You just made my list!

Is it wrong to want to hurt children?

Am I a bad person for fantasizing about punching these tiny turds (girls included) square in the face? It seems like maybe that’s wrong somehow.

The basic premise is “music sung by kids, for kids,” but why? If you want your kids to listen to shitty music why not just let them listen to the original shitty versions? I PROMISE you Train’s version of “Hey Soul Sister” is adequately filled with shit and gains nothing by being performed by shitty theater brats with shit-eating grins on their shitty faces. SHIT! Just think of the sound of all their little teeth hitting the floor.

Here’s an idea… let your kids listen to real music! This is your opportunity as a parent to cram some good taste down their throats. Kids, or kidz, can comprehend and enjoy music sung by adults. Listening to Kidz Bop is like taking your child to a 9-year-old dentist.

On a side note, while researching Kidz Bop (PAINFUL) I discovered these hair-dos. Maybe they are famous? Stereo Skyline, anyone? I am speechless.

You see this shit?

This is an actual photo of the asshole sky that hung over my head all day today in Chicago. What’s the big deal, every place on Earth has gray (is it gray or grey) days, cheer up little fella. Right? Fuck you, you weather-know-it-all-jerk because this is the sky I have seen for the last 2 weeks and will continue to see for the next 5 months. If it were legal I would pay someone to keep me in a controlled coma for the next 5 months.

If the dark skies don’t convince you to drop a toaster in the bath the unholy wind blasting through your soul like dentist drill will. I am not exaggerating when I say that the winter wind in Chicago has made me cry… as an adult.

But then big beautiful snowflakes the size of cotton balls gently wiggle their way down from the inky night sky and every tree branch looks like it has been covered in whipped cream and mayonnaise by Paula Dean. The snow absorbs all the usual city noise and it sounds like you are hiding under a blanket. Charming. WRONG because the next day you wake up to your street littered with folding chairs and miscellaneous garbage placed by your fucking, dipshit, asshole, white trash, cocksucker, fuckwad, idiotic, selfish neighbors who believe they can save “their” parking spot for THE ENTIRE WINTER. This might honestly be the thing I despise most in life.

Fuck you winter.

I seriously hate that I have to vote today. I can’t find a single politician worth my vote.

They all act like a bunch of asshole kids fighting over a broken toy. They don’t actually want to PLAY with the toy, they just want CONTROL of the toy.

The attack ads were so bad this year, I could barely watch People’s Court! Yeah, don’t FUCK with People’s Court if you want MY vote.

When did our country become so dumb? Were we always this dumb but I didn’t notice it because I was too busy listening to Van Halen and skateboarding?

So happy Voting-For-The-least-horrible-Choice day!

Was I in a coma?

When did every profession get its own reality show? What do you do when that profession, A.K.A. driving trucks on ice, becomes old news? Take those same truckers and force them to drive on a dangerous Himalayan mountain road and asfvvvvvbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb… Sorry, I fell asleep face down on my keyboard.

The other night, while flipping through the on-screen channel guide, my girlfriend noticed the show “Parking Wars” and asked, “What is that show about?” I answered, “Parking.” Unsatisfied with that answer, she said, “No really, what is it?” I punched her in the eye and said, “I ALREADY FUCKING TOLD YOU, IT’S ABOUT PARKING!” OK, I would never hit my girlfriend but I was forced to say, “No, seriously, it’s a show about people parking” and then cried myself to sleep.

My attention span for watching people drive trucks on TV is somewhere between less than none seconds and none seconds.

2 minutes and 35 seconds of truckers changing gears and saying shit about roads or something. How is this is real?

This is going to be a short rant for 2 reasons.

1) I spent the day in a 5 hour meeting. The kind of meeting where you aren’t the person doing any talking so all you do is sit there and conjure up the sickest sexual fantasies you can involving the women attending the meeting. Then someone finally turns to you and says, “What do you think?” and you blurt out “Baby oil!”

2) Does anyone really care what I have to say about anything?

3) I’m just kidding, I know I am worshiped by many.

4) I was going to write about Giada de Laurentiis and her crazy psycho smile but while looking for photos of her I realized I’m too hypnotized by her cleavage to say anything negative about her. “Baby oil!”

5) Finally, what can really be said about these people? Learn how wide your car is jackass. Should this bother me? Does it actually affect my life in any way? The answer is obviously yes. I hate these people! I also hate people who have no idea where their front bumper is and will cause me to die a slow death behind them in traffic because they REFUSE to simply turn their steering wheel and go around whatever obstacle is in their (our) way. It bothers me. A lot of things bother me.

Bullshit.

What’s worse than taking a nap? Not taking a nap! At least that’s how it feels at the time. And therein lies the dilemma, the catch-22, the reason I KNOW there is no God!

I hate naps. I HATE NAPS! I hate naps and yet I can’t stop myself from falling under their spell. It’s like naps are a super hot naked girl with every possible STD coursing through her perfect body and I’m the guy who says, “Well, I don’t have a condom but… maybe just a little oral, anal and vaginal sex. Possibly some needle sharing. What the heck, I’ll go ahead and drink some blood while I’m at it.”

I’m powerless when faced with the cozy, couchy siren song of naps. I think to myself, “This time it will be better. This time I won’t wake up wanting to murder my own family.” But no, I have never woken from a nap feeling anything other than miserable… miserable, confused, hot, cranky, angry, bewildered, sweaty, demoralized and filled with regret. I wake with my heart pounding and dullness that can only be described as abhorrent.

Oh, and look out world when I start my nap in daylight and awake to total darkness.

I would rather spend an entire day with Guy Fieri listening to Zoot Suit Riot than take a nap.

Yes, once again I have failed you. I had a long, busy weekend and simply had to choose between watching “Undercover Boss” or writing more bullshit about bullshit. Luckily I chose Undercover Boss because now I know the secret code for poop floating in a pool… AFR (Accidental Fecal Release). Who needs school when you have the TV machine to teach you everything you need to know.

Unofficially this post is about a link my friend who lives in the Stockton California area sent me. Good fucking lord, what the hell is going on in California? I can barely remember the last time I punched someone in the face for eating the last pork chop or burned my mother’s deceased body in the backyard BBQ pit.

So sit back and enjoy some of the scariest mugshots you will ever see. Don’t forget to read about their charming crimes too!

Oh, and fuck you Monday, I hate you.

Take a nice long look at our future. We are fucking doomed.

Haven’t bought your copy of “Flirtexting,” the exciting new guide to flirting via text messages yet? Oh man are you dumb! No wonder you aren’t married yet you stupid piece of shit, you are texting all wrong!

For example, when a guy texts you at 3 am saying “hhey gurl wha yo u doingf wanna blowjon me” how would you know to respond with “I guess so, might as well.” Guess what? You just FLIRTEXTED! You are on your way to a rich and fulfilling life.

These two geniuses actually found a secret formula to make men do what they want… via text. I know, can you believe women finally know the secret? Up until now, getting a man to do what you want was virtually impossible.

And such a noble pursuit, controlling men with your cell phone. Their parents must be so proud.

Doomed.