I Failed. A Maybe Not-So-Triumphant Return & My Jungle Exploded Down There

But lemme explain why I failed.

Blogging tends to suck me in. It tends to take up a lot of my time between thinking/writing up posts, keeping up with all readers & other blogs, finding & getting sucked into new ones, etc... It sucks me into this never ending online web. I've yet to find my perfect balance. Maybe it's this ADHD, and always being onto some new project.

This summer's line up of events has been non-stop, on top of the fact that when this season hits, I go into another mode entirely. I just couldn't keep up with it all at once, esp. the sitting at the computer so much with so many beautiful days to enjoy. I had to put something down for a while. Unfortunately, that something had to be the blogging.

The chain of events has been non-stop - Lung Surgery Recovery > Florida > Sister's Bridal Shower & Wedding Preparation > Music Festival > Best Friend Visiting from England > Wedding Coming Up > Birthday Coming Up, and still possibly yet another music festival followed by yet another Florida vacation, so even though I've made a pact to myself to return to blogging, there still may be no end in sight to this streak of events that's added to keeping me off the internets so much.

I know that doesn't seem like much to hold me back or keep me busy, but there's plenty going on in between all that as well, trust me.

So, I took a summer vacation. I had to.

In fact, I don't even know where to begin here, which stories of my triumphs, trials, and tribulations to even share first, so I guess I'll bore you right now by starting with the bridal shower & the garden of roid raged doom.

My sister is marrying Bozo the clown this weekend.

Actual picture of what I predict on the wedding day.

I have to stop myself from making a speech at this wedding similar to Steve Buscemi's in The Wedding Singer, and I know in my already anticipating the drunkenness heart, that is going to be an impossibility because I am a goddamn bastard.

And there's surely some good goddamn comedy behind this whole scenario, but like lots of things brought up here, that's another story for another time.

I can't write a novel here. You'd all be throwing tomatoes at your monitors, and that's a damn bad waste of good tomato sauce.

In this chain of events my sister decided she wanted me to make her a cupcake tower for her bridal shower, and I was up for 4 days straight making 3 different kinds of cakes, chocolate hearts covered in edible glitter, and running a bakery out of my goddamn house.

Is this all hypnotizing you? Cupcakes make you happy in the pants, don't they?

Well, don't get too excited. There's broccoli involved in this post.

Master professional-like baker? You bet your ass.

("The Mad Baker" is the name)

Yet another story for another time? You bet your ass, but it's coming soon with the holiday season ahead.

Let's move onto some news about this jungle in my pants, shall we?

Sorry, I mean, my garden. Yard. Fuck, whatever!

(Martha Stewart will never have the class I can possess.)

The Power of Shit

Cow shit that is.

We're going to go through a series of photos here taking a look at the progression, but keep in mind, it's going to get pretty fucked up at some point here. I seemed to have misjudged spacing just a bit this year. 

*Bites tongue*

Now.....

Do you see it? The perfect formation, perfect spacing?

Now....Listen to me. Listen good.

Do not put tomato plants in your garden, esp. when you have every space filled in with something else you had mapped & planned perfectly, and also in soil filled with a high-strength fertilizer.

There are 5 separate boxed off lil gardens & 3 of them are now 1. They've merged, kind of like Trapper Keeper 5,000.

Somehow....

Everything is still growing under all this, from the watermelons to the cauliflower, butternut squash, pickling cucumbers, beans & pea pods. Every single thing, and without a mark or bite on it from the Super Seven.

(Get your hands on some of that shiz. Not one pest issue all season.)

After it was weeded. Clearly fishing for the fruited vegetables is a delicate get your face bitten off situation.

(Lil mosquitos & bees, sure, but mind you, there could be sharks in there. I thought I saw a bear all lost in there once, and we all know, where there are bears there are sharks.)

After the hurricane, unfortunately. Blown over squash stems & a few snapped zucchini stems, but sure enough this jacked up, roid enraged garden survived.

Hell yeah, I grew my own lettuce. But that garden is a lil too sad looking & picked over right now to see.

How about one of my cow shit zucchinis over a store bought zucchini...

Invest in cow shit, people!!

Can't go on forever here can I?

Also, I had to start somewhere.

We'll just have to see how I keep up.

Oh Hai, Explosions Anyone?

Bloggers, how the hell ya been?!

