tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90487290583862010132024-03-14T04:58:57.044-07:00The Second Coming of ToastJesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-53120030531174231972008-12-08T17:28:00.000-08:002008-12-08T17:34:29.481-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8q7uGzNHLmFEuwTDfl9RWHzMJ9phxUT_2pGWUxdVT1DenlE8RtrDxDfNTFPSd2V8C0eg4yZTrI1EPBMm0Y7qRU1p24zK2mdTesxc7k5gEEvnnPGzcsAuu9tDzaEMpSa3AfKfAHQxWPh0/s1600-h/DSC02149.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277597105730137986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8q7uGzNHLmFEuwTDfl9RWHzMJ9phxUT_2pGWUxdVT1DenlE8RtrDxDfNTFPSd2V8C0eg4yZTrI1EPBMm0Y7qRU1p24zK2mdTesxc7k5gEEvnnPGzcsAuu9tDzaEMpSa3AfKfAHQxWPh0/s400/DSC02149.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Jesus I vanished again. I always do that. I'm gone for a few months and everyone's life changes around me, its scary as hell. </div><div> </div><div>So since no one is see of read this, here's me and my wife...we are still married and will remain unhappily married until one of us dies I believe.</div><div> </div><div>So many interesting things have happened this year I'm going to have to arrange them in my mind before I put them up here... </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-27875736087970170612008-09-21T18:02:00.000-07:002008-09-21T18:12:05.961-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTjtD5XNbNqYOTwWWSsGiNdxZyMSbwrkdhcNUoN_MO6Ii1i22qM4cTJy6AnVO43ZKFJVhwJ50hpM42reiwo6NtP63LpboCNfy6L64MA8YLr3qvsOVIni7JDHi9EscdG3kNaEjDWx8hPE/s1600-h/Me+Drunk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248646017234439010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTjtD5XNbNqYOTwWWSsGiNdxZyMSbwrkdhcNUoN_MO6Ii1i22qM4cTJy6AnVO43ZKFJVhwJ50hpM42reiwo6NtP63LpboCNfy6L64MA8YLr3qvsOVIni7JDHi9EscdG3kNaEjDWx8hPE/s400/Me+Drunk.jpg" border="0" /></a>My wife in convinced I create turmoil in my life, whenever there is not any already going on. She believes I need it. I grew up with it and I don't know how to just be happy with the way things are, I need the drama. I need my job to suck, I need my marriage to be falling apart, I need to stress out, I need to randomly get in fist fights, I need to re-associate myself with old friends who I KNOW have probelms, I need to get too drunk and make poor life choices with the occassional completely willing young woman. I need this. I need this???? Really? <div> </div><div>My dad is criminal who goes years without speaking to me. When he speaks, he ruins my life or borrows money.</div><div>My mom is an ex-junkie married to an alcoholic who hated me most of my life but now needs my help and my money but won't leave the husband.</div><div>My grandma is dead and her estate is in shambles.</div><div>My mom's 58 year old brother dropped dead out of the clear blue sky for no reason a week ago.</div><div>The economy is in the shitter and I'm a small business owner.</div><div>I think I"ve fucked my wife twice this summer.<br /></div><div>I so don't need this. </div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-70989987294081085112008-09-17T18:33:00.000-07:002008-09-17T18:50:43.626-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nNx75N_nA8i4kBMf3TuUoGYUzzaCDcKTy7AzQ92BUp8G4B8sWwRGxVjeEiHndgQb5jRpE1M0HILGarU086siwgdZ17sgtA2_vec5reWF_4AWj78UU1A1PcMRP5SD80q-YWy3HSDkdoc/s1600-h/24%2520C_SolMed.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247172815748714066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nNx75N_nA8i4kBMf3TuUoGYUzzaCDcKTy7AzQ92BUp8G4B8sWwRGxVjeEiHndgQb5jRpE1M0HILGarU086siwgdZ17sgtA2_vec5reWF_4AWj78UU1A1PcMRP5SD80q-YWy3HSDkdoc/s400/24%2520C_SolMed.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Agios Nikolaus. Born in A.D. 270 in Patara, Lycia. Its part of Turkey now, but back then it was a Greek-speaking province of the Roman Empire.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>By that point in history, worship of the old Roman gods had gradually waned in favor of "Sol Invictus", the "Unconquered Sun", he who was born with a halo of light on December 25th. If that last date sounds suspiciously familiar, bear with me, it gets better.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The story of Jesus was already spreading around the Mediterranean like a does of the clap and the Roman emperor Constantine didn't need a weather vane to see which way the wind was blowing.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He declared that Christianity become the official state religion of the Roman Empire (forget the fact he himself did not convert to Christianity until he lie on his death bed, drawing his last breath) cannily combining the existing - albeit contradictory, accounts of the life of Jesus with the mythology of Invictus.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Now this Agios Nikolaus (remember him form the beginning of this story?) the Turkish guy, he was subsequently appointed the Bishop of Myra, where he earned a reputation for charity, benevolence and anonymous gift-giving. Not to mention the odd miracle here and there. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Revered as a saint after his death in A.D. 343, his remains were entombed in Myra until the Saracens invaded in the 11th century whereupon the faithful shipped his bones over to the Basilica Di San Nicola in Bari, Italy. Where they remain to this day.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>San Nicola being Italian of course, for Saint Nicholas, AKA, Santa Claus.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When you do the research, you usually find that what the masses believe isn't exactly the truth, the problem is that people today aren't really interested in the research.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Somehow this story relates to why I hate politicians, and is brought to mind by the current presidential race.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I know, weirdo.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-11414532190461198172008-08-22T14:53:00.001-07:002008-08-22T15:00:47.133-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPhbobn3X3fxAc6E9kd0DhEJ2zftfTAwrfu-p-EwLA2BqFRjVh7PB8Kovkd466dIVFpbs089BzHi6TgV7K9fx2lIqzRActRBOZ-zXsyY_PavRwtypCQi7U2kdF1lUfOn7BUGIjYvW4GQ/s1600-h/my+bruise.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237465315461619794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPhbobn3X3fxAc6E9kd0DhEJ2zftfTAwrfu-p-EwLA2BqFRjVh7PB8Kovkd466dIVFpbs089BzHi6TgV7K9fx2lIqzRActRBOZ-zXsyY_PavRwtypCQi7U2kdF1lUfOn7BUGIjYvW4GQ/s400/my+bruise.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I went to my grandma's funeral today. I was a paul bearer. It sucked. I cried a lot.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I saw my dad today. He had long, white, shoulder length hair. We didn't really speak. He didn't cry. He didn't acknowledge my daugters or my wife.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My full brother Scott, my mom (actual mother) and her 13 year old daughter came with me and my family (wife and three kids).