Everybody got kids

I realized the other day that almost all of my female friends from high school and junior high have kids. Some two or three. Maybe it is in the water. If that were to ever be the headline in a newspaper, the stock of Aquafina would go through the roof. The way I see it, unplanned pregnancies are just another reason to take it in the face. Where you put it after that is up to you. And really, is it that hard to take a pill once a day? Its like ecstasy, but smaller. Speaking of, it always makes me wonder how a pill-popper can get pregnant. You pop pills everyday anyway, might as well throw a daily in there too. They have the shot. Girls who shoot up can't tell me they are afraid of needles. If they had birth control that you could smoke, that would be something. Not that there's anything wrong with having kids at a younger age, but weren’t the women of my generation supposed to be career minded and have children in their thirties. That's what all Primetime Live and 20/20 specials were telling me years ago. I find it funny these women (ages 22-25) are young mothers, considering how crazy and out of control I remember them just 5-6 years ago. It’s all for the best, I guess. No one wants to be an old mom/dad. I know I don't. I had originally planned to have a kid before I'm thirty. Then I see all my friends that are that age and I think, "There is no way I can be responsible for another life when I'm thirty." I still might want to have on though. If its a boy, I'll still be in good enough shape to play sports with him. If its a girl, I'll still be in good enough shape to beat on her boyfriends. You just can't flash a shotgun to these kids anymore. You have to be able to grab them by their throat and say, "There will be no fucking tonight! You hear me?" I can't really do that at 50+. Or maybe I will. I dunno. God, don't let me have a daughter. Another thing. Even though alot of my female friends from school have kids, none of my guy friends do...that I know of...or they know of. Did all these girls from my childhood fuck the same guy?

Drunken Etiquette

For my next lesson, I will teach you how to act while you're drunk. I know this is hard (that's what she said......I'm not funny), but you'll remember this later if I tell you now. I personally can't adhere to these rules (its not in my nature), but those who can't do, teach. In every group of friends, there are the ones that hang out frequently and the ones that hang out sparingly. If you're one of the sparingly ones, you're probably a really annoying drunk. Or you smell funny. Or both. Regardless, I'm going to give you a set of rules to abide by to make you more enjoyable to drink with. 1. This is an important rule. Don't act more drunk than you are. It's annoying. We all know you're lying for attention. It sucks. This is only permissible if you are trying to get someone to take you home in an non-cockblocking way. Don't do it to stop someone from getting laid. Just don't. It's hard enough to hook-up without you updating us on your drink count or showing us your infected heroin scars. Which brings me to my next rule... 2. Don't cockblock. Just don't. If your friend is talking to someone by themselves, don't join the conversation. They end up losing focus at the task at hand and instead laughs/curses at you uncontrollably. That usually makes the other person wander off or lose interest in the conversation. Kinda like an Alzheimer's patient. So yeah, don't do that. 3. Don't drunkenly hit on a sober friend, man or woman. You will either a) be viewed as really gay in a very gay way or b) permanently ruin any chance you had with that girl (or guy, if you are a girl) you've been eyeing for the past couple weeks/months. When a drunken girl tries to hit on me when I'm sober, it instantly turns me off. Unless she's being all touchy-feely. Then I welcome any advance she wants to make. I'm a shameless whore. 4. Don't talk on the phone all night to your pissed off girlfriend/boyfriend. You already knew the consequences of going out drinking when you left home, so deal with them when you return. I hate asking, "Where's so-and-so?" and getting a, "Talking to you-know-who." in return. Either break up with them or train them better, because we have a game of pool to finish. 5. If you're a guy, watch the drunken nakedness. Its all fun and games till the dick makes its first appearance. No one wants to see it, including most girls. You're like the first 10 hours of CNN after 9/11; we don't like what we see, but we can't turn away. You'll be known as that guy who always gets naked and then you won't be invited out anymore. The exact opposite is true for women. 6. Don't spray beer everywhere until the drunken host does it first. The host being the owner of the home or the bartender. After the host goes for it, have at it. Just try to drink some first, then aim chest level at anything that bounces. 7. If a friend cuts you off, stay fucking cut off. We do this to keep from having to hold your hair back or keep your pants on (for women), or to keep you from passing out or puking in our car (for men). You obviously don't know when to stop, so we tell you when. We're like that restraining order your ex has against you, we keep you from doing anything dangerously stupid. 8. This is for the girls. Don't hate on another girl for having drunken fun. You will never be invited out after that. If she wants to be all slutty, that's her business. Next to a wandering finger, it is truly the most annoying thing a woman can ever do. That and teasing, but I already wrote something about that. 9. Don't start a drunken brawl over a stupid reason. Your friends will have your back if the fight is worthy, but will laugh at you if its something stupid. I can't think of an example, so I'll just say it's a judgment call. This call will decide if your weekends are made up of marathon Halo sessions or drunken greatness. 10. Don't be that guy who talks to everyone at the bar while they order drinks. If you don't know me, then hey. If you do know me, then how's it going. If you don't know anyone in the entire line, don't try to talk to every single person in said line. It's kinda creepy. You should sober up and go home to make up with your wife, because chances are, that's the reason why your currently trashed. If one of my friends were that guy, I'd immediately call him a cab, then pay the cabbie to drive as far as possible. Its sad really, so don't be that guy. I'm sure I left some stuff off, but these are just what bothers me. All that really matters is keeping my drinking experience as fun as possible. So follow these simple rules and enjoy your night so I can enjoy mine.

