Sorry this post is a little late, I was just too busy last night. Sue me! Just keep in mind, if you do choose to bring a lawsuit against me it will be very frivolous and will most likely be dismissed by any court. I think you should save us both time and money and drop the lawsuit. UNLESS, you take me to People’s Court! That would totally rule.
I really do HATE being late though. It doesn’t really bother me that much when other people are running late but I am personally very punctual. I’m one of those people who actually gets to the airport 2 hours before my flight. Does that make me anal? Do I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder? Do I have Obsessive-Anal Disorder? I’m not sure what makes me this way but I am pretty sure it has something to do with my anus.
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.
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
As I mentioned, I am in the middle of a huge project and until it’s done I’m pretty much not leaving my home office. I no longer sleep or shower and I’m working an average of 15 hours each day. I know, cry you a river.
A byproduct of this schedule is that I’m not really eating healthy. Actually, I’m not really eating. Look at this gem of a meal I “cooked” today. Are you getting hungry yet? NO, I didn’t scan this photo from a cookbook!
I had some nacho chips but none of the other necessary nacho ingredients but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Way in the back of the fridge I found a 1/4 block of sharp cheddar. Sure, it was moldy but I was able to cut right around that shit and begin to construct my glorious nachos! Things were not looking good but I still had faith that when I pulled that plate out of the microwave somehow a beautiful plate of nachos would appear. Not unlike when Jesus broke a magic loaf of bread into enough pieces to feed 1,000 people! Is that how that story goes?
Well, unlike Jesus, I fucked up my magic meal. I accidentally left my ghetto nachos in the microwave for 2 minutes, turning my cheese into some form of orange lava rock. I ate them anyway.
I’M SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO THINKS THIS IS BORING! STOP READING BLOGS, THEY ARE ALL BORING!
First off, sorry for the non-post. I’m fucking busy so get off my back!
Secondly, shut up. Rather than complain about something in my irreverent and hilarious way, I wanted to change things up and report some You Just Made My List news. For the first time, someone on my list has contacted the site. No, it’s wasn’t Guy Fieri and no, it wasn’t a grapefruit. I’m pretty sure Guy is too busy calling various food items “bad boy” and masturbating to the movie “Swingers” to visit this website. I wonder if Guy screams “You’re so MONEY” as he has an orgasm?
Sorry, I was just throwing up for the last 2 hours but now I’m back. Nope, I have to go barf again, be right back.
OK, there’s nothing left in my stomach to puke up so I will continue. The mystery “celebrity” is Nathan Schwartz, the texting world champion. You may remember Nathan for doing something with a cell phone. I don’t. Either way, Nathan left a comment admitting that he failed as a human being a few weeks ago and I have decided to forgive him. I can see how he won the competition with his lack of punctuation and abbreviated words.
So Nathan Schwartz, I salute you for being the first “lister” to have enough time on your hands to google yourself and find this website. I’m glad you had the balls to stop by and say hello. Although you will remain on my list, I am still giving you a cyber high-five for leaving a comment. Now go get a God damn job and stop googling yourself! LMAO!
(I was able to verify that it was really Nathan who left the comment)
Look, I just want to shake your hand, not dance the forbidden Lambada with you.
I was in a band for years that primarily appealed to a male audience that was usually younger than I am. Often times after we saw a hundred faces and rocked them all, those faces would line up to tell us how fucking awesome we were. They were right. Maybe I’m a fuddy-duddy, but I used to PANIC when some young DJ-type guy would stretch his hand towards me with a smile on his face because I knew I was about to fail at being “cool.”
I could always tell right away from the angle of the hand that this was not going to be my grandfather’s handshake. Oh no my friend, this handshake was going to involve all my concentration and would most likely end in a one-armed, back punching, bro hug. If not a hug, it would at the very least, require me to anticipate what his hand was going to do next in a lame attempt to mimic his movements, thus maintaining my status as the coolest guy in the room. If we locked hands in a soul shake would it end there, or do we have to do that finger-snap thing as we release? I’m sweating just thinking about it. Not only do I not know how to do that finger snap thing, I don’t fucking want to know how! I refuse to practice. I refuse to learn.
I bet a Guy Fieri handshake lasts like 45 minutes and ends shirtless. I have to go throw up.
Since I tricked all your sucka asses yesterday I’m giving you a double post (sort of) today!
OK, let’s get into it. I am sick of the term “bling,” I’m sick of actual bling, and I’m sick of people who say and/or own bling. I’m extra sick of the full use of the saying “bling bling.” As soon as your mom knows a slang term it’s over. I heard a news anchor say “dissed” a few months ago and I nearly set my TV and my own ears on fire. I’m glad the world economy is collapsing because maybe it will put an end to this ridiculous diva attitude everyone walks around with. Actually, now that I think about it most of the idiots obsessed with blingy crap are already poor. Fuck, bling is here to stay.
And while you’re at it, take your 22″ rims and shove ’em up your bling hole. Why is it 98% of the time I see a car with “fancy” rims it is painfully obvious that those rims cost more than the blue book value of the piece of shit car they are attached to?
We have such wonderful priorities don’t we? When I say “we” I mean not me.
I’m guessing if you are the kind of person who is lazy enough to use an automatic shower sprayer you have a bathroom that requires more help than this piece of shit can provide. A push of this magic button is not going to erase the last 10 years of failure as a human being. You are still going to have Flamin Hot Cheeto dust all over your “Everybody Loves Raymond” T-shirt after asking your new high tech shower robot (you will think it’s a robot) to clean that filthy hell hole you call a shower.
Maybe I’m being too harsh but I’m pretty sure I am right about everything, always. GOD DAMN, I’m awesome!
First off, sorry for the non-post. I’m fucking busy so get off my back!
