Tuesday, February 10, 2009

January's Post of Month....a little late.




I was going to award a post of the month at the end of each month....but I forgot so I am taking care of this now. To be clear, I am not using any web analytics(page views, hits, traffic, etc...) to determine this....I will be going with whatever post I think amused us the most.

Our first post of the month goes to:


Congrats, to Sacopapa. After getting input from numerous readers it seems that both 10 Items or less and The Enabler were also well received but nothing is funnier than reading about Sacopapa's father-in-law trying to cut his own shit with a butter knife....fucking classic.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Virus


Sacopapa here reporting for duty. What a fucking week. I’m truly blessed with greatness and great prosperity for this year. NOT!!!! Holyshit, I have been battling a fucking Trojan Worm, that made me wipe my fucking laptop clean. When I mean clean, I mean my Hard Drive had to be FDISK and Formatted. If you know about computers, that is like the last fucking resource. Like a fucking crack head looking for crack and has to force himself to suck dick for the Rock! It was one of those fucking viruses that must have come from India or Japan, as it was one of the worst I have ever encountered.
The story begins with me doing taxes on Saturday the 31st and feeling great since Uncle Sam is going to gives us a great return! Anyway, Super bowl weekend comes; we party, drink and eat like the fucking Crump’s! Everything ended a great Note. Steelers Won, no one broke anything at my house. Kids were great. I even got some that night!!
Monday, I powered up my Laptop and get into Outlook immediately. Emails begin to download, everything as usual. I sit with a cup of coffee to wake up and I have to get my stomach to start brewing the Super Bowl shit from hell. The last email that downloaded was from the Treasury Department. The email stated that there were issues placing my Efile on line and that I had to click on the link below in order to correct this problem. I truly believe that God loves me in everyway! Not!!! As soon as I clicked on the link, all my programs started to shut off. I was like a fucking mad man, trying to disconnect my LAN Cable, because I just realized what is happening. The Hamsters in my brain wouldn’t move fast enough for me to unplug the Cable. I’m yelling Holyshit, Holyshit, and Holyshit!! Sacopapa Junior is asking me, why I’m cursing. I can’t answer him because my fucking Cable is stuck and I can’t unplug it. Then the inedible happens, the computer shuts off, all by itself. DAMN!!
I knew then I was fucked, my day would be fucked, tomorrow would be fucked and the rest of the week would be fucked. I look at Sacapapa Junior and he says you shouldn’t have clicked on that Link Daddy. If you could have seen the look on my face when he said that, you would have cracked up till 2010. I was the like the Coyote in the Road Runner Cartoon, right when he is about to fall off a cliff!
All I could say was“You’re right baby, let’s go to school” as I looked up into the ceiling underneath my teeth, I slowly muttered, “Hopefully we won’t fucking crash on the way there”. Took me 4 days to repair the damn thing and I was finally up and running by Friday. Yeah, life sucks when you are a fucking Sacopapa! So now I’m back and ready to rock!

Sacopapa Out!

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Some mornings really suck....

These events take place Tuesday between 8:30AM & 10:30 AM.....
Thats my really bad 24 impression.

I forgot to mention in my previous post that my hot water was not working........again. I take scalding hot showers and I really enjoy them. So, a day and a half later, I'm fucking miserable. I do not shower today
(fucking gross!!) and go about my menial early morning ritual of getting ready for work and head out. It's a yucky, dreary rainy morning. Anyway, I survive the daily commute through Death Alley (I-95) and arrive at work.

How come it is that whenever I wear my better shoes, or in this case, my brand new shoes, it's a fucking miserable day. Also take into consideration that I'm parking in the rock pits from hell. As I pull into work, I immediately notice major puddles of water. Great, welcome to your life, new shoes. I do my best to find a dry spot and I proceed to pull into a partially dry space.

Unfortunately for me, I have 14 things I'm carrying with me. Some home owners insurance paperwork, my little duffel bag with 4 water bottles, a magazine and other crap I can't even remember at this point. As I open the car door, I hear something fall. Blloooop!!.....Thats not good," I think....... FUCK!!!! Its my recently purchased, no contract, cell phone. AAGGGHHH!!!! I whip everything in my arms back in the car and step into the puddle (sorry new shoes) and retrieve the cell. For clarification, it was immersed in water for about 5 seconds. At this point, I'm pretty disgusted. I just got this piece of shit phone temporarily until I can get the one I want. And I'm already needing another one??!!! I'm hating life right about now.

I haul ass upstairs, get to my desk and proceed to do a Macgyver and take the cell apart. Amazingly enough, I take it apart competently, dry some shit (I don't know what the fuck I'm doing) and put it back together. Well, long story short, the phone continued to work but I guess the backlight got damaged because I can barely see anything on the phone. I deserve it for being a fucking dickhead in the firt place. To make matters worse, when I call the landlord about the hot water problem, he tells me some bullshit story about how his guy is out of town and it might take a few days to get it fixed because he doesn't really want to call someone out and have to pay them.

If it wasn't for the fact that I've been living in FL. for 12 years, I wouldn't believe the last thing I just wrote. But believe it, that's what he said. It is now 10:30 Am. Since I am at work, I can't just start screaming at the top of my lungs or smashing shit. So, I sit at my desk, with my head buried between my arms, thinking, "This morning officially sucks."

Until next time, peace. I'm out....

Hooking up with Erin Andrews


So the other morning as I left my house for work, Erin Andrews(you know, the reporter chick from ESPN that covers lots of college sports), pulled up and asked me if I would help her research a special report on College Tailgating. She then asked if I would be available for some candle light dinner afterwards.....

wait.....that wasn't exactly how my morning went, let me adjust it slightly:

So this morning I need to wake up at 7:15am, but my wife would like the alarm set for 6:30 as she would like to get to work earlier than normal. Fine. I set the alarm for 6:30, at 7:15 I get out of bed as I have been hitting the snooze since 6:30 for my wife who is still in bed----the final precious 45 minutes of sleep were ruined.

Shower time: all is normal as I get out of the shower to dry myself. Then it happens......the urge to take a massive shit takes over my body. While I know that taking a dump can be quite the relief, there are few things I hate more than taking a shit immediately after a shower. Fuck! And I knew it wasn't a 'healthy shit' if you know what I mean--I knew this shit was gonna come out at speeds that would rival a Nolan Ryan fastball. I obviously could not fight it, so on to the bowl I sat.

So I get my 10 month old son together, drop him off at the in-laws, and head out to work. While driving to work my wife calls me with no real purpose(she may have mentioned that she was in traffic, I can't really remember right now). Then it happened. Flashing lights behind me, a fucking cop is pulling me over. I quickly hang up the phone and get my paperwork ready before the cop gets to my window. The cop says to me, "Do you know why I am pulling you over? Speaking on a cell phone is a primary offense in New Jersey." He never gave me a chance to answer his initial question. Why fucking ask me if I knew I knew why he was pulling me over, if you are going to not let me answer, dickhead. I hand him my paperwork and he goes to his car to write me up a ticket, not for a second did I think he was gonna give me a break. He comes back, explains how I can mail in the fine and he goes on his merry way. Not a single word from me in the entire process. So at least I can get pissed at my wife for calling me right? Wrong again. She has mentioned to me to get in the habit of using my cell's speakerphone--so I can't even unleash on her as she will have the ammo to strike back.

I get to work and I want to quickly get on my pc to find out how much the ticket will be. One of my co-workers has switched my pc's wallpaper to this, the fucking guy thinks he is a comedian. There he was trying to goof on my Cuban background......but I did find it funny. So at least I had a smile on my face when I found out the ticket would be for a whopping $133!

Then at work shit went horrible....but let's just say I should have gone to help research the College Tailgating Report.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Lost In Space

One thing I can’t complain about with The Furor is neatness. She is a female Felix Unger and just the cleanest and neatest person I know. Everything in plastic boxes, baggies, and put away. All is very nice, neat and organized.

The problem is a lot of times when she cleans she reorganizes and I don’t know where anything is afterwards. I have to be fucking Sherlock Holmes and try to figure out where the shit is if she is not around. The other day she wasn’t home I needed to open a bottle of wine and couldn’t find the opener. For some reason she wouldn’t answer the cell phone so it took me a half hour to open the bottle with a couple of knives and I ended up with a cut finger and half the cork fallen in the bottle.

Last weekend I had to take a bath, and noticed the soap was spent, and couldn’t find where the new damned bars of soap have been secured. The Furor was with Fashion Show at the hairdresser, so I call them and my daughter answers. She ends up asking The Furor in front of the whole salon. Later when I went to Beauty Salon to pick up Fashion Show I found I was the joke of the day at fag central. It was so funny I forgot to laugh.

Of course I can’t complain because then I’ll get, “what, you don’t want me to clean!?” and that is one path not even Indiana Jones would dare go down.

I’ve been holding a shit as I write this and guess what? I know we have toilet paper and baby wipes as I recently purchased a freight train full of both at Costco. Now my choices are, look for them and possibly shit my pants, call her at her friend’s house so they can all have a good laugh, clean my ass with paper towels, or clean my ass in the shower. Stay tuned for an ass cleaning update. I am the Robotman.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Super bowl weekend & my state of the art TVs

In the words of Sacopapa, Alteregoman reporting for duty. I haven't had a chance to post anything because I barely have time (a future post for sure) to wipe my ass, much less sit down and string together some coherent thoughts.

This past weekend I was celebrating my birthday. Fortunately for me, the best present I ever could've received came courtesy of the UFC. A massive mma (mixed martial arts) event Sat. night pitting champion vs. champion. Georges St. Pierre (welterweight champ) vs. BJ Penn (lightweight champ). For anyone who likes hand to hand combat between 2 people, this is the sport of the future. And I love it. I wish this would have come about when I was younger and you would have seen me whooping people's asses. Anyway, to make a long store short, St. Pierre demolished BJ Penn in 4 rounds to remain the #1 welterweight in the world. Awesome, awesome shit and an even better birthday present.

So Sunday came around and it was football time. I'm not really a big football fan anymore but I'm always down to drink mass quantities of beer while watching any good sports event (except soccer, thats not a real American sport). And the Steelers were my old team from back in the day. By the way, the Cardinals lost that game at halftime when they let a 250lb linebacker run 100 yards without taking him down. Terrible display of tackling. I think they had 5 or 6 shots at the guy.

Now came the fun part for me. On top of my state of the art computers, I also had some state of the art TVs. I used to have 3, all tubes. Funny enough, just like my current prehistoric computer, one of the TV's got to the point where it had to warm up before it started working too. It finally died like a day before the move. Even I had to laugh at that shit. Nonetheless, I am now down to two TVs. Why am I bringing this up, pray tell??

About 2 weeks ago, I woke up on the couch like at 3AM. I sleep with the TV on so when I woke up, I noticed something awry. I tried to change the channel and couldn't. Great, the fucking TIVO wasn't working. But since it was 3 in the fucking morning and I had to go to work in a few hours, (Yuck!!), I just said to myself, "I'll deal with it tomorrow." Still, I was fucking annoyed as I went to bed. Next day rolled around and I investigated the problem. After about 5 minutes of looking at wires thinking, "I'm fucked". I looked at the back of the TV set. I didn't realize it but the cable wasn't connected to the TV set. And thats where shit got gross. It wasn't disconnected, the adapter from the TV set was ripped out. It was still connected to the cable. The back of the TV had a hole in it. Great. One of my only sources of enjoyment was now being threatened. Curse the Gods!!!

