Glenn Beck is against net neutrality because he believes the internet was invented in the private sector and therefore should be molded by whatever stupid ass scheme corporations come up with to bilk every dollar out of consumers.
Glenn Beck is an idiot. The internet started off in the military. Not that that makes it any freer, it's just that it sure as hell didn't start off in the private sector for private applications. Quite the opposite.
I love to hate Glenn Beck.
30 October 2009
27 October 2009
Olive Garden
Allow me to tell you about Olive Garden:
It always gives me the shits. Tonight I have to go to Olive Garden for a family dinner but I already have hardcore beer shits. Seriously, they are watery messes that are still hard to push out.
After every beer shit I look down and smile because I've made my private toilet look just like the one at Dodger stadium.
Ouch, that hurts. Dodgers. Jesus Christ. I thought this was our year. Next year Manny will come back with titties and he'll be able to hit (hopefully). Get Manny back on drugs. He's got one more season left in him. Let the poor old man prop himself up for as long as Barry Bonds was able to prop himself up. It's just too damn bad that after steroids you're going to need some cialis to prop your Louisville Slugger up. BA CHANG.
Why do I have beer shits today? Last night I drank many a brew at this small bar across the street from the race track. We were the only douche bags in there and we were even allowed to stay long after it closed. What a delightful time for unhappy people!
It always gives me the shits. Tonight I have to go to Olive Garden for a family dinner but I already have hardcore beer shits. Seriously, they are watery messes that are still hard to push out.
After every beer shit I look down and smile because I've made my private toilet look just like the one at Dodger stadium.
Ouch, that hurts. Dodgers. Jesus Christ. I thought this was our year. Next year Manny will come back with titties and he'll be able to hit (hopefully). Get Manny back on drugs. He's got one more season left in him. Let the poor old man prop himself up for as long as Barry Bonds was able to prop himself up. It's just too damn bad that after steroids you're going to need some cialis to prop your Louisville Slugger up. BA CHANG.
Why do I have beer shits today? Last night I drank many a brew at this small bar across the street from the race track. We were the only douche bags in there and we were even allowed to stay long after it closed. What a delightful time for unhappy people!
18 October 2009
The 99cent home pregnancy test
When someone learns they've impregnated their ride to work every morning they like to talk about it to everyone.
Co-workers to customers.
It creates for a very awkward situation to assume that every woman with snot nosed, pea-brained kids wants to hear how you bought a home pregnancy test from the 99 cent store a week after you conceived to just "see" if well you know that one time you had sex without a dong-hat really did the trick.
The guy goes on and says, "So that was the unofficial result. This morning, my girlfriend called me to tell me at work that her piss turned the plastic thing a certain color so this is my second time hearing the good news as if it was the first time."
But really, why buy a 99cent store if you know you wont trust the results and just spend the $8.01 you saved by buying one of the good ones? Why not save the 99cents by saving it for your kid's first 4-piece chicken McNugget fund?
Co-workers to customers.
It creates for a very awkward situation to assume that every woman with snot nosed, pea-brained kids wants to hear how you bought a home pregnancy test from the 99 cent store a week after you conceived to just "see" if well you know that one time you had sex without a dong-hat really did the trick.
The guy goes on and says, "So that was the unofficial result. This morning, my girlfriend called me to tell me at work that her piss turned the plastic thing a certain color so this is my second time hearing the good news as if it was the first time."
But really, why buy a 99cent store if you know you wont trust the results and just spend the $8.01 you saved by buying one of the good ones? Why not save the 99cents by saving it for your kid's first 4-piece chicken McNugget fund?
14 October 2009
The fat asshole with a mustache
Having a mustache is pretty fucking cool.
When you drink beer, the liquid harbors itself to your hair and you can suck it up later. Or some hot bitch can suck it off for you. More likely the former.
When you sneeze, the boogers crust it all up and you can pretend that you don't know it's there. But it's there and you know it. Just look at all the polite people sitting on their hands and staring not saying a damn thing because they're afraid of what the booger 'stacheman might do.
Even considering all this damn awesomeness, the 'stache has its downsides (and I'm not talking the awesome fangs that hug the corners of my mouth).
The mustache is an instant identifier.
For instance, at work I used to take comfort in the fact that I could be a complete asshole to customers knowing that I'm just a generic looking fat white asshole. Sure, they could identify me by my name badge but there are a bunch of Vladmirs where I work and they're all generic looking, fat, white assholes.
Today some old geriatric granny cane walker got all pissed off at me for some stupid reason (I don't know, I wasn't listening to her) and she went to tell a manager how unhelpful I was. I completely forgot that I was no longer in stealth. The 'stache is in full bloom and glorious as it is, I'm now known as "mustache" at work. Alls some old haggard non-working vagina has to do is say, "The fat asshole with a mustache kept sneezing on me even after I asked him to stop." Instantly the boss knows who they're talking about.
Luckily, I just don't give a shit. And why should I?
I'm the one with a motherfucking mustache.
When you drink beer, the liquid harbors itself to your hair and you can suck it up later. Or some hot bitch can suck it off for you. More likely the former.
When you sneeze, the boogers crust it all up and you can pretend that you don't know it's there. But it's there and you know it. Just look at all the polite people sitting on their hands and staring not saying a damn thing because they're afraid of what the booger 'stacheman might do.
Even considering all this damn awesomeness, the 'stache has its downsides (and I'm not talking the awesome fangs that hug the corners of my mouth).
The mustache is an instant identifier.
