A Guy, a Blog, and a Photoshop

The greatest debate of all time is finally solved...

2008-07-07T19:12:00.000-07:00

I've got a fever, and the only perscription is....

2008-07-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

No. Not cowbell dumbass. Video games. Yes it is true, I have fallen victim to the only thing that would keep a man single longer than AIDS. And while I enjoy placing my nuts on the chin of little pre-pubes everywhere while telling them how good their mom is in bed, I can't help but think that the video game industry is missing something. Here are a few of my ideas for new games that are sure to keep us all masturbating in our basements to Laura Croft just a little longer:

Rap Group- Riding the heels of Rock Band this game puts you as the main hip hop mogul in your own group. It comes with a mic but no drums or guitar, instead being replaced by a book of food stamps and a Duck Hunt Gun. You shoot at Hos and Haters trying to get at your game as you flow through such classic hits as "Fuck the Police," "Do the Bartman," and the ever popular "George Bush Hates Black People" by Kanye West. Criminal record not included, rated G for Gangsta.

IRS Games presents Stimulus Package 2008- Very similar to the SIMS. Object is to raise your family and if you are successful the game rewards you with 600 points at the end and 300 more for each kid still alive. Only catch is every mother fucker get 300 points no matter what and when you select help on the main menu to find out what the fuck you did wrong you just go to a loading screen that freezes your XBOX. Game over bitches.

Lindsey Lohan's Prodater 2- Navigate the streets of LA giving blowjobs to homeless men for beers to increase your health. Then spread the diseases you have acquired to every C-list male actor you come across. Final Boss battle is an epic fight between Lindsey and Left Behind star Kirk Cameron. Give him Herpes and you win the game, and the hearts of America.

Grand Theft OJ- Starts off like Madden 08, then kill your wife and navigate your White Bronco through the streets to escape the cops. Doesn't matter what you do the cops always run into each other and you win every time. Finishes with a demo of Tiger Woods Golf with OJ as the only playable character. Limited Edition comes with a bonus Nintendo Power Glove, but gets recalled shortly thereafter because it never seems to fit anyone.

Back In the Saddle Again. I'm Back! duh duh-duh duh duh

2008-07-05T16:32:00.000-07:00

It has been almost one year since the last time I have posted, so to celebrate my absence I have decided to be unabsent. I won't go into details about my hiatus but let's just say that at some point midgets, balloons and a curious spider monkey smelling of mojitos were involved. Bad news: the spider monkey went to the tree top in the sky. Good news: I saved a ton of money on my car insurance. Really good news: I will now be blessing everyone with a minimum of one post a day for all eternity, or until The Golden Girls gets the call for new episodes due to inceased DVD sales by me. Without further ado, I would like to talk about something that has been giving me the stiff zipper for a while now: Brooke Hogan (The Hulksters smokin' daughter)

I am strongly against incest, however, I can honestly say that if I were the Hulkster, I would run Hulkamania on my daughter. I have already mapped out 10 things to say to my daughter if by some chance she turns out to look like Brooke.
1. Santa told me he would prefer you naughty this year.
2. They said the part to fix the bathroom lock is on backorder.
3. Did you just sneeze? Better check for cervical cancer.
4. The dryer caught fire and burned all your panties.
5. That's not a camera hunny, its the new design for 2000 flushes.
6. I guess I should read the lable on the pool cleaner better, too much DOES disolve garnments.
7. If you want a Pony you'll do it.
8. Sounds like a tornado! Everyone into my bed.
9. Just lay still, this memory will stay supressed until you're 40.
10. Don't tell mommy this, but I am not your real father.

I can't imagine the self restraint that it must take to be Hulk Hogan. I would put money down that at some point he has suggested a slumber party just to pay off a friend of hers to ask if she would ever do her dad in truth or dare. Then, being the Hulkster, if she said no he would tear down the tent and put the girl in a sleeper hold until he got his money back and some of hers. In fact, I have become so inspired by Hulk Hogan that while I am writing this I have an IV running steroids directly into a vein on my ballsack so that I too can be a Hulkamaniac. I can picture it now....

Excuse me. Do you know where I can find the weight room?

2007-09-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

I started to write a post about how life is not working out for me right now and how I wish I had someone with me to share my happy times with but then I thought, fuck it. Life is too short to dwell on shit. So here is some fucking funny shit off the top of my head as usual. Inspired by the fact that I have been working out so much lately that I am typing this with my pecks.

Often people ask me, "How the hell do you get so ripped? You must be injecting steroids directly into the vein under your ballsack." Truth be told, I used to juice heavily until Barry Bonds started doing it and made it "mainstream." What next Barry? You want to ruin Heroin for the rest of us too? Jesus. Well with Barry spoiling my party I decided to take it back to the old school and get jacked using a good ol' fashion workout. Here is a small sample of my routine:

1. Always start the day off with a glass of Tyrannosaurs egg yolk and rhinoceros semen. Oh and an english muffin too, for carbs.

2. I then bike to the gym for a warm-up. It will really help get you heart rate up if your tires are triangular like mine. And you pedal with your arms. Backwards.

3. Upon getting to the gym I like to start out with a thousand push-ups. One hundred on each finger should do.

4. Another good warm-up that I do is pull-downs. Yeah you read that right, not pull-ups. Pull-downs. I snatch 757's out of the sky. Great for your obliques.

5. Now I get into the real workout. Doing a bench press with full weights and two Asian kids on each side holding more weights is a typical max out for me. Don't worry, its not slave labor. They are compensated for their time with fortune cookies and jars of mayonnaise. No! Not the squeezable! Are you out of your mind? Those are like 3.00 each.

6. After that I don't really work out much more. I usually just do one squat with 800 lbs. on each end. Get pissed as fuck and kick over a tower of weights and walk out. The chicks love it and the guys are too busy looking at themselves to care.

7. Tuesdays is Jazzercise. No ass this smooth can sculpt itself without the help of Gloria Estefan's "Turn the Beat Around."

And the key here is to remember the post game. Always follow each workout with a thigh of a bald eagle and a cup of the blood of a gorilla. Neither have any nutritional value whatsoever, but they make you look like one badass mother fucker on the news when the cops finally bust you for your steroid operation.

Im coming out of my cave.

2007-09-07T21:40:00.000-07:00

Well it seems that Osama Bin Laden has came out of hiding to produce another video tape, therefore I am coming out of hiding to produce another blog. He blew apart two of our tallest buildings... I can make my wrist pop when I hold it at a weird angle... I'd say that makes us about even. So why the sudden coming out of hiding? Well I decided that it was time to appease the masses and also to let off some steam.

As I sat watching the evening news this...well...evening, I grew more and more angry with ever passing moment. Why the fuck haven't we caught this guy? Where the hell is our intelligence. The cop at Target could have beat Bin Laden's ass by now and made it back just in time to bust me for stealing phone cards. According to my super secret inside source on military and CIA happenings, we shall call him "Future Weapons," we have the capability to read the footnotes on a damn bible from a satellite. So... we can't find a few people going in and out of some caves in Afghanistan? Well, in all truth, we can and we probably did. But we won't. Why won't we find Bin Laden? Is he some super secret sleuth that moves like a cat in and out of dark shadows to the pink panther theme song? No. He is Osama Bin Laden. That is why. In the public eye we don't see a mass group of terrorists. We see one. Osama. And if he dies we think terrorism dies. Just like we don't see a shit for brains group of politicians in the White House. We see one. And when he goes we believe so will improve the government. With Bin Laden dead, so will decrease military spending, anti-terrorism groups, and remodel a defunct Homeland Security. Bin Laden still lives because we have a pretty little scale of colors that tell us how scared we should be and without Bin Laden there is no need for those colors and then Kinkos stock plummets sending us into a deep depression. Ok well maybe not that last part. The man has no power except to scare people, and scared people vote to spend money to be unscared. For Christ's sake: he did the video on vhs. What the hell kind of genius terrorists mastermind still uses that shit? Is his next move to send out a computer virus to hack in and fuck with our Wolfenstein save games? Unless we get a blu ray from him in the next year, he is a lame duck.

Another reason Bin Laden still exists? Simple. Bin Laden who? We are a country of immediate satisfaction. You could say we are a kind of U.S.A.D.D. If that shit doesn't get solved soon then we move the hell on. I call it my "dial-up porn" theory. My penis is used to high speed downloading of quality porn. If I one day gave it dial-up porn then it would jump out of my pants and smack me in the face. Then it would search out that scooby doo lunchbox. The one where Thelma kind of looks hot because she has the "oooo I'm scared and being slightly sexually suggestive at the same time" look. To put this into perspective, if we had caught Bin Laden and hung his ass on September 13, 2001 then you can bet your ass that would have been a national holiday. We would be out grilling hot dogs and throwing frisbees to the sweet sound of vengeance. If we caught him today and hung his ass then you can rest assured you would get one of those scrolling messages at the bottom of the screen followed by, "Watch So You Think You Can Dance this Tuesday at 8pm." Anyone see that North Korea agreed to remove their nuclear capabilities? No? Exactly, thats because Alberto Gonzales stepped down from his position as Attorney General. And since one story was newer than the other, the media, I mean you, never cared about the first one. We are a country of short attention spans and low patience. Neither of which help us in our search.

The final reason Bin Laden is still at large and forever will be? The cancellation of America's Most Wanted. How the fuck are we supposed to know who to look for without John Walsh telling us? Bin Laden could be living next door to you but unless you have seen someone who looks nothing like him acting out over exaggerated scenes on Americas Most Wanted, how the hell would you know? We are all doomed I tell you. Doomed!!!!

On the softer side....

2007-09-02T10:08:00.001-07:00

I hate cats. But this touched me.

SWM looking for someone with a big heart. Or a pulse. That works.

2007-08-27T16:27:00.001-07:00

Girls are really starting to toot my horn. Sorry for the foul language, but as you can tell I'm getting pretty fricking tired of searching for soulmate. I think that is my problem. I am actively looking. They say that if you wait then your true love will come to you. Well how many god damn bus stops does a guy have to sit at until fate intervenes? I'm starting to think it is a lost cause. I know what you are thinking. "Dude, you're 22, so incredibly sexy that you could be a new species, and you have a kick ass house that even Master P would be amazed at the patio furniture." Well, while all of that is correct.. it seems I have some things standing in my way. For starters I am pretty tall. To some women that is a turn on. To the rest, the often see me and then think of Jack and the Beanstalk and assume I will eat any kids we have.

I asked a close friend what I should do and he told me to lose the velvet paintings of me and Prince naked riding white tigers through flaming hoops that surround my bed in a sequential, climatic fashion. I said to that friend, "Friend, any chick that doesn't bleed purple rain is no chick of mine." And then I punched him in that tender spot behind his ears for even suggesting such a travesty. With my friends batting .000 and it obvious that my 17 inch penis was not the problem, I decided to resort to one last resource. You know it as match.com, to many it is known as "that place where you don't have to tell them you have AIDS" and common testimonials include "the woods are a hard place to say no when they realize my default was some spanish actor named Hernando." So here goes something:

for fun:
Well its hard to say. Between episodes of Boy Meets World and Saved by the Bell I like to look for images of the virgin mary in common household foods and play minesweeper while listening to my Billy Ocean Greatest Hits CD.
my job:
I don't have one. I make a living giving blow jobs to successful businessmen that don't have time for their wives and then scamming women who no longer feel beautiful because their businessman husband is too busy getting blowjobs from strangers. Ha ha ha. Just kidding. I teach.
my ethnicity:
It is often disputed because of the extremely large size of my penis. I'm guessing I'm a mix of caucasian and Zebra.
my religion:
Christian. Although Ive often wondered if I myself was carved from Mount Olympus as every girl I have been with has always described me as a God of sorts.
my education:
four year degree. Graduated with honors. Didn't have honors grades but the dean said I was too fucking sexy not to have one of those gold ropes around my neck.
favorite hot spots:
Everywhere I go is a hotspot. No. Seriously. I live in Florida. Its 108 in the shade. I went to check the mail yesterday without shoes and when I got back to the house I looked like Lieutenant Dan.
favorite things:
I once spent an entire day making a diorama of every scene from Tommy Boy using only pop tarts and pumpkin seeds.
last read:
The tag on my shirt. Who the hell tumble drys shit? Is that even a setting on my dryer?

About Me:
I just realized I am to cool and mysterious to put anything actually about me so I will just put the lyrics to Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins from the Top Gun Soundtrack.
Revvin' up your engine
Listen to her howlin' roar
Metal under tension
Beggin' you to touch and go

Highway to the Danger Zone
Ride into the Danger Zone

Headin' into twilight
Spreadin' out her wings tonight
She got you jumpin' off the track
And shovin' into overdrive

Highway to the Danger Zone
I'll take you
Right into the Danger Zone

You'll never say hello to you
Until you get it on the red line overload
You'll never know what you can do
Until you get it up as high as you can go

Out along the edges
Always where I burn to be
The further on the edge
The hotter the intensity

Highway to the Danger Zone
Gonna take you
Right into the Danger Zone

Highway to the Danger Zone

Guest Post

2007-08-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

Just did another guest post over at The Daily Fuzz Go check it out.

Couldn't pass this up...

2007-08-20T17:54:00.001-07:00

I was gonna add this to the post below but it deserved its own. Ladies and gentleman... the sneezing panda:

Im Baaaack. And this time I'm available in 2%

2007-08-20T17:14:00.000-07:00

Well after a short hiatus where I spent endless nights sleeping with Egyptian women named Cleo and getting kicks off beating a blind man in darts, I'm back. But no seriously truth be told I just spent the last two weeks hunting down some guy named Al for forcing a shitload of people from their home by starting forest fires before realizing that the news lied to me and they need to change the abbreviation for Alabama. Time well spent indeed. Other than that I don't have anything to brag about.

So the other day I went into Arbys to enjoy some of their beefy goodness. Upon walking through the door I was hit with a face full of ass. I felt as though I had taken the place of Barney the purple dinosaur on his throne in hell. They had fans all over the place but continued to serve despite nothing frosty coming out of the air vents. As I'm reading the sign to try and make it look like I was trying to remember a colleagues order when in actuality the seven arby's melts I was about to order were for me, a man walks in about his mid 40's. He gets that same look on his face I did when I walked in; the one that looks like you just got that cramp between your balls and anus and don't know how to stretch it out. So this gentleman walks up to the register and says, "Wow, its hot. Is your air broke?" Immediately I wanted to give this person a medal for being dumber than a frisbee. So, being the kind gentleman that I am I chimed in, "No Thomas Paine, Its the new company energy policy, 96 degrees is the new 70." The guy then got pissed and walked out. Most likely to go to the book store and ask questions like, "Do you carry non-fiction?", or to K-Mart and ask, "Are their any STD's in your bathroom?." Common sense folks. Common sense.

Well I have to go. But this time I promise to be back. No photoshop today but this video making fun of Dane Cook goes out to a home-girl of mine at Carrabbas. *full house pose*

Dane Cooks

Im a pretty big deal.

2007-08-10T21:34:00.000-07:00

Wow. Its been a while since I posted, minus the fruity pebble incident. Which some of you would be happy to know that I just decided that a few dead seagulls was a small price to pay so that I could still enjoy my fruity goodness while eating from a styrofoam bowl. MMMMM. So what have I been up to you ask? Oh, you didn't ask? Well then fuck you, I'm telling you anyways. I have been getting stuff together for my house. My badass house. I just got a leather sofa set that looks so badass that the fire marshal had to come out and inspect my house just to make sure that in case of a badass overload the city wouldn't like shut down and shit. I wasn't so lucky as to get this fire marshal though:

So once I was cleared with the sofa I had to go out and look for a new mailbox. Nothing was wrong with the old one really, I just needed to have another one to put behind it because "Badass Mother Fucker" wouldn't fit on the side of one. After I had that set up I was a bit hungry so I went inside and ate breakfast consisting of bald eagle eggs and a pinch of terrorism. Just cause I'm badass like that. I gave my dog a raptor leg to chew on because he is pretty badass too.

I don't know about you but working and doing stuff makes me want to take naps. But since becoming badass I don't do that shit anymore. Naps are for pussies, and the French. Instead, if I find myself getting tired I melt my eyelids to my forehead from heat created by rubbing my gigantic balls with a steel scrub pad. The rusty ones work best. Problem solved.

Once I had that shit straightened out it was time to get down and dirty. I decided to go do some yard work, so I went outside and just starred at the grass until it retreated back into the ground. Then I cut the hedges.. with my fist. Lastly I went through the garden and pulled the weeds, and by pulled the weeds I mean I burned the whole fucking garden and told them if they ever come back Ill snatch their kids, and if they don't have kids I will force them to pollinate just so I can steal their fucking kids.

With all that work I broke quite a sweat so I went inside and took a shower. Yeah, thats right. I raw barred it. Fuck the rag. I even threw away my mane and tail shampoo because I now use White Reign. Its made from the sweat of holocaust victims. Oh, and lavender leaves. Then I dried off using my towels made of Manatee leather.

With the day almost at an end I decided to relax and watch some TV. I don't have cable though. I enjoy sitting in front of the static because it sounds like a million people cheering for how badass I am. Then I get my antenna and try and pull Oprah. Even badasses need Oprah.

Damn Youuuuuuu!!!!

2007-08-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

If you let a fruity pebble dry in our cereal bowl you might as well throw the damn thing out. I scrub and I scrub and I scrub.

Lend me your ear and Ill sing you a song. I will try not to sing out of key.

2007-08-04T21:26:00.000-07:00

Someone the other day told me, "Gosh, you must be lonely. I look at you and you pity you because have no friends and spend all your time looking at porn." So I said to that person, "Mom, I have plenty of friends. Sure they may have gone down since the kids at the park started to realize there really was no pizza parlor in the back of my van, but I happen to be quite popular." So to prove her wrong, here are a few of my many friends:

Momma Mia, Mea Culpa- A great blog about life. Short and simple posts that make you laugh and/or think and I like that. But then again, I also like the hard crusty part around the edge of the pan when you cook scrambled eggs, so what the hell do I know? I can say with a certain fact though that if you stare hard enough at her pictures at the top of the page you will feel a strange, pleasurable sensation in your pants, kind of like Thor giving you a foot massage.

The Daily Fuzz- This site is pure crap. I'm disgusted by the extreme amounts of child pornography. I don't know how this guy manages to sneak all of those poor minority kids into the zoo at night and film all of those unspeakable acts, but it is just downright sickening. Giraffes should never be forced to... oh wait, wrong site. ha ha ha whoops. Yeah, so The Daily Fuzz is a fake news site that is almost as funny as this site. Its kind of like if this site were GnR's Appetite for Destruction, then Then Daily Fuzz would be Van Halen's 1984. That my friends, is no small feat.

Blog Cabins- I used to think that this guy was great. He does some really good film reviews and seems to have done his homework on most of them. Notice how I say most of them.... His recent review of Bratz the movie suggests that people should "run out of the theater as if it were on fire." Well my dear friend, you need to borrow my calculator sometime because it clearly shows that Bratz will be an excellent movie. Hot teenage girls=schwing. Paula Abdul + schwing=MILF. And I'm sure there are plenty of other reasons to see this movie I just lost my train of thought and typing that and had to run outside and check the sprinklers in the backyard (see this post). Overall though, excellent site and excellent read.

Dazed and Confuzed from here- His last post is on cow farts and how they are deteriorating the earths ozone layer. Yes, you read that right. Now I don't know about you but something tells me if he stops posting one day, we can safely assume that there is a cop somewhere telling his buddies, "Well son, that ain't shit. This one guy had the god damn Sherwood Forrest growing in his fucking bathtub. Never seen any shit like that in all my years on the force. No siree." Dazed did list me in one of his last posts as something of interest though so apparently he has exquisite taste and I'm sure a rather large penis. Heard it through the rumor mill folks. Nothin' to see here. Move along.

Boobies & Beer- Love the blog, hate the title. First time I read it I was all ready to go with my pants down and hand on my wang and then I was left hanging (literally) when there were no pictures of boobies. Not one. Not only was I disappointed as I pulled my pants up but from the look on the faces of everyone else in the library, I'm certain they were too. Overall a good read about life with a family, a job, kids, and responsibility. Who am I kidding? I'm a 22 year old single guy. This is what I read every time I think about dating. And then I go and slam my penis into a kitchen drawer. That'll teach me.

