Before I get started, click on the “Movie” tab up top for my newest one. I’m not sure if I’m wasting my time with them or not.
Ok, on to today’s post.
It seems somehow, we’ve created a “blogging” relationship. I visit your site, you visit mine…we add a little of our 2 cents and we go about our own way. Not having to worry about telling you where I’m going or what I’m doing.
It works out perfect.
I’ll pop in for a quick visit to your site and read about the proper way to load a dishwasher, ways to cook beef stroking off, and the correct way to use an eyeliner so you don’t look all slutty and shit.
Slick ain’t got shit to say today. Why I’m talking about myself in third person only backs up the theory that I’m an ignorant redneck sumbich.
I’m sitting here with my half frozen quart of chocolate milk, 2 glazed donuts, and a kleenex for my snot encrusted nostrils mentally searching my brain for something to write about.
Nothing is coming to me. Well, except cleavage and that’s only because I have another window opened and I’m looking at my porn collection.
Yep, cleavage. I’m obsessed with it.
A woman don’t need no brains. Just blonde hair and some nice cleavage.
Wait a minute…Trish don’t have no blonde hair.
I’m gonna stop here.
In other news, I have found out how to get off the phone with Trisha without being rude. For example, she calls this morning….
“Hey babe, what you doing?” she asks….
“(grunting) Nothing. You made it to work?”
“Yeah. Stopped and got me a chicken biscuit and they messed my order up”
“(louder grunting) that’s a shame” I said
“What in the hell are you doing Mike??”
“(even more grunting) Nothing babe, just sitting here on the toilet”
I must’ve lost my signal because all the sudden, the line went dead.
Being from the south, I’m not accustomed (did I spell that right?) to being around a northerner for any length of time.
Until these past 30 hours.
I spent 22 of those hours stuck in the cab of a locomotive (about the size of a small walk-in closet) with a guy from Jersey. He ended every phone conversation with his wife by saying “love you sugapie” and then made 2 “kissy” sounds. Is this a northern thing? Cause if it is, I’ll never go past Tenn.
The bastard had the guts to do that crap in front of God and everybody at Subway! Seriously, is that sickening or sweet to you guys?
Look, there’s nothing wrong with guys showing their women that they love them. I mean, I tell Trish all the time. I say “Yes, I’ll rub you down with the KY Warming Oil if you’ll give me a bl….” Well, you get the point, surely.
Me giving a massage is true love. Trish has learned that and accepted my generosity numerous times but would she respect me if I made those dumbass “kissy” sounds all the time?
Does your man do that too while on the phone with you? If he does, I bet you can body slam him.
That’s sad.
On a side note: I have WON my first award thingy! Tracey, over at “The Shores of Carpenter Creek” has awarded me my very first one. It’s under my “My Awards” catergory. She’s also got an upcoming contest with a prize folks! A basket of bath goodies. Check it and her out ( no you, perverts, I meant her site) for more details. Oh, and tell her Slick sent you. I think I get a discount on a pig or somethin’.
Here’s the post I actually had drafted and planned on posting today. The one below only was for referrence to the idiot lady emailer.
Someone asked me if I knew the woman’s place in the office. I said “sure, right in front of the copy machine!”
Calm down…geeez-us.
I am a man of morals. I have proven time and time again that I support fairness and equality between genders. Women are the backbone to healthy meals, clean laundry, and vacuumed floors.
Wait…I didn’t mean that.
What I meant is that women are the backbone to shiny dishes, paying bills, and dusted furniture.
Wait…NO
Dammit, I’m not just some overbearing male chauvinistic pig.
I have worked hard at convincing you gullible nice womenfolk that I am a man of honor and respectfulness.
Seriously.
And while I have your attention, are any of you good at ironing pleated slacks?
Why has this curse befallen me? How could I have been so blinded with lust and need that I would forsake my domesticated responsibilites?
I’m scared. Right now, I’m even vulnerable.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, correct?
My 2 biggest weaknesses have combined to leave me in as close to a vegetative state as I could possibly be in without unconscious drooling.
Golf and XBox.
I purchased Tiger Woods 2004. Yeah, I know it’s older but it only cost 4 bucks so shut the hell up.
Anyway, it’s apparently gotten so bad that I’m talking about it in my sleep, so says Trish. I can’t disprove her but she claims I stated “Wait a minute, let me finish this hole!”
I’m glad I was only talking about golf.
Evidently I need some damn help, but first….I need to finish my 4 day tournament in Lakeland, Fla. I’m 9 under par so far.
Contrary to popular belief (one of you bastards started a rumor) my intellect IS capable of sustaining a worthy conversation primarily due to my extended vocabulary.
Even in Georgia, some rednecks are educated. Surprised huh?
I’ll prove it by allowing you ungrateful denizens a glimpse of my intellectuality.
It started years ago, in the fifth grade. Carol proved to be a true adversary in the spelling bee but conceded to me on the last word because she knew, intellectually, she was a mere pawn and I was King.
But it cost me.
Taking that ribbon at the expense of making my female peer cry broke me down mentally.
So, for the sake of female’s sensitivity, I have always masked my intelligence.
When I started at the railr…..uh, the place where our vehicles runs on tracks, I met up with an individual who became more like a brother to me than a friend.
You’ve all read at some point or another me mentioning “my buddy E.”
I talked this unwilling bastard into buying a house right across the street from me and 6 months later, I left my ex-wife (The Bitch) and left E. canvassing the subdivision looking for a new friend.
I felt horrible. Not for The Bitch, but for E.
Him and Trisha planned a surprise visit to the Punchline for me this past Saturday where I enjoyed a great time hanging out and laughing my ass off.
Anyway, E. has found this site.
If anyone at work so much as mentions this to me, I’ll know exactly where it came from and if I disappear again, you guys will know who to blame. So, stand up for me today…
Even though he is my best friend, tell him if he “rats” me out, you’ll cut his pecker off and behead his dumbass. Or something.
People were everywhere, shaking hands, smiling, and shooting the shit. Dressed to impress with manicured nails.
The lights dimmed, signaling everyone to take their seats. Trish and I had been in our seats since the onset.
A few minutes later, mechanically drawn curtains parted like the Red Sea revealing the Sunday morning choir.
I went to church yesterday folks….
But this wasn’t an ordinary church. This was the mammoth church of the county. We had to walk a mile (all uphill…both ways in barefeet) from where we HAD to park.
The collections plate looked like the winnings of a lottery ticket.
And….
Two big screens hung on each side of the stage zeroed in on the preacher-man for the people who didn’t get there 45 minutes early to find an empty seat and had to sit in the “nose bleed” section.
By the way, since when does a church call it’s deacons and stuff “staff members”?
It was impersonal, not what I’m used to having been raised in a backwoods country church where I knew everyone.
Anyway, Trish and I will surely visit more churches in the future, just not one’s who have more employees than Wal Mart.
A show of hands….. who didn’t go to church yesterday?
Damn sinners.
But I’m gonna pray for you bastards wayward people and I’ll knock you out bless you guys.
Posted by slicksumbich 
Posted by slicksumbich 
Posted by slicksumbich 
