Archive for July, 2013

I am participating in another “write about something we tell you to write about or else you’re not cool” by the two biggest bullies I know, Emily and Ashley. They wanted us cool kids to talk about swimming pools. I don’t feel like telling a story, plus making bullet points is a lot quicker so here are random bullet pointed memories from swimming pools minus the time a girl saw my penis in one.

-The last pool party I went to, Nick Tallone kicked me in the testicles. It was at Dave Pugliese’s party and his mom yelled at Nick for while I sheltered my scrotum. I actually wrote about this already in a future post so sorry when I repeat myself in a few weeks. My nuts still haven’t recovered.

-The last pool party I was invited to I didn’t show up because a girl I liked was going to be there and I wanted to think she might like me. Taking off my shirt would have made her not like me.

-Freshman year of high school I was the only guy who got a note to get out of pool which everyone laughed about because nobody wanted to see me shirtless anyway. I ended up spending the period sitting with all the girls. The next day a kid who is a cross-dresser now and a Korean kid didn’t swim because they were too exhausted from the day before. Every year after that in high school most of the class would get notes to avoid going in the piss-filled water.

-My favorite game to play in a pool is throwing as many objects in there then walking around the outer edge for about a half hour. This creates such a strong current that you can spend a long time just floating around in really rough waters. I’m so easy to please.

-One time I went with Brian Jany to a community pool his family was a member at. I saw some kid named Elliot there eating that weird candy that looks like a piece of chalk that you did into colored sugar. Nothing else happened.

-In sixth grade I went to a day camp during the summer sponsored by the YMCA. Part of this was swimming in a pool then swimming in a lake. I swam in the pool a few times and the gay kid told me he liked how goo my cannonballs were. When I swam in the lake I saw a dead turtle float into a kid’s face.

-The only time I really ever enjoyed swimming was during my early trips to the Poconos with my dad and sister. Our favorite game to play was going underwater and counting how many fingers my dad was holding up. My vision is terrible now and it probably has something to do with opening my eyes in chlorinated water.

-One time my younger sister pooped in a swimming pool and our babysitter had to hose her ass off.

-Some kid named Robert with warts on his hands basically taught me how to swim. He said, “Jump in. You’re fat enough to float.” I did and I was.

-When I was about 12 my mom said we could either get a pool or a new dog. The family unanimously decided to get a pool. We got a dog and he’s still alive.

Swimming pools for me are a place of insecurities, few good memories, and dead bugs floating around. They should all die.


(This poorly Photoshopped picture is my personal hell)

I remember reading The Diary of Anne Frank in 8th grade nude and thinking she should have been named Anne Liar, not Frank. What’s so Frank about her? She never came off as forthcoming to me. Or maybe I don’t understand the meaning of the word frank. I’m basing this off the personality of Frank from the Frank and Ernest comics.

So I guess I have two things to say in this post. The first is that I hate bothering people with anything. I’m not saying I won’t again, but for now since I have things popping up daily I would rather not be a major pest and devote this entire blog to you clicking on links to go somewhere else. I have added an RSS Feed to my Yahoo articles onto my page. It’s pretty cool if you click on them as often as you can because I actually get money for these. So like occasionally check that out and click on everything so I don’t have to bug you constantly. I may still actually post links at the bottom of my other pieces I write on this blog without being too intrusive. Here’s a picture example where you can find it:

yahoo articles

So like yeah check it out and start writing for them yourself.

Oh and here’s why I mentioned Anne Frank at the beginning. I wrote a letter to my bathroom and submitted it to some other website that isn’t College Humor. They rejected me of course because every website out there is run by the girls from my high school. Anne Frank is mentioned because the only thing I remember from the book is that they called the bathroom WCs. See how it all makes sense now?

A Letter to my Bathroom

Dear My Bathroom,

Sup? I have a few questions for you when you have the time. Don’t respond in a passive aggressive manner either like you tend to do. I find that very unattractive.

The first thing I am wondering about is the state of the toilet. How is it always getting so dirty? There are fecal stains in places there should not be fecal stains. Poop would literally have to shoot out from the toilet during a flush, deflect off the door, hit the floor, and then crawl along and up the front of the toilet. I don’t believe this is possible for a second because I always poop with the door open. If people don’t like what they see then they shouldn’t be breaking into my apartment. I also have concerns about the amount of hair on the toilet. I understand I am carrying several hairs on my body. Several may even have the potential to grow to dozens soon enough. I get it. After some investigating though, not all of those hairs can possibly be from me. The length of pubic hairs varies greatly, so much to the degree I wonder if you are planting these here to make me feel like I have guests over more frequently than I do, never. If so, thank you for making me feel less alone.