If I left you out, it doesn't mean you aren't my friend. It just means that me and the people above this sit around and talk about that weird mole on your face behind your back. Seriously, is that thing alive? Might want to get it checked out. Soon.

Since I couldn't think of a picture to do for this I will just post a video of The Interrupter. This is the second video of this. Couldn't find the first, bonus points to the person that finds the first video, and by bonus points I mean I'll call all your credit card companies and tell them you died.

Gone Fishin'

2007-08-02T12:40:00.001-07:00

Whew, what a busy last few days. I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off except with a funny run, kind of like I just started to jog and got the runs halfway around the block. I did, however, manage to find time to take that fishing trip in Minnesota that I have been wanting to go on for so long. Didn't catch shit though. Just some weird piece of metal and then the waves got kind of rough so I headed home. Took a picture though for you guys to enjoy!

Anywho... so I decided that I wanted to create my own TV station. Aside from bringing back classics like Married with Children, Home Improvement, and 90's SNL reruns I decided that I would create my own programming. Here are some of my pitches:

---Simply LOST (Reality)- Tell Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie that they are going to do a fourth season of the Simple Life. On the way to start filming have their plane crash on the same island from LOST. Suspense mounts as they discover the polar bears and mentally unstable natives that survive by eating their own feces. Document their struggles with starvation, emotional breakdowns, and watch as greed slowly starts to consume them. Wait... ok. Scrap the island. Follow them around L.A. for three months. Same starvation, same breakdowns, same greed, larger profit.

---Trading Spouses-Maximum Security Edition (Reality)- Surprise Enron execs in their cell with a trip into the general jail population. Tyrell switches with Richard, Jose switches with Kenneth, and so on. Hilarity ensues as the execs find that being someones bitch in Block B is much more "personal" than Block Z. Key scene where Quintyn finds out that Bob has been failing to share his cinnamon apples at dinner, at which point Quintyn goes in to get back what Bob stole.

---A Tale of Two Homies (Comedy/Drama)- The Jefferson family moves in next to the Rodriguez family and all hell breaks loose. The Rodriguez' insist that the constant barbeque's are creating smoke that is ruining their landscaping. The Jeffersons have to constantly battle not being able to hear their Mary J Blige CDs over the frequent maracas and sombrero dancing. Third party humor is added with the witty comments of a highly religious single white man living across the street, played by Tom Arnold. Series ends abruptly when the Jeffersons report the Rodriguez family for violating city codes by having 19 people in a one bedroom house.

---The East Wing (Drama)- An accurate portrayal of the commitedness of the President of the United States to the democracy of America. Shows the President reacting in high stress situations such as contemplating between over or under toilet paper rolls, attempting to hack through white house firewalls to access myspace, and trying to figure out if it were possible to tell if Ellen were gay before she came out. Season finale leaves audience wanting more as President passes out from a terrorist attack consisting of hard to chew pretzels. Series ends when Dick Cheney shoots producer in the face.

---Jeopwhoredy (Gameshow)-contestants answer questions for an entire half hour that have absolutely nothing to do with anything. Except instead of a final question each contestant must have sex with a passed out Lindsey Lohan. First to get herpes wins.

---Peel or no Peel (Gameshow)- Several immigrants are chosen at random and must pick oranges as fast as possible, process them, and package the juice. First one to complete 10 acres wins $100,000. Catch: Notify all contestants after show that they were all illegal and are being deported without winnings. Closing shot of me in crowd drinking orange juice with thumbs up then cut to Mexican in prison with shrugged shoulders saying, "He no funny" followed by a "wah wah wah."

Its officially official

2007-08-01T23:48:00.000-07:00

Now... comictivity.com

Tomorrow... going public at $1000.00 a share

Later... world domination

Later-er... trip to taco bell (they are always open)

DISCLAIMER: if you are ovulating please don't read this, my writing has been known to cause pregnancy.

2007-07-31T16:02:00.000-07:00

Its official. I am now moved into my new house, and I couldn't be happier. Well unless it was free. And had a French maid. And on Indian burial grounds (see post below). All that aside, I now have a really really nice house all to myself with plenty of extra keys for the ladies, and by ladies I mean my mom and grandmother. Yes siree, I have never been so proud of myself minus the time I managed to free my penis from a sprinkler head in the backyard with the help of an aloe plant (but that's a whole nother post entirely).

Now that I am in my new house, quite a number of you have sent me fan mail asking just what my new house looks like, namely the people looking for the last month of rent from my previous apartment. Lets put it this way, if you were to build God a house and then hit it with a golden tornado of awesomeness then that would be it. I do need some furniture however. I decided to throw out all my old stuff and just get some really nice stuff piece by piece until I have a house that P. Diddy would walk in and go, "Dayymnnn son! Bad Boy for life. Take that take that take that." As of right now I have only a computer desk and my bed. So if all goes as planned, I should have that jungle gym installed by Friday in order to make the "pedophile" status official.

The worst part about this move had to be the realization that I left my silverware at the old apartment. Other than the fact that I look like a walrus eating frosted flakes with a spatula, I just had a really nice set. I went to three different Targets and one adult store (hey, you never know, penis shaped spoons could be the new "in") until I found the set I wanted. It had just the right combination of size, detail, and good ol' fashion Chinese slave labor put into it. Seriously though, I loved that set. Sometimes I would just sit at my dining table and re-create the scene from Hook where Robin Williams and the lost boys are imagining food on their forks and then have a giant food fight. Of course I didn't have a food fight though, my silverware was too nice. That and the fact that grocery prices now are so high that it looks like that guy that gave Jack those beans for the cow really fucked Jack in the ass with that deal.

On a side note, in order to help my dog with the trauma of moving into a new house, I decided to have him groomed and pampered. I don't know the area very well so my mom scheduled him for an appointment at "Furry Friends" resort and spa. I drove past it on my way there because the sign said Furry Friends but I could have sworn that place was actually an old gas station. So I called my mom and she said that was the place, followed by "you will think it is cool." Upon walking in I realized that it was not cool. In fact I got back in my car, went to Barnes and Noble, bought a dictionary, opened it and crossed out the word "cool" and then proceeded to point at a word randomly to describe this place with 100% certainty that as long as "cool" wasn't a possibility we would be on the right track. Therefore Furry Friends is "revolving," as in "As long as the earth is REVOLVING around the sun Furry Friends will never be cool."

The place smelled of cat piss and had boards over broken windows where dogs (and some people) had tried to escape. The car garage was split into three sections by a fence where they just separated dogs, cats, and mutant mechanics that can't leave the place until their souls are at peace. I sit and wait and listen to this lady talk on the phone about how not busy they are and how she will go home early today and then she turns to me and tells me to pick up my dog in SIX hours because they are busy. Apparently she forgot to put up her forcefield when she was having that phone conversation two seconds earlier. Needless to say I felt as if I just locked my dog in the kitchen at a Chinese Buffet. Luckily he emerged 6 hours later with nails that looked like they had been bitten off (probably by the mutant mechanics) and a coat that looked like they put him on a red wagon and wheeled him back and forth through a sprinkler. Hell, I could have done that myself. Well... maybe not. My sprinklers seem to be broken at the moment, at least the ones in the backyard. Hmmmm....
(click image for larger, more ugly version)

I think I can, I think I can, I think...ah fuck it.

2007-07-27T22:19:00.001-07:00

I'm going on only a few hours of sleep. I really don't want to be writing anything on here but I'm afraid that if I don't it may be a day or two till I can again and I know some of you worship my blog. Don't want anyone goin all "Chris Benoit" over me and shit.

Tomorrow I finish moving into my new house and get everything set up. Needless to say I haven't been this excited since I finally was able to get the tip of my own penis in my mouth. There is so much work to do and so little time though. Tomorrow I am going to contact the cable and Internet people to come hook it up. So by the time that is done Im sure everyone will have processors built into their fucking faces and the entire Internet will be implanted in our ear. I went online to get signed up today and they said they didn't have any available appointments in the near future so they would call me and send me an email confirmation. Well... one problem dipshits.
Im trying to set up a phone service and the internet. How do I get a call or an email? Might as well just send me smoke signals or a carrier pigeon. Ill tell you what Ill do, and everyone should keep this in mind. If you are calling a company about a problem (bank, credit card, shopping, etc) simply hit all the options that you are a new customer or activating some account or something because then you get talked to faster. They dont make money off of your problems. When I call the bank I hit that I am calling to activate my credit card and then when they ask I just tell them my problem, which is always that I am poor and need that overdraft fee to buy my AIDS medication or I die. They dont know I dont have AIDS. So, if I want my cable installed Im just going to call and tell them that I want the biggest and best package with everything. When they arrive to install the next day I tell them that there was a mistake and I want whatever station Young and the Restless is on, the ability to download porn, and a phone line to call the ambulance if putting my penis in my mouth ever leaves me paralyzed. Problem solved.

Now onto my next problem. Money. God it would be so much easier if I were a girl and able to sell my body. I'd never work again. Id have a credit card machine strapped to my back and just check my bank account on my laptop as I got hammered from behind. Now I am just poor and have 3-4 weeks till I see any money because of the way my new pay schedule falls. Ive run out of ideas on ways to make money fast after my the enquirer figured out that the pictures of the lock ness monster were just me taking pics of my penis in the bathtub. I would volunteer to sell my organs but that is out of the question considering that I pass out when I see a beetle just cause it rhymes with needle. My last option was selling my sperm but they said that they couldn't harvest sperm out of dirty socks and I get a bit gun shy in doctors offices since the last time I went to see Dr. Patel and wound up on hiddencameraanalprobes.com.

That leads me to my last problem: sex. If I want sex I either have to fork over money I dont have on a date or pull the ol' "the judge will believe me over some homeless bitch" trick. Im tired of it damnit! Stop the act women. We know you want sex just as bad as us. How do I know this? Other than the fact that every "innocent girl" I have ever been with has turned out to be freakier than a Chernobyl baby, it is a commonly known fact that every woman has a vibrator and would rather give up their first born than that vibrator. Truth be told, JFK's car turned around not because of a conspiracy to kill him; Jackie just realized that she didnt have batteries and they had to do a quick Woolworths run. See that ladies? You killed America! And freedom! And snowcones! And the XFL! Damn you!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: if you are a super hot lady, I did not mean any of that. I love women. All of them. I even have a tattoo of a uterus on my back. I also... fuck it. Can I smell you?

And again I am away from my computer so please take this picture of the entire cast of the ABC hit TV show Step By Step for all that it is worth. Thank you.

For the truly refined....

2007-07-25T14:17:00.000-07:00

I recently did a guest post over at The Daily Fuzz and you should head over there and comment on it. While you are at it comment on their entire site. Hell, write a five page thesis comparing and contrasting The Daily Fuzz with A Tale of Two Cities. I take word and pdf formats.

Coming soon...

2007-07-24T21:30:00.000-07:00

This will be comictivity.com. Fuckingkickasswebsite.net was taken. No need to change any banners or links, I will route it. But just wanted to let you know I decided to upgrade a bit. Also, this means that the site may be down for a few hours in the transition. So please dont flood me with phone calls and emails, last time I took it off line for a few hours my fans crashed cingular, yahoo, and for some reason asianvoyers.com. Weird. Indeed.

Problem fixed

2007-07-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

I had to recode the entire internet, but I managed to get the problem fixed. I also managed to see those pics that the DOD has on file of you sunbathing naked. Rawr!

The roof.The roof. The roof is on fire.

2007-07-24T16:57:00.000-07:00

I officially reached a new level of awesomeness today( I know, didn't think it possible either): I rented my own house. For those of you unfamiliar with the ladder of awesomeness (which according to the latest US census is 99% of you), renting your own house comes somewhere in between surviving a direct lightning strike and wrestling whales. It is a pretty badass house, all new inside, huge yard, great owners, and well... me inside of it, which means it could be falling apart and have "Cheerios" written on the outside and it would still be sweet. Although it is an awesome house, I have to say that had I built it then things would have been a little bit different. Hmmmmm
(dodo do do dodo do do dodo do do *hazy effect*)

As you approach my house you cant help but be struck by an erie feeling that something isn't right. Could be the fog, could be the cool air, or it could be the fucking indian burial grounds in my front yard!!!! Hell Yes! If there is one thing I know from watching movies, it is that no one fucks with houses build on ancient burial grounds. Oh, and the dirty cop always gets double crossed by some guy with a tape recorder. But that is besides the point. When looking at the garage you will see my Rolls Royce parked. Just another perk of being me. No one can touch it though because then they will find out that it is just my garage painted to look like there is a RR in there when really it is just my dented up Altima. But that is our little secret.

Now to the front door. No door handle? WTF? What is this? A little piano? Yes, yes it is. And to get inside you have to play "Pure imagination" from Willy Wonka perfectly or else a pit will open and you and the rest of the Goonies will fall into a shitload of spikes. When it is played right the door will open. Once inside you will notice you are in a bubble. Every badass house has to have a decontamination chamber. Except mine doesnt do shit except flash some green lights and blow out some steam on you. The way it really works is when I have a girl come over, once we are inside the house, I flip a switch and all hell breaks loose. Red lights everywhere, warning sirens, and a recording counting down from 10. I start to freak and make her strip naked in a panic that she has been contaminated. Then the lights go to purple, the sirens turn to "Purple Rain" and the love making begins. Either that or she has a heart attack and dies. In which case the lights turn to purple, the sirens turn to "Purple Rain" and... nevermind.

Next we walk past my talking Pee Wee Herman chair and into my bedroom. When giving people a tour Ill then open one of the doors and there will be three starving white tigers in there that lunge at us just as I close it. At which point I will looked suprised and say, "Holy Shit! There are mother fucking tigers in there! Moving on...." The next stop is my kitchen. On the outside it is your ordinary kitchen. But in the fridge is where the magic happens. If I have guy friends over Ill open the right side to show a hanging slab of raw beef and Ill cut a chunk off with a machette and eat it. They will think I am the biggest badass ever. On the left I open it in the presence of a lady friend to show them my Organic butter and Sobe's. Putty in my hands. And if I have a fat bitch over and want her to leave in the morning, I just open the bottom drawer to a collection of frozen pigs feet and baby rattles. Instant "check please. table two."

In the back room I will have one of those state of the art DLP projectors. Not because I like to watch movies, but because I have always wanted to recreate the book of Genesis using shadow puppets. My right hand wil be Eve, my left Adam, and my penis the serpent that tries to tempt Eve with one of my testicles. Speaking of serpents... on to the back yard, my feature attraction. In my back yard I will have a full scale replica of the Raptor paddock in Jurassic Park. Ill even hire some Australian to just poke his head up from the bushes ever 10 seconds and go "Clever girl." Except obviously there are some geologic time constraints that prevent me from having real raptors. Therefore I have a solution. I replace them with the Zimbabwe Olympic relay team. Equally as primative, equally as fast, and equally as hungry. Ill toss them a goat every once and a while. Who needs Playstations and slinkys and shit with entertainment like that.

Again, I still dont have my home computer, therefore I constructed my house using Paint. Which in actuallity may have been harder than if I had just built it and then took a picture. Click it for larger version. Enjoy!

Sonofamabitch

2007-07-24T16:54:00.000-07:00

The site seems to have caught a cold and is looking all fucked up. I told it never to sleep with that chick workin the counter at Asian Chao, but apparently it doesn't listen very well. No sir. Not well at all.

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music. No, their really alive! Run! Their eating everyone! Ahhhhhh!

2007-07-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

I'm going to combine a few of my own ideas here in this blog. Some may have been done before, some may not have been. And to the ones that have, go ahead and sue me... I have 10.00 to my name and a scratch off for a free ticket so a police car ride would be viewed as free public transportation to me.

Well, as it so happens I saw this girl in walmart and she was smoking hot, or at least I think she was. Its difficult to tell when you are in walmart. Having all your teeth in Walmart qualifies you to model their spring catalog. Anyways, so as she passes I hear the music in the store play "Dreamweaver" by Gary Wright and I was instantly reminded of the scene in Wayne's World. Thus was born the idea for this blog. These are the songs that impacted my life and what they mean to me:

Bush- "Machine Head": This was the first song I was truly addicted too. I wore this out like an elephant fucking a gerbil. I was 12 at the time and thought I was so badass with my walkman CD player and this CD. Little did I know that any chance of being badass goes out the window when you part your hair on the side of your head an inch above your ear while wearing a ninja turtle shirt and nike swim trunks that could pass for soccer shorts with the built in mesh just so I never had to worry about underwear. None of my other friends liked this kind of music, so when they saw me headbanging and asked what I was doing I would reply, "Machine head." This led to rumors that I was a cyborg and the fact that I was 6'1" when I was 12 didn't help.

Master P- "Goodbye to my Homies"- First rap song I ever liked. This led to a life of Gucci jeans, platinum chains, and fat ass bootys. Except replace that with whatever was on sale at Marshalls, mardi gras beads, and giving my mom rides to work. I began to live a semi ghetto life. I worked in an ice cream place for 3 years, and by worked I mean I ate their profits. I saved up my money doing that and had my Buick Lesabre painted with blue glitter, put subwoofers in the trunk, and slapped on some shinny target hubcaps. Only one problem remained: I was so white that Dumbledore would think I stole his invisibility cloak. No matter how hard I tried, my street cred remained lower than one of the Golden Girl's tits. It was still a valiant effort though, and its all thanks to Master P.

Tim McGraw- "Don't Take the Girl": Ok ok ok, I know the damn girl dies, but every time I hear this song I cry like a little bitch. I know that 99% of country music is supposed to illicit some sort of emotions, with me it is mainly nausea, but this song just over does it. One second your happier than a down syndrome kid running naked through sprinklers, the next second it is like you are watching Passion of the Christ all over again. I congratulate you Mr. Mcgraw for doing what only a pair of tweezers and a ignorance to the fact that hair was natural "down there" had been able to do in the past. I only wish I had your powers. I would use them whittle away at the female population and then skate on their tears right back to my place. Schaaaaa-wing.

Now here is where you come in. Why not tell me about a song that impacted a time in your life and why. Sound like a plan? Good. Because I just played Don't Take the Girl and now I cant see shit ohn te compuatur svreen.

I'm away from my home computer for a photoshop but I did manage to find a picture of me when I was 8. This was after a day at the beach, so I'm a little more tan than usual.
'

95% inspiration, 10% something with ation.

2007-07-20T21:42:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought nothing eventful would happen today, karma pulls through. I met a really wasted and weird lady that was hitting on me left and right, so at least she had some good taste. Being the gentleman that I am, I flowed with her conversation to find out that she was in actuality a millionaire wall street investor that manages over 2 billion in trust fund accounts and has three masters degrees. If that didn't get my penis hard faster than exposing it on Pluto, I dont know what will. Immediately I knew that I wanted to be like her. I also knew that there was no way in hell I was paying for her drinks considering the fact that she was a millionaire and I spent 3 hours that afternoon blow drying my pants after wading through the mall fountain for gas money. That just goes to show you though, never judge a book by its cover. The last time I did, I thought some Mexican was just some dirty illegal. We ended up striking up a conversation over some Cognac about music and technology and I found out he was rather smart, educated, and well-mannered. I'm just fucking with you. He stole my Ipod.

In other news, a number have people have grown to like and comment on my blog. And to those people, when I integrate my plan to dominate the world through strategic subliminal messages in everyone's Alpha Bits , your death will be quick and painless. However, one such ~~victim~~ blogger has inspired me with her latest post on the New Jersey Turnpike over at her blog Momma Mia Mea Culpa which I'm pretty sure translates from either Hebrew to say "Hot chick that plays chess" or Latin for "Mom that beats orphans." Ill go with the Hebrew for the sake of this family friendly post. So Meleah, here is what you inspired.