<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In addition, my dad's second wife Gretchen and their son Tom came, my dad's most recent wife (they're divorced now) Debbie and her daughter and mom came, and my dad brought a female date. Debbie let us know that my dad had told her that Libby, the woman my dad was with before Debbie, and who was around for about 8-years, had died; she had contracted Hep-C about 18-years ago as a nurse, and now she was dead. I was kind of sad.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So to keep track, there were three ex-wives of my dad there plus a new one on deck.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />After the funeral service, he vanished. Good riddence to bad baggage (I've watched Mary Poppins 900+ times).<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This was it, I now have no reason whatsoever to speak to anyone on that side of the family ever again.<br /><p>Wanna see the bruise on my arm?</p><p> </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-14582268851364088092008-08-20T19:05:00.000-07:002008-08-20T19:29:30.081-07:00i haven't posted in almost a year and i know no one will read this and I am going to selfishly lose it here on this page.<br /><br />in 1970 my mother was 17 years old, in the 11<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> grade and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pregnant</span>. Her strict catholic parents threw her out of the house and she moved in with my dad's parents. My dad, also 17, and being a stand up guy, dropped out of school and eventually ran away from all of this, leaving my mom and me with HIS parents.<br /><br />I was born on January 3rd, 1971 and brought home with my mom to my grandparent's house. We stayed here with them until I was 3 years old. Throughout my childhood, my dad came and went from my life as did my mom, but the one person who was always there for me was my grandma.<br /><br />By the time I was 10 my parents were in their mid/late twenties, my mom was dating a 18 year old and my dad was gone again. The only person interested in being anything like a parent to me was my grandma.<br /><br />Between 10 and 18, I went through multiple homes, schools, step-moms and court ordered living arrangements. My father hated my grandma because I loved her so much and at times forbid her from being around me. My mother hated me for being my father's son and he hated me for so many reasons I couldn't begin to list them here.<br /><br />I am not a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">momma's</span> boy or a daddy's boy, they both resented me for ruining their lives; I have always wanted them both to love me like I THOUGHT a parent should love their son, but it just never worked out, it just wasn't in them. I don't know what it feels like to feel safe with your parents or to have that emotional safety net, aside from my grandma. She was the only person who loved me unconditionally.<br /><br />She could never help me physical things or with money and I never asked. She just loved me. She taught me to remain positive no matter how bad it got, and at times it was very bad for me. Most of the things that I dealt with as a kid I've kept to myself; my grandma always said these things weren't hurting me as much as they were strengthening me and my character. I love her so much <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">for</span> that perspective.<br /><br />She died yesterday, and I am absolutely crushed. I can't believe I am even typing those words.<br /><br />I am grown now with a wife and three <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">fantastic</span> daughters but I can't help but feel like I've just lost everything. This is just so horrible.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-85111993281489499072007-10-23T11:39:00.000-07:002007-10-23T11:44:39.531-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMZOsR05VGHN7uYoHMvkB3N6iYGRFiwhjKtO4tnjOu59t4GuZLk0tiOh3CfkmJ0WIO7p0NPjsF_LvmJenRFiZXbGT8Je5hKfVUvcJVlekgfAAAPHMtsWmrzl4sBcuQ-lfGacjTGlsubw/s1600-h/s1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMZOsR05VGHN7uYoHMvkB3N6iYGRFiwhjKtO4tnjOu59t4GuZLk0tiOh3CfkmJ0WIO7p0NPjsF_LvmJenRFiZXbGT8Je5hKfVUvcJVlekgfAAAPHMtsWmrzl4sBcuQ-lfGacjTGlsubw/s400/s1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124604044642704866" border="0" /></a> 1. No idea where my dad is or if he is alive. Last I heard from him was when he text messaged me asking for $2000 and I texted back "no". Since then, nothing.<br /><br />2. My mom's husband of 15 years has fallen off of the wagon, is once again a RAGING drunk and is moving out of their house into his parents house (he's 46 years old mind you). My mom and 12-year old sister will be left to fend for themselves. My mom hasn't worked in 13 years.<br /><br />3. The check my brother wrote me for rent bounced...hence all of the checks I wrote for the bills to his building bounced too. Joy.<br /><br />4. Still haven't had sex with my wife since the baby was born...5 months ago...<br /><br /><br />Life is really kicking the shit out of me lately. Thank goodness for my kids.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-6759808946568513522007-10-16T17:26:00.000-07:002007-10-16T18:00:59.104-07:00The Unbelievable Insanity of Me<div align="justify">About a week and a half ago, Thursday, I received a phone message from my "step-mom". The message said my dad was in the hospital and I needed to call her. I ignored it. She called my house and I answered the phone. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">"...the doctor's can't rule out that he had a stroke". </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">That was the phrase I remember hearing. Quickly the background; Dad is 54 years old. He was abusive to me when I was a kid. We have been estranged several times in my life, sometimes for years and years. He is a con-man and a thug. He has been married upwards of 8 times. Currently we are not fighting though we are not exactly hanging out with each other.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I went to the hospital Friday, I did not go t work. When I got there my only full brother (I have half-siblings) was already there. He speaks to my father even less than I do, but there he was at my dad's bedside. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">My dad was in a hospital robe, on his back, an I.V. in his arm, staring straight up. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't eat. He was apparently in tremendous pain (they were using the "blink once for yes and twice for no" method of questioning) and vomiting involuntarily and sporadically. They had taken him off of morphine (not powerful enough) and moved him onto <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dilaudid</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Torodal</span> for the pain and 3 other drugs for the nausea, apparently it wasn't working. He looked old. His long hair wasn't dyed black right now, it was a dirty sort of gray/black mix. He was thin and sinking into his bed, his breathing was labored. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">They had done a spinal tap to check for meningitis, it came back negative. They couldn't get him into the MRI because of the vomiting. They had promised a neurologist was on his way. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">For 2 days he didn't speak, he didn't move. The doctors wanted to know everything, unfortunately my brother and I knew very little. We knew he had said he had been diagnosed with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">macular</span> degeneration in his eyes; a disease where you develop a blind spot, or missing spot in the middle of your range of vision...a "skip" in your view...that "skip" grows over time until you are blind. My step-mom said she couldn't get his eye doctor to give her any info, so I called him. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The doctor explained that my dad had only been there once, although he scheduled 3 appointments over the last year, he only showed for one. The diagnosis was simple, he had blurred vision, nothing more. "Are you absolutely sure?", he was. My dad did not have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">macular</span> degeneration. As usual he was a fucking liar.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Saturday the neurologist showed up finally. I was there with my step-mom were there to speak with him. He explained he believed there was pressure, probably due to swelling inside his skull. He switched my dad off of the narcotic pain relievers and onto steroids. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">By Sunday morning he was in less pain, not vomiting and was in the MRI machine, although he was not happy to be in there and was now capable of letting everyone know how pissed he was.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">My step-mom had been there with him, all day and all night, each day and night since Thursday and it was now Sunday. It was now that they came to tell him the results of the MRI, it was now that he could walk (barely) and speak (one/two words at a time). It was now that I was not there and the doctors explained to him about the "growth" on his brain.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I don't know exactly what happened next, but I do know he left the hospital against their pleas to stay. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">The next day I got a phone call from him. He was cordial. He was calm. He explained the hospital stay and the talks with the neurologist as if I hadn't been there and as if he was not catatonic during this period. He explained that over this weekend he found out his wife had been cheating on him with the piano player in her jazz quartet, he was divorcing her, he had moved out, he did have a new house, but he couldn't tell me where just yet, he'd let me know when the time was right. He actually said that, "when the time was right", like a spy...my dad had a secret location and I wasn't authorized to know where. Oh yea, he still had a growth on his brain...we didn't talk about that.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Two days later I received a text message from him.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">"Don't freak, I need some short term cash, two grand should do, no one can know"</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I responded in a text message, letting him know he shouldn't freak out either, but "no" I couldn't lend him any short term cash.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Yesterday my grandmother said my dad had stopped by her house on Sunday and taken her out to a nice dinner at a very fancy restaurant and then drove her to his new house. It was very far away, and she didn't remember where exactly. She also let me know that he was getting a divorce, apparently his was had gone crazy.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I never heard from him again after I returned the text message with a "no". </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Tonight I got a call from my step-mom. She called to let me know that my dad accused her of poisoning his dog and cheating on him with his doctor. He hadn't been home in two nights, she didn't know where he was.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">I told her, very nicely, that I have received many of these calls over the years, from the distressed soon to be ex-wife, explaining her desire to still remain friends with me and my family after the demise of their marriage. I explained that would not be happening and told her she go on and do what's best for herself and excused myself off of the phone. We hung up. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">My dad is insane. There were so much more here, but I only wanted to hit some of the highlights. I am so distracted right now, and angry. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">There is every chance that my dad is on the run right now; from who or what I have no idea. He can't stop lying and he will use what he knows about me to try and manipulate me but that doesn't work on me anymore. I won't help him anymore. The difference this time is that the next time I see him the growth on his brain may have won and I may be paying for a funeral, which is fine by me.</div><div align="justify">.</div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-37452529577938463262007-10-02T08:04:00.001-07:002007-10-02T08:12:26.823-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegoH3im2SW5jg7zyn6IIZyPDokGQ4WNJoKXTXc4fNUJmRIcfwJYXQsS6j5LQkm4ImfVs5wK4PHrJsLHHAJ30wYdWxSXf_LFYyRuvPulyTjU7PmLILvu_S8Hzwhyphenhyphenmks4LHzWotFfKcR-s/s1600-h/aids_no_002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegoH3im2SW5jg7zyn6IIZyPDokGQ4WNJoKXTXc4fNUJmRIcfwJYXQsS6j5LQkm4ImfVs5wK4PHrJsLHHAJ30wYdWxSXf_LFYyRuvPulyTjU7PmLILvu_S8Hzwhyphenhyphenmks4LHzWotFfKcR-s/s400/aids_no_002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116755537370111426" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">So the last few months, pretty much since our newest daughter was born, my wife and I seem to not be having our typical knock down drag out screaming matches. We disagree, but the wild fights have subsided. I guess you could say we are getting along, and even when we're not, its a quite sort of simmering anger.<br />.<br />The other thing we haven't been doing aside from fighting is having any sort of sex. The word, "none" comes to mind here. So we are not fighting and we are not having sex, but we are being friends and talking to each other and hanging out with each other (aside from the entire month of September when Bob was in town).<br />.<br />I feel like we're just friends. She isn't angry with me and I'm not complaining to her about the lack of sex, there isn't a lot of tension or anything, we're just pals. The problem is I do get horny, and I jerk off constantly and day dream about getting blow jobs from every waitress or cute woman who passes in front of me, but not from my wife, because I know she isn't interested (she has stated quite plainly that she just has no sex drive right now).<br />.