Archive for January, 2012

I’ve made it all these posts without ever using the c-word. It ends today. If you dislike that word, avoid the last paragraph. You have been courteously warned.

I go through phases with the c-word. I’ll go months without saying or thinking it. Sometimes I forget it exists. Once it enters my mind again, every person or object that bothers me becomes one. It’s a beautiful word to say that makes everything feel better. I have yet to have the opportunity to call someone it to their faces in a non-Irish-Buddies kind of way. People in the UK toss that word around the same way American girls toss around “like.” It’s their verbal crutch. During nervous public speaking seminars instead of “umms” and “uhhs” it’s the c-word that fills those awkward pauses.

(What a diverse audience enjoying the C-Word)

Why now is it that I have chosen to address this issue? It’s because I now officially know the definition of the word. I remember in school that teachers would tell us not to use swear words because we didn’t know what they really meant. What third grader doesn’t know what those things mean? Ass is a synonym of butt, asshole is the hole in the ass where shit comes out of, shit is the stuff that comes out of the asshole which is located in the center of the butt, and fuck is what you might do to that asshole but only if there isn’t any shit there. A bastard is someone whose parents fornicated before getting married and a bitch is a girl who makes fun of someone for growing up as a bastard. And all bastards are bastards. If your parents were not married when they had you, you are a bastard who happens to act like a bastard. Does anyone get offended by the word bastard anymore? I hope not. If they do they’re a prick. And that’s another can of worms that I wish to not open.

The definition of a c-word some woman I met. I didn’t so much meet her as I muttered the c-word after she left. I mutter under my breath a lot. It keeps my face, my money-maker, in business. I’d surely be dead if I could not whisper or keep my thoughts to myself. I would have been strangled by the doctor as I was born. I thought he smelt weird. That was the first thing I ever muttered. A naked bloody baby thinking “Man, this Jew smells bad.” Do Jews deliver babies? I know they cure diseases, but I’m not that knowledgeable about birthing others. Don’t they have to have birth through a hole in a sheet? Or am I thinking of something else?

(That’s one gigantic finger or that’s going to be one tiny Jewish baby)

I was at Target grocery shopping. That’s not fair to say. I also had to pick up tooth paste, deodorant, and shaving cream. The last week or so I have been smelly and hairy. Scratch that. Smellier and hairier. This woman in particular seemed rather pushy. She had an “I own this place” aura about her. I tried to see how much blueberries were and she kept charging at me. So I backed up and didn’t get any delicious blue fruits. Then the race began toward checkout. It was a good while to there. I think they put the food so far away because some people go there only to buy food. They’re hoping you get distracted by something else like a crock pot or a Halloween card and buy that too. C-Word was distracted by something briefly then picked it back up again. Okay, I know there are no laws to this kind of stuff, but the way I see it is that if you pull back to look at something else, you’re conceiting victory. Apparently we have different laws of the department store.

I took a lead behind a weekend dad with his fat son. His son actually wasn’t fat. I just don’t know too many adjectives to describe children. His small son? His useless son? The convoy got to the checkout line and there seemed to be a problem. A foreign old woman was complaining about something. Probably had something to do with how they do things in Poland. C-Word snuck around everyone and swooped in front of me and another woman with her kid into another line. This was her dick move. Before you think “Hey, she was just looking out for herself. It’s a dog eat dog world. If you don’t watch out for yourself then who will?” learn this. C-Word had a lot of groceries. I mean an unhealthy amount. Such a douchey amount of food that if she isn’t sending it over to Africa then she is a bitch. Shopping carts are made to be a certain size for a specific reason. To stop people from being wasteful and having unnecessarily large families.

(Hey look, it’s those condom-less creeps again)

I’m the kind of guy who when I see someone with a lot less things in their cart will let them go in front of me. Yes. I’m that desperate and lonely for friendship. That’s not the only reason why I do it. On the chance that the old woman’s hot granddaughter runs up and says “Hey Gram-Gram! Can I buy this thong? I think it would look great on me! If only there was a male’s perspective I could get.” I also do it because it’s a nice thing to do. I would expect a Catholic Family with $500 worth of groceries would allow me to pass in front of them too. Not this whore. She couldn’t let anyone get out of there before her.

Taking a moment to describe her a little bit more, I would say that she looked exactly like you would think someone in New Jersey would look. She had a fake tight face, jewelry that belongs in an Aladdin film, and a haircut that belongs on the monkey in an Aladdin film. She looked like every cast member of all of those “Jersey” television shows. For those of you who haven’t been to New Jersey, not everyone here looks like that. Most people look normal. Most of us aren’t even Italians. Would you believe I have never gone tanning? I hate the beach, I don’t dance, and I haven’t bought hair gel in 8 years. Even then it was once and was colorful. I was a teenager. Teenagers love looking like Lucky Charms.

(I want to dip her in milk. So magically delicious even though I know she’d look awful in person)

The time has come for me to say it. Stop reading now and we can end on a good note if you are sensitive to certain words rhyming with hunt.

I might be overreacting with all of this, but that woman was a cunt. I mean, an hour has passed since this happened and I’m not nearly as annoyed now, but still, what a cunt move. (Actually now it’s been almost 2 weeks, but who’s counting?) To cut off people with all of your groceries? What kind of fucking rush are you in? Your children clearly shouldn’t be starving. You spend more money on Botox than you do on Christmas gifts. You puppet faced mule. What happened to aging gracefully? Your face even looks like a cunt. I swear someday I’m going to pull down a girl’s pants and see your face covered in pubic hair between her legs. You’re a terrible human being. Not you reading this. That cunt is. She probably won’t read this, ever. She’s too busy shoving down orphans and living by her own agenda. She has never once in her life looked at the big picture. The earth revolves around her. In her life, the sun is a giant yellow cunt who shops at Target. Ms. Cunt, and I call you Miss because no one could ever possibly marry you and stay with such a cunt, I hope you have one redeeming quality about you, but even the attitude you gave the cashier let me know that you don’t. You were born a cunt. You have lived as a cunt. You will die a cunt’s death.