Dearest Sun Maid Evil-Doer,

Why must you fuck with my grapes? Are you Muslim? Are your raisins an attack on our country? You take my sweet teste-shaped goodness and morph it into a sad excuse for a snack. Not only that but then you proceed to invade up my oatmeal cookies, taint my trail mix, and trick me into throwing out perfectly good fruit salad by thinking the roaches were back. You then taunt me with your hotness and unwillingness to undress. I know it is at least 90 degrees out in that grape field so is it entirely necessary to continue to dress as though the redcoats are coming? Another thing, it seems as though you are not getting enough sleep at night because you always seem to miss that one raisin with the stem that damn near chokes me to death every time. It also seems to me that there is not really a place for raisins in society and I would like to ask you to leave. We have grapes, and we have grape juice, so there is no need for raisins. I cannot recall the last time I had ate a sun dried shriveled up orange that wasn't followed by, "No fucking way dude! Here's that 10 bucks. I still can't believe you ate that." Therefore, I have enclosed 100.00 in Coca Cola stock and ask that you consider retiring. However, I am almost positive that you will never receive this. Why? Not because I don't want to mail it to you. I actually just plan on putting this on one of those planes with the banners behind it and crash it into your factory. See you in hell where there will be plenty of heat to dry out my grapes and plenty of fire for me to burn off your clothes. Thank you.

Devin

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Innnnnn

2007-07-19T21:25:00.000-07:00

Working as a front desk clerk at a four diamond hotel, I typically cannot discuss the clientel that we deal with. However, since today we had the entire party from the Kyle Petty charity motorcycle ride and it was all over TV, then I feel that I can discuss what is already known. So, I got to talk to Nikki Taylor (supermodel), Kyle Petty (race car driver), Herschel Walker (number 3 NFL running back of all-time), Brian France (CEO of NASCAR), Dan Cathy (CEO of Chic-fil-a) and a few other celebs but those were the better ones. Well, as most of you may know I am an avid NASCAR fan, and by avid I mean I have a Keebler Elf shirt with the word Nabisco on it that if you look at it really fast and turn away you would think to yourself, "Did that say Nabisco? No, that guy is way too cool to wear that. Must have said Nascar. Yeah, must have." So that said, I simply sat behind the front desk and fantasized about me and Nikki Taylor making homeade porn that guest starred Herschel Walker called "A hot as fuck model, a famous running back, and some chick named Nikki Taylor."

With Nikki Taylor being there it was hard to focus on my daily tasks such as checking my email, watching the chicks on the pool security cameras, and checking my email. Although I did manage. While passing time I decided that life was too short to just sit back and let some supermodel walk in front of me without saying anything. I also decided that French cut are way better than regular green beans, but that's neither here nor there. So I devised some plans. 1) I tell her that we rented her room out to African kids with AIDS as their last dying wish and the only place left to stay is my place. I phone the dog and he gets out the martini glasses and we kick back and watch reruns of Green Acres on TV Land until she falls asleep in my arms. I kiss her on the forehead and then take pictures of me over her wearing a pair of those glasses with the eyes on them and my penis on her chin. 2) She calls down for a wake up call and in the morning I show up and tell her the phones were dead. Then bam! I kick the door in, ironically there is a tea cart trailing behind me full of crumpets and buttered toast with two terry cloth robes and Earth, Wind and Fire on my Bose CD player. I pull out a goose feather pillow just in time to place it underneath her to catch her as she swoons. Then I do the thing with the glasses and my penis. 3) she comes down stairs to get some coffee. I happen to be behind the cafe counter and give her the old "Mexican coffee bean" switch and she is passed out with me in a maid closet in no time. Still penis, still glasses.
Then my moment of truth finally came and she walked past. I decided to go for it and it went something like this (fellas, take notes):
Nikki: "Hello"
Me: (its around 7pm) "Mornin'" (shit.)
Nikki: "he he"

So after accomplishing that task with the grace of three legged giraffe, I was out now to impress Mr. Walker next. I figured the only way to impress a running back is to be a better running back. So I decided to check him in, lightning bolt around him with a whole bunch of papers flying all over and him saying "what the hell was that?" and beat him up the stairs as he took the elevator, then amaze him by standing at his door holding it open without even breaking a sweat. Well that plan was scrapped the minute someone said "fun" and I thought they said "run" and I started to sweat more than OJ Simpson at an NRA conference. So what was the only other way I could get a prominent black athlete to notice me? Well the costume store was out of Oprah masks and there isn't a Popeyes for miles so I decided to stick with what I knew....
Walker: "You know how to get to the bar?"
Me: "yes"
(cue awkward silence, followed my me fearing for my life)

Well it seems that the celebrity world just isn't ready for my wit and charm. I did however manage to talk to the CEO of Chick-fil-a and express my interest in opening a franchise. He seemed receptive and then gave me a signed copy of his book on successful business strategies. Things kinda went downhill though when I told him the only book I have is a Bible used to prop up my bed because of allergies and asked if he had it on tape. Oh well, better luck next time.

Harry Potter + IMAX= Festivus miracle.

2007-07-17T20:03:00.000-07:00

I was able to find time to see the new Harry Potter movie in IMAX today when my lunch date canceled on me, and by canceled I mean she never came out to check her mail so I could nab her ass and feed her animal crackers in the back of my van. I got to the IMAX theater expecting it to be the 7.00 price of the usual IMAX movie, except they bitch slapped me with a 13.50 ticket price because it is Potter. For 13.50 I was expecting either Hermione to get naked or to see someone catch on fire and fall down the rows of heavily inclined seats. Sadly, I wound up with a 2 year old behind me that was scared that the fold down seat was going to eat him, and yet for some reason they took him to see a movie about witches and dark lords. I was in luck though and he only whined the first 10 minutes until I gave him that box of Mike and Ikes (aka, food colored xanax).

So how was the movie? Well, in all honesty. It was fucking amazing. I could have walked out of the theater and seen a polar bear wearing roller skates and doing math equations, and I would have stopped him just to tell him how amazing Potter was. The series, like my sexual skills, just seems to get better and better. By the last film I'm expecting the series to be directed by Spielberg, produced by Lucas, and guest starring Sean Connery as some Scottish wizard that bangs the hot teenage wizard graduating from Hogwarts played by Jessica Biel . The only thing that could have made this movie better? Potter turns 21, gets drunk and sets out with Ron, now played by Orlando Bloom, and Hermione, now played by Kiera Knightly, on a ship to find Voltemort who is disguising himself as a sea monster on the other side of the world. Wait. That's Pirates of the Caribbean. OK, I give up. It couldn't have gotten any better.

So I go home after the movie, walk in the door and get on my computer to look for nip slip pics of Hermoine on google, and manage to come across the "leaked" copy of the last Potter book. Since I never open a book unless there is a chance that I will find a certain man named Waldo hiding inside, and I trust Hollywood to completely murder the book when they make it into a movie, I download it and decide to read the last few chapters. Now I don't want to spoil it for the millions of you waiting until the 21st to get your copy so I wont.
POTTER DIES! POTTER DIES! POTTER DIES!
Just fucking with you. Of course the boy wizard survives. JK Rowling has to cover her ass in case she gets a divorce and her husband takes half of everything she has and then she blows the rest buying me expensive shit and trying to coerce me to move to the UK. She'll just pop out another book and make us all wish we had wrote down the shit we thought about when we were high and bagging groceries at Food Lion. There are a lot of spoilers I could give away but I really don't want to piss anyone off. But for the sake of this blog I have to discuss one small instance which really isn't much of a spoiler so just skip to the end and shower me with praises if you are a die-hard Potter fan.

So I read in the last chapter that Hermione marrys Ron Weasley. What the hell is that about? I mean I guess the guys at Hogwarts aren't anything to look at but that is just because British people in general are ugly, especially the witches. Hitler in actuality didn't hate the British until they started to rival Germany as the ugliest country so he was forced to bomb them. Couldn't Rowling have introduced some American guy that bangs her with her own wand after too many Crown and Cokes at Hogwart's Spring Break 2011? Clearly she wrote this book before they made the movies and casted "Paper Sack McGee" as Ron. This guy could fall head first into lava and his hair would look the same, not to mention that his real name is Rupert Grint. Who are his parents, Cruella De Vil and Dr. Seuss? If my new neighbor came over to my house and introduced himself as someone named Rupert I would build a moat of Holy water around my house, replace my door with hanging strands of garlic, and hire some sweaty Mexican to read scripture on my roof.

Now, comment or I will be forced to come over to your house and put a really heavy load in your washer, all on one side, and with one red rag that will make your entire wardrobe instantly gay.

I wanna ROCK!!! Seriously, I collect geodes. Shinny ones. Got any?

2007-07-16T18:34:00.000-07:00

Not wanting to be the unproductive type I decided that I would venture around town this evening and check out all that my town has to offer. The sights, the sounds, the people, the... sounds. Fifteen minutes later I found myself seriously considering moving and standing at the entrance of Walmart. Typical. So I decided to go on a store tour.

First stop: Target. I love Target. What guy doesn't? So many hot chicks wander around Target and half of them work there. The best part is that if you are a poor son of a bitch like me and you cant impress the rich MILFs shopping there, you can at least go for the hot chick folding panties making minimum wage. The best part of Target has to be their products though. It is the only place in the world that I can buy a bunch of girly fashionable shit and just look like I'm high class. If I were to purchase half of the crap in Target that I do in Walmart, I'm pretty sure Kool and the Gang will be waiting by my car to tar me and cover me with the pink feathers from my Todd Oldham pillows.
What I picked up: Caramel coffee coolers, apricot scrub, and the Jurassic Park trilogy (to even out the gayness).

Second stop: Walmart. Walking in Walmart after coming from Target is similar to getting hit over the head with a hammer while playing Cowboys and Indians and awaking to find yourself holding a BB gun in Iraq. Luckily I have a really cool Walmart that just underwent major renovations so everything is new and really clean. Minus the people, employees, products, parking lot, and air. But damn those floors shine! They could pave the floors with gold, paint the ceiling with rubies, and make Cleopatra the greeter and that still wouldn't change the fact that I now have to search 2 hours for a parking spot, 1 hour for what I want, 2 hours to find help to see if they have any in stock, 3 hours to wait for them to get back, 2 hours ducking in and out of isles to avoid psycho ex girlfriends, and then 8 hours to check myself out and bag my own shit. I went to Walmart to get the new Linkin Park CD and by the time I checked out they released 4 new albums, 2 solo projects, a greatest hits, and 2 unauthorized instrumentals.
What I picked up: AIDS and solid parenting advice.

Third stop: Barnes and Noble. The only place in the world where I can pick up a book on photography just to look at the nudes and be called "artistically refined." Also one of the few places that you can grab a frappuccino, which is God's gift to man... right behind me. I was sort of the Christmas gift, frappuccinos were more like the "glad you're ok, hope that shit's not contagious" gift. Seriously though, if I had a billion dollars and could save all of Africa from starvation, I would probably say fuck 'em and invest in building one of those beer keg hats except this would have a blender on it with two tubes running to my mouth. One that pumped fraps, and the other that pumped the perfect amount of whip cream. Besides, without starving Africans there would be no Discovery channel documentaries with boobage on cable TV. Boobage and fraps... who needs seven wonders when two can do the job so well?
What I picked up: a hard-on and a book about dogs where you can pull tabs and their tails wag.

Last stop: Staples. This was a random stop but I decided that if my phone ever broke, I would not be able to take down the scores of numbers women throw at me unless I was prepared with a pocket notebook and pen. Actually, I just keep forgetting to get toilet paper and figured I needed something to write down shopping lists because I was getting tired of having to take a shower every time I took a shit. Simple right? One pen, and one notepad. Not exactly. Turns out that if terrorists kidnapped my parents and were going to kill one of them I would have an easier time choosing which one than I would picking out a pen and pad of paper. I did have a little help in making my decision. The simple fact that two pens were 8.00 pretty much pushed me in the other direction faster than seeing a stray pit bull at a bar-b-que. Now, I may not be hip with the times, but didn't Ben Franklin get along just fine plucking feathers from turkeys and squeezing dye from berries? What makes these pens so special? If George Bush wrote a speech using a Bic he would sound like no more of a dumb fuck than if he used a Uniball. No wonder my mom always used to jot shit down with her lipstick. I decided to bypass the pens and just invest in a pocket knife and jot everything down in blood. The only problem is that I did a rough draft of this before I typed it and now I'm feeling a bit...feeling a bit...feeling a buhddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
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THS- At World's End

2007-07-12T16:12:00.000-07:00

Our story left off with Devin fighting for his freedom against charges that he had kidnapped a 15 year old girl. Being the heroic and dignified type, Devin did the only logical thing he could think of: fall limp and lie on the floor in his own tears while singing "Guilty Until Proven Innocent" by R. Kelly as the cops dragged him to the car. Luckily he was cleared of the charges when the girl returned to the hotel room and cleared him. Which was a good thing because Devin has a severe allergic reaction to penis in his ass that is medically known as "rectumrageitus." Common symptoms include crying like a baby, pretending your dad is a lawyer, and heartburn.

Sophomore year of college was more of the same. Drunken parties, mad orgies, and slot machines. All of these were nothing that Devin encountered. Instead, he discovered that if you were to tap the fire button slower when playing Diablo II that the bow and arrow shots would be more accurate. Devin's life was about as dull as the blade of a saw used to torture Christopher Reeves. There were however a few highlights in the remainder of his college career:

First, his drunken roommate came in at 3am in the morning and claimed to have been in a car wreck. He said that he was fine but when he turned around he had massive shards of glass sticking out of his head. Being the entrepreneur that he was, Devin kept his mouth shut and attempted to sell his roommates Surfboard on craigslist as his roommate slipped into the soon to be blood soaked sheets for the evening. Sadly, his roommate awoke in the morning, and even more sadly, he noticed that an old refrigerator door with a Nirvana sticker on it did not carry well on the waves.

Second, Devin was blessed to have an incredibly cool suitemate that always let him ~~steal~~ borrow his car. Sometimes they would have wrestling matches in the room and sabotage eachothers things. One night however his suitemate decided that to win the wrestling match he would attempt to remove Devin's pants. This was about as uncool as leaving the box of cereal in the cupboard with less than half a bowl in it. Instantly the queer rumors swirled and Devin was forced to start using a rag in the shower instead of bare baring it.

The remainder of Devin's college career was about as unproductive as Nicole Richie's bra. Other than the classroom stuff, Devin only learned that pee will shoot right through the space between the bowl and the seat when you are taking a crap with a hard-on so it is best to take off your pants all together than just try and clean up afterwards. Relationships were hard to come by. When he finally did find a long lasting one it ended (and I swear to God this is true) with her attempting to slit his throat with a broken mirror shard and trying to run him over with her car because Devin had emailed a friend about an assignment that so happened to be a girl. Although this was a painful experience he was at least relieved that she never found out about the hot Asian chick that gave him the oral-ental experience. Otherwise he may be typing this through a series of breaths through a tube running to his keyboard while having applesauce pumped into his penis. It was at that point that Devin had learned two important lessons:
1. Before getting a girlfriend you should get a job at the Kmart phone complaint center and burn all your money. If you are happy then go for it.
2. Never burn bridges with bi-sexually curious suitemates. You might need the companionship later.

Today Devin leads a life of content. He takes his dog to the park, watches porn at will, and dares to eat two or more starches with every meal. He spends money only on himself and only has to worry about toilet paper, food, and doing laundry to clean out the "stiff" socks laying around the computer. Some call that sad, but Devin calls it... well... yeah sad works. Shit. Know any single hot chicks that like porn and ice cream sandwiches?

Intermission. Go grab some Sour Patch Kids and call your other girlfriend.

2007-07-06T19:23:00.000-07:00

Sorry to disappoint, but I decided that my experience last night was much too interesting to just put on a shelf next to my Charles in Charge DVD's. Therefore, I will write about it now and you will get the last part of my THS in the next post. I'm sure the suspense will be as thick as the hair gel at a Rodriguez family reunion.

So what could be so interesting as to take the place of my final THS segment? Two words: club night. Me and 4 of my guy friends decided that we had enough with staring at a computer screen and masturbating to girls we could never have. Instead we would go to a club and stare and masturbate to girls we could never have. Excellent plan. Except for the fact that when we got there it looked like a scheduling conflict between the Mary Kate and Ashley fan club convention and the filming of an episode of In Living Color. There were a few promising women there, so as usual I did my rounds. And by my rounds I mean I sat in the corner with my hands in my pockets and pondered whether Hermione will be a successful actress after Harry Potter or if I should stick to the chick from Hannah Montana. So after 3 hours of sweating and doing most of my dancing by pulling Matrix moves trying to avoid lit cigarettes, we finally left and I finally settled on Jojo. After the club let out and we managed to spend 2 hours in the parking lot trying to spy on girls peeing behind their cars, then we finally decided to head home and get some good shut eye.

Fuck that. We were going to get something to eat and our choices were Steak and Shake or Denny's. So we chose Denny's because at least the waitresses there know they are pieces of shit. Steak and Shake girls still have dreams and aspirations. Wouldn't want to rain on anyone's parade. Plus, Denny's naturally seemed like the logical best solution for a place to go since every previous time I have went to Denny's it always ended with me saying, "If their eggs cured cancer and I had a tumor the size of shaqs nutts on my face, I would paint a smiley face on it and give it one of those tags that say Hello, My name is Melvin." In fact, its a little known secret that Denny's spelled backwards is "synned" which in Hebrew means "house of a thousand STD's."

Not one to disappoint, walking into Denny's I immediately noticed that the place looked as though someone let loose a ferret with a cupcake strapped to its back in a fat girl convention. We calmly waited to be seated, not that we had to, but in actuality there were 15 open tables and none of them clean. It was at that moment that I saw the most horrific sight since I mistyped www.harcorefishing.com in the address bar. She goes by "manager" but I prefer Son of Sasquatch. Out from the ~~woods~~ hostess stand, came the hairiest beast of a woman known to man. Her name was Jen, which was apparently short for Estro-jen which this lady must have had sweating out her anus. She had hair on her arms, legs, forehead, chin, and I'm pretty sure her teeth. She had more hair in her unibrow than I had in my drain after shaving my ass for The Fast and the Fetish 6: Tokyo Rim Job.

Finally we got a seat and thought that as long as we were at least 10 feet from her chin hairs, then nothing bad could happen but alas, Denny's pulled through. I ordered a Sprite and got it in a ice cream cup. She claimed that she was out of styrofoam cups and the dishwasher (not the person, the machine) was, I kid you not, "resting." Unfuckingbelievable. It gets better. Once my drink was done she brings me out another Sprite in a styrofoam cup. Now, I'm no Mr. Magoo, but I'm pretty sure I didn't observe a delivery truck pulling up with cups at 4am. So either she recycled this from another table or Smokey the Bear pulled one out of her chest hair. I would rather drink from the really shitty goblet in Indian Jones and the Last Crusade than this myserio-cup. I was lucky that all Denny's are 10 below zero so I just sipped the condensation dripping from my fingernails and managed.

I would love to describe the grand slam that I had but unfortunately there are no humorous anecdotes that could possibly be thrown in when talking about eggs that looked like scrambled panda fetus. So I paid my bill, and left with such frustration that I walked 10 miles and punched everyone named Denny I saw in the face figuring I had a 1 in 1,000,000 chance of it actually being him and those odds were just within reach. However, considering that the last time a Denny existed was when RC Cola turned a profit, I just beat up a Lenny instead. Close enough. Thus ended my night. So, who's up for goin' out tomorrow night?

THS Part II (The fall of Man)

2007-07-03T11:37:00.000-07:00

Our story left off with Devin being given a fork in the road, not knowing where life would lead him, just knowing that when he got there that he would have supermodels and tons of string cheese. High school was harder for Devin than putting together a jigsaw picture puzzle of the Olsen twins. Not only was he battling tough Asian teachers that only knew how to say equations and all 77 colors of Revlon nail polish, but he was also stuck battling the school administrators. Before basketball practice one day Devin went to the bathroom and discovered that his girlfriend was choking in one of the stalls. So he decided to help her, but the only thing long enough to unlodge the food she was choking on was his penis. Needless to say she was so thankful that she bragged of his heroism throughout the school, eventually making its way to the principal. Devin, being the strong, patriotic American that he is did the only sensible thing: deny everything (not wanting the title of hero of course), call her a crazy bitch and withdraw immediately to go to a private school.

