the bastard has to axe you

have you her had one of those days,

where you get to work,

and because you're heading out on vacation, there's NO way you can get out early.

only to find out the practically everything you own has gotten rained on?

yeah, me too.

-the bastard

...on hats

... and the grate outdoorz

so here the bastard sits at his desk.

waiting to finish his crap to do.

i wear many hats.

the mag hat.

the spam hat.

the other mag hat i keep on the side for other print projects.

but let's focus on the first hat. the mag hat. it is a many hatted hydra that has the bastard playing art director, photo editor, and production manager. not to mention, the part where i also wear this hat to be an industry professional both in the magazine and the firearms industry. this is the hat that makes me feel like i move forward 3 feet and move back 1.

learned the new system of shipping color. it's great actually but, i had so much to do when i got done learning it. and i'm just starting to wind it up now. and i'm so tired. which brings me to my next point.


i'm going camping this weekend.

i've already been through several rounds of mail with the mofo and dean thrilla and k love and zsolte about it and we already know that it's gonna piss out this weekend.

i don't care.

im going.

i HAVE to go. i NEED to go. i need to get the dirt (read: MUD) under my feet regardless of how shitty it's going to be out. i need to break with society for a couple days and i'll be fine. regardless on what falls on top of the bastard. i sometimes get a signal out there in the sticks so if anything noteworthy happens, i'm going to put it on the bastard feed and perhaps opine on it later. but if i die out there, then you get nothin'. straight up nothin'.

—the bastard

things the bastard saw at the hardcore show

meeting up with one's old friends somehow always becomes an opportunity to play catch up.

technology makes that possibility more interesting because one can use their phones, digital cameras, or even tattoos to better explain,

how your kid's doing these days,

how you let your hair grown in for a year and you bleached it,


that hammerhead shark you caught last summer,

what the weather is going to be like this weekend,


the can of bud light and clamato that matty aces saw at the bodega he buys beer from.


yes beer and clamato. for those who are not familiar with clamato, it is an awful creation made of tomato and clam juice. some brave souls use it to make a gross sounding bloody mary. others use it,

well

because they like it in their beer (shudder).


you know, they also make tortilla chips that are flavored with the stuff (shudder). i saw other things too but, i'll get to that later.

—the bastard

sunday driver

so on sunday, the bastard's ladyfriend had to do her sister a solid by babysitting. this had the bastard dropping her off at penn station and heading back to the fhills. on my way i saw this character

he reminded me of an online game which was a meme for about 5 minutes called gay or eurotrash. he was rocking a sleeveless t-shirt and versace jeans and i think his friends to the left were rocking sandals. also he had a big belt buckle. i'm going to go with eurotrash but it's up to you.

—the bastard

end of the road

so there it is.

scoop is back on the east coast. soon my liver will begin hurting again.

in other news, it's fucking raining out again and since i walked to work from my ladyfriend's apartment, i haven't gotten into adventures and shit.

but the bastard did get rained upon.

and i made friends on facebook with someone i knew from the old neighborhood which just reminds me that i need a functioning motorcycle. but instead, i'm going to read this week's installemnt of freakangels and watch science fiction on frikkin hulu.

the book has shipped and the bastard is waiting for his proofs so, i have to play the waiting game. hrm, waiting game sucks. let's play hungry hungry hippos.

—the bastard

where's scoop part 5

...the big push

ok, the bastard has come to the conclusion that he needs to start a fight on the subway.

i have no material except for scoop's roadtrip.

anyways, she's in the home stretch. woke up in tennesee, was last seen approaching the virginia border.

in pennsylvania by dinnertime.

end of the line after that.

—the bastard

where's scoop part 4

3:15 pm: little rock, memphis by 5

we're shipping the book so, aside from the hive mind not being around for whatever reason, it's all about the shipping.

—the bastard

THIS JUST IN, SPECIAL "ME TOO EDITION"
in a special report which the bastard can only describe as "a me too update", jonny airplanes reports that he is back in virginia from his current base of operations in key west florida.

call it good timing.

call it good times.

but most definitely call it.

where's scoop part 3

scoop: "i go get mexican in amarillo"

bastard: nice

scoop: marg barg time in tx

bastard: margz am the beast aye best

scoop: i just saw the worlds biggest cross and anything you want it was palying on the radio. i in ok.

upon logging onto facebook this morning (yes the bastard is on facebook, go to hell), scoop tells us that she is sleeping in an ihop parking lot. hopefully she gets herself a rooty tooty fresh and fruity breakfast there.

