New arrival

I will have a grand-daughter soon. Wishing her all the best on her journey to this roller coaster.

I have Aspergers and Bipolar

I have Aaperger's Syndrome (now reclassified as "Autism Spectrum Disorder") and Bipolar II. These disabilities have created many of the circumstances of my life.

FUCK YOU, I'M GETTING WASTED

And HOW about that? WHY, you wonder? By wondering that, you BLUNDER. Wonder and BLUNDER. That's fucking awesome, and super-lame. UPDATE: THIS IS BULL! It keeps telling me I have "logged out from another location." What the FUCK other god-damned location could I have logged out from? Ganymede? FUCK YOU! Anyway, as I was saying... ASS! ASS! AAAAASSSSSS!!!!! It happ-ened again! Fuck it, I'm done. The point is, I'm getting drunk, so fuck you.

Oh yeah, today's FREE IDEA.

Sorry I haven't been making more of you poor sods millionaires, but due to the StumbleUpon problem, I was unable to post. Anyway, here's today's. It's called the "DateWatch" (or something similar). It is a small device which contains some kind of fucked-up microprocessor that records your preferences for a potential mate or dating partner. It also contains some kind of short-range radio transmitter (like cell phones). The basic idea is that everyone answers a series of questions posed by the device, and whenever someone with compatible answers is within range (say, 100 yards), an alarm will sound (or vibrate) alerting both persons to the presence of a nearby potential romantic partner. Will completely revolutionize dating and make it easy for even shy and timid people to make connections. THANK ME LATER, after it comes out and somebody ELSE makes millions.

I got drunk, but not CRUNK

I failed to get crunk, because I was too piss-poor of spirit to try. But "blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven," or so I am told. I'm not so sure. I think it might be more like "blessed are the freak assholes who go buy a bottle of maximum strength Robitussin cough syrup at Family Dollar, slam it, and then trip THE HELL OUT for 4 hours, followed by the ingestion of huge amounts of beer (and possibly trying to drive and hitting a "no truck parking" sign). Fuck a truck anyway.

OH! OH! I figured out how to post again!

I, THE ADMIRAL, have determined that if I disable the goofy-ass StumbleUpon add-on for Chrome, the Gods of the Ancient Mayan civilization shall allow my to soil your optic nerves once more. And at this news, every being in the Universe rejoiced greatly, EXCEPT YOU. Because you are dumb. But what's puzzling, odd, and at the same time MURDEROUSLY ANNOYING about this Blogger interface is that I seem completely unable to create paragraphs. Did you actually think paragraphs were not present in the text editor? Of course the fuck they are, you functional illiterate. They just fail to show up. I don't recall Blogger having this incredibly lousy an interface ever before. One of those highly "educated" up-and-coming SUPERSTARS at Google must be responsible for this. I bet he or she is making enough money to have his or her under-servants wipe his or her actual servants' asses. And I'm still fucking broke. But, on the brighter side..

Hoooolllllllly SHIT!!!!!

No matter how you type it, it looks like "Holly Shit" and reminds you of some kind of Christmas fable, but nevermind that. I just discovered I have a damned appointment with my therapist at 11 AM tommorow. 11 AM!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK??!?!??! Do you expect me to bend time to arise at that UNGODLY hour? Fuck me. I predict much grumbling and gnashing of partially-deformed and disintegrated teeth so very early in the morning when the morrow comes around.