At this private school he met the love of his life, the checkers big buford cheeseburger. Then he met some chick. And by some chick he means the only girl that was willing to take second best once all the other basketball players had girlfriends. After two memorable years it came to a halt around the time that she decided she wanted to outshine Devin's previous heroism and perform CPR on another girl. Upside down. There was only room for one true American in that relationship. So he moved on to bigger and better things, but not before getting extremely pissed and trying to speed out of the parking lot at night at the exact time that the retarded janitor happened to be out for a stroll. The situation ended with a loud girl scream, a drool covered Spongebob shirt, and a pair of shitty Goof Troop pants. Devin quickly went home to change.

The next pit stop in life led Devin to be a gourmet supervising chef at a fine local establishment, aka he was the fry cook at Hooters. The first few months of working there were trying for Devin. He had to battle the constant sexual harassment, frequent ass taps and ball grabs, and an occasional flash of nudity in the food cooler. Once Devin finally told his manager that he wasn't gay, he was able to move on to the women of the restaurant. This was an interesting experience for Devin as he found himself having nightly unprotected sex with numerous moms, cheerleaders, and drug abusing gold digging cum dumpsters, or as Devin referred to them... girlfriends. After months of banging girls who were so lose that their implants were vaginally installed, he decided that it was time to move on to bigger (well maybe not bigger) and better things. College....

Being a single freshman guy away at college, Devin found himself being forced to ask difficult questions. Would he bang the fat chick in Biology? How much time does he have before his roommates get back and find him jerking off to episodes of The Secret Adventures of Alex Mack? Who in the hell names their kids Tiger, isn't that a fucking animal? In the midst of all of this scholarly learning, Devin received an email from an adoring fan of his, or as she referred to herself, a ninth grader at his old high school that thought he was cute. This mysterious girl apparently went to his high school 100 miles away and showed up on campus as a runaway from home to be with Devin. The stories of his massive penis and three legged dog cuteness had apparently spread around town. Considering that the only sensible conversation they had had was "Who the hell are you and how did you get my email address?" it seemed like a logical decision on her part.

Since Devin didn't want to go to jail on any charges besides raping Jessica Biel, and not to mention she was only an A cup, B at the most, then he sent her away and told her to go home. At 8 o'clock that night there was a tap at his door that would change his life forever. It was... the pizza guy. Stuffed crust pizza had a new superfan.

Oh, and then the cops came in about 15 minutes later. Apparently she had things with his name on them and he was now the prime suspect in a kidnapping. After they searched his room, luckily not finding the hoards of illegal fireworks and slaves, he was cuffed and about to be imprisoned. Suddenly all those times he refused to buy body wash because it was so much more expensive than bars and he could use the extra money to buy peppermint patties at check out flashed before his eyes. He was heading to jail.

Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion, and by exciting I mean I pretty much just watched porn and played poker on yahoo games for the next three years. But I can still make shit up. Later

Allow myself to introduce, myself.

2007-06-23T16:26:00.000-07:00

As the popularity of my blog inevitably expands in its venture to overtake Google, I sat pondering what I could possibly write about next. And then it occurred to me that while reading my blogs many of you have come to know my driving habits, sex life, and that I have no clue whether desert is the climate or the pie, but how many of you really know the true me? So this, for lack of a better term is my True Hollywood Story. Dun Dun Dun!

Devin... A name that may bring about thoughts of incredible sexiness, wealth, and more incredible sexiness. Many people however do not know that behind that snow white smile and washboard abs, lies the story of a man that struggled through a life of poverty, bad luck, and always getting the end piece when his mom made stuffed French bread. This, is the true Hollywood story of Devin.

Devin came into this world on October 11, 1984 as the son of a young struggling mother. Devin's father abandoned him in the hospital because he was ashamed that his newborn son's penis was twice the size of his. Being the son of a single mother, Devin grew up in government housing, conveniently earning the title as "that white girl' kid" and developing the belief that his name was pronounced 'De-von until he moved into a new neighborhood a few years later.

From an early age, Devin knew that life was going to be rough. At times kids would pick on him at school for being the tallest kid in the class, even opening the door to the bathroom while he was peeing forcing him to cower naked behind the toilet until the laughter got the teacher's attention in the other room. The pinnacle of hard times came when he was unable to beat Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the Nintendo because the damn van kept running him over when he went from sewer to sewer. It was at this point in life that Devin realized that in order to be successful he was going to have to rely on his amazingly good looks and Asperger's-like intelligence.

When his mom married he was taken down a far different path in life than he had anticipated. Devin dealt with an abusive alcoholic dad that above all refused to allow him to heat Christmas tin popcorn on top of his baseball glove lamp or sell his parents jewelry in his fort/store. It wasn't until he walked in on his parents having sex, a day he recalls as the "a sight to fold a thousand boners", that he had finally had enough. Devin devised an ingenious plan to get rid of his dad but Mr. Hogan was busy with wrestlemania so he never wrote back. Devin waited it out.

Fast forward 3 years later to a new dad and a new start. Devin was finally given a new chance at life in a new town. What did he do with this opportunity? He played pogs on the front porch and stole the chrome caps off peoples tire valves. It wasn't until 6th grade that Devin would discover the opposite sex. Sadly though it was short lived. 7 minutes to be exact. They kind of just sat on the bed until they were let out of the room, but Devin remained sitting on the bed because he was embarrassed to stand up. Another sign of a cursed life similar to that of a guy that wipes his ass with authentic mummy wrapping.

Devin's life took another turn as he entered middle school and was forced to deal with the fact that cable was going digital and he would no longer see the scrambled Spice network. Times were rough and so was Devin's face. Face wash only made his face dry and peel really bad so Devin did the most logical thing he could think of, stay home and watch Star Wars and Jerry Springer as often as possible. He would soon discover that wearing dog collars and Manson shirts did not amount to a positive social life either. With his sense of style and hormones failing him he attempted to fit in by watching episodes of The Grind and listening to Eve 6 but his popularity was still comparable to that of cheese grits in New Jersey. So he did was any other person would do in the same situation, buy a giga pet.

Tune in next time for more on the man behind the muscle.

*Next post will be more THS through high school, and the post after that will be college. Highlights include being arrested for kidnapping a 15 year old girl, running over a retarded janitor, and throwing a frisbee into a fryer at Hooters. Sadly, all true.*

Let there be rock...

2007-06-20T20:22:00.000-07:00

I drove back home today across Florida, aka the diving board into hell. Now, a few of my more informed readers may be aware that the Vatican (that place where the Pope lives) has found time in between molesting little children and holding services where some irrelevant shit is mumbled into a mic, to release the 10 Commandments of Driving. Considering the fact that there is a war going on, people are being slaughtered in Darfur, and AIDS is passed around Africa like joints at a Bob Marley concert, I would say that this is the perfect time for such a list. However, I noticed a few flaws in their commandments, so I have modified them. And by modified them I mean I just came up with my own because I cant read.

I. Thou shall not drive big ass trucks- The next time I think I get the front row parking spot at Walmart and Billy Bob fag has his Ford T-1000 5 feet over the line I'm going to go inside and buy a Garth Brooks CD just so I can throw it at his face like a fucking ninja star. Also, if you have to have an extra step to get up into your truck, then you obviously have a small dick. You need to be so high up so you can stare down the chicks shirt next to you because the only titties you will ever touch are belong to the girl next door with down syndrome that hugs you when you go to the mailbox. This is fucking Florida! The only time I have ever seen the need for an off road vehicle is when I had to be pulled from that ditch when I went to take a shit in the woods and fell backwards when my left leg tightened up from cramp between my balls and asshole.

II. Thou shall not have spinning plastic hubcaps- Seriously? Does this one need explaining? Nothing says "I got that raise at Arbys" quite like spinning hubcaps. You could rip the steering wheel out of your car and run down the road pretending to drive and you wouldn't look half as retarded. If you are so thug then why is it that the only bass in your car is when you have to bang the door to try and get it to open?

III. Thou shall not play country love songs above 10% of the volume with the windows down. Cletus, Leanne Rimes is not hardcore nor does it make you look cool. The guy waving to cars on the side of the road in the Statue of Liberty foam hat is Kratos compared to you. And why is it that you are always at Winn Dixie and Walmart? Stop that shit. Bad enough I have to deal with veterans trying to sell me tootsie rolls without your ass driving around blaring the Cowboy Ugly soundtrack.

IV. Thou shall not drive with one bright headlight- This shit is more annoying than that one burnt frosted flake. Everyone thinks I have a gangster lean in my car. In actuality it is just that my spine is permanently curved from trying to dodge the bright light in the mirrors from this fag. How much can it cost to fix one fucking headlight? And you have to notice it. A surefire sign is usually when you drive 90 on the highway and can never quite manage to catch up to the traffic in front of you. Its not because you are a dick and nobody likes you, its because of your bright light, and that is why you are a dick and nobody likes you.

V. Thou shall not drive slow in the left lane- If you do this you instantly become the person that everyone wishes they could wipe their ass with your face. Anne Frank could get this asshole in front of her just as Hitler reincarnates in her back seat and she would turn to Hitler and say "Do you see this fuck in front of me? I wish he would go a bit slower, so we could get out and you could hold him down while I shit in his mouth."

VI. Thou shall not bang out past midnight- Last night when Sir Sucks-A-Lot came pulling into my neighborhood at 2am banging out, my whole family jumped from their beds like Christmas morning and we all ran out to shower him with bling and bitches. Except replace Christmas morning with grandmas funeral and bling and bitches with BB's and dog shit. No one is impressed, and if they are they are quickly unimpressed with the fact that with all that money in the sound system, you forgot to purchase a nice car to put it in. If you lose 2 pounds of rust off your trunk when you listen to "Heal the World" then I suggest you try Mona Vie as a better investment.

VII. Thou shall not put bullethole stickers on thy car- No one believes that your Mazda Miata was a getaway car unless you are being pursued by the makeover mafia. Not to mention that they look about as fake as that time I cried during the movie John Q. What? Seriously I was just bullshitting. Dude I wasn't fucking crying. Ok maybe I was, but give me a break the guy was about to die for his kid. But still, that shits looks fake.

VIII. Thou shall not drive while talking on the phone- It is impossible to fully concentrate on what the hell you are doing when you are talking about your plans for that night on the phone. 10 years ago there were no cell phones and things were just great. No obligation to talk to anyone and if someone cut you off they were simply a fucking retard, not "distracted." If you can take the phone up off your ear to throw your arms up with the "what the fuck" gesture when I honk at you and call you a flaming gypsy fuck then the call isn't that important anyways.

IX. Thou shall not be white, drive a honda, and wear a visor cap with hair gel- If you do this, you had better have a really kick ass Japanese tattoo on your arm that says "Pride." Except replace kick ass with gay and replace pride with pedophile. About the only hot chick you will pull looking like this is the one that you find in the trunk of your buddy's shot up Mazda Miata. My dyslexic neighbor pulls more ass yelling obscenities from his treehouse than you will parading back and forth in front of Best Buy.

X. Thou shall not drive with more Mexicans than seats- the more packed the shitty van, the more oily foreheads there are pressed against the windows trying to look up your girlfriends skirt. Don't they realize that the air conditioner in those vans comes with the ride? I know Mexicans are cheap but you could fry a fucking zebra with all the oil pouring out of those clown cars. They need to combine all the forehead oil from their ass tight van rides and build a fucking slip and slide right back into Mexico.

Sorry

2007-06-19T11:49:00.000-07:00

The layout is looking a bit disoriented. Apparently the servers hosting the graphics cant handle all the massive traffic that I bring. They are upgrading their servers to 12000 Terabytes. That should hold... for now.

Meanwhile you can still comment on the blogs.

There's somethin' wrong with the world today, don't know what it is...

2007-06-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

I decided to go back to visit my parents for two days while I had the time off from work and could get away from the hoards of women that are after me... or maybe just Bernice the land lady wanting her rent. Well its a three hour drive and that gave me a lot of time to ponder questions like what am I doing with my life? Where will I be living in two years? Are my windows tinted enough to yank one out?
While pondering these potentially life changing decisions I came to a few conclusions that were not so life changing.

----Women masturbating is never sexy in real life. Sure it looks great in porn but every time I have seen a girl masturbate their whole body quivers and their face usually scrunches up like that time I forgot my money on the zoo field trip and was forced to eat the deer pellets. Sure it starts off sexy with them slightly touching and tempting you but then at some point their shoulders go up into their neck and they look like Michel Jackson in the Thriller video. At this point they pretty much forget you are in the room. Suddenly a sweat starts to build up and you are left as helpless as John Amechi with a flat on MLK Blvd. Lastly they start making this weird noise and grunting the closer they get. You don't know whether to touch yourself or hand over the ring and trek back to the shire. Last time a chick masturbated in front of me I thought she had quit her job and started ringing the bells in the cathedral. The whole thing ended with me balled up in the corner rocking back and forth and shaking my head. "Mama said the rice' too hard for the chickens, mama said the rice' too hard for the chickens..."

----Baseball is the worst sport ever. Out of 180 games, almost 1000 hours of TV time, and over 30000 pitches, the only exciting thing ever to happen in baseball was when I ordered a regular hot dog and she gave me the foot long and didn't charge me extra. I could watch videos of Mexicans laying sod and be more entertained. If I wanted to watch 3 hours of no action and no scoring I would just video tape myself at night watching reruns of Mork and Mindy. Baseball is in need of saving and if there is anyone who can save the sport, I can. I think they need to change things up a bit. Start off by making the ump a really hot chick in a thong that is just so far up her ass that you cant tell if you see her asshole or it is just a little piece of thong that is teasing you with cornhole shadows. Then do away the gloves and give them all those neon velcro pads. And instead of bats they would use those plastic lightsabers that retract and expand and make a cool vrooom noise. Or we could just get rid of the bat, rip off their sleeves, put both teams near the center of the field, repaint the lines, and call it "football." And fuck them and their big salaries. They aren't any more talented than me. I use right-guard clear gel, strike out every night, and retire to my dugout to polish my bat and I don't get paid shit. Where the hell is my endorement deal fleshlight?!? Huh?!?! Fuck off.

----Florida is dull. I drove three hours and didn't see anything different from when I started. Dont live in Florida and still want the experience? Go to Toys R Us and get one of those toddler toys where the background lights up and moves and you steer the plastic car. Its exactly like that except a way shittier car. Today I noticed I pass over more hills when I run my hand down a Russian gymnast's chest than I do driving through Florida. About all we have to offer is Oranges and old people. And everyone else can have the old people. I hope global warming starts soon because maybe then these old hags will stop polluting my beaches with 5 inch long gray nipple hairs and visor caps so huge they are leased by dish network in the Winter. Also, the traffic is getting fucking horrible here. I think some of the old people get confused and think that the term horsepower actually is in reference to their car being pulled by horses. I try to stay about 20 feet away from old people driving because I fear that they may sneeze and actually go backwards. The only basic upside to living in Florida is that we are not West Virginia. I went their once and vow to never go back. Well, truthfully I never really entered the state. I actually was just on my sisters bike and pinched my nutsack between my thigh and the bar when I tried to lean over and pick up a penny. I'm pretty sure that is what West Virginia is like.

Since I am away from my photoshop I will leave you with the awesome Indian version of Thriller. Note the keen neck movements in the opening of the dance. Almost like watching a really hot chick get off. Except not.

I vote Jeffersonian

2007-06-12T18:55:00.000-07:00

I, like the rest of the world, have witnessed the deteoration of moden America over the last seven years and I have laid awake countless nights in bed wondering just why this has came about. How could we be paying 3.00 for gas? How could so many troops have died in Iraq? How could Rubben Studdard have beaten out Clay Aiken? Well let me tell you the answer....

First off, is George Bush responsible? If everyone took time out from watching So You Think You Can Dance to dwell on this we would all agree... no. There are hundreds of advisors, senators, congressmen, sesame street characters, and CIA and FBI employees that are behind every decision that George Bush has announced. As convenient as it would be to have one person to blame, that is not the truth. He is targeted because he is the dumbest thing to hit America since the XFL. It is so easy to push shit off on him and then tell his ass what to do because he doesnt understand shit. George is like the guy at the back of the cashier line at Walmart when the lane is closing. He is instructed to tell everyone that the lane is closed and everytime he does it usually ends with, "Are you serious? Fuck you dude. I gotta wait in that long ass line over there? Fuck that shit, Im staying here. Fuck you." At which point the cashier gets pissed at him because he didnt do what he was told and proceeds to complain about how she is going to miss her court date now she has to stay longer. Then she proceeds with packing his bread with the cans of tuna.

So where does the problem lie if its not the President? Let me put it this way: In the beginning there was McDonalds. It was fucking amazing. Then came Burger King. It was the fucking shit too. Then came Taco Bell. Finally everyone realized that in actuality both Burger King and McDonalds were shittier than a retards pants at a fireworks show and were way overpriced. Thus was born the choice. Right now America is stuck with either the shitty and overpriced Big Mac or the unhealthy and shit-inducing Whopper with cheese. So where is the Taco Bell? There isnt one. America is more fucked than a Puerto Rican cheerleader at a Florida A&M football game. This next election we are stuck voting for either pompous asshole #1 or ignorant fuck #2. Its like asking if you would rather bunk with Charles Manson or John Gacy at summer camp. There is no other choice because we are led to believe that there is no other choice. You see, the media has an enormous stronghold on the public not seen since that black lady forced Winn-Dixie to redeem all those expired coupons. Cnn is liberal, Fox News is marxist. So if you watch the news and see anything about the war you are either convinced that we should trade in our guns for apples and give them all to teachers or we should trade in our guns for bigger guns and start targeting anyone that looks like Morgan Freeman. Third parties arent invited to debates because the first and second party's networks sponsor them, and third parties dont get conventions because republicans and democrats own the arenas they are held in. The media has made politics as tight as a Jewish banker at a Hard Rock Casino. Therefore Republicans have came to stand simply for what Democrats are against and visa versa.

Let me tell you a little known secret. Bread was mass produced way before hot dogs. Democrats were in office when buns hit the shelves, Republicans at the time of hot dogs introduction. That is why you wind up with two hot dogs that are always served in shitty pieces of dry sliced bread that always sticks to the roof of your mouth, instead of on buns. The Republicans wanted to fuck over the Democrats and make them look like idiots for only including 8 buns instead of the 10 needed to eat all the weiners. Luckily there is a war going on and this fine invention was able to slip through the cracks:

So where was I going with all of this? I dont really know, I kind of blacked out when I started to choke on a Werthers Original. Which leads me to wonder.... why is it a Werthers Original? I have never seen any other flavors of Werthers, so what makes that flavor the original? My guess... there were many many other amazing flavors, but the media focused so much on the original that the others couldnt compete. Fuck. They are ruining everything. Pretty soon someone will tell me that they are saying its not ok to have sex with sheep and Ill be forced to choose between men or women. Heads will roll my friend. Heads will roll.

I dont need a haircut, my balls have cancer.

2007-06-10T19:53:00.000-07:00

Summer is here and you know what that means? Yeah, neither do I. All I know is that its the same fucking temperature that it was 3 months ago and a polar bear is in my backyard grilling off buffalo burgers and drinking Sam Adams. I have however been sweating my ass off lately and have considered getting my head shaved. My playmate girlfriend has begged me not to because she likes to pull my hair during our wild sexual escapades, but I think it is about time for a change, and by that I mean I cant afford shampoo. I am open to other options however, lets take a look at what I have to choose from:

1. The Bowl Cut (scientific name "bowlius dorkius"):
Its simple, its stylish, and nothing says "I know what the E in Wilde E. Coyote stands for" quite like this style.
Pros: Perfect cushioning for your Stormtrooper helmet. You can pull off some wild shenanigans by putting those glasses with eyes in them on the back of your head and walking backwards, no one will know the difference. When pogs finally make their return you will be way ahead of the game.
Cons: Getting carded buying scratch offs till your 40. Your penis will remain untouched until you make enough money on your technology blog to move 5 states over and finally meet up with dragonflygrl69.
Habitat: Commonly found wandering the isles of Payless looking for that last pair of Navy Blue velcros.

