You just made my list!

Just when you thought hipsters had run out of ways to be ironic, those geniuses figured out a way to tap into one more ridiculous trend… the beer belly. According to The New York Times, looking like a fat tub of shit is now cool. The New York City dump is about to be flooded with useless skinny jeans.

I see a problem though. The fat trend is not going to work very well with the trend to be vegan. Then there’s smoking, a habit many hipsters use as a way make their body odor even worse. Smoking has been the skinny hipster’s friend for many years but it could really slow the transformation from cool heroin skeleton to beer-guzzling bubba. I’m thinking a new industry will have to grow around this trend. I’m going to start a “diet” magazine called “Brooklyn Gut” for hipsters looking for tips on weight gain and beer belly shaping. My first article will be titled “Critical Mass Won’t Give You That Critical ASS: Time to Give Up Your Bike.”

SHIT, what will happen to American Apparel? They are going to be working day and night making XXXL ironic shiny disco pants and satin jackets! Luckily their employees are so well-paid and have the best working… SHUT UP!

Is this why Kevin Federline is so fucking hugely fucking god damn fucking fat now? Is K-Fed a trend-setter?

I know I should be happy for guys like Edward Williams who won big in the Kansas lottery TWICE this year, but all I can think when I see his, or any winner’s smiling face, is fuck you. Take that giant check and shove it up your money hole. This turd won $75,000 in September playing a scratch off ticket and just last week he won nearly $900,000 when he matched all the numbers in the “Super Kansas Cash” drawing. Once again, fuck you.

My level of jealousy for these people is sickening. I cannot play any form of the lottery because the second I buy my ticket I am CONVINCED I am going to win. There is no doubt in my mind I will soon be purchasing 4 white tigers (to eat) and a solid gold suit of armor that I will exclusively wear for no apparent reason. I don’t consider for a second that I might not win. I mentally prepare myself for all the begging and groveling my soon to be ex-friends will do at my feet and the various ways I will tell them to eat shit. Of course all my fantasies of delicious tiger sandwiches and diamond-encrusted toilet paper disappear as I realize, one by one, that I have not hit a single number.

So to all you big winners out there, let me be the first person to say, go fuck yourself.

This photo is more beautiful than any piece of crap Ansel Adams ever photographed. I took this photo at a “Waffle House” and I’m planning on having it tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I can dream about it every night. I LOVE Waffle House. These people are my heroes. Sadly, the amazing Waffle House chain does not reach as far north as Chicago, but you can bet your fat ass that any time I’m on some awesome road trip, being cool and kickass, I will search one of these fuckers out and eat the living shit out of some waffles. Luckily, there are many great greasy spoon diners in Chicago. Unluckily, there are also a ton of trendy bullshit breakfast spots too.

Every once in a while I’m forced to go to one of these horror shows, but never again, I’m putting my foot down. Here’s what you can count on at the trendy places…

1) A long wait. All you want is to nurse that hangover with a plate of fat with a side of fat and a tall glass of fat, but instead you get the pleasure of waiting for an hour and a half surrounded by guys in khaki shorts and dress sandals.

2) A cramped table. After feeling like you might die on the sidewalk, you finally get a table. Yay? Sadly this table is so close to your neighbor’s table, you can feel khaki shorts rubbing against your leg the entire breakfast and are forced to eavesdrop on a conversation about the Counting Crows.

3) Fussy food. These places try to reinvent what short-order cooks already perfected decades ago and fail miserably.

4) A huge bill for your boring, fussy food. Let me just quickly run to the bank an apply for a small business loan so that I might pay for these eggs.

5) GET OUT! Yeah, your waitress (she’s really a performance artist) has no interest in calling you “honey” and letting you take your sweet time.

Nothing beats A good, fatty, greasy, classic diner breakfast. It tastes better, it’s cheaper and your waitress will either be awesome because she is so nice, or awesome because she is so rude. So take your fancy, expensive, bullshit breakfast and place it in the darkest of dark places.

COCKBLOCKER!

Joey Greco’s team of “Cheaters” cockblockers make Chris Hansen look like fucking Cupid!

Look pal, I just want to drive over to my mistress’ generic condo, buy her some drinks at the local douchebag bar, maybe take a quick ride on the mechanical bull and then it’s back to my van for a sloppy B job. If you don’t mind Joey, I would like to do all of this without you and your fancy spy cameras digitally zooming into my face and identifying me with the latest face-recognition technology from NASA. Now kindly get your lip pubes and your mysterious good looks out of my face, I need to go pick up some hard lemonade, a 3-pack of condoms and a chocolate rose before meeting my lady friend in the Olive Garden parking lot. Don’t make me expose the skeletons in your closet, “Joey.”

Good day to you!

Yeah, I know I have already written about mega-fuckface Criss Angel, but I don’t have time to write anything good tonight and he’s fresh on my mind thanks to several commercials running during Dog the Bounty Hunter. I’m not sure why I just watched 3 episodes of Dog the Bounty Hunter. I am ashamed. Technically, I’m listening to it while I work. Man, that guy’s wife has some ridiculously huge tits. The Dog family appears to love mullets and Jesus in equal parts. I think I will paint a portrait of Jesus with a mullet and a bunch of dreamcatchers in his hair, and send it to Dog. He will shit his leather pants!