To make a long story short, I handled it the same way the old mgmt co of where I used to live handled shit.........I jimmyrigged it. Its comical too because I didn't use tape or anything. I managed to jam the fucking cable cord back in the hole, making contact with whatever the fuck broke off on the inside. Guahiro style, once again. And thats how it was for 2 weeks. There was even a point last week where for a few days, you would walk around the apt and it would cause the TV to lose reception and/or get the snowy picture effect. I kid you not. You can't make this shit up. Thank the Gods (the same ones I was just cursing out before) that nothing happened during the UFC fights. But, I can't say the same for the SuperBowl.

Right as I go to sit down to watch the second half, BAM!!! Snowy picture. "Unfucking real, this is not happening," I thought. And the game was actually exciting in the first half. So I get about to fixing this horrible change of events. Yeah, right!!! After fighting life for about 10 - 15 minutes, I gave up. You have to understand. I was trying to jam some broken cord into the back of a TV set behind this wall unit, contorting myself like some fucking pretzel, trying not to get electrocuted. I even had to get Queen Succubus involved because I'm not Plastic Man and I could't see if what I was doing was even making a difference. On a frustration scale of 1-10, I was a 15.

Like I said, I gave up. I just couldn't deal. With some help, I managed to remove the TV from the stand and staggered a few feet (with this 36-inch monster, mind you). Great, now there's a beautiful art deco piece in the living room. I proceeded to get my last TV, the 27-incher, hooked it up and finished watching the SuperBowl. Awesome game, not so awesome view. Some people say I should be happy I even have a TV. I say fuck off.

Until next time, peace. I'm out........

Monday, February 2, 2009

Stupid Bowl Post Game

Just a quick update on the Superbowl Pool.

Had James Harrison been tackled after his interception I would have won the halftime prize. Seems nobody taught Kurt Warner how to tackle. Damn. $250 in and out of my pocket.

The halftime winner was the Vietnam Vet/NRA guy. He was pretty happy so this should stay the execution of most of the office for another week or so. The final score winner was a decent enough Japanese guy who has no clue and didn’t even watch the game. He was quite happy.

I made sure to announce it in the break room and made sure wire transfer lady was there to hear us carrying on about the game and the pool. She got her coffee and left the break room with a stupid look on her face.Gambler boy wants me to do another one for the weak-ass Pro-bowl, but I told him no dice.

Well, that’s all for now, I have to call my company's new insurance carrier about some ID card errors and I’m already smelling a future post with those jackasses. I am the Robotman.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Desk lunches

So this year's SuperBowl has given me yet another reason that I fucking hate my job. You see, I work in the auto business.....and as most people know sales are down big time. In the last year, the amount of sales people we have working at my place has been virtually cut in half(and this wasn't a huge place to begin with). So when you have a small group of people to pull from it begins to get much more difficult to fill up a simple SuperBowl Box pool.

For the few of you who do not know what this pool is, go fuck yourself and live in this website, as I will not explain something that should be common knowledge. Typically, I am in at least 4 or 5 pools....this year-not one! Is it the economy??? No work pool, or even other people calling me up to be in one!

I do not need the pool to get me psyched for the game, I love football and my Steelers are in, but the fact that I do not have a work SuperBowl Box pool is reason #165 why I hate my job. Ever since we have been going with a skeleton crew, I can't even leave for lunch. Leaving for lunch used to be the best part of the day. Even deciding where to go for lunch was enjoyable. But now, if I leave for lunch it's a big fucking issue as I end up leaving the workplace understaffed. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. Now I eat at my desk., like a fucking loser.

When you eat at your desk, you still have to deal with work crap. Phone, idiot customers, and other employees. For the most part, the guys I work with are all ok, but I am here from 9am until 8pm......a one hour brake would do us all fine.

As I read this post over, I find that it is not very funny at all, in fact, it is so true that it depresses the shit outta me. If anyone has a decent job out there for me, let me know. Until then, let me leave you with my prediction: Pittsburgh 27 Arizona 13. Go Steelers.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Toddlers and Tiaras!!


Sacopapa reporting for duty. I hate to say this, but what the fuck is wrong with us and reality TV shows. Holyshit, has anyone heard of Toddlers and Tiaras? OK, I’m going to give you my top 10 reasons why it so fucking wrong to string your kids up like a fucking Muppet and parade them like fucking chimps. Here we go.

  1. You were the least popular chick in school and now you are trying to make up through your daughters looks.
  2. You’re trying to compete with the next door neighbor but you will never get there. You’re fat, your kids are fat and you’ll always be fat.
  3. Ever thought of having your kid live a normal life? How about playing with a Barbie doll or playing outside. Stupid bitch.
  4. Quit trying to be an attention whore. You suck, your kids suck and worst of all, your husband sucks for approving this whole cock a mania idea!!
  5. If your husband approves of this, he’s really gay and probably wears better G-strings than you.
  6. Now that your kid is mentally disabled by your great parenting, don’t be surprise if she ends up behind bars or just mentally disturbed.
  7. Great, no one wants to know that she was a baby star and now she’s filming Porn.
  8. Mom and Dad, I hate you both. I hope the both of you rot in hell.
  9. You have been a great contribution to society and now the world can end with a cosmic crash!! Go fuck yourself and quit forcing your kids to do something they don’t want to do. Ever hear of soccer moms??
  10. Ever hear of JonBenét Ramsey?

That’s it in a nut shell. Sacopapa out!!!

