Tag: Personal Experience

Life Without Beer??? WHAT!!!

So recently I decided as an experiment to put down the beer for 2 weeks. I put down the hard liquor and all that other stuff and drugs, but couldn’t help myself to a few whipits, I mean the jackassed government only gives me $14 of food stamps a month and I can’t use this on smokes or beer so what better.

So I did this experiment, still felt like shit and got drunk. I went overboard but whatelse is new. Hard liquor, control, and my presence usually equal drama. For as little drama as I supply sober, I more then make up a few shots, no wait it really only takes one drink to get the drama train started.

Yeah blah blah blah. So I went back to beer. Drama really doesn’t happen with beer unless I’m drinking because I’m sad and well I’ve only done that drink beer sad thing twice in the past year. First time ended with a broken emergency supply kit in my vehicle (and a very angry friend’s grandmother who wants to crucify me) and the second time ended with a seven hour phone call. Maybe longer. Not sure, was worshipping the porcelin god in my bathroom.

So twice in a year isn’t so bad. It’s far worse with hard.

Long story short. I think I have a gluten allergy. Which means no beer!!!! I can get over the lack of chips and pretzels and processed crap and bread but no beer!!!!

All I know is I am A LOT happier the past week and certain ailments (most notably dry skin and random happy 31st birthday acne) have mystically cleared up.

Right now, I feel like Courtney Love probably felt when she was becoming an actress like, “Oh shit I need to put on a dress AND underwear??? And pose like a lady ??? And not get drunk that bad!!!!???? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!”.

Well she only lasted well maybe a year or two before she was drunk and screaming at Madonna on MTV.

Anyway that’s how I feel. I am not ready to put on professional people clothes and wear ties and drink glasses on wine with equally stuffy people sipping on cosmos. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

I mean I’m more a box of wine type, but there’s no good place to put that in my car. It’s like when I used to travel with my hooka, it was great company for trips by oneself but I like red wine and I’m a bit of a mess.

So does anyone have ideas of either A) What I should drink? B) Where I should drink? OR C) The next establishment they would like to see me banned from. (and YES I have not been bannished from anywhere since “ASSGATE” in Philly. Almost 3 years ago!!!!!)

Brought to you by,

SpaceDog

 

The Rule of 3 and How It Used to Be

What the fuck killed customer service I ask you?! It was a sudden death by any means, but a long lingering demise whose death rattle has yet to shake the bed. Its bad enough that now a days they have those goddamn Automated Messages calling to try and sell me shit. Back in the day at least I had some satisfaction at being able to tell an actual human to fuck off. Now what am I supposed to do? Insult the fucking thing by telling it it’s mother is a Tape Recorder that eats 8 track ass? Ok enough of that tangent now back to the point.

When I was growing up a great thing was there was NO Automated Anything, and that includes when one had to call  Customer Service for assistance. Today you have to deal with an Automated System that doesn’t understand what your saying, wastes 20 minutes of your time essentially going “I Don’t Understand” until your fucking insane, and then you get the option to speak to a living human being. Automation Menu’s aren’t the only change to Customer Service by a long shot.

Not only did I not have to deal with Automation Menus when I was younger, but the actual people I talked to were a far cry from the shit you have to deal with today. Back then the Customer Service Representatives damn well knew what Customer Service was. Look granted being in the Customer Service field fucking sucks big time because you have to spend 8 hours listing to people bitch and complain (or worse like curse you out or become insulting), but the fact is there are people who could and would do just that God bless them.

Its no secret that no matter what fucking job you have Cardiologist to Janitor at some point your going to have to Eat Shit (Its the same in  one’s personal life as well). Eating Shit is an unavoidable part of Life, theres nothing you can do about it but o just accept it and go on living for Christ’s Sake. I mean why do you think the saying “Eat Shit” is woven into our modern-day lexicon to begin with (there is also the prevalent saying “Shit Happens” as well don’t forget) It could be argued at this point in time that the phrase Eat Shit is a Lingual Icon. I know this post as stayed a bit here and there, but Sit Happens and if you don’t dig that then Eat Shit.

Now back to the point…..

For all those tuning in late or just skimming this post I’m writing about the difference between Old School Customer Service Vs. The Bullshit Customer Service of Today. As I mentioned at the beginning the first abomination is the Automated System which accomplishes nothing but wasting 20 to 30 minutes of your time as it simultaneously frustrating the Caller to the point of actual insanity. Then once the Caller has run the complete Automated Gauntlet they have the ability to talk to a living person.

