Two Years

I totally forgot, but thanks to WordPress something popped up congratulating me on my two-year anniversary with the site. I’m getting praise for essentially not knowing how to delete this thing. Not that I plan to delete it or anything. I have way too much greatness here.

So what’s there to say? I’m not sure. Here’s a list of ten things about this blog because I feel like I’m cheating you (wasting less of your time) by not doing more.

1) My first blog follower ever was this guy. He still blogs sometimes which is pretty unique. I remember it was September 2011 before I figured out how to navigate WordPress and comment on other blogs. I was sitting in a hotel I wasn’t staying at stealing the Internet when morning when I found his blog and left a comment. It was something about kids get coddled when playing sports.

2) My favorite blog post anyone else has ever done was this one. Has it been six months already? Wow. The post was probably the best thing to happen on my birthday.

3) My most commented blog post that wasn’t Blog Award related or the Opening Credits I have on my home page when I announced the availability of my first ever book. If you remember correctly, I hyped it up for a month leaving clues and making people think I had gone crazy. I had people in real life come up to me asking if I was all right since I had claimed the world would come to an end on August 9th. Although I may not be an award-winning writer, it’s great to know I can actually pull off writing a full novel and people will pay money for it. The next one comes out in like a week and a half and I’m excited for the first person to buy it complaining that they bought the wrong thing.

4) I’ve somehow managed to in two years become friendly with several bloggers. I write a blog with one of them, I almost met one in person, and a third has the distinction of being the only blogger to have seen what my knees look like. I’ll tag the rest of you somewhere else below so quit complaining. This is poetic.

5) I’ve learned what it’s like to be a great mother of a newborn child and how to be a great mother twice with two newborn daughters. All great mothers of course have people they look up to. When in doubt they can always turn here or if that doesn’t work they can go here. Here also knows a lot about the American Revolution so if you need help on that topic like I did, that’s the place.

6) When I first started blogging I thought it was to become famous and successful and rich and powerful and dictatorshipish. I soon came to learn it’s not about that. Blogging is about asking for help with art, it’s about giving and receiving advice on life and realizing others have been through the same as you, and it’s about whatever this guy taught me.

7) I’ve met people who have written their own books like this guy and this guy  and this girl and this girl. There’s an abundance of creativity everywhere here on WordPress. Some people create amazing music.

8) I didn’t want this to be sentimental or anything, but I hate leaving people out and I’m procrastinating on doing something more important than blogging. What’s more important than blogging? Right now it’s writing out a character list for another shitty TV Pilot I’m putting together. Bleh I make myself sick with my “struggling artist” attitude.

9) So what has changed in the last two years? I think I can bench press like 10 pounds more than at the start. That’s something I should be proud of, right? I’ve convinced myself I’m a better and more relatable writer, but who knows? My personal life has changed drastically. For better or for worse, it’s death til us part. I’m still waiting for something really great to happen. I’ll know sometime mid-summer the results of several writing contests I have entered/will be entering. Could it change everything? After all, keeping up with this blog helped me feel motivated in other aspects even when I didn’t feel much like blogging. What the hell am I talking about? And why is there no link in number 9 and there are some everywhere else? This really bugs me.

10) I’m not going to put a link here either so 9 isn’t so alone. I also don’t have anything to say here other than thanks for two years. Whether you come by often, sometimes, or never make your presence known, thank you for existing. Now to head out to the store and grab some Tampax because I seem to need them.

(This looks exactly like the box to my Britta water filters. I guarantee someone has made that mistake)

Your Stories & Questions

I am in need of some simple help. I am contributing to a new website, a website so new it doesn’t even exist quite yet. Part of the site is submission based/audience participation/whatever you want to call it. The woman in charge is putting a lot of effort into it, like actually buying the domain, so I have a lot of faith that it will at least be worthwhile in some form. So I come to you guys for help on this. What we need are submissions for the following:

Title – Dating
What We’re Looking For – Your craziest dating experience

This is pretty self-explanatory and I know we all have some great ones.

