Friday, May 29, 2009
I know a lot of blogs make fun of Tori for being fug, but she seems like a sweet person to me. And also, Tori's ass works hard for a living. I'd have just kissed Candy's ass, so I could get my share of daddy Aaron's fortune. Work is a four-letter word, motherfuckers!
I start with Samuel Clemens intentionally because he was a highly liberal anti-war southerner, an excellent writer and essayist, a humanist, and one of my favorite faces of all time. I once spent nearly fifty dollars on a biography of Clemens, simply for his photo on the book jacket. It was worth every damn penny, and it sits, turned to front, on my bookshelf.
Mr. Clemens personified the best qualities of an American. He spoke out when things were wrong, and he also made people laugh because he knew how difficult life was. His own life was very difficult, and when he lost his grown daughter on Christmas Eve, he said, "I never greatly envied anybody but the dead. I always envy the dead."
Sadly, in the end, Mr. Clemens pretty much gave up on "the damned human race."
I love Sam Clemens very dearly, and for those of you who are interested, there is a wonderful documentary available on him by Ken Burns. You can purchase it on Amazon.com. It is highly recommended. I own a copy my-damn-self.
And remember: There's always bleach cleaners, motherfuckers! SB can't take credit for that tip. That's an Official Malchik Tip.
Anyhoo, SB's fucking vision is IMPAIRED this morning, and I have a terrific headache. But maybe it was just the three GIANT Bloody Mary's my ass consumed last night. Can you say: Headache from Hell?
Packing is a bitch, peeps! It's much more civilized when cheap vodka is involved. And that shit is an OFFICIAL SB TIP.
Today is the Community-Wide Garage Sale here in Buttfuck, Ohio. You have NEVER IN YOUR MOTHERFUCKING LIFE seen anything like this shit here. It's a mid-western thing I guess--motherfuckers GO CRAZY for bargains at garage sales. If you are not careful (like on my way to work this morning), your ass will take out an elderly couple or some kids, running across the damn street to snap up garage sale goodies. Ohioans just lose their damn minds for a good garage sale! Mid-westerners are some thrifty-ass motherfuckers.
I know all of you, my beloved motherfuckers, who regularly read this blog would be happy to help my ass move if you lived in the area. Since you don't, I'm asking you to be there in spirit and to help me move virtually. Your asses are going to be virtually fucking tired come Monday!
I'll drink to all of you from the new place this weekend. I'll have a spare bedroom (unfinished at this point) and all of you readers (BUT NOT CHRISTIAN DAVE GEE--BLESS HIS HEART) are welcome to come and stay. Because who in this world could possibly die and not visit OHIO? You don't want to leave the Earth sphere and miss out on the mid-western experience, people! We have cornhole, motherfuckers! You haven't lived until you've gotten smashed and played CORNHOLE! One of my gay friends says he's really good at cornhole because he's played it most of his life. That shit cracks me up.
If you can pass on the damn cornhole, SB always has a well-stocked bar.
Have a great weekend, all!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Did SB mention that she is Pete Burns's NUMBER ONE AMERICAN FAN? I am unanimous in that shit.
Why can't people just let other people live their lives? What compels us as human beings to go around making other groups of human beings feel like they are less than? Mankind, my ass.
I was once having a fight with Mr. SB, and I told him angrily, "I am the Rainbow Coalition!" I AM, goddammit, and I'm pissed off on behalf of gay and sane straight people everywhere.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
--David Bowie disputing the theory of evolution, in the Toronto Sun.
Today's featured bulldog is one pimpin' jive-ass motherfucker. I just liked the damn picture. And it's my blog so I'm posting that shit.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
My ass is packing like a motherfucker, and frankly, I'm tired, damn it. I also sort of understandably have the SADS off and on, so bear with me peeps. I am not my usual fucking jocular self right now. Well, I sort of am--I just cry indiscriminately at the oddest times. Rosey Greer said that it's alright to cry, so fuck it--if I need to cry--I WILL cry, motherfuckers!
On a brighter note, I did sign up for the highest speed Road Runner, which will be hooked up this coming Monday, in preparation for future late night and weekend blogging. I also got the DELUXE cable package and a DVR, so I can become EVEN MORE of a stupid reality TV show watcher. I have a loft/library in the new house, but I will likely never read now that I can watch reality TV 24/7.
Fuck Sartre! My ass has BBC-America TV again!
Friday, May 22, 2009
I know DEET is not good for you, but I'd spray my damn ass down with Agent Orange if it would keep those bite-y little bitches away!
All of you peeps have a safe and happy and debauched holiday weekend. Watch you speed and wear you damn seat belts, because the po-pos are going to be out there ruining people's merriment and shit. They asses got to work, so y'all gone a suffer right along.
My ass will catch you on the flipside, motherfuckers!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Don't get me started on my feelings about X-mas (it's too damn early for that shit, motherfuckers!).
The good news is that since my ass is getting a divorce, I don't even have to acknowledge the damn holiday this year. I can hole up in my apartment with the furry kids and a case of Boone's Farm. Divorce has its good points.
As Dennis Hopper would say, "JELL-O? Fuck that shit!"
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Thanks for all the support yesterday, motherfuckers. My peeps are very precious to me. TEAR.
Do the chaps particularly disturb anybody else besides SB? That shit makes me queasy. I think I need a vodka tonic.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I also HIGHLY RECOMMEND Gleddy's post about English tits.
Maybe my ass will post tomorrow. As that bitch Scarlett O'Hara says, Tomorrow IS another day!
Hope all of you are having better days, and thanks for making the effort to come over to my blog and then walk away with dick, nada, nothing. I really do love you readers, even though I act like a tough non-caring hard-ass motherfucker.
SB loves her damn peeps!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
I tried to really garner Google search results and to reel in the old dependable Hugh Jackman fan base with the loin-stirring title of this post. Who doesn't want to see a SEXY HUGH JACKMAN PHOTO? Gay men like Hugh. Straight sisters like Hugh. Damn it to hell, we all like Hugh! He's just so damned nice.
I like the long hair on Hugh. What do y'all think? And if you don't like Hugh, or find him attractive IN ANY WAY, please tell us why in the comments section. Because we're nosy motherfuckers here at Sarcastic Bastard. Okay, SB is a nosy motherfucker. I can't speak for my readers.
If the reason you don't find Hugh attractive is too personal, and for instance, you were born without genitals, you are excused from sharing, but still encouraged to do so.
Eminem is Lou's homeboy. I love the Dr. Bronner's, but fuck if I'd brush my damn teeth with it. That shit is bar soap, motherfuckers!
My brother once got his mouth washed out with soap, and he went and got a wet wash cloth to try and wipe it out. That just made it worse. He looked like a damn rabid doberman before that shit was all over!
The link to the story is below and is from my idol, Michael, over at Dlisted. I totally laughed my ass off. Michael is WAY funnier than I will ever be.
Running is a great way to keep your pussy in shape!
Link to post: http://dlisted.com/node/32065
I don't know why I am so damn fascinated with Harvey, but I am. SB is touched by Jordan's tenderness with her son (Look at the photo. They're holding hands, people! Oh, a mother's love!), even though she left him in England when she fled her broke-ass relationship with Peter Andre. She left him with a nurse, people! Don't you be criticizing Jordan! The nurse makes it okay. Harvey needs special care. You can't just hustle Harvey's big ass on a plane at the last minute. He might start cursing or yelling. A change in routine bunges Harvey all up.
SB loves Harvey! Long live Harvey! (many more heartwarming photos to come)
My ass is even thinking about starting a Harvey Fan Site. I'm just not sure I have the time, because I have a full-time job and a diarrhetic dog, you know. One of you may have to volunteer to do the start-up on the Fan page.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Also, there is Harvey. I know that Peter loves Jordan because he puts up with stuff like Harvey yelling curse words at him. Harvey is Jordan's bastard mentally-challenged son from a bang-and-run with a famous Brit athlete, whom Peter adopted. (That's Harvey in the foreground in the photo below. He's kind of a big kid, but don't be mean, the Harvster has developmental disabilities.)
Anyhoo, everyday SB MUST read the English tabloids to hear the latest developments in this heartbreaking saga. I'm worried about the Harvster! Peter is his daddy now. Harvey needs his daddy!
Yesterday, "DISTRAUGHT" Peter Andre fled his Greek compound. I guess Jordan took off with all the kids (EXCEPT POOR HARVEY!) for parts unknown. Bitch is hiding out. It's like a real-life soap opera! Will Peter chase after her, or has he truly given up on their precious love?
SB just can't believe their magical romance is over. It hurts my heart.
Actually, my Great Step-Grandma, Bertha, was in an asylum for awhile. I'm not sure what my good-looking, blue-eyed Great Grandpa saw in her. That ho was no catch. She was a big load of trouble, and she wasn't even good-looking. She had frizzy hair, for chrissakes! Bitch couldn't cook either. She didn't have the mental capacity to follow even a simple damn recipe. She probably couldn't even fix a damn hot dog and boxed macaroni-and-cheez. Maybe her ass was hot in bed, though. Actually, strike that. I don't want to even think about that shit because it's pretty fucking gross.
Anyhoo, I don't know where Great Grandpa and Bertha met, but it was sort of unfortunate for the ENTIRE family, other than the fact that Grandpa wasn't as lonely.
One time my Grandma Peg loaded up Great Grandpa and Bertha's freezer with meat, but thought maybe she forgot to plug the freezer in (since it had been empty before), so she phoned Grandpa up, and Bertha's crazy ass answered. Grandma Peg instructed Bertha to go out to the damn garage and plug the cord to the freezer in, so the meat wouldn't spoil. Well, I guess the damn freezer actually was plugged in, so mental Bertha got confused and unplugged the fucker. All the meat went bad and stunk to high heaven. That ho couldn't even be trusted with the simplest task.
Also, another time Grandma Peg went over to Great Grandpa's house, and she was brushing Bertha's hair for her with an old-fashioned bristled brush, and Grandma stepped away for a hot minute to answer the door, and when she came back, Bertha's ass had eaten all the bristles off the brush. When Bertha's ass smiled at Grandma, the bristles were hanging out from between her damn teeth, if you can believe that shit.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Bertha was my Step Great Grandma and NOT MY GENETIC RELATIVE!
I think the Jeez needs to stop handing out those loaves and fishes and eat them his damn self! Our Boy is positively Jeezarectic.
Also, can I just say I fucking despise Modern Art? Shit's fug.
My boy Nick is comfortable with art that you have to interpret. I'm too lazy for that shit. I don't want to think about art (or anything else for that matter. SB is one LAZY MOTHERFUCKER! I'm boycotting all thought for now. If I can't do it by rote, fuck that shit.).
I just want to look at art. It's the damn artist's job to interpret, motherfuckers! SB already has a damn job!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Whole Fucking Family Held Each Other and Cried Because They Were Frightened as Piss of a Damn Thunderstorm
Well, we are having another goddamn thunderstorm here in beautiful Ohio right now. And this reminds SB of a story. Actually, it's the best kind of story, because it's true and it involves FUCKING BATSHIT BEHAVIOUR.
Anyhoo, my family used to have some friends who were originally a very wealthy family from Lexington, Kentucky. We're talking social register types here, peeps.
The father was an attorney who did pretty well for himself, until he was unceremoniously disbarred from practicing law. Unfortunately, because my ass is nosy, I never did hear why the old man was disbarred. But Evan (the name has been changed to protect the less than innocent) did so well before the unceremonious disbarring, that the family, which included Evan's wife and three pretty teenaged daughters, lived in a mansion with an O-lympic sized swimming pool.
However, as commanding as dear old dad was as an attorney, whenever the family would set out on a car journey someplace and encounter a thunderstorm, Evan would pull over to the side of the road, and THE ENTIRE FAMILY WOULD HUG EACH OTHER AND CRY until the storm passed. I kid you not.
That shit still makes SB laugh whenever I hear thunder. I just picture it in my mind and can't stop laughing. Bunch of pussies.
My dog Ginger doesn't like storms either, and her ass is probably pissing all over the wooden floor at home, so that will be nice to have to clean that shit up when I get home tonight. I keep telling Ginge that my Uncle Bob said that thunder is just Jesus bowling (and evidently Jesus gets a lot of strikes!), but it doesn't help her a damn bit. She just shakes and quakes and dribbles piss and even tries to follow my ass into the 1/2-bath. I have to tug and pull and war with her ass before I can get her out.
