Past, Present, and Future

one of the classes i’m taking is a pre-requisite class that damn near everyone has to take. basically to make some funds for the school. all the class does is teach you to write a resume, go on a job interview, cite references for work, prioritize, and keep track of finances.

done, done, done, and done.

i however am the oldest of the class and for the most part i’m teaching my side of the class. and it’s funny: when i start talking career success and job related crap they listen intently. when i’m talking to the guys, the instructor listens for a moment and will say, “listen to the man, he’s been there.”

just before class was done i told them, “learn from your past, be ever mindful of the present, have a plan for the future. just don’t be so overly concerned of the past and future that you lose sight of the present.”

hokey. sure. but it’s the truth. and Lord knows i’ve made enough complete fuck-ups mistakes to know.

you see, i retired after my time in the nav. i knew my life was going to be different. in jax i was living my last years up. i knew i was leaving in 3 years so i was just having fun. well, eventually playtime came to and end. and my constant pursuit of women was placed on the back burner.

i had fun in jax, and there’s a LOT of posts of nothing but me chasing the skirts. many of the post were explanations of things i’d learned as a dick slinging little asshole that incredibly works out and got me some poon results. but now that time is gone.

i quit writing to get my shit together and figure out what i’d do next. and, well….i’m still in that present. as for the future; the original plan is out. but it’s been restructured. i must finish school (one more year of machining and i’m dropping welding). not that i dislike welding, but delgado’s program just isn’t for me. once i’m done with school, i have a few options- to be continued.

sorry i’m not slinging witticism and my typical self-deprecation horse shit. because, honestly…it’s time to be serious. but until then this site is still developing and maybe a new voice will emerge for me to offer something you readers. honestly, when i see i have over 200 views…i’m fucking amazed. so to you guys reading, thanks.

so in summation: don’t dwell on the past, keep your eyes firmly in the present, and don’t sweat the future.

latah brah.


The Slob Bible

i saw this while i was living in jax and 1- i always loved Dice, 2- he has a bit about todays woman that had me crying. but the kicker is the reaction of the women when he goes through the bit. just a warning NSFW based on language. because of the language, the sites showing it for free have a “age entry” requirement so i can’t link it. enter “andrew dice clay indestructible”- check the lolflix.com

if you decide to watch it wait for just about the 26 minute mark and strap yourself in. again, the females response is funny/telling.

latah brah


UUUUUUUUM, no

quick post today…..

confession: i had a tinder account.

i first heard about tinder during the last winter olympics. the athletes were using it to have after event bang-fests. see, tinder is supposed to be a “hook up” site. i figured, “no strings sex, COOL.” so i had an account, uploaded some pics and added my witticisms for my profile. then the waiting game began. you “like” the ones you think are cute, and “swipe right”, the ones you don’t.

seems simple, right?

here’s what i experienced: most of the ones i liked were cam girls wanting me to subscribe to their site. fuck that. then i realized something odd. the girls that wanted to hook up were fucking creepy. and i felt legitimately creepy reading what they were sending me in IM’s.

look, i LOVE a filthy girl. but i think i prefer my filthy girls to show their naughty side once i we establish some repoire. i’m well aware that girls are super nasty. but the cheesy nasty on tinder is just stupid. plus….i do better when i interact with someone face to face. i can read IOI’s and body language.

my advice, do it the old fashion way. get off your ass and deal with people (or women) one on one, directly. and stay the fuck away from tinder.

don’t forget to follow my twitter for daily life observations @guerrotaco

latah brah.


Institutionalization, Beards, and Ink

i was home on terminal leave. i was texting with a former coworker (female) back in jax. i made a comment about not wanting to shave and she replied, “then don’t shave; you’re retired.” i drew a blank. i WAS technically done with the navy, but i was so accustomed to shaving every day that i was on autopilot.

institutionalized.

while i couldn’t wait to be done with the navy, i really wasn’t prepared for what i was going to do without my “navy routine”. a few friends that retired told me it can take up to 2 years to fully acclimate to being “out of the matrix”. thusly, i quit writing to work on adjusting to being a civilian. well, i’m FINALLY just getting comfortable with writing and finding subject matter- which explains why there is no longer a “daily” post.

step one- fuck shaving. what i wasn’t prepared for was the response from women. all of them said they loved it. huh, never saw that coming. then i learned a harsh lesson on first growing a beard….the new beard itch. i almost shaved this sonuvabitch more than once. then i learned about “beard oil”. again….never knew such a thing exists. go to amazon and search it- i’m lazy and don’t feel like linking it.

about 2 weeks before my last day, i got my first tattoo. i gave the guy a print out of what i wanted. well, dummy screwed it up. i told him to not charge me or i’ll do a review of him and tell people to avoid it and i’d show his manager. so i didn’t pay. i never had a tat before because i knew where i wanted them and visible tats after joining is against UCMJ. my bosses saw it and never said a word.

once i got to NO i found a shop (electric expression in kenner), the girl at the register recommended my girl Jessie. i showed her what i wanted and we scheduled a day. a reputable artist usually has a waiting list. she is now the only person i’ll let do my work. black. only black. my grandfather (dads side) was Houma tribe and told me only black tats that have a personal specific meaning should be inked.

again, i’ve been opened by women asking what my greek lettered “molan labe” tat said/meant. i NEVER tell them specifics. i simply say they’re military related. if they ask what my bars are, i tell them, “if you have to ask, you have no reason to understand it.” believe it or not, that makes them more eager to know. classic hamster. i escalate and tell them i never tell fully clothed women what my tats mean.

they smile and say, “pleeeeeeeeease.” sorry babe, rules are rules. i should point out 90% of the women i do this with are women that work at places i frequent. when i posted about the barista (more on that later), i mentioned if she asked about the tats, i’ll have an IOI. i NEVER esstimated girls would respond to tats the way they do. i however still find excessive tat’s on women gaudy. but on guys (especially Blaine) hot. like sup….never mind.

Jess at work.

Jess at work.

also: don’t forget to follow my dreck/tweet gibberish. @GuerroTaco

latah brah


Repost: A Sterling Reputation

it’s friday, i’m lazy, and i have to study all weekend for a make-up test and go to the shop to finish a project for school, so you get to read an oldie but goodie.

had a lengthy email conversation with a reader who was interested in precious metal. i’ll summit: if you can’t hold it in your hands-it’s useless. i try and buy at a local dealer, but there’s a run on silver and the wait on an order is about a month. gold is great- if you can afford it. i can’t. buy 1 oz. bars at largest. and keep in mind, i mentioned this over a YEAR ago.

but truth be told, it’s a bit late to try and get serious about silver. if you’ve been watching current events you probably know shit’s about to get real. i saw it and made arrangements. but i guess better late than never. if you can get it, get on it and acquire what you can in silver or gold. it’s well worth it.. enjoy your weekend.

latah brah


ITLR: The Asshole Nuke

have a seat guys and grab a beer. i’m seriously amazed at how my life provides me with writing material.

i live in a pretty chill neighborhood. for the most part we all get along. we avoid the redneck meth-head on the corner and the guy next door to me on the corner. we were cool at first, but he started having his visitors parking in front of my house. came home from school one night and there were 4-5 cars lined up and douche was having a party. i walked next door to speak to him and asked him to not have his friends park in front of my house. his reply…

“it’s public property.”

i stared at him and parroted, “public property. PUBLIC PROPERTY???!!! ok. PUBLIC PROPERTY.” i walked off and he went back inside. i was completely taken aback. back in jax the neighborhood was a community. this guy is the exact opposite. so i did what any self-respecting asshole would do for get back.

i parked in front of his house for 2 weeks and chirped the car alarm at least once a night (i was working nights back then).

eventually, he quit parking in front of my house. but then there’s his 2 kids. they used to play in front of the house along the 3 houses along the corner. i didn’t care, I PLAYED on that same stretch of property as a kid. football, i can’t tell you how many football games i’d been bruised and bloodied playing (tackle only. touch is for pussies). so i was cool with it. but soon i got tired of the son kicking a ball against my house and waking me up. i soon told them to stay out of my yard (old man, i know). then i’d come home and the kids would curse at me and talk shit.

