Anarking

Blog history month, day 9 - the big reveal

I had this totally awesome blog post but then my dog ate it.

Blog Hist. Mon. Day Ocho. Minnesodumb

What’s up Minnesota?

I think I am over you. I used to think that you were like the Oregon of the Midwest. I thought you were progressive and a pretty neat place to live if not so damn cold, but all that has changed now. I pretended not to care when Bachman got into congress with her freaky stare and her homophobia. It was cool we all make mistakes and you let one nut slip through the fuckwad filter.

You elected Franken and he was all intelligent about the need for net neutrality and was doing okay work not mucking shit up to bad. But then came the MPAA’a butthole and Al was one of those morons who had their tongue so deep in it that when the SOPA turd came out to shit all over the constitution he proclaimed it to be chocolate. That hurt a bit more because I though maybe Al would defeat Bachman in an epic duel with fire swords and lasers and all would return to normal, instead he took the side of his Hollywood buddies then pissed into the face of every internet geek that got him elected.

Okay Minnesota you could not have seen that coming so again I did not hold it over your head. Many of my friends hail from your lakey lands and they are good peeps so I figured you were just having a bad year. But now with your love for Santorum, well now I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to go fuck yourself. It is plain to see that you are a land filled with homophobic neo-conservatives and easily fooled liberals that are more interested in supporting along party lines than actually holdong people accountable for their actions and we are no longer friends. Keep your silly accents, your lakes and your pants on head political leanings. To me you are one of the douche states, right up there with Indiana and Florida. Enjoy being wrong and frozen.

Blarg history munt numbers, clever words

Blah blah blah some hook to get noticed on the manageria of statuses of more interesting people. Stuff about stuff, kinda lame, with maybe a few jokes.

Next section more jokes, crazy statments, mostly word noises. Nothing to great. Fucking Lorum ipsum would better.

Last part, some resolution, maybe another joke. Lasting stament, something quotable.

Man I need to change my meta game.

Blog History Month: day 6 - Cheat day

So I have been living the paleo lifestyle and I have to admit it was super hard at first but the long run makes it worth the sacrifice. In the end all that I am sacrificing is shit no one should be eating anyways. Just cause you can shit it out does not mean you should ingest it. And just cause you don’t vomit blood does not mean it is not poison. So yeah I like paleo. If you don’t know what paleo means Wikipedia that crap up or wait a few months and someone will try to sell you a paleo program DVD.

What I also learned is that eating like a caveman in a post caveman world is harder than trying to keep Woody Harrelson off of underage virgins. It just does not work in a culture where everyone is trying to shove baguettes down your throat like some sort of French porn director is screaming for more “pynytration du pain”. Manufactured carbs are the main feed of our bulging culture and people are still scratching their scalp wondering where their third chin came from and what happened to their genitals. Paleo takes dedication and is almost a declaration of jihad against 80% of the local grocery store. Fuck the Keebler elves, down with chef boyardi, a pox upon the house of general mills.

That is not to say I don’t stray. I do it but all of my cheats are premeditated. I plan my cheat days around my loved ones birthdays and holidays that celebrate gluttony like Christmas and thanksgiving. Two days ago was my cheat day and it was glorious. I ate Ben and Jerry’s out of the pint box like a sophomore sorority girl and dined on taco bell like the frat bro who broke up with her so he could make out with her sisters. I ate birthday cake and pizza drenched in Gorgonzola. I did all of this with no remorse and no guilt but a sense of triumph and obligation, for it was the fourth of February and I had to cheat on paleo. For me these cheats are a necessary part of fitness. To do it properly one must cheat and cheat big. Go all out, whole hog, like cee-lo at a candy store. There are four reason why these cheats to me seem essential as eating right the rest of the time.

One, redefining cheating. Instead of the guilt you should be filled with joy knowing that you hard efforts should be rewarded by indulging in what you miss the most. In my case, quatro fromagi pizza, phish food ice cream and taco bell.

Two, benchmarking your progress. I have 4 cheat days each help me recall previous cheat days and allow me to focus on non cheat days more knowing that I must continue to fight against my urges and commercial indoctrination if I am to continue making progress in my fitness.

Three, punishment. After I woke up on sunday I gave a loud belch, followed almost immediately by the flavor of rancid taco seasoned chicken. I ran to the butt mug and vomited. My body was pissed at me and with good reason. This makes me not want to cheat for a good long time. In fact that morning I craved leaves and apples all day.

