I Couldn’t Live With Me Either . . .


Two marriages and a brief stint moving back in with my parents a few years ago have taught me a couple of very important things.  One of those is for the love of everything Jesus has to do with, never move back in with your parents.  Ever.

The other thing is, I am probably pretty difficult to live with.

Ok, definitely.

Some of us, I believe were born to live alone.  We’re not bad people, and we’re not even necessarily disgusting.

Well, most of us aren’t.  I do know and have lived with a couple of people that fell into this category by anyone’s standards as I realize that “disgusting” can be relative.  Sometimes one of your relatives.

Since Denise and I have spent a little bit of time together and the possibility of living together somewhere in the future could very well happen, I decided to take us on a little trip through all the excuses we may use at one of our future murder trials.  So what I’m going to do is tell her, and you, why I am difficult to live with.  I’ve asked her to do the same, and then we’ll see where the two worlds of self-professed loners will potentially collide.

Relax and enjoy the show. . . .  [Denise’s responses will be in red.  I will respond in blue.]

Since Eric decided to steal most of my topics, most of my answers to his reasons will actually be one of my reasons why I would never live with myself.


  1. I am a cave dweller. If I could design my own home, it would have no windows.  They allow sunlight in.  I don’t like sunlight and avoid it whenever possible.  At night they put you and your private life on display for all the world to see.  I go in my house to get away from the world, why in God’s name do I want to show the world what I’m doing while I’m in there.  In some cases, the world probably doesn’t want to see it either.  “Get blinds and curtains!”, you say?  Fuck off.  Save money, don’t have windows and then I have extra wall space to hang pornographic art.
    Looks like heaven to me.
    Looks like heaven to me.

    I do not like light. At night I keep 1 and if I’m feeling crazy, 2 very dim lights on.  I only use 40 watt bulbs.  I can’t go out into sunlight without sunglasses on and I’ll close the shades when the sun shines into the house.  I hate the sun.  I hate light.  If you want a brightly lit room, go into your own room, close the door and feel free to bathe yourself in light.   You will NOT turn on a bunch of lights in a room that I’m in unless it’s only temporary.  I will bitch and complain. until you turn it back off.

    Looks like we’re gonna be ok on this one, since I’d rather stub my fucking toe than turn a light on.

  1. I am the homebody of all homebodies. I do not like to go out.  I can cook better than just about any restaurant I can go to, the introduction of big-ass TV’s and the internet has rendered movie theaters unnecessary (and ridiculously overpriced) and NOBODY should have to see me dance.    I only dance when I drink and since I don’t drink anymore, we’ve taken that off the table anyway.  Give me big-ass TV, Xbox, a gaming headset and an open-ended GameStop account and you’ll have to peel me off the couch to bury me someday.  You want someone to go party with, find someone else.I don’t like to go out on most nights. During the week, all I want to do is go straight home and close myself off from the world.  It takes every ounce of self discipline to stop on the way home to pick up something as important as my meds.  Even if I don’t have another dose for the next day, sometimes the urge to be home wins and I’ll go a day without my medication.  Important medication like my thyroid meds.  I don’t need a functioning thyroid, I just need to get home.

    So what you’re saying here is, I’ll get to enjoy being at home with you . . . unmedicated.

  1. I am annoyed by other people. Not certain groups of other people.  I’m not a racist.  At some point or another ALL other people annoy me.  You don’t even have to be talking to me.  The mere presence of other people is enough to push me over the homicidal edge.  The kind that begs me to ask questions like,“Must you sit there and BREATHE?!”  This isn’t a constant state, but it happens more frequently than others in my past would like.  I may even love you, however when this state of being occurs, then I’d prefer to love you while you are elsewhere.stupid-people-72207295246

    There will be times that I want you to get the fuck away from me. I don’t like most people.  I have a small group of people that will get me out of the house, that I actually WANT to spend time with. That being said, even though I love them all dearly, if I lived with any of them I would want them to leave me the fuck alone at times.  I have to have alone time.  Completely uninterrupted alone time or I will cut you.  Being alone allows me to recharge.  It is the ONLY way I can 100% recharge and I NEED it when I need it.

