Friday, February 03, 2006

Where the fuck have I been??

I’ve gotten, like…two complaints that I haven’t updated my blogsite in a long while. I don’t want to be one to disappoint my fans, so I’ll give a brief update and hopefully crank out some ramblings over the weekend.

So, no I haven’t been kidnapped, had an operation, gone to a school, or began protesting with Cindy fucking Sheehan. I’ve just been…busy.

I promise to only spend one paragraph on the boredom that is my current state of transition in the Army (boring because it would take too long to explain everything, including the acronyms…I’d basically have to send you to boot camp and smoke your ass).

Fuck. Okay, two paragraphs. But, that’s it.

I have been in the same Company and Platoon since I arrived at Fort Richardson in 2002 and was offered the opportunity to “switch it up” and I took it. I am now part of a super secret squirrel outfit that is body guarding the CSM (Command Sergeant Major) and BC (Battalion Commander…I tell you these so that you’ll remember and I’ll never have to tell you again…take notes.)

Fuck. Seriously, three paragraphs and I’m done with the Army shit.

Yes, bodyguard. However, this allows me to do some bad ass training that I wouldn’t otherwise get (driving school, sigarms [fuck you, I’m not explaining…google it], blackhawk handgun school, submarine sabotage, experimental super soldier serum drug enhancements, penis enlargement (intimidation of the enemy), and razor-edged boomerang throwing school (take off an Insurgents head “Aussie-style”).

May as well go for four. You two deserve an explanation.

So, now I am in a super-secret organization and have a lot of pressure to perform at the top of my game, which is the reason for my absence (coupled with some bullshit field problems). We do PT (physical training…do I really have to tell you this?) twice a day and it’s pretty hardcore and grueling. We have to maintain a certain average that is not the norm for the majority of infantry soldiers. We have to jump through walls and shoot lasers out of our eyes, too.

I like odd numbers. Let’s keep it going. I like where I’m headed, even though I don’t know where that is. It just feels good and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight and do the Macarena.

Big changes for me and I’m all for it. Before I came into the Army I worked out six days a week with martial arts on Saturday. I was lookin’ and feelin’ pretty good and lived under the notion that joining the Army would make me look like Ryan Reynolds (more on him later).

The recruiters duped me. I should’ve known, watching them dunk doughnuts into their coffee as they told me how cool the Army was, that my physical transformation would be born of a whole different animal.

Upon arriving to Fort Rich I was thrown into a bit of a depression, seeing as I had no idea what to expect and didn’t like what I came to know as the Army way of life.

However, over time (and multiple deployments) I have begun to get myself back to where I want to be and this new job will allow me to leap forward to my goals and beat the shit out of Ryan Reynolds with a flick of my eyelashes.

Anyways, this has also caused me to change my diet immensely and man o man do I miss the carbs! Anyone who knows me well knows that I love doughnuts more than Keira Knightley in white silk panties and spiked on Ecstasy. Keira or toasted coconut doughnut? (it’s not donut you bastards! Stop butchering my language!), Keira or toasted coconut doughnut?…Keira feeding me a toasted coconut doughnut while in white silk panties and spiked on ecstasy AND the new episode of 24 playing in the background.


One thing of note; Could Hershey’s have picked a worse time to release the candy-coated kisses AND the peanut butter-filled kisses? Don’t they know what I’m going through? Those insensitive motherfuckers! I’m trying to think green and organic and they’re tossing the wonderful world of processed carbs with the pure beauty of chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate, chocolate…

Where was I?

Right. Fuck Hershey’s. And Ryan Reynolds. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Ryan Reynolds. He’s funny and a good actor to boot and has a great penchant for action roles. I look forward to seeing where his career goes. But, much like women hating Lindsey Lohan and Jessica Simpson for setting a body image bar that far surpasses that of a large majority of women, Ryan Reynolds does the same to us guys.

Girls dream of the six pack and sweet pecs and bulging biceps all in a nice, cut frame (is this how gay guys describe men? Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have seen Brokeback Mountain). Men dream of…well, there’s no mystery there. We like chicks. With boobs. And a nice booty. And doughnuts. Oh, and a great personality.

Anyways, as America grows larger, which is in my view the natural course of things as body types have changed over the ages and always will, the struggle to become or maintain that perfect Adonis figure has become a nearly unattainable goal. However, I am of the belief that you can accomplish anything with dedication, will, and good old-fashioned hard work. And liposuction.

And so it is, that I am challenging Ryan Reynolds to a graphic design competition. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’ll whomp his ASS!! Take that Ab-ripped fuck face Van fucking Wilder! Yeah, watch me control the mouse, oh yeah…oh snap! Did you see that? Uh huh, you know it, Photoshop just done whupped up your chiseled ass!

