Just sayin' that.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Trader Joe's
If the List were accepting endorsements, which we're not, (Yes we are!!! - Luke, palms out), then surely Trader Joe's would be the official market of the List.
"Oh, have you tried these zucchini pate biscuits? They're wonderful." Thanks dude in a Hawaiian shirt ringing me up. Hey, what's underneath that cult-like grin that's slapped all over your face? You can tell me, man. I can help.
Although, I guess you would have to be in a catatonic state to deal with the rest of the people in here. That guy with the 24 bottles of wine that are $1 off and that lady who thinks cooking is simply microwaving the zillions of whatever-the-fucks you sell here. Heads-up! Mini Cooper owner with yoga pants coming through! BEEEP BEEEEEP. Gaaaaaah, stab me in the face!
Oh hey, are you guys hiring though? Kinda fucked over right now. No? Ok, just the peanut butter filled pretzels and $2 wheel of brie then. Thanks.
"Oh, have you tried these zucchini pate biscuits? They're wonderful." Thanks dude in a Hawaiian shirt ringing me up. Hey, what's underneath that cult-like grin that's slapped all over your face? You can tell me, man. I can help.
Although, I guess you would have to be in a catatonic state to deal with the rest of the people in here. That guy with the 24 bottles of wine that are $1 off and that lady who thinks cooking is simply microwaving the zillions of whatever-the-fucks you sell here. Heads-up! Mini Cooper owner with yoga pants coming through! BEEEP BEEEEEP. Gaaaaaah, stab me in the face!
Oh hey, are you guys hiring though? Kinda fucked over right now. No? Ok, just the peanut butter filled pretzels and $2 wheel of brie then. Thanks.
Labels: this might be the worst bit or writing put on the internet minus the boston.com comments section
Barney Frank is Gay
In case you didn't know that. Because he's been on the news lately for zinging some dingbat bitch who compared universal healthcare to nazis or whatever. But in case, you didn't know, Barney Frank is a gay fag. How do I know this? Because it comes up literally anytime a conservative mentions his name. Why? I don't know, but it does. What planet does Barney Frank hang around? Uranus? HEHEHEHEHE. CUZ HE'S A GAY FAG, GET IT? Yes, meat-neck, I get it. Now will you fucking drop me at the corner of Mass Ave and Newbury, please?
The Liberal Lion
Strong supporter of No Child Left Behind Act. Except when it came to baby impalas.
Efforts to expand scope of federal hunting grounds sign of bipartisan flexibility.
Always sort of conflicted about his work on health care reform on account of the whole stalking and devouring the sick and wounded on a regular basis thing.
Watching members of his pride gunned down by human hunters lead to strong gun control stance.
Was totally cool with looser immigration standards. Especially vis a vis those antelopes over there immigrating into the tall grass so he could just sneak up on them all quiet like.
Like many members of his species, spent a few years wandering around following migrating herds before settling down into a pride of his own. Surprisingly, never really could get down with Phish though.
Not too into the whole concept of traditional marriage.
Had been meaning to get around to those issues of Harper's piling up on the bed stand.
Like most liberals these days, had no problem sitting back while other lions did the hard work of hunting all day, then feasting on the spoils like a scavenger.
Big Rachel Maddow fan.
Despite seeming inability to grasp abstract concepts like civil rights with relatively unsophisticated lion brain, still somehow managed to pass some 300 pieces of legislation through the United States Senate.
Labels: RIP Ted Kennedy I'll tweet your eulogie into space so you can hear it on the moon
Sunday, August 30, 2009
"Tweeting" Eulogies
I seriously want to punch myself in the tits for even using the verbiage, "Tweeting" but that seems to be what the kids are doing these days. So anyway, do you fucking shitheads really think that DJ AM or Michael Jackson or whoever the latest drug binge casualty is happens to be reading your tweets from the big crack den in the sky?
@jillnice-just fuck off already!
@jillnice-just fuck off already!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
T-Shirt Prompted Conversation
How is it possible there are still people out there that aren't yet familiar with the concept of the thrift store t-shirt? Yes, wearing them still at this late stage in the game definitely puts me smack dab in the middle of the List, but at least I know (in very minute detail) all the reasons why I suck. What's your excuse?
