You just made my list!

I suck. I just can’t get my shit together this week. I’m moving soon and in the process of selling or giving away a ton of shit. I gave away 70% of my record collection this morning. That sucked. I will try to write something new tomorrow, I know your life depends on it.

Sweet Jesus, can’t you tell from the pained look on my face and the way I’m touching my nose that you have a booger hanging by a thread in your nostril? Oh God, please, I’m begging you with all my mind power to shoot it out with a hardy nose laugh. PLEASE let me just pick it! ANYTHING TO END THIS PAIN!

I’m not sure there is anything that makes me more uncomfortable than having a conversation while a little booger mocks me from the outer limits of its established universe. If someone was to start pooping on the floor in the middle of a conversation with me, I don’t think it would make me feel as uneasy as some dried-up booger flapping around in the wind.

Why are those tiny boogers so mesmerizing? I feel like my eyes are attached to them by a wire when I see one. I want to look away but I find it physically impossible. Maybe if I stare at it hard enough I can make it explode into booger dust.

Everything you never wanted to know about the word booger, explained by a mail-order Russian bride who thinks she is hotter than she is. I hate the internet.

Sorry, no real post today. I spent the weekend trying to get ready for Christmas (and an impending move), so I’m using the remainder of my free time to pray for death. Here’s a little Christmas tip, never go to Target. In fact, never go anywhere. Never leave your house.

Does anyone still enjoy Christmas? Discuss.

It’s official, I relate to nothing. I am digging a hole in the dirt where I shall live until I die.

Have you ever written a grocery list and thought “This is just too quick and easy. There’s got to be a harder way.” You are in luck! The SmartShopper Deluxe Grocery List Organizer takes the convenience of quickly hand writing a list and turns it into an elaborate, complicated task.

With the SmartShopper, you just speak your list one item at a time into your magic list robot. After each item, simply wait 5 seconds for the robot to figure out what you have said. When the robot displays a list of the words you might have spoken, you scroll through the list and find the word you want. At this stage you can also remind yourself that you have a coupon for that item with the touch of several buttons. And just like that, after only 2 minutes you have one item on your grocery list! Pour yourself a glass of wine because your ass is going to be making that list for the next 45 minutes. It’s just that hard!

But wait, how will you remember this list while at the grocery store? Do you rip your robot off the wall and bring him? No, you big fucking idiot, all you do is hit ‘print’ and your robot will start pooping out your list in under 2 hours! Go watch a movie or paint the garage at this stage because your list robot likes to be alone as it slowly handcrafts each letter.

Hey, want to make the world implode? Just watch this clip of Rachel Ray and her audience of cackling morons have g-spot orgasms when the SmartShopper cures cancer. Oh wait, I meant to say when the SmartShopper recognizes the word “garlic.”

Watch the SmartShopper in action with a real life mom! If you need me I will be in my dirt hole.

Fuck you.

I hate these two assholes. Can I just say that I hate them and their fucking ridiculous 15′ x 10′ Manhattan apartment and leave it at that?

I guess we are supposed to find it charming that they spent $150,000 on this shit hole but it has the opposite effect on me. I want them to die. I don’t find anything cute about people who use their kitchen cabinets to store their clothes. I hate their 3′ wide bathroom and I feel sorry for their cats. Not because they also have to live in such a tiny space, rather I feel bad that the cats have nowhere to hide while these creepy douchebags have creepy douchebag sex in their creepy serial killer apartment.

I think this story is supposed to make me think Manhattan is wacky and unique, but it just makes me think Manhattan is absurd.

I don’t care much for football. However, when I’ve gone to games in person I’ve had a good time. Wait, I just realized that’s a huge lie. My dad used to take me to see the Bears when I was a kid but there was nothing fun about sitting outside when it was 10 degrees and the wind was whipping of the lake so fast the snot INSIDE your nose would freeze. Maybe this is why I hate football. Maybe this is why I have Daddy issues.

So me complaining about something that has to do with football is like a deaf person yelling “TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN!” Nonetheless, when I heard that an upcoming Dallas Cowboys game was going to be partially presented in 3D I thought that might be cool. That is until I learned it wasn’t going to be broadcast in 3D over my TV, but instead it would be shown in 3D on the ridiculously large/ugly/unnecessary HD screen that hangs in the equally ugly Cowboys Stadium. Huh? Aren’t those people already witnessing the game in 3D? Do the Cowboys play in a different dimension?

Are you as bored by this post as I am?

I guess I just don’t understand the purpose of going to a game, only to watch that same game on the giant TV hanging over the actual game you are actually sitting at in your actual jean shorts. I especially don’t understand the need to see it in 3D if your George Bush-lovin ass is already there in person!

Why am I so smart?

One of the perks of living in Chicago is our shitty weather. I would estimate that we get about 4 nice days a year. Spring lasts about 15 minutes. Summer is so hot and humid that it regularly kills the elderly. Our fall is basically the 2-hour period between 90-degree heat and 30-degree bullshit. Accordingly, it’s already freezing and snowy here, with a “major” snow storm on the way. Now is the time for all the old-school Chicagoans to start saving public street parking spots with chairs and piles of garbage. It’s a wonder Chicago came in dead last for the 2016 Olympics!

What was I talking about? I should be able to look up at the top of my screen to see my post title, but this new iMac monitor is so fucking huge I have to climb one of those library ladders to see the top of the screen. Boy I’m cranky today!

ANYWAY… I had to break out the giant winter coat today and I’m already suicidal about it. Sure, I could continue wearing my smaller, more aesthetically pleasing coat if I want to freeze my balls off, but I need my balls if I’m ever going to fulfill my dream of putting them on Guy Fieri’s face. So my only option is to wear one of those giant coats with a furry hood and 300 pockets. You know the style, rappers like wear them in the middle of summer. Sure, it’s a warm coat, but climbing into a car while wearing it is like trying to stuff yourself back into your mother’s vagina. Cramming your puffy ass into the car only causes your coat to twist, fold and seemingly grow 5 sizes, so getting the seat belt on is impossible, but no worries, you are literally wearing the equivalent of 8 airbags.

To sum it up… why do I bother getting out of bed?

Lame.


What could possibly go wrong? You’re jumping off a roof with wheels on your feet. I only pray that this sterilized him.



I masturbated to this.



What’s with these assholes and roofs? Best case scenario is two broken ankles. It’s as if someone has been videotaping my wet dreams.



I filled the bath with hot soapy water, lit the room with 25 candles, poured myself a glass of white Zinfandel and watched this on a continuous loop for 45 minutes.