So you’re a new parent. Congratulations! Now I know it seems like you’re woefully unprepared, but it’s not that hard. It’s common sense, mostly, so just calm down. There you go… Take a few deep breaths… Much better. Ok, let’s take it from the top: Nutrition. You’ve got your food pyramid, right? Your fruits, your grains, dairy, meat, and whatnot. So let’s start with breakfast: A little milk and cereal, maybe topped with blueberries, some yogurt, some eggs would be nice. Maybe even some low fat sausage. Oh, and orange juice. Sounds like a nutritious breakfast, right? Wrong, asshole. That’s a baby you’ve got there, not a fucking garbage disposal. That fucker wants milk and it’s going to want milk for a long time. Then after that… what? No, not the fucking food pyramid. After being weaned your child will eat two things and two things only: Sugary crap and Mac ‘n Cheese. And you can shove those Brussels Sprouts right up your ass for all he cares.

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I’ve already discussed my daughter’s liberal shit dispensing policies, so I guess it stands to reason that I discuss my three year old son’s stance on the issue. He’s against it. Really against it. In fact, if he had any say in the matter (and he does, to a large extent) he would never shit again. Welcome to the wonderful world of stool refusal, or in short, your shorty won’t shit. Continue reading

During the course of an average week, I get anywhere from 70 to 100 emails of which roughly 10% are hypothetical questions in need of answering. (The other 90% are advertisements for Peruvian fetish porn involving yaks, which are 100% unsolicited, I swear.) Without fail, one of those emails contains a question so foul, so depraved, so incredibly retarded, that I weep for mankind. For instance, this week I received an email which asked, “If you had to go through life with genitals on your forehead, which would you pick: The pole or the hole?” Continue reading

The cost of playing the PowerBall lottery just went from $1 to $2. This means that throwing your money away is now twice as expensive as it was before. It’s as if you were walking by a burning trash can and asked the hobo warming his hands over it if you could put a dollar in there, and he said “No, but you can put in two!” This doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It is simply more cost effective for you to sit at home with a bunch of ping pong balls, pick six them at random from out of a hat, and then flush a buck down the toilet when you’re done. Continue reading

It squeaked in just under the wire, but we’ve got a new frontrunner for Best Picture: 2016! Or as it is pronounced in Ghana, “T-t-twenty sixteen!” It’s got everything: Aliens, terminators, punting toddlers, state of the art CGI… Simply stunning.

My daughter has an extensive track record of trashing furniture. I’m not talking about scratching the finish, spilling water on it, or any of those kind of pussy minor accidents that I would gladly deal with in my house. She fucks furniture up. I mean, makes it fall apart into individual furniture molecules. Case in point, her dresser. She had a dresser with five drawers on the front of it, and she would CRAM clothes in there until the drawers would burst. I’m not kidding, her jeans drawer had a wad of jeans in there so dense that they were on the verge of gravitational collapse. And when I say the drawers would burst, I’m not talking about the cheap particle board bottom most dresser drawers contain these days. The solid wood front of the drawer would fly off like a button on Oprah’s pants. One time I reattached the front of the drawer with 4 inch wood screws. That lasted a week. Continue reading

In the summer of 1987, I had my whole life in front of me. I had just graduated high school and was working a summer job to set aside money for college, which I was starting in the fall at a Big Ten university. I had, for my age, ample access to money, girls, alcohol, and drugs even though at the time I felt I didn’t have quite enough of any of those things. What I did have plenty of was youthful stupidity, which is how I found myself with a bag of drugs in my underwear in a car billowing pot smoke on the Illinois-Wisconsin border while a State Trooper got ready to shoot my best friend. That’s how I used to roll. Continue reading

If you pay attention to my Twitter feed (over there, to the right), you’ll know that I often use it to troll celebrities. Like the infamous Foreigner/Roast Beef imbroglio. Or the time I asked Journey if they shot the man responsible for their mind-bendingly retarded video, Separate Ways. But you’d have to be paying extra close attention to have caught the tweet in which I discussed my plan to ask Joyce DeWitt (Janet from Three’s Company) to sign a photo with the words, “Greg, Thanks for the herpes! Love, Joyce DeWitt!”. (Huh, I guess I mentioned it in the infamous Lindsay Lohan post, too.) Well, today I got a little something in the mail. Continue reading

I paid an attractive woman in her 20’s money to physically pleasure me yesterday.

If you’ve never gotten a full-body massage, I highly recommend it. Having a person assigned to rubbing your body makes you feel like a goddamn Egyptian pharaoh. I always feel like barking out, “Massage whore! My hamstrings require attention. Rub them vigorously, I command it!” This, of course, would be a horrendously short-sighted thing to do considering the strength of my masseuse’s hands and her constant proximity to my nuts. Continue reading

I am currently embroiled in family drama involving my mother-in-law, and it is sapping my will to live (MIL’s will do that to you). So although I had planned a post today that was so funny that it was likely to end the world as we know it (honest!), I’ve got no time and no motivation to do so. As my way of making it up to you, I’m posting the BEST MUSIC VIDEO EVER MADE! You’re welcome.