*Blows confetti out the back door*
(and not the one with the knob if you know what I mean. Although, I can assure you I have no knob, cept those two that rest atop my chesticles)

As most of you know (unless you're hiding in a cave banging a polar bear), last weekend was the 4th of July here in America - Ya know, when we get all redneck-style drunk, eat sausages, and blow shit up as we tear over how beautiful of a celebration it is, or rather it's just the liquor making us cry. Whatever it may be, it can get emotional. Esp. if the explosions are too much to handle........ and this year in my neck of the woods, they certainly were!

Now, if I hadn't mentioned it before, my next door neighbor works for the light company. A few years back he lost his strict & overbearing father and has since gone right back to the good ol' age of 16, partying in the garage with his grown sons on a daily basis, drinking massive quantities of beer, and blowing up the whole neighborhood with illegal explosives.

So, three years ago Mahk decides he's going to outdo the entire town and their cheesy town fireworks display with his display and a block party that has since expanded to an open house bash between 4 neighborhood houses with an attendance way into the triple digits.

We just happen to have the best seat in the whole neighborhood every year because they go off right over our backyard, and this is only a taste.

That noise after the explosion is the friggin' enormity of the neighborhood shindig.

A bunch of us were watching the fountain of fire shoot up from the trailer while fusion bombs went through the sky & we actually just lost it laughing. You didn't know what else to do. I've seen fireworks shows, big & small, all over the place my whole life, and none of us had ever seen anything like it.

My mother's a bit wild at heart, even pushing 60, and had my poor 80 year old grandparents in the corner sitting through this. My lil nana has very high anxiety & heart rhythm problems, got very scared, and, well, it kind of pissed me off my mother was that stupid.

Now, there were a few friends & family members occupying my house & backyard (about 25 or so), and here you can see the party gone wild & hear my super twit sister suggest we should have opened our yard to hundreds of sweaty drunk college kids with terrible Boston accents. 

Silly bitch....

You're grammatically incorrect, sistarella. It's "YAAAHHHD", not "YARD", queeftaht. Go back to Nebraska!

(We don't really get along too well. She's a flake & I'm a hardass. It's like oil & water)

"I'm gonna spread sum fuckin' butta all over this heah stah spankgled banna, guy. Where's my beeah, and a fourk I can stiab some assbag heah in the face with, guy?"

Gotta. Love. The. North Shore

Did you know I made it through about 10 minutes of "The Depahted" before I started looking for where my vest full of grenades & machine guns were at?

Quit talking like that! It makes you look frackin fucked up & uncivilized.

Boston, Connecticut, Rhode Island, parts of New Hampshah & Maine, you heard me...
(And try not to take offense with this from someone who's been living here their whole life. Unless you have the heavy accent. Then go take some speech classes fer christsake)

Jersey & New Yawk, don't get me stahted. You're certainly not safe.

Whew! You know what... I really flew of topic here, but that explosion's been waiting to happen for a while.
Ever since Lily DiCaprio showed up on my screen trying to be like Chaalie from down the street.

Welcome to the north east! We have baboons & beer! And lots & LOTS of Yuengling, guy!

ONWARD!!

Here are some bewbs to keep your attention.

No. Fucking. Way!
I would beat your ass with your own shoes if you ever came around me wearing these.

You know...... this whole post is just failing terribly! Gawd!


Now, look. Even though last year I was in sunny Florida for 3 weeks during the 4th, I was quite bummed I wasn't here for Mahk's end of the world block pahty, and also that when trying to make the fireworks display down in Seminole County, my GPS took me to an empty church parking lot - "Just shut up & pray for fireworks, buoy. That's how we see light in the sky down here in Molesterville".

I don't know what sort of divine intervention happened next, but my flight to come home was scheduled for the evening of July 4th, and when I tell you that plane came down from over the clouds precisely at 9:00 P.M., I mean just in time for me to see fireworks displays ALL over Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Boston from all the little backyard displays to all the the big shot shows on the water all at once, all from an airplane.

And if that wasn't enough of a dream come true, the Boston Harbor display was in full swing when I landed at Logan.

Actual shot from the airplane window touching down on the runway.

I can check that off from my list now! Fireworks across 3 states from an airplane.


Since I've spent so much time screwing around here, let's get on to This Week In Twitter
(Or last week, or maybe even two weeks ago. I've been a slacker)

Because it's all fun & games until somebody goes insane. Then it's REALLY FUN!!

You're not really gone, though, until you actually turn the photo in with a review.
Not like I actually did that.........
(Though, you should know me better because I totally did)

Your beaver bit my beaver & now there's gonna be words.

Maybe I've gotten too personal here.

Tell me the story of your life. Is that too personal for you?!

Blah, blah.

Ooohh....


JACKPOT!

