B'Log

Ah-Ha! Caught you! You just thought you would sneak in for a quick peek in between visiting ambidextrouslesbianwatersports.com and dwarfinterracialnuns.com to see if your hero had dropped a steaming new blog. Well you won't be disappointed, my friend. Hallelujah! God be praised! Ala Akbar (& Jeff)! Ole' Wheelgun's sole aim is to enlighten and entertain you even if you don't deserve it.

And enlighten and entertain you he will. Just you wait. (I'm writing all this crap as I'm trying to come up with some idea of what to blog about - it ain't easy, just ask poor BFace about straining on the blog bowl). So, I guess I will just pinch one off. Here it goes. Hold on to the "Oh Jesus!" handles and get ready for some serious swirling, splattering, corn fed blogging! Yee-fuckin-haw!

You guys would be amused if you could be observing me right now. I'm in the middle of setting up two workstations, one over to my left and one behind me. I'm in a chair with wheels so I'm scooting over doing updates on one while installing some engineering app on another and then scooting back to write this blog. It's incredibly gay looking - a fat dufus scooting around trying not to get confused as to what he did on which fucking machine. I should be paid more.

I think the ultimate goal in any job (besides boffing the new chick in manufacturing) is to get so proficient at what you're doing that you don't have to think about it at all. You can just day dream or blog or whatever.

On the subject of day dreams, I hauled my hog out on Sunday. It was the first really nice day of spring. I started up my Harley and took it for a short ride. So right now I'm day dreaming about riding my bike with a hot chicky-boo with long, wind blown hair and assless chaps hanging onto me.

Also, I'm not so much day dreaming about but contemplating Howard Hughes. I'm reading a book about him. I first became interested in him when I lived in London in the early 1970's. I was maybe 13 or so and I was in Regent's park playing football ("soccer" to you unrefined folk) with my class when we were told to leave. I remember seeing a couple of guys in suits and sunglasses up on the hill over looking us. Found out later we had to get out because Howard Hughes was coming through.

I could easily end up like Howard Hughes. Except I would cut my finger nails. Can't stand long fingernails. And I could only watch "Ice Station Zebra" a couple times. Perhaps I could watch "Swedish School Girls 6" 150 times instead. And I would drink whiskey in lieu of shooting up with codeine. Also, I would surround myself with "yes" women instead of "yes" men. It would be the life. Too bad I'm no billionaire.

Because of his codeine addiction and fucked up diet, Howard couldn't shit for weeks on end. At one point, he sat on the toilet for twenty straight hours. Elvis used to sit on the bowl for hours and hours. He even died on the throne. I guess if you're famous, your bowels suffer.

Well, now I've gone on long enough. Time to wipe and get on with work.