Things were different…
“In my day, if you bragged about staying at home alone to watch an entire TV series you got punched, not laid. Times have changed. The hipsters have forced their nerdiness on all of us, so now dudes at bars say stuff like, “You HAVEN’T seen Downton Abbey???” to chicks instead of “Wanna go back to my place and pour hot sauce on each other?” Also what the fuck happened to the second W on that show? No time for it? Fuck you!”
That’s “some” ecard! ZING!
One day he will succeed in confusing his system into death…
“Just put all these bitches in my stomach at once and yell, “FIGHT!””
Hope he didn’t drink that cool bottle opener too.
Or you will die…
“I’ve come up with a genius plan while staying home sick (sick of this job AMIRIGHT?!?!?!) and catching up on some Real World/Road Rules Challenge and Top Chef. After lengthy and successful meetings with MTV and Bravo, I will be hired as a secret plant or mole for the next seasons of these amazing shows. For RWRRC I will bring three others with me– one super tough dude and two chicks who kicked Crystal Meth and don’t take shit from anyone. We will have no plans of winning the game, because who the fuck would embarrass themselves for two months to split $250,000, which after taxes is only like $40K. I made $40K last week and then lost it at a coke dealer’s pool party. Anyway, the reason we’ll be there will be simple. The first time one of those Roided up 5’7” pussy of a dude or fake tittied 6 of a chick gets buck, talks shit to the “new team” and gets in one of our faces and says the famous RWRRC line, “Hit me bro! Hit me!” we will. And hard. And all four of us at once will attack everyone on the show with a bloodlust usually reserved for people high on Bath Salts. And shit, maybe we will be high on Bath Salts. It’s working out for that anti-virus guy. We’ll be kicked off, but we weren’t really playing anyone. Just teaching young punks lessons about life like we’re a white teacher in a black school in a 90’s movie.
Now, onto Top Chef. If they’re planning on having 15 contestants to start, they’ll add me for 16. Or 12 and I’m 13, you get it. It won’t matter that I’m there because I’m not going to win, but in a twist of Top Chef genius to fuck with the contestants, I will continue to advance week after week cooking only grilled cheese sandwiches. And in the elimination round jury panel thing they do, I will RELENTLESSLY hit on Padma. And despite it obviously being untoward and lascivious, she will eat it up! I envision one point where I say something like “Ow! Spicy Curry!” after she critiques another contestant, and she’ll laugh but some assclown from Williamsnerd, Brooklynwith a knuckle beard and purple high tops will be all like, “Bro that’s racist! And you’re not even a good chef!” and then Tom Colichio will scream at him, “Unless you can turn that attitude into salt and re-do your dish, shut your mouth! That grilled cheese was the best I’ve ever fucked!” Eventually I will reveal to them that I’m not actually a chef, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. It was all a clever ruse to peddle bed bugs.”
This is a screengrab from the RWRRC website. Please read the description they gave two men kissing.
An important lesson in being completely insane:
“Last night I realized that all of my lighters were gone. I had four. Bright colors. Vibrant. Flames for days. I realized where each one was. Drug dealers’s homes, all of them. And I went and fucking got each one! So if this movie “Taken To” doesn’t work out (by the way– taken to where? Am I right???? Shoutout to my boy Mike for telling me that joke!) they can just model a movie after me. A guy who was all of a sudden like, “Where the mother F are all my lighters?” and then went and got them. Did I have to fight? Not really. But fuck did I have to endure some weird/terrible conversations! People tried to tell me they used to be in bands that became famous but they got kicked out right before the cool/famous stuff happened! Lies Lies Lies! Anyway, it sucked, but sometimes you have to put your hand in a pile of shit to get your Super Bowl ring back. Ya know?? And that’s why they made that movie Slumdog Millionaire.”
I feel like maybe I can stop the website after that one. It summed everything up. Here’s the photo he sent to prove his conquest:
Sad? Funny? You be the judge!
from a man who’s so close to dying in some weird way it’s almost not funny anymore…
“Just wanted to remind you that I’ve done all the drugs in existence and I’ve fucked all the girls. I’ve floated above my apartment on mushrooms and had a two Serbian twins tickle my balls with a feather from their dead bird Andre. And still, NOTHING COMES CLOSE to how good it feels to beat the living shit out of someone. I literally just got a boner when I put on the David Banner song “Might Getcha” because it reminded me of how amazing it feels to see someone else’s blood, to dominate another human, to experience what it truly means to be alive by flirting with death. Try it sometime!”
Here’s the song. No video, sorry, but it does feature the greatest spelling of Mississippi I’ve ever heard…
It’s no problem when you’re completely insane…
“Someone should have been following me around with a camera while I went through the first 72 hours of quitting smoking cold turkey. I’ve been talking to myself, breathing really heavy and covering my mouth while making a face like someone just told me my dog died. The other 40% of the day I’m ravenously eating rare roast beef and coffee ice cream, bitching people out in public for doing fairly normal things, and sleeping. If that’s not a fucking reality show, I guess I don’t know what is. Seacrest out.”
I shit you not this came from a website called “What’s Happening Myron!”
Or at least he shouldn’t, because its clearly not working…
“Quitting cigarettes cold turkey going well so far. Haven’t smoked in 48 hours and only had to beat the shit out of one dude in Chipotle. Little victories, baby steps, etc.”