2. The Mullet (scientific name "acheius brakius heartius")
The age old mullet has gone from trend, to joke, to cult favorite. Many think that Billy Ray Cirus was the originator of the mullet, however, that is not true. I have done some research of my own, and by research I mean I came up with three theories while reading mad magazine and taking a shit and picked one out of a hat, and by picked out of a hat I mean two fell in the bowl when I sneezed thus was born a winner. The truth: The mullet can actually be dated to the time of Christ. The crown of thorns was home to several ticks and mites before it was applied and thus Jesus caught a terrible infection that caused all the hair above the thorns to fall out. Turns out mullet is hebrew for "scalp plague." Who knew?
Pros: Grow it long enough and forgetting toilet paper is no longer a problem. Just wipe and wash. Suave soft. Instant access to any bar, saloon, and frat party and free beers as long as you do that thing that bugs bunny does where he ties his ears under his chin and looks up with his puppy eyes.
Cons: Commonly mistaken from the back for a really hot blonde chick that they want to have sex with by a guy that all of his friends wont let that shit fucking go and if they say one more word about it Ill fucking kill all of them and hide their bodies in my dishwasher. A hem. Sorry.
Cool Trick: With a mullet you no longer have to worry about that Halloween costume. Simply dye your hair blue and wrap it around your head with a bow in the front. Take off your shirt, write some shit on your chest, and Wah la!!! You have an instant tupac costume.

3. The Pony Tail (scientific name "hairus infestus")
Some believe that having a pony tail and being a guy means that you are smarter than everyone else and are way more sophisticated. Truth of the matter is that you don't have time for a barber as you strive to reach a level 80 Orc on Warcraft. To people with pony tails, there is no other lifestyle. The tail embodies their entire intelligence and without it they would just be another autograph seeking ebayer at comic-con. To these people, the only time that it will ever get cut or trimmed is when a few strands catch fire as they peer in to make sure their toaster strudel isn't burning.
Pros: The ability to hide magic the gathering cards in their hair for easy cheating. An uncanny ability to be perceived as the smartest person in the room. If a team of engineers are working on a cure for AIDS and the only guy with the pony tail suggests Kool-Aid, the FDA will have a pack of Great-Bluedini waiting on their desk the next morning.
Cons: A kryptonite-like weakness to humidity. Also known to have bad rash outbreaks when listening to any music besides The Grateful Dead and Phish.
Common Illness: Many ponytarians have an illness commonly referred to as "Elven Bloomitis." Common symptoms include letting strands of hair loose in the front and a misconception that they look like this:

4. The Dump Cut (scientific name "chopus chocolatus")
Is it pure genius or pure stupidity? Its pure genius only if the guy that cut the hair told him that he was getting a Nike check and this fag has no clue. Pure stupidity if this was a group project that came about over a game of mouse trap. The only way that I would ever get a cut like this is if I had a tattoo of the name of one of my ex's on the back of my neck.
Pros: You can become the first person in history to literally get "punched in your shit."
Cons: If this guy steps outside for even two seconds and then decides he wants it cut off, he will now have a tan line of someone shitting on his neck. That's way hotter. Also, 10 years from now he will still have that one obnoxious friend that will constantly remind him and whomever he is dating that he once has shit running down his neck.
Interesting Random Fact: I like captain crunch with crunch berries because it makes my poop purple and blue.

Leave comments if you want. Also, for the new people reading, there is some more good material lots of posts back, go comment on that too if you want.

Master and Commander

2007-06-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in my computer chair prepping my penis for its nightly one man tug of war when I realized that my evening spit shine has become very routine. In fact, so routine that in the fashion of Freud's stages of cognitive development, and my stages of being incredibly sexy, I have developed the stages of masturbation. And since the last time I touched a woman was when we both reached for the frosted flakes at the Holiday Inn Contentential breakfast, I believe that these are not only the stages, but the commandments. Therefore they will be done in an old school fashion:

1. Thou must find inspiration.
Not many people set their alarm clocks to masturbate. Therefore the urge must come in the form of inspiration. Where does this inspiration come from you may ask? It varies from person to person. Some guys get horny watching women's volleyball. Many girls get horny thinking about ruining the lives of successful businessmen. A priest finds inspiration in the Disney Channel. Where do I find inspiration? Well truth be told, I don't. My sexiness puts me at the top of the horny hierarchy. That's like asking who God prays to. Yes, its a tough job being at the top, but someones gotta do it and since Prince handed down the title to me when he did the Superbowl Halftime show, I feel like it is my duty everywhere to be the master-masterbater. Besides, I'm under a 5 year contract with Kleenex.

2. Thou must assume the position
This can be quite tricky. For high-schoolers the position is actually any way shape or form that gives you privacy from your parents. Whatever you do, don't get caught. Your mom will think you need to see a psychiatrist and your dad will think your mom cheated on him because your penis is way smaller than his. For those of us that are blessed with lonely living arrangements, the problem is making sure that you get the full body experience when calling down for more mayo. Tight pants not fully pulled down are a recipe for ball hairs in the zipper and denim chaffing. Legs under a computer desk leave minimal room should you get the dreaded "choke the chicken charlie horse." My recommended position is pants down, two feet from the computer desk, leaned slightly back, and mouse to the left side so that my strong hand is paddling he pink canoe and my left hand is fast forwarding through the awkward face close-ups.

3. Thou must clear thy mind-
Having a dog in the same room is a sure fire mid-stroke ball sniff that is bound to drop your woodie faster than seeing your great grandfathers bottle of viagra. Also, know your porn ahead of time. There is nothing worse than seeing a nice ass getting pounded away and right when old faithful is due, then having that close up of the kernel of corn in the guys ass. Lastly, sound proof your room. There is nothing harder than trying to have your afternoon tea and crumpets with the apple dumpling gang and then hearing your mom talk about her menstruation cycle through the door. Last time I was rolling out the dough and heard my mom through the door I instantly stapled the tip of my dick closed because I didn't want the trauma of having the cow milked to the thought of the farm maid.

4. Thou must not drip
This is the most overlooked of the steps. Not having tissue handy is like going to war without a medic. There are a few of us, myself included, that have mastered the art of the knuckle children balance act. However, an occasional drip is bound to happen. A stain on some clothes can make you look like a dumbass even in a Brooklyn K-Mart. However, that humiliation pales in comparison to the gut wrenching thought of stepping in the baby batter after crowning the king. Stepping in your own juicy juice ruins the mood faster than a fart in a 69. Its safe to say that if this happens you will have to wait at least a week to get your stamina back, and the only get out of jail free card is a sex tape of Jessica Biel getting leaked.

5. Cover thy tracks
The most retarded thing since the Jeff Foxworthy show would be not deleting your internet history after giving the John Hancock. You might as well make your own commercial. Tissue... 2.00. Moisturizer...5.00. Cucumber...1.25/lb. The look on the face of your mom when she goes to type in ebay.com and winds up with ebonyfistfucks.com... priceless.

Every little thing she does it magic

2007-06-01T19:47:00.000-07:00

So I was inspired to write a blog about magic. Why? Because I just had sex and she turned and said, "Wow, that tongue of yours in magical." Actually no, truth be told I was just masturbating to zoo animals and my mom walked in and I thought, "Man I wish I could make myself disappear right now. To a farm. With goats."

I thought about talking about magicians like David Blaine and such but instead I was inspired. By inspired I mean I blacked out when the fat chick I brought home last night mistook me for a circus peanut in her sleep, so instead I will talk about true magicians. The guys that do wonderous things but only get as much TV time as I did when I thought I saw the outline of the virgin Mary in my "moons of my-hammy" grandslam breakfast.

Magician # 1: Rosie O'Donnell's make-up artist.
Michellangelo himself could not have accomplished this feat without some divine intervention. How you make someone go from looking like Satan wearing a Halloween costume in his drivers liscence photo to pg-13 presentable is pure magic. Granted, she still looks like she keeps Billy Goat Gruff from the green grass in her spare time, but still... this guy has a talent that God would sit back and go, "Son of a Bitch they are evolving. Shut down the program and keep the incredibly handsome guy with the amazing smile(thats me)." Want proof of this miracle? Brace yourself for something more shocking than the ending to The Village:

Magician # 2: Enrique Iglesias' Mole
Have you ever seen something disappear faster than a redneck seeing the check he just wrote go through a verification machine? Neither have I. And if that werent enough then the damn thing reappears more often than Anna Nicole's herpes. Where does it go you ask? I dont know, that is why the mole is my number two great magician. If I were to take my best guess I would say that it vanishes into thin air to haunt people's dreams. I once had a dream that I was biting into a big chocolate cake and then the cake turned into Enrique's mole. I woke up in a cold sweat thankful it was just a dream. Then I all the sudden heard "Rythm Divine" playing and pulled one of those extra long mole hairs out of my mouth. I shit my pants right then and there with enough shit to fill up 5 sombreros. Was it the mole magician? No, it was actually my spogebob alarm clock radio and one of my butt hairs, but I tell you what, it scared me enough learn how to say "I befriend the mole. I am your master" in spanish, and I now store 5 quarts of virgin blood in my fridge. Just in case. Here is a photo comparison of the elusive mole magician at work, no infomercial trick photography here folks:

Magician # 3: My ex girlfriends
Not only are they excellent with slight of hand in my wallet, but any girl that can take all 12 inches of my penis must be a master with trap doors and such. They were all excellent hypnotists too. No matter what, everything was my fault. I was almost convinced that the reason all women have periods is because I like to watch Dallas Maverick's games. These chicks could talk Jesus into doing a line of crack off a homeless guys ballsack they are so manipulative. I didnt let them trick me into everything though, I still managed to keep my virginity. That will always be intact until I find that right girl. And by right girl I mean the Im so desperate I would fuck a knot hole in a plank of wood.

That concludes this blog. Please bookmark the page and comeback and visit. If you are a redneck reading this please take out that Goosebumps bookmark you just put into the back of the computer and then click bookmark on the top toolbar. Now go farm or something.
I leave you with one of the funniest videos I have seen in a while that is oddly enough appropriate. Enjoy!

Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society...

2007-05-28T21:32:00.001-07:00

I am going with random shit on this one. Why? Because I have a penis long enough to stick the tip of it in my ass so that gives me the powers to do what I want, and I believe it also gives me citizenship in Canada. So here goes something...

Paris Hilton: I hope she goes to jail. And while in jail I hope they have a massive riot and she tries to escape through the walls but gets stuck where she remains for the rest of her life surviving on cockroach feces and cement. If I were a prison guard there I would "accidentally" trip the open switch on her cell and Belinda the dyke doing life for eating the brains of an ex lover. Then I would sit back and watch the action unfold and do one of those play by play announcer jobs that would probably end with "Well folks, that was one for the record books. Belinda "He-man" Johnson takes down Paris "Tiny Tits" Hilton with a two fisted chimney cleaner. I haven't seen a fight like that since Slater jumped Zack for framing him for stealing the golf cart in driver's ed."

Lindsay Lohan: Ok I admit Lindsay could be hot. Maybe if she wasn't orange. And had an ass. And one of those face off deals like Nick Cage and John Travolta did, except with Jessica Biel. Ok, nevermind, shes ugly. Have you seen her in a bathing suit? I printed out a picture yesterday and seventeen hours later I had connected all the freckles on her back and it turns out it was just a picture of every character from the Land of Make-believe on Mr. Rogers, minus the owl. I hate the owl. And recently I read that she is headed back to rehab. That is about as pointless as a family vacation to Kennedy Space Center. My bet? Within a year she is found dead in her apartment next to a line of crack and a picture of me. I'm such a heart breaker.

Britney Spears- She has time and again proved that the only good thing to ever come out of Arkansas was Scottie Pippen, Bill Clinton, and Johnny Cash. I used to feel sorry for her being married to Kevin Federline but I'm pretty sure that if I had the choice today I would choose to ride the reaming rainbow all the way to Kfeds then stay with that whore monger. Jesus, did you see the pictures of her pussy as she was getting out of that car? They could film an entire season of Lost in there. I tried to put a pic on the background of my desktop but my resolution doesn't go to 7000x18000. About the only thing that could save her career now is if she made a porno and I was in it. Of course I would have to be the star because I am the only person on earth with a penis big enough to fit in there. Im not sure I would do it though. I keep envisioning me going down on her and it turning into the scene on Poltergeist where they are throwing the rope in to try and save the little girl.

So why ramble about these whores? Well I was thinking the other day, and by thinking I mean I passed out from lack of oxygen trying to squeeze behind my fridge for the cheeto, and while I was thinking I came up with a solution to handle the madness. (History Lesson... now!) During the early part of the civil right movement a man named Marcus Garvey suggested that blacks move out of the US and have their own country on the island now known as Madagascar. He failed and now we were blessed with Rubben Studdard. However, I say that we pull a Garvey and give these sluts their own country. Their own sort of Skankdom, if you will. They can battle over who rules and grow their own drugs and feel free to make as many shitty movies and dark homemade pornos as they please. They can call it "Land of the Hollowpuss." And we shall call it "Antarctica."

I conclude with a pic of me and my pal.

Fuck Walmart

2007-05-23T19:10:00.000-07:00

So Im broke, and by broke I mean Im attempting to sell the virginity of my unborn child on ebay. In addition to being broke I have butter and that box of baking soda in the fridge. So, I do what any noble person does, attempt to return cheap shit I find around the house.

So here is my adventure:

9:52pm- Find two dumbells that I bought with the walmart labels on them. I figure since I get all my exercise lifting the thighs of women over my shoulders then I shouldnt need these anymore. So I decide to return them.

9:54pm- I realize I dont have the receipt because either I lost it or Shaquisha decided not to give me one and hoard it to roll up her blunts. So Ill call and see if the tags will suffice for at least store credit. I look up the number and call walmart. Of course the woman that picks up the phone (we'll call her Ms. Packaday) asks how she can direct my call.
I tell her I have a question about a return so guest services would be best. Apparently this woman was unfamiliar with English, or numbers for that matter.
Her- "well maybe I can help you" * cough cough hag hag*
Me- "Ok, well I was looking at returning..."
Her- "wait...what?"
Me-"I need to return some dumbells that..."
Her-"you need guest services, I cant help you."
*click*

I was more pissed than that time I went to ride the carousel and got the one fucking horse that just sits there.

Apparently they have someone operating the phones that cant even count as high as the touch pad. I understand that wal-mart hires "special" employees but usually they just make them wave at people and run into cars with carts. Good thing Wal-Mart doesnt control the government otherwise they might put one of their "special" employees in the White Hou****censored by Homeland Security*****
So the story continues...

9:56pm- I look up the direct line for guest services in the yellow pages between "anti-christ" and "assholes" and call. She tells me that I can bring in the dumbells and exchange them for store credit. I say "Great, Im on my way." I leave the house in a car that is running on the fumes of my farts, and get to walmart, take the dumbells inside and then the lady that apparently fell asleep in a tanning bed, dropped herself in a vat of sunless tanner, and then stuck her face in the fryer at Hooters, went ahead and tagged my dumbells for return.

9:59pm- I arrive at guest services and the lady at the desk (we'll call her Ms. Wartonface) kindly tells me to wait while she finishes something up, and by kindly I mean it went something like "hold on, busy. step back and stand there." So I knew that I was going to have to do one of two things: 1. step back and wait 2. Start pondering things to tell the judge to get my sentence reduced.
I waited.

10:06pm: The lady at the counter finishes then turns to tell me the words that I knew I was going to hear. "Sorry but we are closed." I just talked to her on the phone, I just got my merchandise tagged, and I got there on time and had to wait for her to tell me they were closed and to come back.

So begins my rant. Who the fuck does Wal Mart think they are? I have seen ant farms with smarter employees. Im sick of these people treating guests like shit and then pretending like we brought it on ourselves. It is not my fault you dropped out of high school to have your 10 kids and wait for the man of your dreams to get out of prison on rape charges. Get your head out of your ass. You are in a blue fucking vest working at Wal fucking Mart. The only person you can act like you are better than is someone that works in a McDonalds thats in Walmart. The only thing that is good about Walmart is that it is not Kmart. Have you tried to buy something in electronics in Kmart? Christ, last time I was at Kmart I met a guy that was still waiting for his VHS copy of Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure from the back room. I dont even think they actually hire someone for electronics there. I wanted to buy a new TV and went in there to find just a shitload of Zeniths that came with discounted rabbit ears. If WalMart and Kmart merged Im pretty sure the electronic section would just be that retarded vulture on Looney Toons in a blue vest with an Nintendo and Paperboy.

Well Im pissed so this was more of a rant then humor but I will be sure to supply the goods next time right after I get done bitching out Taco Bell employees for not wearing gloves when making my Gordita Supreme.

Do the Evolution

2007-05-16T20:11:00.000-07:00

As I sat there at my job today I was pondering what I was going to write about and then it hit me, Sunny Delight is not an acceptable substitute for Orange Juice because it is loaded with Sugar and an insufficient supply of vitamins and minerals. With that solved, I decided that I was going to write about relationships. I figured since I haven't had a relationship in 6 months and 9/10 of my ex's have wound up with kids or beaten by their husbands, I am the next best thing after Doctor Phil. So here I give you my stages of a relationship:

1. The Introduction.
This is the point where the man and the woman introduce themselves, brag a shitload, and make fun of their ex's in hopes that the other person will think that they have been in some shitty relationships and are actually a diamond in the rough. The truth being that both of them are fucking psycho and jealous as hell and most likely have their ex's body in the trunk of their car because they wouldn't give them their myspace password out of "trust." The woman is looking for someone with a ton of money and tons of obedience so that they can have their way. The man is looking for ass and someone that can keep a secret when doing his laundry that he doesn't wipe very well.

2. Dating
At this point the guy is selling his spleen to take this bitch out on a date in hopes that it will get him some ass or at least a dry hump in his car. The girl is trying to sell herself as someone that is humble and with morals when in actuality she has had sex with every waiter in the restaurant you are at and says hi to strangers she wants to fuck, telling you that they are classmates. This is do or die for the male. If he commits to this relationship it will fuck over any chance he has with the cheerleader he has been banging that always tears up his dick with her braces. The woman really has no pressure here because women are what they call in Spiderman 3 a "symbiote." This means that no matter what happens she will find someone else to adapt to and then cling to them until she has snatched their soul and all of their self worth, leaving them high and dry watching re-runs of Threes Company and crying because they miss John Ritter and he never got the chance to make Stay Tuned 2.

3. The Score
The man is now broke, so he must go all out for that ass because he cant afford a hooker until next payday. This process involves inviting the girl over to watch frequent movies and then even though there are a million great shows to watch on the TV, telling her there isn't shit on. Turn off the TV and embrace the awkward silence of nothingness. This is followed by a kiss and then 2 hours of the man rubbing her pussy on the outside of her jeans because her pants are so fucking tight that it puts his hand at a weird angle and the bitch doesn't get the hint to move. Now comes the moment of truth, move things to the bedroom. If the guy is lucky then he got in one good feel of the candy shop and now will have an opportunity to rub his nose to check if she is passing out sweet tarts or black licorice. Once that is determined the session is started with 30 minutes of kissing, 20 minutes of foreplay with the woman refusing to give head (even though the truth is she swallows more than Stephen Hawking with a hair in his mouth), then add 1.5 minutes of love making, followed by 15 minutes of excuses. If it is a Mexican couple add in 20 minutes of dancing around a sombrero. (see, I am culturally sensitive)

4. The Heartbreak
Now the woman can take whatever the fuck she wants and the guy cant say shit. This is the suckiest part of the relationship because the guy now realizes that his ex was way more of a freak than you are but is stuck with your ass. In reality he thinks your friend is really hot and doesn't want to hurt you because she will then hate him and he wont have a chance later. Don't fear guys, you can get yours in. Farting, burping and scratching are all acceptable now. If she cant live with it then she doesn't love you for who you are and you need to move on, or at least threaten to so that she begs and you end up getting head. WARNING!!! Guys- refrain from sex on her period no matter how comfortable you two are. Make her feel worthless and ugly and kick her at her most vulnerable point. This will keep her in check so that you can say no to things like baby showers. Example:"Hey honey, Britney has her baby shower next week. We should go" Proper response- "I talked it over with my penis and he doesn't think we should go since last week you were bloody and undesirable leaving me and my penis to ponder the sleeping with other women. We're going to stay home and envision a perfect world without leaking pussies and fat girls." Trust me, she will be like putty in your hands. (this is strictly a theory, I take no responsibility for loss of body parts or possible manslaughter charges)

5. Marriage
Women- happiest day of your life
Men- You would be better off to take half of everything you own and donate it to Scientology. And be warned that the inevitable divorce hurts your future dating scene like adding "convicted sex offender" does to your resume.

6. Kids
Men are set with kids if the couple split because women think kids are cute and will fall in your lap faster than Gays flocking to a sale at Versace. If you are woman though and you have kids it would be more simple to put a sign around your pussy that looks like this:

7. Divorce-
Once the divorce is over it is safe to have make-up sex but never ever get back into the relationship. She will never be able to be trusted because during the court hearings she was having sex with the black officer and the you were banging the new intern at work. She knows you will never have a penis that big or access to real handcuffs and you know that she will never be 22 again and have hands that can type 200 words per minute. All is lost.

8. Moving on
For women this can be the most difficult time in your life. Can you love again? What went wrong? Is there something wrong with you? The answers are no, every decision you made , and yes.
For men this is also a difficult time. Should I watch the Mavericks or the Bulls? McDonalds or Taco Bell? Hooker or fat chick that needs a confidence booster? The answer is all of the above.

Well I wish everyone the best of luck in their relationship. Guys feel free to share your success stories with banging hot chicks. Women... wait, what are you doing reading this? You should be making meatloaf. Fuck!

Editors note- I did this from a male and female perspective because that is the kind of porn I like to watch. However, if this were going from another perspective just add the following:
Gays- Remove all steps and start with random sex when they met online followed by two snaps and a twist.
Lesbians- Insert me, a camcorder, and a Melissa Etheridge CD into Stage 3.

So there's this girl named Ricardo....

2007-05-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

I just got back from Barnes and Noble, because I read, and by read I mean scour through the magazines for the one opened Playboy. Anyways, I came across the new Time magazine that had the 100 most powerful people in the world. I noticed that I was not on the cover and figured that maybe Time had not gotten word of my pixie stick business that I had on my middle school bus, and I was cool with that. Until... I then realized that Hugh Hefner was nowhere to be found. I know we are sending monkeys to the moon and shit but seriously, writing Time articles too? So, I have decided to take matters into my own hands, in between masturbating of course. Here is my list of the most influential people in the world today in no particular order, except numerical.

1. Snoop Dogg- the man has become immune to possession charges, quit pot smoking... twice, escaped murder charges, and banged more women than the rotating door at the women's nursing home. If that isnt power than my left testicle doesnt have a mole on it resembling Matthew Broderick. Snoop Dogg could walk in on To Catch A Predator and he and Chris Johnson would just roll a blunt and smoke it while laughing about how the little girl kept spelling pedophile with an "f" on AIM.

2. Hugh Hefner- I believe this is the only man that any other man could give a blowjob to and still be considered straight. If you added up all the pussy that Hugh Hefner has gotten in his lifetime you would come up with a number that upside down on the calculator would spell "holyfuckingchrist." I don't know how the man does it. If I were wearing a silk bathrob all day walking around the Playboy mansion, birds would be building nests on top of my penis. I can only imagine what kind of kick ass power you have that you can be around playmates and not have the urge to rape them all. I imagine it is only comparable to my willpower and strength displayed that time that I ate at the wafflehouse and... well that time I ate at the wafflehouse.

3. Jesus- Um, someone in Time forgot Jesus. And the only reason they aren't dead yet is because Jesus told other people it wasn't right to kill him (and because the poison I slipped them hasnt kicked in). So I think the editor might want to issue a rebuttle. Lets see: #1 selling book, 10 commandments, 7 days of creation, and 250 million followers versus Steve Jobs (who made the list) and his ipods. Im going to place my bet... wait, I mean, "assume without sinning"; that Jesus would win. Just look at the cover of the fucking magazine.... "Time"- yeah Jesus did that too. I hope Jesus doesn't get pissed. Last time Newsweek left him out happens to coincide with the exact date that Night Court was cancelled.

4. The black guy talking in the movie theater- Throughout the Heavens there exists no power such as thisr. No matter how loud he is no one will ever say shit. He could talk about his grandmother's bread pudding throughout the President's final speech on Independence Day and everyone around him would just be texting themselves a reminder to add the movie to their Netflix when it comes out. The last time someone said something to this man was the date of the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906. Its rumored that God didn't intend on resting on the 7th day, he just got pissed because the black dude he had just created sat in front of him to watch the show. So he said fuck it and went home to take a nap.

5. Me- this was more predictable than Roy getting eaten by his white tiger. Not only should they have included me, but I should have been a seperate pull-out. The kind that you think when you open it will just be another beer ad like on the outside, but then you get surprised when you realize there are a whole nother 4 pages to your magazine that are potentially able to be masturbated to. Why should I be included you say? Two words: why fucking not? (fucking doesn't count, its what I call an obscen-a-verb) Lets take a look at my resume:
1. 10 inch penis
2. who the fuck needs a number 2 with a number 1 more powerful than the smell of tuna at Lollaplooza.
And did I mention that I once backed over a black guys basketball and just drove away? With street cred like that its hard to deny me. Well, not that hard apparently. The retard at Dairy Queen with the big titties and the one lazy eye keeps denying my "homeade p-nutt buster" sexual advances.

And since I am away from my computer with Photoshop capabilities I leave you with a picture of Jesus eagerly awaiting the apology from TIME courtesy of South Park.

Welcome

2007-05-09T23:58:00.000-07:00

I moved my blogs from myspace to here for those of you that arent my friends on there and wanted to see them. They developed quite a following so I figured this was the only logical choice. I will be updating this almost daily but in the meantime I have republished the old ones with new photoshops. So enjoy.

May I suggest Spiderman 3? May I also suggest AIDS?

2007-05-09T17:24:00.001-07:00

The summer movie season has officially kicked off with one of the most awesome displays of shit I have seen since this. That calls for a summer movie preview!

Spiderman 3- I saw Spiderman 3. And I saw it on the IMAX. Combined I call it ICRAP. If you like watching the ugliest actress ever fall in love with a dude in spandex then this is for you. If you expect to see action and kick ass villians you will be disappointed. I saw more action and villians in Ass Demons 12. And as far as the IMAX goes, about the only thing that I got out of that is that Toby Mcguire has a 15 foot wide double chin. So I suggest that instead of seeing this movie you do something more productive with your time like maybe slingshot cornchips from your penis or see how many golf balls you can hold in your vagina.

Shrek 3- This should be pretty fricking funny. I personally liked the first two. And after you see them a few times you begin to realize that Princess Fionna is still bone-able as an ogre. Then again you could put Cameron Diaz's voice over the candle stick in beauty and the beast and I would still be willing to suffer third degree burns on my penis. I just hope Donkey doesnt run his mouth too much. There is a fine line with funny black guy voiceovers. One second your laughing your ass off with Sebastian in the Little Mermaid, the next second you are shoving ice picks in your knee caps with Jar Jar Binks.

Pirates of the Carribbean at Worlds End- with the ending of the last movie, this movie has to be the absolute shit. If this movie doesnt rock Ill probably hunt down Johnny Depp and give him a papercut right in that spot between his balls and anus. This whole series has been amazing. The only way it would have been more amazing is if I would have been cast in place of Johnny Depp. Considering my extensive acting background from my brief stint as a cop during my 6th grade play "annie" and the time I cried to get out of a parking ticket, Im assuming I would be a natural. The critics would love me. "Siebold has done it once again, creating the type of magic onscreen only seen when babies wear suits that make them look like bumblebees. He was mesmerizing and seeing this movie in IMAX made it seem like his cock was even bigger than the 12 inches it already is."--Ebert and Roper

Hostel II- I saw the first one and this one is supposed to be more gory. Considering the fact that I cry when I put on my pants right out of the dryer and the metal button touches my belly, I dont think Ill be seeing this one.

The Bourne Ultimatum- The first one and the second one kicked ass so it can safely be assumed that this will... suck. The only successful third movie ever made was Return of the Jedi. Think about it, Scary Movie 3, Dr. Dolittle 3, Home Alone 3, Spiderman 3, Blade Trinity, The Matrix Revolutions, and Bubble Butt MILFS 3... they all sucked. Seemed to me like the plot pretty much exhausted itself and came to a close in the last movie. My prediction of a plot: Jason Bourne discovers that during his memory lapse he had sex with an unclean woman and now must uncover the secret governmental anecdote to gonorrhea with the help of a humorous and wholesome family friendly black man most likely played by Will Smith.

Fantastic 4 Rise of the Silver Surfer- This will blow harder than a homeless guy in a back alley trying to earn Superbowl tickets. Unless Jessica Alba gets butt ass naked or the silver surfer gets eaten by a shark, I'm not going. The first one got horrible reviews, and with a plot that included The Thing getting shit on by a bird it is no wonder why. I dont even know what the fuck a silver surfer is or how the hell this could possibly be a good selection for a villian/superhero. He is a fucking silver dude that surfs. What can he do? Make salt water go up people's noses? Use his shinyness to give people really bad sunburns? My suggestion: bring back the purple caped Bartman and have him skateboard over Mr. Fantastics face. Now thats entertainment.

Oceans Thirteen- This movie franchise to me is like a retarded guy drooling on himself at Disney World, you stare at it for a while waiting and hoping that it will do a trick and then when you realize its a fucking vegetable and you wasted your time then you want to punch them in the face. The only purpose behind this movie was to give a bunch of older sexy-ish actors a chance at stardom once again now that I have came on the scene, . Brad... George... Matt, Im sorry but ever since this size 15 shoe (ladies, tell your friends) has stepped onto the acting sceen as an extra in Shanghi Knights, the biz has gone downhill for you guys. My suggestion: stick to saving little babies by pulling them from their secluded African tribe where all they needed was food and placing them in the middle of high speed paparazi car chases and stalker death threats.

Well that is my summer movie preview. If you are like me you will probably not give a rats ass because you will be watching your new "Dinosaurs" Disney DVD over and over all summer anyways and only find time to catch that one episode of Flavor of Love Charm School.

Hello... my name is Devin. I like amputees.

2007-05-09T17:23:00.002-07:00

Well... the masses demanded another blog so here it is. And by the masses I mean my 80 year old neighbor screaming at me to quit stealing his mail and go jack off to myspace. I take that as "go write a blog." So here I am. What to talk about? Well for starters many of you may know that Britney Spears performed last night for the first time in three years. For those of you that missed it, just put one of those microphone headsets on a baby seal and then club the shit out of it while lighting yourself on fire. Its likely to sound and feel just like the actual experience. A friend of mine went to the show and managed to get backstage with Britney. He went down on her and nearly died when the cave partially collapsed and the gases started to accumulate. The canary went fucking crazy. If her cervix hadnt have gotten good cell phone reception I dont think that he would be with us today. God bless your soul Mikey.

Has anyone seen the movie Next? It stars Nick Cage (for those of you that dont know who Nick Cage is, just picture me except slightly uglier and shorter, hard to imagine I know). The movie is about a guy who can see 2 minutes into his own future. For me that means just long enough to see her reaction to my "its because you are so tight" excuse. For Nick Cage it means saving the world from nuclear disaster. How you may ask? I dont know because the movie never fucking finished. It had the cliffhanger ending. Like Hollywood isnt making enough money off my ass when I pay 8.00 for 2 hours of trying to figure out why the fat person chair isnt near the front so that they get a better workout. Now I have to wait for the next one to come out and knowing my luck I wont be with the same chick and she'll complain she hasnt seen the first one. So I end up stuck watching some shit with Orlando Bloom in it wishing I had never fucked that retarded girl at Arbys. That makes me more pissed than the time I went to see Spy Kids in 3D and got the glasses with two red screens. Fucking hooligans!

When did rock music get so depressing? Whatever happened to spandex, flying kicks, synthesizers, and sex (male/female, except for Fredie Mercury...hes exempt)? Rock bands today are too fucking emotional. Yeah, life really blows when you sell 2 million records and can get any girl you want. Dude, I would put my penis into a box full of pissed off wolverines just to get the change that falls in you couch cushins. I sit for four hours a day on Match.com sending winks to fat chicks with four kids all named Raymond while you complain about the depression that touring causes. Try masturbating, just so you can masturbate again because you cant afford lube. I hope Van Halen go on tour this summer and blow My Chemical Showdance and Fall out queers out of the fucking water and give them a reason to want to cut themselves. Lets see any guitarist today play Eruption just once without fucking it up and I will bend over and call them daddy. But given the talent today Im willing to bet that my anus will remain as tight as an ethiopian's grip on a drumstick.

I got rid of my other dog today. Her name was Lilly, or as I called her, Fuckbag. Besides ripping a two foot hole through my door, eating my money, and puking on the rug, she was about as cute as the tip of my penis with a smiley face drawn on it. She kind of stuck on me though, just like the shit stains she left behind on my rug. Except unlike the shit stains, her impression on me will not be lasting. She kind of reminded me of the dog on Rugrats, except instead of playing with little kids, Lilly would probably bite off their head and then shit in the socket.

Well that does it for my new blog. Im sure that my 80 year old neighor is happy. If not now then he will be when he realizes I switched his centrum silver with Viagra. Stick that in the outgoing mail bitch!

And if you havent subscribed to my blog yet... do it. Now. Or else you will get those little wet spots on your pants everytime you pee and put the cow back in the barn without milking it all the way first.

If God were a hot dog would Jesus be one of those little cocktail weiners?

2007-05-09T17:23:00.001-07:00

The world seems to have gone to hell so I have seen that as my cue to step in and save the day with a bit of humor and pointless ranting. Ill cut straight to the chase:

Virginia Tech- I was just as shocked as everyone else. In fact I was udderly horrified. Never in all my years could I have imagined...that an Asian would get a zip code wrong when mailing a package. Dont Asians wake up in the morning and write numbers down and then eat them? I heard that when you are born in Asia they actually put on the birth certificate a quadratic equation in place of the date and time of birth. Ive also heard that their shit wraps around the bowl to form the pi symbol. Clearly the guy had mental issues. I almost questioned whether or not he was Asian. However, I could immediately tell he was a true Asian the second I heard that there was a two hour window that the killer used to go mail a package. How did I know this you may ask? Because only an Asian would take two hours to go a block to mail a package. When they get in the car to drive it is almost as if the doors seal tight in their car and they move as slow as possible so they dont consume too much oxygen. I once got behind an Asian on a highway. Lets just say that he could smell my farts he was moving so slow. I then yelled out the window that I had just heard on the radio that a dry cleaners had burned down nearby and the guy took off like a bulemic girl after eating at a Quincys.

Global warming- I had a revelation, and by revelation I mean I took a really long shit. And during that revelation I realized that my nuts had shrank to the size of raisins (I tried to think of a more humorous reference to put there but I cant think of anything else that shrunken nutts would look like). And while contemplating why my women butt polishers had shrank I realized that it was because it was cold enough to support Ted Williams in my house (Ted Williams is a cryogenically frozen hall of fame baseball player for those that didnt get that reference, and cryogenics is where people get frozen in hopes that we can thaw them out later and bring them back for those that didnt get that reference, and the term frozen means when molecules start to slow dow...and if you are still reading this you are a fucking retard. go play with shiny things.) Well I got up to check the AC and noticed that it was off. I opened the door and walked outside and was shocked to feel that it was 40 degrees outside in April. My neighbor was in just as much shock as I was. However it was at that point that I realized that I had just stood up from the toilet and walked outside and that I was standing there with a turtle head hanging out my ass that looked like it was trying to eat the raisins that were my nutts. So I came in and sat on the couch and pondered for a few hours. I was dumbfounded. I pondered for a few more hours. Then I came to this conclusion: Grimace is a giant purple juju bee and the Hamburglar is a bad influence. Then I got pissed about why they say global warming is happening and its cold out in April. Then I went back to thinking about Grimace.

Porn- the enemy to women everywhere, the friend of the kleenex industry. If it werent for porn I would be 400 pounds right now. I probably burn about 300 calories a day watching porn and then another 100 when someone walks in while Im watching it and I try to hop to the bathroom with my pants around my ankles. With the shape that the world is in right now I think that we are going to end up killing ourselves. Only then will the true value of porn be seen. Because 1000 years from now a new civilization will emerge and they will uncover Bobs Adult Video Store and find that our civilization loved double penetrations, anal bondage, and consisted mainly of pool cleaners and cable guys. They will then model their society after ours and it will emerge as the most sucessful and stress free civilization the world has known. Also it would never be a mystery why the floor is always sticky in a movie theater. That my friends is a perfect world. Plus, then I wouldnt feel as bad when I name my son Lord Rod Ramington.

fin.

By your powers combined, I am Captain Planet

2007-05-09T17:22:00.002-07:00

This is about as long coming as Guns and Roses' album Chinese Democracy. Sorry I didn't write sooner. I was banging hot babes with no condoms and making millions auctioning off Russian women on the international sex slave market. I finally got some time to write because Petrova sold faster than expected. Turns out adding "Golden Shower" to your resume goes over well with the Irish. Guess they actually do drink like fish.

So what is this blog going to be about? Dont know and dont care. Obviously I lured you into reading it so from here on out I could just bash Republicans and type with one hand while I use the other to slap an orphan and my job would be complete.

Wanna know what sucks? Stepping in a puddle while wearing socks. Wanna know what else sucks? Not having money. I have been broke for all too long now. I graduate soon but then I become a teacher. Woo hoo! I can already see myself jumping into my pool of gold like Scrooge Mcduck and doing the backstroke. Yeah right. I think next year the pay increases for teachers. Now they give you a bologna sandwhich every other Thursday. I have ideas of ways to make money but they all require something... money. I saw on the history channel the other day how Chef Boyardee turned 300.00 into a multi-million dollar company just by packing spagetti into a can. Jesus fucking Christ! I wish it were that easy for me. Nothing comes easy. Damnnit it took me 2 years of yoga just to be able to bend far enough to get the tip of my own penis into my mouth. The way things are looking now it seems as though tostinos pizza rolls and easy mac are going to be my best friends for a while. Ive tried to think of what I could sell on ebay in my house but apparently there isnt a high demand for playboys with sticky pages and hangers. I went to the thrift store to see if I could find shit to sell on ebay that people would pay more for than what I bought it. I wound up with a Chicago bulls hat with a sweat stain, a painting of a clown, and a Roberston family reunion '93 t-shirt.

Ok enough about my money problems. I want to talk about my girl problems. I used to be the biggest pimp in the fucking world. I had so many girls falling for me left and right. Then it seemed that the second the batteries went dead in my Teddy Ruxpin doll no one wanted to talk to me. Now I seem to have gone cold. An occasional girl comes my way but there is always something holding me back or something not right and the shit doesn't work out. So alas, I wind up at home convincing myself that I wont masturbate but then that damn nordic track commercial with the hot chick doing squats comes on and Im beating it harder than a British nanny on an autistic child. Not that masturbating isnt great. It is the best thing since pillsbury toaster struddles. But still. I want to hold someone and tell them I love them. I want to watch movies with them. Go for late night walks. I want someone there to tell me they need me. I want someone there to place my penis on their lower back. I want a girl to slap around when they change my radio presets in my car. But most importantly, I want someone to slap around for not telling me before I slapped them that there were more than one set of presets. Basically I just want someone there. If you fit this description please send a photo of you, preferably naked and with a dollar bill next to your crotch for scale, to devin@10yearsfans.net. Dont forget to include your name, age, and a brief description of episode 34 of Bevis and Butthead where they go couch fishing. The last part is vital.

Concluded with my latest find at the thrift store:

Beam me up!

2007-05-09T17:22:00.001-07:00

Well Im pissed. For more than one reason. The first being that people in general piss me off and no one is genuine anymore. The second being that I could have finished this blog 5 hours ago had I not been pressing the red button frantically to help grandma get across the street in the ad at the top of the page. Well I was going to change up the style of the blog this time but instead I do have a few things to rant about so Im going to stick with it a bit more.

The butthole: why does God invent something so tempting to guys yet so feared by girls? All I want is my little pinky in there. Thats all. Doesnt even have to be the whole thing. Just past the finger nail will do. Give me something to sniff on the way home. Just pretend Im a forensics expert looking for evidence and it is strictly professional. And ladies, no it is not ok to do the same to me. Ill tell you why. Girls eat things like roses and chocolate covered babies, you know, cute things. Guys eat hot wings and taco bell. Not to mention the fact that girls get constant practice with wiping. We, however, only get practice once a day, and half the time it ends with "Is that the theme song to family guy playing in the other room? Fuck this shit, Im wearing black boxers, she wont notice."