Title – Double Dare
What We’re Looking For – We want you to double dare us to do anything – something you’d like to see!

Does this one not make sense to you? This one is pretty clear as well. Why did I feel like I needed to explain?

Title – StoryTime

What We’re Looking For – We are collecting stories about a time you were overly confident about something that didn’t go exactly as planned

For instance, how we all created our blogs thinking we would be rich and famous by now and none of us are. We want better than that though.

Title – Love & Sex

What We’re Looking For – Go ahead – ask us ANYTHING – but ONLY if you are ready for brutally honest answers

This is kind of like the Dr. Ruth section. Remember when I did that post Pathetic Text Messages? Something like the question the fat idiot in that asked would be acceptable or maybe you can be smarter.

Title – Eavesdropping

What We’re Looking For – We want to hear about crazy or fascinating things you’ve overheard on the streets, in a restaurant, etc.

This is pretty easy, no? Who isn’t hearing people say stupid shit all the time? Come on I know you have some good ones!

Title – Deep Thoughts

What We’re Looking For – Go ahead – blow our minds… in a few sentences or less.

I guess an amazing fact would work here? I’m not sure. Answering this question would blow my mind.

So if you can help out you can either answer in the comments or send me an email if it’s long or more private at timboyle109@yahoo.com or Facebook me if we gossip there sometimes.

There are no limits to what you answer, how much you answer, and you can put as many into one category as you want. If the site is successful I will definitely come up with some ideas where if you are interested that you can contribute your own written pieces to.

That’s all. Thanks and hopefully a few people can contribute before I have to solicit you.

Teenage Wastelands

When a young kid is dirty you give them a bath. You wash off the mud from their face and use a plastic fork to dig out the crayon from their anus. Things are so simple until kids hit puberty. You can’t go around touching naked puberty kids. They have to do those things themselves. But as teenagers will do, they hate authority. They spit on it then masturbate all over it because that’s all teenagers do. They spit and masturbate. Sometimes they combine the two. This is called spitsurbation. Nobody finds it pleasurable. There’s no reason it should continue.

I was craving an iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts one day. I had only had one maybe twice ever before and enjoyed it. I don’t like drinking coffee because I’m energetic enough and the taste does nothing for me. Ice coffee is different though. It’s like drinking the prom queen’s blood. It’s delicious and I know it will be my next addiction.

(I literally am going to go outside and get one now just because this picture turned me on so much)

The closest Dunkin Donuts to me is only a quick four block walk. I put on some pants, slapped on my shoes, slid into my jacket, and headed out the door. My first stop was to throw my garbage into the dumpster which is never fine. I always end up having to touch some strange mold. The worst thing about touching strange mold is then I feel like I can’t pick my nose until I get a chance to wash my hands. After that I went to the mailbox and paid some bills. Growing up is fun because you know death is getting closer with each day.

I got to the Dunkin Donuts fine. My first danger was only a block away when I saw the street was covered in trash and teenagers. Teenagers scare the shit out of me. They look at me now like I’m some old man, but to me I’m still a fat little boy none of them want to be friends with.

The first teenagers I saw were formed in four packs. Six of them were loud and kicking the garbage around. Soccer is pretty big in my town so it made sense they would have Fifa Fever. Another pack stood petting a dog. I felt bad for the dog. The third group was a guy on a bike riding in circles because teenagers are so lost in the world. And the final group was a girl sitting on a motorcycle eating a bagel. I don’t think she knew who owned the motorcycle. She was a blonde teenager though. They answer to no one.

(Miley Cyrus answers to no one, even the hairstylist who tried refusing to vomit on her hair)

I had hoped all of the teenagers were outside, but inside there were even more. The first group seemed decent enough. There were three of them at the start and by the time I finished my journey they were joined by a fourth. I think the owner of the motorcycle was there. He held a giant helmet. He may have also been retarded. It’s hard to tell with young people.

I hesitated to ask this group if they were in line or not. I decided to avoid communication with their species and instead walked around them. They didn’t bring up an issue so I guess they weren’t in line. I was behind a large group of pierced Portuguese kids now. Two were male and heavily pierced in the face. Two were female and had saggy asses. The main saggy assed female got six donuts. She got them in twos also. Perhaps she was instructed by God to build an Ark and bring two of every pastry.

(This somehow felt relevant)

Finally it was my turn to get to the front of the line. Whenever I order and it’s not a hot chick behind the counter I struggle. The only time I ever thrive when talking to females is when it’s in a customer/server relationship. Something about them having to wear a nametag and a sweet uniform makes me mellow out. Unfortunately in this instance the server was a short guy who looked like Frank and Ernest from the comic strip.

(Oof that is bad)

I stuttered through my order getting an Irish Cream ice coffee and three sausage egg and cheese wake-up wraps. Only less than three and I would be left hungry. So don’t judge me. I’m trying to get a grosser body before summer hits so I have an excuse not to go to the beach.

The funny looking guy behind the counter got me my coffee while the other guy made my food. I took a look around and took in how there were probably 25 teenagers in this place. I was easily the third oldest. Only two older women sitting in the corner had more years on them than me. Everyone in there was a dirty teenager too. They all had piercings, tattoos, unwanted babies from teenage pregnancies, and one was missing an arm. It probably happened when he was reaching out of the school bus like the bad kids used to do when I was younger.

A tattooed and pierced teenager went up to get his muffin. After he took it he turned around and said “That bitch just gave me attitude. I was so close to hitting him.” I was right there when this happened and the guy behind the counter did not give him any attitude at all. What’s with young men wanting to hit everyone? Take a Tae Bo class and use that energy toward something positive!

I made it a point that when I got my food I would say “Thank you” to the guy behind the counter. I always say thank you. I say it loud and proud. Sometimes I scream it so everyone else can hear. I said it very loudly this time hoping the guy with the ugly nose ring heard.

(Everyone with a nose ring looks like this to me, male and female. Your nose is for smelling mustard gas, not sticking metal through)

Then I got to thinking. It felt nice to be nice to this fella behind the counter. So I made it a point to be really nice to everyone for the rest of my 5 minute walk back. I held a door for an older woman entering the Dunkin Donuts. She looked at me shocked. I said excuse me as I left too when one of the hoodie wearing dirty teenagers stood in my path. I smiled at a child too during the trek. I never smile at kids. I hate kids. What happened to me? Then the worst thing happened of all. I let someone into my building who was there to visit her friend. She was brown-skinned too. And her friends were the Muslim women I held the door open for a week earlier. This is why I should not ingest caffeine. I become a really nice person.

Internet Whiners

The Internet is an amazing invention. Without it I don’t know what I would spend my time doing. Even when I’m not online I’m thinking about what I can do in normal life that can somehow become valuable on the Internet. The only downside to the Internet other than all of the child porn, Craigslist killers, and accessibility for cyber terrorists to our bank accounts, are whiners.

People love to whine. I like to do it too. Whining makes us feel like we’re solving our problems. When it’s illegal to choke a small animal to get your angst out, we have to resort to something else. More often than not that something else is unnecessarily complaining. My inspiration for this post came from reading a few reviews when I was looking up how much New Jersey Devils hockey tickets cost. I would like to share with you some of the reviews I saw then follow it up with some snarky commentary.

(This is the proper way to whine. Keep quiet, make a funny face, and then make a career out of hating people)

“Tough getting to our seats in that crowded section. Enjoyed maybe two bites of my cheese steak sandwich. Boring play.”

What was so tough about it? I bet this person is obese. They got a cheesesteak at a hockey game after all. Who does that? And they never even specified why they enjoyed two bites. Did they start a third bite then realized how fucking fat they were and could no longer enjoy it because they felt bad about the way they look? And what does the game being boring have to do with buying tickets? Some games are going to be boring you idiot.

“…To add to our less then mediocre experience the roving Devils camerman would not record any kids wearingcaps, t-shirts etc. of the opposing team. How triflin! Why don’t they play The Hockey Game (song) at the Rock?”

Dude, it’s their job to record home team fans for the home team television network. It would look terrible if they were showing opposing fans filling the stands. What’s with using the word trifling? And what’s wrong with using the letter “g” at the end of it? This guy really pissed me off when he started complaining about how they don’t play a song he likes. Get an iPod and stay home.

“…I don’t find the “Hey you suck” goal chant to be at all appropriate, funny, clever, or innovative–it’s just plain ignorant. I had two LA Kings fans sitting next to me, and the verbal abuse to which they were subjected was appalling. I apologized to that couple as I left, and told them that I hoped their team won the Cup.”

Clearly this was written by a woman who doesn’t understand sports. “Hey you suck” was the offensive thing people were shouting? Christ, you’re in Newark. Walk down two blocks and see something much more offensive, like a gang member shoving a gun in your face calling you a motherfucker as he asks you for your wallet.

“Also, overzealous police. I am 60 years old. They took my 2″ swiss army knife I have had for 25 years. Very stupid”

So you have had the Swiss army knife since you were 35, correct? And if it meant something really important to you like it was given to you by a dead relative I think you would have mentioned it, no? So you’re complaining because you were carrying the dumbest kind of knife there is. It was probably an impulse buy anyway during your first mid-life crisis. Good riddance. I hope the police use it to cut their ass hairs.

“I have to say the policy against any kind of food and drinks turned me off when my family was forced to forego the water bottle and snacks my kids love when we entered the stadium…”

This is policy everywhere. No stadium will allow you to bring food because if they let you do this they could not make money off of concessions. How stupid are you? Does everyone go to one hockey game then never comes back? I’m so sorry your children couldn’t get to have the snacks they love so much. Maybe they should have eaten in the car before the game? Your kids sound as terrible as you do.

“Very nice arena but music and announcements are non-stop between plays. The noise level from the music and sound system is way too loud. The atmosphere is manufactured instead of letting the fans create there own noise and atmosphere. Announcer calls the players names like they are wrestlers or boxers.The Devils dancers are bush league. The announcer and music are way too much a part of the event. No place to stand and eat your food other than in your seat. Long lines for condiments because there aren’t enough condiment stations.”

Oh please. Oh please. Oh please. The music sucks, it’s too loud, and the announcer doesn’t say the player’s names the way you want him to? You just have everything handed to you in life don’t ya? I hope your hot dog was dry when you gave up at trying to get some ketchup for it.

On a scale of 1-10, how much do you hate the human race?

Rescuers

I have always had this fantasy of rescuing someone. I used to think when I started driving I’d constantly see cars on fire swerve off the road and into a telephone pole. I’d pull over and race out to save the driver. Maybe I’d get lucky and it was a sorority road trip gone awry. These coeds would owe their lives to me. I would be their everything. And as I grow older this fantasy remains. I was to be a knight in shining armor. I want to be a motherfucking hero.

(I’m right here Cuba and strangely edited Ray Liotta face!)

It doesn’t matter in what way I am doing the rescuing, so long as it’s obvious and clear that I’m the one saving the day. I think that’s why I love Taxi Driver so much. I would so love to be able to shoot up a brothel to save a young prostitute. The same goes for the movie Sin City. Bruce Willis saves little Jessica Alba from a yellow thing and she grows up to be Jessica Alba and wants to thank him. Really the “thanking” portion is just extra and I could deal without it. What I really like about the idea of rescuing someone is that with each breath they take they remember they would be nothing without you.

Of course I am more than likely not going to end up in some dangerous situation where I have to buy guns and kill some gangsters to save someone. That’s just not how my life works. Maybe you live wild and have those opportunities, but not me. My rescuing happens more with people in immediate lesser danger, usually to themselves. I have always been interested in helping out anyone with some sort of mental trouble whether it be depression or the other bugs that aren’t much different. And before you go off saying “no they’re all very different” shut your face. If they debilitate and change a person I don’t see the difference.

The problem with wanting to save others is you must have your shit together. I don’t even mean you have to appear to have it together, you actually have to which is different from everything else in life. Most things you do in life you can get away with being clueless. When it comes to rescuing someone else is you need to know what you’re doing. For instance I could never be a fireman. I would have no clue where to start. My first question would be “What’s the axe for? Wait, chopping down doors right? Do you ever chop them down? Seems like you wouldn’t have to do that all too much.”

(I have too much to say about this picture and the man in it. I’ll write something up for Kidz Showz on it at some point)

I’m impressed by people’s whose lives are about rescuing. I just want it as a hobby because I would feel silly collecting baseball cards again. And I don’t have my shit together so I can’t fully save anyone. I feel it’s important in order to function properly when you’re someone’s own personal Jesus that it’s not everything going on in your life. You need to have at least accomplished something great where you can always lie in bed at night and tell yourself “Well, at least I did that.”

Have you seen the show The United States of Tara? The main character has a form of multiple personality disorder. Her husband puts up with all of her “alters” as they call them. Sometimes he gets frustrated, but for the most part he’s always there for Tara. Or maybe not. As I write this I’m only half way through the series. He makes it work though because he has so many other things to do. He’s fixing up houses all the time, he enjoys sports, Patton Oswalt is his best friend, and he seems to drink a beer all the time. He can manage all of the craziness in their family because he has something else. He has things to fall back on and all he ever has to do is remind himself that he started his own landscaping business or whatever it is he does. He can save his wife because although she means everything to him, she is not everything to him.

(He also has a gay son, a daughter who dresses up like a viking princess, and a Puerto Rican who for some reason snorts coke with high school kids)

So what am I really saying? I guess it’s “don’t put all of your eggs into one basket” which to me feels like I not only wasted my time writing this but yours as well making you read this. I suppose this was one of those posts where I’m just trying to figure my own life out and I leave as confused as when I came in.

Do you have fantasies about rescuing people from dangers? Have you done it? Do you have your shit together?

Garbage Bloggers

I remember writing up a piece a while ago that I never posted because it seemed like I was too nutty. I have since posted many insane things on this blog and no longer worry about what you think of me. That’s actually not true. I care a lot. Do you love me? Please tell me you love me. I want to be loved.

In this piece, and it is a piece because it is a work of art, I will list out what makes someone a garbage blogger. Actually, to be fair they’re more garbage human beings who happen to blog. I don’t want to put down anything someone writes about because that’s their choice. To be what I will now refer to as a Garbage Blogger you have to do a few things you wouldn’t normally do in life. Here they are. Hopefully you don’t do too many.

1) Liking every post you see on WordPress

Nobody could possibly have as much time to read these blog posts as some people click the Like button on blogs. That sentence was poorly written yet some asshole will still click Like on this post without calling me out on poorly written sentences. Do you know why? Because they didn’t read shit. Stop trying to promote your own blog through your avatar. Your face has a creepy mole on it and your smile sucks.

(Please never post pictures online if you have a mole. I always think my computer screen needs to be cleaned)

2) Making it too obvious you didn’t read and pretending you read every word

It’s fine to scan through a blog post. If it was any good it would be in the Smithsonian right? I think most of us have those days where we want the gist of things then leaving a courteous comment. That’s fine. A garbage blogger is someone who continually says something generic. Their strategy with this is to hope other people see their stupid comment then other stupid bloggers click over to their place then click the Follow button. I know this is why they do it because I did it once. I immediately gave myself 100 lashes with a whip because I hated myself so much.

(He’s wasting his flexibility. Teach yoga dude)

3) Being generally creepy

Please do not use blogs to pick up women. That is, unless they continually bother you by commenting on your blog and saying flirtatious things back. The only reason I do anything is because I hope to one day impregnate as many women as possible. This is called being a man. I can get away with it though because I understand who I should and can say dirty nasty things to. I also use a real picture of myself and I’m a real person with personality, not some anonymous idiot. Stop being creepy to women online. It lowers my chances at gorilla masking them.

(Not exactly what I meant, but you can never find a good gorilla masking picture when you need one)

4) Rebloggers

The few times people have reblogged something I wrote it was awesome and flattering. About half the time it was people who genuinely enjoyed the post and wanted to share it with others. The other half it was some random foreign person whose entire blog was reblogs. What’s the point in this? It’s not some super kind Pay it Forward gesture. It’s stalking and thievery. Please don’t steal my stuff. I barely worked on it and you taking it will make people think I’m legitimate. I cannot handle the pressure.

(He’s not trying to create kindness, he’s trying to build the world’s largest human centipede. We missed the point of the film!)

5) Non-repliers

I despise when I leave someone a comment on their blog and they do not respond back. Seriously, these people are terrorists. I would rather save a member of Al-Qaeda from a burning building than someone who doesn’t reply to my comments. Then again, if Al-Qaeda members are in a burning building they probably are the ones who lit it on fire. Is it too hard to reply to a comment on a blog? Christopher Reeve could have replied to a blog comment with some weird blinking device it’s so easy. Please always reply. You’re garbage if you don’t. Unless the person commenting is garbage. Then you’re a trashman.

Is there anything I missed? I know there must be. Five is a really short list. Imagine if Schindler’s list was this short. The Nazis would have probably not even noticed he was helping them escape to freedom or whatever happens in the movie. I don’t remember it much. My favorite scene is still the one with the fat secretary.

Ages

I’m getting old. The worst thing about getting old is there are more people younger than me than there are older than me. Constantly the number of people who exist that are older than me decreases. The number of people younger than me will always rise. It’s unsettling. With each day I’m closer to death and more of a failure. This post is dedicated to all the famous people younger than me who have already become successful. I hate all of the following people and hope they fail because of our age difference. These are only the ones that totally shock me. I’m well aware how there are around 4 million people under 25 who are successful. Ugh I want to die.

Julianne Hough: I’m not quite sure what she does and for some reason I thought she was really old. She has an old lady’s name. Julianne? You don’t name people that anymore. She’s already been on Dancing with the Stars which means she’s already washed up. What am I doing wrong?

Adele: How is she younger than me? She’s huge both in shape and in notoriety. She would have been in my graduating high school class but I still have a few months head start on her. Maybe I should have stayed fat. Maybe I should have learned how to sing. If I had to guess I’d say Adele was 45. She’s not though. She was born in 1988. This is horrible.

Colin Kaepernick: The Super Bowl losing quarterback for the 49ers is about a month younger than I am. With athletes I’ve come to accept a lot will be younger than me. What bothers me is that he’s playing in Super Bowls. I’m afraid to ask a waitress to take my dinner back to the kitchen to warm it up and this guy has to work on the biggest stage of them all. And by biggest stage of them all I don’t mean Adele’s second chin.

Hayden Panetierre: I can accept her being my age or real close to it but she was born two years after me. Why would I be scared to ask her out on a date still? She’s younger than me. No matter how big my penis is she would be stunned by it.

Dev Patel: The second most famous Indian actor in the world, most famous if you don’t consider the Harold and Kumar movies real. He was the main character in Slum Dog Millionaire. He’s probably a real life millionaire. He was also born in 1990. My sister was born in 1990. Her crowning achievement is owning a cat.

Snooki: I always forget she’s a little over a month younger than me. I guess I should excuse anything stupid she does because of this. I don’t though because I’m old and mature enough to understand age is nothing but a number. A number to hate people who happen to have a lower number than you and have achieved more.

