If only there was a way to make my white trash house more white trashier. Hmmmmmm, maybe 30 branches covered in pink carpet will do the trick!
Listen up, I love cats, I really do. If you have never owned a cat you are probably thinking up different ways to call me gay right now. Well joke’s on you buddy because cats rule, end of story. I also understand the desire to give your cat a few cuddly areas in the house for napping and looking cute purposes. Yeah, that’s right, I find it endlessly adorable to watch cats sleep, fuck you. But I will never understand the desire to completely strip what little dignity your shitty living room has left by shoving some giant cat jungle gym up its ass. Sure, Snickers and Doodles might like to climb it and and snooze, but they would be equally happy on your Harley-Davidson pillows or your Dora the Explorer fleece blanket that you keep on your matching La-Z-Boys.
“Dance like no one is watching.
Sing like no one is listening.
Love like you’ve never been hurt
and live like it’s heaven on Earth.”
Fuck you like no one is watching. Go fuck yourself like no one is listening. Fuck off like you’ve never been fucked and suck my dick like it’s heaven on Earth!
I HATE shit like this so much! First of all, don’t tell me what to do. I don’t need some jackass wall “art” from Bed Bath and Beyond telling me how to live my life. Guess what asshole, you SHOULD dance like people are watching because they are and you look like a convulsing idiot. Maybe it’s best if you simply stop dancing, singing, loving and living altogether. And another thing, why is “altogether” one word? It’s like the word “nonetheless.” Stop showing off and just be separate words like everyone else!
Sorry, back to your shitty store-bought philosophy. It sucks.
MOTHER FUCK! I have been paying close attention to my stupid odometer for the last 200 miles in excited anticipation for that wonderful moment when I could watch all those little nines piss off, leaving a pristine 100000 on my odometer. Well, once again the world has taken a shit all over me! Yeah, that’s right, me missing this historic event is the worst thing to ever take place on this planet (other than the hideously disgusting conception and birth of Guy Fieri). Imagine the trauma I felt when I looked down today and saw that bullshit 100029 staring back at me. My heart sank and my eyes filled with tears. It was like 29 middle fingers aimed in my direction! I thought about driving head-on into the next semi truck just to teach my car’s bitch ass a lesson but that’s exactly the reaction my odometer wanted from me. So instead I will suffer through yet another tragedy in my life.
If I have to hear one more thing about these two drug-filled, incestuous, creepy turds fucking each other, I’m going to punch YOU in the face. I might even punch myself in the face. When I first learned that Mackenzie Phillips and her dad had consensual sex for 10 years, including the night before her wedding, I shit my pants, put on a new pair of pants and shit those pants. Isn’t it bad luck to fuck your dad the night before your wedding? I thought I read that in Brides Magazine. I don’t want to hear another word about it, I’m trying to eat here!
I’m currently trying to sell my house in the middle of the worst housing market since magical God created the Earth 6,000 years ago. The funny thing is that not only am I trying to sell my house, I’m also currently watching my entire life crumble to pieces before my very eyes. It has been a joyous year!!!
Needless to say, when my air conditioner decided to ice over and pour water all over my laundry room on the morning of our first realtor open house, I was a tad stressed. It’s not a situation where you want two realtors running around your house like busy ants, rearranging your shit and putting little signs everywhere. They were just doing their jobs, I understand that, but it’s not their job to be my therapist.
They meant well when they told me approximately 300 times to “not worry” and “relax” but it is literally IMPOSSIBLE to relax when you are dealing with the shit I’m dealing with. I’M GOING TO WORRY IF I FEEL LIKE FUCKING WORRYING!
They are perfectly nice people, but telling a stressed person to relax just makes them more stressed.
I may have to drink about 30 beers to get through this one. There is nothing that would make me act like these cackling hens. These psychos run around like they have flies buzzing around their eyes and some lifesaving U.N. helicopter is hovering above, dropping rice and water. You could fill a room with amazing FREE vintage guitars and I would STILL refuse to scream and claw my way over my fellow man to get one.
Shouldn’t buying a wedding dress be a nice, calm, sweet memory to be shared with your mother and a few close friends? Aren’t you supposed to sip Champagne and talk about your periods? Instead, these idiots put their little matching outfits on (annoying) and go Lord of the Flies all over each other. I don’t care if acting like a plundering pirate saves you a few hundred dollars, nothing is worth demeaning yourself like this.
I’m going to say this at the risk of offending all the women who are reading this, but this clip of the “Running of the Brides” is like an instructional video for how to make a guy’s balls shrink up into his body, forever. I’m just being honest here ladies, it’s shit like this that makes guys occasionally want to be as far away from you as possible. Not YOU personally, I’m talking about these assholes. Just watch the women in the bottom left corner as they selfishly guard their giant pile of dresses like a pack of wolves. CLASSY! Hey, where did my balls go?
Hey cherries, suck my dick! You think you are so awesome just because you taste good in candy form, but guess what jerk, you suck as a fruit. Are you even a fruit? Are you a berry? Is a berry a fruit? See the problems you create?
You sit there so shiny and smug in your bin like you are the Beatles of the produce department, when clearly you are the Coldplay of the the supermarket. The first few seconds of a Coldplay song you think “Hey, is this that Radiohead song I like?” No, no it isn’t, and soon you realize it’s just Coldplay taking another shit in your ears. It’s the same sensation when you bite into a cherry. It looks like a perfect little bite-sized yummy red treat but you forgot about that stupid pit didn’t you? I don’t need to fuck around with no seeds when I’m getting my fruit on. My grandma used to buy grapes with seeds in them and every time I would visit I’d pop some of those suckers in my mouth, only to almost choke to death on those stupid seeds. Come on grandma, get your head in the game!
Cherries don’t even TASTE good.
In summation, cherries are Coldplay, Coldplay sucks, cherries suck and my grandma tried to ruin my childhood by purchasing seeded grapes. Now do you understand how I got this way?
P.S. Oranges are the Beatles of fruit. Pluots are the Pink Floyd of fruit and grapes are the Pixies. Bananas are the Talking Heads and Apples are the Rolling Stones. Grapefruits are Fall Out Boy!
First of all, let’s put an end to the rumor that Megan Fox is SOOOOOO HOT! Megan Fox is pretty, at best. I honestly would not give her a second look if I saw her on the street. Well I might do a double take if I caught a glimpse of those fucking disgusting, stubby toe thumbs. To compare them to toes is actually an insult to toes. I am sorry toes. What the fuck is wrong with her thumbs? If I saw that hand making its way towards my boner I would immediately start making excuses about how I had to get up early because I’m going to prison for murder and I don’t want to be late on my first day.
Forget the thumbs for a second, which I understand is not easy to do, have you heard this dolt speak? She is shockingly dumb. If I were to compare her intelligence and charm to a popular band, I would have to say she is somewhere between The Insane Clown Posse and Creed. Oh, and she’s had sex with “David Silver!” I’m sorry, but any woman who would allow Brian Austin Green’s boner within 10 feet of her body is automatically an idiot.
I managed to use the word “boner” twice in one post. My work here is done, I quit.