Working on my final paper for my class, so I’ll leave you with this until Thursday:
I am awesome. You are a bitch.
Discuss.
Archive for the 'i am so fucking awesome' Category
27 years ago today a young boy was born unto this world. Save for a few soothsayers and seers, none knew the true power - nor the soul-rending awesomeness - that was imbued in this boy. It should be noted, however, that upon the moment of his birth, the earth trembled, spewing molten lava into the heavens; and the sky grew dark with clouds as lightning danced a terrifying tribute from horizon to horizon. Stars shook themselves loose from their fixtures in the cosmos and hurtled themselves across the vastness of space in the hopes that the boy’s gaze might casually chance upon their luminescent, fiery self-immolation before passing beyond the visible range of his young eyes.
Unfortunately, no one else on Earth noticed any of this, and if they did they simply shrugged and chalked it up to weathermen never being right. Then they went back to watching Miami Vice, having horrible ideas about fashion, and fluffing their Flock of Seagulls haircuts.
As time plodded inexorably forward, however, more and more people learned the truth about this super-intelligent, epically-bewanged, ruggedly-handsome young man. In fact, it has been writ by the hand of an unknown scribe in the Lost Codex of Universal Knowledge that on the day of the twenty-seventh year of this man’s birth the gods would look down from their empyrean citadels and weep with the knowledge that their reign of the past eons and millenniums would be wrenched from their desperate grasping claws by the self-same soul they had fashioned from the concentrated quintessence of their collective hubris. The Codex goes on to describe the ascension of this man-god to his seat of universal power: “… upon the very moment of his first decree, all wrongs will be righted, the moon will be in the seventh house, Jupiter will align with Mars, peace will guide the planets, and his astronomical wang will guide the stars. Also, two wrongs will heretofore now make a right, and the firmament above will open in jubilant celebration and deliver unto earth beer and chicken wings with perfect sauce.”
Every 10 years all sentient life in the galaxy will make a pilgrimage to gaze upon the visage of this superhuman, yet benevolent ruler of all galaxies (depicted to the right by a faithful votary) and - at the peak of this decennial extravifestival - the removal of his paper-bag will render the adoring crowds into a gibbering mass of orgasming devotees, forever content to live in peace and harmony, offering sacrifice upon the anniversary of his having graced this existential plane with his awesomeness.
Kneel before Zod, bitches.
w0-motherfucking-0t! My promotion FINALLY came through and I got a 6.5% pay increase! That’s more than DOUBLE what I was expecting to get! So when my boss was like, “Does this look okay to you?” I was all like, “Fuck yes it’s okay! Do you know how many extra blow-jobs I can now buy with this kind of cheese? One! One extra blow-job! And a whole snow-drift of coke too!”
I know some of you are lawyers and doctors and assistant crack-whores, and a 6.5% increase isn’t very much to you, but to me it means that I don’t have to choose between eating and getting my diabetes medicine. Wait, no. That’s not right. 6.5% means that I don’t have to choose between super-sizing or not. I’m gonna super-size that bitch every TIME from now on. You KNOW I gots to get extra bacon in my milkshake, for reals.
Anyway, there is some weirdness to all this. First of all, it took them since April to process the paperwork for my promotion, so who knows how long it’s going to take them to get the extra cash into my check. On the upside though, it doesn’t really matter how long it takes them because they’ll be retro-ing the cash back to July 1, so for a couple of checks I should be making fat dough.
Well, I’m out. Finger Lakes all weekend, bitches. I’m going to try to get my BAC to 6.5% to celebrate, but you and me, we’re going to party when I get back, so start calling the stripper. I’m sure your mom’s not too busy.
Here’s a link to my flickr set from the derby, and here is a crappy video with minor crashes, some crazy driving, and some other crap. I had the wrong SD card in the camera so I only had a few seconds worth of video to record. My other (even worse) videos from the derby should pop up in the related links area if you go to YouTube.
Finally, an anecdote. Mrs. ACW and I frequently find ourselves engaged in an epic battle of world-sodomizing proportions when we play board games with my brother and sister-in-law. Tempers flare, someone flips the game board, a shiv appears as if from nowhere, and worst of all- feelings get hurt. Apparently the last time we all played Cranium Turbo, it was my feelings that got hurt. Or maybe I’m just a dick. You decide.
My brother and his wife took Cranium Turbo over to a friend’s house to have dinner and play a friendly game with the friend and the friend’s mother. The friend was asked a “Sculpturades” question (the player must use modeling clay to create a sculpture to get the other players to guess what the answer to the question is) so she got the modeling clay out of its little plastic tub to start sculpting and was immediately struck with a message that was poked into the bottom of the clay with a pencil:
Mokie loves the cock.
My only regret is that it wasn’t the friend’s mother who found my message in the clay.