<br />Is this it? Is this how the rest of life goes from 36 onward? It doesn't seem like this is how it should be, but technically, we are getting along, which is way more than I could say even 6 months ago.<br />.<br />fuck me. No, literally, someone please do....<br />.<br /></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-9353184763428335542007-09-18T19:50:00.001-07:002007-09-18T19:52:36.820-07:00Can you really come from nowhere and having nothing and build yourself up to a place better place than you ever imagined?<br /><br />It doesn't matter, because deep down, you'll always know the truth, you'll always know you're nothing and nothing can ever change that.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-85150937071030090652007-09-05T17:22:00.000-07:002007-09-05T18:06:24.733-07:00<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoue74LPUaz9mz5i2xUVBBXb3JB9HP3NIPBjKOQnaPb0s67eCEHUwWaM4WSqC0nI0IVAS2a_tex1a1ztC3pC7c12qQIBDjguTQu1XxDDvISslfRqO2Gd_ge17gITv5mAaJuZAAhF3QAc/s1600-h/movie_animatrix_wachowski_brothers.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106880056156450770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimoue74LPUaz9mz5i2xUVBBXb3JB9HP3NIPBjKOQnaPb0s67eCEHUwWaM4WSqC0nI0IVAS2a_tex1a1ztC3pC7c12qQIBDjguTQu1XxDDvISslfRqO2Gd_ge17gITv5mAaJuZAAhF3QAc/s400/movie_animatrix_wachowski_brothers.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Um, I know this isn't a proper blog entry, its not about me at all, but this is so fucking shocking I HAD to write about it.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Apparently back in January of last year, it was rumored that the Wachowski brothers (pictured above) - who wrote and directed "Bound" and are most famously known for the Matrix trilogy - were actually the directors of "V for Vendetta", but they chose to take their name off because at the time Larry Wachoswki was undergoing <strong>gender reassignment</strong>. And yes, you read that right. He was in the middle of a sex change operation, and they wanted to avoid the media as much as possible. And it wasn't the first weird thing Larry had ever done. He also famously divorced his wife to start a relationship with a dominatrix named Ilsa Stix. So, if you're keeping score, he's now a woman, but a lesbian woman. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Um...ok....so these are the "brothers" now....</div><div align="justify">.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKivwQ-ptWm2D2pZbdsm8fQs4xIX8KqexS8VTS5mDu-vz1yAVYfz1OMVBHD3j6WcEB9F9zC8xx4Xk1ceyvBScf4h-DFu6mPPmHlRAhyphenhyphenetvXDmwNVskY0ZE_HKCq9W09HR6Gq2ys9f_nBM/s1600-h/Wachowskis.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106889878746656738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKivwQ-ptWm2D2pZbdsm8fQs4xIX8KqexS8VTS5mDu-vz1yAVYfz1OMVBHD3j6WcEB9F9zC8xx4Xk1ceyvBScf4h-DFu6mPPmHlRAhyphenhyphenetvXDmwNVskY0ZE_HKCq9W09HR6Gq2ys9f_nBM/s400/Wachowskis.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">I have no problem with this, in fact if you've been living your life inside of the wrong body and have the resources to make the change you need, by all means go ahead and do it, but did any of you have a clue? I've always thought of these two as action adventure manly men type guys, their next film is going to be a live action version of Speed Racer for god's sakes, they seem very "manly" based on their film choices. Oh well, that's all for now.</div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-19181031199870686882007-09-01T14:25:00.001-07:002007-09-01T14:26:24.181-07:00<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lCgrG35-3js"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lCgrG35-3js" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />SORRY I'VE BEEN MISSING IN ACTION.<br />I WILL BE BACK NEXT WEEK.<br />I HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GREAT HOLIDAY WEEKEND.<br />PLEASE ENJOY THIS REFRESHING VIDEO WHILE I AM GONE.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-90737267920628759672007-08-21T13:30:00.001-07:002007-08-21T13:35:58.153-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmh-sKwZaXS3ZxzgQ_geB5UQnoniBmWJRuggZ_jrkQkdKfKN4ECsDOAhXqyO9-ZkVmhBg73BsblrXCqm3-DpE85mwUosNdhiG_0OWu8fxuHjnrte0Cc5IfZh6kG8rDyFqzdcbA12QE04/s1600-h/4043-bs10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmh-sKwZaXS3ZxzgQ_geB5UQnoniBmWJRuggZ_jrkQkdKfKN4ECsDOAhXqyO9-ZkVmhBg73BsblrXCqm3-DpE85mwUosNdhiG_0OWu8fxuHjnrte0Cc5IfZh6kG8rDyFqzdcbA12QE04/s400/4043-bs10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101253949646401474" border="0" /></a>I don't have much to report. My mom is still a mess, my relationship is back to the point where I am sleeping on the couch in the living room (which is fucking C O M F O R T A B L E ) and the roof of a building I own is leaking like a sieve onto the tenants. I went to this cool restaurant last night called the Roma Cafe in the Eastern Market section of Detroit. It is the oldest continually operating restaurant in Detroit. It apparently started as a boarding house in 1880, and the mother of the guy who owned it would make meals for the boarders. Her cooking was so good that they turned it into a cafe, and it has been one ever since. All of the waiters were 90 year old Italian men in tuxedos who just seemed generally annoyed that people wanted them to wait on them. It was cool. I'll let you all know when my marriage ends, my step-dad drinks himself to death and I get sued for multiple reasons from multiple people...oh yea, and I lose my job (there's a chance that might happen too! WHOOPIE!!!).<br /></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-638910227360356242007-08-16T07:11:00.001-07:002007-08-16T07:47:43.989-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqjB4KceC2VYi4egwuQJe2HuR_dPzoxEhGhHmuwnDqo_IdKFOHN5L1DLt_gaNCZbVFOfTtt77XUntFnO2M3UQVHRXe9m6Boat39WWlEKFbyhYYIoZXhq-Lpw6Q9ZPHKqohwZ0ORBH4IY/s1600-h/untitled3cp.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqjB4KceC2VYi4egwuQJe2HuR_dPzoxEhGhHmuwnDqo_IdKFOHN5L1DLt_gaNCZbVFOfTtt77XUntFnO2M3UQVHRXe9m6Boat39WWlEKFbyhYYIoZXhq-Lpw6Q9ZPHKqohwZ0ORBH4IY/s400/untitled3cp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099301775341219762" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I really like her stomach...I mean I love her stomach, holy shit. She's beautiful also, which helps, but god damn. Ok. Now to the depressing shit.<br /><br />My mom's husband of 15 years has fallen into alcoholism, HARD. I've never known him to be a drunk, maybe he has been this entire time and my mom's just never mentioned it, but she's mentioning it now.<br /><br />He is not going to work, he is taking an entire bottle of vodka into his bedroom, drinking it all and passing out then waking up and going to the store and buying another bottle. He is a stumbling drunk.<br /><br />He apparently isn't mean, but he's still drunk and he has fallen so far so fast my mom doesn't know what to do.<br /><br />I have an 11 year old little sister who is witnessing all of this and she wants him to leave (its her dad) because he's so out of control. My mom began going to Al-Anon meetings last week to try and find some advice. He is in pain from some sciatic nerve injury and uses that as an excuse to drink. He isn't happy in their marriage and uses that as an excuse to drink. He uses everything as an excuse to drink.