You just made my list!

Fuck you, showoff!

Oooooh look at me, I’m too good to be normal mustard, I’m filled with honey from a bee’s vagina.*

I know you are anxious to say “No way bro, honey mustard is the shit.” Well, you are almost correct, just remove the word “the.”

Good old fashioned yellow mustard is the Police and honey mustard is Sting. In other words, classic yellow mustard is America’s Funniest Home Videos with Bob Saget and honey mustard is AFV with Tom Bergeron. What I’m trying to say is that yellow mustard is Swayze in Road House and honey mustard is Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Got it?

*I’m not 100% sure that honey comes from a bee’s vagina but I’m pretty sure it does.

Honey mustard belongs on fucking Mars!

Ladies, have you ever wanted to transform your jiggling fat rolls into solid hunks of slightly less gelatinous fat? Have you ever wanted to go from a size 53-inch waist down to an incredible 52-inch waist? Do you want to go from looking like fat 1992 Rosanne Barr to the incredibly sexy 2010 Rosie O’Donnell? And most importantly, do you want to reshape your neglected body without making a single lifestyle change or watching what you shovel into your mouth cave?

Then let’s start celebrating with a sack of cake because the Kymaro Body Shaper is about to rock your fat ass!

Why waste all that time at the gym when you can simply cram yourself into a giant sock? Eat what you want and let the magic Kymaro do all the work. Hey, it’s not even your fault that you’re overweight, it’s that damn fat gene that they are always talking about on the news! God did this to you, not Pizza Hut and Mountain Dew!

Some people are just genetically fat and no amount of McNuggets or ice cream can stop them from gaining weight. For example, look at this poor woman below. You can clearly see why she needs an elaborate device to control all that disgusting fat all over her body. When I think about the unlucky guy who has to have sex with this woman… I want to be sick.

Sure, there’s going to be an awkward moment when the young stud in the Affliction shirt you lure back to your apartment sees you naked for the first time. He thought he was going home with Brooke Burke but once you squeeze out of your little space suit there, he’s staring down Delta Burke. Yes, he will start making excuses and will bolt for the door but luckily you are now big enough to fill it.

I think the infomercial host sums it up best when she says, “Keep your doughnuts.” Yes America, keep your doughnuts. Keep them in your cold dead mouth!

People, we have lived in the dark long enough. It is time for us to rise up, cast off our blinders and ask the difficult questions. What the fuck is the difference between the Cajun restaurant and the Asian restaurant at your local mall food court?

Are we really so gullible that a simple name change can influence our taste buds so easily? Stop by “Wok and Roll” and order the glazed chicken with rice and tell me it’s any different the bourbon chicken with rice at “Ben Yay’s Cajun Shack.” The wool is firmly over our eyes and that wool is soaked in glazed meat! They are serving the exact same menu, WAKE UP YOU IDIOTS!

And while you’re at it Casian restaurant workers, can you please stop forcing glazed meat on a toothpick in my face while I walk by on my way to “The Great Potato Catastrophe?” I don’t want your ethnically ambiguous mystery meat jabbed into my eyes if it’s OK with you.

Hey, when I asked for a beer I didn’t think you were going pour it so fast that it would shoot out the other side of the glass all over my slacks. I have a very important sales seminar to attend his afternoon and beer-soaked slacks do not make a good first impression.

AHHHHHHH, you just blinded me when you slammed your Extreme Shrimp Blaster into that hot butter! I SEE NOTHING! WHY?!?

And I just got this shirt too. It’s impossible to wash out butter, especially when you’re BLIND, thank you very much Steve! Man, this is the worst lunch ever. Whoa, what just hit me in the face? Was that salad? Did someone just throw a fucking salad into my face? What is wrong with you people?

If only there was a way to combine my love of sandwiches with tennis ball packaging.

From now on when I head to a kickass beach party I’m grabbing a six-pack of Coors Light and a sixer of BBQ chicken sandwiches. I’m also bringing a six-pack of condoms because when the ladies see me pop the top off a fresh sammie they’re going to be like, “I wish that guy eating canned sandwiches over there would get me pregnant,” and I’m going to be like, “You wish,” and then she’s going to be like, “Yeah, that’s what I just said,” and I’ll be like, “That’s what she said,” and she’ll be like, “Wait, I can’t tell if you are kidding or you just can’t understand what I’m saying,” and then I’ll smash the empty Candwich can on my head and be like, “I just ate a canned sandwich so, yeah, I’d say I’m basically the shit. Now let’s do it.” Yet another girl goes home with a little PB&J all over her body. NEXT!

