Hey Canada, I’m trying to have a little spring here, you wanna stop blowing your bullshit cold air in my face so I can enjoy the few months of warm weather we get in Chicago?
What’s the deal? Is this payback for George W. Bush? Limp Bizkit? Carrot Top? We are super fucking sorry about all that but enough is enough, Canada. I just want to pull my grill out of the garage and sit on my patio without a jacket. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my face while I clean my guns, watch NASCAR and not read the newspaper. Hey, I’m American!
Look Canada, you have to choose. Either you continue to send us all your comedians or you blow your stupid cold air all over us, but you do not get to do both. You’re supposed to be “America’s hat” not America’s cold air machine that makes cold air and blows cold air… shut up, you know what I mean! I’m too cold to think clearly!
Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me? Now I have to worry about this shit?
I was just in Mexico! Do I feel feverish? I can’t tell. Shit I think I have swine flu! Is uncontrollable snorting and an overwhelming desire to roll around in my own poop a symptom?
How did this crap start? Did swine flu start with some drunk sorority girl who was convinced by the good people at Girls Gone Wild to make out with a pig while on spring break in Mexico? I imagine it would have started slow like, “Hey Madison, just show us one nipple for a couple seconds and we will give you this highly valuable T-shirt! You want a T-shirt don’t you? You want to be cool, right?” Next thing you know, Madison has a face full of hog ass and the rest of the world is walking around in blue surgical masks.
God, what’s wrong with me? This post is a little over-the-top don’t you think? Shit, is that a symptom of swine flu, overly aggressive and offensive blogging? I need to go lie down.
I made the mistake of saying “bless you” to someone after she sneezed today. Little did I know this woman was going to spend the next 8 hours sneezing at her desk next to mine. I don’t even like saying “bless you” once! Why am I expressing sympathy for a person who simply sneezed? Is sneezing such a huge trauma that I need to call upon the Lord and savior? “Hey God, I know you are busy figuring out who will win the Super Bowl and who’s getting a Grammy next year but we have a bit of a situation down here in the graphics room. I don’t want to alarm you but this girl just sneezed and I’m going to need to put in an official blessing request. Thanks. I mean, amen.”
The problem today was once I said it that first time, I was locked into blessing this woman like an overworked Jesus all fucking day long. I blessed her exactly 4 times before deciding it was more than I could take. We were the only people in a VERY quiet office so each time I allowed an un-blessed sneeze to linger it was painful. Why? Why do I need to stress over YOUR sneezing? I am literally never saying “bless you” ever again. Get over it. So sayeth me.
I don’t get it. I will never get it. I don’t want to get it. I don’t want to live in a world where Twitter is successful. I don’t want to be surrounded by people “tweeting.” I don’t even want to fucking know the word tweet. I don’t want to know that you just ate cheese fries and I don’t need a live update of the Death Cab set list.
OK, I tried to find a photo or youtube clip illustrating exactly what I’m talking about but after 30 minutes I got side-tracked and started looking at hot tattooed rockabilly chicks on flickr. The internet is an evil time suck! You can relate because at this exact moment YOU are wasting YOUR time!
Anyhoo, I think I can describe this dumb celebrity move without video evidence. Also, I should mention that I already know nobody is going to give a shit about this subject. Tough titty. Do people still say tough titty? Can you tell I’m avoiding the subject at hand? (No pun intended! Seriously, I didn’t notice this hilarious pun until I was proof-reading.)
Fine, fine, here we go…
(Jerry Seinfeld voice) What’s the deal with celebrities always blessing me with their hands? Their beautiful, superior hands. There is something so incredibly annoying when a celeb addresses a crowd, perhaps at an award show, and does that stupid, hippie, hand blessing/bow combo. It feels so condescending and disingenuous. If you could see their thought bubble it would read something like, “me me me me me me me me me me me me.”
I give up, this post is dumb. Forgive me. I’m hand blessing you all right now. Well, actually it’s more of a finger blessing.
Well, aren’t you just king of the fucking jungle? That’s right alligator, Brad owns your bitch ass just like he rules at medium level Guitar Hero and beer pong. That’s right, shut your pussy mouth, gator, Carol is in control now, just like she’s in charge of the motherfucking office lottery tickets every week. HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?!?
What kind of a pathetic turd do you have to be to take pleasure in fucking around with some poor animal in a misguided attempt to look tough? Are people going to see the photo on your fridge and think it was taken in the wild and you are not the douchebag they secretly always thought you were? I don’t care if it’s an ant or an alligator, if you enjoy tormenting another living creature you are a grade-A piece of shit.
My honest desire is for every jackass who poses for one of these photos to have their heads torn off by these awesome, prehistoric killing machines. I want to see them eaten whole and I want to be there when the gator poops out little scraps of J. Crew and, ironically, Crocs. I want their families to watch as a fed up alligator grabs Daddy by his fat face and drags him underwater leaving only his soiled denim shorts and NASCAR hat behind. Ahhhhh, let me take a moment to daydream about that a little longer…
These clips are like porn to me. Go get ’em gators!
I made the mistake of stopping on Mtv this afternoon while looking for something on TV to nap to. I love to nap to the vapid drone of the television. I just do. Did you know your brain is less active while watching TV than it is when you are sleeping? Well, my brain just about shut off to the point of forgetting to make my heart beat and my lungs breathe after I made the mistake of watching an hour of the new season of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge.
In college (and maybe a little out of college) I used to casually watch The Real World. I didn’t technically enjoy it, but I watched enough to be able to tell you that Jay on the London cast loved mac and cheese and that Colin from the Hawaii cast was totally NOT into Amaya but made the mistake of making out with her, probably because he wanted to fondle her huge boobs, and she totally fell in love with him and wanted to snuggle and baby talk and make him kiss stuffed animals every night in his bunk bed but Colin was like rolling his eyes and feeling totally trapped but didn’t know how to get out of it. However I had to stop watching the Real World when A) I realized I was an adult and B) Mtv starting exclusively casting idiots with explosive rage disorder.*
The only thing worse than the obnoxious alcoholics that kick, scream and casually fuck their way around the overly-colorful Ikea catalog that is the Real World house is the same people coming back even more obnoxious and alcoholic-y year after pathetic year to compete** in the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. These people really have got to be the biggest collection of douchebags mankind has ever known.
In the same way that you are a shitty parent if you let your kids watch Bratz, you are an equally bad parent if you let your kids watch ANYTHING on Mtv. Unless you want your child to grow up thinking life is simply a series of ever-growing drunken, semi-nude tantrums, I suggest you keep their tiny brains far away from Mtv.
*I just made that up but I’m sure it’s real.
**Compete = fighting and fucking each other
