COCKSUCKIN MIDGET WEEBLES WOBBLE BUTT THEY CAN’T SHUT THEIR CUNT.

“The Sales Clerk: Right: “Hi, welcome to SuperWorld!” Wrong: “I’ll tell ya what, Suzie, I’m gonna find me another damn job, this place is driving me frikkin nuts….oh, hold on a sec, mister! Can’t you see I’m busy?” Extra points for unkempt hair, missing teeth.

Huh? WTF? So this is about worthless assholes like FaFaFuckFace who work in box stores? Oddly enough the only people that she could get to vouch for her when he was trying to get her junkie’s mutt back? I guess Nancy’s gonna throw sub-humans under the buss. I can hang.

The Waitress/Waiter: Right - “Hi. I’m Alex. May I take your order, please?” Wrong - (After avoiding you for ten minutes) “Hey! John! Get that shit off that table! I gots other things to do! Yeah, whatcha want?” Extra points for grubby uniform and dirty fingernails.

Whoooooooh big left turn like when you got your slut bent over the sofa and she thinks you’re gonna stir the stank and then you cram it in her Nancy hole. Gotta be a poignant fuckin point someplace soon to her babblings.

The Auto Mechanic: Right - “Well, Sir, I really don’t know why your car is making that banging sound. Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and have a seat over there? I’ll check it out and give you an answer and estimate as soon as I can. If we have to keep your car for a while would you like a loaner to use?” Wrong - (Looks at the car for 30 seconds) Man….looks like your hydropneumatic super processor ignition regulator is out of whack. I’ll get it fixed after those two ‘83 Camaro’s over there. Prob’ly in a few weeks. That’ll be $2500.” Extra points for beer cans lying all over. Double extra points for the strong scent of marijuana in the air - unless you can inhale enough of it to not give a damn either.

OK, my fuckin head is starting to hurt and it ain’t from the Stoli. So her shit stained panties full of random DNA are all in a wad because she can’t get a free ride while they fix her piece of shit car, or free coffee? She doesn’t like beer, or Camaro’s, or pot? No, Nancy is just bitchen to fuckin bitch. Queen fuckin cunt! God damned it have you ever seen a more bloated, spotting, dripping, engorged, bloody babbling menopausal cunt in your miserable fuckin life? They don’t make mutha fuckin Tampons that big.

The Doctor’s Office: Right - “Why, hello, sir! The Doctor will be right with you.” Wrong - (Five hours later) “Hello, 911? Someone seems to have died in our waiting room!” Extra points for the Doctor himself walking by your rigid corpse on his way to a golf game.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh… this one’s fuckin easy. Ole Doc didn’t lube up the latex glove, cram it up his stinky winky and tickle her tonsils. Dood their job isn’t to get your sorry ass off for free just because you have health insurance. Go down to the Main Street Pier and pay for it like all the other cocksuckin old faaaaaaaaaaaeges do.

And, Finally,

The Computer Help Line: Right - “Oh, that’s an easy fix, sir. Tell you what. Let me walk you through the steps needed to correct that problem. Oh, I see you’re in Florida. How ’bout them Gators!” Wrong - “उद्योजकता ही एक वृत्ती आहे. हे करण्यासाठी तुमच्या आजूबाजूला काय चालले आहे याची जाणीव असावी लागते.
व्यापक नजरेने पहावे लागते, वेगळा दृष्टीकोन असावा लागतो.” Extra points for “Eeesnt Sanjaya great? We love Sanjaya! Vote for Sanjaya!”"

Mutha fuckin Christ! So we have racist shots, sexist slams, working poor cut downs, and who knows what the fuck else the cunt is cunting about (all fine with me by the way) but they’re from the self proclaimed oppressed anal trampoline! God take me now you prick but don’t do that Jesus Easter card trick where you pretend I’m dead and bring me back so you can get more caaaaaaashe out of the moron sheep in the collection plate. Do not forsake me oh Lord, and punish me no more mutha fucker!

Ok, you’re stuck in a room listening to Starla, Nancy and Moiron with a gun that only has one bullet. Who do you kill? Let’s see… Starla will die soon enough from some mutated genetic disease. Nancy will get some faggot STD and be in the hospital until some poor fuckin nurse who can’t take it’s nonstop cunty blathering puts a pillow over its cocksuckin face and suffocates it. Moiron will be killed at her garage sale as she tries to overcharge some Slappy for a fake gold necklace. But still, only one bullet.

Suicide of course.

Mutha fuck they don’t make enough Stoli! BANG!

9. Anything driven by an old fart. At 20 mph in a 50 mph zone. Why, why, why do they drive so damn slow? Well, just the fact that they’re probably half blind and deaf is a good reason to stay away.

Just Hurry up, you old fart!

8. Punk ass kids in their sooped-up (old) Honda Civics and other little Jap cars with big mufflers and not much else holding them together. Stereos blaring away. Bass thumping. Riding on your ass. Why, one of them actually yelled out to me the other day,

“Just hurry up, you old fart!”

7. Businessmen/women in nice, big 4 door luxury cars or SUV’s (I’m talking about you, Real Estate Agents): Yap, yap, yap on the phone. One hand on the wheel. Oh, be sure to check your Palm Pilot, too! Freshen the makeup ladies before you show that house or go to that board meeting! Who cares that you’re driving! Oh, look, don’t you have to turn left in 10 feet? Yeah, go ahead. Switch lanes, no signal needed. You’re busy. Newsflash, guys: The market sucks. That house isn’t going to sell in the five extra minutes it takes you to get there without plowing down everyone on the way.

6. Anyone with a 10 plus year old (usually GM or Chrysler) big rusted out 4 door rattletrap piece of shit. Filled with trash and screaming chilluns. Spewing smoke rushing back to the trailer park or Projects after spending their monthly allotment of food stamps.

5. Be very careful driving down Ridgewood Ave in Daytona (or OBT in Orlando). See that middle aged guy in front of you? Seems pretty innocent, right? Guess what? That Bubba’s gonna be slamming on his brakes as soon as he sees that crack head whore coming out of the shadows!

4. Homeless people on bicycles. These fools are crazy enough to jump in front of your car when the light changes green at intersections. Seems like the $40 you give them for crack, beer, and cigarettes a new bike is well worth a couple of bruises. (Note: this actually happened to me on the above-named Daytona street. Twice!)

3. Pick-up trucks or vans. I mean the commercial type. Especially UPS, Fed-X, or those auto parts suppliers. If you didn’t own the vehicle you’re driving and had to make that delivery yesterday, would you care who you ran off the road?

2. Soccer moms in big SUV’s or minivans. With stick-on pictures of Mom, Dad, four kids, a dog and cat on the back window. Extra points for one of those plastic chrome stick-on Jesus fish thingys on the back. No one, I repeat no one, will slow them down on the way to drop off/pick up their precious kiddos at school/soccer practice/piano lessons or whatever activity. Jesus understands.

1. The worst. Big trucks. Four wheel drive. Dual cab. Bingo if you’re thinking Dodge Ram Hemi’s or Cummins Turbo-Diesels with Bush ‘04, “Support the Troops”, Confederate flag, and NRA stickers on the truck bed. Oh, and those fake gunshot decals on the sides. Extra points for Monster wheels, four plus feet off the ground. Stay away. Far away. Especially if you’re in front of them in a cute little PT Cruiser, Cher cranked up on the CD player, and a rainbow sticker on the back window! TTFN!

Baghdad Destination Daytona is massive! When I got there, it was already packed. The Hotel is about 100ft off A1A, but you have to drive three miles through tent city to get in. As well as deal with ten different “security check points” to get to the hotel. They need these guys directing the traffic in the real Baghdad.

What the hell is the deal with “You need a parking pass to get to the hotel.” Excuuuuse moi! Don’t I have to fucking register in order to get a parking pass to get to the fucking hotel! That’s not a bomb strapped around my belly, it’s my damn belly! Anyhow, I managed to get in, Tia wasn’t so lucky. Obviously resembling a terrorist, she had to park in Tikrit and have some stoned idiot drive her to the hotel in a Humvee golf cart to get her parking pass (he was so messed up he drove into the building!), then back to her truck.

I finally get to the hotel. I’ll give them credit. Super staff, great service, clean beautiful room. They couldn’t have provided for us any better. I’d recommend it to anyone.

Got myself settled in and decided to get a beer and wander around and take some pics.

5. Note to self: Dumbass, you know you’re not a techno geek! Next time you decide to buy a fancy digital camera, learn how to use it before you need to use it!

