We've all been there. Every day when I come home, I see a half-drunk bottle of Gatorade from one of my roommates that I always debate drinking. 99% of the time it's regular Gatorade, but that other 1% is a fucking disaster. Could be mixed with alcohol, be solely backwash, or just be disgustingly old.
In this guy's case, he saw a jar in the kitchen that was a 50/50 ball--the tails end of the coin just happened to be pure gasoline. Now my first rule of thumb is: don't drink out of a fucking jar. It's 2012, hit up Target for some multi-colored tumblers on the cheap. Secondly, there shouldn't be readily available gasoline sitting on the kitchen counter, since that shit just doesn't make sense. Then you go ahead and put that shit in your mouth like you didn't smell the gasoline before it hit your lips? Yikes. Any normal stupid dude would have just said, "Boy, I got egg on my face there. Time to go wash my mouth out." Nope, not this guy. He wasn't going to let any weak-ass gasoline stop him from his cigarette break. Stared an explosive chemical reaction in the face, said, "Fuck you", and blew up like a boss. Like nerdy science mumbo-jumbo was going to hold this renegade back.
You borderline had to tell me the chicken tenders were made of dirt and scrap metal for me to begin considering not grabbing a tray on the 9th. Hell, when I was 8 the KKK was just a series of letters that described people dressed as ghosts and ghouls. And as a teenager I probably would have thought, "Unless these chicken-tenders are 'black people proof' I'm going to eat them." No matter how you cut it, racist chicken tenders are still chicken tenders and when it comes to school lunch there aren't many better options.
As a kid, you aren't really thinking about your health and could give a fuck less about calories/cholesterol. You're just looking at what tastes good. Here is my school lunch ranking system right off the top of my head:
1) Turkey Slop (never asked a single question about it)
2) Chicken Tenders
3) Pizza
4) Chicken Patties (made with the same material as chicken tenders, but infinitely worse)
5) Hot Dogs
1000) Tuna Casserole
The way I see it, the more time the KKK spends producing chicken products, the less time they have to burn crosses on lawns. Obviously, I'd prefer Purdue or Tyson brands, but as I said before, a chicken tender is a chicken tender.
Like I always say, if you're a senile old man with Coby "soundproof" headphones on and a sour demeanor, it's completely fine to shoot the pool with your pre-Civil Rights era pistol.
To say I can't wait to be old is an absolute understatement. Screaming absolute nonsense at blades of grass, making impossible demands to everyone, and shooting pools like a bawse. The only thing that'll happen is just your run of the mill, "Oh, that's just Grampa being Grampa."
When I'm 89 years old blogging to you assholes incoherently, you're going to have to expect some "Grampa shooting the pool" moments out of me. Just say, "Oh look, Dub posted a blank post with no picture or words. That's so cute.", click "unfunny", and be on your way.
Every time I stretch, I pull at least three muscles and end up unable to perform the activity I was stretching for. I have this distinct memory of the flexibility test in gym class. Chicks averaging out at 18 inches, dudes getting 12, and Dub Jeezy pulling a super solid 2.8. I fucking got laughed at for being inflexible--borderline stuffed in a locker because I couldn't touch my toes without bursting into tears.
That said, I will watch the SHIT out of Olympic (women's) yoga. Hell, I'd even go as far to say that I should be a judge. No one, and I mean NO ONE analyzes anything in yoga pants quite like me. Just attach a secret camera to my head and watch the magic happen. If I don't get arrested fly me out to London.
Seriously though, if there's Olympic yoga, can there at least be Olympic blogging? I'll awkwardly dig into some ancestry documents, find out what African country I can "play" for and dive in. I may fuck around and become the pride of Tanzania for bringing the bronze medal to their country. A worldwide exhibition of dudes/chicks sitting in their underwear, scouring the internet for semi-funny shit. Beautiful.
First and foremost, I'm a hater. I've gotten the invite to the Playa Hater's Ball the past 10 years, but declined because I'm too much of a hater to go. That said, this motherfucker is worth $350 million dollars. Granted, I am definitely happy to see a black guy killin' it quite like he is, but I sure as hell wish I had Scrooge McDuck money.
To answer your question friend, I have no fucking idea. My mom is to Tyler Perry, what 13 year old girls are to Justin Bieber. Dude can take a shit on a pastel and my mom will pay thousands of dollars for it and hang it up in the living room. Straight up lost her. To prove it wasn't hereditary, I checked in with my dad to get his opinion on the matter and his response: "Didn't 'Mrs. Doubtfire', 'Big Mama's House', and 'Big Mama's House 2' already happen?" My thoughts exactly. I guess Tyler Perry REALLY dove into cross-dressing and absolutely killed it in that movie. Must have method-acted his dick off...literally. Tucked back, sitting-down-peeing like a boss all during shooting. That has to be it, right?
Still, 350 mil is a stupid amount of money. You don't get that from putting out three consecutive #1-in-sales-cross-dressing-movies. You have to attack the black sitcom audience. The black sitcom has essentially been dead ever since Will Smith, Martin Lawrence, Jamie Foxx, and the Wayan's Bros wanted to make some legitimate money. Perry saw an opening and created two of the worst television programs of all time because he knew there was a void to fill. If you had the unfortunate pleasure of being unable to find the remote before "House of Payne" and "Meet the Browns", you know exactly what I'm talking about. Insert a laugh track, a middle-class black nuclear family, random white neighbors, a BBQ grill, black social issues, and you have those two shows. I've accidentally watched the first 2 minutes of so many episodes, I know virtually the entire plot. It's crass, corny, and borderline offensive regardless of your race. Pure genius on Perry's part. If there's no competition, just keep throwing out a shit product.
