Tag: Creative Writing

Hackers Can Go Hump Hitler in Hell.

Once again f-yourblog.com suffered another unfortunate set back. I was working on the GG Allin Pictorial when I went to open photos and the son of a bitch wouldn’t open. This had happened once before and it was easily fixed if by that you mean spending well over an hour on the fucking phone with Apple Customer Service Representatives.

So once again I had to grin and bare it and called Apple Customer Service.

The first Apple Representative  I spoke with unfortunately had one of the thickest Indian accents I have ever heard. I honestly could only make out about every third word, and had to constantly ask him to repeat himself. Finally we got to the point where all attempted communication had ground to a slow but definitive stop. By that I mean I couldn’t proceed to do a damn thing  because We had hit the point in the conversation where I had no idea whatsoever what the Guy was asking/saying/instructing me to do. After a couple of minutes of just simply telling the Representative repeatedly that “Its isn’t doing a damn thing!” we got disconnected. I think it is safe to assume the Representative had realized as I had that we could not go any further, and was getting tired of my growingly stand offish attitude. I can’t say I blame him for if he had stayed on the line with me it would have ended in a very ugly and obscene manner I assure you.

Now being thoroughly pissed off at the result of my first 40 minute failed phone call to Apple Customer Service I called them again immediately.

Now allow me a minute to explain that in these situations if the Customer Representative is Polite, Attentive, Apologetic (if need be), informative, up beat and helpful I guarantee it will be the most entertaining phone call that that they will receive all fucking Month. Yet if the Customer Service Representative sounds annoyed, bored, agitated, depressed doesn’t listen to what the hell I’m saying I guarantee it’ll be the most hellacious fucking phone call that they have EVER experienced. The reason for this is the Customer Service Industry is damn near dead as a door nail thats for fucking sure. I’m sick of having to call some 800 number to resolve a problem/issue and having to deal with some phone drones shitty attitude for god knows how long, BUT I digress.

Luckily for All the second Apple Customer Representative I spoke with was a very polite gentlemen named Isaac Internet.

Isaac Internet went on to inform me that the current issue wasn’t the same dippy dips hit as before and in fact its rather serious to say the least. Isaac went on to tell (and show me with the whole fucking screen sharing shit) that 11 fucking separate individual Assholes had been working on Hacking Our IP address, and had made it as far as shutting off our FireWall protection. Isaac explained the whole IP Address Hacking Threat in full from How It Works to How to Prevent it.

At one point Isaac “Momed” me. Isaac had identified the problem as being Hackers and all I gave a shit about was fixing the problem and preventing any future issues ASAP. I know what a Hacker is and what they do and what their looking for so I appreciated the tutorial BUT I didn’t want to hear a damn word of it right then, JUST FIX THE FUCKER. I laughed sarcastically at one point during Isaac’s Hacker/Hacking Lecture, and Isaac just like a Mom abruptly cut me off and sternly reminded me that this was a very serious situation and I shouldn’t think otherwise. Fuck it He was right. After Isaac’s impromptu Anti-Hacker/Hacking Speech we figured out a game plan and resolved the problem/issue so I can’t rightfully complain.

Now to be clear I am a rather paranoid person and I definitely don’t trust a fucking computer/Laptop/Smartphone/Tablet etc. in the least. At the end of the day as a habit I delete all the day’s texts, e-mails and recent phone calls I honestly don’t know when I started doing this but I won’t be stopping anytime soon. Its my utter distrust in the safety of todays electronic devices that more than likely saved our ass. See I don’t use my Smartphone as the wallet of today, that is there is no personal information on it to be hacked and stolen. If a Hacker did access my phone they’d be unamused and angry they wasted their time on a dead end. I also don’t carry around my Lap Top or Tablet like an electric brief case so again their’s no important personal information, no passwords, no record of Bank Transactions, no crucial business related items, no online bill pay, no Paypal account, no Facebook nothing an Identity Thief would give a flying fuck about.

You can use this Blog as a prime example of how I highly I prize and to what extent I will go to to hide y actual identity. Thats why there no actual pictures of me, my friends or family here, My name isn’t splattered all over the site because I personally don’t want to “Be Famous” or even well known OUTSIDE OF MY WORK. Thats why My Tech Paranoia carries over to this blog. That why I even wrote a post explaining my views on my personal Privacy/Anonymity. In that post I stated I am using a Pen Name as is everyone affiliated with or working for f-yourblog.com and thusly I would be changing the names of all people and places in every post, but not only that. I wasn’t going to half ass it I’m not calling Dave Donald or any simpleton shit I change the names to completely absurd ones that are totally unbelievable (as that is what they are intended to be.)

IN SUMMATION: ALL ASSHOLES WHO BECOME IDENTITY THIEVES THROUGH HACKING CAN GO SUCK SATAN’S BALLSACK, EAT THE DEVIL’S DICK, AND HUMP HITLER IN HELL.

TO ALL HACKERS: GO HACK YOURSELF UP YOUR OWN ASS AND FUCKING ROT INCASED IN YOUR OWN FUCKING FECES.