Stupid Bowl

So I’m putting together a Superbowl Pool this week, which in any normal office you could fill out fairly quickly. Not in this office. Compared to normal people I know I’d say I have average sports knowledge, but compared to the drones in my office I’m fucking Mike Lupica.There is even a Brazilian guy who works in my office that is not into soccer. That’s like a gorilla that doesn’t like bananas. The office is a sports black hole.

There is one guy who is a baseball fan and he ruins it by liking the Red Sox and another guy who likes to gamble on anything. Now apart from having to catch people when they are not in meetings to participate in the pool, I have to explain how the fucking thing works to everybody. Why do I do this? Red Sox boy and gambler had been begging me when I was out to lunch with them a few days ago and agreeing was the only way I could change the topic.

I whip the pool together on excel in a flash. With help from Bill Buckner and Pete Rose, we recruit people and are filling out a good portion of the grid. I carefully avoid bible thumpers and idiots. Bill and Pete aren’t so careful, before I can stop them I see them talking to the wire transfer lady. Not a bad person and does her job fine, but just an old school cackling hen.

I come over and it’s 20 questions. Mind you, I prepared a sample sheet and printed instructions so my two co-workers don’t get in to trouble. I explain to her that it doesn’t matter what teams wins, and that yes Pittsburg is quite cold this time of year, but the game is in Tampa. No, the Dolphins aren’t playing I tell her. A finance guy walks by and helps out explaining the grid. She talks very loud and this has become a 15 minute ordeal and we are supposed to be working. After all that shit, I’m like, “ok, pick your block, five bucks”. She looks at me right in the eyes and says, “Ah, nah, I don’t want to.”

Like a fucking kick in the balls. I should have slapped her in the face on principal alone. Once again I’m Charlie Brown and Lucy is a fucking fifty-five year old hag. Fuck me.

I did have a good lunch as Bill and Pete treated me to Chili’s to laugh about that shit. I am the Robotman.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

My State of the Art Computers

Right now, it sucks to be Alteregoman. Why, you ask?? Well, where do I start. Ah, yes, we'll start with my state of the art computers. Surely, I jest. I have a desktop computer from, you know what, I don't even remember. I think 2002, I have no fucking clue. The bottom line is, as one can imagine, its 2009. If it were up to Queen Succubus, this would have been in the trash in 2006. I'm surprised the fucker still works. And it does, but boy is my patience wearing thin.

For example, just a half hour ago I started it up. Its like a car, it has to warm up for a few minutes to work effectively. Let me rephrase that, it has to warm up for a few minutes to work. Period. After waiting 5 minutes (avg wait time)I read SugarKing's post and wanted to make a comment, a simple one minute task. Not for Alteregoman. For me, the process took 15 minutes. (I used to get really pissed off, now I just get semi aggravated). After what seemed like an eternity, I posted the comment and forgot to log on under my name. Great, I am such an asshole!! Damn it, here we go again. I tried to log on, and I did, 5 MINUTES LATER!!! Unreal..

It gets better. Since I just moved recently, I have no desk because the old one was garbage and had to be discarded. And I can't afford one right at this moment. So I have the guajiro special, two trays put together in this perpendicular formation. The keyboard and monitor take up 50% of the space. There are 2 small lansing speakers on the corners. My mouse pad is, hold on, I have to take a look. This is actually funny. (I remember seeing this guy in the middle of the night on every fucking channel on TV). I have this Carlton Sheets No Down Payment Step-by-Step manual as my mouse pad which also doubles as my writing area. I have room for a drink and maybe an ashtray but that's it. I shit you not.

I haven't yet discussed the laptop, which at the time of purchase, was another kick-ass piece of machinery. Now, not so much. It works perfectly fine except for one little issue. The o button doesn't work. And at any moment, if you're in Word or some type of writing program, the o just starts popping up continuously, like this...ooooooooooooooooooooooooo....
Pretty fucking weak, huh. Any guess what your Highness' suggestion was like 2 years ago?? Throw it away. Typical. "Get a new one." Thats her response for everything, even if its new. Must be nice being rich.

I am happy to report the piece of shit prehistoric desktop actually held up during me writing this crap. At any moment, it could've frozen, leaving me wondering whether its stuck or just painstakingly slow. Who fucking knows. I pray it saves this shit before spazzing. Personally, I feel like whipping this processor against a concrete wall. Soon, grasshopper, soon....

I hope you enjoyed this private bitch and whine fest with Alteregoman and my state of the art computers. Until next time, peace. I'm out.........

Monday, January 26, 2009

Hurry, hurry, step right up.....

So the other day my wife asks me if I think it would be a good idea to take our son to Ringling Bros & Barnum Bailey Circus for his one year birthday this March, as the circus will be in town. Personally, I can not see how a one year old will enjoy the circus, he just is not old enough yet--I could be wrong, after all, what the fuck do I know---but I bet he will enjoy it as much as seeing the crappy NJ Nets.....and at least I like to see the Nets. So I tell her that I do not think it would be a good idea and I explain to her my reasons. So that's that.

Not really.

About 30 minutes later she calls me over by the computer and tells me she can get second row tickets for seventy bucks. That's $70 each, and that's before all of the bullshit ticketmaster charges, so we are likely talking a number just north of $150. Then she asks, "Should I buy these right now?"
Dear God(or any other fictional being from the heavens), please give me the strength.
She knows the answer, but she is asking me again. In fact, she went searching for the tickets after she asked and knew my opinion was that this was not a good idea. Why even bother asking me? Asking me would insinuate that my answer matters......when clearly.......it...does........not.