My favorite word

I have a bad mouth. I have the mouth of a 50’s navy vet from Alabama, at times. So my new favorite word isn’t ‘puppies’ or ‘sunshine’ or ‘rainbows’. Shit, my old favorite word wasn’t any of those either. My old favorite word was ‘mahfucka’, ‘motherfucker’ for the ebonically challenged. I mostly used it as a pronoun in the place of him, her, you, etc, etc. Example: “Look mahfucka, you’re wrong.” or “That mahfucka is a little bitch.” and so on. But if you think about it, it can be used for anything. Example: “Look mahfucka, this mahfucka don’t owe you a mahfucking thing. So you and that mahfucka can take this mahfucka and be on your mahfucking way, mahfuckas.” Mahfucka can be any and everything. If I wrote the thesaurus, mahfucka would be the last synonym for every word imaginable. I liked to use it mostly as an exclamation to some error or mistake, but then I said it phonetically. If I dropped something or something broke, you’d hear a “Mo-ther-fu-cker!” like it came from an adult-version See-N-Say. Needless to say, Samuel L. Jackson was my hero. Recently, I cut down on my use of ‘mahfucka’ and replaced it with a shorter, more effective ‘fucker’. Oh, the glory of ‘fucker’. It’s as great as ‘mahfucka’ but without all the extra syllables. All syllables do is waste precious seconds of your life. Thinking back at all the times I said ’mahfucka’ or ‘motherfucker’, I begin to realize how efficient using the word ‘fucker’ can be. By using a new obscenity, I am bettering my life in more ways than I originally thought. I am literally freeing up a couple years of my life to do something other than curse. Plus, it’s less offensive to use at work or in public in general. Instead of greeting a group of people by stating each one’s name or calling them all ‘mahfuckas’, I can walk in and say, “Hey fuckers!” It’s a great substitute. I use it all the time. When I drop something, when I can’t remember somebody’s name, when the condom breaks, whenever I feel it is necessary. It’s GrrRAND. So to all fucking fuckers out there, make your new fucking word ‘fucker’ today! Word Count = 362 Mahfucka/motherfucker = 19 Fucker/fucking = 8 Not bad. Next word: Cunt

