You just made my list!

I don’t really care much either way about football, but in honor of the Chicago Bears opening game last night, I feel it is my duty to take a virtual dump all over one of the least thoughtful renovations of a historic landmark ever.

Solider Field was officially opened in 1924 and has been home to many historic events. In 2002 the city of Chicago and some other douchebags decided it was time to renovate the stadium but because the stadium was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, they could not monkey around with the existing structure too much. The solution? Drop a fucking ugly piece of shit INSIDE and ON TOP OF the existing Soldier Field. This has got to be the laziest, most thoughtless work of architecture that has ever made it from blueprints to construction. How the fuck did the city let this happen?

Guess what the first thing to happen was after these “improvements” were completed? It was swiftly and wisely removed from the National Register of Historic Places.

The dick heads responsible for this brilliant design, Benjamin T. Wood and Carlos E. Zapata, should be in architecture jail right next to Frank Gehry.

Sorry, this one was not very fun or funny, I’m too lazy to be creative. Blogging sucks.

“Hey everyone, look at me, my bike is different and I love NPR.”

Oh brother. I just rolled my eyes so hard that I lost my balance and fell off my chair. Speaking of chairs and balance, I sure do hate recumbent bikes. What’s it going to be? Are you going for a bike ride or are you relaxing in your favorite chair? Take your pick, because you look like a douche-sack when you do both simultaneously.

We get it, you love world music, you aren’t afraid to eat Ethiopian food, you mow your yard with one of those old timey push mowers and nothing gives you a bigger boner than listening to Garrison Keillor on your iPod while riding around on your wacky bike.

I use the Johnny Cash formula to decide if something is cool or not. Anyone can use this proven method, it’s easy. For example, would Johnny Cash have ridden a motorcycle? Yes, ergo motorcycles are cool. Would Johnny Cash wash a handful of pills down with a beer? Yes, therefore abusing prescription medicine and alcohol is cool. Now, would Johnny Cash cruise around Connecticut on some asswipe recumbent bike? Fuck no!

I am in such a rage spiral right now I can’t even think of a way to make this funny. After watching these two clips of the Tyra Banks audience literally shitting their XXL panties and giving themselves spontaneous miscarriages over the fact that Tyra is showing them her “real” hair, I am now going to pray to God to take me while I sleep tonight. Please God, kill me. No, don’t just kill me, make me explode or burst into flames! In your name I pray.

There is no way I am the same species as these cackling twats. These fuckers make the Oprah audience look like Buddhist monks! How did this happen? How did we become so stupid? Were people always this vapid and I’m just noticing now because of the internet?

Fuck everything.

Tyra explains something about her real hair while her audience fucks each other from the excitement.

TOUCH IT! LAY YOUR HANDS ON MY PRECIOUS HAIR!

Look at me, I’m walking… TO THE EXTREME!

If I ever catch my child participating in anything that remotely resembles parkour or “free running” I am going straight to the nearest antique tool dealer, buying the largest, rustiest pre-civil war saw they own, driving back home and cutting his feet off. I’m serious, if I so much as see that kid walking on a curb or staring at a wall longingly, he can kiss those tootsies goodbye. Sure, he will complain about how “mean” I am blah blah blah, but what kid doesn’t bitch and moan about their parents? He will thank me later when he’s watching all those douchebags jumping around and falling on their faces, safely from the comfort of his wheelchair. He will look down at his gnarled stumps and think “Thank the good Lord above that I’m not wasting my time on this shit.” He will roll off into the setting sun to the sound of zitty teen faces slamming against the pavement and whisper “Thank you dad.”

Thanks to Jonathan for tipping me off to this Parkour scene from The Office!

If you are anything like me, these parkour accidents will give you a boner.

I have always put off writing about Walmart because there is too much to say, and honestly, I’m too lazy to really do it justice. Let’s just say I would literally not spend a penny in Walmart, even if my life depended on it. I watched Walmart breeze into both of the tiny, rural towns my parents are from and completely destroy them. It goes deeper than just causing a bunch of mom-and-pop shops to close, it tears the community apart. In these small towns, Main Street was more than just a place to shop, it was an important bond that helped keep the residents connected. You bought school clothes for your children from the same people who sold you your school clothes when you were a kid. It matters, it just does. Walmart comes to town with all kinds of bullshit promises and just rapes the town. I fucking hate them.

It’s late and I don’t have the energy to write, so please enjoy this instead…

People of Walmart
(update: I think this site just crashed so the link might be broken. Fucking stupid Walmart)

If you are a man* there are very few occasions when a puka shell necklace is allowed on your body. They are…

1) You bought a used time machine on Ebay but the knob is stuck on 1972. It also has a glitch that changes your sex and turns your clothes into a bikini while traveling through time.

