Archive | May, 2013

How Many Times Can One Man Get Fired?

16 May

Or quit or whatever other bullshit…

“Well I quit my job today. Had to give my dipshit boss a ride to the Saab dealership because his Saab’s vulva collapsed and I take a turn real hard along the way (because fuck physics) and there was some tinkling sound and he’s like, “What’s all that noise?” and I was like “Probably just some beer bottles” and then he was all like, “Why do you have beer bottles on the floor of your car?” So I slammed on the brakes, undid his door’s child lock and asked him to get out. At first he thought maybe I was joking but once I screamed it like ten times and starting coughing a bunch he did in fact get out. “Why do I have beer bottles on the floor of my car?” Next he was probably gonna ask me why I don’t alphabetize my Blue-Rays. BECAUSE I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. That’s why. Cleaning up after your awesomeness is like if they cleaned up after a war instead of leaving all those burnt up antiques everywhere for the Armenians to steal. Know what I mean?”

FUCKING VANITY PLATES RULE!!!!!!

FUCKING VANITY PLATES RULE!!!!!!

It’s Not Over

16 May

Until your old shitty body says it is. This makes me so sad about getting older:

“Oh I’m sorry dick and bladder, I figured we were done peeing when you completely stopped peeing and let me zip up my cool new summer shorts and walk back to the living room. But then you were all like, “Oh wait! One more teaspoon!” Who pees their pants? Men do. Because as any good man can tell you, “Please someone kill me now I thought it would be better than this.” Anyway, sure you’re having a fun night not pissing yourself. Congrats, Cocktongue Baby. PS that was a U2 joke which makes me even sadder.”

Thumbs up for incontinence!

Thumbs up for incontinence!

Old Dirty

13 May

His high school memories are catching up with him:

It’s so hard to tell when my jeans are stained and when I’m having an acid flashback. Don’t wanna be a guy who washes his jeans a lot though. Gotta stick to twice a year. Only people named Brenden wash their jeans more than twice a year.” 

Rich people buy clothes to show how they identify with poor people.

Rich people buy clothes to show how they identify with poor people.

Don’t Make Him

9 May

I think I pissed him off:

“I only drink two things: Coffee and Alcohol. I only smoke two things: Cigarettes and Weed. I only shoot two things: Hoops and Clay Pigeons. Don’t make me add a third, bitch.”

This shit ain't funny!

This shit ain’t funny!

One Or The Other

8 May

He can’t figure it out…

“This is a picture of a guy on my street who nonchalantly walks his skateboarding dog every day. One time I said something amazing to him like, “What will they think of next!” and he didn’t even acknowledge me. I’m trying to figure out if I think he’s more of an ASSCLOWN or a CLOWNDICK. Definitely one of the two but the distinction is tricky here. On one hand, he’s a total ASSCLOWN for teaching his dog to skateboard and then acting like all dogs skateboard, when we all know the only thing all dogs do is go to Heaven. On the other hand, he’s a major CLOWNDICK for not recognizing greatness in his presence and getting all googly eyed when I took time out from texting my former secretary to tell him a joke. What do you think?”

I'm going with CLOWNDICK.

I’m going with CLOWNDICK.

Long Time No Post

7 May

Please please pardon the long delay in posts. A lot going on here, but who cares about all that, let’s get to the terrible advice, shall we? Pretend this little thing never happened? Just call it even? Bygones being bygones and whatnot? Thanks! On with the action…

“I’ve been in hiding for a bit, biding my time and recording a rap album with songs like, “Cinco de Mayo Is Racist and for Faggots,” and generally just masturbating a lot. Also fucking occassionally. I’m in incredible fucking shape. My core is ripped and my dick has holes in it. But mostly I’ve been slanging the old ham hock around myself while listening to “Sketches of Spain” by Miles Davis and crying. Research, I call it. And here’s what I’ve discovered– something incredible. Something that’s going to change the jerkoff game for good. I’ve discovered the A#1 search term for every site. What’s that? You didn’t know you could plug search terms into Internet Porn? What the fuck is wrong with you, amigo? It’s 2012! Anyway, as soon as it hit me, it all made sense. Sort of like the time I accidentally ate a quarter of mushrooms and had a long talk with Jesus about the band Cake and whether or not I was supposed to die in that moment or not. I wasn’t, thank God, because Cake was about to release ANOTHER SINGLE. Anyway times two, here’s the scoop, you flagrant piece of poop:

The word is LUCKY. 

“6 AWESOME WOMEN AND 1 LUCKY GUY!”

“HORNY TWINS MAKING A DICK LUCKY”

“TWO HOT ASSES FOR ONE LUCKY DEVIL”

and even: 

“LUCKY DICKFACE”

 The list goes on and on. Lucky guys get in the best sexual situations, and it’s high time we all took advantage of their good luck. Which brings me to my real point– You want to be perceived as lucky. That should be the goal. I remember being in a Blockbuster (which was a “video rental store”) as a teenager and seeing this dopey mope of a guy with his arm around a hot girl. “What a lucky fucker,” I said to my friend Rude (RIP Rude). And Rude told me something I’d forgotten until now: “Maybe he’s lucky… or maybe he’s the only dude that ever had the balls to hit on that super hot chick. And because he did, now he gets to lick her pussy, which I’d imagine tastes a lot like cinnamon applesauce by the Mott’s company.” Okay he didn’t say all that, but you get the point. People call dudes lucky who have a lot of money, or have a hot girlfriend, or drive nice cars way too fast in school zones while blaring Jethro Tull. But maybe they’re not lucky. Maybe they worked really hard to make that money, or had the Nuggershiwitz to hit on the tall blonde at the bar that all the other dudes were just staring at, or the gumption to ignore a crossing guard and mow down three disabled 8th graders because they needed both hands to do the air flute solo.

The point is, be that guy people call lucky. And let them call you that. Because you’ll know it’s not luck behind it all. It’s cocaine and revenge. Cocaine. And revenge. And I bid you goodnight with that, hermanito.”

He's right. Holy shit he's right.

He’s right. Holy shit he’s right.

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