The First Customer Service Rep. sounds like fucking Eeyorre the clinically depressed Donkey from Winnie the Pooh. I can picture the fuckers sitting slouched down inter seats, shoulders hunched over, eyes half open staring vacantly at a Computer Screen, just waiting to fucking die right there at work no less. A Caller then has to battle this emotionless and utterly unhelpful Pion’s (who’s more than likely making a noose out of their headset chord to hang themselves from the Florescent Soul Sucking office lights) monotone malarkey before the consent to allowing the Caller to speak to an alternate human being.

The Second Customer Service Rep. is some asshole who sounds like he’s bored out of his fucking mind, despises their job, and seems annoyed that the caller is bothering them. The Caller now must combat this Slacker Mentality while getting next to no where to the point The Caller feels as though they are just torturing themselves, and wonder is this shit worth it?!! If the Caller can get past this Snarky, Snide, and Often rather Rude individual asshole The Caller can advance to the next Customer Rep.

The Third Customer Rep turns out to be a throw back to the Golden Age of Customer Service. These Rep.’s are polite and professional, and this makes them extremely helpful as they can usually solve most problems rather quickly. If there is a larger issue at hand these Rep.’s will stay on the phone doing anything and everything they can until the problem is resolved. And even in the few rarer cases if after doing all they possible can to actually help a Caller they will leave you with a recommendation on how to further proceed because they really do want to help. The Rep.’s are the true blue backbone of the dying Customer Service Field, and Bless these Blissful Beings to the Four Corner’s of the Earth.

My final point is this the Companies that hire the first two types of Customer Service Reps to fucking begin with. Its enough bullshit to endure the Automated Assault, but then to follow it with yet another 2 shit shows. This is why I’m fucking sick of Big Companies/Corporations whining and crying like spoiled brats that there is no more Employee or Customer Loyalty. If you want more motherfucking money PROVIDE BETTER FUCKING CUSTOMER SERVICE, Because Without Customer’s Your No Longer a Business Man Your An UNEMPLOYED ASSHOLE.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober  

The Tale of The Hellacious Hospital

I was 13 years old and it was the beginning of Summer Vacation. The first 2 weeks went splendidly as all I did was fuck off with friends all day, and cause minor trouble as our Town was boring as shit. Then one random morning I woke up with what felt like the worst cramp of my life in my lower left side. In addition I was nauseous as all get out as the pain increased to the point I walked virtually bent over at the waist. After a couple of days of this my Parents took me to our family Doctor. It took him less than 30 seconds to double check his almost instant diagnosis, and then informed us it was Appendicitis that would require immediate treatment. So instead of heading off to camp the next day I headed off the the local Hospital.

Now Appendicitis (along with Tonsillitis) are the two easiest fucking things not only for a Doctor to Diagnose its equally as easy for a Surgeon to remedy through simple Surgery. As one might imagine it plays out as your sick, you go to doctor, doctor makes his/her diagnosis, go strait to the nearest Hospital, get Admitted, and then immediate Surgery. This is specially important for Appendicitis as the longer it goes untreated the higher the risk it could rupture causing Secondary Infection(s) a real bitch.

Well thats not quite how it went with me thats for fucking sure. The first part went normally until I arrived at the Hospital as shit went down hill from there rather quickly. Now once I was admitted in stead of preforming the needed immediate (not quite an emergency but pretty damn close) Surgery they did the exact opposite they waited. They waited for the sole fucking reason of using me as a case example for the small Army of Interns. The next 36 or so hours Doctors came in and poked and prodded the shit out of me in-between marching in groups of 6-10 Medical Students/Interns?Residents.

Nothing like lying in the Hospital as your Summer Vacation rots away, but to be treated like a fucking Lab Animal was the worst of it all. Doctor’s are such disconnected Cunts, they really are. Doctor’s have no what they call Bedside Manner, and Bedside Manner translates to Talking/Treating the Patient like a human not a project. So all these Medical Motherfucker’s keep parading in apparently whenever the fuck they felt like it.

Finally they preformed the Surgery or Appendectomy, and shit went back to normal as far as protocol was concerned. I hung out post Opp for a day or so and the Hospital Released Me. Once again I settled into a regular Summer Routine until one day I woke up sick as a dog. I a fever, Cold Sweats, Nausa, Diarrhea, No Appetite, and all that Super fucking Flu symptomatic shit. Again after several days it became apparent this wasn’t a cold, flu or food poisoning and I went back to the Doctor. He couldn’t tell us the root cause, but he did strongly advise taking me back to the Hospital and my parents did.