<br /><br />I told her yesterday that she can always bring my sister to my house and move in with us until she figures out what she's going to do. It would be cramped, but we'd manage. She doesn't want to leave, she loves him, she wants him to get better and stay...but that may not be an option.<br /><br />I am perplexed by this all. I have had by all accounts a shitty childhood, I have a rocky marriage, I am prone to depression, have spent tons of time in a counselor's office, have no family support system and yet drinking non-stop to ease the pain has never been an option. I also have a heavy history of alcoholism in my family (aunts, uncles, my DAD, great uncles) and have thought about hitting the bottle while I'm crying to myself but DON'T because I know I have people who depend on me to just soldier through the shit.<br /><br />I am furious, but I can only offer my mom help, she doesn't want me to go over there and beat them man into sobriety, she's specifically asked me not to (knowing that would be my gut reaction).<br /><br />On top of this, my mom and I have never had a very good relationship. Over the past 5 or 6 years my family has become closer with her and my little sister, but not me, not really. I was taken away from her when I was 12 because she was doing certain things that made her an unfit parent. When I was kicked out of my dad's house at 17 and had nowhere to go she wouldn't take me in. When I put myself through college she stole money from me. As I said, the past half-decade we've been fine, but not "close", and now this.<br /><br />To put a cherry on top of this, last night my wife and I had a blow out fight. I told her calmly that the way she treats me, specifically how she is treating me right now, is why I don't want to be with her, that I don't want to be with her right now because of this, to which she replies "fine, I don't care" in the snottiest tone possible. The entire fight was rooted in the fact that she was in a pissy mood the second she walked in the door because her best friend is moving to Germany and it upsets her, so she unleashes her anger at me. I have enough shit going on with my work, my house, my family and now my mom that I don't need to bear the wrath of my wife especially if it has nothing to do with me. I am at another cracking point I believe.<br /><br />When I restarted this journal and said it would be fun to watch me fail, this is what I was talking about.<br /><br />Now I have to leave, I have a root canal scheduled at noon.<br /></div>.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-6133476464304217642007-08-14T05:42:00.001-07:002007-08-14T05:52:33.102-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LGSeBLVQbxfWZ-_pnjvswyTatr1Wyu8hgMAJqK5Bbb8pS5qpHbMw5JwtgVPnI-oD7ICoIzs0tYya-4kRCBY31rQv5Fwz8zl1kR9pYFla39YrTfgGDq9so44tqEdA9J2ZZl4rYzJYhKM/s1600-h/cosmoquiz1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3LGSeBLVQbxfWZ-_pnjvswyTatr1Wyu8hgMAJqK5Bbb8pS5qpHbMw5JwtgVPnI-oD7ICoIzs0tYya-4kRCBY31rQv5Fwz8zl1kR9pYFla39YrTfgGDq9so44tqEdA9J2ZZl4rYzJYhKM/s400/cosmoquiz1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098536140801441234" border="0" /></a>How ridiculous am I? Here's an example. I play pool every Monday night with a friend who I've known for going on 20 years now. We start around 8 or 9PM and I am usually home by 11:30 PM, nothing crazy. We shoot pool, I drink 6 or 7 gin and tonics and we go home, usually in time for the Colbert Report.<br /><br />Last night was no different; we got there around 9 PM and had been playing pool for about an hour and a half, when somehow we got on the topic of where two roads intersected (Telegraph and Dix/Toledo Rd....for those of you who might know the area). These roads were in a part of the state we call, "down river", and not at all close to where we live or play pool. Eventually the friendly discussion turned into a bet, which turned into an unplanned, middle of the night road trip to the Michigan / Ohio border using only surface streets, no freeways, because we were looking for two roads to intersect (I was actually looking for them NOT to intersect), so we had to drive the entire course of one road until it ended...which happened to be at the Ohio border, about 2 hours later. I won. They didn't cross. Or at least I thought I won until I looked at a map this morning (we didn't have a map on us last night, hence the road trip). THe roads don't intersect, they merge; the road we were on absorbs the road my friend thought intersected the road we were on and since we were driving south, and the other road came down from the north east to merge with the road we were on and there was no signal at the merge, we missed the merge all together. So now I don't know if I won. I mean, the roads DID meet, just not at an intersection...and they really actually merged, not crossed...so I don't know...man am I tired...<br /></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-88726689374532385542007-08-13T06:45:00.000-07:002007-08-13T06:50:49.015-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;">Because Karl Rove has decided to resign, I thought it would be prudent to take the "Chances of Surviving a Zombie Attack" quiz I found on Pud's blog; obviously the only reason that Satan would give up his seat at the right hand of the president is because some huge world altering event is about to happen, and he has to go do some planning. Seriously, in 6 months when we're all astonished with whatever cataclysmic event has taken place AFTER Rove resigned you guy's will all be screwed while Pud and I will be prepared to fend off the reanimated, irradiated corpses of our friends and family members because we had the presence of mind to realize Karl Rove walking away from his position of power was an early indicator of some sort of apocalypse.<br /></div><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/JEFF%7E1.LAS/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><br /><br /><a href="http://mingle2.com/zombie-quiz" style="background: transparent url(http://mingle2.com/css/img/zombie/big_badge.jpg) no-repeat scroll 0% 50%; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none; display: block; width: 385px; height: 209px; padding-top: 35px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; font-family: Times New Roman,sans-serif; font-size: 60px; text-align: center;"><span style="display: block;">97%</span></a><p>Mingle<sup>2</sup> - <a href="http://mingle2.com/">Free Online Dating</a></p>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-81639838591594650352007-08-09T06:24:00.000-07:002007-08-09T06:31:58.311-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ2kglx3uiRJhazKYlN9ORmnYzgUOyLRiPAzlOohDmh5lWKnrJ2IbUG4FgM1sPoqrCj_g0C_DW3u0Joo-gqitjJXjVTiv0gg7r6CsfvCBOmmef0pHUCDX_JVfE3DCED9THfBFb9mwzkg/s1600-h/anime-period-ghosts.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ2kglx3uiRJhazKYlN9ORmnYzgUOyLRiPAzlOohDmh5lWKnrJ2IbUG4FgM1sPoqrCj_g0C_DW3u0Joo-gqitjJXjVTiv0gg7r6CsfvCBOmmef0pHUCDX_JVfE3DCED9THfBFb9mwzkg/s400/anime-period-ghosts.