Deadbeat Dad's Here!

Deadbeat Dad's Here!

Lots going on, just not up here, so I apologize if you are a troubled soul who occasionally visits this neglected bastard child of mine in search of entertainment. This thing came about because personal email access was taken away from me about a year ago and like a good Chachki's waiter, I felt a need to express myself. Well, for whatever reason, the computer monsters down in the basement have restored access to my email site. I'm convinced that prisoners in solitary confinement should all try to be writers. There's so much upside -- even if you don't know how to write in any language. You could do the modern prisoner equivalent of cave drawerings, depicting thoughts and acts. If you are in for stalking a female celebrity, you could write about or draw pictures of you stalking that person, or just masturbating to the thought of stalking that person. You just have to ask for a pen and paper. If you're a risk to your own safety or the safety to someone else (and who isn't), maybe you will just get a crayon, but that's just as good -- especially if you get one of those 96-packs that have the built in sharpener on the bottom of the box. Anyone know why crayons are sold in multiples of 12? I sure don't.

So that's one reason things haven't been happening. The other main problem is that I am in a busy season at work. I know, everyone is. Fine, I guess I'm not man enough for this much work and screwing around all in the same day. Administrative aspects of my job are really pissing me off and I may end up taking a different job soon, one that will surely provide far less bullshit time for me to type away mindlessly like this. But I'm waiting for someone to get back to me on this one thing, and decided to declare 11:30 - noon today JERKOFF TIME. So enjoy, hopefully you will find this to be a satisfying pearl necklace of a post instead of a disappointing dribble-down-the-shaft'er.

I realized the other day that it's almost been a whole year for checkoutmyhemi. The first post went up on October 31st of 2006. As is required by Google, the goons in charge of blogger, I will put some sort of "favorites" tag together soon, which will tell you, reader, which posts I gave myself an extra-hard congratulatory pat on the ass for.

Damn it, I still have nine more minutes until JERKOFF TIME is over. What did they call this exercise in English class? free writing?

The other day my motorcycle started losing power on the George Washington parkway, just across the Potomac River from Washington, DC. It felt like I was running out of gas. "Fuck!", I thought. Luckily, I was near a scenic overlook parking area and pulled in to check it out. I was certainly low on fuel, but not empty. Maybe a spark plug problem? I had no fucking idea. I called my friend Joe, who picked me up. I left the damn bike in the parking lot. The next day I had it towed to a service center, which cost me $143. I received a message on my phone from the guy at the shop the next day for me to call him, so I did. "You ran out of gas." "FUCK!", I thought. I told him to rebuild the left carb since it was at the shop. When I picked it up yesterday I was pleased to find out that the bike did, in fact, have something wrong so I didn't feel so bad.

JERKOFF TIME is now over. The picture at the top, by the way, is my fantasy basketball logo. Toodles!