Long story Shorter I was readmitted, examined, and tested. The Doctor’s came to the conclusion that (and this is the only fucking way we found out this even happened as in They never said shit about it) because my Appendix had in fact Burst that there were 2 pockets of Infectious Puss lingering around the Surgical site like two Sepsis Clouds. The Doctor’s next task was to locate the pockets of infection, and then administer proper treatment due on location alone.

Long story shorter I had to go through 2 additional Surgical Procedures to actually drain the infections. Now of these 2 Procedures I’m only going to take the time to address is the first of the two. This is how it all went down. One of the Diagnostic Tests was an MRI which located the pockets of infection in the first place. Now based on the MRI Results the Doctor’s opted to preform this fucked up little maneuver. This one must remember was in the days LONG before Twilight Anesthesia was even considered. In spite of lacking the current anesthetic options of today came over to me (I’m shirtless and still laying prone on the MRI Machine arms stretched above head) and inform me their going to attempt to drain one of the pockets of infection right then and there. Their reasoning was that it was very close to “the skin” if by that you mean under all 5 layers of skin and then the subsequent muscle. They then I shit you not hit me with 17-21 shots of Novocaine in my abdomen as Anesthetic.

Then this little feeble wobble of a man came out of the control room and over to me. This guy looking like a goddamn 5th grade Science teacher mustache, Bowtie, and all. This douche informs me that he is going to take a  very thin needle (about 2 feet long I shit you not) and then jam it into my abdomen. From there he is going to manual suck out the puss and shit with a large syringe attached to the other end of the motherfucking needle.

Things didn’t start well as the Fat Fuck stabbed me and fucking missed the Soft Ball sized pocket of infection in spite of being able to see exactly where the fuck it was. Once we withdrew the needle he had to insure there was no internal bleeding by pushing down with all his might (not to mention body weight) on the injection site. He then manages to finally after over a fucking hour of this horse shit torture got the job essentially done. To this day if I ever see this Guy on the street I’m going to stab him repeatedly in his fucking fat little face with a rusty Screw Driver, Just Saying.

With the pockets of infection drained I spent a few more days on intravenous Antibiotics, and then sent on my way once again. Summer was back on track for the next 3 weeks anyway. See this is where shit gets really weird. I woke up one day exhibiting the exact same symptoms of Appendicitis though my Appendix for all incentive purposes had been Surgically removed over a month ago at this point. Needless to say I was off to and readmitted to the Hospital. I honestly have no fucking clue why my parents would take me back to that Shithole Hospital for a 3rd time, but I digress under protest.

Long story shorter the Doctor’s spent days subjecting me to what turned out to be every test in the fucking book to No Avail. The Doctor’s were perplexed as they to couldn’t figure out how a surgically removed Appendix could affect someone with a classic example of Appendicitis. After toiling away with machines and men in the Lab they were no closer to finding the reason. Exasperated and exhausted the Doctor’s came to talk to us about what the fuck to do. The Doctor’s started by stating the now obvious that regardless of all the fucking tests, everything for all intensive purposes looked absolutely normal.

This left the Doctors with only one last option and that was to do an Exploratory. See Exploratory Surgery sounds all nice and fucking official with a hint of NASA to it, but here is what Exploratory Surgery is in Laymen’s terms. Exploratory Surgery means going more Medieval in Medical Methods. That is the Doctor’s can’t figure out why your sick so they actually cut you open, and literally poke around like a car mechanic under the hood of a car. Thats it, they slice you open to actually see if they can find shit out first hand since the million dollar machines produced shit as far as results.

What they found was truly intriguing. Since the Scumbags waited so long before operations that my Appendix had ruptured, and ruptured spectacularly (meaning huge amount of infectious collateral damage) that we all knew already. The Doctors went on to explain that the middle of my Appendix blew the fuck up when the Appendix ruptured, and when the Surgeon went in initially  he removed the base or bottom part of the affected Appendix. Now what no one could have foreseen the Tip of the Infected Appendix broke off with a independent blood supply (not sure to this day exactly what the hell that means), and then slid down by my right Kidney. Once it reached my right Kidney it proceeded to hug up against it so tightly that on tests it just appeared to be part of the Kidney’s natural exterior.

The odd thing (at the time it didn’t compute with my parents) was my Parents were approached several times by various Doctors not associated with my case reassuring them the Hospital handled my case fine, and all this other shit was unavoidable. What that says to me is “We fucked up bad, but we don’t want to get the shit sued out of us so we’re backpedaling to save our asses with False Reassurances.

Any who for all the bullshit, time, and consequent suffering I did achieve one thing note worthy. On the Medical History for said Hospital I’m on the Books as the only Patient to have His Appendix out Twice.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident

Preface:

There a couple of things I feel it is imperative that I mention before our story begins.