There are a few strange things I am absolutely obsessed with. I’m different like that. I don’t get obsessed with people. People stink. I can’t remember the last time I stalked a girl. That’s sad. A lonely person like me doesn’t even stalk girls anymore they’ve become so lame. What has this world come to? I would like to take the opportunity to talk about a few of my strange obsessions.

My first obsession is brought to you by you. That’s right. You’re the sponsor of it. You’re like Juicy Juice on PBS. I am absolutely obsessed with celebrity look-alikes. I love finding out that I look like a celebrity. After a couple of awful ones though it becomes hurtful. That’s when I move over and instead focus on others. Who do they look like? The most common look-alikes my friend and I find seem to be Rivers Cuomo (any guy with nerd glasses), Seth Rogan (any fat guy with a beard), Phillip Seymour Hoffman (any fat guy with blondish hair), Jack Swagger (any young guy with blonde hair), Dean Pelton (any bald guy with glasses), Julianne Moore (any normal looking girl with red hair), the kid from Mask (any weird-looking girl with red hair), and Wesley Snipes (anyone not white). It’s pretty entertaining to do. At least, for someone like me who doesn’t like talking to strangers. What can I say, I’m an observer.

(Wesley Snipes)

I’m starting to worry that I don’t have as many obsessions as I thought I did. Oh well. This will be a shorter post then. My next obsession is Vitamin C drops. I know, of all the addictions in the world to have mine is to a lozenge that helps provide me with an essential vitamin. I love these things so much that I have to hide them in my car. Otherwise I would “snack” on them all day long. Can you snack on a multivitamin? Or is that considered being really healthy? I’ll have to ask a doctor. I know eating a lot of these will probably kill me, somehow. That’s why they stay in my glove compartment. I know myself well enough by now to know that I will not go outside to get some vitamins. I’ll pop a few in my mouth during my commute to work or if I’m eating dinner in my car which is fine. It’s still limiting myself in some form. Yeah, you were probably hoping I was obsessed with something cool like heroin or comic books. But no. I am obsessed with little 15 color fruit flavored cold suppressants.

(Second time using this picture, told you I was obsessed)

Okay, ready for my biggest obsession. It’s been about 6 months that I’ve been obsessed with it. It’s kind of weird, but allow me to explain. I am obsessed with small pox masks. Yeah. Fucking strange. If you’ve seen the film Kingdom of Heaven, you might remember that Edward Norton’s character had small pox and had to wear a mask. No? You don’t remember that? Yeah, they didn’t make that very clear. But I read up about it. I am absolutely enamored with them. I’m not sure if human beings really wear them anymore. Shit, small pox doesn’t even really exist except in Made for TV “Terrorists Killing Everyone” movies. Marcia Gay-Harden is usually in these movies. That’s another quick obsession of mine. Saying Marcia Gay-Hardened Criminal. That should be her name! I don’t know. It entertains me because she’s such a pig nosed goody-goody that she’d never be a criminal. If I ever was to contract small pox from a sexual partner (that’s how you get it, right?) I would surely wear a mask. A creepy mask. Everyone would know that I had small pox too. I’d go on a water slide and they’d say I had to remove my mask and I’d say “Hey buddy, I can’t. Got the Small P.” I figure if I ever get small pox it would be so cool that we’ll call it the Small P. If you learned anything from this last paragraph it surely should be that I am constantly fantasizing about small pox masks.

(Even in a mask the man has charisma)

There you have it. Three of my current obsessions. I’m also kind of real into Wake-Up Wraps from Dunkin Donuts, but they didn’t make the cut. I’m sorry, that obsessed is too normal and embarrassing. Do you have any strange obsessions? Why do I even bother asking? You’d tell me anyway.

I hope I haven’t written about mustaches already. You’d think it would be the first thing everyone writes about. I’m getting up there in posts. My vocabulary is pretty limited. I should read more things than stop signs or prescription drug warnings. I do not allow myself to read the asses of 17-year-old girls. I’m getting too old for that. Not only would it make me a creep, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I’d have to get too close to the butts to read it. Nobody should feel my breath on their behinds. That’s not fair unless you ask for it.

Only once do I remember purposefully growing a mustache. I was 19, fat, and had a Mohawk. Yeah I know. It’s the man of your dreams. I had a friend who grew a mustache. He was dating a girl who was completely out of his league. She was cool, she was attractive, and she even touched my back despite not knowing my name. More girls need to be made like her. Or more likely abused as children then turn into someone like her. Victims of abuse, verbal and physical, are always cool adults. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with how all of their stories aren’t about fancy vacations or winning trophies. They’re about heartbreak and broken whiskey bottles in their 8 year old faces.

(A lollipop for an abused child)

My mustache was not well received. Nobody noticed. I had to point it out to most people. I’m thinking that they thought I had shaved and forgot about my upper lip. I still was at a point in facial hair where I could shave every two weeks. I’m a pretty hairy person. I’m not going to lie about that. It’s not incredibly thick hair or anything. I would describe my body hair as if I was completely shaved, covered in glue, then had small hairs tossed in my direction. Does that help? I hope so. Otherwise I wasted your time. I might have also disgusted you a tad.

For some reason mustaches seem to be popular again. It’s the first time since 1977. Here’s a fun fact. All men with mustaches are either cops, porn stars, or pretentious d-bags. A college kid should never have a mustache. It’s wrong. College boys should be clean-shaven All-American Americans. Okay, maybe they don’t need to be like that. I just don’t like guys with mustaches is all. Even my dad who had a mustache for almost my entire life doesn’t have one anymore. He’s the last one to know when something sucks. It wasn’t until yesterday that he realized Dane Cook makes loud sounds instead of coming up with relevant punch lines.

(“Pppppppppffffffffff” – classic Dane Cook punchline)

The best part about having a mustache would be that you get to say to girls “Hey, who wants to go for a mustache ride?” Do you get it? Because she’ll be sitting on your face. A mustache ride doesn’t sound like much fun. I think my face could hold about 20 pounds tops of weight on it. I could only ever give an infant a mustache ride and that’s a sick thought. If I had a mustache I would probably put wax in it and be very outlandish. I’d curl the sides like Captain Hook. You’re lucky that I don’t have a mustache. You’d be very embarrassed to know me.

Sometimes girls have mustaches. I think most do. I read that somewhere. I knew a girl with a back mustache. She had a line of hair near the top of her butt crack. That’s actually not true. Can you really ever know a person? So I didn’t really know her. But she did have the mustache above her ass. That is true. Us guys (even though more females read my blog than males do at this point which makes me feel very sexy) are lucky that we don’t get made fun of for having awful patches of hair on our lips. Women have to be concerned about it. They stress over it. All for us. They cry late at night because of the fear that we won’t desire them due to a little patch of hair. I feel bad for these girls. That’s why I’m always donating to Puerto Rican charities. Those ladies usually have mustaches. I won’t say always because I’m sure there’s one that doesn’t.

(Waxed mustache and a rocking chair. Why do I still think he gets more chicks than I do?)

Hitler had a mustache. He modeled it after Charlie Chaplin’s mustache. Pedophiles have mustaches. I don’t know who they modeled theirs after. Other pedophiles? The pedophile mustache is usually very thin. You can usually spot pieces of candy cane in them as well. Pedophiles are the only people who actually love candy canes. The empty calories and terrible mint flavor pleases them. They’re pedophiles. They’re sick. They have poor taste in candy.

That’s about all my knowledge of mustaches. I’m not a fan. Other facial hair is fine with me. Hell, I’ve had facial hair most of my adult life. It’s weird though because I always forget that I have a little douche bag goatee. Sometimes when I write these I get lost in how to finish them. This post is no different. How about a quote from a famous mustached man.

“Hey, I’m Tom Selleck. I have a mustache.” – Burt Reynolds doing an impression of Tom Selleck

The first time I remember being a victim of a tattler was in first grade. I was hanging out with a couple of kids who grew up to be drug addicted Goths. They were picking on some kindergarteners. One of them ran off and told the black kindergarten teacher. It’s a big deal to mention that she was black. Our school didn’t have any black students, but we had one teacher, Ms. Quotafiller. My future burnout companions got news that we were being tattled on. Being malnourished thus more swift-footed, they bailed and I was trapped on a piece of playground equipment that could only be described as the bone structure of a penis. Yeah, that probably doesn’t help much for you to get the image. Just pretend this happened on the monkey bars. The black teacher came over and yelled at me not to pick on her students. I was the fat first grader who was too slow to back off of the equipment. For her to think I was dumb enough to pick on anyone is blasphemy.

Being tattled on continued. I never did anything too bad which means it was rare. A girl told on me for saying “this sucks” in second grade. The teacher didn’t believe her. I was a good boy. I would never cuss and say that going to the library “sucks.” The moment where tattling was no longer acceptable came 3 years later. Columbine had just happened and us fifth graders began to develop our sick senses of humor. I had heard the words hit list put together all over the news. Me and everyone I knew thought (and still think) that’s a silly term. I sat next to a friend and said “You’re on my hit list.” I paused and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Now you’re off it.” We giggled then the room went silently. The teacher demanded to know who just said the gentle ribbing with a friend. Everyone knew it was me. Whether it be fear, loyalty, or laziness, nobody confessed that it was I. She gave a brief speech about how inappropriate that was then apparently made a sex tape with a follow fifth grade teacher with the same last name. Is it tattling if I mention that someone claims to have seen a tape of them having sex? I didn’t give out their names, so no, it’s not tattling. It’s finding a way to end a paragraph.

Once you become a teenager, that’s when tattling becomes a sin. Really, it should be once you feel like a goose saying tattle tail. Problem is, people still tattle on others. A woman who gets a paycheck from the same place I do once went up to her supervisor and said talking about someone else “He’s slacking off. He’s going on the Internet and not making phone calls.” This woman was on the same level as the person she was telling on. She had nothing to gain from tattling. I’ve hated her ever since. She cannot be trusted. She also says words that begin with “tr” wrong. The day she was telling people about the trade show near the train station and how much of a travesty it was hurt my ears.

To do believe tattling is fine if someone is in danger. That’s not tattling. That’s protecting. My definition of tattling is getting someone in trouble when you have nothing to gain. Sure. If tattling on someone can get you extra money or a girl I can understand it. That doesn’t mean it’s right. I had a boss who would try to get other people to get us to tattle on each other. I hated that guy. The man he tricked into tattling on me felt so bad that he took me into a small closet and apologized. Straight men never get into a small closet together unless some serious business is being conducted. I could tell he was sincere. That’s probably an even worse crime. Trying to turn people against each other with no incentive. I love crossing bad guys. I told him one time that I would be his lookout and since I didn’t care, I warned everyone else about my allegiance. Doing things like this makes me feel like a secret agent. I’d start off as a good guy, become a bad guy, then at the very end sacrifice myself to save the good guys. Maybe I shouldn’t do this anymore. Everyone who does ends up diving in front of a knife and dying in a man’s arms. There are a lot of places I wouldn’t mind dying in. A man’s arms is not one of them.

My suggestion for tattling is not to do it. Unless a psychologically or physically damaging crime is being committed, keep your mouth shut. Nobody likes a nosey person. Even worse is a nosey person who gets you in trouble. We all make mistakes. The good thing is most tattle tails eventually get their comeuppance. They end up alone with nobody to tattle on anymore. Don’t let this become you. Tattling is informing everyone of your opinion loudly and obnoxiously. You’re saying something is wrong and it shouldn’t be that way. Shut up. I hope someday you tattle on the wrong person then end up dead. Remember, snitches get stitches.

Most normal people have owned a pet. All psychotic people have. We all have that lonely person in our lives who lives with an animal. We’re not quite sure exactly how much they love that animal either. Are they dating? I don’t know. Cats can’t go to the movies which means they would be a bad date. Find a human being to make you happy.

I would recommend that everyone at one point have a pet in their life. It’s strange that some people never have. Having a living creature depend on you really helps eliminate the callous attitude inside us all. That’s why Ace Ventura was such a nice guy and Ebenezer Scrooge was a dick. Ace was always having to feed snakes and cuddle with porcupines. Ebenezer didn’t have any pets. It took seeing a crippled kid hypothetically dying for him to change his ways. But let’s be honest for a moment. Tiny Tim probably deserved to die. God Bless Us Everyone? Even terrorists, rapists, and Paris Hilton supporters? You deserved that gimp leg Tiny Tim. Not everyone deserves a blessing.

Dogs – These are probably my favorite species to have as a pet. They’re the most human other than monkeys. But you don’t want a monkey as a pet. They end up taking over. There was a Malcolm in the Middle episode about that. Dogs are like having a retarded brother/sister around. They sniff your crotch and eat food off the ground. Exactly how I would imagine my sisters to behave if they were retarded. Dogs are known as “Man’s Best Friend” and I get that. My dog isn’t my best friend. I’m lonely but not that lonely. The most annoying thing about a dog is that they are too clingy. They’re like that girl you just started dating and all of a sudden she doesn’t want you to go out with your friends anymore. Oddly enough, most girls that pull shit like that look like dogs.

Cats – I’m more of a dog person than a cat person, but I still don’t mind cats. I have bad allergies to them. Does that mean a lion would make me sneeze? I asked a man at the zoo that and he said he didn’t work there. My bad. He was wearing khakis so I figured he was on duty. Cats for some reason have always reminded me of gay men. They’re always cleaning themselves, rubbing their asses on things, and drinking from saucers. Maybe I need to hang around a few gays more. I don’t think John Travolta drinks from a saucer. Cats have the advantage of being small. They’re cuddly creatures who can easily be tossed around in joy or rage. That’s why I like them. I always find it funny that they bury their poop.

Hermit Crabs – Okay, now we’re getting into the lousy pets. Hermit crabs were very popular when I was younger. I don’t know why. I always thought I was a dumb kid but my classmates must have been worse. They bought into the idea that a seashell could be a pet. I took care of someone’s hermit crabs for them one time. I didn’t see them move the entire week. What a lousy animal. A pet is not a pet unless it can learn its name. Hermit crabs should be smashed below the heel of my boot. I never hurt animals but to me hermit crabs are not animals. They’re glorified rocks.

Lizards – My family had a lizard briefly. It was a chameleon. Not nearly as cool as the Spiderman villain. He sort of changed colors. I don’t remember much. He probably much starved to death because he wouldn’t eat. Iguanas are really cool. So are poor transitions from one thing to another. I like iguanas because they have giant flaps of skin that looks like beards. My babysitter’s pimply son had one. I don’t think he let me pet it. The first naked picture of a woman I ever saw belonged to him. He hid it in a Nintendo video game case. I have to say, as pointless as lizards are, they’re pretty sweet. I’m a big reptile fan. My parents used to say it was because I liked the color green. I think it’s because I can relate to their dry scaly skin.

Turtles – One of my favorite animals. Like I said, I love reptiles. I also love ninjas. So you can imagine how much of an influence Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was for me. Mutants are fun to look at. And hey, call me crazy, but some teenagers are pretty sweet to look at too. I would love to own a turtle. I did briefly. We found him stranded in a field. Why was I in a field? I hate corn. We nursed him back to health by feeding him grass or whatever it is turtles eat then released him to freedom. Turtles are an animal I’d love to ride on the back of. They’re not too fast that I’d be frightened and they’re green! I love green!

Snakes – Now, I said I like reptiles. That does not mean I like snakes. Freud might say that I was attacked by penises as a child. I say it’s just because I am a descendant of Indiana Jones. Snakes are creepy. Owners of snakes are creepy. I think when you purchase a snake from the pet store they make sure you have at least 3 tattoos of naked women. Snakes always seem to be breaking out of their cages and crawling into the walls. That’s so scary. A big slimy tentacle crawling around. I’ve touched a snake before which was interesting. I’ve also touched a fat girl before but I wouldn’t want one of those as a pet either.

Fish – Other than looking at them, there’s no point in owning a fish. They can’t communicate much with you. They can’t hear a thing you say. Rich people always seem to own fish. I’m basing this off of Deuce Bigelow: Male Gigolo. I enjoy a nice piece of fish for dinner every so often too. I would never want a pet that I could potentially want to eat. Having a shark as a pet might be awesome, but some kind of a shiny French type that puffs out its lips I can do without. Unless I make a friend that looks like the fish. Then I can use the fish to make my friend.

Rabbits – My Old Lady owns a rabbit. I joke how much she should be slammed in a door or dropped out of a plane without a parachute, but truth is she’s not that terrible. Yes, she’s very overrated. All she does is try to chew wires and piss on the floor. She sounds like old people. I’m talking about the rabbit by the way, not my notgirlfriend (that’s what we call each other now). I want to make that clear. The best thing about rabbits is that they hop. That’s kind of all they do. Hop and make little shits that I could hide in my fingernails. I would eat a rabbit if given the chance. I’ve even just about every other animal. That’s how I assert my dominance. By eating the families of lesser species.

Rodents – This includes rats, mice, chinchillas, and any other rodent that I can’t think of. I used to have a chinchilla. It died of head exhaustion because my bedroom didn’t have an air conditioner. How grim is that? It’s like the heat wave telling me that I’m next. I never liked my chinchilla as much as I should have. He belonged to someone else before me and I never felt like we had a chance to fall in love. Rats and mice are a little different from a chinchilla. I’m kind of grossed out by them. They seem too disease filled. And seeing a mouse always makes me think of someone dangling it by the tail over a snake and that makes me sad. A pet shouldn’t make you sad. It should make you want to murder it for being so damn adorable.

Birds – For a species that gets confused with Superman by onlookers of Metropolis, birds are kind of lame. Talking parrots are cool. They’re always helping solve murders by repeating what happened at the scene of the crime. They can also be wise guys. I associate birds with old women. Probably because they had the bird when they were a little girl who still had her hymen. They remind her of a simpler time. They’re too yappy for me. I’d get married if I wanted constant sound in my ear. Get married and let my mother in law move in with us. Hey, that’s an original idea for a sitcom!

I think I covered most of the normal pets people have. (I originally wrote “pants” instead of “pets”, there’s where my mind is at) I’m sure I’m forgetting something. If you own one of the pets I dislike, I’m glad you at least like them. I also do no consider horses pets. A pet isn’t something that you can get kicked to death by or bucked off of. And farm animals too. A duck should not be a pet. A duck should be fed bread then never interact with humans ever again. I just realized ducks aren’t farm animals. Well, pigs then. Pigs are not pets. Nor are spiders. I was going to write about tarantulas, but I don’t consider things I could crush with a large tissue a pet.

P.S. I also got an unusual mention on another blog. At least someone pays attention to my little “Easter Eggs” I place around. Big Old Katy Sagal Tits

None of what I am about to discuss has any scientific backing. Well, it might. They do some pretty stupid studies. I remember one was something about how fat kids like school the least. Yeah, they do. They get picked on and they have to move around every 41 minutes. There’s only one lunch period too! It’s a fat kid’s hell. I used to make sure to take off at least one Monday a month because I hated school with a passion. I knew another fat kid who chose Fridays as his day to take off. Note to scientists, do not do a study about how fat kids love three-day weekends.

(“I love 3 day weekends!” – fat kid from Modern Family, much better than the Two and a Half Men fat kid)

Onto the science stuff. Remember, none of this has any backing. I believe that radio, television, computer, cell phone, all those devices will eventually kill us and have been for years. I know, I sound like the Unabomber. In the early 90s he was blowing up people via the mail because he was afraid technology was going to take over. 20 years later, he’s been right. I do believe that more technology can be a bad thing. I don’t see how knowing the score of the Seahawks/Raiders game instantly is necessary. I used to love looking at sports scores in the newspaper when I was younger. I would have to wait the next morning to find out how other teams outside of my area did. It was beautiful. The Unabomber had a great point. A poor way of executing his point, but he was right. The machines are going to take over.

What inspired these thoughts? Mostly the idea that I woke up this morning an hour before I should have. For no reason at all I woke up. I looked at my cell phone and I had a text message. Something about “Hey my car broke down and my wife is going into labor, can you help us out?” I deleted the text message but not before looking at the time. It had occurred 1 minute earlier. Before you say that my phone vibrated or made some kind of a whacky sound that woke me up, think again. My phone was on silent. If this had happened once I wouldn’t think much of it. The fact that it happens a lot and even happened twice earlier in the day makes me wonder. Yes Robert Plant, it really makes me wonder.

(He looks terrible. That stairway to heaven he bought will be coming in handy real soon)

I know this can probably be easily explained. Not every silent text message has woken me up. Enough have for me to blog about it. That’s when you know something annoys you, when you blog about it. Something that annoys me that I have never blogged about is when people are wished a happy birthday on Facebook and don’t directly thank the person. Even clicking the “Like” button is fine. Just posting a status saying “Thanks for the Happy Birthdays” is insulting. Fuck you birthday boy. You’re not that busy. You’re not George Clooney. Do it the next day if that’s when you’ll have time. We took the time to post on your page hoping some hot girl from high school you’re friends with will see it and think “Hey, he’s cute now. He probably has bad self-esteem from his older days of looking like shit. Maybe I should contact him and ask if I can hide his penis inside of me.” Birthdays come around once a year and you don’t have the time to thank each person? At least thank most. At least thank me. You’re a prick if you don’t. And I hope your birthday sucks.

My theory with the text messages is that the nearest tower is to the east of my bed. Where I keep my phone, on my nightstand/cup holder/temporary used condom table, is to the west. This is going to sound insane, but I think that the message travels through my brain and then into my phone. It’s not like I know what the message is. But I think that it might be possible that some electrode snaps off in my brain and jolts me. I mean, it has to be possible. We don’t really know what these frequencies and waves do to our heads. It can’t be good. I know that much. I type this all with a laptop inches above my balls. If I ever am able to have children, it will be a miracle. Then I will have to be a dad and that will be a disaster.

Our brains are very powerful. I believe that most of the “unexplained” in this world is our own doing. I think we can create anything with our brains. Events, moments, objects, anything that our subconscious “wants.“ I know, this is deep hippie shit. I don’t take drugs either which means if anything I’m crazy. Frequencies and waves may not kill us, but they’re waking me up from awesome dreams. Isn’t that enough of a crime? That chick was SO into me. Her hair looked like Vitamin C’s hair.

(Vitamin C is okay looking. These are gorgeous!)

30 years from now, we might all have a giant brain tumor from all of these wires and stuff flying around. I know 3 people with epilepsy that live on the same block. Isn’t that a little strange? There are power lines that run across the street from them too. Hmmm I don’t know. That seems a little shady. It doesn’t necessarily help my argument, but it does make it possible. Anything is possible. If we believe something hard enough, it can become true. If everyone believed that I was black then I become black. I am officially black. The color white is now black but the color black is still black. I’m rambling about nothing. I think these cell phone frequencies are really doing some serious damage.

I was not alive during the decade of the 1950s. I was negative 30 or so. Don’t let that make you feel old if you were alive then. Let that make you feel wise and proud that you’re so ancient that you still have the ability to read.

I don’t have much knowledge of the decade. Both my parents were born then. A guy named Dwight actually managed to become president. I Love Lucy was the only thing on television. Black people didn’t yet exist. Like I said, my knowledge of the decade isn’t that correct.

There are a few things from the decade that I wish still existed. No, not Jim Crowe laws you silly goose. I’m talking about fun things like malted milkshakes. What even is a malted milkshake? I’ve heard of malted milk balls. I like those! I also like milkshakes. A malted milkshake would be even better. I don’t get it though. Back then, in the 1950s, everyone was always drinking milkshakes and eating whoopee pies. Yet, you never saw a fat person. What the hell? Were the 1950s all a lie?

The answer is simple. Yes. Everything people like me who did not grow up in the 1950s knows about the decade has been fed lies. It was the decade of purity. Where the average family was a mom, a dad, a son, a daughter, and a puppy. Everything was in black and white. The milk man would come by around noon with some hilarious jokes. Cops could be drunks and not accidentally load off a magazine into a parked car. Things were perfect. Things were not that way.

(Jimmy McNulty, Baltimore PD. A throwback to a simpler time when cops carried beers instead of badges)

Let me mention a few evil things we forgot about the 1950s. The first being the Korean War. You never hear people talk about this war. Maybe it’s because it was sandwiched (now I’m hungry) between WWII and Vietnam. Elvis fought in the Korean War. So did one of my friend’s dads. I remember we would pick on that friend. We’d say his dad didn’t fight in a real war and to stop making shit up. We’d throw rocks at him. All of our grandpas had killed Japs and Krauts in WWII. He came from an inferior blood line than we did. That’s why he deserved the stoning. The Korean War was bad because well, it was a war, and also nothing was really accomplished with it. North Korea is one of the most awful places in the world to live. Not that Kim Jong-Il is dead, maybe things will turn around. I hope so. They make me nervous. Koreans are typically so peaceful and then you piss them off and their faces explode with anger. I blame the 1950s for this fear I live with every day.

(The Asian Terrorist from Die Hard enjoying some product placement)

Sticking with something quite similar, the Red Scare occurred during the decade of “Good Times.” I know the show Good Times didn’t come out until the 1970s. Really, if you watch closely enough to the television show Good Times, you’ll see they weren’t always good times. They had family members die. They were poor. It should have been called “Finally, A Black Family on TV” or something more accurate to the meaning behind it all. The Red Scare was when Joseph McCarthy went around claiming that everyone he didn’t like was a Communist. It’s funny how things like that change. A political view that wasn’t necessarily violent could have you blacklisted. Now we’re all about being different and accepting. We’re not allowed to discriminate against people of other creeds. We still shit on each other for having bad views politically, but it’s mostly gentle ribbing. Political opinions mean so little. We all want the same thing. We want to be happy, healthy, safe, and sexy. Trust me, sexy is very important in politics. Why else do you think it took Richard Nixon 10 years before he won an election?

(Dick Nixon; ugly man, lousy president, amazing exit)

Most of the popular actors or entertainers from the era were real pricks. Bing Crosby beat his kids, the guy who played Ricky Ricardo beat his wife, Joe Dimaggio beat his kids, wife, and the Dodgers pitching staff. It was an awful time. Everybody was beating up everybody else. And there was no one to help you. That was something they used to have called “tough love.” Now tough love is getting ice cream without warm hot fudge. Sure, you can have hot fudge, but it can’t be hot. There has to be a happy medium. One where you don’t beat your kids, but also one where parents don’t completely pussy out in discipline. Maybe you can buy your child the hot fudge sundae then smash it in front of them. Beat up the ice cream. You get out your rage and your kids don’t have to lie about getting hit by baseballs or walking into doors.

That’s really all I know about the most boring decade ever. There were also poodle skirts, greasers, Johnny B. Goode, Johnny Unitas, Alfred Hitchcock, sexual harassment in the work place, coloreds only bathrooms, and haircuts named bobs. Other than having a lot of great people born in those 10 years, the 1950s stunk. It was everyone trying to be nice and happy when really they were miserable and in desperate need of anti-depressants. Then Kennedy came along to start the 1960s. He was going to save the day. He got shot in the back of the face almost immediately. That ushered in a decade of rebellion and bra burning. I’m all for women taking off their bras, but fire disturbs me. I’m terribly afraid of matches. Blame it on the 1950s. I think matches were invented then as were barbecue potato chips. How do I know that?

I have a belly button. Only one. That’s the average amount. From listening in on other people’s conversations, the belly button happens when the umbilical cord is cut off after birth. It is not a place to store thumb tacks. Do not do that.

There are two different kinds of belly buttons. There’s the innie and the outtie. Normal people have innies. I am normal. Freaks of nature have outties. I could never imagine living a life with an outtie belly button. It’s like having a tiny penis coming out of your stomach. Or a misplaced finger. I’d feel the need to poke people with it. Strangers would come up to me and ask in which direction a certain street is. I would turn my torso and point with my outtie. I know I’d at least at one time use a clothes hanger on it. Maybe with a shirt attached. I haven’t thought about it enough. I would hate to have an outtie belly button and then have it break off. That has to be a weird feeling. Having an outtie all your life then losing it during a stunt. It’s probably a good thing that my belly button is concave and not protruding. I only have to worry about a bug or small mammal burrowing in there.

There are lots of things you can do with belly buttons. You can pierce your own belly button. These used to be popular in my middle and high school. Now everybody gained some weight. The belly button piercing popped out of their skin like a wine cork. I haven’t seen a girl with a belly button piercing in forever. I also don’t hang around criminals much. Usually a girl with a belly button piercing also has a record. And I’m not talking about the kind where they ate the most amount of cheese in under a minute. I mean the kind where police officers keep a manila folder with your name on it.

Another belly button activity is doing shots out of it. This is a good reason to have an innie. You can’t do a shot out of an outtie. What you do is you fill up a slutty girl’s belly button with your favorite liquor. Then you drink it out. It’s that simple. Be careful not to swallow any lint. It can be toxic. Almost as toxic as the personality of the girls who let strangers do this to them. I have never done a shot out of a belly button nor have I had someone do a shot out of mine. I prefer a glass for my beverages. I drink quickly and would have to keep refilling the belly button. It also seems messy. I don’t like spilling drinks. If you’re the kind of person who enjoys creating anarchy with your liquor then go for it. Drink your morning coffee out of a chick’s belly button. I think I just gave myself an idea for tomorrow.

The most famous belly button of all time belongs to the Pillsbury Dough Boy. For centuries he’s been poked in the stomach by fingers. He lets out a “Hmm Hmmm” laugh. We all know it. It’s a laugh that sounds like a person bound and gagged trying to scream for help. That’s probably where they got the sound effect from on the foley stage. They tied up a man, put duct tape over his mouth, and punched him in the stomach. The Pillsbury Dough Boy’s token laugh was really the sounds of agony.

When I was younger, I would always find sand in my belly button. Even when I hadn’t gone to the beach. I think I was just a dirty boy. It probably was dead skin, not sand. I find it so fascinating how overlooked belly buttons are in modern society. We don’t pay nearly enough attention to them. I’m sure in some culture belly buttons are a private part. Their pornography consists of images of stomachs. The deeper and wider the belly button, the sexier the person. It has to be possible. There are tribes out there who find women with gigantic plates in their lips sexy. Being turned on by a belly button isn’t all that weird.

The most famous political family in the United States is probably the Kennedy Family. Well, one could argue that the Bush Family is more famous. So the Kennedy family is the most famous family whose name starts with a K. Unless you count the Kardashians. I don’t consider them human beings, but they do have social security numbers which makes them the same species as me. Yuck! Okay, so the Kennedy Family is the most famous family whom have never put out a sex tape. Actually, I remember hearing there was a sex tape of Marilyn Monroe. Rumor has it, the penis in the video belonged to a Kennedy. Where’s that leave us? The Kennedy Family is the most famous family with big heads? I can’t think of any others. Lets go with that.

(This was the handsome president???)

Everybody knows the political members of the Kennedy Family. The most famous being the president, John Federico (I’m guessing there) Kennedy, abbreviated JFK. He was assassinated in Dallas after promising to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade. I’m sure you’ve seen the video by now. It’s pretty popular online. Like pictures of cats with misspelled words or pictures of crashed cars with “Fail!” written below in bold white lettering. JFK getting shot is a meme. What a sick country.

The second most famous Kennedy is Robert Faustino (I’m assuming there) Kennedy, abbreviated RFK. He was also killed. The difference between the killings was that JFK died outside and RFK died inside. JFK’s murder has a lot of controversy behind it and RFK’s murderer has been claiming that he was under mind control spells by the government to do it. If you look in an encyclopedia, Lee Harvey Oswald is credited with the kill on JFK. A man named Sirhan Sirhan (because the name is so good you have to say it twice) is credited with the kill on RFK. JFK had a movie made about his murder. It was directed by Oliver Stone. Kevin Costner and Tommy Lee Jones were in it. RFK had a movie made about his murder. It was directed by Emilio Estevez. Lindsay Lohan was in that one. And that’s all you need to know about those two men.

Some of the lesser known people with the Kennedy name are much better than any of the politicians. We know how much Teddy Kennedy sucks. Most people named Teddy do. The name Teddy should be reserved for bears. Let us delve into the world of other Kennedy’s, not named Teddy. I will make predictions on how they will die and by whom.

Ian Kennedy

Starting pitcher for the Arizona Diamondbacks, Ian Kennedy had a phenomenal season last year. He was near the tops in the Cy Young Award voting for the National League. He’s never really been very good before last year either. I don’t believe he shares the same blood as any of the political family. It’s possible though. I can see him dying after a game while refusing to sign autographs. Baseball players hate signing autographs. They get off on disappointing fans. A man named Anthony Michael Hall (no relation to the actor of the same name) will stab Ian to death with a Sharpie pen. Ian will regret ever having letting one good season get to his head. He’ll survive the attack but die at the hospital when he refuses to sign himself in thinking it was a trick to get his autograph. Yeah, I used to collect sports autographs and I’ve seen how players go from being the nicest men alive to being the biggest dicks in human kind. My prediction is very possible.


I don’t know what her real name is or what her real job is either. She hosts some game shows and is the only woman to ever wear Tina Fey glasses and not be hot in a nerdy way. She has a bit of attitude about her and I see that being her downfall. After Pat Sajak is arrested for harboring terrorists (I’m as surprised as you are) she will be the one to take over hosting duties for Wheel of Fortune. Vana White, being a radical hater of women with speaking jobs will quit and begin a coup to eliminate Kennedy. Wheel of Fortune never has Arabs on and I believe they will complain about this. A terrorist whose name in Wheel of Fortune Puzzle is _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ – _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ will get on the show and blow himself up during one of their theme weeks. Cruise week maybe? Nobody likes that one. Kennedy will be another member of people named Kennedy to die in public and on video. Vana White will be taken away and imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay for what she thinks was a just cause. Guards will touch her vagina to see if it lights up and it will.

