F'n Ferries

I was taken on an adventure yesterday by a crazy woman against my will. So, my mom had this glorious idea to take a day trip with my daughters to Galveston to let them ride the ferry for the first time. I can’t emphasize enough how special it is to share this special memory with them. Everyone remembers their first ferry ride, right? I knew right off the bat this was going to be a very anticlimactic moment for my girls. There is absolutely nothing fun or interesting about being on a ferry; unless you happen to be gay (HEYOOO)! My Mom was hyping it all week like we were going on the fucking Red October. My girls are thinking they’re going to this amazing place where you can drive on a boat and then get out of the car and see wonders of God’s creation. I tried my best to keep their excitement built up, but that was honestly just to hold that over their heads so they wouldn’t act shitty. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that we were just going to shitty old Galveston and the boat we were getting on was taking us to ground zero of hurricane devastation.

My mom grew up in Galveston so she has this distorted view of the city similar to Tracy Morgan’s view of the world. She sees a glorious town of prosper and southern gentility, and I see New Orleans’ estranged cousin, The Wire and a hint of VD. She’s showing the girls The Bishop’s Palace and across the street is a dirty old drifter with a sign that said, “Heading to Space, really need a lift.” That’s kind of a paraphrase; we all know that bastard doesn’t use commas. Actually, maybe my mom was using classic misdirection like Gob on Arrested Development. The point is there is no possible way one can drive down Broadway, and not feel like they need to bathe in bleach like Troy on Swamp People. I understand the history of Galveston. I’m sure it was once a lovely place before other races of people were allowed on the island. It was probably like Augusta National before Tiger Woods became a member. I don’t care if it’s Paris; a few hurricanes are going to switch up the view a bit! I hear Sodom was lovely before God rained down the fire and whatnot!

We drive on to the ferry somehow keeping my girls captivated, and reality hit like a prank call from The Jerky Boys. I have never seen so many fat people or birds in one place in my life. Granted, I find a little fat Mexican boy with C cups throwing bread at a thousand seagulls while his 4’2” mother tries to film it on her phone hilarious! We left the dock, and no more than thirty seconds they already wanted to play Cut the Rope on my iPhone. Great idea, Gammy! Please be sure to point out the 786 pound man in a wet Hard Rock Café t-shirt that’s talking about crab fishing. Oh, and don’t forget the sea sick Korean slumped over on the boat’s stairs praying to whatever weird Asian God he prefers! Guess what? We get to turn around and ride this shitty boat again! Literally, the highlight of the trip for them was how weird pelicans look and the waffle cone they had at lunch. I’m boycotting all of my mom’s “fun” ideas from here on out. I love her to death, but my God can she veer off into the crazy lane! Have a great weekend, people.

Surprise, Surprise

Two blogs in one day? Is he on Peyote? Yes and maybe a little. I'm thrilled with the response I got today. Thanks for taking the time to oblige my unwarranted solicitation! I'm actually a little shocked I didn't offend anybody. Of course I have to drop a rape joke right out of the chute!

My townhome complex decided to powerwash my place today. This normally wouldn't bother me, but these Mexicans are awful people. Oh, and don't say I'm being racist. I'm looking at a Mexican flag decal that spans the back of his truck. He must really love Pancho's. Hell, fatal diarrhea is worth raising that flag for more tacos and sopapillas. Where was I? Right. So, this bastard is in my courtyard singing along to what could be The Three Amigos. I'm not talking about the movie; they're like the Mexican Three Tenors. Okay, I just made that up. The point is that I need less Julio Iglesias and more Speedy Gonzales. I'm trying to concentrate on an intense eBay auction for a signed set of Momma's Family Reunion DVD's. Hurry up, vato. Okay, so I ended up getting a little racist. Oh well, another day another dollar, am I right? (Huh?)

I was planning on blogging during the ESPY's, but turns out that really cuts into daddy's drinking. Keep reading, and I'll keep writing (Maybe).

Writing My Wrongs

This is literally the eleventh time I have returned to writing fully expecting to retain a readership that no longer exists. There was a time (2005) when I had loyal followers and a book deal on the table. What the FUCK happened?! One second I'm on a path to fame and fortune or at least an untouched shelf in Half Price Books, and the next I'm in Serbia, half naked in an alley with my zipper stuck in some cobblestone. All I had on me was a half full syringe (Optimist) of fake B12 and a lizard named Kenny. It was a fall from grace to say the least!

So, amidst the last dark few years; I'm back with the vigor of a mathlete. Will I deliver any intellectually stimulating content? Nope. Will I write most blogs in my underwear after drinking not two but three Dr. Peppers? Undoubtedly so. You're most likely questioning yourself for reading this far and I can't say I blame you, but stick with me for a minute.

Animal bites. You heard me. I'm currently healing from a vicious duck bite. This particular duck wasn't exactly painting at grandma's quality. It looked like its mother was raped by a Steve Buscemi look alike. It made its nest under a bush next to my front door, and had the audacity to attack like I was invading its duck space. It was quacking a different tune when I came home with Whataburger, though. Yeah devil duck, I'm just clamoring to give you some fries after all the torment and bird antics. Go duck yourself (Couldn't help it).

So, how's this going so far? I'm not going to lie, it feels good to me. Let's have a smoke. Maybe we can do this again? No? I'll try to write multiple times a week and even daily if my meth guy ever comes through. Still no, huh? Well, I'm going to write regardless of your negativity. I have a writing career to redeem. Do you think Hemingway gave a shit about his readers? Hell no. He fit the writing in after all the drinking and sex with immigrants. I'll be fine whether you're on board or not (No. No I won't). Let's try and work this thing out. I'll try my best to give you a break from reading your depressing friend's Facebook statuses or incessantly clicking refresh on your email. I'm back...for now. Okay, I'm off to watch the Women’s World Cup while trying to pretend I'm not staring at their erect nipples. Ciao