 

By Les “Than” Sober  

I Never Titled It. I Hate Titles. They Should Die. By SpaceDog







 



I decided on the old spring cleaning today. More like my portable DVD player is gathering dust and I need to find its extension cord. So even though the ideas of what I want to write are running through my head at a blistering pace, like sperm pelting the floor at a bathhouse, I’ve taken the lazy way out and decided to throw up a few brooding poems from about five years ago. I think I wrote them in rehab, hence the plastic bed references casually strewn in there.




Disowned




Why do I work to escape this very moment

When all I should do is tuck it away

How come my darkest world shines so bright

When it only brings me the fear of my plight


The hate in my soul drips forth with blood

While the bluebirds may chirp

I sit here in your mud

It’s like one thousand flavors rattle my cage

Dairy Queen and Lucifer, One and the same


My chest collapses slowly

While I wriggle in pain

Two candy canes half eaten

Melting in the rain


..I feel for my pulse but it’s not to be found

I’ve been riding in your carriage too long

But my soul is nowhere around


You still plague my soul

Even from far, far away

The wax from your candle

It melts my nightmares

Covers up all this dismay


And I used to run, I used to fly

There once was a time I never cried

Your heart it stayed open

Your veins never closed

The moths gracing your light bulbs

They practically glowed


And one day I’ll wake up

Maybe I’ll even truely care

But for this moment in time

This moment I own

Alone in my thoughts

Even though my brain isn’t home


I plot and I ponder.

I sit and I stare.

The tadpole didn’t come home for supper

But I still feel him there


And I know this isn’t reality

Yet it’s certainly not a dream

Just a slice of delusion

In a cherry pie choking on whi9pped cream.




———————————————————————————


and then there is this one.  i never titled it. i hate titles. they should die.


———————————————————————————-




All my Johnnys have gone away

While I sat staring out the window

Trying to breathe in the world

When all I saw was the lamp post

And your reflection in a puddle


Then I sailed across the ocean

Looking for you

Looking for him

I wondered where your trail of bread crumbs led

But they only formed some lost circle

Empty of my heart

Crashing up my car


I ate a sundae with marshmellows

It tasted like you

Or wait maybe like him

And I put on some Jimmies

But they were too sweet

You tasted so bitter

Yet it was my dream

I swallowed my dreams


The boat then crashed ashore

My holy father whipped me

I just wanted your chains

To cramp my style

You squeezed my soul so fine


But I’ve lost your scent

The moon doesn’t rise

And your face isn’t on my quarter anymore

Just another dead president


And one day I do know

That something will rise out of the sky

I’d just take the sun

But you are my God

I don’t know if I should try


Yet maybe it’s my destiny

Just smelling you out

I’m not sure though

Because it may not be you

Might have been him

Singing through the birds

Nestling in my head


The queen of hearts left my deck long ago

Suffering without anything to hold onto

My kingdom has lost its peaceful rest.








	


	





	

		
		
Neighbors are a Nuisance
	


	
	
	

		
Its really no secret that I despise Neighbors and basically have spent a good deal of avoiding or ignoring them which has worked well for me. Neighbors are nosey, opinionated, annoying, time consuming obstacles. Neighbors  serve no true purpose accept to bother you with these moronic social protocols (and social norms ) as much a humanly possible until you actually feel that your loosing your godforsaken mind.




Things unfortunately change in this case we made a geographical change moving out of the Great Southern Swamp to The Southern Country. One side effect of living here is the fact that the people here are insanely social and gossip is their bread and butter. I’m not social and I hate gossip. Lucky for me very few of our Neighbors actually live here year round so the benefit being that we only see them once in a blue moon for a few days and then their gone again for months. The house to our left is used as a family meeting/vacation spot which means their never around. The house on the right is the same story accept the people on the right their there even less which is wonderful.




Now with that said We did officially meet the couple that lives on the right of us once and I’m guessing We will never speak with them again. See heres the unfortunate events that doomed anything social between us and the Neighbors occurring ever again. We met them one afternoon when My Wife and I were hanging out on our home office’s massive front porch. The Neighbors happened to be out in their front yard doing mundanely routine lawn care crap at the same time. Eventually the Neighbors came over and introduced themselves and we introduced ourselves in return, and then proceeded to shoot the inanest of shit. After a few introductory minutes the Neighbors finally returned to their yard and life went on.




The next day I got an e-mail from our Realtor (We were selling our Great Southern Swamp vacated Offices) stating the bullshit shoppers were ready to make a real deal and I needed to contact him ASAP. Well I immediately e-mailed him, waited 4-5 minutes and then texted him followed directly with a phone call, but I couldn’t get a hold of him it was as if he just evaporated out of existence. This insane cycle goes on 8 hours or so and I still haven’t gotten a hold of him. A couple of minutes before My Wife came home I get a text from Our Realtor stating he had been called in for jury duty and had spent all day sitting down at the court house. While I was relieved to finally hear from the Realtor and to know what the hell was going on, BUT I was also pissed as a motherfucker because when he knew he had been called for jury duty he should I contacted me then and explained the situation properly.