The point is this: No, dude, I didn't play Lexington Youth League Lacrosse, I bought this shirt for like a dollar in the bed bug bin. So no, I probably don't know whatever name from your distant past you're going to toss out at me like a friend grenade.
Oh, by the way, are you Jason fucking Varitek? Because I see you have a Red Sox jersey on.
Labels: Sometimes I think I should probably just take it easy, the spell check doesn't kick in in this box down here for some reason
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Dog Shows
At this point, certain things should be fairly obvious when it comes to determining the list: your tattoo, talking out loud, egg-nog, what-have-you. So, when it comes to punching one of these posts up, it's almost not worth mentioning things that everyone already knows are on the list. However, sometimes you just stumble across something so list-worthy, so vile in its earnestness that you have to remind the people where we stand. Across this line, you do not cross. As such, look at this.
Labels: hot dogs, see what i did there?
Monday, August 24, 2009
Post-Commercial Recaps
"Previously on Turd Machines... Here's some shit you just watched five seconds ago before the commercial you fast-forwarded through."
[Gurgling noises] Me forget show words. Me forget own name.
Who are they producing these shit show shit-shows for anyway, goldfish with fetal alcohol syndrome? Actually, don't answer that.
[Gurgling noises] Me forget show words. Me forget own name.
Who are they producing these shit show shit-shows for anyway, goldfish with fetal alcohol syndrome? Actually, don't answer that.
Labels: fishing, FOX, happiness, That fat chick on Mad Men everyone is supposed to think is hot
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Using My Name at the Coffee Store
"Hi Luke. Would you like your iced venti americano, Luke? Iced venti americano for Luke."
[ten minutes later]
"Iced venti Americano for Luke here. Have a good day, Luke."
How nice. Just like at home. Where absolutely no one you are close to ever actually really calls you by your first name that much unless they're yelling at or giving you a guilt trip.
I appreciate how you're trying to fake like this multi-national trillion dollar franchise is just a bullshit little family gathering every morning (that probably explains the alcoholics chain-smoking outside, the army of brats poking everything with their sugary fingers and the old dude talking in his sleep in the chair), but it's having the exact opposite effect. If you really want to pretend like we know eachother well, why not act like my real friends and family and pretend I don't exist?
Or better yet:
"Iced venti americano for the selfish asshole who doesn't visit enough, has no sense of direction, a fear of commitment and shitty career prospects here!"
[ten minutes later]
"Iced venti Americano for Luke here. Have a good day, Luke."
How nice. Just like at home. Where absolutely no one you are close to ever actually really calls you by your first name that much unless they're yelling at or giving you a guilt trip.
I appreciate how you're trying to fake like this multi-national trillion dollar franchise is just a bullshit little family gathering every morning (that probably explains the alcoholics chain-smoking outside, the army of brats poking everything with their sugary fingers and the old dude talking in his sleep in the chair), but it's having the exact opposite effect. If you really want to pretend like we know eachother well, why not act like my real friends and family and pretend I don't exist?
Or better yet:
"Iced venti americano for the selfish asshole who doesn't visit enough, has no sense of direction, a fear of commitment and shitty career prospects here!"
Labels: coffee, names, Starbucks, still not getting that just because people have a t shirt on with the name of a town on it doesn't mean they are from there
Friday, August 21, 2009
Brunch
Oh man, nothing I like more than to sleep in late on Sunday, then get 12 people together to all meet in some inconvenient place to wait in line for 100 minutes so we can sit in some crowded ass restaurant and get a plate full of garlicky mashed carbs and some hollandaise sauce (itself on the list as its alter-ego "mayo" below).
This is pretty exciting stuff! Let's make sure we put on our best sweatpants, and cleanest 5K Fun Run t-shirt!
Maybe next time you want to "meet up for breakfast" you can just sack up and brew a pot of coffee and pick up a dozen eggs to recreate this awesome gastronomical experience at home and leave "going out" business to where it belongs: the evening.
This is pretty exciting stuff! Let's make sure we put on our best sweatpants, and cleanest 5K Fun Run t-shirt!
Maybe next time you want to "meet up for breakfast" you can just sack up and brew a pot of coffee and pick up a dozen eggs to recreate this awesome gastronomical experience at home and leave "going out" business to where it belongs: the evening.
Labels: brunch, getting pretty close to the end of the line here, going out in public, mayo, somerville, sweatpants, that rest stop before you get on 84 to go to NYC
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Mayo
Take a good look at this. You probably have an intimate, long-term relationship with it. This greasy blob of semi-curdled jizz is the reason mom had to buy your jeans from the “husky” department at Bradlees. (Well, that and high fructose corn syrup—also on the list, by the way.) It’s the reason the kids called you Fatty McGee. It’s the reason they call you Fatty McGee today. And it’s directly responsible for the pendulous GUNT (see also: front bum) currently draped over your belt buckle like a shitty pile of half-empty water balloons.
Speaking of jizz, does the texture, color and consistency of that sad glob of Hellmann’s up there remind you of anything you wiped off your chin lately? Fact: 9 out of 10 porn stars (not on the list, despite what you might think) would rather have sperm in their eye than mayo. Why? Because mayo stings—that’s the vinegar talking—and cum won’t leak into their pores and make them fat.
But get this: The 10th porn star only preferred mayo because “at least mayo doesn’t smell like a pool.” Which is pretty much the most positive thing we can say about this nasty mess of a condiment: It doesn’t smell like a pool.
Speaking of jizz, does the texture, color and consistency of that sad glob of Hellmann’s up there remind you of anything you wiped off your chin lately? Fact: 9 out of 10 porn stars (not on the list, despite what you might think) would rather have sperm in their eye than mayo. Why? Because mayo stings—that’s the vinegar talking—and cum won’t leak into their pores and make them fat.
But get this: The 10th porn star only preferred mayo because “at least mayo doesn’t smell like a pool.” Which is pretty much the most positive thing we can say about this nasty mess of a condiment: It doesn’t smell like a pool.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Advertisements
So here's when advertisements are warranted:
- It's some shit you never heard of and they want to let you know it exists.
- That's it.
Maybe I'm vastly overrating the reasoning ability of the American consumer, but it's kind of hard to believe that the sacred advertising trio still works on anyone anymore. In case you're not familiar with it, it operates under the following three premises:
- This shit is so good even animals want to use it!
- This shit is so good buying it will allow you to fuck some bikini broad!
- There is only one of these things left in the near vicinity, so dudes who have apparently forgotten about the existence of stores are gonna go to some stupid length to drink/eat/wipe their ass with the last one.
All 100% unadulterated horse shit. Although, note to the boys down in creative, if you really want to figure out how to sell me something I don't need see what you can mock up using an animal in a bikini with giant fake animal tits stealing the last Budweiser out of the fridge with a fishing poll made out of tits. It's all about harnessing desire, you see.
Labels: advertisements, animals, Budweiser, desire, fake tits, harnesses, Roger Sterling
This Weather(talking about it as well)
This post is clearly on the list, as it contains weather talk on the 3's, but still... this weather. This is the most unenjoyable shit imaginable. It is worse than which I saw last night as a preview. Tell you one thing though, no way that granny would get by our kid the wolf. That I do know.
Labels: caring, caring about spelling, fighter piloits, isn't it spelled fighter pilots?, Z-
Japan
When monster tentacle rape cartoons just don't really do the trick anymore.
Labels: babies with pubic hair designed for you to shave off WHAT THE FUCK, countries, Japan
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
NSFW!!
If you've ever found yourself thinking, typing or saying this acronym there are two possible things it can say about your life. And SPOILER ALERT I don't think you'll be surprised to know that neither reflects well on you. It's sort of like a choose your own adventure, except every outcome is "you suck."
A) YOUR JOB CHOICE BLOWS The first possibility is that you actually work in some sort of office that has a red alert nipple detection alarm protocol running on the computer system, in which case good luck enjoying the slow, decades-long decline into cubicle tedium you're in for with that group of heroes. Must be a fun place to work. If they don't trust the employees enough to think they can make it through the day without the ominous, life-altering threat of b00BZ!!1 then you might want to consider cutting your losses and looking for a job that isn't going to crush your will to live. (Also, if anyone has any luck finding something like that please let me know).