Bottom line is this: she wants to do this and thinks it's a good idea. I am beaten down, well-trained, an enabler, and I know that my opinion matters little when she thinks differently. So do I battle her with my logic, create a fuss, and ask her why she is searching for tickets when she knew I did not think it was a good idea or do I give it my blessing in an effort to bring peace to the home.

Call me a wimp, call me what you will.....but I hope the elephants do not shit too close to me.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Evidence Exhibit #374


So here we have Evidence Exhibit #374 in my continuing thesis, entitled, "Why I Have No Faith In the Human Race".

Some idiot in NY is baking obviously racist, offensive cookies and proclaiming that he doesn't know what's wrong with them.

Stay tuned for his other non-racist cookie varieties like Sprinkles Spic Cookie, Jew Jam Muffin, and Flat-Faced Almond Asian. Yum-yum, almonds!


Family Affair


My whole family got pissed at me during dinner last Wednesday, because of this site and especially because of fucking Sacopapa. Like I don’t waste enough time on this fucking site as it is. Before I get into why they got pissed, let me outline the cast of characters.

1. First we have The Furor. You may know her from my previous posts. Basically what she says goes. Condoleezza and Hillary have nothing on her. She’d be dropping nukes and making OPEC say uncle. I am not playing. She’s the fucking boss and that shit is cool with me as long as I have alcohol, smoke, and can watch my current shows. I am a man of simple tastes.

2. Next on the list is my daughter, 14, who I call “Fashion Show”. If you see her getting ready in the morning you’d think she was headed for the catwalk instead of fucking middle school. Her room looks like a clothing explosion went off at the Twilight premier party. I don’t mind, but it gets The Furor mad, which I receive shrapnel from, so I beg Fashion Show to clean up for sanity’s sake. She also is the only person who dares talk back to and yell at The Furor. My son and I usually head for the hills when this happens. Lucky for her she is an honor student. I told to let me know a day in advance if she ever has to show her mom an F. I’ll be working late that night.

3. Then there is my son, almost 17, his look is kind of a mismatched hippie punkrocker with a side serving of 50cent. He quit High School Baseball last year, which sucked for me but almost gave his Cuban baseball fanatic grandfather another heart attack. He is currently on a job search and getting his driver’s license soon. I can’t wait to see my new auto insurance bill. He keeps his room clean, is passing his classes, and The Furor has accepted that he will not get a haircut. He just stays quiet when The Furor gets mad at him. This gets her mad, but not nearly as mad as Fashion Show’s backtalk.

6. Last and least (the dogs are #4 and #5) there is the Robotman, which if you have read my other posts, you get the picture.

So,I get home from work last Wednesday. My wife is making dinner, a nice meat and vegetable soup since it was a bit chilly out for Florida. It will be ready in 20 minutes or so she says. It was looking like an evening of sheer domestic bliss. Since I have a few minutes, I sit at the computer and surf foobies for a quick peek and then I go to my wife hates me. Cool, I notice a new Sacopapa post. Off the bat he mentions his father-in-law so I already know this is going to be good. After reading about the shit, the breaking of shit, the butterknife, the fucking bananas, I almost piss my pants laughing. Disgusting yet hysterical.

My wife calls me for dinner as the kids are already sitting down. I go over still fucking giggling and thinking about the shit post. They ask what I am laughing at and I start telling them about the post while my wife is serving the food. They are all starting to dig into dinner when I get to the part, still laughing, about the piece of shit the size of a midget leg. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose, and I quickly stop the snickering.

Fashion Show gags on the soup, eyes watering and unable to speak. Later she told me soup went out her nose. My son drops his spoon, “fucking dad, we’re eating”. If I wasn’t his dad I think he would have punched me in the face. The Furor looked at me like I just ate a box of fucking crayons, just completely disgusted at my existence and speechless for a moment (a brief moment).

The dinnertime discussion was pretty much her talking about what an immature ill-mannered idiot I am with my kids agreeing 100% while I ate my soup still chuckling inside at the banana-shit post. I am the Robotman and I’m starting to think my wife may hate me.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Howard the Duck

So I head out to work this morning, thrilled as usual. I turn the corner and drive about half the block until I have to slow down because there, in the roadway, are 2 ducks. There just chilling crossing the street in my lane. I have nothing against ducks. As a matter of fact, when Queen Succubus and I have breakfast at a local place, I often say," Hey check out the duckies...". Pretty gay, I know. And by the some of the looks she's given me after hearing this comment for like the 750th time, I'm sure she thinks its pretty gay too. I proceed to swerve around the "duckies" and continue along my way. The person behind me does the same thing. These fucking ducks have it better than us humans. Unreal.

The thing about these ducks is that they're like mutant ducks. I've seen some that could weigh 15-20 lbs. Totally harmless, non-aggressive, but still abnormally large. Or maybe not. I'm not a fucking farmer or duck breeder. All I know is whenever I feel like any of my limbs are in danger with any animal, I'm fucking wary. So I proceed on my merry ride. I hit the main road and speed up to 35- 40 mph, the speed limit. I go 2 blocks and the light turns yellow. Fuck it, I think, I'm taking this bitch.

As I speed through the yellow light, out of the corner of my right eye, I see 2 ducks taking flight. Now, I have pretty good hand to eye coordination. I swear to God, when I saw the ducks taking off, I thought, "Holy Shit, am I gonna hit one of those...." I didn't even get to finish the thought. I closed my eyes and WHAM!!!!! 20!!!!! I fucked that duck up Looney Tunes style. I hit that fucker so hard I thought it might have cracked my windshield. And by the sound of the impact, it was a rather large one. Luckily, my windshield is not broken because I would have been one pissed off motherfucker with a hilarious broken car window story. And possibly sporting numerous lacerations due to flying shards of glass at 40mph.

