, but not a single drop of rain had fallen. A perfect evening for a barbecue...or so my new jackass neighbors thought. I call them jackasses even though we've never met. I just assume they are jackasses because most people are. I figure I'll just go with the odds on this one.

Anyway, their grill came out around 6pm. I know this because the acrid smell of burning charcoal began choking me around this time. Of course I could close my screen door, but goddammit, it's the first cool night of the season and I'll be goddamned if I'll let those pricks ruin it for me. Then came the sound of something I truly hate. I ask you, is there anything worse than the sound of kids laughing and playing?? Happy people make me sick, but happy children make me positively homicidal. Children should be dead and not heard.

So there I was, my senses being assaulted, my entire evening about to be fucked by Mr. & Mrs. Suburbia and their retarded punkass kids. At that very moment, the clouds that had been lingering all day finally decided to blow their loads right over Dyckersonville. And it didn't just rain. It POURED! HA! HA HA!! HA HA HA HA!!! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

I ran to the door to get a better look. The kids' laughter instantly turned to bloodcurdling screams as they hurried inside, leaving dear dad stranded with a giant plate full of soggy wieners and buns. Meanwhile, mommy was getting soaked chasing after the napkins and paper plates that were blowing all over the yard. BWAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

Sorry, is it wrong to find humor in the misfortune of others?

I DIDN'T THINK SO!!!

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

I guess the ol' neighbors had to order take-out. Such a pity. Really it is.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

HA HA!!!

HA!

I think I'm done now. Man, I love the rain.

*

I would like to be hospitalized for a lengthy period of time.

I know most people tend to hate hospitals. I am not one of those people. Call me crazy, but I would like nothing more than to be laid up in a private room with an adjustable bed, color TV, and round-the-clock maid service. I would like to have bland meals brought to me on a plastic tray by a sexy nurse wearing a tight-fitting uniform. I would like the aforementioned nurse to feed me with a spoon and scrub me with a loofah. I would like to piss in a bag and shit in a pot without having to leave the bed, and I would like an underpaid orderly to clean up the mess. I would like a breathing tube to relieve me of all this pesky inhaling and exhaling, and I would like an I.V. tube to feed morphine into my system 24/7. I would like to be showered with cards, flowers, and confections by people I hardly know or care about. And most of all, I would like all of this to be paid for by someone who isn't me.

I'm not sick, nor have I recently sustained any debilitating injuries. I am just tired of everything and I need a fucking break.

I am tired of alarm clocks. I am tired of personal hygiene. I am tired of fighting the same goddamn traffic every day to go the same goddamn job and interacting with the same goddamn people. I am tired of pressing buttons on electronic devices. I am tired of listening to people and processing their words with my brain. I am tired of pumping gas. I am tired of loading my piece-of-shit dishwasher, only to end up having to wash everything by hand anyway. I am tired of coins. I am tired of reading and writing, but not of 'rithmetic. I am tired of doing laundry. I am tired of waiting in line at the store behind morons who, when they get to the register, are genuinely surprised that they are expected to actually PAY for their items, and who therefore spend 20 minutes of MY TIME searching for their cash or their debit card or their checkbook or their fucking food stamps. I am tired of bending down to tie my shoes. I am tired of looking at my neighbor's dogs when I take out the trash. I am tired of taking out the trash.

I think being in a coma would be very relaxing, as long as nobody pulled the plug on my ass.

I'd like to tell everyone I know that I am dying of a brain tumor. Boy, I'd really be the center of attention then, wouldn't I? Everybody would be all worried about me and shit. They'd bring me homemade soup and offer me pillows. No one would dare ask me to do squat...and if they did, I'd just say "Hey asshole, I have a brain tumor!" And if I ever did anything stupid like lose my car keys or forget somebody's name, I could just play the tumor card. People would be like, "Poor Dyckerson, that brain tumor is really getting to him now." It would be a free pass to say or do anything I wanted.

Life is too fucking complicated.

I'm thinking about selling all my shit on eBay and cashing in my 401K. I'll buy a tent and live off the land the rest of my life. No job, no mortgage, no taxes. I'll grow a long scraggly beard and carry a stick. I'll spend spring and summer at the beach, autumn in the mountains, and in the winter I'll hibernate like a bear. Yeah, I could get used to that real easy.

And I wouldn't miss you fuckers one damn bit.

September 11

No, we're not back. Nobody is going to read this, but I don't care. Today is the 6th anniversary of "9/11". It's been a strange one. I feel conflicted about this year for some reason. Lots of people just want to move on, don't want to see ceremonies, nobody dares wear an American flag anymore. Part of me agrees, but I think that's because forgetting is the easy way out. Pretend it didn't happen, and it's OK. But it's not OK. Thousands of people are gone. What else can we give them if not a day to remember them.