You just made my list!

You know why I hate these people? Because I am jealous. I am jealous that I am not evil enough to scam people out of their money by pretending to understand every thought their dirty ferret has swimming around in its pea-sized brain. I’m jealous that I am too embarrassed to actually sit there with your cat and tell you with a straight face that “Mittens occasionally has suicidal fantasies.”

I’m pretty sure if you could hear a dog’s thoughts it would sound something like this, “hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, food, duh, hi, hi, hi…”

I have had the pleasure(?) of watching Sonya Fitzpatrick, the turd in the above photo, give several readings in person. It’s a long story, but I was at an event for celebrities and their dogs a few years ago in Hollywood. Sonya Fitzpatrick was there spewing shit at an alarming rate while these idiots ate it up like hyper Boston Terriers sucking poo straight from the ass of a Golden Retriever. One after one these actors would stare wide-eyed at Sonya while she explained that Dodger “just hasn’t felt the same since the ice cream incident.” I glared at Sonya every time she was near me hoping she could hear my thoughts.

Has there ever been a bigger cock blocker than Chris Hansen? Sure, he always has a plate of cookies and cold tropical drinks at the ready, but other than that, this guy is a dick!

Actually, my real complaint with Chris Hansen is that pretentious, annoying way he talks. I actually start to root for the perverts at some point. Is there a chance he actually talks like this when the cameras are off? If so, is there a chance he has even one friend who isn’t deaf? Seriously, he’s creepier than almost every guy who walks in the door with a box of condoms and a 4-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade.

Hey perverts, here’s a little advice, if you go to meet a 14 year-old who you just chatted with online and the first thing he/she says when you walk in the door is “Hey, come on in and have a cookie and a margarita, I’ll be right back I just spilled something on my jacket,” just turn around and get the fuck out of there.

Remember, teen + cookies + frozen drinks = Chris Hansen!

Want to do something horrible? Search Google images for “golf outing” and prepare yourself for approximately 10,000,000 photos that look exactly like the one above.

If I ever see you wearing shorty golf socks, prepare to have those socks filled with my pee. Oh my God, I am officially the worst “writer” ever. That was possibly the dumbest thought ever expressed on the internet. Moving on… keep your short, doll-sized, pee-soaked socks away from me.

I actually like to play golf but the whole culture surrounding it sucks. The “sport” is filled with douchey white guys who live to tuck their shirts into various forms of pants (i.e. slacks, shorts, Dockers, jeans, etc.) and they still think it’s “money” to smoke cigars.

It’s not easy being better than everyone. Just kidding, it is.

I once ordered an edamame appetizer at one of these pretentious restaurants and when the waitress brought six individual soybeans to our table a single tear fell from my eye, because I realized I just paid $13 for six soybeans. The next time I went to this restaurant I noticed the menu now included “One soybean seasoned with a single tear.” Clearly they had stolen this idea from me.

Take your tiny, pretentious dollhouse-sized food and shove it up your oh-so-hip ass. Do you realize some of these places actually sell scented air. AIR! My grandfather did not storm the beach at Normandy so some turd in a $300 T-shirt could eat one grain of sea salt with a side of almond-scented air. And don’t even get me started on molecular gastronomy. Don’t!

I’m not happy after a meal unless I feel like I might die. I want to feel HEAR my stomach struggling to sort through all the meat and fat I just crammed down my greasy mouth. A meal really isn’t worth eating unless you need to shower immediately afterward.

This is what food should look like…

FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFFFFFF!

The internet isn’t big enough for the number of times I want to say FUCK YOU to the world of slam poetry. Just the thought of these losers sends a chill through my body. What is the point of this bullshit and why ARE-THEY-ALWAYS-YELLING?

Yelling isn’t the only thing you can count on when watching these asswipes slam poetry into your face. You can also expect to see a lot of pseudo hip hop hand gestures. These bent wrists and mangled fingers do not only belong to black “poets” dressed all hip hoppy, oh no my friend, you will see plenty of overweight white chicks in Tina Fey glasses popping and locking like they are Flavor Flav at the BET Awards®.

And what is with that annoying cadence they all use? It’s hard to describe in print, but it goes something like this…

“yelling yelling yelling quickly yelling bullshit… quiet word… soft word… yelling more bullshit yelling bullshit bullshit bullshit… quiet word”

I can’t take anymore of this. Here, try to watch this without killing yourself.

This poem is titled “Seen Not Heard.” God, I wish.

All you wannabe slam poets out there need to throw in the towel because nobody rips spoken word a new asshole like motherfucking Precious Taft!

These assholes are the worst people on the planet. They do not deserve to share the oxygen we breathe. They are worse than serial killers, they are worse than Hitler.

These people pull up to a red light in the left lane of an intersection without a left turn lane. You feel safe and cozy about pulling up behind them because they are obviously not turning left. I mean how could they POSSIBLY be turning when their blinkers are off? You are so happy with your lane choice that you crank up the Creed song on the radio and fucking rock the fuck out! Life is good. Ding, the light turns green but wait, what is that? Suddenly, without warning these fuckfaces casually turn on their left turn signal and your life will never be the same.

Listen up dicks, turn your blinker on BEFORE you get to the intersection! Your turn signal is there to tell people “Hey, I’m going to be turning in the future” not “Hey, I’m turning NOW!” Waiting to pop that son-of-a-bitch on when the light turns green is pointless and I hate you.

This is going to be a short post for exactly 3 reasons.

1. Chicago finally has nice, warm weather and I want to sit in my yard and get drunk.
2. I have spent the last 2 hours getting drunk in my yard.
3. I have a suspicion that nobody gives a shit about this stupid website and my bullshit anymore.
4. I purchased the Criterion Collection version of Bottle Rocket on DVD today and I want to watch it.
5. Shut up!
6. I have spent the last 2 hours getting drunk in my yard.
7. For the record, I have a chair, it’s not like I am literally sitting in the middle of my yard drinking. Idiot.
8. The world will be ending soon. Thanks North Korea!
9. I’m A Celebrity Get Me Outasafghddddddddddddddddddd. Sorry I just fell asleep face-down on my computer.
10. I hate that I even know who fucking Jon and fucking Kate are!!!

The official post begins now… Blah blah blah, I hate Jon and Kate. Kate is mean and Jon is miserable. The end.

You know who wore Members Only jackets? My dad in 1985. You know who looked cool in his Members Only jacket? Nobody.

Nobody ever looked cool in a Members Only jacket but compared to this hipster turd, my dad looked like fucking Burt Reynolds. At least my dad was trying to look awesome, unlike hipsters who want you to believe they look like assholes on purpose. Ironic hipsters think they can hide the fact that they are dorks by making you believe they are dorky on purpose. American Apparel has based most of their products on this theory.

Well I for one have had enough of this bullshit, so ironic hipsters beware because I’m going to be shaving your mustaches and shredding your Members Only bullshit the next time I see you.