Making the Repetitive Look Good

The longer you search for a good quote to start a post the longer you find yourself reading other people’s words to sum up your own feelings, much like cat memes never say what you would have said, just what someone else said put to a picture of a cat. I like my own words better.


These ear buds won’t fit right, now my ears feel funny. Ugh! I tell you the technical issues I have to overcome each time I sit down to craft a post is…fuck that, my ears are weird.

Now what was I talking about?

Ear buds?


I really need to up my game. Hey I used really in…one, two, now three sentences yes really? is a sentence that makes four uses, I wonder how many more I can fit in? Definitely better than a swear o meter which would be six inches long (I unlike many people am realistic and happy with the length of my swearing) and girthy. Don’t let anyone tell you different, girth is where swearing is at. Much like opinions and most people are assholes anyone can swear for six inches, it’s the girth or breath of their swearing where its at.

Don’t believe me, trying fitting a swear word in every sentence for a day. If you find yourself repeating yourself over and over again, such as “fuck this or fuck that” then you only have six very skinny inches of swearing. However, if you can only repeat a few times, even better not at all (repeat that is, swear away), find creative and inventive-yet correct (can’t have you making up new swear moves, there are rules and if your friends can’t dance…well you know the saying, how you dance is how you fuck and if your friends can’t dance they probably shouldn’t fuck or is it fuck you…regardless, I will not put the other parenthesis in place and carry on, if you can do that then you have girth and maybe dance skills, which ties into how well you engage in intercourse.

Now that I think about it swearing, dancing, writing food reviews, writing erotica, and fucking are all similar skills in that you need to be able to do something repetitive in such a way that people mistake your actions for genius and not having a seizure. And yes, the seizure thing happens in writing. They are also similar in that if you can do them reasonably well people think better of you for a lot of things, because if you can Dance with a capital D you surely can Fuck with a capital F and you sure as hell really know how to Swear with a capital S…writing food reviews and erotica are suspect, because how often have you broken out writing of any kind while Dancing, Fucking, or Swearing.


And how did that go over?

Messy. Makes sense. I once had a short story crumpled and stickified doing that. She was very apologetic too, spilling her drink on my short story while dancing. Why I was attempting to show her my writing while dancing I will never know I should have waited until coitus where I would have had her attention because she would have been reading, duh.

Oh well, so where was I and I tell you the truth this is not where I thought I would end up, not that if you are paying attention I can remember where I am…fuck all this suddenly got really confusing, for me.

Girthy is where its at. Yes, that is what this was about or was it?

“Because of social strictures against even the mildest swearing, America developed a particularly rich crop of euphemistic expletives – darn, durn, goldurn, goshdad, goshdang, goshawful, blast, consarn, confound, by Jove, by jingo, great guns, by the great horn spoon (a nonce term first cited in the Biglow Papers), jo-fired, jumping Jehoshaphat, and others almost without number – but even this cautious epithets could land people in trouble as late as the 1940s.”

-Bill Bryson, Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language in the United States

Did you really think I would use really over and over again? Did you really keep count? Were you really waiting for more orange reallys? Right now you are trying out being girthy, aren’t  you? And therein lay the lesson. When you figure out what the lesson was tell me, please.

Really count: 11…maybe


Bears Plus Babies Plus Toilet Paper

“Always respect Mother Nature. Especially when she weighs 400 pounds and is guarding her baby.”

-James Rollins, Ice Hunt

In my dreams, they tell me how I have disappointed them, how I have not lived up to my potential, how I am wasting my life…

In my reality, a cashier turns pink, laugh out loud, holds his hand up in surrender, takes a deep breath, thanks me…

And bears with toilet paper on their bum are a better choice than a baby with toilet paper on his? head; after all the bears are using the toilet paper correctly and the message of a baby with toilet paper on her? head is what exactly?

Babies are shits? I know this…

Babies are messy? I know this too…

Babies need headware of any kind? If so, put a nice Preakness hat on the kid and the roll of toilet paper nearby…

Stop pandering to me with babies it doesn’t work, in fact I mock your product because of the baby and toilet paper mixed message…then again, I guess an asshole with toilet paper stuck to it might be a hard sell, but (ha) at least the message would be clear this is to wipe your bum…see the bears know what it is all about…

and in my dreams, they gather around me shouting loud enough to wake the dead, which may just be me sound asleep…fuckers…

In my reality, I am this close to reclaiming my righteous and well earned peace and quiet, once the kids return to school that is, so maybe I am not reclaiming so much as waiting for the days to pass one at a time so that I can occupy the empty space; nature, much like my stomach, detests voids.