Four, infiltration. This was a unexpected justification for cheating. I knew I would be sick, I expected the tacos to taste delicious but fuck me in the end. What I did not expect was how sad the people eating in taco bell would be. They ordered by number as I held up the line reading over the backlit menu hanging over the impatient taco-slaves head. I was trying to think of what exactly a frito burrito was and whether I would like it or if the fritos would act like little corn razors cutting up the roof of my mouth. I went the safe route with a double decker taco and a chicken burrito. I threw my money down grabbed my plastic sack filled with poison and dashed off before another depressing patron grumbled at my lack of bell etiquette.

On my way home I realized that I use to be one of these sad sacks, ordering by numbers, having the whole menu memorized and deep down ashamed of my lifestyle choices.

Blog History Month - Day 4: Smoke Walkin’

My baby been born today.
My baby been born today.
Made me happy to make her happy.

Then the smoke started to risin’ taking me along with it and so I went smoke walkin’ and my dog started talkin’, smoke walkin’, smoke walkin’

Blog History Month: Day 3 I draw a blank

I was wrapping up some design work in a coffee shop, yeah I know my life is a cliche, when I actually saw this. I wanted to write a blog pointing out why some bands go big and some bands should never surpass college radio play lists. I wanted to but then I wanted to do this instead.

Blog History Month - Day 2: ResErection

So I am alive again because energy can neither be created of destroyed just transferred. Conservation of energy, holmes. And if you are a powerhouse like me a wise man would bet that I can’t be kept down for too long. So in the last post I went down a dark path but now welcome to the light. Here are my top five songs the should be played at my reincarnation ceremony.

Welcome to Blog History Month

Another February is upon us and so is Blog History Month. I started this about 2 years ago as a way to appease my 3 readers who say I never post. So this entire month you will get a post of questionable quality.

Tonight however I am feeling a bit dark. Usually when I get like this I like to think of songs that I would like played at my funeral as they throw me into the wood chipper and mix me into the cement that will be used to create artificial reefs. So here are my top 5 favorite sings to be forced onto others in place of some old pedophile going off on how I an going back to the great sugar daddy in the sky.

Here is the play list sit back and enjoy my funeral:

Notes To self 3 (nts3) pompadour kitten noises s:3

Around the sametime myfriends took to selfreplicatin
Is around the same time i took to self medicatin

Its important to stumble down a hallway with a bottle of patron a least once in a mans life

7 billion people, fucken shit there needs to be a topical ointment for controlling outbreaks of huminization. We could sell that shit to earth and mars.

Fuck all loud lowflying aircraft to day.

Most people that say never forget are the ones who dont have to remeber living it.

The internet: daily reminding you just what an unoriginal fucker you truely are, free of charge.

Guys Night Out

“Guys Night Out” is a reveille were men simultaneously revel in and revile each others genital measurements. Since retreating to the suburbs and making many gringo friends I have been invited to numerous guys night outings, yet have been to a few and actually wished I was with my woman during all of them. I don’t quite get the whole theory behind married guys hanging out with each other simply because they are married or in a relationship. My woman is my best friend, for reals. I spend more time with here than a do with anyone else so why would I not want to invite my best friend to hand with me and my other friends. I get it that she is a chick and so her labia forbids her from enjoying certain blood sports or types of alcohol but still she at least should be invited right? I mean how would you feel if you dog had dogs night out where you couldn’t come because even though he is mans best friend you lack the proper butt sniffing etiquette and so are not welcome. That would be total bullshit. You’d be all like, “Hey, fuck you dog.” But your dog is always happy to hang with you even is there are other dogs around because he thinks you are the the goddamn bees knees!

Now some of my readers may be all like, “dude you compared your wife to your dog”.

“Fuck you buddy” I say to that. My dog rules as does my wife and I can only hope to be as loyal to her as my dog is to me.

The point is that guys night out is dumb. I don’t want to be a part of your cockachino brofest if I can’t bring my betty along. Sheit it goes beyond that too, I have chick friends who are way cooler than many on the dickholes I met at guys night outs. These girls can outsling beers, outlewd comment and out bro and of your brosephs. Hell these brosephines make guys night out more fun then strap-on wielding monkeys let loose in a nunnery. So yeah send your gender segregated dick fest invites to you frat brothers, if I can’t bring my bleeders then I ain’t coming.