Don't worry the duck survived the initial shot. After I pulverized it, I saw it in my rearview, feathers flying all over the place, looking to land in the median. He was rocked though. Serves em right. Next time that particular duck (if it lived) will think twice about flying carelessly through roadways with traffic. And I hope he spreads the message along to all the other stupid ducks as well. "Stay the fuck out of the street!! Go back to the lake or wherever the fuck you came from and stop slowing down traffic!!!"

Until next time, peace. I'm out......

Mask Man is a Fag

Sacopapa reporting for duty. Not much to share this week as it's been very quiet around here. My father in law finally went home and hopefully he is using his own butter knife to cut his shit apart. There is a god!

This week has been nothing but conference calling and corporate training. Even though I work from home, I still have to attend training to stay on top of my game. These conference calls usually consist of a few guys and every once in a while we get chicks to attend. They usually last anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour. Every time we join these calls we kind of bullshit a bit before the meeting begins. Most of guys talk about sports, beer drinking and hot chicks. Well, the moderator is from NY, lives in the Village and is a flaming Homo. He is super smart and does a great job giving the presentations. Like Seinfeld once said " Not that there is anything wrong with it". But I can't stand when he gets all girlie and start talking about what he does on the weekends.

We talk about sport, chicks, cars and this bitch talks about candle parties at his house. It's like you can hear a pin drop over the phones when he starts to talk. I'm pretty sure everyone is muted and are cracking up listening to Petunia. I know he is trying to fit in, but we don't want to hear that shit.

Anyway, I think it's wrong and bitch, please keep your shit to yourself. There is no point to this story except that fags quit trying to fit in with straight people. Go back to your fucking smelly candle parties and quit telling people what you do on your own personal time. We don't want to hear it or even know about it. Also, please stop with the fag laughs when you get carried away, it's really fucking annoying.

Here is a small clip of Lenny Bruce talking about Fags. Enjoy.

Sacopapa Out!!


Thursday, January 22, 2009

Gates of Steel


I live in one of those cookie cutter gated communities. My home is nice and fairly new. The neighbors are decent enough and more importantly don’t park in, around, or block my driveway. This was a constant struggle and source of aggravation for me when I lived in no-parking available Northeast New Jersey, so I really appreciate it. One of the next-door neighbor families we call the Incas, nice people, but take away the Wal-Mart clothes, add some ponchos and llamas, and it’s a National Geographic photo. (Sacopapa’s father-in-law would have a field day). My other next-door neighbors are an older couple from Chicago, so thankfully no actual born and bred Floridians next door. After that it’s the usual assortment of multi-race families, boob jobs, and cops. Florida has many different types of law enforcement always driving around doing God knows what when they are not giving me tickets (State, Sheriff, City, County, School Board, Town, Postal, Animal, DEA, Customs, ATF, just endless) and many of them live in gated communities and like to park their police cars in the driveway. I even have a fire investigator nearby who parks his police style fire car in his driveway. You would think I’m set if I’m ever robbed or have a fire. Not that I’d bank on it, but you would think.

My community has an Association which you are forced to pay an annoying amount of money to every month. This is for upkeep of the grounds, clubhouse, useless gate guards, basic cable (which now they cancelled and didn’t lower the fee!), that type of shit. The association needs leaders who decide if Jill can paint her house pastel blue or if Joe can park his canoe in the driveway. Real fucking life and death shit. Since most fucking people have jobs, guess who are the leaders of this Association? Old retired white people. No offense to old retired white people, but who wants them choosing décor, making rules, and hiring 3rd party services? No one, that’s who, not even white people. They actually get voted in as barely anyone votes and only other old retired white people are running against the incumbents.

Here are excerpts from a random posting on my community website (that by the way, the old retired white people don’t access or post on the site) to get a little taste for things…

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Yes I agree with (so and so) we need to know the number of foreclosures and also the number of people not paying the dues...we definitely need to know this before the new HOA fees effective. I am paying my dues on time and I am not responsible for others. Everyone is in this economic crisis...paying too much for everything mortgage, insurance, gas...and now HOA fee increase no way this is ridiculous. With a HOA fee $134 and separate cable we are going to spend close to $200 on a monthly basis…After all paying these fees.., the security company is not doing their job right, they are allowing the visitors without calling the home owners…
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There are dozens of posts and threads like this. The HOA (homeowners association) is a cartoonish preposterous imitation of any type of formal organization and really should be put out of their misery. I’d kill them myself if it wasn’t for that fact that I’d probably go to jail.

So several months ago after much nagging and needling from my wife and I “agree” to have the outside of the house painted. Little did I know what was in store with this undertaking. First step was to go to the clubhouse and see one of the hired managers/attendants. Mostly they are always out to lunch but you can catch them for a few minutes a day. First trip is my wife and daughter. My wife is from Costa Rica and her English isn’t that great and the manager ladies have thick Jamaican* accents, so my daughter, on my suggestion, went along as translator. I should have filmed that shit and posted it on You Tube.

From what they told me, the lady wasn’t exactly unfurling the pom-poms at their arrival at the office. The lady tells my wife she can pick the color form the pre-approved color “color wheel” and it can be approved then and there. My wife asks if she can take the wheel home. The lady says a refundable deposit of $100.00 is required and it will be returned after the painting is done and the house is inspected by some person the old white people hired. Like we are going to steal it with them knowing our address. My wife doesn’t have the checkbook and is slightly annoyed, and decides she doesn’t like any of the colors on the color wheel. The lady really could give two shits and is following the retarded rules of the Association, so she gives the “planned construction” approval form to my wife, since she didn’t like the colors on the stupid wheel.

