One of the benefits of living in Arizona is this otherworldly yahoo mentality that rears its head from time to time. The fact that the yahoo mentality is often mine is beside the point. What can I say, sometimes going into the desert to fire off a seven foot potato cannon while drinking beer is just what the doctor ordered, assuming that doctor is drunk and huffing ether of course. But a drunk doctor huffing ether would barely crack the weirdness meter down here, not with kids doing beer bongs with their assholes. Continue reading
For those of you who follow this blog and have somehow managed to avoid forcible incarceration in a room with rubber walls, it will come as no surprise to you that I am asking bands to make me sandwiches. That’s normal and expected behavior for me, and unless I am subject to forcible incarceration myself it will probably continue. One day I’m petitioning Congress to declare February 16th National Avocado In Your Pants Day, and the next day I’m asking all blind people to wear sombreros. That’s just how it goes. Sunrise, sunset. Continue reading
Hello, I’d like a moment of your time to discuss your job performance if that’s possible. I know, I know, it must seem that everyone wants to discuss your job performance sometimes. But that’s kind of why I want to discuss it with you. I understand that you’re working a job that you’re not all that crazy about, and you’re only doing it because you knocked up your ex-girlfriend and the judge said that you have to give her money or he’ll put you in jail so you can learn what it’s like to be the mommy for a change. I get that. But if you ever want to improve your situation in life, you need to hear this: A brain damaged chimpanzee on mescaline would do a better job than you’re doing right now, even if I were to smash its kneecaps with a sledge hammer. You suck donkey balls, dude. Continue reading
I work in the IT industry, which is another way of saying I’m good with computers. “What do you do?” people will ask, and I’ll say “I work in the IT industry.” Most of the time this is sufficiently vague and people will leave me alone. But all too often that person will say, “Oh, computers!” and then start to grill me as if I was their own personal tech guru. I don’t mind lending a little advice when people need it, but people need to realize that I am going to fucking punch them in the face if I ever have to answer one of the following questions again: Continue reading
You know what I had growing up? A basement. A simple basement down a simple flight of stairs. It was wonderful. My dad had an office down there, filled with his extensive library of books that I devoured when I was a child. The first novel I ever read was Jaws. I was seven at the time, and it was quite an eye opener. I learned that I was never going to go swimming in New England, and also that sex scenes in novels were weird, hard to fathom, and something that I wanted to investigate in much greater depth. I read that book, and many, many more in our basement. Continue reading
Great, now all I can think about eating is flapjacks. Oh well, enjoy the turkey tomorrow while I’m trying to round up some syrup. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
My kids are fucking killing me. I got a frantic text from my wife asking me to call home because my daughter had just called her ten times in a row while she was in an important meeting. So I called home and asked what was so important. “I wanted to know if mommy was on the way home.” This is not the first time that this has happened. And what’s worse, I get that shit from my mom. A frantic message left on my voice mail: “Greg, it’s mom. I need you to call me as soon as possible. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.” And I call her back and the emergency is that (swear to God, this actually happened) she needed to know my daughter fucking sock size.
So I’m dealing with that horse-shit, and my five year old son has been kicked out of his kindergarten class again for general goof-offiness, my wife is attending a play for a niece of ours, and my three year old is hitting the peak of his word-explosion phase, and a typical soundbite from him is “Daddy-I-make-noise-play-wth-Mark-at-day-care-Ooh!-I-want-that-I-want-that-I-like-fire-truck-Daddy-do-you-like-fire-truck-you-do-like-fire-truck?-Ok-I-want-snack-I-want-snack-I-WANT-SNACK-I-WANT-IT-I-WANT-IT-WAAAAAAAHHHHH!” And I’ve got to figure out dinner with no food in the house and get them all to bed.
I’m not whining because I never deal with this shit. My wife and I split it up pretty evenly. It’s just one of those days and … FUCK AM I WIPED!
So no original content for you today. You got a problem with that? Take it up with my fucking kids. I suggest you speak with my three year old.
But all is not lost, however. I give you, “How To Spot Lip-Synching” or “Philip Kirkorov Is A Big Fucking Pussy”
We all have ground rules in our lives, things that we use as a handy moral compass for our daily activities. That way when we do something horrible like install a wireless webcam in the Victoria’s Secret dressing room, we can say to ourselves, “Well, that wasn’t my best moment, but at least I didn’t beat my kids today!” Then you can post the resulting footage on secretjigglefest.com with a somewhat clear conscious. (I’ll let you know when that site is up, by the way.) But while many of our ground rules may differ, there is one rule that should be iron-clad and applied across the board: If you’re hosting a party and a tranny wants you to pay her $700 to put things in your butt, you should probably pass on that. Continue reading
You see the person pictured down below? This is Vesta Vayne, and she’s an internet friend of mine. An internet friend is someone you meet online, usually on a blog or in a series of comment posts, that you communicate with on a semi-regular basis, forming a bond over common experiences and similar outlook. That is, you do this until you realize that the person you thought you were getting to know is actually a disgusting 60 year old sex offender from Baltimore who has been jerking it to every single one of your emails. That, my friends, is the magic of the internet. Continue reading