If there were no other blogs on the internet, Working Man's Diary would essentially be pictures of hot girls rated on a scale on 1-10. That's it. Just a picture and a number. Tyler Perry, is more or less doing his own version of putting up a picture and a number. I hate/respect this dude big time.
Dating is hard these days. You have to really put yourself out there and literally hope the person likes you enough to see you again. Then you play the text game, arrange a location, figure out what each other likes to eat, what time you're going to meet, etc. Not an ounce of romance, just logistics.
Once you're on the date, you make conversation and quietly struggle to find any common ground. To be safe, you start with "the weather", then you make a few jokes about the menu, and pray to God one of your hobbies syncs up. The waiter comes by and you both pretend you have a basic knowledge of wine and order a bottle to loosen you up. After a few drinks, apps, and dinner, it's time to figure out "what's next?" Without a doubt the hardest part of the date. You don't want to be too forward, but you also want to show interest so you say something you saw in the last Rom-Com you watched, "Want to grab coffee or something?"--you don't even fucking like coffee. Finally you take your date home, gaze awkwardly at each other and wonder whether or not you both performed well enough to deserve a dap/hug/cheek peck/regular peck/make-out/come inside.
Just when you're about to make your move and perform the Hitch-approved 90:10 kiss ratio, imagine human excrement pummeling yourself and your date in the foreheads. You can't come back from that. You just exchange a disgusted look, delete each others numbers, and absolutely go out of your way to make sure you never see each other again.
If you combine the recession, the fact that I write a blog, and plane poo falling from the skies, there is almost a 100% certainty that Dub J may be riding solo for the foreseeable future.
He knew what was up. Probably thought, "Hey, I've had a good run. And that's a lot of fucking chocolate. I almost have to do this.", did a bird Hail Mary and dove in.
Picture 1: Surveying the scene, doing math in his head wondering how much chocolate is TOO much chocolate.
Picture 2: 0.002 seconds of bliss, followed by an intense realization of pure chaos and disaster.
Picture 3: Essentially giving up and just trying to guzzle as much chocolate as it's little bird body can.
Picture 4: Straight up a dead bird becoming lost in a chocolate fondue.
^"The only easy day was yesterday" is the stupidest shit I've heard in awhile
This has been bouncing around my head for awhile now. "Act of Valor" keeps hyping up the fact that it features "Active Duty Navy Seals", but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that sees a few holes in that. I write blogs, if you cast me in a movie about writing blogs, I'd be the shittiest actor in the movie.
WMD supports the troops like no other, but you can't tell me these motherfuckers have an acting bone in their body. Sure the scenes that feature them doing EXACTLY what they do on a normal NAVY Seal-ish day will probably be easy, but what happens when they have to: talk, make facial expressions that let the audience know what they're feeling, cry, recite memorized lines, fake fight, dodge fake explosions, etc. Should I keep going? There are literally dozens of things I'm fully confident none of these guys know how to do. I'm not knocking them, I'm just saying don't cast staff Lt. Brooks to play the dramatic lead in a major motion picture. I'm sure some people have it in them, but imagine if "Space Jam" casted Luc fucking Longley instead of Michael Jordan. It would unequivocally be the worst thing to happen on American soil ever, and that includes war.
If there was a blogger movie ever created, I'd NEED a young Mekhi Phiefer, Chris Paul, or not Lil Bow Wow to play me. I also imagine it'd be called: "Socially Awkward: The Story Of The Internet Blogger." Scorcese and Spielberg. Do it.
Love the site, it's consistently hilarious. Unfortunately you probably aren't funny in real life. Sucks.
Keep it up,
XXXXX
In case you are wondering, I'm still in tears. Top 5 meanest thing someone has ever said to me. Built me up to shatter me into pieces.
One of my greatest fears when I meet someone who reads the blog is that I don't meet their expectations of funny. I borderline have to wear a clown costume and rock one of those flowers that sprays water. Maybe I'll just resort to Seinfeld jokes like, "What's the deal with Big Buck Hunter? You see the deer, you shoot the deer and you get points! I don't get it." I'm shook up as hell right now. Definitely having a legitimate split-personality situation right now.
Is Dub Jeezy cooler than whatever my real name is? There is a legitimate chance that I created a character that is straight up a more likable person than who I really am. If so, this will DEFINITELY become a Smiegal-Golem situation.
If this is a friend trolling me, you win. Mascara is running all down my cheek right now.
Had this picture saved for like 2 years in the event of a slow blog night and it's here. Long night, ate a questionable day-old enchilada, and dozed off with my neck at a 90 degree angle. I'm half-kidding that I may be a little bit paralyzed right now.
Replace "Emotionally Stable" with "Not a Dick" and "Intelligent" with "Rich" and that about covers dudes.
^I feel you, little man. I'm trying to get the invite into social media duck-duck-goose too.