2) You are Tatum O’Neal or Jackie Earle Haley and you are starring in “The Bad News Bears.”

3) You are a corpse and your friends thought it would be hilarious to wreck your funeral by strapping some puka shells around your bloated neck.

4) You are Elvis.

5) You are David Cassidy.

6) You work at Abercrombie & Fitch and you swear you were just putting them on as a joke. Ha ha ha, right guys?

7) You are an incredible douche and you want the world to know it!

*check for penis in pants

This afternoon I entered what can only be described as a perfect storm of suckery. A portal to hell opened, and out climbed a collection of douchebags sent to Earth with one mission… to destroy me. This is my tragic tale.

I had to hit the post office this afternoon to ship something I sold on Ebay. It was a beautiful summer day, so even the long line I discovered could not ruin my mood. I say “long” line, but really I was only 7 or 8 people from the front. The package already had proper postage and was ready to go, but since it was kind of a valuable item I decided against dropping it off at the counter and waited in line with the rest of the creeps. It was this decision that caused several things I hate to begin converging.

1) Crazy people! As I was waiting patiently in line I heard the unmistakable sound of a crazy person outside. When I turned and looked out the window I could see he was engaged in a heated debate with the garbage can. Next thing you know, the lamp post chimes in and it’s two against one! I realize I should have compassion for these nutjobs, but I simply don’t, they annoy me. Maybe if I lived in a small town the local psychos would seem charming, but when you live in a major city and you are surrounded by crazies, the charm wears away quickly. Much to my delight, Crazy shook hands with the garbage can and lamp post and marched into the post office to take care of some important shipping.

2) People who get all up in my personal space! Luckily the crazy guy was now a mere 3 inches behind me. Nothing makes a long ling feel like a fucking long line like having a creepy crazy person’s breath blowing through your hair. Well, there is one way to make that line feel EVEN LONGER…

3) People who complain about long lines the entire time they are in a long line! Crazy must have had some important business to get back to at the office because he did not like this long line one bit! I don’t think he stopped talking about the length of the line for longer than 15 seconds. He explained to anyone who would listen (nobody) that the reason the line was long was because there was only one window open. You would think the post office employees would have taken his suggestion to hire more people seriously based on the fact that his shirt was on backward and his shoes were actually socks. It doesn’t get any better than this! Or does it…

4) People who sneeze near me! It was at this point that Crazy started to sneeze uncontrollably. UNCONTROLLABLY! He was like “I don’t understand why SNEEZE they don’t SNEEZE just hire SNEEZE some more people SNEEZE SNEEZE man SNEEZE I ain’t used to SNEEZE this air conditioning SNEEZE SNEEZE SNEEZE.” At least all of his sneeze mist was cooling me down. It was like one of those “cooling tents” at Lollapalooza but more horrible and vomit-inducing. If only there was a way to make his sneezing more annoying…

5) Saying “Bless you!” Every time Crazy would sneeze, the guy behind him in line would say “bless you.” Keep in mind this guy sneezed at least 25 times. How about someone bless me and toss a bucket of holy water in my face to kill the swine flu which was now undoubtedly starting to kill me.

Eventually I made my way to the counter and dropped off my box. Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last! All I had to do was walk out the door and my nightmare would finally be over. Wait, what is happening? Why can’t I get through the door?

6) People who stop in doorways! I have literally never felt the urge to stop in a doorway. Sadly the woman walking in front of me could not fight this urge. Nope, she stopped to read her receipt. I happen to know that she purchased postage for ONE ENVELOPE! What could possibly so important on that receipt that she would need to stop in a doorway to read it? I punched her in the side of the head and went on my way.

Was this as boring to read as it was to write?

We get it, you’re awesome, you can eat a giant cheeseburger in front of a crowd of none. You have certainly earned the right to have your Polaroid up on the wall of sadness, next to the rest of the fat underachievers. What’s wrong, mommy and daddy didn’t buy you that BMX bike you always wanted? Were you stuck riding that girlie, yellow Schwinn Stingray to school while the rest of your friends had kickass, diamond frame dirt bikes? Did you try to camouflage your gay bike to look more BMX with a new seat, pads and a racing number? Did you NEVER get that BMX bike even though your parents could have totally afforded it because your dad was an international banker and your mom worked part-time in a gourmet cooking store and you lived in a nice middle-class home in a nice community? Are you now almost 40 years old but you toy with the idea of buying a diamond frame BMX bike just so you can ride it to your dad’s condo in Miami where you will pedal in circles on the sidewalk screaming “How you like me now old man? Look at your little BMXer now Daddy!”

Oh wait, that’s me.