Sleeper Cells

Paranoid America has been talking about this since 9/11. The possibility of Arab-Americans being nothing but embedded operatives to be called upon at moment's notice to reek havoc on our nation. You've seen scenarios on shows like '24' and....well, whatever other shows that have tried to cash in on this idea. My question is: Why do we assume its just the Arabs? Any country could have sleeper cells hidden here and we'd never know it until its too late. Shit, I could be a sleeper agent for Africa or something. Luckily, my trigger is in the 'Snakes On A Plane' movie, so I won't be killing anyone anytime soon. Think... England: Wouldn't you be plenty pissed if a large territory of yours decides one day to break away and form their own union, then find out 200 years later that they became the most powerful enity in the world? I would be a little bitter. They could have embedded numerous operatives to catch us one day off guard. Its not hard for an English person to speak American. Plus, a large amount of this country is white (81.7%), and where do you think white people came from? England...mostly. Hugh Grant, Jude Law, and Kate Beckensale are all here just to make nice and suck up as much movie money as they can to fund these terrorist organizations. Do you really believe Tony Blair enjoys 'pretending' to be Bush's lapdog? It's all an elaborate plan to anally rape our nation. Any Asian Country: I'm mostly talking about China, Japan, and Korea. I live in a state where even the last governor was Asian. They are everywhere. I think they were originally sent here to get really good at math, but they figured they should stay in case an opportunity to conquer us came up. At any given moment, we could be overtaken. Ever notice how almost every big city has a Chinatown? We call them international districts, they call them military bases. Finally, they know what we're afraid to say: If one day we woke up and could no longer order Chinese food, this country would go to shit. Mexico: I'm not even going to give a 'for instance' or any examples. Let's just say we'd be fucked. California? Gone. Oh, and good luck finding anyone to clean anything. Africa: We tried the Black Panther idea, we tried the gangbanger way, and we tried selling crack (only to sell it to ourselves). I'm waiting for the new, hot, hip-hop song to come out with subliminal messages telling me to overtake the government....and steal a car. America would never know. Most non-black, hip-hop listeners just like the beats anyway. Anything that gives you an excuse to grind on each other. You all don't listen to the words like we do. Plus, they have enough diamonds to fund a militia. Everytime Lil' Jon yells 'What!', another American baby is aborted. Didn't know that, did you? Being bi-racial, I can side either way or be killed by both. Win-win. Canada: I am most afraid of a Canadian sleeper cell. We laugh at them. We make movies about laughing at them. We don't take them seriously, and then we laugh at them. I'll show you what I'm talking aboot, eh: -Some of the best weed comes from Canada, which is bought in large quanities by stoners and the U.S. government (where do you think all those tons of weed the border patrol finds go?). We are basically funding their secret military through drug money. -If America goes to a major war, draft-dodgers will suddenly strive for Canadian citizenship. More soldiers for Canada, don't cha know? -They're putting something in the water up there that makes the girls ridiculously hot as of late. They will come down here, bear American children, and then raise them to be anarchists. -They're still really pissed at 'Blame Canada' being nominated for an Oscar. Only a matter of time, eh? -They are now making more money in hockey than before. That could be a possible source of terrorist funding in the future, if not now. Only thing that comforts me about Canada is that they have yet to colonize here. There's not a noticeable percentage of them (>1%), that we know of. It could be the same as my American-speaking Englishmen theory. Who I'm not worried about: Germany: We already think all Germans are Nazis anyway. Call it a correct assessment or call it ignorance. Due to that paranoia, they can no longer do anything to surprise anyone, so no threat there. France: I mean, come on. Really? France? Russia: They tried to beat us in an arms race and went bankrupt. Now their economy is fucked. There's not enough hockey players or Vodka sales to fund anything over here other than mail-order brides and bad food. Unrelated subject: The tennis players are hot. Female, tennis players. Italy: They blew their chances when the mob started snitching on each other. Now their chances are like Luca Brasi, "sleeping with the fishes". Australia See France. Then see Russell Crowe. Native Americans: They are trying to buy up all their land back. They are making a shitload off the casinos. The probability of an upheaval, however, is bleak at best. Bow and arrows have never conquered a country before. I think they'll need a hand.

How not to break into a car

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the hot girl waiting for me back at the hotel. Maybe it was just plain stupidity. Whatever it was, it caused me to lock my keys in my car. I ran up to the nearest gas station the other night to get beer before the 2am cut-off. The place was fairly packed from all the people fleeing the bar after last call to keep their buzz going. I pushed my way to the back coolers and grabbed a couple cases of beer. I then went out to my car and popped the back window to dump the beer. In my struggle, I dropped the case of beer that was in bottles (figures) and spilled beer all over the parking lot. As I stared at the broken glass on the ground, I felt an odd feeling of some obvious foreshadowing. I'm not ignorant, so I cleaned up the glass and loaded my truck. I closed the back window and headed to the door. Then I grabbed for my keys to find out there were no keys. Five pockets, no keys. I checked the garbage where I tossed the glass, thoroughly, to no avail. Fuck. I rechecked my pockets, and then I rechecked the garbage. Five minutes later I rechecked the car doors only to see my keys dangling in the ignition. Fuck. Me. I borrowed a screwdriver from the gas attendant knowing how easy it is to pop the back lock of a truck. Yeah, not as easy as I remember. Motherfucker. After fucking up my lock, I went back to borrow a hanger. This metal wire kept me occupied for about a half-hour. It was flimsy enough to pretend to hit the lock or open the handle and give me hope, then bend to destroy my hope. Even some crackheads came to help out. After I told them I spent all my cash on beer and I 'lost' my phone, they stopped helping. I guess they decided not to rob me. I don't think I would have cared much at that point. My breaking point eventually presented itself. It said hello. I said hi back. Then I choked it like it was trying to swallow my soul. I went into the gas station and asked for a 'blunt object'. I planned to thrust said blunt object into the little triangle window to finally grant myself access into my own fucking truck. It ended up being this metal cane/rod that defaced my car, and mutilated my left hand. While breaking my window, I threw my hand straight through it and yanked it back out. Appearantly, I'm what the doctors call a 'gusher'. I assume so anyway, since I never actually went to a doctor. I decided it was a better idea to wrap my hand in a wifebeater and go get laid. Then my phone decided I didn't really need a signal that night. So I go across the street to the gas station so I can call this girl so she can let me in the hotel. I get in to find out that there will be no sex had. My hand hurt too bad for me to even care. So as I sit here at work typing this out, my hand (from my index finger to the web to my thumb) is in shreds. Maybe I should get a bandaid.

The Smoking Jogger

I was in the middle of my run the other day when I saw the funniest shit. This guy, who I was about to pass for the second time, stopped running his route to take a cigarette break. No fucking shit. Wouldn't that just cancel each other out? Smoking in the middle of a run is like eating a slab of bacon 15 minutes into your jazzercise class (do people still do that?). It totally defeats the purpose of your exercise and pretty much voids the last hour or so of your life. Kinda like watching Laguna Beach. Wasted time. Sure, he probably built some leg muscles and/or burned a couple calories, but his stanima suffers. And by stanima, I mean fuck-power. I'm pretty much the opposite. I run to maintain/increase my fuck-power, and not to lose weight. Calories are my friend and we get along quite nicely. I wanted to run up to him and 'enlighten' him on his stupidity, but that goes against my new found Taoist practices. That, and I was on my cool down period i.e. gasping for air. Maybe he wasn't exercising after all. Maybe he was running from the scene of a crime. Maybe he just dumped a body off on the side of the trail. Either way, taking a smoke break wasn't all that smart.

The Creepiness Factor

I found myself checking out a girl of questionable age the other day. Two actually. The first was outside a restaurant wearing a tight, cleavage baring wife-beater and a pair of jeans that were spray painted on. She kinda looked like Lindsay Lohan, but cute. She could have easily passed for 20 but may have been 16. The second was in a movie theatre wearing daisy dukes and a halter-top that wasn’t halting anything. She could have been 18, but more than likely 14. Here’s the million-dollar question: Is it ok for under aged girls to wear next to nothing and call it ‘expressing their womanhood/sexuality’? And if so, does checking them out make me creepy? I am a man and I like a woman’s body. CORRECTION: I love a woman’s body. The problem I keep having is seeing these girls, that have grown beyond their years, and trying to identify their age so I can decide to find them hot or not. If I see a female in a short skirt, I shouldn’t have to worry about seeing teddy bears on her thong when she bends over. Or even watching a girl pass me by with her d-cups being held together by a ‘Class of 2008’ spaghetti strap top. It’s not fair for me or any other man to have to be subjected to teenage sluttiness. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan (BIG fan) of sluttiness. I just draw the line at teenagers baring their training bras to rebel against Daddy. Men should get rewarded on a monthly basis for resisting these overgrown 16 and 17 year old. Kind of like how your girlfriend gives you blowjobs as a reward for not cheating on her. It is not an incentive, it is just a reward. We shouldn’t need an incentive to not do something wrong, but a reward would make all the hard work seem worth it. Speaking of, what exactly makes this so wrong? Is it the fact that these girls are so naïve and will do anything if you tell them you love them? If I bang a 16 year old in a state where it’s legal to do so, does that mean I’m suddenly not creepy. How about Canada? Their age of consent is 14. It makes sense with their free Medicare that pays for their super legal abortions. Although 14 year olds having sex seems really gross to me, suddenly its tolerable 200 miles away. The last time I wanted to see a 14 year old naked, I was 16. She was hot… to me then. Ten years later and I see why it’s a law. I came up with two solutions to all of these problems. The first, and my favorite, is a watermark on a girls forehead that reveals her birth year when viewed by a camera phone. Similar to when you try to photocopy your grandfather’s social security check so you can pay for your reoccurring crack habit and realize the word ‘VOID’ appears in the background. I want to be able to take a quick picture of a crazy hot girl to see if she has a big, invisible ‘1990’ above her freshly shaped eyebrows. The second is a simple solution. Let thongs and short skirts be a rite of passage when turning 18 as a driver’s license is for turning 16. Make these girls show ID when shopping at Vikki Secret’s or Fredrick’s Of Hollywood. Skanks.