B) YOU ARE BAD AT YOUR JOB The second option is that you actually work in a place where looking at pr0n could legitimately effect your work. Like you're a fighter pilot, or a third grade teacher or a guy who runs a dog fighting ring that gets distracted from his obligations because he's looking at too many celebrity nip slips and then the dogs get out and attack a heroic fighter pilot while he's trying to rescue a group of third grade teachers from a volcano or whatever. Here's the deal: you know where you work (presumably). If it's a high stress job that requires all your attention, or it involves showing children how to draw with crayons, or both, stay off the fucking internet. That means this site too. Nothing is NSFW, because reasonable people actually know what the words "safe" and "work" mean. You can look at as many vaginas you want when you get home. Unless you work at some sort of vagina store, which is an entirely different set of issues altogether. Self. Con. Trol.
A) YOUR JOB CHOICE BLOWS The first possibility is that you actually work in some sort of office that has a red alert nipple detection alarm protocol running on the computer system, in which case good luck enjoying the slow, decades-long decline into cubicle tedium you're in for with that group of heroes. Must be a fun place to work. If they don't trust the employees enough to think they can make it through the day without the ominous, life-altering threat of b00BZ!!1 then you might want to consider cutting your losses and looking for a job that isn't going to crush your will to live. (Also, if anyone has any luck finding something like that please let me know).
B) YOU ARE BAD AT YOUR JOB The second option is that you actually work in a place where looking at pr0n could legitimately effect your work. Like you're a fighter pilot, or a third grade teacher or a guy who runs a dog fighting ring that gets distracted from his obligations because he's looking at too many celebrity nip slips and then the dogs get out and attack a heroic fighter pilot while he's trying to rescue a group of third grade teachers from a volcano or whatever. Here's the deal: you know where you work (presumably). If it's a high stress job that requires all your attention, or it involves showing children how to draw with crayons, or both, stay off the fucking internet. That means this site too. Nothing is NSFW, because reasonable people actually know what the words "safe" and "work" mean. You can look at as many vaginas you want when you get home. Unless you work at some sort of vagina store, which is an entirely different set of issues altogether. Self. Con. Trol.
Labels: boobs, dog fighting, fighter piloits, work
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Paying for a Gym Membership You Don't Use
This is America, so we're used to spending shit loads of money on things that we will never, ever derive any real benefit from. Like the military, for example. Or rocket ships to the moon!!! Or health insurance that doesn't actually cover shit anyway. But unlike the thousands of innocent Iraqis we've spent trillions of our tax dollars to slaughter, for example, your quivering muffin top and/or man boobs and your story about "getting back to the gym" are a little hard to ignore.
If you don't want to exercise, that's fine. But you're not kidding anyone when you walk in there and sign a contract for 75 bucks a month for three years. You realize that having a gym membership that you don't use doesn't get you any closer to being in shape just because it enables you to slip the word gym into a conversation every now and again right? Same way that getting that issue of Harper's in the mail every month and leaving it on the coffee table doesn't get you any closer to being smart. Because believe me, I've been trying that last one for years and I'm still a fucking idiot.
If you don't want to exercise, that's fine. But you're not kidding anyone when you walk in there and sign a contract for 75 bucks a month for three years. You realize that having a gym membership that you don't use doesn't get you any closer to being in shape just because it enables you to slip the word gym into a conversation every now and again right? Same way that getting that issue of Harper's in the mail every month and leaving it on the coffee table doesn't get you any closer to being smart. Because believe me, I've been trying that last one for years and I'm still a fucking idiot.
Labels: Health Care Reform "Debate", man boobs, seagulls, the gym
Friday, August 14, 2009
The Tree of Liberty
Needs watering does it? Blood of tyrants right? So weird that the very first black guy we elect is a tyrant, what are the odds!! Anyway, so "the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants". . . I think the rest of that goes something like "right after every retarded southerner (and Alaskan and midwestern bolo tie farmer, as it were) eats a giant shit sandwich with a side of dicks. Eat up fuckers.
Labels: 'murica, barackhusseinobamasoloperto the secret muslim from kenya who also attended a radical christian church even though he's muslim, Being outraged, being tragically overweight, bill kristol
Thursday, August 13, 2009
It's been like six months
These right wing pussies with this crybaby shit. We had to eat shit for the past 8 years because of you assholes. EIGHT. It's been six months and you're already bringing your guns to healthcare meetings, calling in death threats to labor unions and trying to prove the president isn't a citizen (related: trying to do that). You bunch of fucking babies. Just secede or whatever and we can declare war on you. Might be the only time this better than you, gay-marrying socialist would consider putting a Support the Troops sticker on his (hybrid) car.
