...on beatings

the bastard got laid out this weekend.

everyone is one fucking handwash,

one shared drink,

one diaper change,

away from a weekend of sickness.

and that was the beating I took this weekend.

that my family took this weekend.

at some point, my ladyfriend, on day behind me on the gastroenteritis highway asked me when she'll feel better.

I told her now. and she didn't know why she could walk upright like I did yesterday.

I told her it's because the bastard can take a beating.

—the bastard

two episodes in...

...and season two of the shield is really messed up

you really have to hand it to the fx channel.

not a single bit of original programming ever leaves the bastard feeling any better about his fellow man.

two hours (well really 90 minutes because there are no commercials), and i'm already uncomfortable.

good times.

—the bastard

the bastard has got to tell you something...

...he's totally dying.

no not the kind of dying where you all get together and throw a party because of it.

i'm just sick.

which kind of sucks because i'm in west palm beach this week.

fear not jerks, i still have more shot show to bitch about.

so maybe that mean just "fear".

yeah.

definitely fear.

—the bastard

god damn it's cold

so the bastard woke up to the banging and the clanging that comes with living in an old building and i have to say that since my landlord fixed the leak in the roof.

but when i got outside this morning, it was muthafucking cold yo!

all of my coworkers from jersey had shit ass commutes.

and i discovered nasal spray. it was liek discovering fire. only it was nasal spray.

you see, the bastard has a cold. fortunately, his body decided to wait until the end of the holiday to inform him of this sickness so i can't complain too much. but the last 48 hours have been relatively sleepless due to the fact that i feel like i'm drowning every time i lay down. so last night, the bastard bought drugs.

lots of drugs.

but i didn't take the spray for fear that it would screw up my sleep, which at this point seems redundant since my sleep was disrupted anyway by my drowning last night. anyway, i used the spray and all of a sudden, there was this curious stuff going through my nostrils that vaguely smelled like oxygen. the bastard was so happy.

i hope it doesn't fuck up my sleep.

—the bastard

...on throwing the goat

...or on throwing UP the goat. no.seriously, i did.

"you know, the steak last night gave me strange dreams", said left hand rob

"me too", the bastard replies

"yeah"

"totally, i had this dream that something was trying to crawl out of my stomach"

"yeah and when he woke up, he found that something did", retorts jonny airplanes

"seriously?"

"yeah, i feel like i'm dying. i wish it was a hangover, i'd know when it would end."

i think that something didn't agree with the bastard's dinner the other night. i was racked. totally racked out yesterday and it never stopped. no sleep. more throwing up. all the while trying to function. i'm very fortunate that chicago jerkface was there to pick up the torch. even the publisher heard that i had food poisoning. this morning risen from the dead, the bastard is full of caffeine and ready to go.

...on more goats

surprisingly enough the bastard is coming up thin on mullets so we're going to have to start off with our freshely slimmed down old man of the mountains. i've highlighted his very european look insomuch as he is rocking the sandals with socks AND a poker visor. what do ya want? i'll be on the floor soon and hunting for mullets

—the bastard