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Crissy. I almost hate Criss Angel as much as Guy Fieri, but at least Criss knows how to wear sunglasses on the front of his god damn motherfucking face. Can someone tell me why Criss Angel is always pointing at me? Keep your filthy finger up Carrot Top’s ass and out of my face, you piece of shit. It must take so much effort making sure you have enough “Thunderdome” outfits to last every day of the week.

Back to Dog the Bounty Hunter for a second… Apparently every person who lives in Hawaii is a major drug addict. Why do all these dirt bags get to live in paradise while I dick around in the stupid Midwest? Why do I do everything wrong?

I quit.

No, no, no, no, no, no! Never do this this to yourself. For the love of god, have some self respect.

Unless you are worried about pickpockets or losing your change while doing a handstand at your friend’s shitty wedding (see Jill the whore and Kevin’s wedding video) there is no reason a man should ever have dainty flaps on his jean pockets. Now you reply in an annoying voice, “but it’s fashion, I’m just trying to look cool.” God, I hate your voice. Listen, I understand wanting to look good but the trick to looking good as a guy is to look like you aren’t trying too hard. Actually, you shouldn’t really try too hard.

Stick with the basics and you can avoid looking back at old photos with shame from all the trends you followed over the years. Sadly, I did not learn this until my early 20s and have college photos of me, a skinny suburban white kid, dressed as a member of De La Soul. I could often be found looking like an extra on “Do The Right Thing.” Luckily, I did not dress hip hoppy every day, but I did it enough to feel ashamed for the rest of my life.

I hate to be the one to break the bad news to you, but if you are a guy who wears jeans with pocket flaps, you need to be aware that the world looks at your fancy ass and says, “That guy is gay.” If you are a gay man who wears these jeans, the world is looking at you and saying, “That gay guy is wearing those straight guy gay pants.” In either scenario you are being horribly misunderstood.

In summation, your pocket flap pants are douchey and your douchey ass is douchey for wearing them you douchebag.

Fuck you Jill, fuck you Kevin and fuck you anyone who has emailed this video with a little note that says “OMG this is awesome! Hilarious, a MUST SEE!”

There are a lot of things about this video that offend me, but the thing that REALLY makes me insane is the fact that this wacky dancing wedding shit is OLD NEWS! Jill and Kevin are way at the end of a long list of douchebags who worked up some lame wedding dance in an attempt to find internet fame. Why is everyone acting like Kevin and his whore bride Jill have invented something new? Yeah, Jill is a whore by the way.

At least the shitheads who did the Thriller dance at their wedding a few years ago put some effort into it. Jill, Kevin and their fat-fuck friends thought it was good enough to put on sunglasses and randomly convulse their way down the aisle. Oh, the fucking sunglasses make me so fucking mad. The kind of people who think a pair of sunglasses paired with a suit make you look “cool” are the same tools who slap on a Hawaiian shirt (tucked into khaki shorts of course) and a plastic lei before heading to the Jimmy Buffet concert. You see, the Hawaiian shirt conveys a general fondness for the beach party lifestyle while the plastic lei says “Hey bro, I own over 15 CDs and close to 30 MP3s so obviously I know how to party!”

The other thing that really perplexes me about Jill (the whore) and Kevin is that they chose to use a Chris Brown song in their wedding ceremony. I think Chris Brown best summed up what it means to be in love when he said, “Bitch, I love beatin’ yo ass! Now git da fuck outta my car, bitch! Yeah, I know it’s still moving you stupid fucking ho, now jump out dat window before I punch some mo love into yo teeth!”

Can everyone PLEASE stop trying to make their weddings into an internet sensation? Here’s a wacky idea, concentrate on what it means to be getting married and stop trying to be the next big thing on youtube. Is there anyone left on the planet who does not want to be famous or a public spectacle?

I hope Jill and Kevin (the whore’s husband) are eaten by a shark on their honeymoon. I hope their plane crashes into the mouth of a shark. I hope their plane crashes into the mouth of a shark and on the way down Jill cheats on Kevin with the guy sitting next to them. I hope that she gets pregnant during this quick fling and gets an abortion right there on the plane in front of Kevin and her new lover. I hope the guy who impregnates Jill on Kevin’s lap has swine flu. I hope the shark that eats Jill, Kevin, Jill’s aborted fetus, Jill’s lover, and the plane has AIDS.

Too far?

Can you believe there are still Americans who reject science? I can. Just look at the popularity of that fucking dolt, Sarah Palin! I’m trying to think of something funny to say about these ridiculous, religious morons, but nothing I write could ever be as funny as just letting them speak for themselves. Up is down, black is white and peanut butter is a perfectly reasonable metaphor for the planet Earth? Fuck me.

To call these people retarded would be an incredible insult to retarded people. These assholes actively choose to be stupid. They choose to ignore the overwhelming facts that disprove their childish theories. To say they stick their heads in the sand is an insult to sand. I’m not sure exactly why, but it just is. Get your dumb head out of my sand!

In this clip, Kirk Cameron and some douchebag present “the atheist’s nightmare,” the banana!!! Kirk sits there with his trademark vacant shit-eating grin while Mustache jerks off a banana and spews his 1st grade deductions. By the way fuck face, here’s God’s banana, what you are holding is a domesticated banana created by man! Idiots.

Proof that either God does not exist or he’s a shitty product designer. Get your head out of your ass, God!

If you are a fan of intelligent design, take a good look at one of your “scholars.” Imbecile.

My head is literally spinning from all these dimwits. This is the only thing that can make me feel better. This and about 15 beers.