Thursday, May 27, 2010

I'm at negative zero people that read fact, no one I was in the class when this bloggeriffictasticness are present in my life...women be shoppin'...

Democrats will be unhappy to know I'll be interogating "insurgents." Four years is a long time. Anyone that graduated prior to 2002 can tell you that. Let it be known: life sucks, and either you'll die at a young age or you'll fade away...or you'll retire and play golf. Wish me luck on the latter, I failed at the youngness, and I don't plan to fade away. I plan to observe women be shoppin', and deciding that, aside from the fact they should be in the kitchen, being the best dancer isn't the best way to avoid being felled by a tree in a forest, or making an apple pie...go Biden. Avoid the clap sinners...

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Wow, it's been almost two years since I've done this thing. I'm drunk right now, which will probably not bode well for the crazies that I'm working with tomorrow at 7 am. That's right, I have still yet to get into the military. It seems they have a weight restriction so whatever. I would think that they'd be glad to get anybody. Well, I've written a book if anyone cares. I've broken up with a chick I saw for about two years because of...well, never mind. I doubt she's ever gonna read this but it would be best that I don't take it out on her on this thingamajig. I still pick my nose and hate Matthew Lilitard. Whatever...

Monday, December 20, 2004

To the none of you who are reading this little ditty, it's been awhile. Somehow, I was invited to the NDSU faculty Christmas party which I found to be really fun. Although I was bombarded (not for lack of a better word) from the get go about my intense interest in joining the military, I found it to be a very enjoyable experience, even if I realized how boring English professors tend to be...maybe that's a bit harsh. I guess as a reader of fine arts and appreciator (don't know if that's an actual word or if it is, if I spelled in correctly) of literature, I'm an enigma. I don't like reading the romantic literature or trying to understand exactly what Henry James was trying to convey in anything he wrote, but I appreciate the English language. I don't know how to say it, but I think English people are boring. It's one thing to gather around and discuss literature, but it's another thing to let it dictate how you live your life. There have been very few books that have made a valid impact on my life (for that matter, I don't even know if there's been a book that made me sit back and say, "Hey, what the fuck? That's the way to do it..."), but I think that the value of being entertained is beyond argument. How do you think those soldier's in Iraq and Afghanistan deal with shit? I don't think it's from receiving news from home telling them about how we're committing atrocities on POW's (which, in hind sight is pretty fucking shitty, as they're not cutting off the POW's fucking heads), but it's in music, amusing stories, in telling them that we're proud of them, or in the simple gesture of sending them a fucking candy bar and telling them we support them. I don't think that a bunch of professor's at a college can dictate foreign policy from the comfort of their tenure-ship at a school of advanced learning where their largest goal is to get their lesson plan done for the day. Again, I don't mean any disrespect towards any college professors, teachers, or TA's. But I think there's a large part of this society that doesn't really appreciate the shiznit that those mofo's in the military go through, which is why I want to do it. I know of a few soldiers who have the talent to make a large sum of money in the civilian life, but choose to join the military because alot of people don't feel it's necessary. I read in USA Today awhile back about a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force who told his children that he was fighting because he had to do it; alot of people couldn't handle the pressure. How can people not understand that the people in the military are doing it for the people that aren't equipped to handle the pressure and that the leader's of our country, as stupid as some of them sound, aren't doing it for shits and giggles? Appreciate the fact that you have the ability to just hang out, discuss Dostoyevsky over a glass of the latest Californian vineyard select white wine, and let the people who are experts, who've spent a lifetime studying for the post they hold (much like tenured college professors, for instance) to make decisions for people who, for the most part, don't give a rat's ass (anybody vote last presidential election?). Aside from voicing various opinions, I don't see anybody acting on their thoughts. Yeah, Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon are out there, letting everybody know that the US is a piece of shit and we're all fucked, but they have that luxury of hitting the opposition trail because they don't have to worry about paying for the phone bill or making sure that Susie isn't throwing up in a shoe box that she keeps in the closet because she can't deal with the fact that she weighs an incredible 94 pounds at 17 years old. I'd like to see those two run the country for two days because all this tree hugging, peace loving shit's just not gonna fly. My buddy, who happens to be in the guard, has mentioned a few times that people seem to care more about the death count in Iraq, which is around 1300, is more important than the 3000 or so that were killed on 9/11. US policy is dictated on military power, not by letting countries like Iran sell us sand at a premium in exchange for us to turn a blind eye and let them produce ICBM's that are capable of dropping nuclear warheads on California (which, God forbid, might kill the entire Hollywood population-which might not be so bad because Robbins, Sarandon, and Matthew Liliard are included in that little sexy group) that can I don't know, but a conservative estimate might be around 3000 or so (!) Americans. I'm getting carpal tunnel syndrome from typing so much (amazingly, not from beating off), but this wasn't an attack on English faculty. I appreciate them and I appreciate the power of art, but it's only gonna get us so far. I don't think it's cool to denounce violence as a way to solve things because from the beginning of time, violence has solved everything. Maybe it's because I'm naive and I haven't read a lot of Shakespeare, but I know that Hammurabi's code is the basis for a few influential governments, Jesus’ martyrdom, and Hitler's rise to power (which is arguably one of history's most influential leader's and in control of some of the greatest scientist's of the 20th century (ME-262 anyone?)) were all achieved through violence. I'd like to end this on a better note because I'm not a terrible writer, but I think that being a liberal is cool, but not when it comes to running a country. It's one thing to be able to speak your mind in a variety of mediums, but it's another to run a country. To be a truly efficient country, you need to be conservative. But, whatever, I'm just an idiot with a computer...

