Episodes

Joey from Friends is on a show called Episodes. I have not watched it because I think the way Hollywood parades that mongoloid around in the public spotlight is heinous. Let the poor guy live a life as normal as he can!!!

(Joey actually lasted 46 episodes which means there probably is no God)

I do not want to talk about his television show. I want to talk about other television shows. In particular my favorites from classic shows. These are inspired and include a few statuses I made on Facebook along with some originals.

My favorite episode of Magnum P.I. is when Magnum shaves his mustache for the summer. Everyone makes fun of him and he grows it back. Everyone else in the office tell him it was a good decision.

My favorite episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is the one where the LA Riots spill into Bel-Air and the Banks Family is held hostage for being, as the lead rioter calls them, “Uncle Toms.” Carlton did a lot of dancing in that episode and I like his dancing!

My favorite episode of The Walking Dead is the one where Carl has really bad diarrhea and they have to go out to find diarrhea medicine for him. On their way they have to kill one zombie and there isn’t much action, except in the prison toilet where Carl is bringing upon his own Apocalypse.

My favorite episode of Cheers is the one where the bar is closed for repairs and everyone stays at home watching television.

My favorite episode of Scooby-Doo Where Are You? is when they were going over their plan to trap a zombie pirate and Scooby Doo squatted down to take a big poop and it was really embarrassing for everyone and they made Shaggy pick it up.

My favorite episode Home Improvement is the one where Wilson tells the Taylor Family that the bottom of his face is missing. They don’t believe him and it turns out to not be true; he just has really bad anxiety. Tim uses money he made from Tool Time to send Wilson for counseling. Wilson ends up getting raped in the hospital by Brad because he’s rebellious.

My favorite episode of Everybody Loves Raymond is the one where the older brother hits his head on an airplane ceiling and then dies a few hours later. There was a lot of Billy Mays satire and I found it very timely.

My favorite episode of Parks and Recreation is the one where Leslie Knope realizes she met Ben too late in life and at over 40-years-old she can probably never have a family with him unless they adopt, but they can’t do it because Jerry screws up the paperwork. I liked that one.

My favorite episode of Lost is the flashback of Hurley. We find out that his weight is the reason why the plane crashed at the end which came as a huge shock to me. I was totally not expected them to go in that direction.

My favorite episode of Dexter is the one where he asks his sister for a half-day. Instead of going out to solve a murder though, Dexter catches up on some sleep.

My favorite episode of Seinfeld is the one where Dr. Timothy Whatley played by Bryan Cranston converts to Islam so he doesn’t have to have a sense of humor anymore. The B-story with Kramer on the double-date with the giant was good too.

My favorite episode of The Wire is when everyone has to stay late to finish up paperwork. This was sadly a real episode, but not my favorite.

Anyone else have a favorite episode?

Pepperoni Tears

I don’t feel bad for very many people. In fact there is only one person in the world right now I feel bad for. I saw him a few minutes ago.

This man is anywhere from 60 to 4,893,081-years-old. Chances are he is closer to the lower end. He is a pizza delivery guy that works at the Dominoes down the street from me. Or is it Dominos. I think it’s the second one. Dominoes would be what we would call if the Keira Knightley character Domino was cloned. And if she were to be cloned she would get played with by Puerto Rican men all day long.

(This woman’s body and acting ability is so flat I think she is a domino)

I feel bad for this ancient pizza delivery man because he looks miserable. This isn’t some job he has to get out and meet people. He’s busting his ass delivering food to teenagers too high on the marijuana to safely cook something themselves. They probably tip him bad. I think we have all been around friends who insist on not tipping. The odd thing is most people that are bad tippers have shitty jobs their entire lives so it comes back to haunt them like my grandfather does me.

I cry pepperoni tears for this man. The weather right now is really cold and his born in the 1940s bones are probably aching. Just because this man probably committed some awful war atrocities in Southeast Asia does not mean he should have to live out the end of his life  suffering with a job he clearly hates. It’s not his fault his hands and face are too gross to actually touch the pizza. We should blame God for that.

