Bug, if you insist on starting an army that consists of dead squirrels, at leas start with good ones. There's one thing one thing that every soldier needs that you can't teach. This guy's got it in spades. So here is your first Super Soldier. How you manage to kill him is your own problem.



If I was a squirrel, this could be me!

I saw my ex today. Usually that's an event filled with lots of mixed emotions. Prince made a song that describes it perfectly. It's called, I Hate You. That's how I feel about Ashley. I hate her because I love her. But I can't love her, because I hate her. It's so twisted, and yet so accurate.

We met at my mom's new house. I stayed there most of the day waiting for the cable guy to come and do his job. By the time he bounced, Ashley had gotten there to do what my mother had asked her to do. I knew she was coming. It was no big secret. I had even tried to break out before she got there but couldn't. I was doing laundry and wasn't finished.

Before you start thinking anything in your little heads, my girlfriend was also there. There was going to be no 'misunderstandings'. No one was going to accidentally fall into some pussy. It just wasn't that type of party. Nor was it going to be that type of party.

My intended purpose for being there was to make sure that the internet worked before I left. Her purpose was to run the wires for my mom's surround sound system. At one point we were working closely together. This is where I would usually get in trouble. This time was different.

The usual feelings weren't there. I had no desire to smell her hair or bury myself in her chest or a million other things. I felt almost nothing. It was odd. Very odd. I may be overstepping my bounds on this one, but something in me had to make sure. I opened my arms to her. She casually walked into them. When I closed them around her there was this void. This nothingness. I told her Happy New Year, and then I bounced out.

For the first time in years, there was no reaction. I did not want what I could not have. I didn't squeeze extra tight looking for signs of love. I didn't try to hold on to her for longet than was appropriate. This was one of the first times I had ever hugged her in friendship. Something inside me had finally let her go. I didn't need her anymore. Friendship. Who would have thought?

The next thing that was odd was my very next thought. It was of my girlfriend. Suddenly, I wanted to be with her. I wanted to be by her side. I wanted to tell her what had happened. I really wanted to tell her that I love her. I've said it before, and while I did mean it, it wasn't wholeheartedly felt. I've always saved a bit of me for Ashley. Not tonight. Tonight, I was finally IN LOVE with the person I was with.

I will always love Ashley. Good or bad, it is what it is. I'm no longer IN LOVE with Ashley.

Thanks MOM. If you hadn't put us together tonight, I might still be in the dark and still be losing daily the love of the one that loves me. And me only.

I take long showers. I frequently take long showers. The reasons for this behavior differ. There's always a reason. Sometimes.

Due to stress, I don't sleep well. There may be other reasons for this, but stress is probably the biggest reason. I wake up on a bad night about 4 to 6 times with an uncontrollable urge to shower. I know I'm clean, but that changes nothing. Lather, rinse, repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Then once I feel clean again, I just stay in the shower until the hot water no longer exists.

Did I say hot water? Damned near boiling is more like it. I guess somewhere in the recesses of my mind I think the hotter the water, the better the clean. As is, my shower has 4 settings. Cold, Hot, Damned Hot, and Hell. My water always seems to be hoevering in the middle of Hell. Then when it starts to get cool, I put it all the way to Hell to rinse off.

Sometimes I do have reasons for showering the way I do. I have bad dreams. Lots of them. When I wake up, it's always the same way. In a cold sweat. It's times like these when showers serve multiple purposes. I get clean. I warm up. And the water hides the tears that I may be crying.

Sad to say, my dreams are that bad. They always seem to involve me losing what means the most to me. My children. Maybe by keeping the water so hot I can travel to the place where these dreams must originate. Why does my hell have to be so personal?

That's all for now. I've got to go to Mom's house and get the rest of my things. As if I have some place to put them. And just my luck, it's cold out. Alas, my never-ending cycle never ends.

2 weeks after my son was born I got a vasectomy. Believe me it was the best thing I ever did. I did it without my then significant other's knowledge. And I'm glad I did. Why? Because she is the most ignant, trifling, self-serving bitch on the planet. And that's just on the weekends!

When you go get your vasectomy they ask you a few questions. One of the most important things they ask you is why you want this procedure. My answer: I don't like children and don't want to have any more. Good enough.

After assuring that my insurance was going to cover the goings on, they strapped me in. I was given a local anesthetic. I thought they would put me under, but no such luck. They told me I was lucky. Sure... Fortunately I had worked the previous night and was doing this first thing in the morning after work, so I fell asleep anyway. 45 minutes later, they were waking me up and telling me I was free to go.

Before I could make my get away there were some things I needed to know. I was given the list of things to do right after I left the office, and a list of things NOT to do. Furthermore, the Doctor wanted to ask me some additionsl questions before I left.

It would seem that while I was asleep I had diarhea... of the mouth. I was talking shit like it was my job! The main focus of my shit talking was my son. At the time he was 2 weeks old. The doctor, (with no praamble I might add) asked me what a Keep a Nigga Baby was. Embarrassed as I was, I had to explain it to him. Just like I'm going to explain it to you now.

Quite simply, a Keep a Nigga Baby is a child that a woman has when she wants to keep a man, (presumably the father) in her life. This usually occurs when 2 people of differing financial backgrounds get together and do someting stupid. It's not always as clear cut as that. Obviously the neighborhood crack whore would want to keep a Bill Gates type guy. Sometimes it's more subtle. In my case, it was the neighborhood hood-rat trying to keep a guy that was known to have a job and be a good man.

His curiosity satiated, he let me leave. I swear he was trying to work Keep a Nigga Baby into his advertising. That would be one hell of a commercial!

As I said before, my 'baby mama' didn't know I was getting this done. Good thing too. I never trusted the girl. I was initially going to hit it and quit it. You know, bone her and never call her again. Rude? Yes. But completly honest. One day she strolls into the house and tells me in her most sugary voice, 'baby guess what? we're pregnant!' That was all I needed to hear. She went out to tell her friends the news, and before she came back, I had moved all my things and gotten a one bedroom apartment on the other side of town. SLUT!

She didn't find out for weeks after that about my vasectomy. When she did, she had nothing. Nothing to do, nothing to say. It was beautiful! She knew I wouldn't roam too far. She had Shane Jr. And because of him I'm still around. The Keep a Nigga Baby serves his purpose. Don't get me wrong. I love Jr. I just wish that he was concieved in love. His mother and I never loved each other. After 7 years, we're just finally figuring out how to get along civil like.

Moral of the story? There is none. Don't make babies with people you don't like! Duh.

How could you not love that face?

Together, women don't stand a chance!

Well there it is. The first post of the new year. Gimme what you got!