6. The warm-up band playing in Downtown Destination Baghdad rocked. And were already drunk. Great Beatles covers updated to hard rock.

Tia finally made it back and we decided to go down to the Saints and Syndicate Synners bar and wait on everyone else. We met a real nice fan named Cheri and hung with her for a while. Then we all went and signed the Monster Equipment Van.

Around dusk, I started surveying the market place of Destination Baghdad, looking for Glenn the Extreme Monster Fan and his buddy, Lonesomethingorother. Fortunately, Glenn’s hat lit up the streets of Downtown Baghdad like a cruise missile.

I walked up and Glenn recogized me and gave me a big welcome. Such a nice guy! Does he ever frown? Then he introduced me to his friend.

Note to self: Never spend a day arguing with Darth. I looked at this guy grinning at me and said “HI, LoneTooth, I’m Howey!”

I can’t believe how loved Glenn is. By the time he and Lonewolf arrived, there had to be about 3,000 people milling around. And, everyone just had to say hi to him. Hell, if he ran for Mayor he’d probably win.

Everyone started arriving after that. Venusishot, Roadrunner, Beautygirl, Flounder, Maniac and Nikki (the flashers), Aimee, Mongo (this dude is big!) and I’m sure many others I forgot to mention. Those many others added up to thirty or so people in the hospitality room and the Downtown Baghdad crowd had to have grown to 4-5,000 crazy infidels. Tiffany, her hot (damn, where’s that ding, ding, ding, ding, ding when I need it?) boyfriend, a Sheriff’s trooper and DJ mingled downstairs with the crowd. I take back all the bad things I’ve said about Tiffany - she is a beautiful and talented young woman. Well deserving of the title Monster Chick of the New Millenium. And the the Show of the Century started.

The Show: Started off with a bang and just kept on going. Non-stop. Diana explained succintly on the board what a great show it was. Everyone agrees it was the best in years. Drunky chugging a bottle of Absinthe racing around the stage, Tiffany bouncing those big boobs up and down and singing her cute little tush off, DD and Bean showing why they’re the Awesome Kids, DJ rockin and killin on the guitar, Bubba pounding away on Everett, Russ banging away on the drums (of course, that’s all he can bang for another few weeks), and Tuddle hiding in the corner. Scared he was going to mess up “29 Days” and trying not to look at Tiffany’s boobs like any newlywed should. And Dave Curry, Mr. Cool himself.

Well, Tuddle did mess up the song and he did see Tiff’s boobs up close and personal…..right before her foot slammed into his crotch. Does anyone know if Tudds used to do drag (umm, God help Us)? Cuz he shure did “tuck” his big Saddam fast enough before Tiff struck!

The Party Upstairs: Militia Gone Wild! The view was all I expected and then some. Bird’s Bat’s (more to come…) eye view of the carnage taking place below in Downtown Baghdad. Glenn and Lonewolf brought up a huge cooler of beer. We had Absinthe and of course, Peppermint Schnapps for The Queen Mother. We were even invaded by infidels (probably Kurds) we didn’t know, but everyone was cool and we had a blast.

The Highlights: Kate, Sweetness and Tracy came up to the party and enjoy the show with us. I had a great conversation with my self-proclaimed new little sis Kate up until my second stoopid comment of the night: “Gee, Kate, you REALLY DO sound like That!” But we both got a good laugh at my expense. Sweetness is sweetness personified. Russ, Bubba and Bo are the luckiest guys in the world to have women like these.

Highlight #2: After Russ noticed us all up in the room, Drunky decided to join the party as only the Ultimate Stunter could. Carried above the crowd’s heads across the masses (Russ told me it’s called crowd surfing, but I just can’t imagine -crowd- surfing), then lifted up onto the balcony by Mongo and Paul. Did I tell you Mongo is big? It was great to see Drunky again.

Highlight #3: The most unexpected visitor. All of a sudden, in the middle of everything, Tia screams and goes running into the bathroom. We all turn around from our positions on the balcony to see what the hell was going on. Seems like Russ’s favorite comic book character came to visit…

A BAT!, MAN!

Flitting around the room, finally hiding behind the TV armoire. I called the front desk, fully maintaining my manly, butch, demeanor and - here’s comes the next stoopid Howey comment:

“EEEEEKKKKK! There’s a bat in my room! Please, please get it out of here!!!!”

