Posts Tagged ‘mean’

Kids are mean. Other than maybe our parents, kids have supplied us with the majority of our emotional pain. It’s hard when you’re a kid to know who to watch out for and who to avoid. I am well aware children are much more advanced than they used to be. They’re having sex and reading blogs now. Perhaps a kid is reading this blog. Hi kid. Fuck you. Today I provide you with a guide on how to spot those bully classmates of yours. I could save your life with this post. You’ll grow up into an adult with no childhood trauma. Sure, you will be weak and unable to ever write a good book. But you will never have been bullied which I guess is a good thing if you want to never relate to anyone else ever again.

The inspiration for this post comes from a few minutes ago when I was walking to pay my rent. I usually walk to the main office to drop off the check because I enjoy black people hooting and hollering, shouting “go back to Europe white boy” from their windows. That is when I spotted a mean kid. I never saw him before. Yet I immediately could tell he would have a nickname like “Bruiser” or “Knuckles” before coming out of the closet. He rode his bike around the apartment complex. Bad kids always ride bikes. Bad adults do too. Have you ever heard of someone on a bike saving a baby from a car fire? Never! Lance Armstrong is a cheating fake. A kid in my neighborhood died years ago. I knew him somewhat. When my mom found out she said “Wasn’t he an asshole?” I said no. She insisted he was because he would ride his bike in the middle of the street, weaving in and out between cars. Maybe my mom was right. That does sound like something an asshole would do.

(Look at this criminal. They should lock him away before he learns how to speak)

Mean kids also sing songs which make no sense. My mean kid spotting on this day was no different. I could not tell if he was speaking Portuguese or was very unsatisfactory using his diaphragm properly to sing. It was like a sequel to Pop Goes the Weasel. He only apparently knew the hook because that is all he would sing. This kid was probably about 10-12. He was a white boy riding his bike in a black neighborhood (I’m only mentioning his race so you don’t think I’m racist) and being obnoxious. I almost hoped for a drug dealer to scream at him to shut up and learn the next verse. I spotted a black male with a Hispanic one walking toward the kid as I went back into my apartment. Maybe I was about to get my wish.

You might be asking what this mean kid was wearing? Creepy. Look at you, wondering about children’s clothing. Sick. He had on a muscle shirt, naturally. His skinny little white arms (I did mention he was white already so you don’t think I’m racist, right?) poked out. I never understood the muscle shirt. People can tell if you’ve got guns in a normal shirt. Why not dress that way? One time I rolled up my sleeves and a male friend of mine said “Wow, your arms are not as thin as I thought they were.” I asked if he wanted to touch them. Then we realized our conundrum. He had complimented me and I was there trying to take it a step further for my own self-satisfaction. Luckily we were able to get out of this moment by talking like pigs about all the women we encountered. If I had been a wearer of muscle shirts we might not have been able to get over this.

(Madonna has officially given up on caring about her clothing)

Hairdos can vary from mean kid to mean kid. A lot of them have partial mullets. Why is this? I guess I’d be really nasty if my parents gave me mullets too. Not to sound racist (like I haven’t already) but white people with mullets are rarely nice. Watch King of Kong for a prime example. Adult bully Billy Mitchell rocks a sweet one. Mullets of course being the only hairstyle that is rocked. Sometimes a mean kid will have things like Mohawks or other “tough in the 1970s” hairstyles. People who dawn these are rarely mean. They’re trying too hard. I had Mohawks for a while between ages of 19-22 so I can insult us. Mostly I wanted to separate myself from others. A part of it was wanting to look like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver. Most importantly was I wanted short hair but also enjoy using shampoo. The perfect compromise for all my problems.

As far as mean girls go, they can be very obvious. There was a whole Lindsay Lohan movie about it. Girls who try to be what they think adults are will be the mean ones. Lots of makeup, accessories, and up-to-date fashion helps a girl to be mean. When a female has been pretty all her life she’s had everything given to her. Her dad bought her a bitchin car, her mom pays for her to get manicures by authentic Vietnamese people who still smell like Napalm, and men are constantly trying to charm her by stealing chicken burritos for them. I got that chicken burrito thing from reading the plot to Battleship. Really? Girls are impressed when you steal them chicken burritos? Alright then. I have been doing this completely wrong.

(“You thought you’ve been doing things wrong? I agreed to be in this piece of shite. I’m Liam Neeson. People used to respect me.” – Liam Neeson talking in 3rd person and saying shite like a Scottish person would)

I am terrible when it comes to interacting with children. I cannot even smile and wave at them. I need to turn and wave or stare at them menacingly until they shit themselves. You may have better ways to spot a mean kid based on how they look. The one thing you will always find is that mean kids are often misunderstood. Sure they make a lot of strange sound effects, think their desks are racecars, and turn me down to dance in 6th grade, but is it really their fault? Michael Winslow made a career out of making sound effects, racecar sounds are pretty cool, and no girl likes a timid fat kid asking her to boogy it to the latest Britney Spears song.* I don’t blame you mean kids for being so incredibly nasty. Someday you will make awesome DMV employees.

*No girl was asked to dance. They all seemed way too mean to even approach.

There are a lot of mixed messages pounding in my head about how to deal with emotions. On one hand I’m told not to cry because I’m a boy and need to be strong. On the other hand I’m told not to bottle things up. Most of the time, all I want to do is cry. I want to cry when the line at the bank is too long. I want to cry when one of my sinuses are stuffed up. But I can’t cry. All because of how society will react to my behavior. It’s nuts.