I arrive home from the job with all the meetings and get ambushed by my wife and daughter about the forms, the lady, the paint, the $100, and other assorted topics. They drone on and on for 30 minutes not even giving me a chance to get out of the “business casual” costume I’m forced to wear to work. Next up, my wife says we are off to Home Depot to pick the color we will have the house painted. Once there, I just say yes to any color she mentions and wait for her to decide. If there is a color I do particularly like, I say no as that will increase the chances of that color getting picked.

Since the wife was handling the hiring of good painters, a task which I wouldn’t want normally, much less in the Banana Republic of South Florida, I got the task of filling out the “planned construction” approval form, turning it in to the lady and finding out the next steps. I fill out the form and attach a color sample, savage sands, or whatever the fucking name was, and the $100 check.

After like 3 days of dropping by the clubhouse with no one there and the pressure from the wife, I finally catch the lady one day at 420pm turning off her computer with purse and key in hand. Mind you, this fucking place is supposed to be open till 6pm. She looks at me like I fucking spilled milk on her dress or something. I explain that I am having my house painted and before I can even finish my sentence she whips out the color wheel and tells me to pick a color. I explain the situation. She says the association meets once a month for pre-construction approval (which includes picking a paint that is not on the fucking bullshit wheel that I just want to shove up this lady’s ass). She tells me that the next association “construction approval” meeting is in 3 weeks and then they will mail me their decision. The Furor was not amused when I arrived home and told her this last bit of information, and somehow I was to blame.

The paint color was finally approved and a few painful weeks later I had a freshly painted house. Now I had to turn in the inspection request form, and after the inspection I could get my check back. A few days later I turn in the form.

Around 5 months later (yesterday) I’m at the back gate (no guard gate) of my community after leaving work a bit early to finally pick my $100 deposit check from the paint hassle, as they have managed to evade me for months. The fucking gate doesn’t open, the brand new $30 gate entry chip sticker I was forced to wait in line for last SATURDAY at the clubhouse that is now needed to get into the community doesn’t seem to be working…..fuck…..making the u-turn for the one mile drive to the front gate I remember my wife also mentioned she wants to screen in part of the backyard (construction approval hell part duex) …..it never fucking ends.

*Disclaimer: While I do think most people are lame and gross, I have nothing in particular against Jamaicans, Costa Ricans, Incans, or white people. It just so happens that those cultures are involved in this sad and factual tale. I am the Robotman.

Ticket please...

So I am a huge sports fan, and while my wife may hate me, she actually likes sports--and that's works out well for us. Ever since our son was born(a mere 10 months ago) going to sporting events has become a bit trickier......but in the last two weeks, I have gone to the Meadowlands twice to see my crappy NJ Nets with my wife and son.

The first time we went, everything went fairly well except having to park near Giant Stadium---making it a big trek to the Izod Arena(not that I am used to calling it the Izod Arena....honestly, I still refer to it as Brendan Byrne, which was a couple of names ago). The fucking arena is only 60% full and they send us to Giant Stadium to park??? What the fuck! Anyway, my son behaved, we had a good time, and the Nets even won and Beyonce brought some friends. I did have the long trek back to the car, in freezing weather, while carrying my wrapped and bundled up son, but I left enjoying the experience. Very cool.

Now on to my second visit: we do not get there as early, but yet we can park near the arena(and they seemed to have a bigger crowd, so who the fuck can guess at the parking logic)---great start as we zip right in to the arena. As we are showing are tickets to get in, the ticket collecter that puts the red light over the barcode of the ticket says to me:

"Anything one day or more needs a ticket."

I say: "What?" she says: "Anything one day or more needs a ticket."

Not understanding what the fuck she is talking about, I say: "What do you mean, if 'what' is one day or more?"

She replies, "The baby, if the baby is one day or more, he needs a ticket."

You fucking cunt of a woman. She uses the word 'anything' to refer to my son! My son is not a thing!

Part of any incompetence in public I deal with also includes me keeping my wife calm. She tends to flip out with incompetent workers like this ticket-collecting bitch. I think the best way get things resolved is to stay calm and reason with people(most of the time). Now if this ticket-collecting idiot would have said that everyone needs a ticket, that's one thing, but she actually feels that a newborn of less than 24 hours might come to an event.....fucking idiot.

So I say, "Older than one day? So if my wife would have gone through labor today, my son would be allowed in without a ticket?"

After a blank look and a pause she says, "Those are rules." My wife screams, "Those are NOT the rules, the rules state anyone 24 months and younger are allowed in without a ticket!"

Ticket-collecting whore smugly says, "That's for Disney events."

Wife rips back, "That's for ALL Izod events!" Ticket-bitch, not giving a shit, says, "Then you need a supervisor."

Quote from the Izod Center website:

AGE POLICY For ALL events at IZOD CENTER, patrons who are 2 years of age or older must have a valid ticket to gain admission.

My wife is on the warpath. She had checked the website and knew the info, she knew we did not need a ticket for our son.....her gun was loaded. In the next a couple of minutes(while trying to get a so called supervisor), we argued about her staying calm, while I told her to let me do the talking(that's me thinking reason would prevail). We speak to a couple of people, no one knows the god damn rules. Un-fucking-believable. They have us wait, while different supervisor-types have conferences and mull our situation over. My wife was spewing venom as we were waiting, while I was telling her to stay calm and act reasonable.

One guy ends up coming over and says, "Sir, you should enter through the other entrance....your seats are closer to that entrance." None of them knew the rules, so they told me to use a different ticket-collector. Pathetic, but we go right on through. So we sent an email the next day to let them know how shitty their employees are.......but that will be another post as that saga is ongoing.

Oh, and the Nets lost this time......and Beyonce was not there.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Elvis has left the building!!

Sacopapa reporting for duty. I hate to say this, but once again, I had a horrible fucking week with my father in law. If only he could have been 20 years younger, I would of scraped his old ass all over the side walk. Not sure if you know this, but old people have a hard time shitting. They get constipated by eating one fucking banana. This Nigga decides to eat at least 6 to 7 bananas a day. Are you fucking for kidding me?

Sacopapa Junior has been asking me everyday, “Daddy, where are all the bananas?” I of course don’t pay attention to it as I’m trying to do work and take care of my daughter. We’ll just call her Mojonsita, since she’s a little shit and acts just like her mom. Anyway, I went to the store and bought more. By the 3rd day, I’m like, “what the fuck, where are all the bananas going?” I bust this Nigga taking up to 3 bananas into my son’s room. I had to do it, and so I did, I asked him, “Why are you eating so many bananas?” His response, which I should of dropped kick him in the balls was, “Because I need all the potassium I can get.” My brain started to turn like a Hamster on a wheel and tried to remember if I had seen him or smelled him shitting in our kid’s bathroom. Nope, he has not!!!

I have heard of the poop of death and I started to panic. Anyway, the day was over and we all went to bed. The next day was dooms day! He started the morning by having 4 cups of coffee, egg whites, 2 pieces of toast and Exlax! I knew exactly what he was up to. I calmly had my breakfast and watch him in a mortified way, like I was 13 and was watching the Exorcist. He finished all his heart attack food and sat in the living room. Took nothing but 10 minutes for him to get up and go to the bathroom.

After 20 minutes he came out and asked me for a butter knife. I got up and asked him, “Why do you need a butter knife?” His fucking response was, “It’s to cut this bad boy up and flush him down!” I fucking looked by mistake into the toilet and immediately threw up in my mouth. Not enough to projectile, but enough to taste the gag in my mouth. This was the perfect time for me to say out loud, “HOLYSHIT, did that come out of your ass?!!!” He starred at me and was like, “Don’t worry; you’ll go through it too.” I’ll go threw it too?! What!!! I looked at him and said “you must be fucking high, how about quit eating all my bananas and quit shitting like a fucking gorilla!” He shook his head and still had the audacity to ask me for the fucking butter knife. I lost it on him. How dare you use my eating utensil to cut your shit apart, what kind of a fucking man are you? By now, I’m thinking, how the fuck is that “bad boy” going to be flushed down. The thing looked like a fucking midget leg.

Fuck me, Sacopapa to the rescue. I took his ass to the side of the garage, cut down a piece of branch and gave it to him. I told him to cut his shit up and try flushing it. He did and oops, the inedible happened. The toilet over flowed! This is when you become religious and start questioning god. Why me god? I could have sworn I heard a small whisper in my ear, “because you’re Sacopapa”. So I got a respirator mask placed over my grill, picked up the plunger and went to town. Damn that had to be the worst shit I have ever done in my life. I was so freaked out from all of this, that I called Queen Sheba and cursed her out for being his daughter.

We finally took him to his animal kingdom where he can do whatever the fuck he likes. He can use his own utensils to cut his own shit up. Not in my house, no way, no how and not in this lifetime. Old people are gross; I will be the old guy to blow out my brains if I ever have to use a butter knife to cut my own shit. I have come to the conclusion that I’m a germ o phobic, so I’ll leave you with a little George Carlin with regards to germs.




Sacopapa out!!

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Inauguration Blues


In general, I just don’t get the whole Obama-Mania thing, but wanted to nonetheless watch the inauguration (one friend just told me to drink the Kool-Aid already). One thing for sure, our new president gives great speeches and he did not let down. It was delivered flawlessly and was positive, motivating, and as partisan as possible. Godspeed Mr. President.

A few observations.

You have to be kidding me with the homely poem lady. What the hell was that? This lady follows Obama, one of the great orators of our time with a weak ass def-jam poetry appearance. Why don’t you just get Sinbad to do 5 minute of stand up? What the fuck? JFK had Robert Frost at his inauguration, a once in a lifetime thing. I don’t care what anyone says. No one was into that lady. Maybe if she was hot I could see it. I will never in my life figure this out. I am genetically incapable of comprehending the homely poem lady after the Obama Inauguration Speech. Bizarre.

There was one shot during the speech where you could see Bush and Cheney sitting with Obama in the background. It’s funny to imagine what they were thinking. I’m sure Bush was thinking about the ranch and getting the fuck home. Exit stage left like the Alien in Spaceballs. Cheney on the other hand I draw a blank. There with his hat and fancy earmuffs looking like a statue.

……it’s freezing I want this to end…..this Obama needs a punch in the face….fucking W needs a bitchslap…...oh yeah, have to call the callgirl agency for tonight, I hope Ms.Honey Melons is available….wonder if Palin wants to go Moose hunting, loved to get a piece of that ass…

Really it could be anything. I would love to know what it was.

Bill Clinton, even in the freezing cold, eyes moving, scoping potential pussy. A year ago he was on the fast track to the White House as the first “First Gentleman”. This guy was getting play in the White House as President, I can only imagine living in the White House without an actual job. He would have eventually just fucked every chick that worked there. Today’s teenage boys owe him a debt of gratitude. Back in my day it was easier to get laid (which was not easy at all) than to get a blowjob. Now ask any 16 year old boy and he will tell it is the age of the blowjob. Bill really loosened up “third base” to say the least.

I’d be scared to piss off Michelle Obama. She’s got some big shoulders and muscles. Plus with that big jaw, her mad face must be very frightening. I think she could take Obama. He better not be thinking about getting blowjobs like Bill. He will get his ass kicked.

Before I close I again wish the 44th President the best of luck. Now to take me out of my Inauguration Blues, the greatest band in the history of rap……