Thursday, June 24, 2004


I'm pretty sure that no one is reading this anymore...but if you are, cudos. Mr. Saturday Night Special K is getting depressed because he's been a drunken piece of shit lately. He's managed to pass his drawing class, which he needed to graduate with, and fail his English class, one that there should have been no way he failed. Luckily, his teacher's one cool chick and she's allowed him to write a four page paper on Rhetoric in Popular Culture using an artifact...not really sure what that is...we'll figure it out. Anywho, check the MoA website because there'll be new music. And Kyle is still single, ladies!

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Someone asked me the other day (Sunday, the first day of nAsscar) if I was listening to the race. I scoffed and told the kid to fuck off. He chortled and agreed with me. I find it hard to believe that the country's fastest growing sport involves a bunch of souped up cars racing around in a fucking circle. Hey, I drive my car to work; does that make me an athlete? I'm getting fucking tired of seeing the goddamn 3 decal everywhere I look. I've seen them on anything from pickups to fucking BMW's. BMW's! I thought that's what was considered the elite! The fucking privileged! Shouldn't they be watching cricket and thoroughbred racing? Not fucking nAsscar! I remember when God himself, Dale Earnhardt died that terrible day a couple of years ago. I laughed. Don't get me wrong, death isn't that funny (except when Mattew Lilliard chokes on a jelly bean while driving his Nissan to his Scooby Doo: Trouble in the Heartland audition and manages to drive his car into a bus full of special education children which then explodes thus labeling Mathew Lilliard a viscious killer and a terrible actor) but the way ole number 3 biffed it has got to be the least spectacular way to die in his "sport." Fuck, I've seen cars do about 20 flips, go over the barrier, explode, and then fall in a pit of acid, and the dude walks away from the crash and is racing next week in Bristol. Now that's a fucking althlete. Big Dale decided to ram a wall and slide across the fucking thing at like 12miles an hour. That fucking killed him. What happened to the exploding car? The huge air? Flipping your vehicle 20 times? The acid? No, ole Dale decides to fucking take a pussy way out by doing what just about anybody can do in a supermarket parking lot. So remember, fellow athletes, don't go running into cars in the parking lot of your local supermarket because you might have yourself another Dale Earnhardt situation on your hands and I don't really feel the need to thrust Teddy Howard on the martyr pedestal because he had to get some half and half for his White Russians. I don't think Al Quaeda's the enemy. I think it's nAsscar who's the real enemy, feeding us the lie that Dale was a great athlete (he drove a fucking car), a great sportsman (this was the guy that caused car crashes by ramming his fellow "athletes") and a great person (I won't argue that, I think he gave away a lot to charity, but whatever). The point is that a real sport isn't nAsscar, it's curling. Now that's a fucking sport. Peace out.

