Cuss Your Way to a Smarter You!

(Author’s Note: This post is for adults only. You have been warned! (and now you want to read it even more, don’t you?)
I was rooting through my posts at

wayneordinaryamerican.blogspot.com

and I noticed that I never really addressed the issue of what it’s like for an American living in Northern Ireland. Also, I didn’t cuss near as much as I do now.

There is a reason for this. The swearing that is.
Normally I try not ‘swear like a sailor’, even though I personally don’t give a shit whether people cuss around me or not (also, most sailors are a ‘wee bit lavender’ and I’m a ‘man’s man’). I try not to do it in mixed company (swearing, that is. I’m always a manly man- I have hairy shoulders and everything!) because there’s a large number of people with gigantasaurous sticks up their asses.

What’s the reason for the dramatic change in tone, you might ask? Well, people here in Northern Ireland don’t think twice about throwing the word ‘twat’ (I haven’t used this word since 8th grade) or ‘cunt’ (American women will divorce/castrate/smash in the window of your Beamer for breathlessly whispering this in a far off desert dessert dry place where nobody can hear you) or even… well, I think ‘cunt’ is the worst word in the American lexicon of cuss words, so let’s leave it there.

Now, don’t think that I’m trying to get a rise out of people by typing out these words. I’m not. I’m just trying to illustrate how uptight Americans can be about silly little arrangements of parts of the alphabet that people over here don’t think twice about.

They say people who cuss have poor vocabularies but I say people who cuss aren’t afraid to let you know that you’re a shithead (‘shithead’ is my favorite word at the moment…don’t know why.).

Anyway, I’m going to now give you a few examples of language differences between the U.S. and Northern Ireland–because it’s fun.

Northern Ireland Term (NIT): Aiii, right!American Equivalent (AE): You must be joking!

NIT: On the blob.

AE: Aunt Flo is visiting.

NIT: Here’s me, wha????

AE: Did I hear you correctly?

NIT: Bucking in the jeggies.

AE: Having irresponsible pre-marital intercourse in the stinging nettles. (Shame on you!)

NIT: Beef Curtains

AE: er…um… *whispering* vagina

NIT: Blob Strop.

AE: Slightly irrational emotional reaction due to excessive hormone imbalance brought on by the monthly visit of that old bitch Aunt Flo.

I think that’s enough enlightenment for one day.

Now, don’t you feel clever?

We’re All A Little Bit Crazy

My wife wants to start her own blog (no, the pic above has nothing to do with anything. I just like pictures. Pretty pictures! Huh-huh-huh!).

I want to help her. I truly do. But apparently, I’m useless at helping her come up with a name for her info-portal into the intra-tubulars.

Witness the following word for word conversation we had only minutes ago:

Her: Will you show me how to make my own blog?

Me: Of course! It’s easy!

Her: What should I call it?

Me: How ’bout ‘Ruth Rocks!’?

Her: No.

Me: ‘Rockin’ Ruth!’?

Her: No.

Me: ‘Ruth Rocks Your World!’

Her: No.

Me: ‘Rockin’ Ruth Rocks!’?

Her: No.

Me: ‘Rock with Rockin’ Ruth as She Rocks the Rockers!’

Her: No.

Help me here, people. I’m all outta ideas….

So Intentional, It’s Scary!

I love this movie. LOVE IT!!

And I’m loving this poster. Why? Well, I work with graphic designers and I guarantee you that the not-so-subconscious allusion to what’s-her-face giving Jack a hand-job is VERY intentional.

(I would have loved to have been in the meeting where the design studio presented this to the obviously chaste and naive dickheads (no pun necessarily intended) who bought into it. Classic! (Also, you will note that her nipple is fairly obvious as well.))

It reminds me of this story about the artwork for The Little Mermaid

Discuss amongst yourselves….

Phwoar!!!

Today, I smelled of soup. (Yes, I said ‘soup’. As in Campbell’s. Not ‘soap’ as in Lye.)

I woke up, got in the shower, turned on the hot water and low-n-behold the stench that rose from the steam was enough to make me sick. But the smell was coming from moi. Little ol’ moi.

