In 1862, a ragtag bunch of Mexican soldiers put a massive ass-whipping on a French army twice its size. This happened on the fifth of May, paving the way for the annual Cinco de Mayo celebration in which non-Mexican individuals, such as myself, use it as an excuse to get totally shitfaced while wearing sombreros. Co-opting another culture’s history as a pretext for getting bombed may not be the classiest thing you can do, but it sure is fun. Continue reading
I absolutely love this video. It is a five second clip of the world’s worst porn acting, looped for over five minutes. The young starlet harlot is supposed to deliver the lines, “Oh, would it be possible to drop me off near there? I live right near there. My roommate just dropped me off.” But either she’s a tad nervous, really anxious to get to the boots-knocking, or is actually an alien working undercover in the porn industry who is totally unfamiliar with human speech patterns.
Whatever the reason, the longer you let this run, the more surreal it gets. It’s a fucking trip. Remember in the movie Less Than Zero how there was a party in a home that had stacks of TV’s playing random channels? If I was throwing that party, every TV would be playing this at top volume, non-stop, until everyone went totally fucking insane.
So I hereby offer this challenge to my readers: Start your day off by watching this video in its entirety, all five minutes and nineteen seconds of it. You’ll be a better person for it. Or you’ll wind up fucking strangers for cash. Whatever. (For what it is worth, it is totally, 100% safe for work.)
In the span of eleven days, I’ve got my wedding anniversary, my wife’s birthday, both of my brother’s birthdays, and Mother’s Day. As you can imagine, this keeps me pretty fucking busy when you consider that I still have to go to work, be a father for my kids, a husband for my wife, and still find time to drink a case and a half of malt liquor each day.
So what does that mean for you, dear reader? Videos. Lots and lots of messed up videos, like this one from classic movie Shark Attack 3: Megalodon. (Headphones if you’re at work.)
My daughter just got done performing in a community production of Wizard of Oz for the second year in a row. First of all, let me say that my daughter was wonderful, as were all the other actors, and everyone did as good a job as they possibly could have given that the budget was apparently scrounged from a couch. So it is not with any of the participants in mind when I say that the Wizard of Oz is the lamest piece of shit in the known universe. I would rather pour steak sauce in my ears and let starving cockroaches crawl into my nose and eat my brains away from the inside than see that fucking play again. Fuck the Wizard of Oz sideways with a rusty axe-head. Continue reading
I had a wonderful post lined up for tonight, something that would make you weep with joy, gasp in wonder, and laugh until your sides were sore. Then I got my iPhone. Yeah, I’m one of those Apple freaks and I have been since I got my first computer, the Apple II, way back when computers were so primitive that they had carburetors. I know, I know, Apple is not perfect, their shit is kinda pricey, and when he wasn’t revolutionizing every industry he touched, Steve Jobs was kind of a dick. I don’t care. Their stuff simply blows their competition out of the water. So you can cram your fucking Windows Phone (*stifled laughter*). I like my new iPhone. Continue reading
Why the fuck can I no longer go to the mall without feeling like I’m in Mexico? The mall used to be a relaxing place, with the entire walkway dedicated to benches, fountains, seasonal decorations, and horny teens in various stages of the rut. Now, it’s like running a fucking gauntlet of kiosks, carts, and the kind of shuckster that makes Vince, the Sham-Wow guy seem like a deep thinker. This is bullshit. I already have people to harass me while I shop: I call them my children. Continue reading
Whenever I hear the song Mother’s Little Helper by the Rolling Stones, I’m whisked away into a world of pure idiocy, a world in which I am immortal and immune to the laws of both nature and man. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of a car, and in the reality that I am detached from I am either going home, to jail, to the hospital, or to the morgue. But I don’t know this, or if I do, I simply don’t care. Mother’s Little Helper is blaring from the speakers and we are singing along, laughing maniacally, even though merely being seen by a police officer at this point is enough to ensure our arrest. I am 18 years old. Continue reading
My five year old son has this idea in his head that you die when you turn 100. “Daddy? I don’t want to turn 100,” he’ll tell me, his voice quivering with fear. “What? Why not?” “Because when you’re 100 you die, and I don’t want to die!” And so I have to rush to console him, by which I mean lie my ass off. What am I supposed to say? “Shit, most everyone dies before they turn 100! I knew a kid who died when we were in third grade!” I can’t say that, it’d melt his little brain with fear and take away from his valuable house-destroying time. Continue reading
Ugh, I got some distressing family news today, and even though no one died, and no one is sick, it’s been enough to knock me off of my regular schedule. And now I just want to sit on the couch and veg, something I rarely do, so I’m going to.
Instead of the normal menu of dick jokes, immature haikus, and slanderous statements about game show hosts, I’ll throw this doozy out into the ether from the funny as hell guys (who used to be) in The Whitest Kids U Know:
