Killer of Many Dudes

He looks as if he’s pondering the many dudes he’s killed. This look of consternation seems to stem from wondering if he killed too many, or didn’t kill enough.  Seriously though, I bet you he killed at least 9,000 infidels. And I don’t know when and where these hats are gonna get trendy again, but I’ll gladly take one bus ticket to Awesome Hatsville now, please.

The picture itself was is (it didn’t cease to exist because I’m too big of a vagina to bring it into the house) about 3 feet high and yay (arms length) wide. Can you imagine this thing towering over you as you slowly become drunk off Mead. The roaring (gas) fire from the Glo-Warm illuminating the warrior’s face from down below.  Maybe the sound of your annoying and fat upstairs neighbor being tortured.  Yes, this painting could’ve gotten me through the winter of my discontent. But alas, I’m a pussy.

The moccasin in the lower left-hand corner belongs to my old (Native American) lady. I’m sure that moccasin would’ve found it’s way through this old timey dude’s face had I actually brought it in the house, and that sir, is no way to go.

man's best friend

Funny thing is, I know the old lady and she likes booze and square things. Please expalin yourself Christine.  Seems to match that green ottoman too (If I wrote an R&B song to this post three beautiful black girls would echo/sing “it matches” at the end of this sentence).  Personally speaking, if I’m not in a bar I like to look up on the wall and pretend like I’m in a bar.  Did I mention that this thing is illuminated? This is the real fucking deal here. It’s framed.  I say don’t stop there.  Make the whole goddamn living room like a bar in Tuskegee, Alabama.  A neon Marlboro sign, some Coors Light shit. Maybe one of those over-head billiard table lamps to go over that coffee table.  Make that place look bad-ass is all I’m sayin’.

Will, you’ve got that thing into the house which is a huge feat in and of itself, but let’s get that piece of awesome shit glowing like a beacon of freedom from one of them walls. Let freedom ring, indeed.

The picture below is of me shooting a sorry ass .22 in a shooting range in Boise.  Dudes came walking out of that range looking like a scene from Predator.  No joke. They actually had that whole criss cross of ammo across their chestits in full snow camo.  When the guy asked for my I.D. at the counter he asked me if I had come from California to shoot a real gun, as assault weapons are banned out here.  How. Fucking. Cool. Would. That. Have. Been?

bullets and bald spots

“Yeah, I just traveled 639 miles to shoot a goddamn gun. Now get me 8,000 rounds of 5mm Sturtevants and a Slim Jim.”

Needless to say, if I was that cool I wouldn’t be blogging about how my old lady won’t let me keep a gun in the house for blasting fools.

these little dudes have more freedom than most men

So we just moved into this new place and the ceilings must be at least 80 feet high. We have an archway that is perfect for the ever-magical, injury inducing, Nerf basketball hoop.  I would love to do some Michael Jordan windmill type shit off our couch and come crashing down onto the (tacked onto the wall) hoop.  I want to own this shit and do wicked nasty slam dunks in which I drop much gusto upon my friends. I’d like to have someone photograph me while I get dumb with air and fly over my friends heads all whilst pulling off the mid air pump, 360, ’round the back double fisted slam. Then I want said photograph to be blown up to poster size sos I can put it up above our bed and make sweet love to my old lady while remembering that day when I caught oh so much air.

But apparently that shit won’t fly. She says it’s too ugly and that I’m not 6.  I’d like to disagree, but to what I’m not sure yet.