What else did I want to talk about? Oh yeah…Superman. Since I began watching “Smallville” on DVD (19.95 everywhere during Christmas for all seasons…nice) I’ve kind of become “Smallville” obsessed and with the new Superman movie coming out this summer I’m even more jazzed (hey, let’s start using jazzed again…make it happen people).

Anyways, “Smallville” is laced with a nice layer of cheese but packed to the max with Superman mythology that most of the teenage girls that masturbate to Tom Welling don’t get because they’re too busy gossiping about the 90210 melodrama. Well, this cat is well known as a “comic book nerd” or “fanboy” and I get worked up on the same level over the comic book melodrama. So, we’re even I guess.

Oh, and fuck Tom Welling! He’s just like Ryan Reynolds! I wish NASA would invite them on a shuttle cruise and send those bitches into orbit somewhere along the Milky Way so we can all get fat and get a McDonalds IV that just pumps pureed Double Quarter Pounders into our bloodstream while we play video games and masturbate to internet porn AND NOT FEEL GUILTY AT ALL!!

Okay, all joking aside, Tom Welling is pretty cool. For those of you that don’t watch “Smallville” I’ll include a copyrighted picture so that Warner Brothers can sue me for my action figure collection and you can see who the fuck I’m talking about. I’m not gonna go into a rant about “Smallville” but it is a really fun show. I highly recommend it.

Also, if you’re not watching “24” then you’re not allowed to read my blog anymore. Seriously. Yes, you. Get out. Now. Go catch up then you can come back. For real. I’m not fuckin’ around. I’m not gonna explain my Jack Bauer references to those of you out of the loop. It is still the best fucking show on television and, YES, I do have to say fuck a lot because nothing drives the point home like a good “fuck.”

In other news, I’ve decided to never masturbate again.

Okay, enough with my “Dave Chapelle moments.” I’m not crazy. I just wanted to see if you were still paying attention.

All right, so onwards to my wrap up (yes, it has to end sometime). I saw some movies but they aren’t really worth reviews. Underworld: Evolution…more of the same but not enough. I can’t even remember the other one I saw, so it must have sucked like a Hoover with a full bag.

I’m going to see “Match Point” this weekend because the wife and me like movies about cheating. I may audiotape the conversation on the ride home and translate it to my blog for your enjoyment (how many of you are left? I need a headcount…and no that has nothing to do with blowjobs).

That’s it. My world keeps turning and I haven’t gone missing “Chapelle-style” nor have I turned my back on my expansive fan base. I’m still in love with you all and hope you keep coming back for more of my guiding wisdom, insight, and offensive humor.

And I’ll say “fuck” as much as possible.

Oh, you should watch this fucking trailer. You’ll laugh. Maybe pee a little.


Mr. Boy said...

Wait, I'm confused...

Is it 'fuck Ryan Reynolds' or 'I wanna fuck Ryan Reynolds'???

And when I say "I" I mean "you".

Don't turn this around on me...I still haven't seen the cowboy movie. In fact, I saw real live boobies just the other day and loved every minute of it.

Hooray for boobies! And hooray for Paul's big comeback special.

Secret squirrel indeed.

Zaki said...

Good to know you're watching Smallville, though be forewarned if you haven't gotten there already that the fourth season is almost unwatchable (as is some of the third season). The current year kicks ass though, and the death last week was sad.

Cherie said...

Luckily you have big bajongas in your face every day. C'mon...reach out and touch some. I may not have an endless supply of doughnuts BUT I got some nice bajongas.

I think you forgot to mention the part where you bought a Superman shirt to wear WHILE watching Smallville.

I still like 'ya....which is why Saint Valentine is going to buy you some Kissables. You can eat them in the name of love.

Paul said...

I'm glad you saw some boobies Mr. Boy. I hope you got to feel them in all their sandbag glory.

I also hope that you didn't see boobies by way of catching your mom stepping out of the shower.

And no, I don't want to fuck Ryan Reynolds. I just want to be him for the right twenty minutes.

Wait...he's fucking Alanis Morissette. Nevermine.

Z-man...yes, season 4 of Smallville is a little disappointing what with all the witch bullshit, stones, and Jensen Ackles in general. Just get Clark flying and wearing the "S" already.

agent Y said...

Dear Dave...I mean, Paul,
Nice to have you back in the circuit, or maybe the circus...whatver.

Instead of writing these informative blogs, however, I feel you should start a weekend novice trainer course on such advancements in the arts like submarine sabotage, and razor-edged boomerang throwing and warfare masterbation techniques. You could charge for it and you might even learn a thing or two yourself...

I had to stop reading at the 24 milemarker becuase I think Jack B should have quit while he was ahead in Lost Boys. But with a name like Sutherland, it's gotta be good.

Glad I now have a mental image of you slothing on the couch in nothing but a superman tee, white silk panties engorging yourself with Kissables...I needed a reason to keep on living.

Here's to the new job, Ryan Reynolds tight ass and Oprah...Oh, and rain-cancelled school days! ROCK ON!