(Or we can just blame comedian Godfrey. I mean, he’s black and has hair different from me)

Sadly the only thing I can do to help him is pray for his death. Maybe in an attempt to get the pizza somewhere in 30 minutes or less he will get hit by a tractor-trailer and crushed between two large sheets of steel. I imagine the joy on his face when the police show up and admit to him that once the truck and his delivery car are separated, his guts will spill out from his waist and kill him. This is the best option for this poor old man.

Nude Photographs

I have nude photographs of myself. I have nude photographs of other people. Sometimes I know the people and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes they know me and sometimes they don’t because I drop it in their shopping cart then quickly run out of Shop Rite. What matters most is that people have seen me naked and I have seen them too.

The number of people who have seen me naked is pretty limited. The last one was a bug-eyed man taking a pee break next to me. I guess that doesn’t qualify as naked though, does it? Nudity is more than your genitals. Nudity also involves your shoulder, although in this instance I was dressed like Olivia Newton John with my shoulder strap down slightly.

(So maybe her shoulder straps weren’t pulled down after all. I just can’t get over all of the fat men in diapers)

I am picky about who gets to see me naked. Not just any stranger gets the reward. Say for instance I want to go streaking. I will scream at people I do not want to see me naked to “turn around you’re making me uncomfortable, kid!”

I have seen other people naked too. I don’t like seeing boys naked. It’s like looking into a mirror or a paralel universe where I’m black and thicker in certain areas. Penises are great in their own right; capable of doing the job while still being as goofy as a Great Dane and coming in all shapes and sizes. Vaginas are more like Chinese people, all looking the same. I think I made that observation before because it sounds very familiar. Or maybe I have been horny and racist for longer than I thought.

As I type this I am not however horny. I am not naked either. I have a hat on I am unexposed. If someone where to walk in on me right now I would be like “Hey look I’m totally comfortable because only my hands and face are exposed, this isn’t enough nudity for me to feel insecure about although I do have dry skin on my face and hands so this is still not fun.” I would probably not say all of that, instead opting to just gasp then maybe take off my pants to scare them away.

(This is how I look every day when I leave the house for my walk to work and then all day when I’m at work because there is no heat and my office is in a windowless closet. I made it!)

Nude photographs are a good present to give people even if they didn’t ask for it. The same way a cat will poop in your mouth while you are sleeping to let you know they love you, giving someone a nude photograph of yourself is a kind gesture. They don’t have to be fully nude either. My annual Christmas cards I mail out all have a stocking over my junk with the capture “Well, my stocking is stuffed!” In previous years I wore a Santa hat but this year I could not find it.

How many nude photographs of yourself do you own? How many of other people? Want to trade?

Oh and so I’m not disappointing you, here is a censored nude photograph of myself.

Escorts

My dad used to drive a Ford Escort. After that he drove my mother to insanity. Now he drives around in circles whenever he comes to visit me because in 60 years he never learned to parallel park. He’s also probably reading this right now at 2 in the morning with something sugary in his hand.

(My dad’s murderers)

Fortunately for him I am not about to divulge his deepest, darkest, strangest secrets. What I really want to talk about are another kind of escorts, the kind you find on the Internet or in newspaper advertisements; the kind you hope don’t have testicles.

I am not sure how many men use escort services. What I do know is that many do. Often times late in the day my coworkers will sit around looking up different women on an escort service website. Look at me, making this whores sound refined. And look at me again, making it seem as if my coworkers don’t do it in the morning and all day long. Now I am in charge of collecting their phones from them because my job is to basically be the bad guy. I enjoy being the bad guy. They usually go into Wrestlemania as the champion.

(Or if you’re Triple H you go into Wrestlemania as champion, leave as champion, gain another championship, and bang the boss’s daughter)

Have I ever gotten an escort? Nope. Have I thought about it? Of course I have. I also spend most of my time on public transit thinking awful thoughts, half fantasy and half to see if I will cross minds with a mind-reader, which I never have.

It strikes me as odd that males my age who insist they get “mad tail” would need to pay money to get “costly probably infected tail.” It strikes me even odder how much guys try to impress each other with machoism when it really just comes off more like they want to fuck each other. I have it in good faith that at least one of my coworkers writes fan fiction about us all getting it on.

