You really can’t say that you’ve made anything of your life until your likeness appears on someone’s fingernails. You think you’re the shit because your dumb face is on a T-shirt? Bullshit, call me when some chick is walking around with your smiling mug on her disgusting fingernails.
(STOP THE PRESSES – I just saw a commercial for some fat ass dating show on Fox. It’s a fat guy looking for love from a group of fat chicks standing on reinforced bleachers. Mark my words, the world will end by November.)
OK, sorry about that… This is one of those subjects that makes a little barf come up. I am endlessly fascinated by what some people accept as “fashionable.” I mean, there are thousands of women walking around RIGHT NOW with palm trees, dolphins, tigers and flowers painted on their long fingernails. No, these women were not abducted at gunpoint and forced to do such a thing. Nope, these crazies paid for this insanity.
The art is bad enough on its own, but the thing that really gets to me is the length of these nails. It sends a shiver down my spine every time I see a woman struggling to do some simple task with her painted claws. Using a telephone or picking up a coin becomes a day-long event with these idiots.
Wilford Brimley scares the shit out of me. Actual shit comes out of me when I see him.
Why is he SO angry all the time? Although I am not elderly and do not have “diabeetus,” I still called Liberty Medical and ordered 5 years’ worth of supplies just because Wilford looked like he was going to jump out of the TV and wipe that smile off my face, punk. I probably got diabetes from all the fucking Quaker oatmeal the son-of-a-bitch instructed me to eat in the 80s. OK, I don’t think excessive amounts of oatmeal gives you diabetes, but Jesus Christ, Wilford Brimley has some sort of creepy control over me. I feel like my dad is yelling at me when I see one of his commercials.
I will admit that Wilford was a total bad-ass in John Carpenter’s remake of “The Thing.” Of course he was playing a scary old man, so it wasn’t much of a leap for him.
Wilford Brimley doing what he does best… yelling at you to buy things.
Buy some crap, and GET OFF MY LAWN!
“This little shit eats peaches & cream every blessed, god damned morning.”
We get it, your kid is awesome. Your kid is the best at everything and the rest of us should pull to the right when we see you on the road so that you may pass unfettered. We should all bow our heads in shame, and if we are unlucky enough to be in the car with our own worthless children, we should look them right in their stupid eyes and say, “Why can’t you be more like that kid? You really do suck, do you know that? Now get that beef jerky out of your nose before I drive this minivan into the nearest lake.”
And guess what? I also don’t care that your Golden Retriever is smarter than that lady’s honor student. First of all, I doubt that is true, I mean how would you even test such a thing? Sure, your dog is smarter than my dumbass kid, but how can we know for sure that it’s smarter than an honor student at Ben Franklin Elementary? We simply can’t.
You know who wore Members Only jackets? My dad in 1985. You know who looked cool in his Members Only jacket? Nobody.
Nobody ever looked cool in a Members Only jacket but compared to this hipster turd, my dad looked like fucking Burt Reynolds. At least my dad was trying to look awesome, unlike hipsters who want you to believe they look like assholes on purpose. Ironic hipsters think they can hide the fact that they are dorks by making you believe they are dorky on purpose. American Apparel has based most of their products on this theory.
Well I for one have had enough of this bullshit, so ironic hipsters beware because I’m going to be shaving your mustaches and shredding your Members Only bullshit the next time I see you.
These over-achievers really bug the shit out of me. While every other kid their age is setting crap on fire, falling out of trees, jumping their bikes over each other and generally being awesome, these tiny students are sitting alone in their rooms studying astrophysics and generally being lame. They are wasting their childhood AND their college years in one fell swoop.
Have you ever seen these turds interviewed? They are almost always little condescending shits that are practically begging to have their underwear pulled over their heads.
Whatever, I’m sure they will all end up rich. I’m not jealous, look at me, I never graduated college and I’m a prestigious blogger!
I really could have just titled this post “The hats worn by Pearl Jam’s Jeff Ament” and been done with it, but I didn’t want to cheat you out of my hilarious musings.
What is it with old white guys in shitty bands and their love affair with backwards Kangol, berets and other random dumb hats? Obviously a high percentage of these turds (especially Jeff Ament) wear these silly things in a sad attempt to fool the audience* into thinking a wild mane of thick, luxurious hair is waiting to spring forth from its hat cage. Unfortunately we all know the truth.
I can almost forgive the bald guys, but what’s really upsetting are the guys who actually think they look “cool” and youthful because they are rocking a beret. I think in their minds it’s sort of like the cliche of the bookish secretary who needs only to let down her hair and remove her glasses to suddenly look like a porn star. These guys come home after a long casual Friday, pop on the T-shirt/blazer combo, carefully place the Kangol hat at just the right angle that says “whatever man, I’m just hangin'” and, ta-da, the transformation from working stiff to rock star is complete!
I really take comfort in being better than everyone.
*audience = 5 people from their office who had to attend because they have run out of excuses.
Have you seen this banner ad online yet? I see it, plus other variations, all the time and it just does not sit well with me. It makes me want to shower. My brain wants desperately to figure out which photo is “before” and which is “after” but all I see is before and more before. I have been waking up in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat, screaming “BEFORE! BEFORE!”
I did a little nosing around about this ad and the site “cathysteeth.com” that it advertises. Turns out there are about 100 variations of this “mom’s blog” all telling the same story but from the beautiful white mouths of different fake moms. Just google the following sentence and you will see what I mean…
I discovered a two-product combination that works better than anyone could have expected
I used to just hate the ad because it made me physically ill, but now I hate it because it’s just another example of people trying to scam each other. Fuck everyone. Not you though, you are my favorite.
