So here’s the deal. This past year has been really difficult for me for various personal reasons but I was finally at a stage where it looked like I was past the worst stuff and the future was bright. The biggest hurdle left, both literally and figuratively, was selling my house and moving. In more ways than I can explain, this move was the one thing I have been focusing on for months and it was going to be the official beginning of the next stage of my life. Well, the move happened this past Saturday but the day before my house was robbed. I spent weeks carefully packing up my life into boxes and daydreaming about unpacking everything in my “new life.” I came home less than 24 hours before my move to find every box torn apart and the contents strewn across the floor. It was the most sickening feeling I had ever felt. I walked to my home office knowing what I would find. Even through I knew what to expect I still wanted to die when I saw my office destroyed and an empty space on my desk where my computer once lived. I earn my entire living on that computer so it is not unlike someone discovering their restaurant or store burned to the ground. I don’t need to go into detail, but I will be dealing with the aftermath of this home invasion for months. What devastates me the most is that they not only stole things I worked incredibly hard for, but they took my new beginning from me. They stole the finish line that I have been crawling towards for almost a year.
I have a lot of unpleasant bullshit to deal with now and it will take my full attention. I may or my not return, I honestly don’t know. It’s a fresh wound so maybe in a week or so I will feel like continuing but I just feel too defeated right now.
On any given day I can be found employing some of the most powerful modern technology to do important things like look up who directed Meatballs 4 or find nude photos of Beverly D’Angelo. My friends and I zoom essential text messages like, “This hallway smells like farts” up into space, where some billion-dollar satellite that took decades to design safely delivers our fart-filled messages back to earth in literally seconds. I’m sure that was the dream of the geniuses who invented the microchip, the computer, the satellite, the cell phone, etc.
The iPhone is mostly to blame for my daily shedding of precious IQ points. If you ever make the mistake of pondering anything out loud, no matter how insignificant, in front of an iPhone owner, you can expect to have that question answered in a matter of seconds. What’s that you say? What was the name of the movie where Tom Cruise’s ex-wife gets her boobs massaged for an hour and a half? Let me check that for you… bleep bleep blorp beep bop boing… The answer is Mimi Rogers in Full Body Massage. Actually, that’s a bad example because any self-respecting straight man should know the answer to that. I should have said… What is Mimi Rogers bra size? (checking my iPhone) The Answer is 38D. Thanks technology!
I give up. What in the fucking fuck is going on? I honestly don’t know what is worse, a lamb born with a human face or a straight edge douchewad with tribal earrings and a fucking Adam Duritz back tattoo. For once, I am speechless. I need you to decide for me while I drink myself to death.
I sat down today to write about how I am always tricked by the intro to songs by the band Chicago. What I mean is that a song by Chicago will come on the radio and I will think “Oh this must be that one song by Chicago that I like” but then after the intro it will start sucking and I reach for the dial. At least that’s what I thought, until tonight.
I’ve been combing through Youtube clips trying to find songs to support this important theory but I keep finding songs that are good all the way through. I thought I nailed it with “Feeling Stronger Everyday” but realized I kind of like the whole song.
This might not seem important to you, but it has really shaken me to my core. I have spent the last few decades HATING the band Chicago and now, in the blink of an eye, I like them. Imagine if you were molested by your uncle and then 20 years later you suddenly thought, “You know what, that was fun.” That’s how I feel right now.
Now let’s not get crazy though, I’m only talking about 70s Chicago. 80s Chicago is horrendous. In fact, shove this piece of shit in your head holes. Take special note of two things while watching this. First notice the douche in the beginning of the clip who is way overly excited when he realizes what song they are starting to play. He turns to his big-breasted date and yells “YEAH” with enthusiasm that most men save for touchdowns and killer putts. Not to mention the fact that he’s wearing some bullshit, tucked-in, corporate logo shirt AND a giant class ring. Shit, I should have just written the whole post about this turd. The second thing to look for is the woman in the audience at the 0:37 mark who hears what song it is and promptly decides to get the fuck out of Dodge. I like that the song inspires her to go take a dump while over in the 4th row that other guy is crying tears of joy all over his girlfriend’s cleavage and single red rose.
