Then last week I see THIS article on cnn.com
What the fuck? Did all the rich people get together and decide to try to keep everyone else from becoming rich? “Don’t let them join our club!!!” Is this their plan, to tell us oh, just how MISERABLE they are!! Being rich ain’t like it used to be, it blows!! Really? When did this happen? Hey, my life sucks now; if I’m gonna be miserable I might as well be on a huge yacht with some titties in my face, no? And are people really gonna start saying “you know what guys, looks like being rich sucks, let’s stay poor.” Are models gonna start doing this? “Oh girls, being thin and beautiful is awful!!!! Do yourself a favor and eat anything that moves til you’re a big fat fuck!!”
I’m calling conspiracy here.
2) I just saw a commercial for Bounty paper towels. A kid comes bounding home from school to his mom in what HAS to be the single biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s beyond question these people are LOADED. Kid announces that he needs mom to make 60 cupcakes for school tomorrow. Oh my! She starts cranking out cupcakes, flour’s flying, shit spilling everywhere etc. She’s wiping everything up lickity-split with Bounty paper towels. Yeeeeaay! Then you see that she’s using the SAME paper towel over and over for all spills. Little strange, but okay. Me, I’m a one paper towel per spill kinda guy, but what do I know. Then, ta-da!!...she washes the paper towel in the sink, rinses it out, and keeps fucking using it.....what!!?!?!? We’re inside a kitchen the size of a basketball court, and we’re washing/re-using paper fucking towels? I’m supposed to believe this shit? Has anyone on earth ever rinsed a paper towel out and re-used it? And this is the message we’re giving kids, keep spanking into the same paper towel until it’s one huge ball of crusty boy-jizz under your bed? Thanks mom!
“Junior, we can’t afford to send you to college cause your mother went a bit hog-wild with the paper towels. I’m so sorry. Pass the kobe beef popcorn balls, please.”
3) Just when you thought we couldn’t get any lamer, here’s some evidence.
“Oh don’t worry about actually learning to use your instrument Jimmy, just flail around for 60 seconds and pretend you’re doing something.....like your father.” (hiyoooo?)
Pitiful. What’s next, The Fake Orgasm Championships?* The I’m Holding My Hand Up to My Ear as if It Was a Phone Tournament?
Since 2003, scores of pseudo-rockers have been showing off their talent at "airness" before adoring audiences, including yearly qualifying events in New York, for the chance to be crowned world champ at the annual international air-off in Oulu, Finland.
“Adoring audiences”? Who the fuck are THESE people? How bad are these fucking dorks when this fucking idiot is actually the coolest guy in the room?
Hell, I wanna punch THIS mf for doing this shit:
* I had originally written “Female Fake Orgasm Championships”, then of course it occurred to me that unless you’ve got a bottle of Ivory liquid soap while hittin it from behind, “female” is probably implied.
4) Another commercial I saw a while ago was, I can’t remember the name, but it’s some fancy schmancy remote-controlled glider kinda thing. Oh, the commercial is great; dude in the living room controlling the thing so it darts around lampshades and lands perfectly on a slice of toast. Flies through tree branches, picks up a family of squirrels, yada yada. Of course, anyone who’s ever fallen for anything like this knows that at best the thing immediately rolls off the table the second you push go; at worst, you’re a grown man playing “I’m a Pilot!” like a complete faggot.
But the best part is after wowing you with how great it is, all the things you can do, it says something to the effect of “...and if you don’t feel like really flying the glider, you can sit in the comfort of your den and fly it!”...they give you a fucking video game simulator thing for it!! Going outside, getting some fresh air and trying to fly the thing for real? No thanks! You’ll have to pry this joystick from my cold, dead, Cheetos-dust covered hands!!!! What the fuck. I hope it’s within my lifetime that we invent a machine wherein instead of you picking up a piece of food, bringing it to your mouth, chewing and swallowing, you lie there while the machine rolls up, slices your fucking gut open and dumps in the food for you. “What’s that, pizza? Wow, looks good, drop it in! Did you have a watch when you came in? I'm kidding!” Christ.
