Thursday, October 30, 2008

Disorders

you are full of shit. whatever that "disease" is that you think you have, youre full of shit. stop using bi-polar or OCD or whatever the hell as an excuse for your fuck ups. just admit you made a stupid mistake and have a fucking laugh about it. nobody will care.

you are not crazy. if you were crazy, you wouldnt have to tell everyone around you that you are for them to realize it. accept your goddamn personality and live with it. stop telling people youre insane, because you are not. insane people dont know theyre insane. stupid people use it as an excuse for doing the stupid things they do.

you do not need that fucking pill you saw on TV for that disorder you saw on TV to get the desired results you saw on TV. chill the fuck out and stop taking things so seriously, stop creating fucking stupid drama for no other reason than to draw attention to yourself. you want attention? do something commendable. Its much better than just having people feel sorry for you because they think youre a fucking retard.

Monday, October 27, 2008

I LIKE MONKEYS!

I LIKE MONKEYS
I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that
odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to
look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His
name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really
bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed.
Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new
environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at
high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the
spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive:
they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead.
Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn
cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my
room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked
like I had 200 throw rugs.

I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.

I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for
a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real
bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want
to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately
there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so
it didn't all go bad.

I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in
my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor
wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet
one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the
frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like
them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in
the genitals.

I like monkeys

Friday, October 24, 2008

Welcome back, shitbag

Hi, now that the window of opportunity is closing in fast, and I'll soon be confined to the dog kennel that is the marines, I'm going to take a moment to be selfish.

Let me start by saying, FUCK YOU marine corps. Thats right, i hate your guts. All your tradition you value so much, but cast aside if the slightest thing doesnt go your way, shove all that right up your ass. Its a shame that in what is supposed to be a no nonsense badass collection of tough motherfuckers, There is a hierarchy that is fed from total bullshit. Liars and ass kissers are rewarded, while the non questioning, hard working people, the REAL few and proud, are ignored because they havent got anything to bitch and moan about. they dont try to get out of working parties, they dont turn into a pathetic crybaby when someone else gets promoted, they are merely happy for that person.

So, heres the fun part. When I left, i dragged a trail of guilt behind me based on the feeling that I had let my unit down. By abandoning them in a time of war, when they needed instructors, I split because i was a gnats wing away from insanity from deploying. Well you know what? Kiss my fucking ass now. I dont feel that way anymore. People were pissed because i took so long to decide what i was going to do, I didnt like it anymore than they did, but fuck it now.

Know why? Because there were people 2 years away from their EAS that repeated the phrase "fuck this i'm leaving" all the time. Those people got a plaque, a prop with everyones signatures, and everyone stayed late after work for their ceremonies. On the other hand, I, who didnt even want to leave the unit, wanted to stay and train the new guys, and carry on the Night Owl colors, and only didnt because i knew i would go fucking batshit without a break, got nothing.

No prop, no signatures. What I got was yelled at from top Trani to get the fuck out of the office. So sorry i didnt stop caring halfway through my enlistment top. I'll be back in a VMU unit soon, but know this, the friends I've made at Cherry Point are the only things keeping me from telling the commandant to go fuck himself with my rolled up recall orders.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Demon dog


Yes this is correct I would like my dog to become a prospect. After a Friday night of hanging out with his bitch. He not only drank warm beer but ate grass soaked in beer foam.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

TICE PICTURES



An oldie but a goodie