Oh my God, this clip is PAINFUL! Are any original band members even in this clip?
What the hell was this post even about? I need more beers.
Congratulations Bud Light, you made a beverage that technically is drinkable. (slow clap)
Let’s not waste any time debating whether or not Bud Light is, in fact, drinkable. Clearly it is not. It’s one small step above poison and one giant leap below walrus diarrhea. Instead, I would like to discuss the saddest tag line in the history of advertising.
Bud Light is essentially saying to you “Hey, at least you can drink it without dying.” Let me ask you this tough guy, would you feel confident eating at a restaurant who proudly boasted “Jimbo’s Pizza, it’s edible.” How about “Potato Town, our food can safely be crammed down your throat.” Perhaps you would buy a car from Ford if they proclaimed “Basically it pretty much drives.”
The real question is, what the fuck are you doing drinking Bud Light in the first place? Why bother drinking at that point? I’m embarrassed for you, broski.
I thought I was going to write about adults who still wear giant class rings but I stumbled upon something so disturbing and underground that I feel it is my duty as an American to shine a light on this ugly and repulsive phenomenon. I have just discovered there are graduation supplies for homeschooled weirdos. I will never be the same again.
I’m sorry but if you are homeschooled there are a few things you are going to miss out on. For example, unless you plan on having sex with your sister, there is a pretty good chance you won’t be getting laid at your prom. Truth be told, I did not get laid at my prom, but at least I had a chance! I had no chance. I did, on the other hand, manage to drive all the way home with my headlights off because I was so nervous, so I’ve got that going for me.
I mean, what could your graduation ceremony even consist of? Your mom draped in a bed sheet, reading off a long list of your high school accomplishments while standing on a kitchen chair? It’s not too difficult to be valedictorian or captain of the Bible team when it’s just you and your mom sitting alone in the kitchen 5 days a week.
Thanks for cock-blocking me Mother Nature, you bitch.
Can I just have one tiny bit of pleasure in life? Is it too much to ask? I didn’t start this sneeze, I didn’t ask for this sneeze, but for the love of all things holy can you just let me finish what YOU started? Not getting that sneeze out is like going to a Metallica concert and after the stadium lights go down the fucking Spin Doctors walk out on stage and start Two Prince-ing and Little Miss Can’t be Wrong-ing all over the place. Although, nowadays it might actually be like going to a Metallica concert and Metallica walks on stage.* Can someone awesome please just walk on stage and can I PLEASE just finish this goddamn sneeze!
In other disturbing sneezing news, did you realize there is a sexual fetish for sneezing? Seriously, click here, but be warned it is kind of like porn. Kind of.
*You see, Metallica are old now and no longer rock as they once did in their youth. Therefore, if today’s Metallica took the stage it might be a disappointment, much like not being able to sneeze.
Look at me! Look at me! I am desperate to be noticed! MY ONLY GOAL IN LIFE IS TO BE ON THE NEWS! I’m swimming in the winter, can you believe how crazy I am? Love me. WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME DADDY?!?
These are the same kind of attention hogs that ride around on tall bikes, propose marriage in wacky ways and get married in some bullshit underwater wedding. You may think I am simply against fun. You are an idiot. I like fun, but swimming in a frozen lake in the middle of winter and having your cock and balls retreat into your body, never to be seen again, is literally the exact opposite of fun.
Guess what? POLAR BEARS don’t even want to swim around in some godforsaken frozen ocean for 6 hours looking for some dumb fish to eat. It is a well documented fact that the suicide rate among polar bears is the second highest in the animal kingdom. Obviously the number one slot goes to Guy Fieri’s tapeworms.