    Since we’ve already discussed and agreed upon the importance of having “your room”, “my room” and “our room”, we’re already on the same page for this one.

  1. My obsession with a clean kitchen borders on clinical. If I have just finished cleaning the kitchen and you decide to go in there “for a snack”, I will hover and stalk and probably have skin crawlies the whole time you are in there.  If you put something in the sink instead of in the dishwasher when you are done with it, I’m petitioning for that to be classified as justifiable homicide.  After you are gone, I will be cleaning the kitchen again and you will probably see me lay my head on the counter to make sure I got every crumb.
    The dishwasher is a simple turn to the right.  Is it REALLY that fucking hard?!?
    The dishwasher is a simple turn to the right. Is it REALLY that fucking hard?!?

    I have a messy kitchen. There, the truth is out.  You have told me MANY times about how much it annoys you when people leave dirty dishes in the sink rather than empty the dishwasher and put the dirty dish in.   If the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and I don’t feel like unloading the dishes, I will rinse my dish and put it in the sink.  This may go on for days before I  get around to unloading the dishwasher.  I have more important things to do.  Time isn’t going to waste itself.  The ass print in the sofa isn’t going to get deeper on its own.  I have TV to watch, completely and totally worthless shit to look up on the Internet and people to text.  Fuck the dishes.  BUT, if someone else were to unload the dishwasher, I would always put my dirty dishes in.  It’s the unloading that makes me want to hang myself.  Loading isn’t an issue at all.

    I’m totally cool with this for a couple reasons.  1)  It means you won’t be in my way when I am cleaning the kitchen and 2)  at least you own the fact that you hate unloading the dishwasher and just don’t want to do it.  I can deal with that.  

  1. I’m all for participating in Team-Based activities. I frequently encourage it, but let me first explain what things are NOT Team Based:
    – Cooking.  I am cooking.  I do not need your help, you are going to be in my way and should you decide to give me a “suggestion” while I’m cooking you are going to get shived.
    – Cleaning up after cooking, or cleaning the kitchen in general.  Same rules apply as the cooking one.
    – Cleaning any other room in the house, especially if it’s “my room”.  Get the fuck out.
    – Washing the car.    Just no.  It’s going to take me 5 hours without you in my way.

    This is the dinner I made for myself tonight.  Crab and Shrimp Stuffed Mushrooms, Catfish, Shrimp, broccoli and cheese and couscous with mushrooms.  No microwave was involved.
    This is the dinner I made for myself tonight. Crab and Shrimp Stuffed Mushrooms, Catfish, Shrimp, broccoli and cheese and couscous with mushrooms. No microwave was involved.

    I do not cook. I never learned and I have no desire to learn.  I HAVE cooked a few times and hated every second of it.   And I may or may not have caught an oven mit on fire.  I use my stove for storage.  I lived in my townhouse for 2 years before the stovetop was ever used.  And that’s only because I hosted Christmas this year and someone else used it.  So no, I will not cook for you, but I will be more then happy to microwave something for you.I can be messy. Not dirty, but messy.  I have two messy places in my house, the spot on the kitchen counter I dump shit I don’t want to deal with yet and my nightstand where I dump shit I don’t want to deal with yet.  I love a clean house.  It makes me very very happy, but  I HATE cleaning.  I have more important things to do, like nap and order stuff from Amazon.

    That’s cool.  I’ll clean.  Meanwhile . . . my Amazon wishlist will be in your email in a few minutes.