5) Know what sucks about cell phones? Remember with old phones, if you got into an argument with someone and didn’t wanna be the one to be the first to call? You wanna call and make up, but you don’t wanna be the one to crack. So if the other person did call, you could answer and act surprised it’s them. “hello?...oh........hi.” The best part is even tho you’re glad they called and you’re gonna make up, you get to act annoyed they did; dammit YOU coulda gone the rest of your life not talking, but since you didn’t know who was calling you answered the phone and dammit, now you’re stuck so fuck it, you’re “annoyed” but you might as well listen and make up. “Begrudgingly.” Remember that? Now, no. It’s all caller id. You can’t answer and then act surprised/caught off guard cause the other person KNOWS his/her name pops up. So by even answering, you lose because you’re acknowledging that you’re willing to break down and talk. And acting “surprised” of course makes you an “idiot.” Sigh. Land lines, right? When can we get back to those? And owning the blacks? Sigh.
6) Can we all finally get together and acknowledge that yes, his songs are genius, but Dylan’s self-penned liner notes on 60's albums are complete loads of shit that no one on this planet has actually read or understood? Can we do this?
7) I can’t possibly be the only person here that thinks that the best gig would be Obama’s veep, am I?
Oh, relax....tis only a joke inspired by Eddie Murphy’s "Delirious"...that I’m sure will be ripped off soon by Carlos Mencia, if my comedian gossip is on target....and when did racism-fueled presidential assassinations become taboo? When did this happen?
8) QUESTIONS I NEED TO STOP HEARING:
“Did you see that?” – fellas, this one’s for you. We’re on the couch watching the game, Lebron dunks from 15 feet out and you immediately turn to me “WOW man, what a play!!! Did you see that??!!” No. No I didn’t. While I appear to be watching the same tv as you, I’m actually focusing my eyes exactly four inches to the right of the set, so I’m sorry but no, I guess I missed it. Gee.
“Yeah? West Virginia?” – this is what people say when I tell them I’m from Virginia. “Yeah? West Virginia?” ummm...did I SAY West Virginia? Hmm. I’m gonna start answering “North Virginia”, or “New Virginia”, or “at some point in the evening, my naked testicles will touch something that belongs to you.” Fucking idiots. Do I ask Kansans if they’re from fucking Arkansas? (cue Godsy here)
“Do I know you from somewhere?” to whit:
1) “obviously not, dipshit”
2) “no no....but you do know me from some other time.” (mind blown)
3) “I’m not sure, but we’re in luck since it’s my job to keep an index of everyone you’ve ever met since you’re much too important to remember yourself, you fucking douchebag.”
“This one’s my cell/work/etc phone.” – when people are giving out their info, or business card. “Okay, this one’s my cell, this is my office...” hey guess what jackoff I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! Just give me some numbers to fucking punch in. I don’t have a fucking “special cell dial.” I don’t speak in Latin if I know I’m calling an office phone. Fucking christ. Of course if you give me your home phone number I will track down your address and come to your house and organize your daughter’s underwear drawer in order of what I’d like to see her ride a carousel pony in, but I don’t need to hear which one is your fucking cell/office/mobile/fax etc!!!! Shut up!!
“Are you still sitting here?” – woman actually said that to me. Had spoken bout an hour before. Now she comes walking by, looks at me and asks this. “Are you still sitting here?” Well. Let’s see. You see me. You’re talking to me. I haven’t responded with a voice recording stating that I’m sorry, but I am not here. I don’t really know what to say to this one.
6 comments:
You should have just told her, "No, I'm not sitting here" and seen what she would do next.
Hate that. "You're from where? Idaho? Iowa?" No, idiot. Did you ever look at a map? OHIO. The Mideastern state.
Been trying to cut that 'here's my cell' out of my speak as well. Sorry, granny remembers not so long ago (92?) when she didn't even have an answering machine.
Wait, that was 15 years ago. Cripes.
You could use *67 even with cell phones to block your number. BUT and there is always a BUT the chances of that person answering is slim. Since they see number has been blocked they won't answer because they don't know who's calling, so voice mail you go.
You're damned if you do and damned if you're don't. PISS!
Darling, I love you but it's "to wit," not "to whit." It's Latin.
gold, pure gold. I hope you never work a again. how come you haven't figured out a way to make money via blogging yet? oh, is it cause that might lead to money & more misery? gotcha. where'd you say you're from?
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