My Grandfather & My “Party Suicide”

(I’m reposting this because I recently went to a family party and was thinking about him.  It was one of the first parties after he died)

I went to visit my 88 year-old grandfather today.  He has Alzheimer’s, lacerated ulcers and gastric lymphoma.  He’s dying quickly now.  He took a turn for the worse the other day and it’s probably just a matter of days now.

He never had any health problems until the Alzheimer’s got him last year.

A Brief History: He was a great man.  He graduated high school when he was 16 and later graduated from college and attained a master’s degree.

He was a farmer, a lobster fisherman and was vice president of a large chemical company before retiring.

His first wife was an alcoholic and treated him, my father and my aunt like pieces of shit.  She’s dead now and I never cared.  No one shed a tear for her.

He had a second wife and she was an evil bitch.  She nearly killed him and stole everything he cared about when they divorced.

After fucking my grandfather over, she had a stroke, was paralyzed for a time and then died.  Fuck her too, I never shed a tear.

He was a great husband, father, grandfather and never hurt a soul.  He was a gentle man.

I speak of him in the past tense because he is no longer here.  His body is on earth, but his mind is gone.

His Room: I walked in to his room and there he was, under his covers with his mouth agape like he was catching flies.  His skin has become almost translucent now and he’s starting to resemble a skeleton.  Continue reading

Fifty Shades of Lame

Well, DUH’America did it again.  Brevard County in Melbourne, Fl banned the ridiculously popular Shades of Grey book from its libraries.

Yep, that’s right, apparently Brevard County is waging a war against all the pathetic, attention lacking, pre-menopausal, middle-aged women in their county.  How can any county government wage a public war against women like this?

I feel absolutely terrible that these poor, desperately in need of self-esteem women can’t check out a book that helps them diddle themselves. Continue reading

So Tired of Cougars

I apologize in advance if the following post makes me sound like I’m full of vitriol, hate and confusion about a certain female subculture; but that’s just how I feel:

Forgive me if this is redundant, but I’m damn sick of cougars.  Once or twice a month, the downtown area where I live has a public get together with street vendors, food, bands and other festival like shit.  It attracts a good sized crowd and I truly wanted to beat the hell out of about 99.9% of the people there.

Of all the annoying people, I have to say I was ready and willing to kill all the cougar moms and here’s why:

  • Ugh boots– I live in Florida, totally un-fucking-necessary, we turn our heat on maybe twice a year
  • Fake Tits– come on, isn’t silicon played out by now?  Can’t wait until you are 55, but your tits are 20, AWESOME
  • Too Tight Jeans– stop wearing your 14 year-old daughters jeans for christ sakes, enough already
  • Big Sunglasses– really? Jackie O is dead and her glasses died with her
  • The term “cougar– it’s not cute, or fancy, it really means you are a whore who is tired of her husband fucking his secretaries
  • Your Douche Bag Husbands– holy shit, easy with the diamond studded jeans, Ed Hardy shirts and Rolex watches, you are just breeders to them, put on the earth to raise their sons to become high school quarterbacks
  • Your wine drinking-stop being pussies and drink some liquor, it masks the insecurities better anyway
  • Your Soul– never mind, you don’t have one

Cougars, soccer moms, whatever you want to call them, need to be stopped.  They are destroying our ozone one pair of bad sunglasses at a time.  If women of any age consider themselves a cougar, they might as well just run around with a sign that says, “Fuck Me Please, It Will Make Me Feel Good About Myself.”

Am I the only one who feels this way?

Fat Nurses; a Parade of Irony

I have always been a big fan of irony.  And nothing intrigues me more than a fat nurse.  That’s right.

Let that sink in for a minute.  A fat nurse.   A nurse who is fat.  A nurse who eats too much.

I’m not talking about the glamorized nurse on television who every male patient wants a sponge bath from, I’m talking about the squeaky shoe nurse.

The nurse with the very visible, large panty line that looks like a mini-parachute hiding underneath some intensely stressed scrubs.  The nurse with the fake tanned skin, pursed lips from smoking and a speck of leftover Twinkie sitting on the corner of her mouth.

Now I’m not at all offended by people who are overweight.  I’ve always struggled with my weight, mainly because I’m not willing to give up Cheetohs, Mountain Dew and beer.

I know what it’s like to be overweight, but you don’t see me telling people to cut down on eating Philly cheese steaks or that midnight grilled cheese sandwich.

I know that difficulty first hand.   Oh, and I never forget to add a piece of bologna to the grilled cheese.  For protein of course. Continue reading