The funniest moments in my favorite movies.

This, of couse, is all according to me. Don't analyze my picks, just laugh along with me. The Waterboy This is the first DVD I've ever owned. If I've learned one thing from this movie, it's that I shouldn't smoke crack...or talk about a retard's mom. The 40 Year-Old Virgin It was between this and the, "You know how I know you're gay?" I laughed harder at this, so I conclude its better. Middle Eastern guys are hilarious. Why are we bombing them again? Fuck it, it's a tie. You know how I know you're gay? When you masturbate to porn, you pause it on the guy's 'O' face. Wedding Crashers This makes the list because I was the only one in the theatre to laugh at the "just the tip" reference. Who hasn't played just the tip? Am I the only sleazy guy in Washington who's thrown out this line? Granted, I was a freshman in high school, but you'd be surprised who goes for it. Then again, you might not be. Old School This song will never be sang correctly at a bar ever again. I fuckin' need you mooooorrre than EVER!! Office Space I had another clip before, but YouTube took it off. I think this one is funnier anyway. "I really never liked paying bills. I don't think I'ma do that either." Bad Santa I have never laughed so hard in a movie theatre in my entire life when I saw this paticular scene. Midgets falling over should be the premise of a new FOX reality show. They fall over like bowling pins...drunk, bowling pins. Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back It's all about Moris Day and the motherfuckin' Time! My jungle love South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut Most Absurd. Song. Ever. Half Baked Danny Tanner sucks dick for coke. Does Uncle Jessie know? Mercy. and a classic... Clerks My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks! In a row?

Forecast for today: Milfy, with a small chance of Hot Daughter

Having money must be nice. CORRECTION: Being married to someone with money must be nice. All the spa treatments and big SUV’s and mini dogs and such, it all must be really nice. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not knocking it by any means. I would kill to be married to a female brain surgeon or drug dealer or something. I wouldn’t have to work, she’d never be home, and I’d have tons of money. I’d be a less douchie Kevin Federline. It’d be Gah-RAND. Even better: I want to be the boy-toy for a lonely housewife. I wouldn’t have to fake any type of emotions, that’s a plus. I could come an go as I please, that’s another one. And the selling point: I would have the option of eventually hooking up with the spoiled, hot, 19 year-old daughter. I’m a fucking genius. I should invent something. I took my brother out to dinner the other day (as I do every Monday) to where I can view the Milfs in their natural habitat. My 13 year-old brother caught wind of where we were really quick. There is a lot of shiny cars in this parking lot. We walk past Hummers and Benzes on our way to the restaurant. When I first walk in, there is streaked, blond hair as far as the eye can see. There's nothing wrong with that, it’s just an observation. We sit and wait due to the ten-minute wait and I notice something. The family that came just after us fit the perfect mold for the area we were at: Mom: mid-forties, gorgeous Dad: nerdy looking, obviously the only one with a job Daughter: 17-19, wearing as little as possible with everything pushed up and poked out Son: pre-teen, hair frosted, bouncing around on a Starbucks high Excuse me as I pick them apart… The Dad probably makes a good living doing something that allows him to never be home. When he is home for dinner, it’s a family event. He has no idea how his money is spent until he views the credit card statement on the 20th of every month. The Mom spends most of the day coordinating her children’s lives (or trying to) with frequent trips to the spa, salon, or wherever else she would go to stay looking younger than her daughter. She secretly wants the attention of a younger, available man. Its mostly why she doesn’t mind her daughter’s friends over all the time. She masturbates to the Abercrombie & Fitch models that they resemble in the catalogs. Daughter is as spoiled as hot, three day old, banana yogurt. She got her first car at 16 that she probably hasn’t driven since graduation. Now, she probably pushes some kind of girly SUV or Honda that her parents bought. Little do they know that she gets banged out on a regular basis in said vehicle. They just think she’s popular. She goes to college and gets good grades, which entitles her to come home every chance she gets (which I’m all for) and has a part-time ‘look at me’ job in either a local mall, tanning salon, or a close-by restaurant. Oh, and needless to say, she’s unbelievably attractive. Son plays every sport imaginable; whatever gets him away from his bored and overbearing mother. He gets every game system that comes out with the games to match. His friends only like him for his ‘toys’, but he’ll never know that. They all live an extremely happy and privileged life. It all must be nice.