Labels: america, barackhusseinobamasoloperto the secret muslim from kenya who also attended a radical christian church even though he's muslim, dudes i see in the cafeteria
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Fake Lesbian Routine
Isn't that nice. It's the Community Playhouse Dinner Theatre of seduction techniques in action. Only way this shit could seem more staged is if you had your elementary school music teacher playing piano in the corner and put up some construction paper palm trees for a back drop. Thanks for the effort anyway.
Question for the ladies who get up to this corny routine: If I put on a space helmet and a Dustin Pedroia jersey and danced around in front of you for an hour would you feel like you were gonna get the chance to make out with a baseball player from space?
Same idea here. Exactly as sexy as a guy who just splurged on the full line of new Transformers toys and keeps them in the box just in case they're worth a lot of money some day. You are a total fucking nerd who doesn't understand the opposite sex.* Nice tongue ring though.
lesbians lesbians porn lesbian porn blowjobs teens barely legal lesbian blow job teen porn, uh what else do people search for on the internet? jonas brothers nudes? that one chick from that tv show? paris hilton porn/ who the fuck knows. britney spears? kardashian, perezhilton is a turd, brad pitt, angelina jolie angelina jolie angelina jolie angelie jolie naked loves to give blow jobs to hot lesbian teen porno broads
* Come to think of it, you probably understand them exactly. Never mind.
Labels: Spike Lee, The Zapruder Film, Transformers 2, Vinnie Chase
Bottle Service
Search for (e.g. taco, salon, Max's)
"Miami or New York City probably" + "Atlanta?"
Browse by Category
- Lonely Douches 1135
- Miami 255
- Pretend Rappers Dressed Like 12 Year Olds 839
- Shaved Pussies 612
- That One Creepy Old Dude Your Friend Knows 432
- Knowing the Door Guy 377
- New York City 257
- The void, man. Just Looking Into the Fucking Void. Every Night 228
- Nightlife 137
- Ethiopian Food 136
- Eastern European Broads. Where Do They Get Those Pants Anyway? That Like a Thing in Warsaw or Bratislava or Whatever? 128
- Real Estate Sales 114
- Knowing About Hotels 99
Entourage
In no particular order, the worst people in the history of the world:
- War profiteers
- Child molesters
- War profiteering child molesters (not as easy as it sounds)
- Dudes who molested future war profiteers when they were kids making them so fucked up they had no choice but to get into the war profiteering business to show their dad what's what and who's gonna show who
- Nouveau-riche guidos from New York really into cars and sneakers and getting pussy, bro
Ugh, these dudes are like breathing, face-farting Michael Bay explosions on wheels (with spinning rims).
It's the essence of this shitty American aspirational lifestyle nightmare we're living through right now. Makes a TMZ segment on the octomom's puffy nipples look like "Bill Moyers Journal."
If buying a bunch of shitty properties then trying to flip them for a huge profit were a scripted comedy, it would be "Entourage." If taking a cell phone pic of your pecs in the mirror at the gym were a scripted comedy, it would be Entourage. If the List were distilled into a really shitty grain alcohol that makes you blind, then mixed with Red Bull, then pissed out onto your face by a taint-waxing abortion with an Ed Hardy cap on, (is that still a thing?) it would be "Entourage."
It is funny when that one short guy swears though.
Also on the List? Hating Entourage too much. But just to be safe we thought we'd err on the side of cunt-punting.
Side note: All things considered, a Google image search for "head wound" isn't anywhere near as bad as you might think it's going to be.
Labels: Chinese Food, Entourage, little late on this one but fuck it, Michael Bay, Shaving your pussy
Monday, August 10, 2009
Automated Story Rejection Emails
Dear literary journal,
Hope all is well. Thank you for sending your automated rejection email titled "Your submission to No One Reads This Turd Journal Anyway" to us here at Luke's email inbox via your online submission manager. We are sorry this particular rejection took like 7 months to get to us.
Unfortunately, your rejection email was not selected for acceptance by us at this time and your completely disingenuous bullshit cheerleading routine about submitting again was not bought by us, not even for one second.
We hope you will send us another rejection soon, though. We could not continue to feel shitty about ourselves without electronic, impersonal kicks to the balls of our soul like yours!
And while we regret that the large number of rejections we receive makes it difficult for us to respond personally to everyone of you journals we'd never heard of before we picked you off a list and will never ever read or pay for a subscription for anyway much like 100% of the public at large, including most of the people that work there, we want to stress that someone here at Luke's house personally read your rejection and now will probably remember the name of your journal for a couple days. Week at tops.
But again, like we say, not going to buy a subscription. Not ever. Thanks for the spam/dream crushing/ interminable damn wait all the same!
Best!
Luke
Hope all is well. Thank you for sending your automated rejection email titled "Your submission to No One Reads This Turd Journal Anyway" to us here at Luke's email inbox via your online submission manager. We are sorry this particular rejection took like 7 months to get to us.
Unfortunately, your rejection email was not selected for acceptance by us at this time and your completely disingenuous bullshit cheerleading routine about submitting again was not bought by us, not even for one second.
We hope you will send us another rejection soon, though. We could not continue to feel shitty about ourselves without electronic, impersonal kicks to the balls of our soul like yours!
And while we regret that the large number of rejections we receive makes it difficult for us to respond personally to everyone of you journals we'd never heard of before we picked you off a list and will never ever read or pay for a subscription for anyway much like 100% of the public at large, including most of the people that work there, we want to stress that someone here at Luke's house personally read your rejection and now will probably remember the name of your journal for a couple days. Week at tops.
But again, like we say, not going to buy a subscription. Not ever. Thanks for the spam/dream crushing/ interminable damn wait all the same!
Best!
Luke
Labels: like putting a punch in the face in a time capsule that opens automatically as soon as you've forgotten about it, probably not a surprise to anyone reading this blog that i get my fair share of these
A couple of things here:
Liking things. Stop it. No one reading this blog likes anything. That's the point. Status Update: TGIF! Jennifer Normal likes this. Gahhh.
Broads you went to high school with and wine.
Status update: Jackson just will not take a nap this afternoon. Jennifer Normal: Madison is doing the same thing. We could use some wine! LOL.
Pets. Chairman Meow wants to be your friend. Scanning dome..."Who the fuck is Chairman Meow?" Oh right, my friend's cat. Yeah, no.
Fans of things. What seems reasonable here? A band you like, some politician who doesn't give a shit about you and something you watch like a TV show or whatever. Bacon, taking a nap, an ice cold beer, singing in the shower, hoodies, grilled cheese sandwiches, The List...sensing a pattern here?
Quizzes. What ______ are you? David just took the quiz what kind of stupid, dogshit blog should write about you with the result "The List."
Liking things. Stop it. No one reading this blog likes anything. That's the point. Status Update: TGIF! Jennifer Normal likes this. Gahhh.
Broads you went to high school with and wine.
Status update: Jackson just will not take a nap this afternoon. Jennifer Normal: Madison is doing the same thing. We could use some wine! LOL.
Pets. Chairman Meow wants to be your friend. Scanning dome..."Who the fuck is Chairman Meow?" Oh right, my friend's cat. Yeah, no.
Fans of things. What seems reasonable here? A band you like, some politician who doesn't give a shit about you and something you watch like a TV show or whatever. Bacon, taking a nap, an ice cold beer, singing in the shower, hoodies, grilled cheese sandwiches, The List...sensing a pattern here?
Quizzes. What ______ are you? David just took the quiz what kind of stupid, dogshit blog should write about you with the result "The List."
Posted by D. Jean Mustard at
Labels: , none taken zack, who made facefucking a tag? Colonel D. Jean Mustard likes this
Hope All Is Well
Thanks a lot for the note. Just wanted to clarify what you meant by your vague platitude though. Did you mean to say you hope all is well with me specifically? Or do you mean, like, everything everywhere, because that seems like kind of a tall order and I've got a full schedule this week of replying to well-wishers.
You know, next time, if you really wanted to convey the depths of your indifference for my state of being you might consider just not emailing me in the first place. Cuts right to the chase. Or maybe sign off with simply “best.” If there's a better email equivalent of giving me a limp hand shake in person then making a fart noise with your mouth when I turn around I haven't found it yet.