  1. I’m cold natured. I will keep the house at 65 degrees year round and be wearing shorts and a T-shirt (assuming I am dressed at all *see Number 1*)  If you make the house hot, I will not be dressed and I don’t give a damn who is there so I don’t recommend you turn the thermostat up and invite your mother over.  If the windows (which we shouldn’t have) aren’t sweating in the summer time, it’s not cold enough in there.IMG_0023
    In the winter I keep the thermostat at 68. I like a cool house.  I will be wearing sexy ass long baggy exercise pants (I find workout clothes are the most comfortable to wear while sitting on my ass.), a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, knee socks and snow boots.  I would rather spend the money on my summer power bill when I keep the thermostat at 69-70.  I live in the south.  It gets HOT and humid.  I will step out of the shower and immediately start sweating.  I HAAAAAATE HATE HATE HATE being hot.  If you don’t want to live in a walk-in fridge in the summer, go fuck yourself

    .I’ve often had my domicile referred to as a “Meat locker” in the summer time, so this is a good thing.

  1. I can play on the Xbox for HOURS. From the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep.  I am a completionist.  I have a goal in mind when I’m playing a game and I intend to reach it.  Whether it is collect all the collectables, finish a story line, upgrade whatever it is that needs upgrading, I intend to reach that goal and God help whoever breaks my stride while I’m trying to do it.  I have even cursed having started my own blog becauseDammit, hookers in San Andreas do not just kill themselves!! Gaming is my hobby and it relaxes me and I enjoy doing it and I am a total geek about it.  I will talk about graphics and storylines and all manner of gaming shit.  I have been known to pre-schedule a day off from work to attend a midnight release (GTA-V) and spend the following 24 hours playing it.  I don’t have much in the way of hobbies, but I have that one.  Look at it this way, it’s not drinking and I’m not raping and pillaging.   Unless the game I’m playing requires it.IMG_0296

    Saturday is Tim and Denise day. No, you are not invited.  Sunday is stay in jammies all day and watch TV day.   No, I do not ever want to leave the house on Sunday.   Very very rarely this will happen when I have brunch with certain friends.  And no, you aren’t invited.  There will be times when the significant other is invited, and there will be times they are not.  This isn’t because I don’t love you or want to spend time with you, it’s because I like alone time with my friends.  Nothing more

    .I’m so cool with this, I might actually wear pants instead of shorts, because what “Tim and Denise Day” translates into for me is “Eric and Xbox Weekend”, because I’m counting Sunday too.  In fact, should the significant other be invited out for brunch with you, please give me headway so that I can both take a stab at getting up at an hour that would still coincide with “brunch” and get myself mentally prepared for social interaction before noon on a weekend.

  1. I sleep with the TV on. Yeah, I know it’s not recommended and I’ve tried to stop doing it.  It doesn’t work.  I’ve even done the“sleep timer” thing to make the TV shut off after I go to sleep and all that accomplishes is that I wake up with the sudden onset of silence.  It doesn’t have to be loud.  Hell, I don’t even have to be able to discern what it is that they are saying on the show.  It just needs to be on.  (I reserve the right to update this issue once I pick up that damned CPAP machine that I’m supposed to start using on Tuesday.)I like to sleep in complete darkness and total silence. I do know you CAN sleep without the TV on.  I listened to you snore for hours and hours and hours last weekend after the TV had timed out, so I KNOW you can sleep with the TV off.   Soooooo, yeah.

    I’m not taking any grief for this one because I already reserved the right to update my answer . . . also, the TV was on when I FELL asleep, so there.

  1. I am not a planner. I don’t plan to hang with friends for the next weekend.  I don’t plan to write a blog post.  Things happen when they happen and when I take a notion for them to happen.  We can arrange to meet next weekend, but I make no promises that I will not be in“Number 3” mode, in which case I will cancel.  No, I don’t really feel as bad as I said I did, I just don’t like humans today.  Also, I’ve got 63 more treasure chests to find in Assassin’s Creed.  I don’t know what I’m doing in an hour.  Don’t ask me what I’m doing next weekend.If we have plans for just the two of us, I’ve gotten ready and didn’t make other plans, and you cancel at the last minute because you don’t want to stop playing your game, I will cut you. If we have plans with my friends and decide you don’t want to go at the last minute, that’s totally fine but I will go without you.   If we have plans with your friends and I get ready, not make other plans and you cancel at the last minute to continue playing your game, I will cut you

    .I noticed you said several times there “If we have plans”.  You may have glossed over the part where I said I’m not a planner.  If we have “plans”, it’s because you made them and didn’t tell me.

