I did. I did promise. I know I promised, but I shouldn't have. Why? Lots of things, but mostly because I just don't like the way the internet is going these days. It also used to be really easy to post on Blogger, and now it's not. I can't stay logged in all the time, I detest the Chrome browser, Firefox sucks and for all intents and purposes, Blogger has abandoned support for IE/Edge which is, objectively, the best browser. (shocking, I know) So none of my blogger plug-ins work any more, anything I post can be traced back to my real name, everything I want to post may get me lit up by the fucking rainbow and unicorn special snowflake, super courageous, yes means yes crowd, so why fucking bother. Until this whole middle-school anti-bully shitstorm passes, we can expect the on-line world to be muted and beige and full of stuffed animals and kitties and lots and lots of applause. Please. The internet isn't here to make us all feel good about how brave we are for being grown men or women who still like fucking cartoons. The internet is for hate and porn and feeling OK that there are grown ass men and women who like cartoons about fucking. Lets just be honest with the self-esteem crowd. When people react to you like you're fucking weird, it's because you're fucking weird. This is not "bullying" this is nature. You want to be the zebra with no stripes, you are going to stick out. You're going to be fucking weird. Lions eat the weird ones. It's fucking nature. You like nature, at least in cartoons and Internet memes, so deal with it. Get eaten. And shut the fuck up so I can be me again. You fucking weirdos.
The internet has 24 hours to get back to it's core function of delivering dick jokes and nekkid pictures to my eyes at the speed of dial-up or, I swear, I will find a lion and give it an abortion then bake the parts into cupcakes shaped like Minions holding little confederate flags. I'll sell those cupcakes and use the proceeds to purchase an AR-15 rifle which I will give as a wedding present to the next gay couple who gets married in an Indiana Chik-Fil-A. All while dressed as a black woman but identifying as an illegal Asian immigrant man who likes Mexican food made from euthanized dogs and polar bears but will settle for pizza made by fundamentalist Christian engineers who pretend to be climate scientists on TV. Save the lion fetuses and shut the fuck up!
But I lost track of what I was supposed to be outraged about. It was either Donald Trump, Obama, the Queen, the Pope, or some late night talk show host I don't watch. Also, someone has a job they shouldn't and someone else got fired. Then someone with or without a penis is super brave because of they way they wore that dress, and everyone who is giving the dress a standing O is really applauding themselves for not thinking, "isn't this a bit weird that we're all clapping about this?" I'm also supposed to be angry that there are some people, somewhere, who aren't clapping. Unless they belong to the "Religion of Peace" (TM), because that would be racist? I may need to be out raged at same-sex people getting married, although I'm supposed to support single moms and women who leave their husbands, and men who get married multiple times, even though they lose money and access to their kids when they do it. I'm supposed to think owning a gun is child abuse, when not having a gun in a known "gun-free zone" is a death warrant. I should be outraged at men who make women cry at the office, but not at women who make men punch holes in walls at the office. And I'm supposed to be outraged at that as well. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTRRRRRRRAAAAGGGGGGGEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDD!
(mad)daddy got hisself a fitbit. I know that it's kinda standard middle-age, but it's neat and I like it. I have been, like, totally slacking off since December of 2012 and it's time to try and reverse the decline. I figure having the NSA peer quietly into my activity levels is a good way to motivate me to get off my ass and not be one of the first useless eaters sent to the ovens and Soylent factory when the shit goes down. I also got a bike rack for my car and a used bike that I intend to use. I'm so determined to use it that I got padded undies so I won't wear through my taint and become a hermaphobeicide. Of course, since purchasing all of this shit I've spent exactly 15 minutes exercising and 11 whole days lying on the beach drinking beer. But it was light beer, and cheap tequila too, so no harm no foul. Now that I'm back in the Mcmahonsion, it's time to right the ship, and today I started my new routine of at least a one-hour workout per day plus a dog walk or two, plus maybe a bike ride. I have to lose ten pounds immediately just to get back to my normal fat ass self, and another 10 to get back to where I was the last time I recorded my weight in a tracker, in October of 2012, when I was 196. I'm giving myself 90 days. ...Aaaaaaand of course, of those 90 days, I already have 9 when I will be on the road. Three of those days I will be able to do some kind of workout, but redeye flights really mess me up, so I'm thinking I'll just starve myself for the other six travel days. I'm also trying to keep my brain healthy by trying to keep off the innertubes, if you haven't noticed. It's one of those things. I used this here blog to keep my mental health up for so many years, but as everything gets worse and worse I want to vent less and less. Why shovel more shit onto the pile? In other news, I recently found out that the Mercedes Mixtapes never went away. To be clear, I have the first six. I downloaded them when they first started doing them and then I guess things just drifted on and I forgot about them. But, while they aren't really back, they're back to me. So there. Fun stuff. There's always at least one good song on them. That's it, that's all the news. I'll be back, I think.
It's June 1st and 54 degrees. Where's my global warming? Today is Monday and I'm in paralysis by analysis mode, so I'm posting on this blog that I've been pretty much ignoring over the last couple of years. I honestly feel that I have so much to get done that I can't possibly do it all in the time allotted, so why bother. This is not good. I know this is not good. I just can't seem to get off my ass and get things rolling. I've got deadlines on top of deadlines, but there's really no punishment for missing them, so I'm letting them loom over me. The rain and cold isn't helping. In fact, it's making it worse. At least, when it was hot and sunny I got things done. The porch got fixed and painted, the new lawn mower got bought, the car got washed and waxed, little things got crossed off the list. Now I'm at the point where the things that need to be done are messy, take a long time and are inconveniently complicated or just plain expensive. Plus, I'll be out of town for two days. And that brings me to another point. I have no plans. Normally, working without a plan was OK, because maddmom had a plan. But now, maddmom's plan is that she's too busy to have a plan. So I am shit out of luck and don't have a plan. I think that's reneging on our deal. But that's another story. It's 10:30 now and all I've done is work with one customer and write this post. I should have done my exercises and changed the oil in my car. But it's cold and rainy and everything is taking longer than it should. So I won't do that today. Either, probably, if you ask. So what am I going to do? A couple of half-assed calls for work, then off to family activities until bed. Food will be cooked in the crock pot, because of another part of the deal that has gone south. We may never get to eat it. Tomorrow I am gone, the next day, gone. That leaves Thursday and Friday to catch up on work, plus get all the things done that used to get done when I wasn't home by someone who was home. This isn't what I signed up for. I need a plan
David Letterman was only funny because you were up too late and you were stoned. He was a terrible interviewer, and a worse straight man. His sidekicks were ALWAYS funnier than he was, and you could tell he hated them. He's a typical reticent Hoosier; crabby, no sense of humor, less emotion, unfriendly to outsiders, and difficult. This is why I fit right in here.