Feb 16 2011
Whimsy!
Enough already.
Hey hand-made crafting hipster nerds, let's move on to the next fad, shall we? If I see one more cutesy retro squirrel I am going to drop my pants, pull out my wang and fuck it. I don't care what it is, it's getting fucked. Letterpress card... fucked! Pillow... fucked! T-shirt (on a hanger or being worn)... fucked! Tattoo on your face... FUCKED!
Have you ever gone to a Renegade Craft Fair? Just try and find something without a whimsical cute thing on it. What is this desire to live life as a 6-year-old? Yeah, it was fun being a kid but I've moved on to more worthwhile things and I enjoy doing adult things like driving a car and putting breasts in my hands. Do you realize I could go buy a chainsaw RIGHT NOW if I felt like it? That's what being a grown up is all about, boobs and chainsaws.
PUT A BIRD ON IT!
The owners of this dog might like to believe their dog is saying "I love you" but, in reality, this poor dog is saying "Please stop saying those words to me, I don't know what they mean, I just want to watch a little TV on this romantic four post bed before I go take a shit in the living room. I hate yoooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!"
You know how I know dogs can't say I love you? Because you never see videos of Mexican dogs saying "Te Amo" or Chinese dogs saying "我愛你." Apparently dogs can only express love in English. More evidence that AMERICA RULES! Yeah, that's right, America is the only country that speaks English!
Why don't these genius talking dogs ever proclaim anything other than their unconditional love for their jackass owners? You never see a cute Youtube clip of some dog saying "Let's go for a walk" or "Toss me that tennis ball" or "I honestly believe Lee Harvey Oswald did, in fact, act aloooooone!"
I'm sure all you world wide web "surfers" have been asking yourself where the gosh heck I have been. First of all, watch your language. Secondly, there is no second part, I've just been blowing it off.
Since June 30th, 2008 I have written pretty much 5 days a week for a total of 633 posts. There have been 527,068 visitors to youjustmademylist and in the 10,936 comments left on this site so far, I have been accused of living in my mom's basement approximately 800 times. I have spoken with, and completely blown off (for some dumb reason), a reputable literary agent who wanted to see some treatments for a book and I will most likely be murdered by a 
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!
Please stop telling me your options have changed because I know they haven't.
Apparently every company I have ever called since 1998 is constantly striving for the PERFECT order in which to place their 4 options, like they are the Lennon and McCartney of automated phone menus.
"Hey boss, I was doing some thinking about our phone menu over the weekend instead of attending my son's 1st birthday party."
"Go on, I'm listening."
"Now, just hear me out OK. I think it might be time to put customer service at position 2 which would allow us to put sales at number 3."
"Johnson, my grandfather started this company in 1918 with only $2, a tin of sardines and a shoelace. From day one our customers could access our company directory by pressing #1, sales has been #2 and customer service has always been #3. Where, sir, do you get the balls big enough to suggest changing some of our options?"
"Mr. Parker, with all due respect to you and your grandfather, I am merely suggesting that it might be time to change some of our options."
"Johnson, I've never liked you, but this company is not doing well and I am willing to try anything at this point. You may change the pre-recorded menu options but SO HELP ME GOD, you had better warn people!" 
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 
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 
I think I'm going to be sick.