When my dreams intersect with my reality, I am forced to wonder if they are true, no not my dreams per se, but the mental message that my brain is screaming at me, and that is why I hate cleaning up, because if I had not cleaned up the library/office/comicbookshop/writingspace I would not have found my old writings and other pieces of flotsam and jetsam that make up my life allowing my mind to inquire…

What the FUCK have you been doing?

-My Introspective Mind

nuq FUCK Data’?

-My Introspective Mind in bearly better Klingon (come on Klingons, no Fuck? What the Fuck?”

Introspection is something I save for my birthday, Thanksgiving, and when watching movies with Tom Cruise. If you have seen one Tom Cruise film you have seen them all. Don’t tell me  you never noticed. He is one of the great actors like Ice Mutherfucking T, Jackie Chan, and Bruce Willis where no matter the film you get the exact same thing you got in the last film…sure it’s entertaining and I guess on some level they are acting; much like when our girl does cat voices and they all sound the same no matter the line of dialog or who is beating the crap out of what (her cats are violent at times, see why Puddles and Whiskers appeal to me?). Regardless I got what I wanted, time to be introspective and if necessary poop, which are similar in that an amount of time is spent in one place focusing on one act…

In my dreams, I tell them all where to go and show them, in color, I care not for their thoughts, desires, and expectations…

In my reality, the cashier returns to a normal color, the people in line behind me glare away, fuck them if they can’t see the funny in life right in front of them, and more importantly the funny and message of toilet paper on a baby’s head…

which once again proves that the bears are right, toilet paper is for the bum.

“I think he just loved being with the bears because they didn’t make him feel bad. I get it too. When he was with the bears, they didn’t care that he was kind of weird, or that he’d gotten into trouble for drinking too much and using drugs (which apparently he did a lot of). They didn’t ask him a bunch of stupid questions about how he felt, or why he did what he did. They just let him be who he was.”

-Michael Thomas For, Suicide Notes

And Change Comes To All

“Perhaps you had better start from the beginning.”

-White Zombie, Electric Head Part 1

Well fuck all!

Yes, fuck all.

I am bored. I am not bored with anything more than this fucking blog. I have had this blog for going on three years and another one or two blogs for just as long…granted I killed them too. Oops, spoiler alert!

Used to be that writing for Speaking Out on Life was something that I looked forward to, hell used to get a chubby for, especially when I had a plan. By  plan, I mean five or six posts in a row that had a subject or theme or whateveryoudliketocall whatever it was that I used to do, and yes that is supposed to be one very long word. Then I graduated from college and everything went to shit, because I had NOTHiNG to write about. Nothing at all and I don’t like Seinfeld anymore than anyone else did and don’t LIE everyone hated Seinfeld, deep down in your soul or wherever that pit of humanness is you hated Seinfled. It was a show about nothing, about people who had you known them you would have unfriended and tried to find someone to take them out for as many TGIMcFuckster coupons as you could gather in your grubby hands.

Floundering about. I don’t like to flounder. I do enjoy flounder, but I don’t enjoy floundering about.

Shit fuck, I got all off on a tangent before getting..damnit, starting with the begining…who here likes history…not that five years is really history, more like a story your grandparents tell about you as a child, “Yes, yes, I was naked in the bath as a baby and it was cute how i loved the bubbles and farted causing more bubbles and a stink.” Damn that was an honest moment or was it?

It wasn’t, I was never a baby. I do fart. And tell dick jokes. And say non-appropriate things in public, I call it speaking my mind and telling stories but we all have our own view of reality and myne is way more fun.

“I’m hungry and need to kill things.”

-Me to the rather baffled checkout clerk (I had bread and fly killing devices)

So history that is not really history, I studied history, I know what history is and there I was sitting in some fuck all class being “taught” by a fuckwit, not fucktard, but fuckwit who thought she knew more than me which is normally the case in the classroom, but not her and she thought she would teach me a lesson and boy did I teach her a few. And that is how Speaking Out Life was given birth. Disgusting right?


Yes, I saw the proverbial light, actually the window was open and light did shine down on the pile of crap I was attempting to clean up and there, right there, no over there was a pile of my writing. Did I mention I am a prolific writer? I should have, as I have four books, self-published of course, no one likes my writing enough to put their career at risk to publish this shitte, of previous writing and I had an AH HA moment…speaking of Ah HA moments take a moment to enjoy this video…

fun right?

Any way to make an even longer story long, I am bored of this blog as this blog’s birth had two reasons for existing…

  • A fuckwit thought I was too profane and “professional” writers cannot be profane, thus I wanted and did prove her wrong
  • College

College is over, has been over, and the fuckwit is I assume off doing fuckwit things, thus inspired by a pile of my writing which upon reflection I thought was damn good or at least a damn site (I know that is not right site) more interesting than a lot of the clap trap I put on here, thus I return to my roots and I hope those of you who used to receive the rambling enjoy your flashbacks and nightmares.

What does that mean for here…other than some cosmetic changes and a change in overall tone, next to nothing, I will continue to Scrawl away, although the amount and frequency will change to something more realistic and fitting for interest…one other change, Puddles and Whiskers are leaving, exiting stage dive, they are getting their own blog shortly. I love those cats too much not to keep writing them, but they deserve their own place. I’ll let you know.

“I am bacon to your eggs.”

“Sounds sexual, but shouldn’t that be, I am sausage to your eggs?”

“Patties or links?”

-Conversation over a shirt at Bob Evan’s

Cats in Tanks…That Would Be THE Game For Us

The point of reading rules is to one day play the game, right? I certainly hope so because over the past week I have been reading a lot of rules. Since cleaning the library/office/gameroom and sorting the games into Go, Keep, and We’ve Never Played This Piles someone has to read the rules for Never Played This Pile. That someone is me.

Plus, I have other games that we do play that have rules that need to get read. One of my roles around here is teacher of games. Teacher of games comes with the lofty sub-roles of researcher of games, purchaser of games, piler of gamers, and eventually teacher of games. I take these roles semi-seriously.

Researcher of Games is the most fun. Taking into account the likes and dislikes of each family member, such as our girl loves games with tanks, but hates games where she has to build the pieces, I know I can be relatively certain if the game has tanks that I or our boy won’t mind building she will enjoy the game. Another factor, current interests around the house, for whatever reason around here diseases that wipe out humanity or humanity is attempting to wipe out is a current trend, perhaps having a pharmacist in the house pimping flu shots has something do with that. Cats or cute animals are also always possible. Thus, the day I find a game with cats driving easy to assemble tanks our girl and everyone else will be very happy indeed.

Other factors during researching games, replayability. How many times will we play a game before the game ends up on the shelf, is an important consideration. Unfortunately, other than legacy games which have a built in number of games, determining replayability is a crap shoot, aided by free rules online (if available), reviews, and years of experience. Suffice to say even with everything inline there are games that looked great for us and were total crap.

Purchaser of Games is the most serious role. Games are expensive.  I try to avoid paying full price if possible. You should to. Maybe one day games will come down in price to make them not only affordable but desirable to purchase. As it is, shopping around is a must.

What do I do with games when they arrive home? Toss them into a pile. Not the best method, explaining how we have a large pile of games that we have Never Played. Something we are working on.

Teacher of Games, I read the rules, I break out the pieces, and I teach the games to the family. Most of the time I enjoy the role. After reading the rules I generally want to teach the game to others. Lately though I am attempting to get the children to learn the rules and teach them to us. This is important to being a good gamer. Good gamers can teach games to other people, spreading the joy of playing games to others.

All of which leads me to where I started, I have read the rules to six games, mostly disease related and mostly with similar rules, and I am hoping that we play them before I catch the flu…guess that pharmacist has more influence on games than I thought. 🙂


Dreaming of Writing

I dream of water I have to get up and use the bathroom…sheesh that was polite sounding, I have to get up to take a piss.

I dream a lot, often in color, and often about what is on my mind.

I dream a lot of writing. So much about writing that my characters are now visiting me in my dreams and telling me I should write about them. They are not polite about it at all. I wish they understood the current reality around here its not that I don’t want to write about them, I simply cannot.

There is a reason none of my characters have children, they prevent me from writing and characters from doing the things they want to do and I am not going to put children in my stories to pander to that ever so popular demographic, children. Isn’t that why Jar Jar Binks and Anakin as an emotionless child exist? I think so.

So here I am dreaming nightly of my characters unable to have the time or sanity to put them to paper or screen.  When the kids are in school, less than ten days and counting, I get something precious to me, my own time. Typically I fill my own time with some house work and a lot of writing. When the kids are at home I get enough my own time to bang out 500 words on whatever before the pestering starts.

Hardly enough time to craft a story. Thus they live in my dreams. Could be worse they could abandon me altogether. Hopefully my characters are more understanding of my writing process than my children are. Given that my characters do not interrupt me while I am writing I am thinking they do.

The other issue impeding writing is my writing space is currently home to two printers, a stack of papers…crap, just crap. In the process of getting the “last” room in the house in shape my library/game room/writing space became the holding room/junk room/wedon’tknowwhattodowiththis room. Meaning, if I want my writing space back and I do, I have to take the time to remake the room, making it the last room.


I count down the days, dreaming of my characters, writing in my notebook when I can, which is even funnier than trying to type. Typing it seems is a known activity. dad is typing, thus we should interrupt him. dad is using a pen in a notebook on paper…what do we do? At the start of summer I got a lot more pen and paper time than I do now; just enough to jot down a sentence or two before the pestering begins.

Just Doing My Thing…Whatever That Is

What can I say?

Not much.

Another doctor’s appointment where if I had taken off my boots and clothing I may have lost more than 2 pounds and maybe if the weigh-in nurse had entered the number in the right spot I would not have ended up with a 260 BMI and the two pounds back. Seems I need to enunciated a bit better than I thought. Oh well nothing lost and nothing gained.

I learned that I am unusual in yet another way in that while I am in a new age bracket I am not elderly and a recreational…sorry make that admitted recreational elderly drug user. Long story short I was asked if I used recreational drugs to which I said no. After a few other questions I stopped and backed up asking how many people said yes to the question. Because I was curious how many people said yes.

More people than I would have guessed.

Who knows.

I don’t.


We Have A Game Issue

I’m hoping this is a local problem. I hope in other parts of the States and World this problem does not exist. Keep in mind I made this sound big, but it’s not. What do gamers do when they have games they no longer want? My hope would be that they give them away, sell, them, or even better there is a store that takes unwanted games in trade or whathaveyou.

Around here there is nothing.

There are stores for DVD’s, music, video games, clothing, and so on. If you, like us, have board, role playing, and card games other than Magic the Gathering your recourse for unwanted games is to ask if friends want them, see if the local gaming group wants them, sell on Ebay or whatever sell site, or do like we have for a long time sit on them, watch them gather dust, and ponder how your back will be after another move.

Friends don’t want the games, the local gaming group is rather snobbish about games, Ebay is more a pain than a boon, and we are tired of sitting on them. After a move where a gaming cabinet ended up in the library we decided enough was enough and went through our games. We set up two and a half tables, brought out all of our games, and began sorting.

Each person was allotted a keep, go, and never played pile.

Surprisingly, we agreed on 98% of the go pile. A pile that kept growing and growing. There were games that everyone despised-Robotech RPG Tactics, Oregon Trail-there were games that were one off, meaning you play it one or two times and that is all there is to the game, and there were games that we liked a lot, but have not played for years because some other game came along and did the original game better.

The keep pile is an assortment of games that everyone agreed on such as Pandemic and games that one or more of us had to keep, for now, because cats. Yes, if a game involved cats it likely stayed, thankfully those are all small games. We have yet to find a large cat game.

What caught all of us off guard, the number of games that one or more, often all of us, have never played. How is it possible to own games that you have not played? If you are us, you buy games on sale or that you really find interesting, get home put them on the shelf and well…forget about them.

Which brings us to today and the next few weeks, maybe months. The go games are bagged up and heading to Good Will. Yes, Good Will. I have been on a “if nobody wants this and I cannot easily get value out of this, donate it kick.” If you happen to live where we are or nearby travel to Good Will in a few days for board games…that is if Good Will does anything with them.

Meanwhile, we have several stacks of games we have not played, which you will end up reading about, starting with the “Disease-friend or foe” a selection of games revolving around curing a disease or being a disease.