I don’t hate the concept of the Candwich. How could I? Sandwich in a can? Yeah, that’s perfectly normal and awesome. I do, however, take issue with the fact that the Candwich creator, Travis L. Wright, was able to talk a bunch of Utah investors out of $145,000,000 in order to make his dream of canned lunch a reality. Well technically they thought they were investing in real estate and Wright was secretly using their money to cram hoagies into soda cans. The point is, this guy had a dream and found a way to scam people in order to make it a reality. Why don’t I have that kind of resourcefulness?

Oh sure, it’s easy for you to sit there on your high horse and call Travis Wright a thief and a fraud but why don’t you take a bite of this turkey and Swiss before you pass judgment. Here, wash it down with a can of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Apology accepted.

Denny’s host: “Good morning, welcome to Denny’s, May I take your coat and top hat?”

You: “Please. We have a reservation for two at 8:30.”

Denny’s host: “Right this way sir.”

Denny’s waitress: “Good morning, would you like to start with the wine list?”

You: “That will not be necessary as we are in a bit of a hurry. The lady would like the chocolate chip pancakes with hash browns and bacon. I would like your Southwestern Sizzlin’ Skillet with white toast. Would you be kind enough to bring us two orange juice beverages as well?”

Denny’s waitress: “But of course sir. Can I start you off with a breakfast appetizer? The chef is offering Pancake Puppies this morning.”

You: “What exactly is a Pancake Puppy?”

Denny’s waitress: “Six deep-fried pancake balls filled with blueberries and white-chocolate chips, served with syrup for your dipping pleasure.”

You: “Well, that sounds like a lovely amuse bouche. We will gladly take two.”

Denny’s waitress: “Very good sir. And will the gentleman and lady be requiring dessert as well?”

You: “Delightful, yes. Please have your chef prepare his special pancake balls but this time served on top a mountain of ice cream and cover them with your finest chocolate sauce.”

Denny’s waitress: “Very good sir.”

I just had the weirdest dream. I was at Denny’s and they actually had appetizers and desserts FOR BREAKFAST! Ha ha ha, wouldn’t that be hilarious… What? Huh? NOOOOOOOO!

Veronica Robinson can try and wrap this madness up in her cute little Harry Potter accent, but this insanity is straight up Deliverance banjo-picking-butt-fucking territory!

Mrs. Robinson (hmmmm, interesting) believes her children should decide on their own at what age to stop sucking milk out of her body. Really? I guess that’s because children make such good decisions on their own. Most of my brilliant decisions around the age of 8 involved setting things on fire or falling off things. If you want to put it in food terms, my 8-year-old brain would happily tell my 8-year-old mouth to eat an entire box of Cap’n Crunch until my gums were bleeding.

This nut actually says, with a straight face, that her children can’t breastfeed forever because eventually they have to go to college and/or get married. I have news for you, marriage is not in your daughter’s futures and judging from the pictures they like to draw of your tits the best they can hope for is a life in fetish porn.

I think her daughter sums it up best when she says she would “rather have lots of breast milk than a million melons.” I think her other daughter sums it up even better when she says, “Mmmmm…grunt…swallow.”

What the fucking fuck?

I have already written about what a hunk of ass shit the new Pepsi logo is but I feel it’s time to talk about the turd water contained within those ugly new cans. By the way, in the previous sentence I did not intend to write “ass shit” but I think it has a snappy ring to it, so it stays!

The official list of delicious colas is as follows:

#1 Coca-Cola – Some people call it Coke.
#2 Royal Crown Cola – RC is almost good enough to tie for 1st.
#3 Shitty generic colas – The kind you get after T-ball.
#4 Cola used in an enema procedure and then placed back in a can.
#5 Pepsi.

To be honest, a good root beer will kick the ass of a cola any day of the week, except pizza night… pizza needs cola like Ron Jeremy needs his mustache. Don’t give me this pizza and beer bullshit either. Yes, beer is awesome and yes pizza is awesome BUT pizza needs to be washed down with a freezing Coke or an RC. It’s science but you wouldn’t understand.

If I’m presented with the classic “Is Pepsi OK” question after ordering a Coke, I simply look the server in the eye and cordially say “Nope, I’ll stick with the original plan where I drink the world’s most famous soft drink that you clearly must have in your fine eatery. Now be gone with you and go get me that delicious Coke as per my original request.”

Fuck Pepsi.