You know, next time, if you really wanted to convey the depths of your indifference for my state of being you might consider just not emailing me in the first place. Cuts right to the chase. Or maybe sign off with simply “best.” If there's a better email equivalent of giving me a limp hand shake in person then making a fart noise with your mouth when I turn around I haven't found it yet.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Metal Heads
Look at these douches. Hey dick head, nice uh... fruit... hat? Nice...uh...Awwwwwww shit.
I can't do it.
You know how in movies there will be that scene where the heartless hit man is about to smoke some dude, and then the guy's innocent little kid comes running out and he looks the killer in the eye all scared and what not, and all of a sudden he's reminded of our shared humanity and bla bla bla, next thing you know he can't pull the trigger?
That's this picture right here.
God damned cute little metal heads having the time of their life. What did they ever do to hurt anyone? Their genuine enthusiasm is palpable. Thanks a lot, assholes.
Labels: false metal, German beer, Germans, going soft
Telling the Truth
Having a kid is basically a license to become a full time bullshit artist: Santa Claus is real. You'll see grampa again in heaven, smoking weed makes you homeless, a liberal arts degree from a good college will help you get a job, no one is supposed to masturbate that much, etc.
Damned bloody lies, right? But they serve a purpose. For example, telling your kid there is no such thing as monsters when he's crying in the middle of the night is a good way to get him to shut the fuck up. Crucial parenting skill.
Sounds harsh, but when you consider the alternative, like, say, thrusting the kid's face in front of a swarm of poisonous sea aliens to teach him about nature, the whole "monsters aren't real" lie makes a little more sense.
Look at this poor little kid. What's next on the agenda, dad? A trip to Starbucks to look at all the English Lit majors? I could forward over a copy of my bank statement and an essay about the importance of following your dreams if you want to really scare the shit out of him.
Damned bloody lies, right? But they serve a purpose. For example, telling your kid there is no such thing as monsters when he's crying in the middle of the night is a good way to get him to shut the fuck up. Crucial parenting skill.
Sounds harsh, but when you consider the alternative, like, say, thrusting the kid's face in front of a swarm of poisonous sea aliens to teach him about nature, the whole "monsters aren't real" lie makes a little more sense.
Look at this poor little kid. What's next on the agenda, dad? A trip to Starbucks to look at all the English Lit majors? I could forward over a copy of my bank statement and an essay about the importance of following your dreams if you want to really scare the shit out of him.
Labels: aquariums, fucking brat kids, liars, liberal arts, Santa Claus, Starbucks
Friday, August 7, 2009
PDAs
Look at these two love birds! Overcome by passion without a care in the world.
All well and good in theory, but maybe you should take that shit inside like normal people who are paralyzed by bodily shame, mkay? I planned on eating lunch and /or achieving an erection again sometime in the next five years, and I'm not sure I need your awkward petting rituals ruining both of those things for me. It's all I have left.
All well and good in theory, but maybe you should take that shit inside like normal people who are paralyzed by bodily shame, mkay? I planned on eating lunch and /or achieving an erection again sometime in the next five years, and I'm not sure I need your awkward petting rituals ruining both of those things for me. It's all I have left.
Labels: calling them "pdas", China, erections, lunch
Thursday, August 6, 2009
These Rich Fucks, This Whole Thing
Couldn't they have built that spiral staircase of balcony pools just a few feet closer to the left so the gentle folk could step out onto their back porch every morning and literally piss on those slum savages' heads? Just a thought.
image from here.
image from here.
Labels: Brazil, Brazilian slum pools, Health Care Reform "Debate", pools, slums
Strike this shit from the record
See here, people. I really don't want to have to go on a rusty shovel murdering spree unless I absolutely have to, so if we could just snip these few words and phrases out of the lexicon everyone's gonna make it out of here alive. Deal?
These dudes know very well what the hell it is they did:
- hipper-than-thou
- toxic (i.e., "This relationship is toxic.")
- lambaste (go try to find someone using this word on the internet that isn't a retard. Seriously. Go try. I'll wait here till you get back.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Xtreme Subway Riding
"Wow," *adjusts glasses in disbelief* "is that Tony Hawk commuting to work over there on my subway line this morning!?"
Just. Hold. The. God. Damned. Pole. Ass. Hole.
Everyone's stoked about your balancing skills, but I'm pretty sure the next stop on this line isn't the fucking X-Games.
Labels: heroes, impressing people, just living on the edge man, skateboarding, subways
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