  1. I hate morning. I hate the time of day, I hate the people that thrive on it and I hate all people in general in the morning.  There will be copious amounts of coffee consumed and I am entirely anti-social.  Do not say “Good morning” to me because there is NO SUCH THING!!  I am a vampire by nature and prefer the middle of the night and I prefer to be alone in the middle of the night.  Dark and alone.  That seems to be where I function the best.  It’s when the best blog posts get written.  It’s when the best gaming accomplishments are made.  It’s when TV shows and movies get watched without interruption.  It’s when the kitchen ends up being the shiniest.  I know, I said I’m not a racist, but I suppose I am.  I hate morning people.  I don’t like sunshine coming in my windows (which I still shouldn’t have) and I certainly don’t want it shoved up my ass first thing in the morning.jackcofee

    I am NOT a morning person. Mornings are for quiet time. EVERY morning I get up, pee, feed the cats, chain smoke and play Angry Birds, scoop litterbox, shower, makeup and dress.  If you interfere with my morning routine, I will cut you.  Also, when I get home from work I have a routine.  I feed the cats, scoop litterbox, put on my jammies, chain smoke and play Angry Birds. If you interfere with this routine, yeah, you will be cut.

    Sounds perfect.  So before massive amounts of coffee are consumed, neither of us wants anything to do with the other.  It doesn’t sound dysfunctional at all.  In fact, it sounds heavenly.

Because Denise had some stuff that I didn’t cover, she had a couple other things to add

  1. If you are ever mean to my cats, we will have a problem. They are my babies. My children. Yes,
    I’m THAT girl. They will sleep with me. They will lay in my lap when I’m watching TV. There is
    furniture they are allowed on whether you like it or not. They live here too and have a right to
    be here. They are innocent creatures that can feel pain and have feelings. If you hurt or yell at
    them, I will do the same to you. You may scold them if they are being naughty, but you will
    NEVER yell or hurt them. Ever. Period.IMG_0043

    Cats and I generally reach an agreement early on.  I won’t bother them and they won’t bother me.  They can sleep with you and lay on your lap and watch TV with you and frolic all over the furniture all they want.  Let me make sure I’ve stated that clearly.  They can sleep with YOU and lay on YOUR lap and watch TV with YOU and frolic all over the furniture that I am not currently occupying all they want.  Also, I refuse to be the Discovery Channel for pets ifyaknowwhaddimean.

  2. I like my house to be decorated a certain way. My way. Decorating is my thing. It makes me
    happy. Having everything I’ve picked out in its place makes me happy. No, I don’t want your
    Lord of Thor figurine in the living room. You want pictures of your friends and family around the
    house, great, but I chose the frames and where they will be placed. Did I mention it’s my thing?
    I can’t stress enough how much it is my thing. And because it’s my thing, someone else’s shit
    will drive me Bat….Shit…..Crazy.  I don’t like it.  Do whatever you want with your room. Paint
    it red and green stripes and have it decorated like a Bar Mitzvah at a strip club. I don’t care.
    But the rest of the house is mine to do with as I chose. 

    It could stand to be a little bit bigger.
    It could stand to be a little bit bigger.


    We kinda glossed over this at one point too.  I am no decorator, never claimed to be and never wanted to be.  When I “decorate” it means all the thumbtacks holding up the posters are the same color, so the professional shit is best left to you anyway.  My needs are minimal.  As long as the couch is comfortable, I don’t care what it looks like and as long as your decorating will allow me space for one big-ass TV and a spot with decent air circulation for the Xbox, that’s all I need.  You can trim the edges of the TV with whatever you want as long as I can see it and beyond that, decorating is ALLLLLLLL you.