For instance, at work I used to take comfort in the fact that I could be a complete asshole to customers knowing that I'm just a generic looking fat white asshole. Sure, they could identify me by my name badge but there are a bunch of Vladmirs where I work and they're all generic looking, fat, white assholes.
Today some old geriatric granny cane walker got all pissed off at me for some stupid reason (I don't know, I wasn't listening to her) and she went to tell a manager how unhelpful I was. I completely forgot that I was no longer in stealth. The 'stache is in full bloom and glorious as it is, I'm now known as "mustache" at work. Alls some old haggard non-working vagina has to do is say, "The fat asshole with a mustache kept sneezing on me even after I asked him to stop." Instantly the boss knows who they're talking about.
Luckily, I just don't give a shit. And why should I?
I'm the one with a motherfucking mustache.
02 October 2009
Olympics
The right wing is all in a masturbatory chorus right now because Chicago didn't get the Olympics. Somehow this casts doubt on the Obama presidency.
I'm sure that in the history books this will not even be mentioned. He asked kindly for Chicago to get it. Chicago did not. Now he's guna go kill some terrorists, thank you very much.
I'm sure that in the history books this will not even be mentioned. He asked kindly for Chicago to get it. Chicago did not. Now he's guna go kill some terrorists, thank you very much.
01 October 2009
Scooter walkers
I am job-ed. I am Bless-ed.
But I can't help but complain to you, my friends. My five loyal readers. My sleep is rhythm-ed to the echoes ringing god-damned cash machines. I say a total of two sentences a gazillion times a day. "Hi, how are you?" & "Have a nice day." But that's not what I'm here to talk about to you today. I'm here to talk about:
Fat people. I love them to death because I am one of them. But is it necessary to buy 2 24-packs of Diet Pepsi along with 2 king sized packs of M&Ms, a gallon of mayonnaise, and a tub of ice cream? You're not fooling anyone but your god-damned self.
"I've lost weight!" you say, "I'm just treating myself!" you say.
HA!
A treat would be a single scoop of ice cream from the local Baskin Robbins. Not the entire tub from which the scoops are scooped, you fuck!
I'm sorry, sir, we no longer sell Hydroxycut because it was proven to kill fat asses faster than a heart attack but we do have another NEWER supplement that will kill off about 500 of you before the slow moving fat arm of Science discovers you were killed popping fat pills just before slurping on your large Diet Coke and large French Fries.
Fats, excuse me. I'm fat too. I'm allowed to talk shit on our kind. Let's just stop kidding ourselves. Can't we just resign to the fact that cholesterol tastes like heroin to us and we'll be god damned if you pull that syringe away from me. I'll stab you with it and it'll give you AIDs. In the immortal words of Ol' Dirty Bastard, "I'm not saying that I got it, but [fatty] if I got it then you got it!"
What I'm trying to say here is fat people amuse me. At the buffets I look at people rolling in on motorized scooters with two trays that each have two plates atop them. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean that you're going to magically lose weight with unlimited refills of Barq's root beer. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean you're going to lose weight inhaling trays of garlic bread. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean you should pour the Ranch dressing on as if it were King Kong's cum. I fell off the point I was trying to make. I can just start all over.
What I'm trying to say here is fat people amuse me. When they roll in on their motorized scooters too fat to not sit on their ballsacks, I think to myself, "God, at least I'm not like them!" But if I keep standing in the same buffet lines as they do, someday I may be.
EDIT: This is a video of a man who, through some miracle of the universe, I based this post on unknowingly.
But I can't help but complain to you, my friends. My five loyal readers. My sleep is rhythm-ed to the echoes ringing god-damned cash machines. I say a total of two sentences a gazillion times a day. "Hi, how are you?" & "Have a nice day." But that's not what I'm here to talk about to you today. I'm here to talk about:
Fat people. I love them to death because I am one of them. But is it necessary to buy 2 24-packs of Diet Pepsi along with 2 king sized packs of M&Ms, a gallon of mayonnaise, and a tub of ice cream? You're not fooling anyone but your god-damned self.
"I've lost weight!" you say, "I'm just treating myself!" you say.
HA!
A treat would be a single scoop of ice cream from the local Baskin Robbins. Not the entire tub from which the scoops are scooped, you fuck!
I'm sorry, sir, we no longer sell Hydroxycut because it was proven to kill fat asses faster than a heart attack but we do have another NEWER supplement that will kill off about 500 of you before the slow moving fat arm of Science discovers you were killed popping fat pills just before slurping on your large Diet Coke and large French Fries.
Fats, excuse me. I'm fat too. I'm allowed to talk shit on our kind. Let's just stop kidding ourselves. Can't we just resign to the fact that cholesterol tastes like heroin to us and we'll be god damned if you pull that syringe away from me. I'll stab you with it and it'll give you AIDs. In the immortal words of Ol' Dirty Bastard, "I'm not saying that I got it, but [fatty] if I got it then you got it!"
What I'm trying to say here is fat people amuse me. At the buffets I look at people rolling in on motorized scooters with two trays that each have two plates atop them. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean that you're going to magically lose weight with unlimited refills of Barq's root beer. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean you're going to lose weight inhaling trays of garlic bread. Just because it's Souplantation doesn't mean you should pour the Ranch dressing on as if it were King Kong's cum. I fell off the point I was trying to make. I can just start all over.
What I'm trying to say here is fat people amuse me. When they roll in on their motorized scooters too fat to not sit on their ballsacks, I think to myself, "God, at least I'm not like them!" But if I keep standing in the same buffet lines as they do, someday I may be.
EDIT: This is a video of a man who, through some miracle of the universe, I based this post on unknowingly.
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