NOTE: The Moms said I needed to add a note to this story of the crying family and let you, my beloved readers, know that Evan was 6 foot 4" and a REALLY BIG guy. She thought that added to the ridiculousness of the whole thing, as if that shit wasn't ridiculous enough in the first place.
Please check it out. She is a terrific writer and a dear person, who stole my life. I'm just kidding. Ms. Moon's life sounds perfect to me though. I'd be envious, but she appreciates her life too much to be jealous.
Here is the link: http://blessourhearts.blogspot.com/2009/05/being-gay-is-not-evil-unless-youre.html
And don't go saying mean shit about Sir Bob in the comments section either. SB IS NOT HAVING THAT SHIT! I happen to like Sir Bob and the music of the Boomtown Rats. Bob and I don't like Mondays, so we have a lot in common: we both don't like Mondays and we have challenging hair.
Sir Bob has done more good in this world than most of us will ever accomplish. Also, Sir Bob is raising up his girls by his lonesome and doing the best that he can. [You fuckwits at the British tabloids leave Peaches alone! She is trying to grow up, and growing up is very hard even when you do it out of the spotlight!] When Sir Bob adopted his ex-wife's daughter with Micheal Hutchence because he didn't want to split her kids up, SB really fell in love with him. I thought that said a lot about his character.
I liked Bob's ex-wife Paula Yates a lot. She had great style and flair, and she made me laugh. I thought she was just great. God bless her.
I always say, if you like to gossip or make fun of others, come and sit next to me. Any of these bitches would be welcome to sit next to me at a party--except for that bug-eyed bitch, Ramona. Her, I'd have to clock.
Ramona is just horrible, and for the life of me, I can't figure out what her husband sees in her. Ramona's husband is good-looking, but he is sort of a shallow competitive asshole, as we saw in the tennis match episode this season. So I guess shallow attracts shallow. Also, Ramona has a damn tummy, and her ass is always wearing skin-tight dresses that accentuate that shit. You are not 20 anymore, Ramona! Either have a damn tummy tuck or stop wearing that shit before I go blind.
I also despise that dried-up husk of a ho, Kelly Bensimon. She thinks her ass is too good for everyone. Bitch has skin that looks like rawhide. She needs to get over her damnself.
The housewives I like most are Jill and Bethenny. Jill has a good heart (I love Jill's mother), and Bethenny just calls shit likes she sees it. Her on-going feud with rawhide Kelly amuses me to no end. My ass is Team Bethenny!
I know the Real Housewives is no intellectual masterpiece, but I don't give a damn. There is nothing like a good cat fight, especially when rich bitches go at it! I just love watching these hos trying to one-up each other.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Link to artists' site: http://www.dailypainters.com/paintings/50153/Diamond-Girl-Chihuahua-Dog/Tanya-Craig-Amberson
I'd just as soon not compare myself with the Christ, because my precious ass MIGHT come up short!
Monday, May 11, 2009
You see, the Moms likes to watch the TV show, Sunday Morning. So this year for Mother's Day, I told the Moms that I would pick her up around 8:00, and we would go to our local coffee joint, grab a cuppa and a treat (on me), and then return to her house and watch Sunday Morning together. Picture it--SB's ass getting up before noon on a Sunday! Now, that's sacrificing for one's mother! Almost as BIG A SACRIFICE as giving birth! Not quite though, because SB was a pretty BIG fucking bebe, and I gave the Moms a sharp backache throughout most of the pregnancy.
Anyhoo, this all would have worked out great (the coffee/Sunday Morning/Mother's Day thing), if I hadn't taken that Ambien so late on Saturday night. SB was barely coherent when she picked up the Mom's for her special day.
In fact, I barely remember the drive to or from the java joint or swerving around on the road or even the tasty Snickerdoodle coffee. Moms said that she kept trying to have a conversation with me, and I was barely able to form a coherent sentence. Ambien, for some reason, really hits me, but it usually doesn't hang on like that. It was strange. At one point, the Moms even had to lean over and wipe a string of drool from between the coffee cup and my lips! Nothing says Mother's Day like wiping the drool from your grown child's lips!
