MORGAN, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF RAPID RANDOM RABID RABBIT?

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The Almighty Morgan Webb 

Today is: Neo-Tom Is A Loser Day

The sick irony of it all is if he actually happens to come across my blog by some accident of fate, he will be uber-fucking-thrilled to hear his stupid little name mentioned. He will be all: "Oh, my God, I am the pimp daddy and Morgan is, so totally, not. I'm like peeing in my pants with utter joy! Tee-hee-hee!"

Oh, well, if it weren't for irony, some of us would never be noticed.

MORGAN WEBB COULD, AND SHOULD, KICK YOUR MONKEY ASS, neo-tom!

Oops, I forgot to capitalize... something... umm... Damn, COULDN'T BE THAT IMPORTANT!

Morgan Webb may not know me, will probably never meet me, and could probably care less about me; but, at least, I don't smoke pre-pubescent moldy, monkey pole like you do Neo-Tom... Schoolboy Tim... Ass-Clown Steve, or whatever the hell it is you call yourself now...

Deep Thought for the day: A Neo-Tom by any other name would smell just as pungent and putrid as steaming Three Mile Island Cow Shyte!

Today is: First day of the day of the rest of my life. Whatever the fuck that's all about!

The only thing good about today is going to Em's Notebook. I have to admit, a lot of the stuff she blogs about is simply fucking funny. I could be in the worst damn mood, like today, and I go there and she makes me smile. Makes me wish I was a teenager again... almost.

Anyway, you should definitely check her out... her blog, that is, dumbass... at http://www.ems-notebook.blogspot.com/ It is definitely worth the trip. Trip, heh-heh-heh, trippy.

Deep thought for the day: It's a nice day for a white wedding. It's a nice day to start again...

Today is: Like 10 Monkeys shoved in a small kennel with motion sickness. No, I don't know what the hell that means, but it sounds just about right.

I swear, work couldn't suck worse lately if the pet food I stock grew legs, walked up, tapped me on my shoulder, waited until I turned around and then kicked me as hard as it could in my nuts.

If I were paranoid, I would swear the store mangers I work for are trying to gaslight me. For those who don't get it, gaslighting means they're trying to convince me that I'm going insane. Bad thing is it's really starting to work.

Granted, me going insane is less of a drive and more of a short, quick walk, but that is not the point.

To sum up, they are up to something and think I don't know, but I know. I don't know if they know that I know, but I think they know. Now, I don't know what they know about what I know, and I don't know if I know what I think they know or if they know the same thing I know, or if there's even something to know, but if there's something to know, I know that I know it. I just hope they don't actually know what I know, if I do, in fact, know what they know. You know?

Deep thought for the day: I'm A Slave 4 You, Britney!

Today is: Really starting to piss me off.

Okay, I'm officially confused. Women say they want a guy to treat them like a person and not like a brainless sex object and yet when you try to be nice, sincere, and complimentary you get looked at like a bigger dick than the guy who treats women like trash.

EXHIBIT A: I go to Wing House to pick up and order of wings and fries for my family and when I get there, I walk in and am immediately overwhelmed by the sounds of guys whistling and hooting at the women employees like your standard brain-dead Neandertal.

I stand behind a biker couple, which I didn't have a problem with. Then one of the Wing House girls comes up, shows them to a table while 3 girls who work there and see me standing there waiting for service, walk right past me like I'm invisible. Two of them run almost right into me, the 3rd steps on my foot and keeps going like it was no big damn deal.

Anyway, I proceed to the bar to find out where to pick up the food, it being my 1st time picking up take-out from there. The 3 female bartenders completely ignore me after continued attempts to get their attention.

Meanwhile, behind me comes another WH girl who asks me, with a fake courteous/snotty tone, "Could you please move over out of the way, sweetie, so this gentleman could sit at the bar?" Just to clarify things there were 4 empty seats that this "gentleman" could sit in without me having to move one inch. Immediately after this, the "gentleman", who had to have been in his late fifties to early sixties and stinking of beer and cheap cologne proceeds to wrap himself around her like the snake that he is and say that he would be perfectly happy staying right there all night. She then proceeds to giggle like a little schoolgirl and say, "Yeah, and rub your ding a ling in my butt?" I move around to the side of the bar and hold back my vomit.

I finally manage to get someone's attention behind the bar, who then gives me a dirty look like I interrupted some extremely important and points to where I need to go to pick up the food, and I do with much joy. Yeah, that's sarcasm.

Needles to say, as I left, a line from a Denis Leary song ran through my mind: "...and as you're leaving, light the place on fire..."

So my question is: If there are women out there who want a decent guy with a brain who will respect them, where are the evil women like the ones at Wing House hiding them?

Deep thought for the day: To quote Stifler, from American Wedding: Fuck the Fuckers!