Die laughing.

Evil is everywhere. I mean, look at this. I feel so deliciously evil when I look at that site and begin laughing my ass off at the superman picture. Do the parents not make the fucking Reeves connection? Or are they evil? You decide.

The fuckin' balls on that guy...

Dude, I'm fucking pissed. Raging, seeing red kinda pissed. My shithole boss comes up to me this morning and says, "Hey, I really need to get you an iron." I'm wearing a fucking wrinkle-free shirt & chinos w/ flip-flops. Fucking casual friday but with a business touch. Collared shirt, slacks, and fucking flip flops.

Then, shithole says, "I've got a proposal for you. I will pay you $100 a month if you bring in receipts for new clothes. Nice clothes, with collars and slacks." Really? For me?! Oh, Oh!! Please!!!!??? How about this proposal, fuckmook. How about I quit my fucking job, leaving you up shit creek without a paddle. How about I cause your fucking computer system to crash before I go? How about I steal 2k worth of inventory and fucking e-bay it, asshole? Does that sound like a good fucking deal to you?

I've been underpaid for almost 4 fucking years. You think you're going to tell me how to fucking dress by waving a fucking c-note in front of me? Arrogant prick, I've sold 15k systems in my fucking underwear on the god damn phone. Eat my shit, asshole. When you get back from your fancy little motorcycle trip, I'm going to rock your fucking world. I was going to give you a month's notice, being that I've been here so long and all, but fuck that. How's 2 weeks sound? You've got 2 fucking weeks to find somebody with 4 years of experience. Oh yeah, and they have to be willing to get paid $9/ hour. Good luck with that hunt, cunt. You'd be better off to hunt the fucking do-do bird, ass-hat.

Some people think they can put a fucking hat on me and make me dance for a dollar. Well that only works if I'm drunk. Assholes.

Eating Fiberglass

Thursday....Damn. There's nothing worse than waking up and thinking it's Friday only to be let down by the cold, hard realization that it's Thursday; Friday's ugly twin.

So Serg just made me remember that some fucking bastards stole my idea. Seriously, I thought that shit up over two years ago. I swear, if I ever become friends with a millionaire, I'll make him a billionaire. I've got ideas that would make you shit yourself. But I guess it's good not to live in the past.

Last night Spectre and I did our show on the radio. It's "Enjoy Mute w/ DJ Spectre & MC Monarch" on 89.5fm up here in Orygun. It went pretty good, even though I was drunk and there was no bathroom around since school isn't in session. I ended up pissing the garbage can. Don't tell Spectre. I'm thinking about making that a weekly deal on the show, "Guess where Monarch pissed tonight!?" But somehow I think that's only funny to me.

Speaking of teh funny, I've taken it upon myself to revive the art of joke-telling, as I'm sure many of my close friends can tell you. There's a slight problem with that. You see, most of my jokes are told (almost always correctly) while I'm drunk. So I can never keep it straight as to who I've told what joke to. I'm pretty sure that's the reason why joke telling died in the first place. A bunch of dirty hippies that kept calling their parents telling them the same jokes over and over. The parents call the cops on their wayward children, and jailarity ensues.
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I'm so horny, I could fuck a goat.
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Tonight I'm going for a ride on my new (to me) bike with The Larry and The Drunk. I'm looking forward to hauling some ass and testing the aerodynamics of my fancy helmet. Damn thing's probably worth as much as the silly little bike. But I look damn good in it, so fack off.

Do me a favor, go read a book.

I'm goin, goin, back, back to Cali, Cali...

Well,

This shit is finally settled. I've decided to accept the job offer that was given to me by a company in Sacramento, CA. The money is better then I've ever made, so that's a good thing. The bad thing is that it's IN CALIFORNIA. I'm an Oregonian through and through. I've spent the majority of my life despising those damn white-license-plated assholes. And now I'm gonna be one of them. I'm such a fucking sell-out.


You know what? Selling out feels good. Or maybe I'm confusing that with the warm-fuzzy feeling of knowing that I'll be able to pay my fucking electricity bill. It's about damn time. 23 years of being broke is plenty enough, I-thank-you-very-much.


This will finally allow me to purchase the quality alcohol that a liver like mine truly deserves. Honestly though, I doubt my liver would know the difference. I'm quite convinced that he's sitting in my body, writing and re-writing the first line to his suicide note. Focusing is hard when you're constantly being assaulted by the relentless Monarch Reserve...


Last Night:

So this week, as you know, I'm a bachelor. No Fiance, no kid, just me. Last night I took advantage of that to the fullest. I went to my old buddies house that I ain't seen in a coon's age (is that racist?). He just got done painting and re-carpeting his pussy palace, shit looked good. So now that I'm off probation (another story) and a legal-fucking-beaver, I decide to smoke out, since I haven't done that in days.

There's nothing worse than thinking you can still smoke like you used to in college. Because you know what? You fucking can't. Three fucking hits and I was smiling and giggling like a damn 6 year old girl who just farted in the bathtub.

That crap took hours to wear off, and all I wanted to do was get drunk and do the fucking runningman till I fell over. I had fucking blast watching the second volume of Aqua-Teen Hunger Force. But the fucking music with me being all pickled made me have flash-backs from frying. It was like watching some Oscar-nominated animated shit. It was that fucking champ.

Well, it's saturday, and you know what that means. It means today I have to drive me and the family up to my parent's house for wedding plans. It also means I can't drink. You see, my mother is not a huge fan of the alcohol. After a DUI, and wrecking her car, it's understandable to see why.


My defense is that...my family's insane. All of them. Because my sister is divorcing her husband, she's living with my parents with her 3 kids. My other sister lives there too while her house is being built. Ok, mathtime, dumbshits:

3 bedrooms, 2.5 Baths divided by / 3 adults and 4 children.

Them's some tight spaces. So when I go up there with my fiance and my son, the numbers just get worse. I'm surrounded by shit-heel little kids that are used to being spoiled, beating the crap out of my son (the youngest) and I can't have a drink?!?!

Please kill me.

On the upside, the fiance is staying up there with my son for the entire week, meaning that I get to actually go out. I'm kinda scared. It's been months since I've had the opportunity to actually frequent a bar/stripclub/whatever. My mind is literally reeling with the possibilities.


Suggestions are welcome.

In other news, the prospective job offer in Sacramento has not been closed after all. I initially turned down their first offer, and countered with one that I found more suitable. After almost a week of no response, my e-mail was returned, stating that the owner of the company would revise his offer and re-send it to me. Time will tell...

Alright,
I'm outta here. Peace and deer meat grease.

Holy Shit

So I was just checking Serg's shit and now I'm making a fucking blog. Great. Next I'm going wear fucking tights and say "Toy Boat" over and over 'till I giggle like a little bitch.