I depressed me dear old mum. I nearly ruint her damn day. As if it wasn't bad enough that her son lives on the far East Coast, and she is away from her precious granddaughter. Mom started feeling a little depressed and dejected, because the kid she did have, who was local, was drooling and zoning out mid-sentence. It did not make her feel like a SUCCESS as a mother overall.
The somewhat awkward young man from across the street crossed over when he saw Moms out watering her flowers later in the afternoon and looking depressed and he gave her a big hug and asked how her Mother's Day was. That made her smile. It even touched her heart. Thus proving that wise old adage: you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.
Yes, I said I was sorry for drooling and fucking up Mother's Day! I had her over (after a lengthy nap) for a Pepperidge Farm cookie assortment (which I managed NOT TO EAT ALL OF) later in the evening. I was, in fact, conversant and a better, unzombified daughter in general. All was not lost, motherfuckers.
[And Diane is pronounced DEE-ann, so don't fuck my girl's name up and sound all uneducated and like you're from Ohio and shit. Diane is dead now, so SB's got to look out for her.]
Note on photo: I love the futuristic chair! In the year 2050, we'll all have chairs like this shit here! This ho was WAY ahead of her time.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Anyhoo, SB always reads church signs as I drive by (I am compelled) and then usually curse for about a mile down the road about how damn ignorant the sign posters were. I get myself all worked up. Sometimes, I even argue with myself and pretend to be the person who posted the ignorant fucking sign AND GET EVEN MORE WORKED UP. It's fun to be angry goddamnit! To be angry is to be alive, and if I teach you nothing else from reading this blog, let it be that! Also, you will never be bored if you entertain yourself, because who else is going to do it? Certainly not that fat fuck Rush Limbaugh or that swine Bill O'Reilly. Okay, I'm getting TOO worked up now. I need to go cut the lawn or some shit and calm the fuck down.
Here's Syd's church sign war post: http://fine-anon.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-dogs-go-to-heaven.html
Friday, May 8, 2009
This albina cousin is a mortician, so since she is so deathly pale, she is rather startling to those who come to the funeral parlor to pick out a casket for a loved one. She looks like a damn corpse herself! She is also pretty startling in black, motherfuckers! And of course, she wears A LOT of black because that shit goes with the territory as an undertaker.
My albina cousin is a pretty interesting, if slightly nauseating, person to sit with at the family reunions. She talks in detail about the science of embalming, while my ass is say trying to take a big bite of fried chicken or eat a damned devilled egg. Whatever! SB has a strong stomach, and I could investigate a crime scene with a high-rise jumper involved and eat a Spam sandwich while doing it. I have at least two forensic detectives on my dad's side (along with the albina undertaker), too. So it runs in the blood. I am just thankful that the albinism didn't run in the blood, because then, it would take me EVEN LONGER to get ready in the mornings because SB would have to dust herself with bronzer from head to foot. I wouldn't want motherfuckers staring at me. It would make me irate and hostile.
Do you suppose self-tanner works on albinas? Just a thought. Maybe no one has ever considered this before, and my awesome brain power could change the lives of albinas ALL OVER THE WORLD! It could happen, people. I could win a damn Nobel prize or some such.
Starting us off today with our NEW SB FEATURE, our Albinas of the Month are a rather startling duo who could perhaps use a good eyebrow wax and some black mascara. At least their skin is not the pale shade of the average albina. The lady albina looks sort of mean and grouchy. Maybe she resented the photographer taking a photo, because she likes to pretend she is just an average person and not a damned albina.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Anyhoo, the expression on Jack's face looks like he's trying to work up a good shit or maybe his ass just wants a damn cookie. It's hard to tell because canines aren't real expressive (and they are even less so when rendered by a bad artist).
In SB's experience, dogs pretty much want to shit or eat though--one or the other. That, and I guess they occasionally want to hunch a random stranger's legs. They're kind of like men. Do I sound bitter?
SB is SO SICK of seeing and hearing about this homely bitch (with a voice like an angel!) that I'd like to lock her up in a basement along with Beyonce's fat ass. We can throw Paris Hilton and Hohan in for good measure. Nobody will miss their dumb asses.