My Wife gets home and I’m pacing the front porch like a rabid Lion at the Zoo. As soon as she sits down I erupt like a Nuclear explosion and launch into a full fledged Ranting and Raving Fit. I totally forgot where I was in reality as I ramp up more and more as I go getting a real adrenaline high from increasingly getting angrier. I spouted off all kinds of utterly screwed up statements and claims pertaining to our Realtor and the jury duty deal.




Here is an Example: (Note: When I hit lose my shit you know because every other word basically is fuck)


“E-Roc fucking e-mailed me 1st fucking thing and says we got a deal so I fucking have to fucking call him back but the son of a bitch doesn’t answer shit, not a goddamn thing! I texted the shit out of him, did no damn good, no fucking e-mails, no fucking phone calls so I’m fucking wondering what the fuck is going on since theres a sweet deal to get done quickly! Its fucking money, a good bit of fucking money and where the fuck is my Realtor, how the fuck can I get a fucking deal fucking done when I fucking can’t get a fucking hold of my motherfucking Realtor?!! When the fuck did E-Roc become an unbearable fucking asshole, he works for Us so he fucking doesn’t get a goddamn dime till we fucking sell the fucking shitty fucking old ass offices for fucks sake!!”




In the midst of this tirade I happen to suddenly realize where I am and as I turn to face my Wife I see both of our Neighbors milling around in their backyard. When our eyes met they both looked away quick as hell and then  putzed around doing meaningless shit like moving the trash can from one side of the house to the other.


Thusly at this point I think its safe as safe to say we will never be speaking with them ever again as they seemed shell shocked enough by witnessing such a enraged rant laced heavily with profanity.


Oh well shit happens. I’m not losing any sleep over it I assure you my Fine Reader.


Thanks For Reading,


Les Sober 


 

	


	





	

		
		
It Always Happens In 3’s by SpaceDog
	


	
	
	

		
So I’m supposed to have a lot of these aspiration type things. Or maybe just a few. However I cannot pay attention to any one thing in my life so far this year for more then three days at a time.


Why three days? I don’t know. Perhaps it is my premenstrual cycle of attention deficit asshole disorder kicking in but I’m not really sure. Yet low and behold. Three days of this, three days of that.




Three days of fuck the world I’m not charging my cell phone. Three days of oh shit call everyone back and act dumb as to why my phone is off.


Three days of drunken slob.




Three days of recovering Christian.




Three days of online gaming.




Three days of swearing off online gaming.




Well hopefully I can break this trend with a few of these great occupations that I can begin training for a.s.a.p. Right when I am done telling you about how brilliant I truly am for thinking of these jobs. Perhaps some of you can join me in these undertakings.


(These jobs are not in any special order. They are equally fabulously delicious)


#1- Somali Pirate!


I get to loot and pillage and plunder and live in a foreign land. Sure I don’t particularly look Somali and if caught will most likely reside in Guantanemo Bay but I get to wear an eye patch and get a tan and rediscover my African roots. That’s some hot shit!




#2- Jizz Mopper!


This isn’t a particularly glamorous job but the temp agency I went to last week told me that all the positions for fluffers had been taken. While I am not too keen on this one Ms. Hyman down at the agency told me if I collect enough jizz in a jar she knows a few places I could sell it for commission. So I will keep this one in mind.




#3-Cirque De Soliel!


Okay so I’m not particularly fond of French Canadiens for some reason but I get to swing around like a complete moron. I really will be able to lose a lot of weight doing this and well this definitely would get me in shape for pirating and jizz mopping.  I can’t think of any talent for them I’ll just say I’m clairvoyant. They could always use another one of those.




#4- Lab Rat!


So I saw this ad in the paper. I don’t have testicular cancer or hemroids or pussy swelling of the nipples like they need me to have, however I am sure if I put a little research into this sort of thing I can get my nut to go in hiding for a while or fake a little pus. Oh wait it says estrogen enhancement needed. I can’t really go there. I like my man parts.




#5- Bible School Counselor!


Hmmm maybe. I can make up my own biblical stories and maybe I can even wear a habit. Nah then I’ll have to cover for priests and I may have to jizz mop the confessional booth.




Oh what the hell!


Hmmm maybe I can be a jizz moping somali pirate lab rat bible dipping circus freak. Yeah I like wearing a lot of hats.


Ummmmm can I borrow some money to get to Somalia anyone?


Whoever can help me I get you lots of strange booty.



	


	





	

		
		
Prologue To A New Project Piece
	


	
	
	

		
Lets get to the point I’m a huge GG Allin fan though even I can’t agree with all of his Rock’n Roll Rhetoric and a few of his Batshit Beliefs. Plenty of people over the decades have attempted to chronicle the life and music of GG Allin.


There are 2 documentaries (Live Fast Die and the more known Hated In The Nation) that are extremely different in how they cover the subject/subject matter. The first follows a Punk Music Fan as he learns about GG Allin after reading a short 75 word article in a Hardcore Music Mag. The second was directed by none other than Mr. Todd Phillips while attending NYU in his junior year, and actually followed GG Allin on Tour/On The Road. Both are exceptionally well done and deserve proper recognition in their own right.




