No more mr. nice guy.

Alright, kiddies. I been disowning this blog way too long. I planned for a long time to only use this blog to post sweetness and kindness. Pictures of my dog chasing frisbees. Pictures of my cats. Pictures of my frisbees. Family-friendly patter here only, folks, no cursing, no innuendo, no alusions to what's really under the pretty suit-coat that woman shopping in paint today had on, no mention of the hint of lace on the top of her half-slip that barely covered her enormous breasts. No, sir, nothing like that. Wholesomeness, dammit, that's what'll be here. Milk and cookies. Mom.

Apple pie.

Well, Mom's wearing a leather biker bra with a tattoo on her tittie that says "Beach Week '69". Milk. Running down the crack of my ex-wife's ass (she had a nice ass) and dripping into the waiting mouth of some bitch we met in a bar in a cocaine-induced haze. I'll be happy to eat my apple pie with welding gloves on, no thanks, I don't need a fork.

I'm not going to have a blog that I can't say shit on anymore. I'll still post a picture of the cat, looking cute. And if I get a picture of the cat hacking up a monster furball, with spittle hanging from its mouth to the ground, I'll post that, too. Actually, now that I think about it, that would be a cool picture to have.

I almost had a heart attack today, sheerly from stress. That's just wrong. And when most people say that the nearly had a heart attack, they're using some bullshit term they heard that they think conveys how seriously involved they were into their crisis. Fuck them. I nearly had a heart attack. I have a heart problem. I know what a goddamn heart attack feels like. I nearly had one.

I woke up to the realization that self-censure is not a way to live. I want to be able to write things that the whole family can read, and I won't have a problem doing that. I don't want to worry about what else they'll see on the blog, if they should be so bold as to venture into the unknown areas that I never told them about, at least that I didn't tell them about outright and openly. So I won't. From this point on, I am free. Free, free, free. If it gets read, I am honored. If it pisses someone off, too bad.

I'm sure it's the beer and nitroglycerine talking at this point. I've had plenty of both now. My chest feels better, my head is in a fucking tire changer. Bed will happen soon. I will be back, and I will not be granting any mercy, any more.

Ya'll have a nice day.