I, like most of you was up to my dickish tricks when Facebook announced they were "revolutionizing" social media and doing the timeline. I complained on Twitter, to my friends, on Facebook and through texts. Then the weeks went on and people started getting the timeline. Obviously, it looks complicated as shit and wildly impractical, but I'm definitely not quitting Facebook because of it. WAY too much creeping left to do. With that said, more and more of my friends were timelining it up and getting awesome scenic cover photos. Told myself I wasn't going to get jealous, but after a couple casual "awesome scenic picture" Google images searches, I realized one thing: why the fuck haven't I been invited to the timeline yet?
I've done all the right things. At this exact point that I'm typing this, I inexplicably have 3 Facebook tabs open. All on the home page. I'm a devoted creeper user and deserve at least some recognition for it. Maybe a, "Hey man, you use our site straight up too much--here's the option to change to the timeline." or something? Seriously, I've been in the game too long not to receive even a little consideration.
I feel like a basketball player that worked extremely hard in the off-season to improve his game, but never got a tryout. Except in a really creepy sort of way.
Ain't nothing like two movie stars dressed like clowns (one literally and dead) dicking around on the set of the biggest action movie of all-time. Kinda puts things in perspective for me--borderline extremely depressing.
When I get up to go on a break at work there are strictly gummy bears and iced tea involved. Maybe Sour Patch Kids if I'm feeling frisky. No skateboard jumping over the lead actors wearing bat suits for me.
If you need me, I'll be chillin' on mediocrity.org/fuck/iwriteablog.html
My text game is raggedy at best. Back in the days where you had to type each individual letter on those heavy ass brick phones, it took me roughly 15 minutes to send a coherent text out. And by coherent I mean, “Yo wut r u up 2 2day.” Then QWERTY keyboards (took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what that meant) came along and made things easier/complicated. While you can type way faster, accuracy suffered. Basically it was the Michael Vick of texting innovations. And when T9/predictive text came out, shit hit the fan:
“Mom, what’s for asshole tonight?” “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I definitely meant dinner”
I’m currently rocking SWYPE which is the laziest form of text messaging to hit the scene. It’s essentially for people that refuse to talk on the phone and give a fuck less how accurate their texts are. The system reads your finger as it “swipes” across the touch screen keyboard and literally assumes what you want to say. It’s right like 85% of the time, but that other 15% gets real weird. I’m pretty sure I’ve sacrificed the difference between “your” and “you’re” and have replaced yes with “yeaaaaaaaaa.” Oh well, just cracking eggs and making omelettes. So the question is would I look like an asshole no-look texting with my hands using an app meant for the blind?
I’m saying what no one else wants to say; the Braille app is a game changer. You don’t have to look at the screen, press buttons, or correct yourself. A robot that thinks you’re visually impaired does all of that for you. It may look bad on paper, but think about people that walk on wheelchair ramps and press the handicap button to open doors because their arms are tired. Are we socially persecuting them?
If I get a few angry stares, maybe I’ll stop, but until then, Dub J is getting his touch-screen Braille on.
I can't get a read on dubstep music at all. It just sounds like a bunch of robots beating each other with metal pipes or some shit. And you 100% know you're old when a cat is making a mockery of your existence in a 30 second video.
If this isn't a sign of the times, I don't know what is. I can just picture a bunch of aliens sitting around plotting their attack on Earth when all of sudden one of them puts this video on and they call the attack off on the account of, "Fuck that."
Before we get into this, can someone make sure Iman Shumpert is okay? When a man gives another man the $100 billion death stare, there is a solid chance one dude is completely erased off the grid. Borderline have to assume he's been killed and his body parts distributed amongst the world's major oceans right?
Now that we got that out of the way, Zuckerberg actually went to a Knicks game? That's like the valedictorian coming to a high school football game just to watch. It doesn't happen. Too great of a risk for swirlies, wet-willies, atomic wedgies, and getting your ass whooped. Obviously much of that doesn't apply when you have "erase you off the grid" money, but it's still kind of surprising to see him staring holes into dudes on the bench.
Because I moonlight as an amateur social psychologist, it's pretty clear that Mr. Zuckerberg has an inferiority complex. Three weeks ago he was the nerd-superstar from Harvard who had the world by the balls. Now those balls are gripped by Jeremy Lin and it's not sitting right. His only course of action is to sit behind the bench and strategically stare at all of Jeremy's friends on the team until they mysteriously and quietly stop existing. Eventually the Knicks roster will take such a beating that they'll need to sign hapless bozos like fucking Gilbert Arenas and the expiring contract of Theo Ratliff just to have enough players to put on the court. Ipso facto, Linsanity ends with Zuckerberg acting as the puppet master behind the scenes.
In this fake-life ridiculous scenario I made up, the only fitting end would be if Zuckerberg, after ruining Jeremy Lin's life, sends him a "poke" on Facebook.
I talk pretty loosely on this blog. Sometimes I'll say "that sucks" when something really doesn't suck that bad. But this time folks, I can unequivocally say with unmatched certainty that this fucking SUCKS. Can't put a happy face on surefire hypothermia, shriveled balls, and the overall concept of being in a "state of hibernation."
Real talk, this may be the most evolved human to ever exist. If I'm in a car for two hours and I don't have at least two Slim Jims, BBQ Pringles, a large Gatorade, and a blue Monster Energy drink, my metabolism completely shuts down. So I have to give this wildly unfortunate Swedish guy credit for surviving strictly on upholstery and steering-wheel leather. I did notice a glaring hole in his survival success story though--mainly the fact that it looks pretty fucking easy to get out of there. Like, open the door bro. Maybe put some elbow grease into it. Granted, visibility looks pretty poor, but you can probably figure things out. Ask Siri, "Yo where am I?" and you should be all set. Not a good look at all Sweden.
This guy was definitely licking cup holders, right?
No joke, I’m fairly certain that I have absorbed 100,000 volts of electricity today. Every time I touch something metal there is a 100% certainty I’m taking a static shock. I try to brace for it, but I’m such a bitch I seize up at the last second and it ends up getting me worse. I’m not even completely sure if it hurts. There’s literally no way to describe the feeling other than the fact that it sucks.
Obviously I called my mom on the matter and she said to ball out on Bounce dryer sheets to get rid of the static in my clothes. $10 later and I’m still getting roasted like a motherfucker. It’s at the point where it’s time to start accepting my fate. I’m either coming out of this with the most embarrassing obituary of all time or some really strange super-powers.
It goes without saying, that this weekend is a wrap for me. Combine my extremely annoying ability to semi-electrocute myself with this random eye twitch I developed 3 hours ago and I’ll basically be like Quasimodo in the bars.
PS. Made valid/desperate attempts to throw a Pikachu joke in there. Nothing can hurt your blogger status more than a misplaced/timed Pikachu joke.
At 12:36 pm EST, Facebook Friday lost its battle with “lack of comments/ideas” and has left our world.
We laughed, we cried, we got annoyed, and we did nothing. Mainly we did nothing. Once the comment-well ran dry, FB Friday fizzled away. Obviously it was a risk doing a weekly interactive post with all of my Facebook friends (and Twitter followers) and honestly, it went WAY longer than I thought it would. Everyone was great and tons of people read the posts every week. They were oddly some of my top posts during the week. But like all good things, (Nickelodeon’s “My Brother and Me”) they eventually come to an end. FB Friday is donezo. I may come up with some other weird pageview-grabbing gimmick in the future, but for now it’s just going to be me word-vomiting the same gut busting comedy as I usually do.
First off, are the kids still playing beer pong anymore? I'm pretty sure all the college kids are injecting heroin and taking vodka funnels through the rectum, so beer pong may be strictly for nerds at this point.
I'm not going to bore you with old war stories about how good I was (I was awesome) and how long I dominated tables, but I'll break it down quick. Beer pong was effective for one thing and one thing only: pregame. If you're at a house party playing in the back corner with your buddies while everyone is having a good time, you look like an anti-social asshole. In the event you're pregaming, any beer in the fridge will do. There's literally zero need for a beer "specifically engineered" for the purposes of beer pong. What does that mean anyway? It's like .001% alcohol?
Any seasoned sanitary veteran of the game knew that you should fill the cups with water and drink from a full solo cup to the side. I don't care what any of you say, there was no greater absurdity in college than the fucking "water cup." "Oh, but the water is warm" was straight up the only excuse people had for it. Like the 67 degree water is going to kill that crawling lint catastrophe at the bottom of the cup. Get out of here with that bullshit. I'm not trying to go to the infirmary with a case of maleria because I essentially drank sticky ping-pong ball lint water.
I take back everything that I said, if this beer is dirty ass cheap. I'm talking real grimy, gutter cheap like $6.99 for a 30. College me would have gotten his swerve on with a $0.23 beer any day of the week strictly out of principle.
1) I'm black and that stereotype is extremely true in my case.
2) Because motherfucking RUGS are eating Hammerhead sharks.
Can't do anything about #1 other than suck it up and stay in the vicinity of life vests. Problem #2 can be fixed very quickly by staying the fuck out of the ocean. When old upholstery has the capabilities to devour you whole, that's should ring some sort of bell in your brain. Got to feel for this other shark too. I can't imagine walking down the street on my way to lunch and having a rusty trash can leap out and swallow me whole. It's honestly no one's fault and can be chalked up to some piss poor luck.
PS. In all honesty, I'd rather go on a deep space mission than a deep sea mission. Scientists know roughly a zillion times more information about other galaxies than they do about 1000 feet under the sea. And I guarantee NO ONE knows why a 26 year old oriental rug is eating a hammerhead shark.
While the repressed, angsty, technicolor-shoulder pad look isn't necessarily something I'd hit the town in, I can see the practicality. Getting a drink is tough at a lot of places and I can completely understand where you are coming from with the colorful body armor. It presents a "I'm definitely here to look good and party, but I'm not trying to get hurt" vibe that I can only respect. But I must say, that rugby-helmet-loosened-chin-strap situation will NOT help your case on the dance floor. Can't afford that thing getting tangled in some chick's (dude's) hair. B+.
Once this bitch stops walking into walls and facially stabbing dudes in the neck, I can see her actually being a good time. She strikes me as one of those girls that will challenge you. You literally never know what direction she's going and that's enough to keep me on my toes. Plus if you zoom your computer screen 10000x and look into those mesh eye slits, I'm pretty sure she has amazing eyes. Throw that together with a solid mid-section and we may have our first Hellraiser dimepiece. A true anomaly. Concussions aside, this girl strikes me as a keeper. A-
(EDITORS NOTE: This is a dude. I'm feeling real weird right now)
NOTE: Fashion week appears to be off and running for another ridiculously year of stupid shit. Douchebags dressed as trash-cans and skanks dressed as Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It would take the dime-est of dimes to ever convince me to even consider attending one of these in my lifetime.
We've all been there bulldog. Sometimes I just pop on my "Relax" playlist (which is code for depressing music) and just stand in front of my mirror, yelping occasionally. In fact, it would be weird if you weren't crying in front of the mirror listening to Adele. You think she won a million Grammys because her shit was bumping in that seedy nightclub you were at Saturday night? Nope. She won them because people need to just cry in front of a mirror sometimes.
As a 24 year old male in 2012, I think it's about time that I reevaluated my shoe-tying methods.
I was tying my shoes in the elevator today and I felt like a spotlight was on me. Four grown ass people were staring at me thinking, "Now what method of shoe tying is this kid going with?" Needless to say, I went bunny ears because that's all I know how to do and let me tell you, the judgmental looks came out. They were SO disappointed in me, like they honestly expected me to have more shoelace-related tricks up my sleeve. So obviously I've been thinking about it all day and getting super self-conscious about my life and my societal standing.
When we were little we were presented with two shoe-tying options: the bunny ears and the loop, swoop, and pull, right? One method was extremely easy and the other infinitely difficult, but both came to the same result, a tied fucking shoe. I honestly can't tell you how, but some kids emerged from the wreckage with the ability to tie shoes both ways. They 300% should have gone straight to Harvard and simultaneously worked at NASA, because that's outrageous. What I didn't understand was, why some kids learned bunny style and others learned swoop. Gun to your head, if you're presented with these two math problems to save your life: (2+2=__ ) or (8573 x 450(4^99)/.6 ) which would you pick? That's basically the choice kindergarten presented. Now I'm left looking like an immature asshole making funny rabbit ears on my feet while everyone and their mother is loop, swoop, and pulling.
So in order to "catch up" to society, I will begin to ween myself off the bunny-ears and feverishly watch Youtube videos taught by 8-12 year olds on how to loop, swoop, and pull. A grim day indeed.
Sometimes, you just don't need chicks to have a good time on Valentine's Day. All you need are two good friends, some Applebees baby-back ribs, two electric long-island iced teas, piss-poor conversation, an overly desperate bar trip, and Jeremy Lin.
Single is the new awesome. Slap that on a bumper sticker.
Call me old-fashioned, but I usually go with a box of chocolates and some flowers. But in the event that I'm racking my brain, I'll be sure to set up my future ex-girlfriend's funeral ASAP!
Dub J. Valentine's PSA (Because I'm single and know everything about the subject):
You're about to enter the warzone. Prepare for the rush to make your reservation and two hours of sitting elbow-to-elbow with people who, like you, hate everything. Order some steak and salmon off the pre-fixe menu, but don't expect much, it won't fill you up. Don't forget to call the cab hours in advance to avoid awkward "did you fart?" situations while waiting on the street. Debate a movie. Don't see a movie, but half-heartedly you both wanted to see Tatum dominate "The Vow." Get home. Both slyly make moves to the bathroom. Obligatorily fornicate. Tomorrow's another day. Access the damage.
Fellas, more or less someone beat you up and stole $300 out of your wallet.
In honor of the worst holiday of the year, here's a completely improbable, yet adorable animal relationship.
Mushy shit aside, what kind of terrifying killing machine would this offspring become. Can't have that shit happening. I struggle enough with domesticated cats and puppies let alone a wolf-cheetah mega hybrid with 65 mph speed and the inexplicably raw power of an ape.
If a golden retriever and a cheetah can find love in a lonely place. there's GOT to be hope for a blogger/podcast-er right? RIGHT?!
First of all, read this article, because people are absolutely baffled by this thing. Coming up with outlandish excuses like, "Oh, he just fell in some dye" and "Animals take on the color of what they eat." You've got to be shitting me with those explanations. It paints a terrifyingly ridiculous picture of squirrels falling into vats of purple food coloring and eating MAD grapes. Put your zoology degree to use bro.
Simply put, it's the Lady Gaga/Nicki Minaj effect. It was on display at the Grammy's last night and it's currently on display in suburban Pennsylvania. Squirrels trying to stand out for no fucking reason. Questions such as, "Why did Nicki Minaj dress like fat Red Riding Hood and get accompanied by a Catholic Bishop?" and "Why is there a purple squirrel on my lawn?" are essentially the same questions. It's because this squirrel is a dick. Purple squirrels don't just occur naturally, so the only logical explanation is that this thing wanted to be seen as a "genius", "creative soul", "visionary", "an advocate for GLBT rights", and "an asshole."
Just spray this thing down with a hose and stop paying attention to it. That goes for Nicki and Gaga too.
Once this dude get his grim-reaper death leg in check, we may have the ultimate weapon on our hands. Obviously we could have done without the deaths of Steve Jobs and Whitney Houston, but damn, he kind of gets shit done.
You know how baller of a feeling it is to know that every time you step on the field, a notable life hangs in the balance. Celebrities, techies, terrorists, and totalitarians must be watching your every move hoping you simultaneously tear your ACL and get struck by lightning. His 50% good people-bad people rate could certainly use some work, but like they always say, you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette.
PS. I had the illest crush on Whitney Houston back in the day and use to dance all flimsy-like around the house when "Dance with Somebody" came on. Fuckin Bobby Brown and his Tyrone Biggums crack emporium. RIP.
The FB Friday well is running dry these days (thank God). Do people not have the energy? Have you unsubscribed me on Facebook, because I’m essentially turning into spam? Do you hate FB Friday as much as I do? Thanks everyone for the submissions!
1. Linsanity Everything has been said about this dude already, but I’m still boggled. As a former pick-up basketball maestro, I’ve seen my fair-share of ball players in different shapes and sizes. My rule of thumb when I play with people is check their sneakers—9 times out of 10, dudes that keep their shoe game reasonably tight can reasonably play. Occasionally there is that quick girl that you want nothing to do with out of fear of getting crossed/scored on because you were in defensive purgatory (because she’s a girl you can’t guard her tough, but she’s actually good, so she’ll make a fool out of you). And fucking occasionally there is an irrationally good Asian player. Swag on swag, handle, a quick release and years of basketball oppression under their belt. Jeremy Lin is that x 1,000. Thanks MD.
2. Dad Teaches His Daughter A Lesson On Facebook
Rule #1 if I fail miserably and end up with a daughter: never buy her a laptop and force her to transcribe all of her schoolwork and study exclusively from Encyclopedia Britannicas. Too much bad comes from laptops. Next thing you know she’s Gchatting, webcamming, Myspacing, and pornographing. Nuh uh, not on my watch. Massive props to this IT cowboy for going HAM on passive-aggressive PSAs. And for unloading 8 bullets into her Dell Inspiron. Granted, it’s not by the books, but I guarantee that girl will NOT have a boyfriend or a social life for the next 8-10 years. Father of the year. Thanks Igoon.
3. Little Jamaican Girl Gives The Wackiest Directions To Her House
You ever know when you’re saying something completely wrong and just keep rolling with it? Like you know you’re spitting terrible game at the bar to some chick, but you’re vomiting words and doing weird expressions in a desperate attempt to salvage everything. That’s basically what this girl did, but in an adorable, misguided GPS kind of way. Take 13 “ups”, hit “that other house”, take like 8 more slightly to the left “ups”, zig-zag a few times, spot that mango tree, and just 134 feet to the upper-left quadrant is her house. It sounded easy to me, but I’m just a really smart and perceptive dude. Thanks Igoon (two quality vids).
4. Lindsay Lohan Looking Like A Trash Troll Gremlin Shoot down my standards all you want, but this chick was never “hot” to me. I’d definitely toss her some obligatory glances at the bar, but will I go out of my way to take shots with this girl? Nope. Especially now that she looks like she got into a fight with a Botox-Ugly Pills Monster. Mean Girls kicked my feelers up a bit, but that brunette bimbo-ey chick (Lacey Chabert) was exponentially hotter. I’d still kill a few homeless people for that girl. Regardless Lindsey..I still would. Thanks CG (sorry couldn't import your pic at work for some reason).
5. Mid-20s Create Some Of The Strangest Friday/Saturday Interactions “Yo man, what are we doing tonight?” “Eh, I’m not too sure, debating staying in.” “Whoa, what?” “Yeah man, this week just drained me.”
Raise your hand if you had that interaction. The Friday/Saturday night conundrum is becoming a borderline epidemic. People just don’t feel like subbing themselves into the grind every week. I get it, the grind is fucking awful, but I simply have no alternative. At this point, it’s a foregone conclusion that I’m going to end up at a dimly lit spot that’s hopefully playing good music in hopes that I can salvage a decent night. What am I going to do, blog? On the weekend? Pfft. I dedicate too much time to tomfoolery, video games, and television during the week to hang up the jersey on Friday and Saturday. It may be irrational, but these tires still got some tread on them and if they do I’ll be out there sweating profusely, bothering people. Let this be a warcry to any of you considering staying in tonight because you’re tired: we only have a few more years where this can be considered socially acceptable and then we got to find husbands/wives and shit. Sounds awful. Go out tonight. Thanks JT.
Tired of memes. The first 100 were funny, the next 100 were tolerable, and the last 4 billion have been fucking insufferable.
As a mediocre blogger, I have to mark my territory. Memes are a direct attack at mediocre blogging. Just short, sweet, stupid jokes that can insight happiness in like .05 seconds. My blogs have words that require reading. I can't fucking compete with that. So I have to resort to cheap tactics like creating a meme about hating memes. It's god damn backwards, but it's something that has to be done. Just playing the roll of the meteor to the meme's dinosaur. Eradicating it before things can get out of hand.
Is that thing a rock? A potato? Either way it's disgruntled and gross and I hate them. Can't wait for this fad to end.
Courtney Subramanian you fake named bitch, how dare you? Even if you found out about this terrible practice from that summer you tried to "find yourself" in Norway, don't bring that shit back to the US. I don't even know what to do. I feel like Superman did the first time he found out there was an abundant supply of Kryptonite on Earth.
At least 25% of my work day is spent in the bathroom. I'm in there reading stories, Words with Friends'ing, blogging, napping, and most of all, not working. My entire functionality is in jeopardy because of Norway and their outlandish practices. How awkward would it be if my manager got alerted via alarm 15 times throughout the day that I was in the bathroom too long? I'd have to quit and jump off the roof out of embarrassment. Can't have any IBS rumors swirling around.
Let's talk about that girls bathroom picture. Is it a girl that peed herself/about to pee herself? Or a girl that got caught in the bathroom for longer than 8 minutes? I'm kind of offended by it, but I don't know why. Norway, man.
It's Pat! Imagine my surprise when the NBA analyst B-team of C-Webb, Matt Winer, and Greg Anthony brought the lovely Kathy Gehring on to talk shop about the Warriors. Chick was talking about assist:turnover ratio, PER, and points per minute statistics like a bawse. Too bad that this woman is the epitome of a cat lady. Fur, feline feast, and Monta Ellis jerseys everywhere.
Is it bad that every time I see this picture I think: "What's a goon to a goblin?"
You ever walk out of the house and ten minutes later realize you forgot something? That's basically what I've done, except instead of leaving my cell phone or wallet, I've gone through life and never learned how to make medical appointments.
For all I know, I have the illest, most diabolical form of dysentery since the Oregon Trail. I have a shit ton of "insurance cards" with a bunch of numbers on them, but no one gave me an instruction manual. Who do I call? Do I just show up? No clue. I'm dead serious, I might just drop dead real soon if this great mystery is never solved. Because I make this blog WAY too personal, I'll give a list of things that are a cause for concern:
-I don't know if a wisdom tooth is/has/will/come in. That's not good.
-My ankles make an audible ::crack:: sound whenever I stand up. Too many crossovers.
-Sometimes I'm really itchy for no fucking reason.
-I test my teeth everyday to not bleed due to teeth-brushing aggressiveness.
-Sometimes I'm hungover after 5 beers and completely fine after 15.
-It takes me like 7 hours to realize I have only one contact in.
-Convinced there are two contacts straight up lost in one of my eyes.
-I blow my nose like an asshole
-My feet are disgusting
-Ate A LOT of pennies in my youth and I'm sure that's going to come back to bite me at some point
-Crippling hangnail pain on the reg
-Sometimes when I sneeze I start crying
I could go on and on, but I most certainly have developed carpal-tunnel since starting this stupid blog. If anyone has any type of insight, feel free to drop it in the comments.
PS. Part of me wanted to film a Sarah McLachlan "save the animals" type of commercial, but just show slow-mo videos of me looking sad as shit while brushing my teeth. Wisely thought against it
If you're anything like me, you thought this Napoleon Dynamite motherfucker just strolled on to the field in some sort of Greek mythology costume. Probably the least likely cat to do whatever the hell he was doing out there bouncing on a trampoline rope(?) like a bawse. Basically, when you look like this guy, you are not expected to be in the Super Bowl half time show mid-air seducing Madonna. Extremely high odds that this kid may very well end up being the MLK Jr. for gingers with awkward afros.
Eastwood. Won. If you didn't utter those two words in unison, then something is wrong. I was ready to lease a Chrysler and run through a wall for this man. I literally have not a clue what he was talking about, but dude snarled like a crazy person with purpose. Had a real racist "Gran Torino" tone to his voice that essentially had me at "get off my lawn BOY" which he may or may not have said. I bet this shit was unscripted and they just let him walk down the street and mumble to himself. Gold.
Ahmad Bradshaw technically won the Superbowl, but at the same time, he certainly did NOT win the Superbowl:
^shout out to the sausage, egg & cheese biscuit for being amazing and the wonderful Hispanic staff of McDonald's for consistently serving me breakfast every weekend morning.
Do you see that signature? That shit is beyond outrageous. A pure representation of carelessness and disrespect to the idea of penmanship. Literally nothing up there resembles anything close a letter in any language--just loops on loops on loops. Every time I'm at a restaurant or a bar and the server sees me put my signature on the line, they all give me a subtle head shake just to let me know I'm a dick. A reassuring feeling to let me know I'm doing it right.
That's how it's got to be. I have a firm, misguided belief that the more illegible your signature is, the more baller you are. So as far as I'm concerned, I'm just doing things backwards. Scribbling haphazardly on a line with an utter disregard for human life is absolutely going to put me on the fast track to yachts, platinum grills, and diamond-encrusted toilets. Put a signature line there? I'm going to scribble over, under, and around it. Never on it. If you have the audacity to put two separate "Print Name" and "Sign Name" lines, I will make sure to print my name in the most pristine, sexy way imaginable while proceeding to make a mockery of your existence with my signature. I might even stare you down when I do it just to make a point. As far as I'm concerned, even with zero evidence, this plan can't fail.
PS. If any of you internet sleuths can somehow figure out my credit card number based off this picture, I'll be genuinely impressed. Enjoy the $6 remaining on that bad boy and buy yourselves some movie theater Mike & Ikes.
And definitely forgot what number this is. Far too lazy to search for it. With that said, thanks for the submissions everyone. Enjoy.
1. South-African White Kid Deemed Not “Black” Enough To Win “African-American” Award Because WMD loves rehashing hot-button stories from 8 years ago, this is right up my alley. I always wondered what it would be like to meet a white person who was born in Nigeria, but living in America. Pretty sure my head would explode if he was checking off more extensive “race” bubbles on standardized tests than me and talking like Dikembe Mutombo. Though I didn’t read the whole story, I saw that all of this took place in Omaha, Nebraska where I’m zero bit surprised that a “The Most Awesome Black Kid In The School” award exists. Shout out to Clinton, NY. Thanks ER.
2. 5 Minute Chocolate Cake In A Cup Recipe I’m not really a dessert guy, but it would be a god damn smack in the face if one of my parents made me a cake in a cup. Pageantry. That’s the word here. In my youth, I use to beg and plead for the most baller cake around and then not eat a fucking bite. Mainly because I’m a dick, but also because a cake is as much about appearance as is the flavor. Can’t have a birthday party with a bunch of solo cups filled with 5 minute stomach virus cake. That’ll get you beat up on the playground so quick, it’d make your head spin. Thanks Spellgirl.
3. Rick Santorum Goes HAM On Saying Stupid Shit (I Know This Video Isn't Real)
Dude is like one of those action figures that when you pull the string in the back, some really outrageous statement comes out. Because I’m so far removed from the issues and only care about blogging, girls, and video games, I could care less about politics. But no matter how you cut it, this man is straight up out of his mind. Pretty sure he hates everything that ends in the letter “y”..and contraception. A first ballot Playa Haters Ball Hall of Famer. Thanks ER.
4) What Would It Be Like To Party With Josh Hamilton Before He Got Off The Sauce? If you didn’t know, alcoholic Texas Rangers superstar Josh Hamilton pulled an Eminem and relapsed off the booze at the bar last night. Ho hum. I relapse every 5 days, no biggie. ::Wikipedias Josh Hamilton:: Oh shit, this dude did CRACK and HEROINE. Scratch what I said before, dude just opened the gateway into the land of rusty train tracks and back-alleys. That said, I’d absolutely LOVE to party with Josh Hamilton. I just have to be cool to saying “Nah, I’m good” a lot. Otherwise, it’s a steady stream of free booze, steaks, crack whores, box seats, and multiple visits to the clinic. A charmed life indeed. Thanks CG.
5. How Bad Is The Super Bowl Halftime Show Going To Be? I would rank this a 10 on a scale of ‘how bad this shit was going to be’, but the forecast for bitty flashing is unexpectedly high. Madonna and Nicki Minaj are two of the bitchiest bitches around, so I can imagine they are going to try to one-up each other at least 5 times. One comes out in a ridiculous outfit, the other does an acrobatic act, one rips her boob out, the other sets herself on fire. Halftime over, back to Al Michaels. It’s going to be really really bad. Thanks VB.
6. Kristen Bell Literally Hasn’t A Panic Attack Over Meeting A Sloth
I wouldn’t say I’d be thrilled with meeting a sloth, but god damn Kristen, clean it up. While I have grown to accept their multiple inefficiencies and not-give-a-fuck-ness, they are still sloths. I'm pretty sure when I watched a sloth show on the Discovery Channel, it said like 15 fire ants can kill a sloth in an hour. That’s extremely embarrassing. Kristen, you are a prime example of how hot girls skate through life. If this happened to any other type of person, they’d be a social pariah and on “The Maury Show” instead of Ellen. Thanks Tino.
NOTE: This is the definitive list of shows you need to watch, otherwise you run the risk of being out of touch and looking like an asshole. Don't worry, I won't steer you wrong. In no particular order, here's my list:
1) The Office (US Version)
-Pretty sure that when this show is clicking on all cylinders, it is the funniest television around. It also has one of the deepest rosters I've ever seen and anyone pictured above can steal an episode at anytime. As long as you don't watch the latest season on TV, this might go down as one of the best comedies of all time.
2) Breaking Bad
-This show had me gripping my blanket like a bitch. I've never felt more tense, confused, and morally gray than when I watched this show. I'd rank it in my Top 3 of best television programs that I have ever watched. Plus, people automatically deem you cool/cultured if you mention that you like this show. Yeah, that's Hal from "Malcolm In the Middle".
3) Friday Night Lights
-A little personal disclosure: I may or may not have gotten dust in both of my eyes a couple times when I watched this show. I'm not sure. It's one of those rare every situation shows. What I mean by that is, you can watch it: a) by yourself to relive the glory days b) with your guy friends c) with your girlfriend and d) with your parents. Not many shows you can do that with and be comfortable. Come to Dillon for a while. Texas forever.
4) Arrested Development
-Superstar cast, cult following, and dry-as-fuck humor. Hipsters, I'm looking at you for this one. It's finally that small window where it's not "cool" to be a fan of this show, so go for it. But seriously, this show has some of the best comedy writing I've ever seen. Fat Michael Cera.
5) Mad Men -If you're at all interested in diving into the misogynistic, racist, overall depressing 1960s, this is the show for you. It does an excellent job of painting a vivid picture of the setting. It's like you're in 60s. Which for me, wasn't particularly good, but was an interesting experience. I also drink solely whiskey based drinks at the bar because of this show. Don't know if that's good or bad.
BONUS: How I Met Your Mother
-I think I plowed through like 6 seasons of this show in maybe 3 days. Don't know where those 72 hours went, but I have zero regrets. Every episode of this show is like a crash course of how to score an A- in life. Nothing too crazy, but you'll somehow end up happy and successful in the end. It's more of an entertaining course than a show.
I will put this list up against any of your lists and have a motherfucking list-off if we need to. Actually a list-off might be the nerdiest shit I could POSSIBLY consider doing, so scratch that.
Any other suggestions/disagreements? Leave them in the comments.
