You just made my list!

Because I’m awesome, I’ve been working 14 hour days… everyone wants a piece of my talent. Of course this means you, my flock, suffer. For this, I am sort of sorry.

Blah blah blah, Paula Deen, bacon, butter, mayonnaise, fat, loud, giant head, scary eyes, more butter… You get the point.

If you have ever doubted this woman’s talent, just check out this advanced recipe for English Peas only a pro could come up with.

Fuck off, I’m going to bed.

I’m writing this from my phone because Comcast has decided to ruin everyone’s fun. Apparently Comcast’s internet service is down all over the Midwest. There are a lot of boners that will go un-whacked tonight. So feel free to discuss anything you like. I suggest something like “Do you think Guy Fieri wears sunglasses on the back of his fat sweaty head to cover up an underdeveloped twin?”

It’s amazing that an actor trying to be cartoonishly annoying can’t even come close to being as annoying as the real Guy Fieri. Very funny though. Thanks to Ken for tipping me off to this nice piece of Guy Fieri bashing. Sadly, Guy Fieri is too fucking dumb to realize this is a joke on him. He will see this and think “Am I really THAT money?”

How is this OK?

Based on the shape of the “meat” found sadly cowering inside the McRib bun, McDonald’s would have us believe that it’s entirely normal to eat the bones when eating ribs. Forget about pulling the meat off the bone, just stick the whole fucking carcass in your mouth and chew it up like you’re a… you’re a… I can’t even think of an animal that eats bones.

I’ve also found that most award-winning ribs are the color of Guy Fieri’s hair.

Stay classy McDonald’s, I quit.

I don’t care how “gay” this makes me, but I hate it when girls do the “hot” Halloween costume thing.

“Oh, what are you dressed as?”

“I’m a hot Guantanamo Bay enemy combatant.”

“But you are just wearing lingerie.”

“I know, right? What’s a com-bat-ant?”

It’s not the “hot” aspect I dislike, it’s more about the lack of effort put into these whore outfits. I’ve spent the last two weeks driving around like an asshole looking for a wig and trying to find the exact right compressed air tank to accomplish my stupid costume and all these sluts have to do is show off their incredibly hot, young, tight bodies. Wait, I’m getting confused.

Here’s the deal, I think Halloween costumes are best when they are horribly uncomfortable to wear all night, either physically or emotionally. For example, my friend sent me these photos from a party she attended last night. This fucking genius deserves some sort of “Halloween Commitment To Excellence Award” for cutting and dying his hair and walking around as king douchebag Guy Fieri all night! This guy even purchased official Guy Fieri wristbands! That is serious commitment. This guy is my hero!

It just isn’t fair that this courageous man has to suffer so greatly while others just get to be slightly more slutty versions of themselves.

Who cares? Ignore me. OK assholes, have fun this weekend.

Guy Fieri… meet the female you. Wait, the female you is actually you. Um… meet a more attractive female you.

Only a few short hours ago I thought there was only one annoying, rockabilly, Swingers, loud, 1995, talentless, douchebag, rocker chef in the world. I will refer to that time of my life as “the good old days.”

Everyone, meet Nadia G, I’m sure you will be hearing a lot about her in the pages of this worthless waste-of-time I call my website.

How can I describe this bore? Mix a pound of Andrew Dice Clay with a pound of Guy Fieri and a cup of Joey from Friends. Stir in some Kat Von D, a pinch of Gwen Stefani and mix until it makes you want to rip your own face off. Words can not begin to describe how much I hate this woman and her two-bit, cartoonish Goodfellas persona!

Try to sit through this entire two minute segment without cutting your sack off, pulling it over your head and suffocating yourself.

You proud of yourself, God? I bet you think you are king of the fucking universe right now, don’t you? All high and mighty, sitting up there on your cloud, killing two beloved TV parents in the same week. As Christian Bale says, “OH, GOOD FOR YOU!”

Well you finally did it, you made Wally and Beaver orphans. I know you have been dreaming of this day for a long time and now you can kick up your old man feet on some stupid cloud La-Z-Boy® recliner that’s made out of clouds and smells like clouds and give yourself  a nice slow clap. I watched “Leave it to Beaver” every day after Junior High so I can’t help but think some of this was aimed at hurting me.

Let me get this straight, God… Guy Fieri gets to wake up tomorrow and put on his favorite flame-covered bowling shirt but June fucking Cleaver is six feet under? Yeah yeah, don’t give me this “she was 94 years old” bullshit, you’re God, give unto her the ability to live forever! Dick.

Barbara Billingsley being awesome

And then this shit happens…

Sunday, Monday, Happy Days.
Tuesday, kill Mr. Cunningham?

What’s wrong with you? Tom Bosley was Father Dowling, A FUCKING PRIEST, for your son’s sake. Were you jealous that Bosley was on pretty much every classic TV show ever… Car 54 Where Are you, Get Smart, The Mod Squad, Bewitched, Mission: Impossible, Maude, The Paul Lynde Show, Love Boat, Happy Fucking Days, Touched by an Angel!?!

You wish your resume was that strong, God. Let’s see, what have YOU done with your life? You created the Earth 6,000 years ago. BFD! I entered a video in Madonna’s “Make My Video” contest on MTV in 1986 and they fucking played it on the air, TWICE, and said my name, but you don’t see me going around bragging about it every two seconds.

Let me see if I understand this… Mr. C. is dead but right now, as we speak, Guy Fieri is buying a totally “money” belt buckle that looks like dice? It just doesn’t add up.

I realize this Happy Days intro is from the time period when the show sucked and it started to look like the 80s even though it was still the 50s and Fonzie was a teacher or something, but I wanted you to see the super douche move that occurs at the 0:49 mark. Watch closely.

Sorry, worked late.