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096691091570556354" border="0" /></a><br />"I got my period! Did u get yours yet?" Probably one of the best text messages I've received this year. The anime girl in the drawing even has red hair...<br /><br />So the point of this whole exercise is that I should masturbate with internet porn more and get drunk in public less. The combination of only having sex with my wife a handful of times in the past 18-months and me being out on the town drunk resulted in some very bad decisions which resulted in my panic attack. As I find myself saying often, about numerous different things, "I will never do that again". It's always fun to watch me fail.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-46559120154587590002007-08-08T05:31:00.001-07:002007-08-08T07:09:50.652-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EoRpUtHm-iziG3sKeece_2MdlwNepZwVcnGK8SR9G-zQd224IWhX4yYWfhZGMQhjRto-hQrexur39C-fz4sFfe2GmbLgOnl7aKhdPpRXliL6bZCTEx6ViHF9gqttk01ufyBF58r1ADM/s1600-h/concords052107.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EoRpUtHm-iziG3sKeece_2MdlwNepZwVcnGK8SR9G-zQd224IWhX4yYWfhZGMQhjRto-hQrexur39C-fz4sFfe2GmbLgOnl7aKhdPpRXliL6bZCTEx6ViHF9gqttk01ufyBF58r1ADM/s400/concords052107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096306451479395762" border="0" /></a><br />This is my new favorite thing. Don't get me wrong, my real favorite thing still is receiving blowjobs, but this show is more reliable (its on every Sunday night at 10:30 PM). Its on HBO and you should watch it this Sunday night.<br /><br />There, I'm talking about something else other than the thing I had been talking about.<br /><br />If you like music and great stuff, you'll love this. If you don't love it, then I don't understand you and you worry me.<br /><br />I forgot to mention that I had to fire an employee last week, and even though it was a long time coming, it sucked. He was a young kid, like 24 years old, and he just couldn't focus. I had given him every chance in the world but he just couldn't do it. I am a ridiculously laid back boss, and will really try to work with anyone as long as they're making an effort. He's been with me for over a year, and at his last review when everyone else was getting a 6% raise because we've been doing so good, I gave him an insulting nickel raise and told him he needed to get his shit together or he'd be fired. He tried a for like a month and then promptly went back to his unfocused way.<br /><br />When I let him go I gave him the phone number for a friend of mine who owns a machine shop and needed some janitorial help. Thats a pretty good firing; your boss who is firing you sets you up with another job....right? Anyway, my buddy hired the kid and the kid was 10 minutes late his very first day...he was 5 minutes late his second day, and I told my buddy he should let him go and forgo the impending pain this kid would bring, so he did. The stupid kid didn't even last 2-days.<br /><br />In this shitty economy in the metro Detroit area you'd think people would be working hard to keep their jobs, but some people just don't care I guess.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5Qy6CxgqW20"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5Qy6CxgqW20" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-80986963605072383442007-08-06T05:17:00.001-07:002007-08-06T05:27:01.960-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_6ZmG772pyruHCCp8W2rqrKxMlsWkIowTMwaBsmqkgQyjmTIA7-3naKxXGygr8v3fm7YpDzrtMEsAsyHX_v5Dqg7-Rl_GggavOUlVnW_aH8HWk94sjnAy-ACDzVtv5WUYdf_zucpePs/s1600-h/receptiv.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_6ZmG772pyruHCCp8W2rqrKxMlsWkIowTMwaBsmqkgQyjmTIA7-3naKxXGygr8v3fm7YpDzrtMEsAsyHX_v5Dqg7-Rl_GggavOUlVnW_aH8HWk94sjnAy-ACDzVtv5WUYdf_zucpePs/s400/receptiv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095560870926613922" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, sex has lost its appeal for the foreseeable future. I mean, blow jobs and cunnilingus are possibilities, but intercourse is a little off putting just now with the prospect of another child as a product of the fucking.<br /><br />To think that my entire life, everything, every aspect of it could change with just one drunken slip of the cock is more than a bit scary.<br /><br />I never liked fucking. I like oral sex. MY parents were 16 and 17 when they had me, and as a result, when I was growing up, all my dad ever said to me was, "you better watch where you put that thing, you get some girl knocked up don't come cryin to me". He was sure I was going to repeat his high school performance and what came of it was I never had intercourse. I finally lost my virginity to a girl I had known since kindergarten, and it was only after she spent years convincing me it was all going to be ok and we were not going to be having any kids. <br /><br />As an adult, that disinterest in intercourse has continued. I will gladly spend 3 hours on screwing around and foreplay, but fucking makes me nervous. The good news is that because of the lack of interest in fucking, I got really good at cunnilingus. So that's a plus.<br /><br />Twice this week my wife made advances towards me, which is unheard of, and only once did I respond and even that time I didn't let us fuck, we just got each other off.<br /><br />I keep waiting for the call from that girl letting me know she's been feeling nauseous in the mornings...<br /></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-42430506043603265432007-08-03T23:28:00.000-07:002007-08-04T08:11:07.730-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsm9QBlnCR1z_L5hniTmP_s2lvkx12pko_AFV6ClLUAit_VALk1aHMuCKfEL5-AvtUjigH8ZUwsAKw-3Y5JXMqPs1S4hwm-T5qzUp8lWDj5htxQdrAIEkTkadqlz6RwJRgwcZAC3B7HQ/s1600-h/100_4116.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094728858451967378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsm9QBlnCR1z_L5hniTmP_s2lvkx12pko_AFV6ClLUAit_VALk1aHMuCKfEL5-AvtUjigH8ZUwsAKw-3Y5JXMqPs1S4hwm-T5qzUp8lWDj5htxQdrAIEkTkadqlz6RwJRgwcZAC3B7HQ/s400/100_4116.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I soooo just deleted those last two posts...do I know the answer to my nagging question? Nope. Nuthin I can do about it now either except wait. I hope everything turns out fine, but if it doesn't I guess I'll have to deal with it. In the meantime, here are my 90210 sideburns with my baby.</div><div></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-45067705250482154502007-07-30T14:23:00.000-07:002007-07-30T14:27:35.203-07:00Um, I'd Like this PLEASE.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnqPjOxPK-OJMOro-Tt_lI_2ANE9E5-aGA6V-aS-IgoFFxATCTfFdnIUZhP-CgatmLve5feUr5QLyOCOrQA0khqu4oq7Umgg4QB2oDvk7Nah6tXdAJw76c9mmP223MJTzvK6UxZbF9KU/s1600-h/MichelleTrachtenberg3-Eurotrip-nmd.