So, why haven’t I been writing lately? Turns out, when you move to Hawaii, you have to sell everything you own first. And, it turns out, selling everything you own is a fucking pain in the ass that takes up every free minute of your life.
I mention this so that I can fully illustrate my disgust with today’s topic. It takes something insanely stupid to get me motivated enough to hop back on the computer, and today I found it at a Red Robin restaurant.
Has it really come to this? Are Americans actually so lazy that they can’t be bothered to raise their heads to watch TV? Do we need TVs in the floor? You wouldn’t want to miss a single second of Maury Povich while waiting to cram a Fiesta Southwestern Ranch Bacon Spicy Beef Jerky Slim Jim Burger with extra bacon crumble and a side of bacon juice down your fucking throat. Who’s the real father of the baby? I don’t know but there’s a good chance he’s in back “cooking” my “food.”
We deserve to have our economy collapse. We deserve Donald Trump as our President. We deserve Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. We are pathetic. It’s over.
So anyway, I’m cutting this piece of paper on Friday with an X-acto knife when all of a sudden I see the side of my finger sitting there on the table? I looked at it and thought “Why aren’t you on my hand anymore?” The arrogant piece of finger just stared back at me like “What are you gonna do about it?”
Touché finger piece, you win this one.
There’s no part of this video that is funny or worth joking around about. If you think this cunt is a GIANT CUNT then turn it into something positive and text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation to help the earthquake & tsunami victims in Japan.
By the way, here’s what it was like to be in the middle of that little “tsunami thing.”
Well, I posted the photographic evidence and the videos, so my work here is pretty much done. No need to say anything more about this, goodnight.
Fine, I’ll try to get through this without killing myself but I’m just warning all you babies out there, the next baby I see is getting punched in the face. I know it seems harsh but you can blame E-Trade and especially these nightmarish commercials directed by Satan for Hawk Ford. Yeah that’s right, I now hate ALL babies, way to go TV!
I didn’t like it when E-Trade hired magical talking babies to peddle their website, but at least the E-Trade kid doesn’t look like an angry, deformed baby who just dunked its own face into a bucket of acid before running after you with a knife. Jesu Christo, how did this shit get approved?!? How is it possible that somebody at the ad agency didn’t say “Well, obviously we can’t show the client this, what else do you got?” Why not just hire the fucking baby from Eraserhead for your next round of commercials?
Oh, and by the way baby, why don’t you shut your mouth and leave the car-buying decisions to the people actually paying for the God damn car. You get no say in the matter so keep your snarky opinions to yourself until YOU can afford to buy your own car, you creepy Michael-Myers-mask-looking piece of shit!
I think I’m going to be sick.
Finally Chevy has figured out a way for you to NEVER escape the incessant, meaningless blathering barfed out by all of your “friends” on Facebook. You never said more than two words to these people when you sat next to them in algebra 20 years ago, but thanks to the magic of Facebook, you now have an up-to-the-minute update of every dumb thing their fat kids do and say.
Well, guess what? Your once peaceful drive home from the adult book store is now going to be filled with wacky anecdotes about microwaved Legos and pancakes found under rugs. Good luck getting a boner after that.
I invite you all to take a look at your Facebook “news feed” right now and imagine what it would sound like to have it read to you by your car. For example, if I was driving right now I would learn that “After shopping all afternoon with my kids, it’s safe to say I am NOT a ‘shop till you drop’ kind of person!!! LOL!”
Way to go society!
Remember those kids in high school who would randomly wear their clothes backwards one day as some sort of sad protest against prom or something? They were the kind of nerds who didn’t try to disappear into the background but would instead call jocks “homo erectus” right to their face about two seconds prior to being tied up with their own 25 foot Dr. Who scarf and stuffed into a book bag. These are the same people who are now charging you $500 to eat menus and inhale walnut air. The nerds have won.
Sorry, I know this makes me an “old man” who “hates fun” but I find molecular gastronomy to be insufferable and fucking annoying. I honestly think I would rather *GULP* go to dinner at Guy Fieri’s house than have some asshole sell me a frozen raisin that was aged for two weeks in a room with a stereo playing nothing but Belle and Sebastian.
Fuck you and your stupid edible menu. Oh my GOD, I relate to nothing!
Come on, really? I mean… what? I don’t need this shit, not today, not ever. Why?
It’s about time someone had the courage to speak out against these pieces of shit.
Now, before you waste your time (although I’m guessing most of you are unemployed and have plenty of time on your hands)… anyway, before you waste your time telling me your tips for “the most awesome” scrambled eggs, please allow me to stop you, I don’t want to fucking hear it.
It took me decades to finally realize I have never actually enjoyed a single plate of scrambled eggs. I used to be brainwashed just like you and found myself charmed by the warm and fuzzy reputation of scrambled eggs. I mean, just look at those cute little yellow pillows of protein begging to be cuddled by your tongue. Well, much like a cute little bear cub, these fuckers snap in an instant and destroy you.
How is it possible that eggs over-easy can taste so perfectly delicious but as soon as you scramble that sucker up it tastes like a wad of toilet paper soaked in egg water? Also, the toilet paper has poop on it.
And while I’m at it, fuck you omelets! The only reason you are slightly better tasting than scrambled eggs is because you have so much shit in you, you are barely even eggs anymore. Such an ego on you, omelets. And how the fuck do you even spell omelet? I want it to be omelette but spell check is making fun of me for that choice. That’s how I spelled it here but suddenly it’s not good enough for my spell check. Even my computer hates whipped eggs!
Why is the universe trying to kill me?