Parkeryourefired

People on my facebook keep posting things about goats. Not sure what started that whole thing, but it did remind me just how awesome and badass goats are. They do whatever the fuck they feel like doing. Mostly, that's just finding the tallest object around and fucking standing on it. Do they need a reason? No. They give no fucks. They're goats. They watch you from their high places and use their voodoo laser eyes to peer into your soul so they can decide whether or not they want to eat it because they'll eat anything. Why? No one knows. They're goats. They don't give a fuck about property because they believe in their ability to chew on anything, and tasty souls are their number one. Who knows how Satan became associated with a goat, but I bet it had something to do with a farmer pissed off at how his goat would stand on top of his shit all day, then eat it after getting bored. Satan's probably afraid of goats because they'd just stand on his head, then chew on it because they're no-fucks-giving goats. Satan associated goats with himself, then spread the idea around the mortal population to prove the point goats are not to be fucked with. If fucking Galactus showed up to Earth, we wouldn't need Avengers or Guardians of the Galaxy, we'd need goddamn goats. He can't eat a planet if the goats eat him, first, and you bet your ass they would. They won't just stand on anything or eat anything, either. They've also developed an ability to head butt shit with enough force to cause small amounts of nuclear fusion. If they can't stand on something because it keeps moving, they'll deliver a head butt to the brief annoyance that reaches its resonant frequency and shatters it into oblivion. Then, the goat will either stand on the remains or devour them. Or both. A goat doesn't care. So, next time you happen across a farm or mountainside and feel you're being watched, remember that somewhere is a goat, not even a hungry goat, that's determining if your soul is tasty enough to be worth coming down from wherever it's standing. A goat won't care. It's a goat. If you don't have a soul, it's a perfect pet.

Work is hindering my ability to expand my Pokemon portfolio.

What does it take to get someone to willingly escape from abuse? Two days ago, I got a cryptic text from a friend using a wifi text app that just said “I need you to text me back asap.” I can’t have my phone at work and didn’t see it for almost eight more hours. Tried texting her normal number. Nothing. Tried the texting app number. Nothing. Tried her facebook. Account deactivated. Wtf is going on here? Wake up two hours before alarm worrying and check phone. Still nothing. So, middle of the night, 18-ish hours from last contact, I call the police. Deputies go to her home. No one there. She has a medical condition that physically prevents her from sleeping without medication. She doesn’t get home from work until about midnight. It was 1:30 am. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be home and awake. Police tell me no contact. Trying not to freak out all through work that day. Get home. Still nothing. Checked with police. No contact. No answer from phone. About to go into panic mode. Conduct basic-level facebook stalking: Open fake account, find her account reopened (only certainly blocking real account). Has where she works posted (lucky break, but so so stupid). Call where she works in last ditch effort to make contact. She’s there. There and physically okay. Her fat fuck, red neck, piece of shit, white trash, caliphate-dick-sucking husband got mad she talked to any other men (i.e. myself). Forcefully took her phone from her for almost 24 hours. Blocked numbers of every other guy on her phone, blocked male Facebook friends, then changed her social media accounts’ passwords. Well, that explains what happened. At least she was physically fine? Talk to her for a bit to make absolutely sure. She swears up and down everything is okay. I want to scream at her. All I could do is say “Stay safe” and tell her I’d let the police know I’d gotten a hold of her. Likely last time we’ll ever talk to each other. Tell police we spoke. Police make sure to ask “You actually spoke directly to her on the phone?” Tell them about abusive husband. Deputy feels for the situation but knows she’s the only one who can do anything for herself. Guess this problem is kind of solved... Back to normal life? What the fucking hell is wrong with some people? Her own husband’s sister thinks he’s a piece of shit for how he treats her. Her mother (after learning what kind of shitstain he is) wants her to move back home. Her cousin and his wife want her out. And I, the only friend she was actually comfortable enough to talk to about this, have offered money, shelter, resources, time, anything I could. All she has to do is make the move. But she won’t. She thinks so little of herself, her own abilities, and those of us who’ve promised support that she’d rather stay with a fucking shitstack whom she has openly acknowledged abuses her. Guess I’m fucking useless after all.

New Year's resolutions for attempting to get back into the dating thing after three years: 1. Get better judgement. ----NOPE---- 2. Stop hating everyone who lives in this part of the country. ----NOPE---- 3. Figure out how to interact with women again. ----NOPE---- Like Casey swinging for the fences here. Addendum: 4. Stop being ugly. ----NOPE---- Well, this year isn't working already.

I wish I could get amnesia, disappear, and end up somewhere no one knows me.

Going to make a CD called "The Sounds of Waking Up" which will showcase the wondrous groans, creaking, and stumbling around after long nights and naps. It could also go by the other name "The Sounds of Being an Ent".

But you will never be important to people you're nice to.

That Was Such A Bad Move

In case people need a visual aid to help them understand.