The nice hotel manager shows up with a glass and one of those paper lids. Some of the manlier members of the party pull out the armoire and we see the bat clinging to the bottom of it.

I ask the manager to please, please, please catch it. His reply? (Insert ding, ding, ding, ding here)

No way!

So, our fearless leader Paul rescues us from the evil Shiite intruder. Thanks, o gracious leader!

After the Party: We all went downstairs to get our requisite autographs and visit with Russ and the crew. Paul went on stage to help get signatures for all the fans, Diana and I took Mongo to meet all the Monsters and mingled with Russ and Kate, Dirty Jim, Daniel, Bean, Bubby Whup, and Drunky. (Tudds got the hell out of there quick. Guess he’s still honeymooning. (And Enquiring minds want to know: Where was Elizabeth Longhair?) We walked Russ and Kate to the manHummer and sent them off to their hotel for some well-earned rest and the frozen peas for Russ’s aching ‘nads. (Oh, Kate told me: No minivan, Russ can keep the manHummer!)

The Finale: Everyone headed back to the hospitality room. I stuck around with a very drunk Dave Curry and drank a couple of beers with him, then went upstairs, sent everyone on their way, and passed out!

I heard from DJ, Daniel and Tiffany today (Sunday). As well as Russ’s comments on Ask RRR, they both thank everyone that showed up for a great time. Pics to come soon on the board and Monsters.FM!

A final thought: After surveying the damage the following morning, it looks like the Battle of Downtown Baghdad is over. All the troops have gone home! Long live the Militia! Oh…how could I forget? Dave - Hugs and kisses from you know who! (No, idiots, not moi!) And Tia, my partner in crime and **** **** ***, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

Finally, the funniest thing I heard all night: Lonewolf leaves Glenn’s side and comes up to me. Whispering, he says, “Howey, do you know what Glenn told me?” “No, what?”, I reply. “He said you’re Gay!”

OK, Katie! We’re off to please the masses! Buckle up, sweetie pie! Here, let me pick you up to get into the manHummer…

Oh, Russy, you’re the cutest hubby! I wuv u this much!! Can I have some candy to eat on the way? Perty Please?

No!!! No eating in the manHummer!

Glare

Ummm, yeah honey pie, you can have anything you want! Here! Have some Milk Duds. Take some money too!

Oh, Russy! You’re soooooo sweeeet. I wuv you this much! (Shriek!) Be careful! Both hands on the wheel! Slow down!

Sorry, sugarplumbabiepie, I was just waving at some fans. (manHummer slows to 25mph, cars speeding by on I-4, horns blasting, fingers flashing)

That’s better, Russypoo. Screw those fans! I’m more important than them! Remember, you had your peepee fixed so we can have lots and lots of wittle babies! Drive careful!

I will. Ahhhhh, Katiebaby. You know, if I knew you were serious about not having sex until I had this vasectomy reversal, I would have had it a lot sooner. I mean, we’ve been married nine months! I’ve never gone that long without sex!

You promised me and you didn’t do it so I got real mad, honey. You know I luv you this much my big teddy bear! Just think, only one month to go and we’ll finally start making all those beautiful Russy and Katie babies!

I can’t wait either, Kate. Here, have some more money and candy. Here, more money.

Thank you! Don’t forget Russypoo, trade in the manHummer next week on a minivan so I can drive all our wittle babies around and show them off to my friends! Oh, I can’t wait to get matching outfits for the baby and little Athena!

I’m not getting rid of the manHummer! It’s all I have left! Everything’s gone! Furniture, RRR bar, leather giraffe, Kiss posters, everything!

Glare

OK, honeybuns. I’ll do anything you say.

FIN

Here’s some pictures from the NASCAR Dinner Celebration (Photoshop away…):

A bunch of people surrounding the beached whale:

Pigging out and drinking lots of beer:

His Majesty and She That Must Be Obeyed:

TTFN!

Hosted by the Grande Dame of dinner party organizing, Tia the Terriffic, we enjoyed a delicious dinner and lots of comraderie and inside jokes.

In attendance were Tia, her funny hubby Flash, CaliforniaDave, British Redneck and She That Must Be Obeyed, Howey, and various friends including the delightful NASCAR Nudie and Nekkid Pete.

The night didn’t start out great for me. Calidave shows up at the front door, asking the hostess if she knows “Howey”. Of course she does and she heads to the packed Mini-Bar hunting me down. After Gerri the Hostess informs me “my party’s here” I head to the table I thought was reserved for us.