Marriage- No guy ever in the history of the world wanted to get married. If they did let me tell you what happened: they wound up on Springer confessing they were gay or born a woman. Marriage does two things: assure a man that he will never have anything to himself and assure a woman that she has everything to herself. Every woman dreams of getting married when they are young while guys are off daydreaming about banging a crapload of hooter girls. Truth be told, I lived that dream and it was a good one but thats neither here nor there. The only time that a man should get married is if he has found the perfect girl. By perfect girl I mean one that was attacked by a polar bear and has no arms, no legs, and no tongue. So basically you are shit out of luck until scientists find a way to implant a pussy on a cucumber. So why do guys get married then still if sciene has failed us? Only one answer: See the rant above.

Gay mens names: Let me tell you something. Do you have a kid? Is it a boy? Did you name him something very proper? Well I will tell you when you know they are gay. If their name is Benjamin and you ever hear them refer to themselves as anything other than Ben, he is gay. Same thing goes with Thomas, Michael, Christopher, and Matthew. If they ever use their proper name and they are not being questioned for murder or making a call to 911, then they are gay. However, there is an exception. If you are named Richard. Im sorry but Rich and Richard are both about as queer as rainbow sprinkles on a banana split and you are probably shaking your fist at the computer screen right now as your other hand beats off your boyfriend Gregory.

An octopus: what the hell was God thinking? Six tentacles arent enough? God had to add the extra arms because without them it couldnt fully submerse a submarine and scare the living shit out of me? Then he had to put those little sucky things on there too? Like the fact that this thing could strangle the entire Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad all at once wasnt enough, now it can rip off their fucking faces too? Although, I can say I am a bit envious. I wish I had eight arms. Then I would do wild and crazy things like go into an elevator and push all the floors at the same time and watch the elevator flip the fuck out and shoot out of the roof like in Williy Wonka. Except I would then burst out of the elevator and use my suction cups to cling to a building as Charlie and Grandpa fell to their death and my Oompa Loompas hide the evidence by eating their bodies singing "what do you get when you live as a... slave? No food or water till its flesh you..crave." (man im fucked up.)

Well thanks for sticking around to dig deep into my head. If you are a woman since you dug deep into my head I now get to dig my finger into your butt. If you are a guy....call me, I dont want to make anything public, but lets just say it ends with the smell of vodka and ass prevelant and tears. Later.

All I got for Christmas was this lousy blog. And a slave.

2007-05-09T17:21:00.002-07:00

So here it is. The Christmas Blog. I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and got everything they wanted, unless you got a PS3, then my Christmas wish just became one of those Acme anvils falling on your head. Except instead of bouncing back up like Daffy, you just die from your ass bone getting shoved through your nostrils.

So I thought about doing my Christmas blog like my Thanksgiving blog, except that it would pretty much be the same only that at some point that lil shithead of a cousin decides to take that gigantsauraus rex out of the box and you are stuck putting all 12,000 parts together just so he can become interested in some other toy right when you finish. So Im not going to write it like that. Instead I laid awake last night and thought to myself: What if I got to take Santas place for a day? Well Im pretty sure it would go something like this:

6:58 pm: Well its almost dark. I got the sleigh loaded and managed to yank one out with Gretchen the whore elf over at the PR desk. We should be leaving here shortly so that I can bring joy to all the millions of little kids, coal to all the future politicians, and nothing at all to Dakota Fanning because she creeps the shit out of me.

7:59 pm: I was supposed to leave a fucking hour ago. Donner, the black reindeer, is running late again. I tried a test flight without him but the sleigh was more lopsided than Lance Armstrong's tesitcles. KFC closes at 8 so he should be here shortly. In the meantime..."Oh Gretchennnn"

8:00 pm: "I swear that never happens baby. Ill make it up to you later"

8:08 pm: Finally Donner arrives. We prepare for take off. Mrs Clause finds out about Gretchen, so I pretend like I dont hear her over the bells as I take to the night sky. When I get back Ill just bring her some bitches new diamond neckelace and plug her in the ass. Ho Ho Ho.

9:00 pm: This sleigh is slower than Stevie Wonder playing golf. My balls are frozen to the inside of my thigh, and I dont even get a cell phone signal to look at reindeer porn. Im a bit behind schedule so I think Im going to have to skip China. No big deal, I was just going to give them all puppies, which they would then use for their Kung Pow Chicken. Ill just fly over and shower them with millions of pairs of those glasses with the eyes in them so they dont look so fuckng weird.

10:45 pm: All right! My first house. Little Suzzy, you've been a good girl this year.

10:46 pm: Oatmeal raisin?!!? Wow, Little Suzzy sure did fuck that one up rather quick. Might as well have left out chocolate covered laundry detergent. Enjoy your new bear trap bitch!

11:38 pm: All was going well until the Stevenson's dog tried to bite my fucking neck. So I gave them a special present and went ahead and neutered heir dog with my boot. Then I took a shit under their tree and wiped my ass with the dogs face. Bad dog!

12:20 am: Wow, Little Jessica has gotten... not so little. It seems that I was the one that was receiving the gift that time. I stuck my corn cob pipe in that bitch and made it a white christmas indeed. Good thing Santa remembered to pack the ether.

1:27 am: What the fuck do you mean Taco Bell is closed on Christmas? Oh well Ill just make my own tacos...."hereee blitzen blitzen blitzen..."

2:30 am: Prancer! Stop trying to fuck Rudolph! I knew I shouldn't have named him Prancer.

3:12 am: I swear to God if one more kid asks for proof that Im real again Im going to wake them up with my dick on their forehead. That last kid wanted blood samples. I gave him a set of scissors and those shoes with the skates on them. Hopefully to be used at the same time.

3:59 am: There is no way that this reindeer just farted in my face. Do you have any idea what carrots and egg nog smell like? Next stop: Charleton Hestons house.

4:33 am: Fuckin fuck Im tired. I need something to energize me. I think Ill go into the Jewish kids house and piss out hit Menorah while singing the Whoville Anthem.

5:56 am: Well just finished up the Middle East. They all got the same present. Detonation devices strapped to their fucking necks with a video of me playing in their room that begins with "Lets play a game..."

6:07 am: I hate the hood. First off I get shot at for being a fat white guy in a black neighborhood. Secondly, I am not a fan of chocolate chip cookies with hot sauce on them, and thirdly, do you have any idea how hard it is to get a set of 27" rims down a chimney? Neither do I. Food stamps for all mother fuckers!

7:00 am: 300 million households later and a bag full of used panties, its time to head home. The sun is coming up and you know what that means? Every little kid is now waking up to their egg beaters, typewritters, and used ink cartridges and Im headed to the pawn shop! Merry Christmas bitches!

Well that concludes my wild antics as Santa. Be thankful that instead of me coming to your house on Christmas Eve, you get to look forward to that whore from the office Christmas party that your dad brings home. Hope everyone had a great Christmas and please remember to tip your waitress. They need crack too. Later.

If my penis were a rainbow it would be named Moonpie

2007-05-09T17:21:00.001-07:00

I decided to give you guys an early Christmas present, and trust me it is way better than whatever that one aunt that shops for everything at walmart will get you. And to answer all your fan mail (and by fan mail I mean my 10,000 free ringtone offers) yes I will be doing a special Christmas blog on Christmas day. So that will give you something to laugh about after you are done playing around with that flower that dances to music that was regifted to you 10 years later by that uncle with the gambling habit.

So I decided to change up the format a bit tonight. I was inspired after hearing Ushers song Confessions on the radio to write a blog of my own cofessions. It was either that or be inspired by Fergiliscious and write about how sexy my ass looks in pink spandex. But I figured that would be like telling you guys the sky is blue. Common knowledge folks.

Confession 1) I was fucking duped! Some hot chick came up to me in the mall and asked for my phone number. I gave it to her and she said "Thanks my friend will love you for this." Behind her stood the freak child conceived when Axl Rose pissed on the crowd at the German Academy for Arts and Ugly. Well she called me and I answered because I am a retard and could have sworn that was the same number that was on the front of my Publishers Clearing House prize voucher. Then she tells me this awful story of how she is an orphan staying at an orphanage and cant find anyone to adopt her and never gets to go out much. This part I understood because she looked the type that can only go out at night and (feast on the blood of virgins) hang out. Well I took her story to heart and felt deeply compelled to hang out with her. And by hang out with her I mean set up three dates at the movies and stand her up each time while I went and hung out with my friends that were free from ugly stick domestic abuse. Yeah so I suck. Truth be told I was just out of garlic cloves and 7 Eleven didnt sell Crucifixes. But I still feel like shit for it.

Confession 2- I technically lost my virginity when I was 8. I know I know you are shocked. But let me explain. My best friend had this sister. And let me tell you that when she bent over to pick up her playdoh and I caught a glimpse of those Beauty and the Beast undies, I pitched a tent faster than dragonmaster285 at Target when the PS3 came out. One thing led to another and next thing you know we were playing house in my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sleeping bag (apparently we were a homless couple). Next thing I knew I had my penis in her ass. Im not playing. I was poking inside her scrabling her tater tots, vienna sausages and Juicy Juice. Well, needless to say it ended like every experience after that has...with her being disinterested and crying and me trying to smell my penis while giggling like a retard playing with aluminum foil

Confession 3- I used to get on adult friend finder and pretend I was gay. I would go into the chat rooms and find the most desperate soul (typically the guy that keeps posting "56, male, 6 inches, let me at least feel your tummy please? Come on...just once.") and I would pretend like I knew where they lived. I then mapquested the area for apartment complexes and told them a room number where I was staying. I usually ended with "Im a bit tired, so just walk in and wake me up with your mouth on my cock if Im asleep." Then I sat back and waited. Im such a fucking prick. I would look at the time needed to get there and add 15 minutes onto that for the dude to shave his balls and take a Mexican shower in Ky and ass scent (Eternity by Liz Claibourne). Then I would giggle to myself and clap my hands like a dyslexic monkey as I pictured Henry Rollins waking up to Lance Bass in a MASH tshirt holding lube and handcuffs and then getting his ass beat to the fucking moon. That'll show him to quit looking for sex online and just do like I do, take yoga classes 9 times a day in hopes that you will get flexible enough to give yourself a Texas Tornado.

That is all Im letting you guys have. Maybe more at a later date, if this is popular. Leave comments if you read it!!!! And dont forget to check back here on Christmas Day for a new Christmas blog. Be sure to drink lots of egg nog, that way it is 10 times funnier and your farts smell like carrots. Later

I call this "Lance's Big Suprise"

You motorboating son of a bitch!

2007-05-09T17:19:00.000-07:00

Ok so the last format went well of random things and then bashing the crap out of them. So Im going to do what Sonny Bono did on the ski slopes and just flow with it.

Captain Crunch- The cereal is amazing by itself. Add in crunch berries and you have a taste so good that it will make you club a baby seal. It is also the only cereal that I always have milk for, all I do is smell it and there is instantly milk in my pants. Enough for two bowls. Except on Tuesdays. Although, the only downside is that it rubs the top of your mouth more raw than my penis that time I got drunk and had sex with a my cars gas tank. BTW, It greatly increased my gas miledge. Take that Mythbusters!

The Mall- So there are about 4 good stores in the mall, the cd shop, the pet store, the pretzel place, and spencers. All that considered, I only download cds now and they dont carry the good porn, spencers is only good for the old ladies with their sagging boobs on the front of greeting cards, the pretzel place hands out free samples so no need to buy, and the pet shop charges 800.00 for a hamster that was up some gay dudes ass. Therefore you are left with only one other thing to do in the mall.... take pennies from the fountain and throw them at the 14 year old emo kids. Then watch them cry and whine and try to cut themselves with one of the branches of the plastic palm trees. At that point you just point and laugh and say something to the effect of, " God called, he said to cut deeper next time, so he can piss on your face down in hell emo boy."

Myspace- If you are reading this then you obviously are incredible in bed and will have kids so beautiful that every poor black psycho woman in the world will be out to kidnap them. The ones that are not reading this are obviously the douchbag guys that request a thousand girls hoping that the really hot ones will be so turned on by there 8 kids and pictures of porn for a background that they will want to sleep with them instantly. Or they are the stupid ass girls that post 100 pictures of themselves half naked and then get pissed when that douchebag comes along and posts a picture of two turtles fucking followed by a

Being sick- my throat hurts worse than that time I gave head to a unclean homeless guy just so he'd reveal the secret to his floating magic dollar trick. Best part about being sick? Tomato soup and grilled cheeses. Worst part about being sick? Thinking your ass is bleeding when you stand up and see the tomato soup and grilled cheeses you just squirted out. Also, I would like to meet the guy that invented Nyquil and shake his hand, and by shake his hand I mean kick him in that soft spot behind his ears. Sure it helps you sleep an extra hour but it takes you an hour to get over the shock that by the taste of it you might have just swallowed liquid SARS. I can feel my esophogus close up faster than my asshole at a Clay Aiken concert. Then it hits my stomach and I swear I can hear Pinocchio and Geppetto stuffing notes into bottles inside me.

baseball- not even my humor could uplift this boring ass sport...moving on

rednecks- I pick up the paper every morning hoping that that ecoli has spread to chewing tobacco but I am saddened that my prayers to mecca and nightly goat sacrifices have not been answered yet. Seriously Cletus, it is 2006, the north won over 100 years ago, the only people interested in your culture are the blacks, and they are only interested because they want to hijack your monster trucks and run over your children. No person ever has looked good with a t-shirt tucked into their jeans except for the retarded kid in the Stone Cold Steve Austin shirt (ok that was me in the 8th grade) and the only people that should be covered in mud are half naked chicks in a kiddie pool and an old lady that slips on the way to check her mail in a rainstorm. And it is bad enough that some jerk off comes up next to me bumping that new Ludacris joint so loud my testicles clap together like those pink balls on the green stick you get at an arcade. BUt for you to blast Gretchen Wilson on your way to get your tooth cleaned pisses me off more than that time I invested all my money into clear pepsi and the XFL.

Well there you have it and as promised, another graphic for your viewing pleasure, and by viewing pleasure I mean...well viewing pleasure.

Im high as hell! Seriously, I flew a massive kite. Im helpless.

2007-05-09T17:18:00.000-07:00

I have had it up to my left testicle with some guy at work so I am going to vent by telling you what I think of whatever comes to my head:

Tara Reid- Michael J Fox can sip hot cocoa better then this girl can act. Her nipples look like someone made an extra cheese pizza with only two pepperoni on it and then when the guy delivered it the box slid all over his back seat. Full imagery available here

Hinder- "lips of an angel"- Im pretty sure this years superbowl will now open with this song instead of the star spangled banner. I am so sick of this song that the radio station that plays it next better pray to God that there is a gas leak and the DJ just passed out on the switchboard, otherwise Im going to rip the DJs tongue out and put it in a giant tootise pop and wave it in front of him going "how many licks now biatch!"

That guy with all the Bible verses spray painted on his car (every town has one, its constitutional law)- Seriously, what are you trying to accomplish? Other than distracting me while I am trying to drive, eat my McRib, and scratch off my lotto tickets. Fuck, you want me to wreck or something? Like Im going to see "FEAR GOD" spray painted in fuscia and think to myself, "wow, Ive had it all wrong. You are right O-husband-of-lady-with action-figures-on-her-dash-man. Had I not seen your rainbow porta-bible I would have actually sniffed that crack off that whores asshole. Now I think Ill go prance in the meadows and give lolipops to infant orphans named after inanimate objects like "Apple" and "Sky."

Burger King- as if their food didnt make it easier for me to shit already, now I walk in there and see a cardboard cutout of "The King." I havent been so scared shitless since prince kheed amujabe sneezed next to me on a plane ride. I karate kicked the gay right out of that damn carboard cutout thinking it was going to come to life and rape my double whopper with cheese. Whoever thought up that scary ass thing needs to be shot for embarassing me worse than that time a bird got fried in the power lines at 1am on Y2K and I found myself pleading to my mom to take my virginity before the world imploded.

My tooth- guys, it hurts so fucking bad. It is a wisdom tooth and it is in and it is bitch slapping my mouth. It is like that angry drunk guy that comes late to the party and then calls everyone a whore for leaving right when he gets there. This morning I tried to tie me tooth to a fat ladies foot and then whistle the song the ice cream truck plays, hoping that would yank that son of a bitch right out. Instead she drug me 7 blocks till she found a truck. I untied myself when I got scared because she actually ate the little wooden spoon and I feared I might be next.

Sorry guys, no photoshop tonight, although I had a lot of material to work with, I promise one next time. Im just too tired. Leave comments as always, each time you do an angel gets their wings. Either that or an innocent man gets executed in Texas. Hmmm, well take your chances.

Prepare to be amazed, and by amazed I mean disappointed

2007-05-09T17:16:00.000-07:00

Well it is time for a new blog, and that means me rambling on like a Schizophrenic on the Million Dollar Pyramid.

Did you guys read about how all these activists (aka unemployed pot smokers) are pissed because some guy on death row had to have two doses of lethal injection to die? They said he squirmed and looked uncomfortable. Oh god no! You mean to tell me that this man that killed another man suffered? What is this world coming to? Surely we should have taken him to the poppy fields in the Wizard of OZ and let him dance around till he was tired and then lay him on a bed made of fallen angel feathers while a playboy bunny suffocates him with her breasts. The guy fucking killed another man! If I were the warden I would secretly put gasoline in the tube and then rub my feet really hard on the carpet so when I touched him he lit up faster than Cheech and Chong getting off the plane in Amsterdam.

Reason number 652 to hate Publix- their scale by the door. It basically told me that now I must stop at each of the weigh stations on the side of the road when I go on a freeway. They dont even weigh you now. They just have a hand come out from the scale and poke you in the stomach and if you giggle like the Pilsbury doughboy then you lose your rights to the free sugar cookie at the Bakery. Although, when I do my shopping there I actually lose weight. Not because of my food selection but because Captain Chromosome the down syndrome bag boy deicded that since tuna goes on bread they must be bagged together. Then he conveniently helps me take the cart to my car, and by to my car I mean ramming the cart into the tail pipe repeatedly while asking me if I think he would make a good helicopter pilot. The only things that make it home in one piece is a head of lettuce and my Soap Opera Digest.

So the Screech porn leaked the other day, along with the Colin Farrell porn. Two great porns, that is if you enjoy a hairy irish guy cursing at a boob or a has been teen star giggling over the first naked girl he has seen since he slid under the dressing room wall while waiting on his mom to try on hooker dresses at JCPenny. I was more entertained watching ants attempt to collect my spit. If you put both of them on at the same time and then close your eyes you can actually picture Groundskeeper Willy banging the crap out of Kelly on Saved by the Bell Hawaii.

I decided today that if I won the lottery I want to build a house. Not just any house but the ultimate house. I want the developers to go "what the fuck? this guy is insane. He should be locked up with that guy that ripped the tag off the mattress that says do not rip" I want trap doors, hidden hallways, two way mirrors, and a sick ass dungeon that looks like I kill people in there but actually it is where I do my laundry. I want a water slide that goes down to the first floor game room, but I want two slides, that way that if there are any people in my house pissing me off I can send them down the other slide and they wind up in one of those pots on Bugs Bunny that Elmer Fudd throws all the carrots and cellery into. I want a room like in Willy Wonka where there is only half of everything and then I want to confuse the shit out of people. Ill tell them to go get my watch from that room and they will bring it to me and then ill beat there ass for breaking my watch in half. Then Ill have a room that you can go in but once in it the door closes and there is no way out. It is just a plain white room. Ill fuck with people and tell them over an intercom that they fell down my stairs and died and are now in pergatory and the only way to get into heaven is to tell me all their secrets. After they do Ill have a door open to show them that there parents were right there the whole time they were explaining that time they got drunk and fucked the family rabbit to the theme song of Step by Step. Priceless.

Well thats it, hope you enjoyed. As always, please leave comments.
I now leave you with an image of groundskeeper willy yelling at boobs:

I didn't write a blog, but if I did then here is how it would go...