My all-time favorite commercial

Genius. I think I was 15 (1997?) when this came out, and I've been laughing my ass off at methheads ever since. How can you not? Fuck an illegal immigrant, hire a methhead. They will clean your entire home in one day for twenty bucks and not eat all your food. Just lock up your DVD player and computer. And maybe your jewelry. You have to do that for your regular maid anyway. "Meth! Ooohhhhhh, Meetthhhh!!"

My night of drunken UN-greatness

This is an example of my anti-greatness. Have you ever been so drunk at a party that you missed the actual party? I have, and it sucks. I get to this party the other day at about 9:30pm. Usually I’d show up later, but I wanted to make sure I got a decent parking spot. I walk in and I was greeted with beer. I don't think I was beerless the entire night. I ended up grinding on the girls on top of the kitchen counters and tables for 2 ½ hours. Pretty much normal-me shit. I can't dance very well, but I can hold my own when I have to. Did random shots of Jack and some other nasty shit. Turned out to be a bad idea. Sprayed beer on people and the ceiling (sorry 'bout that Luda, but you did it too!). Semi-normal- me shit. Went outside and enjoyed an extra bump in my level of trashed. Then all of a sudden my body decided that was all the fun I would have for the night. I disagreed of course, but my body made a very good point that I really couldn't argue with. When really hot girls come up to you and say, “Hey, Blah wah dah. We doh gee hah. Chahdie cheedie chah.” its time to find a dark corner to pass out in. I found a nice soft spot on the concrete of the side 'lawn' of the house and chose to hang out for two hours. I could not move unless I was swatting mosquitos and ants or disposing the chicken stir-fry and sauce I had earlier. Separately. Small pile for stir-fry, small pile for sauce. My stomach is like a side-show. I was located directly under the window to the main party room, so I heard all the debauchery that I couldn’t help but to miss. Appearantly people were looking for me and shit. They thought I drove home. That sucked. As I lay there fighting to stay awake, I wondered how long it would take before ants started laying eggs in my brain. Its not like I can do anything about since I got this psuedo-paralyzed thing going on. Scary shit. I realized I needed to get up after that. I managed to eventually bring myself inside and crash on the couch, somehow. At that point I could hold a conversation, but not see who I was talking to. I ended up being updated on the happenings (crazy shit) of the party by the only other person who wasn’t getting any action. Sad day. Flustrated with my misfortune, I climbed the stairs to find a hook-up partner. I realized all the girls were gone/taken, I got really dizzy, and then I found myself back on the couch. Very sad day. I still had fun. Even though I got eight or nine, itchy bug bites and blue balls, I still had fun. How? I learned a new word, "Floppy-hangers". Classic. I learned alot of things about the people I work with. All good things. Finally, to the person at that party with a silver Razr camera phone (like that narrows it down any), those are my balls. Both of them. Edit: Blue balls were taken care of.