Here’s my complaint about the shower. The water is too hot. This is fine during the winter months. In the summer months this is painful and upsetting. I want to hurt someone after taking a shower, normally. After taking a shower in this bathroom with the burning hot water, I still want to hurt someone, but now it’s someone who doesn’t deserve it quite as much. I would also like the option to take a bath if I wanted to. The option does not exist and the maintenance man said he would take care of it. I am afraid to call him back again because the superintendent of my building has a strange skin disease. I am frightened that he will come do the job himself, a piece of his weird skin will fall off his face, and I will step on it. My feet are gross enough as they are. I do not want them looking like this guy’s face. He also wears a bandana frequently. Unless you are a cowboy bank robber or a freshly groomed dog I would prefer not seeing a bandana anywhere near you.

The final thing I want to bring up to you is the problem with the medicine cabinet mirror. Or should I say mirrors? These are two separate entities and when looking into the mirror you make me look really fat. This works well when flexing my arms because it doubles my bicep size by adding two inches. For the rest of my body though this is problematic. I gave up eating for a month because I didn’t realize you had this strange optical illusion staring me in the eye, chest, hips, thighs, waistline, or anywhere else I am insecure about on my body. Please see to it that you correct this problem. I suggest smashing.

There is a library down the street. I have seen a homeless man bathe in the sink there. Don’t think that I won’t be willing to do the same if you don’t take the time to at least think about changing.

Respectfully yours,


Recent Yahoo Articles:

Five Advantages of a Minor League Baseball Game

Top Ten Lies University Students Tell Their Community College Friends

I started “contributing” things to the Yahoo Contributor’s Network. I am not a fan of the word contribute. It’s a word teachers would use whenever they felt you were not participating. Usually when a kid doesn’t participate it’s because there is a much bigger problem. Then the teachers embarrass the kid by calling him out on his bullshit and the kid goes home and cries. Then his parents meet together at the school to figure out what’s wrong with me. The school blames my parents and my parents blame the school system. A fist fight breaks out between my dad and the principal. My mom yanks a woman’s earring out through the flesh and due to the injury the woman gets an infection. The next two years are spent trying to keep my mom out of jail for “getting caught up in the heat of the moment” which is the sleazy lawyer’s advice. Meanwhile I am in 4th grade now, friendless, and weighing 200 pounds. My dad’s living in Peru and late in the year we find out he has received a sex change operation. After a 16 month sentence, my mom ends up serving a lifetime for her actions while incarcerated. My dad remarries and eventually drowns in his own semen, according to the autopsy report. All of this because I wouldn’t contribute.

But I’m contributing now. Here are the first three things that have been put up there. Whether they interest you or not, it’s helpful if you click on the links because I get paid per visit aka I may be able to make enough to buy a nothing. I’ve already submitted things that fall under the “humor” label so that should be more interesting for you…maybe. So just click on each. It’s helpful.

Three Baseball Teams and What They Should do at the Trade Deadline

Better Than Nirvana

Catchers Are the New Shortstops

If you want to contribute to Yahoo then Google “yahoo voices” and figure it out yourself. You won’t make much money, but if it gets picked up by one of the random Yahoo sites then you can earn a pretty penny. By pretty I mean around $2.

two dollar bill(I’d hit it)

It’s Christmas in July. This holiday used to be big in my family when I was younger. Every year my mom would let me and my younger sister pick out one gift worth $25. I remember picking out a baseball game for Sega Genesis. It was a pretty cool game. I loaded my team with superstar. At the All-Star break, Jeff Bagwell of the Philadelphia Phillies already had 50 home runs. He was well on his way to potentially reaching double digits, a record that would have blown away even the steroid numbers. I’m not sure why I stopped playing the game, but I did. The game was great too because they made a big deal whenever a record was set. I never got to see the celebration. I think life got in the way.

Since I have very few Christmas in July memories other than getting that one video game, here are all of the Held Back comics I have created so far that are somehow Christmas related. Yeah. This is one of those posts where I remind you that I’m doing something else and you act as if you care. You can view all of the comics by clicking here. I update every so often and don’t want to be a nag. Some of these are clever and well done while others are tragically sad and anticlimactic aka life real life.

Held Back: The Christmas Gift

the christmas present

Held Back: Giant Santa’s Lap

giant santas lap

Held Back: Home Alone Abridged

home alone abridged

Held Back: Santa’s New Job

santas new job p1

santas new job p2

santas new job p3

Held Back: Giant Santa is Coming

santa is coming to town

Held Back: What Time is It

what time is it

Held Back: Holiday Plans

holiday plans

Held Back: The Shining Abridged

the shining p1

the shining p2

Held Back: Die Hard Abridged

die hard p1

die hard p2

die hard p3

die hard p4

I’m aware that The Shining isn’t a Christmas Movie. There’s still snow and I didn’t realize how few Christmas themed comics I have done. That’s it. Thank you. Stay cool. Enjoy your Christmas in July.