Mr. Kennedy

A wrestler whose gimmick was saying his name. I always liked Mr. Kennedy. Then backstage politics got him fired. Now he works for the lesser known company called TNA as Mr. Anderson. He’s still a Kennedy. That’s why he’s doomed. I don’t think Mr. Kennedy will die in the ring. It’ll wait until after retirement. Nobody watches TNA. It would go unnoticed. He’ll be doing pushups by his giant pool when it happens. His fed up with his job gardener, Raul Eusebio, will attack him with bush trimming sheers. Mr. Kennedy will try to defend it, do a few of his wrestling moves, and soon realize that they do not help at all in a real fight. This will be like one of those non-political Kennedy deaths. Didn’t they have a baby fall out a window? Or am I just thinking of Eric Clapton’s kid? I thought it was both. A guy who has a song named Cocaine leaves his baby unattended near an open window. No wonder nobody was shocked. Mr. Kennedy’s death will be a sad one. It’ll also be the first time a professional wrestler has passed away without involvement of drugs or suicide. Sometimes it’s not a good thing to be first. Neil Armstrong is overrated.

Dead Kennedys

The punk band from the 1980s with songs that you’ve never heard of like Holiday in Cambodia and Kill the Poor. I like them, even if their singer wails instead of sings. His name is Jello too. He wasn’t always fat and now he is. He should have named himself Long-Happy-Life-Of-Being-In-Shape and I guarantee he’d be that and not the fat guy he is today. I see this band getting back together. They do a farewell tour. Due to faulty wiring, the pyrotechnics will explode on each member. They will run around like Michael Jackson did during that Pepsi Commercial, hair blazing. Well, the hair they have left. These guys are like 50 now. It will later be revealed that the wiring was set up to be faulty on purpose. We’ll all try to find the culprits and it will take years before we discover who the killers are. It’ll be the surviving members of the Mighty Mighty Bostones. At least, that’s the impression that I get.

That’s enough Kennedys for now. Mostly, those are the only Kennedys I can think off the top of my head. I hope none of them do die in the harsh ways my crystal ball tells me they will. I want them to all live long and happy lives free of the Kennedy Curse.

It’s nice when people give to charity. One time I was made to feel guilty for not wanting to give a dollar to a children’s hospital. I changed my mind and donated that dollar. I couldn’t buy what I wanted anymore because I had just enough for it. But hey, I’m a good guy. I paid for a pudding cup for some sick kid.

The most charitable people are celebrities. Why? Because they want to fool us into thinking they’re not demons spawned from the ass of Satan. If you have ever been on television, you are evil. There’s no question about it. Grab your Bible and turn to page 234. There’s a picture of Satan there. Look closely at his asshole. You see that? Yep, the cast of Glee. Open up your eyes man. The signs of evil are all around us.

I saw an article today on Yahoo about actress/singer/anorexic role model Zooey Deschanel. Yeah she has two O’s in her name because one would mean she was a sellout and not trendy. Apparently she’s a real miser. But in the article they say she can manage her money well. Okay, no. I am a very cheap person. Like extremely cheap. I’m not afraid to say it. I hate spending money. When a famous person does it I guess it means they’re not an idiot. I cannot accept that. Millionaires need yachts and walls made of women’s breasts. Anything less is being a pretentious douche.

Here are some stats from the article:

Salary from TV show “New Girl” — $95,000 per month
Dining-out expenses — $500 per month
Clothing expenses — $2,000 per month
Laundry/cleaning expenses — $600 per month
Cell phone and email expenses — $300 per month
Charitable donations — $1,500 per month
Credit card debt — $0 

And here are my equivalent points:

-$95,000 a month for not entertaining me or being funny? Andy Dick must be the wealthiest man alive.

-$500 a month for eating out. This isn’t that amazing. Look at her. She doesn’t eat. She probably eats one expensive piece of fish a month.

-$2,000 a month on clothing, small “look at me I’m poor” clothing. She spends 4 times more on clothes than she does on food. An essential part of survival. I hope no terrorists read this because they will blow us all up.

-$600 for cleaning her expensive and many clothing items. I spend close to $15 probably a month. Maybe more. I’m not sure. I don’t do anything more than wash my clothes. I don’t get paid to suck and pretend to be awkward on film.

-$300 a month for cell phone and email expenses? Email expenses? Email is free! Poorly written. She probably has one iPhone and is probably always on the Internet looking up bad reviews of her show. At least, there should be many bad reviews.

-$1,500 for charitable donations. Okay. The main event. This might take a bit longer than the rest.

$1,500 month means that she’s donating $18,000 a year to charity. Hey, not bad. Nobody reading this can probably say they’ve ever donated that much in a year. That’s as much as Joe Millionaire would make a year. But wait a second. She doesn’t make near that much a year. She makes $95,000 a month. Ready for some math? $1,500 is approximately 1.5% of her monthly income. 1.5%!!! That’s like nothing. That doesn’t even deserve to be considered as donating to charity. I blow 1.5% of my money a month on my electric bill. Maybe not I don’t feel like doing the math for that. My point is that she isn’t really giving all that much.

The average salary of working Americans is like what, $30,000ish? 1.5% of their yearly salary would be $450. I don’t find it hard to believe that a few people with that income don’t donate that much to charity a year. Lets break it down even more because I can. $30,000 divided by 12 equals $2,500, the average per month. What’s 1.5% of that? $37.50. Not even $40. Am I proving my point here? I’ll sum it up for you. A millionaire donating $1,500 a month to charity is the same as if an average Joe donated $37.50. Yeah. I’m not impressed with her either.

I will say that it’s nice that she donates anything to charity. I’m sure it’s to lame ones like “Save the Whales” or “Kill the Sitcom.” Really, her show stinks and that’s the only reason why I bother to acknowledge her existence. I’m sure it’s not her fault that the show sucks so bad. She certainly doesn’t help matters. If you are one that disagrees with me and think her show is awesome then please tell me one joke or post one video from YouTube of the show being funny, original, or entertaining. I’m mostly sending you on this journey because you’re more likely to find the Lost Ark of the Covenant. And hey if you find that then you’re better than Indiana Jones.

Here’s the link to the article so you know I’m not full of it.

And here’s a still photo of a cartoon clown juggling. Much more entertaining to stare at for 30 minutes than anything on “The New Girl.” (Shouldn’t at least one of the balls be in his hands at all times?)