Not really recognizing anyone at the table (I only know what Tia, Dave and Allan look like), I butched up to the best of my ability, walk up to the table, and proudly announce “HI, I’M HOWEY!”

Several very silent moments later, I realize these are not Chronics sitting there looking up at me with all-knowing smirks on their faces. Aware my cheeks were redder than my butt after a good spankin from The Guardian, I ran like hell to the front of the restaurant to see who really was there.

Thankfully, Dave recognized me and we went to the Mini-Bar to wait on everyone else.

Following the arrival of Tia and Flash in the biggest tank truck I ever saw and a frigid welcome outside the Mini-Bar, we proceeded to our table to wait for Allan, Maggie and company. Hungry as hell. Seems like Allan and crew were stuck on I-4 with the rest of the country Florida headed to Daytona. But they were only a couple of minutes late and the party ensued. Allan was lucky enough to be seated between She That Must Be Obeyed and the Queen. Everyone was presented with their souvenier MucheMenu and started ordering.

NY steaks, Prime Rib, Stuffed Flounder, and more. With Julian’s world famous Black Bean soup (yup, that’s all that’s left of him now that Russ chewed him up and spit him out) as a first course, we were ready to roll.

Before I continue, a warning. Use caution dining at a fine restaurant during special events in Daytona. Even the Tavern on the Green couldn’t keep up with the hundreds of cold, hungry NASCAR fans demanding their gas tanks be refueled all at once.

Our waitress, albeight new and confused, was nice and friendly. Our other waitress was tasked with ensuring Waitress #1 didn’t mess up.

Once my NY Strip posing as a Prime Rib was replaced and a couple of steaks cooked a little longer (can you say, MOO?), we all proclaimed the meal as excellent.

Door Prize time! Nekkid Pete wins a NASCAR mug, NASCAR Nudie copped a box of NASCAR note cards as did Tia’s friend. Poor Dave won a fabulous to die for (why do I sound like Betty’s nephew Justin?) decorated NASCAR tote. Before I could rip it out of his hands, he traded it to Tia’s friend for her note cards.

Conversation during dinner was race, cold, and Monsters/board-centric, not necessarily in that order. And, to prevent further confusion, I answered the question of the week: Am I Tawny? Note to readers: What happens at dinner, stays at dinner. One interesting tidbit:

Now that ticket scalping is legal…..a good supply of longjohns would have netted a frikkin fortune in this town yesterday!

After stuffing ourselves and calling it a night, we all headed our respective ways. Tia, Maggie and I plan to visit the cold cast members at the stadium today and enjoy their misery while sitting in our warm cars, drinking hot chocolate.

See Calidave, I didn’t print a word about youknowwhat!

10. Venus, Gary, Aetherbunny, Woozyxl

It’s said nice people finish last
But you even try not to curse
You kindness can’t be surpassed
And you’ll always be first

9. Jaffe

You’re a man of wisdom
intelligence and drive
Your advice is awesome
You keep the board alive.

8. Vanuatru and MyBig

We agree, we disagree
But whenever you post
Or try to make a funny
You show true integrity.

7. Bitch, Please

We tied for best new poster
and made some enemies
You make life brighter
So screw those damn fairies!

6. Tongue -Fu

You make us your targets
At least every few weeks
Your humor deserve plaudits
For your biting critiques.

5. The Two Rednecks

Short, stoned laughs galore
Or memories of a great life
You two are the board’s core
And bring humor to our strife

4. Gryffn

I don’t care what they say
You can be really funny
In the midst of muche melee
You’re never taken lightly

3. Mama Juggs

Oh, she with the big hooters
With cocktail in hand
Will take on the boozers
And leave them behind

2. Evil Eye

You’re a drunk evil psycho
Or so the others will say
But I know you’re not a schmo
‘Cuz you preach love every day

1. The Howey Haters

Why are you on this list here?
Darth, Guardian, Mongo, Tawny?
I post too much and I’m queer
Boy, don’t that take moxie!

It doesn’t matter that we disagree
I’ll probably still scream like a banshee
We’re still part of the Muche family
And you’ll still scream “Shut up Howey!”

The fact is I respect all of you
Even though we’re prone to argue
Who’s right will always be unclear
Yet I’ll still toast you with a beer!

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TTFN!