  1. My dear friend The Arminian was dating this girl named Ivy Savage for a while. The relationship was short and ended in a total full blown Shit Show.
  2. Ivy Savage is not her legal birth name, nor has she changed it legally either. Point being I didn’t change her real name to Ivy Savage.
  3. This story took place many moons ago when I dealt drugs. At the time of this story I and my partners in crime had a batch of LSD called Black Magic. BM got its name for the Black Abstract Swirling Design on one side. BM was the strongest acid We ever had by far, and because of that We cut the Hits in half and sold them as regular Tabs.

Ladies & Gentalmen here for the first time ever, I give you Ivy Savage and The LSD Incident!

It was one of those long monotonous summer days the kind where you feel like you’ve been suspended in time and space. The Armenian and I decided to forego collage to loitering around town selling drugs. Our trademark drug if you will, the one we were best known for was our LSD.

We had just picked up 3 new sheets of blotter acid from our connection who was some weird androgynous motherfucker named Sam Antha  that we met along our travels. It was a friend of a friend type deal, and we met him when we where looking to score some weed. For some reason I always felt the urge to hit him which I never did, but dear god did I want to.

That day we were bumming around Ivy’s parent’s house in the Upper Middle Class Suburbs with its large houses and big green lawns. It just so happened Ivy’s little brother Tidbit was also hanging around with a few of his Preppy wannabe be Hippy friends.

Now killing time was a fucking art form where I’m from, and thats why all the kids did was drink/drugs was out of nothing more than sheer boredom. I was out on the backyard deck drinking beer and smoking pot with The Armenian when Tidbit came outside to join us. Tidbit inquired about obtaining some acid so We hooked him and his little buddies up. When Ivy found out she got pissed off but not why you may think. She wasn’t angry because We hooked Tidbit up with the acid, but rather that she would have to keep an eye on him and she had her own drugs to do.

Tidbit and his Pals went off to his room to drop the acid and listen to classic rock like the cliques the were. The Armenian and I continued to party out on the deck while Ivy darted about franticly ranting about god knows what. Ivy was doped up on a cocktail of pharmaceutical drugs for being completely batshit crazy so we tended to ignore her when she started bugging out. The Armenian finally talked Ivy off the ledge (which was no small task I assure you) and she was sitting on the couch drinking Gin out of a Tea Cup.

We were sitting around the living room having decided to abandon the deck for the A/C inside when We heard a commotion. We could make out that it was coming from upstairs so We went up to investigate what was happening. The noise got louder as We reached the 2nd floor, and We could establish the sound coming from the Bathroom. Tidbit’s friends were no where in sight to shed any light on the current state of affairs. The Armenian leaned towards the bathroom door so he could hear a bit better and reported it was Tidbit but he had no idea what the issue was. At last We figured We had only one choice and that was to open the bathroom door and see for ourselves and thats what We did.

Once We flung the bathroom door open We saw Tidbit sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. He had this look a combination of shock, awe, and trama that left him looking utterly horrified. I then asked Tidbit what in the hell was his problem was and no one was prepared for his answer.

Tidbit told us that he was tripping balls and had to talk a shit so he went to the bathroom, sat down, and got ready to handle his business. Apparently half way through the process things went slightly astray. When asked to elaborate further because unless this was an LSD inspired celebratory shit scenario he had more explaining to do. That is when Tidbit said

“I came in here to take a dump and my shit fucked me in the ass, I know what its like to be Gay.”

The Armenian and I broke into instant laughter and were shoved abruptly into the hall by an irate Ivy. Ivy managed to calm Tidbit who then retreated back into his room. I have no idea what he told his Pals about what happen if at all, but I do wonder from time to time.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

Varieties of Pain

I am writing this blog about pain not because I am feeling creative but I am in pain. All I will say about that is knee and tooth pain. Unfortunately (or fortunately for those of you who like my blogs) these, I think, are two of the worst places to have it. I meaning eating and walking are two things most people (other then Terri Schiavo) have to do every damn day.
OK so on to the good shit.

The types of pain

I’m really just going to go with three types of pain, since the three things I’m about to say would pretty much cover anything you are going through unless you want to be an asshole and try to make categories into subcategories  You know who you are you are the dumb asses who say Australia is not a continent it’s just an island or antarctica is not a continenet cuz no one lives there.

So there is emotional pain. This one is pretty boring and can usually be resolved with enough liquor and either a few quick and fast lays or 6 hours of venting while drunk as hell. You pick your poison. Are you old school Madonna (spreading it like a virgin) or are you Celine Dion (spreading it for your manager who is like 50 and you are 14)?

Physically pain is pretty boring too. I think, personally, the worst pain (other then detoxing off drugs) that someone can go through is tooth pain. I am not really taking into account childbirth because that is like expected pain. I mean duh you are gonna be in pain, that’s not why you got knocked the hell up but bloody yes you did so if you go on talking for 3 bloody weeks about it, well then yes golly jeez we don’t care anymore. Send us some pic of your retard kid on an xmas card and shut up, that’s what normal people do,

Then HOLY JESUS yes.

There is spiritual pain. I do not know a whole lot about this in the traditional sense of the word, however I have been known to do a bit of Santeria in my day (I still freakin love it when they look at me like I’m a crazy white person in their store) Ha lets just say I’ve had one really successful spell and a mirade of ones that didn’t go so good. Well I don’t believe that’s what is causing my physical pain but you never know.

CONCLUSIONAY

Anyhoo, I have been wanting to write more. I have soooo many topics in my head to write just about anything however this pain is keeping me away from just about everything in the world. 🙂

But look yes I still smile, yes I still try to live and yes my ass needs to see the doctor, but I am really really lazy and dont like surgery. lol.By SpaceDog  

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures.                                       (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim  Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

The Tale of Two Hospitals

Where We moved in the Southern Country there is a choice if need be of 2 different near by Hospitals. On one hand there’s the local Applesburg County’s Lemon Hospital, and on the other you have Poseidon Hospital in the neighboring County of East Chuck Town.

As far as Poseidon is concerned They are excellent, great staff, kick ass nurses, and damn good doctors. I can testify to this first hand as I spent several days there last month for a little heart issue. Poseidon was as wonderful as We were told by everyone We met a true 5 star facility. Once I was released from Poseidon when I talked to someone the FIRST thing they would say (even before asking “How are You”/”How are You doing?”) was that I was Lucky (or that it was “Wonderful/Great/Good” etc.) that I ended up going to Poseidon Hospital instead of Lemon.

Now Lemon Hospital IS A MUCH DIFFERENT STORY ALL TOGETHER!

The Locals actually have a saying about Lemon Hospital that goes like this “Go to Lemon Hospital if You want to DIE.” (The emphasis on die)

In fact Lemon’s reputation has been so shitty for so long people will do pretty much anything in their power to avoid being taken there. The most popular way to assure that the Ambulance takes you too Poseidon is to drive yourself (or have someone drive you if your not capable) just over the boarder between Applesburg and East Chuck Town, and THEN call 911.

This method has become so preferable that a Local Gentlemen started his own “County Line Shuttle Service”. So if your sick or injured, can’t drive yourself, and don’t have anyone else who can drive you then you can call this Gentleman. He will then pick you up at your current location, and drive you over the County line where he will even call 911 on your behalf.

Now this insanely honest and unanimous view of Lemon Hospital is curiously compelling. Its gotten to the point where one of these days I’m going to drive the 50 minutes from my house to Lemon Hospital just to see this Horror Show of a Hospital. I can only imagine based on what I have been told what this Hell Hole Hospital must actually look like.

For example I imagine there is blood splattered everywhere on damn near everything, and severed body parts strewn all across the floor. There dead bodies on gurneys  lining the halls under flickering florescent lights. I imagine the Doctor’s all who barely graduated Medical School with a “D” or attended one of the finest Medical Schools in the Tropics. I imagine a skeleton staff comprised of workers who look more like corpses than living human beings working with outdated and flawed Medical Equipment. I imagine there is a Mortuary in the lobby as apposed to a Gift Store. I imagine mold on the walls of the Cafeteria with rather large Rats scurrying about amongst the Roaches. I imagine leaking pipes, rampant rust, pungent stench of sickness and death,over crowded rooms packed with the dying, moans and cries of doomed patients filling the musty, stagnant air, and filth encrusted walls, BUT I can only imagine for the time being.

Perhaps this will help explain my current morbid fascination with the Dreaded Lemon Hospital of Death or perhaps not.

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

Its Called Karma You Kreaton

I was down in The Great Southern Swamp for some hellish holiday shit when something rather odd happened.

My Wife and I were driving back to our temporary base camp when I saw a something peculiar out of the corner of my eye. I asked my Wife to hold up ,and turn into the small empty parking lot of some small business. I had her drive down to the far end and park. I got out and peered around the corner to see exactly what the fuck I saw because it look bizarrely different.

What I saw was an average run of the fucking mill garbage can (the one with a flip lid and rear wheels), BUT what was cool was someone had tagged the garbage can with yellow spray paint. The Artist had written the message “NCAH Will Bite You” on all 4 sides of the garbage can no less, and then topped it all off with a caveman like hieroglyph of what appeared to be some sort of cat looking animal. I decided it was odd enough I was going to take a few pictures to document the weirdness when I hear my Wife say “He’s just taking a picture.”

I stood up as I had squatted down for a better shot to see sizable Veterinary Technician lording over me. The big bald bastard must have been about 6’3″ or so 200 some odd pounds and was standing in front of me bowing his chest out. He had his arms hanging at his sides all tensed up like he was about to lunge at me, and all that macho male posturing primal bullshit. On top of it all the big son of a bitch was staring me down hardcore glaring at me like I told him to go fuck his mom.

I couldn’t figure out why the hell my taking a picture of a fucking garbage had illicit such a aggressive reaction. Second I thought fuck him in his big bald bitch ass the big bald bastard. So I stood up and simple explained the obvious that I saw the garbage can, thought it was rather bad ass, and wanted to take picture. This Big Bastard stood there not saying a fucking thing just glaring at me like I’m the asshole.

So I attempted to chat with the Big Bald Bitch because at this point I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on with this fucking whack job. He just kept up the silent tough guy like a hollywood action movie cliche. Finally the Bald fuck says “Its (the small business was) a Veterinary Clinic.”, and then went stone cold silent again like a shitty statue. I asked who NCAH meant to see if it was a place, organization, or business perhaps at which point the Big Bitch informs me it stands for NORTH CAL ANIMAL HOSPITAL in a cocksucking condescending tone of voice before going back to scowling at me.

Well I knew at this point there wasn’t fuck all I could do to reason with this Big Bald Bastard so it was time for me to get the hell home. I was half way back to the car when I turned around (still walking mind you) and said something like “I don’t see why your such an asshole… I just wanted a picture because its a cool picture I didn’t tag it you miserable fuck…You didn’t need to be a dick but you did you fucking asshole…fuck you, fuck off with that bullshit…Fucker…”

I get in the car as my Wife is telling the Big Bald Bitch that we’re leaving, when the Big Son of a Bitch say quite loudly “Why did it have to be that way??!” His question boggled my mind as I tried to figure out how big of a motherfucking ignorant idiot he really was. I couldn’t help myself and I yelled back “YOU DECIDED TO BE A FUCKING DICK, AND I DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MACHO BULLSHIT THATS WHY ASSHOLE.”

I can’t believe their actually People that are apparently like this gentlemen are simply too fucking stupid to live, how have they lasted this long honestly??!!

Thanks for the READ,

Les Sober 

 

My Decade of Debauchery : The Foreshadowing Preface

After High School I didn’t have a fucking clue what the hell to do. I was young, and hated authority in any form. Needlessly to say I was jobless and had NO DESIRE to ever enter the Workforce. I had no desire to become one of those poor people who waste the prime years of their life at work only to retire and resent it. I drank like a fucking fish while smoking cigarettes excessively from the time I opened my eyes to the time I passed the fuck out. I was on numerous illicit substances usually a combination of several daily morning, noon or night. I was what is referred to as a “Functioning Drug Addict” which simply means I can party my ass off and still function.

I  was EXTREMELY Opinionated and not afraid to state it no matter where or when I had an opinion on every fucking thing there was or is. My Mother I remember took me aside one day and said,”You have to watch your mouth because unless someone REALLY knows you at some point you’ll insult, offend, shock or anger someone, and their going to turn around and punch you in the face.”

I lived at home with my Mother as by then my parents had been divorced for a couple years. I also had the habit off pissing off one of my parents after a few months and then bailing to go live with my other parent. This was great for at one point I was living with my Father in a Dope Apartment in the center of town over a fancy ass restaurant, and was never there because of work and he was dating a good bit ( I met several women who’s names and faces I forget and don’t mind that I’ve forgotten.) So I had the place all to my self I had the entire run of the place. I digress for now that that is a completely different set of Stories all together, and I plan to save for another time.

I also had an extreme impulsive control issues as I had none at the time, with a horrendous temper I inherited from my Father (R.I.P) Whatever I thought to say I said and whatever I thought to do I did immediately without a single thought about any possible consequences. It was also true I had a Knack for getting in trouble, but ultimately I never suffered any serious side effects (Example: Getting Arrested Numerous Times)

I knew I needed cash to fund my” Low Life” life style and feed my various addictions as the grew bigger and badder over time. I was what is referred to by Narcotics Anonymous as a “Garbage Can” meaning we didn’t have one particular drug we craved and indulged in as opposed to others. I did them them all. I did whatever I could get my deviant hands on because my true drug was MORE. I never cared what it was just give me MORE AND MORE, but I”ll never be satisfied. I did Cocaine (I snorted and injected it), Smoked Crack, Shot/ snorted Heroin, Dropped Acid (Paper or Liquid), Ate Ecstasy and MDMA, Crystal Meth, Peyote, Micro Dots, PCP, and the some pills such as Vicodin, Xanax, Valium, but thank fuck I got out of the drug game before Pain Pills became EXTREMELY POTENT and READILY AVAILABLE. The one addiction I’m glad I narrowly avoided is/was gambling as I’m positive I suck at it from the get go, and would have lost even more shit in my life than I did with the Drink and Drugs.

I don’t include Marijuana because I don’t consider it a drug and remain a daily smoker.

With no prospects for a future outside of our shitty little town that we both despised with people we fucking hated Armenian and I decided to Sell Drugs. I don’t personally consider Marijuana to be a drug, but unfortunately the DEA decides these matters. With that said we dealt mainly in Pot, LSD and PCP. If we didn’t have what you wanted at the time we knew where to get it. This lead to a  good bit of middle man work done on our part and of course charge a finders fee which could be paid in cash or stash we weren’t picky per say.

Now the Armenian was dating this girl E which meant it wasn’t just me and Armenian it was a goddamn package deal. On top of that bullshit we found out an acquaintance of ours named Guru who happened to be selling the same shit in the same area. Armenian and I decided joining forces was better than fighting for turf and customers, yet E was highly opposed to the idea and protested loudly. In spite of her opinion Armenian and I proposed to Guru our merger idea and we partnered up.

Thats Enough of That Now with More to Come.

Les Sober 

The 1st Amendment & Cops Don’t Mix.

I have been waiting for a situation to present itself so I could argue my point and that being The 1st Amendment & Cops Don’t Mix. Well low and behold that situation I had been waiting for for so long finally arrived.

My Wife and I were driving through the neighboring town where my relative lives. We where on our way to their house because they were in Portugal on vacation, and they needed someone to feed the cat/water the plants while they were away. We had stopped off at the one and only Pizza Parlor to pick up a Pizza and when we pulled out of the parking lot I saw the Cop car sitting at the top of a side street with their lights off. The first thought that came to my mind was GODDAMN TRAFFIC BANDITS, FUCKING ROAD PIRATES! The Second was their unofficial require monthly quota of traffic tickets still existed regardless of its unofficial status. The third and the last thought was based on the so called “Gut Feeling” that I have had sporadicly from time to time throughout my life. Again the feeling was right . As soon as our rear bumper had passed by the front of their patrol car the motherfuckers pulled out with their shitty disco lights a blaze.

We were going a whopping 14 miles an hour (the town speed limit is 30 and every local knows the Cops set up speed traps and do traffic stops all along the main road.), but in this case we had just pulled out of the Pizza Parlor’s parking lot and had only driven 100 feet or so before getting tagged by the cocksucking cops.

The Cops then without pause turned on their PA system and told us over the loud speaker (incase we didn’t know because we’re utter fucktards what was going on or what to do) that we had to pull over. Main street is too narrow for there to be a traffic stop on the side of the road without impending traffic. So We were then instructed by said Cops to pull into the drive way on the right (which ironically was the local Police station/Court house/Town Hall/Jail) and we did. My Wife for some reason decided to pull over and put the car in park as opposed to the usual pulling over and turning the car/engine off. She then scrambled around the trash dump that is the interior of her car for all her proper paperwork, and luckily found it all in spite of the overwhelming mounds of trash.

The Cop strolled up to the drivers side of the car and addressed my Wife in the classic manner saying hey and asking for her drivers license, Proof of insurance and registration. My Wife being so polite it was making me ill immediately hands over all the appropriate requested information. The Cop then demanded to know if there were drugs/guns/explosives or any type of weapon/contraband in the car. I took acceptation to his overtly assertive Cop attitude, and opted to use my 1st amendment right to free fucking speech. I said No over my Wife and proceeded to let the Cops know they can search the car and us because there wasn’t shit on us. I did this because I hate how Cops are always trying to intimidate civilians in these and other situations. Heres a fun fucked up fact to prove what I just said to be true. First off to be a State Trooper you have to be 6 feet taller or taller. This is solely so when the Trooper is standing outside of your car they look more intimidating on purpose. State Troopers also use basic psychology for intimidation purposes such as wearing sunglasses. Its a scientific biological fact that if 2 people are talking and the 1st one is wearing sun glasses thus obscuring their eyes the 2nd one will become naturally unnerved as humans relay on eye contact quite heavily in social situations, but I digress.