A step up from my future brother-in-law who falls UP the stairs on a weekly basis.
(He's okay. Sort of. He never really was to begin with)

Right about now, I feel like one of those psychological test subjects in an auditorium full of medical scientists.

What if I told them my fruit turned to sandy clam shells in my hand & the escalator took you through the wall, but rather beat me into the wall because I had magnets in my shoulder, which totally must have manifested from this brilliant & hilarious post by The Snee.

I bet you those scientists would pay big bucks for a test subject who's consumed as much acid as me in the 90's. See, that's the 60's backwards. Think about it.



So, speaking of too much acid in the 90's...

A whole nother subject for its own special post, let's leave it at that, and "Shockin' the Cockin'"
(Speaking of which, I should tell my dear bro I have now seen a new shock plug that'll help him "Shockin' the Colon" too)

So........

Think of Wile E. Coyote, cept' with the bang (or rather, consecutive bangs) before the loud whistle as he plummets into the core of the earth.

Not everything can be perfect. My first car was a lawn mower.

So in concluding this post for today, some of the upcoming posts here should somewhat consist of; my vegetable jungle progress, my sister's bridal shower & preparation for her wedding, a hokey music festival in the slums, and so on...

Now I know this all seems quite lame, but c'mon, guys, it's me. 

(I don't know why I just felt like saying "Crazy Carl")

It's bound to be fucked up & entertaining.

So, I hope ya'll had a really great 4th & of course a happy Canada Day ;~}, and I leave you with our cheesy town fireworks display's grand finale captured in really poor quality. 

You're so welcome!

Love the Ones You Know

 Because it's that time of year again. You know the one, when that drunk, naked lil shit with wings comes around with his bow & arrows, attempting to shoot you in the chest, resulting in a massive coronary.

"Teehee." Omg, aren't you f-ing hilarious you naked lil asshole...

Naked, flying, unstable dude with an arsenal of weapons, and this is supposed to be the day of love.
Sounds way more like a domestic violence call, to be followed up with quite the intervention.

If you're single with Valentine's Day coming up, forget all that romantic sorrow bullshit that will happen for you when the time is right (the romance, not the sorrow), and use this bubbly, heart filled holiday to display your love & appreciation towards other types in your life.

If every single mofo gifts another single mofo; friend or family member, dog, lizard, nobody will feel half as bad & focus on wtf wasn't done for them for this day of hormonal drama & inner turmoil.

Also, who isn't all tickled by the thought of having a secret admirer?

Wrong holiday altogether, huh?

Plus, he'll already be there when he calls, so he's steps ahead of most other men.

Maybe this is where the title becomes relevant.

Good for you. You're probably going to die.

Look, I'm happy just painting hearts on cookies in my kitchen & shit, and receiving some cinnamon hearts from dear mom. I've had plenty of Valentine's Days, some great & everything you could ever want, some terrible, whether spent hanging naked out of a hotel window with a bottle of champagne in hand or tossing pennies into a Chinese restaurant fountain, wishing your date would disappear, snowed in having sex for a week straight in front of a fireplace, or on a couch all day not speaking a word like a 90 year old couple.

So forget all that shit we're programmed to feel & take this day to celebrate the love you have for a parent or your kids, friends, pets, blow up dolls, butterflies & cucumbers, what have you.

Or you could just beat the shit out of yourself sexually & take you out to dinner. 

Hint to self: My favorite is Mexican.

Just don't propose this to the dog or your mom.

Save that freaky sex shit for the Internet, or just write me a rain check.

Whether you have it in your life romantically or not, you've got to love that thing called love, and pay tribute to the power of it.  Fucking. magic. 

*Poof*

(I totally just blinded you with lube.)

That dead chick with the duct tape is totally freaking me out.

I Didn't Realize Only You Lived Here

The rest of us must be here temporarily visiting by time travel because if other people did live on this continent, you surely wouldn't drive around with two feet of snow, or better yet, frozen solid snow or ice, on the roof of your insanely large car of destruction & doom, would you?

Because what's better than a big mechanical death machine with giant shards of killer ice hanging off of it, going 80 mph.

Now, maybe you just can't reach &/or you're in a hurry - In this case....... Well, I don't give a flying squirrel's nut sack, run and get a chair, step, anything & clean. off. the. car.


Let me introduce you to my lil friend - Extending ice scraper/snow brush.

Omg, it's like, logical thinking, on a stick!

Maybe you have a condition & limited ability in your arms & it hurts to lift em' high or do all the motions, in which case I don't know how your ass can drive, but if you can do it, you can do it. So that's when you go grab some sorry mofo off the couch to do it for you. If said mofo declines, that's when you back your car through the front of the house & into said living room, pull up next to em' & tell em' it looks like it'll just be a relaxing day at home.

