Well, Christmas is over, so it’s time to get back to doing what we do best: Making fun of foreigners. And today’s episode is brought to you by Nissin Milk Seafood Noodles, because we really bombed the fucking sense out of the Japanese, didn’t we?
Well, Christmas is over, so it’s time to get back to doing what we do best: Making fun of foreigners. And today’s episode is brought to you by Nissin Milk Seafood Noodles, because we really bombed the fucking sense out of the Japanese, didn’t we?
May your holidays bring you as much joy as 210 plastic water bottles did to this little guy.
As part of the Dogs On Drugs Official Holiday Extravaganza And High Colonic Blowout, we proudly present the following video, which illustrates several important points:
Seriously, look at Jimmy’s mom. If you had to guess whether or not Jimmy’s mom’s next move would be to make Jimmy a peanut butter sandwich, or engage in triple penetration-porn on top of Jimmy’s homework, you know the correct answer: A confused teacher somewhere is going to be wondering why a 12 year old’s homework smells of poontang, Astroglide, and desperation. Tough times over at Jimmy’s house.
It’s here! That magical time of year in which families come together in true appreciation of the meaning of Christmas. Hahaha, just kidding. Most people I know just buy lots of shit. Cause, you know: Jesus! That’s not to say that there aren’t people out there for whom Christmas is a meaningful holiday. But if they have kids, they know all too well how quickly one can go from celebrating the birth of the Lord to punching a fat woman in the neck in Walmart because she got her grubby fucking mitts a little too close to the last Furby. ‘Tis the season for a lot of things, fractured larynxes included.
I am not immune to the special pressures of Christmas by any means. For instance, every year I spend approximately seven and a half weeks removing toys from their packages because of those fucking grey wires. Oh, those fucking things drive me apeshit loonball crazy! I’d like to find the guy that invented those things and [Extreme rant including references to medieval torture techniques omitted.] …and then smash it flat with a ball peen hammer. Asshole.
Anyway, rather than divert precious grey wire time into something I enjoy doing (i.e. my normally tasteless and offensive posts), I will instead offer seasonal videos of an inspirational nature. And by “inspirational”, of course, I mean “really fucking horrifying”. So kick back, and celebrate good times this holiday season. Just like Ponch.
My kids woke up the other day in “a mood”, by which I mean they were hyperactive beyond description. My youngest son is five and still has occasional issues dressing himself, so in order to ensure that we get out the door before the current presidential administration leaves office, I help him get dressed. But when he’s in “a mood”, it’s like trying to dress a hummingbird on fucking speed. Flit! Flit! Flit! He’s all over the room, and the only way that I can get him to settle down is to offer him sugar-water from a plastic red flower. Continue reading
Oh, those crazy, violent, drunken Micks.
I, like most people I know, noted the passing of Nelson Mandela with sadness. Here was a man of great fortitude, willing to sacrifice the best years of his life in protest of an unjust regime so that the day might soon arrive when all South Africans were treated equally. So it was sad to see the passing of such a great man, but by no means was it a surprise. He was, after all, 95 years old which is crazy fucking old. The rule of thumb is that you aren’t truly old until you can shit on a cafeteria tray at the metropolitan museum of art and everyone just accepts it because of your age. You can get away with that shit when you’re 95, but if you try it when you’re, say, 28, you know what would happen? You’d be fined $1,700 and ordered to perform 120 hours community service, that’s what would happen. Not that I would know. (Editor’s Note: He knows.) Continue reading
I’ve got a full evening tonight: I’ve got my 5 year old son’s Christmas show to attend, which is always funny because it’s through the day care that he goes to. For every intelligent, precocious, and well spoken child up on stage, there are at least three who are in the act of shitting themselves when the curtain goes up, and you can pick them out by the horror in their eyes. Good stuff. Continue reading
I got a massage the other day because my right hip was hurting me. I’d gone to the doctor, and he told me that pain was my hip’s way of telling me that something was wrong. “Oh really, that’s how it works?” I asked him. “We communicate through pain?” So I punched him in the face and told him that I wasn’t going to pay the bill. Listen up, medical professionals: Insurance sucks, our bodies are essentially leaky bags of meat, and we’re likely to die of old age in the waiting room. We don’t need to add condescending doctors to the list of shitty things associated with health care. Just tell me that you don’t know what the problem is and give me a prescription for some gnarly painkillers already. Don’t make me go all Drugstore Cowboy on your ass. Continue reading
I bought a new car recently. Those of you who are long-time readers but have somehow managed to retain cognitive function may remember that I used to drive a Jeep Wrangler, which has all the aerodynamics of a small mountain range with only slightly worse fuel economy. You know how new cars list the city and highway mileage? My Jeep Wrangler needed a third number to represent the gallons of gas it consumed just sitting there in my garage. Once I realized that they were naming deep-water drilling rigs after my Jeep, I realized that it was time to trade it in. Continue reading