I keep my emotions bottled up for the most part. I don’t like to rub how awesome my day was in the faces of others. I also like to be honest so I have to go out of my way to make sure that I have a bad day. That way everybody wins. I get to remain being honest about how bad my day was and you don’t feel lousy knowing how inexplicably awesome it could have easily been.

The older I get, the more in touch with my emotions I am. I’m not afraid to cry or smile in the faces of strangers. I’m so not afraid of it that I probably do it too often. Which do you think is creepier? The smiling stranger or the crying one? I’d say the smiling one. There are more things to cry about than there are to smile about. I’m much more likely to trust a crier than I am a smiler. People who smile too much are usually brainwashed and may or may not still have their testicles. At least a crier you know their intentions, to bring you down.

The only time one should really always show their emotions is when they are positive emotions. Really, as much as it can be annoying to know about how much more wonderful your life is than mine, it’s still good for you to let it out. If I have a problem with your great life, I will not pay attention to it. Or more likely, I will find a physical flaw of yours and make fun of it. And if you have a problem with that, big ears, you can continue bragging about how wonderful your life is. You have to give a little to get a little.

For negative thoughts I believe more often than not it’s best to keep those deep inside. If I let out everything I thought I would probably be in prison, an insane asylum, or on television. I’m not tough enough for prison, not flexible enough for straight jackets, and don’t tan well enough to be on television. I could always play a ghost or a hermit, but then there’s the fact that I am a terrible actor.

From talking to other people, if I hadn’t kept my emotions bottled up as a teenage boy and instead shared my feelings like I was “supposed to”, I probably would be dead in a murder suicide right now. Being a teenage sucks and the worst thing about it is that it’s impossible to understand that you’re not alone until you get older. Mostly everybody I know had fantasies of blowing things up or stabbing enemies to death with novelty pencils. Teenagers are the most violent human beings, what with raging hormones and the anger at having pubic hair to trim. It’s not good to share your emotions when you’re a teenager. They try to send you to school psychiatrists who forgot what it’s like to feel left out. School psychiatrists are dicks. The moment they send a kid somewhere else for “help” is the same moment they ruin that kid’s self-esteem. And that’s all we’ve got in this world, esteem for ourselves. Once that’s ruined, then we’ve got nothing. Then we really have something to be angry about.

It’s good to be honest about how you feel, but remember, if you think it may make you sound crazy, it probably will. Some things are left unsaid, at least for a while. If you’re reading this and you’re an angry teenager do not fret. Most of those problems that piss you off now will go away. You’ll find new things to get angry about. Instead of being pissed off about what someone said on Facebook you can be pissed off about the realization that you will die alone. Yikes!

Wear your emotions honestly, but don’t be surprised when people think you’re a nutbag. We’re all a little crazy, big deal. But if your emotions involve kidnapping, torture, or murder, wait a few years until you grow out of it. Odds are you’ll find someone else who feels the same way and you’ll both end up in prison for doing something perverted to a mean gym teacher’s buttocks.

Jock Insults

Posted: September 19, 2011 in September 2011
Tags: , , , , , ,


I wish I was a jock. Prison movies have taught me one thing. If you want to get respect from the people you want to become, you have to find the biggest guy there and take him on. That’s why in my journey to become the ultimate jock I have decided to come up with insulting nicknames for some professional jocks, old and current. These nerds will be quivering in their mansions once they see what I have to call them.


Alex Rodriguez – Alex Clodriguez

John Elway – John Smellway

Peyton Manning – Peyton Womanning

Prince Fielder – Princess Fielder

Lou Gehrig – Lou Gay-Rag

Tom Brady – Tom Lady

Tony Romo – Tony Homo

Gregg Maddox – Gregg Buttox

Kurt Warner – Kurt Weiner

Chase Utley – Lace Buttley

Jose Reyes – Jose Gayes

Gordie Howe – Nerdie Howe

Wayne Gretzky – Plain Gretzky

Larry Bird – Mary Terd

Magic Johnson – Magic Johnson

Mike Schmidt – Mike Shit

Ryne Sandberg – Ryne Blandberg

Tug McGraw – Tug McCock

Warren Sapp – Boring Sapp

Michael Strahan – Michael Strayham

Kevin Youkilis – Kevin Guys-You-Kiss

Manny Ramirez – Fanny Ramirez

Moises Alou – Moises A-Poo

Joe Montana – Joe “Hannah” Montana

Bart Starr – Fart Starr

Johnny Unitas – Johnny United-Ass

Steve Yzerman – Steve Eyes-On-Men

Chris Carter – Chris Farter

Mitch Williams – Bitch Williams

Hank Aaron – Spank Aaron

Randy Moss – Mandy Sauce

Sam Bradford – Sam Nadterd

Tim Thomas – Tim Mom-Ass

Peter Forsberg – Peter Terdsberg

Joe Sakic – Joe Sacklick

Sammy Sosa – Sammy So-So

Robin Yount – Robin Cunt

Don Mattingly – Don Fattingly

Clayton Kershaw – Masterbayton Kershaw

Joe Flaco – Joe Faggo

Allen Iverson – Allen Cryverson

Vance Worley – Pants Girly

Pat Burrell – Fat Girl