—the bastard

where's scoop part 2

bastard: "aye put up a map for hugh"

scoop: "hehehehehe i', at a dq in nm and i'm thinking about buying a drug rug aka baja robe"

bastard: "hehehe drug rug. where in nm?"

scoop: "no clue about fourty mi to santa rosa"

bastard: "close enuff. just needed it fire the map. you should dine at whataburger"

scoop: "heheheheh i've heard of that i need something non meat"

bastard: "that's what dq am fore"

in other news, someone has designed a steak flavored beer but it's for dogs

—the bastard

where in the united states is scoop?

so as the basatard may have mentioned, scoop, left hand rob's predecessor at selling bullets seven times a year. has departed from hell's waiting room and she heads east by monkey powered toyota corolla along with her copilot. hopefully leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

almost immediately on their departure, i was getting updates on their location.

scoop: "At n n out but we no no in nv or ca. I'm a free woman full of beef"

bastard: "that is the greetest phrase ever", i replied

then it hit me to come up with a map. left hand rob thought that it should look like one of those indiana jones maps. so here we are so far:


received a text on sunday night that went, "me at venetion now, i wanna get on the marg barg and play crapz. developing..."

2 hours later scoop tell me that she won cash money at the craps tables.

last we leave her, she went to the grand canyon yesterday and ended the day in flagstaff.

developing....

—the bastard

things the bastard discovered on a sunday

well, the bastard spent his sunday painting stuff in my ladyfriend's apartment.

also, we went down to that horrendous trader joes on 14th street.

when all was finished, we put a second coat on and my ladyfriend said that this called for a treat.

so we went to pinkberry.

pinkberry as you may or may not know is swirly goodness.

or it's frozen yogurt reinvented to create an experience that indulges the senses. christ the bastard loves marketing hacks.

or it's just a trendy frozen yogurt place where both otaku kids and sweatpants wearing jewish american princesses can congregate and listen to loud blaring techno and sit on knockoffs of philippe starck's ghost chair. or maybe they are the real deal.

the bastard doesn't know. but the shit sure is tasty. so go to hell.

but upon my second visit i realize the murray hill j.a.p.s have a uniform.

first and foremost, you must have large aviator shades on. because while god slept on the seventh day, the day afte that, he sure as shit didn't want you to bother to put on makeup.

and secondly, you must must must wear sweatpants related outfits. the baggier the better. the last thing you want to do is attract a mate while asking for carob chips on your green tea flavored frozen treat.

and despite, the above diagram, the "christ what an asshole" grin, is purely optional. so enjoy your frozen yogurt jackass. ENJOY!

—the bastard

monday morning...

...special 2 days late edition


so my monday began with a downpore.

which was followed by a series of bad decisions built around staying dry.

which turned into an umbrella big enough to keep the state og texas dry in a rainstorm.

which turned into a 30 minute wait for the bus which made the bastard late.

but the fair box was broken so the ride was free. so i got what i paid for in a way.

but the mistake to take the e train and wait 30-40 minutes between 63rd drive and woodhaven blvd. it felt like forever. and i actually packed a second bag for 2 days of lunch.

i get to the new space to find that part of it has been colonized by the hive mind of mystery science magazine.

there they are,

stacked two to a cube,

never speaking,

almost never moving.

i think they are going to try and assimilate left hand rob and i. i'm SO gonna stab one of them.

—the bastard

...the bastard has got to tell you

nothing says it's spring again like a delay on the downtown 6 because a homeless person passed out and threw up all over the second to last car.

good times.

i wanted to walk a little bit anyway.

—the bastard

...on the texting

i don't know if it's because the bastard just bought himself an iphone over the weekend but all i see on the train are:

people texting on their crackberry.

people texting on their crackberry.

people texting on their crackberry.

people texting on their crackberry.

it's been epidemic. now the bastard likes hid tech as much as the next geek but, it seems a little epidemic. every time i walk out of the subway, i inevitably end up stopping short because someone hits ground level and starts texting. out the way asshole!

—the bastard

...on functioning

i don't get it.

no matter how hard i tried last night.

no matter how much i had to drink at the evil ant overlord's christmas party.

the bastard didn't die.

i'm beginning to wonder if death really IS a mug's game.

who knows? the worst part is, the bastard didn't start feeling better until he walked into the office. i think that there's a concentric circle of hell for bastard's who are rejuvenated by the office. and i think i'm going there. at least in hell, i'll be warm

—the bastard

...dearth

hell is round the corner where i shelter.
isms and schisms, were living on a skelter
if you believe i'll deceive common sense says you are thief
let me take you down the corridors of my life.

—tricky "hell is round the corner"

so it's that time again.

the time where the bastard loses sleep.

when the bastard has his busy season.

when the bastard does the devils work.

when the bastard crams tons of magazine pages out the door.

and then loses his cool and breaks shit.

apparently, i noticed that this is also the time of year that i keep regurgitating lyrics from tricky's catalog of work. i don't know what it is about him but, it always illustrates how i'm feeling when the bastard is in it. up to his eye balls in work. i'm never going to sleep again . at least not until february.

so what i'm saying is,

it's going to be a little thin for a while.

but, look for me jumping through a plate glass window near you. right before i cut your throat.