All in all, I think we matched up pretty well although I think the safest thing for us to do would be to remove all sharp, stabbing objects from the house before attempting cohabitation.  We both seem to be kinda stabby.


What do you think guys and gals?  What makes YOU impossible to live with?  Leave us some comments.

Also, my apologies to Cassandra and Momus for sort of stealing their “Thursday Throwdown” format.  We clearly suck at it and we bow to you guys as the masters.

Facebook, Twitter, Text Message of the Day is cancelled tonight . . . because the new episode of The Walking Dead is on in 8 minutes.


Phrases with FedEx


No, no, no . . . your eyes do not deceive you.  I’m here, and I’m making a post and when even She who shall not be named that has not written a post since November 10th but her name is TheRavingPleb starts giving me shit about how long it has been since I wrote one, well then I guess it’s time.<!–more– Read the rest . . . >

But let’s face it.  It was the holidays.  Shit was busy.  People traveled.  Everybody ate, drank and was merry.

For all of you people that work in retail, I’M SOOOOOO SORRY!!  It’s over now.  Take a breath.  You can relax until next year.  I have been there and done that.  They should have a Retail Workers Day just like Veteran’s Day.  Restaurants give you free meals.  They have parades.  You sit around and trade war stories about all the complete dicks you’ve met over the years.


I get it guys and girls, I really do.  I feel for you and I can relate to you and my therapy is ongoing.  You have my respect.

I shop on Amazon.

You’re welcome.

Because I’m one of those dicks.

I’m about to prove it.

Today, I am FedEx’s victim.  I do not feel one. bit. sorry. that I did not go down quietly either.  Because I lost my battle as I knew I would.  It wasn’t about whether I was going to win it anyway.  It was the principal.

. . . . and I made sure every last goddamn FedEx employee in this hemisphere heard about it.

You see, I upgraded my phone last week.  I upgraded from the iPhone 5S to the iPhone 6Plus.

At least I think I did.

I’ll find out when FedEx releases the hostage.

AT&T sent it out to FedEX.  THAT DAY.

FedEx picked it up and took it to the distribution facility in Ft. Worth, Texsucks, THAT DAY.

FedEx then transported it 1,145 miles to Tampa, FL, THE NEXT DAY.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is where it has sat for the last THREE DAYS.

Because apparently the LAST 10 MILES IS REALLY KICKING THEIR ASS!!!

Let me share my frustration with you by showing you the tracking of this package with some images I took using the iPhone 5S I STILL FUCKING HAVE!!  (Ahem . . . sorry.)


I see here that my package is here.  In Tampa.  That is where I definitely am.  Trust me.  It took me 14.5 hours to drive here the weekend after Christmas.  I am definitely in fucking Tampa.  There are 4 arrows spread across 2 days up there to prove it.

But wait, what is this somewhat faded gray text I see there?  “Package not due for delivery”

What is this mysterious due date?  The package was sent 2 Day Delivery.  It was sent on Friday.  It is now Monday.  By my count, that is 3 days, and even if I give you Sunday, it’s still 2 days.  So near as I can tell, it is most definitely due for delivery.  You don’t get credit for Saturday too because . . . it is very clear you people were working.  Hell, you managed to get the damn thing from Memphis to Tampa that day, so you’re busted.  You were working.  The USPS was working and so was UPS.  All those years I worked retail and I worked Saturday, you can bet your sweet ass I was working, so FUCK YOU, you do not get credit for Saturday.

Besides . . . it’s HERE!!  What’s the hold up?  It’s a 2 lb package that’s smaller than a bread box that someone apparently acknowledged its existence at 7:22 this friggin’ morning!

And by acknowledged, I mean, looked at, scanned and went “Yeah . . . fuck you Mr. iPhone guy.”