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093103771676179826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFnqPjOxPK-OJMOro-Tt_lI_2ANE9E5-aGA6V-aS-IgoFFxATCTfFdnIUZhP-CgatmLve5feUr5QLyOCOrQA0khqu4oq7Umgg4QB2oDvk7Nah6tXdAJw76c9mmP223MJTzvK6UxZbF9KU/s400/MichelleTrachtenberg3-Eurotrip-nmd.jpg" border="0" /></a> Holy fucking shit I don't know how to spell or pronounce Michelle Trachtenbrurgersonalski's name but anyone out there looks even remotely like her I'd like to pay you for sex. Is that solicitation? I don't think it is, because that would be illegal, and I don't do illegal things. So again, send all fo your, "I sort of look like Michelle Trachtenburgessmerideth" photos to <a href="mailto:toast@youmustchoose.com">toast@youmustchoose.com</a> and you could earn some money towards college tuition or your coke addiction or whatever (again, so NOT solictitation, I'm just a jokester [seriously though, send the pics]).<br /><div></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-57249001626800073822007-07-27T12:29:00.001-07:002007-07-27T12:30:00.517-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPubY_W-lmSEu_jb-g3mXs_LYHko-fBtks3ReyH4bpndB-kHEAgK_1axpM8W4idqkI-77LUgQkUrLeXqJzVgWSWXx2Z3BpCT9yivo2qIy-F2wc3VM829KSCV5RWx6gmjMIWTwjd60Xl0/s1600-h/0522llbroccoli.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPubY_W-lmSEu_jb-g3mXs_LYHko-fBtks3ReyH4bpndB-kHEAgK_1axpM8W4idqkI-77LUgQkUrLeXqJzVgWSWXx2Z3BpCT9yivo2qIy-F2wc3VM829KSCV5RWx6gmjMIWTwjd60Xl0/s400/0522llbroccoli.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091961095627078994" border="0" /></a><br />If anyone would like some I just produced like a quart of it.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-11511021259849883852007-07-25T12:08:00.000-07:002007-07-25T12:19:25.390-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7DL3lbewjXt8XRKlrtQWinu55Dl5d3BlOO2FVKL5MyLsO5eIjuC21JSaCKz3k3-ilEoDdeArNbcUiPjs7VGD3f9zgMV1X9i2Z0UF-tWC9JS5fvbfQf0QVRet943ANxb1ynVKEfKFDsE/s1600-h/redlight.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091213539389340994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7DL3lbewjXt8XRKlrtQWinu55Dl5d3BlOO2FVKL5MyLsO5eIjuC21JSaCKz3k3-ilEoDdeArNbcUiPjs7VGD3f9zgMV1X9i2Z0UF-tWC9JS5fvbfQf0QVRet943ANxb1ynVKEfKFDsE/s400/redlight.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="justify">So I was a good S<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">amaritan</span> yesterday. I love it when I get portray a role popularized in the bible, I think it really suits me. </p><p align="justify">I watched the car in the lane next to me try and speed through a red <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">light</span> (that I stopped at) and subsequently hit a car who was attempting to turn left directly in front of us. </p><p align="justify">The red light runner hit the passenger side rear bumper of the other car which was in good enough condition to continue on with her left turn and pull <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ove</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">r to</span> the side of the road and park.</p><p align="justify">Normally I wouldn't have stopped and helped, but the car that ran the red light paused for a moment, THEN LEFT. So I, being a fucking genius, followed it, long enough to get the make, model and plate number, and then drove back to the scene of the accident and pulled up behind the car that had been hit.</p><p align="justify">The driver, who was a 28 year old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">blonde</span> woman, who unfortunately weighed about 220 lbs, was thrilled I stopped to help, and kept on calling me her guardian angel. That coupled with her crucifix around her neck, her fish logo on her car and her license plate holder that read, "Jesus is Lord" really made me feel good about myself and my decision to stop. She continually expressed how lucky she was to have me there, who was "so positive and upbeat" because otherwise she would be falling apart right now. I told her I got the make of the car and the plate, and that yes, I would wait for the police to arrive. It took about a half an hour before the cop car showed up. </p><p align="justify">After I gave the cop my info I went to leave the woman leaned over and hugged me and said one more time, "thank god you were here, you're my guardian angel", and I looked her in the eyes and said, "I"m not your guardian angel, I'm just a normal everyday atheist, any other atheist would have done the same thing for you", and walked to my car and left. I felt a lot better after getting that off of my chest. Hail <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">satan</span>. </p>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-53300936798271050072007-07-24T05:28:00.000-07:002007-07-24T05:40:46.117-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulgH4XLSraGfEquQPIiNNmSJeSfpWU0yGqJd0bmEdSjLPwr87ofaw-15K6dn-FBUSDqq4bkdDcKUeN0aF6jaG0LfLfkKrG_1DrJBHkLOpr-CdMPxIJ8m2DiUv-_hLUw7AVFFFD7ncLvw/s1600-h/jesusbronto_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulgH4XLSraGfEquQPIiNNmSJeSfpWU0yGqJd0bmEdSjLPwr87ofaw-15K6dn-FBUSDqq4bkdDcKUeN0aF6jaG0LfLfkKrG_1DrJBHkLOpr-CdMPxIJ8m2DiUv-_hLUw7AVFFFD7ncLvw/s400/jesusbronto_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090739516733783346" border="0" /></a><br />Well, aside from my daughter turning 10 on Saturday, nothing much happened over the weekend.<br />.<br />I could go over the highlights of my normal life, but they're disjointed and although meaningful to me, not so impressive in "story" form.<br />.<br />I reconnected with another friend I haven't seen or heard from since high school, off of MySpace.com of course. All I use that for is finding old friends from high school, and its good that way.<br />.<br />What I've noticed is that out of the dozen or so fiends I've "found"on myspace, none of them are crazy, evangelical Christians, but ALL of my current, suburban friends ARE that kind of crazy. I wonder if the people I grew up with are just smarter, more confident people. or if its a regionally influenced phenomenon . <br />.<br />It always comes back to religion with me, I don't know why. Hail satan.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-63306332955038803492007-07-20T09:12:00.000-07:002007-07-20T09:41:10.485-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;">Steve left the party with Dennis around 1:30 AM to go get more beer before the stores all closed. Dennis was 21, Steve (and the rest of us) weren't. On an abandoned stretch of road in Rouge Park, the car he was riding in flipped over, ejected him through the front windshield and then landed on him. The driver left the scene of the accident, walked home and went to bed, unharmed, without calling anyone. Steve's mom called all of our houses the next morning asking if anyone had seen him. Left lying under the car all night, Steve had slowly bled to death. They found him the next morning.<br />.<br />Jim's car died half way up the freeway exit ramp in the dead of the night. Derek and Jim got out of the car and decided they should move it off of the ramp,. since it was pitch black outside and someone could try and exit the freeway, come up the ramp and get into a horrible accident with the stalled out car just sitting there. Derek pushed from the driver's side and steered the vehicle while Jim pushed from the back. A car did come and exit the freeway. It crushed Jim between the two cars doing 75 miles an hour and never hit the breaks. Jim died from his injuries. Derek survived, but he's never been the same since.