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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Category Archives: ya know

She said she would do it.

Then her laptop died. I offered her mine. Nope. Not good enough.

THEN, she said she wouldn’t do it until the boxes were all gone.

 

POOF!

They’re gone.

SO WHERE’S THE BLOG POST!?!?! 

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It’s weird that I’m the one who has like, ten readers and I’m the one who actually writes. Raise your hand if you think Brandi should be writing blog posts instead of reading them.

I’m sure she would have interesting things to write about. Like, why we don’t have anything hanging up on our walls yet. Boy, that was a couple of tense days. Or maybe she could write about my aversion to vanilla scented soap. I know! How she makes a tighter bed than I do. Jeez! You could bounce quarters off of it.

In case any of you actually were wondering how shacking-up life is going, I’ll tell you this,

MIND YOUR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS!!

Ok. Just kidding. Brandi and I are having a fun time getting used to each other. We would get more done around the house if we didn’t enjoy kissing talking to each other as much as we do.

That’s it. Now, who wants her to write again?

Change sucks.  Even good change.

900 square feet is enough until you add children.

College is hard. I think this is one of the reasons I stopped doing it.

I fucking love science. Who am I?

I have a favorite element – H. Can you guess why? (Brandi, you can’t answer)

It’s a good thing that I have a psychiatrist who thinks Ritalin is a good treatment for my ADHD otherwise I’d never get all this reading done.

A good BLF can make everything better.

People surprise and amaze me every day. That’s usually a good thing.

Thursday night is my new favorite night. I didn’t have one before, so I guess technically, it’s just my favorite night.

I haven’t gotten up from this chair in several hours. I think my ass might be fused to the cushion.

I should probably eat lunch.

Ok. That’s it. I am outta here.

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Who the hell IS she anyway? And why do we care how she got her groove back?

I don’t give a shit about her, but I do know one thing-

20121123-180308.jpgI’M BACK!!

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Are there things you say over and over and over in your life that make you think that you are a broken record because you keep on repeating them over and over and over without (seeming) end?

No?

Kiss my ass.

To the youngest:

Wash your hands and scrub your nails.

To the almost 11 year old:

Calm down. It’s not THAT big of a deal.

To the boy:

It’s 8:00. You have to be on the bus in 20 minutes. GET UP!!!

To the oldest:

(while shaking my head slowly back and forth with my eyes closed) I don’t know about you.

To Mr. T:

You’re fucking amazing.

To myself:

How many more days?

What broken records do you play?

I have been composing a self loathing, body image hating blog post for the past two days. It’s icky. I’m not even sure I will post it because it’s that icky and uncomfortable.

Instead, I’ll post something else that’s worse.

Someone you don’t want to know: Helen just asked for “some of those delicious brown pussies” for snack.

Me: Wow! The Smiths really do love the colored folks, don’t they? Lolololololol

Someone: We do. I don’t know why people always say I’m racist. I drive all the way to (somewhere an hour away) for brown pussies.

Me: This is going on my blog.

Someone: Good. One of us should post a blog. Lord knows I haven’t lately.

Me: Haha. As soon as I get home I will. This is better than the one that I’m writing now. It’s depressing and self loathing. I’d rather picture you and your daughter eating brown pussies.

Someone: You’re a sick woman. (And it was my daughter and my SON eating brown pussies. Brown pussies are too sweet for me.)

Me: Oh. My bad. Your son and daughter eating pussy together is way better.

Someone: Exactly.

the brown pussies

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You might think a new post showed up for you to read about how many believe or something like that. It didn’t. You didn’t see what you think you saw. Those of you who get email notifications of this blog- don’t worry. You either got to read something REEEEELY good, or you missed it. (OK, it wasn’t really that good. It was just-whatever)

I’ll be back tomorrow with a fantastic story complete with pictures about how I once participated in an orgy. Now THAT’s a good story.

 

*no orgies real or imagined ever happened in Tex’s life.