The Dreaded Cell Phone Kiosk

Don’t you hate getting harassed by those damned yuppies at those cell phone kiosks in the malls? I actually have to go out of my way sometimes to evade these people while I shop. They remind me of the bum at the 7-Eleven. Wait a minute… What a Cell Phone Kiosk (CPK) has in common with a homeless person. Bums CPK They ask you a question that they already know the answer to. “Got any change?” “Do you have a cell phone?” They have no short-term memory. They will ask you the same question when you enter and exit a convenience store. They will ask you the same questions they asked when you passed a whole 15 minutes ago. Neither will take no for an answer. “Can I get two dollars? What about a quarter? Cigarette? Could you give me a ride? I’ll suck your dick.” “Interested in a free cell phone? New service? How ‘bout a headset? My first-born? Please validate my existence!” Both will command eye contact. They will stare and point at you until you turn to see what that smell is. They will stare at you with a perma-smile until you turn to see what’s making your soul itch. You feel bad when you ignore them You start to think about how much it must suck to be a bum. You start to pity the life of a cell phone salesman. You can see them from 100 feet away and will do almost anything to avoid them. To avoid a bum, you may drive to another store. To avoid a CPK, you may go in a store and watch for them to turn while you make a break for it. You could use them to impress a girlfriend. Giving money to a bum will score you blowjob points (with your girlfriend, asshole). Having an intelligent, high-tech conversation about the newest, most expensive phone may get her a little wet. They both hate it when you ask questions. They feel like shit (more so anyway) when you bug them about their cardboard home or dumpster diner. These pricks hate fielding questions for someone who’ll never buy anything. Oh, and they both possibly… …have made really bad life decisions. …live week-to-week. …smell. …are bad dressers. …have no real friends. ...are about 8 months away from porn.

I Started My Own Foundation

Bills suck. You work so hard for your paycheck (at least I do) and someone takes a chunk before you even touch it. Then at the beginning of every month, your landlord/mortgage company wants their cut. Then, if you’re like me, you have random companies and utilities taking straight from your account at random times of the month. Then you gotta eat. Food’s not free. I’d hunt cows if I could. They are. fucking. everywhere. You need cable because the reception is non-existent for regular TV. Gas is high. Weed’s not cheap. Cars need maintenance. Blah blah blah blah. It becomes harder and harder to save money for the important things: Education and Beer. So I decided to try something. If you look to your right, or my left, wait...the side closest to your mouse, you will see two pictures. The important one is a picture of a diploma/degree. If you click on that, you can donate as much or as little as you want to my education fund, The Make Me Smarter Foundation, using Paypal. I only need enough to finish my AA (a few classes, books, whiteout, etc.), and then I’ll get a loan when I transfer. I’m striving to be a psychiatrist so I can help you not commit suicide or kill everyone you work with. Pretty much exactly what I do now, but I'd get paid a shitload for it. Help me, help you. If you look under that, you will see a beer label that resembles a Dutch beverage (preventing a lawsuit here). Click on that and it will take you to a page where you can donate to another important fund: The Buy Me A Beer Foundation. You, yes you, can buy my next Heineken ($3.75) without even being there. Maybe you live in a different state. Maybe you’re under-aged. Maybe you like me enough to buy me a drink, but not enough to be around me (Mom, I'm looking in your direction). Whatever the case, sponsor my next night of drunken greatness so I can have more things to write about. Only you can prevent me from being sober. With these ‘charities’, at least you know where your money is going. To me. I will not buy hookers or lap dances or Mel Gibson movies or abortions or crack with this money. They are hooked up to separate accounts and will only be used for their designated purpose. In return, I’ll give you a warm tingling feeling inside. If you’re a guy, you’ll just feel good about yourself. Late Edit: I changed my beer foundation to the brand new Get Me A New iPod Foundation. My iPod was stolen and I miss my music. Besides having a foundation for free beer is just enabling my alcoholism. I think you need a Paypal account to do so. It's not hard and its very safe, so don't be lazy. If you eBay, you probably already have one. And yes, I am of age.

I Googled myself today

I do this from time to time. You never know who puts your picture on the Internet or writes something about you in their blog or whatever. I do the same to past girlfriends, checking if they’re doing porn yet (you'd be surprised) or received the Noble Prize for smartiness or something. When searching my name, I found this. It came after some guy with my name’s own website bearing my name and a bunch of other sites about wine tasting and what have you. This particular web page I found funny and interesting. Imagine my surprise when I came upon a slutty poem written about me or someone with the same name as me. The writer's name actually sounds vaguely familiar. It is more than likely some coincidence, but I still got kinda giddy reading it. You all should Google your name and see what kind of nonsense will pop up.