—the bastard

...on beverages

the bastard swears, can't people just ordr frikkin coffee? two. no. three times i heard some suv driving pinhead ordering a venti, no sugar, dolce, (which is italian for SWEET asshole) carmel, soy, latte with no sugar and soy foam with no sugar in a big cup so i can dunk my ridiculous head in it when i get to work and drown. DROWN in my fake ass coffee!!!!!!!!

this is what the bastard does with his free time when he's visiting the boy...people watching. watching people order they drinks while i eat my brekky. you know, it's funny how in so many different places, the pretention remains the same. it's refreshing, in a sort of disgusting way.

—the bastard

...on the year of the flood

so truth to tell, the bastard doesn't always spend the night at home. sometimes he stays out after hours and materializes at work the next morning fresh for the new day.

the downside is this.

FLASHBACK: the bastard is riding the train back to craptastic queens and he notices that while there wasn't alot of rain in manhattan, alot of women are wearing those stupid ass rubber boots with the goofy patterns on them to fool us all into thinking that they look less like a wellington boot.

FLASH FORWARD: so i come home to this.

yay. it's just like the last flood, only worser.

so i do what comes to mind first. i go to the bathroom. i mean hell, i had to go.

then i called the landlord.

"hi missah lanlord, we had ourselves a flood again. can you come over in 5 minutes to survey the damage"

"sh-sh-sh-sh-would you prefer if if if if if if i came over tomorrow?"

"no actually, i'd prefer if you saw the place before i cleaned the place up. the floor is soaked and there's plaster all over the place"

so missah lanlord came over and looked at the grief and told me shit that i wanted to hear and we'll see what happens. i showed him some of the other damage from rainstorms that predate my divorce and my meds for my breathing problems as a result of all of this crap. we'll see what happens. i ain't holding out hope on this shit. the plan is.

do the job.

take the money.

put it away.

get the fuck out.

find a new place to wreck.

i'll let you know how that shit works out. can't wait for the creatures to start coming out tonight as a result of this shit.

—the bastard

i know we've been over this before but...

look people.

i know the bastard has been over this before.

but, seriously.

stop eating on the train.

no one needs to see your ugly mug chewing on your cud.

first thing in the morning. chomp chomp chomp chomp sloppin' away. it's disgusting and it totally detracts from my nap because once it starts, the bastard can't stop thinking about it.

now i know what your saying, "aw well then that's your problem then pal" but, well fuck you. it's your problem now if i boot up my waffles on your lap. and i assure you, it will be me getting out of my seat to boot up my waffles on your lap, not mine. the bastard likes to keep his clothes clean for at least a day or two.

so.

in summation.

stop it.

besides, how can you eat considering they don't exactly wash these cars after every run and we've already been through what's wandering around these cars during the day.

—the bastard

...on risk 3

...or worst day off ever!

now the bastard isn't one for vacations. i mean, i like vacations and all but, i never seem to take one unless i actually have somewhere to go. that's why i haven't taken a proper vacation since i went to ireland in 2003. don't get me wrong. i've taken time off. i have to take time off to see the boy and that burns vacation time and all but, that's not a vacation, that's visiting. so i decided to take a week off and spend it taking care of crap around the house.

now the bastard has to tell you something. he's NEVER going to take a week off ever again. the first act of my week off was to finally get my motorcycle license in order. so the bastard has to ask you.

have you ever had one of those days off where you go to the DMV?

and a cab stops short in front of you?

and you look in the rear view mirror real quick to swerve but not the blind spot?

and you sideswipe someone else's automobile?

yeah, me too.

so i pull over to the side of the road and to hash it out with the owner of this black toyota that someone must have taken a hammer to and the driver gets out and he's like 2 heads taller than me, and i already know that it's my fault. cause it is! and we exchange pleasantries and he clamly tells me that as i can see, he doesn't have collision on his car. i can tell this by the spray painted piece of cardboard he's currently using for a trunk. either way we do the info exchange and i tell the driver that more than likely, we won't speak again as this is my problem, not his. and that's the god's honest truth. why give this poor kid grief because of the bastard's screw up. and it didn't look like he was planning on fixing up his ride any time soon. so needless to say, i'm thinking that the next time i take a week off, i'm going to HAVE to be doing something because this is the suckiest vacation ever.

on the bright side however, it only cost the bastard 10 bucks to alter his license to put an "M" next to the "D". yay cheap fees. and it'll only cost me a grand to fix the car. nice and smooth. >:-O

—the bastard