Thursday, October 30, 2003

To the four fans that read my humble blog, I apologize. I've been busy consuming numerous adult beverages thanks to the fine people at Financial Aid.

It seems life has a taken a turn for the better in Y2K Dogg's life. He has recently become a sex symbol. How you ask? Simple. A steady diet of beer seems to attract the women like flies on shit. Or it could be his sudden attainment of a large stash of money. Or it could be the fact women are attracted to a piece of shit. Anyway, what seemed to be a gift from the ever funny Diety has only created more problems in the Dogg's life than he wants. Oh the problems of being a good looking piece of ass.

So for anybody that wants this, I do not wish it upon them. What's a guy to do when girls are throwing themselves at him when he's only known the company of slightly overweight males whose only interest is to get drunk and amuse themselves? Whatever. The summer that was deemed "The Summer of Love" certainly turned into that, although not much love was made due to Special K's desire to remain a "nice guy." I wish I had the mentality to just use the poon and move on, but it doesn't work that way. And for this, I blame my parents. Fuck you dad for being the nicest guy I know and passing that quality onto your son. Fuck you mom for saying I can have anything I want and then actually getting it (except for the million dollars). Fuck both of you for the morals you instilled in me. I hate you. You've ruined my life. Well, at least the sex aspect of my life. What to do?

Fuck it. I'll see what happens. Let's hope my dick doesn't rot off. So, until next time (more than likely six months down the road), I'll sign off. In the words of Jimmy Dugan, "Avoid the clap."

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Sadly, I lived to tell about it. It turns out Europe is pretty nice, except for the jet lag, communication barrior, and smelly Arabs. The highlight of my trip was drinking 4 bottles of wine and 5 beers in Aviano, Italy, by myself, while my sister was saving the world. I also had the opportunity to view "Hackers" for the first time. I figured since the situation was already pretty shitty, I might as well have another reason to hate Mattew Lillitard. That guy is a fucking tool. Do you realize how pathetic your life is when you're getting shitfaced and watching "Hackers" IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING ITALY! There were a thousand things I could have been doing had my sister not been at work. But no, the ever present diety named God decided to toss some more shit in my direction in the form of boredom, Italian wine and Matthew Lillitard. Fucking christ.

While there, I visited Rome, Zurich, Paris, Frankfurt, and London. Rome was alright but too fucking touristy. That may sound odd, but it's true. I fucking hated being in that goddamn tour bus, looking like a fucking moron with the fucking little headphones jammed in my ears. And the traffic is fucking retarded. I swear to god these fucking morons were born with three brain cells in their fucking heads. No wonder we're the fucking power of the world; our opponents are fucking monkey's. We went to the Vatican, which was a mistake. It was cool to go to the smallest country in the world but it fucking sucked ass taking the tour of the Sistine chapel. For the first ten minutes it was fine but people just fucking crawled through the place. The tour lasted 2 and a half fucking hours! The only thing that made it tolerable were two Americans behind us. We spent most of the tour making fun of the stupid Europeans. The Sistine Chapel was alright for two seconds. I figured out why they make textbooks: because you'll break your fucking neck trying to see the "works of art." Some of the shit in there I could have painted on the shitter blindfolded with my big toe. You also don't have to deal with tourists. I fucking hate tourists. This was also the first place we dined on Chinese food. Why did we eat Chinese food everywere? I don't know.