Kate Upton: Everyone jerks off to Kate Upton. I don’t really get the hype. I don’t think she’s all that good-looking. Yeah she has giant breasts but she’s just average otherwise. The worst thing, she’s younger than me. She was born in 1992. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to be a sex symbol if they were born after Goodfellas came out.

I hope you feel really old now knowing these people are even younger than I am.

Rite Aid Lines

There’s nothing wrong with the pharmacy Rite Aid other than the fact they have a variation of the word “right” in its name. I’m not a big Rite Aid fan as far as pharmacies go. They never seem to have what I want. Unfortunately sometimes you don’t have a choice which pharmacies you buy your peanuts from. Right now the nearest CVS to me is a mile downhill which means if I ever want to get back home I’ll have to go a mile up hill. Walgreens? I think I have to cross the River Styx to get there. The following is a short excerpt on why I do not like Rite Aid. It can be better known as “finding something to complain about.”

(It’s really not that bad of a song)

I stopped in at Rite Aid hoping to get milk and peanuts. I’m practically made of these two items now. They’re close to 90% of all I ingest other than the ten spiders the average person eats a year while sleeping.

The first bad sign at this particular Rite Aid was when I noticed they only had two kinds of milk a few days earlier. They had Whole Milk and 1%. Huh? Where’s the variety? That’s the spice of life. On this day though they only had Whole Milk and 2%. Is this a sign from God that I need to fatten myself up? I have been getting beaten up a lot by middle schoolers so maybe I should.

(They’re a lot meaner when the teacher isn’t around)

Normally I’ll drink Skim Milk but I don’t mind the other kinds so I didn’t complain. When I went further down the aisle to grab some peanuts I noticed they had none. Well, they had plenty but no smaller bags. Don’t they realize people without self-control like me exist? How can I possibly have a giant container of peanuts in my home and not eat them all in one sitting? I instead grabbed the last small bag of salted cashews available. Cashews are good, just not as good as peanuts. Cashews taste a little too much like toe nails, the object their shape most resembles.

I got to the front of the line when the biggest problem of all happened, there was a line. Not only was there a line, there was one line. The other cashier was standing there though, possibly learning English because she didn’t seem to speak it very well when the working cashier muttered things under her breath about how lazy the non-English speaking one seemed to be.

(I think she spoke Klingon. “Buenos dias” is Klingon right? And why does dias come up as a misspelling but Klingon doesn’t? Further proof a nerd invented spell check)

At the front of the line was an Arabian woman. Maybe she wasn’t Arabian. She had on something you would see a Muslim woman wear without the cool foot soldiers from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles mask. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t Muslim though because she was buying Christmas lights. Lots of them. I think they were on sale. I would estimate she bought around 50 of these little cases because her total came out to $58 dollars. If each was a buck and you add on sales tax you get around $58. Needless to say, standing in line behind a woman at a pharmacy buying 50 items can make you really hope to see her get hit by a bus outside, 50 times.

Next in line was a Hispanic woman. I can never tell Hispanic women’s ages. They all look 30. I think the more a Spanish woman smiles the younger she is. After standing in line for 8 minutes and not moving up a single spot, this Spanish lady had a lot of questions to ask. She was buying three Swiffer products and each one she asked about the price. Ummm does she not know these things are labeled? She ended up getting two of the items and not the most expensive. Oddly enough, the most expensive was also the biggest. Go figure, the more you get the more expensive it will be.

(Obviously the big hand would be more expensive than the little hand. Then again, can you really buy hands?)

Finally in front of me was a curly-haired white woman in puffy black coat. I already hated this woman because while walking down a crowded aisle she didn’t even for a second think to let me get by. She was probably 50 and very pushy. She was buying a bag of almonds, three Snickers bars, and pain killers. Then she spotted an on-sale variety pack of peanut jars and grabbed that before checking out. I would hate to be this woman’s toilet paper.

I got to the front of the line and I was in and out much faster than these ladies. I was so fast as soon as I stepped outside I still saw the Christmas lights lady, the Spanish woman, and the pushy bitch standing there looking at their receipts to make sure they weren’t ripped off. I’m not really sure what I wanted to say here except for that lines suck and I don’t like people.

Cool High School Students

Audience participation is needed for this post. Please answer the below question to whatever extent you can.

What does it take to be a cool high school student?

Be as detailed as possible, as stereotypical too. Things like having the shiniest car, the coolest pencil-case, or girlfriend with the biggest breasts are all similar things I’m looking for. This will be very helpful to me so answer to your heart’s content.

Oh and if you haven’t already check out Yesterday’s Post. More people have snatched up free copies than I ever expected and a good majority are complete strangers. This let’s me know people care, are interested, and are incredibly cheap. Be sure to leave a review, unless you hate it. But if you hate it then it means you hate this blog because it’s pretty much the same style of storytelling.

Pathetic Text Messages

“He said he’s been playing Call of Duty and drinking with this girl and she’s slept over three times but he hasn’t had sex with her because ‘he doesn’t know if she’s in the mood’ so he wants to know how to tell when she’s in the mood haha”

This was a text message that was sent to me. It’s like many other text messages only this text message is mine. The circumstances surrounding the text though are what I want to tell you about. At first this may seem like any average text. I assure you, it’s the most pathetic thing I have ever read and I’ve read your blogs. Joking. No I’m not. Some of you I’m not.

Like most stories this one starts off with a girl dating a boy. There are other stories like a gross one where a boy dates a boy or really hot stories were a girl dates a girl. It’s a double standard. The boy and the girl date for about a year. At first it’s fine and then the boy starts dressing in women’s clothing and cries all the time. The boy is also incredibly unfunny, stupid, and looks like Donkey Lips from Salute Your Shorts. I just wanted to make it clear here that this boy isn’t me.

(See, Donkey Lips looks nothing like me. I never wear solid colored shirts either. When you wear a solid colored shirt it’s easier for people to notice everything that’s wrong with your body. Just a little tip)

The girl eventually breaks up with the boy. More than three years go by and every so often the boy will text the girl and say things like “We should smoke a blunt together” or “Your dad invited me over last night and we smoked or a blunt together” or “I’m a big fat cross-dresser.” The girl humors him by responding even though she knows she shouldn’t. All she’s doing is giving him hope that one day they will get back together even though that would be impossible, she respects herself now.

(Vinny Hutchinson better known by his stage name “Lady Gaga” is a successful cross-dresser and even he has trouble getting respect sometimes)

A day comes along when the girl receives a text message from the boy. He says he needs some advice, the same advice and situation mentioned at the beginning of this piece about how he’s invited a girl over to play video games with him and he’s not sure how to have sex with her. More than three years after their relationship has ended, they haven’t maintained a friendship at all, and he has no one to turn to other than her to ask about how to get a girl into bed. Pathetic? I think so.

My own personal advice to this guy is the following, don’t ask ex-girlfriends who hate your guts for advice on anything other than noose tying. Why would she ever want you to get laid? You’re her ex-boyfriend whom she never wants to talk to again. Ask, I don’t know, a male friend for some advice on this topic?

If you really want to know when she’s in the mood you’ll know it when she asks to do something other than play a video game that involves shooting other human beings. She’s using you for alcohol and you’re only in her life because you exist and something better has not come around yet. She has slept over because you were both probably too drunk to get her home and she values her life more than she values sleeping with you. When will she be in the mood? Hopefully never. You give her minimal entertainment and you will forever roll over and give her whatever booze she wants. She has gotten from you what she wanted. Why do something so disgusting as to let you take your girl panties off in front of her?

(I know girls like playing some video games but not first person shooters. This girl probably has a horse face or is a burn victim. Maybe even a big erection in the front of her panties)

Oddly enough, I have never met the guy in this story yet the venom is clear anyway. I don’t like guys who are such wimps. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help or advice. Just be a little smarter and not ask someone who told me you like dressing up as a woman for this help.