GG Also appeared quite promptly in the early 1990’s (1990 after his release from prison to his death due to a drug overdose on Heroin combined with Alcohol in the summer of 1993) He is most notoriously known for his appearance(s) on the Geraldo Riviera Show where he was known for his furious ranting and raving (much of which was incoherent) and combative attitude especially towards the disapproving audience members.




GG was also covered predominately in print through countless Magazine articles on his life/music, and News Papers articles on his arrests/trials/outlandish antics or behavior (GG was arrested over 51 times during his life mainly for his extremely aggressive and raunchy stage antics.)




GG even wrote his own book (his prison-era memoirs) titled “My Prison Walls” containing letters, illustrations, prose, and GG’s personal account of his time spent in prison.




So I’ve decided if a picture is truly worth a thousand words, and that GG has already been immortalized in Film, the Media, and Television alike I will be posting a solely pictorial piece on GG Allin. It has take an extraordinarily long time to hunt down a sufficient number of pictures, but its not been an impossible.


Now with that said I feel it is important and pertinent to list the most prominent facts pertaining to GG Allin and because of that I am writing this Prologue Post.




    

  1. GG’s Father was an religious fanatic who was vehemently anti Social and more than likely suffered from Schizophrenia though that has remained unfounded. GG’s father didn’t have friends and hated most everybody and detested society. He was also know for flying into rages where he would go into the backyard and dig 3 graves (one for his wife, one for GG and one for his older brother Merle), and told them he’d kill them and bury them in the backyard if they didn’t obey him.
    2. 

  2. The GG moniker came from the simple fact that his older brother Merle couldn’t pronounce Jesus so he would call his little brother GG.
    3. 





3. When GG was born his father named him Jesus Christ Allin after having a conversation with God in which God told him his son would be coming of Christ.




4. GG grew up in a small cabin in the woods with no running water or electricity.




5.GG’s father demanded absolute silence after 9pm so after 9 no one was allowed to talk.




6. GG’s Mom finally ditched her abusive husband and renamed GG Kevin Micheal Allin.




6.GG Allin started his music career as a drummer and transitioned into singer when he formed the band The Jabbers.




7.GG Allin promoted excessive amounts of Alcohol, Drugs, Sex, and Violence against Authority, Society and Haters/critics/wannabes mainly.




8.Again GG was arrested over 51 times during his musical career and in 1990 was sentenced to 3 years in Prison after alleged allegations of abuse by a fan. GG served 18 months of his sentence before being paroled. GG broke parole almost immediately to go on Tour.




9.GG never completed a full Tour due to personal injury or being arrested/jailed.




10.GG believed Rock’n Roll had been watered down into a bullshit form of music and he wanted to return the “Edge” to Rock’n Roll returning it to its former deviant form.




11.GG worked with numerous bands such as The Aids Brigade, The Jabbers, The Texas Nazis (who kicked him out), The Murder Junkies, AntiSeen, The Toilet Rockers, and The Scumfucs just to name a few.




12.GG used to attend High School in Drag and attended his brother’s wedding as both The Maid of Honor and Best Man.




13.GG Allin stage acts consisted of: Nudity (stripping buck naked during his performance was a GG staple) or GG appearing in just combat boots and a jockstrap with the words “EAT ME” written on it. GG was also known for Pissing on his fellow band members, Self Mutilation (GG would cut and carve himself up with broken beer bottles or crushed beer cans), Fights with the audience, Smashing the microphone into his clenched teeth (he once knocked out 6 of his own teeth during a single show, Live sex acts (fans would preform dude sex acts on or with GG during the show), Drinking Excessively/Drugs, Vandalizing Clubs/Venues, and GG’s most famous act of shitting on stage. GG didn’t just shit on stage he rolled in it, smeared it on himself and audience members, threw it at the audience, and even eating it.




14.GG’s shows usually lasted only 10-15 minutes before the promoter, club owner or Police shut it down due to violence, obscenity, assault or destruction of personal property (The Venue/Club)


So with that I end this pre emptive prologue piece and hope you check out the forth coming GG ALLIN: The Man, The Myth, The Monster Pictorial.


Thanks For The Read as Always,


Les Sober

	


	





	

		
		
I Don’t Drink That: Beer Blues
	


	
	
	

		
I’m simply sick and tired of friends and family that know me best chronically forgetting what alcohol(s) I drink, they all should damn well know better by now. So I’m at the point where the only goddamn thing I can do (having exhausted all other options) is to actually put it in Black & White.




Wine: No, I don’t drink Wine. Now lets be clear I have drank a fair share of Wine before in my life and I enjoy the drunk, BUT Wine hates the hell out of me. The worst most hellacious hangovers I have ever had the misery of experiencing were all from drinking Wine. I drank only Red Wine, I detest the taste of White Wine, and I sure a hell never drank any god forsaken Pink Wine bullshit.


Shots: No Not Any More. I used to do shots of Vodka or Whiskey but gave them both up as shots seemed to excellerate bouts of drunken insanity or black outs.