Back-story:

My wife is one of the best cooks I have ever known. She can roast a chicken, steam up some clams, grill up a steak like nobody’s business but she likes to read recipe books.

That’s fine.

But she also likes to experiment and when she does I’d have to say she has a solid 99 to 1 ratio of good experiments to bad.

Her soup was no exception.

It was awesome.

The first time she made it (it’s a carrot/lentil/spring onion/grated cheese on top type concoction) I loved the taste but since she didn’t blend it up it sort of looked like- and had the texture of- baby shit (not that I know first hand what that is like–we don’t have kids.). I finished the whole bowl but I did have to turn the lights off and stare at the TV while I ate (really).

I told her how I felt about it and she agreed. But then… she made it again last night.

Lucky for me and my optics (that’s ‘eyeballs’ people) in the time since she last made it my in-laws bought us one of those hand held blender dealy-boppers that liquefy granite in an instant.

Voila! The perfect tasting soup in a handy, blended-up form. Gollllllldang, was it tasty!

But like I said, I stunk all day.

Was it the spring onion, the extra mature cheddar, the failure of my liver to sieve out offensive odors or was it something more sinister that my wife threw into the pot and didn’t tell me about? I don’t know.

Either way, I suppose I owe my work colleagues an apology for smelling the way I did today.

(Naw.)

Wish in One Hand…

…shit in the other and see which one fills up first.

This is the part where I bitch and moan and say things like, “Garsh! I’m just a big windbag o’ whining! Guh-ya, guh-ya!’

So since that’s what you’re expecting (admit it. You were) I’m going to zig instead of zag and roll out a whole barrel of monkey-fied mixed metaphors and simian similes! (Just like that!)

In other news, I’m feeling much better after a brief *ahem* breakdown. I have come to the conclusion that I pretty much hate everybody (well, I’ve known this for some time, but the first step is admitting you have a problem. (But then again, I don’t think it is a problem. It’s a fact. Can the essence of ‘A Fact’ actually be ‘A Problem’? (What would Jett Loe of Letter to America say? (New record! Four parenthetical phrases in one sentence!))))

And because it’s so obvious that I got nothing tonight in terms of actual content I’m going to take a moment to pat a few people on the back.

I will be the first to admit that I’m not too good at keeping up with all of the movers and shakers in the blogosphere but I do know that there are a growing number of people finding their way to mine from various sites and I thought I would return the favor by giving props to a couple of blogs that I link to and link to me and send me the most traffic (after LTA) and as a bonus, I’m gonna tell you why I like ’em. (In case you were counting that was an 88 word run-on sentence. Boy, you’re a bit anal retentive, aren’t you?)

Feel free to go about your life now if you’re bored but you’ll miss the surprise ending! (I’m just saying.)

I’m not going to hyperlink to any of these cuz they’re already listed on the right (no your right! Right there…no there!) and because I’m getting tired and can’t waste the needed clicks. (Work smarter, not harder. That’s my motto.)

First off:

Playaz Ball.

Funny story about this site. It was discovered by Jett when he was snooping around about me on the Innertubes after I signed up to be on the LTA podcast. He passed the link on to me and now I don’t know how I ever lived without it. It’s bizzarre, it’s insightful and more than anything it’s absolutely all true. (No, really. Follow it for a week or so and you’ll be ever so smarts and cool beaners. (Cool beaners…? WTF???)

Everybody Can Just Bite My Ass.

Seriously, I think the title says it all -everything except that it’s written by a sharp, smart mouthed woman who can be dead funny, poignant and sometimes a bit scary (these parts you’ll find out when you read it). Don’t mess with her.

.
My Big Fat F**king Head.

The Rev Steve will keep you up to date on just about everything. Sports, fast food, adventures in radio, you name it. He gets bonus points for his ‘Asshole of the Week’ segment and the fact that we are both ordained in the Church of Everlasting Unrefrigerated Fish Heads or something (I’m typing this in the dark and can’t read my high quality laser print out from here. *Squinting* ah yeah, the Universal Life Church. That’s it!)

Well, for not having much to say tonight I’ve sure written a butt load.

Please don’t be sad that I didn’t mention your site because I do read every one that I’m linked to. And if any of you know of some Must Read sites feel free to pass them my way. I’m always looking for gags to steal a good laugh.

g’nite.

Hairy Toes? Well, Maybe Not…

I think this is a better picture than the one of my hairy toe that I was originally going to post. (Am I the only person in the world who HAS to take his socks and shoes off IMMEDIATELY when he comes home at night because his toe hair gets all tangled up in his socks and REALLY starts to hurt?)

(Special thanks to my sweet wife who took this picture and let me steal it without her knowledge.)

You know what I’m saying?

Today (Friday), I took the day off.

It wasn’t a holiday, nobody died, my puppy didn’t run away, I didn’t need to ‘find myself’.

There was no reason that I should take the day off except that if I didn’t I think I seriously might have done something drastic.

I try to entertain here but lately my ???????? has taken over every aspect of my ?????. And I didn’t realize it fully until today. Oh sure, when we went to Rome back in June, I felt it because as soon as we left the country my eye stopped twitching, I stopped drinking and I was enjoying life for the first time in a year. A YEAR!

But then I forgot about it.

Sort of.

When we got back I swallowed my stress full on and gave myself a …no, not a hernia… what the hell am I trying to say here???? an ulcer? YES, that’s it! I gave myself an ulcer.

??????????fucking purple monkey dishwasher ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????pole surfing???????????????????????????????????????????Anthony and the Cock Gobblers????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????cancerous boil of humanity?????????????????????????shit dribbler???????????????????quit??????????????Jett Loe??????????????????

Anyway, I’m not going to post this as is. I’m gonna disguise it so I don’t get busted. I just needed to get this off my chest and not risk getting ?????? over it.

I will say this:

As soon as we get our flat sorted out and we’ve moved in and some of the bills are paid I’m getting out of the ???????????????????.

I have to. If I don’t I’m going to do something that I’ll never forgive myself for.

Whatever that might be.

Be afraid. Be sort of afraid…

 

Holy Bejeeeeeeeebus!

Hey kids.

Sorry.

I’m tired.

(Long hours at work with no thanks. That’s the world for ya. Give your best, get a deragatory email in your in-box. Contemplate suicide. God bless us, one and all…)

I’ll be shakin’ and updatin’ and informatin’ soon.

Right after I get a decent night’s sleep.

Ha ha ha ha!

We all know that ain’t gonna happen!

So, I’ll update when I’ve had a better than less than shitty half-assed night’s rest.

You have my word.

Until that time, tune into

Letter to America and picture me as a ‘happy-happy-joy-joy’ man o’ the world who has boundless energy and words enough to sprinkle the universe with the best goddamn sales copy ever imagined.

Google Thinks I’m a Gay Frenchy

It’s been one of those days. (Which should never ever happen on a Saturday. Saturdays are MINE. MINE I TELLS YA! )

I downloaded the so-called “CRITICAL UPDATES” from those spunk-suckin’ monopolists at Microsoft (motto: “We control your life so you don’t have to!”) because, if I didn’t, I would have sacrificed the rest of my life to annoying “Automatic Update” messages bent on never letting me do anything ever again online unless I clicked the “Sell My Soul to the Devil” (also known as the “Accept” button) and let the scary jerks corrupt my computer in whatever way they needed to to let me use my ever increasing piece of shit PC on a day to day basis.

So I clicked.

Well, thank you very much whoever, whatever, wherever you are (Microsoft. Redmond, Washington) because you FORCED me to update Internet Explorer (which I NEVER EVER USE) and thereby fucked up damn near everything on my system.

After my “CRITICAL UPDATE”, Firefox (whom I love and cuddle and make out with on a regular basis) now believes that I am living somewhere in France.

And now:

My homepage is in French.

My options are in French.

EVERYTHING online is in French!

What happened?

I’m tired. I’m going to bed.

Microsoft?

Se casser.

(“Se casser” in French means “Fuck off.” If you Google translate this, however, it comes back as something like “to break” (but of course I used Google Language to translate “fuck off” to French. Who knows what’s right?). (I’m just letting you know. Because I care. And you’re my friend.)