The Cop falls into the stereotypical threatening Cop routine. The Cop aggressively tells us there trying to do things the easy way but they could do it the hard way. He then went on to explain that meant they’d search the car and us, call in a fucking K-9 unit and possibly arrest us solely based on our behavior while dealing with them (AKA Be Submissive like a scared fucking dog) This is when I took acceptation to the COp’s partner standing over my shoulder with his fucking  super duper halogen flash fucking light.

At this point I tried to reel myself in a bit and did my guttural mumbling. What guttural mumbling is my affectionate term for when I talk in a low, deep voice stringing along my words so only if you REALLY KNOW ME you’ll know what I’m saying. Think of it as me talking in my own personal short hand if you will. My Wife after 14 years of knowing me has the most expertise understanding/deciphering this garbled code of mine. I leaned over and said “Look Motherfucker What You Bout asshole” which simple translates to “Look at this motherfucker over here by me doing the whole unflinching authority rediric bullshit the fucking asshole that this asshole is. Fucking Asshole.” For the duration of this post I will simply write the translated version as not to tax the readers eyes unnecessarily.

The 1st Cop heres me but can’t for the life of himself figure out what the hell I’m saying, BUT he really wanted to know. So he asked me what I said and I responded by saying “I know its a safety issue with a broken tail light and should be fixed ASAP, but I don’t understand nor appreciate the overly aggressiveness nature of your handling it with, thats what I;m taking goddamn acceptation too.” The Cop obviously didn’t appreciate my response and launches into the “Is there and Drugs…in the Car” again to which I respond to ahead and search away, you won’t find shit and I can workout any legalities with my Attorney tomorrow.” Now the Cop REALLY didn’t like that answer. So the Cop actually says to my wife that I’m making them  nervous, and of course I had something to say about that shit. I told the Cop I think its fucking hilarious that there 2 grown men armed with Handguns, Mace, Night Stick/Baton and more than likely a shotgun in their car, BUT I’M making THEM Nervous? Seriously thats fucking moronic. The Cop continues to address my wife about what I’m saying and how its fucking everything up apparently when I made a second comment about his Partner still standing behind me unflinching like a fucking Nazi SS solider. As par of the course the Cop then asked me again what I said, and I repeated the same statement as before about dramatic overkill over a simply a broken tail light.

The Cop then suggests I role down my window and talk directly to his partner which quite obviously I didn’t  want to do. I rolled down the window in anywise realizing the Cop wasn’t making a suggestion, he was ordering me to do so. His partner asked why I was being so verbal and I said “Because I  can thanks to the 1st Amendment, and that We weren’t yelling/screaming, keeping cursing on my part to a stricter minimum, we were complying with the officers requests, nor were we being verbally or physically abusive rather I was just stating my opinion. The only issue that I was aware of was the Cops PERSONALLY taking acceptation to my opinions which is fine, BUT COPS LET PERSONAL FEELING DICTATE THERE PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT leading to abuse of power. An PRIME EXAMPLE of this is The Federal Court had to interject and inform the citizens of America that it is TOTALLY LEGAL and the right of every American Citizen to give the Police the middle finger (at any time or place). This was due to the fact Cops were being given the finger, and then in response they harassed the shit out of the person who flipped them off thusly abusing their Professional Power to deal with a Personal Problem.

Needless to say in the end I just opted to keep my mouth shut to avoid a felonious arrest by these Podunk Police Officers. The Cop’s partner went on to explain that he’s there for his partner’s and his safety as they don’t know who or what could be waiting when they walk up to a car. Fine that makes total sense and I totally agree. My point on that subject was it was unnecessarily over bearing and basically a dick move because he remained in his “Defensive Safety” stance far to long to be legitimate. I mean lets fucking face it, while he may be providing safety for himself and his partner the Cop NONE THE LESS was also using his position to visually search me and the interior of the car (i.e. He got real close and shined his fuck light into the glove compartment when My Wife put her personal information away. He was also seeing if his presence made us nervous as if we were hiding something from them, what the fuck happened to INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY?! Seems to me the Cops are conducting themselves under the gneiss of the opposite theory Guilty until proven innocent and THATS BULLSHIT, un-American, UNPROFESSIONAL and leads to POLICE CORRUPTION AND ABUSE, but thats a different story for another day.

Thanks for the Read,

Les Sober