You ate all the popcorn asshole…



Could you imagine that we would ever sit where we are sitting amongst the people we are? Not far from when we couldn’t afford a dream… and now we live a dream…

Sitting by our future and enjoying a moment I never thought would happen 

I know happiness at last.




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I’ve come to the conclusion in life that some people will simply be offended. Period. It doesn’t matter what language you use or what you talk about, they will be offended by something.

Case in point, when I was a young man in college I worked as an expo on a food line. It was actually one of two Applebee’s restaurants I helped open and it had several managers. One manager didn’t like me and one night she made fun of the way I use my hands when talking. She was all “what is all this motioning you are doing.” What I didn’t tell her was that I wasn’t motioning my hands with my words, but rather was fighting off her evil spirit I felt trying to devour my soul. I don’t know if my hands will do any good in such a fight… but I’d rather that evil spirit eat them and not my soul right? I’ve seen people live amazing lives without hands, but the soulless look pretty bored. I’d hate to be bored…

It is funny, like that last post, I tried so hard not to use the word “bitch.” You use that word and people get really uptight. A normal Sunday conversation changes suddenly, because the word has a harsh sound to it and people that sit there constantly saying it look ignorant. Next to the ignorant fella wearing the patriots jersey and the Romo fan next to him.

I’m 36 now. That sounds old to me. I use adult language and part of my language includes some curse words. Do you call profane language that? Curse words? Down south that is what we grew up knowing those words as and I learned what I couldn’t say in public, and what I needed to use in private while I was a child. Now that I’m an adult and I work in the IT world my tongue is definitely a bit more harsh. But you try working in the tech field and not end up some days frustrated to the point where you are throwing fucks and shits left and right.

As a blogger I write the way I talk. I hear myself in my words and in my sentences. I don’t reread a stranger even if I wonder “when the fuck did I write this horse shit…” Still I know it is my hand because I recognize my voice. The repetitive nature in my writing that makes the writing mine. That’s the only ownership any author will ever have over words. Owning them for that thought, that sentence, for that paragraph.

I don’t ever try to change my style, only to sometimes spellcheck a little harder. I’m not worried about commas… I’m sure that last one was misplaced. There is a need for people to relay their immediate thought. That’s what blogging is for me and gives me that ability to sit here on this couch for a brief minute before I make breakfast for my children. In that second I’ve had many thoughts. I have no idea how we ended up here.