yeah, they’re kids, but i’d NEVER speak to an adult that way as a kid. and the fact that dad made the “public property” comment that i just said “fuck it” and told the kids to keep of my “private property”.

the other day i came home from my moms, and the kids were playing in my yard. got out the car, put Brody in the house, walked to my fence and told the kids, “i meant it when i said stay out of my yard.” i saw the kid left a ball on my property. i took my pocket knife and said, “my yard, my ball”, and popped the ball. dad came out and told me not to talk to his kids like that.

strap yourselves in, we’re about to hit turbulence.

i simply told the dad (zane) that i told his kids to keep of my “private property” since they were in the habit of waking me up while i was trying to sleep. he raised his voice, took 2-3 steps towards me and i hit the red. i threw off my glasses and chain and told him to to PLEASE come at me. he stopped (which told me everything i needed to know), and stared at me for a second.

i told him, “i swear to God please swing, because i’m stupid. i’ll go to jail if it means i get to pound on you. and i’ll be out of lock-up in less than 2 hours with bail waived. you have no idea who my family is (and yes, they are VERY well connected in the city. i have a a lawyer on 24-7 retainer). and honestly, i haven’t been in a fight for a while; not that i LOVE fighting, but this guy needs his ass kicked.

by now his wife came out and i told him, “you have 2 options: come fuck with me and your wife and kids get to see you you get your ass whipped, or go the fuck back into your house.” he turned around and mumbled as he walked off ferrying his family back into the house. i then noticed that a few of the neighbors came outside and watch part of the spectacle.

a few of them cheered me on as i walked back to my door. see….NO ONE likes these people. i don’t know what they did to piss off my neighbors, but they don’t like him. good thing they’re moving in a month. see, out here…men fight. if there’s a disagreement, you take it outside and settle it. i can read people like a champ, and i KNEW this guy was all talk. so i escalated knowing there wouldn’t be an altercation while showing i wasn’t going to put up with his bullshit. plus i have an asshole streak a mile wide if pushed (yeah navy).

theatrics yes. but still a show of force is better than war. I think the art of community is being lost, and that makes me sad. Then again…..

they’re gone in a month and my neighbors are thrilled that he got called out. kind of made me think of this gem…

latah brah.


Pasta Alfredo ala Danny

mom came back from vegas after being gone for a week so Brody wanted to go pay a visit. i was kinda hungry and knew mom wasn’t in the mood to cook, so i decided to go with the first thing she taught me how to cook- fettuchini alfredo. interestingly enough, she taught me to cook it because i wanted to take this girl to dinner and FA was her fave.

“you like this girl son?” mom asked inquisitively. i nodded yes and she said, “any asshole with a credit card can take a woman out to eat, but if you cook for her she’ll be REALLY impressed and she’ll never forget you.”

God damn if she wasn’t 100% correct.

i invited her over and mom went shopping, the stepdad was playing golf, but my little sis stayed behind. i cooked the dinner, steamed some asparagus (place the spears in 3-4 paper towels, wet the towels and microwave for about 3 minutes or until done), and we ate. girl looked like she injected heroin. then we went up to my room and caught some stink finger and tit.

what, i was in 8th grade. i got the +1 a week later. catholic school girls FTW.

FA alfredo i EASY to make. melt 1/2 stick butter, or more if you like. once melted add one small carton (i think they’re 8oz.) of heavy whipping cream or half and half. bring to a low boil. lower heat and slowly mix in 1/2 cup parmesan cheese. lit simmer on low for 20-30 minutes until reduced and tightened up. salt to taste. add whatever cooked pasta you like. voila. as you add each ingredient have some fun and imitate julia childs.

for Alfredo ala Danny use shells, brown one cubed chicken breast. saute baby bella mushrooms and add one small jar of progress marinated artichoke hearts (strain off 90% of the fluid). add the above after you mix in the parmesan cheese and begin to reduce the sauce to allow the ingredients to blend.

c’est si bon

latah brah

so good you'll have to touch yourself after.

so good you’ll have to touch yourself after.