(Seriously, watch this video)

I don’t think I would ever get an escort. I enjoy cuddling. I enjoy eating junk food and watching movies. Yes I enjoy other things you can do with a woman or a small man in a wig from behind. I am human after all. Escorts, or “goddamned dirty shameful sluts” as their jealous daddies call them, are not something I have near the top of my list of needed experiences. It’s too risky and there’s nothing a woman can do for me that a hole in a teddy bear cannot.

Unmentionables

Old people call their underwear their “unmentionables.” I am not old. I call my underwear “transportable shit rags” because that’s the basic purpose of them.

(This is how actors prepare for roles that require bad teeth)

I am not posting this brief work of art however to talk about underpants. Instead it’s just a little post about what you can expect from this blog in the future. I don’t say this to make you eager. I don’t mention this to get you excited. I’m only making this declaration mostly for myself. I would like to be able to post a little more frequently on this blog, even if the posts are not as long as they used to be. In fact that would be better. If I write two paragraphs than everyone would read 50%.

As I approach the 600 Blog Post Club, a number that has a big fat asterisks because I made one post private when I wanted to post it somewhere else and never bothered to really fix it so I could never really determine an official number, I would like to get it over with sooner rather than later. My goal would be by the end of February and about a little over 15 away (nobody has ever said “a little over 15” in their life except when giving a guilty verdict) this is absolutely doable.

(Do you know what else is doable? Dakota Fanning! She is more than a little over 15 at 19 years old. Have at it Seinfeld!)

Since most of my blog posts I already have written are nothing too exciting, I want to make the majority of them about my unmentionables; things I would not normally blog about. They may range everything from the inappropriate to secrets I never shared with others. I’ll also probably toss in other garbage too you don’t care about. Of course they will still come through in the same familiar voice I have always delivered full of typos and ill-thought ideas. I am far too uninterested in making sure everything on a blog reads well. I have other things to do like overeat and hate myself immediately after.

My primary reason for trying to expand into writing about things I normally would not is to knock down what little wall I keep up. I would like to build up more of an ability to be incredibly open, honest, and detailed while not offending others involved too much. Basically I just want to say mean shit about people who said mean shit about me and not feel bad about it because deep down inside I really do feel bad whenever I make people upset.

Fetuses

Here’s a fake news story I wrote a while ago. If you want to read much more well-thought out fake news stories then I suggest going right here.

“Find Your Own Damn Seat Pregnant Lady!” Says New Study

A new study by the Department of Medicine Stuff says that pregnant women have been taking advantage of an old out of date theory that they require special treatment. As it turns out, the study proves that pregnant women need to do things for their own damn selves.

Brock Taylor, Director of the Department of Medicine Stuff, says that pregnant women benefit more by being more independent and not asking others to give up their seats for them on public transportation.

“Pregnant women who choose to stand are far less likely to be pains in the ass,” says Brock Taylor who requested we refer to him by both his first and last name at all times.

“It had long been believed that the extra weight they carried was hurting their legs. Not true. This helps build strength and furthermore reminds them not to get knocked up.”

David Killbaby from the Population Control Agency (PCA) says that he hopes this new information can help do his job better for him.

“I joined a government agency because I was too dumb to be a janitor,” said Killbaby. “I hate my job and I’m hoping if more pregnant women suffer they will be less likely to have kids again in the future. Less kids means less work for me to do.”

Killbaby is not worried about losing his job either as he is a government employee and the son of a politician.

“If they tried to take away my job it would surely end in bloodshed,” said Killbaby.

Additional findings in the study say that pregnant women might be best at eating less while carrying. Studies suggest overeating during pregnancy makes a baby crave food once it’s out which could be why there are so many fat kids these days.

Brock Taylor and his team are working hard to get this information to the public. An interview has been scheduled on a local cable access channel in North Dakota as well as an appearance on Brock Taylor’s brother’s podcast, One Hour with Lenny Taylor.

“It’s important for each individual to take a stand against these pregnant ladies,” said Brock Taylor. “For too long I have been forced to stand on the train and smile at them when they pass by. They also get premium parking too. Our hope is this will finally make things even again, just how our Communist forefathers intended.”