Punches/Niche Drinks: Hell to the No. I don’t care about Ancient Alcohols, Medical Meads, Roman Receipts or BC Boozes. Save that shit for the fare fans of Renaissance Fairs.


Cocktails: No with the acceptation of a Captain & Coke once in a blue moon or perhaps a Mojito ever several blue moons. Especially now a days as cocktails are making a massive comeback, I have no need for artisan cocktails. In my opinion Bitters are Bullshit, Garnishes of pickled Jalapeño or Candied Bacon are drink drama, infusions (example wood smoke) are for Idiots and Muddling is for Morons. I don’t want to watch my Bartender  spend 15 minutes making a drink like he’s a member of Circus Du Soleil.




Malt Liqueurs and Fortified Wines: I don’t drink Mad Dog 20/20, Old English, King Cobra, Crazy Horse, Thunderbird, Ripple, Red Rose or Boone’s Farm because I’M NOT IN FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL. That combined with the fact I’m also not WHITE TRASH or HOMELESS.


Hard Ciders/Sodas/Lemonades: No Way, No How. The concepts are cool but they don’t translate from paper to reality. Hard Ciders taste like fermented/spoiled Apple Juice thats been sitting in your grandmothers garage for several years.




Moonshine: Never Again. If you drink Moonshine you won’t be back to your self for at least 48 hours.




Beer: YES, WE HAVE A WINNER. I primarily drink Domestic Beers but I do like a few Imports as well as Craft Beers.


I like a couple Micro Brews, but their accessibility is restricted to geographical location.


I Hate IPA’s and other similar beers like Black And Tans, Bitter Beer is Bitch Beer in my mind.


I primarily drink Lagers and Ales, I hate Wheat Beers because after you drink a couple you feel like you fucking drank a huge loaf of bread.


I also HATE shit like seasonal beers like Pumpkin brews I mean Pumpkin WTF is wrong with you?




So thats I Official Alcohol Intake Mission Statement,


Thanks For Reading,


Les Sober.

	


	





	

		
		
Intoxication or Insanity a Text Conversation with SpaceDog & Les Sober
	


	
	
	

		


 


LS: Ever feel the urge to ask a woman if her husband “wants to fuck her in the ass as the norm or REALLY into Pegging because he’s obviously gay and isn’t fooling anyone but you.


SD: What like a random ass woman? Like the cashier at ShopWrong I should just go up to and ask that? IDK I convinced some straight guy to finger himself once while rolling, but didn’t think he was all that gay. Sadly for me he did it in the bathroom and was not into exhibitionism.Idk don’t some straight guys prefer the ass? Isn’t that the preferred hole for all those evangelicals you got down there? Gotta save myself for jesus.




LS: Random or not. Lmfao Thats what Molly gets you fingering your own ass. The anti drug whores should put that in their Ads. Then what was the point? All bathroom, no exhibition?!Straight guy ass play is based on basic on a biological fact meets homophobia. The fact remains stimulating the prostate will make you cum hard.


SD: Idk I’m no Zac Efron I can’t get the whole world to get naked for me.


LS: Zac Efron can do that?


SD: Idk I’m just randomly throwing out a random guy on my top 10 list. I’m in a caffeine induced rage right now. The point of which to get so restless with everything I’m currently doing to be blown to smithereens.


LS: TOP 10 Casey Kasem. Oh shit that’s the top 40 Lmao. RIP HUGH HEFNER, RIP TOM PETTY, RIP CHUCK WOOLERY.


SD: Whose the last one the game show host?


LS: Yep game show guy way old school shit 70’s.




SD: I forget who was doing the top 40 now it was someone I thought you would find amusing. It wasn’t Ryan Seacrest it was a former celeb more along the lines of Screech. Bob Barker is the last of the game show glory days era and I guess you can count Betty White too, I remember seeing her a lot of reruns of shit.


LS: I heard Ryan Seacrest is producing high end fetish porno. Screech does gay porn he’s  the power bottom geek chic. God Bless Betty Fucking White!!


SD: He seems the type that would have a super hairy asshole riddled with dingleberries.  Also on a completely unrelated note if you don’t hear from me in a timely manner I’m likely dead. I just had a pork roll sandwich stuffed with bacon and mayo.




LS: 1970’s hairy buttcrack bush. Lmfao that sounds absolutely delicious. I think female ejaculation is a bullshit reason to piss on someone. Squirt in the dirt really.


SD: Is that what Wifey tells ya?


LS: Own observations, people watching is a hobby of mine. Sociology always interested me and shitty shit shit.


SD: Is it me or is there seriously like another 100 emojis more overtime my phone updates?!


LS: Its not you its true. Emojis are trending harder than a priests cock during Sunday  School, no emoji for that yet.




SD: I love people watching. But only wild people in their natural habitat like bars. In the wild I more enjoy watching wild animals.


LS: WTF is up with ball bag bleaching??! Bars are prime people watching spots for sure.


SD: I never heard of that. I’m surprised they don’t have carbon dioxide shots in your dick if you want it more pink and aryan. Kinda like how they inject beef with that whizz.


LS: 3rd Reich Erection. Ground Beef Injections?!




SD: I would get my anal bleaching, but no one has ever ate my ass and said you have a pitch black asshole or nothing.


LS: I heard saline solution administered to the scrotum for fetish purposes.


SD: That sounds like dick torture.


LS: Actual asshole racist! LMFAO! I heard of using snake poison extraction suction cups to enlarge nipples.


SD: Some guys have multi colored dicks. I heard of mayo for that, nipple enlargement.


LS: Great name! Knock Knock. Who’s there? DETECTIVE DICK TORTURE SUCKER.




 


SD: It was on love phones though and it was like dr. Ruth it was some bitch calling in.


LS: I seen multi colored dicks in porn over the years and what the fuck is up with that shit?!


SD: My sister and I used to listen to that to learn about sex cuz its not like we were taught much in school.


LS: Alopecia of the Penis???


SD: Idk this Italian kid was friends with it was like half brown and half albino LOL.


LS: School was “Don’t touch each others crotches or you’ll get pregnant and contract every STD known to man.” How does that combo work exactly? Brown Vs. Albino in the War of the Weiner?!


Sd: Idk I didn’t sample the products just seen at nude beach. I was very proud of my body and blood of CHrist with a penis and xmas tree earlier.




LS: LMFAO! Brilliant!


SD: I think I’m gonna make a Twitter that uses only emojis if I get so bored after my game time runs out.


LS: I’m going to save this shit and consider posting it tomorrow. Not a shabby idea with time run out.


SD: No problem with me. As long as I don’t have to eat them mango hoagies I’m fresh.


LS: WAWA of the Damned, Hell’s Hoagies, Satan’s Sandwich, Demonic Deli Delights, Night of the Living Dead WAWA, Texas Chainsaw WAWA!!!!




SD: I’m gonna make a hoagie with prune spread for my enemies. Accept I’m gonna forget to buy the prunes and just spread my baker chocolate shit on them.


LS: Shit Sandwich! Enemies EAT SHIT! Rectal Revenge! Anal Apocalypse! Sphincter Slaughterama! Reconstructed Asshole 8?! It is what it is.


SD: The All Anal shopping network specializing in dildoes, laxatives, and small rodents.


LS: So if your a cannibal being told to eat a dick isn’t a bad thing? ASN Channel 976.




END TEXT TRANSMISSION.


This post is indicative of f-yourblog switching its format. We are going to be ourselves without pulling punches, biting tongues, beating around the bush or sugar coating shit.




We are by nature Obscene, Insane, offensive, insulting, Brutally Honest, In your face and up your ass, but most of all We don’t care about rules, limitations, regulations or codes of conduct, We embrace Anarchy not Assholes.


Thanks for The Read and Hope You Have the Balls To Come back.


Les Sober

	


	





	

		
		
A Fire Under My Arse
	


	
	
	

		
As I woke up feeling completely refreshed for the day at the everlastingly early hour of 9pm, I decided to do things different. This whole equinoxial load of crap had been taking its toll on me. Science says it has to happen but the far trappings of my mind are pure fire and brimstone.


Half and half? Half and half, you say? Well fuck that. Would you really want half and half in your daily life? I mean sure if you are my father you can put it in your coffee. The real world outside of your morning joe says oh the fuck no. Your wife is pregnant, so that is good. But the other half of you is on Maury being told emphatically, “You are NOT the father!!!!”.


You could have only gotten half the answers right on a test. You work at a bank and randomly decided to give half the people the right amount of money. You get halfway to an orgasm. So yeah the general principal does suck a hell of a fucking lot. I want things to be whole. I want myself to be whole.


Truth is when it comes down to it, we are all just a bunch of fragments bunched up into the frame that we were given. Molded together however we so choose to be.


Enough of the crap though this is not why I am really here. I am ready to have a bowel movement. The good kind. The kind a doctor would loom over the toilet bowl peer down at and say, “Why that is a healthy shit sir!”


Don’t you worry though my friend. I am not taking it on you, you or you (yes you, you lazy fuck you know who you are). My sphincter has its eye set on one person and one person alone. That is you Ms. Tori Amos. (thank you Less for getting me all riled up)


The thing is though I haven’t really always hated Tori Amos. In fact, I was one of her biggest fans. I bought all her albums, her b-sides, went to the shows. I even planned to follow her cross country, but alas that is an ill-fated tale for a blog never to be written.


I will say one nice thing about her though and a bit of a counterpoint to Less. Yes, her lyrics are extraordinarily vague but half of artists out there are vague as fuck and then the other half are Justin Bieber and friends. This is actually one of her stronger points. If it’s all spelled out in black and white sure more people might relate. Vagueness does inspire a certain group of haters. I should know I prefer to be vague as it is much better to maneuver around half truths, unspoken words, and the like.


Still though for years and years, I had this deep admiration for this woman. Call it youthful ignorance, call it what you may. I met some of the best friends I had ever had because of the love shared for her. It was a bit Me and A Gun.  Other times it was a Sorta Fairytale and A Cloud on My Tongue.


That all changed on one fateful night. Ten years ago. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I got to meet my hero or well anti-hero. I did not know what to expect.  Someone who was charming and wanted to meet her fans was a good start in my head. I did not want to come across as too cheery but who am I kidding? There is only person in the world who can make me that cheery. Thank you Molly.


This waif of a woman walked over. She was a hell of a lot fucking smaller then I had ever imagined. I mean she is a woman and I did not expect her to be Brienne of Tarth. She just looked like someone who I would walk up to on the street and be compelled to pull a cookie out of my pocket and feed to her. That cookie, you know, I may even have to chew it for her. I instantly knew what the song Girl Disappearing was about it. It was about this cokehead chick.


So you know the celebrity jitters like instantly wore off and my mom’s voice saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything” came rushing through my head. My friend Taylor spouted off some kind of soapy bullshit and had me take a selfie. Then it was my turn. I may have said something nice or how my other friend plays her by ear I’m not really sure. She was just so uninterested that I kinda soaked in the same general vibe. Maybe she caught my aghast scowl.


That night changed me. It was like the last bit of childhood naivety being ripped from my chest. It started the moment I was 10 and found out on the news that the Tooth Fairy was a fraud. It ended with you Tori Amos.


I must say as uninterested as you were meeting the fans with your generalized look of Feed Me, I’m A Professional Widow on your face you did put on one hell of a show. In fact the best I had seen until I had the chance to witness Pearl Jam several years back. It was a cold rainy autumn evening and the playlist was reflective of the sort. Then the song that changed it all played. Famous Blue Raincoat. It was the song that played my innocence off the stage, out of the building, into the ether.


I cannot blame you for all this directly so maybe this blog is more of a Hershey squirt and less of a dirty Sanchez for you. I probably should be thanking Leonard Cohen just as much for that song, but it was you who took me there.  I guess that song playing itself out with my one of my greatest loves I will ever have taking his life and the other love in my life rapidly becoming dead to me.


I could not relate as much to your music, mostly the new albums you dropped. In just that one moment, something shut off inside of me. It may be a good thing, there’s been more calculation and clarity since that moment. I guess opinions vary on the end of innocence.


Everything though about that night. I had to wear sunglasses at the show because of the lighting, I realized that my epilepsy was real and would have to live with it. Just so much of a flood of horseshit that at the time I could not even recognize. So Tori Amos… I have a few choice words for you. Fuck you. Thank you. I’ll Make Sure to Wipe.


 


By Spacedog

	


	





	

		
		
Our Animal Farm
	


	
	
	

		
I’m definitely what people would call an Animal Lover, and yes the cliche is true I love Animals and Despise People. I started to think about all the different pets I have had the pleasure of sharing my chaotic life with over the years, and for prosperity (Mine) decided to do what I do and make a list. I decided to use a timeline format to help grouping and increase clarity. First is the species followed by the pets name.


Growing Up Age: 3 Days Old to 18


A Golden Retriever: Tasha (My Dad’s 1st Dog)


DSH Cat: Little Bit (My Mom’s Cat)


Lhasa Apso: Chuzzle (Suffered chronic ear infections that led to an aggressive and undesirable behavioral problems, but we stuck by him just the same until his natural demise.)




Age 19 years old to 27 years old:


Maincoon Mix: Al (Alize) (was a 5 week old kitten rescued from a dumpster and deflated by hand by a neighbor of mine)


PitBull: VooDoo (Was the last puppy of a litter my co-worker was selling, but her landlord found out and demanded she rid the residence of all Puppies)


Lhasa Apso Mix: Jimbo (I became Jimbo’s Owner abandoned him at the kennel I was working at.)


Iguana: Tribe (A rescue, his previous owner was some kid who ended up going to collage and stuck the unwilling parents with the Iguana)


Bearded Dragon: Drivil (was re-homed to me again due to the fact the child wanted it and the parents ended up taking care of it though they obviously didn’t want to>)




 


Ages 27 years old to Current Age:


Iguana: Gizmo (was captured in the wild by a co-worker who asked me to iguana sit and then ditched him with me)


Pug/Boston Terrier Mix: Rascal (Adopted from Animal Shelter)


Maine Coon (cat): Big Kitty (Was a rescue from an Animal Shelter)


African Chameleon: Not Sure if he/she came with a name. (It was a re-homing as the previous owner bought it as an impulse buy and had decided perhaps that wasn’t the best idea he had ever had.)


Blue Tongue Skink (Lizard): Hook (Hook got his name due to a previous owners neglect that led Hook to self cannibalize, he ate all 4 of his legs, which over the following years became to regenerate. He was re-homed because his owner was suffered a severe head injury while serving in the Military)




Rat: Snafoo (Snafoo spelled this way is short for Snake Food which is what it was intended to be yet the snake gave it a get out of jail card if you will.)


Adabeece: Colombian Rainbow Boa Constrictor (Re-Homed because the owner had to move back home and her parents wouldn’t allow the snake sanctuary)


Monty: Ball Python (Again Re-Homed to me when I worked in a Veterinarians Office because the owner couldn’t treat the snakes chronic dry skin issue. Monty had made a full and significant recovery and if currently fat and happy.)


Love Birds (2): Frick and Frack (I received the love birds from an owner who had accumulated too many to handle appropriately.)


Mollies (fish): Too Many Too Name Individually (Were given to me when a friend of mines shitty girlfriend made him get rid of them.)




Ferrets: Judas (found wondering the streets by a dumpster by some kid who brought him into the Vet’s office I was working at.)


Kabuki: My Wife Bought Him for Me and to give Judas a playmate.


Frankenstien: Came from a co-worker at the Vets office My wife worked at


BooBoo: Re-homed by a friend/co-worker at the Vet office my wife worked in.


Scarlet: Re-homed when her companion died.




English Bulldog:Bubba (We got Bubba when his owner decided he didn’t give a flying fuck about the Dog because he was old and had old man issues, and the Vet I worked for took custody of Bubba from the owner to prevent further neglect, and I ended up bring him home the end.)


DSH Cat: Inky (Was my Wife’s Cat, a package deal who was a stray from the mean streets of NJ)


DSH Cat: Bradshaw (we ended up re-homing Bradshaw to a dear friend because he and Inky actually tried to kill one another, proof animals are capable of hate.)




Hermit Crabs: Various Absurd Names like “The Monster Clint”(I got obsessed with hermit crabs and had a 300 gallon tank that was empty so I decided to convert it into a Hermit Crab “City”)


2 Snapping Turtles: Mrs. Snaps and Mr. Chomps (I ended up rehoming the turtles to a neighborhood acquaintance who had vast experience and love working with wild animals. Last I heard she was feeding them raw Chicken.)




French Bulldog: Dozy (was re-homed to us by a breeder and dogs how pro who decided that she wanted to back to breeding and showing Boxers so she retired all her French Bulldogs, Dozy was a prolific champion who I heard many other dog show people were happy to see go.)


English BullDog: Wally (Re-homed to us when his owner realized he was working more and more which left less and less time for Wally who was stuck in his crate too much for too long.)




DLH Cat: KiKi (Was re-homed to use by an owner who could no longer keep her)


DSH Cat: Mouse (We got Mouse when a dear friend died, Mouse had both her eyes removed at 6 weeks of age due to brutal ulcers that were destroying her eyes.)


DSH Cat: Scooter (Belonged to the same dear friend, BUT was snuck into our house while we were away by our friend. Scooter spent the first part of his life with us holed up in a bedroom closet. He since has broken out of his shell to the point I wish sometimes I could put him back in.)




Miniature Dachshund: Lolly (Lolly came to us from a breeder, see Lolly is white which is synonymous with birth defects. Lolly is completely Deaf and 1/2 blind, but the happiest little fucker I have ever seen.)


DSH Cat: Schmoo (Named for the constant meow meets scream that she made as a kitten. My wife found Schmoo crying under a bush outside our house while hanging Christmas Lights.)


2 Lab/Rottweiler Mixes: Dingus (Gus for Short) and Nymh (Dingus and Nymh are brother and sister puppies we found sitting on the side of a dirt road notorious for illegal Dog Dumping. After we drove past them my Wife called my attention to the review mirror where I saw the Pups chasing after our car for all it was worth.)


 


Thats That for now until another Misfit falls into our laps.


Thanks for the Read as Always,


Les Sober




 

	


	





	

		
		
Tori Amos: A Quick Clarification
	


	
	
	

		
It’s no secret that I’m about the farthest fucking thing from a Tori Amos fan, not by a long shot. I find her music extremely melodramatic with  Heavy Piano, it the only music  that makes Emo look like it has balls. Amos’s Lyrics are Vague and as for “singing” Amos opts to howl, wail, and Yodel her way through every damn song like she’s America’s answer to Iceland’s Bjork.


Its also no secret that Tori Amos has had a long torrid love affaire with cocaine. Tori Amos is essentially a life long cokehead and it shows in her so called music.




There is a popular Tori Amos song (who’s title surprise, surprise I don’t know) BUT the Chorus is;


“God sometimes you don’t come through…”


To be crystal clear Amos’s is not making a profound statement about a religious deity. She is making a exclamation about her Coke Dealer.




Now I’m no Saint or anything resembling one and I’ve been in the situation Tori Amos finds herself in as far as the subject matter pertaining to this song. Its definitely one of the shittiest feelings know to all mankind to be Coked out of your mind tweaking like a Son-Of-A-Bitch and you can’t get a hold of your Drug Dealer.


The intense feeling of utter desperation taxed heavily with anxiety and uncontrollable racing thoughts/pulse, pounding heartbeat, Paranoia, and the intense craving is one of the reasons drug addicts question why they do the drugs they do when their Sober.




The most fucked up thing is I really hate Cocaine, I was never into stimulants, Depressants were my favorite drugs. What I mean by that is Coke made me feel more not less. So I haven’t done Cocaine in 14 years and have no plan to indulge in it ever again.


Thanks For The Read,


Les Sober