I was on a train recently and I saw the most amazing thing ever, some Mexican woman’s cleavage. Now before this turns into some strange public transportation erotica story let me just say that it’s not. This is about spending time with people who you cannot communicate or share a single interest with. Let me just talk about her cleavage for a moment though.

Fantastic. The word fantastic was invented for her. She wore a black and white dress, conservative for the most part until we got to her bosom. Or is it bosoms? I don’t know if a tit is considered a bosom or if the whole package is the bosom. Anyway, the front of her dress crossed in some fancy way and there was a good space open in front of her chest large enough for me to shove my face in. I didn’t shove my face in there because I’m not one of those people and she had a boyfriend or husband with her and he was much taller than I am.

Rarely when I get on a train and I know it’s going to be crowded will I grab a seat. I know there is going to be some old person, pregnant woman, or pushy human being who deserves a painful death that I’ll end up having to give my seat up to anyway. It’s easier to just stand than to do a kind gesture for another person and not get anything back in return. I decided on this venture to stand near the door that says “Do Not Lean Against Door” rather than stand where all the buttons are. That’s the kind of person I am. I would rather accidentally lean against a door and fall out than I would accidentally bump against a button and have to stand there embarrassed as the conductor has to check to make sure there’s no emergency.

british_prime_minister_david_cameron_standing_on_a_train.(That’s pretty much me standing there except I never dress like Hans Gruber)

The train was unusually crowded for a Saturday night. I thought people stayed at home crying Saturday nights like I usually do. Please don’t tell me I’m doing things incorrectly…

After a few stops and the first where things really packed in, the Mexican woman with the awesome cleavage stepped onto the train, heels clicking against the floor, the march of a slut sounds. With her was the earlier mentioned husband or boyfriend. He was tall, handsome, had glasses, and had the same voice as some guy I knew. I had not seen the guy in a few years and when I said hello to him he said “Oh yeah I remember you” then walked away. Fuck him.

walton-goggins-2012-afi-fest-01(Both of these men look like actor Walton Goggins with a smaller forehead. If I had said with a bigger forehead that would have been frightening)

They stood near me because I guess they have farting problems and wanted my stench to cover up their gastrointestinal embarrassment. They began talking about how they were going to a show at UCB. The guy had no clue what UCB stood for and since I know more about the New York comedy scene than the average mongoloid, I chimed in that it stood for Upright Citizen’s Brigade.

The two lovers turned to me as this is the thing you do when someone you don’t know speaks. He gave me an “Oh yeah!” and we then began talking about the show they were seeing. Tits McCleavage-Bonergiver looked at me too and gave me an “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you don’t seem threatening” smile as I spoke with her man. He told me he had gotten an email from his work about the show featuring Amy Poehler, “that Michael Cera guy from Juno”, and “that blonde guy from 30 Rock.”

First of all, if you refer to Michael Cera as being the guy from Juno, you missed out on a lot of his career. He wasn’t even the star. The film had a titular character that wasn’t him and this is the only film the guy knows him from. Second of all, this guy wouldn’t shut up about 30 Rock. I have never seen an episode, but I pretended I knew who he was talking about because it’s weird to explain to a person “I don’t have cable and even when I did the idea of 30 Rock never really appealed to me much because I find Tina Fey a little overrated in many ways. I would probably give it a shot at some point, but there are so many other things I have to watch beforehand that appeal to me more.”

??????????????????????(Michael Cera has done so much at this point I bet he doesn’t even put Juno on his resume)

Our conversation didn’t last long and he kept saying “Should be a good show” in a “Shut up dude” way to me. So I did that. I stopped chatting with them. They continued to talk though and that’s when I learned this guy might not be so lucky. His female companion still could not grasp what improv comedy was. That’s fine. Sometimes I don’t get what improv comedy is.

Their interaction continued while I stared at some old guy in the adjacent train car picking his nose then occasionally back at the woman’s cleavage as a chaser for humanity. They talked about lots of nonsense and the most important thing of all was their conversation was not a back and forth. One would talk for five minutes and get almost no response and then the other would do the same. It wasn’t like they were loveless either. They just didn’t seem to comprehend what the other was saying.

Somehow it came up that the woman knew someone who was “really smart” and got real into UFOs. Awesome-Breasts O’Rgasmic told the most horrendous story about how they went to a bookstore looking for something. The story made absolutely no sense at all. Her hubby had so many questions and he seemed so terribly confused as did I. She laughed a lot during the story like she was already seeing Juno’s Michael Cera perform improv. When the story ended her husband looked at her and said, “Okay…”

great expectations(She could have read Great Expectations in Spanish and gotten a better response…and that book totally sucks)

At one point I thought this guy had it all. The more I was around him the more I came to realize he really did. Her cleavage was that awesome that it doesn’t matter how boring her stories were. It doesn’t matter how she didn’t seem to enjoy any of the same things as him. Perhaps worst of all, she reminded me a lot of someone I dated years ago. Both were Mexicans with beautiful pimple scars, nice bodies, and not making any sense. I could have been this guy. I could have been trapped in a world where the best thing in it is some Central American cleavage.

Here is the review I wrote for that website that never ended up existing for The Human Centipede Part Deux. It has nothing to do with one of my most memorable blog posts I have ever done entitled Human Centipedes where I thoroughly analyze which part of the Human Centipede I would most like to be. So here’s a medically accurate review of an unnecessary made shock sequel.

The Human Centipede 2 Review:

Few movies can stir up such controversy as the film The Human Centipede. I had heard about the film from a friend who had heard about it from a homosexual Asian prostitute she knows, how appropriate. I enjoyed the original film, especially the first half where it was actually genuinely creepy and frightening. I had high hopes for the sequel. The last time I was this disappointed was when I got the waitress at Hooters with the one breast. I know it shows that she’s brave and all, but let’s call a spade a spade. The last thing I want to think about when I’m out with the guys for wings at Hooters is a hysterectomy.

The Human Centipede 2 starts off promising. The main character is introduced to us as a parking garage attendant, better known to some as  the unskilled janitor. He sits in his small cube office watching the finale of the original film, which lets us know the first one never happened actually happened in this universe which to me feels a little cheap and used.

The main character is named Martin and he is one of the creepiest men to ever appear on film. He’s fat, toad-like, and never speaks. As he claims his first few victims this film keeps me on edge, thinking this could possibly go somewhere. Spoiler alert, it never does.

martin human centipede(Ladies?)

One by one and sometimes two by two Martin bludgeons his victims in the parking garage he works at. For some reason it is never explained what happens to the victim’s cars or how the police never receive reports from the families of these victims. As soon as maybe four victims are claimed I would think an officer of the law would realize there is something in common, all of these missing people parked in the same garage the night they went missing. The Human Centipede claims itself to be medically accurate. Try being logically accurate and maybe people would enjoy this film a bit more.

Martin is portrayed as an abuse victim obsessed with The Human Centipede film. He has a scrapbook about it and he watches it continuously on loop. All of this effort is put into worshiping a film. With all of this energy he could have written a great book or cured some incurable disease. I appreciate the effort Martin goes to loving the film, but considering this is a sequel to the film he’s worshiping, I found out it a little pretentious.

Human-Centipede-2-007(He’s wearing glasses. I bet they’re not even prescription. So pretentious)

The main abusers in Martin’s life are his mother and his therapist. Not to say abuse ever makes sense, but his mother’s abuse makes a lot more sense than what his therapist does. The therapist openly admits to wanting to molest Martin, an overweight asthmatic in his 40s, while receiving oral sex from a prostitute in the garage Martin works at. How convenient. I think the most illogical thing here is that a therapist doesn’t make enough money to get a motel room. Martin’s mother is abusive in the more standard way. She blames Martin for his father’s death. His father deserved death because he sexually abused Martin. I found all of the molestation a little too much. What’s wrong with having a bad guy who is just plain evil? It works for Simon Cowell.

Basically this film is Martin beating people in the garage, taking them to his warehouse, going home and getting yelled at, and then repeating the cycle. Martin’s main goal with all of this kidnapping is to make the world’s longest human centipede which he assumes requires twelve people. The last time I checked my Guinness Book of World Records, two would have been long enough.

The final twenty-five minutes is finally about actually assembling the centipede. The shots are gruesome and a few still standout in my mind as memorable. Still, this doesn’t make up for the lack of a good plot, which the film had, they just executed it very poorly. The movie dragged and I found myself screaming at the computer “something happen already!” It was like watching the Jodie Foster film Contact only slightly better. Anything is better than Contact.

contact poster(The above image is the most offensive thing I have ever seen. My apologies. I had to make a point)

If I was in charge I would have done it differently. I would have had Martin obsessed not with a film, but with the crime story. Have it be an Urban Legend about the German doctor from the first film assembling these people together. Have Martin obsessed with a reality, not a film. The idea of imitating film can be unique, but in this case I would have preferred it if it was known that people were actually going out committing these heinous crimes. But what does my opinion matter? The last time I went to Red Lobster I got a hamburger.