supahaole

I've said it before, I'll say it again:
I am a bad motherfucker.
I fucking rock.
Okay, so maybe I'm just a total dork.




That is all, carry on about your business.

It's Tuesday night and i'm drunk...that's not a good sign, is it?

The surrealness that was my saturday night: heard there was a really good jazz/funk band playing at Longhi's. I figured it was worth checking out. As I'm at the bar waiting for my drink, I see this guy getting out of the elevator. "Shit" I think to myself, "is this a costume party or some shit, because that guy is all dressed up just like...
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Weekend has arrived for my ass! I'm liking the 4 day schedule. Time for beer.
Edit:
What the fuck? Sunny as hell all week, as soon as I'm off work, it starts pissing down rain!!

Rock! Work sucks, life isn't all bad, weather's hot, bike parts have arrived, new band coming together nicely, only 3 more days to go then it's the weekend again.


Am I leaving anything out?

Enough of the angry posting!
The rest of this weekend is going to be excellent!

Some people need to quit being whiny little bitches and admit when they fuck up. They also need to not ask to get paid for things they did not do.
And mostly, they need to know when to shut the fuck up so as not to get smacked down by a pissed off Supahaole.
I love crackheads.

I can't think of a damn thing to say at the moment...how boring of me.

First rehearsal with the new band today...This is gonna be so much fun it really shouldn't be legal.
Most bands have a set list on stage when they play...looks like we're gonna need a script.
Crazy crazy shit is coming soon.

Finally, the week is over. I thought this shit would never end.

So at the ever-so-lovely hour of 5:30 am, as I'm sitting at my jobsite waiting for the planning meeting to begin, drinking a large cup of coffee, I sleepily open the newspaper, only to find myself staring at a picture of my sister's boyfriend. "Oh shit!" I thought, "what sort of drunken debauchery did he take part in to wind up in the paper?"
Turns...
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Due to idiots in the office at my jobsite, we have to undergo "sensitivity training" this week.
If only people would spend about half a second thinking about what they're saying before they actually say it, life would be good.
Since we're not actually working that day, maybe I'll wear my red velvet/zebra stripe pimp suit in. That should go over like a fart in...
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