Next we went to Zurich on the overnight train. The stewardess was a fox and her lack of English skills made me want her more. I could just imagine her at my house in Fargo, yelling at me, nude, in some nonsense language, but since I wouldn't be able to understand her, I would point to stove. She would take that as a cue to bake me a pie. But aside from that vaguely mastabatory thought, it was really cute watching her try out her English skills on us. The ride there was fucking gorgeous; large, rocky mountains that scaled higher than our view would allow; nude women frollicking across snow covered fields, beckoning me towards them; quaint (for lack of a less gayer word) houses dotting the countryside. Switzerland was really gorgeous. Zurich was a nice city, but we only were going to be there for one day. We walked around the town and ate in our second Chinese resturant. It was fucking expensive. I think I spent like 35 fucking euros on that fucking meal and I didn't even have any fucking beer. Goddamn gold diggers.

Next we went to Paris. I fucking hate stairs. The Arc De Triumphphphph had like 225 stairs to the top and that fucking blew. The walk down was even worse because all the stairs started looking the same and I almost biffed it. Fucking French. On the way out we encountered the Chinese mafia. A Chinese couple asked us to buy them a handbag at some store and I didn't see any problem with it so I said sure. My sister was pissed off because she hates Chinese people. Actually, she smelled a rat. I, in my naive ND wisdom, didn't see anything wrong. We went into this trendy, gay, purse store and it looked like it was a fucking haven for Chinese people. It was like flys on shit. So I pointed out what I was sent in to buy and the lady looked at us and explained that the money we had on us was from the Chinese mafia and to go and give it back. This pissed Meg off so we did and she stewed for the next hour. I finally yelled at her and told her it's not liked they asked us to buy a fucking gun; it was a fucking handbag. By then we were at the Eiffel Tower. What pisses me off almost more than Mattew Lillitard are the fucking Arabs trying to sell you stupid little Eiffel Tower trinkets and post cards and plastic flying birds and shit like that. So we had to run that fucking gauntlet just to get to the tower. I had the last laugh, though, when a fight erupted amongst the large group of Arabs. I couldn't tell what was going on because they all had on those stupid umbrella hats they were trying to sell and there were plastic birds whizzing overhead like planes over Bagdhad. Anyway, the fight didn't last too long because they would have lost their privalge to sell there and since they had one green card between 40, they would have deported back to their war torn country. The French were actually probably the politest people we ran across, which surprised me. We also ate at our third Chinese resturant in Paris.

We then took the overnight train to Frankfurt. This time we had to share a cabin with two dirty, stinky, drunk, Arabs. Most time, it probably would have been pretty funny to be in there, but due to the fact we had slept for about two hours since we embarked a couple days before, it wasn't. Coupled with the fact Meg hates Arabs, it was a bad scene. Actually, Meg, doesn't hate Arabs; just meat eaters. Anyway, we left and ended up spending the night in a cabin with some chick from Amsterdam. Sleeping on trains sucks.

Frankfurt blew because we just hung out at the airport. Plus in was in Germany. And Meg hates Germans.

From there we flew to London. We were so fucking tired from being on the go that shit didn't sink in. We took the obligatory tour on the bus but cut it short because we were fucking bushed. We got our tourist pictures then headed back to the hotel room and spent much of our stay in London watching the war coverage. We ate Pizza hut. How fucking pathetic is it when someone goes to Europe and they eat fucking pizza from America? Fucking christ. I am one pathetic bastard.

So then we went back to Italy, Meg went back to saving the world, and I went back to the US. The only thing of note on the return trip was there was a hot black stewardess so I kept my Toni Morrison novel in play view. She noticed and then she took me into the bathroom and screwed my brains out. Actually, I just took advantage of the free booze and sat through "I Spy." What a fucking shitty movie. At least it didn't have Matthew Lillitard in it. Fucking shithead.