Three Problems

Facebook has this feature called “People You May Know” where people we know and have no intention on saving from a fire pop up in the corner with their shit-eating grins along with how many mutual friends we have with them. Someone I really don’t like came up on my screen recently. I thought I’d tell you why his personality sucks and why his profile picture proved to me and anyone who sees it how he should be dismembered.

The dickhole was a real dickhole to me in school. He would often tease me for being fat even though he was fat. This actually doesn’t narrow down which bully this was as I had more than one fat bully who made fun of my weight. What happened to brotherhood or going halves on a pizza pie?

(They are getting way too much pleasure out of giving themselves diabetes)

While I suffered no serious traumatic events from his sweaty chocolate stained hands, I still do resent the fact he was allowed to live while good people like Hitler had to blow their brains out in a shelter. Sorry to say Hitler was a better person than this douche, but in my life that is the case.

Onto the three problems with his profile picture:

Problem 1 – Shirtless

The guy was shirtless in his profile picture. Since he is still fat, we could only see his shoulders. He probably does a lot of military presses and likes how they look. We can’t see the rest of him though because you know, fat. He knows he’s fat. That’s why he made fun of me for being fat. Why take a shirtless pic and only show your top fraction? This isn’t a Girls Gone Wild commercial where you have to hide the nipple.

Problem 2 – Backwards Hat

The only time a hat should be on backwards is if you get punched in the face or you are so shocked it causes it to spin that way. And in the first instance, you should be punched again for wearing a backwards hat. Wearing your hat backwards defeats the purposes of a hat, right? A hat is not meant to make you look like a cool guy. Flashing money and driving loud cars is what makes you cool. Turn your hat around the proper way or remove it. I hope he’s balding.

Problem 3 – It was a selfie

And to top it all off, he took the picture himself. The phone is visible and it was flashed off from a mirror…

This guy is the same species as me! He has a degree from the same high school. He was given the same education. His resume is similar to mine. Luckily I think I saw another picture of his of him standing near a quarry working so he will probably die on the job when a faulty machine drops a heavy stone on him. Hopefully he doesn’t just end up paralyzed because he’d probably get a huge settlement. Or if he does end up paralyzed I hope it’s a miserable life full of erectile dysfunction.

Okay if this seems cruel keep in mind he was mean to me. Also consider he has a non-ironic picture of him shirtless with a backwards hat standing in front of a mirror. Fuck people like that.

(See the kind of people who do this? Wait this isn’t a selfie)

(Okay so Justin Bieber has no selfies of him shirtless with a backwards had. All other combinations do exist though. Ergo, the guy I know is a bigger douche than Justin Bieber)

I Suck Confirmations

Today I received confirmation that I absolutely suck. The confirmation came in the form of Internet comments from complete strangers–the people whose opinion matters most to me.

Here are a few of the comments:

“The person who wrote this should have been aborted instead of being allowed to live.”

“Whoever wrote this has a small dick.”

“Really? They let this crap on the Internet? There’s no substance!”

Those were just three comments taken from a place where I received a lot of insults about something I worked hard at for a brief amount of time. They were from my dad, my girlfriend, and Perez Hilton respectively.

Where was this place I was publicly trashed? It was on Yahoo. No not that lousy Yahoo Voices place where everybody can write. This came from an actual Yahoo Sports article I wrote. Last night I finally figured out how to apply to be an official Yahoo Sports beat writer. I put together and article and submitted it. Today while taking a piss I checked my email and saw I had been accepted. I am now officially one of those people who has random people on the Internet comment how I should hang myself.

The article can be found right here in this really long link. I will be writing about my favorite baseball team, the Philadelphia Phillies. I’m always determined to never read comments because they will make me feel like shit. I mostly find it strange that when I try to write something very PC with little controversy I get shit on. This is why people say mean things, other people say mean things to them first.

I will not let someone telling me I’m worse than the Phillies outfield get me down. The guy who said I wrote this with a dick in my hand will not make me cry. I am happy to get some confirmation from Yahoo Sports that I do not suck, even if the public disagrees.