1) This past weekend Mrs. ACW and I went to the Demolition Derby in Arcadia again, and again it was super-awesome double-extraordinary. We saw two cars flip onto their roofs (both drivers were fine), half a dozen cars catch on fire, two-dozen (or more) blown tires, and about a million bone-crunching crashes. It is truly a fine life I live. Pictures and video tomorrow, hopefully.
2) I’ve been dealing with a bloody nose since about 7am. It starts and stops, but let me tell you, when you’re half-asleep on Monday morning and you’re shaving in the shower (by the way, I shave in the shower) and you sleepily look into the stainless steel shower mirror and see blood all over your face, you may start having a tiny little freak-out as you try to find where you must’ve sliced yourself open to bleed so profusely before you remember your nose has been bleeding. And the blood sort-of makes me look like a demented zombie-Santa Claus with a hunger for flesh, so at least I’ve got that going for me.
Anyway, I’ve got some wadded up tissue in my pocket, but I’m beginning to think I should just carry these around.
3) I got the new Cake CD this weekend, and I’ve been listening to it this morning, and it’s great if you’re a fan of the band. It’s got some pretty funky covers, and a couple of new/old songs (b-sides) that have that familiar Cake feel to them. One of the songs that took me by surprise is a cover of this. I hope you’ll forgive me when I explain that I had a tiny little orgasm when I heard it and wasn’t expecting to hear it. It’s a treat!
Best of all, Cake eschewed the studios for their album release so all the cash from the album goes directly to them and not to some cock-gobbling stuffed-suit record-company douchebag, and there’s not a whole bunch of anti-piracy bullshit all over the album. Get it record companies? I bought the fucking album! Why would you show all the piracy bullshit to the people who BUY THE ALBUMS? You must all be idiots.
Anyway, whatever. Shut-up. I’m awesome.
I feel compelled to mention that for the past year I have been married to pretty much the awesomest wife in the world. I’m pretty sure that everybody knows how awesome I am, but I’m not sure that everyone knows that Mrs. ACW is about 34 times awesomer. For example, on a scale of “Monster Truck Show” to “Bad-ass Flaming Rollercoaster” she rates at “Shark-Riding Ninjas versus Cyborg Zombie Dinosaurs in the Superbowl”. I know I could totally rent her out for, like, a million dollars a second, and you would all pay that much money just to have her as your wife, but I would never do that because I am the only person who can handle her sheer, unadulterated, balls-to-the-wall awesomeness.
The past year has been a deep-fried chocolate-dipped slice of BONZER, and I couldn’t be luckier or happier to have her.
Happy anniversary, hon! Here’s to another year of terrible movies, great beer, and two annoying cats!
A few weekends ago I was attending the bachelor party of a good friend of mine. For the most part, it went pretty well. In fact, I remember it just like this. The problem is that my friend Justin, all of whose scenes were missing, at one point decided to leap onto my back and try to ride me like a horse, or some sort of man-sized dinosaur, presumably all the way to Mexico whereupon I would die from the exhaustive journey, and he would fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming the world record holder in donkey show participation. I have weird friends.
Alas, we didn’t make it to Mexico, but we did make it to the pavement, and said pavement took a sizable chunk of skin out of both of my knees. Justin, of course, had almost no recollection of this, so I have been taunting him about it mercilessly. Anyway, the scab (bleargh) has recently started to come off (double bleargh), but I didn’t realize how much until I got to work yesterday. After sitting at the computer for an indeterminate period of time I stood up to get my mail, or go to the bathroom, or something like that, and I had a painful sensation in my knee. I looked down and saw that my pants were attached to my leg. I tried to gently pull the pants away from my wound, but they were adhered through the scientific power of HEMOSTASIS! My stupid body thought my pants were also part of my body and so the pants were incorporated into the scab. After some tugging I managed to get my body and my pants separated, but the inside of my pants leg looked like the hive from Aliens. It was pretty gross.
So what would happen while my body is trying to bond with my wardrobe? My nose, of course, starts bleeding. But, I had the upper hand in this situation! Because my nose constantly bleeds in the summer and winter, I had previously prepared a nose-bleed plug of wadded tissue for just this type of situation. Well, I wasn’t really expecting to have grafted with my pants, but the nose-bleed I was expecting. Anyway, I jammed the tissue-plug up my nose, grabbed the area of my pants that were in danger of reattaching to my leg, and then hobbled around the office looking for someone with a bandage.
I must have been quite the sight, stooped over and holding my own pants while the tissue jammed up my nose slowly soaked with blood. I am quite the catch, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you. Mrs. ACW must thank her lucky stars every day for being the lucky lady that gets to walk around behind me and pick of the pieces that fall off.
I found a bandage without too much trouble and slapped it on there and my leg and nose seem no worse for the experience.
Hope you weren’t eating lunch.
