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!
this election season:
“When deciding who to listen to for this year’s election coverage, the decision is clear. On one side you’ve got this conservative Fox:
I’m concentrating on a particular part of her country…
The kind of broad that when you’re gonna go down on her, you take a glass of scotch and today’s Financial Times, because it’s GONNA BE AWHILE! And then on the other hand you’ve got this sixteen year old lesbian man on MSNBC:
Spanks but no spanks…
Who’s breath probably smells like expensive coffee and an old dog’s dick. Either way you’re just gonna hear a bunch of jibber-jabber and bullshit, so if you do have to listen to it for some reason, at least hear what Smokeshow Jones has to say about things and not Professor Pussywiggle.”
I’ve been trying all morning to figure out how to post this and I’ve finally got it. He left me this voicemail at 3AM his time last night. He’s always loved doing the SportsCenter guy’s voice…
Perhaps his most frightening email to date…
“Had to fire my therapist last just now. She kept disagreeing with me about some pretty big issues like drugs, alcohol, and crying– so I had to pull the plug. Scheduled an emergency date to replace her for the night. Same cost, less disagreement. The good thing about women is they kinda just have to sit there and listen to me talk. I mean, what are they gonna do– run away? I locked all the doors! A man would just jump through my plate glass deck door and risk the two story fall from the balcony to escape. Omar survived it in The Wire, they’d think. Of course I’d just run downstairs and through the marble floored lobby and out the front door, figuring they’d at least sprained an ankle and I’d catch ’em before they reached some sort of local hero with a cell phone. But a woman just sits there uncomfortably and tries to quick-think of things she supposedly has to do tomorrow like wash her hair or think about coffee flavors so I’ll “let her” leave. Hahahahahaha “let her.” Oh man. Nice try lady.”
Because I don’t know what to say, I’ll just post this funny picture:
Omar would kill my brother with EASE.
I really need to stop trying to come up with fancy titles for these. Maybe this one should’ve been called “He Hates Everyone”…
“Need to make a Fistfight List addition that I can’t believe I ever forgot. I’m adding Playoff Sports to the list. How can you not love Playoff Hockey, or not be pumped about the NBA Playoffs beginning next week? It’s the time of year when athletes actually start trying, and the results are scary! The Playoffs remind us that the difference between dudes who say dumb shit like “I could’a made that catch” and a professional is like the difference between a regular girl and a SQUIRTER. When the pros are on stage, the pros will entertain you. Pimp Don Magic Juan told me that, and I’m sure as fuck not about to forget it.”
How could you forget anything this guy said?
I will try my hardest to attain a copy of this, but it may just be a lie:
“Just found my 1994 hit rap single “Make That Ass Wobble Like A Floppy Disk” which features epic lines like “Girl give me Growing Pains like I’m Alan Thicke/Make me wanna write a book called “Chicken Soup for my Dick!” Still not sure how I didn’t win a Tony award for that one. You should probably record some rap music before your time’s up. Very cathartic.”
Did you know that Leonardo Dicaprio was on Growing Pains????
His brain is the place, apparently…
“Had a dream last night that an ugly white trash girl left me with her newborn baby in a shitty apartment, and I spent the whole dream taking care of him and hoping her ugly ass would come back, but she never did. At one point, I walked the baby down to the local gas station in a blanket like I was a Russian Babushka to get the little fucker a bottle of Dannon water to drink. Point being, when you get old like me, even your dreams are pathetic and involve responsibility. Plus it’s a damn ripoff of the premise of the third season of Eastbound and Down. I’d call my show “Third Down and Gay.” Unoriginal, manual labor-type dreams. Fucking pathetic.
Why am I telling you this? Because you need to NOT get old like me. Drink all the jungle juice at your last fraternity party of your second senior year and just end it. Trust me, you’ll be missing out on nothing. Plus then I can milk your death for all it’s worth. “Oh my brother, what a crying shame!” I’d scream in between lines of coke and kisses from a Puerto Rican girl who swears she’s 18 but conveniently can’t find her driver’s license. “I’m all alone in this World!” I’d bellow as she gave my D a Hamilton Piledriver. You get the picture. Thanks in advance bro!”
The “Hamilton Piledriver” is a new one I’m not familiar with. And that’s also the 10th time he’s basically told me to kill myself, so… Yeah.
This is not a dream, kids.