2024 Goals

 

As those grim commercials about old people coffins might say, “It’s never too late to plan for your future.” And that’s exactly what this is. I have set my goals for 2014. Now it’s time for me to set my goals for 2024.

-Win Jennifer Lawrence back. I figure divorce will be really common in 10 years and J-Law and me will have a few of them. I’m pretty sure we’ll marry at least half a dozen times and end up together. It may surprise you that I don’t plan to marry Malin Akerman. She has fallen ill in my eyes ever since she had a baby. She will also be gross and in her 40s in 10 years.

-Don’t get eaten by my neighbor. Cannibalism Holocausts are just one week of a food shortage away from happening. Have you been to the grocery section at Walmart recently? They never have anything good. The end is near.

-Set the new home run record. I’m predicting I will get hit by a car at some point. After reconstructive surgery I will be built with the best parts of every baseball player. I will have Mark McGwire’s forearms, Barry Bonds’s swing, Sammy Sosa’s English (it will help to avoid interviews), and Rafael Palmeiro’s erect penis. I think I’ll hit somewhere around 180.

-Destroy all machines/electronic devices I own. This will have nothing to do with a machine uprising. This will be more about a cry for help.

-Go a month without getting carded at the bar. Imagine how young I would feel to be nearing 40 and have no one card me at the bar! Of course, bars will be run by robots then and since 90% of the population was killed by a meteor, the drinking age will be 7. It’s only at 7 because that is the age all children are required to kill a person to earn adulthood.

-Travel more. I’ll probably visit Jupiter or maybe I’ll go to the post office like I promised myself I would 10 years earlier.

-Register to vote. I am nor was I ever a registered voter. Can you be one and then cancel? That seems so permanent. I would like to register in 2024 though because Hitler III is running for Czar of America and I want to vote for him. He’s not as evil as his granddad. America also has Czars because everything is very retro to Russian culture.

-Finish the first season of Orange is the New Black. Nah. It wasn’t very good.

-See a woman naked. I don’t want the first woman I see naked to be a picture on the computer. I’m realistic. I probably will never see a woman naked until 2024. I also do not count seeing someone run naked after a nuclear reactor blows and the clothing is burned off them. That happens in 2017 a lot.

-Be a better person. Since it’s 2024, all I have to do is pay the government and they will give me a certificate that says I am a better person. The future is easy.

What are your 2024 goals?

2014 Goals

These are my goals for 2014. There are many like them but these goals are mine.

-Earn enough money from writing where I have to pay taxes on my earnings. Or at least combined from different sources. I would really rather not pay taxes on anything at all. I think the total is $600 when you have to pay taxes. I made a little under $200 in 2013, most of it in the latter half. I will not count any money I make from writing time I put in at work since I get an hourly wage to sit there and write fake news stories about dogs.

-Not have any new daily body pains show up. I can’t believe I’ve managed to go as long as I have with daily pain somewhere on my body. What’s the age where people start complaining about it? I know this is normal. I just want to know when I’ll be obnoxious and remind everyone constantly.

-Make one friend. I made two of them in 2013. One shouldn’t be too hard.

-Destroy that one new friend’s soul. Why get something new if you cannot crush it?

-Make a whole lot of money. I’m not going to set a total amount. I already am making more at my job after 5 months than I did at my old job I was at for 8 years. The company currently employs 6 people so if one person dies I probably get a big portion of their unused cash. The one guy eats candy every day for breakfast and lunch so he’ll probably croak soon.

-Continue to become more responsible. Believe it or not, I am very responsible. Never once have I left the stove on when I left the apartment (no one ever taught me how to turn it on), I rarely get my lip stuck in my coat zipper (I broke the zipper off on the first day), and my criminal record is on a clean slate (I love the word expunged!). Not to brag or anything, but I’m a real adult.

-Travel more. I already have plans to visit the post office again. It’s a mile walk away.

-Learn a new skill. I’ve always wondered if I could survive a cannonball shot to my stomach.

-Clean my bellybutton more often. I actually clean it every day. Somehow though I think if we played a game called “In My Bellybutton or On the Ground?” I would stump you 50% of the time.

Do you have any goals for 2014? I’m sure if you have one it’s still better than my half-assed ones.