So, I’m a dick.  And I called FedEx.  Screaming several obscenities later at the automated system (much to the amusement of both of my bosses), I finally reached a live human being.  I think she was alive.  I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Me:  “I’d like to arrange to pick up my package today.  Tracking number is xxxxxxx.”

FedEx Rep:  “I’m sorry, Sir, that package isn’t available for customer pickup.”

Me:  “It’s in Tampa, correct?”

FER:  “Yes, Sir.”

Me:  “I’m in Tampa and I have a reliable vehicle, so what exactly makes it unavailable for customer pickup?  Is it being held for evidence in some sort of crime?”

FER:  “No, Sir.  The shipper requested it be delivered to the recipients address only.”

Me:  “Odd, I don’t remember hearing that, so fine, then can you tell me why it isn’t out on the truck for delivery since it has been here for two days already?”

FER:  “The package is not scheduled for delivery until tomorrow before 8 pm.”

Me:  “Please tell me where I can find this ‘scheduled delivery time’.  I don’t see this anywhere on the tracking info.”

FER:  “You’ll find it near the top, Sir, right under the Ship date.”

Me:  “I see an ‘Estimated delivery date’.  I don’t see a scheduled delivery date.”

FER:  “Yes Sir, that’s it.”

Me:  “No Ma’am, it isn’t.  That is in an estimated delivery date.  Where is the SCHEDULED delivery date?”

FER:  “It is the same thing, Sir.”

Me:  “I don’t want to be rude and accuse you of anything, but maybe English isn’t your first language?”

FER:  “English is the only language I speak, Sir.”

Me:  “Ok, then can we go over the VERY DIFFERENT definitions of ‘Estimated’ and ‘Scheduled’, because by my last check, ‘Estimated’ is defined as an approximate guess, a limit within which something can be achieved.  In this case, I would assume a point beyond which FedEx would find the delivery unacceptable. A goal that is easily achieved in this case because the package is 10 goddamn miles from my house.”

FER:  “I’m sorry, Sir, your package will be delivered tomorrow before 8:00 pm.”

Me:  “That’s it, huh?  ‘Your package will be delivered tomorrow.’  Not, what can FedEx do to make this right for you?  Not, I will contact the proper people about correcting the wording on the tracking page.  You’re not even going to offer me info on where I can go to file a complaint?  Just, the very transparent “I’m tired of listening to you now and I don’t care that you’re upset with our service and I’m going to be late for lunch if you don’t shut up soon so please fuck off?”

FER:  “There is nothing I could do for you, Sir.  The package is containerized and can’t be accessed until tomorrow.”

Me:  “Containerized??  So, you’ve made a fancy term for ‘it’s back there in a box’.  Who was it that ‘accessed’ it this morning at 7:22 long enough to ignore it?”

FER:  “I’m sorry, Sir, there is nothing more I can do.”

Me:  “I think it’s cute how you said “more” like you’ve done anything at this point.  You’ve not even bothered to point me in the proper direction as to who I should complain to.  I’m sorry to have wasted my time, but at least I could make you look busy in front of the boss for a while.”

……..aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I hung up.

Much to her relief, I am sure.

Then, I sent an email to the complaint people after I searched the internet for the FedEx complaint department.

I was nice.  -ish

By nice, I mean I didn’t use any profanity.

That kinda nice.

It went something like this:

I felt the need to write and express my frustration with the tracking and handling of this package and those of other packages I have had delivered through FedEx in the past, mainly with the wording used on the tracking web page itself. You have tomorrow listed there as the “Estimated” delivery date, which would be fine if I couldn’t also see through the tracking that my package has been here in town for two days already, and now you’re sucking up a third day because FedEx doesn’t seem to consider this date an “estimate” but rather a set in stone “scheduled” delivery date. Then when I call to ask if I can come and pick the package up, I’m told I can’t because the package is “containerized” and I will have to wait because of a condition set forth by the sender.
My problem lies not with the condition set by the sender, nor even with the package being held until tomorrow. I am upset with the choice of words used on the tracking page in a deceptive way. “Estimate” to me, implies that the date is a “guess” or a “no later than” time frame. So when I look at the tracking info and see that the package has arrived in my town two days ago, I SHOULD feel somewhat confident that my package would arrive today, in fact THREE days after a TWO day delivery, but I’ll chalk that up to the weekend. The fact is, it won’t because the “estimated” date does seem to be a “scheduled” date as far as FedEx is concerned.
So, my question, or maybe request, is this: Change the wording of “estimated” to “scheduled”, or if the deception is more what you want to stick with, at least don’t be so bold as to show me that it takes you longer to get the package to go the last 10 miles than it does to go the first 1000 miles, then give me the seemingly standardized response that the package is “containerized” and I am not able to pick it up. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me with FedEx and my trust in your company has severely been broken as a result.
This practice is unacceptable and I think a professional company should better be able to conduct themselves with their customers to maintain a solid relationship.

It’s reasonable, right?

I should also note that I sent this email to Denise so she could check it out, and being just as fucked up as I am, she pasted that fucker right into MS Word to get a word count and immediately laughed at me for using 399 words to complain about FedEx’s misuse of ONE word.

Which I would have thought was funny too except my OCD twisted sideways on the fact that it was 399 words and I had to find a way to correct it to an even 400.

At which point she accused me of bringing it home and turning it into a 1000 word blog post too.

Well, she was WRONG!

1733 as of this word.

We pick our battles.  I picked this one.  I lost.  Sue me.

I’m back and I’ll write more because I got all kinds of shit to tell you about and things I have been working on.  The holidays are over and it’s time to get serious again.  Or not serious, depending on how you look at it.  It’ll be fun.

I even have for all you old school followers . . . . a quick Christmas story about . . .  my DAD!!

In the meantime, I’ve got to crash.  I have an early appointment with the doc tomorrow to talk about my sleep apnea.  Which I was told I had to correct over Christmas.

By Denise.  When I was sleeping with her.

Yeah, you read that right.

All you dimestore Nostradamus’s should be happy now.



Merry Christmas and Happy New Year all you freaks!!

Facebook Post of the Day is cancelled today due to I didn’t wanna look for that shit . . .

on my iPhone 5S goddammit!!



The Illustrated Guide to Playing With Your Meat

Smiling Pig

I know why you’re all here.  It’s not my wit and charm or my rapid-fire sense of humor.

No it’s not, stop lying to me.

You’re all a bunch of pigs and you read that title and your little pig brains went all “PORN!” and you clicked right on in here.  Pigs, all of you.  That’s exactly what this post is about . . . 

Read the rest . . .

A SHOT. IN MAH . . . . ‘Murica.


I get to meet a lot of really cool people whilst taking part in this little blogger (read: not so little) and the last couple of weeks have been no exception.  In fact I met a whole group of ’em.  They are known to the rest of the world as The Sisterwives and they have banded together to support, encourage and generally battle douchebaggery in numbers so they are assured of continued victory. Read the rest . . .

The Opticynicism Jackshit Weekly Wrap-up


I’m going to try and keep it somewhat short tonight because I know I can get pretty wordy, particularly with the ineffectiveness of, as well as the absence of Valium.  I’ve only had one other person tell me that that was cool and that’s ’cause she’s pretty fuckin’ wordy too and also pretty cool, but we’ll get to all that right here because I’m going to start tonight with some more “new bloggers I’ve found” love.

Allow me for a moment to pull out my complete jumble of a notepad document . . . . Read the rest . . .

This is the NEW new Opticynicism


The transition has been made and while some of you may still experience some problems over the next couple of days, the move has been made and the blog is no longer in the confining, clutching hands of WordPress.com.

In truth, I’ve actually deactivated the wordpress.com site altogether.  Well, I didn’t deactivate it, I simply renamed it, which sort of solved the problem of people trying to come to this website and still getting redirected to the old one. Read the rest . . .