(I have quick, simple solutions to every perplexing matter)

Maybe you think you just won't be that guy/chick, or maybe you're hallucinating drunk & just think the car is covered in powdered sugar, and therefore, automatically everything will be okay because who doesn't love powdered sugar, right?

 (actually, a lot of people, but that's beside the point), and maybe if you raised your hand on that last one you should have your license revoked, and probably an intervention as well.

(Or you could build a donut car & ram em' into each other. Powder devours Donut ='s Breakfast)

Maybe these people have Agoraphobia & it makes them feel safe, so maybe driving around in a big homicidal snow fort is comforting to them. I can tell you how comforting it is to the guy behind you who suddenly got a blast of powdered sugar something like a snow blower emptying out on his windshield, who has now swerved off the road, hit three pedestrians & driven through the window of a TGIFriday's.

If you need help identifying these toolbags, you probably are one. Let me show you what you look like...

Gallery of people who should have the shit slapped out of them.

That's a good hairstyle, assfuck.

"We'll get there, Rhonda. I'll use my spidey sense. I'm a fucking superhero!"

Either mama failed tragically, or somebody gave you brain damage with a bat.

I'd flip you the bird or yell at you or something, but I'm too busy running for my life from your ass, you insane disaster waiting to happen.

Tis the Frickin' Season

The one where all the crazies who don't seem to be out all year crawl out of the f-ing woodwork & infiltrate the earth with (even more) weirdness for two months. The two months leading up to the new year for some reason.

They are upon us. The circus is in town. Cousin Eddie's coming home...

The realization kicked in today with a seemingly harmless trip to Suck-Mart for some new Christmas lights that I need to re-string my garlands with.

Once a certain time of year hits, my nostalgic geek ass always reaches for AccuRadio Holidays from my PC or iPhone.

So, today I kicked on a lil AccuJazz, some Vince Gueraldi comes on to start psyching me up with holiday cheer, until my friend signals me to make sure I check out the chick in the lane next to me if I have a chance to pull up.

I really thought this mofo was f-ing with me & I wasn't in the mood for jokes & empty promises of chicks with sideburns.

But lo & behold, this chick had some of the biggest sideburns I have ever seen. Full-on melon chops.


But seriously, props to you, girl. That's a bold fucking fashion statement right there. Hey, it's the time of year anything goes.

Except this next bit. This shit never flies.....

Now look, I don't like to have to beat up anyone. But the deranged douche bag who brought back the 80's, pray I don't find you in a dark alley.

These two hookers........and I'm pretty sure the same ones in the exact same clothing, staring me down as if I were spreading bad fashion since I don't look like I made my clothes at Plaster Fun Time, obviously don't own a bedazzler, nor am in any position to qualify for a Debbie Gibson video.

Maybe they were scouting me out for Devo or Robert Palmer, who knows. I would guess they were pissed I was making them look bad. Though, I could have pulled that off in fishing overalls. AWK-WARD.

This can never have a positive impact on society.

 (Hey, fucker who thought this idea was cool, do you realize this shit HAUNTS me?!)

Now the 80's is trying to step in & fuck with my motherflippin' X-mas, ya'll?!

I HATE the 80's. They ruin everything. I try to block em' out best as I can. Put it back in its box & blast that shit into outer space.

This freak show is quite literally the walking dead, and it is everywhere. These are the zombies you fear, people. Wake up, before it's too late.

I know the future is here & all, but even the Jetsons didn't look that farkin'' crazy. Or "We've simply run out of ideas & styles. Let's go backwards & put a new twist on the ugliest we can remember."

Those freaks weren't revolutionizing anything. They just did too much coke & lost ALL f-ing sense of normalcy. True story. I was there. Kind of. Not really. I told you I block it out.

Anywho, I had thought about maybe running the hookers over (though not really, but maybe just showing off a bit) with my sexy steed in the parking lot (B/c I'm awesome like that & trying to help you bring down the 80's. You can thank me later), but their Delorean was nowhere to be found.

It was after that, when I got stuck behind a 90 year old woman (Seemingly drunk & with Parkinson's, & a car full of dwarfs) & left em' to give chase to DJ Smacks & his penismobile, that I started to consider maybe doing every bit of shopping, big or small, online for the next few months.

Yep, oddly enough, every confusing lil bit of that last sentence is true.

They're out there. And they're giving you dirty looks, wanting to tease your bangs, & growing facial hair, & driving around in giant penises, fornicating with dwarfs. And don't say I didn't warn you.