<br />.<br />Joe was shot in the stomach by someone settling a debt.<br />.<br />John was killed with a claw hammer to the back of the head, and then robbed.<br />.<br />Scotty rented out a room in his house to someone through an ad in the paper. He came home from work one day to find this room mate's friend's partying in his living room without the room mate even being home. When Scott asked them to leave, one of the partiers stabbed him 27-times with one of his own kitchen knifes. It was a closed casket funeral.<br />.<br />Kevin committed suicide by shotgun.<br />.<br />Denise hung herself.<br />.<br />Mark was found by his little boy at home, with the TV on but the lights off, he had overdosed on booze and pills.<br />.<br />Chrissy dated my buddy who lived across the street from me all during high school. After graduation they broke up and she ended up marrying some guy 10 years older then her that none of us knew. They recently had some money problems. They both lost their jobs. They were evicted from their house. The solution was apparently obvious only to her husband. He drove them to Hines Park, parked the car, shot her in the head and then shot himself...a murder suicide.<br />.<br />I just found out about Chrissy today. All of the others have happened over the years. These were all my friends. Good friends. All from my old neighborhood.<br />.<br />Yesterday I thought I saw Chrissy on the freeway in the car next to me. I hadn't seen her in a while and I tried to get her attention, but couldn't, and thought I'd just email her when I got home and ask if it was her. Apparently It wasn't.<br /></div>.Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048729058386201013.post-59715447476262868252007-07-19T07:53:00.000-07:002007-07-19T08:18:07.095-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjIwHqH-Do0yAJYjFcwXLVwN2hWeCBm0TfMU9n9AKSq2UHr9Tyt6yGwYZ8pEHYIMbEfHy7gTz_pdKzOnf_KVtErnnr8Ln45bkcLfN72nFl62-6DFyKd6C0VfEwx9PrcMUKYwPa9XtyqM/s1600-h/tshirt-jesus.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjIwHqH-Do0yAJYjFcwXLVwN2hWeCBm0TfMU9n9AKSq2UHr9Tyt6yGwYZ8pEHYIMbEfHy7gTz_pdKzOnf_KVtErnnr8Ln45bkcLfN72nFl62-6DFyKd6C0VfEwx9PrcMUKYwPa9XtyqM/s400/tshirt-jesus.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088921439384336146" border="0" /></a>I still know the girl who I lost my virginity to, and no, its not my wife. I met my cherry taker in kindergarten, and she was the first girl I kissed way back when I was 5-years old.<br />.<br />We went on through grade school together and in 7th grade, we finally became official boyfriend and girlfriend. Her family was as different as could be from mine. Not only were her parents still together, her dad was a cop. Regardless of the fact that he was an asshole, both of her parents liked me, and treated me well. She was a nerd and as conservative as could be. I was a unkempt trouble maker, and the bad-boy that she shouldn't be dating.<br />.<br />Her and I broker up sometime in junior high, but remained friends. Awhile after I was transferred out of the high school we both attended, we ran into each other, and soon afterwards began dating again. It felt right, comfortable. I felt like I had regained my spot in their family, and I liked that. I didn't have much of a family or a home life, so their acceptance meant a lot to me.<br />.<br />After high school, she went on to MSU and I got kicked out of my house and went to a local community college, we continued dating. I made the drive up to East Lansing from Detroit as much as I could, at least twice a week, and the following year, I moved up to State also.<br />.<br />Our relationship was rocky at times, we broke up and got back together a lot. We both fooled around on each other throughout the years, but we always worked it out. We dated all through college. Our senior year I bough her a ring and she said yes.<br />.<br />After graduation, she took a job for Kimberly Clark in New Milford Connecticut, I took a job back in Detroit. We said it wouldn't change anything between us. We were being stupid.<br />.<br />When she called me to tell me she had found someone new, and was sending me my ring back, I was crushed beyond words. She had been my one steady thing throughout growing up, and in the fucked up crazy world of my home life, she was the constant, and now she was leaving for good.<br />.<br />It took months for it to really sink in. I was a wreck. I didn't function very well for a while afterwards. Depression hit me hard and things were falling apart. Eventually, about 9 months later, I began to date again, but no one seemed to work for me, I wanted someone who was just like my ex, and I wasn't finding that.<br />.<br />Eventually I met the girl who would become my wife. I fell in love with her quickly and after about a month, she was pretty much living with me. Two month's into our romance, I got a call from my ex.<br />.<br />She was wrong. She realized that she had made a terrible mistake, and she should be with me, we were meant to be together. She was leaving her man, quitting her job, and moving back to Detroit from Connecticut (with no job prospects or place to live) and was going to win me back. I said no. I told her don't. She came anyway.<br />.<br />The next few months were spent dealing with a stalker. She would sit in her car in front of my house. She would call and hang up when my girlfriend would answer. She had become unhinged.<br />.<br />Eventually she got a new job, and the stalking slowed down. I got married and she disappeared.<br />.<br />Years later I would run into her somewhere, and we became friends again. She had found a man and married him. She had two children, she was ok.<br />.<br />Over the years we have kept in touch, mainly by email, at least once every few months. Her life has been a strained one. She had had affairs and dabbled in having a steady girlfriend on the side. She had always been a very conservative person, straight A's, no messing around, very serious. I was her bad boy, I was her outlet. She had married an accountant, someone who was by every outward appearance, her perfect match, but she needed something different. She has experimented with drugs, with bisexuality and younger men, she still does today all without her husband knowing. She emails me to talk about these things, because no one else would understand, I am still perceived to be associated with her dark side.<br />.<br />We've never fooled around or anything while I've been married, in fact its never came up. She just vents to me about all of the horrible things she does now in her unsatisfying existence. I feel bad for her. I am writing this because I haven't spoken to her in a while, and I had a feeling today that something bad has happened to her, which may be true; also, I needed a serious blog entry, so why not this.<br />.<br /></div>Jesus Toasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00135702902429229006noreply@blogger.com6