2007-05-09T17:15:00.000-07:00

I am not sure what I am going to write about so that is probably a sign to run, either that or to read on because it will most likey be the most random thing since the Star Wars Christmas Special.

The other day I was helping my friends move out of thier apartment and the secutity guard comes and knocks on the door. He says "hey, you guys moving?" Bravo, Inspector Faget. No, I just come over and help my friends move their crap into a giant uhaul so we can drive it around the block a few times then bring it back in. Keeps me in shape. Im sure this guy is the best security guard ever. You could steal the sun and this guy wouldnt figure it out until the batteries went out on his flashlight.

I love the dollar store. I go in there and get 40 items for like... well... 40.00. The only problem is that I get so much crap that I dont need that if I had just went to the store and got the crap I needed, then I would spend half of what I do in that place. I go into the dollar store for soap and bleach and walk out with a plastic rake, a minnie mouse snow globe, 5 gallons of ketchup, and 20 cans of vienna sausages.

Ive found that I no longer go to walmart to actually purchase things. I go there for an ego boost. No matter how crappy my job is I know that I will never be putting pink stickers on return items at the door, and that makes my day. I also know that no matter how shitty my kids are, I will always be a better parent than moms in walmart. If you are in the meat isle you can actually see a mom remove a t-bone from the package and beat her kid with it. The parents there are so bad that I saw a dad once crap into a cheerios box and then put it into the cart, just so he could see the look on his kids face when he went looking for the special prize.

Speaking of walmart, christmas is upon us. Dont you just want to smack that asshole in the face that gets you the present from walmart? The only thing that you can buy at walmart that is even close to worthy of a gift is a box of Mike and Ikes. Their CDs are edited, their furniture was made by blind workers in a sweatshop in Crapistan, and their clothes consist of brands like "Munch" by Rosie O'Donnell and some company owned by the guy with the glasses on the Wonder Years. I would rather open a present and have a midget get out of it and grind my nuts on a cheese grater while humming the never ending song off Lamb Chop than get something from walmart.

Yeah, so Im back home too. Im living with my parents over my last college christmas break. It wouldnt be so bad if I didnt have to work at this shitty Carrabbas here too. Im just playing, comparing this Carrabbas to the other Carrabbas is like watching a retarded kid get get his nuts bit off by a 15 foot great white in the middle of the ocean. Actually its nothing like that, I just humored myself with the thought of a retarted kid flapping around in the ocean in cirlces with no testicles and eating the fish poop that floats on the surface. I do get to chill with some pretty cool people here though, like my buddy Jon. He is cool when he is not raping goats and rubbing seaweed on his nipples. This one time, he tried to corner me in the walkin freezer, he told me he wanted me right then and there and he wouldnt take no for an answer. Long story short it was the best 2 minutes of my life, followed by 5 hours of defrosting our ballsacks from the case of chicken fingers. Ha ha ha, Im just playing. It was the case of shrimp.

Lastly I would like to point out that just because you are pretty does not mean that you can dance. At the Ocean Club with Lee there is a girl that was somehow hired by the club to dance on a side stage. I called the paramedics twice because the first time I thought she was having a seizure. The second time I called them was for me becuase I was getting sea sick from watching her. The kid on Jurassic Park busted better moves when he got the shit shocked out of him on the fence. I actually got scared for a moment because at one point she had me thouroughly convinced that I was on an airplane and she was the stewardess demonstrating the safety procedures. She could have slipped and broke her neck and the paramedic reach her and declare that she was now paralyzed from the neck down and at that moment "Funky Town" would start playing and confetti would drop from the ceilings as the bartender would hand out free shots while everyone cheered like the munchkins when the house got dropped on the witch. After watching her dance I left the club convinced that Muhammed Ali could win against her in a game fo Jenga.

Well that is it for this blog. No pic again, sorry, I dont have my computer hooked up and the parents computer is so shitty it actually has a port to plug in your etch a sketch. Tune in next time when I discuss the theory of quantum physics. Either that or I will rant about some stripper named Roland and jello pudding pops. We'll see.

I just shit a whole turkey

2007-05-09T17:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. As your thanksgiving day present, I am giving you a new blog.

If you are like me you basically ate until you felt like that bitch girl that turned into the blueberry on Willy Wonka. If you are also like me then...well actually no one is like me. If there were two of me the world would implode from the extreme gravitational pull of awesomeness.

So let me guess...

You sat around for fucking ever until you ate...mom kept saying 20 more minutes every 45 minutes and you wound up sneaking a bite of that shitty doughnut left over from the morning that no one wanted because it was the kind that they basically forgot to glaze, but instead of recalling it they pack it and call it the "cake" doughnut.
Then everyone eats and they always say kids first but the little bastards think that they can eat way more than they actually can so you are left with the dark meat and a beak while they sit there with half the fucking breast getting cold on thier plate asking when the hell we are gonna have pie. Then you finally eat, but you left no room whatsoever for pie but grandma insists that you eat some, which wouldnt be too bad except that no one remembered the cool whip. You cant have pie without COOL WHIP!!! Fuck!
Then after all that you try and sit to watch football but you cant hear the TV over your aunts, mom, and grandmother arguing about who is going to wash the dishes, then it just ends in everyone doing it and pissing your mom off so that when they all leave she can turn to you and say, "god i cant stand when they do that shit." While watching football you have the one uncle who apparently was the first person fired from ESPN for talking too much. He calls every foul before it even happens. Somehow he even manages to find problems with the half time show. You also have that one horney uncle who every time they show the cheerleaders turns to your grandfather and says "there you go pops, thats why we have High Definition" and for a brief second you imagine your grandfathers wilted and dusty penis slowly raising in his pants as he thinks about this 23 year old drug sniffing crack whore in tight silver shorts.
This sends you in a frantic rush to the bathroom but it never seems open cause everyone in the house wants to take their huge dump at your place so that they dont stink up their place. So after an hour of wating you finally take your dump and want to go relax on the couch then you have that snot nosed 6 year old cousin come up to you and ask you to go in the back yard and play with them and the rest of your cousins. After many times of saying no and being unable to convince her that you have contracted AIDS and have to rest, you give in. This is a bad idea because it always results in playing a game that you are 1000 times better than them in.
At first you give in and let them own you but then later you a)get sick of losing and b) start to see how impressed they are when you show off... so you take it to the next level and basically play the game as if you invented it. Then comes the inevitable. You whack a cousin right upside the fucking head with a ball or stick or something and they go runnin to mom and dad who then tell your mom and she comes out and tells everyone to come inside and relax so now you have 400 of satans spawn cursing your name to hell under their breath and their parents wanting to shit on yoru face for bringing them all inside.
About this time you just say fuck it and sneak into the den to check your myspace and look at porn until you hear them start to leave. Now you cant wait until Christmas, except at Christmas the same things happen plus you wind up assembling every fucking toy in the house and having to tell the kid after its done 4 hours later that the fuck faced person that got it forgot the fucking batteries so they are SOL. Except somehow, this time when they burst into tears... you get the same feeling you get when you find out an ex now has 10 kids and is living on welfare: sweet bliss.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Complete and udder nonsense

2007-05-09T17:11:00.000-07:00

I really have nothing in particular to talk about so Ill just ramble.

I had a really awful babysitter when I was little. She took me to sea world twice and lost me twice. The second time I think she just remembered how nice it was to be without me the first time because she lost me in the pirate ship playhouse at 9am and came to the security desk to pick me up at 4pm. She then took me to the movies, she promised we were going to see Ghost Dad with Bill Cosby. Next thing I know Im getting my first lesson in sex-ed watching Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze go at it in Ghost. At least she got the ghost part right. The only bad part is that Whoopi Goldberg was conveniently placed to ruin any chance at a prepubescent hard-on and almost suceeded in making me gay. She then tried to make it up to me. She took me to see Benji, under the conditions that she didnt have to watch it. So she took me to the theater for Benji while she went to go watch some other movie. She was not the best in time management apparently because I got there just in time for the end credits, then the cleaning crew came in, and then I got to watch the previews and her movie was over...time to go. Had she not died recently I might say something mean about her or something about how I always used to try and summon bloody mary in the mirror whenever she was in the bathroom with me in hope she might come and go postal on her ass and how her cats used to crap in my sleeping bag and it would piss me off so I would make them eat it and they would puke all over her house. But since she is dead I wont say anything like that.

I am sick of people not trusting people. Who cares? Seriously, if your boyfriend/girlfriend or whoever is going to cheat, then just know that you cant stop them. Getting on their ass and not trusting them isnt going to help anything but make them want to cheat more. So stop being jealous, you look stupid and you sound stupid. case in point:
guy-"hey baby whats up"
girl "bitch moan bitch moan"
guy "sorry to hear that, well today at work I... hey wait a second is that that guy Jesus I hear in the background?"
girl- "bitch moan bitch moan"
guy "you have to be fucking kidding me, what the fuck is he doing there?!? I thought I told you not to hang out with him."
girl- "bitch moan bitch moan"
guy- "Look, baby, its not that I dont trust you, its that I dont trust him... wait a second...he isnt doing that whole 'walk on water' bullshit again is he? that son of a bitch!!!! im coming down there!"

Being a grill cook at carrabbas is some tough shit. People think you can read minds and have no clue how steaks are supposed to look. Someone returned a rare steak and said that it was red in the center. Good observation there FBI Inestigator McDickhead! That is a rare steak. Then you get the guy who wants it not only well done, he wants you to get on a space shuttle and cook his steak on the surface of the fucking sun. What is the point of a steak if you are going to burn it beyond recognition anyways. I have an idea. Ill crap on the grill and char it and season it and then you can complain about how the corn is too tender in the middle. The night was not helped by the array of illegals helping out making salads and apetizers. It takes them 20 minutes to make one appetizer. Its a good thing they arent on the grill, it would probably be faster to cook your food with a magnifying glass or in one of those boxes with foil in it that never worked but you always assumed it did because the second you stared at it you couldnt see for five days to tell if anything happened.

Lastly, why is it that every mother fucker decides to come out of Publix right when you approach the crosswalk? I thought there was a fucking bomb threat when I drove up. There were like 5000 old people, the ones that dont stop for you crossing but dont even bother to contemplate if you are going to stop, they just run out there. Well, maybe run isnt the word. They tend to pace along the road with the grace of a rock and the speed of a fart in Jello. The ones that got out of the store first got into their buick fortresses and then proceeded to inch out in front of me like once the herd cleared they were going to go in front of me. Not this time Grandma Moses...

Random (as usual)

2007-05-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

Well another night of work, another night of the website, and another night of getting absolutely nothing done. Im about as productive as an immigrant worker doing well...anything but yardwork. Im stuck here reading the same friend bulletins over and over and getting nothing accomplished.

Do you realize that when you click on a bulletin it gives you two options under the bulletin...reply to poster and delete from friends. I love that. It is kind of like saying sure im interested in what you are saying, let me reply. Or, you are a stupid fuck of a fuck and Im going to delete you for making me click on this stupid ass survey. I hope your kids get AIDS. Cuts to the chase. I like it.

I just cleared the over 100 friends mark today. Hooray. Except a lot of them are bands who produce their stuff on a talkboy tape recorder. Not sure why they request me. Like, "hey, our band sucks. but we need a lot of friends so at least one person will like us." and generally one person does like them. Usually you can see the mom of one of the bandmates posting on the wall something like "you guys rock, cant wait till you come around (insert city)" Then they usually rent out an asian kid to do their graphics for them and think that they "made it." If you look at their photos you can most times see them performing in some club to some fans aka their basement to their michael jordan gatorade cardboard cutout.

It is also official today that I hate my manager. I work as a chef at Carrabbas. The manager has to order some food, and make sure shit runs right. Somehow during that process he translated that into yelling a lot and disappearing when people need him. He makes up all these rules and acts like he is philosophical. He needs to go ponder why he is so fat and why he is getting paid six figures to do a job that a retarded midget on a unicycle holding a lollipop (grape) could do better.

Work just pisses me off in general. Some people are just so ignorant and do such a shitty job. Especially the guys at work that just speak Spanish. I swear they talk shit behind my back. Im going to learn how to say "I hear you you dumb fucks and I swear if you say one more word about me Im going to hunt down your kids and rape them in the ass with a chainsaw." That'll teach 'em. Then they get in your way and do things all wrong so you have to correct them yet you cant speak spanish so they just laugh at you. Like I am the handicapped one? You are in America, where the language is English. You now work in an Italian resaurant, where the menu is in Italian. No where in there is there room for Spanish. Not making the effort to learn English while people around you make the effort to learn Spanish is not cool nor funny. It is ignorant. That shit makes me more pissed than the time I waited in line 7 hours for Christopher Reeves autograph only to hear he was still on the letter C with the first guy.

Well that is my venting for the night. Ill conclude this post with what I believe myspace should change their bulletin options to (sorry Liz, nothing personal, you were just the last to post one)

10yearsfans.net

2007-05-09T17:05:00.002-07:00

So I have the new fansite for 10 years up and running. It has been great to see such positive response. On a side note I cant message on myspace for the time being. Apparently my messages were deemed too awesome for the servers to handle. They can only handle 4 million gigs of awesomeness, I topped 70 mill.

I have a few interesting random thoughts to share. First off, I am an education major. Education major=all girl classes+me. Now any other guy would think this is an awesome thing, but let me tell you it is worse than being forced to watch a Oprah porno. The sole reason being that girls are nasty and I never wanted to know that. I smelt a fart today so rancid that Pepe Lepew would have thrown up in the corner of the room screaming "sweet mary mother of jesus, my testicles just came up through my throat." It had to be a girl. I never wanted to know you girls fart too. Just like I never wanted to know Rosie O'Donnel was gay (happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...) I hate that. I tried to convince myself it was the fat ugly sasquatch chick across the room but it still didnt help. And of course every damn girl looks at me cause they think im the nasty guy. Fuck that. You girls are sick.

I also got my interning assignment today for next semester. Im going to be teaching at Menendez High. So if you have a kid and you want them to grow up to be the next Stephen Hawking, but not quite smart enough to realize how bad of a parent you really are, then you should take you kid there now. I plan on fucking with the kids a lot. Here are some of my ideas.

1) When returning papers I go to hand back the smart kids paper and I just hold it and stare at him in disgust. Ill then say something like "I dont belive you" and then wipe my ass with the paper and lite it on fire and say "that is what I think of that crap you call research!" after he is done crying ill tell him he got an A and I was fucking with him.

2) Every single kid talks comes in on test day and then talks about what they hope I ask on the test and what they didnt study and they hope I dont ask those questions. So ill sit in my planning office with a mic hidden under some desks and quickly type all the shit they didnt study for. When they get the test they'll all look at eachother like "what the fuck is this." Then they all fail and become that guy that holds open house signs on the side of the road. priceless.

3) Ill have a parent teacher meeting scheduled and during the discussion Ill have one of my students come out of the planning room tied up with "slut" written on his forehead and Ill yell at him to get back in there or I will get out the gyrating gorilla on his ass. Then Ill act like nothing happened.

Man Im going to rock as a teacher. Anyways, for those that have not checked out the fansite yet it is www.10yearsfans.net. So go there. Now. And if you dont, then you are doomed to get one of those myspace messages that says you are doomed. Instead of my usual funny graphic I will post this kick ass graphic done by Liz:

Are they ill-tempered sea bass?

2007-05-09T17:05:00.001-07:00

So today I took my certification exams to become a teacher. Needless to say, I think Carrabbas and I are going to have a lasting relationship. I totally fucked up the social science exam. I had no idea that crap would be so hard. Here are sample questions:
1. During the civil war who was the general for the south?
A. Mcarthur
B. Lee
C. Grant
D. Scott

2. What was the favorite food of his third cousin twice removed?
A. Bread
B. Wheat Bread
C. Rye Bread
D. Sour Patch Kids

I had no fucking clue what the hell this test was talking about. I felt like Charlie Browns teacher wrote the damn thing. On top of all that I had that one guy that has studied his whole life for this test sitting right next to me. The guy was flipping pages like it was the Bible and today was the second coming. He got up and smiled the entire way out. I wanted to stab him in the eye with spatula.
The only fun thing that came out of it was sitting in my car for the 2 hours in between tests. I was eating a sub and banana pudding while sippin on some pepsi while at the same time bouncing back and fourth on my cell phone between playing wheel of fortune and trying to get porn to show up instead of my email, when this girl walks out of the building. She walked over to her car and stopped before entering and looked down at the tire. She then got a smug look on her face like she just smelt the fart I let go on my way out of the building, and then she bends down and looks at her tire and notices its flat.
Next, she stands up and kicks it to test it. I almost shit myself. The tire is holding up a 2250lb car and she fucking kicks it. Does she expect the tire to do a trick? Why do people kick the tire of a car to test it out? Its not a basketball dumbasses. "hmmm...man that tire looks flat...*kick* oh shit it is flat. Damn good thing I kicked it, I almost drove on that, god bless my miracle shoe."
One more thing, ever notice how the people that administer tests are the most pissed off people in the world? That lady was more uptight than an amish prostitute. She yelled at me for not having two forms of ID and made me feel more out of place than a Mexican at a Faith Hill concert. Anyways, since I suck at the secondary exams I think I am going to go for the elementary exams. Hellen Keller could pass those with her eyes closed (shes blind already for those of you that didnt get that gem). As a result I will probably be bringing terror to hundreds of tiny kids a year. Here is a glimpse at what it may look like when an elementary school child sees me enter the room for the first time (Apparently I plan on teaching all asian children and pee wee hermans son in the back row there. Wish me luck!)

Same old

2007-05-09T17:03:00.000-07:00

It seems like everyday ends in me going to bed, having been as productive as a retard with no arms taking tickets at the movies. I need to step it up but I have no motivation. I know I am going to graduate and I dont have to worry about getting outstanding grades for scholarships cause school is almost over. What is there to look forward to? I am not even sure what I want to do. I am resting in between two options.
Option 1- Stand up comic. I might try it. I wont make crap for money unless I get my own sitcom. Of course the ratings would be comparable to that of the super bowl half time show. I would call it: "Lost." I know I know, the title is already taken, but that show gets the ratings. So people would get confused and tune into my show and then be drawn in by my sexiness and incredibly quick witted humor and spontaneity. BAM! See, gotcha.
Option 2- I become a teacher and during the first 2 years teaching I get my masters, all the while attending every local political meeting. Immediately upon getting my masters I run for local office. Possibly Mayor. Then eventually work my way up to total world domination, that is if Kim Jong Il hasnt done it before me. Damn psycho rice eaters!
Either way I somehow will be famous and have people auctioning off my trash on Ebay.

K-Fed. Nuff-Said

2007-05-07T18:41:00.000-07:00

OK, first things first. Who the fuck invents a cookie that doesnt absorb milk?!? I sit there for half an hour and my cookie still crunches but my fingers fall off to the bottom of the damn glass. Do they coat cookies with teflon now? I am left to wonder why they even spend money to produce a cookie like that. Some jerk off that just got fired from the milk plant gets hired at the keebler elf tree and then decides to ruin Mr and Mrs Gustafson and their cow farm. Hey! Fuck him!
Now thats out of the way... So, I decided to do a blog. Why you may ask? Simple really. I have so many things bouncing around in my head that I cant ever have the time to say or express, but instead of letting them go I would like to share some of them. I dont intend on writing passages from the bible, as most of you are like me and dont want to read. I will come in, write down something that is funny, interesting, or stupid, and most likely include some crappy photoshop and thats about it.
For starters, I am dying to be a stand up comic. I seriously think about it almost once a minute. I think I could blow a lot of people out of the water. Most of you are probably thinking "Yeah right Devin, you arent funny." For those people... I know where you live and I will find you and rip out your eye balls and shit in the sockets. For the rest of you that know I would be a good comic, Ill probably do the same thing to you as well cause its an addiction that I cant stop. Help me.
Last thing... did anyone see K-Fed get body slamed on WWE RAW last night? I dont watch it but I did see the video online. What a pussy! I believe that anyone who gets their name from a womens shoe (Keds with an f in the middle, for Fag) deserves to get body slammed. Had it been me slammin him I would have pissed on him while doing a Riverdance on his ballsack. Im going to conclude my blog with an artists rendition of how it would have went down: