two months out of my life

two months. that's what it took. two unbelievable, hard, strange months to get a grip on myself and come back to being who it is i've always wanted to be. two months to stop trying to find my validation in everyone who surrounded me. two months to drink myself out of my mind and what i was facing. two months to realize that what i was doing was only hurting me and that i wasn't getting anywhere the way i was going. two months to find ambition that had lain dormant for far too long. two months to stare blankly at a wall, my mind roaming fifteen hundred miles into the distance. two months to smile. two months to laugh uncontrollably in the presence of close friends. two months to cry when none of them were there. two months to say 'i'm sorry'. two months to make them proud again. two months to sleep easy. two months to quit struggling and just let the chips fall where they may. two months to give it my all. just two months.. that's all.

and this is for her..

on the other side of midnight
won't be long until the dawn
-mike mcclure

darlin', i promise.. it won't be long. you believed in me and made me better. i believe in you, too.

there's a mystery to it

"have you seen God, have you ever seen God? i've never seen the wind. i've seen the effects of the wind, but i've never seen the wind.. there's a mystery to it." -billy graham

the day is new.. an adventure awaits.. and hope abounds

-dusty

ps - i'm back baby!

you ask'd for it

well.. sara and amy have requested that i "update this bitch"
like mancy says, "let it roll"

i'm not a fan of oprah.. but i do enjoy ellen. the discovery channel is cool.. and the learning channel needs to get over itself. mac and cheese should be the national food of every nation.. except france. they get liver and onions. fuckin' surrender monkeys. yeah, france, don't worry about it. we'll bail you out of two world wars.. thanks for the statue, jackasses. i'd like to give a big thank you to gen. cornwallis for throwing the game in the 1770's.. we appreciate the country - especially the mexicans. fuck santa ana. i love chinese food, but i don't particularly appreciate the way those little slants drive. i've no idea how any of them ever passed driving schoor. black people are cool, though. seriously.. how many black people do you know who can't dance? besides carlton? exactly.

what else? ahh.. dizz is about to move to phukett, thailand. i like to tell people where he's going just because it's the phonetic equivalent of 'fuck it' [dizz has just informed me that it is pronounced 'book-it'. whatever, bro.. it looks like 'fuck it' and i'm gonna call it fuck it. also, i'm an uncultured bastard.. per dizz]. i want to move to fuck it. hell.. i'll incorporate the place if i can just get a few investors. remember hondo? and luckenbach? yeah.. it'll be like luckenbach. only.. it'll be fuckit, texas. yeah! fuckit, texas! where you're not allowed to waste good whiskey by serving it to girls.. that's what bacardi and diet coke are for. also.. we'll have horses tied up to posts out front, just like in the old west, and if you're too drunk to drive, we'll just give you a horse and wish you the best of luck. all of the water fountains will give forth lonestar light and budweiser. we'll serve ribs, chicken fried steak and crawfish.. everything will come with a side of corn, fried okra, mash'd potatoes and gravy. lots of gravy. the only music in the jukebox will be texas country.. the real shit. no kevin fowler. and waylon.. lots of waylon. jennings.. not payne. pat green will only be allowed to play there if he introduces himself as pat 'fucking' green.. before every song. dancing girls! we have got to have some hot ass dancing girls.. matt powell can be in charge of that. jason boland will be the sheriff. randy and brady will play nightly songswaps with wade bowen and brandon rhyder. stoney will sit in with 'em.. when he's not 'otherwise indisposed' somewhere in northern oklahoma. and every weekend.. shooter jennings - with special guests: the eli young band. i'm really starting to like this idea.. a lot.

send your check or money order to
dusty schluterman
7724 tennessee sucks ass drive
fuckit, texas

we're too damn cool for zip codes

twenty-three [four] and so tired of life

ok.. i'm not tired of life, not at all, but it's the only way i could work that dmb lyric into this post. that's right.. i'm twenty-four years of age today. leave your well wishes in the box and send your money to tom delay.. we've got an arrangement

and if nothing can be done
we'll make the best of what's around -djm

it's five past.. oh shit!

ever done that to yourself?

i was at the bar this evening, enjoying a few rounds in honor of our fallen pope/soldiers/dead presidents/your excuse here and i was thinking that it was closing on the appropriated time for me to be heading home to lie down and attempt to sleep while pondering whether or not cows really sleep standing up or if they're actually planning a revolution before our very eyelids. mr. burger king and old man mc donald, be afraid.. be very afraid. anyway.. as it happen'd, i looked down at my watch to see just what time it was and.. lo and behold! it was five past nothing. time had eaten itself. it had finally had enough springing forward and falling backward that it just gave the hell up. and then i realized that the little hand was only hiding behind the big hand. oh.. where did those preschool lessons ever go? thankfully, i realized what was going on just before i notified the entire bar of a rip in the space/time continuum. but just barely.

eat your heart out, hawking

i have a dream

yes.. i. have. a. dream.
those words must have been uttered so many times before, but never with such great results as when spoken by the people who design simple, everyday hygiene products. without such motivation, surely we would still live in a world with square-headed toothbrushes and one-ply toilet paper. fear not, gentle toothbrushers and ass wipers of the world.. fear not. the good folks at charmin and oral-b are on the case. someone once ask'd me, "dusty, why didn't God give us humans flip-top heads?" and i said to them, "because He wanted to give the people at oral-b a fighting chance, you villainous bastard. He wanted to give them a chance." where would we be without the angle-necked, mulit-level bristled, color-coordinated no-slip grip toothbrushes of today? i put it to you.. we would be living under the rule of a fascist regime. a communist/fascist state of unrest where the back teeth never get quite as clean as the fronts.. and all because we had to go spending our money on missles and guns instead of proper hygiene. where would we be without the genius engineers at charmin? the ones who invented the four-in-one mega roll.. where would we be without them? i'll tell you where. that's right.. fascism. thanks to the freedom fighters at charmin, i now have the option, nay, the right to buy a roll of toilet paper that is so friggin' huge, i may or may not need an extender just to hang it from my wall. oh, and i would hang it proudly for all to see. i would display my choice with the dignity and pride that can only be known by a man with a contented and clean bottom. yes, friends, i choose hygiene and i choose it well. for too long we have been oppressed and i say.. 'no longer'. rise up, patriots.. rise up and make your stand. be counted among those who have said 'no' to fascism and 'yes' to hygiene.

thank you, mr. george whipple.. thank you

pornografía

holy hispanic beefwhistle, batman.. it's rené!

tonight at dick's was rather unbusy and un-well.. busy. un-eventful.. there we go. fucking un-eventful, save for one shining moment. tonight was a stormy one, literally and not figuratively, at the last resort of richard. i say golf ball and sara says peanut m&m sized drops of rain were falling in the west end. either way you slice it, they were big ol' bastards. of course this led to no customers sitting outside and drinking mav's home game special twenty three ounce drafts for five and a quarter (keep the glass) and three fifty refills. this, in turn, led to dusty being bored like a motherfucker. a motherfucker with a dead mother.. hence, nothing to do. the stage is full, the scene is set.. here's the way it went down. three of us, myself-krispy-kurt, were standing towards the front of the building. kurt was behind the bar.. he's the bartender and it makes sense. kurt decided to flip through the channels on one of the televisions and see if there was anything worth watching.. and oh hell was there ever?! all of a sudden, the screen was filled with olive colored flesh and more of it becoming visible by the second. kurt exclaimed, "what the hell is this?" krispy ask'd, "what sort of shenanigans are those?" i unzipped my pants and duck'd into a corner. ok.. so i didn't. anyway.. kurt replied to krispy, "i don't know, but they're on tv." the three of us crowded around the television, transfixed by the rapidly elevating, fajita-fueled hotness on the screen as we wondered aloud if the management had gone ahead and purchased the spice package. then it hit us.. telemundo! yes, telemundo.. or univision. those damn spaniards and more prevalently, messicans, get away with near murder and in this case, sexual intercourse-o, on basic cable than the white man does. in my opinion, spanish television is the way to go. tits and ass know no language barrier. anyway.. back to the focus. as we watched, we all seperately became aware that no faces were visable but that more and more clothes were disappearing by the minute.. and then it happened. the camera panned out and showed the dude's face and i would nearly be willing to swear under drunken oath that it was one of the kitchen guys. if i am not mistaken, there was one of our pantry chefs, rené, on top of a girl with blurry nipples and the kind of curves that only a diet of burritos and fried rice can produce. then came the caption.. "el gaucho diablo". that's right.. he was about to give her the devil cowboy dick. him and his capped teeth. i was fucking jealous and i'm pretty sure that it was wrong, but damnit, after tonight, i don't even know if i want to be right. after that.. we wrote the whole thing off as an episode of spanish elimidate. then we watched footage of the pope.. on espn. tonight was a little strange to say the least.

in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti